THE ENCHANTED FOREST CHRONICLES [049-5.0]

by: Patricia C. Wrede

Synopsis:

The enchanted forest chronicles contains four books.  Princess Cimorene
runs away from home to live with dragons.  She battles wizards, meets
the king of the enchanted forest and in the final book, her son must
return to breaik a spell placed on the king and his castle.

This is a really fun book to read for both adults and children.

Other Books by Patricia C. Wrede

SHADOW MAGIC

DAUGHTER OF WITCHES

The SEVEN TOWERS

THE HARP OF IMACH THYSSEL CAUGHT IN CRYSTAL

SNOW WHITE & ROSE RED

MAIRELON THE MAGICIAN and with Caroline Stevetruer

SORCERY & CECELIA

THE ENCHANTED FOREST CHRONICLES

Dealing With Dragons

Searching For Dragons

Calling On Dragons

Talking To Dragons

Patricia C. Wrede

DEALING WITH DRAGONS Copyright © 1990 by Patricia C. Wrede

Portions of chapters I and 2 were previously published in a slightly
altered form as "The Improper Princess," a short story in the
collection Spaceships and Spells, Harper & Row, Publishers, 1987.

SEARCHING FOR DRAGONS Copyright © 1991 by Patricia C. Wrede

	CALLING ON DRAGONS 	Copyright © 1993 by Patricia C. Wrede

	TALKING TO DRAGONS 	Copyright © 1985 by Patricia C. Wrede

All rights reserved.  No part of this publication may be reproduced or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,
including photocopy, recording or any information storage and retrieval
system, without permission in writing from Harcourt Brace & Company.

Requests for permission to make copies of any part of the work should
be mailed to: Permissions Department, Harcourt Brace and Company, 8th
Floor, Orlando, Florida 32887.

This Book Club Edition published by arrangement with Jane Yolen Books
Harcourt Brace & Company 525 B Street, Suite 1900

San Diego, CA 921014495

ISBN 1-56865-173-2

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Contents

	Dealing With Dragons

	Searching For Dragons

	Calling On Dragons

	Talking To Dragons

DEALING

WITH DRAGONS

For ALAn and Annie BUJOLD, because they liked the other one a lot

Contents

1 In Which Cimorene Refuses to Be Proper and Has a Conversation with a
Frog

2 In Which Cimorene Discovers the Value of a Classical Education and
Has Some Unwelcome Visitors

3 In Which Cimorene Meets a Witch and Has Doubts about a Wizard

4 In Which Kazul Has a Dinner Party, and Cimorene Makes Dessert

5 In Which Cimorene Receives a Formal Call from Her Companions in Dire
Captivity

6 In Which the wizards Do Some Snooping, and Cimorene Snoops Back

7 In Which Cimorene and Kazul Make a Journey Underground

	8

	In Which Cimorene and Kazul Pay a Call,

		and Cimorene Gets into a Fight

9 In Which Therandil Is a Dreadful Nuisance, and Cimorene Casts a
Spell

10 In Which Cimorene and Alianora Conduct Some Tests and Disturb a
Wizard

	11

	In Which Kazul Is Unwell, and Cimorene

			Makes a New Acquaintance

12 In Which Cimorene Calls on a Dragon, and the Stone Prince Discovers
a Plot

	13

	In Which Alianora Discovers an Unexpected Use 	for Soap and Water, and
Cimorene

	Has Difficulty with a Dragon

14 In Which the Wizzards Try to Make Trouble, and Cimorene Does
Something about It

	15

	In Which the Dragons Crown a New King,

		and Cimorene Gets a New Job

1

In 	Which Cimorene Refuses to Be Proper and Has a Conversation with a
Frog

Linderwall was a large kingdom, just east of the Mountains of Morning,
where philosophers were highly respected and the number five was
fashionable.

The climate was unremarkable.  The knights kept their armor brightly
polished mainly for show-it had been centuries since a dragon had come
east.  There were the usual periodic problems with royal children and
uninvited fairy godmothers, but they were always the sort of thing that
could be cleared up by finding the proper prince or princess to marry
the unfortunate child a few years later.  All in all, Linderwall was a
very prosperous and pleasant place.

Cimorene hated it.

Cimorene was the youngest daughter of the King of Linderwall, and her
parents found her rather trying.  Their first six daughters were
perfectly normal princesses, with long, golden hair and sweet
dispositions, each more beautiful than the last.  Cimorene was lovely
enough, but her hair was jet black, and she wore it in braids instead
of curled and pinned like her sisters.

And she wouldn't stop growing.  Her parents were quite sure that no
prince would want to marry a girl who could look him in the eye instead
of gazing up at him becomingly through her lashes.  As for the girl's
disposition-well, when people were being polite, they said she was
strong-minded.  When they were angry or annoyed with her, they said she
was as stubborn as a pig.

The King and Queen did the best they could.  They hired the most
superior tutors and governesses to teach Cimorene all the things a
princess ought to know-dancing, embroidery, drawing, and etiquette.

There was a great deal of etiquette, from the proper way to curtsy
before a visiting prince to how loudly it was permissible to scream
when being carried off by a giant.  (L'mderwall still had an occasional
problem with giants.) Cimorene found it all very dull, but she pressed
her lips together and learned it anyway.  When she couldn't stand it
any longer, she would go down to the castle armory and bully the
armsmaster into giving her a fencing lesson.  As she got older, she
found her regular lessons more and more boring.  Consequently, the
fencing lessons became more and more frequent.

When she was twelve, her father found out.

"Fencing is not proper behavior for a princess," he told her in the
gentle-but-firm tone recommended by the court philosopher.

Cimorene tilted her head to one side.  "why not?"

"It's .  . . well, it's simply not done."

Cimorene considered.  "Aren't I a princess?"

"Yes, of course you are, my dear," said her father with relief.  He had
been bracing himself for a storm of tears, which was the way his other
daughters reacted to reprimands.

"Well, I fence," Cimorene said with the air of one delivering an
unshakable argument.  "So it is too done by a princess."

"That doesn't make it proper, dear," put in her mother gently.

"why not?"

"It simply doesn't," the Queen said firmly, and that was the end of
Cimorene's fencing lessons.

When she was fourteen, her father discovered that she was making the
court magician teach her magic.

"How long has this been going on?"  he asked wearily when she arrived
in response to his summons.

"Since you stopped my fencing lessons," Cimorene said.  "I suppose
you're going to tell me it isn't proper behavior for a princess."

"Well, yes.  I mean, it isn't proper."

"Nothing interesting seems to be proper," Cimorene said.

"You might find things more interesting if you applied yourself a
little more, dear," Cimorene's mother said.

"I doubt it," Cimorene muttered, but she knew better than to argue when
her mother used that tone of voice.  And that was the end of the magic
lessons.

The same thing happened over the Latin lessons from the court
philosopher, the cooking lessons from the castle chef, the economics
lessons from

the court treasurer, and the juggling lessons from the court
minstrel.

Cimorene began to grow rather tired of the whole business.

When she was sixteen, Cimorene summoned her fairy godmother.

"Cimorene, my dear, this sort of thing really isn't done," the fairy
said, fanning away the scented blue smoke that had accompanied her
appearance.

"People keep telling me that," Cimorene said.

"You should pay attention to them, then," her godmother said
irritably.

"I'm not used to being hauled away from my tea without warning.  And
you aren't supposed to call me unless it is a matter of utmost
importance to your life and future happiness."

"It's of utmost importance to my life and future happiness," Cimorene
said.

"Oh, very well.  You're a bit young to have fallen in love already;
still, you always have been a precocious child.  Tell me about him."

Cimorene sighed.  "It isn't a him."

"Enchanted, is he?"  the fairy said with a spark of interest.  "A frog,
perhaps?  That used to be quite popular, but it seems to have gone out
of fashion lately.  Nowadays, all the princes are talking birds, or
dogs, or hedgehogs."

"No, no, I'm not in love with anyone!"

"Then what, exactly, is your problem?"  the fairy said in
exasperation.

"This!"  Cimorene gestured at the castle around her.  "Embroidery
lessons, and dancing, and-and being a princess!"

"My dear Cimorene!"  the fairy said, shocked.  "It's your heritage!"

"It's boring."

"Boring?"  The fairy did not appear to believe what she was hearing.

"Boring.  I want to do things, not sit around all day and listen to the
court minstrel make up songs about how brave Daddy is and how lovely
his wife and daughters are."

"Nonsense, my dear.  This is just a stage you're going through.  You'll
outgrow it soon, and you'll be very glad you didn't do anything
rash."

Cimorene looked at her godmother suspiciously.  "You've been talking to
my parents, haven't you?"

"Well, they do try to keep me up to date on what my godchildren are
doing."

"I thought so," said Cimorene, and bade her fairy godmother a polite
good-bye.

A few weeks later, Cimorene's parents took her to a tourney in
Sathem-by-the-Mountains, the next kingdom over.  Cimorene was quite
sure that they were only taking her because her fairy godmother had
told them that something had better be done about her, and soon.  She
kept this opinion to

herself.  Anything was better than the endless rounds of dancing and
embroidery lessons at home.

Cimorene realized her mistake almost as soon as they reached their
destination, for the King of Sathem-by-the-Mountains had a son.  He was
a golden-haired, blue-eyed, and exceedingly handsome prince, whose
duties appeared to consist entirely of dancing attendance on
Cimorene.

'Isn't he handsome?"  Cimorene's lady-in-waiting sighed.

"Yes," Cimorene said without enthusiasm.  "Unfortunately, he isn't
anything else."

"Whatever do you mean?"  the lady-in-waiting said in astonishment.

"He has no sense of humor, he isn't intelligent, he can't talk about
anything except tourneys, and half of what he does say he gets wrong.

I'm glad we're only staying three weeks.  I don't think I could stand
to be polite to him for much longer than that."

"But what about your engagement?"  the lady-in-waiting cried,
horrified.

"What engagement?"  Cimorene said sharply.

The lady-in-waiting tried to mutter something about a mistake, but
Cimorene put up her chin in her best princess fashion and insisted on
an explanation.  Finally, the lady-in-waiting broke down.

"I .  . . I overheard Their Majesties discussing it yesterday."  She
sniffled into her handkerchief.  "The stipulations and covenants and
contracts and settlements have all been drawn up, and they're going to
sign them the day after tomorrow and announce it on Th-Thursday."

"I see," said Cimorene.  "Thank you for telling me.  You may go."

The lady-in-waiting left, and Cimorene went to see her parents.  They
were annoyed and a little embarrassed to find that Cimorene had
discovered their plans, but they were still very firm about it.  "We
were going to tell you tomorrow, when we signed the papers," her father
said.

"We knew you'd be pleased, dear," her mother said, nodding.  "He's such
a good-looking boy."

"But I don't want to marry Prince Therandil," Cimorene said.

"Well, it's not exactly a brilliant match," Cimorene's father said,
frowning.  "But I didn't think you'd care how big his kingdom is."

"It's the prince I don't care for," Cimorene said.

"That's a great pity, dear, but it can't be helped," Cimorene's mother
said placidly.  "I'm afraid it isn't likely that you'll get another
offer."

"Then I won't get married at all."

Both her parents looked slightly shocked.  "My dear Cimorene!"  said
her father.  "That's out of the question.  You're a princess; it simply
isn't "I'm too young to get married!"

"Your Great-Aunt Rose was married at sixteen," her mother pointed
out.

"One really can't count all those years she spent asleep under that
dreadful fairy's curse."

"I won't marry the prince of Sathem-by-the-Mountains!"  Cimorene said
desperately.  "It isn't proper!"

"What?"  said both her parents together.

"He hasn't rescued me from a giant or an ogre or freed me from a magic
spell," Cimorene said.

Both her parents looked uncomfortable.  "Well, no," said Cimorene's
father.  "It's a bit late to start arranging it, but we might be able
to manage something."

"I don't think it's necessary," Cimorene's mother said.  She looked
reprovingly at Cimorene.  "You've never paid attention to what was or
wasn't suitable before, dear; you can't start now.  Proper or not, you
will marry Prince Therandil three weeks from Thursday."

"But, Mother-" "I'll send the wardrobe mistress to your room to start
fitting your bride clothes," Cimorene's mother said firmly, and that
was the end of the conversation.

Cimorene decided to try a more direct approach.  She went to see Prince
Therandil.  He was in the castle armory, looking at swords.  "Good
morning, Princess," he said when he finally noticed Cimorene.  "Don't
you think this is a lovely sword?"

Cimorene picked it up.  "The balance is off."

"I believe you're right," said Therandil after a moment's study.

"Pity; now I'll have to find another.  Is there something I can do for
you?"

"Yes," said Cimorene.  "You can not marry me."

"What?"  Therandil looked confused.

"You don't really want to marry me, do you?"  Cimorene said
coaxingly.

"Well, not exactly," Therandil replied.  "I mean, in a way.  That is-"
"Oh, good," Cimorene said, correctly interpreting this muddled reply as
No, not at all.  "Then you'll tell your father you don't want to marry
me?"

"I couldn't do that!"  Therandil said, shocked.  "It wouldn't be
right."

"Why not?"  Cimorene demanded crossly.

"Because-because-well, because princes just don't do that!"

"Then how are you going to keep from marrying me?"

"I guess I won't be able to," Therandil said after thinking hard for a
moment.  "How do you like that sword over there?  The one with the
silver hilt?"

Cimorene left in disgust and went out to the castle garden.  She was

very discouraged.  It looked as if she were going to marry the prince
of Sathem-by-the-Mountains whether she wanted to or not.

"I'd rather be eaten by a dragon," she muttered.

"That can be arranged," said a voice from beside her left slipper.

Cimorene looked down and saw a small green frog looking up at her.

"I beg your pardon.  Did you speak?"  she asked.

"You don't see anyone else around, do you?"  said the frog.

"Oh!"  said Cimorene.  She had never met a talking frog before.  "Are
you an enchanted prince?"  she asked a little doubtfully.

"No, but I've met a couple of them, and after a while you pick up a few
things," said the frog.  "Now, why is it that you want to be eaten by a
dragon?"

"My parents want me to marry Prince Therandil," Cimorene explained.

"And you don't want to?  Sensible of you," said the frog.  "I don't
like Therandil.  He used to skip rocks across the top of my pond.  They
always sank into my living room."

"I'm sorry," Cimorene said politely.

"Well," said the frog, "what are you going to do about it?"

"Marrying Therandil?  I don't know.  I've tried talking to my parents,
but they won't listen, and neither will Therandil."

"I didn't ask what you'd said about it," the frog snapped.  "I asked at
you're going to do.  Nine times out of ten, talking is a way of
avoiding doing "What kinds of things would you suggest?"  Cimorene
said, stung.

"You could challenge the prince to a duel," the frog suggested.

He'd win," Cimorene said.  "It's been four years since I've been
allowed to do any fencing."

"You could turn him into a toad."

"I never got past invisibility in my magic lessons," Cimorene said.

"Transformations are advanced study."

The frog looked at her disapprovingly.  "Can't you do anything?"

"I can curtsy," Cimorene said disgustedly.  "I know seventeen different
country dances, nine ways to agree with an ambassador from Cathay
without actually promising him anything, and one hundred and
forty-three embroidery stitches.  And I can make cherries jubilee."

"Cherries jubilee?"  asked the frog, and snapped at a passing fly.

"The castle chef taught me, before Father made him stop," Cimorene
explained.

The frog munched briefly, then swallowed and said, "I suppose there's
no help for it.  You'll have to run away."

"Run away?"  Cimorene said.  "I don't like that idea.  Too many things
could go wrong."

"You don't like the idea of marrying Prince Therandil, either," the
frog pointed out.

"Maybe I can think of some other way out of getting married."

The frog snorted.  "Such as?"  Cimorene didn't answer, and after a
moment the frog said, "I thought so.  Do you want my advice or not?"

"Yes, please," said Cimorene.  After all, she didn't have to follow
it.

"Go to the main road outside the city and follow it away from the
mountains," said the frog.  "After a while, you will come to a small
pavilion made of gold, surrounded by trees made of silver with emerald
leaves.  Go straight past it without stopping, and don't answer if
anyone calls out to you from the pavilion.  Keep on until you reach a
hovel.  Walk straight up to the door and knock three times, then snap
your fingers and go inside.  You'll find some people there who can help
you out of your difficulties if you're polite about asking and they're
in the right mood.  And that's all."

The frog turned abruptly and dove into the pool.  "Thank you very
much," Cimorene called after it, thinking that the frog's advice
sounded very odd indeed.  She rose and went back into the castle.

She spent the rest of the day being fitted and fussed over by her
ladies-in-waiting until she was ready to scream.  By the end of the
formal banquet, at which she had to sit next to Prince Therandil and
listen to endless stories of his prowess in battle, Cimorene was more
than ready to take the frog's advice.

Late that night, when most of the castle was asleep, Cimorene bundled
up five clean handkerchiefs and her best crown.  Then she dug out the
notes she had taken during her magic lessons and carefully cast a spell
of invisibility.

It seemed to work, but she was still very watchful as she sneaked out
of the castle.  After all, it had been a long time since she had
practiced.

By morning, Cimorene was well outside the city and visible again,
walking down the main road that led away from the mountains.  It was
hot and dusty, and she began to wish she had brought a bottle of water
instead of the handkerchiefs.

Just before noon, she spied a small grove of trees next to the road
ahead of her.  It looked like a cool, pleasant place to rest for a few
minutes, and she hurried forward.  When she reached the grove, however,
she saw that the trees were made of the finest silver, and their
shining green leaves were huge emeralds.  In the center of the grove
stood a charming pavilion made of gold and hung with gold curtains.

Cimorene slowed down and looked longingly at the cool green shade
beneath the trees.  Just then a woman's voice called out from the
pavilion, "My dear, you look so tired and thirsty!  Come and sit with
me and share my luncheon."

The voice was so kind and coaxing that Cimorene took two steps toward
the edge of the road before she remembered the frog's advice.  Oh, no,
she thought to herself, I'm not going to be caught this easily!  She
turned without saying anything and hurried on down the road.

A little farther on she came to a tiny, wretched-looking hovel made of
cracked and weathered gray boards.  The door hung slantwise on a broken
hinge, and the whole building looked as though it were going to topple
over at any moment.  Cimorene stopped and stared doubtfully at it, but
she had followed the frog's advice this far, and she thought it would
be silly to stop now.  So she shook the dust from her skirts and put on
her crown (so as to make a good impression).  She marched up to the
door, knocked three times, and snapped her fingers just as the frog had
told her.  Then she pushed the door open and went in.

2

In Which Cimorene Discovers the Value of a Classical Education and Has
Some Unwelcome Visitors Inside, the hovel was dark and cool and damp.

Cimorene found it a pleasant relief after the hot, dusty road, but she
wondered why no sunlight seemed to be coming through the cracks in the
boards.  She was still standing just inside the door, waiting for her
eyes to adjust to the dark, when someone said crossly, "Is this that
princess we've been waiting for?"

"Why don't you ask her?"  said a deep, rumbly voice.

"I'm Princess Cimorene of Linderwall," Cimorene answered politely.

"I was told you could help me."

"Help her?"  said the first voice, and Cimorene heard a snort.  "I
think we should just eat her and be done with it."

Cimorene began to feel frightened.  She wondered whether the voices
belonged to ogres or trolls and whether she could slip out of the hovel
before they made up their minds about eating her.  She felt behind her
for the door and started in surprise when her fingers touched damp
stone instead of dry wood.  Then a third voice said, "Not so fast,
Woraug.  Let's hear her story first."

So Cimorene took a deep breath and began to explain about the fencing
lessons and the magic lessons, and the Latin and the juggling, and all
the other things that weren't considered proper behavior for a
princess, and she

told the voices that she had run away from Sathem-by-the-Mountains to
keep from having to marry Prince Therandil.

"And what do you expect us to do about it?"  one of the voices asked
curiously.

"I don't know," Cimorene said.  "Except, of course, that I would rather
not be eaten.  I can't see who you are in this dark, you know."

"That can be fixed," said the voice.  A moment later, a small ball of
light appeared in the air above Cimorene's head.  Cimorene stepped
backward very quickly and ran into the wall.

The voices belonged to dragons.

Five of them lay on or sprawled over or curled around the various rocks
and columns that filled the huge cave where Cimorene stood.  Each of
the males (there were three) had two short, stubby, sharp-looking horns
on either side of their heads; the female dragon had three, one on each
side and one in the center of her forehead.  The last dragon was
apparently still too young to have made up its mind which sex it wanted
to be; it didn't have any horns at all.

Cimorene felt very frightened.  The smallest of the dragons was easily
three times as tall as she was, and they gave an overwhelming
impression of shining green scales and sharp silver teeth.  They were
much scarier in person than in the pictures she remembered from her
natural history books.

She swallowed very hard, wondering whether she really would rather be
eaten by a dragon than marry Therandil.

"Well?"  said the three-horned dragon just in front of her.  'Just what
are you asking us to do for you?"

"I-" Cimorene stopped short as an idea occurred to her.  Cautiously,
she asked, "Dragons are .  . . are fond of princesses, aren't they?"

"Very," said the dragon, and smiled.  The smile showed all her teeth,
which Cimorene did not find reassuring.

"That is, I've heard of dragons who have captive princesses to cook for
them and-and so on," said Cimorene, who had very little idea what
captive princesses did all day.

The dragon in front of Cimorene nodded.  One of the others, a yellowish
green in color, shifted restlessly and said, "Oh, let's just go ahead
and eat her.  It will save trouble."

Before any of the other dragons could answer, there was a loud, booming
noise, and a sixth dragon slithered into the cave.  His scales were
more gray than green, and the dragons by the door made way for him
respectfully.

"Kazul!"  said the newcomer in a loud voice.  "Achoo!  Sorry I'm late,
but a terrible thing happened on the way here, achoo!"

"What was it?"  said the dragon to whom Cimorene had been talkin

"Ran into a wizard.  Achoo!  Had to eat him; no help for it.  Achoo,
achoo.  And now look at me!"  Every time the gray-green dragon sneezed,
he emitted a small ball of fire that scorched the wall of the cave.

"Calm down, Roxim," said Kazul.  "You're only making it worse."

"A choo!  Calm down?  When I'm having an allergy attack?  Achoo, oh,
bother, achoo!"  said the gray-green dragon.  "Somebody give me a
handkerchief.  A choo!"

"Here," said Cimorene, holding out one of the ones she had brought with
her.  "Use this."  She was beginning to feel much less frightened, for
the gray-green dragon reminded her of her great-uncle, who was old and
rather hard of hearing and of whom she was rather fond.

"What's that?"  said Roxim.  "Achoo!  Oh, hurry up and give it here."

Kazul took the handkerchief from Cimorene, using two claws very
delicately, and passed it to Roxim.  The gray-green dragon mopped his
streaming eyes and blew his nose.  "That's better, I think.  Achoo!

Oh, drat!"

The ball of fire that accompanied the dragoh's sneeze had reduced the
handkerchief to a charred scrap.  Cimorene hastily dug out another one
and handed it to Kazul, feeling very glad that she had brought several
spares.

Roxim went through two more handkerchiefs before his sneezing spasms
finally stopped.  "Much better," he said.  "Now then, who's this that
lent me the handkerchiefs?  Somebody's new princess, eh?"

"We were just discussing that when you came in," Kazul said, and turned
back to Cimorene.  "You were saying?  About cooking and so on."

"Couldn't I do that for one of you for a while?"  Cimorene said.

The dragon smiled again, and Cimorene swallowed hard.  "Possibly.

Why would you want to do that?"

"Because then I wouldn't have to go home and marry Therandil," Cimorene
said.  "Being a dragon's princess is a perfectly respectable thing to
do, so my parents couldn't complain.  And it would be much more
interesting than embroidery and dancing lessons."

Several of the dragons made snorting or choking noises.  Cimorene
jumped, then decided that they were laughing.

"This is ridiculous," said a large, bright green dragon on Cimorene's
left.

"Why?"  asked Kazul.

"A princess volunteering?  Out of the question!"

"That's easy for you to say," one of the other dragons grumbled.  "You
already have a princess.  What about the rest of us?"

"Yes, don't be stuffy, Woraug," said another.  "Besides, what else can
we do with her?"

"Eat her," suggested the yellowish green dragon in a bored tone.

"No proper princess would come out looking for dragons," Woraug
objected.

"Well, I'm not a proper princess, then," Cimorene snapped.  "I make
cherries jubilee, and I volunteer for dragons, and I conjugate Latin
verbs-or at least I would if anyone would let me.  So there!"

"Hear, hear," said the gray-green dragon.

"You see?"  Woraug said.  "Who would want an improper princess?"

"I would," said Kazul.

"You can't be serious, Kazul," Woraug said irritably.  "Why?"

"I like cherries jubilee," Kazul replied, still watching Cimorene.

"And I like the look of her.  Besides, the Latin scrolls in my library
need cataloguing, and if I can't find someone who knows a little of the
language, I'll have to do it myself."

"Give her a trial run first," a purplish green dragon advised.

Woraug snorted.  "Latin and cherries jubilee!  And for that you'd take
on a black-haired, snippy little-" "I'll thank you to be polite when
you're discussing my princess," Kazul said, and smiled fiercely.

"Nice little gal," Roxim said, nodding approvingly and waving
Cimorene's next-to-last handkerchief.  "Got sense.  Be good for you,
Kazul."

"If that's settled, I'm going to go find a snack," said the yellowish
green dragon.

Woraug looked around, but the other dragons seemed to agree with
Roxim.

"Oh, very well," Woraug said grumpily.  "It's your choice, after all,
"It certainly is.  Now, Princess, if you'll come this way, I'll get you
settled in."

Cimorene followed Kazul across the cave and down a tunnel.  To her
relief, the ball of light came with her.  She had the uncomfortable
feeling that if she had tried to walk behind Kazul in the dark, she
would have stepped on her tail, which would not have been a good
beginning.

Kazul led Cimorene through a long maze of tunnels and finally stopped
in another cave.  "Here we are," the dragon said.  "You can use the
small room over on the right.  I believe my last princess left most of
the furnishings behind when she ran off with the knight."

"Thank you," Cimorene said.  "When do I start my duties?  And what are
they, please?"

"You start right away," said Kazul.  "I'll want dinner at seven.  In
the meantime, you can begin sorting the treasure."  The dragon nodded
toward a dark opening on the left.  "I'm sure some of it needs
repairing.  There's at least one suit of armor with the leg off, and
some of the cheaper marc

swords are probably getting rusty.  The rest of it really ought to be
rearranged sensibly.  I can never find anything when I want it."

"What about the library you mentioned?"  Cimorene asked.

"We'll see how well you do on the treasure room first," Kazul said.

"The rest of your job I'll explain as we go along.  You don't object to
learning a little magic, do you?"

"Not at all," said Cimorene.

"Good.  It'll make things much easier.  Go and wash up, and I'll let
you into the treasure room so you can get started."

Cimorene nodded and went to the room Kazul had told her to use.  As she
washed her face and hands, she felt happier than she had in a long
time.

She was not going to have to marry Therandil, and sorting a dragon's
treasure sounded far more interesting than dancing or embroidery.  She
was even going to learn some magic!  And her parents wouldn't worry
about her, once they found out where she was.  For the first time in
her life, Cimorene was glad she was a princess.  She dried her hands
and turned to go back into the main cave, wondering how best to
persuade Kazul to help her brush up on her Latin.  She didn't want the
dragon to be disappointed in her skill.

"Draco, draconem, dracone," she muttered, and her lips curved into a
smile.  She had always been rather good at declining nouns.  Still
smiling, she started forward to begin her new duties.

Cimorene settled in very quickly.  She got along well with Kazul and
learned her way around the caves with a minimum of mishaps.  Actually,
the caves were more like an intricate web of tunnels, connecting
caverns of various shapes and sizes that belonged to individual
dragons.  It reminded Cimorene of an underground city with tunnels
instead of streets.  She had no idea how far the tunnels extended,
though she rather suspected that some of them had been magicked, so
that when you walked down them you went a lot farther than you thought
you were going.

Kazul's section of the caves was fairly large.  In addition to the
kitchen-which was in a large cave near the exit, so that there wouldn't
be a problem with the smoke from the fire-she had a sleeping cavern,
three enormous treasure rooms at the far end of an intricate maze of
twisty little passages, two even more enormous storage rooms for less
valuable items, a library, a large, bare cave for eating and visiting
with other dragons, and the set of rooms assigned to Cimorene.  All the
caves smelled of dragon, a somewhat musty, smoky, cinnamony smell.

Cimorene's first job was to air them out.

Cimorene's rooms consisted of three small connecting caves, just off
Kazul's living cavern.  They were furnished very comfortably in a
mixture of styles and periods, and looked just like the guest rooms in
most of the castles Cimorene had visited, only without windows.  They
were much too

small for a dragon to get inside.  When asked, Kazul said that the
dwarves had made them in return for a favor, and the dragon's tone
prevented Cimorene from inquiring too closely into just what sort of
favor it had been.

By the end of the first week, Cimorene was sure enough of her position
to give Kazul a list of things that she needed in the kitchen.  The
previous princess-of whom Cimorene was beginning to have a very poor
opinion-had apparently made do with a large skillet with three dents
and a wobbly handle, a wooden mixing bowl with a crack in it, a badly
tarnished copper teakettle, and an assortment of mismatched plates,
cups, and silverware, most of them chipped or bent.

Kazul seemed pleased by the request, and the following day Cimorene had
everything she had asked for, except for a few of the more exotic pans
and dishes.  This made the cooking considerably easier and gave
Cimorene more time to spend studying Latin and sorting treasure.  The
treasure was just as disorganized as Kazul had told her, and putting it
in order was a major task.  It was sometimes hard to tell whether a
ring was enchanted, and Cimorene knew better than to put it on and
see.

It might be the sort of useful magic ring that turned you invisible,
but it might also be the sort of ring that turned you into a frog.

Cimorene did the best she could and kept a pile in the corner for
things she was not sure about There was a great deal of treasure to be
sorted.  Most of it was stacked in one of the innermost caves in a
large, untidy heap of crowns, rings, jewels, swords, and coins, but
Cimorene kept finding things in other places as well, some of them
quite unlikely.  There was a small helmet under her bed (along with a
great deal of dust), a silver bracelet set with opals on the reading
table in the library, and two daggers and a jeweled ink pot behind the
kitchen stove.  Cimorene collected them all, along with the other
things that were simply lying around in the halls, and put them back in
the storerooms where they belonged, thinking to herself that dragons
were clearly not very tidy creatures.

The first of the knights arrived at the end of the second week.

Cimorene was busy cleaning swords.  Kazul had been right about their
condition; not only were some of them rusty, but nearly all of them
needed sharpening.  She was polishing the last flakes of rust from an
enormous broadsword when she heard someone calling from the mouth of
the cave.

Feeling somewhat irritated by the interruption, she rose and, carrying
the sword, went to see who it was.

As she came nearer to the entrance, she was able to make out the words
that whoever-it-was was shouting: "Dragon!  Come out and fight!

Fight for the Princess Cimorene of Linderwall!"

"Oh, honestly," Cimorene muttered, and quickened her step.  "Here,
you," she said as she came out into the sunlight.  Then she had to
duck as a spear flashed through the air over her head.  "Stop that!"

she cried.  "I'm Princess Cimorene."

"You are?"  said a doubtful voice.  "Are you sure?  I mean-" Cimorene
raised her head cautiously and squinted.  It was still fairly early in
the morning, and the sun was in back of the person standing outside the
cave, so that it was difficult to see anything but the outline of his
figure against the brightness.  "Of course I'm sure," Cimorene said.

"What did you expect, letters of reference?  Come around here where I
can see who you are, please."

The figure moved sideways, and Cimorene saw that it was a knight in
shiny new armor, except for the legs, where the armor was dusty from
walking.  Cimorene wondered briefly why he hadn't ridden, but decided
not to ask.  The knight's visor was raised, and a few wisps of sandy
hair showed above his handsome face.  He was studying her with an
expression of worried puzzlement.

"What can I do for you?"  Cimorene said after several moments had gone
by and the knight still hadn't said anything.

"Well, um, if you are the Princess Cimorene, I've come to rescue you
from the dragon," the knight said.

Cimorene set the point of the broadsword on the ground and leaned on it
as if it were a walking cane.  "I thought that might be it," she
said.

"But I'd rather not be rescued, thank you just the same."

"Not be rescued?"  The knight's puzzled look deepened.  "But princesses
always-" "No, they don't," Cimorene said firmly, recognizing the
beginning of a familiar argument.  "And even if I wanted to be rescued,
you're going at it all wrong."

"what?"  said the knight, thoroughly taken aback.

"Shouting, 'Come out and fight,' the way you did.  No self-respecting
dragon is going to answer to a challenge like that.  It sounds like a
child's dare.  Dragons are very conscious of their dignity, at least
all the ones I've met so far are."

"Oh," said the knight, sounding very crestfallen.  "What should I have
said?"

"'Stand forth and do battle' is the usual challenge," Cimorene said
with authority, remembering her princess lessons.  She had always been
more interested in what the knights and dragons were supposed to say
than in memorizing the places where she was supposed to scream.  "But
the wording doesn't have to be exact as long as it's suitably formal.

You're new at this, aren't you?"

"Rescuing you was going to be my first big quest," the knight said
gloomily.  "You're sure you don't want to be rescued?"

"Quite sure," Cimorene said.  "I like living with Kazul."

"You like-" The knight stared at her for a moment.  Then his expression
cleared and he said, "Of course!  The dragon's enchanted you.  I should
have thought of that before."

"Kazul has not enchanted me, and I do not want to be rescued by
anybody, "Cimorene said, alarmed by the knight's sudden enthusiasm.

"This place suits me very well.  I like polishing swords and cooking
cherries jubilee and reading Latin scrolls.  If you don't believe me,
ask anyone in Linderwall.

They've been complaining about my un-princesslike behavior for
years."

"I did hear something about fencing lessons," the knight said
doubtfully, "but knights aren't supposed to pay attention to that kind
of thing.

We're supposed to be above rumors and gossip."

"The fencing lessons were just the beginning," Cimorene assured him.

"So you see why I'm perfectly happy being a dragon's princess."

"Um, yes," said the knight, but he did not look convinced.  "Speaking
of dragons, where's yours?"

"Kazul's not my dragon," Cimorene said sharply.  "I'm her princess.

You'll never have any luck dealing with dragons if you don't get these
things straight.  She's gone to the Enchanted Forest on the other side
of the mountains to borrow a crepe pan from a witch she knows."

"She's what?"  said the knight.

"She's gone to borrow a crepe pan," Cimorene repeated in a louder
voice.  "Perhaps you'd better have your helmet checked when you get
back.

They're not supposed to interfere with your hearing, but sometimes-"
"Oh, I heard you," the knight said.  "But what does a dragon want with
a crepe pan?"

"She doesn't want it; I do.  I found a recipe in the library that I
want to try, and the kitchen just isn't equipped to handle anything but
the most ordinary cooking.  Kazul will fix that eventually, but for the
time being we have to borrow things like crepe pans and souffle
dishes."

"You really do like it here," the knight said wonderingly.

Cimorene refrained from replying that this was what she had been trying
to tell him all along and instead said, "How did you know where I
Was?"

"Things get around."  The knight waved a hand in a vague manner.

"In fact, I had to hurry to make sure I was the first.  Half of the
Kingdom of Linderwall and a princess's hand in marriage is a reward
rich enough to tempt a lot of people who wouldn't normally bother with
this sort of thing."

"Father's offered half the kingdom to whoever rescues me?"  Cimorene
said incredulously.  "That's more than all my sisters' dowries put
together?

"It's the usual thing in cases like this," the knight said mildly.

"It would be," Cimorene said in tones of deep disgust.  "Well, at least
you can go back and tell them I don't want to be rescued.  Maybe that
will keep anyone else from coming up here."

"I can't do that!"  the knight said.  "It's-" "-just not done,"
Cimorene finished.  "I understand perfectly."  She gave him a polite
farewell, more because she had been well brought up than because she
felt like being polite, and sent him on his way.  Then she went back
into the cave and polished the broadsword until it was mirror-bright,
which relieved her feelings a little.

There were two knights the following day, and four more the day after
that.

On the fourth day there was only one, but he was exceptionally
stubborn, and it took Cimorene nearly two hours to get rid of him.  By
then she was thoroughly disgusted and even considered letting Kazul
handle the knights from then on.  She could not quite bring herself to
do it.  The knights would certainly attack Kazul as soon as they saw
her, since that was what they were coming for, and sooner or later
someone would get hurt.  Cimorene did not like to think that someone
might be hurt trying to rescue her, particularly since she did not want
to be rescued, so with a sigh she decided that she would continue to
handle the knights as long as Kazul would let her.

Prince Therandil showed up at the end of the third week.  He was
limping a little, as if his metal boots pinched his toes, and the
feathers attached to the top of his helmet sagged badly.  He stopped
and carefully struck an impressive pose before issuing the usual
challenge.

Cimorene was not in a mood to be impressed.  Besides, she could see
that his helmet was a different style from his gold armor and that the
armor had gaps at the knees and elbows where it didn't fit together
quite right.

"Aren't you a little slow?"  she asked irritably.  "There've been eight
knights here before you."

"Eight?"  the prince said, frowning.  "I thought by now there'd have
been at least twelve.  Perhaps I'd better come back later."

Cimorene stared at him in surprise.  "Why?"

"Well, it would look better," Therandil explained seriously.  "There's
not much glory in defeating a dragon that hasn't already beaten ten or
fifteen people at least.  Sir Gorolax of Mirstwold won't even consider
going after a dragon whose score is less than forty-five.  I don't
think I want to risk waiting that long, but eight just doesn't seem
like enough."

"You're going to go away and wait until Kazul has defeated fifteen
knights before you come back to rescue me?"  Cimorene said.  She
found

Therandil's smug confidence very annoying, but she didn't like to say
so straight out.

"Not if you'd rather be rescued now, of course," Therandil said
hastily.

"Though you ought to consider the advantages, and I expect it won't be
so very long .  . ."  His voice trailed off, and he looked at her
hopefully.

"I'm afraid it will be a very long time," Cimorene said with
satisfaction.

"You see, Kazul hasn't defeated any knights at all yet."

"B-b-but I thought you said there'd been eight," Therandil
spluttered.

"I said eight of them had come by; I didn't say they'd fought
anybody.

I sent them away."

"You sent them away?"  Therandil repeated, plainly horrified.  "But
that's-that's-" "-not done, I know."  Cimorene smiled sweetly "But I've
done it.  And I intend to go on doing it, so you might as well go home
and warn your friends.  They'd feel so foolish, you know, if they came
all this way into the mountains to rescue me and then had to turn
around and go back home without doing anything."

"They certainly would?  Therandil said indignantly.  "What do you mean
by playing these kinds of tricks?  Don't you want to be rescued?"

"No," said Cimorene, losing her patience at last, "I don't.  And I'm
tired of having my work constantly interrupted.  So please go away, and
don't come back."

"You can't possibly mean that," Therandil said.  "Besides, everyone
expects me to rescue you."

"That's your problem," Cimorene told him.  "I'm going to go fix
dinner.

Good-bye."  Before he could say anything else, she turned and ducked
back into the cave, hoping the prince wouldn't follow.

3

In Which Cimorene Meets a Watch and Has Doubts about a Wizard

Therandil left, but he came back again the next day, and the day after
that.  It got so that Cimorene could not even step outside the cave
without running into him.  She might have been flattered if it hadn't
been so obvious that Therandil was only worried about how foolish he'd
look if he went home without fighting the dragon.  On his fifth visit
Cimorene was very sharp with him, and when he had not returned by
midafternoon of the next day, she began to hope that he had finally
left for good.

Cimorene was in the kitchen taking the pits out of cherries when she
heard someone knocking at the mouth of the cave.

"Go away," she shouted in complete exasperation.  "I've told you and
told you, I don't want to be rescued, and I'm not going to argue with
you any more!"

"I didn't come here to argue," said a no-nonsense female voice from
outside.  "I came to meet the person who keeps borrowing my crepe
pan.

It's not something there's normally much call for."

"Oh, dear," said Cimorene.  She wiped her hands hastily on a corner of
her apron and hurried out to greet her visitor.  "I'm sorry," she said,
coming around the gray rock at the cave mouth.  "But I've been having a
problem with knights lately, and I thought-" She stopped short as she
got a good look at her caller for the first time.

The woman standing outside the cave was considerably shorter than

Cimorene.  Her ginger hair was piled in waves on top of her head.  She
had on a loose black robe with long sleeves, which she wore unbelted.

A small pair of glasses with rectangular lenses sat firmly on her nose,
and she carried an extremely twiggy broom in her left hand.  Despite
her unusual appearance, she projected an air of great self-assurance.

"I quite understand," she said, studying Cimorene shrewdly.  "You must
be Kazul's new princess."

"Yes, I'm Cimorene.  And you are .  . . ?"

"Morwen," said the black-robed woman, leaning the broom against the
rock.  "Kazul and I have been friends for a long time, ever since I
moved to the Enchanted Forest, so I thought I'd come have a look at her
new princess."

"You're the person Kazul's been borrowing dishes from, aren't you?"

Cimorene said, and blinked.  "But then you must be-" "A witch," Morwen
finished.  "I don't see why you find it surprising.

It's not exactly an unusual profession in these parts."

"It's just that I haven't met one before," Cimorene said, not
mentioning the fact that in Linderwall witches were considered
dangerous and probably evil and were therefore avoided if at all
possible.  But then, people in Linderwall didn't like dragons much,
either.  "Won't you come in and have some tea?"

"I certainly will," said the witch, and she did.  She prowled around
like a nervous cat while Cimorene put the kettle on the stove and got
out the tea things.

"Well," Morwen said approvingly as Cimorene filled the teapot, "you're
the first princess I've ever met who has the sense to keep up with the
kitchen."

Cimorene decided that she liked Morwen's down-to-earth manner.  She
soon found herself telling Morwen everything, from the fencing and
philosophy and Latin lessons to the seemingly endless stream of
knights.  The story lasted through two cups of tea and finished with
Therandil's stubborn insistence on rescuing her.

"That is absurd," Morwen said decidedly when Cimorene finished.  "If
this continues, you'll never get anything done."

"I know," Cimorene said.  "I keep telling them I don't want to be
rescued, but they're all so honorable that none of them will tell
anyone when they go back because they think it would be gossiping."

"More likely they don't want to look foolish."

"Maybe, but even if they did tell people, I'm not sure anyone would
believe it.  I have a hard enough time convincing the knights when they
show up in person."

"It's just as well that your visitors have been honorable," Morwen
said, looking thoughtful.  "Linderwall's a prosperous kingdom.  Sooner
or later the chance of getting hold of half of it is going to tempt
someone to try rescuing you whether you want to be rescued or not."

"That hadn't occurred to me," Cimorene said with a worried frown.

"What can I do about it?"

"I'm not sure," Morwen replied.  "The situation's not at all usual, you
know.  I've never heard of a princess volunteering for a dragon
before.

Which rather surprises me, now that I think of it.  A dragon's princess
is practically guaranteed a good marriage, so you'd think princesses
from the smaller kingdoms would be clamoring for the job."

"They're probably worried about being eaten," Cimorene said.  "Do you
think it would help if I sent my parents a letter?"

"Probably not," Morwen said after a moment's consideration.  "But it
can't hurt to try.  I'll check my spell books when I get home.  It may
give me an idea.  I suggest that you hunt through Kazul's library.

She's been collecting scrolls for centuries; you ought to be able to
find something useful.  Meanwhile, we'll put up a sign."

"A sign?"  Cimorene stared at Morwen for a moment, then began to
smile.

"'Road washed out,'" she said.  "'Use alternate route."  Is that the
kind of sign you were thinking of?"

"Exactly," Morwen said with approval.  "It won't stop anyone who's
really determined, but it will certainly slow them down.  That should
give us time to come up with something better."

The two women set to work at once and in a short time produced a large,
official-looking sign.  Morwen offered to set it up on her way back to
the Enchanted Forest, but Cimorene thought it would be too awkward for
her to carry while riding the broom.  So, once Morwen had gone,
Cimorene tucked the sign under her arm and started down the path.

Cimorene had not had a chance to do any real exploring before, though
she had looked out at the mountains every day and wondered.  She was
happy to have an excuse to see more of the outside of her new home.

It was a lovely day, warm and sunny, and at first the path was level
and easy.  Cimorene was just beginning to wonder whether anyone would
believe her sign, once she got it put up, when the path swung left
around a boulder and narrowed to a tiny ledge that sloped steeply
upward.

Cimorene stopped.  Now she knew why none of the knights had ridden up
to the cave.  The ledge was barely wide enough for a person on foot to
edge along sideways; the best rider in the world couldn't have gotten a
horse down it.  Cimorene rolled her sign up into a firm, tight cylinder
and stuck it through her belt, so she would have her hands free while
she climbed.  Then she stepped out onto the ledge.

Sidling up the slope took a long time, for Cimorene was careful to
make sure that each part of the ledge would hold before she trusted her
weight to it.  She was also careful not to look down.  Heights had
never bothered her before, but there was a big difference between
standing solidly on top of a tower in Linderwall Castle behind a
four-foot parapet and inching along a ledge barely six inches wide with
nothing between her and a long fall.

She had almost reached the top of the slope, where the path widened
again, when a portion of the ledge disappeared just ahead of her.

Cimorene pulled her foot back and tried to figure out what had
happened.  She hadn't seen or heard the rock crumble and fall away;
there was simply a two-foot gap in the ledge that hadn't been there
before.  She studied it for a moment, trying to think of a way of
getting past.  Nothing occurred to her.  She felt a twinge of annoyance
at the thought of all her wasted efforts, but cheered up at once when
she realized that this would solve the problem of the visiting
knights.

If she couldn't get around or over the gap, an armored knight wouldn't
be able to get by, either.  Cimorene smiled and turned her head to
creep back to safety.

There was another two-foot gap in the ledge on her other side.

Cimorene frowned.  Something very odd was going on, and she didn't like
it.

"You look as if you are in need of assistance," said a deep voice from
above her.  "May I be of help?"

Cimorene turned her head and saw a man standing four feet away, on the
path at the top of the ledge.  He was tall and sharp-featured, and his
eyes were a hard, bright black.  Though he had a gray beard that
reached nearly to his waist, his face did not look old.  He wore loose
robes made of blue and gray silk, and in one hand he held a staff as
tall as himself made of dark, polished wood.

"Possibly," Cimorene answered.  She was certain that the man was a
wizard, though she had never met one before, and she did not want to
agree to anything until she was sure of what she was agreeing to.  The
court philosopher had always claimed that wizards were very tricky.

"May I know to whom I am speaking?"

"I am the wizard Zemenar," the man said.  "And you must be Kazul's new
princess.  I hope you're not trying to run away.  It's-" "Not done,"
Cimorene said, feeling particularly annoyed because for once she was
not doing anything improper.  "Yes, I'm Cimorene."

"I was going to say that it isn't wise to run away from your dragon,"
the wizard corrected mildly.  "I believe it's done all the time."

"I'm sorry," Cimorene said, but she didn't try to explain.  "And I'm
not running away.  How did you know who I was?"

"It seemed unlikely that I would find any other charming young lady
walking so casually through the Pass of Silver Ice," Zemenar
answered.

He smiled.  "As you see, it is easy to find oneself in difficulties if
one is not properly .  .. prepared."

Cimorene decided that she didn't like him.  He reminded her of one of
her father's courtiers, a humorless, sneaky little man who had paid her
compliments only when he was after something and who couldn't resist
giving advice even when nobody wanted it.  "The ledge was all here when
I started," she said.  An idea crossed her mind, and she looked hard at
Zemenar.  "I don't suppose you know what happened to the two missing
bits?"

A flash of startled annoyance crossed the wizard's face; then his
expression smoothed back into pleasant politeness.  He shrugged.  "The
Pass of Silver Ice is a strange place.  Odd things frequently occur."

"Not like this," Cimorene muttered.  She was sure, now, that the wizard
had made the ledge vanish so that he could pretend to rescue her, but
she had no idea why he would want her to think she owed him a favor.

Actually, it surprised her that he had destroyed the ledge.  She didn't
think the dragons would be too happy when they found out.  Unless he
hadn't really destroyed it.

"What did you say?"  Zemenar said, frowning uncertainly.

Cimorene ignored him.  Wthout looking down, she slid her right foot
along the ledge.  The rock felt firm and solid.  Slowly she transferred
her weight and brought her left foot up beside her right.  She shifted
again, still careful not to look down, and slid her right foot forward
once again.

"What are you doing?"  Zemenar demanded.

"Getting off this ledge," Cimorene replied.  "I should think that was
obvious."  One more step would bring her to the path, but Zemenar was
squarely in her way.  "Would you mind moving back a little so I'll have
somewhere to stand?"

Zemenar's eyes narrowed, but he backed up several paces, and Cimorene
stepped onto the path.  She wanted to heave a sigh of relief, but she
did not.  She wasn't going to let Zemenar have the satisfaction of
knowing she had been worried.  Instead, she gave him her best royal
smile and said with polite insincerity, "Thank you for offering to
help, but as you see, it wasn't needed.  Do stop by and visit some
time."

"I will," Zemenar said as if he meant it.  "And a very good day to you,
Princess Cimorene."

With that he vanished.  There was no smoke or fire or whirlwind.

There wasn't even a shimmer in the air as he disappeared.  He was
simply and suddenly gone.

Cimorene stared at the place where the wizard had been and felt a

shiver run down her spine.  It took a very powerful wizard indeed to
vanish so quietly.  And she still didn't know what he wanted.

She shook herself and started down the path.  She would worry about the
wizard later; right now she had to find a place to put up her sign so
she could get back to the cave.  She didn't feel much like exploring
any more.

She hadn't taken more than two or three steps when a dark shadow passed
over her.  Looking up, startled, she saw a flash of yellow-green
scales.

An instant later a dragon landed on the path in front of her, blocking
the way completely.  His tail hung over the edge, and he had to keep
his wings partly unfurled in order to stay in balance.  Cimorene
recognized him at once.  It was the yellow-green dragon who had wanted
to eat her the day she arrived so unexpectedly in the dragons' cave.

"I saw the whole thing," the dragon said with nasty, triumphant glee.

"Running away-and talking to a wizard!  Just wait until Kazul hears.

She'll be sorry she didn't just let us eat you and be done with it."

"I offer you greetings and good fortune on your travels," Cimorene
said, figuring that it was best to be polite to anyone as large and
toothy as a dragon, even if he wasn't being at all polite to her.  "I'm
not running away."

"then what are you doing?  Kazul doesn't have any business that would
bring you down this side of the pass."

"I came out to put up a sign to keep the knights away," Cimorene
said.

"That's ridiculous."  the dragon sniffed.  "I've been on patrol in this
part of the mountains for the past week, and I haven't seen or smelled
even a hint of a knight."

"You haven't been by Kazul's cave, then," Cimorene said.  "At least
nine of them have shown up there in the past week.  though for the past
couple of days it's been mostly a prince."

"Princes don't smell any different from knights, and I'd have noticed
if any of them were hanging around," the dragon said flatly.  "And what
about that wizard you were talking to?"

"Chaaarrge!"  shouted a familiar voice from the other side of the
dragon.

"therandil!"  Cimorene shouted.  "I told you to go away!"  the
yellow-green dragon twisted his long neck and glanced back over his
shoulder.  He seemed to bunch together like a cat crouching.  Then he
sprang straight up into the air, and Cimorene was blinded by the cloud
of dust raised by the flapping of his enormous wings.  She had the
presence of mind to flatten herself back against the rocks by the side
of the path, and a moment later she heard someone blundering by.  She
stuck out a foot.

"Ow!"  she said as therandil fell over with a clatter.  She'd forgotten
that he'd be wearing iron boots along with the rest of his armor.

"Cimorene?  Is that you?"  therandil said.

"Of course it's me," Cimorene replied, rubbing her ankle.  "Open your
eyes; the dust's settled."  She looked up as she spoke and saw the
dragon soar out of sight behind a cliff.

"I'm sorry," Therandil said, and then in an anxious tone he added, "I
hope I didn't hurt you, stumbling into you like that."

Cimorene started to say that it was nothing and that it had been her
fault anyway, when she suddenly got a much better idea.  "I think
you've sprained my ankle," she declared.

"Oh, no," Therandil said.  He sounded truly dismayed, though Cimorene
couldn't see his face because he was wearing his helmet with the visor
down.

"I probably won't be able to walk for at least a month," she
declared.

"And there's certainly no way I can climb down this mountain."

"But if you can't walk-" Therandil said, and paused.  Then he squared
his shoulders and went on, "-then I suppose I'll have to carry you."

He didn't sound as if he liked the idea.

"I don't think that would work very well," Cimorene said quickly.

"How will you fight when all the dragons come back if you're carrying
me?

No, you'll have to leave me here and go back alone."

"You can't stay here!"  Therandil protested, though Cimorene's talk of
when all the dragons come back had plainly made him nervous.

"I have to," Cimorene said, trying to sound noble and long-suffering.

"The dragons will make sure I get safely back to Kazul's cave, and a
month isn't too long a wait, after all."

"I don't understand," Therandil said, and he did look thoroughly
puzzled.

"There's no point in you or anyone else coming up here to rescue me for
at least a month, not till my ankle's better," Cimorene explained
patiently.

"Oh, I see," Therandil said.  He tilted his head back and scanned the
empty sky.  "You're quite sure you'll be all right?  Then I'll just be
going before those dragons return."  He turned and started down the
path as quickly as he could manage in full armor.

4

In Which Kazul Has a Dinner Party, and Cimorene Makes Dessert

Cimorene watched Therandil go with feelings of great relief.  Now she
had at least a month to find a permanent way of discouraging the
knights, for she was quite certain that Therandil would spread the news
of her "injury."  She decided to put up her sign anyway, just in case,
and after a little looking she found a scrubby tree beside the path and
hung the sign on it.

On her way back to Kazul's cave, she noticed that the two pieces of the
ledge were still invisible, and she was very careful about crossing
them.  She looked down once, out of curiosity, and was immediately
sorry.  She was not comfortable with the sight of her own feet firmly
planted on nothing at all, with the sharp, spiky tops of spruce trees
in full view some fifty feet below.

Kazul arrived only a few minutes after Cimorene herself.  Cimorene was
looking for some thread to mend her skirts (which had gotten torn and
stained while she was climbing along the ledge) when she heard the
unmistakable sounds of a dragon sliding into the main cave.

"Cimorene?"  Kazul's voice called.

"Coming," Cimorene called back, abandoning her search.  She picked up
her lamp and hurried out to greet Kazul.

"I'm glad to see you're still here," Kazul said mildly as Cimorene
came

into the large cave.  "Moranz was quite sure you'd run off with a
knight or a wizard.  I couldn't make out for certain which."

"Is Moranz the yellow-green dragon who wanted to eat me?"  Cimorene
asked.  "Because if he is, he's just trying to make trouble."

"I'm well aware of that," Kazul said with a sigh that sent a
burnt-bread smell halfway across the cave.  "But things would be easier
for me if you didn't provide him with any material to make trouble
with.  Exactly what happened?"

"Well, Morwen came to visit this afternoon," Cimorene began.  "We were
talking about all the .  . . interruptions I've been having, and she
suggested putting up a sign .... "She explained why she had gone to put
up the sign herself and told Kazul in detail about her meetings with
the wizard, the dragon, and the prince.

"So Morwen was here," Kazul said.  She sat back, and the scales on her
tail rattled comfortably against the floor.  "That simplifies
matters.

Did you bring the sign back with you?"

"No, I found a tree and hung it by the path," Cimorene said, wondering
what this was all about.  "In case Therandil doesn't tell everyone
about my ankle after all."

"Better still," Kazul said, and smiled fiercely, showing all her
teeth.

"Moranz is going to regret meddling."

"Meddling in what?"

"My business."

"I'd like a little more of an explanation than that, if you don't mind
giving one," Cimorene said with a touch of exasperation.

Kazul looked startled, then thoughtful.  Then she nodded.  "I keep
forgetting that you're not as empty-headed as most princesses," she
said.  "Sit down and make yourself comfortable.  This may take a
while."

Cimorene found a rock and sat on it.  Kazul settled into a more restful
position, folded her wings neatly along her back, and began.  "It has
to do with status.  Dragons aren't required to have princesses, you
see.  Most of us don't.  There are never enough to go around, and some
of us prefer not to have to deal with the annoyances that come with
them."

"Knights," Cimorene guessed.

"Among other things," Kazul said, nodding.  "So having a princess in
residence has become a minor mark of high status among dragons."

"A minor mark?"

Kazul smiled.  "I'm afraid so.  It's the equivalent of, oh, serving
expensive imported fruit at dinner.  It's a nice way of showing
everyone how rich you are, but you could make just as big an impression
by having some of those fancy pastries with the smooth glazed icing and
spun-sugar roses."

"I see."  Cimorene did see, though she found herself wishing that
Kazul

had found something else to compare it to.  The talk of dinner
reminded her too much of Moranz's repeated desire to eat her.

"Moranz is young and not very bright, I'm afraid," Kazul said, almost
as if she had read Cimorene's mind.  "He seems to have the mistaken
impression that if a princess behaves badly, it reflects on the dragon
who captured her.  Possibly it comes from his inability to keep any of
his own princesses for more than a week.  Some of the lesser dragons
were very snide about it when he lost his third one in a row.  I
believe she sneaked out while he was napping."

"I don't see how he can blame his princesses," Cimorene objected.  "I
mean, if most princesses are unwilling, it must be fairly usual for
them to try to get away."

"Of course, but Moranz doesn't see it that way.  He's been trying to
catch someone else's princess in a similar foolishness for years, and
he's quite sure he's finally done so.  He's undoubtedly spreading the
story of your escape far and wide at this very minute."

"Oh, dear," said Cimorene.

Kazul smiled again, and her teeth glittered silver in the lamplight.

"He'll look extremely foolish when it becomes obvious that you're still
here.

Which is one reason I've asked a few of my friends to dinner
tonight."

