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well from the years of war.”
    Yes, I see them. They’re cute. Too bad they grow up to smell like heaps of rotted cabbage.
    She heard Bardon’s answering chortle and turned her attention back to her conversation with Celisse. “Bardon’s very excited about this journey. And if it will keep his mind off the possible deterioration of his health with the stakes, well…”
    The minor dragons wiggled out of their pocket-dens in the moonbeam cape. They crawled to the opening, sniffed the air, decided it wasn’t too cold, and scampered out to run over Kale’s body. She recognized their mood. It would seem they rejoiced with Bardon at the chance to go adventuring.
    Dibl jumped to Celisse’s back behind the saddle. He tucked his wings close to his body to keep from being caught and tossed into the air by a draft of wind. He scurried up and down the prominent scales to perch near Celisse’s tail.
    Metta sat on one of the riding dragon’s broad shoulders, and Filia on the other. They rocked to and fro in response to the powerful wing muscles moving beneath their feet.
    Pat crawled forward to roost between the big dragon’s ears. He held on to the ridge that formed a shield protecting his stout, round body from the wind. Gymn climbed to wrap around Kale’s neck, under the moonbeam cape with only his head sticking out. Artross sat on one of her legs, and Tieto fastened his claws into the back of Kale’s glove, where she rested her hand on the saddle horn.
    Crispin emerged last from the protection of the moonbeam cape. His red skin glistened as patches of sunlight reflected off his scales. Young and inexperienced, he trotted forward, passing the horn and Tieto. With a jump, he landed on Celisse’s black neck. He lost his footing and spread his wings to help regain his balance. The wind caught his kitelike frame and flipped him head over heels. He hit with a thud against Kale’s chest.
    The Dragon Keeper laughed and picked him up, being careful not to squeeze his leathery wings. She felt a twitch in his abdomen and turned him sideways just in time. The little dragon hiccuped, and a small flame shot from his mouth. He blinked in surprise, hiccuped again, and the fire spewed out once more.
    “Oh, dear.” Kale sighed. “I know you can’t help it, Crispin. Don’t fret.”
    The small red dragon kept up the fiery blasts with each rhythmic snag in his breathing.
    “Try to breathe slowly,” Kale suggested. “Try to breathe deeply.”
    The next explosion from his mouth outdid all those before it.
    “Oh dear.”
    Her husband’s voice came into her mind.
“Greer says not to start saying, ‘Tut-tut.’”
    What?
    “‘Tut-tut’ like Fenworth, your predecessor.”
    Bardon, this is serious.
    She heard both her husband and his two dragons laugh.
    Well, perhaps not life-and-death serious, but Crispin is most uncomfortable, and if he doesn’t learn to control this…this side effect of—
    “—hiccuping, sneezing, coughing, and even big sighs, he’ll someday burn us out of house and home.”
    He
has
learned not to sigh in full force.
    Kale caught the sense of where her other minor dragons were and quickly shielded her thoughts from the fire dragon in her hand. She felt Dibl inching up her back, using the moonbeam cape as if it were a vine to climb up the side of a building. She could see Pat approaching along Celisse’s neck. She had no need to wonder who had initiated this attack on Crispin to surprise the hiccups out of him. Dibl would choose this way to do a good deed.
    She tried to act just as nonchalant as the rest of the minor dragons who feigned ignorance of the plan. Tieto, Gymn, Filia, and Metta all ignored the progress of the two mischief-makers. Artross grunted occasionally, as if he could just barely keep either from laughing or giving out unwelcome advice.
    Crispin inquired politely if Artross also suffered from the hiccups. As the white dragon struggled to answer, Dibl jumped over Kale’s shoulder and slid