“You.”
13
Unexpected Alliances
“I’ll do it!”
Tipper gasped at Bealomondore’s proclamation. “What?”
He frowned at her. “I said I’d do it. Did you expect me to refuse to come to your father’s aid just because you treated me shabbily?” He straightened his back, appearing to stretch at least an inch. “I consider myself above petty retaliation.”
Librettowit nodded sagely as he stroked his beard. He turned to Tipper with a hint of amusement in his eyes. “I see what you meant in your earlier assessment.”
Tipper hid her smile. Sometimes she liked the librarian very much.
To Bealomondore, Librettowit said, “Fine, fine. I’m glad you wish to join us.”
Tipper arched her eyebrows. They would have no direction at all if the fanatical artist chose not to cooperate. That “glad you wish to join us” was an understatement.
Librettowit cleared his throat. “What will it take to get you out of your obligation to the hotel?”
The young tumanhofer seemed to consider his answer, then sighed, all the stiffness leaving his posture. “Four hundred mikers.”
Librettowit arched his eyebrows. “I’m unfamiliar with your money system. That sounds like a lot.”
“It is,” said Tipper, trying not to stare at Bealomondore. She’d be able to keep the household finances afloat for three months on that much money.
Bealomondore shrugged. “I stayed here for several weeks before I followed through on my plan to seek Verrin Schope’s benefaction.”
“You waited until you were broke,” said Tipper.
He hung his head. “A combination of motives. Empty pockets stoked my nerve to approach your father.”
“So,” said Beccaroon, “we need to pay the bill you ran up with the hotel, and you will be free to join our quest.”
With narrowed eyes, Bealomondore studied Tipper. “Is this her plan? Is her father still inaccessible?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Is he truly in danger?” He turned slightly away from Tipper and addressed Beccaroon and Librettowit. “Forgive me if I want proof that I will be engaged in an endeavor for Verrin Schope.”
The grand parrot nodded. “That’s understandable. We’ll take you back to Byrdschopen and introduce you to the man you will save.”
“Bec,” Tipper objected.
He cocked his head at her. “It will be a while before the young man trusts you.”
“But I didn’t ask him to help. I didn’t explain things to him. Why is he doubting Librettowit?”
A rare chuckle escaped her friend’s throat. “Librettowit and I are painted by the same brush with which the artist depicts you. We walk in with you, and therefore we are as untrustworthy as you.”
The parrot eyed Bealomondore and laughed again. “Wait until you meet the wizard, sir. I’m fighting my better judgment to trust this team of world savers. A fuddy-duddy, eccentric old man who says he is a wizard. We have no wizards in Chiril, and I am quickly learning that is a good thing.” He nodded to Librettowit and winked. “The librarian seems steady but is prone to grouchiness.”
Beccaroon suddenly sobered. “But I’ve seen evidence with my own eyes as to the seriousness of Verrin Schope’s situation. We’d best join forces and set forth to find the three statues.”
“What three statues?” asked Bealomondore.
Tipper placed her hand on Beccaroon’s back. “I believe we forgot to tell him about the quest and Papa’s need for the statues.”
“Can we do that over dinner?” asked Librettowit. “I’m starved.”
Tipper couldn’t bring herself to blow out the candle. She’d never slept in a hotel room. Hostels, yes. Roadside taverns on the way to visit her mother’s sister, yes. In the homes of people her parents knew, yes.
Of course, it had been years since she had traveled at all. Back then, she’d had some experience in sleeping places other than her own home. Their travels had been clandestine and therefore all the more adventuresome in spirit.
13
Unexpected Alliances
“I’ll do it!”
Tipper gasped at Bealomondore’s proclamation. “What?”
He frowned at her. “I said I’d do it. Did you expect me to refuse to come to your father’s aid just because you treated me shabbily?” He straightened his back, appearing to stretch at least an inch. “I consider myself above petty retaliation.”
Librettowit nodded sagely as he stroked his beard. He turned to Tipper with a hint of amusement in his eyes. “I see what you meant in your earlier assessment.”
Tipper hid her smile. Sometimes she liked the librarian very much.
To Bealomondore, Librettowit said, “Fine, fine. I’m glad you wish to join us.”
Tipper arched her eyebrows. They would have no direction at all if the fanatical artist chose not to cooperate. That “glad you wish to join us” was an understatement.
Librettowit cleared his throat. “What will it take to get you out of your obligation to the hotel?”
The young tumanhofer seemed to consider his answer, then sighed, all the stiffness leaving his posture. “Four hundred mikers.”
Librettowit arched his eyebrows. “I’m unfamiliar with your money system. That sounds like a lot.”
“It is,” said Tipper, trying not to stare at Bealomondore. She’d be able to keep the household finances afloat for three months on that much money.
Bealomondore shrugged. “I stayed here for several weeks before I followed through on my plan to seek Verrin Schope’s benefaction.”
“You waited until you were broke,” said Tipper.
He hung his head. “A combination of motives. Empty pockets stoked my nerve to approach your father.”
“So,” said Beccaroon, “we need to pay the bill you ran up with the hotel, and you will be free to join our quest.”
With narrowed eyes, Bealomondore studied Tipper. “Is this her plan? Is her father still inaccessible?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Is he truly in danger?” He turned slightly away from Tipper and addressed Beccaroon and Librettowit. “Forgive me if I want proof that I will be engaged in an endeavor for Verrin Schope.”
The grand parrot nodded. “That’s understandable. We’ll take you back to Byrdschopen and introduce you to the man you will save.”
“Bec,” Tipper objected.
He cocked his head at her. “It will be a while before the young man trusts you.”
“But I didn’t ask him to help. I didn’t explain things to him. Why is he doubting Librettowit?”
A rare chuckle escaped her friend’s throat. “Librettowit and I are painted by the same brush with which the artist depicts you. We walk in with you, and therefore we are as untrustworthy as you.”
The parrot eyed Bealomondore and laughed again. “Wait until you meet the wizard, sir. I’m fighting my better judgment to trust this team of world savers. A fuddy-duddy, eccentric old man who says he is a wizard. We have no wizards in Chiril, and I am quickly learning that is a good thing.” He nodded to Librettowit and winked. “The librarian seems steady but is prone to grouchiness.”
Beccaroon suddenly sobered. “But I’ve seen evidence with my own eyes as to the seriousness of Verrin Schope’s situation. We’d best join forces and set forth to find the three statues.”
“What three statues?” asked Bealomondore.
Tipper placed her hand on Beccaroon’s back. “I believe we forgot to tell him about the quest and Papa’s need for the statues.”
“Can we do that over dinner?” asked Librettowit. “I’m starved.”
Tipper couldn’t bring herself to blow out the candle. She’d never slept in a hotel room. Hostels, yes. Roadside taverns on the way to visit her mother’s sister, yes. In the homes of people her parents knew, yes.
Of course, it had been years since she had traveled at all. Back then, she’d had some experience in sleeping places other than her own home. Their travels had been clandestine and therefore all the more adventuresome in spirit.
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