"You've what?"  Cimorene said.  All her worries about Moranz were
instantly replaced by worries about fixing dinner on short notice for
an unknown number of dragons.  "How many?  What time will they be
here?

Where are we going to put them all?"

"Six.  Around eight-thirty.  In the banquet cave.  And you won't be
doing anything but dessert.  I've already arranged for the rest of the
meal."

"Arranged?  With whom?"

"Ballimore the giantess.  She's loaned me the Cauldron of Plenty that
she uses when her twelve-headed son-in-law drops in for dinner
unannounced.

It'll handle most things, but all it can produce in the way of dessert
is burned mint custard and sour-cream-and-onion ice cream."

"Ugh!"  said Cimorene.  "I see your problem."

"Exactly.  Can you manage?"

"Not if you want cherries jubilee," Cimorene said, frowning.  "I
haven't got a pot large enough to make seven dragons' worth of cherries
jubilee.

Would chocolate mousse do?  I can make two or three batches, and there
should be time for all of them to chill if you're not starting until
eight "Chocolate mousse will be fine," Kazul assured her.  "Come along
and I'll show you where to bring it."

Cimorene picked up a lamp and followed Kazul into the public tunnels
that surrounded Kazul's private caves.  She was a little surprised, but
when

she saw the size of the banquet cave, she understood.  It was
enormous.  Fifty or sixty dragons, perhaps even a hundred of them,
would fit into it quite comfortably.  Obviously it had to be a public
room; there simply wasn't enough space under the Mountains of Morning
for every dragon to have a cave this size.

Kazul made sure Cimorene could find her way to the banquet cave without
help and then left her in the kitchen to melt slabs of chocolate and
whip gallons of cream for the mousse.  By the time she finished, she
was hot and tired, and all she really wanted to do was to take a nap.

But Kazul was expecting her to serve the mousse, and Cimorene wasn't
about to appear before all those dragons in her old clothes with sweaty
straggles of hair sticking to her neck and a smear of chocolate across
her nose, so instead of napping, she pumped a cauldron of water, heated
it on the kitchen fire, and took a bath.

Once she was clean she felt much better.  She checked to make sure the
mousse was setting properly, then went into her own rooms to decide
what she should wear.  Unfortunately, she was afraid she didn't have
much choice.  The wardrobe in her bedroom was full of neat, serviceable
dresses suitable for cooking in or rumaging through treasure, but the
only dressy clothes she had were the ones she had arrived in.  She got
them out of the back of the wardrobe and found to her dismay that the
hem of the gown was badly stained with mud from her long walk.  There
was no time to clean it; she would have to wear one of the everyday
dresses.

With a sigh Cimorene turned back to the wardrobe and opened it once
more to look for the nicest of the ordinary clothes.  She gasped in
surprise.

The hangers were now full of the most beautiful gowns she had ever
seen.

Some were silk, and some were velvet; some were heavy brocade, and some
were layers of feather-light gauze; some were embroidered with gold or
silver, and some were sewn with jewels.

"Well, of course," Cimorene said aloud after a stunned moment.

"Why would a dragon have an ordinary wardrobe?  Of course it's magic.

What's in it depends on what I'm looking for."

One of the wardrobe doors waggled slightly, and its hinges creaked in
smug agreement.  Cimorene blinked at it, then shook herself and began
looking through the gowns.

She chose one of red velvet, heavily embroidered with gold, and found
matching slippers in the bottom of the obliging wardrobe.  She let her
black hair hang in loose waves nearly to her feet and even dug her
crown out of the back of the drawer where she'd stuffed it on her first
night.  She finished getting ready a few minutes early.  Feeling very
cheerful, she went to the kitchen to fetch the mousse.

It took Cimorene four trips to get the mousse down to the serving area
just off the banquet cave.  A dragon-sized serving was a little over a
bucketful, and she could barely manage to carry two at a time.  When
everything was ready, she stood in the serving area and waited
nervously for Kazul to ring for dessert.  She could hear the muffled
booming of the dragons' voices through the heavy oak door, but she
could not make out what any of them were saying.

The bell rang at last, summoning Cimorene to serve dessert.  She
carried the mousse into the banquet cavern, two servings at a time, and
set it in front of Kazul and her guests.  The dragons were crouched
around a shoulder-high slab of white stone.  Cimorene had to be very
careful about lifting the mousse up onto it.  Fortunately, she didn't
have to wonder which dragon to serve first.  She could tell which
dragons were most important from their places at the table, and she
made a silent apology to her protocol teacher, who had insisted that
she learn about seating arrangements.  (Protocol had been one of the
princess lessons Cimorene had hated most.) As she set the last serving
in front of Kazul, one of the other dragons said in a disgruntled and
vaguely familiar voice, "I see the rumors are wrong again, Kazul.  Or
did you have to go after her and haul her back the way the rest of us
do?"

Cimorene turned angrily, but before she could say anything, a large
gray-green dragon on the other side of the stone slab said, "Nonsense,
Woraug!  Girl's got more sense than that.  You shouldn't listen to
gossip.

Next thing you know, you'll be chasing after that imaginary wizard
Gaurim's been on about."  Cimorene recognized the speaker at once.  He
was Roxim, the elderly dragon she had given four of her handkerchiefs
to.

"I suppose it was that idiot Moranz again, trying to cause trouble," a
purple-green dragon said with bored distaste.  "Someone should do
something about him."

"Kazul still hasn't answered my question," Woraug said, and his tail
lashed once like the tail of an angry cat.  "And I'd like her to do so
if the rest of you will stop sidetracking the conversation."

"Here, now!"  Roxim said indignantly.  "That's a bit strong, Woraug!

Too strong, if you ask me."

"I didn't," Woraug said.  "I asked Kazul.  And I'm still waiting."

"I'm very pleased with my princess," Kazul said mildly.  "And no, I
didn't have to haul her back, as you would realize if you'd given the
matter a little thought.  Or does your princess normally leave seven
servings of chocolate mousse in the kitchen when she runs away?"

"Hear, hear!"  Roxim said.

Cimorene noted with interest that Woraug's scales had turned an even

brighter shade of green than normal and that he was starting to smell
faintly of brimstone.

"One of these days you'll go too far, Kazul," he said.

"You started it," Kazul pointed out.  She turned to the gray dragon.

"What's this about Gaurim and a wizard, Roxim?"

"You haven't heard?"  Roxim said, sounding surprised.  "Gaurim's been
raving about it for weeks.  Somebody snuck into her cave and stole a
book from her library.  No traces, but for some reason she's positive
it was a wizard.  Achoo!"  Roxim sneezed, emitting a ball of flame that
just missed hitting his bowl of mousse.  "Gives me an allergy attack
just thinking about

"If it wasn't a wizard, who was it?"  the dragon at the far end of the
table asked.

"Could have been anybody-an elf, a dwarf, even a human," Roxim
responded.  "No reason to think it was a wizard just because Gaurim
didn't catch him in the act.  Not with the amount of time she spends
away from home."

"Which book did she lose?"  said the thin, brownish-green dragon next
to Kazul.

"What does it matter?"  the purple-green dragon muttered.

"Some history or other.  And that's another thing-what would a wizard
want with a history book?  No, no, Gaurim's making a lot of fuss over a
common thief.  That's what I say."

"It could have been a wizard," said the dragon at the far end.  "Who
knows why they want the things they want?"

"Ridiculous!"  Roxim replied with vigor.  "A wizard wouldn't dare come
through this part of the mountains.  They know what we'd do to them, by
George!  Beg pardon," he added to the silver-green dragon next to him,
who appeared to have been rather shocked by his language.

"I'm afraid you're wrong there," Kazul said.  "Cimorene met one today,
less than a two-minute flight from my cave."

"What?  What?"  Roxim said.  "You're sure?"

"That's done it."  The purple-green dragon rolled his head in an
irritated gesture, so that his scales made a scratching noise as they
rubbed together.  "You'll never get him to quit talking about it
now."

"Quite sure," Cimorene assured Roxim: after glancing at Kazul to make
sure she was expected to answer Roxim's question for herself.  "He made
two bits of the ledge I was standing on turn invisible so I would think
it wasn't safe to keep going."

"Certainly sounds like a wizard to me," the dragon at the far end
commented.

"What did he look like?"  asked the silver-green dragon.

Cimorene described the wizard as well as she could, then added, "He
said his name was Zemenar."

"Zemenar?  That's ridiculous!"  Woraug snorted.  "Zemenar was elected
head of the Society of Wizards last year.  He wouldn't waste his time
playing games with somebody's princess."

"Not unless he had a great deal to gain by it," the thin dragon said in
a thoughtful tone.  She turned her head and looked speculatively at
Cimorene.

"Such as?"  Woraug said.  He waited a moment, but no one answered.

"No, I can't believe it was Zemenar.  The girl's made a mistake; that's
all."

"Perhaps it wasn't him," Cimorene said, holding on to her temper as
hard as she could.  "I've never met Zemenar, so I wouldn't know.  But
that's who he said he was."

"And wouldn't it be amusing if she were right?"  the purple-green
dragon said, showing some interest in the proceedings for the first
time.

"I don't see that it matters," the silver-green dragon said.  "The
important thing is that he was a wizard, poking around smack in the
middle of our mountains.  What are we going to do about it?"

"Tell King Tokoz," Roxim said.  "His job to handle this sort of thing,
isn't it?"

"What can Tokoz do about it?"  Woraug said, and there was a faint
undercurrent of contempt in his tone.

"He could use the King's Crystal to find out what the wizards are
really doing," the thin dragon said in a prim tone.

"He won't use the crystal for anything less than a full-fledged war,"
Woraug said.  "And why should he?  What could Tokoz do even if he did
find out some wizard was preying on poor defenseless dragons like
Gaurim?"

"Lodge a formal protest with the Society of wizards," Roxim answered
promptly, ignoring Woraug's sarcasm.  "Proper thing to do, no
question.

Then the next time anyone sees a wizard .  . ."  His voice trailed off,
and he snapped his teeth together suggestively.

"He'd probably just set up a committee," the purple-green dragon
said.

"Can't anyone think of something else?"

"I don't think we should do anything until we have some idea what
Zemenar was after," said the thin dragon.  "It could be important."

"We have to do something?  the silver-green dragon said.  Her claws
clashed against the stone table.  "We can't have wizards wandering in
and out whenever they please!  Why, we'd lose half our magic in no
time."

"Not to mention everyone sneezing themselves silly every time one of
those dratted staffs gets too close," added the dragon at the far
end.

The dragons began arguing among themselves about what to do and how
best to do it.  It reminded Cimorene of the way her father's
ministers

argued.  Everyone seemed to agree that something ought to be done
about the wizards, but they each had a different idea about what was
appropriate.

Roxim insisted huffily that the only thing to do was to inform the
King, who would then make a formal protest.  The thin dragon wanted to
find out what the wizards were up to (she didn't say how this was to be
done) before anyone tried to chase them off.  The silver-green dragon
wanted patrols sent out immediately to eat any wizard who ventured into
the Mountains of Morning.  The dragon at the far end of the table
wanted to attack the headquarters of the Society of Wizards the
following morning, and the purple-green dragon thought it would be most
entertaining to wait and see what the wizards did next.  Woraug was the
only one of the guests who did not have a proposal, though he made
occasional comments, usually sarcastic ones, about everyone else's
suggestions.

Kazul did not say anything at all.  Cimorene was at first surprised and
then puzzled by her silence, since Kazul was the one who had set the
whole discussion going to begin with.  As the argument grew more
heated, however, Cimorene began to be glad that there was at least one
dragon present who was not involved in it.  The dragon at the far end
of the table was starting to breathe little tongues of fire at the
purple-green dragon, and Roxim was threatening loudly to have another
allergy attack, but Cimorene was fairly sure that Kazul would stop the
discussion before things got completely out of hand.

She was right.  A moment later, while the dragon at the far end was
taking a deep breath to continue arguing and the thin dragon was
winding up a long, involved train of logical reasons why her proposal
was the best, Kazul said, "Thank you all for your advice.  I'll
certainly think about it before I decide what to do."

"What do you mean by that?"  the thin dragon asked suspiciously.

"It was my princess who met the wizard," Kazul pointed out.

"Therefore, it is my decision whether to report the matter to the King,
or to take some action on my own, or to ask for cooperation from some
of you."

None of the other dragons appeared to like hearing this, but to
Cimorene's surprise none of them gave Kazul any argument about it.  The
dragon at the far end of the table made a few half-hearted grumbles,
but that was all, and the conversation turned to the intricacies of
several draconian romances that were currently in progress.  As soon as
her guests appeared to have calmed down, Kazul gave the signal for the
empty mousse dishes to be taken away, so Cimorene only heard a few
incomprehensible snatches of the new conversation.  She did not really
mind.  She had plenty to think about already.

5

In Which Cimorene Receives a Formal Call from Her Companions in Dire
Captivity Kazul slept late the following morning, and Cimorene was
afraid that she would leave before Cimorene had a chance to ask about
the dragons' after-dinner conversation.  To her relief, Kazul called
her in as soon as she was thoroughly awake and asked Cimorene to bring
in the brushes for cleaning her scales.

"What was that crystal your friend mentioned last night?"  Cimorene
asked as she laid out the brushes.  "The one she thought King Tokoz
could use somehow to find out what the wizards are doing?"

"The King's Crystal?"  Kazul said.  "It's one of the magical objects
that belongs to the King of the Dragons."

"But what does it do?  And why did Woraug think that King Tokoz
wouldn't want to use it?"

"Using the crystal is difficult and tiring, and Tokoz is getting old,"
Kazul replied.  "Zareth was right to say that the crystal ought to be
used, but it will take more evidence than we have right now to persuade
the King of that.  As to what it does, the crystal shows things that
are happening in other times and places.  It's useful, but it can be
very difficult to interpret correctly."

"Oh, a crystal ball," Cimorene said, nodding.  She tapped Kazul's side,
and the dragon bent her elbow so that the scales were easier to
reach.

"The

court wizard at Linderwall had one, but I had to stop my magic lessons
before he got a chance to show me how to work it."

"The King's Crystal is more like a plate, but the principle is the
same," Kazul said.

"A crystal plate?"  Cimorene blinked.  "No wonder nobody talks about it
much.  It just doesn't sound right."

Kazul shrugged.  "The King's Crystal is much more accurate than an
ordinary crystal ball, and if 'crystal plate' sounds odd to most
people, it means that fewer of them will try to steal it."

"Was that what the silver-green dragon meant when he said that if the
wizards started wandering through the mountains you'd lose half your
magic in no time?  I never heard that wizards stole magic rings and
swords and things."

"Not magic things," Kazul said.  Wizards steal magic.  That's where
their power comes from."

"How can a wizard steal magic?"  Cimorene said skeptically.  She
climbed on a stool and began working at the ribs of Kazul's wings.

"Wizards' staffs absorb magic from whatever happens to be nearby,"
Kazul said, stretching out her left wing so Cimorene could get at the
base.

"That's why they're always hanging around places like the Mountains of
Morning and the Enchanted Forest.  The more magic there is in the area,
the more their staffs can soak up."

"What would happen if someone stole a wizard's staff?.  Would the
wizard still be able to use it?"

"The wizard wouldn't be able to work any magic until he got it back,"
Kazul said.  "Most of them have a great many anti-theft spells on their
staffs for exactly that reason.  Of course, it happens anyway, now and
then.  And as long as the wizard and the staff are separated, the staff
doesn't absorb."

"It doesn't sound like a very good arrangement to me," Cimorene said.

"I can think of half a dozen ways a staff could be lost or forgotten or
stolen or something.  It doesn't seem sensible for a wizard to depend
so much on anything that's so easy to mislay."

Kazul shrugged.  "They seem to like it."

"I can see why you don't want them in your part of the mountains."

"Can you?  Do you have any idea how unpleasant it is to have part of
your essence sucked out of you without so much as a by-your-leave?  Not
to mention the side effects."

"Side effects?"  Cimorene said, puzzled.  "There!  Turn around, and
I'll do your other side."

"Roxim isn't the only dragon who's allergic to wizards," Kazul said
dryly as she shifted her position.  "Or rather, to their staffs.  We
all are.

Roxim's just a little more sensitive than most.  That's why we made
the agreement with them in the first place."

"The dragons have an agreement with the wizards?"

Kazul nodded.  "To be precise, the King of the Dragons has an agreement
with the head of the Society of Wizards: the wizards stay out of our
portions of the Mountains of Morning, and we allow them partial access
to the Caves of Fire and Night.  At least, that's the way it's supposed
to work.

King Tokoz is getting old and forgetful, and lately wizards have been
turning up in all sorts of places they aren't supposed to be."

"Like that wizard Zemenar I met on the path," Cimorene said.  "Do you
think he really was the same Zemenar that's the head of the Society of
Wizards?"

"I doubt that anyone, even another wizard, would dare impersonate him,"
Kazul said.  "He has a nasty reputation."

Cimorene remembered the hard black eyes and sharp features of the
wizard she had met.  He had certainly looked nasty enough, even when he
was pretending to be nice.  He was sneaky, too, or he wouldn't have
tried to trick her.  And he had been very annoyed when Cimorene got off
the ledge without his help.  Cimorene frowned.

"I wonder what he wanted, really," she mused.  "Do you suppose he'll
stop by the way he said he would?"

"I almost wish he would try," Kazul said.  There was an angry glint in
her eye, and her claws made a scratching sound against the stone floor
of the cave as she flexed them.

"Don't wiggle," Cimorene said.  "If Zemenar is as tricky as everyone
says, he won't come while you're here.  He'll wait until you've gone
somewhere and I'm alone."

"True."  Kazul frowned.  Then she looked at Cimorene, and her eyes took
on a speculative gleam.  "He probably thinks you're as silly as most
princesses, so he'll be hoping to trick you into giving him whatever it
is he's after.  And if he does-" "Then maybe I can fool him instead,"
Cimorene finished.  "And once we know what he's after, we can decide
what to do about it."

Kazul and Cimorene discussed this idea while Cimorene finished brushing
the dragon's scales.  There was very little they could do to prepare
since they did not know when Zemenar might show up at the cave or what
he might do when he arrived.  Then Kazul went off to inspect the ledge
where Cimorene had met the wizard, to see whether bits of it were still
invisible.

When Kazul had gone, Cimorene went into the library to hunt through all
the books and scrolls of spells.  The behavior of the dragons at dinner
the previous evening had made a considerable impression on her, and
she

wanted to see whether she could find a spell to fireproof herself.

Until then she hadn't realized that when a dragon lost his temper, he
started breathing fire.  Not that she was planning to do anything to
irritate Kazul-or any other dragon, for that matter-but the dragons at
dinner had been too annoyed to be careful, and she didn't want to get
burned by accident, no matter how sorry the dragon might be
afterward.

At first Cimorene didn't have much luck.  She hadn't had time to do
much organizing in the library, and most of the books and scrolls were
lying in haphazard, dust-covered piles.  Some had even fallen onto the
floor, and there were spiders everywhere.  Cimorene realized that if
she wanted to find anything, she was going to have to do some more
cleaning first.  With a sigh she went to get a bucket of water, some
cloths for washing and dusting, and a handkerchief to tie over her
hair.

She worked for several hours, dusting books and manuscripts, wiping off
the dusty bookshelves, and putting the books back in neat rows when the
shelves were dry.  She found two books and five old scrolls that looked
as if they might be interesting.  These she set on one of the tables to
look at later.

She had just pulled a stained and yellowed stack of papers out of the
back of the second-to-last bookshelf when she heard someone hallooing
outside.

"Now what?"  she muttered crossly.  She set the papers on the table
with the rest of the books she was planning to look at later and went
out to see who was there.

To her surprise, the noise was coming from the back entrance, not from
the mouth of the cave.  She hurried into the passage, rounded the
corner, and found herself facing three beautiful, elegantly dressed
princesses.  They were all blonde and blue-eyed and slender, and
several inches shorter than Cimorene.  The first one wore a gold crown
set with diamonds, and her hair was the color of sun-ripened wheat.

The second wore a silver crown set with sapphires, and her hair was the
color of crystallized honey.  The last wore a pearl-covered circlet,
and her hair was the color of ripe apricots.  They looked rather taken
aback by the sight of Cimorene in her dust-covered dress and
kerchief.

"Oh, bother," Cimorene said under her breath.  Then she smiled her best
smile and said, "Welcome to the caves of the dragon Kazul.  May I help
you with anything?"

"We have made the perilous journey through the tunnels to see the
Princess Cimorene, newly come to these caverns, to comfort her and
together bemoan our sad and sorry fates," the first princess said
haughtily.

"Tell her we are here."

"I'm Cimorene," Cimorene said.  "I don't need comforting, and I'm

not particularly sad or sorry to be here, but if you'd like to come in
and have some tea, you're welcome to."

The first two princesses looked as if they would have liked to be
startled and appalled by this announcement but were much too well bred
to show what they were feeling.  The princess with the pearl circlet
looked surprised and rather intrigued, and she glanced hopefully at her
companions.

They ignored her, but after a moment the first princess said grandly,
"Very well, we will join you, then," and swept past Cimorene into the
cave.

The other princesses followed, the one with the pearl circlet giving
Cimorene a shy smile as she passed.  Cimorene, wondering what she had
gotten herself into, brought up the rear.  The princesses stopped when
they reached the main cave, and the ones in the gold and silver crowns
looked a bit disgruntled.  The one in the pearl circlet stared in
unabashed amazement.

"My goodness," she said, "you certainly do have a lot of space."

"Alianora!"  the gold-crowned princess said sharply, and the princess
with the pearl circlet flushed and subsided, looking unhappy.

"This way," Cimorene said hastily, and led the three princesses into
the kitchen.  "Do sit down," she said, waving at the bench beside the
kitchen table.

The gold-crowned princess looked at the bench with distaste, but after
a moment she sat down.  The other two followed her example.  There was
a brief silence while Cimorene filled the copper teakettle and hung it
over the fire, and then the gold-crowned princess said, "I am remiss in
my duties, for I have not yet told you who we are.  I am the Princess
Keredwel of the Kingdom of Raxwel, now captive of the dread dragon
Gornul.  This"-she nodded toward the princess in the silver crown-"is
the Princess Hallanna of the Kingdom of Poranbuth, now captive of the
dread dragon Zareth.  And this"-she waved at the girl in the pearl
circlet-"is the Princess Alianora of the Duchy of Toure-on-Marsh, now
prisoner of the dread dragon Woraug."

"Pleased to meet you," Cimorene said.  "I am Princess Cimorene of the
Kingdom of Linderwall, now princess of the dragon Kazul.  What sort of
tea would you like?  I have blackberry, ginger, chamomile, and
gunpowder green.  I'm afraid I used the last of the lapsang souchong
this morning."

"Blackberry, please," Keredwel said.  She gave Cimorene a considering
look.  "You seem to be most philosophic about your fate."

"Would that I had so valiant a spirit," Hallanna said in failing
accents.

"But my sensibility is too great, I fear, for me to follow your
example."

"if you don't like being a dragon's princess, why don't you escape?"

Cimorene asked, remembering that Kazul had said that three princesses
in a row had run away from the yellow-green dragon, Moranz.

Keredwel and Hallanna looked shocked.  "Without being rescued?"

Hallanna faltered.  "Walk all that way, with dragons and trolls and
goodness knows what else hiding in the rocks, ready to eat me?  Oh, I
couldn't!"

"It isn't done," Keredwel said coldly.  "And I notice that you haven't
tried it."

"But I'm enjoying being Kazul's princess," Cimorene said cheerfully.

"I suppose I might have been upset if I'd been carried off the way you
were, but I can hardly complain as it is, can I?"

Alianora leaned forward.  "Then you really didn't volunteer to be
Kazul's princess?"

Keredwel and Hallanna turned and stared at their companion.  "Where did
you get that ridiculous idea, Alianora?"  Hallanna said.

"W-Woraug said-" Alianora faltered.

"You must have misunderstood," Keredwel said severely.  "No one
volunteers to be a dragon's princess.  It isn't done."

"Actually, Alianora's quite right," Cimorene said as she set the
teacups in front of her visitors.  "I did volunteer."  She smiled
sweetly at the thunderstruck expressions on the faces of the first two
princesses.  "I got tired of embroidery and etiquette."

Keredwel and Hallanna seemed unsure of how to take this announcement,
so they made polite conversation about the tea and asked Cimorene
questions about the current fashions.  Alianora didn't say very much,
and the few times she tried either Keredwel or Hallanna jumped on
her.

Cimorene felt rather sorry for Alianora.

The princesses swept off at last, still somewhat puzzled by Cimorene's
attitude.  Cimorene gave a sigh of relief and set about cleaning up the
kitchen.  She was just rinsing the last of the cups when she heard
someone hesitantly clearing her throat behind her.  Cimorene turned and
saw Alianora standing timidly in the doorway.

"Hello again," Cimorene said.  "Did you forget something?"

"Not exactly," Alianora said.  "I mean, I told Keredwel I did, but
actually I just wanted to get away from them for a while.  I hope you
don't mind."

"I don't mind at all as long as you don't expect more hospitality,"
Cimorene assured her.  "I have to get back to work on the library."

"What are you doing?"  Alianora asked.  She seemed really interested,
so Cimorene explained about the fireproofing spell.

"It sounds like a wonderful idea," Alianora said when Cimorene
finished.

"The dragons are careful around us, but it would be nice not to have to
depend on them not to lose their tempers."  She hesitated.  "May I
help?"  don't think Kazul would mind, Cimorene said.  "But you'd better
change clothes first.  The library isn't very clean, I'm afraid."

ily with silver and pearls, and giggled.  Cimorene took her into the
bedroom and found a plain, serviceable cleaning dress in the magic
wardrobe.  It took two tries before the wardrobe figured out that she
wanted a dress for someone else, but once it caught on, it provided a
splendid selection in Alianora's size.  Then they went to the library
and got to work.

Cleaning was much more enjoyable with Alianora for company.  By the
time they finished dusting and straightening the last bookcases, the
two girls were fast friends, and Alianora was comfortable enough to ask
Cimorene straight out how it was that she had come to volunteer for a
dragon.

"It's a long story," Cimorene said, but Alianora insisted on hearing
it.

So Cimorene told her and then asked how Alianora had happened to be
carried off by Woraug.

To her surprise, Alianora flushed.  "I think it was the only thing left
that they could think of," she said, not very clearly.  "My family, I
mean."

"I don't understand," Cimorene said.

"It's because I'm not a very satisfactory princess," Alianora said.  "I
tried, I really did, but .... It started when the wicked fairy came to
my "She put a curse on you?"

"No.  She ate cake and ice cream until she nearly burst and danced with
my Uncle Arthur until two in the morning and had a wonderful time.  So
she went home without cursing me, and Aunt Ermintrude says that that's
where the whole problem started."

"Lots of princesses don't have christening curses," said Cimorene.

"Not if a wicked fairy comes to the christening," Alianora said
positively.

"And that was only the beginning.  When I turned sixteen, Aunt
Ermintrude sent me a gold spinning wheel for my birthday, and I sat
down and spun.  I didn't prick my finger or anything."

Cimorene was beginning to see what Alinora was getting at.  "Well, if
you didn't have a christening curse .  . ."

"So Aunt Ermintrude told Mama to put me and a spinning wheel in a room
full of straw and have me spin it into gold," Alianora went on.  "And I
tried!  But all I could manage was linen thread, and whoever heard of a
princess who can spin straw into linen thread?"

"It's a little unusual, certainly."

"Then they gave me a loaf of bread and told me to walk through the
forest and give some to anyone who asked.  I did exactly what they told
me, and the second beggar-woman was a fairy in disguise, but instead of
saying that whenever I spoke, diamonds and roses would drop from my
mouth, she said that since I was so kind, I would never have any
problems with my teeth."

"Really?  Did it work?"

"Well, I haven't had a toothache since I met her."

"I'd much rather have good teeth than have diamonds and roses drop out
of my mouth whenever I said something," Cimorene said.  "Think how
uncomfortable it would be if you accidentally talked in your sleep!

You'd wake up rolling around on thorns and rocks."

"That never occurred to me," Alianora said, much struck.

"Was that everything?"  Cimorene asked.

"No," Alianora said.  "Aunt Ermintrude persuaded one of her fairy
friends to give me a gown and a pair of glass slippers to go to a ball
in the next kingdom over.  And I broke one before I even got out of the
castle!"

"That's not so surprising," Cimorene said.  "Glass slippers are for
deserving merchants' daughters, not for princesses."

"Try telling Aunt Ermintrude that," Alianora said.  "I think she was
the one who found out that Woraug was going to ravage a village just
over the border and arranged for me to go and visit on the right day so
I could be carried off.  She didn't even warn me.  I suppose she
thought that if I knew, I'd mess it up somehow."

"I don't think I would get along very well with your Aunt Ermin-trude,"
Cimorene commented thoughtfully.

"Oh, it wasn't so bad, at least at first," Alianora said.  "Woraug
ignored me most of the time, especially after he found out I can't
cook, and it was a real relief not to have Aunt Ermintrude around any
more.  Only then Gornul brought Keredwel and Zareth brought Hallanna,
and .  . ."

"And they've been making life miserable for you ever since," Cimorene
finished.  "Why don't you stand up to them?"

"I tried, but you don't know what they're like," Alianora said,
sighing.

"Keredwel goes on and on about correct behavior, and Hallanna dissolves
in tears as soon as it looks like she's losing an argument.  And
they've both had dozens of knights and princes try to rescue them.

I've only had two."

"How do you do it?"  Cimorene asked.  "I've had nine already, and
they're a dreadful nuisance."  Alianora stared at Cimorene, then began
to giggle.  "What's so funny?"  Cimorene demanded.

"Keredwel bragged for a week because two knights and a prince tried to
rescue her the first month she was here," Alianora explained between
giggles.  "She said it was some kind of record.  You've barely been
with Kazul for four weeks, and you've had nine, and you didn't even
mention it when Keredwel was here.  She's going to be furious when she
finds out."

"If she wants them, she can have them," Cimorene said.  Her expression
grew thoughtful.  "Maybe they'd be easier to get rid of if I sent them
along to another princess, instead of just trying to get them to go
home."

"Oh!"  said Alianora, and went off into gales of laughter again.

Cimorene gave her a questioning look.  "It's the idea of Keredwel
being-oh, my-being rescued by a secondhand knight," Alianora gasped.

"Oh, dear?"

Cimorene's eyes began to dance.  "I could take a good look at them
first, to make sure they're worthy of her before I sent them on," she
suggested.

This was too much for either of them, and they both collapsed in
laughter.  "You wouldn't, really, would you?"  Alianora said when she
began to recover.

"Send the knights to rescue someone else?  I certainly would," Cimorene
said emphatically.  "I meant it when I said they were a nuisance.  I
wouldn't want to upset Keredwel, though.  I'll have to think about the
best way of handling it.  It's a good thing there probably won't be any
more of them for a few weeks.  I should have plenty of time to figure
something out."

"How do you know that?"  Alianora asked.  Cimorene explained about the
sign and Therandil and her "sprained ankle."  Alianora was impressed
and promised to help if she could.  "I'll tell Hallanna that you've
twisted your ankle.  I know she'll tell the next knight who comes to
rescue her, and then it won't matter if your Prince Therandil doesn't
tell anybody."

This settled, the two girls sat down and began looking through the
books and scrolls Cimorene had piled on the table.  Alianora, having
been brought up as a proper princess despite the tiny size of her
country, did not read Latin, so Cimorene had to examine those scrolls
herself.  There was a sizable stack of books left, however, and
Alianora waded into them with a will.  It was Cimorene, however, who
finally found the spell they were searching for.

"I think this is it!"  she said, looking up from an ancient, crumpled
scroll.  "'Being a Spell for the Resisting of Heat and Flames of All
Kinds, in Particular Those Which Are the Product of Magical Beasts,'"
she read.

"Yes, there's a list and it includes dragons."

"I would think dragons would be at the top," Alianora said.  "Is it
difficult?"

"It doesn't look hard," Cimorene said, studying the page.  "Some of the
ingredients are pretty rare, but it says you only need them for the
initial casting.  After that, you can reactivate the spell just by
throwing a pinch of dried feverfew in the air and reciting a
couplet."

"That's not bad," Alianora said.  She came around the table and peered
over Cimorene's shoulder at the faded ink.  "Is it Latin?"

"No, it's just an ornate style of writing," Cimorene assured her.

"It's not hard to read, once you get the hang of it.  See, there's the
couplet.

"Power of water, wind and earth, Turn the fire back to its birth."

"It's a variation on a dragon spell," Cimorene added thoughtfully.

"How do you know that?"  Alianora asked.

"The court wizard at home mentioned it when he was teaching me magic,"
Cimorene replied, studying the directions.

"Then maybe it really will work on dragon fire.  Can we get all the
ingredients for the initial casting?"

"I think so, but it'll take a while," Cimorene said.  "I don't have any
wolfsbane, and I'm not at all sure about unicorn water.  Come on, let's
check and see what we need to get."

They took the scroll into the kitchen and began hunting through the
shelves and supplies.  They found more of the ingredients than Cimorene
had expected, and she began to wonder whether one of Kazul's previous
princesses might have studied magic.  They did not, however, find any
wolfsbane or unicorn water, nor were they able to locate any white
eagle feathers.  Alianora discovered a very cobwebby jar labeled
"POWDERED HEN'S TEETH," but it was quite empty.

Cimorene made a list of the ingredients they still needed, while
Alianora changed back into her pearl-embroidered dress.  Alianora took
a copy of the list and went back to her quarters, much excited, to see
whether she happened to have anything useful in the dusty, disused
corners of her dragon's kitchen.  Cimorene doubted that she would find
anything, but there was no harm in letting her look.

As soon as Alianora left, Cimorene tidied up the kitchen and put all
but two of the books back on the shelves in the library.  One was the
scroll of spells in which she had found the fireproofing spell, because
she wanted to take a more careful look at some of the other charms and
enchantments it described.  The other book was a fat volume bound in
worn leather, with the words Hitoria Dracorum in cracked and flaking
gold leaf on the cover.

Cimorene had decided it was time she really got to work on her Latin.

6

In Which the Wizards Do Some Snooping, and Cimorene Snoops Back

For the next three weeks, Cimorene spent most of her free time studying
the fireproofing spell and collecting the ingredients she would need to
cast it.

A few, like the wolfsbane and feverfew, she could gather herself from
the herbs that grew on the slopes of the mountains.  Alianora found a
little jar of hippopotamus off among the cosmetics left by her
predecessor.  The unicorn water Cimorene got from Morwen, after
promising her a copy of the spell if it worked.  She went to Kazul
about the white eagle feathers, though she was a little afraid to
explain what she wanted them for.  She didn't want Kazul to think that
she was worried about Kazul losing her temper and accidentally roasting
her.  Fortunately, the dragon found the whole idea very interesting.

"It could be very useful," Kazul said reflectively.  "There are enough
hot-tempered youngsters around that it would be well worth fireproofing
the princesses who have to deal with them."

"I'm not sure I'll be able to fireproof anyone at all," Cimorene
said.

"I still need the white eagle feathers and the powdered hens' teeth,
and nobody seems to have any."

"I'll see what I can do," Kazul said, and a few days later she dropped
a bundle of white feathers at the door of the kitchen.  Half a feather
was stuck to one of her right claws, and another was caught between two
of her teeth, and she looked very pleased with herself.  Cimorene
decided not to ask any

awkward questions.  Even Kazul, however, could not find any hens'
teeth, so Cimorene had to keep putting off trying out the spell.

When she wasn't working on collecting the ingredients for the
fire-proofing spell, Cimorene read the Historia Dracorum.  It was very
difficult at first.  After all, it had been a long time since her last
Latin lesson.  She kept working at it until she started to remember the
right endings for the declensions and conjugations and cases.  Shortly
after that she realized that she was not having to look up quite as
many words as she had at the beginning.

From then on, her progress was rapid.  It helped that she found the
book fascinating.  Dragon history was not a subject commonly taught to
princesses in Linderwall.  But as she was now a dragon's princess, she
had personal reasons to be interested.  Besides, the history of the
dragons was very exciting.  Every page was full of descriptions of
dragons ravaging villages, carrying off princesses, defeating knights
and princes (and occasionally being defeated by them), and fighting
with wizards, giants, and each other.  When the book wasn't describing
battles, it was describing famous dragons' hoards and peculiar
draconian customs.

Cimorene was in the library with the Historia Dracomm in front of her
and her Latin dictionary on the table beside her left hand when she
heard someone calling from the front of the cave.  She had hoped it
would be at least a little longer before the knights started coming
back, so she couldn't help sighing as she stuck a leather bookmark in
the book and closed it.

Then she went out to argue with whoever it was until they went away.

Two wizards were standing just outside the mouth of the cave.

Cimorene saw their wooden staffs first, before she was close enough to
see their faces.  As she came nearer, she recognized the one on the
left as Zemenar.  The one on the right was taller and younger; his
brown hair and beard showed no trace of gray.  His blue and brown robes
were identical to the older wizard's, except for the colors.  His eyes
were the same bright black as his companion's, and he looked at
Cimorene in a way that made her feel uneasy.

"Good morning to you, Princess Cimorene," Zemenar said.  "I thought I
would take you up on your kind invitation to visit.  I hope we haven't
come at an inconvenient time?"

"Not at all," Cimorene said, thinking hard.  She had promised Kazul
that she would try to find out what Zemenar was after if he showed up,
and here he was.  Maybe if she convinced him that she was as silly as
her sisters, he would be careless enough to let something slip.

"I thought perhaps we might have since it took you so long to come
out," Zemenar said mildly, but Cimorene thought there was a hint of
suspicion in his eyes.

"I must not have heard you right away," Cimorene said, batting her

eyes innocently, the way her next youngest sister did whenever she had
done something particularly foolish.  "Kazul has quite a large set of
caves, and I was in one of the ones at the back.  I'm so sorry."

"Ah."  Zemenar stroked his beard with his left hand.  "That would make
it difficult for you.  Perhaps we could set up a spell for you, one
that would let you know whenever anyone comes to visit.  It would be
more pleasant for visitors, too, if they didn't have to shout.  What do
you think, Antorell?"

"Like the one at the headquarters of the society," the second wizard
said, nodding.  "We could do it in two or three minutes, right from
here.  It'd be easy."

Zemenar shot a dark look at his companion.  Cimorene was sure that he'd
wanted to pretend he was inventing a difficult new spell, so that he
would have an excuse to wander around Kazul's caves.  "Quite so," said
Zemenar.  "Well, Princess?"

"Oh, dear, I don't know," Cimorene said, doing her best to imitate the
way her eldest sister behaved whenever anyone wanted her to decide
anything.

"It sounds very nice, but Kazul is so picky about where things go and
how things are done .... No, I couldn't, I simply couldn't let you do
anything like that without asking Kazul first."

"What a pity," Zemenar said.  His companion coughed and shuffled his
feet.  "Ah, yes.  Allow me to present my son, Antorell.  I hope you
don't mind my bringing him along?"

"Of course not," Cimorene said politely.

"I am pleased to make the acquaintance of such a lovely princess,"
Antorell said, bowing.

Cimorene blinked.  This wasn't getting anywhere.  Maybe if she brought
them inside they'd relax a Little.  "Thank you," she said to
Antorell.

"Won't you come in and have some tea?"

"We would be delighted," Zemenar said quickly.  "If you'll lead the
way, Princess?"

"This way," Cimorene said.  She stopped just inside the mouth of the
cave and gave the wizards her sweetest and most innocent smile.  "You
can leave your staffs right here.  Just lean them up against the
wall."

Antorell looked considerably startled, and Zemenar frowned.  "Is this,
too, something your dragon requires?"  he said.

"I don't know," Cimorene said, wrinkling up her forehead the way her
third-from-eldest sister did whenever she was puzzled (which was
often).

"But they'll be so awkward in the kitchen.  Don't you think so?

There's not very much room."

"We'll manage," Zemenar said.

Cimorene hadn't really expected to get the wizards to let go of their

staffs, but it had been worth a try.  She shrugged and smiled and led
them on into the kitchen, where she made a point of bumping into the
staffs or tripping over them every time she went by.  Finally Antorell
turned his sideways and stuck it under the table.  Zemenar hung onto
his with a kind of grim, suspicious stubbornness that made Cimorene
wonder whether she was fooling him at all with her pretended
silliness.

The wizards made uncomfortable conversation about the weather and the
size of the kitchen for several minutes while Cimorene fixed the tea
and poured it.  "Are the rest of Kazul's caves this large?"  Zemenar
asked as Cimorene handed him his teacup.  She had given him the one
with the broken handle, even though he was a guest, because she didn't
trust him.

"Oh, yes," Cimorene said.  She was beginning to think she was never
going to find out anything.  The two wizards seemed perfectly happy to
sit at the kitchen table and talk about nothing whatever for hours.

"Remarkable," said Antorell in an admiring tone.  "You know, we wizards
don't often get to see the inside of a dragon's cave."

I'll bet you don't, thought Cimorene as she gave him a puzzled smile.

"That's too bad," she said aloud.

"Yes, it is," Zemenar said.  "Perhaps you'd be willing to show us
around?"

Cimorene thought very rapidly.  It was obvious that she wasn't going to
learn anything if the wizards just sat at the kitchen table and drank
tea, so she decided to take a chance.  "Well," she said in a doubtful
tone, "I suppose it would be all right as long as I don't take you into
the treasure rooms."

"That's fine," Antorell said, a little too quickly.

"You won't touch anything, will you?"  Cimorene said as they stood
up.

"Kazul is so particular about where things are kept .  . ."

"Of course not," Zemenar said, smiling insincerely.

Cimorene smiled back and led the way out into the hall.  She watched
the wizards carefully as she took them through the large main cave, the
general storage caverns, and the big cavern where Kazul visited with
other dragons.  Zemenar made polite noises about the size and comfort
of everything, but neither he nor Antorell seemed very interested.

"And this is the library," Cimorene said, throwing the door open.

"I am impressed," Zemenar said, and Cimorene could tell that this time
he meant it.  She stepped sideways, so that she could keep an eye on
both of the wizards at the same time.

"A remarkable collection," Antorell commented.  He began walking around
the room, admiring the bookshelves and scanning the titles of the
books.

"What's this?"  Zemenar said, bending over the table.  "The Historia

Dracorum?  A surprising choice for light reading, Princess."  His eyes
met Cimorene's, and they were hard and bright and suspicious.

"Oh, I'm not reading it," Cimorene said hastily, opening her eyes very
wide.  "I just thought it would make the library look nicer to have a
book or two sitting out on the table.  More-more lived-in."

Zemenar nodded, looking relieved and faintly contemptuous.  "I think it
works very well, Princess," he said.  "Very well indeed."  Then he
looked over at the other side of the room and said sharply,
"Antorell!

What are you doing?"

Cimorene turned her head in time to see Antorell put out a hand and
deliberately tip several books off one of the shelves.  "Stop that!"

she said, forgetting to sound silly.

"I'm very sorry, Princess," Antorell said.  "Will you help me put them
back where they belong?"

Cimorene had no choice but to go over and help him.  It took several
minutes to get everything back in place because Antorell kept dropping
things.  Cimorene got quite annoyed with him and finally did it all
herself.

As she started to turn back to the center of the room, she caught a
glimpse of Zemenar hastily closing the Historia Dracorum.  Cimorene
pretended not to notice, but she made a mental note that he had been
looking at something near the middle of the book.

"That was dreadfully careless of you," Cimorene said, frowning at
Antorell.

"Very clumsy," Zemenar agreed.

"I don't know what Kazul will say when she finds out about it,"
Cimorene went on.  "Really, it is too bad of you.  I did ask you not to
touch anything, you know."

"Yes, you did," Zemenar said.  "And I wouldn't like to think that we
had gotten you in trouble.  Perhaps it would be best if you didn't
mention to Kazul that we were here at all."

"I suppose I could do that," Cimorene said in a doubtful tone.

"Of course you can," Antorell said encouragingly.  "And I'll come back
in a few days, to make sure everything's all right."

"I think it's time we were on our way," Zemenar said, giving his son a
dark look.  "Thank you for showing us around, Princess."

Cimorene escorted them out of the cave and made sure they had left,
then hurried back to the library.  She spent the next several hours
poring over the middle parts of the Historia Dracorum, trying to figure
out what Zemenar had been looking at.  She was still there when Kazul
arrived home and called for her.

"That wizard Zemenar finally came, and he brought his son along with
him," Cimorene said as she came out of the library.

"I know," said Kazul.  Her voice sounded a little thick, as if she had
a cold.  "I could smell them the minute I came in."

"Is that why you sound so odd?"  Cimorene asked.  "You're not going to
sneeze, are you?"

"I don't think so," Kazul replied.  "Don't worry about it.  I'll have
plenty of time to turn my head away."

"I wish I could get hold of some hens' teeth," Cimorene said,
frowning.

"That fireproofing spell-" "Have you looked in the treasure rooms?"

Kazul asked.

"No," Cimorene replied, startled.  She remembered seeing a number of
jars and bottles of various shapes and sizes when she had been
organizing the treasure, and none of them had been labeled.  "I didn't
think of it, and besides, it's your treasure."

"You're my princess, at least until someone rescues you or I decide
otherwise," Kazul pointed out.  "Go ahead and look, and if you find any
hens' teeth, use them.  Be careful when you're checking the jars,
though.

There are one or two with lead stoppers that shouldn't be opened."

"Lead stoppers," Cimorene said.  "I'll remember."

"Good.  Now, what did those wizards want?"

"I'm not sure."  Cimorene explained everything that had happened,
including how she had seen Zemenar closing the history book as she
turned and how the two wizards had been perfectly willing to leave
right after that.

"But just before they disappeared, Antorell said he might come back
another time," Cimorene concluded.  "So I don't know whether they found
what they were looking for or not."

"Do you know which part of the Historia Dracorum Zemenar was
reading?"

Kazul asked.

"Somewhere in the middle, a little past my bookmark," Cimorene
replied.

"I was just looking at it when you came in.  It's the part about how
the dragons came to the Mountains of Morning and settled into the caves
and chose a king."

"That's the section where the History describes the Caves of Fire and
Night, isn't it?"  Kazul said.

Cimorene nodded.  "There was a whole page about somebody finding a
stone in the caves so that the dragons could pick a king.  It didn't
make much sense to me."

"Colin's Stone," Kazul said, nodding.  "We've used it to choose our
king ever since the first time.  When a king dies, all the dragons go
to the Ford of Whispering Snakes in the Enchanted Forest and take turns
trying to

move Colin's Stone from there to the Vanishing Mountain.  The one that
succeeds is the next king."

"What if there are two dragons strong enough to move it?"  Cimorene
asked curiously.

"It's not a matter of strength," Kazul said.  "Colin's Stone isn't much
larger than you are.  Even a small dragon could carry that much weight
twice around the Enchanted Forest without any trouble at all.  But
Colin's Stone has an aura, a kind of vibration.  When you carry it, you
can feel it humming through your claws, and the humming gets stronger
the farther you go until your bones are shaking.  Most dragons have to
drop it or be shaken to pieces, but there's always one who is .  . .

suited to the stone.  For that dragon, the stone's humming is just a
pleasant buzz, so of course it's easy to get it to the Vanishing
Mountain."

"You sound as if you've had experience," Cimorene said.

"Of course," Kazul responded matter-of-factly.  "I was old enough to
participate in the tests when the last king died."  She smiled
reminiscently.  "I got farther than anyone expected me to, though I
wasn't one of the top ten by any means."

Cimorene tilted her head to one side, considering.  "I think I'm glad
you didn't win."

"Oh?  Why is that?"  Kazul sounded amused.

"Because you wouldn't have had any use for a princess if you were the
Queen of the Dragons, and if you hadn't decided to take me on, that
yellow-green dragon Moranz would probably have eaten me," Cimorene
explained.

"You mean, if I were the King of the Dragons," Kazul corrected her.

"Queen of the Dragons is a dull job."

"But you're a female!"  Cimorene said.  "If you'd carried Colin's Stone
from the Ford of Whispering Snakes to the Vanishing Mountain, you'd
have had to be a queen, wouldn't you?"

"No, of course not," Kazul said.  "Queen of the Dragons is a totally
different job from King, and it's not one I'm particularly interested
in.  Most people aren't.  I think the position's been vacant since
Oraun tore his wing and had to retire."

"But King Tokoz is a male dragon!"  Cimorene said, then frowned.

"Isn't he?"

"Yes, yes, but that has nothing to do with it," Kazul said a little
testily.

"'King' is the name of the job.  It doesn't matter who holds it."

Cimorene stopped and thought for a moment.  "You mean that dragons
don't care whether their king is male or female; the title is the same
no matter who the ruler is."

"That's right.  We like to keep things simple."

"Oh."  Cimorene decided to return to the original topic of
conversation before the dragon's "simple" ideas confused her any
further.  "Why would the wizards be interested in Colin's Stone if it's
only used for picking out the kings of the dragons?"

"I doubt that they are," Kazul replied.  "However, Colin's Stone was
found in the Caves of Fire and Night, and wizards have always been
interested in the caves.  But the dragons control most of them, and all
the easy entrances are ours, so the wizards have never been able to
find out as much as they would like.  The Historia Dracorum is one of
the few books that talks about the caves at all, and there aren't many
copies.  I'll wager Zemenar would have stolen it outright if he'd
thought he could get away with it."

"I thought the dragons let wizards into the Caves of Fire and Night,"
Cimorene objected.  "Why would Zemenar be poking through history books
looking for information if he can just go and look at them whenever he
wants to?"

"We don't let wizards visit the caves whenever they want," Kazul
said.

"If we did, they'd be running in and out all the time, and nobody would
be able to breathe without sneezing.  No, they're limited to certain
days and times, and if they want to visit the Caves of Fire and Night
otherwise, they have to use one of the entrances we don't control.  Few
of them try.  The other ways of getting into the caves are very
dangerous, even for wizards."

"Maybe they're looking for an easier way in."

"Mmm."  Kazul did not seem to be paying much attention.  She thought
for a moment, then turned toward the cave mouth.  "I'm going to go see
Gaurim.  Roxim said a book had been stolen from her library, and I want
to know which one.  I'll be back in a few hours."

"I think I'll go look at the Historia Dracorum again while you're
gone," Cimorene said thoughtfully.  "If there is something useful in it
about the Caves of Fire and Night, maybe I can find it, now that I know
what I'm looking for."

Cimorene spent the rest of the afternoon carefully translating the
chapter that talked about the caves.  She was disappointed to find that
there was very little about the caves themselves, though what was there
was interesting.

The book told how the dragons had discovered the back way into the
caves and described some of the things they had found in them-caverns
full of blue and green fire, pools of black liquid that would cast a
cloud of darkness for twenty miles around if you poured three drops on
the ground, walls made of crystal that multiplied every sound a
thousandfold, rocks that spurted fire when they were broken.  Most of
the rest of the chapter was about Colin's Stone, and how it was taken
out of the caves by the first King of the Dragons.

Kazul returned just before dinner, and she and Cimorene compared
notes.  Cimorene told Kazul what she had learned from the chapter on
the Caves of Fire and Night, and then Kazul explained what she had
learned from Gaurim.

"The stolen book was The Kings of the Dragons, and the entire first
section was about Colin's Stone and the Caves of Fire and Night," Kazul
said.  "And only a wizard could have gotten past the spells and
safeguards Gaurim puts on her library.  I think that settles it.  The
wizards are definitely collecting information about the Caves of Fire
and Night."

"Then why do they keep looking at books of dragon history?"

Cimorene asked.  "It seems like a roundabout way of finding out
whatever it is that they want to know."

"There isn't any other way to do it," Kazul said.  "Nobody but dragons
has ever had much to do with the caves, and no one has written much
about them except in dragon histories.  Even the wizards weren't
particularly interested in them until a few years ago, except as a
reliable route into the Enchanted Forest."

"But from what I've been reading in the Historia Dracorum, the caves
sound fascinating," Cimorene said.  "You mean to say that no one has
ever written anything about the Caves of Fire and Night except
dragons?"

"That's-" Kazul stopped suddenly, and her eyes narrowed.  "No, that's
not right.  There was a rather rumpled scholar who talked his way into
the caves a century or so back, and after he left he wrote an extremely
dry book about what he found there.  I'd forgotten about him."

"Do you have a copy?"  Cimorene asked hopefully.

"No," Kazul said.  "But I don't think the Society of Wizards does,
either.  There weren't very many of them printed, and a lot of those
were lost in a flood a few years later.  Some hero or other shoved a
giant into a lake to drown him.  The silly clunch didn't realize that
if he put something that big into a lake, the water would have to go
somewhere."

"Well, that doesn't do us much good," Cimorene said.  "It's nice that
the Society of Wizards doesn't have a copy of that book, but if we
can't get hold of one either-" "I didn't say that," Kazul said.  "I
don't have a copy myself, but I know who does."

"Who?"  Cimorene said impatiently.

"Morwen.  I'm afraid you're not going to be able to work on that
fireproofing spell of yours tomorrow.  We're going to take a trip to
the Enchanted Forest instead."

7

In Which Cimorene and Kazul Make a Journey Underground

Cimorene was surprised to hear that Kazul intended to take her along on
the visit to Morwen, and she was not entirely sure she liked the
idea.

She had heard a great deal about the Enchanted Forest, and none of it
was reassuring.  People who traveled there were always getting changed
into flowers or trees or animals or rocks, or doing something careless
and having their heads turned backward, or being carried off by ogres
or giants or trolls, or enchanted by witches or wicked fairies.  It did
not sound like a good place for a casual, pleasant visit.

On the other hand, it seemed unlikely that anything dreadful would
happen to Cimorene if she were traveling with a dragon, and she was
looking forward to seeing Morwen again.  Besides, Cimorene was
curious.

"And anyway," she said to herself, "Kazul says I'm going, and there's
no point in worrying about it if I don't have any choice."

Nevertheless, she decided to take one of the smaller magic swords along
with her, if Kazul said it was all right.  Cimorene saw no point in
taking unnecessary chances.

Kazul had no objection, so Cimorene picked out a small, plain-looking
sword in a worn leather scabbard that made the wearer invincible, and
they started off.  Cimorene had assumed that Kazul would fly through
the pass, but Kazul said no.

"It's not that easy to get into the Enchanted Forest," she explained.

"At least, not if you're trying to get in.  Princes and youngest sons
and particularly clever tailors stumble into it by accident all the
time, but if one wants to go there on purpose, one has to follow the
proper route."

"I didn't think dragons had that kind of problem," Cimorene said.

"Dragons don't," Kazul replied.  "But you're not a dragon."

So instead of flying through the Pass of Silver Ice, Kazul led Cimorene
through the runnels.  Cimorene had to walk very quickly to keep up,
even though Kazul was moving slowly.  It was not long before she was
wishing that the runnels were high enough for her to ride on Kazurs
back.  The route twisted around and up and back and forth and down and
around again until Cimorene was thoroughly lost.  Finally they came to
a gate made of iron bars that completely blocked the passage.  Cimorene
studied it carefully, but she could see no sign of a handle or a
lock.

"This is the entrance to the Caves of Fire and Night," Kazul said.  "Be
careful from here on, and don't wander away or you'll get lost."

Cimorene refrained from saying that as far as she was concerned, they
were lost already.  "How are you going to open it?"  she asked
instead.

"Like this," said Kazul.

'By night and flame and shining roch Open thou they hidden lock.

Alberolingarn!"

As the sound of Kazul's voice died away, the iron gate swung silently
open.  "That's a very unusual opening spell," Cimorene commented,
impressed.

"It wasn't always that complicated," Kazul said.  She sounded almost
apologetic.  "I believe the first version was very simple, just 'Open
sesame,' but word got around and we had to change it."

Cimorene nodded and followed Kazul through the gate and into the Caves
of Fire and Night.  For the first hundred yards or so, the only
difference Cimorene could see between these caves and the ordinary
runnels on the other side of the gate was that the Caves of Fire and
Night were warmer.

Then, very suddenly, her lamp went out, plunging everything into
complete and utter blackness.

Cimorene stopped walking immediately.  "Kazul?"

"It's quite all right, Princess," Kazul's disembodied voice said from
out of the darkness.  "This happens all the time here.  Don't bother
trying to relight the lamp.  Just put your hand on my elbow and follow
along that way."

"All right," Cimorene said doubtfully.  She groped with her free hand
in the direction of Kazul's voice and scraped her knuckles on the
dragon's scales.  "Ow!"

"Take your time," Kazul advised.

"I'm ready," Cimorene said.  Her right hand was pressed flat against
the cool, rough-edged scales at the back of Kazul's left forearm.

'Just don't move too fast, or I'll lose you or get stepped on or
something."

Kazul did her best to oblige, but Cimorene still had difficulty in
keeping up.  She had to take at least three steps for every one of
Kazul's, and it seemed that every time she moved her foot, she hit a
rock or an uneven place in the runnel floor.  Then she would stumble,
and her hand would scrape and slide against Kazul's scales, so that she
was afraid she would lose contact with the dragon.

"Are you sure I shouldn't try and relight the lamp?"  Cimorene asked
after her fifth painful stumble-and-slide.

"Quite sure," Kazul said.  "You see, it isn't-ah, there it goes."

While Kazul was speaking, there was a flicker of light, and then the
darkness rolled aside like a curtain being pulled.  Cimorene found
herself standing in a large cave whose walls glittered as if they were
studded with thousands of tiny mirrors.  The lamp in her left hand was
burning cheerfully once more.

"Was it the lamp?"  Cimorene asked after studying it for a moment.  "Or
was it me?"

"It was the caves," Kazul said.  "That was one of the reasons they're
'of night' as well as 'of fire."

"Only one of the reasons?"  Cimorene said thoughtfully.  "I don't like
the sound of that."

"You'll be quite all right as long as you're with me," Kazul assured
her.

"Very few things are willing to mess with a dragon, even in the dark.

And the periods of darkness don't last long.  It's because the magic of
these caves doesn't affect us as much as other people, or so I'm
told."

"You mean that blackness is likely to come back?"

Kazul nodded.

"Then let's get as far as we can before it does," Cimorene said, and
started across the cave.

There were four tunnels leading out of the opposite side of the
glittering cavern.  Kazul took the second from the left without
hesitating an instant.

