The Forging of the Dragon (Wizard and Dragon Book 1) by Robert Don Hughes

murmured. “She — she saw your garments and — excuse me.” With a final horrified grin, Paumer whirled around and catapulted his daughter across the entry way and into another room. He followed her quickly, and slammed the intervening door behind him.
    Jarnel looked at Chaom and raised his eyebrow. “I like a man who knows how to handle his family.”
    “So do I,” Chaom replied evenly. “Which is one more reason to despise Paumer.”
    Confused, Jarnel started to ask for an explanation. He didn’t, for the son of Paumer, that smirking lad who’d been introduced to them at the last meeting, had sidled into the room and was looking at them strangely. Jarnel met the boy’s eyes. The lad quickly looked at the floor.
    “You’re —” Jarnel began, aware that he’d forgotten the name but pretending to search for it.
    The boy’s eyes stabbed back upward immediately, and his jaw tightened. “Ognadzu!” he snarled, obviously offended. “I’m as much a member of the Grand Council as you are!”
    “Of course you are, Ognadzu,” the Prince of the Army of Arl said, taking careful note of the lad’s passion while pretending to ignore it. “Nominated as the second voice from Pleclypsa, by your — father? Wasn’t it?” While he took no pleasure in further alienating the boy, this seemed a good opportunity to learn more about the merchant. Young Ognadzu’s vehement response surprised him.
    “I’m not my father’s puppet, if that’s what you imply! I’m my own man, and no one makes my decisions but me!”
    Jarnel responded with an exaggerated widening of the eyes and looked over at Chaom as if for support.
    Chaom still wore his knowing expression. “You see?” he asked.
    “See what?” Ognadzu demanded, and Jarnel turned his gaze back to the boy. How very like the hideous pyralu this son of Paumer was — all fangs and stinger. It occurred to Jarnel that his own king had probably been a boy much like this one. He was saved from having to reply when Paumer bounced nimbly back into the room.
    “I apologize for my children.” The merchant smiled. “I’ve — I’ve taught them to speak their minds, and they do. Regularly!” He gave a nervous laugh and continued, “Of course, I’m proud of that, in a way. They’ll be excellent leaders. Are excellent leaders already,” he corrected himself, smiling brightly at his bristling son. “Now if you gentlemen are ready, we’ll journey to the place of meeting.”
    “Where is that?” Chaom inquired pointedly. “Or are servant s privileged to know such things?”
    Jarnel picked up on Chaom’s tone and amplified it. “You see, Paumer, Chaom and I are somewhat bothered by your proprietary air.”
    “Proprietary air?” Paumer grinned. “Toward what, may I ask?”
    “Toward the Grand Council!” Chaom said. “You act as if it’s just another arm of your trading house!”
    Paumer’s smile vanished, replaced by a chastened look of utter humility. “Oh. I feared as much. You were offended by Uda’s outburst. I’m so sorry ...”
    “Your daughter has nothing to do with —”
    “Oh but she does! Those colors. My fault. I’m so sorry ...” Paumer repeated, shaking his head. “I thought we had simply agreed that, since my organization is the only link between all the fragments, I would have to serve as the message-bearer. But —” Here Paumer sighed sadly. “— I can see how the humiliation of wearing servants’ tunics would prey upon the honor of such warriors as yourselves.”
    Jarnel looked to Chaom, but Chaom shook his head. They had heard this speech before and knew Paumer would now deliver all of it whether they interrupted him or not.
    “Perhaps this is why the two wizards seem to have lost interest as well. And who could blame them,” Paumer pleaded dramatically. “They, after all, are among the powers of this world and, like you, they’re accustomed to honor and respect. Which is their due! Being nothing but a simple businessman