"Where do all these tunnels go?"  Cimorene asked, glancing at the other
three openings as she followed Kazul.

"The one on the right end leads to a chain of caverns," Kazul said over
her shoulder.  "The first few are quite ordinary, but then you come to
one full of hot sulfur pools.  Some of the older dragons bathe there.

They claim the water is good for rheumatism.  Beyond that is a cave
with molten silver dripping down the walls, and the chain ends at a
deep chasm with a river of red-hot melted rock at the bottom."

"Doesn't sound very attractive," Cimorene commented.

"The dwarfsmiths find it very useful for forging magic swords," Kazul
assured her.  "The second tunnel on the right takes you into a maze.

The tunnels and caverns constantly shift around, so that no matter how
carefully you mark your way, you always get lost."

"Even dragons?"

Kazul nodded.  "Though I believe there was one prince who managed to
find his way out with a magic ball of string."

"Oh, bother!"  said Cimorene.  The lights had gone out again, just as
they emerged into a small cave.

"It's quite all right.  This part's easy," Kazul said.

"Next time I'm going to bring a cane," Cimorene muttered.  "Where do
the other tunnels lead?"

"The one on the far left goes through a couple of caverns that are
pretty, but not very interesting.  We're always chasing knights and
princes out of it, though.  They come for flasks of water from the
bottomless pool at the far end."

"What does it do?"  Cimorene asked.  "Ow!"  She had just banged her
right elbow against the wall of the cave in the dark.

"It casts a cloud of darkness for twenty miles around when it's poured
on the ground," Kazul replied.

"How useful," Cimorene muttered balefully, rubbing her elbow.

"And this tunnel leads to the Enchanted Forest, by way of the King's
Cave," Kazul finished.

"Oh, good.  I was hoping to see that," Cimorene said.  The King's Cave
was the chamber where the first King of the Dragons had found Colin's
Stone, and the Historia Dracorum had not described it anywhere near
well enough to suit Cimorene.  "And here's the light coming back, thank
goodness.

Let's hurry before it goes again."

They went through three small caves and two more periods of blackness
before they reached the King's Cave.  Kazul pointed out various
locations of interest, such as the wall of crystal with a chip in one
corner where the Prince of the Ruby Throne had stolen a piece to make a
magic ring and the jewel-studded cavern where the King of the Dragons
met with people who needed impressing.  There was one very eerie cave
full of slabs of black rock.  Most were standing on end, though a few
had fallen over.  Kazul said they were all enchanted princes.

"All of them?"  Cimorene asked, appalled.  There were at least forty of
the stone slabs, and the cave was quite crowded.

Kazul shook her head.  "No, the one on the end there is just an
ordinary boulder."

"How did it happen?"

"The princes came to steal some of the Water of Healing from the well
at the end of the cave," Kazul said.  "There are two dippers by the
well: one is tin, the other is solid gold and covered with jewels.  The
princes all tried to use the gold one, even though they'd been told
that only the tin dipper would work.  It's no more than they
deserve."

Cimorene frowned, thinking of some of the princes she had known.

"Well, I won't deny that they probably behaved foolishly, but-"
"Foolishly!"  Kazul snorted.  "Any reasonably well-educated prince
ought to have sense enough to follow directions when he's on a quest,
but all of these fellows were sure they knew better.  If they'd simply
done what they were told, they wouldn't be here."

"Still, turning them into slabs of stone forever seems a little
extreme."

"Oh, they won't be stone forever," Kazul said.  "Sooner or later
someone will come along who has the sense not to improvise, and he'll
succeed in getting the water.  Then he'll use some of it to disenchant
this lot, and the cave will be empty for a while until the next batch
of young idiots starts

Cimorene felt better knowing that the princes would someday be freed,
though she had sense enough not to try doing it herself.  Since she had
not been sent on a quest for the Water of Healing, it was highly
unlikely that she would be able to disenchant the princes even if she
succeeded in taking the water.  And she knew enough about quests and
enchantments and the obtaining of things with magical properties to
know that she would probably get into a lot of trouble if she tried.

So she tucked the matter into the back of her mind and followed Kazul
through the stone-filled cavern.  She was careful not to step on any of
the fallen slabs.

Just outside the entrance to the next cave, Kazul stopped.  "This," she
said, "is the King's Cave.  We have to cross it as quickly as we can.

Don't stop in the middle, and don't say anything while we're inside.

Understand?

Good.  Come on, then."

As soon as she stepped inside the cave, Cimorene understood the reason
for Kazul's request for silence.  The walls, the ceiling, and the floor
were made of dark, shiny stone that multiplied and threw back echoes of
even the smallest sound.  The soft scraping of Kazul's scales against
the floor sounded like thirty men sawing wood, and the tiny gasp
Cimorene gave at the sight and sound of the cave was as loud as if she
had shouted.  Cimorene went on as quietly and carefully as she could.

Halfway across, she noticed the vibration.  It began as a gentle and
not unpleasant buzzing in her bones, unrelated to the loud and
continually multiplying echoes of her passage, though it, too, grew
stronger the farther into the cave she went.  Kazul was in front of her
now, and she saw the dragon's tail lash once, as if in pain or anger.

Suddenly she remembered

Kazul's description of the aura that made it impossible for most
dragons to carry Colin's Stone, and that this was the place where
Colin's Stone had been found.  No wonder Kazul was uncomfortable.

Cimorene found herself wishing she could stop and pay attention to the
humming in her bones, but she remembered Kazul's directions and
continued walking.  She had nearly reached the exit when she saw a
pebble about the size of her thumbnail, made of the same dark, shiny
stone as the cavern walls.  Kazul had said nothing about picking things
up, so Cimorene veered a little to the right and scooped the pebble up
as she passed.  A moment later she was out of the cave.

"Phew!"  said Kazul.  "I'm glad that's over.  From here on, it should
be easy."

"Good," said Cimorene.  She dropped the pebble into her pocket to look
at it more closely later and followed Kazul down the narrow, winding
tunnel.

8

In Which Cimorene and Kazul Pay a Call, and Cimorene Gets into a
Fight

A few minutes later they came out of the Caves of Fire and Night into
bright sunlight.  Cimorene had to shade her eyes against the sudden
glare.

As her eyes adjusted, she saw a large clearing around the mouth of the
cave.

The ground was covered with short grass, so lush and dense that it made
Cimorene think of green fur.  Here and there a tiny flower twinkled
among the blades of grass.  At the edge of the clearing the forest
began, but Cimorene could only make out the first row of trees.  They
were enormous, so large that they dwarfed even Kazul.

"Leave the lamp here," Kazul said.  "There's no sense in carting it
around the forest when we won't need it until we come back."

Cimorene set the lamp on the ground just inside the mouth of the
cave.

"Now what?"  she said.

"Now we go to Morwen's," Kazul said.  "And we'll get there more quickly
if you ride.  If you climb up on that rock over there, you ought to be
able to get on my back without too much trouble."

"Are you sure you don't mind?"  Cimorene said, scrambling up onto the
rock Kazul had indicated.

"I wouldn't have suggested it if I minded," Kazul said.  "Right there
will be fine.  You can hang onto the sp'uke in front of you and you
won't foul my wings if I have to take off suddenly."

Cimorene did not like the implication that there were things in the

Enchanted Forest that were nasty enough to make a dragon want to take
off suddenly, but she did not say so.  It was too late to back out, and
she certainly wasn't going to wait at the mouth of the cave all alone
while Kazul went off to visit Morwen.  There was no reason to think
that waiting would be any safer than going along.

As soon as Cimorene was settled, Kazul set off into the forest at a
rapid pace.  At first Cimorene had to concentrate on holding on, but
after a while she began to get the hang of it.  Soon she was able to
look at some of the things they were passing.  The trees were huge;
Cimorene guessed that even if there were four of her, holding hands,
she would not be able to reach all the way around one of the trunks.

The ground was carpeted with bright green moss that looked even thicker
than the grass in the clearing.

Cimorene saw no flowers in it, but she spotted several bushes and a
vine with three different colors of fruit.

Kazul changed course several times for no reason that Cimorene could
see, but she did not like to distract the dragon by asking questions.

They passed a mansion guarded by a fence made of gold and a short tower
without any windows or doors.  Then Kazul splashed through a shallow
stream and made a sharp turn.  The trees thinned a little, and Kazul
stopped in front of a neat gray house with a wide porch and a red
roof.

Over the door was a black-and-gold sign in large block letters reading,
"NONE OF THIS NONSENSE, PLEASE."

There were several cats of various sizes and colors perched on the
porch railing or lying in the sun.  As Cimorene dismounted, Kazul said
to one of them, "Would you be good enough to tell Morwen that I'm here
and would like to talk to her?"

The cat, a large gray torn, blinked its yellow eyes at Kazul.  Then he
jumped down from the porch rail and sauntered into the house, his tail
held high as if to say, "I'm doing this as a particular favor, mind,
and don't you forget it."

"He doesn't seem very impressed," Cimorene commented in some
amusement.

"Why should he be?"  Kazul said.

"Well, you're a dragon," Cimorene answered, a little taken aback.

"What difference does that make to a cat?"

Fortunately, Cimorene did not have to find an answer, for at that
moment Morwen appeared in the doorway.  She was wearing the same black
robe she had worn when she visited Cimorene, or another one exactly
like it, and she peered through her glasses with the air of someone
studying an unexpected and rather peculiar puzzle.

"Good morning, Kazul," she said after a moment.  "This is a
surprise."

"Good," said Kazul.  "If you aren't expecting us to be here, no one
else is, either."

"That's the way of things, is it?"  Morwen commented thoughtfully.

"How much of a hurry are you in?"

"Not much of one, as long as no one knows we're here," Kazul replied.

"Then Cimorene had better get down and have something to drink," Morwen
said in a tone that forbade contradiction.  "There's cider, or goat's
milk, though if you want that, you'll have the cats after you, or I can
put a kettle on for tea.  Good gracious, what have you done to your
hand?"

While Morwen had been talking, Cimorene had turned and slid carefully
down Kazul's side.  It was a long slide, and when her feet hit the
ground, she had to put out a hand to keep from falling.  Morwen's
exclamation made her blink in surprise, and she looked down.  The palm
of her right hand was covered with blood from half a dozen deep slashes
and as many scrapes.

"Oh, dear," Cimorene said.  "It must have happened in the caves, when
it was so dark.  I didn't realize.  It doesn't hurt at all."

"Hurting or not, it needs attention," Morwen said firmly.  "Come
inside, and I'll see to it while Kazul tells me why you're here.

You'll have to go around back this time," she added, turning to
Kazul.

"The front steps won't take the weight.  A gnome stole one of the
supports, and I haven't had time to get it fixed yet.  Pesky
creamres-they're worse than mice."

"Don't the cats keep the mice away?"  Cimorene asked, mildly puzzled.

"Yes, but they don't do a thing about gnomes, which is why gnomes are
worse.  Mind the step."

Kazul started walking while Morwen shooed Cimorene up the wooden steps
and into the house.  Several of the cats eyed Cimorene curiously as she
passed, and a tortoiseshell kitten got up and followed her in.

The front door led into a large, airy room with an iron stove in one
corner.  There was a good deal of furniture, but everything except the
table and the stove had at least one cat on top of it.  Morwen frowned
at a fat and fluffy Persian that was sitting on one of the chairs.  The
cat stood up, yawned, gave its front paws a cursory lick or two just to
show that this was all his own idea, and jumped down onto the floor.

As Cimorene sat down in the vacated chair, there was a knock at the
wooden door on the opposite side of the room.

"That'll be Kazul," Morwen said.  She crossed to the door and opened
it.  "Come in.  I'll get you some cider as soon as I've seen to
Cimorene's hand."

Morwen's back door did not seem to get any larger, and Kazul certainly
did not get any smaller, but when she put her head through the doorway,
her scales did not even scrape the sides.  The rest of her followed

with no apparent difficulty, and somehow there was plenty of room in
the kitchen even after she got inside.

Kazul settled down along the far wall, where she would be out of the
way, and as soon as she stopped moving, six cats jumped onto various
portions of her tail, back, and shoulders.  Neither Kazul nor Morwen
seemed to notice.  Morwen took a small tin box from a shelf beside the
stove and sat down at the table beside Cimorene.  "Now, tell me what
you're here for," she said, taking a roll of linen and two jars of
ointment out of the box.

"Apart from my cider, I mean."

"Cimorene had some interesting visitors yesterday," Kazul said.

"If they were interesting, they can't have been knights," Morwen
commented.

"They weren't," Kazul said.  "They were wizards, and they went to a lot
of trouble to get a look at my copy of the Historia Dracorum.  The part
that describes the Caves of Fire and Night."

"And you think that's why they've been sniffing around the Mountains of
Morning for the past six months," Morwen said.  "How did you find out
what they were looking at?  Or did they ask permission?"

"I don't think Zemenar would ask permission for anything even if he was
sure he'd get it," Cimorene said.  "He'd consider it beneath him.  No,
I saw him shut the book, and he was only a little further along from
where I'd left my bookmark.  Ow!  That stings."

"Good," Morwen said.  "It's supposed to."  She closed the jar of salve
she had been smearing on Cimorene's palm and began wrapping the injured
hand in the linen bandage.  "Did Zemenar get what he was after?"

"I don't think so," Cimorene said.  "He said he wanted to come back for
another visit, and I don't think he'd have done that if he'd found
whatever he was looking for."

"That seems like a reasonable assumption," Morwen said.  "Though
wizards aren't always reasonable.  There, that should take care of
things.

Don't take the bandage off for at least four days, and if you're going
to cook anything that has fennel in it, stir it left-handed."

"Zemenar's interest in the Historia Dracorum isn't the only thing that
points to his curiosity about the Caves of Fire and Night," Kazul said,
and explained about the book that had been stolen.  "There have been
other incidents as well, and nearly all the wizards we've caught poking
around have been somewhere in or near the caves.  That's why no one
thought much about it at first.  Ever since King Tokoz made that
agreement with the Society of Wizards, they've been claiming they're
supposed to have more time in the caves than we're willing to give
them.  Everyone thought this was more of the same."

"Not everyone," Morwen said, giving Kazul a sharp look.

"I am widely considered to be unduly suspicious of everyone and
everything," Kazul said in a dry tone.  "Particularly wizards."

"And what do your suspicions make of this business?"

"I think Zemenar is trying to find out something about the Caves of
Fire and Night," Kazul said.  "Something he hasn't been able to learn
from visiting the caves in person, hence his recent interest in
histories that describe the caves, however briefly."

"And you're hoping I have something in my library that will help you
figure out what it is," Morwen concluded.

"I don't hope," Kazul said.  "I know.  Unless someone has run off with
your copy of DeMontmorency's A Journey Through the Caves of Fire and
Night."

"If someone has, he'll regret it," Morwen said.  "Wait here, and I'll
check."  She rose and went out.  Through the doorway Cimorene could see
a room full of tall, dark-stained shelves.

Cimorene blinked.  "Isn't that the door you came in through?"

Kazul nodded.  "Of course."

"I thought it led out into Morwen's yard."

"It leads wherever Morwen wants it to lead," Kazul said.

"I see," said Cimorene, wishing her father's court philosopher were
there.  He was very pompous and stuffy, particularly about magic, which
he claimed was 90 percent trickery and the rest illusion.  Cimorene had
found him very trying.  Dealing with Morwen's door would probably have
given him a headache.

Morwen came back into the kitchen holding a thin red book.  "Here it
is.  I'm sorry it took me so long to find it, but the nonfiction isn't
organized as well as it should be yet."

Kazul surged to her feet, shedding cats in all directions.  The cats
gave her reproachful looks and then stalked out the front door with
affronted dignity.  Kazul paid no attention.  She curled her head
around to peer at the book over Morwen's shoulder.

"I suppose you'll want to borrow it?"  Morwen said.

"I certainly do," Kazul said.  "Is there a problem?"

"Only if it gets stolen," Morwen said.  "There are very few of these
around, and I'm not sure I could replace it."

"I'll keep it in the vault with the treasure," Kazul promised.

"Zemenar won't think to look for it there, and even if he does, he
won't get in.  I've got enough anti-wizard spells on the door to stop
the whole Society.  They can't get in unless someone invites them."

"All right," Morwen said, handing the book to Kazul.  "Is that
everything you came for?"

"No," said Kazul.  She looked at Morwen with limpid eyes and went on
in a plaintive tone, "I still haven't had any cider."

Morwen laughed and went to one of the cupboards.  She pulled out two
mugs and a large mixing bowl and filled them with an amber-colored
liquid she poured from a heavy-looking pottery jug.  She set the mixing
bowl in front of Kazul and gave one of the mugs to Cimorene, then sat
down with the second mug herself.

They were in Morwen's kitchen for over an hour, drinking cider and
speculating about what the wizards were up to.  After a while several
of the cats came back, and Morwen gave them a dish of goat's milk,
which soothed their ruffled feelings somewhat.

"How is that fireproofing spell of yours coming?"  Morwen asked as she
returned to the table.

"I have everything I need except the powdered hens' teeth, and I'm
beginning to think I'm never going to find any," Cimorene said.  "Kazul
has offered to let me look through the jars in the treasury, but if
there isn't any there, I don't know where I'll look next."

"Really," Morwen said, giving Kazul a sharp look.  "Well, if you can't
find any hens' teeth, you could try substituting snake fingernails or
the hair from a turtle's egg.  I wouldn't try it except as a last
resort, though.  Altering spells is a very tricky business."

At last they had to leave.  Kazul went out the same way she had come in
while Cimorene watched in fascination.  Then Cimorene and Morwen went
onto the front porch.  Kazul sidled up to the house, and Cimorene stood
on the porch railing to climb onto her back.  The cats were seriously
affronted by this maneuver and expressed their displeasure in
reproachful glances and low yowls.

"Don't take any notice," Morwen said.  "It only encourages them."

Cimorene nodded.  "Thank you for everything."

"You're quite welcome," Morwen answered.  "Don't wait too long to come
again."

"You'd better take this, Princess," Kazul said, reaching back over her
shoulder to hand Morwen's book to Cimorene.  "I can't carry it and run
at the same time."

Cimorene took the book and tucked it into her pocket.  "I'm all set,"
she said, and they started off.

Cimorene enjoyed the ride back to the Mountains of Morning.  She was
now sufficiently accustomed to riding on a dragon to be able to
concentrate on looking at the forest as it flashed past.  The trees
seemed almost identical to one another, but Cimorene spotted quite a
few odd-looking bushes and

vines, and twice she thought she saw small faces staring out at her
from among leafy branches.

They reached the threshold of the caves much sooner than Cimorene
expected.  Kazul waited while she slid to the ground, then said, "The
entrance is a little narrow.  I'll go first and make sure there's
nothing unpleasant waiting for us."

Cimorene nodded, and Kazul vanished into the cave.  Before Cimorene
could follow, she heard a shrill cry above her.  She looked up and saw
an enormous white bird plummeting toward her, its clawed feet extended
to attack.  For an instant, Cimorene was frozen by surprise and fear.

Then she ducked and reached for her sword.

She was almost too slow.  The bird was on top of her, shrieking and
slashing, before she had done more than grasp the hilt of her weapon.

But the sword seemed to leap out of the scabbard as soon as she touched
it, and she swung clumsily as she rolled aside.  She did not expect to
do any damage, just to force the bird to back away a little, but she
felt the sword connect and heard a wail of pain from the bird.

Thanking all her lucky stars individually and by name, Cimorene twisted
and scrambled to her feet, sword ready.

There was nothing for her to guard against.  The sword stroke had been
more effective than she realized.  The bird was dying.  As she stared
at it, it raised its head.

"You killed me?"  the bird said incredulously.  "But you're a
maidenn."

"Actually, she's a princess," Kazul's voice said from behind
Cimorene.

"My princess, so you'd have been in even bigger trouble if you'd
succeeded in carrying her off."

"I don't think I could have done it if I hadn't had a magic sword,"
said Cimorene, who was beginning to wish she hadn't.  She had never
hurt anyone before, and she didn't like it.

'Just my luck," the bird said disgustedly.  "Oh, well, fair's fair.

You killed me, so you get my forfeit."

"You're not dead yet," Cimorene said.  "If you'll let me near, I can
try to stop the bleeding-" "Not a chance," the bird said.  It was
beginning to sound rather faint.

"Do you want the forfeit or don't you?"

"Take it," Kazul advised.

Cimorene said nothing, and after a moment the bird said, "All right,
then.  Under my left wing, you'll find three black feathers.  If you
drop one and wish to be somewhere else, you'll find yourself there in
the twinkling of an eye.  Any questions?"

"Can I take anyone else with me?"  Cimorene asked, thinking that if

the bird was so determined to give her the feathers, she might as well
cooperate with it.

The bird looked at her with respect.  "Will wonders never cease.  For
once a human with sense is getting the forfeit.  Yes, you can take
someone with you, as long as you're touching him.  Same for objects; if
you can carry it , you can take it with you.  You get one trip per
feather.  That's all."

"But-" said Cimorene, and stopped.  The bird's head had fallen back,
and it was clearly quite dead.

"Don't feel too bad," Kazul said perceptively.  "If it had succeeded in
carrying you off, it would have fed you to its nestlings."

"Fed me to its nestlings?"  Cimorene discovered that she had lost her
sympathy for the dead bird.  "What a horrid thing to do!"  She
hesitated.

"Won't the nestlings starve, now that the bird is dead?"

"No, one of the other birds will take over the chore of feeding them
for a few weeks until they're big enough to catch their own food,"
Kazul said.

"Now, clean that sword and take your feathers, and let's get going.  I
want to have a look at that book of Morwen's."

Cimorene nodded and did as she was told.  The three black feathers were
right where the bird had said they would be, and she put them in her
pocket with Morwen's book and the black pebble from the Caves of Fire
and Night.  She wiped the sword on the grass several times, then
finished cleaning it with her handkerchief.  When she finished, she
left the handkerchief beside the dead bird and followed Kazul into the
Caves of Fire and Night.

9

In Which Therandil Is a Dreadful Nuisance, and Cimorene Casts a Spell

The rest of the trip home was uneventful.  Passing through the King's
Cave seemed easier going in the opposite direction, and the
impenetrable darkness only descended once.  As soon as they arrived,
Kazul took the book Morwen had lent them and curled herself around a
rock just outside the mouth of the cave to study it while Cimorene made
dinner.  She pored over the book all evening, and Cimorene found it
fascinating to watch the dragon delicately turning pages with her
claws.  Early the next day Kazul went off to consult with Roxim.

Cimorene was rather stiff from all the dragon-riding she had done the
previous day, so she decided not to do any more cleaning.  Instead, she
spent the morning in Kazul's treasure room, sorting through likely
looking bottles and jars for those that might possibly contain powdered
hens' teeth.  Remembering Kazul's advice, she started by setting aside
all the bottles she could find that had lead stoppers.  Since the light
was not very good, she took the jars and bottles that looked as if they
might be worth investigating and piled them in her apron, so as to
carry them outside more easily.

She had nearly finished sorting when she heard a voice calling faintly
in the distance.

"Bother!"  she said.  "I did hope they'd leave me alone a little
longer."

She bundled the last five bottles into her apron without looking at
them

and, not forgetting to lock the door behind her, hurried out through
the maze to see who was shouting for her this time.

It was Therandil.

"What are you doing here?"  Cimorene said crossly.  "I told you I
wasn't going to be ready to be rescued for at least a month!"

"I was worried," Therandil said.  "I heard that you'd broken a leg, but
you look fine to me."

"Of course I haven't broken a leg," Cimorene said.  "Where did you get
that idea?"

"Some knight at the inn at the foot of the mountain," Therandil
replied.

"He was up yesterday, talking to the princess he's trying to rescue,
and he came back and warned everybody not to bother with the princess
that was captured by the dragon Kazul.  Well, I knew that was you, so I
asked why, and he said his princess told him you'd broken your leg and
wouldn't be able to walk for months."

Cimorene smiled slightly.  Alianora had apparently gone through with
her plan to tell Hallanna about Cimorene's "twisted ankle," and
Hallanna had decided to improve the story a little in hopes of reducing
the competition.

"Somebody must have gotten mixed up," Cimorene said gently.  "You can
stop worrying.  I'm fine.  Is that all you came for?  These jars are
getting heavy, and I've got work to do."

"Cimorene, we have to talk," Therandil said in a heavy, deep voice.

"Then we'll have to do it while I work," Cimorene declared.  She turned
on her heel and marched into the kitchen, full of annoyance.  She had
been feeling almost friendly toward Therandil-he had been worried about
her, after all-until he said he wanted to talk.  Cimorene was quite
sure that what he wanted to talk about was rescuing her, and she was
annoyed with him for being so stupidly stubborn and annoyed with
herself for being annoyed when he was only trying to do the best he
could.

Therandil followed her into the kitchen.  "What's all that?"  he asked
as Cimorene put the apron full of jars on the kitchen table and began
lining them up.

"Some things I'm checking for Kazul," Cimorene said.  She picked up a
small jar made of carved jade and pried the lid off.  It was half full
of green salve.  Cimorene put the lid back on and set the jar aside.

"What was it you wanted to talk about?"  she asked, reaching for
another jar.

"You.  Dragons.  Us.  That looks interesting.  Can I help?"

"As long as you don't break anything," Cimorene said.  "Some of these
are very fragile."  Maybe opening jars would make him forget about
You.

Dragons.  Us, for a while.

"I'll be very careful," Therandil assured her.  "This one looks like
metal.  I'll start with that, shall I?"  He picked up one of the larger
jars, made

of beaten copper with two handles.  He frowned at the top, then
reached for his dagger, and as he tilted the jar, Cimorene saw that the
neck was stopped up with lead.

"Not that one!"  she said quickly.  She didn't remember picking out
that particular jar.  It must have been one of the last four or five
that she'd scooped up when she heard Therandil calling.

"Why not?"  Therandil said, sounding rather hurt.  "I said I'd be
careful."

The tip of his dagger was already embedded in the lead.

"Kazul said to leave the ones with lead stoppers alone," Cimorene
said.

"So put it back."

"If you insist," Therandil said, shrugging.  He pulled on his dagger,
but it was stuck fast in the lead.  "Drat!"  he said, and twisted the
handle.  The dagger came free, and the lead stopper came along with
it.

"I should have known," Cimorene said in a resigned tone.

A black cloud of smoke poured out of the jar.  As Cimorene and
Therandil watched, it condensed into a dark-skinned giant wearing only
a turban and a loincloth.  He was more than twice as tall as Therandil,
and the corners of his mouth were turned down in a stern frown.

"What is it?"  whispered Therandil.

"Trouble," said Cimorene.

"Thou speakest truly, O Daughter of Wisdom," said the giant in a
booming voice that filled the cave.  "For I am a jinn, who was
imprisoned in that jar, and I am the instrument of thy death and that
of thy paramour."

"My what?"  Cimorene said, outraged.

"Thy lover," the jinn said uncomfortably.  "The man who stands beside
thee."

"I know what you meant," Cimorene said.  "But he isn't my lover, or my
fiance, or my boyfriend or anything, and I refuse to be killed with
him."

"But Cimorene, you know perfectly well-" Therandil started.

"You hush," Cimorene said.  "You've made enough of a mess already."

"If he is not thy paramour, nor any of those other things, then what is
he?"  the jinn asked suspiciously.

"A nuisance," Cimorene said succinctly.

"Cimorene, you're not being very kind," Therandil said.

"What he is matters not," the jinn said grandly after a moment's heavy
thought.  "It is enough that thou and he shall die."

"Enough for whom?"  Cimorene said.

The jinn blinked at her.  "For me.  "Tis my will that thou and he shall
die by my hand.  Thou hast but to choose the manner of thy death."

"Old age," Cimorene said promptly.

"Mock me not!  Thou and he shall die, and by my hand, ere this day
draws to its close!"  the jinn cried.

"Do you suppose he means it?"  Therandil said nervously.

"Why would he keep bellowing it at us if he didn't mean it?"

Cimorene said.  "Do be quiet, Therandil."

Therandil lowered his voice.  "Should I offer to fight him, do you
think?"

"Don't be silly," Cimorene said.  She saw that Therandil was
distressed, so she added, "You came up here to fight a dragon.  You
aren't prepared for a jinn, and nobody could reasonably expect you to
challenge "If you say so," Therandil said, looking relieved.

Cimorene turned back to the jinn and saw that he, too, was looking
perturbed.  "What's the matter with you?"  she said crossly.

"Dost thou not wish to know why I will kill thee?"  the jinn asked
plaintively.

"What difference does it make?"  Cimorene said.

"Yes, actually," Therandil said at the same time.

"Therandil!"  Cimorene said in exasperation.  "Shut up!"

"Hear my story, O luckless pair!"  the jinn said with evident relief.

"I am one of those jinn who did rebel against the law of our kind, and
for my crimes I was sentenced to imprisonment in this bottle until the
day should come when human hands would loose me.  As is the custom of
my people, I swore that whoso should release me during the first
hundred years of my imprisonment I would make ruler of the earth; whoso
should release me during the second hundred years I should make rich
beyond all dreams of men; whoso shall release me during the third
hundred I should grant three wishes; and whoso should release me after
any longer span of time I should grant only the choice of what death he
would die."

"You're going to kill us because it's traditional?"  Cimorene asked.

"Yes," the jinn said.  His eyes slid away from Cimorene's, and she
frowned suddenly.

"Just how long were you in that jar?"  she demanded.

"Uh, well, actually .  . ."  The jinn's voice trailed off.

"How long?"  Cimorene insisted.

"Two hundred and seventeen years," the jinn admitted.  "But nobody ever
releases a jinn before the three hundred years are over."

"You're trying to get around your oath!"  Therandil said, plainly
shocked by the very thought.  "You pretended you had to kill us so you
wouldn't have to give us the wishes!"

"No!"  the jinn said.  "Thinkest thou that the granting of wishes alone
would so trouble me?  Needs must I kill thee and thy fair companion,
for I cannot return home and say that thou didst release me and I left
thee living!

I would be a laughingstock.  Never in three thousand years has such a
thing occurred?

"Then you shouldn't have sworn an oath," Therandil said sternly.

"I had to!"  the jinn said miserably.  "It is the custom of our kind.

'Twould be .  . . 'twould be .  . ."

"Improper?"  Cimorene murmured.

"'Twould be improper to do otherwise," the jinn said, nodding.  "But
now thou hast found me out, and what am I to do?  If I kill thee, it
will violate my oath; if I kill thee not, the remainder of my life will
be a torment."

"You could go back in the jar for another eighty-three years," Cimorene
suggested delicately.

"I could .  . . go back?"  The jinn blinked at her for a moment.  "I
could go back.  I could go back!"

"And in eighty-three years we'll both be dead of old age," Cimorene
said.  "Since that was my choice of death, your oath will be fulfilled
and you can go straight home without killing anyone else or giving them
any riches or power or anything."

"Truly, thou art a jewel among women and the very Queen of WISdom's
daughters!"  the jinn said happily.  "Thou hast found the perfect
solution to my difficulties!"

"Wait a minute!"  Therandil said.  "What about those wishes?"

"Therandil!"  Cimorene said in a shocked tone.  "I'm surprised at
you!

How can he give us wishes if he's going back in the jar for
eighty-three years?  It wouldn't be right at all."

Therandil frowned.  "Are you sure?  After all, we did let him out
during his third hundred years."

"I suppose I could let thee have one wish at least, in token of my
thanks for thy help," the jinn said.  "As long as thou dost not tell
anyone."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Therandil assured him.  "And my Wish is to
defeat a dragon and win his princess's hand in marriage!"

The Jinn waved a dark hand over Therandil's head.  "There!  When next
thou dost fight a dragon, thou shalt surely defeat him.  And thou?"  he
said, turning to Cimorene.

"I could use some powdered hens' teeth," Cimorene said.

The jinn blinked in surprise, but he waved his hand again, his face a
mask of concentration.  Then he bowed and handed Cimorene a fat brown
jar.  "There's thy desire.  Farewell!"  With an elaborate salaam, the
jinn dissolved back into a cloud of smoke that poured back into the
copper jar from which it had come.  Cimorene leaned over and plucked
the lead stopper from the end of Therandil's knife.  She jammed it back
into place and heaved a sigh of relief.

Therandil was not paying attention.  "What did you want something like
that for?"  he asked, looking at the jar of hens' teeth and wrinkling
his nose in distaste.

"I don't believe I shall tell you," Cimorene said, putting the jar
carefully into one of her apron pockets.  "It has nothing to do with
you."

"Nothing to do with me?  I like that!"  Therandil said indignantly.

"I'm going to marry you, just as soon as I beat that dragon of
yours."

"I don't think you're going to beat Kazul," Cimorene said in a
considering tone.

"But that jinn just said-" "He said that if you fight a dragon, you'll
defeat him.  But Kazul is a her, not a him," Cimorene pointed out.

"And you ought not to be trying to rescue me anyway."

"Why not?"  Therandil asked truculently.

"Because there are other princesses who've been captives of dragons for
much longer than I have, and they have seniority," Cimorene
explained.

"Oh," said Therandil, looking considerably taken aback.  "How do you
know?"

"They came to visit and told me all about it," Cimorene said.  "I think
you should try for Keredwel.  She's from the Kingdom of Raxwel, and her
hair is the color of sun-ripened wheat, and she wears a gold crown set
with diamonds.  You ought to get along with her very well."

Therandil brightened perceptibly at this description but said, "But
everyone expects me to rescue you."

"As long as you defeat a dragon and rescue a princess, no one will
care," Cimorene said firmly.  "And Keredwel will suit you much better
than I would."

"Are you sure her dragon isn't female, too?"

"Positive," Cimorene said.  "Gomul's cave is two down and three over.

If you follow the path outside, you can't miss it.  He ought to be
there now, and if you leave right away, you'll be able to get
everything settled before dinner."

"All right, then," Therandil said.  "As long as you're sure you don't
mind."

"Not at all," Cimorene assured him fervently.  She saw him to the mouth
of the cave and pointed him toward Gomul's cave, then returned to the
kitchen.  She gathered up the jars and bottles she had been planning to
check, except for the copper jar with the jinn inside, and took them
back to the treasure vault.  Then she fetched an ink pot, a quill pen,
and a sheet of paper from the library and began writing out a warning
to attach to the copper jar.  She didn't want anyone else to open it
until the eighty-three years were over and the jinn could go home
without killing anyone.

She was just finishing when she heard Alianora's voice calling from
the rear of the cave.  "I'm in the kitchen?  she shouted.  "Come on
back!"

"You're always in the kitchen," Alianora said when she poked her head
through the door a moment later.  "Or the library.  Don't you ever do
anything but cook and read?"

"Look at this, Alianora," Cimorene said, handing her the warning she
had been writing.  "Do you think it's clear enough?"

"'warninG: This jar contains ajinn who will kill you if you let him out
too soon.  Do not open until at least one hundred and five years after
the date when the Citadel of the Yellow Giant was destroyed,'" Alianora
read aloud.  "That's, let's see, eighty-four years from now.  It seems
clear to me.

You'd have to be pretty stupid to ignore a warning like that."

"Maybe I ought to show it to Hallanna and see what she says," Cimorene
said, frowning.  "I wouldn't want anyone getting into trouble by
accident, just because I didn't make it plain."

"It's plain, it's plain," Alianora said.  "Cimorene, what on earth have
you been doing?  How do you know there's a jinn in this bottle?"

"Therandil," Cimorene said, waving a hand expressively.  "I was looking
through some of the bottles from Kazul's treasure room, to see if any
of them happened to have hens' teeth in them, and Therandil came in and
wanted to help."

"And he opened it?"  Alianora said.  "Oh, dear."

"Exactly," said Cimorene.  "But it came out well in the end.  I think
I've gotten rid of him for good.  I sent him off to rescue Keredwel."

"You did?  What if he doesn't beat Gornul?"

"Oh, he'll win.  The jinn gave him a wish, and he wished to defeat a
dragon."  Cimorene looked apologetically at Alianora.  "I suppose I
ought to have sent him to rescue you, but .  . ."

"That's quite all right," Alianora said hastily.  "Getting rid of
Keredwel will help a lot.  And after everything you've told me about
Therandil, I don't think I'd want to have him rescue me."

"That's what I thought," Cimorene said.  "Oh, and I got the jinn to
give me some powdered hens' teeth, so we can finally try that
fireproofing spell."

"Good," Alianora said.  "Let's do it right now!"

So Cimorene got out the spell and the ingredients she had collected,
and she and Alianora spent the next hour on various necessary
preparations.

First they had to boil some unicorn water and steep the dried
wolfsbane in it.  Then the mixture had to be strained and mixed with
the hippopotamus oil and the powdered hens' teeth.  Cimorene did most
of that, while Alianora ground up the blue rose leaves and the piece of
ebony.

Grinding the ebony took a long time, but fortunately they didn't need

much.  When Alianora finally had enough, Cimorene mixed it with the
lue rose leaves and more of the unicorn water in one of Kazul's
recently shed scales.  Each mixture had to be stirred three times
counterclockwise with a white eagle feather.  Then Alianora dipped the
point of her feather in her mixture and began drawing a star on the
floor of the cave.

"Is this going to be big enough for both of us?"  she asked, scratching
busily at the stone with the tip of the feather.

"I think so," Cimorene answered.  "Don't try to make it too big, or
you'll run out of liquid and we'll have to start over."

Alianora did not run out, though she had used nearly all her mixture by
the time she finished.  "There!"  she said.  She sat back on her heels
and studied her diagram to make sure there were no gaps, then set her
dragon scale and feather aside and stood up.  "Your turn."

"First we have to get into the center of the star," Cimorene reminded
her.  "Be careful not to smudge the lines!"

"Smudge them, after all that work?"  Alianora said in tones of mock
horror.  She lifted her skirts and stepped carefully into the middle of
the diagram.  Cimorene followed, carrying a small mixing bowl half full
of something that looked like brown sludge with a white eagle feather
sticking out of one side.  "It smells awful," Alianora said,
grimacing.

"It doesn't matter what it smells like, as long as the spell works,"
Cimorene said.  "Ready?"

"As ready as I'm ever going to be," Alianora replied, shutting her eyes
and screwing up her face as if she expected to have a glass of cold
water poured over her head.

Cimorene plucked the eagle feather out of the bowl and raised it
quickly over Alianora's head before it could drip on the floor.  She
let four large drops of the brown gunk fall onto Alianora's hair, then
brushed the end of the feather across her forehead twice.  She finished
by drawing a circle with the feather on the palm of Alianora's left
hand.

"That tickles?  Alianora complained.

"Well, you can do it to me now," Cimorene said.

Alianora took the bowl and feather from Cimorene.

"You're right," Cimorene said a moment later.  "It does tickle."

"Now what?"  Alianora said.

"Set the bowl down and shut your eyes," Cimorene instructed.  When
Alianora had done so, Cimorene closed her own eyes and said: "Power of
water, wind and earth, Turn the fire back to its birth.

Raise the spell to shield the flame By the power that we have tamed."

"Oh!"  said Alianora.  "That feels peculiar.  Can I open my eyes
now?"

"Yes," said Cimorene, opening her own.  "We're finished."

"Did it work?"  Alianora asked, cautiously opening one eye and
squinting at Cimorene.

"Well, something happened.  We both felt it," Cimorene said.  "And your
hair and forehead don't have brown gunk on them any more."

Alianora promptly opened both eyes and studied Cimorene.  "Neither do
yours.  What does that mean?"

"It means we go back to the kitchen and test it," Cimorene said.  She
bent over and picked up the mixing bowl.  "We'll clean up later.  Come
on."

10

In Which Cimorene and Alianora Conduct Some Tests and Disturb a
Wizard

Back in the kitchen, Cimorene and Alianora quickly determined that the
fireproofing spell had indeed worked.  First Cimorene, then Alianora
tossed a pinch of feverfew into the air and recited the spell-verse,
then put a hand into a candle flame and held it there.  Neither was
burned at all, though Alianora claimed that the candle tickled almost
as much as the eagle feather had done.

"How long does the spell last?"  Alianora asked.

"I'm not sure, exactly," Cimorene said.  "At least an hour, but I'll
have to do some tests to pin it down beyond that.  I hope Kazul gets
back soon.  I want to see if it works with dragon fire."

"You're going to have Kazul breathe fire at you, just to see if the
spell works?"  Alianora said, horrified.  "What if it doesn't?"

"Then I'll talk to Kazul, and we'll go see Morwen, and the three of us
will try to figure out what to change to make the spell work for dragon
fire, too.  Don't look at me like that.  I'm not going to stand in
front of Kazul and have her breathe fire at me.  I'll just stick out a
finger, the way we did with the candle."

This was not enough to convince Alianora, but Cimorene was
determined.

"The whole point of trying this spell was to make ourselves immune to
dragon fire," she said.  "If it doesn't work, I don't want to find out
for the

first time when one of Kazul's guests gets mad and breathes fire at me
because he doesn't like the way I cooked his cherries jubilee."

Alianora had to admit that this was a good point, but she was still
disposed to argue.  The discussion was cut short by Kazul's return.  At
first the dragon was more inclined to agree with Alianora than with
Cimorene, but after Cimorene proved her invulnerability to candle
flames, lighted torches, and the fire she had built in the kitchen
stove, Kazul agreed to the trial.  She insisted, however, on working up
to full firepower in gradual stages, and Cimorene was forced to
agree.

Before they began, Cimorene threw another pinch of feverfew into the
air and recited the couplet again, just to be sure the spell wouldn't
wear off in the middle of the test.  Then Kazul lowered her head nearly
to the ground, and Alianora watched nervously as Cimorene lowered her
hand slowly into various intensities of dragon flame.  Finally,
Cimorene stood right in front of Kazul while the dragon breathed her
hottest.  The spell worked perfectly every time.

"There!"  Cimorene said when Kazul stopped at last.  "Now we know it
works.  Aren't you glad?"

"I'm glad," Alianora said fervently.  "And I hope I never have to watch
anything like that again as long as I live.  I didn't dare blink for
fear you'd go up in smoke while my eyes were closed."

"Why don't you try it yourself?"  Cimorene said mischievously.

"No!"  said Alianora and Kazul together.

"Watching you was bad enough," Alianora went on with a shudder.  "I
believe it works.  I don't see any reason for me to test it."

"Besides, I've done more than enough fire-breathing for one day," Kazul
added.  "I'm starting to get overheated."

"All right, if you don't want to, you don't have to," Cimorene said.

"If we're all done, I'd better go tidy up."

Alianora stayed to help Cimorene finish cleaning up the traces of the
spell, by which time she had calmed down considerably and was very
nearly her usual self again.  Cimorene gave her a pouchful of dried
feverfew before she left and made her recite the words that activated
the spell several times, to make sure she had memorized them
correctly.

"Remember, you only have to repeat the first half of the verse to get
the spell going, now that it's been set up," Cimorene said.  "Can you
do it?"

"It's only two lines, and they rhyme!"  Alianora said, laughing.  "How
could I forget that?  My memory isn't that bad!"

"Maybe not, but say it anyway," Cimorene said.  Alianora laughed again
and did so.  At last she set off into the tunnels, and Cimorene went
back to the main cave to see what Kazul and Roxim had found out about
the Caves of Fire and Night.

Kazul was somewhat out of temper, and Cimorene thought privately that
she had been telling the truth about getting overheated.  Rather than
annoy the dragon further, Cimorene asked if she could read the book
Kazul had borrowed from Morwen.

"It's in the treasure room," Kazul said.  "Read it there.  And I hope
you see something in it that we didn't."

Cimorene nodded, picked up her lamp, and hurried off before Kazul could
change her mind.  The book was lying near a pile of sapphires, next to
an ornate gold crown.  She picked it up, went over to the table, which
was large and very sturdy because it was intended for counting piles of
gold and silver coins, and sat down to read.

It was even dryer and duller than Kazul had said.  There were a great
many "mayhaps" and "perchances" and "wherefores," strung together in
long, involved sentences that compared the strange and wonderful things
in the caves to obscure philosophical ideas and odd customs from places
Cimorene had never heard of.  After a few pages, Cimorene put the book
down and went and got a quill pen, an ink pot, and some paper, so that
she could write down the things she thought were important.  She didn't
want to have to read A Journey Through the Caves of Fire and Night more
than once.

For the next three days, Cimorene spent bits of her spare time in the
treasure room, taking notes on the DeMontmorency.  It took her that
long because she could never manage to read for more than a little
while without getting so bored that she nearly fell asleep.  Her
persistence gained her several pages of notes about the caves, but
nothing that seemed as if it might be of particular interest to
wizards.

Alianora came to see her a few days later, looking very cheerful.

"It worked!"  she announced as she came into the library where Cimorene
was going over her notes.  "Keredwel's gone.  Therandil rescued her,
just the way you said he would."

"Good," Cimorene said.  "I'm glad something is going right."

"What's the problem?"  Alianora asked, seating herself on the other
side of the table from Cimorene.

"This," Cimorene said, waving at the paper-covered table.  "Kazul is
sure that the key to what the wizards are after is somewhere in that
dratted book she borrowed from Morwen.  I copied out everything that
looked interesting, but none of it seems like anything a wizard would
care about."

"How do you know that?"  Alianora asked curiously.

"I don't," Cimorene said.  "I'm just guessing.  That's the problem."

"Oh."  Alianora picked up the sheet of paper nearest her and frowned at
it.  "What on earth does this mean?"

Cimorene looked at the page Alianora was holding.  "'Thus these

Caves of Fire and Night are, in some sense, indivisible, whereas the
Caves of Chance are, by contrast, individual, though it is preposterous
to claim that these descriptions are true of either group of caves in
their entirety .  . ."  That's one of the bits I copied word for word;
the whole book is like that.  I think it means that if you have a piece
of something magical from the Caves of Fire and Night, you can use it
in a spell as if it were the whole thing."

"I can see why you wouldn't be sure," Alianora said.  "Do you think it
would help you figure things out if you stopped for a while?"

"I have stopped," Cimorene pointed out.  "Or did you have something
more specific in mind?"

"I'm almost out of feverfew," Alianora said, looking down at the
table.

"I was hoping you'd come with me to pick some more."

"You're almost out?"  Cimorene said in surprise.  "How did that
happen?"

Alianora shifted uncomfortably.  "I've been working that fireproofing
spell every hour or so for the past two days," she admitted.  "Woraug
has been getting more and more unpredictable, and I don't feel
comfortable otherwise.  Hallanna was visiting yesterday when he came
in-in the middle of the afternoon!-and he was roaring and dripping
little bits of flame when he breathed.  She was terrified, and I don't
blame her.  If it weren't for the spell, I'd be scared to death."

"What's the matter with him?"

"I don't know.  He doesn't tell me anything about dragon politics or
wizards or what he's been getting so worked up about.  He's not like
Kazul."

Cimorene frowned, considering.  "Maybe Kazul will have some idea what's
bothering him.  I'll ask her this evening.  In the meanme, let's go get
that feverfew.  You're right to say that I could use a break."

"Oh, good," said Alianora in tones of considerable relief.  "I've never
picked herbs before, and I'm not sure what feverfew looks like.  I
don't know what I'd have done if you'd said you wouldn't come."

Cimorene put her notes away and got two wicker baskets and a small
knife from one of the storage rooms.  "Up or down?"  Alianora asked as
they left the cave.

"Up," Cimorene said.  "The other way is the ledge I told you about, and
I wouldn't be surprised if bits of it are still invisible."

The path through the Pass of Silver Ice twisted and turned past the
openings of other dragons' caves.  Most of the rocks around the caves
had scorch marks, and Cimorene and Alianora didn't see much growing
among them.

"At this rate, we'll have to go nearly all the way to the Enchanted
Forest to find any grass, much less herbs!"  Alianora complained.

"Wait a minute!"  Cimorene said.  "Look over there, through that crack
in the rocks.  Doesn't that look like something green?"

Alianora's eyes followed Cimorene's pointing finger.  "Yes," she said
without enthusiasm.  "It looks green."

The rock Cimorene had indicated was a large boulder at the bottom of a
steep slope.  The slope was covered with gravel and looked as if it
would be impossible to climb down without skinning a knee or an elbow
at the very least.  The boulder itself was in two pieces, with just
enough space between them for someone to squeeze through, provided the
someone was not very large.

"Come on, let's get a better look," said Cimorene.  She walked to the
edge of the slope and wrapped her skirts tightly around her legs.  Then
she sat down with her basket in her lap and slid down the slope,
raising an enormous cloud of dust and sounding like an avalanche in
process.  She reached the bottom in safety and stood up, brushing at
her skirt.  The dust was so thick that she could hardly see, and when
she tried to call to Alianora, she coughed so hard that she could
barely speak.

"Cimorene!  Are you all right?"

"It's just the dust," Cimorene said in a muffled voice.  She had taken
out her handkerchief and put it over her mouth and nose to keep the
dust out.  It wasn't perfect, but it helped a great deal.  "Come on,
it's your turn."

"Are you sure we shouldn't just go around?"

"Stop stalling.  It's not that bad."

"That's what you say," Alianora muttered, but she wrapped her skirts
around her, clutched her basket, and slid down the slope.  She made
even more noise than Cimorene had.  When she got to the bottom, she was
coughing and choking.  Cimorene handed her the handkerchief, and they
waited for a moment while the dust settled.

Crawling through the split boulder was easier than they expected.  The
crevice was wider than it had looked from the path, and the bottom of
the crack was so full of dust and gravel and dead leaves that it was
almost flat.

Cimorene and Alianora had to walk single file, and there were one or
two spots where they had to turn sideways in order to get through, but
it was not really difficult.

On the other side of the boulder, the two girls found a lush, green
valley.  It was bowl-shaped and not very large, but flowers and grasses
stood waist-high between the random clumps of bushes that dotted the
valley floor.  A squirrel, which had been sunning itself on a ledge
near the entrance, leaped for a small tree as Cimorene and Alianora
appeared.

"My goodness!"  Alianora said, looking around with wide eyes.  "This
place looks as if no one but us has ever been here before.  There
aren't even any scorch marks on the rocks."

Cimorene blinked.  Alianora was right.  Lichens covered the weathered
gray rocks that rose above the valley, and small plants grew in cracks
and crevices that showed no sign of the touch of dragon fire.

"That's odd," Cimorene commented.

"Why?"  Alianora asked.

"Those mountains aren't tall enough to keep dragons from flying over,
and they're right in the middle of the dragonsterritory.  So why
haven't the dragons been here?  They usually keep a close eye on
everything that belongs to them."

"Maybe they have been here, but they never found anything to breathe
fire at," Alianora said.

"Well, I'm going to ask Kazul about it when I get back," Cimorene said
as she waded into the grass.  "Why don't you take that side, and I'll
look over here?  We will cover more ground that way."

"First you'd better show me what I'm looking for," Alianora said
apologetically.

"I'm afraid I couldn't tell feverfew from carrots if there was a dragon
chasing me and my life depended on it."

Cimorene nodded, and they started off.  They had not gone far when she
saw a patch of the white button-shaped flowers she was looking for.

"Here," she said, showing them to Alianora.  "This is feverfew.  The
younger plants are the best, the ones that haven't blossomed yet."

Alianora studied the leaves and flowers with care.  "I think I'll
recognize it now."

They cut some of the plants, leaving those that were blooming.

"You find the next patch," Cimorene said as they started off again.

"Let's try over there," Alianora said, pointing.

They found several more patches of feverfew, and gradually their
baskets began to fill.  "I think this should be enough," Cimorene said
at last.

"Unless you think-" "Cimorene!"  Alianora hissed, clutching at
Cimorene's arm.  "There's someone behind that bush!"

Cimorene turned.  A dark line snaked through the grass where something
large had bent and broken the plants in passing.  "You're right," she
said, and started forward.

Alianora hung back, still holding Cimorene's arm.  "You're not going to
go look, are you?"

"How else are we going to find out who it is?"  Cimorene asked
reasonably.

She shook off Alianora's hand.  Quietly, she walked over to the clump
of bushes and peered around it.  Alianora followed with evident
reluctance.

A man in blue and brown silk robes was crouched on the other side of
the bush with his back toward Cimorene.  He was stuffing saw-edged
purple

leaves into a small linen bag the size of Cimorene's hand.  His hair
was brown, and on the ground beside him lay a long, polished staff.

"Antorell?"  Cimorene said in surprise.

The man snatched up his staff and straightened as if a bee had just
stung him.  It was indeed Antorell, and he did not look at all pleased
to see her.  He stuffed the linen bag quickly into his sleeve and said,
"P-princess Cimorene!  What brings you here?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," Cimorene said.

"Wizards go where they wish, answering to no one," Antorell said,
waving his free hand in a lofty manner.

"Maybe outside the Mountains of Morning they do, but around here they
have to check with the dragons first," Cimorene said.

"You know nothing of the matter," Antorell said, looking very put
out.

"Cimorene .  . ."  Alianora's tone was doubtful.  "You know this
person?"

"I'm sorry; I should have introduced you.  This is Antorell, one of the
wizards I told you about.  Antorell, this is Princess Alianora of the
Duchy of Toure-on-Marsh.  At the moment, she's the princess of the
dragon Woraug."

Alianora curtsied, murmuring something polite and inaudible.

Antorell, who had stiffened in surprise when he realized that Cimorene
was not alone, relaxed visibly.  "Woraug's princess?  That's all right,
then.

Though he really shouldn't have sent you."

"But Woraug didn't-ow!"  said Alianora.  The "ow" was because Cimorene
had hastily kicked her ankle to keep her from telling Antorell too
much.

"Didn't what?"  Antorell asked, frowning suspiciously.

"Didn't know you were going to be here," Cimorene said.

"Well, of course he didn't know!"  Antorell said, looking annoyed.

"That's the whole point, after all."

Cimorene would have very much liked to ask him what the point was, but
she was afraid it would make him suspicious again.  "I don't
understand," she said instead, batting her eyes at him.

"Of course not," Antorell replied in a condescending tone that made
Cimorene's teeth hurt.  "But it doesn't matter.  I'm not annoyed with
you."

"I'm so glad," Cimorene murmured.

Antorell gave her an oily smile.  "In fact, there's no need for you to
tell Woraug that you met me here."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Cimorene said with perfect truth.

"Excellent," Antorell said.  "Then may I escort the two of you back to
the path?"

Alianora looked hopefully in Cimorene's direction.

"But we can't leave yet," Cimorene said, opening her eyes very wide.

"We haven't picked any cornflowers or daisies."  Behind her, she heard
Alianora making a smothered, choking noise, as if she were trying very
hard not to laugh.

"Daisies," Antorell said in a flat, incredulous tone.  "You want to
stay and pick daisies?"

Cimorene nodded vigorously.  "And cornflowers, and flax, and all sorts
of things," she said, waving her hand at the flowers blooming all
around.

"They'll look so pretty in a bowl of water in the kitchen."

"I'm sure you're right," Antorell said.  He looked as if he would have
liked to object, but couldn't think of anything to object to.  "Perhaps
I could help you?"  he said reluctantly.

"Oh, we wouldn't dream of keeping you," Cimorene said.

Antorell was clearly reluctant to leave the two girls in the valley,
but Cimorene did not give him much choice.  After another minute or so
of conversation, the wizard was forced to go.  He did not use a
vanishing spell but trudged away on foot.  Cimorene watched him until
he was out of sight among the bushes, wondering whether he had some
special reason not to use spells in the valley or whether he simply
didn't know the right spells to make himself vanish.

"That's a relief!"  Alianora said.  "Why did you insist on staying when
it was so obvious that he wanted us to leave?  I was afraid he was
going to turn us into toads or something."

"I wanted to see what he was up to," Cimorene said.  "And I don't think
Antorell is a very good wizard.  He probably couldn't manage anything
worse than a squirrel."

Alianora did not appear to find this very reassuring.  Cimorene checked
to make sure Antorell was out of sight, then went over to the place
where he had been standing when she peered around the bush.  At first
she did not notice anything unusual.  Then she saw a purplish plant
oozing sap from the places where several of its spiky, saw-toothed
leaves had been broken off.

"Look at this."

"What is it?"  Alianora asked.

"I don't know," Cimorene said absently.  "I saw a couple of other
plants like this while we were picking feverfew, but I thought they
were just weeds."

"Maybe it is a weed."

"A wizard wouldn't sneak into the dragons' section of the Mountains of
Morning just to pick weeds.  They don't even use herbs to cast spells,
so what does Antorell want with this prickly looking thing?"

Alianora shrugged.  "Maybe he needs it for something he can't do with
magiC."

"I wonder what that would be?"  Cimorene reached out and carefully

broke off a spray of leaves.  She wrapped them in her handkerchief and
put the packet in her pocket.  "Let's see if we can find out whether he
picked anything else."

Antorell had left a dark trail of bent and broken plants to mark the
way he had come, so his path was easy to follow.  Cimorene and Alianora
searched carefully along it for some way, looking for signs that the
wizard had picked other herbs, but neither of them saw any.

"I don't think there's anything to find," Alianora said, pushing her
apricot-colored hair out of her face.  "And it's getting awfully
warm."

"Have you noticed that there aren't any of those purple plants along
here?"  Cimorene said.  "I'll bet that was all he wanted."

"Then let's leave before that wizard thinks to circle around to check
on what we're doing," Alianora urged.

Cimorene doubted that Antorell would think of doing such a thing, but
she nodded agreement, and the two girls left the valley.  Alianora was
quiet and thoughtful for most of the walk back to Kazul's cave.

Cimorene was grateful for her silence.  She had a lot to think about
herself.  From what Antorell had said, it seemed likely that Woraug was
helping the wizards somehow, or at least that he had known what
Antorell was looking for in the little valley.  Cimorene found it
difficult to imagine a dragon helping a wizard, but she couldn't say
with certainty that it was impossible.  And if Woraug was involved with
Antorell and Zemenar, it might explain why he had been so touchy
lately.

When they arrived back at the cave, Cimorene shook herself free of her
preoccupation.  She and Alianora unloaded their baskets and tied the
herbs in bunches to hang in a dark corner of the kitchen to dry.

"How long will it be before I can use the feverfew?"  Alianora asked
worriedly.

"I'm not sure," Cimorene said in a considering tone.  "It will take at
least a week to dry thoroughly, but you might be able to use it in the
spell before then.  The directions don't say how dry the feverfew has
to be.  We could try it every day with a pinch of leaves from one of
these bunches if you like."

Alianora nodded.  "I really do need it."

"I wonder if it would work without being dried?"  Cimorene said.  She
pulled a leaf from one of the hanging plants and shredded it carefully
between her fingers, then tossed it up in the air and recited the
rhyme.  "There!

Now, light a candle or another lamp or something."

Alianora had already lit a candle and set it on the table.  Cimorene
moved over and stuck her finger in the flame.

"I think it's working," she said, and moved the rest of her hand
closer.

The sleeve of her dress caught fire.  Cimorene hastily pulled her hand
away from the candle and slapped at the flames, while Alianora snatched
up a bucket of water from beside the sink and poured it over Cimorene's
arm.

The fire went out and so did the candle, and both Cimorene and Alianora
got thoroughly soaked.

"Oh, dear!"  Alianora said, ignoring her soggy skirts.  "Cimorene, did
you burn yourself?"

"No," Cimorene said, looking at her arm with a puzzled expression.  "I
didn't feel a thing.  I thought the spell worked, but nothing caught
fire when we tested it before."

"It must be because the feverfew is fresh instead of dried.  And I had
hoped that I'd be able to use it right away?"

"If you're that low on dried feverfew, take some of mine," Cimorene
offered.  "Kazul's not particularly irritable.  I only need to keep a
pinch or two in case of emergencies."

"Thank you!"  Alianora said fervently, and Cimorene turned her soggy
cuffs back and went to get the bottled spices.

11

In Which Kazul Is Unwell, and Cimorene Makes a New Acquaintance

Alianora decided to return home by way of the path outside instead of
through the runnels because it was such a nice day and she hoped the
sun would dry her skirt.  Cimorene watched her go, swinging her basket
happily and humming a little, her confidence and good humor completely
restored by the possession of the fat little packet of dried feverfew
in her pocket.

"I wish I had as little to worry about," Cimorene muttered, thinking of
Woraug and the wizards.  She held the burned patch at the end of her
sleeve up to get a better look at it in the sunlight and shook her
head.  Even the magic wardrobe would have a hard time fixing that.  A
puff of wind made her shiver in her wet clothes, and she turned to go
back into the cave to change.

A dark shadow fell over Cimorene, and she stopped and looked up.

"Kazul!"  she said as the dragon landed on the open path beside her.

"Am I glad to see you.  Wait until you hear what's been happening!"

"You do appear to have had a rather strenuous day," Kazul said, eyeing
Cimorene's wet, stained skirt and the blackened end of her right
sleeve.

"Nothing serious, I trust?"

"I'm not sure," Cimorene said.  "Alianora and I went out to pick some
feverfew, and we ran into that wizard Antorell."

"Where was this?"

Cimorene pointed.  "Up that way.  There's a little round valley off to
one side that looks as if dragons never go there, and-" "You found a
wizard there?"  Kazul sounded deeply disturbed.  "How did he get in?

How did you get in?"

"We climbed through a crack in a boulder," Cimorene said.  "I don't
know how Antorell did it.  When he left, he was heading for the far
side of the valley."

"This is serious," Kazul said, getting to her feet.  "I'd better warn
the King.  He'll have to use the crystal now."

"You'd better hear the rest of it first," Cimorene said.  "Antorell
wasn't too happy to see us, but when he found out that Alianora was
Woraug's princess, he relaxed.  He seemed to think that Woraug had sent
us."

"What?"

Cimorene involuntarily stepped back a pace at the anger in Kazul's
voice.  "He thought Woraug had sent us," she repeated, and gave a quick
summary of her conversation with Antorell.

"Woraug!"  Kazul's tail lashed, sweeping a small boulder from one side
of the path to the other.  "But Woraug's not a fool, and only a fool
would let a wizard into that valley.  Unless he was sure that they
didn't know .  . .

What was Antorell doing?"

"Cutting plants," Cimorene said.  "Or rather, cutting a plant.  It
didn't look as if he took more than one."

"He wouldn't need more than one, if it was the right one," Kazul said
tensely.  "What did he pick?"

"It was a prickly looking purple thing, with saw-edged leaves,"
Cimorene said, reaching into her pocket.  "I didn't recognize it, but I
thought you might, so I brought a piece back for you to look-" What?"

Kazul roared.

Flame spurted from the dragon's mouth, enveloping Cimorene.  Steam
hissed from her wet skirt, and the thinner material of her sleeves
vanished in a crackle of sparks.  The handkerchief-wrapped spray of
purple leaves, which she had just taken out of her pocket to show
Kazul, disintegrated into a dark, greasy-looking cloud of smoke.

Cimorene stared at the ashes in her palm: feeling very, very glad that
she had decided to test the way fresh feverfew would work in the
fireproof-ing spell.  She felt a little warm, and her clothes had been
reduced to a few charred rags, but that was nothing compared to what
might have happened.

"Now I understand why Alianora ran out of feverfew," she muttered.

A puff of wind brushed Cimorene's arms, and she heard a choking sound
from Kazul.  She looked up, expecting to find the dragon laughing at
her remark, and her eyes widened.  Kazul's head was thrown back, and
her mouth was wide open, giving Cimorene an excellent view of the
dragon's

sharp silver teeth and long red tongue.  Cimorene skipped backward out
of reach; then she realized that the dragon was gasping for air.

"Kazul!  What's the matter?"

"The smoke?  Kazul coughed.  Her voice was so hoarse that it was hard
for Cimorene to understand what she was saying.

"What can I do?"  Cimorene said, trying not to feel frightened.

"Green jar-shelf in last treasure room," Kazul managed between
coughs.

"Hurry."

Cimorene was already running through the mouth of the cave as fast as
her feet could carry her.  She did not even pause as she snatched up
her lamp from the floor just inside the door.  It seemed to take
forever to get through the twisty passages and the first two caves full
of treasure.  She skidded to a halt in the doorway of the third room
and stood panting, scanning the walls for the shelf and the right
jar.

She found it quickly and ran back at once, the jar clutched tightly in
her right hand.

The sound of Kazul's coughing grew louder as Cimorene sped back the way
she had come.  At the mouth of the cave, Cimorene paused and set down
the lamp, then unscrewed the top of the green jar.  Inside was a thick,
emerald-colored liquid about the consistency of honey.  She looked out
at Kazul.  The dragon's head jerked with each cough, and the scales on
her neck were beginning to turn pink around the edges.  For a long,
careful moment Cimorene studied Kazul's movements.  Then she leaned
back and threw the emerald liquid, jar and all, into the dragon's open
mouth just as Kazul took another gasping breath.

The jar landed on Kazul's tongue.  The dragoh's mouth closed, and she
swallowed convulsively.  Sudden silence descended.

"Are you all right now?"  Cimorene asked after Kazul had taken several
deep breaths without a renewed bout of coughing.

"I will be," Kazul said.  She sounded exhausted, and her movements as
she slid into the cave were slow and uncertain.

"What happened?"  Cimorene said, backing out of the way so that Kazul
would not have to exert herself to go around.

"I got a breath of the smoke when the plant in your hand burned," Kazul
said as she settled to the floor just inside the entrance.  "Lucky it
was only a breath.  I'll need a few days of rest, but that's better
than being dead."

Cimorene stared at her, appalled.  "What was that plant?"

"Dragonsbane," said Kazul.  Her eyes closed and she slept.

Kazul continued to sleep for most of the next three days.  She woke
only long enough for Cimorene to pour a couple of gallons of warm milk
mixed with honey down her throat from time to time before she lapsed
back into unconsciousness.  Cimorene was very worried, but there wasn't
much that

she could do.  Sick dragons are too large and heavy for normal nursing
to be of much use.

On the afternoon of the third day, Kazul woke up completely for the
first time since her collapse.

"Thank goodness!"  said Cimorene as Kazul shook her head experimentally
and sat up.  "I was beginning to think you were going to sleep for a
month."

"I might have if I'd gotten more than a whiff of that smoke."  Kazul
stretched her neck in one direction and her tail in the other, trying
to work out some of the kinks.

"If I'd known it was so dangerous, I'd never have brought any of that
purple plant back with me," Cimorene apologized.  "You might have done
worse than sleep for a month.  You might have-" She stopped, unwilling
to complete the thought.

"I might have died?"  Kazul said.  "Unlikely.  If a dragon isn't killed
outright by something in the first five minutes, recovery is only a
matter of time.  That applies as much to dragonsbane as to a knight's
magic sword."

"Then why did you want that goo in the green jar?"  Cimorene asked.

"The antidote?  I wanted it because I didn't like the idea of spending
a month recuperating when I didn't have to.  And since-" A fit of
coughing interrupted Kazul in mid-sentence.

Cimorene skipped backward out of the way.  Frowning worriedly, she
tossed a pinch of feverfew into the air and recited the verse from the
fire-proofing spell in case Kazul should lose control of her flame
again.  "Maybe you won't need a month to recover, but three days
obviously isn't enough," she said to the dragon.  "You'd better lie
back down before you choke."

"I can't," Kazul said.  "I have to warn the King.  If the wizards have
had dragonsbane for three days already-" She started coughing again and
had to stop talking.

"You stay here," Cimorene said in a firm tone.  "I'll warn the King."

"Tokoz won't listen to you," Kazul said, but she settled back to the
ground.  "Roxim will, though.  Start with him."

"Roxim?"  Cimorene said doubtfully.  She was afraid the gray-green
dragon would want to go charging out after the wizards as soon as he
heard they were up to something.

"He'll listen to you, and the King will listen to him," Kazul said.

"It's not ideal, but it's the best we can do."

"All right, I'll go see Roxim.  You stay here and sleep."

"When you get back-" "I'll wake you and tell you what he said,"
Cimorene promised.  "Now, go to sleep."

Kazul smiled slightly and closed her eyes.  Cimorene caught up a lamp

and almost ran to the exit at the back of the cave.  She was afraid
that Kazul would think of something else and start talking again, and
she didn't think talking would be good for her.

In the tunnel outside, Cimorene paused, trying to remember the
directions to Roxim's cave.  She had memorized a map in the library
that showed most of the twists and turns of the dragon's tunnels, but
she knew from experience that in the miles of gray stone corridors it
was difficult to keep track of where she was.

"Left, left, fifth right, past the little chamber, right again, on past
the iron gate, two lefts to the third cave down," she muttered to
herself.  "I wish Roxim's cave were closer."  Still muttering, she
started off.

Though she was being very careful, Cimorene had to backtrack twice
during the first part of her trip when a mistake in counting corridors
led her to a dead end.  When she finally saw the iron gate that led
into the Caves of Fire and Night, she sighed in relief.  The tricky
part was over, and the rest of the trip would be easy.  She held her
lamp up and quickened her step, hoping to make up some of the time she
had lost on her detours.  Then, as she reached the bars that blocked
the entrance to the Caves of Fire and Night, she stopped short.  There
was someone sitting on the ground on the other side of the gate.

Cimorene had almost missed seeing him, and no wonder.  His clothes,
though well cut, were the same dark gray as the stone of the tunnel
walls, and he was curled into a lumpy, dejected ball.  He looked like a
large rock.  If he hadn't moved his hand as she passed, Cimorene would
never have realized he was alive.

The man on the other side of the bars raised his head, and Cimorene saw
with shock that his hair and skin were the same dark, even gray as his
clothes.  His eyes, too, were gray, and their expression was
apologetic.

"Forgive me for startling you," the man said, climbing ponderously to
his feet.  "I didn't see you coming."  He made a stiff, formal bow.

"Who are you?"  Cimorene demanded.  "And what are you doing in
there?"

"I'm a prince," the man said in a gloomy tone, "and I'm reaping the
rewards of my folly."

"What folly?"

The prince sighed.  "It's a long story."

"Somehow they always seem to be long," Cimorene said.  "You haven't
come to rescue me from the dragons, have you?  Because if you have, I'm
not going to let you out of there.  I haven't got time to spend an hour
arguing today."

"I have no interest whatever in dragons, I assure you," the prince
said

earnestly.  "And if you would let me out, I'd be extremely grateful.

Um, who are you, by the way?"

"Cimorene, princess of the dragon Kazul," Cimorene said.  She studied
the prince for a moment and decided that he looked trustworthy.  "All
right, I'll let you out.  Turn around and put your fingers in your
ears."

"What?"  the prince said, looking considerably startled.

"It's part of the spell to open the gate," Cimorene said.  She wasn't
about to let him overhear the words Kazul had used to unlock the door,
even if he did look trustworthy.

The prince shrugged and did as she directed.  Quickly, Cimorene
recited: 'By night and flame and shining rock Open thou thy hidden
lock.

alberolingarn!"

For an instant nothing happened, and Cimorene was afraid she had not
remembered the charm correctly.  Then the iron gate swung silently
open.

The prince, whose back was to the gate, did not notice.  Cimorene
touched his shoulder to get his attention, and his eyes widened.

"Oh!"  she said as he turned.  "You're-you're stone."

"I know," the prince said.  "It's part of that long story I mentioned
earlier.  I haven't gotten used to it yet."  He stepped through the
gate, and it closed noiselessly behind him.

"I'm afraid I don't have time to listen to stories just now," Cimorene
said politely.  "I have a rather urgent errand to run, so if you'll
excuse me-" "Can't I come with you?"

Cimorene stared at him.  "Why do you want to do that?"

The stone prince looked down at his feet with an embarrassed
expression.

"Um, well, actually, I'm lost.  And you seem to know your way around
down here."  He glanced hopefully at Cimorene's face, then sighed.  "I
suppose I can just wander around some more.  I'll have to find a way
out eventually."

"You'll run into a dragon and get eaten."

"I don't think it will hurt stone," the prince said.  He sounded almost
cheerful, as if he had only just realized that being made of stone
might have some advantages.

"Maybe not, but you're sure to give the dragon indigestion," Cimorene
said.  "Bother!  I don't have time for this!"

"I could wait here if you're coming back this way," the stone prince
suggested.

Cimorene brightened, then frowned and shook her head.  "No, one of

the dragons might need to get into the Caves of Fire and Night, or it
might be the turn of those dratted wizards.  You can't stay here."

"Then-" "I know!  You can wait in the serving room, just off the
banquet hall," Cimorene said.  "It's close, there's plenty of room, and
I know no one's using it today because I checked the schedule for
Alianora yesterday.  I can take a shortcut out the back to get to
Roxim's without losing any more time.

Come on."

"I really appreciate this," the stone prince said as they started
off.

"You don't know what it's like, being lost in the dark in these
caves."

"How did it happen?"  Cimorene asked.

The stone prince's expression became gloomy once more.  "It's all that
soothsayer's fault," he said.

"Soothsayer?"

"My father didn't think it was appropriate to invite fairies to a
prince's christening, so he invited a soothsayer instead," the prince
replied.  "The soothsayer took one look at me and said that I would
grow up to do a great service for a king.  I've been stuck with his
blasted prophecy ever since."

"It doesn't sound so terrible to me," Cimorene said.

"It wasn't, at first," the stone prince admitted.  "I had special
tutors in all sorts of interesting things to prepare me for being of
great service to a king.  My father even sent me to a special school
for people who're supposed to do special things."

"Did you do well?"

"I was the top of my class," the stone prince said with a flash of
pride.

His face fell again.  "That's part of the problem."

"I don't understand," Cimorene said.  "This way.  And can you walk a
little faster, please?  I'm in a hurry."

"It's been three years since I graduated, and everyone's still waiting
for me to do something spectacular," the stone prince said, lengthening
his stride.  "The rest of my classmates are already making names for
themselves.

George started killing dragons right away, and Art went straight home
and pulled some sort of magic sword out of a rock.  Even the ones
nobody expected to amount to much have done something.  All Jack wanted
to do was go back to his mother's farm and raise beans, and he ended up
stealing a magic harp and killing a giant and all sorts of things.  I'm
the only one who hasn't succeeded."

"Why not?"

The stone prince sighed again.  "I don't know.  At first it seemed as
if I wouldn't have any trouble finding a king to serve.  Every time
there was a war, both kings asked me to lead their armies, and every
king for miles around who'd lost his throne to a usurper sent a
messenger to my father's

court.  It should have been simple, Only they were always so worried
about whether I was going to side with their enemies that it was easier
not to pick anyone."

"I see," said Cimorene.  Privately she thought that the stone prince
had been rather wishy-washy.

Some of her opinion must have crept into her tone because the stone
prince nodded glumly.  "You're right.  It was a mistake.  As long as I
didn't pick a king to serve, all the messengers and ambassadors and
envoys stayed, hoping to persuade me.  The inns around the castle were
stuffed with them.

It got to the point where I couldn't show my face without at least
three of them pouncing on me.

"Finally I couldn't stand it any more, and I ran away.  It was a relief
at first, not having everyone hovering over me waiting for me to do
something great.  But after a while I started feeling uncomfortable.

Then I realized that even if nobody around me expected me to do
anything special in the service of a king, I expected me to do
something.

"I was so flustered that I ran up to the next palace I saw and asked
whether the king needed any services done.  It turned out that he was
ill, and his doctors had told him that the only thing that would cure
him was a drink of the Water of Healing from the Caves of Fire and
Night.  So I left to get it at once."

"So that's what you were doing!"  Cimorene said.

The stone prince gave her another gloomy nod.  "I should have known
better.  That king had three sons, and the first two had already gone
off to get the water and failed.  Anyone with sense would have seen
that the youngest son was the one who would succeed; it sticks out all
over.  But I was too eager to do my great service and get it over with,
and I didn't stop and "What happened?"

"It took me a long time to find the Caves of Fire and Night, but once I
did, it wasn't hard to find the Water of Healing.  The chamber's
getting crowded.  All the princes who've tried to get the water and
failed have been turned into slabs of rock."

"I know.  I've seen them," Cimorene said.  "Watch out for your head;
the ceiling is low along here."

"Then you know what it's like, and you've seen the two dippers on the
wall by the spring."  The stone prince's shoulders sagged.  "I knew I
should use the tin one.  It was one of the first things we learned at
school.  But I thought it wouldn't do any harm if I just looked at the
gold one, so I took it off the wall.  And as soon as I touched it, I
started to stiffen up."

"Um," said Cimorene.  The stone prince was obviously well aware of

how foolishly he had behaved.  She saw no reason to make him feel
worse by pointing it out to him again.

"So I stuck my arm in the spring," the prince said.

"You stuck your arm-oh, I see!  That was clever," Cimorene said.

"Do you really think so?"  the stone prince asked anxiously.  "I
thought that since the water from the spring is going to turn all the
slabs of stone back into princes when someone finally succeeds in the
quest, then the water ought to keep me from turning into a slab of
stone in the first place.

Only it didn't work the way I expected," he finished disconsolately.

"I can see that," Cimorene said.  "But at least you can still do
things.  It would be much worse to have to lie there waiting for the
right prince to come along and break the spell."

"I wouldn't have had to lie there very long," the stone prince said.

"That king's youngest son is going to arrive any day now, I just know
it.

Anyway, if I were a slab of stone, I wouldn't know about it until it
was all over and I'd been turned back into a prince again."

"How do you know?"  Cimorene demanded.  "Have you ever been a stone
slab?"

The stone prince looked startled.  "No, I haven't.  I never thought of
that."

"Well, start thinking now," Cimorene said tartly.  "Here's the service
room.  Wait here for me, and don't go wandering off if I'm late getting
back.

I don't know how long this errand is going to take, and it would be
very awkward for me if the dragons found you roaming through their
tunnels."

"I'll remember," the stone prince promised.  "But what do I do if
someone comes in?"

"Duck into the banquet area," Cimorene said, showing him.  "And if
someone comes in there, too, curl up in the corner and pretend you're a
rock."

"All right," the prince said doubtfully.

Cimorene did not like leaving him, but she was even less enthusiastic
about taking him to see Roxim.  Roxim probably wouldn't object to the
prince himself, though Cimorene suspected that there might have been
some difficulty over his proposed theft of the Water of Healing.  But
explaining everything to the gray-green dragon would take hours.  Roxim
was nice, but he tended to take a simple view of things, and the
prince's situation was anything but simple.  So Cimorene gave the
prince one more warning, just to make sure he understood, and started
off toward Roxim's cave to finish her errand.

12

In Which Cimorene Calls on a Dragon, and the Stone Prince Discovers a
Plot The shortcut to Roxim's worked just as well as Cimorene had hoped,
and she even made up some of the time she had lost earlier.  Roxim was
in, too.

She could hear the scraping of his scales as he moved around inside.

She stepped up to the entrance of the cave and called, "Dragon
Roxim!"

Something round and shiny flew through the air, missing Cimorene by
inches.  It hit the wall of the tunnel with a loud clang and slid
rattling to the floor.  Cimorene jumped.

"Roxim!"  she shouted at the top of her lungs.

"What's this?"  the dragon said, poking his nose out of the cave
entrance.  "I am Cimorene, princess to the dragon Kazul, and I offer
you greetings and good fortune in all your endeavors."  Cimorene
thought it best to be particularly polite, in case Roxim were in a bad
mood.  She suspected he might be.  In her experience, someone in a good
mood did not throw things at visitors.

"Very good," Roxim said.  "Nice to see you again and all that, but I
haven't got time for visitors at the moment.  Sorry."

"I'm not a visitor, exactly.  Kazul sent me with a message for you."

"Oh, well, that's different.  Just hand me that shield there, would
you?"

Cimorene picked up the shield from the floor of the tunnel.  There was
a large dent in one side where it had hit the tunnel wall, and several
smaller

ones over the rest of it from banging against things on its way to the
tunnel floor.

"You ought to be more careful," she said severely.  'Just look at
this?"

"Ha!"  Roxim snorted, examining the dents.  "Shoddy work, shoddy work,
that's the problem.  In my day, you could roll a knight in full armor
down the far side of the Vanishing Mountain and bounce him off two or
three cliffs without so much as scratching his surface, much less
denting it.

This cheap modern stuff just doesn't hold up."

"If you know it doesn't hold up, you shouldn't throw it around like
that," Cimorene said.  "You almost hit me."

Roxim shifted uncomfortably.  "Sorry.  Didn't mean anything by it."

"All right, but next time look before you throw things," Cimorene said,
handing him the shield.

"I always have this problem when I try to find something," Roxim
confided.  "Never know where to look.  Gets frustrating, and next thing
you know I'm pitching armor at the walls.  Bad habit, but hard to
break."

"Maybe I could help," Cimorene suggested.  "After I give you Kazul's
message, that is."

"Don't need help to put dents in things," Roxim said.  "Comes to that,
I don't really want it."

"I didn't mean help to throw things," Cimorene said patiently.  "I
meant help to find whatever you're looking for."

"Oh, that.  Well, come in then."

Cimorene followed the dragon into a moderately large cave, similar to
the one Kazul used as a living area.  Roxim's cave, however, was full
of clutter.  Cimorene had to pick her way past bits of armor, one half
of a pair of bookends, a box of tea, a pink scroll, three mismatched
kitchen pots, a small wooden statue, a broken flute, and four partially
burned candles.

Roxim walked straight over the mess as if it weren't there, squashing a
mangy-looking stuffed pigeon and flattening a tin cup in passing.  He
dropped the shield on a pile of silk flowers and waved Cimorene to a
seat on a large wooden chest near one wall.  "Now, what's this message
of Kazul's?"

"It's about the wizards," Cimorene said, settling gingerly onto the
dusty surface of the chest.  She made a mental note to find Roxim a
nice princess as soon as she possibly could.  "Alianora and I found one
of them picking dragonsbane a few days ago, and Kazul thinks King Tokoz
will listen to you if you tell him about it."

"So that's where they got it," Roxim said in tones of disgust.  "Pity
you didn't mention it sooner."

Cimorene got a sinking feeling.  "What do you mean?"

"Somebody poisoned King Tokoz this morning," Roxim explained.

"Slipped some dragonsbane in his coffee.  Fast-acting; nothing to be
done.

Now we need a new king."

"That's awful!"  Cimorene said.  "Do you know who did it?"

"Those dratted wizards, that's who," Roxim said angrily.  "It's
obvious.

Stupid thing to do; has to be wizards, by George!  But Woraug won't
listen to me."

"Woraug?  What's Woraug got to do with it?"

"He's in charge of the investigation," Roxim replied.  "Taking his time
about it, too, if you ask me."

"But if the King was only poisoned this morning .  . ."

"What does that have to do with it?"  Roxim said unreasonably.

"Besides, if Woraug doesn't hurry, he won't have the culprit in hand by
the time the trials start tomorrow."

"Trials?  You mean with Colin's Stone, to choose the new king?"

Cimorene said with some hesitation.  She did not see how it could be a
trial for the person who had killed the King if they hadn't caught him
yet, but she was not completely certain that the dragons didn't have
some way of getting around the problem and trying him anyway.

"That's it," Roxim said, pleased.  "And before I leave I have to find
that emerald I picked up fifty years ago.  Coronation present for the
new King."

"But you haven't got a new King yet," Cimorene said, feeling somewhat
bewildered.  "And what if you're the King?"

Roxim smiled broadly.  "Knew you were a nice gal.  Me, the King!  I
rather like the idea.  I still have to find the emerald, though.

Wouldn't do to show up at the trials without a coronation present.  Rum
thing to do.  Over-confident."

Though she was upset and more than a little worried, Cimorene helped
Roxim as best she could.  After about an hour of poking through the
clutter, Cimorene found the emerald, wrapped in a gold-embroidered
handkerchief and stuffed into the mouth of a large brass horn.  Roxim
thanked her and invited her to stay to tea, but Cimorene politely
declined.  She was eager to get back to Kazul, to tell her what had
happened and decide what to do next.

Cimorene hurried back to Kazul's cave by the shortest route, thinking
so hard about Tokoz's death that she forgot everything else.  She found
Kazul sleeping and was forced to wake her, despite her wordes about the
dragon's health.  She knew Kazul would want to hear about the King of
the Dragons as soon as possible, and she wanted to hear what Kazul made
of Woraug's involvement in the investigation.

"Back already?"  Kazul said, opening her eyes.  "Didn't Roxim get you
in to see King Tokoz?"

"No," Cimorene said.  She hesitated, uncertain of the best way to
break the news.  "It was too late."

"Too late?"  Kazul raised her head, startled.  She eyed Cimorene
briefly, then said, "All right, let's have it.  What's happened?"

"King Tokoz was poisoned this morning.  Roxim said someone put
dragonsbane in his coffee."

Kazul snorted.  "Somebody knew Tokoz pretty well."  Seeing Cimorene's
surprised expression, she explained, "Tokoz drank Turkish coffee every
morning.  The stuff is strong enough to take the roof off your mouth.

It's why no one ever went to talk to him over breakfast.  You could
boil a whole field's worth of dragonsbane in Turkish coffee without
changing the taste enough to notice.  Or the texture."

Cimorene tried to imagine coffee, even Turkish coffee, strong enough to
take the roof off a dragon's mouth and failed.  "I told Roxim about the
wizard Alianora and I met, and Roxim said I ought to tell Woraug
because Woraug is in charge of finding the poisoner," she said.  "But-"
"But when you caught Antorell picking dragonsbane, he thought Woraug
had sent you," Kazul said.  "If Woraug's mixed up with wizards-" She
broke off, coughing.  Cimorene watched her anxiously, but the coughing
spasm did not last long.  "I don't like this," Kazul finished when she
got her breath back.

"I don't, either," Cimorene agreed.  "But what can we do about it?"

Kazul frowned and said nothing.  For several minutes, the two sat and
thought in silence.  Then Kazul said, "We can't do anything until the
new King has been chosen.  Did Roxim say when the testing will be?"

"Tomorrow," Cimorene said.

"Tomorrow!"  Kazul surged to her feet.  "Why didn't you say so at
once?

If I'm to be at the Ford of Whispering Snakes tomorrow, I have to-"
"Lie down!"  Cimorene commanded.  Kazul looked at her in surprise and
collapsed in another fit of coughing.  Cimorene waited until the
dragon's coughing had subsided, then said sternly, "You're in no
condition to go hauling rocks all over the countryside.  I'd be
surprised if you can even fly as far as the end of the pass.  I think
you're going to have to give up on the trials this time around."

Kazul made a choking noise.  Cimorene looked at her in alarm, then
realized that the dragon was laughing.

"It's not optional, Princess," Kazul said.  "All the adult dragons in
the Mountains of Morning are required to show up, no matter what
condition they're in."

"But-" "There is no acceptable excuse for missing the testing of a new
King,"

Kazul repeated.  "None.  And I have a great deal to do before I leave,
so if you'll-" "If anything needs to be done around here, I'll do it,"
Cimorene said firmly.  "If you don't rest, you won't be able to fly at
all, and then how will you get to the ford?"

"A reasonable point," Kazul said, settling reluctantly back into
place.

"Very well.  The first thing I need is a coronation present for the new
King.

There's a jeweled helmet on a shelf in the second storeroom that might
do.

Bring it out so I can take a look at it."

Cimorene spent the rest of the evening running errands for Kazul.

Besides choosing a coronation gift (Kazul rejected the helmet and two
crowns before deciding on a scepter made of gold and crystal),
innumerable messages had to be delivered to various dragons who were in
charge of arranging the trials.  This one had to be informed of Kazul's
ill health, so that it could be taken into account when the order of
the testing was established; that one had to be told that Kazul would
not be able to join the coronation procession.  Substitutes had to be
found to perform Kazul's various ceremonial duties, then their names
had to be approved by a surly dragon in charge of protocol, and finally
the substitutions had to be recorded on all the lists of all the
dragons who were managing each of the events.  It reminded Cimorene
strongly of Linderwall and her parents' court.

By the time the last arrangement had been made and the last message
delivered, it was very late and Cimorene was exhausted.  She was also
very glad she had not let Kazul do all the running around.  The dragon,
who had slept most of the time Cimorene was out, was looking much
better, even in the dim light of Cimorene's lamp.  Tired but satisfied,
Cimorene went to her room and dropped into bed.

Cimorene was up early the next morning, stirring a dozen ostrich eggs
in a large iron kettle for Kazul's breakfast.  Kazul ate all of them,
then slid out of the cave and prepared to leave for the Ford of
Whispering Snakes.

"Don't fret, Princess," Kazul said.  "The testing doesn't start until
ten.  I have plenty of time to get there, even if I stop to rest now
and then."  Her voice sounded much better than it had the day before,
and it no longer seemed to rasp her throat.  "While I'm gone, why don't
you visit Woraug's princess?  See if she's noticed anything odd these
past few days.  We need to know as much as we can before we talk to the
new King about Woraug and the wizards."

"All right," Cimorene said.  "As soon as I'm done with the dishes."

Kazul turned and leaped into the air, her wings churning clouds of dust
from the dry surface of the ground.  Cimorene squinted after her and
shouted, "Good luck!"  Kazul's wings dipped in answer before the
dragon

soared out of sight behind the shoulder of the next mountain.

Cimorene stood looking after Kazul, her forehead wrinkling in worry.

After a moment she shook herself and went inside.  She had work to
do.

Washing the dishes did not take long, and as soon as she was done,
Cimorene set off to visit Alianora.  The runnels and passageways were
silent and empty, and Cimorene's footsteps echoed eerily through the
darkness.

She began to wish she had taken the longer route along the outside of
the mountain.  She had not realized that the dragon city would seem so
strange and lifeless with all the dragons gone.

"Psst!  Cimorene!"

Cimorene jumped.  She whirled in the direction of the voice, raising
her lamp like a club, and Alianora stepped out of the adjoining tunnel
and into the circle of light.  In one hand she clutched a large bucket,
three-quarters full of soapy water, and she looked rather pale.

"Alianora!"  Cimorene said, lowering her arm.  "What are you doing out
here?"

"Shhh!"  Alianora said.  She looked nervously over her shoulder.

"Woraug told me to scrub off the table in the banquet room while
everyone was away.  And-and I heard someone moving around in there.

Even though everyone but us is gone.  And I dropped my lamp, and-" "Oh,
my goodness," Cimorene said.  "The stone prince!  I'd forgotten all
about him."

"Who?"

"The stone prince."  Quickly, Cimorene explained how she had found and
hidden him the day before.  "And I hadn't thought about it until now,
but this is the perfect time to get him out of the mountains," she
finished.

"All the dragons are gone and no one will see him.  Come on, before I
forget again."

Alianora nodded dubiously, and the two girls headed for the banquet
room.  When they arrived, Cimorene went in first, holding her lamp
high.

"Prince?"  she called.  "Are you there?  It's me, Cimorene."

"Yes, I'm here," said the stone prince, unfolding stiffly from a gray
lump in the corner.  "I'm glad you're back.  Who's this you've brought
with you?"

"Princess Alianora of the Duchy of Toure-on-Marsh," Cimorene said.

"She's the princess of the dragon Woraug just now."

"Does her father need a great service done for him?"  the prince asked
hopefully.

"Not that I know of," Cimorene replied.  "Unless you're good at getting
rid of aunts, but that would be more of a service to Alianora than to
her father."

"I can think of nothing that would make me happier," the prince said

with evident admiration as he bowed stiffly to Alianora.  "Good
afternoon, Princess.  Or should it be 'good evening'?  It's hard to
tell without windows."

Alianora blushed and looked down at her bucket without answering.

"Actually, it's good morning," Cimorene told the prince.  "I'm sorry it
took me so long to come back for you, but .  . . well, a lot has been
going on."

Alianora looked up sharply.  "You've been sitting here in the dark all
night?"  She shuddered.  "You could at least have left him a candle,
Cimorene."

"Thank you for the thought, Princess Alianora, but it's just as well
she didn't," the stone prince said.  "If I'd been sitting here with a
lit candle, they'd have noticed me right away.  And an unlit candle
isn't much use in the dark, is it?"

"What do you mean?"  Cimorene said.  "Who would have noticed you?"

"The dragon and the two men he was talking to," replied the prince.  "I
think they were wizards."

"What?"  said Cimorene and Alianora together.

"Well, they talked as if they were wizards," the prince said.  "They
weren't carrying staffs, though."

"What did they look like?"  Cimorene said.

"They were both tall, and they both had beards.  The older one's was
gray and the younger one's was brown."

"Antorell and Zemenar!"  Cimorene said.  "And they were talking to a
dragon?"

The stone prince nodded.

"Then they wouldn't have been carrying staffs.  Dragons are allergic to
them.  Did you hear what they said?"

"Something about a contest," the stone prince said.  "The wizards were
going to fix it so this dragon would win.  It sounded like a kind of
cross-country race, and the wizards were going to hide along the path
and-and help the dragon out somehow.  I'm afraid I'm not very clear
about that part.

Spells aren't my specialty.  I'm much better at hopeless causes."

Alianora and Cimorene exchanged appalled glances.

"The trials with Colin's Stone to pick the new King!"  Alianora said.

"Which dragon?"  Cimorene asked urgently.  "Do you know which dragon
they were talking to?"

"I only heard the name once," the prince said.  He sounded apologetic
and a little embarrassed.  "And I don't think I got it right.  It's too
silly."

"Tell us!"  Cimorene commanded.

"Well, it sounded like 'wart hog,' "the prince said in an even more
apologetic tone than before.

"Could it have been Woraug?"  Cimorene asked.

"That's it!"  the prince said.  "I knew it couldn't really have been
wart-hog."

"What a pity you remembered," said a voice from the entrance into the
banquet hall.

Cimorene whirled.  Antorell stood in the doorway, staff in hand,
watching them with an intolerably smug expression.

13

In Which Alianora Discovers an Unexpected Use for Soap and Water, and
Cimorene Has Difficulty with a Dragon

Antorell looked past Cimorene and Alianora as if they were not there
and spoke directly to the stone prince.  "I told Father someone was
listening.  He won't be happy when he finds out I was right, but he'll
feel better when I tell him I've taken care of things.  He might even
let me have the first look in the King's Crystal, once Woraug gives it
to us."

"So that's what you're after!"  Cimorene said.

Antorell favored her with a superior smile.  "Quite right, Princess
Cimorene.  The King's Crystal will show us the whereabouts of every
piece of useful and interesting magic in the world.  All we'll have to
do is go out and pick them up."

"Somehow I don't think it will be that easy," Cimorene murmured.

"We knew Tokoz would never give it to us, but Woraug will, as soon as
he's King of the Dragons.  He'll have to, or we'll tell everyone how we
were the ones who made sure he was the new king.  Of course, we can't
afford to have anybody around who might make .  . . awkward
revelations.  I doubt that dragons will listen to a couple of
hysterical princesses, but he"-Antorell pointed at the stone
prince-"will have to go."

"What are you going to do?"  Alianora demanded.  She was plainly

frightened, and Cimorene could see that her knuckles were white with
the force of her grip on the handle of the scrub bucket.

"Oh, gravel seems appropriate, don't you think?"  Antorell said.  "No
one will notice a few more rocks around here."

"Ought I to be taking this person seriously?"  the stone prince said in
a rather doubtful tone.

"You'd better if you don't want to end up as a lot of little pebbles,"
Alianora answered.  She still sounded frightened, but she seemed to be
getting a grip on herself.  "He's a wizard."

"You wouldn't be talking about gravel if you were the one who had to
sweep the floor," Cimorene said to Antorell.  She stepped forward as
she spoke, hoping to get between Antorell and the stone prince before
Antorell noticed what she was doing.  She didn't think Antorell was a
good enough wizard to do any real harm, but there was no point in
taking chances.

"Stay where you are, Princess Cimorene," Antorell commanded.  "I'll
deal with you in a moment."

"Must you be so theatrical?"  Cimorene said.

"Theatrical?  You think I'm being theatrical?"Antorell said
furiously.

"I am simply showing a proper respect for the importance of this
moment?"

"You're showing off," Cimorene said flatly.  "And you're not doing it
very well."

"He doesn't sound much like a wizard to me," the stone prince said.

"Is he always like this?"

"Enough!"  Antorell cried, and raised his staff.  Light shimmered along
its length and began to gather at the lower end.  Grinning wolfishly,
the wizard tilted the staff, aiming it toward the stone prince.

"Stop that?  Alianora said.  Antorell ignored her.  "I said, stop
it!"

Alia- nora shouted, and threw her bucket at Antorell's head.

Alianora's aim was off.  The bucket hit Antorell's shoulder.  A bolt of
fire shot from the end of his staff and whizzed between Cimorene and
the stone prince to strike the far wall with a whumping noise and a
shower of sparks.  Antorell staggered, slipped in the cascade of soapy
water, and fell over the bucket, dropping his staff in the process.

Cimorene darted in and kicked Antorell's staff out of his reach.  He
stared up at her from a mound of soggy silk and soapsuds.  "You can't
do this to me!"  he shrieked.

Something in his voice made Cimorene and her friends look at him more
closely.  Alianora's eyes went wide, and Cimorene blinked in
surprise.

"He's-he's collapsing," Alianora said in a stunned voice.

"He's melting," Cimorene corrected her.

"I can't be melting!"  Antorell cried.  "I'm a wizard!  It's not fa-"
His head disappeared into a small brown puddle, and his cries
stopped.

There was a moment of astonished silence.  "I thought it was witches
who melt when you dump water over them," the stone prince said at
last.

"It is, usually," Cimorene said.  "What on earth did you put in that
bucket, Alianora?"

'Just water and soap, and a little lemon juice to make it smell nicer,"
Alianora said.

"Um," said Cimorene, thinking hard.  "I'll bet there's a simpler way of
melting wizards, but we don't have time right now to figure out what it
is.

How many buckets can you get hold of in a hurry?"

"Buckets?"  Alianora said.  "Two, counting this one.  And I suppose I
could borrow one from Hallanna; that's three."

"And I've got two in the kitchen, and I expect the iron kettle is big
enough.  That's six altogether; two for each of us.  You will help,
won't you?"

Cimorene added, turning to the stone prince.

"Of course," the prince assured her.  "Help with what?"

"Stopping those wizards," Cimorene said.  "We can't let them make
Woraug the next King of the Dragons by trickery."

"I don't see how we can stop them," Alianora said.  "We can't possibly
get to the Ford of Whispering Snakes before the trials start, and even
if we could, we don't know where the wizards will be hiding."

"If we tell the dragons that Woraug's trying to cheat, they'll stop the
trials," Cimorene said with more confidence than she felt.  "That will
give us time to find the wizards.  And I've got a way to get us to the
ford.  You go start collecting buckets.  I'll meet you at your place
after I get the things I'll need from Kazul's."

"What about .  . ."  Alianora gestured with distaste at the wet, messy
lump of robes in the center of the puddle that was all that remained of
Antorell.

"We'll clean it up when we get back," Cimorene said.  "This is more
important."

Alianora nodded, and the three left the banquet room.  The stone prince
decided to accompany Alianora since he was not a fast walker and
Cimorene had farther to go.  Cimorene left them when they reached the
main tunnel and ran back to Kazul's cave.  There she went straight to
her room and opened the drawer where she kept odds and ends.  In the
back left-hand corner, carefully wrapped in a handkerchief, were the
three black feathers she had taken from beneath the left wing of the
bird she had killed in the Enchanted Forest.  She shoved the whole
packet into her pocket without bothering to unwrap it and went on to
the kitchen to collect her buckets.

Then she hurried through the tunnels to Woraug's cave, where Alianora
and the stone prince were waiting.

When Cimorene arrived, she found the stone prince pumping water to

fill Alianora's third bucket while Alianora mixed soap and lemon juice
into the second.  Cimorene set her pots and pails next to the pump and
went to help Alianora.

"Now what?"  Alianora said when all the buckets were full of cleaning
mixture.

Cimorene reached into her pocket and dug out the package.  Gently, she
unfolded the handkerchief and removed one of the feathers, noticing as
she did that the package also contained the pebble she had picked up in
the Caves of Fire and Night.  "If we each take two buckets, can we
still link elbows without spilling too much?"  she asked.

Alianora and the stone prince looked at each other, shrugged, and
picked up two buckets each.  Cimorene took the last bucket and the iron
pot, holding the handle of the pot with only three fingers so that she
could keep a grip on the feather with her thumb and forefinger.  A
series of awkward maneuvers followed as Alianora and the stone prince
tried to link elbows with Cimorene without losing their balance or
dropping one of their buckets.

In the process, Cimorene's skirt got soaked.

"It's a good thing I'm not a wizard," Cimorene said.  "Ready?  Here we
go."  She twisted her hand toward the edge of the iron pot and let go
of the black feather.  "I wish we were at the Ford of Whispering
Snakes," she said as the feather fell, and the room dissolved around
them.

They materialized at the very edge of a river, on a flat, narrow rock
that jutted out over the water, and Alianora immediately slipped on the
wet stone.  If the stone prince had not been so solid and heavy, all
three of them would have fallen into the river.  As it was, it took
Cimorene and Alianora several seconds to regain their balance.  When
she was finally sure of her footing, Cimorene breathed a sigh of relief
and quickly looked about her.

The Ford of Whispering Snakes was crowded.  Dragons of all sizes and
shades of green lined the banks of the river and filled the spaces
beneath the towering trees of the Enchanted Forest.  On the far bank, a
pale dragon was poring over a parchment list that Cimorene thought she
remembered seeing during one of the many errands she had run the
previous night.  All the dragons seemed to be talking at once, and none
of them noticed Cimorene and her friends.

"Hello, dragons?  Cimorene shouted, trying to make herself heard above
the noise.

"Here, now!  What's all this?"  an olive-green dragon on the bank
demanded, turning.  "Someone's trying to sneak a look at the trials."

"S-s-s-sneakssss," hissed a soft but nonetheless clearly audible voice
from somewhere near Cimorene's feet.  Cimorene jumped and looked down,
but though she craned her neck to see all around her, she could not
find the second speaker.

"Get rid of them before Troum comes back with Colin's Stone," another
dragon advised.

"We aren't trying to sneak in, and we don't care about watching the
trials," Cimorene said, wishing she dared to look around for Kazul.

"We came to warn you about the wizards."

"Wiz-z-zardssss," the soft voice echoed.

"Wizards?"  the olive-green dragon said skeptically.  "There aren't any
wizards here."

"No, but they've figured out some way of interfering with your choice
of the next king," Cimorene said.  "They're hiding somewhere.  You have
to put off the trials with Colin's Stone until we can find them and
stop them.  If you'll just tell Kazul we're here-" "Put off the
trials?"  the olive-green dragon interrupted.  "Impossible!

They've been under way for half an hour.  We can't just stop in the
middle.

Who are all you people, anyway?"

A flicker of motion caught Cimorene's eye, and she looked down just in
time to see a thin red snake dart from one clump of weeds to the
next.

"S-s-s-sneaksss," whispered the soft voice an instant later.

"S-s-sneaksss and wiz-z-zardsss."

"I wasn't asking you," the dragon said severely in the general
direction of the snake.  "And whatever they are, they certainly aren't
wizards."

"They look like somebody's princesses to me," a blue-green dragon
said.

"Pity, that.  It would be so much simpler to eat them and get them out
of the way."

"Are you sure?"  said a third dragon.  "The one on the end doesn't look
like a princess."

"I'm beginning to think this wasn't such a good idea," the stone prince
said.

"He may not be a princess, but he doesn't look edible, either," the
blue-green dragon pointed out.  "And these other two are definitely
princesses.

You can't go eating them out of hand."

"Princesssessss," hissed the voice from under the rock.

"Oh, princesses," the olive-green dragon said.  "No wonder they're so
full of wild tales."

"It's me!"  Cimorene said desperately.  "If you don't believe us, take
us to Kazul; she will."

"I can't do that!"  the olive-green dragon said, shocked.  "Kazul's
third in line now, after Mazarin and Woraug.  You can't talk to people
who are that close to making their attempt with the stone.  It would
distract them."

"Woraug!"  Alianora said.  "Woraug's next in line?"

"Yes, he should be starting off any minute now," said the olive-green

dragon.  "Then comes Mazarin, and then Kazul.  I don't expect it will
take long, though.  Nobody's carried the stone for more than a mile or
two yet."

"But I'm Kazul's princess!"  Cimorene said.

"I don't care who you are," the dragon replied crossly.  "You can't
talk to Kazul until she's done with her turn."

"That will be too late!"  Cimorene cried.  "You don't understand.

Woraug and the wizards-" "I've had enough of your wizards," the
olive-green dragon said.

"You're a confounded nuisance, and you ought not to be pushing your way
in here where you're not wanted.  Go away!"

"Cimorene, what are we going to do?"  Alianora said as the olive-green
dragon turned and stalked determinedly away.

"At hero's school we were always taught that if you couldn't persuade
anyone to help you with something, it meant that you were supposed to
do it by yourself," the stone prince said diffidenfiy.  "And we are
prepared."  He lifted one of his buckets slightly.

"But we don't know where the wizards are."  Alianora said.  "We have to
find them before we can stop them, and there isn't time."

"S-s-stop the wiz-z-zardsss," whispered the soft voice.

"That's the first sensible thing you've said since we got here,"
Cimorene said to the hissing whisper.

"Can't you just wish to be where the wizards are?"  the stone prince
asked Cimorene.

"No, you have to know where you're going, or the spell doesn't work,"
Cimorene said.

For a moment all three were glumly silent.  Cimorene stared at the
water, remembering how and where she had gotten the feathers.  Suddenly
she raised her head.

"We may not know where the wizards are, but I'll bet I know someone who
can find out.  Hold this for a minute."

Cimorene handed one of her buckets to Alianora, then dug out the packet
of feathers.  She pulled the second feather from the packet and grabbed
Alianora's elbow.  "Hold tight, everybody.  I wish we were at Morwen's
house," Cimorene said, and dropped the feather.

The scenery shifted abruptly, and they were standing on Morwen's
porch.

The house was just as tidy-looking as Cimorene remembered, and the
porch floor gleamed as if it had just been washed.  A black and white
cat, startled by their sudden appearance, fell off the porch railing.

Four others left off washing themselves to stare at Cimorene with
unwinking green and yellow eyes.

"I need to talk to Morwen," Cimorene said to the cats.  "It's an
emergency."

A lean tiger-stripped cat rose and oozed through a crack in the
door.

Cimorene unwound herself from Alianora and the stone prince and set her
bucket on the porch floor.  "I hope this works," she muttered to
herself as Alianora and the prince placed their buckets beside hers.

14

In Which the Wizards Try to Make Trouble, and Cimorene Does Something
about It The door of the cottage opened and Morwen stepped out.  "What
sort of emergency?"  she asked.  She studied Alianora and the stone
prince for a moment, then peered at Cimorene over the tops of her
glasses and added with some severity, "I hope you weren't referring to
his predicament.  He may well find it an inconvenience, but it
certainly isn't an emergency.  Not by my standards, anyway."

"No," said Cimorene, "I was talking about the wizards.  They've
poisoned the King of the Dragons, and now they're trying to interfere
with Colin's Stone so that Woraug will be the new king.  We have to
stop them, but we don't know where they are, and Woraug's going to try
to carry the stone any minute.  Can you find them for us?"

Morwen blinked twice and shoved her glasses back into place with her
forefinger.  "I see," she said.  "You're right.  It's an emergency.

I'll do what I can.  But if you don't tell me the whole story later,
when there's a bit more time, I shal--shall turn you all into mice and
give you to the cats.  Wait here."

As she spoke, Morwen disappeared into the house.  She reappeared a
moment later, holding a small mirror and muttering over it.

Stone," she said, and breathed on the glass.  She looked up.  "Any
wizard in particular?"

"Zemenar, the Head Wizard of the Society of Wizards," Cimorene said,
wishing Morwen would go faster and knowing she couldn't.

"I should have guessed," Morwen said.  She turned back to the mirror.

"Zemenar," she said, and breathed on the glass once more.  Then she
motioned to Cimorene to come and look.

Cimorene obeyed, and Alianora and the stone prince crowded closely
behind her.  The mirror showed a blurry, wavering picture of the Ford
of Whispering Snakes.  As Cimorene watched, the picture moved slowly
along one bank of the river, past the waiting dragons and the immense
trees of the Enchanted Forest and on down the river.

"Can't it go any faster?"  Alianora whispered.

"There's no need to whisper, and no, it can't," Morwen said.  "Not if
you want to be sure of finding these wizards of yours on the first try,
and it doesn't sound as if you have time to waste on mistakes."

The picture in the mirror continued to creep along the bank.  Cimorene
pulled the third and last feather out of her pocket and brushed it
nervously across her fingers while she waited.

"What's that?"  the stone prince said suddenly.

The mirror-picture stopped, then moved up the bank, away from the river
toward a thicket of blackberry brambles.  Cimorene saw the tip of a
wooden staff poking up above the thicket.  Tensely, she waited for the
mirror to show the far side of the brambles.

"It's them?  Alianora said.  She sounded frightened and excited at the
same time.  "Oh, dear!"

Cimorene took a good look at the picture in the mirror.  Five wizards
were standing in an opening behind the blackberry thicket, leaning on
their staffs and looking at the sky.  Suddenly, one of the wizards
pointed.  The others peered upward, nodded, and raised their staffs.

"Get the buckets?  Cimorene said.  Cats scattered in all directions as
the stone prince pounded across the porch behind Cimorene and
Alianora.

"Hang on; here we go.  I wish-" "Not without me you-" Morwen said,
grabbing Cimorene's shoulder.

"-we were at the blackberry thicket where the wizards are," Cimorene
said, and dropped the feather.

"-don't," Morwen finished as the porch winked out and was replaced by
blackberries.

The five wizards were standing in an arc just in front of the
bramble.

Each of them held his staff so that the lower end was about a foot
above the ground, pointing at something hidden in the moss at their
feet.  An unpleasant yellow-green light dripped from the ends of the
staffs, and the moss where the wizards were standing was brown and
dead.  The wizards' backs were toward Cimorene and her friends.

"Now!"  Cimorene cried.  As the wizards began to turn, she set one of
her buckets on the ground and lifted the other in both hands.  Taking
careful aim, she flung the soapy water over a black-haired wizard in
the center of the arc.

"Charge!"  yelled the stone prince, and threw one of his buckets at the
nearest wizard.

"Take that, you cheats?  said Alianora, dumping the first of her
buckets over another.

"What-this is impossible!"  said one of the wizards indignantly as he
began to melt.

"Too bad," Cimorene said, throwing her second load of water at the
next-to-last wizard.

"Watch where you're throwing that!"  Morwen said to the stone prince,
who had sloshed his second bucket over the fifth wizard with such
enthusiasm that water sprayed in all directions.

"Sorry," the prince apologized.  "Is that all of them?"

"It's all five of the ones we saw," Cimorene said cautiously.

"Then we did it!"  Alianora said.

"Not quite," said Zemenar, stepping out of the bushes behind Morwen.

"You interrupted the spell, of course, but we were nearly finished
anyway.

And as long as the stone remains enchanted, Woraug won't have any
trouble getting it all the way to the Vanishing Mountain.  Look."  He
pointed with his staff, and Cimorene saw three dragons, high in the
air, flying steadily toward the mountains.  One of them had a long
black stone clutched in his claws, and the other two appeared to be
escorting him at a careful distance.

"Woraug and the two judges," Cimorene murmured.

Zemenar nodded.  "You might as well put that bucket down," he went on,
turning to Alianora.  "You can't throw it at me without melting your
witch friend here.  What's in it, by the way?"

"I don't see why we should tell you," Cimorene said as Alianora set the
last of the six buckets down.

"Because I'm interested, Princess," Zemenar said with an oily smile.

"And it will pass the time until the next shift gets here, and I can
decide what to do with you."

"If you're that interested, why don't you take a closer look?"  said
the stone prince, picking up Alianora's bucket.

"Stay where you are!"  Zemenar commanded.  As he spoke, he raised his
staff and sidestepped so that Morwen was between him and the stone
prince.

"If you insist," said the prince.  He shrugged, lifted the bucket, and
flung the water over Morwen and Zemenar at the same time.

"What-no!"  Zemenar cried in horror as he began to melt.  "Not
soapsuds!

It's demeaning."

"There's a little lemon juice in it, too," Alianora offered.

Zemenar glared at her.  He was less than half his normal height and
shrinking as they watched, while a dark puddle spread out beneath
him.

"Lemon juice!  Bah!  How dare you do such a thing?  I'm the Head Wizard
of the Society of Wizards!"  His voice grew fainter and higher as he
shrank.

"Interfering busybodies!  Soapsuds!  Of all the undignified tricks.

You'll be sorry for this!  You can't melt a wizard forever, you know!

You'll be SOr .  . ."

The wizard's voice ceased.  All that remained of him was a pile of silk
robes and a long wooden staff lying on some damp moss.  Alianora and
Cimorene stared for a moment, then Alianora turned to the stone
prince.

"I'm glad he's gone," she said, "but how could you melt Morwen just to
get at that wizard?"

"But I didn't," the stone prince said.  "Look."

Cimorene and Alianora turned.  Morwen seemed no shorter than usual,
though she certainly looked very damp.  She had taken off her glasses
and was shaking water off them.  "Don't just stand there," she said
crossly to Cimorene.  "Hand me a dry handkerchief."

"Just a minute," Cimorene said, checking her pockets.  She found the
handkerchief that had been wrapped around the magic feathers and handed
it to Morwen.  "Um, why didn't you melt?"

"Clean living," Morwen said as she began to dry her glasses on
Cimorene's handkerchief.

"I thought as much," the stone prince said in a satisfied tone.

"Nobody who lives in a house as clean as yours could possibly melt in a
bucket of soapsuds."

"Quite right," Morwen said approvingly.  "You have a good head on your
shoulders, young man.  What's this?"  She held up a sharp-edged black
pebble.

"It's a piece of stone I found in the Caves of Fire and Night,"
Cimorene said.

"Where, exactly?"

"In the King's Cave," Cimorene said.  "Morwen, shouldn't we do
something about that spell Zemenar mentioned?"

Alianora was watching the sky, shading her eyes with her hand.

"Woraug's nearly halfway to the mountain," she said anxiously.

"Good," said Morwen, though neither Cimorene nor Alianora could tell
which of them she was talking to.  The witch shook her wet robes and
walked over to the patch of dead moss where the wizards had been
working, picking her way carefully past little piles of robes and
staffs.  Cimorene

followed.  In the center of the brown area was a black stone the size
of Cimorene's fist.  A web of yellow-green light flickered across its
smooth surface.

"Sloppy," Morwen said.  "Very sloppy.  Though I'm not surprised.

Wizards always seem to depend on brute force when a little subtlety
would be far more effective."  She fingered Cimorene's pebble for a
moment, then reached out and dropped it on top of the wizards' stone.

There was a noise like a great deal of popcorn all popping at once, and
the light that flickered over the black stone spat yellow-green sparks
in all directions.  Alianora jumped and backed away.  Cimorene would
have liked to do the same, but she did not want to give Morwen a bad
impression of her courage, so she stayed where she was.

The sparks died, and the flickering light went out.  From the sky high
above came a faint shriek of surprise and rage.  Cimorene looked up and
saw three black specks in the sky.  No, not three: four, and the two
escort dragons were swooping to catch the speck that was Colin's Stone,
which Woraug had just dropped.

Cimorene gave a sigh of relief and looked at Morwen.  "So much for
Woraug and the wizards," she said.  "We didn't even need the
fireproofing spell.  What did you do?"

"And what happens now?"  Alianora added.

"Duck," said Morwen, and threw herself sideways into the bushes.

"Wha-" said the stone prince, and then he and Cimorene and Alianora
were engulfed by a blast of dragon fire.

The stone prince leaped in front of the two princesses, but he was much
too late to protect them.  Fortunately the fireproofing spell was still
in effect, and neither of them even felt warm, though Alianora lost the
ends of her sleeves and Cimorene's hemline rose six scorched inches.

"I knew I shouldn't have said that about the fireproofing spell,"
Cimorene muttered.

With a wordless snarl and a thunder of wings, Woraug landed just in
front of the little group.

"You!"  he shouted when he saw Cimorene.  "I might have known it would
be you!"  Flame shot from his mouth once more, but it was just as
useless as it had been the first time.

Cimorene glanced up and saw one of the escort dragons spiraling down to
see what was going on.  "You might as well give up, Woraug," she said,
hoping to distract the angry dragon long enough for help to arrive.

"You can't be King of the Dragons now."

"I'll tear you limb from limb!"  Woraug raged.  "Every last one of
you!"

One arm shot out as he spoke, and shining silver claws snapped around
the stone prince's waist.

Alianora screamed.

"Hurry up!"  Cimorene shouted at the dragon in the sky.

The dragon heard and dove toward them, but he was not fast enough.

Woraug shoved the stone prince into his mouth and bit down hard.  An
instant later he howled in pain and spat out the prince and four
teeth.

"What is all this?"  said the escort dragon, landing carefully beside
Woraug.  The clearing was getting rather crowded.

"A plot to cheat on the test to see who the next King of the Dragons
will be," Cimorene said.  "Woraug was in it, and a lot of wizards."

"Are you all right?"  Alianora asked the stone prince, who was just
picking himself up.  His stone was black in places from the dragon
fire, but otherwise he seemed unhurt.

"More or less," the stone prince said.  "But just look what that fire
did to my clothes!  And that dragon's put a chip in my sleeve.  What am
I supposed to do about that?  It's not as if I can just change clothes
when I get home, you know."

"That's ridiculous!"  the escort dragon told Cimorene.  "No dragon
would cooperate with wizards.  I don't see any wizards, either.  I
think you're making it up."

"Of course you don't see any wizards," Cimorene said, feeling very
cross.  "We melted them."

"Melted them?"

"where do you think those staffs came from?"  Cimorene pointed at the
wizards' staffs lying across the scattered brown puddles.

The dragon backed up a pace and sniffed experimentally.

"It's all quite true," Morwen said, poking her head out of the
bushes.

"And we'll be more than happy to explain the whole thing to your new
King as soon as you have one.  Provided, of course, that you take that
maniac away before he burns the whole Enchanted Forest to the
ground."

She gestured at Woraug.  "Cimorene, I really must insist on getting a
copy of that fireproofing spell.  It will clearly be worth every minute
of the months of hunting it will take me to find some hens' teeth, and
I may as well get started as soon as I can."

"who's that?"  said the escort dragon.  "Morwen?  That does it!  This
is too much for me.  I'm taking you all into custody until the trials
are over and the King can sort it out.  Come along."

"I assume that doesn't apply to me," Woraug rumbled.  He winced as he
spoke.

"It certainly does," the escort dragon said.  "I said all, and I meant
all.  If I'd meant 'all the humans,' I'd have said 'all the humans,' or
maybe 'some of you' or 'you over there' or 'all you non-dragons' on"
"Nonsense!"  Woraug interrupted.  "Don't you know who I am?"

"You're the dragon who caused a ruckus just now for no reason I can
see," the escort dragon replied.  "And it's my duty and my job to take
you into custody.  When the trials are over, you can explain it to the
King, and if I've done something wrong, well, I'll take what I have
coming.  And if I haven't, you'll take yours.  And-" "All right, all
right," Woraug said.  "But I warn you, you'll regret this."

"That's as may be," the escort dragon said with dignity.  "Right now,
though, you're in custody along with the rest of these people, and
you'd better not go snacking on any of them until things are sorted
out.  I saw what you did to the gray one."

"Did you?"  said the stone prince.  "Then what are you going to do
about this chip in my sleeve?"

"Tell it to the King," the escort dragon advised.  "Now, off we go, the
lot of you."

Morwen came cautiously out of the bushes, brushing leaves from her
already wet black robes.  She stopped and peered at the escort dragon
over the tops of her glasses.  "This has not been a good day for
anyone's clothes," she said severely.  "I shall send the cleaning bill
to your king."

"Whatever you want," the escort dragon said impatiently.  "Come on."

Scowling furiously, Woraug marched off into the forest.  The stone
prince and Alianora followed, talking in low voices.  Morwen paused to
pick up the wizards' black rock and Cimorene's pebble, then went on
after them.

Cimorene hesitated.

"Go on," said the escort dragon.

"I will, but I think you ought to know that another batch of wizards is
supposed to show up soon," Cimorene said.  "Zemenar said something
about a second shift.  I don't know what they can do without the stone
they were using, but I'm sure they'll try something."

"Wizards always do," the escort dragon said with a sigh.  He studied
the wizards' staffs that were lying around the clearing with a
melancholy air.

"All right, I'll send someone back to keep an eye on things as soon as
we get to the ford.  Whatever was going on here, there certainly were
wizards in it, and that's enough for me."

"Good," said Cimorene.  "And thank you."  She smiled at the startled
expression on the dragon's face and started after the others.

15

In Which the Dragons Crown a New King, and Cimorene Gets a New Job

The walk to the Ford of Whispering Snakes took longer than Cimorene
expected.  The trees of the Enchanted Forest grew close together in
many places, forcing the dragons to take a zigzag path instead of
heading straight up the bank of the river.  Woraug, who was in the
lead, seemed to be deliberately setting a slow pace.  Cimorene was sure
he was hoping that the second shift of wizards would arrive at the
blackberry clearing before the dragons at the ford had been warned.

She had no idea what would happen then, but she doubted that it would
be good.  The escort dragon was not interested in Cimorene's worries,
however, and he refused to speed things up, so the group ambled on.

As they approached the ford at last, they heard cheering ahead of
them.

Woraug flinched visibly, and Alianora and the stone prince were
startled out of their quiet conversation.

"What's that?"  Alianora said.

"Sounds to me as if we have a new King," the escort said with great
satisfaction.  "That means I can get you lot off my hands right away.

What a relief!  I thought I was going to be stuck with you for
hours."

Alianora looked faintly indignant at this unflattering opinion.  Morwen
was merely amused.  Woraug's wings sagged momentarily, but then he
seemed to pull himself back together, and he continued on as
confidently as

ever.  Cimorene's concern deepened.  What if Woraug managed to
convince the new King that they were all lying?

They reached the edge of the cheering crowd of dragons.  "Who did
it?"

the escort dragon asked.  "Who's the new King?"

"How should I know?"  the other responded.  "I can't see a thing from
way out here."

"You'll find out soon enough," the escort dragon said.  Then he raised
his voice and shouted, "Make way!  Coming through!  Prisoners for the
King!  Make way!"

The crowd of dragons parted reluctantly, and the escort dragon herded
the group forward, still shouting.  They made their way through the
cheering dragons until they reached the edge of the river.  "Stand
away!"  shouted someone in the crowd.  "Stand away for the King!"

The nearby dragons drew back, leaving Woraug, the escort dragon, and
Cimorene and her friends standing by themselves on the trampled moss.

As the dragons moved away, Cimorene caught sight of Kazul, lying
comfortably beside the river.  "Kazul!"  Cimorene cried, and ran
forward.

"Are you all right?"

A mottled dragon standing beside Kazul shifted and flicked his tail
angrily at Cimorene.  "You should say 'Your Majesty,'" he said with a
warning scowl.

"Don't be ridiculous, Frax.  She's my princess," Kazul said.  "I'm
quite all right, Cimorene.  What are you doing here?"

"You're the new King of the Dragons?"  Cimorene said in astonishment.

"But-but when you left this morning, you could barely fly!  How did you
get Colin's Stone all the way from here to the Vanishing Mountain?"

"Colin's Stone apparently does more than merely pick out the right
King," Kazul said.  "The minute I picked it up, I felt fine."

"This is impossible?  Woraug said.

"Are you accusing me of fraud?"  Kazul asked mildly.

"He'd better not," Cimorene said.  "He's the one who was cheating, with
the help of Zemenar and the rest of the wizards."

"Really," Kazul said in tones of great interest.

"It's all nonsense," Woraug declared.  "The girl's just trying to
attract attention."

"Really," Kazul said again, and smiled, displaying all her silver
teeth.

"Oh, come now, Kazul.  Surely you won't take a mere princess's word
over mine," Woraug said.

"That depends entirely on what she says.  Tell us about it, Princess,"
Kazul commanded.

So Cimorene told them.  She brought the stone prince forward to explain
what he had overheard the wizards and Woraog discussing in the

banquet hall, and she made Alianora tell everyone about melting
wizards with wash water and lemon juice.  She told about getting to the
Ford of Whispering Snakes on the first feather and being unable to
convince any of the dragons to listen to her.  She told about going to
Morwen's house to find out where the wizards were, and about using the
last feather to get to the wizards and melt them.  She described
Zemenar's unexpected appearance and subsequent melting, and the way
Morwen had broken the wizards' spell, and she finished with an account
of Woraug's futile attack.

"And then he landed"-Cimorene waved in the direction of the escort
dragon-"and decided to bring us all back here.  And I think somebody
ought to go back to that clearing where the blackberries are before the
next batch of wizards arrives.  I don't know what they'll do when they
find out what's happened, but .  . ."

"Yes, I see," said Kazul.  She turned to a pale green dragon beside
her.

"Yes, Your Majesty," said the pale dragon with a fierce grin.

"Surely you don't believe this!"  Woraug said.

Kazul stared at Woraug without saying anything, and the dragons around
the edge of the circle rattled their scales.

"Ah-Your Majesty," Woraug added hastily.

"Why should I disbelieve it?"  Kazul said, still watching Woraug.

"The whole thing is preposterous!"  Woraug said.  "How could wizards do
anything to affect Colin's Stone?  Your Majesty."

Kazul looked at Cimorene.

"I'm sorry, Kazul," Cimorene said, shaking her head.  "I know what the
wizards were trying to do, but I don't have the slightest idea how they
were doing it."

"I believe I can explain that, Your Majesty," Morwen said.  She stepped
forward, tossing and catching the wizards' black rock casually in her
right hand.  "They were using this.  I believe you'll find that it
comes from the Caves of Fire and Night.  From the King's Cave, in fact,
where Colin's Stone was found.  And one of the properties of the Caves
of Fire and Night is that you can use one piece to cast spells which
affect similar pieces."

'Just the way that impossible book says!"  Cimorene exclaimed.

"DeMontmorency?  Yes, I suppose he is fairly impossible," Morwen
said.

"Is this sufficiently similar to Colin's Stone that the wizards could
have affected the stone through it?"  Kazul asked.

"Certainly, Your Majesty," Morwen said.

"This is-" Woraug began.

"-ridiculous, impossible, and unbelievable," Kazul said.  "You've said
that already.  But I haven't heard you say anything particularly
convincing in support of that attitude."

"Oh, really, Your Majesty!"  Woraug said.  "Next you'll be saying I
poisoned King Tokoz!"

"It doesn't seem likely," Kazul admitted, "since Tokoz was poisoned
with dragonsbane, and dragons can't get anywhere near the stuff without
feeling the effects."

"What if Zemenar made a .  . . a dragonsbane-proof packet for him to
carry it in?"  Cimorene said, thinking of the bag Antorell had been
carrying when she and Alianora met him in the valley.  "Something that
would melt when he dropped it in the King's coffee."

"I suppose it's possible," Kazul said.  "But there's no evidence at all
that Zemenar did any such thing."

"What would it have looked like?"  Alianora asked suddenly.  "Would it
have been something like a very large tea bag?"

Everyone turned to look at Alianora.  "I think that would have worked
quite well, Princess," Kazul said.  "Why do you ask?"

"Because Woraug had something like that with him when he went to see
King Tokoz the night before the King was killed," Alianora said.  "I
saw it."

An angry muttering ran through the crowd of dragons.

"Lies!"  Woraug snarled.  "They're all lies!"

"Are they?"  Kazul said coldly.  "I don't think so.  You must have
wanted to be King very badly indeed."

"I-" Woraug darted a glance around the circle of dragons.  What he saw
did not appear to reassure him.  "No!"

"Consorting with wizards, killing the King, and plotting to cheat in
the trials with Colin's Stone," Kazul said as if Woraug had not
spoken.

"Hardly proper behavior for a dragon."

The crowd muttered agreement.  Cimorene looked from Woraug to Kazul and
back.  Woraug appeared to be terrified of something, but Cimorene could
not tell what it was.  He crouched and seemed to shrink away from
Kazul, drawing his wings in close and making himself as small as
possible.  Cimorene blinked.  It was remarkable how much smaller Woraug
could make himself look.  In fact .  . .

"He's shrinking!"  Cimorene exclaimed.

"No!"  Woraug cried again, but it was much too late.  He shrank faster
and faster, his wings melting into ridges along his back and his claws
retracting.

He was barely as tall as Cimorene's shoulder.  Then, with a sudden
shiver, he collapsed in on himself.  A small rain of scales pattered to
the

ground.  A moment later, an extremely warty toad with angry red eyes
crawled clumsily out of the center of the pile.

"Is that is that Woraug?"  Alianora asked in a hushed tone.

The toad turned and glared at her, and she stepped back a pace.  The
stone prince put a protective arm around Alianora's shoulders and
glared back at the toad.

"Behave, or I'll step on you," he said.

"Yes, it's Woraug," Kazul said.  She sounded almost sad.  "That's what
happens when a dragon stops acting like a dragon."

The toad turned his glare in Kazul's direction, then hopped off and
disappeared among the stones along the riverbank.

Alianora shuddered.  Kazul studied her for a moment.  "You were
Woraug's princess, weren't you?  I'm sorry about all this, but it
couldn't be helped.  It won't take long to find you another dragon."

"I don't think you have to worry about finding her another dragon,"
Cimorene said.  She had been watching Alianora and the stone prince,
and an idea had occurred to her.

"What?  Why not?"  said Kazul.

"Because the stone prince fought with Woraug, and Woraug certainly
didn't win.  Doesn't that mean that he gets to rescue Woraug's
princess?"

"I'm not sure the rules cover this situation at all," Kazul said.  "But
it sounds reasonable enough, and under the circumstances I doubt that
anyone will object.  Unless of course she does."

"Oh!"  said Alianora, and blushed a rosy red.  "No, I don't object at
all!"

"Are you sure?"  the stone prince said anxiously.  "You won't mind
waiting a while to marry me?  I mean, if you're willing to marry me?

You needn't, you know, if the idea doesn't appeal to you."

"It appeals to me very much," Alianora said, blushing redder than
ever.

"But why do you say that we have to wait?"

The stone prince sighed.  "I still have to find a king and do him a
great service, and that's bound to take a while."

"For a young man as intelligent as you seem to be, you're remarkably
foolish," Morwen commented.  "What on earth do you think you've just
done?"

An expression of astonishment spread across the prince's face.  "You
mean the king I was supposed to serve is the King of the Dragons?"

"Exactly," Morwen said.  "And I doubt that you could do her a greater
service than saving the throne from Woraug's plotting."

"That's settled, then," Kazul said.  "Let's get the rest of the
ceremonies finished and get back to the mountains.  There's a great
deal of work to be done."

The dragons all bowed, and eddies of movement began in various
sections of the crowd.  Shortly, two dragons came forward carrying
Colin's Stone.  It looked like a long black log about three times as
thick as Cimorene's waist and twice as tall as she was.  The dragons
laid it in front of Kazul and backed away.  Another dragon appeared,
holding a large circlet made of iron, with six spikes poking upward at
intervals around the rim.

Kazul set her front feet on the black stone, and the dragon set the
circlet on her head.  The crowd of dragons began cheering again, and
after a few minutes they began forming a line to congratulate their new
King and present their coronation gifts.  Other dragons set up large
tubs of wine and platters of meat and cheese, which were quickly
surrounded.

In the middle of the presentations, the dragons Kazul had sent off to
the blackberry clearing returned, and Kazul took a short break from
accepting congratulations to hear what they had to say.

"The wizards showed up before we'd been there more than ten minutes,
Your Majesty," said the pale green dragon who was the leader of the
group.  "Six of them, just like your princess said."

"They weren't happy to see us," the youngest dragon said smugly.

"I would think not."  Kazul smiled.  "What did you do with them?"

"We chased five of them away," the pale dragon reported.  "I don't
think they'll be back, either."

"Five?"

The pale dragon shot a glance at the youngest of the group, who licked
his lips and looked even more smug than before and said nothing.  "Yes,
Your Majesty."

"I see.  Well, that's more than enough evidence to confirm what
Cimorene's told us," Kazul commented.  She raised her voice.  "The
arrangement between the dragons and the Society of Wizards is hereby
canceled.

From now on, wizards will not be allowed anywhere near the Caves of
Fire and Night, no matter what they say."  Then she went back to
accepting presents and congratulations from her new subjects.

Cimorene watched the festivities with mixed feelings.  She was very
glad that Kazul was the new King of the Dragons, but she couldn't help
wondering what effect Kazul's coronation would have on her own
position.  The King of the Dragons certainly wouldn't need a princess
as a mark of status, and there would be plenty of younger dragons eager
to cook and clean for their King, if only as a way of getting a start
at the court.

Her preoccupation stayed with her for the rest of the day, through the
entire coronation picnic and the flight back to the Mountains of
Morning.

Cimorene and Alianora rode on the back of a very large dragon whose
scales were such a dark green that they looked almost black.  Alianora
would

have preferred to ride with the stone prince, but none of the dragons
were willing to take on a second passenger if the stone prince was the
first.  All of the dragons had paid their respects to Kazul at the
coronation, so the cave was empty when the dragon dropped Cimorene
off.

When Cimorene said good-bye to Alianora, she promised to come over and
help her pack the following morning.  Then she went in and waited for
Kazul to come home.

Kazul did not arrive until very late.  She was still wearing the iron
crown, and she looked very tired.

"Thank goodness that's over," she said, taking the crown off and
throwing it across the cave.  It hit the wall and bounced off with a
harsh dang.

You shouldn't treat your crown like that, Your Majesty," Cimorene said,
retrieving the iron circlet.

"Of course I should," Kazul said.  "It's expected.  That's why we made
it out of iron instead of something soft and bendable.  And don't start
calling me 'Your Majesty."  I've had enough of that for one day."

Cimorene began to feel a little better.  "What happens next?"

"Tomorrow we start moving," Kazul said and sighed.  "It will probably
take weeks.  It's too bad there's no way of warning a new king in time
to pack everything up before the work starts."

"Everything?"  Cimorene said in tones of dismay.  "Even the library and
the treasure vaults?  But I've only just got them organized!"

"Everything," Kazul said.  "And if you think straightening out things
here was difficult, wait until you see the mess the official vaults are
in."

"Oh, dear," said Cimorene.  "Is it very bad?"

Kazul nodded.  "I've just come from looking at it.  You'll see for
yourself tomorrow.  There's a smallish cave next to the library that I
think will do nicely for you, but I'd like you to look at it before we
start hauling things around."

"You mean you want me to stay?"  Cimorene blurted.  "But I thought the
King of the Dragons didn't need a princess!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Kazul said.  "How am I going to get my cherries
jubilee if you don't stay?  And you haven't even started cataloguing
the library, and how else am I going to get the King's treasure vaults
arranged so I can find things?  I'm not going to have time to do it."

"Won't the rest of the dragons object?"  azul snorted.  "I'm the
King.

One of the advantages of being King is that nobody objects to whims
like keeping a princess when you're not supposed to need one.  If it
bothers you, we'll give you a different title: King's Cook and
Librarian, maybe.  Stop worrying and go to sleep.  Tomorrow is going to
be a very busy day for both of us."

Cimorene smiled and went off to her rooms with a light heart.  She
slept

soundly and was up early next morning.  Kazul was already awake and
supervising three of the younger dragons, who were packing up the
treasure and the library.  Since Cimorene was pressed into service at
once, it was several hours before she could get away to keep her
promise to Alianora.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Cimorene apologized when she arrived at Woraug's
cave at last.  "But it didn't occur to me that Kazul would be moving,
too, and she wanted me to help."

"It's all right," Alianora assured her.  "It wasn't as big a job as I'd
expected, and the prince helped.  I'm almost finished."  She gestured
at an almost-full suitcase lying open on the floor.  On the other side
of the room, the stone prince was stacking the empty drawers from
Alianora's bureau.

"Well, at least I got here in time to say good-bye," Cimorene said.

"You're staying with the dragons, then?"  the stone prince asked,
straightening with a frown.  "Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Of course she's sure," Alianora said.  "Kazul's going to need her even
more than she did before, and Cimorene wouldn't be happy in a normal
kingdom."

"How did you know that?"  Cimorene said, staring at Alianora.

"It's obvious.  Linderwall is about as normal a kingdom as you can
get.

If you ran away from there, you certainly wouldn't be happy anywhere
like it."

"I didn't mean that part," Cimorene said, reddening slightly.  "I meant
about Kazul wanting me to stay."

"That was obvious, too," Alianora said.  "You're the only one who was
worried about it."  She studied Cimorene for a minute and shook her
head.

"I wouldn't like being princess for the King of the Dragons, but it
will suit you down to the ground."

"I think it will," Cimorene said, smiling.

"Then maybe you can tell me something," the stone prince said.

"What's being done about the wizards?"

"They've been banned from the Mountains of Morning, and there are a
hundred or so dragons out checking to make sure they've gone," Cimorene
replied.  "They haven't had much luck, I'm afraid.  Most of the wizards
left after the first few got eaten."

"That's all?"  asked the prince.

"What else can the dragons do?  The wizards didn't actually poison King
Tokoz; Woraug did that.  So there's no justification for an all-out
attack on the headquarters of the Society of Wizards, even if all the
dragons agreed that they wanted to do it.  Which they don't."

"I suppose you're right," the prince said.  "But you'd better tell
Kazul to keep a close eye on them.  Those wizards will make more
trouble just as soon as they figure out a way to do it."

"I don't know about that," Cimorene said.  "I think Zemenar was behind
most of it, and you melted him."

"That's it!"  Alianora said, and snapped her fingers.  "I almost forgot
to tell you.  Morwen and I talked for a long time yesterday, and she
says that melting a wizard isn't permanent."

	"You mean they'll all come back?"  Cimorene asked.

Alianora nodded.  "It will take them a while, though.  And Morwen said
for you to come and visit soon.  She thinks that in a few days she'll
have figured out a way of melting wizards without dumping soapy water
over them.  'A method that's a little less sloppy' was the way she put
it."

"That will be useful if the wizards start making trouble again,"
Cimorene said thoughtfully.

"Is this everything, Alianora?"  the stone prince asked, gesturing at
the suitcase.

"Yes, I think so."  Alianora pulled the top of the suitcase over, and
the stone prince set one foot very gently in the middle of it and
pushed until the latch clicked.

"Where are you going first?"  Cimorene asked.  "His kingdom or
yours?"

"Neither," Alianora said, smiling.  "We're going to Morwen's.  She said
she could change him back from stone to normal.  We asked Kazul last
night if we could go out through the Caves of Fire and Night, and she
said yes, SO · 	·."

	"I don't know, Alianora," the stone prince said.  "I'm beginning to
get used to myself this way.  And there are certain advantages."

	"There are disadvantages, too," Alianora said, blushing slightly.

	Cimorene began to giggle.

Alianora's blush deepened.  "I mean-uh-how are you going to get rid of
that chip in your sleeve if you can't change clothes?"

"I think I see what you're getting at," the stone prince replied,
eyeing Alianora meditatively.  "And you're quite right.  There's no
comparison.  We had better see Morwen as quickly as possible."

Alianora and Cimorene looked at each other and burst into unstoppable
giggles.

The stone prince blinked at them.  "It's not funny!"  he said
indignantly, which only made them giggle harder.  Shaking his head, he
waited for them to stop, then picked up Alianora's suitcase.  "Shall we
go?"

Cimorene walked with them to the iron gate that led into the Caves of
Fire and Night.  A purplish dragon was waiting to guide them through
the caves.  Kazul was taking no chances on Alianora and the stone
prince getting lost.  Cimorene hugged them both and wished them a safe
journey.

	"And I hope you both live happily ever after?

"I hope you do, too!"  Alianora called back as she and the stone
prince followed the dragon through the gate.

Cimorene watched until they were out of sight, then started back toward
Kazul's cave.  She thought about Morwen, and the wizard-melting spell,
and about Zemenar and Antorell and the other wizards who would somehow
be back soon.  She thought about Kazul, and about straightening out the
treasure vaults that belonged to the King of the Dragons, and about all
the hundreds of books in the King's library, and of all the problems
that the King of the Dragons would have to deal with.  She thought
about Alianora's last words and smiled.

Happily ever after?  Cimorene wasn't sure about that, though she was
certainly hoping to enjoy herself.  She was positive, however, that
life with the dragons would be interesting and busy, and in Cimorene's
opinion that would go a long way toward making her happy.

"Happily ever after?  I don't think it's quite what you meant,
Alianora," Cimorene murmured to the empty tunnel, "but one way or
another, I rather think I will.

SEARCHING FOR DRAGONS

I would like to thank the

RIGHT HONORABLE WICKED STEPMOTHERS TRAVELING DRInKING AND DEBATING
SOCIETY -Caroline, Ellen, and Mimi for kindly granting their permission
for use of their Society in this book, and for allowing me to inflict
them with a Men's Auxiliary.

Contents

1 In Which the King of the Enchanted Forest Takes a Day Off

2 In Which Mendanbar Discovers a Problem

3 In Which Mendanbar Receives Some Advice from a Witch

4 In Which a Wizard Pays a Visit

5 In Which There Is a Misunderstanding and Mendanbar Does Some
Plumbing

6 In Which Mendanbar and Cimorene Have a Long Talk and Mendanbar
Reluctantly Decides to Embark on a Journey

7 In Which a Wizard Makes a Mess and the Journey Begins

8 In Which They Give Some Good Advice to a Giant

9 In Which They Discover the Perils of Borrowed Equipment

10

	In Which Mendanbar Decides to Experiment

11 In Which Mendanbar and Cimorene Are Very Busy

12 In Which Yet Another Wizard Tries to Cause Trouble

13 In Which They Return to the Enchanted Forest at Last

14 In Which Mendanbar Has Some Interesting Visitors

15 In Which Everyone Argues

16 In Which Mendanbar Cleans Up

17 In Which Mendanbar Grows Some Trees and Makes a Wicked Suggestion

18 In Which Willin Finally Gets to Arrange a Formal Celebration

1

In Which the King of the Enchanted Forest Takes a Day Off

The King of the Enchanted Forest was twenty years old and lived in a
rambling, scrambling, mixed-up castle somewhere near the center of his
domain.  He sometimes wished he could say that it was exactly at the
center, but this was impossible because the edges and borders and even
the geography of the Enchanted Forest tended to change frequently and
without warning.

When you are the ruler of a magical kingdom, however, you must expect
some small inconveniences, and the King tried not to worry too much
about the location of his castle.

The castle itself was an enormous building with a wide, square moat,
six mismatched towers, four balconies, and far too many staircases.

One of the previous Kings of the Enchanted Forest had been very fond of
sweeping up and down staircases in a long velvet robe and his best
crown, so he had added stairs wherever he thought there was room.  Some
of the steps wound up one side of a tower and down the other without
actually going anywhere, which caused no end of confusion among
visitors.

The inside of the castle was worse than the outside.  There were
corridors that looped and curled and twisted, rooms that led into other
rooms, and even rooms that had been built inside of other rooms.  There
were secret passageways and sliding panels and trapdoors.  There were
several cellars, a basement, and two dungeons, one of which could only
be reached from the sixth floor of the North-Northwest Tower.

"There is something backwards about climbing up six flights of stairs
in order to get to a dungeon," the King of the Enchanted Forest said,
not for the first time, to his steward.

The steward, a small, elderly elf named Willin, looked up from a
handwritten list nearly as long as he was tall and scowled.  "That is
not the point, Your Majesty."

The two were in the castle study, going over the day's tasks.  Willin
stood in the center of the room, ignoring several chairs of assorted
sizes, while the King sat behind a huge, much-battered oak desk, his
long legs stretched out comfortably beneath it.  He was not wearing a
crown or even a circlet, his clothes were as plain as a gardener's, and
his black hair was rumpled and needed trimming, but somehow he still
managed to look like a king.  Perhaps it was the thoughtful expression
in his gray eyes.

Willin cleared his throat and went on, "As the center of Your Majesty's
kingdom, this castle-" "It's not at the center of the kingdom," the
King said, irritated.  "It's only close.  And please just call me
Mendanbar and save all that 'Your Majesty' nonsense for a formal
occasion."

"We don't have formal occasions anymore," Willin complained.  "Your
Majesty has canceled all of them-the Annual Arboreal Party, the Banquet
for Lost Princes, the Birthday Ball, the Celebration of Colors, the
Christening Commemoration, the-" "I know," Mendanbar interrupted.  "And
I'm sure you have them all written down neatly somewhere, so you don't
have to recite them all.  But we really didn't need so many dinners and
audiences and things."

"And now we don't have any," Willin said, unmollified.  "And all
because you said formal occasions were stuffy."

"They are stuffy," King Mendanbar replied.  "Stuffy and boring.  And so
is being 'Your Majestied' every third word, especially when there's
only the two of us here.  It sounds silly."

"In your father's day, everyone was required to show proper respect."

"Father was a stuffed shirt and you know it," Mendanbar said without
bitterness.  "If he hadn't drowned in the Lake of Weeping Dreamers
three years ago, you'd be grumbling as much about him as you do about
me."

Willin scowled reprovingly at the King.  "Your father was an excellent
King of the Enchanted Forest."

"I never said he wasn't.  But no matter how good a king he was, you
can't deny that he was a stuffed shirt, too."

"If I may return to the topic of discussion, Your Majesty?"  the elf
said stiffly.

The King rolled his eyes.  "Can I stop you?"

"Your Majesty has only to dismiss me."

"Yes, and if I do you'll sulk for days.  Oh, go on.  What about the
North-Northwest dungeon?"

"It has come to my attention that it is not properly equipped.  When it
was first built, by Your Majesty's great-great-great-great-grandfather,
it was naturally stocked with appropriate equipment."  Willin set his
list of things to do on Mendanbar's desk.  He drew a second scroll from
inside his vest and began to read.  "Two leather whips, one Iron
Maiden, four sets of thumbscrews-" "I'll take your word for it,
Willin," the King said hastily.  When Willin got going, he could read
lists for hours on end.  "What's the point?"

"Most of these items are still in the dungeon," Willin said, rerolling
the scroll and stowing it inside his vest once more, "but the rack was
removed in your great-great-grandfather's time and has never been
replaced."

"Really?"  King Mendanbar said, interested in spite of himself.  "Why
did he take it out?"

The little steward coughed.  "I believe your great-great-grandmother
wanted it to dry tablecloths on."

"Tablecloths?"  Mendanbar looked out the window at the North-North-west
Tower and shook his head.  "She made someone haul a rack up eight
flights of stairs and down six more, just to dry tablecloths?"

"A very determined woman, your great-great-grandmother," Willin said.

"In any case, the dungeon is in need of a new rack."

"And it can stay that way," said Mendanbar.  "Why should we get another
rack?  We've never used the one we have."  He hesitated, frowning.

"At least, I don't think we've ever used it.  Have we?"

"That is not the point, Your Majesty," Willin answered in a hurry tone,
from which the King concluded that they hadn't.  "It is my duty to see
that the castle is suitably furnished, from the topmost tower to the
deepest dungeon.

And the dungeon-" "-needs a new rack," the King finished.  "I'll think
about it.  What else?"

The elf consulted his list.  "The nightshades are becoming a problem in
the northeast."

"Nightshades are always a problem.  Is that all?"

"Ah .  . ."  Willin cleared his throat, then cleared it again.  "There
is the matter of Your Majesty's marriage."

"What marriage?"  Mendanbar asked, alarmed.

"Your Majesty's marriage to a lady of suitable parentage," Willin said
firmly.  He pulled another scroll from inside his vest.  "I have here a
list of possible choices, which I have compiled after a thorough survey
of the lands surrounding the Enchanted Forest."

"You made a survey?  Willin, you haven't been talking to that
dreadful

woman with all the daughters, have you?  Because if you have I'll .

.

. I'll use you to test out that new rack you want so badly."

"Queen Alexandra is an estimable lady," Willin said severely.  "And her
daughters are among the loveliest and most accomplished princesses in
the world.  I have not, of course, talked to the Queen about the
possibility, but any one of her daughters would make a suitable bride
for Your Majesty."

He tapped the scroll meaningfully.

"Suitable?  Willin, all twelve of them put together don't have enough
common sense to fill a teaspoon!  And neither have you, if you think
I'm going to marry one of them."

Willin sighed.  "I did hope Your Majesty would at least consider the
idea."

"Then you weren't thinking straight," the King said firmly.  "After all
the trouble I've had .  . ."

"Perhaps Your Majesty's experiences have given you a biased view of the
matter."

"Biased or not, I'm not going to marry anyone any time soon.

Particularly not an empty-headed princess, and especially not one of
Queen Alexandra's daughters.  So you can stop bringing it up every
day.

Do you understand?"

"Yes, Your Majesty.  But-" "But nothing.  If that's everything, you may
go.  And take that list of princesses with you!"

"Yes, Your Majesty."  With a final, fierce scowl, Willin bowed and left
the room, every inch of his two-foot height reeking of disapproval.

Mendanbar sighed and dropped his head into his hands, digging his
fingers into his thick, dark hair.  Willin meant well, but why did he
have to bring the subject up now, just when it looked as if things were
going to calm down for a little while?  The feud between the elf clans
had finally been settled (more or less to everyone's satisfaction), the
most recent batch of enchanted princes had been sent packing with a
variety of improbable remedies, and the giants to the north weren't due
to raid anyone for another couple of months at least.  Mendanbar had
been looking forward to a quiet week or two, but if Willin was going to
start nagging him about marriage, there was little chance of that.

"I might just as well go on a quest or hire some dwarves to put in
another staircase for all the peace I'm likely to get around here,"
Mendanbar said aloud.  "When Willin gets hold of an idea, he never lets
go of it."

"He's right, you know," said a deep, raspy voice from somewhere near
the ceiling.  The King looked up, and the carved wooden gargoyle in the
corner grinned at him.  "You should get married," it said.

"Don't you start," Mendanbar said.

"Try and stop me," snarled the gargoyle.  "My opinion is as good as
anyone else's."

"Or as bad," the King muttered.

"I heard that!"  The gargoyle squinted downward.  "No thanks to you, I
might add.  Do you know how long it's been since anyone cleaned this
corner?  I've got dust in my ears, and I expect something slimy to
start growing on my claws any minute now."

"Complain to one of the maids," Mendanbar said, irritated.  "We weren't
talking about hiring a housekeeper."

"Why not?  What are you, cheap or something?"

"No, and I wouldn't discuss it with you even if I were."

"King Mendanbar the Cheapskate, that's what they'll call you," the
gargoyle said with relish.  "What do you think of that?"

"I think I won't talk to you at all," said Mendanbar, who knew from
experience that the gargoyle only got more unpleasant the longer it
talked.

"I'm leaving."

"Wait a minute!  I haven't even gotten started yet."

"If Willin asks, tell him I've gone for a walk," Mendanbar said.  As he
left the room, he waved, twitching two of the invisible threads of
power that crisscrossed the Enchanted Forest.  The gargoyle's angry
screeching changed abruptly to surprise as a stream of soapy water
squirted out of the empty air in front of it and hit it squarely in its
carved mouth.

Mendanbar smiled as the door closed behind him, shutting out the
gargoyle's splutters.  "He won't complain about dust again for a while,
anyway," Mendanbar said aloud.  As he walked down the hall, his smile
grew.  It had been a long time since he had taken a day off.  If Willin
wanted to grumble about it, he could go ahead and grumble.  The King
had earned a holiday, and he was going to have one.

Getting outside without being caught was easy, even without using any
invisibility spells (which Mendanbar considered cheating).  Willin was
the only one who might have objected, and he was at the other end of
the castle somewhere.  Mendanbar sneaked past two maids and the footman
at the front door anyway, just for practice.  He had a feeling he might
want to do a lot of sneaking in the near future, especially if Willin
was going to start fussing about Queen Alexandra's daughters again.

Once he had crossed the main bridge over the moat and reached the giant
trees of the Enchanted Forest, he let himself relax a little, but not
too much.  The Enchanted Forest had its own peculiar rules, and even
the King was not exempt from them.  If he drank from the wrong stream
and got turned into a rabbit, or accidentally stepped on a slowstone,
he would have

just as much trouble getting back to normal as anyone else.  He still
remembered how much bother it had been to get rid of the donkey's ears
he'd gotten by eating the wrong salad when he was eight.

Of course, now that he was King of the Enchanted Forest he had certain
privileges.  Most of the creatures that lived in the forest would obey
him, however reluctantly, and he could find his way in and out and
around without even thinking about it.  He could use the magic of the
forest directly, too, which made him as powerful as any three wizards
and a match for all but the very best enchanters.

"Magic makes things much simpler," Mendanbar said aloud.  He looked
around at the bright green moss that covered the ground, thick and
springy as the finest carpet, and the huge trees that rose above it,
and he smiled.  Pleasant as it looked, without magic he wouldn't have
wanted to wander around it alone.

Magic came naturally to the Kings of the Enchanted Forest.  It had to;
you couldn't begin to do a good job of ruling such a magical kingdom
unless you had a lot of magic of your own.  The forest chose its own
kings, and once it had chosen them, it gave them the ability to sense
the magic permeating the forest and an instinct for using it.  The
kings all came from Mendanbar's family, for no one else could safely
use the sword that did the choosing, but sometimes the crown went to a
second son or a cousin instead of to the eldest son of the king.

Mendanbar considered himself lucky to have followed his father onto the
throne.

Uneasily, he glanced back toward the castle, then shook his head.

"Even a king needs a day off once in a while," he told himself.  "And
it's not as if they need me for anything urgent."  He turned his back
and marched into the trees, determined to enjoy his holiday.

For a few minutes, he strolled aimlessly, enjoying the cool, dense
shadows.

Then he decided to visit the Green Glass Pool.  He hadn't been there
for a while, and it was one of his favorite places.  He thought about
using magic to move himself there in the blink of an eye, but decided
against it.

"After all," he said, "I wanted a walk.  And the pool isn't that far
away."

He set off briskly in the direction of the pool.

An hour later, he still hadn't reached it, and he was beginning to feel
a little cross.  The forest had shifted twice on him, each time moving
the pool sideways or backward, so that not only was it farther away
than it had been, it was in a different direction as well.  It was
almost as if the forest didn't want him to find the place.  If he
hadn't been the King of the Enchanted Forest, Mendanbar would never
have known he was going the wrong way.

"This is very odd," Mendanbar said, frowning.  "I'd better find out
what's going on."  Normally, the Enchanted Forest didn't play this sort
of game with him.  He checked to make sure his sword was loose in its
sheath

and easy to draw if he needed it.  Then he lifted his hand and touched
a strand of magic floating invisibly beside his shoulder.

All around him, the huge tree trunks blurred and faded into gray
mist.

The mist thickened into a woolly fog, then vanished with a suddenness
that always surprised him no matter how many times he did the spell.

Blinking, he shook his head and looked around.

He was standing right where he had wanted to be, on the rocky lip of
the Green Glass Pool.  The pool looked as it always did: flat and still
as a mirror, and the same shade of green as the new leaves on a
poplar.

"Oh!"  said a soft, frightened voice from behind him.  "Oh, who are
you?"

Mendanbar jumped and almost fell into the pool.  He recovered his
balance quickly and turned, and his heart sank.  Sitting on the ground
at the foot of an enormous oak was a girl.  She wore a thin silver
circlet on her head, and the face below it was heart-shaped and very
lovely.  Her long, golden hair and sky blue dress stood out dearly
against the oak's brown bark, like a picture made of jewels set in a
dark-colored frame.  That was probably exactly the effect she had
intended, Mendanbar thought with a resigned sigh.  Somehow princesses,
even the ones with less wit than a turtle, always knew just how to
appear to their best advantage.

"Who are you?"  the princess asked again.  She was examining Mendanbar
with an expression of great interest, and she did not look frightened
anymore.  "And how did you come here, to this most solitary and
forsaken place?"

"My name is Mendanbar, and I was out for a walk," Mendanbar replied.

He sighed again and added, "Is there something I might do for you?"

The princess hesitated.  "Prince Mendanbar?"  she asked delicately.

"No," Mendanbar answered, puzzled.

"Lord Mendanbar, then?  Or, belike, Sir Mendanbar?"

"I'm afraid not."  He was beginning to catch on, and he hoped fervently
that she wouldn't think of asking whether he was a king.  It was a good
thing he wasn't wearing his crown.  Ambitious princesses were even
worse than the usual variety, and he didn't want to deal with either
one right now.

The princess's dainty eyebrows drew together for a moment while she
considered his answer.  Finally, her expression cleared.  "Then you
must be a virtuous woodcutter's son, whose deeds of valor and goodwill
shall earn you lands and title in some glorious future," she said
positively.

"A woodcutter?  In the Enchanted Forest?"  Mendanbar said, appalled.

Didn't the girl have any sense?  "No, thank you!"

"But how came you here to find me, if you are neither prince nor
knight nor deserving youth?"  the princess asked in wide-eyed
confusion.

"Oh .  . . sometimes these things happen," Mendanbar said vaguely.

"Were you expecting someone in particular?"

"Not exactly," said the princess.  She studied him, frowning, as if she
were trying to decide whether it would be all right to ask him for help
even if he wasn't a prince or a lord or a virtuous woodcutter.

"How did you get here, by the way?"  Mendanbar asked quickly.  He hated
to refuse princesses pointblank, because they cried and pouted and
carried on, but they always asked him to do such silly things.  Bring
them a white rose from the Garden of the Moon, for instance, or kill a
giant or a dragon in single combat.  It would be better for both of
them if he could distract this princess so that she never asked.

"Alas!  It is a tale of great woe," the princess said.  "Out of
jealousy, my stepmother cast me from my father's castle while he was
away at war.  Since then I have wandered many days, lost and alone and
friendless, until I knew not where I was."

She sounded as if she had rehearsed her entire speech, and what little
sympathy Mendanbar had had for her vanished.  She and her stepmother
had probably talked the whole thing out, he decided, and come to the
conclusion that the quickest and surest way for her to make a suitable
marriage was to go adventuring.  He was amazed that she'd actually
gotten into the Enchanted Forest.  Usually, the woods kept out the
obviously selfish.

"At last I found myself in a great waste," the princess continued
complacently.

"Then I came near giving myself up for lost, for it was dry and
terrible.  But I saw this wood upon the farther side, and so I gathered
my last strength to cross.  Fortune was with me, and I achieved my
goal.  Fatigued with my efforts, I sat down beneath this tree to rest,
and-" '"Wait a minute," Mendanbar said, frowning.  "You crossed some
sort of wasteland and arrived here?  That can't be right.  There aren't
any waste-lands bordering the Enchanted Forest."

"You insult me," the princess said with dignity.  "How should I lie to
such a one as you?  But go and see for yourself, if you yet doubt my
words."

She waved one hand gracefully at the woods behind her.

"Thank you, I will," said Mendanbar.  Still frowning, he walked rapidly
past the princess in the direction she had indicated.

The princess's mouth fell open in surprise as he went by.  Before she
could collect herself to demand that he return and explain, Mendanbar
was out of sight behind a tree.

2

In Which Mendanbar Discovers a Problem

Mendanbar was still congratulating himself on his escape when the trees
ended abruptly.  He stopped, staring, and quit worrying about the
princess entirely.

A piece of the Enchanted Forest as large as the castle lawn was
missing.

No, not missing; here and there, a few dead stumps poked up out of the
dry, bare ground.  Something had destroyed a circular swath of trees
and moss, destroyed it so completely that only stumps and a few flakes
of ash remained.

The taste of dust on the wind brought Mendanbar out of his daze.  He
hesitated, then took a step forward into the area of devastation.  As
he passed from woods to waste, he felt a sudden absence and stumbled in
shock.  Where the unseen lines of power should have been, humming with
the magical energy that was the life of the Enchanted Forest, he sensed
nothing.  The magic was gone.

"No wonder that princess didn't have any trouble getting into the
forest," Mendanbar said numbly.  Without magic, this section of forest
couldn't dodge away from her; all the princess had to do to get into
the woods was cross it.

Seriously annoyed, Mendanbar kicked at the ground, dislodging more
ashes.  He bent to touch one of the stumps.  The wood crumbled to dust
where his hand met it.  Coughing, he sat back and saw something
glittering

on the ground beside the next stump.  He went over and picked it up.

It was a thin, hard disk a little larger than his hand, and it was a
bright, iridescent green.

"A dragon's scale?  What is a dragon's scale doing here?"

There was no one near to answer his question.  He inspected the scale
with care, but it told him nothing more.  Scowling at it, he shrugged
and put it in his pocket.  Then he began a methodical search of the
dead area, hoping to find something that would reveal a little more.

Half an hour later, he had collected four more dragon scales in various
shades of green and was feeling decidedly grim.  He had thought he was
on good terms with the dragons who lived to the east in the Mountains
of Morning: he left them alone and they left him alone.  Glancing
around the burned space, he grimaced.

"This doesn't look much like 'leaving me alone," "he muttered
angrily.

"What do those dragons think they are doing?"  He began to wish he had
not left them quite so much alone for the past three years.  Right now
it would be useful to know something more about dragons than that they
were all large and breathed fire.

Absently, Mendanbar pocketed the dragon scales and walked back to the
edge of the burned-out circle.  It was a relief to be under the trees
where he could feel the magic of the forest again.  Frowning, he paused
to look back at the ashy clearing.

"I can't just leave it like this," he said to himself.  "If that
princess came this way, anyone might get into the Enchanted Forest just
by walking across the barren space.  But how do I put magic back into
an area that's been sucked dry?"

Still frowning, he circled the edge of the clearing, nudging at the
threads of magic that wound through the air.  None of them would move
any closer to the burned section, but on the far side he found the
place where the normal country outside the forest touched the
clearing.

He paused.  It wasn't a very wide gap.

"I wonder," he said softly.  "If I could move it a little, just around
the edge .  . ."

Carefully, he reached out and gathered a handful of magic.  It felt a
lot like taking hold of a handful of thin cords, except that the cords
were invisible, floating in the air, and made his palms tingle when he
touched them.  And, of course, each cord was actually a piece of solid
magic that he could use to cast a spell if he wanted.  In fact, he had
to concentrate hard to keep from casting a spell or two with all that
magic crammed together in his hands.

Pulling gently on the invisible threads, Mendanbar stepped slowly
backward out of the Enchanted Forest.  The brilliant green moss
followed

him, rippling under his feet.  The trees of the forest wavered as if
he were looking at them through a shimmer of hot air rising off
sunbaked stone.

He took another step, and another.  The threads of magic felt warm and
thin and slippery.  He tightened his grip and took another step.  The
trees flickered madly, as if he were blinking very rapidly, and the
moss swelled and twitched like the back of a horse trying to get rid
of an unwanted rider.  A drop of sweat ran down his forehead and hung
on the tip of his nose.  The magic in his hands felt hot and tightly
stretched.  He stepped back again.

With a sudden wrench, everything snapped into place.  The trees stopped
flickering and the moss smoothed and lay still.  The forest closed up
around the burned-out clearing, circling it completely and cutting it
off from the outside world.  Mendanbar gave a sigh of relief.

"It worked?"  he cried triumphantly.  A breeze brushed past him,
carrying the sharp smell of ashes, and he sobered.  He hadn't repaired
the damage; he had only isolated it.  "Well, at least it should keep
people from wandering into the Enchanted Forest by accident," he
reminded himself.

"That's something."

One by one, Mendanbar let go of the threads of magic he had pulled
across the gap.  He felt them join the other unseen strands, merging
back into the normal network of magic that crisscrossed the forest.

When he had released the last thread, he wiped his hands on his shirt,
then wiped the sweat off his face with his sleeve.

"Are you quite finished?"  said a voice from a tree above his head.

Mendanbar looked up and saw a fat gray squirrel sitting on a branch,
staring down at him with disapproval.

"I think so," Mendanbar said.  "For the time being, anyway."

"For the time being?"  the squirrel said indignantly.  "What kind of an
answer is that?  Not useful, that's what I call it, not useful at
all.

Finding my way across this forest is hard enough when people don't make
bits of it jump around, not to mention burning pieces of it and I don't
know what else.  I don't know what this place is coming to, really I
don't."

"Were you here when the trees were burned?"  Mendanbar asked.  "Did you
see what happened?  Or who did it?"

"Well, of course not," said the squirrel.  "If I had, I'd have given
him, her, or it a piece of my mind, I can tell you.  Really, it's too
bad.  I'm going to have to work out a whole new route to get home.  And
as for giving directions to lost princes, well, it's hopeless, that's
what it is, just hopeless.  I'll get blamed for it when they come out
wrong, too, see if I don't.  Word always gets around.  'Don't trust the
squirrel," they'll say, 'you always go wrong if you follow the
squirrel's directions."  They never stop to think of the difficulties
involved in a job like mine, oh, no.  They don't stop to say thank-you,
either, not them.  Ask the squirrel and go running off, that's what
they do, and never so much as look back.  No consideration, no
gratitude.

You'd think they'd been raised in a palace for all the manners they
have."

"If they're princes, they probably have been raised in palaces,"
Mendanbar said.  "Princes usually are."

"Well, no wonder none of them have any manners, then."  The squirrel
sniffed.  "They ought to be sent to school in a forest, where people
are polite.

You don't see any of my children behaving like that, no, sir.  Please
and thank you and yes, sir and no, ma'am-that's how I brought them up,
all twenty-three of them, and what's good enough for squirrels is good
enough for princes, I say."

"I'm sure you're right," Mendanbar said.  "Now, about the burned spot-"
"Wicked, that's what I call it," the squirrel interrupted.  "But
hooligans like that don't stop to think, do they?  Well, if they did,
they wouldn't go around setting things on fire and making a lot of
trouble and inconvenience for people.  Inconsiderate, every last one of
them, and they'll be sorry for it one day, you just wait and see if
they aren't."

"Hooligans?"  Mendanbar blinked and began to feel more cheerful.

Maybe he wasn't in trouble with the dragons after all.  Maybe it had
been a rogue who had burned out part of his forest.  That would be bad,
but at least he wouldn't have to figure out a way of dragon-proofing
the whole kingdom.  He frowned.  "How am I going to find out for
sure?"

he wondered aloud.

"Ask Morwen," said the squirrel, flicking her tail.

"What?"

"I said, ask Morwen.  Honestly, don't you big people know how to
listen?  You'd think none of you had ever talked to a squirrel before,
the way most of you behave."

"I'm very sorry," Mendanbar said.  "Who's Morwen?"

"That's better," the squirrel said, mollified.  "Morwen's a witch.  She
lives over by the mountains-just head that way until you get to the
stream, then follow it to the big oak tree with the purple leaves.

Turn left and walk for ten minutes and you should come out in her
backyard.  That is," she added darkly, "you should if all this burning
things up and moving things around hasn't tangled everything too
badly."

"You think this witch had something to do with what happened?"

Mendanbar waved at the ashy clearing a few feet away.

"I said no such thing!  Morwen is a very respectable person, even if
she does keep cats."

"Then I don't understand why you think I should talk to her."

"You asked for my advice, and I've given it," said the squirrel.

"That's

my job.  I'm not supposed to explain it, too, for heaven's sake.  If
you want explanations, talk to a griffin."

"If I see one, I will," said Mendanbar.  "Thank you for your advice."

"You're welcome," said the squirrel, sounding pleased.  She flicked her
tail twice and leaped to a higher branch.  "Good-bye."  In another
moment she had disappeared behind the trunk of the tree.

"Good-bye," Mendanbar called after her.  He waited, but there was no
further response.  The squirrel had gone.

Slowly, Mendanbar started walking in the direction the squirrel had
pointed.  When someone in the Enchanted Forest gave you advice, you
were usually best off following it, even if you were the King.

'specially if you're the King," Mendanbar reminded himself.  He wished
he knew a little more about this Morwen person, though.  He wasn't
really surprised that he hadn't heard of her.  So many witches lived in
and around the Enchanted Forest that it was impossible for anyone to
keep track of them all.  Still, this one must be something special, or
the squirrel wouldn't have sent the King of the Enchanted Forest to
her.

What sort of witch was Morwen?  "Respectable" didn't tell him a lot,
especially coming from a squirrel.  Morwen could be a white witch, but
she could also be the sort of witch who lived in a house made of
cookies in order to enchant passing children.

"She could even be a fire witch," he said to himself.  "There are
probably one or two of them who could be termed respectable."  He
thought about that for a moment.  He'd never heard of any himself.

If Morwen had lived in the Enchanted Forest for a long time, she was
probably a decent sort of witch, he decided at last.  The nasty ones
generally made trouble before they'd been around very long, and then
someone would complain to the King.

"And nobody has complained about Morwen," he finished.

Mendanbar reached the stream and turned left.  Maybe it had been a
mistake to cancel all those boring formal festivals and dinners Willin
liked so much, he mused.  They would have given him a chance to meet
some of the ordinary people who lived in the Enchanted Forest.  Or
rather, he amended, the people who didn't make trouble.  "Ordinary" was
not the right word for anyone who lived in the Enchanted Forest, not if
they managed to stay alive and in more or less their proper shape.

His reflections were cut short by a loud roar.  Glancing up, he saw a
lion bounding toward him along the bank of the stream.  It looked huge
and fierce and not at all friendly.  As it leaped for his throat,
Mendanbar batted hastily at a nearby strand of magic.  The lion sailed
over Mendanbar's head and landed well behind him, looking surprised and
embarrassed.  It whirled

and tried again, but this time Mendanbar was ready for it.  With a
quick twist and pull, he froze the lion in the middle of rearing on its
hind legs and stepped back to study it.

The lion roared again, plainly frustrated as well as embarrassed and
confused.  Mendanbar frowned and twitched another invisible thread.

Suddenly the roaring had words in it.

"Let me down."  the lion shouted.  "This is entirely undignified.  How
dare you treat me like this?"

"I'm the King," said Mendanbar.  "It's my job to keep this forest as
safe as I reasonably can.  And I don't much like being jumped at when
I'm just walking along minding my own business."

"What?"  The lion stopped roaring and peered at him nearsightedly.

"Oh, bother.  I'm exceedingly sorry, Your Majesty.  I didn't recognize
you.

You're not wearing your crown."

"That's not the point," said the King.  "It shouldn't make any
difference."

"On the contrary," the lion said earnestly.  "I'm the guardian of the
Pool of Gold, and I'm supposed to keep unauthorized people from dipping
branches in it, or diving in and turning into statues-that sort of
thing.  But if you're the King of the Enchanted Forest, you're not an
unauthorized person at all, and I've made a dreadful mistake.  I do
apologize."

"You should," said Mendanbar.  He looked around and frowned.

"Where is this Pool of Gold you're supposed to be guarding?"

'Just around the bend," the lion answered.  He sounded uncomfortable
and a little worried.

"Then what are you doing attacking people over here?"  Mendanbar
demanded.  "I might have gone right by."

"You wouldn't have if you were a prince," the lion muttered.  "They
never go on by.  I was only attempting to get ahead of things a little,
that's all.  I didn't mean anything by it."

"Yes, well, you should have thought it through," Mendanbar said in a
stern tone.  "Princes don't always travel alone, you know.  Someone
could distract you with a fight along here while a friend of his stole
water or dipped branches or whatever he wanted.  This far away from the
pool, you wouldn't even notice."

"That never occurred to me," said the lion, much abashed.  "I'm
sorry."

"Stick to the pool from now on," Mendanbar told it.  "And make sure
that the people you jump at are really trying to get at the water, and
not just wandering by."

"Yes, Your Majesty," said the lion.  "Uh, would you mind letting me
down now?"

Mendanbar nodded and untwisted the threads of magic that held the lion
motionless.  The lion dropped to all fours and shook itself, then bowed
very low.  "Thank you, Your Majesty," it said.  "Is there anything I
can do for you?"

"Does a witch named Morwen live somewhere around here?"

Mendanbar asked.

"Sure," said the lion.  "Her house is up over the hill where the blue
catnip grows.  It isn't far.  I haven't ever been there myself, of
course," it added hastily, "since I have to guard the Pool of Gold, you
know.  But sometimes one of her cats pays a call, and that's what they
tell me."

"Thank you," Mendanbar said.  "That's very helpful."

"You're welcome, Your Majesty," said the lion.  "Any time.  Is there
anything else?  Because if there isn't, I should really be getting back
to the pool."

"That's all," Mendanbar said, and bid the lion a polite good-bye.  He
waited where he stood until the lion was well out of sight, then
continued on.  He was very thoughtful, and a little annoyed.  His quiet
walk was turning out to be more of a project than he had expected.

A short while later, he passed the oak the squirrel had described, and
a little farther on he found a hill covered with bright blue catnip.

He paused, debating the wisdom of walking around the hill rather than
through the thick growth.

"You never know what things like oddly colored catnip will do if you
touch them," Mendanbar reminded himself.  He looked at the knee-high
carpet of blue leaves, then glanced at the deep shadows below the trees
at the foot of the hill.

"On the other hand, one of the easiest ways of getting lost in the
Enchanted Forest is to not follow directions exactly."  He looked at
the catnip again.  He did not want to spend hours hunting for Morwen's
house just to avoid some oddly colored plants.  Cautiously, he poked at
the invisible network of magic that hung over the hill.  It seemed
normal enough.

With a shrug, he waded in.

Halfway to the top, he saw some of the stalks near the edge of the
patch wobble, as if something small had run through it.  The wobble
kept pace with him until he reached the top of the hill, but though he
tried to see what was causing it, he was unable to catch a glimpse of
whatever was brushing by the plants.

The patch of catnip ended at the top of the hill.  Mendanbar stopped to
catch his breath and look around.  The hill sloped gently down to a
white picket fence that surrounded three sides of a garden.  A large
lilac bush was blooming on one side of the gate in the middle of the
fence, and an even larger apple tree loaded with fist-sized green
apples stood on the other side.

Mendanbar frowned.  "Aren't lilacs and apple trees supposed to bloom
at the same time?  What is one doing with blossoms while the other is
covered with fruit?"  Then he laughed at himself.  "Well, it's a
witch's garden, after all."  He supposed he shouldn't be surprised if
things behaved strangely.

On the other side of the garden stood a solid little gray house with a
red roof.  Smoke was drifting out of the chimney, and lace curtains
were blowing in and out the open windows on either side of the back
door.  Below the right-hand window was a window box overflowing with
red and blue flowers.  The stone step outside the door was cleaner than
the floor inside Mendanbar's study, and he resolved to do something
about that as soon as e got home.  Sleeping on one corner of the step
was a white cat, her fur gleaming in the sun.

Mendanbar walked down the hill to the gate.  A small brass sign hung on
the latch.  It read: "Please keep the gate CLOSED.  Salesmen enter at
their own risk."  Smiling, Mendanbar lifted the latch and pushed the
gate open.

A loud yowl from just over his head made him jump back.  He looked up
and discovered a fat tabby cat perched in the branches of the apple
tree, staring down at him with green eyes.  An instant later, a long
gray streak shot out from behind a nearby tree and through the open
gate.  It slowed as it neared the house, and Mendanbar saw that it was
actually a lean gray cat with a ragged tail.  The gray cat leaped to
the doorstep and from there to the sill of the open window.  The white
cat on the step raised her head and made a complaining noise as the
gray one vanished inside the house.

"So much for a surprise visit," Mendanbar said to the cat in the
tree.

The cat gave him a smug look and began washing its paws.  Mendanbar
stepped through the gate, closed it carefully, and started across the
garden toward the house.

3

In Which Mendanbar Receives Some Advice from a Witch

Before Mendanbar was halfway across the garden, the door of the cottage
swung open.  Seven cats of various sizes and colors trotted out, tails
high.

They flowed over the stoop, collecting the sleepy white cat on their
way, and lined themselves up in a neat row.  Mendanbar stopped and
looked down at them, blinking.  They blinked back, all eight at once,
as if they had been trained.

"Well?"  said a voice.

Mendanbar looked up.  A short woman in a loose black robe stood in the
open doorway.  Her hair was a pale ginger color, piled loosely on her
head.  Mendanbar supposed she must use magic to keep it up, for not one
wisp was out of place.  She wore a pair of glasses with gold rims and
rectangular lenses, and she held a broom in one hand.

"You must be Morwen," Mendanbar said with more confidence than he felt,
for she was quite pretty and, apart from the black robe and broom, not
witchy-looking at all.

The woman nodded.  Giving her a courteous half-bow, Mendanbar went on,
"I'm Mendanbar, and I was advised to talk to you about-well, about a
problem I've discovered.  I hope you weren't on your way out."  He
indicated the broom.

Morwen examined him for another moment, then nodded briskly.  "So

you're the King.  Come in and tell me why you're here, and I'll see
what I can do for you."

"How do you know I'm the King?"  Mendanbar asked as the cats exchanged
glances and then began wandering off in various directions.  He felt
disgruntled, because he had not intended to mention the fact.  At least
Morwen wasn't curtsying or simpering, and she hadn't started calling
him "Your Majesty" yet, either.  Perhaps it would be all right.

"I recognize you, of course," Morwen said.  She set the broom against
the wall behind the door as she spoke.  "You've let your hair get a bit
long, but that doesn't make much difference, one way or another.  And
Mendanbar isn't exactly a common name these days.  Are you going to
stand there all day?"

"I'm sorry," Mendanbar said, following Morwen into the house.  "I
didn't realize we'd met before."

"We haven't," Morwen said.  "When I moved to the Enchanted Forest five
years ago, I made sure I knew what you looked like.  I'd have been
asking for trouble, otherwise."

"Oh," said Mendanbar, taken aback.  He had never thought of himself as
one of the hazards of the Enchanted Forest that someone might wish to
be prepared for, and he did not like the idea much, now that it had
been pointed out to him.

Morwen waved at a sturdy chair next to a large table in the center of
the room.  "Sit down.  Would you like some cider?"

"That sounds very good."  Mendanbar took the chair while Morwen crossed
to a cupboard on the far wall and began taking mugs and bottles out of
it.  He was glad to have a minute to collect his wits.  He was not sure
what he had expected her to be like, but Morwen was definitely not
it.

Her house was not what he had expected, either.  The inside was as neat
and clean as the outside.  The walls of the single large room were
painted a pale, silvery gray.  Six large windows let in light and air
from all directions.  There were no gargoyles or grimacing faces or
wild tangles of trees and vines carved into the window ledges or the
woodwork around the ceiling, and no intricate patterns set into the
floorboards.  One of the cats had come inside and was sitting on a big,
square trunk, washing his paws; another was lying in an open window,
keeping an eye on the backyard.

There was a large black stove in the corner by the cupboard, and three
more chairs around the table where Mendanbar was sitting.  It was all
very pleasant and uncluttered, and Mendanbar found himself wishing he
had a few rooms like this in his castle.

"There," said Morwen as she set a large blue jug and two matching mugs
in the center of the table.  "Now, tell me about this problem of
yours."

Mendanbar cleared his throat and began.  "About an hour ago, I ran

across a section of the Enchanted Forest that had been destroyed.  The
trees had been burned to stumps and there wasn't even any moss left on
the ground.  I'm afraid it may have been a rogue dragon.  I found
dragon scales in the ashes, and a squirrel suggested I come and see
you."

"Dragon scales?"  Morwen pressed her lips together, looking very grim
indeed.  "Did you bring them with you?"

"Yes," said Mendanbar.  He dug the scales out of his pocket and spread
them out on the table.

"Hmmm," said Morwen, bending over the table.  "I don't like the look of
this."

"Can you tell anything about this dragon from his scales.  Mendanbar
asked.

"For one thing, these scales aren't all from the same dragon," Morwen
said.  Her frown deepened.  "At least, they shouldn't be."

"How can you tell?"  Mendanbar asked, his stomach sinking.

"Look at the colors.  This one is yellow-green; that one has a grayish
tinge, and this one has a purple sheen.  You don't get that kind of
variation on one dragon."

"Oh, no," Mendanbar groaned, shutting his eyes and leaning his forehead
against his hands.  He had so hoped that it had been a single dragon.

It would have been a nuisance, sending letters of complaint to the King
of the Dragons and waiting for an answer, but it would have been better
than a war.  If a group of dragons had attacked the Enchanted Forest,
war was almost inevitable.  "You're sure there were several dragons
involved?"

"I didn't say that," Morwen snapped.  "I said that these scales look as
if they came from different dragons."

"But if the scales came from different dragons-" "I didn't say that,
either," Morwen said.  "I said they looked as if they came from
different dragons.  Have a little patience, Mendanbar."

Mendanbar opened his mouth to say something else, then closed it
again.

Morwen was staring with great concentration at one of the scales, the
one that was the brightest green, and she didn't look as if she would
welcome an interruption.  Suddenly she straightened and in one swift
movement scooped the scales together like a pile of cards.  She tapped
the stack against the tabletop to straighten it, then set it down with
an air of satisfaction.

"Ha!  I thought there was something odd about these," she said, half to
herself.

"What is it?"

"Just a minute and I'll show you."  Morwen went back to the cupboard
and took down a small bowl and several jars of various sizes.  As she
spooned and mixed and muttered, Mendanbar felt magic gather around

her, like a tingling in the air that slowly concentrated itself inside
the bowl.

At last she capped the jars and carried the bowl, brimming with magic,
over to the table.

"Stay back," she warned when Mendanbar leaned forward to get a better
view.

Mendanbar sat back, watching closely, as Morwen spread the five dragon
scales out in a line.  She set the purple scale at one end and the
bright green one at the other.  Then she held the bowl over the center
of the line, took a deep breath, and said, "Wind for clarity, Stone for
endurance, Stream for change, Fire for truth: Be what you are!"

As she spoke, she tilted the bowl and poured a continuous line of dark
liquid in a long stripe across the middle of the five scales.

There was a flash of purple light, and the liquid began to glow.  The
glow spread outward, like fire creeping around the edges of a piece of
paper, until it reached the rims of the dragon scales.  Then it flashed
once more and vanished.

Five identical scales lay side by side on the table, all of them bright
green.

"I thought so," Morwen said with satisfaction.  "These scales all came
from the same dragon.  Someone altered them so that they would each
look different."

"Oh, good," Mendanbar said with some relief.  "How did you know?"

"The scales were the same shape, and very nearly the same size," Morwen
said.  "Different dragons might have scales about the same size, if
they were the same age, but there's as much variation in the shape of
dragon scales as there is in their color."

"Really?"  Mendanbar said, interested.  "I didn't know that."

"Not many people do.  But look at these-they're all round, with one
flat edge.  If they'd come from different dragons, I'd expect one to
be, say, squared off, another oval, another long and wiggly, and so
on."

"In that case, it shouldn't be too hard to find the dragon who
destroyed that chunk of forest," Mendanbar said.

Morwen looked at him severely over the tops of her spectacles.  "I'm
not sure it was a dragon at all."

"Why not?"  Mendanbar asked.  "Because the scales were changed?  But if
he didn't want to be blamed-"

"If some dragon wanted to avoid being blamed for burning up a piece of
the Enchanted Forest, he wouldn't have left his scales lying around,
changed or not," Morwen said dryly.  "Picking them up would be a lot
easier than enchanting them.  Besides, a healthy dragon doesn't shed
scales at this rate.  Unless you think your rogue dragon burned down a
lot of trees and then stood around looking at them for a week or
two."

"I see."  Mendanbar picked up one of the scales and ran his fingertips
across it.

"It's a good thing you were the one who found these," Morwen went on,
waving at the dragon scales.  "If it had been one of the elves, there
would have been trouble for certain."

"Why do you say that?  Whoever found them would have had to bring them
to the castle-" "And long before he got there, word would have been all
over the forest that a lot of dragons had burned half the woods to
powder," Morwen said.  "Most elves mean well, but they can't keep a
secret and they have no common sense to speak of.  Flighty
creatures."

"Do you think someone was trying to make trouble between the Enchanted
Forest and the dragons, then?"

"It's possible," Morwen answered.  "If you hadn't come to me, you
probably would have thought the scales came from different dragons.

Plenty of people know about the color variation.  I doubt that you'd
have figured out the transformation, though.  Only people who are
fairly familiar with dragons know about the differences in the shapes
of their scales, and I don't think anyone at the castle understands
dragons very well."

"How do you happen to know so much about dragons?"  Mendanbar asked,
nettled.

"Oh, Kazul and I have been friends for a long time," Morwen said.

"We trade favors now and then.  She lets me have a spare scale when I
need one for a spell, and I lend her books from my library and pots and
pans that she doesn't want to keep around all the time.  In fact, Kazul
was the one who convinced me that it would be a good idea to move to
the Enchanted Forest."

"Kazul," Mendanbar said, frowning.  "That name is familiar.  Who is
she?"

"Kazul is the King of the Dragons," Morwen said.  "Drink your cider."

Automatically, Mendanbar lifted his mug.  Then the implications of what
Morwen had said sank in, and he choked.  Morwen was a good friend of
the King of the Dragons?  No wonder she knew so much about dragon
scales! Morwen gave him an ironic look, as if she knew exactly what he
was thinking.  To give himself time to recover, Mendanbar sipped at his
cider.  It

was cold and sweet and tangy, and it fizzed as it slid across his
tongue.  He looked at the mug in surprise and took a longer drink.  It
was just as tasty the second time.  "This is very good."

Morwen looked almost smug.  "I make it myself.  You may have a bottle
to take back to the castle with you, provided you take a bottle to
Kazul when you go see her about these scales you found."

"Thank-wait a minute, what makes you think I'm going to see Kazul?"

"How else are you going to find out who these scales belong to?  I may
know more about dragons than most people, but I can't tell whose scales
these are just from their color and size.  Kazul can.  Besides, you
should have paid a call last year, when the old king died and Kazul got
the crown."

"I sent a note and a coronation present," Mendanbar said.  He sounded
sulky even to himself, and he felt as if he were being lectured by his
mother, who had died when he was fourteen.  "I was going to visit, but
the Frost Giants decided to come south early, and then some fool
magician tried to turn a rock snake into a bird and got a cockatrice,
and-" "-and it's been one thing after another, and you've never found
the time," Morwen said.  "Really, Mendanbar.  Haven't you learned by
now that it's always one thing after another?  Being busy is no
excuse.

Everyone's busy.  You take those scales and a bottle of my cider and go
talk to Kazul.  At the very least, you'll get some good advice, and I
expect you'll get some help as well.  You look to me as if you could
use it."

"The castle staff is very good," Mendanbar said stiffly.  "And my
steward does an excellent job."

"I'm sure he does," Morwen said.  "But one good steward isn't enough to
run a normal kingdom, much less one like the Enchanted Forest.  It's
perfectly plain just from looking at you that you're wearing yourself
out trying to do everything yourself."

"It is?"

Morwen gave a firm little nod.  "It is.  And it's quite unnecessary.

All you really need-" "-is a wife," Mendanbar muttered resignedly,
recognizing the beginning of Willin's familiar complaint.

"-is someone sensible to talk to," Morwen finished.  She looked at him
sternly over the tops of her glasses.  "Preferably someone who knows at
least a little about running a kingdom.  An exiled prince, for
instance, though they don't usually stay long enough to be useful.

Someone who'll do more than make lists of things you need to attend
to."

Mendanbar thought of Willin's endless schedules and could not help
smiling.  "You're probably right."  He suppressed a sigh; he didn't
have time to spend hunting for a capable adviser.  "Do you know anyone
suitable?"

"Several people, but they're all quite happy where they are right
now," Morwen said.  "Don't worry.  This is the Enchanted Forest.  If
you start seriously looking for good help, you'll find some."

"I hope I recognize it when I see it," Mendanbar said.  He took another
long drink of cider and stared into the mug.  "You're the most sensible
person I've talked to in days.  I don't suppose you'd consider moving
to the castle?"

"Certainly not," Morwen answered tartly.  "I have quite enough to do
here.  However, I'll have the cats keep an eye out for any more
burned-out patches of forest, and if I think of anything that might be
important I'll let you know.  Finish your cider and go see Kazul before
you talk yourself out of it."

"I won't talk myself out of it," Mendanbar said, taking another sip of
cider.  "It's a good idea."  He picked up the dragon scales and put
them back into his pocket.  He hoped Kazul would be able to tell him
something worthwhile.

The Enchanted Forest was large, but it could disappear in a hurry if
someone started punching holes in it.  He frowned suddenly.  "Do
dragons eat magic?"

"Not that I know of," Morwen said.  "Why do you ask?"

"That burned-out place I told you about," Mendanbar said.  "There
wasn't any magic left in it.  It had been sucked dry.  I've never seen
anything like it."

"I don't think dragons would have done that," Morwen said.  She
considered for a moment, then rose.  "Wait here a minute; I want to
look something up."

She walked over to the back door, the one through which Mendanbar had
come in.  He watched, puzzled, as she opened the door and stepped
through into a room full of tall, dark bookcases.  Morwen left the door
open and disappeared among the shelves.  Mendanbar blinked.  The
windows on either side of the door looked out on the garden, and the
one on the right still had a cat in it.  Oh, of course, he thought.

It's one of those doors that go where you want them to.  There was a
door like that in one of the castle attics, which was convenient for
getting back to the ground floor without actually climbing down seven
flights of stairs.  Unfortunately, you still had to climb up all seven
flights in order to get to the attic in the first place.

Morwen reappeared, holding a red book with the title The Patient Dragon
printed on the cover in gold.  She closed the library door behind her
and sat down at the table again.  She flipped rapidly through the book,
then slowed and read half a page with great care.

"I thought so," she said.  "Dragons don't eat magic.  They generate
their own, the way unicorns do."

"You're sure?"

"See for yourself."  Morwen held the book out.  "Austen is very
reliable, and the more obscure the fact, the more reliable he tends to
be.  If he says dragons make their own magic, they do."

"I'll take your word for it," Mendanbar said.  "But the more I find
out, the less sense any of this makes."

"Then you haven't found out enough," Morwen said.

They talked for a few more minutes while Mendanbar finished his
cider.

Morwen told him how to find Kazul's cave in the Mountains of Morning
but refused to advise him on what to do when he got there.  Finally,
she packed him off with two bottles of alder, the red book about
dragons, and a recommendation not to waste any more time than he had
to.

Mendanbar headed straight back to the castle.  Visiting the King of the
Dragons was going to take more preparation than simply talking to a
sensible witch, and Morwen was right about wasting time.

4

In Which a Wizard Pays a Visit When Mendanbar got back to the castle,
the first person he saw was Willin standing in the doorway looking
relieved.  By the time Mendanbar got within earshot, however, the ells
expression had changed to a ferocious scowl.

"I am happy to see that Your Majesty has returned safely," Willin said
stiffly.  "I was about to send a party out to search for you."

"Willin, that's ridic-" Mendanbar broke off as his brain caught up with
him.  Willin might fuss and complain about the king playing hooky, but
he wouldn't send someone out looking for him without more reason than
irritation.  "What's happened?"

Willin unbent very slightly.  "Your Majesty has an unexpected
visitor."

He paused.  "At least, I presume he is unexpected."

"Don't frown at me like that," Mendanbar said.  "I certainly didn't
expect anyone.  If I had, I'd have told you."

"So I had assumed," Willin said, relaxing a little more.  "And since
Your Majesty is not forgetful, in the normal way of things, I felt sure
you would not have, ah, left the palace so precipitously if you had had
an appointment."

"Who is it?"  Mendanbar asked.  "Not another complaint from the
Darkmorning Elves, I hope?  If it is, you can tell them I won't see
them.  I've

had enough of their whining, and I've got more important things to
attend to right now."

"No," Willin said.  "It's Zemenar, the Head Wizard of the Society of
Wizards."

"Oh, lord," Mendanbar said.  He had only met the Head Wizard once
before, at his coronation three years earlier, and he hadn't liked the
man much then.  Still, the Society of Wizards was a powerful group, and
its members were not the sort of people it was a good idea to offend.

He ran a hand distractedly through his hair.  "How long has he been
waiting?  What does he want?"

"He's only been here for a few minutes," Willin reassured him.  The eLs
frown returned.  "He refused to tell me his business, Your Majesty.  He
said it was a matter for Your Majesty's ears alone."

"He would," Mendanbar muttered.  "As I recall, he's got an exaggerated
idea of his own importance."

"Your Majesty?"  said Willin, clearly shocked by such plain speaking.

'-e certainly thinks so," Mendanbar said.  "Oh, don't worry, I won't
say anything improper when I'm talking to him.  Where is he?"

"I asked him to wait in the main audience chamber."

"Good.  I'll go see what he wants.  You take these down to the
kitchen."

Mendanbar handed Morwen's jugs of cider to Willin.  The elf blinked in
puzzled surprise.  Before Willin had time to collect himself, Mendanbar
grabbed a handful of magic and twisted hard.

The courtyard faded into white mist.  An instant later, the mist
evaporated, leaving Mendanbar standing in the middle of his study.  The
wooden gargoyle in the corner immediately began shouting at him.

"You!  You've got a lot of nerve, waltzing in as if nothing's
happened.

I bet you thought that trick with the soapy water was funny!  You'll be
sorry for it when the wood up here starts to rot from the damp, you
wait and see."

"That's why you're there," Mendanbar said as he set the book Morwen had
given him on the desk.  "You're supposed to let us know if the wood
starts to go bad or gets termites, so we can fix it before the castle
falls apart."

"And look at the thanks I get," the gargoyle complained.  "Water in my
ears and soap in my eyes.  How do you expect me to do my job if I can't
see?"

Mendanbar listened with half an ear while he rummaged through the
desk.

The gold circlet he wore for official business was in the bottom drawer
under a pile of old envelopes and out-of-date invitations to balls,
dinners, birthday parties, cricket games, and teas.  As he put the
circlet on, Mendanbar frowned at the drawer, wondering why he was
saving all that useless paper.  He resolved for the hundredth time that
week to clean everything out someday soon, shoved the drawer closed,
and glanced around to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything.

"Are you listening to me?"  the gargoyle yelled.

"Of course not," Mendanbar said.  "I never do when you're being

"Insulting?  You want insulting?  I'll give you insulting.  You always
dress funny!  You've got feet like an elephant!  Your nose is too big
and your ears stick out!"

"Not much, compared to yours," said Mendanbar cheerfully as he crossed
to the door.  "Stop grousing; if you can see my nose from up where you
are, there's nothing wrong with your eyes."

"Your hair is a bird's nest!"  the gargoyle shouted just before the
door closed behind Mendanbar.  "A bird's nest, do you hear me?"

Mendanbar rolled his eyes and headed down the corridor toward the main
audience chamber.  He supposed he would have to apologize to the
gargoyle sooner or later, unless he could figure out a way to muffle
the noise while he worked.  Maybe he could enchant a pair of earplugs
to keep out the gargoyle's voice and nothing else.  A spell that
specific would be tricky, but it would be worth it just to see the
gargoyle's face when it realized Mendanbar didn't mind its chatter.

Mendanbar smiled and pushed open the rear door of the audience
chamber.

Zemenar turned as Mendanbar entered, and the blue and gray robes he
wore flared out around him.  His face was just as sharp and angular as
Mendanbar remembered.  Giving Mendanbar a long, appraising look,
Zemenar bowed his head in greeting.  "Your Majesty."

"Welcome, Head Wizard," Mendanbar said, bowing slightly in return.

Something tugged gently at his mind, distracting him.  The strands of
magic, which were always particularly plentiful inside the castle, were
drifting slowly toward the staff Zemenar carried.  In another minute or
two, they would begin winding around Zemenar's staff like thread
winding onto a spool.  Before long, the wizard's staff would absorb
them, leaving a tangled knot in the orderly net of magic, and Mendanbar
would have to spend hours straightening it out later.

It happened every time a wizard came to the Enchanted Forest, and it
was very inconvenient.  Mendanbar had gotten tired of asking wizards to
keep their staffs from soaking up magic.  They hardly ever understood
what he was talking about, and if he did manage to make it clear, they
generally got upset and indignant.  He didn't want to upset the Head
Wizard of the Society of Wizards, but he didn't want to spend his
afternoon cleaning up a

magical mess in the middle of his castle, either.  He reached out with
a mental hand and nudged the invisible cords away from the staff.

Zemenar did not seem to notice.  "I have come to see you about a matter
of much urgency to the Society of Wizards," he said, stroking his long
gray beard portentously.  "I hope you will be willing to assist us."

"That depends on what kind of help you're asking for," Mendanbar
replied.  "There are some things I won't do, and a few that I can't.

I'm sure you understand."

"Entirely," Zemenar said, though he sounded a little put out, as if he
had hoped to get Mendanbar to agree quickly, without asking any awkward
questions.

Mendanbar felt like rolling his eyes in exasperation.  Everybody who
lived in the Enchanted Forest knew better than to make a promise
without knowing what they were promising.  Did this wizard think that
Mendanbar was stupid just because he was young?

"We in the Society of Wizards have been having a great deal of
difficulty recently with the dragons in the Mountains of Morning,"
Zemenar went on.  "That is the root of the problem."

"I don't think I can help you with the dragons," Mendanbar said.  The
strands of magic were drifting toward the wizard's staff again.  He
gave them another nudge.  "The Mountains of Morning aren't part of the
Enchanted Forest, so I can't just order the dragons to behave.  If you
were having trouble with elves, now, I might be able-" "Naturally, we
don't wish to involve you in our dispute," Zemenar interrupted
smoothly.  "However, one of the results of our quarrel is that the King
of the Dragons has cut off the Society's access to the Caves of Fire
and Night."

"I still don't see-" "The caves are the source of many of the
ingredients we use in our spells," Zemenar broke in once more.  "They
are also the only place it is possible to make certain items we need
for our research."  He paused and blinked, fingering his staff with one
hand as if he thought there might be a rough spot somewhere along it
and he was trying to find it without attracting attention.  "We-the
Society of Wizards-must have some way of entering the caves."

"Go on."  Mendanbar tried not to sound as irritated as he felt.  He did
not like Zemenar's lecturing tone, he was tired of being interrupted,
and he still did not see what the Society's dispute with the dragons
had to do with him.  On top of that, the invisible threads of magic
were moving toward Zemenar's staff again, almost as if something were
sucking them in.

Mendanbar yanked at them hard, wishing he could do the same to the Head
Wizard.

"That is where you come in, Your Majesty," Zemenar said.  He sounded
vaguely confused, as if he were trying to concentrate on two things at
once.  "You, ah, could be of great use .  . . that is, you could help
us enormously."

"How?"  The strands of magic were gliding toward the staff more quickly
than ever.  Mendanbar could see that if he kept pulling at them he
would soon be unable to pay attention to anything else.  He thought for
a moment, while Zemenar rambled, then he took hold of a fat, invisible
cord and with a swift gesture threw it in a loop around Zemenar.  The
loop hovered three feet from the Head wizard in all directions,
spinning slowly.

Other cords floated toward it and glanced off before they came anywhere
near Zemenar or his staff.  Mendanbar smiled slightly.

The Head Wizard broke off his speech in mid-sentence.  "What was
that?"

he demanded.

"I beg your pardon," Mendanbar said with dignity.  "As the ruler of the
Enchanted Forest, there are sometimes matters that require my immediate
attention.  I have dealt with this one."

Zemenar frowned, plainly taken aback.  "You have?  But I didn't sense
any spell-" He stopped short, staring at Mendanbar in consternation.

"You would not," Mendanbar said in an offhand manner.  Inwardly, he
smiled.  Apparently wizards could feel normal spell-casting, but they
could not sense Mendanbar's way of doing magic.  He wondered why no one
had ever mentioned it.  Undetectable spells could be a big advantage,
if he ever had trouble with the Society of Wizards.  "It was not
exactly a spell, just something to do with the forest forces.  It need
not concern you."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Zemenar said after a long pause.  "If I may
continue?"

"Please do."

"What we are asking is that you allow the wizards of our society to
enter the Caves of Fire and Night from the Enchanted Forest," Zemenar
said.  "There is a way in somewhere along your eastern border, I
believe."

"Yes, but it doesn't stay put," Mendanbar pointed out.  "Nothing in the
Enchanted Forest does, at least, not for long."

"It's always in the same general area, though," Zemenar said
confidently.

"We're willing to take whatever time is needed to find it."

Mendanbar thought of the enormous number of knots and tangles that the
wizards would cause while they wandered around looking for the entrance
to the caves, and he could barely suppress a shudder.  "What about the
dragons?"

"If you have no authority over them, they can have none over your
gateway into the Caves of Fire and Night," Zemenar said, watching
Mendanbar closely with his hard, bright eyes.

"That's not what I meant."  Mendanbar paused, pretending to
consider.

"I think I must refuse your request, temporarily at least," he said in
as judicious a tone as he could manage.  "I have certain .  . .

differences of my own to settle with the King of the Dragons at the
moment.  From what you say, the dragons would object if I let your
wizards into the Caves of Fire and Night, and I do not want to make my
discussion with them any more difficult than it is likely to be
already.  I hope you understand."

"Ah."  A fleeting expression of satisfaction flicked across Zemenar's
face.  "I am sorry to hear that you, too, are having trouble with
dragons.  I hope you will be able to settle things suitably.  They are
sly creatures, you know, and one can never tell what they are
thinking."

The same thing could be said about the Head Wizzard of the Society of
Wizzards, thought Mendanbar.  "Thank you for your kind wishes," he said
aloud.

"If you would like our assistance, the Society of Wizards would be
happy to advise you," Zemenar said with a smile.  "We have had a great
deal of experience with dragons over the years."

"I appreciate the offer," Mendanbar replied cautiously.  He did not
want to offend the Head Wizard, but he doubted that the wizards' advice
would help him much.  After all, they seemed to be having more trouble
with dragons than he was.

"Have you met the new King of the Dragons or her princess?"  the Head
Wizard went on.

"No, I-princess?"  Mendanbar forgot his misgivings in a wave of
surprised dismay.  "The King of the Dragons has a princess?"

"She does indeed," Zemenar said.  There was a faint frown in his eyes,
and his fingers were stroking his staff again.  "She's a real
troublemaker, too-the princess, I mean.  Our misunderstanding with the
dragons is all her fault."

"Oh, lord," Mendanbar said.  He raised a hand to run his fingers
through his hair and remembered just in time that he was wearing his
circlet.  "And King Kazul listens to her?"

"Certainly.  Most of the dragons do, now.  Cimorene is quite the power
behind the throne in the Mountains of Morning."

There was a sneer in Zemenar's voice, along with a good deal of
suppressed anger.  Mendanbar couldn't blame him.  He'd had enough
trouble with princesses himself to know the type.  Cimorene must be one
of the beautiful, empty-headed, ambitious bores whose only talents were
the ability to stare innocently with their blue eyes and a knack for
wrapping people-or, in Cimorene's case, dragons-around their fragile
fingers.  She was probably too stupid to realize how much trouble her
manipulations caused, but if she did notice she probably liked having
the power to produce turmoil.

"Oh, lord," Mendanbar repeated.  Why hadn't Morwen warned him?

Well, he had to talk to Kazul, one way or another.  Perhaps Morwen had
heard about his aversion to princesses and hadn't wanted to give him
any reason to put off the visit.  Mendanbar looked at Zemenar,
completely in charity with the wizard for the first time.  "Thank you
for telling me."

"You're very welcome," Zemenar said.  "You will let me know how things
go, won't you?  And do remember that the Society of Wizards will be
happy to give you whatever help you may need.  It's in our own
interest, after all.  The sooner you get this little matter settled,
the sooner you'll be able to reconsider our request about the Caves of
Fire and Night."

"Yes, certainly," Mendanbar said.  "Is that all, then?  I'll have
Willin show you out."

"That won't be necessary."  Zemenar gave Mendanbar a smile that set

Mendanbar's teeth on edge.  "I am a wizard, after all.  Good day, Your
Maj Zemenar bowed and was suddenly and completely gone.  No, not
completely; Mendanbar could feel a lump of magic in the center of the
looping spell where Zemenar had been standing.  Mendanbar frowned.  He
might appreciate Zemenar's warning about Kazul's Princess, but that was
no reason for the wizard to go leaving leftover bits of magic in his
castle.

Mendanbar reached for the loop, to undo it, and paused.  As long as he
was at home, he might as well do this the easy way.  He twitched a
different strand of magic, and the audience chamber dissolved around
him.

He materialized in the cool darkness of the castle armory.  Lighting
the wall torches with another twitch of the magic threads, he looked
around.  Willin had been hard at work since the last time Mendanbar had
visited the armory.

Most of the swords and shields that had been piled in one corner or
another were now hanging in neat pairs on the walls.  Extra swords,
spears, maces, lances, and knives hung in closely spaced rows higher
up.  The effect was almost decorative.  Mendanbar made a mental note to
compliment Willin, then turned his attention toward the wooden chests
along the far wall.

The one he wanted was in the center.  He reached into his pocket for
the key and realized he had left it in his desk.  He sighed and snapped
his fingers.  With a small pop, the key appeared in the air level with
his nose and fell into his palm.  Mendanbar smiled at it and bent to
open the chest.  Willin was always after him to have a proper set of
keys made for the various doors and drawers and chests and hiding
places in the castle, but Mendanbar couldn't see any reason to waste
the effort when the Key to the Castle was all you needed to open any
lock in the place.

It wasn't as if Willin needed a spell to call the Key, either,
Mendanbar thought as he lifted the lid of the chest.  The Key had its
own magic.  As long

as it was inside the castle, it came to whoever called it.  Willin
just wanted to puff up his own consequence by carrying a big bunch of
keys jangling at his belt.  Mendanbar looked down and forgot about
Willin.

There was only one thing in the chest: a sword, gleaming in the
torchlight.

It was very plain, almost ordinary-looking, and it didn't have an air
of magic about it at all, though anyone who looked at it closely would
notice that it shone too brightly and had too sharp an edge to be an
ordinary sword.  Mendanbar reached in and took the hilt in his hand
with a sigh of satisfaction.  In the air around him, the unseen strands
of power hummed in response, for this sword was linked to the warp and
weft of the Enchanted Forest in ways no one, not even the Kings of the
Enchanted Forest, really understood.  Mendanbar always felt better when
he had the sword with him, but he couldn't wear it around the castle
all the time.  It made Willin unhappy and visitors nervous.  So he kept
the sword in the armory unless he could think of an excuse to use it.

Rising, he swung the sword twice, just for fun.  Then he hunted around
until he found a sword belt and scabbard, put the sword in the sheath,
and buckled the belt around his waist.  With another wave of his hand,
he was back in the audience chamber.

5

In Which There Is a Misunderstanding and Mendanbar Does Some Plumbing

The awkward lump of wizard-magic was right where Mendanbar had left
it.

He studied it for a moment, then drew his sword.

"Your Majesty!"  said Willin from the doorway.  "What are you doing?"

"Cleaning up after our visitor," Mendanbar replied.  "Do be quiet for a
minute, Willin.  I need to concentrate."

"But-" Mendanbar shot an irritated look at Willin.  The castle steward
broke off and closed his mouth into a thin, disapproving line.

Mendanbar waited half a moment longer to make sure the elf was not
going to say anything else, then turned back to the lump.  Raising the
sword, he reached over the loop of Enchanted Forest magic and stuck the
point into the center of the mass.

A surge of power ran through the sword as it sucked up the wizard's
leftovers and sent them to reinforce the invisible network of Enchanted
Forest magic.  The surge was stronger than Mendanbar had expected, and
he frowned as he lifted the sword away from the now-empty space and put
it back in its sheath.  Perhaps it hadn't been extra, unused magic,
after all; perhaps Zemenar had deliberately left a spell behind.  It
was too late to test it now, though.  The sword was thorough, and
whatever the lump had been, it was now gone for good.

"Your Majesty?"

Willin's voice sounded much more tentative than it had a moment
before.  Mendanbar almost smiled, but Willin was sure to get upset if
he thought he was being laughed at.  So Mendanbar kept his face stiff
and took a little longer than necessary to undo the loop he had left to
guard the wizard's magic.  When he was positive that his expression was
normal, he turned.

"Yes, Willin?"

"What was all that about?  Has my lord the Head Wizard gone?  Why are
you wearing your sword?  What-" "One thing at a time," Mendanbar
interrupted gently.  "Zemenar has gone, yes.  He cast a vanishing
spell, and a very good one, too.  No smoke, no whirling dust, just
poofand he was gone.  Unfortunately, he wasn't as tidy with the end of
his spell, and some of it got left behind.  Or at least, that's what I
thought until I got rid of it a minute ago."

"I .  . . see," Willin said in a tone that meant he didn't.  "And
that's why you have your sword?"

"Partly."  Mendanbar looked at the empty patch of floor where the
wizard had been, then shook his head.  Whatever Zemenar might have been
up to, it would have to wait.  "I have to pay a visit to the King of
the Dragons."

Willin's face went completely blank.  "You what?"

"I'm going to the Mountains of Morning, to see the King of the
Dragons," Mendanbar repeated.  "And I'm certainly not going without a
sword.

There are lots of dangerous creatures in those mountains, and some of
them wouldn't care that I'm the King of the Enchanted Forest, even if
they bothered to stop for an introduction before they attacked."

"But you can't just leave, Your Majesty!"  Willin said.  "A formal
embassy to the King of the Dragons will take weeks to arrange.  You'll
want a full escort, and-" "I don't think there's time," Mendanbar broke
in, before Willin could get too involved in planning.  "Something's
come up, and it needs to be dealt with now.  So I'm going today, in
another minute, and you're in charge of the castle until I get back."

In a sudden inspiration, Mendanbar pulled the Key to the Castle out of
his pocket and handed it ceremoniously to Willin.

"I am deeply honored by Your Majesty's confidence," Willin said.  "But
are you sure this is necessary?"

"Yes," Mendanbar said.  "Oh, and don't let any wizards in while I'm
gone.  Something funny is going on, and I don't want any of them inside
the castle until I figure out what, especially if I'm not here."

"But what should I tell them, if they ask for you?"

"I don't care, as long as you don't let them in," Mendanbar replied.

"Is that all?  Then I'm going."

He took hold of a strand of magic and pulled.  When the misty
whiteness cleared away, he was standing among the trees of the
Enchanted Forest just outside the castle.  With a bit more care, he
chose another magic thread and pulled again, harder.  This time, he
appeared at the very edge of the forest, where the Mountains of Morning
began.  Two paces in front of him, the vibrant green moss stopped as if
it had been sliced away, and the dry gray rock began.  He checked to
make sure this was the right place-Morwen's directions had been very
specific-and then, reluctantly, stepped over the boundary.

Mendanbar had not left the Enchanted Forest for over three years, not
since he had become King, and he had forgotten how very barren
everything felt outside.  He could still sense the free-floating
network of magic behind him, but where he stood, the air was empty.

Thin grass and scrubby bushes grew in patches wherever dirt had
accumulated in low spots and cracks and corners.  Ahead, the mountains
rose high and sharp and dead.

Many magical creatures lived here, but the Mountains of Morning had no
magic of their own.  Mendanbar could feel the emptiness where the magic
should have been, and he shivered in spite of himself.

"At least I don't have to worry about finding Kazul," he told
himself.

"As long as I don't get my directions mixed up, I should be able to
walk straight to her cave."  He smiled suddenly.  "And it will still be
there when I get to it!"  That was worth something.  And he still had
some of the magic of the Enchanted Forest along with him in the form of
his sword.  Even through the sheath, Mendanbar could feel the
reassuring pulse of power.

"Well, there's no sense in putting it off."  He shrugged, took a last
look back at his forest, and started walking.

Once he got used to the dry, dead, magicless feel of the mountains,
Mendanbar actually enjoyed the walk.  Much as he loved the Enchanted
Forest, he had to admit that it was nice to see so much sky.  Since
dragons liked high places, the walk was mostly uphill, but that was
fun, too.  With no trees to block the view, Mendanbar could see for
miles, and the higher he got, the more he could see.  The hills in the
Enchanted Forest tended to be either low, rolling bumps that you hardly
noticed, or steep mounds that were usually home to something dangerous,
or magical, or both.  Most of the latter were made of something
strange, too-jasper or polished coal or solid silver.  There was even
one made of glass somewhere along the southern edge of the forest.

Some king had built it in order to get rid of his daughter.

Daughter.  King's daughter.  Princess!  Mendanbar's good mood
vanished.

He'd forgotten about Kazul's princess.

"And I'll have to be particularly polite to her, no matter how
irritating

she is," he reminded himself gloomily.  If she had as much influence
as Zemenar hinted, she could make things very difficult if she took a
dislike to him.  He wondered why Kazul had kept her.  The King of the
Dragons didn't normally bother with a princess, or at least, Mendanbar
had never before heard of one who did.

He came around a curve and saw the mouth of a cave in front of him.

There was a wide, flat, sandy space in front of the cave, big enough
for several dragons to land at the same time, if they were careful
about it.  The mountain rose straight up behind the cave mouth.  Set in
the stone over the center of the opening was an outline of a spiky
black crown.

As Mendanbar drew nearer, he saw a tarnished brass handle sticking out
of a small hole beside the cave.  The handle was level with his waist,
and next to it was a sign that read: "WELCOME TO THE CAVE OF THE DRAGON
KING.  Pull handle to ring bell."  On the line below, someone had added
in neat letters printed in bright red paint, "ABSOLUTELY No wizards,
sales-people, or rescuers.  This means YOU."

Mendanbar stared at the sign for a minute and began to smile.  No
wonder Zemenar didn't like Kazul's princess.  Well, he wasn't a wizard,
he wasn't selling anything, and he certainly didn't want to rescue
anybody.  He gave the handle a pull.

Somewhere inside the cave, a bell rang.  "Well, it's about time," said
a woman's voice, and Mendanbar's heart sank.  He heard footsteps coming
toward the mouth of the cave, and the same voice continued, "I was
hoping you'd get here before I left.  The sink is-" The speaker came
out of the cave, took a look at Mendanbar, and broke off in
mid-sentence.  "Oh, no, not another one," she said.

Mendanbar stared at her in utter bafflement.  If this was a princess,
she was like no princess he had ever seen, and he had seen dozens.

True, she had a small gold crown pinned into her hair, and she was very
pretty-beautiful, in fact-but she was wearing a blue-and-white checked
apron with large pockets.  Mendanbar had never seen a princess in an
apron before.

The dress under the apron was rust-colored and practical-looking, and
she had the sleeves rolled up above her elbows.  He had never seen a
princess with her sleeves rolled up, either.  Her jet black hair hung
in plain braids almost to her knees, instead of making a cloud of curls
around her face.  Her eyes were black, too, and she was as tall as
Mendanbar.

"Well?"  she said in an exasperated tone.  "Are you going to stand
there like a lump, or are you going to tell me what you want?  Although
I think I already know."

"Excuse me," Mendanbar said.  He pulled himself together and bowed
uncertainly.  "I think there's been some sort of mistake.  I'm looking
for Kazul, the King of the Dragons."

"I'll bet you are," the young woman muttered.  "Well, you can't have
her.  I handle my own knights and princes."

"I beg your pardon?"  Mendanbar said, blinking.  He was beginning to
think the mistake was his.  This young woman didn't look like a
princess (except for the crown), she didn't act like a princess, and
she didn't talk like a princess.  But if she wasn't a princess, what
was she doing here?

"I handle my own knights," she repeated.  "You see, I don't want to be
rescued, and it would be silly for someone to get hurt fighting Kazul
when I intend to stay here no matter what happens.  Besides, Kazul has
enough to do being King of the Dragons without people interrupting her
to fight for no reason."

"You really are Kazul's princess"-what had Zemenar said her name was?

Oh, yes -- "Cimorene?"

"Yes, of course.  Look, I haven't got time to argue about this, not
today.

Could you please go away and come back in, oh, a week or so, when
things are a little more settled?  Or I can direct you to a more
cooperative princess, if you'd rather not wait.  Marchak has a very
nice one just now, and he lives quite close by."

"No, I'm afraid not," Mendanbar said.  He was beginning to think Willin
had been right to say he should wait for a formal audience.  "You see,
I didn't come to rescue you, or anybody.  I'm the King of the Enchanted
Forest, and I really did come to talk to Kazul.  And it's urgent.  So-"
"Oh, drat," said Cimorene.  "Are you sure it can't wait?  Kazul isn't
here right now."

"I'll wait for her," Mendanbar said with polite firmness.  "As I said,
the matter is urgent."

Cimorene frowned suddenly.  "Did you say you were the King of the
Enchanted Forest?"

Mendanbar nodded.  "My name is Mendanbar."

'Just why is it that you're so eager to see Kazul, Your Majesty?"

Cimorene said suspiciously.

"I ran across a .  . . problem in the Enchanted Forest this morning,"
Mendanbar replied, choosing his words with care.  "A witch named Morwen
advised me to talk to the King of the Dragons about it."

"Morwen sent you?"  Cimorene looked surprised, then thoughtful.  "It
must be all right, then.  Come in and sit down, and I'll see if I can
explain."

"As you wish, Princess," Mendanbar said, bowing.

'Just call me Cimorene," she said, leading Mendanbar into the cave.

She bent to pick up a lantern from the floor inside the entrance and
added, "My official title now is Chief Cook and Librarian, so I've
gotten out of the habit of being called 'Princess'."

"Chief Cook and Librarian?"  Mendanbar said curiously.  "How did that
happen?"

"Kazul and I decided on it between us after she became King of the
Dragons last year," Cimorene said.  "You see, the King of the Dragons
doesn't usually have a princess, and we didn't want the other dragons
grumbling about Kazul breaking with tradition.  I was hoping it would
discourage the knights a bit, too."

"Oh?"

"Well, it doesn't sound particularly noble and knightly to say you've
rescued the Chief Cook and Librarian, does it?  And it has cut down on
the number of interruptions.  I used to get two or three knights a day,
and now there's only about one a week.  And the ones who do come are at
least smart enough to figure out that I'm still a princess even if the
dragons call me Chief Cook."

"Doesn't that make them harder to get rid of?."

"Not at all.  The smart ones listen when I argue with them.  The stupid
ones think I'm kidding.  I had to offer to fight a couple of them
myself before I could get them to go away."

Mendanbar peered doubtfully at Cimorene in the dim lantern-light.

She didn't look as if she were joking.  "You actually offered to fight
a knight?"

"Four of them," Cimorene said, nodding.  and a prince.  It was the only
way to convince them."  She looked at Mendanbar uncertainly.  "I'm
sorry if I behaved badly to you at first, but I really did think you
were here to rescue me.  It's the crown."  She pointed to the circlet
on his head.  "You wouldn't believe the trouble I've had with some of
the princes.  Being rude is the only way to get rid of them in a hurry,
and sometimes even that doesn't work.  Especially if they're
particularly stupid."

"I understand," Mendanbar said without thinking.  "They sound a lot
like princesses-stubborn, witless, and-" He stopped short in dismay.

He'd forgotten for a moment that Cimorene was a princess, too.  He
hoped she wouldn't be insulted.

Fortunately, Cimorene didn't seem insulted at all.  She nodded.

"Exactly.

That's why I send the knights and princes on to rescue other
princesses.

They mostly deserve each other.  Of course, I do try to make sure I
send the nicest knights to the nicest princesses.  They can't help it
if they're silly," They had reached a side opening, and Cimorene
hesitated.  Then she shrugged and went in.  "The kitchen's a mess
today," she said over her shoulder, "but even when it's messy, it's
more comfortable for human-type people than the big caves where the
dragons go to chat.  I can make tea, too, if you'd like some."

Before he could answer, Mendanbar emerged from the side tunnel into a
large, well-lit cavern.  An enormous black stove took up half of one
wall, and the other walls were lined with tall wooden cupboards.  A
stone sink next to the door was filled to the brim with scummy gray
water, and the shelf next to it was overflowing with dirty dishes.  In
the middle of the floor stood a large wooden table and three mismatched
chairs.

"Tea sounds good," Mendanbar said, politely ignoring the dishes.

Cimorene scowled at the sink and began rummaging through the
cupboards.

"Do you mind having your tea in a wine glass?  I know it's a little
strange, but I'm afraid all the cups are dirty.  The sink has been
plugged up for nearly a week, and I haven't been able to do the
dishes."

"I don't mind," Mendanbar said.  "But you'll have to do something about
that sink sooner or later, you know."

"I've tried," Cimorene said in an irritated tone.  "Do you have any
idea how hard it is to persuade a plumber to come look at a dragon's
sink?  I thought I'd finally found one, but he was supposed to get here
yesterday morning and still hasn't shown up, so he's probably not
coming.  And there aren't any books on plumbing in Kazul's library, or
I'd have fixed it myself."

"I'm sorry," Mendanbar said.  "Maybe I can do something about it."

"Go ahead," Cimorene replied.  "You can't make it any worse than it is
already."

That didn't sound like much of a vote of confidence to Mendanbar, but
it didn't matter.  He went over to the sink and studied it for a
moment, then backed up a pace and drew his sword.

Cimorene made a startled noise.  "Your sword does plumbing?"  she said,
sounding interested.  "I knew it was magic, but I thought it was for
dragons."

"It does most things," Mendanbar said absently.  Working magic outside
the Enchanted Forest took a lot of concentration.  He squinted down the
length of the blade at the sink, feeling the power within the sword
tingle against his palm.  Then he whipped the sword through the air,
pushing power out of it to wrap around the sink.  With a final
flourish, he touched the tip of the sword to the surface of the scummy
water.  There was a spray of magic, a loud glug, and the water swirled
and began to run down the drain.

"There," said Mendanbar.  "That should do it."  He wiped the tip of his
sword and stuck it back in its sheath.

"It certainly should!"  Cimorene said.  "Is your magic always that
flashy?"

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind.  I'll wash some cups while the tea water is boiling.  Sit
down while I get the kettle started."

Mendanbar sat down at the table and frowned suddenly.  "Oh, bother."

"What?"

"Morwen gave me some cider to bring to King Kazul, and I was so busy
cleaning up after Zemenar that I forgot to pick it up before I left.

I'm sorry.  I'll have to send it with someone when I get back."

Cimorene stopped short, holding the teaketde suspended in midair.

"Zemenar?  Not the Head Wizard of the Society of Wizards?"

"Yes, of course," Mendanbar said, a little surprised by her reaction.

Then he recalled how much Zemenar seemed to dislike Cimorene.

Presumably Cimorene felt the same way about Zemenar.

"And you had to clean up after him?  It figures," Cimorene muttered.

She finished filling the kettle and put it on the stove, then went back
to the sink and washed two cups, two saucers, and two spoons with an
intense concentration that made it obvious she was thinking about
something else.

Mendanbar was happy to let her think.  He had a few things to mull over
himself.  Cimorene was not at all what he'd expected.  She acted more
like Morwen than like a princess.  He wondered where she had come from
and how she had gotten captured by the dragons.  He nearly asked, but
pulled himself up short before the words left his mouth.  He hadn't
come to talk to a princess.  No, indeed.  "When will King Kazul be
back?"  he asked instead.

Cimorene did not answer at once.  She set the teacups on the table,
poured hot water into the teapot to brew, and sat down across from
Mendanbar.  She studied him for a long minute, then gave a decisive
nod.

"All right," she said.  "I'll tell you the truth.  I don't know."

A wave of irritation swept over Mendanbar.  "If Kazul didn't tell you
when she expected to be back, why didn't you say so at once?"

"Oh, she told me," Cimorene said.  She looked very sober.  "She was
supposed to be home the day before yesterday."

"And she's not back yet?"

Cimorene nodded again.  "And she hasn't sent a message or anything.

She's disappeared.  I was just getting ready to go search for her when
you showed up."

6

In Which Mendanbar and Cimorene Have a Long Talk and Mendanbar
Reluctantly Decides to Embark on a Journey Mendanbar took a deep
breath.  "I think you'd better tell me everything you know about this,"
he said.  "When did Kazul leave, and where was she going?"

"She left last Monday," Cimorene replied readily.  "She was going to
visit her grandchildren in the northern part of the mountains.  She
does that whenever she gets a chance, and sometimes she stays a few
extra days, but she's always sent word before when she's done that."

She frowned worriedly.

"I-grandchildren?"

Cimorene smiled.  "I know.  I was taken aback when I found out about
them, too.  You just don't think of the King of the Dragons as a doting
grandmother, but she is.  In fact, I suspect she took longer than she
had to about the negotiations with the Frost Giants up there, just so
she'd have an excuse to stay a few more days.  Anyway, she was planning
to spend a couple of days with them and then swing through the
Enchanted Forest on her way home."

"She was coming to see me?"  Mendanbar asked, surprised.

"Not exactly."  Cimorene hesitated.  "We'd heard that someone was
growing dragonsbane in one of the valleys along the border, and she
wanted to see whether it was true.  You can see why I'm worried."

"Growing dragonsbane-you mean, deliberately planting it?  There have
always been a few patches of the stuff here and there."

"The way we heard it, this was an entire valley full.  That's hardly
accidental."  Cimorene lifted the lid of the teapot and peered inside,
then poured a cup for each of them.  "Kazul wanted to check for
herself, quietly, before any of the younger dragons heard about it.

Some of them are .  . .

impulsive.  She didn't want someone tearing off in a fury to burn down
the Enchanted Forest with no more reason than a rumor."

"Oh, lord."  Mendanbar pushed his hair backward off his forehead and
grimaced at his tea.  "I'll bet that's what happened.  I wish she'd
sent word to me."

Cimorene studied her cup with unnecessary thoroughness.  "She was
afraid you might be the one doing it."

"Me?"

"The King of the Enchanted Forest.  You haven't been particularly
friendly since she took over, you know."  She frowned suddenly.  "Why'd
you turn up today, anyway?  And what did you mean, 'that's what
happened'?  Don't tell me somebody really has started setting fire to
the Enchanted Forest!"

"Almost," Mendanbar said.  He explained about the dead area and the
dragon scales he had found.  "Morwen said that they were all from the
same dragon, but they had been enchanted to look as if they came from
several different dragons.  I was hoping King Kazul would tell me which
dragon they belonged to, and maybe let me ask him a few questions."

"Let me look at them," Cimorene said.

Mendanbar took the scales out of his pocket and spread them out on the
table.

Cimorene made a face.  "I can tell you whose scales they were, all
right, but I'm afraid it won't help much.  Woraug isn't around any
more."

"It's a start," Mendanbar said.  "You're sure these are his?"

"Very sure.  But I'm afraid you won't be able to ask him any
questions."  Cimorene smiled, as if at some private joke.

"Why not?"

"Because the reason Woraug isn't around any more is that he got turned
into a toad about a year ago.  Do you know how the King of the Dragons
is chosen?"

"By a test," Mendanbar replied, a little puzzled by the question.

"When a king dies, the crown goes to whichever dragon can carry Colin's
Stone from the Ford of Whispering Snakes to the Vanishing Mountain."

"Yes.  Well, Woraug poisoned the old King of the Dragons.  Then he
arranged with the Society of Wizards to rig the test so he'd be the
next King," Cimorene said matter-of-factly.  "It was mostly luck that
we found

out in time to stop them.  When we did, Woraug turned into a toad
because of his un-dragonlike behavior."  She sipped at her tea.  "I
think a snake ate him," she added thoughtfully.

There were so many things Mendanbar wanted to say in response to this
disturbing summary that for a moment he couldn't say anything at all.

He took a large swallow of tea, which gave him an extra minute to
think.  "Is that why the wizards have been banned from the Mountains of
Morning?"  he managed at last.

"Of course," Cimorene answered.  "Kazul couldn't do anything more.

Even though we knew it was all their idea, it was Woraug who actually
poisoned the King.  Didn't Morwen tell you about it?  She was there."

"No," Mendanbar said.  "It didn't come up."  He shook his head.  "No
wonder Zemenar didn't want to talk about why the dragons don't want
wizards in the mountains anymore."

Cimorene nodded.  "The wizards don't talk about it because their scheme
didn't work out, and the dragons don't talk about it because the
wizards came so close that the dragons are embarrassed to admit it.

And Morwen is too discreet to spread the story around when the dragons
would rather she didn't."

"I see."  Mendanbar saw considerably more than that.  The disagreement
between the dragons and the Society of Wizards was not a minor matter,
as Zemenar had led him to believe.  And Kazul's princess-or rather,
Chief Cook and Librarian, he reminded himself-was nothing like the
sneaky, manipulative girl Zemenar had hinted she was, either.  It
looked very much as if Zemenar had been deliberately trying to cause
trouble between Mendanbar and the dragons, or at least get Mendanbar
off to a bad start with their King.  He wondered what Zemenar would
have said about Morwen if her name had come up.

"It wouldn't surprise me if the Society of Wizards was behind this,
too," Cimorene said, waving her hand at the scales.  "It's exactly the
kind of twisty scheme they'd come up with."

"It's possible," Mendanbar acknowledged, "but why would they want to
bring the Enchanted Forest into their argument with the dragons?"

"Maybe they think you'll clean the dragons out of the mountains, or at
least reduce their numbers enough so that the wizards will be able to
come through without getting eaten."

Mendanbar shook his head.  "If it came to a fight, the Enchanted Forest
and the Mountains of Morning would be very evenly matched.  A war would
cut the wizards off from both places as long as there was any fighting,
and it would probably drag on for ages.  Zemenar must know that.  He'd
have to have an awfully good reason to start something like that."

"Maybe he does."

"Maybe, but I can't think what it could be.  Can you?"

"No," Cimorene admitted.  "But if I figure it out, I'll let you
know."

"Meanwhile, is there anyone else who could have done this?"

Mendanbar asked, waving at the line of scales on the table.

"There aren't many people who can get hold of even one dragon scale,
much less five from the same dragon," Cimorene said, scowling at the
table.

"Woraug's princess might have kept one or two as a souvenir, but I
don't think she'd have had this many, and anyway she doesn't know any
magic."

Suddenly she looked up.  "Wait a minute!  When Woraug turned into a
toad, a whole batch of scales fell off and scattered."

"What happened to them?"

"We just left them at the ford," Cimorene said with a shrug.  "Nobody
thought it was important.  Most of them are probably still there.

Dragon scales last a long time."

"At the Ford of Whispering Snakes?"  Mendanbar asked.  Cimorene nodded,
and he grimaced.  "Then anyone who walked by could have picked up these
scales any time in the past year.  That doesn't narrow things down
much."

"I'm as sorry about that as you are," Cimorene said.

Mendanbar's face must have shown his surprise, because she gave him an
exasperated look and went on, "Hadn't it occurred to you that we'd want
to know who's plotting to get dragons blamed for their mischief?.

Especially if it turns out not to be the Society of Wizards."

"But-oh.  If it's not the Society, then you have a new enemy you don't
know anything about."

Cimorene nodded again, very soberly.  "I just wish I had time to look
into it right now, but with Kazul missing it will have to wait."

"You'll let me know when she gets back?"

"I'll tell Roxim to send you word if she shows up while I'm gone,"
Cimorene assured him.  "And if I find her first, I'll tell her
everything you've told me.  I'm sure she'll get in touch with you right
away."

"Thank you."

"Now, is there anything else you want to know?  Because if there isn't,
I need to be going," Cimorene went on.  "It's a long walk to Flat Top
Mountain, and I'd like to get there before dark."

"Surely you don't plan to walk all the way to the northern end of the
Mountains of Morning."  He was surprised and suddenly disappointed by
this evidence of princesslike behavior.  From their brief acquaintance,
he'd thought Cimorene had better sense.

"Of course not," Cimorene replied impatiently.  "I'm not stupid.  I'm
going to borrow a magic carpet from Ballimore, the giantess who lives
on Flat Top Mountain."

Mendanbar choked on the last of his tea.  "Do you expect a giantess to
loan you a carpet just because you have a dragon with you?"  he
demanded when he could talk again.

"I'd better not, since I won't have a dragon with me," Cimorene
retorted.

"Not that it's any of your business."

"You're going to wander around the Mountains of Morning alone looking
for King Kazul?"  Mendanbar said, appalled.

"Exactly.  And if I can't find her there, I'll swing through the
Enchanted Forest on the way back, just the way she was planning to.

And it's time I got started, so if you'll just-" "Oh, no."  Mendanbar
set his teacup down so emphatically that it rattled the saucer.  "If
you're fool enough to travel through the Mountains of Morning without a
companion, that's not my concern, but you are not going through the
Enchanted Forest alone.  It's too dangerous."

"I can take care of myself," Cimorene snapped.  "You forget, I've been
living with the dragons for over a year."

"Maybe so," Mendanbar said, trying hard to hold on to his temper.

"But the Enchanted Forest is very different from the Mountains of
Morning.

And what do you suppose will happen if the King of the Dragons's
Princess-or Cook and Librarian, or whatever-gets captured or killed or
enchanted going through my forest?"

Cimorene opened her mouth to reply, then paused.  "Oh," she said in a
very different tone.  "Oh, I see.  That would cause just the sort of
trouble we're both trying to avoid, wouldn't it?  I'm sorry.  I'm used
to people objecting to things because they think I can't do them or
shouldn't do them.  It didn't occur to me that you might have a real
reason."

"Then you won't go?"  Mendanbar said with relief.

"I have to," Cimorene said in the tones of one explaining something
obvious.  "It's my job.  Besides, Kazul is my friend.  I'll just have
to make sure I don't get captured or killed or enchanted, that's
all."

"It's not as easy as you make it sound."

"I know.  I've visited Morwen a time or two," Cimorene said.  "I'll
manage, one way or another."

Mendanbar started to object again, then stopped.  He didn't think
Cimorene was quite as sure of herself as she sounded, but she was
plainly determined to go hunting for Kazul.  Well, she was right about
one thing: somebody had to find the King of the Dragons, and soon.

Mendanbar didn't like to think of what might happen if Kazul stayed
missing for long, especially if rumors about dragonsbane in the
Enchanted Forest started floating around the mountains.

"Is there anyone you can take with you?"  Mendanbar asked.

"No," Cimorene said.  "Roxim and Marchak are the only dragons who

have enough sense not to go off in fits when they hear that Kazul is
missing.

Roxim is too old for adventures, and Marchak has to stay and take care
of business while I'm gone.  And I hope you're not going to suggest I
borrow Marchak's princess."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Mendanbar said sincerely.  "Is she very
awful?"

"Actually, she's one of the nice ones," Cimorene admitted.  "But she's
very silly.  She'd try, but she wouldn't enjoy it at all, and she'd be
much more of a nuisance than she's worth.  I'd rather take my chances
alone."

"That's almost as bad an idea as taking that princess along," Mendanbar
said.  He sighed.  "I suppose I'll have to come with you myself."

Cimorene stared at him blankly for a moment, then began to giggle.

"It isn't funny," Mendanbar said.  "I mean it."  He felt a little hurt
by Cimorene's reaction.  He wasn't necessarily stuffy or useless or a
nuisance to travel with just because he was the King of the Enchanted
Forest.  Cimorene ought to realize that.  After all, he'd fixed the
sink for her, hadn't he?

"I know you mean it," Cimorene said when she could talk again.  "It
wasn't what you said, it was the way you said it."  She shook her head,
chuckling.  "You sound about as eager to come with me as I am to have
company.  Which isn't much."

"Maybe not, but somebody-" "What was that?"  Cimorene interrupted,
holding up a hand for silence.

"I didn't hear anything," Mendanbar said.

"Shhh," Cimorene hissed.  She rose and tiptoed to the door,
listening.

In the quiet, Mendanbar heard a faint thud outside.  Cimorene's lips
tightened.

"Princes or wizards?"  she muttered.  "Wizards, I'll bet.  Princes are
noisier."

Still frowning, she picked up the bucket of soapy water that was
sitting beside the door.  As she reached for the doorknob, Mendanbar
started after her.  Cimorene hadn't asked for his help, but a bucket of
soapy water wasn't much of a weapon against a wizard.  If it was a
wizard.

The corridor outside the kitchen was pitch black.  Cimorene vanished
into the gloom, moving with the calm sureness of long familiarity.

Cursing mentally, Mendanbar picked his way after her, one hand on the
cave wall for guidance, the other stretched out in front of him to keep
him from running into anything.

Another muffled crash echoed from up ahead.  Mendanbar took two more
steps and his outstretched arm touched Cimorene's shoulder.  A moment
later, Cimorene's voice said calmly, "Phrazelspitz."

Mendanbar felt magic rise around him.  Light flared from the walls,
then settled into a steady glow, revealing an enormous cavern.  He
and

Cimorene stood in one of five dark openings spaced unevenly around the
wall.  Halfway across the cave, a tall man in blue and brown wizard's
robes stood hanging onto a staff and trying to squint in all directions
at once.  His hair and beard were brown, and he bore a strong
resemblance to Zemenar, only younger.

"Antorell," Cimorene said in tones of disgust.  "I might have
guessed."

"I'm glad to see you again, Princess Cimorene," the wizard said in an
oily tone.  "But who could fail to rejoice at the sight of so lovely a
princess?"

"What are you doing here?"  Cimorene demanded.  Mendanbar was pleased
to note that she didn't sound at all mollified by Antorell's
flattery.

"And how did you get in without being eaten?"

"Oh, we wizards have our little ways," Antorell said airily.  "And I
came because-well, because I was concerned about you, Princess."

"I'll bet," Cimorene muttered.  "What do you mean?"  she said in a
louder voice.

"I thought you might need a friend."  Antorell's voice oozed
sincerity.

"Especially after what Father said when he came back from the Enchanted
Forest.  If King Mendanbar really is getting ready for a war with the
drag "Where did your father get that idea?"  Cimorene asked in tones of
mild interest.

Antorell frowned slightly, as if he had hoped for a stronger
reaction.

"Something the King said to him, I think.  I shouldn't have repeated
it, I suppose, but I was carried away by my feelings."

"Sure you were," Cimorene said.  "That's why you sneaked in here
without knocking and went blundering around in the dark, instead of
calling me or at least bringing a lamp."

"I didn't want to disturb King Kazul, if she happened to be here,"
Antorell said stiffly.

Cimorene snorted.  "If you'd really thought Kazul was here, you
wouldn't have come at all.  She doesn't like it when people ignore her
rules.

One of which, may I remind you, was that wizards aren't allowed in the
Mountains of Morning anymore."

"But if there's going to be a wan" "There isn't," Mendanbar said,
stepping forward into the light.  "At least, not if I can help it.  Why
are you people trying so hard to make trouble, anyway?"

Antorell's eyes widened, and he sucked in his breath.  "Mendanbar?

You'll ruin everything, blast you."  He smiled a sudden, nasty smile.

"Unless I deal with both of you now.  Oh, yes, that will do very
well.

Father will be so pleased."

He raised his staff.  Mendanbar started toward him, pulling his sword

free as he ran, though he knew the wizard was much too far away to
reach before he finished the spell.  Cimorene followed quickly, not
quite running, carrying her bucket carefully to avoid spilling.  They
had only gone a few steps when a swirl of smoke appeared in the air in
front of them.

The smoke thickened rapidly, then congealed with shocking suddenness
into the largest nightshade Mendanbar had ever seen.  It was two feet
taller than Mendanbar and covered with spikes of coarse black fur.  Its
beady black eyes glared at him as it raised a long arm and clicked its
dark purple claws together.  It hissed, showing a mouthful of fangs.

"There!"  cried Antorell over the nightshade's noise.  "Vanquish that,
Cimorene-if you can!"

7

In Which a Wizard Makes a Mess and the Journey Begins Ignoring
Antorell, Mendanbar kept his eyes on the nightshade.  He had a moment's
useless wish that he were in the Enchanted Forest, where he could have
disposed of the monster with relative ease.  Here, things were going to
be a lot more complicated.  He shifted his grip on the sword and pulled
at the power within it.

The nightshade swung at him: its fully extended claws carving a
whistling arc in the air.  It was very, very fast.  Mendanbar barely
managed to block in time.  The force of the blow knocked him to one
side, and he almost lost hold of the sword.  The nightshade hissed in
pain and shook its arm, but Mendanbar knew it was not seriously hurt.

Without active magic behind it, the most damage the sword could have
inflicted on a nightshade this big was a bruise.

Again he pulled at the power in the sword, then had to roll to avoid
another swing by the nightshade.  This time he kept on rolling until he
was out of the monstter's reach.  He came up on one knee and pointed
the sword at the nightshade, pushing power through the sword in the
pattern he had pictured in his mind.

Antorell's staff struck him across the shoulders.  The sword flew out
of his hands and he went sprawling.  His half-formed spell spun wildly
in the air and then was sucked away.  He heard an angry shriek from
Cimorene, then a shout: "Mendanbar!  Dodge left, quick!"

Without hesitation, Mendanbar threw himself to his left.  He heard a
rush of wind as the nightshade's claws missed him by inches.  There was
a splash somewhere behind him, and Antorell's voice cried, "No!  No!

You'll be sorry for this, Cimorene!"  Then Mendanbar's hand closed on
the hilt of his sword.  He twisted and brought the sword up, shoving
power through it recklessly.

The blast of barely formed magic caught the nightshade in midleap.

The creature hung frozen in the air for an instant, then dissolved in a
cloud of bright sparks.  Mendanbar seized the remnants of magic and
pulled them together into a tight knot, ready to throw at another
nightshade or at Antorell himself.  Only then did he pause to look
around.

Cimorene stood a little way away, swinging the empty bucket in one hand
and looking at him as if she were impressed in spite of herself.

Antorell had vanished.

"You really do like flashy magic," Cimorene commented as Mendanbar
climbed warily to his feet.  "I haven't seen anything like that since
Kazul's coronation party."

"Where's Antorell?"  Mendanbar asked.  "Did he get away?"

"No," Cimorene said, waving her free hand at a damp area of floor to
Mendanbar's right.  "I melted him."

"Melted him?"  Mendanbar looked at the damp patch more closely.

Antorell's soggy robes were plastered to the floor in the middle of a
gooey puddle.  His staff lay along one side of the robes, half-in,
half-out of the goo.

There was no other trace of him.  Mendanbar was impressed, and said
so.

"It's really not hard," Cimorene said.  "All it takes is a bucket of
soapy water with a little lemon juice in it.  A friend of mine
discovered by accident how to do it, and I've kept a bucket ready ever
since, just in case."

"I thought that only worked on witches."

Cimorene shrugged.  "Lots of things don't work the way they're supposed
to.  Morwen's a witch, but she certainly doesn't melt in a bucket of
soapy water."

Mendanbar thought of the shining stone step and the spotless wooden
floor in Morwen's house, and nodded.  "I can see that.  But why does it
work for wizards?"

"We don't know."  Cimorene gave him a sidelong look.  "I'm sorry I let
Antorell wallop you with his staff, but I didn't want to throw the
water at him while you were in the way."

"Why-oh, you mean you were afraid it would melt me, too?"

Mendanbar blinked.  "But I'm not a wizard."

"You work magic," Cimorene poimted out.  "And I don't know how strict
the soapy-water-and-lemon:juice trick is about defining wizards.  It

would cause a lot of trouble if I melted the King of the Enchanted
Forest in the middle of Kazul's living room, even if it isn't
permanent."

"You mean he'll be back?"  Mendanbar had started to put his sword back
in its sheath, but he stopped at once.  "How soon?"

"Not for a couple of days, at least," Cimorene reassured him.

"Antorell may be Zemenar's son, but he's never been a very good
wizard."

"Antorell is the son of the Head Wizard?"  Mendanbar shot a considering
look at the puddle and the pile of soggy robes.  "So that's what he
meant when he said his father would be pleased."

"Probably."  Cimorene frowned pensively at Antorell's staff.  "I've got
to find Kazul.  The Society of Wizards is up to something for sure, and
she needs to know right away."

"Couldn't Antorell have come here on his own?"  Mendanbar asked,
although he didn't really believe it himself.

Cimorene shook her head.  "I don't think he'd have dared.  As I said,
he's not a very good wizard.  He wouldn't have been able to keep
himself concealed from the dragons, and he certainly must have had help
to make anything as nasty and complex as that construct you took care
of."

"That wasn't a construct," Mendanbar said.  "That was a nightshade.

They're fairly common in parts of the Enchanted Forest.  Antorell
didn't make it, he just snatched it from somewhere nearby."

"Snatched it?"  Cimorene's eyes widened.  "Yes, I suppose he could have
managed that.  I begin to see what you meant about traveling in the
Enchanted Forest alone," she added in a thoughtful tone.

"I should hope so," Mendanbar muttered, turning away.  "Then you've
changed your mind about going?"  he added hopefully over his
shoulder.

"No, just about whether I accept your offer of escort," Cimorene
said.

"It'll probably be a nuisance, but nightshades would be much worse."

Slightly startled by this unflattering comparison, Mendanbar glanced
back at Cimorene.  There was a decided twinkle in her eyes.  Mendanbar
smiled and bowed elaborately.  "Thank you for your kind words,
Princess."

"You're welcome, Your Majesty," Cimorene said, curtsying in response.

"Now, we'd better get to work, or we'll never get this mess cleaned up
in time to get to Flat Top Mountain before dark."

Cleaning up the large cave took less time than Mendanbar had expected,
despite the unpleasantly gummy look of the goo that Antorell had left
behind.

A large part of the mess turned out to be leftover soapy water, which
was very convenient.  Cimorene mopped most of it up with Antorell's
robe, then wrapped the robe around the staff and started toward the
rear of the cave.

"What are you going to do with that?"  Mendanbar asked curiously.

"Hide it," Cimorene said.  "There's not much else you can do to a
wizard's staff.  They won't break, and even dragon fire won't burn
them.  I know because we tried everything we could think of the last
time we melted some wizards."

"We?"

"Morwen and I. Antorell will get it back eventually, of course, but
hiding it will slow him down a little."  She left to dispose of the
staff while Mendanbar scraped up the last of the goo.

The kitchen was another matter.  Cimorene insisted on doing all of the
dishes that had been waiting for the sink to get unplugged, which took
a while.  Mendanbar offered to use his magic on the dishes, but
Cimorene politely declined.

"A magic sword that does plumbing is unusual but very useful," she
explained as she filled the sink.  "A magic sword that does dishes is
just plain silly.  Besides, there have been two big flares of magic in
this cave in the past hour already, and if there's a third one, someone
might come to see what I'm up to."

"I didn't notice anything remarkable when Antorell brought the
nightshade in," Mendanbar said, frowning.  "Though I'll admit I overdid
it a little when I got rid of the thing.  I was in a hurry."

"Yes, of course," said Cimorene, setting a clean plate on the drain
board.  "But you weren't in a hurry when you unclogged the sink, were
you?  That was the other flare I meant, not Antorell's fiddling."

"What was conspicuous about that?"  Mendanbar asked defensively.

He picked up a clean towel and began drying plates.  "It was a
perfectly ordinary spell."

Cimorene looked at him.  "Right.  Just like that sword is a perfectly
ordinary magic sword."

"Well, I wouldn't call it ordinary, exactly, but that's because it's
linked with the Enchanted Forest," Mendanbar said.  "Outside of that,
it's nothing special ."

"Nothing special."  Cimorene stopped washing dishes for a moment to
stare at him.  Suddenly, she frowned.  "You mean it.  You really
haven't noticed."

"Noticed what?"

"The way that sword of yours positively reeks of magic," Cimorene
said.

"We're going to have to do something about it, unless you want the
Society of Wizards to be able to find us with their eyes closed."

Mendanbar looked at her.  She was perfectly serious.  He set the
dishtowel down and drew his sword.  It didn't look or feel any
different to him from the way it normally felt, but Cimorene winced.

"Can't you .  . . tone it down a little?"

"I still don't know what you're talking about," Mendanbar said,
irritated.

"And even if I did, I wouldn't have the slightest idea how to go about
'toning it down."" "Why not?  It's your sword, isn't it?"

"It didn't come with directions?"

"Most of them don't."  Cimorene shook her head at him and picked
another dirty teacup out of the rapidly diminishing stack.  "Maybe
there's something in Kazul's treasury that will take care of it.  I'll
check as soon as we're done here."

When the dishes were finished and the kitchen tidied to suit Cimorene's
exacting standards, she left Mendanbar to mull things over while she
went off to investigate the treasury.  Mendanbar was glad of the chance
to think.

"What is the Society of Wizards doing?"  he muttered.  Between the
misleading things Zemenar had said to Mendanbar and the downright lies
Antorell had told to Cimorene, it was clear that the wizards didn't
want them comparing notes.  Cimorene might even be right about their
desire to start a war between the Enchanted Forest and the dragons.

Starting a war, however, would take more than a misunderstanding
between the King of the Enchanted Forest and Kazul's Chief Cook and
Librarian.  Were the wizards behind the mysterious burned area
Mendanbar had found?  They could have gotten hold of Woraug's scales,
and they certainly could have enchanted them.

"But why would they do it?"  Mendanbar asked the sink.  "They're not
stupid, at least Zemenar isn't, and a war would cause the Society
almost as many problems as it would cause us.  What could make them
overlook the problems and try to stir up trouble anyway?"  The sink did
not answer.

But if it wasn't the wizards, Mendanbar wondered, who was it?  Where
had Kazul disappeared to?  And was there really a dragonsbane farm in
the Enchanted Forest, or was that just a rumor someone was spreading to
add to the confusion?

He was still trying to put his questions into some sort of order when
Cimorene returned.  She had exchanged the apron and the rust-colored
dress for a dark blue tunic with matching leggings, a pair of tall
black boots, and a maroon cloak.  She had taken off her crown, and her
braids were wound neatly around her head.  A gold-handled sword hung at
her side, next to a small belt pouch.  She held out a sword belt and
sheath, the leather gray with age.

"I think this will do the job," she said.  "Try it and see."

"I've already got a sheath," Mendanbar pointed out.

"Yes, but this one blocks magic," Cimorene explained.  "It'll keep your
sword from being so-so obvious all the time.  At least, I hope it
will."

"If you say so," Mendanbar replied, taking the scabbard.  He held it a
moment, testing.  It didn't feel magical, but then, that was the
idea.

He shrugged, pulled out his sword, and put it into the sheath Cimorene
had given him.

"Oh, that's much better," Cimorene said with evident relief.  "I can
hardly notice anything now."

"I can," Mendanbar said, touching the hilt with a thumb.  The pulse of
the Enchanted Forest was still there, ready for him to use.

"Of course you can," Cimorene said.  "It's your sword."

"Well, I suppose I don't mind using it, then," Mendanbar said.  "As
long as it doesn't damage the sword."

"It won't," Cimorene promised.

Mendanbar took off his sword belt and set it aside, then buckled on the
belt and scabbard Cimorene had given him.

"All right," he said, "let's go."

As they left the cave, Cimorene muttered something under her breath and
waved at the entrance.  Mendanbar jumped as a coil of strong, hard
magic sprang into place behind them.  Looking over his shoulder, he saw
a solid wall of rock.  He transferred his gaze to Cimorene and raised
an eyebrow.

"What kind of magic was that?"

'Just something Kazul and I worked out a while back," Cimorene said.

"It's to keep wizards and knights and so forth from prowling around
while I'm gone."

So Cimorene is a sorceress, as well as a cook and librarian and
goodness knows what else, Mendanbar thought to himself.  Every time he
thought he had her figured out, she surprised him again.

"It's a good idea, but please warn me if you're going to do anything
like that again," he said.  "I'm not in the mood for being startled, if
you know what I mean."

Cimorene nodded, frowning slightly, and asked just what it was about
the spell that had startled him.  This led to a long, technical
discussion of the various ways of casting spells, detecting spells, and
comparing spells other people had cast.  Mendanbar found it both
interesting and informative.  He had always known that his own methods
of working magic were not much like anyone else's, but he had never had
time to study other styles.

Cimorene knew something about most kinds of magic, and she was
naturally very well informed indeed about dragon magic.  She was as
interested in Mendanbar's system as he was in everything else, and the
conversation lasted all the way to Flat Top Mountain.

The sun had slipped behind the mountains and it was almost dark when
they came to the foot of the last slope.  Mendanbar could see the
giant's castle at the top, large and dark and ominous against the
graying sky.  A broad road wrapped three times around the mountain as
it wound its way to the castle gates.

"Are you sure this is the right place?"  he asked.

"Quite sure," Cimorene said.  "I've never been here myself, but Kazul
has described it often enough.  And that's certainly a giant's
castle."

"Exactly," Mendanbar said.  "But is it the right giant?"

"We won't find out standing here.  Come on."

Cimorene marched confidently up the mountain.  Shaking his head,
Mendanbar followed.  By the time they reached the castle gates, the
stars were beginning to come out and it was getting hard to see.

"There ought to be a bellpull or a knob," Cimorene said.  "You check
that side of the gate, and I'll take this one."

"All right, but what-" A loud grinding noise interrupted Mendanbar in
mid-sentence, and the gates swung open.  Yellow light spilled across
the road, making Mendanbar and Cimorene squint.

"Come in, travelers," a woman's voice said, much too pleasantly.

"Come in, and make yourselves comfortable for the night."

Neither Mendanbar nor Cimorene moved.  "This was your idea in the first
place," Mendanbar said softly to Cimorene.  "What do we do now?"

"Ask questions," Cimorene replied just as softly.  She raised her voice
and said, "Thank you for your kind hospitality, but we're not just
traveling.

We're looking for the giantess Ballimore, and we're in a hurry.  So if
you're not Ballimore, we'll have to go on."

"I am Ballimore," said the voice, still in an artificially pleasant
tone that made Mendanbar's skin crawl.  "Who are you?"

"I'm Princess Cimorene, Chief Cook and Librarian to Kazul, the King of
the Dragons, and this is Mendanbar, the King of the Enchanted Forest,"
Cimorene answered.

"Cimorene?"  said the voice in an entirely different manner.  "Oh,
good.  I've been wanting to meet you for the longest time.  Come on in,
you and your friend, and I'll have supper ready in a jiffy."

Mendanbar and Cimorene looked at each other.  "I think it's all right
now," Cimorene said after a moment.

"Well, we won't find out standing here," Mendanbar said.  He held out
his arm.  "Shall we go in, Princess?"

Cimorene gave him a bright, almost impish smile, and laid her
fingertips on his arm as if they were walking into a court ball.  "I
should be pleased to accompany you, Your Majesty."

Together they walked through the gate.  The courtyard inside was high,
wide, and empty except for two rows of blazing torches in iron holders
lined up on either side of the path.  Mendanbar and Cimorene paced
slowly up to the door, which swung open just as the gates had, only
without the grinding.

As they went in, they heard the castle gates crunch shut.  A moment
later, the doors closed silently behind them.

They stood in a stone hall three times the size of any Mendanbar had
ever seen.  A wooden table, surrounded by high-backed chairs, stretched
the length of the hall, At the far end of the room a large fire burned
in an open hearth.  High on the walls, more torches lit the room.  A
brown-haired woman in a pale blue dress was bending over a cauldron
that hung from an iron hook above the fire.  It all looked very
ordinary, until Mendanbar noticed that the seats of the chairs were
level with his eyes and everything else was similarly oversized.

The brown-haired woman sniffed at the cauldron, nodded to herself, and
straightened.  "Welcome," she said, coming forward.  "I'm Ballimore.

You must be Princess Cimorene.  I'm so pleased to meet you at last,
after all that Kazul has told me about you."

The giantess bent over to shake hands gently with Cimorene.  She was at
least three times as tall as Mendanbar, but she moved with a grace that
suited her size.  Cimorene returned the handshake gravely, and said, "I
hope Kazul hasn't given you the wrong idea about me."

"Not at all, I'm sure," said the giantess.  "Is this your young man?

You're not running away from the dragons after all this time, are
you?"

"Certainly not," Cimorene said with unnecessary vehemence.  "I'm very
happy with my job."

"Of course," Ballimore said, sounding disappointed.  She gave Mendanbar
a speculative look, then leaned toward Cimorene.  "If I were you, I'd
reconsider," she said in a loud whisper.  "Your young man doesn't look
like the patient type."

"No, no," Cimorene said, reddening.  "It's not like that at all.  This
is the King of the Enchanted Forest, and he came to see Kazul, only
Kazul has gone to visit her grandchildren and isn't home.  That's why
we came to see you-to borrow a magic carpet, so we can find Kazul."

"Oh, I see," said the giantess.  "Strictly business.  Well, you'll have
to wait until after supper.  Dobbilan will be home any minute, and he
hates it when his meals are late."

"Dobbilan?"  Mendanbar said with some misgiving.

"My husband," Ballimore said.

There was a loud crash from the courtyard outside, followed by the
thud, thud, thud of heavy footsteps that shook the castle.

Ballimore straightened with a happy smile.  "Here he comes now."

8

In Which They Give Some Good Advice to a Giant

Mendanbar and Cimorene turned to face the castle doors as the footsteps
drew nearer.  A moment later, the doors flew open and the giantess's
husband stepped into the hall.  He was a giant's head taller than she,
with wild brown hair and a beard like a large, untidy broom's head.  He
carried a club that was as long as Mendanbar was tall.

Just inside the door, the giant stopped and sniffed the air.  Then he
sneezed once, scowled ferociously, and said in a voice that shook the
torches in their brackets: "Fee, fie, foe, fum, I smell the blood of an
Englishman.

Be he alive or be he dead, I'll grind his bones to make my bread."

Ballimore shook her head.  "Nonsense, dear.  It's just Princess
Cimorene and the King of the Enchanted Forest."

"And neither of us is English," Cimorene added.

The giant squinted down at her.  "Are you sure about that?"

"Positive," Mendanbar said.

"Well-" The giant sniffed again, experimentally, then lowered his
club

with a sigh.  "That's all right, then.  I wasn't in the mood for more
work tonight, anyway.  Sorry about the mistake.  It must be this cold
in my head."

"I told you yesterday to take something for it," Ballimore scolded.

"And I told you this morning to wrap some flannel around your throat
before you went out.  But do you listen to me?  No!"

"I listen," the giant protested uncomfortably.  "But I can't ransack
villages with a piece of flannel around my neck.  It wouldn't look
right."

Cimorene snorted softly.  Mendanbar got the distinct impression that
she didn't think much of doing things for the sake of appearances.

"Well, really, Dobbilan," Ballimore said, "how do you think it looks if
you're coughing and sneezing all over everything while you're
ransacking?

Have a little sense."

"I'd rather have a little dinner," said Dobbilan and sneezed again.

"If you sound like that tomorrow, you're staying home in bed,"
Ballimore informed her husband.

"I can't do that!  I'm scheduled to pillage two villages and maraud
half a county."

"You're in no condition to pillage a henhouse, much less a village,"
Ballimore declared.  "Becides, you've earned a bit of a rest, what with
all the extra time you've been putting in lately, looting and marauding
and I don't know what all."

"That's not the point."

"It's precisely the point.  You're just being stubborn because you
think having a bad cold is un-giantlike."

"Well, it is."

Ballimore shook her head and looked at Cimorene.  "Men!"  she said in
tones of disgust.

"And don't you say 'men' to me," Dobbilan said.  "It's my job we're
talking about."

"Maybe you should try a different line of work," Mendanbar suggested.

"Eh?"  Dobbilan peered down at him with interest.  "Like what?"

"Consulting," Mendanbar said at random, because he hadn't actually
thought about it.

"Consulting?"

"You know," said Cimorene.  "Giving advice to people.  You could teach
other giants the best ways of-of ravaging and pillaging and marauding,
and you could tell villages the best ways to keep giants away.  With
all your experience, I'll bet you'd be good at it."

"I never thought of that," Dobbilan said, rubbing his chin.

"I don't know why not," Ballimore said.  "It's a very good idea.  And

you wouldn't be out in all sorts of weather, catching colds and flu
and goodness knows what else."

"Plundering has gotten to be an awful lot of work lately," the giant
admitted.  "It would be a relief to stop.  I'm getting too old to tramp
through fields."

"I understand consulting pays very well, too," Mendanbar told him.

"I'll do it!"  Dobbilan said with sudden decision.  "Tomorrow morning,
first thing.  Thank you for the suggestion.  What did you say your
names were?"

"If you'd listen once in a while, you wouldn't have to ask me to repeat
everything," Ballimore said.  "This is Princess Cimorene, the one who's
been with Kazul for the last year or so and gave me that marvelous
biscuit recipe you like so much.  And her young man is the King of the
Enchanted Forest, who she's not running away with yet."

Mendanbar choked and shot an apprehensive look at Cimorene.  She rolled
her eyes and made a face at him but did not say anything, having
apparently decided it was a waste of effort to correct the giantess.

"Pleased to meet you, Princess," Dobbilan said solemnly.  "Nice to see
you, King.  What brings you to Flat Top Mountain?"

"They say it's business," Ballimore said before either Cimorene or
Mendanbar could answer.

"Then it will have to wait until after dinner," Dobbilan announced.  "I
never discuss business at dinner.  Or with dinner, for that matter."

He winked at Cimorene.  "Besides, I'm hungry."  He sneezed a third
time.  "Excuse me."

Ballimore began scolding again as Cimorene and Mendanbar nodded
politely.  Mendanbar was beginning to wonder how long they were going
to have to stand next to the table, when Ballimore shooed her husband
to a seat at one end and started for the other herself, saying over her
shoulder, "Cimorene, dear, you and the King are on the right.  Just
walk around to the chair; it's all set up."

With some misgiving, Mendanbar escorted Cimorene past Dobbilan's chair
toward the seat Ballimore had indicated.  As they approached, he saw
that the giantess had not been exaggerating.  A set of normal-sized
wooden steps, equipped with wheels so as to be easily movable, stood
next to the giant right-hand chair, and two ordinary chairs were
perched side by side on the seat at the top.  The combination was,
Mendanbar discovered, exactly the right height to reach the table.

Apparently, Ballimore was accustomed to having smaller people at
dinner, for the plates and glasses were the usual size as well.  As
long as Mendanbar did not look down, it was easy to pretend he was
sitting at an ordinary dinner table.

The food was very good.  They started with fresh greens and went on

to roast pig with cranberries, mushrooms in wine, and some sort of
lumpy vegetable in a thick brown sauce that disguised it completely and
tasted marvelous.  There was a great deal of everything.  Mendanbar
supposed this was only to be expected at a giant's table, but Ballimore
did not seem to realize that a person who was only a third her size
would have a smaller appetite as well.  She filled and refilled
Mendanbar's plate until he was ready to burst.

Near the end of the meal, Cimorene leaned over and whispered, "Don't
take any dessert."

"Why not?"  Mendanbar asked.

"Ballimore's using her Cauldron of Plenty," Cimorene said, "and it
doesn't do desserts very well.  So unless you like burned mint custard
or sour-cream-and-onion ice cream..."

"I see," Mendanbar said quickly.  "Then it's a good thing I couldn't
eat another bite even if I wanted to."

When dinner was over, Cimorene brought up the question of the magic
carpet.  Ballimore nodded at once.

"Of course you can borrow a carpet, Cimorene dear.  I'll just take a
look around and see what we have."

"You won't find much," said her husband, and sneezed loudly.  "That
last Englishman you let in took most of them.  You should have let me
find him and grind his bones, like I'm supposed to."

"Nonsense," said Ballimore, frowning at her husband.  "We can afford a
few cheap magic harps and a coin or two.  I keep the good silver and
Mother's jewelry in the top cupboard, where they can't reach it.

Besides, they're always such nice boys."

"Huh," said Dobbilan.  "Beggars and thieves, if you ask me, and boring
at that."

"What makes you say that?"  Mendanbar asked curiously.

"They always do the same thing-come in, ask for a meal, hide, and then
run off with a harp or a bag full of money the minute I fall asleep,"
Dobbilan said.  "And they're always named Jack.  Always.  We've lived
in this castle for twenty years, and every three months, regular as
clockwork, one of those boys shows up, and there's never been a Tom,
Dick, or Harry among 'em.  Just Jacks.  The English have no
imagination."

"About the carpet," Cimorene reminded him.

"Oh, that.  Well, the last Jack wasn't musical, and he cleaned us out
of magic carpets instead of harps."  Dobbilan sneezed again and began
to cough.

"Bed for you, dear," Ballimore said firmly and shooed her husband out
of the room.  She followed him closely, muttering to herself about
cough

syrup and vaporizers and hot tea with lemon and honey.  Mendanbar and
Cimorene looked at each other.

"Is there anywhere else we can borrow a carpet?"  Mendanbar asked.

"Not that I know of," Cimorene said with a worried frown.  "We'll just
have to walk.  Drat.  It'll take days."

"We could go back to the Enchanted Forest and-" "There," said
Ballimore, coming briskly into the room and cutting Mendanbar off in
mid-sentence.  "He'll be much better in the morning.  I'm afraid he's
right about the carpets, Cimorene dear, but I'll just have a look
around and see if there isn't something stuck off in a corner
somewhere.  I can't believe we're completely out."

"It's quite all right," Cimorene said.  "We'll manage somehow."

"Nonsense, dear," Ballimore said in the same tone she used to her
husband.  "It will be quite an adventure, seeing what's stuck off in
corners and so on.  I haven't been in some of the storage rooms in
years."

It was clear that nothing they could say would shake her resolve, and
after a token protest, they gave in.  Ballimore showed them to a pair
of comfortably furnished rooms and left them for the night.  Mendanbar
did not object, even though it was still fairly early.  The long walk
from the dragon's cave had been very tiring.  He lay down on the bed
and fell asleep at once.

Breakfast next morning was cinamon-flavored porridge, milk, and toast
with blueberry jam.  Mendanbar found it waiting on the high table in
the central hall when he left his room to look for his hosts.  There
was no one else around, but the giant-sized dishes and crumbs at either
end of the table showed that Ballimore and Dobbilan had already
eaten.

Mendanbar climbed the stairs to his seat and began dishing up the
porridge.  Before he had finished filling his bowl, Cimorene walked
into the room, peering around for the giants.

"Good morning," Mendanbar called.  "Madame Ballimore and her husband
appear to have been and gone, but they've left an excellent
breakfast.

Would you care to join me?"

"I'd be delighted," Cimorene called back, and climbed the stairs to
join him.  "I had no idea giants were such early risers," she said as
she sat down in the second chair.  "Where do you suppose they've
gone?"

"Gone?"  said Ballimore's voice from the hallway at the end of the
room.  "Dear, dear, I thought sure I'd left enough porridge for the
pair of you, but it won't take a minute to make up some more."

"There's plenty of breakfast," Mendanbar said quickly.  "We were
talking about you and Dobbilan."

"But he was supposed to wait for you," Ballimore said, emerging from

the hallway.  She inspected the room over the top of the large bundle
she carried, then shook her head.  "Isn't that just like a man?

Cimorene dear, I've found just the thing for you.  I knew there would
be something upstairs, no matter what Dobbilan said.  Are you quite
certain you have enough porridge?"

"Quite certain," Cimorene said.  "What-" "Ballimore!  Ballimore,
where's the inkwell?"  Dobbilan's voice echoed down the corridor,
interrupting Cimorene in mid-sentence.  "Where are you?  Why can't I
find anything around here when I want it?"

"Because you never look in the right place, dear," Ballimore called.

"The inkwell is in the kitchen next to the grocery list, where it's
been for the past six months, and I'm in the dining room.  Which is
where you'd be if you'd done what I asked you to, instead of wandering
off in all directions."

"I didn't wander off," Dobbilan objected, sticking his head into the
room.  "I went to get some paper and ink so I could write a letter.

Oh, good morning, Princess, King.  I didn't see you."

"You were supposed to see them," Ballimore said, exasperated.  "You
were supposed to be here when-oh, never mind."

"Well, if you're done scolding, could you find me that inkwell?"

Ballimore shook her head, set her bundle down on a chair, and went off
to deal with her erring husband.  Mendanbar looked at Cimorene, and
they both burst out laughing at the same time.

"Oh, dear," said Cimorene when she got her breath back.  "I hope they
didn't hear."

"Are they always like this?"  Mendanbar asked.

"I don't know," Cimorene admitted.  "This is the first time I've been
here.  Kazul has always been the one who comes to talk or borrow
things."

The thought wiped the smile from her face.  "I hope she's safe."

"You'd know if she wasn't," Mendanbar said, hoping he was right.

"Being King of the Dragons is a little like being King of the Enchanted
Forest; if anything really drastic happens to you, everybody knows."

"I suppose so," Cimorene said.  "And I know perfectly well that she can
take care of herself, but I'll still feel a lot better when we find out
where she is."

There wasn't much Mendanbar could say to that.  They ate in silence for
a few minutes and were just finishing up when Ballimore and Dobbilan
returned.  Dobbilan was carrying several sheets of white paper and a
pen made of a feather as long as Mendanbar's arm.  Ballimore held an
inkwell the size of a sink.  The giantess cleared the dishes away from
the far end of the table and set the inkwell gently in place, then
steered her husband to the chair.  When she had him settled, she picked
up the bundle she had brought in earlier.

"I'll just take this outside and shake the dust out," she told
Cimorene.

"You and your young man can come along as soon as you've finished
eating.  Don't rush."

"How do you spell 'resignation'?"  Dobbilan asked, nibbling on the end
of his feather pen.

Mendanbar spelled it for him as Ballimore bustled out the door.  He and
Cimorene finished their breakfasts with only an occasional interruption
from Dobbilan.  Leaving the giant mumbling over his letter and chewing
on the tattered end of his pen, they went out to see what Ballimore had
found.

"There you are," Ballimore said as they came into the courtyard.  "I've
gotten most of the dust out, and it's ready to go.  What do you
think?"

She stepped back and Mendanbar got his first good look at the carpet.

It was enormous, with a three-foot fringe on all four sides.  In places
it looked rather worn, and there was a hole the size of a teacup in one
corner.

The background was a rich cream color, dotted with teddy bears a foot
long.  Pink teddy bears.  Bright pink.

"It's certainly large enough," Mendanbar said at last.

"Are you sure it will fly?"  Cimorene asked, looking dubiously at the
hole.

"Oh, yes," Ballimore reassured her.  "It's the very best quality, but
we haven't used it in years because of the pattern."  She gestured at
the teddy bears.  "Dobbilan thought they just didn't look right in a
giant's castle."

"I think I agree with him," Mendanbar said under his breath, eyeing the
pink teddy bears with dislike.  "No wonder that Jack fellow didn't
take

"As long as it flies, I don't care what it looks like," Cimorene
declared.

"Thank you so much, Ballimore.  I'll make sure you get it back as soon
as we're through with it."

"There's no rush," Ballimore said.  "It'll just go back in the
attic."

"How does it work?"  Mendanbar asked.

"I couldn't find the instruction manual, but it's perfectly simple,"
Ballimore told him.  "All magic carpets are the same.  You sit in the
middle and say, 'Up, up, up and away' to make it take off, and you
steer by leaning in the direction you want to go."

"What about stopping?"

Ballimore frowned in concentration.  "I believe you're supposed to say
'Whoa,' but 'Cut it out, carpet' works just as well.  I'm sorry I can't
be more definite.  It's been a long time."

"Right."  Mendanbar looked at Cimorene.  "Are you sure you want to do
this?"

Cimorene hesitated, then nodded firmly.  "We'll manage.  If I could
think of some other way of getting to the north end of the mountains

quickly, I would.  Come on."  She stepped onto the carpet, and plopped
down in the center.

With some misgiving, Mendanbar sat next to her.

"Oh, heavens, I nearly forgot!"  Ballimore said suddenly.  "Stay right
there, Cimorene dear.  I'll be back in a flash."

"Now what?"  Mendanbar asked as the giantess hurried into the castle.

"Maybe she remembered where the instruction manual is," Cimorene
said.

"Somehow I doubt it," Mendanbar said.

A moment later, Ballimore came hurrying out again, carrying a large
bag.  "I packed you a bit of lunch," she explained, handing Cimorene
the package.  "Goodness knows what you'll find out there in the
mountains."

Cimorene thanked Ballimore again and set the bag between herself and
Mendanbar, then said, "All right, carpet: up, up, up and away!"

The carpet shuddered, shifted and rose slowly into the air.  Smiling
broadly, Cimorene waved at Ballimore, then leaned forward.  The carpet
shivered again and began to move.  It sailed up out of the castle and
into the sky over the mountains, gathering speed as it went.

9

In Which They Discover the Perils of Borrowed Equipment

At first, the magic carpet ride was thoroughly enjoyable.  The air was
crisp and cool, and there was no noise at all except their own
voices.

The view was amazing, even better than looking down from a mountain.

The Mountains of Morning stood in crooked, gray-blue rows below, each
crack and boulder outlined in sharp black shadow.  Tiny figures moved
across the rocks and through the strips of greenery at the bottoms of
the mountains: sheep and mountain goats and adventurous knights.  Every
now and then Mendanbar caught a glimpse of the lush trees of the
Enchanted Forest between the peaks.

"Stop craning your neck like that," Cimorene said.  "You're confusing
the carpet."

"Sorry."  Mendanbar sneaked a last look and sighed as the patch of
green disappeared behind a rocky slope.  How was Willin getting along
without him?

"Mendanbar, is your sword slipping?"  Cimorene said.  "I thought I felt
something for a minute there.  Is it coming out of that sheath?"

"No," Mendanbar replied, checking it.  "It's fine.  And I haven't
touched it.  Are you sure it was the sword?"

"No," Cimorene admitted.  "Maybe we flew over something magical and
that's what I felt.  It's gone now."

"Good," said Mendanbar.  "Are you-"

The carpet gave a sudden lurch sideways, then dropped three feet.

"Mendanbar!"  Cimorene cried.  "I told you to stop that!"

"It wasn't me!"  Mendanbar protested, trying to find something to hang
on to.

"Well, it wasn't me, and there's only the two of us up here," Cimorene
shouted.

The carpet rippled alarmingly, then resumed its peaceful progress.

Cautiously, Mendanbar turned his head to look at Cimorene.  Wisps of
black hair had come loose from her braids to blow wildly across her
face.  It made her look particularly lovely, even though she was
scowling at him.

Mendanbar blinked and pulled his thoughts together.

"I really didn't do anything," he said.

"But-" The carpet wiggled and began to spin slowly.  Mendanbar
swallowed hard, wishing he had not eaten quite so much breakfast.  He
closed his eyes, then opened them again very quickly as the carpet
bounced twice, paused, and started spinning twice as fast in the
opposite direction.

"Carpet?  Mendanbar shouted.  "Cut it out!"

The lurching and spinning stopped.  The carpet hung motionless in
midair for a long moment, then dropped like the bottom falling out of a
cardboard box.  Cimorene gasped, then said something that sounded like
"Oof!"  as the carpet froze once more, three feet lower than it had
been.

Mendanbar started to push himself up, then-without warning-the carpet
dropped another three feet.

This time, Mendanbar stayed flat on the teddy bears.  Two seconds
later, the carpet dropped again.  And again.  And again.  Mendanbar
lost track of the bumps and concentrated on keeping track of his
stomach.  Suddenly, the carpet spun around twice and took off in a
steep, fast climb.

"Whoa!"  Cimorene cried.  "Whoa, you stupid carpet, cut it out?

Again, the carpet froze.  Then it dropped again, but this time, instead
of bumping, it fell like a stone.  Mendanbar got a glimpse of the
ground drawing quickly closer, and then he had both hands on the hilt
of his sword.  He didn't bother to pull it out of the sheath, he just
yanked at the power it held and flung it around himself and Cimorene.

Then he shoved with all his might.

Their speed slowed abruptly.  The carpet fell away beneath them,
rippling angrily, and plopped down on a rocky depression at the foot of
a mountain.  Mendanbar and Cimorene drifted after it, landing softly in
the carpet's center.  They lay there for a moment, catching their
breath and collecting their wits.

Finally, Mendanbar raised his head and looked warily around.  They

lay in the middle of a circle of pine trees.  "I think we've arrived,"
he said, sitting up.

"Good," Cimorene said shakily.  She sat up, pushing tendrils of hair
out of her face, and gave him a crooked smile.  "I guess I should have
asked Ballimore a few more questions about this carpet before we took
it."

"Yes, well, it's too late now."  Mendanbar rolled off the carpet and
stood up.  "How far have we come?"

"A little over halfway, I think.  Too far to walk back, not far enough
to walk the rest of the way there."  She made a face at the teddy
bears, which looked innocently back.  "We may have to try the carpet
again."

"We don't have to try it right away, though," Mendanbar pointed out.

"There's a house over there-you can see the roof through the trees.

Maybe the owner can tell us exactly where we are and the shortest way
to get where we're going."

"All right," Cimorene agreed, with a swiftness that made Mendanbar
think she was no more eager to get back on the carpet than he was.

"We'll have to bring the carpet with us, though.  If you leave magical
things lying around, all sorts of dreadful things can happen."

Mendanbar had to admit that she was right, though he wasn't happy about
it.  They set Ballimore's lunch in the middle of the carpet, then
rolled the rug around it, folding the fringe carefully to the inside.

Then Cimorene took the front end and Mendanbar picked up the rear, and
they started toward the house.

Weaving through three rows of pine trees, they ducked under the
low-hanging branches along the outer edge of the grove and emerged in
front of the house.  It looked, thought Mendanbar, as if it had been
put together by the same person who had built his palace, except that
instead of too many towers and staircases, this house had too many
windows: square windows, round windows, wide windows, tall windows,
skinny windows, diamond windows, tiny windows filled with milky glass,
enormous picture windows, windows with stained glass pictures of ladies
in sweeping robes and birds with gold feathers, open windows with
curtains blowing out of them.  The roof was made of red tile and
skylights, and the chimney had a square block of clear glass in the
front side.  Even the door had a window in it, right in the middle at
about waist height.  With only two floors, there were hardly enough
walls to hold all the windows, in spite of the way the building
sprawled in all directions.

As they drew near, Mendanbar felt a faint aura of power around the
house, hanging in the air like mist.  He was about to mention it to
Cimorene, when he heard yells and shouts of laughter coming from behind
the house.

Suddenly a small blonde girl dashed around the corner and stopped
short, staring.  A slightly larger boy followed in hot pursuit and
barely managed to

stop in time to avoid a collision.  The blonde child looked at him
reproachfully, then turned toward the house and shrieked at the top of
her voice, "Herman!  Herman, there's people."

"Bah!"  A deep, cross voice came carrying through the open window
beside the door.  "I don't want any people.  Tell them to go away."

The little girl obediently turned to Cimorene.  "Go away, please," she
said, and stuck her thumb in her mouth.

"No, thank you," Cimorene responded.  "We want to talk to your
parents."

"Haven't got any," said the boy.  He tilted his head to one side, as if
considering, then took off for the house at a dead run.  "Herman, they
won't go!"  he shouted as he ran.  "They want parents.  They-" His
shouting stopped as he dove headfirst through the open window and
vanished inside.  One of the upstairs windows scraped open, and two
older children poked their heads out.  At the same time, three small
heads appeared at the corner of the house, gazing timidly at Mendanbar
and Cimorene.

Cimorene looked at Mendanbar and set her end of the carpet on the
ground.  Mendanbar put his end down, too, and stepped forward to stand
beside her.  The children stared at them without speaking.

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"  the cross voice shouted.  The front door of the
house flew open and a dwarf stomped out.  He was not much taller than
the oldest of the children, but his long black beard and muscular arms
showed plainly that he was no child.  His hair looked like an
upside-down black haystack.  He glared angrily at Mendanbar.

"I won't do it!"  the dwarf declared before either Mendanbar or
Cimorene could say anything.  "I don't care if it's family tradition, I
don't care if you need the money, I don't care if her mother lied and
now you have to convince your council, I don't care if your mother is
going to turn her into a toad tomorrow if she doesn't perform.  I WILL
NOT DO IT AND THAT'S FINAL!"

"That's quite all right," Cimorene said.  "We don't want you to.  We
just want-" "I know what you want," the dwarf said, hopping furiously
from one foot to the other.  "You want a chance to talk me into it.

Well, you won't get one, missy.  You should be ashamed to even consider
such a thing!"

"She isn't considering it," Mendanbar said.  "We're travelers, and
we've just stopped to get some directions."

The dwarf paused in midhop.  Balancing on one foot, he peered
suspiciously at Mendanbar.  One of the children giggled.  The dwarf
glared in the direction of the sound, then turned back to Mendanbar.

"Directions?  What sort of directions?"  he asked with evident
mistrust.

"Who are you, anyway?"

"I'm Princess Cimorene and this is King Mendanbar," Cimorene said, "and
we're trying to get to the cave where the dragon Falgorn lives."

"Oh, you're after a dramatic rescue," the dwarf said with relief.  "I
suppose that's all right.  But are you sure you know what you're
getting into?

Dragons are tough."

"No, no," Cimorene said in the exasperated tone of someone who is very
tired of correcting the same mistake over and over.  "I'm Chief Cook
and Librarian for Kazul, the King of the Dragons, and I'm very happy
with my job, and I don't want anyone to rescue me."

The dwarfs eyes narrowed.  "Then why are you looking for this other
dragon?"

"Because I have an urgent message for Kazul, and she's gone to visit
Falgorn," Mendanbar explained.

"Huh."  The dwarf hesitated, looking from Cimorene to Mendanbar.

"How do I know this isn't some sort of trick?"

"Why should we want to trick you?"  Cimorene asked.

"To get me to spin straw into gold for you, you silly girl," the dwarf
said.  "That's why everyone comes to see me.  And look at the thanks I
get: children!  Hundreds and hundreds of children!  Bah!"

The littlest children giggled and pulled their heads back behind the
corner as the dwarf spun around.  The blonde girl stared solemnly at
him for a moment, then took her thumb out of her mouth, ran forward,
and gave the dwarf an enormous hug.

"Thank you, Herman," she told the dumbfounded dwarf.  She hugged him
again and skipped off, apparently tired of listening.

The dwarf smiled foolishly after her.  The expression made him look
pleasant and almost handsome.  After a moment, the dwarf turned back to
Cimorene, and his frown returned.

"I don't see the connection between children and spinning straw into
gold," Mendanbar said before the dwarf could start complaining again.

"Would you be good enough to explain it to me?"

"Explain?"  the dwarf fumed.  "That's what the last girl said, and what
happened?  Twins, that's what happened!  And she claimed she couldn't
remember which one was first, so I ended up with both of them."

"I can see why that would be annoying," Cimorene said noncommittally.

The dwarf glared at her.  "Yes, you say that now, but-oh what's the
use?  You'll get it out of me one way or another."

"If you'd rather not tell us-" Mendanbar started, but the dwarf cut him
off with a despairing wave.

"It doesn't matter.  It's my fate, that's what it is.  I should never
have agreed to learn to spin straw into gold in the first place."

"Why did you?"  Mendanbar asked.

"It's a family tradition," the dwarf answered gloomily.  "Of course it
doesn't work if you're just spinning for yourself.  So, a long time
ago, my great-grandfather offered to use his talent to help out a girl
who was in a sticky situation.  If he hadn't been such a do-gooder, I
wouldn't be in this mess."

"What good did he do, exactly?"  Mendanbar asked.

"The local prince had gotten a notion that the girl could spin straw
into gold," the dwarf said.  "Brainless young idiot, but they're all
like that.  If she could spin straw into gold, why was she living in a
hovel?  Anyway, Gramps said he'd do her spinning for her in return for
part of the gold and her firstborn child.  She agreed, but naturally
when the baby was born she didn't want to give him up.  So Gramps
agreed to a guessing game: if she could guess his name, she could keep
the baby.  Then he let her find out what his name was.  She kept the
baby and Gramps kept the gold, and everyone went home happy."

"I think I'm beginning to get the idea," Cimorene said.  "It's not just
spinning straw into gold that's a family tradition, is it?  It's the
whole scheme."

The dwarf nodded sadly.  "Right the first time.  Only I can never make
it work properly.  I can find plenty of girls who're supposed to spin
straw into gold, and most of them suggest the guessing game, but I've
never had even one who managed to guess my name."

"Oh, dear," said Cimorene.

"I even changed my name legally, so it would be easier," the dwarf said
sadly.  "Herman isn't a difficult name to remember, is it?  But no, the
silly chits can't do it.  So I end up with the baby as well as the
gold, and babies eat and cry and need clothes, and the gold runs out,
and I have to find another girl to spin gold for, and it happens all
over again, and I end up with another baby.  It isn't fair!"

"You, um, seem to be fond of the children, though," Mendanbar said.

The dwarf looked around to see whether any of the children were within
hearing distance, then nodded sheepishly.  "They're good kids.  It's
just that there are too many of them.  I moved out here so it would be
harder for the silly girls to find me and talk me into spinning for
them, but they keep finding me anyway."

"It was a rather drastic move, wasn't it?"  Cimorene said.  "What about
the dragons and giants and rock snakes and so on?"

"Oh, they're no problem.  The house used to belong to a magician, and
he left a lot of guarding spells on it.  Nothing nasty can get anywhere
near."

"That's why it feels magical," Mendanbar said, relieved.

"It's an odd sort of house for a wizard," Cimorene said, studying it.

"Why so many windows?"

"Not a wizard," the dwarf said.  "A magician.  He was trying to find
out which kinds of windows work best when they're enchanted."

"Did he find out?"

"I suppose so, or he wouldn't have let me buy it.  Most of the windows
don't work anymore, but there's a round one at the end of the attic
that still shows things once in a while."

"What kinds of things?"  Mendanbar asked.  "Can you ask to see
something in particular, or does it just show scenes at random?"

"You have to ask," said the dwarf, "and you don't always get an
answer.

Would you like to see it?"

"Yes, please," Cimorene said quickly.

Mendanbar looked doubtfully at the carpet, wondering whether it would
be safe to leave it where it was with all the children around, and
thinking how much trouble it would be to haul along if they didn't.

"Let it be," the dwarf said, following Mendanbar's gaze.  "The kids
won't touch it."

With some reluctance, Mendanbar nodded and followed the dwarf and
Cimorene into the house.  The inside was just as mazelike as Mendanbar
had expected from the rambling exterior.  The dwarf led them down a
passage, around a corner, up a flight of creaky wooden stairs, through
a room lined with pictures, up another flight of stairs, and down a
long hall to a cramped, stuffy little room under the farthest slope of
the roof.  The only light came from a circular window about twice the
size of Mendanbar's head.

"There it is," said the dwarf.  "If you want to see something, ask; but
I can't guarantee it'll work."

"Show me Kazul, the King of the Dragons," Cimorene commanded at once.

For a moment, nothing happened.  Then Mendanbar felt a tentative
swelling of magic around the window.  "I think it needs a boost," he
said and reached for his sword.

"No, let me," said Cimorene.  She thought for a minute, then raised her
right hand and pointed at the window.

"Power of water, wind, and earth, Cast the spell to show its birth.

Raise the fire to stop the harm By the power of this charm."

Power surged around the window, and the glass went milk-white.

"What did you do?"  Mendanbar said, impressed.

"It's a dragon spell," Cimorene told him, keeping her eyes fixed on the
window.  "It's easy to remember, and it's not hard to adapt it to do
just about anything.  I found it in Kazul's-look!"

The window glass had cleared.  Through the circular pane, Mendanbar
could see the inside of a large cave.  A sphere of golden light, like a
giant glowing soap-bubble, covered half the cave, and inside the glow
was a dragon.  She was easily four times as tall as Mendanbar, even
without counting her wings.  Three short, stubby horns stuck out of her
head, one on each side and one in the center of her forehead, and her
scales were just starting to turn gray around the edges.  An
angry-looking trickle of smoke leaked out of her mouth as she
breathed.

In front of the bubble stood two tall, bearded men in long robes,
carrying staffs of polished wood.

"Wizards," Cimorene said angrily.  "I knew it!"

10

In Which Mendanbar Decides to Experiment

Mendanbar stared at the window, angrier than he could remember being in
a long time.  In the back of his mind, he could hear a voice reminding
him that the King of the Dragons was no concern of the King of the
Enchanted Forest and that the Society of Wizards was a dangerous group
to offend or interfere with.  He could hear another voice that sounded
very like Willin's, suggesting envoys and formal complaints.  But he
was in no mood to pay attention to either of them.  Mendanbar was not
going to stand by and let the Society of Wizards kidnap and imprison
anyone, King of the Dragons or not.

"Huh," said the dwarf.  "So you weren't kidding about looking for that
dragon."

"Of course not," Cimorene snapped.  Her eyes were fixed on the window,
and there was a little crease between her eyebrows.  "But where are
they?  Window!  Show me where they are."

Magic rose up around the window in a great wave, and Mendanbar felt an
answering surge in his sword.  The window turned bright green, glowing
brighter and brighter, then suddenly shattered into dust.

"Hey!"  said the dwarf.  "My window!"

"Drat!"  Cimorene's hands clenched into fists, and she glared at the
empty space where the window had been.  After a moment, she shook her

head and turned to the dwarf.  "I'm sorry, Herman.  I didn't know it
would do that.  And we don't really know any more than we did
before."

"Oh, yes, we do," Mendanbar said.  "We know that some wizards have
captured Kazul, and we know that they're somewhere in the Enchanted
Forest."

"We do?"

"I'm sure of it.  I think that's why the window couldn't show a more
general picture of where they were.  Things in the Enchanted Forest
move around a lot, especially if the forest doesn't like something.

I'll bet my best crown that that"-Mendanbar waved at the empty window
frame-"is something the Enchanted Forest doesn't like one bit."

"All right, but that doesn't help much," Cimorene said.  "The Enchanted
Forest is a big place.  How are we going to find them?"

"That won't be a problem," Mendanbar said.  "I'm the King of the
Enchanted Forest, remember?"

"That makes you good at finding missing dragons?"

"It makes me good at finding out what's going on," Mendanbar said.

"I can tell when places are moving around, and I can get where I want
to go even when it's moving.  I don't think it will be too hard, once
we get back inside the forest."

"Then let's go," Cimorene said.  "I didn't like the look of that bubble
thing those wizards had around Kazul."

"At least they don't seem to have hurt her," Mendanbar offered.

"That's true.  Oh, I wish I knew what they were up to!"  Cimorene
scowled at the broken window, then turned sharply away, almost running
into the dwarf.

"I don't understand this at all," the dwarf said, looking from Cimorene
to Mendanbar with a puzzled frown.

"I'm sorry we don't have time to explain," Mendanbar said.  "But I'm
afraid we don't."

"Thank you for all your help," Cimorene added.

The dwarf shook his head and led them back to the front door, frowning
in such deep concentration the whole time that neither Mendanbar nor
Cimorene could bring themselves to interrupt.  In the doorway, the
dwarf paused.

"Are you sure you don't want any gold?"  he asked.

"Quite sure," Mendanbar said.  "We have a long walk ahead of us, and
gold is awfully heavy."

"I thought you didn't want to spin gold anymore," Cimorene added.

The dwarf looked down.  "It's not the spinning, it's the rest of it,"
he said, not very clearly.  "And spinning's the only way I know to make
money, and you wouldn't believe how fast kids grow."

"Oh," said Cimorene.  She bit her lip.  "What if we asked you to spin
some gold for us and then let you keep it?"  she asked without much
hope.

"No," said the dwarf.  "I tried it once.  It just doesn't work."

"Can you spin for the children?"  Mendanbar asked.

The dwarf shook his head.  "They're my responsibility, so it's the same
as spinning for myself as far as the spell is concerned."

"What are you going to do with them all?"  Cimorene asked as renewed
shrieks and the sound of pounding feet came through the open door.

"Oh, most of them will grow up and save their kingdoms from something
or other in the nick of time," the dwarf said.  "Long-lost heirs, you
know.  That's what makes it so difficult.  I have to see that they're
properly trained on top of everything else."

"Training," Mendanbar said under his breath.  He squinted into the
sunlight, trying to catch hold of an idea that hovered just out of
reach.

"I don't suppose their parents .  . ."  Cimorene's voice trailed off as
the dwarf shook his head.

"A bargain's a bargain.  Besides, it wouldn't be the same without them
running all over.  I can't give them back."

"Of course not," Mendanbar said, blinking.  He smiled suddenly.  "But
you can charge for training them, can't you?"

An answering smile lit up Cimorene's face.  "A boarding school for
long-lost heirs.  What a good idea[" "A school?"  the dwarf said as if
the words tasted funny.  "A boarding school?  I don't know-" "why
not?"

Cimorene said.  "It would solve your money problems for sure.  Special
schools are always horribly expensive.  You could charge the parents of
your children for just the training part, and take on a few more kids
at training plus full room and board."

The dwarfs eyes gleamed at the idea, but then his face fell.  "what
about my spinning?"  he said.  "It's a family tradition."

Cimorene rolled her eyes.  "Haven't you done enough of that already?"

"Well-" "I have an idea about that, too," Mendanbar put in.  "The
problem with the spell is that you can't spin for yourself or for
anyone who's your responsibility, right?"

"That's it in a nutshell," the dwarf said.  "And there's nothing to be
done about it."

'"what if you set up a scholarship fund?"  Mendanbar said.  "I'll bet a
really good lawyer could design one that would get around the spell's
restrictions so you could spin for it."

thing.  And if that doesn't work, you could spin for other scholarship
funds and only take part of the gold, the way you usually do."

"I never thought of spinning for a fund," the dwarf said in wonder.

"You think about it, then," Mendanbar said.  "We have to go."

"Yes," said Cimorene.  "I won't feel quite comfortable until I know
Kazul is out of that bubble.  Thank you again."

They left the dwarf in the doorway, muttering to himself about rooms
and expenses, and walked over to the rolled-up carpet.

Mendanbar looked at it with distaste, remembering their wild ride.  He
hoped Cimorene wasn't going to insist on using it right away.  His
stomach hadn't completely settled from the last time.  He turned his
head.  Cimorene was looking at him with a wary expression.

"Let's carry it for a while," she suggested.  "The children are
probably watching, and we shouldn't give them ideas."

"Right," Mendanbar said with relief.  "Do you want the front end or the
back?"

Cimorene took the back end, and they hoisted the carpet to their
shoulders and started off.  Walking with the carpet was surprisingly
easy.

Cimorene was a good match for Mendanbar in height, and she was quite
strong.  Mendanbar supposed it must be from carrying around
dragon-sized servings of lamb and beef, and before he thought, he said
as much.

"Actually, it's the chocolate mousse and cherries jubilee," Cimorene
said.

"I didn't think chocolate mousse was particularly heavy."

"It is when you've got a bucket full of it in each hand," Cimorene
retorted.

"Oh," said Mendanbar.  "Yes, I suppose it would be."

He was trying to figure out how much a bucket of mousse would weigh
when the carpet jerked suddenly.  Mendanbar grabbed at it, thinking Oh,
no, it's going to start dancing around on its own-Then he realized that
the carpet had jerked because Cimorene had stopped.  He looked
reproachfully over his shoulder.

"It's time for lunch," Cimorene said.  "All this talk about food is
making me hungry, and I don't want to have to face a lot of wizards on
an empty stomach."

Now that she mentioned it, he was hungry, too.  "Good idea," Mendanbar
said with enthusiasm.  "And this looks like a nice spot to stop.

Will you serve, or shall I?"

Cimorene laughed.  They set the rolled-up carpet on a stretch of grass
between two pines and got out Ballimore's package, then sat down to see
what the giantess had sent along with them.  It was, as Mendanbar had
expected, an enormous quantity of food-seven fat pastries stuffed
with

chicken and herbs, a large bottle of cold spring water, a round loaf
of bread and a generous wedge of yellow cheese, four large red apples,
and a small box filled with a wonderful, creamy chocolate fudge.

"My goodness," Cimorene said when they had unpacked everything.

"Ballimore certainly believes in feeding people well.  Look at all of
this!"

No, no," Mendanbar said, picking up one of the pastries and handing it
to Cimorene.  "Don't look at it.  Eat it."

"I wonder where she got the fudge," Cimorene mused.  "Everything else
is probably from the Cauldron of Plenty, but it doesn't do desserts
very well."

"Maybe she made it herself."

"I hope so."  Cimorene smiled at Mendanbar's look of surprise.  "If she
did, I can ask her for the recipe."

By an unspoken mutual agreement, neither Mendanbar nor Cimorene
mentioned Kazul or the wizards during lunch, though they were both
certainly thinking about them.  Instead, they had a pleasant talk about
some of the odd and interesting people they had each met over the past
few years.

Cimorene knew a lot of unusual folk.  Many of them were dragons, of
course, but her position as Kazul's Chief Cook and Librarian meant that
she had also met most of the visitors from outside the Mountains of
Morning who came to pay their respects to the King of the Dragons or
to ask her questions.

Near the end of the meal, Mendanbar noticed that Cimorene was gazing
intently at him.  No, not at him: at his sword.

"What is it?"  Mendanbar asked worriedly.

"Have you been doing things with that sword again?"  Cimorene
demanded.

"No," Mendanbar said, puzzled.  "I used it on your sink, and to stop
the nightshade, and when the carpet started falling, but that's all.

Why?"

"Because it's leaking magic all over the place," Cimorene said.  "I
thought so before, but now I'm positive."  She finished her second
pastry and stood up, brushing crumbs from her lap.  "That sheath must
not be as good as I thought.  Would you mind letting me look at it?

Without the sword."

"Not at all," Mendanbar answered.  He stood up and drew the sword.

Cimorene flinched.  "Is something wrong?"

"I don't know," Cimorene said.  "Can't you feel it?"

"Feel what?"

"Your sword.  It isn't the sheath after all; it's that dratted sword.

It's gotten worse.  Put it away, quickly."

Thoroughly puzzled, Mendanbar did as Cimorene asked.  "All right," he
said.  "Now, would you please explain?"

"I'm not sure I can," Cimorene said.  "You didn't know what I meant
before, when I said your sword reeked of magic, so I suppose it's
reasonable that you can't tell that the reek is twice as strong now.

You'll just have to take my word for it."

Mendanbar looked down at the sword, thinking hard.  "It's linked to the
Enchanted Forest, and I've never taken it out of the woods before," he
said at last.  "Maybe it doesn't like it.  Maybe it's trying to make
the mountains more like the Enchanted Forest."  It sounded silly put
that way, but he couldn't think how else to say it.  It would sound
even sillier if he told her that he thought the sword was trying to
stuff some magic into the empty, barren-feeling land around it.

"Um," said Cimorene, gazing absently at the sword.  After a moment, she
looked up.  "I'll bet you're right.  Bother.  That means we have to use
the carpet."  She bent and started packing up the remains of their
lunch.

"Wait a minute," Mendanbar said.  "What has my sword got to do with
that carpet?"

"If being outside the Enchanted Forest is what makes your sword behave
like a-a magic beacon, then we have to get it back inside the Enchanted
Forest as fast as we can," Cimorene explained patiently.  "Otherwise
every ogre and wizard for leagues and leagues around will come looking
for whatever is making all the fuss.  And the carpet is a lot faster
than walking."

"I don't trust it."

"We managed before.  It ought to be easier now that we know what to
expect.  Here, help me."  She knelt and began unrolling the carpet as
she spoke.

'Do we know what to expect?"  Remembering the bumping, spinning,
unpredictable ride, Mendanbar shuddered.

"Look, I don't like it any better than you do, but we have to do
something about that sword.  Besides, the sooner we get to the forest,
the sooner you can find out where those wizards have Kazul.  And do we
have any other choice?"

"I could probably use the sword to get us to the Enchanted Forest,"
Mendanbar suggested.

Cimorene sat back on her heels, staring at him.  "You can do that?  Why
on earth didn't you say so to begin with?  We could have gone straight
to Kazul's grandchildren's cave and saved a lot of time."

"I didn't mention it before because I'm not really sure it will work,"
Mendanbar said.  "I've never tried that particular spell outside the
Enchanted Forest before, and it wouldn't be a good idea to test it for
the first time to get somewhere I've never been.  Especially somewhere
that isn't in the Enchanted Forest either."  Actually, he hadn't tried
any of his usual spells outside the Enchanted Forest before, for the
very good reason that he hadn't

been outside the Enchanted Forest since he'd become King and started
working magic, but he didn't like to mention that in front of
Cimorene.

He was quite sure that if she had suddenly become the ruler of a
magical kingdom, she would have tested all her new spells and powers
and abilities immediately, under as many different conditions as she
could come up with.  He didn't want her to think he was careless or
neglectful.

"So we can either experiment with the carpet again or experiment with
your spell," Cimorene said.  She scowled thoughtfully at the teddy
bears, then looked up at Mendanbar and smiled.  "Let's try the spell.

What do you want me to do?"

"Just stand there," Mendanbar said, returning her smile.  "I've never
worked with another magician, and one experiment at a time is
enough."

"Why haven't you?"  Cimorene asked as she climbed to her feet.

"Worked with another magician, I mean.  From what you were telling me
yesterday, you've got more than enough work for a couple of
assistants."

"I've never had time to find any assistants," Mendanbar said.  "Except
Willin, my steward, and he's never learned much magic."

"You mean you're trying to run the whole Enchanted Forest by
yourself?"

Cimorene said.  "You're as bad as the dragons!"

"What?"

"It took me six months to persuade them that the King of the Dragons
didn't need to do everything all the time," Cimorene explained.  "And
then it took me three more months to get a system set up so they
wouldn't keep returning to Kazul with every little problem."

"You set up a system?  How?  I mean, how did you know .  . ."

Mendanbar's voice trailed off.

To his surprise, Cimorene flushed very slightly.  "I studied a lot of
unusual things when I was growing up," she said.  "Unusual for a
princess, I mean.  Politics was one of them."

"It sounds like a perfectly reasonable thing for a princess to study to
me," Mendanbar said.  "Look how useful it's been for you."

"Well, it's not one of the things a princess is supposed to learn,"
Cimorene said.  "You wouldn't believe the fuss they made when they
found out I'd talked my protocol teacher into covering it."

"What were you supposed to be learning, then?"

Cimorene made a face.  "Embroidery and dancing and etiquette and proper
behavior."

"No wonder princesses are silly, if that's all they're supposed to know
about," Mendanbar said without thinking.  He blinked and added hastily,
"Not you.  I mean, you aren't silly, even if you are a princess.  I
mean-" "Don't try to explain any more; you'll only make it worse,"
Cimorene

said, laughing.  "Now, hadn't we better try that spell?  We are in a
bit of a hurry, remember."

"Right."  With some difficulty, Mendanbar pushed the discussion out of
his mind and tried to remember how he had been planning to work the
transportation spell.  Usually he simply twisted one of the threads of
power that crisscrossed the Enchanted Forest, pulling himself to his
destination, but outside the forest there were no threads that he could
feel.  There was power in the sword, though, and it was linked with the
Enchanted Forest.  If he pulled on that, he should be able to move
whatever he chose back to the forest.

Before he moved anything, however, he would have to indicate who and
what he wanted to move.  He didn't want to arrive in the Enchanted
Forest with a magic carpet covered with pink teddy bears and no
Cimorene.

Mendanbar suppressed a sigh.  Spells were so much easier at home, where
he didn't have to think about them as much.  He dismissed that thought
and concentrated on figuring out the shape of the spell he wanted.

When he was satisfied that he knew exactly what he intended to do, and
in what order, he put a hand on the hilt of his sword and looked at
Cimorene.  "Ready?"

"Whenever you are," Cimorene said.

Mendanbar nodded and drew his sword.  He heard Cimorene suck in her
breath as he raised the weapon over his head and swung it in a slow
circle.  Carefully, he pointed the sword at the carpet and pushed a
tiny bit of power out to label it for the next part of the spell.  Then
he pointed the sword at Cimorene and repeated the process even more
gently than before.

Cimorene shivered, but she remained silent.

Turning, Mendanbar pointed the sword in the direction of the Enchanted
Forest.  Now for the tricky part.  He drew on the power in the sword,
feeling it hum through the hilt and into his hands.  In his mind he
pictured the giant trees of the Enchanted Forest, ranged in silent rows
around the rocks that edged the Green Glass Pool, with the still water
reflecting them like a green mirror.  When he was sure he had the
picture clear and steady in his mind, he gave the power in the sword
the same twisting pull he used to move from place to place within the
Enchanted Forest.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, the rocks began to blur and fade.  Mist
rose, wavering, to veil the mountains and sky.  Then, just as the
landscape was about to vanish into thick, woolly grayness, the mist
stopped condensing.

For a moment, everything was still.  Then the mist thinned and the
outlines of the rocks and mountains grew sharper.

Almost, thought Mendanbar.  It must need more power because we're
outside the Enchanted Forest.  He clenched his hands around the hilt of
the sword and pulled again, hard.

Gray fog slammed down around him like a window shutter dropping
closed.  Something hit him like a giant's hammer, and he felt himself
falling.  Now I've done it, he thought vaguely, just before everything
went black.  I hope Cimorene is all right.  Then he lost consciousness
completely.  He didn't even feel himself land.

11

In Which Mendanbar and Cimorene Are Very Busy Something was wrong.

Mendanbar could feel it, even before he was fully awake.  The magic of
the Enchanted Forest floated all around him, but it seemed tenuous and
tottery, almost disconnected.  He thought he had better get up and fix
it.  He opened his eyes.

Cimorene's concerned face hovered a foot above him.  Her braids had
come loose from their tight crown and there was a worry line between
her eyebrows.  He didn't want her to be worried.  He tried to say so,
but all he managed was a coughing fit.  Cimorene bit her lip, and her
troubled expression intensified.

"Don't try to talk," she said unhappily.  "Don't try to do anything
yet.

Your sword is safe, and I'm all right, and everything else can wait for
a few minutes.  Just lie there and breathe slowly."

It occurred to Mendanbar that Cimorene was anxious about him.  That was
nice, in a way, but he still didn't want her to be unhappy.  In fact,
it was suddenly very important to him that Cimorene should not be
worried or unhappy in the slightest.  He closed his eyes to consider
how best to convey this and fell asleep at once.

When he woke, the sky was the pale blue of late afternoon.  Rubbing his
eyes, he sat up carefully, remembering what had happened earlier when
he'd tried to talk.  Cimorene was at his side at once.

"Are you sure you should do that?"  she said.

"It hasn't hurt so far," Mendanbar replied.  "What happened?"

Cimorene studied him for a moment, then relaxed visibly.  "I'm not
sure," she said.  "One minute we were going somewhere, and the next
minute we weren't.  When I picked myself up, you were lying there
looking three-quarters dead and as white as cracked ice, and you've
been that way for over four hours.  If that's your transportation
spell, I think I would have preferred the carpet."

"At least it got us to the forest."

"Not exactly."

Mendanbar blinked at her, then looked around.  The carpet, on which he
and Cimorene were sitting, lay in the center of a twenty-foot circle of
thin green fuzz.  Seven saplings, pencil-thick and none more than waist
high, poked randomly upward through the fuzz.  Beyond the circle,
patches of short, brownish-green grass alternated with mottled gray
rock that rose quickly into cliffs and ridges and the sudden, sharp
heights of mountains that shadowed them all.  None of it looked
familiar, though it still felt vaguely like the Enchanted Forest to
him.

"Well, at least we went somewhere," Mendanbar said after a moment.

"Yes, but where?  Those are the Mountains of Morning, but this
bit"-Cimorene waved at the green fuzz and the saplings-"looks as if it
belongs in the Enchanted Forest.  So what's it doing here?"

"It feels like the Enchanted Forest, too," Mendanbar said.  He shifted,
and his hand touched cool metal.  Even without looking, he knew it was
his sword.  He picked it up and looked at it thoughtfully.  "Cimorene,
is this still 'leaking magic' the way you said it was earlier?"

"No," Cimorene said.  "I can tell it's a magic sword, and an odd one at
that, but only if I study it.  It's not-not so obvious anymore."

Mendanbar pushed himself to his feet.  It took more effort than he had
expected, and by the time he finished, the worry line had reappeared
between Cimorene's eyebrows.

"I'm all right," he told her.  "Mostly."  He waited a moment for his
head to stop spinning, then walked cautiously to the edge of the circle
of fuzz.  He stepped over the boundary onto a patch of grass.  The
comforting sense of being surrounded by magic vanished, and although he
had more than half expected it, he staggered slightly.

Cimorene was beside him almost at once.  "What is it?"

"It was just the change.  Can you feel my sword now?"

"Yes," Cimorene said.  "But it's nowhere near as bad as it was this
morning."

"I was afraid you were going to say that."  Mendanbar looked at the
circular area of green and sighed.  "I hate to do this, but you're
right.  It doesn't belong here."

He started forward.  Cimorene grabbed his arm.  "Wait a minute!  What
are you talking about?"

"This."  Mendanbar pointed at the saplings with his sword.  "In a way,
it really is part of the Enchanted Forest.  That's why it feels like
home to me, and that's why the sword doesn't feel 'obvious' when it's
inside."

"That makes sense," Cimorene said.  She still had hold of his arm.

"But how did it get here?"

"I don't think it did, exactly," Mendanbar said.  "I think the sword
made it for us when we couldn't get through to the real forest.  That's
why it's so-so new-looking."

"Your sword .  . ."  Cimorene paused, thinking.  "Yes, you told me it
was linked to the Enchanted Forest."  She looked at the green area.  "I
didn't realize it could do things on its own, without someone directing
it."

"Normally it doesn't," Mendanbar said.  "Unless it's picking the next
King of the Enchanted Forest."

"Picking the next .  . ."  Cimorene's voice trailed off and she shook
her head.  "I think you'd better tell me about that sword.  All about
it, not just dribbles of information when something comes up.  I have a
feeling we're going to need to know."

"I don't know that much," Mendanbar said.  "And I have to take care of
these things first."  He waved at the saplings.

"What are you going to do?"

"If the sword did it, it ought to be able to undo it," Mendanbar
said.

"I don't want to erase this patch, but I can't think of anything else
to do with it.

It wouldn't be a good idea to leave a bit of my kingdom disconnected
like

"No, I can see that," Cimorene said, releasing his arm at last.  'Just
watch what you're doing with that spell.  It's going to be dark soon,
and I don't want to spend another four hours waiting for you to wake
up."

"I don't like the idea myself," Mendanbar said.  "Don't worry.  I'll be
"You'd better be."

Mendanbar smiled, raised the sword, and walked back into the tiny
forest.  He paced around the edge, getting the feel of the magic that
was spread spider-web thin across the circle.  Then he stopped.  With
his left hand, he lowered his sword so that the tip rested on the green
fuzz that might one day have grown into moss.  With his right, he
reached out and touched the web, gathering in the threads.  When his
hand was full, he began to feed the threads into the sword.

It was touchy work, for the invisible strands were thin and fragile,
and he knew that if he missed even one he would have to begin all over
again.

The task took a lot of concentration, for the sword accepted the
threads

with great reluctance.  He was not at all sure he would have the
strength to do it twice, so he worked with painstaking slowness.

When he was halfway through, the saplings began to shrink.  Slowly at
first, then faster and faster, the little trees grew shorter and more
slender, until they disappeared into the green fuzz.  For a moment,
nothing more seemed to happen.  Then the circle of green began to
shrink.  Like a drop of water being sucked up by a napkin, the green
edge drew back toward the sword, leaving bare rock behind.  In a
moment, the retreating border was out of sight beneath the carpet.

Mendanbar continued feeding magic into the sword.  There were only a
few threads left, and he slowed down even more.  A puddle the size of a
wagon wheel was all that was left of the original circle.  It shrank to
the size of a dinner plate, then a pancake, then a penny.  Then it was
gone.

For a heartbeat longer, Mendanbar held his position, checking to be
certain he had not missed anything.  Finally he let go of the end of
the spell and lifted the point of the sword from the ground.  He felt
much better than he had when he began.  He looked up and smiled at
Cimorene.

"That was extremely interesting," Cimorene said.  She eyed the bare
ground around the carpet.  "Is that all of it?"

"I think so.  Why?"

"Because if we don't want to spend the night here, we're going to have
to leave quickly.  It'll be getting dark soon."  Cimorene paused, then
added, "You'd better put that sword away.  It's dripping magic
again."

"Sorry," Mendanbar said.  "Why don't we-" With a rattle of small stones
and a vicious hiss, a long, gray-black snake shot out of a crevice at
the top of the nearest cliff and dropped toward Cimorene.  Mendanbar
jerked his sword up and sent a crackling bolt of power to meet the
serpent.  The hiss became a choking gurgle as the snake flared into a
bright line of fire and disintegrated.  Flakes of ash drifted the last
few feet to fall around Mendanbar and Cimorene.

Three more snakes launched themselves from parts of the cliff, and
another slithered from behind a boulder.  From the corner of his eye,
Mendanbar saw Cimorene yank her sword out of its sheath.  He hoped
briefly and intensely that she was good at fighting, and then he had no
time or attention for anything except the snakes.

A second blast of magic disposed of two of the three in the air, and a
single sword-stroke chopped the third in half.  By then four new snakes
were in the air, and Mendanbar could hear more hissing on all sides.

He sent another spell skyward, and another, then swung at two snakes
that had leaped from a crack barely shoulder-high above the ground.

After that he lost track of how many he burned or blasted.  He had no
time for anything but fighting.  He swung his sword until his arms were
tired and his head hurt

from concentration and spell-casting.  And then, suddenly, there were
no more snakes.

The ground was dusted with ashes and littered with pieces of snakes,
and the air smelled of charred meat.  Slowly, Mendanbar lowered his
sword.

A few paces away, Cimorene was straightening up from a fighter's crouch
with the same wary hesitation.  Her sword was covered with dark blood,
and there were quite a lot of dead snakes around her.

"Oh, wonderful," Mendanbar said with heartfelt sincerity.  "I was
hoping you were good with a sword."

"You aren't bad with one yourself," Cimorene replied a little
breathlessly.

"It's a magic sword," Mendanbar reminded her, but he felt absurdly
pleased nonetheless.

Cimorene grinned.  "So is mine.  I know a little about fencing, but not
enough to do me any good against most of the things in the Mountains of
Morning.  That's why Kazul lets me carry this."  She lifted her sword,
and a drop of snake blood fell from the tip.  She frowned and began
fishing in her pockets with her free hand.  "It's supposed to make the
bearer impossible to defeat."

"Sounds good to me," Mendanbar said, looking at the bits of snake near
Cimorene's feet.  "What's the catch?"

"Getting killed isn't the same as being defeated," Cimorene said.  She
pulled a handkerchief from a pocket, smiled, and began cleaning the
sword with it.  "Not always, anyway.  And it doesn't keep you from
getting hurt, either.  So I still have to be careful.  Do you want to
use this?"  She held out the stained handkerchief.

"Thank you," Mendanbar said, taking the square of cloth.  He wiped his
sword carefully, resheathed it, and hesitated.  "Do you want it back?

I'm afraid it's ruined."

"That's all right," Cimorene said.  "I always carry one or two
extras."

She retrieved the handkerchief, grimaced, and tied it into a tight
bundle, which she stowed in her belt pouch.  "There.  Now, let's get
out of here."

"Why such a hurry?"

"We still have to rescue Kazul.  And besides-do you want to fight more
rock snakes?"  Cimorene asked.  "That's what we'll be doing if we
stay.

We've cleaned out this part pretty well, but there's sure to be several
other colonies around."  She pointed at a dark ridge a couple of
hundred feet farther on.  "There, for instance.  Or there."  She
gestured in the opposite direction, at a wrinkled cliff.

"I don't see how we can get past them on foot," Mendanbar said,
frowning.

"Well, we can't stay here.  They'll slither over as soon as the last
of the light goes.  We'll have to take the carpet."

"I wouldn't recommend it," said a new voice.

Together, Mendanbar and Cimorene turned.  The voice belonged to a
dark-haired man who stood calmly next to the magic carpet, watching
them with interest.  He was several inches shorter than Mendanbar, with
bright blue eyes and a neatly trimmed beard and mustache.  He wore tall
black boots, dark gray leggings, a loose-sleeved, high-necked shirt in
pale gray, and an open knee-length black vest covered with pockets of
all shapes and sizes.  Under the vest, his wide black belt was hung
with strangely shaped pouches and sheaths.  The air around him crackled
with magic.

"Who are you?"  Cimorene asked.  "And why don't you want us to use the
carpet?"

"My name is Telemain," said the man, bowing, "and I have a considerable
familiarity with the basic mechanics of carpets.  Magic ones, that
is.

And this carpet"-he gestured left-handed, and three silver rings
glinted in the fading light-"is plainly defective."

"Defective?"  Mendanbar said suspiciously.  Telemain didn't look like a
wizard, but that didn't necessarily mean much.  Wizards could wear
disguises as well as anyone else.

"Oh, it will probably operate, after a fashion," Telemain said.  "But
not well, and not for long.  I'm surprised you got this far on it."

"We didn't, exactly," Mendanbar said.  "And we have had some trouble
with it.  What do you suggest?"

The sound of a pebble bouncing down a series of rocks echoed along the
narrow canyon.  "I suggest we talk somewhere else," Telemain said,
glancing toward the sound.  "This isn't a safe place, even with my
defensive enchantments fully erected."

"And how do you suggest we get there?"  Cimorene asked.

"Like this."  Telemain raised a hand and made a circle in the air with
his forefinger.  As he did, he muttered something, then clapped both
hands together.

The canyon flowed and melted into a sloping meadow halfway up a
mountainside.  "Much better," Telemain said.  "No rock snakes, trolls,
ogres, or other dangerous wildlife.  I guarantee it."

Mendanbar was inclined to believe him.  Trolls and ogres liked places
where they could jump out from behind things or pop out from under
rocks.  An open meadow didn't have enough cover.  Besides, Telemain was
no longer surrounded by the hum of magic, which meant he had dropped
his guarding spell.

"Now," Telemain went on, "how did the two of you get into a ravine

full of rock snakes with a defective magic carpet?  Having rescued
you, I think I am entitled to some explanation."

"We were on our way to the Enchanted Forest," Cimorene said carefully,
pushing wisps of loose hair out of her face.  Mendanbar noticed with
approval that she said nothing about Their reasons for wanting to go
there.

"How did you happen to come by at such a convenient moment?"

"I was-looking for some people I thought might be in this area,"
Telemain said.  "By the way, what are your names?"

"This is Cimorene and I'm Mendanbar," Mendanbar said.  "Who were you
looking for?"

"You, I think," Telemain said, smiling.  "That is, if you're the same
Cimorene and Mendanbar who visited Herman the dwarf earlier today."

"That was us," Cimorene said cautiously.

"Good!  Then I can settle this quickly and get back to my work.  How
did you-" "Excuse me," Mendanbar interrupted.  "But how do you know
Herman?

And how did you find us?"

"I know Herman because he bought his house from me," Telemain said.  He
was beginning to sound irritated.  "I also maintain certain defensive
enchantments, which are especially designed to prevent incursions by
noxious creatures, around the house and neighboring areas for him.

When someone demolished the scrying spell I had established on the
attic window, I felt obliged to investigate.  Herman was in the middle
of an explanation about visitors and dragons when I sensed an extremely
interesting sorcerous flare to the northwest."

"I knew that dratted sword was going to get us in trouble," Cimorene
muttered.

"Before I had time to locate it precisely, there was another burst of
magic, which I recognized as a transportation spell," Telemain
continued.

He frowned disapprovingly.  "A rather confused one.  It has taken me
all afternoon to disentangle the traces and discover your
whereabouts.

Does that satisfy you?"

"I think so," Mendanbar said.  "I'm sorry if we seem overly suspicious,
but we've already had some trouble with one wizard and we've reason to
expect more.  So you see .  . ."

"I am not a wizard," Telemain said emphatically.  "I'm a magician.

Can't you tell?"

"No," Cimorene said.  "what's the difference?"

"A magician knows many types of magic," Telemain said.  "Wizards only
know one, and they're very secretive about it.  I've been researching
them for years, trying to duplicate their methodology, but I still
haven't managed a workable simulation."

"What?"  said Cimorene, looking puzzled.

"He's been trying to figure out how the wizards work their spells,"
Mendanbar explained, "but he hasn't done it yet."

"Why do you want to know that?"  Cimorene asked Telemain with renewed
suspicion.

"Because that's what I do!"  Telemain said.  "I just told you that.

And if you'll answer a few questions for me, I can go back to doing
it.

How did you shatter that window?"

"We asked it to show us something," Mendanbar said.  "It couldn't, so
it broke."

Telemain shook his head.  "Impossible!  That particular glass was
enchanted to reveal anything, anywhere, even in the Enchanted Forest.

If it couldn't discover the object of your inquiry, the viewing plane
would display an empty information buffer."

"What does he mean?"  Cimorene asked, frowning.

"He means that if the window couldn't find what we were asking about,
it should have just stayed blank," Mendanbar explained.

"That's what I said."  Telemain nodded emphatically.  "It should not
have broken."

"Well, it did," Cimorene told him.  "And we don't have time to stand
around arguing.  We have to get to the Enchanted Forest and rescue a
friend of mine.  So could you just tell us what's wrong with our
carpet?"

"Nonsense," Telemain muttered.  "You must have done more than frame a
question."  He intercepted a look from Cimorene and sighed.  "Oh, very
well, I'll examine the carpet.  Spread it out so I can see all of it at
once."

They unrolled the carpet the rest of the way.  Telemain's eyebrow's
rose in surprise at the sight of the teddy bears, but he did not
comment, for which Mendanbar was grateful.  When the carpet was
stretched full-length on the meadow, Telemain paced twice around it,
frowning and gesturing occasionally.  Then he turned to Mendanbar and
Cimorene and shook his head.

"The landing compensator has a gap in it, and the flight regulator has
completely deteriorated," he said.  "It needs more than I can do
without special tools and yarn for re-weaving.  You'll have to take it
to a repair shop."

"Wonderful," Cimorene said sarcastically.  "This would happen with a
borrowed carpet."

"Can you recommend a good place?"  Mendanbar asked Telemain.

"Preferably somewhere close," he added, noting the pink tint of the sky
to the west.  The sun would be completely down in another hour, and he
didn't want to wander around the Mountains of Morning in the dark.

"Or can you send us straight to the Enchanted Forest?"  Cimorene
asked.

"We're in kind of a hurry."

"The Enchanted Forest requires a complex and destination-specific
enhancement to the basic transportation spell module," Telemain
explained.

"But the repair shop is simple."

He raised his left hand and made the same circular gesture he had
before.  "Gypsy Jack's," he said, and clapped, and the meadow and the
mountain melted and flowed.  The mountain bulged higher, and the meadow
flattened and grew rockier.  A long, rectangular section of ground
squeezed upward and settled into the shape of a narrow house on
wheels.

"There," Telemain said with great satisfaction.  "We've arrived."

12

In Which Yet Another Wizard Tries to Cause Trouble

They were standing in front of the wheeled house.  At least, Mendanbar
assumed it was the front because there was a door at the end of the
long side facing them.  Two iron steps, black and worn with age, led up
to the door.

The house itself was painted a cheerful blue with yellow shutters and a
yellow trim around the door.  There were four windows on the side
facing Mendanbar, lined up in a neat row next to the door like chicks
following a hen.  The roof above the windows was low but not quite
flat, and covered with wooden shingles that looked brand-new.  There
were four pairs of wheels, too, the rims painted blue to match the
house and the spokes painted yellow to match the shutters.  A
beautifully lettered sign on a stick had been pounded into the ground
next to the door: "Ask About Our Low prices!

Mendanbar looked at Cimorene.  Cimorene looked from Mendanbar to the
wheeled house to Telemain.

"Don't do that again without asking first," she said to the magician.

"I thought you'd be pleased," Telemain said.  "Look at all the time
you've saved."

"Asking doesn't take much time."

"Where are we, exactly?"  Mendanbar put in before they could start
arguing.  "And what is that?"  He pointed at the house on wheels.

"That is Gypsy Jack's home," Telemain answered.  "If anyone can

mend that carpet of yours, he can.  As to where we are, all I can tell
you is that we are still somewhere in the Mountains of Morning.  If you
want a more precise location, you will have to ask Jack.  Assuming he
remembers; he moves around a lot."

"How did you find him, then?"  Cimorene asked.

"Oh, Jack supplies me with unusual things now and then, when I need
them for a spell or an experiment," Telemain said.  "I pay him by
enchanting his house for him.  Any good magician can find his own
spells."

"Enchanting his house?"  Mendanbar said.  "You mean, to keep ogres and
things from bothering it, the way you did Herman's?"

Telemain shook his head.  "I offered, but Jack wasn't interested.  He
has his own way of discouraging unpleasant company.  No, what he wanted
was a spell to keep the paint from fading."

"Why does he need you to put spells on his house?"  Cimorene asked.

'Jack isn't a magician," Telemain said.  "He does a little bit of
every-thing-smithing, gardening, music, tailoring, pretty much any
trade you can think of.  For example, he designed and built his
house.

He has a rare knack for patching up a spell that's wearing thin, but he
can't set up a complex enchantment on his own.  That's why he deals
with me."

One of the windows scraped open and a head poked out.  "Yo!  You going
to stand there all night and maybe get eaten by a dragon?  Not that I
would dream of interfering with your plans, but if a quick exit is what
you want, I got a dozen faster ways, all very cheap."

"Hello, Jack," Telemain called.  "I've brought you some customers."

"Customers!  Why didn't you say so?  I'll be right out."  The head
vanished and the window screeched closed.

"Customers?"  Cimorene said, looking at Telemain.

"You want that carpet fixed, don't you?  Jack can-" The door of the
house flew open with a bang, and a large man leaped over the steps and
landed in front of them.  He had a thick black mustache, long black
hair, bright black eyes, and a wide white grin.  Pushing a soft, baggy
cap back from his forehead, he bowed deeply.

"Welcome to my home, friends of Telemain!"  he boomed.  "And very
welcome you are.  What's the problem?"

"A little difficulty about transportation, Jack," Telemain said before
Mendanbar or Cimorene had quite recovered from the man's abrupt
appearance.

"We were hoping you could help."

"No trouble!  What do you need?  Shoes?  I got a barrel full-sandals,
clogs, dancing shoes, walking shoes, horse shoes .  . ."  His voice
trailed off and he looked hopefully at Telemain.

"Nothing that simple," Telemain said.  "The difficulty is magical in
nature."

"Ah!  You want seven-league boots!  Well, you're in luck.  A pair of
them just came in this morning.  They're practically brand-new, hardly
been used at all.  Or there's a swell pair of ruby slippers that'd be
perfect for the lady.

I'll throw in the magic belt that goes with them for free.  On" "No,
no, Jack," Telemain interrupted.  "The problem is with this."  He
stepped aside and let Jack get a good look at the magic carpet.

Jack's eyes narrowed to slits of concentration.  He stepped forward and
studied the carpet, then paced around it, much as Telemain had done
earlier.  "No kidding," he said at last.  "That carpet's a problem, all
right."

"Can you fix it?"  Cimorene asked.

"Sure.  Give me a week, and she'll be good as new."

"A week?  Cimorene looked at him in dismay.  "Can't you fix it any
faster than that?"

Jack spread his hands out and shrugged.  "Maybe, but I can't promise.

It depends on how fast I can get parts."

"Then we'll leave it here and go on without it tomorrow," Mendanbar
said.  At least they wouldn't have to carry the thing around anymore,
and they wouldn't be tempted to use it in spite of its hazards.  "You
can send it home when it's finished, can't you?"

"Shouldn't be a problem."  Jack smiled.  "Where do you want it?"

Cimorene hesitated.  "You're not one of those Jacks who go around
killing giants, are you?"

"Lady, what do you think I am, stupid or something?"  Jack asked.

"I'm a businessman.  I don't do giants."

"Then please send the carpet to Ballimore the Giantess on Flat Top
Mountain when you're done fixing it," Cimorene said.  "And the bill to
Cimorene, Chief Cook and Librarian, in care of the King of the
Dragons."

"King of the Dragons, eh?"  Jack said thoughtfully.

"Yes, and don't go padding the bill, Jack," Telemain warned.

"Me?  Wouldn't dream of it."  Jack kicked the carpet into a loose roll
and heaved it up onto his shoulder.  "Anything else?"

"Is there a safe place near here where we can spend the night?"

Mendanbar asked.

"Sure," Jack said.  He balanced the carpet with one hand and jerked the
thumb of the other at the blue-and-yellow house on wheels.  "Right
there.  I got two spare rooms on the end I can rent you for as long as
you want 'em."

"Tonight is all we need," Mendanbar said, and Cimorene nodded.

Jack bobbed his head in a way that managed to suggest a full-fledged
formal bow, then started toward the house, carrying the carpet.

Mendanbar turned to Telemain.  "Thank you very much for your help."

"You're welcome," Telemain said, and started after Jack.

"Hey!"  Cimorene said.  "Where are you going?"

"To arrange for my own bed and board," Telemain explained patiently.

"You didn't really expect me to leave before you'd answered my
questions, did you?"

Without waiting for a reply, the magician followed Jack into the
house.

Mendanbar and Cimorene looked at each other, shrugged, and went in
after them.

The front door of Jack's house opened into a cluttered room painted a
bright green that clashed with almost everything.  Fortunately, most of
the walls were hidden behind piles of boxes, barrels, bales, and
bundles.  Jack propped the carpet in a crowded corner, where it leaned
precariously against two paintings balanced on a stack of books.  Then
he set about fixing dinner.

Cimorene kept Telemain's attention occupied while Jack worked, and at
first Mendanbar was glad of it.  He wanted time to think and sort out
some of the confusing things that had happened in the last two days.

He was sure that a few of them were important, and if he could only
concentrate for a little while he could figure out which ones.

He quickly discovered that it was not going to work.  The conversation
between Cimorene and Telemain was much too distracting, even though he
was not particularly interested in anything they were talking about.

Finally he gave up trying to think and listened instead.

"-window wasn't up to it," Cimorene was saying.  "So I used a spell to
boost it."

"And that broke it?"  Telemain said, frowning.

"No," Cimorene replied.  "It worked just fine.  The window turned
white, and then showed Kazul and a lot of wizards."  Her face
darkened.

"And when I catch up with them-" "Yes, of course," Telemain said
hastily.  "What happened next?"

"I told the window to show me where they were, and then it broke."

"I can fix up a new one for you," Jack put in over his shoulder.  "I
got some glass around somewhere, and it's no trick at all to cut it to
size."

"I'll think about it,Jack," Telemain said.  He looked at Cimorene.

"The window just .  . . broke?  It didn't show anything at all?"

Cimorene nodded.  "Not a thing.  Right, Mendanbar?"

"Right," Mendanbar said.  "The picture of Kazul and the wizards
disappeared, and the window turned bright green, and then it broke.  I
think it was trying to show us a place inside the Enchanted Forest and
couldn't."

"It should have been able to," Telemain said.  "I tested it very
thoroughly.

I suppose the enchantment might have been wearing thin.  What kind of
spell did you say you used to boost it?"  he asked, turning to
Cimorene.

Cimorene hesitated, then shrugged.  "It was a dragon spell I found in
Kazul's library last year.  It's very adaptable, and-" A shout from
outside the house interrupted Cimorene in mid-sentence.

"You in there!  Come out at once.  There's no point in hiding."

Jack muttered something and stuck his head out the window.  "Hang
on!"

he shouted.  "I'll just be a min-" Something exploded outside, knocking
Jack back through the window and making the whole house rock.  "Come
out!"  the voice repeated.

"Wow!"

"Wizards got no patience," Jack muttered, glaring at the window.

Mendanbar stiffened and looked at Cimorene.

"We'd better go out, or he'll tear the house down," she said.  "Jack,
can you mix up a bucket of soapy water with a little lemon juice in it,
quick?"

"Huh?"  said Jack.

"A bucket of soap and water and lemon juice," Cimorene repeated
impatiently.  "It melts wizards.  Hurry up and bring it out after us.

I think we're going to need it."

"Soapy water with lemon melts wizards?"  Telemain said with great
interest.  "How did you discover that?"

Another explosion rocked the house.  "Never mind that now," Cimorene
said.  "Come on!"  She pushed the door open and darted out.

With a muttered curse, Mendanbar followed.  He remembered the steps
just in time to jump over them instead of tripping.  As he landed, he
dodged to one side and pulled his sword out.  Only then did he stop to
look around.

Cimorene stood with her back against the house, watching the wizard
warily.  The wizard was very easy to see, even though it was by now
quite dark, because he was glowing as brightly as a bonfire.  He was
taller than the wizard who had invaded Cimorene's cave, and he wore red
robes instead of blue and brown, but his staff was of the same dark,
polished wood and his sandy beard was just as long and scraggly.

Mendanbar wondered irrelevantly whether the Society of Wizards had a
rule against its members trimming their beards.

"Cimorene!"  the wizard said.  "I might have guessed.  What have
you-no, you haven't got it.  Where is it?"

"Where is what?"  Mendanbar demanded.  "And what do you mean by causing
all this commotion?  Didn't anyone ever teach you to knock on doors and
ask for things politely?"

"So you've picked up a hero the wizard said to Cimorene with a
sneer.

"He won't do you any good.  Where is it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Cimorene said.

"Neither does he," Telemain commented from the doorway.  "Unless

he's even more fuzzy-headed than he seems.  From the way he's been
leaping to conclusions without any evidence at all, that's entirely
possible."

The wizard's eyes narrowed and he pointed his staff at Telemain.

"Who are you?"

"That's the first intelligent thing you've said since you arrived,"
Telemain said.  "My name is Telemain.  I'm a magician."

"A magician!"  The wizard sucked in his breath.  "I suppose we are
after the same thing.  I warn you, you had better not cross me.  I
represent the Society of Wizards in this matter."

"What matter?"  Cimorene asked crossly.

"Yes, you have displayed a lamentable lack of precision in your account
of your purposes," Telemain said.  'Just what-" Mendanbar felt the
harsh swell of the wizard's magic an instant before the spell left the
man's staff.  Without thought, he swung his sword to parry it.  As it
touched the bolt of magic, the sword hummed hungrily.  A shiver ran up
Mendanbar's arm from the hilt of the sword to his shoulder, and the
spell was gone.

"I wouldn't do that again, if I were you," Mendanbar told the wizard.

Everyone stared at Mendanbar.  The wizard was the first to recover.

"The sword?  he cried.  "I should have seen it at once.  Excellent!

This makes everything easy."

He moved the end of his staff a few inches to point at Mendanbar and
muttered something under his breath.  Mendanbar sensed magic building
up in the staff again.  This time he didn't wait for the wizard to
release the spell.

He pushed a tendril of his own magic out through the sword and touched
the wizard's staff gently with it.

Power flowed into the sword like water being soaked up by a sponge.

The feeling of magic that surrounded the wizard vanished, and so did
his glow.  The wizard gave a squawk of surprise.  He lowered his staff,
staring at Mendanbar.

"How did you do that?"  he demanded.  "You're just a hero.  How could
you possibly reverse my spell?"

"I didn't reverse your spell," Mendanbar said.  "I stopped it, that's
all.

And I'm not a hero.  I'm the King of the Enchanted Forest."

The wizard's eyes widened.  Certain that the man was going to try
another spell, Mendanbar reached out with the sword's magic, hoping to
stop him before he could properly begin.  He wasn't quite fast
enough.

As the threads of the sword's magic wrapped themselves around the
wizard's staff, the wizard disappeared.

There was a moment of silence.  "Mendanbar, what did you do?"  Cimorene
said at last.

"Nothing," Mendanbar said.  "I wasn't quick enough.  I'm sorry.  I
should have expected him to try to get away."

Telemain walked over to the spot where the wizard had been standing.

"Interesting," he muttered.  "Very interesting-ah!"  He bent over, and
when he straightened up he was holding the wizard's staff in one
hand.

"Here's your bucket," Jack said from the door of the house.  "What's
all this about wizards?"

"It doesn't matter now," Cimorene said.  "He's gone."

"Then you won't be needing this?"Jack said, lifting the bucket.

"Don't throw it out," Mendanbar said hastily.  "We might want it
later.

In case he comes back."

"I seriously doubt that it is necessary to worry about his return,"
Telemain said as he rejoined them.  "Wizards depend a good deal upon
their staffs.  Without his, our recent visitor is unlikely to be much
of a problem."

He sounded very satisfied with himself, and his fingers stroked the
staff lightly as he spoke.

"Then he's sure to come back for it," Cimorene pointed out.

"Yes, but how long will it take him to get here?"  Telemain
responded.

"I assure you, he didn't transport himself anywhere close by.  We'll be
long gone by the time he makes his way back."

"We?"  said Mendanbar.

"Of course."  Telemain smiled.  "I've been trying to get my hands on
one of these"-he lifted the wizard's staff-"for years.  You've managed
to get hold of one in a few seconds.  You don't think I'm going to miss
an opportunity like this, do you?"

"If that's all you want, keep it," Mendanbar said.  "I haven't any use
for a wizard's staff."

"Neither have I," Cimorene agreed.

Telemain bowed.  "Thank you both."  He paused.  "I would still like to
join you, if you are willing.  There are other matters I find
intriguing about yOU."

Completely at sea, Mendanbar stared at the magician.

Cimorene sighed.  "Mendanbar, your sword is at it again, worse than
ever.  I'll bet that's what he means."

"Oh."  Mendanbar put his sword back in its sheath and inspected
Telemain for a moment.  The magician was still something of a puzzle,
but he had been very helpful so far.  And it was clear from the
wizard's behavior that magicians and wizards did not get along, which
was another point in Telemain's favor.  "I can't promise I'll let you
study my sword, but it's all right with me if you come along."  He
glanced at Cimorene.

"It's fine with me, too," Cimorene said.  "But you'd better hear the

whole story before you make up your mind.  You might not want to come
with us after all."

"If you're all done out here, come in and eat," Jack said.  "Supper's
ready, and if you're sure there won't be any more wizards, I'll just
use this water for the dishes afterward."

13

In Which They Return to the Enchanted Forest at Last They told Telemain
and Jack the whole story over dinner and discussed it late into the
night.  Telemain was intrigued by their description of Kazul's
imprisonment.

"You say these wizards have an enchantment capable of confining a
dragon?"  he said eagerly.  "Are you sure?"

"That's certainly what it looked like," Cimorene said, pouring herself
a cup of hot chocolate.  The stew and the dinner dishes had long since
been cleared away and were piled in the bucket of soapy water waiting
for someone to have the time or the inclination to wash them.

Mendanbar wondered idly whether a bucket of soapy water plus lemon
juice plus dishes would be as good for melting a wizard as one without
dishes, and what effect the dishes would have on the process.  Being
melted was probably not very comfortable, but being melted while cups
and plates and forks were falling on your head was likely to be even
less so.

"I knew I was right to join you," Telemain said, smiling.  "I might not
have heard about this enchantment at all, if I hadn't.  It sounds like
a simple modulation of the upper frequencies of a standard reptilian
restraint spell, but on an enormously increased scale.  I wonder where
they're getting the power."

"I don't care how they did it," Cimorene snapped.  "I care about
getting Kazul out of it as soon as possible."

"A trivial detail, once the construction of the spell is properly
understood," Telemain said confidently.

"Trivial?"  Mendanbar said.  "Aren't you forgetting about the
wizards?

I don't think they'll just let us walk in and take their spell
apart."

"And goodness knows what they'll do to Kazul in the meantime," Cimorene
muttered.

"Nonsense," Telemain said.  "I comprehend your concern, but it is
highly unlikely that this episode will prove more than a minor
inconvenience so far as your dragon friend is concerned."

Cimorene did not look convinced, so Telemain launched into a lecture on
the political implications of the situation, the main point of which
was that it would be stupid for the Society of Wizards to hurt Kazul
and that wizards were not stupid.  Privately, Mendanbar thought that it
had been stupid of the wizards to kidnap Kazul in the first place, but
saying so would not reassure Cimorene, so he kept quiet.

After a while, Telemain finished his lecture.  He did not wait for
Cimorene to respond, but turned at once to Mendanbar and asked about
his sword.  Like Cimorene, the magician could feel the sword spilling
magic "like a beacon on a mountaintop," and he was amazed-and
completely fasdnated-to learn that Mendanbar noticed nothing unusual.

"I don't understand why I didn't spot it at once," Telemain said,
shaking his head over his cup of chocolate (which looked to Mendanbar
as if it had gone cold during his long speech about the relative
intelligence of wizards.

"You mean when you met us?"  Cimorene said.  "Mendanbar's sword wasn't
spraying magic all over right then.  He'd just used up most of it on
the rock snakes."

"It seems to recover very quickly," Telemain said with a sidelong look
at the sword.  "Is it always like this?"

"How should I know?"  Mendanbar said, running a hand through his hair
in frustration.  "I can't tell when it's doing it, much less when it
isn't."

"Yes, you said that before."  Telemain sipped at his chocolate, staring
absently into space.  "I shall have to think about this for a while,"
he said at last, as though making a profound announcement.  "It's a
pity you haven't time to visit my tower for a few tests-" "Absolutely
not?"  Mendanbar interrupted.

"We have to rescue Kazul from the wizards," Cimorene put in quickly.

"Before this business turns into more than a minor inconvenience.

Before those wizards decide she's too much trouble to keep around and
feed her some dragonsbane."

Telemain considered this for a moment.  "An excellent idea," he said at
last with evident sincerity.

Mendanbar and Cimorene stared at him.

"If the Society of Wizards poisons the King of the Dragons, there is
certain to be a war," Telemain explained.  "Wars are very
distracting.

I don't like being distracted; it interferes with my work.  So it would
be a very good thing if we made sure there was no war."

"I'm so glad you think so," Cimorene said.  Her voice sounded a little
strange.

The discussion continued for a little longer, but it was getting late
and everyone was tired.  Finally, Jack suggested that they go to bed.

"It's all very well for you adventurous types to sit around jawing
until past midnight, but some people have work to do in the morning,"
he said pointedly.

"I am not an 'adventurous type," "Telemain said with dignity.  "I am in
research."

"Fine, fine," Jack said.  "So go research my second-best bed.  You and
the King, here, take the room on the right, Princess Cimorene gets the
one on the left, and I get to bunk under the kitchen.  Good night,
everybody."

That settled things for the evening, but the conference continued the
next morning over a breakfast of flapjacks and honey.

"It seems very likely to me that you are correct about Kazul's
location," Telemain said.  "She is probably being held somewhere in the
Enchanted Forest.  Our first task, therefore, must be to find her."

"Our first task is to get back into the Enchanted Forest," Mendanbar
corrected.  "I don't even know which direction it's in anymore."

"It's over that way,"Jack said, waving at the large mountain in back of
the house.  "Not far if you're flying, but a long way to walk.  You
have to go around, you see.  Now, I've got a nice broomstick that'll
get you there in a jiffy.  It's extra long, so it'll seat all three of
you very comfortably, and it's hardly been used at all."

"No, thank you, Jack," Telemain said firmly.  "Broomsticks are only
reliable transportation for witches.  We will manage this ourselves.

Pass the flapjacks, please."

"Here," said Cimorene, handing him the plate.  "Do you mean that you're
going to take us to the Enchanted Forest the same way you brought us
here?  I thought it would be harder than that."

"Actually, it is," Telemain said.  "The Enchanted Forest is unique,
magically speaking, and therefore the interface between the forest and
the rest of the world is equally unique.  Penetrating that interface
requires a specific application."

"What's that mean, when it's at home?"  said Jack.

"You need a special spell to get into the Enchanted Forest, because
it's different from everywhere else," Mendanbar translated.

Telemain looked irritated.  "That's what I just said."

"Is that why Mendanbar's spell dropped us into the ravine with the rock
snakes instead of in the forest?"  Cimorene asked.

"Possibly."  Telemain frowned.  "It seems unlikely, however.

Mendanbar's magic is of the same variety as that of the forest.  It
should have worked perfectly well, assuming it worked at all."

"Well, why didn't it?"  Mendanbar asked crossly.  He was getting tired
of puzzles, especially puzzles connected with his sword, his magic, and
his forest.

"I'm afraid I can't answer that from your description," Telemain
replied, his frown deepening.  "I can think of half a dozen things that
might have gone wrong, but without seeing it myself I don't know which
of them it was."

"So do it again, and watch it this time," Jack said.  "Hand me the
honey, would you, Your Majesty?"

Mendanbar picked up the honey pot, which was shaped like a fat purple
bear.  Resisting the urge to throw it atJack's head, he handed it over
and said mildly, "I don't think I like the idea of repeating the
spell.

Last time it knocked me out for four hours, and I'm not willing to do
that again just so Telemain can find out why."

"Oh, that's easy enough to fix," Telemain said.  "A few wards, properly
set, and there won't be any backlash worth worrying about."

"How much backlash does it take before you worry about it?"

Cimorene asked, sounding dubious about the whole idea.

"A three-day headache," Jack put in before Telemain could answer.

"And that's only because if his head hurts he has trouble thinking
about the wherefore of the whatsit."

"That is a serious exaggeration," Telemain said stiffly.  "And I don't
anticipate that this experiment would result in any kind of prolonged
effect, particularly if I set wards first.  I have some idea of what to
expect, you see, so I can customize the shielding spells to correspond
to the specific variety of backlash."

"It sounds good," Cimorene said.  "I think.  But what happens if it
doesn't work?"

Telemain began a long, involved, and somewhat indignant explanation of
why his shielding spells could not fail to work.  Mendanbar listened
with only part of his mind; the rest was busy thinking about Telemain's
suggestion.

It looked to him as if the only way they were likely to get back into
the Enchanted Forest was by means of his own magic.  Telemain hadn't
actually said he couldn't do it himself, but Mendanbar was fairly sure
that was what

he had meant.  And from the way Jack talked, walking would take more
time than they had to spare.

Even if it took Telemain two tries, or three, to figure out what had
gone wrong with Mendanbar's transportation spell, it would still be
much faster than walking.  Of course, they could always rent some of
Jack's wares, but after their experiences with the magic carpet,
Mendanbar was not at all happy with that idea.

Repeating the spell would be a chance to find out more about the sword,
too.  His adventures since leaving the Enchanted Forest had made
Mendanbar see just how little he really knew about his magic, and the
sword seemed like a good place to start finding things out.  The only
question was, could the wards actually keep the transportation spell
from knocking him head over heels again?

"Telemain, how sure of these shielding spells are you?"  Mendanbar
asked as soon as there was a lull in the conversation.

Telemain looked at him.  "Very sure indeed.  I have just spent no
little time and breath telling Princess Cimorene, here, exactly how
sure that is, why I am sure, and how unlikely it is that I am wrong.

Obviously, you have not been attending.  Do you wish me to repeat the
entire explanation?"

"No, of course not," Mendanbar said hastily.  "I'm sorry I wasn't
listening, but I had to think for a minute."

"And?"  said Cimorene.

"And I think we should do it.  As long as Telemain is sure he can keep
me from being knocked out again, that is."

"I am," Telemain said, sounding faintly put out.  "I have been telling
you that all morning."

"Good," said Jack.  "I like to have things settled.  You sure you don't
want a pair of seven-league boots for backup?"

"There are three of us and you only have one pair of boots," Cimorene
pointed out.

They finished breakfast quickly and helped Jack clear up.  Telemain had
some things to discuss with Jack, so Mendanbar and Cimorene went
outside to give them a chance to talk alone.  Mendanbar noticed that
the worry line between Cimorene's eyebrows was back.

"What's the matter?"  he asked.

"Are you sure about this?"  Cimorene said.  "Doing the transportation
spell, I mean.  After what happened before .  . ."

"I'll be more careful this time," Mendanbar said.  "And Telemain's
wards should help.  Between the two of us, it ought to be all right."

Cimorene did not look convinced.  "You're still taking a big chance.

There are other ways to get into the Enchanted Forest."

"Not in a hurry, there aren't," Mendanbar said.  "And once we get
back, we still have to find Kazul.  We can't afford to waste any more
time."

"I know."  Cimorene chewed on her lower lip, frowning.  "Look, you're
the King of the Enchanted Forest.  You shouldn't be taking chances like
this just to help me out."

"I like helping you out," Mendanbar said.  "But it's not just that.

It's my job to take care of the Enchanted Forest.  If the wizards have
Kazul trapped somewhere in my kingdom, it's my responsibility."

"You're not responsible for what the Society of Wizards does."

"No, but when it involves the forest it involves me, too, and I have to
try to put it straight."

"No wonder you looked so tired when you showed up at Kazul's cave,"
Cimorene muttered.  "Mendanbar-" The door of the house slammed.

Telemain came hurrying down the steps, carrying the wizard's staff.

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting," the magician said.  "Are you ready to
start?"

"Yes," said Mendanbar.

"You aren't bringing that along, are you?"  Cimorene demanded, eying
the staff with disfavor.

"Of course I'm bringing it along," Telemain said.  "I told you how long
I've been looking for one.  If I leave it with Jack, odds are he'll
sell it to somebody before the day is out.  He wouldn't be able to help
it.  Here, hold this for a minute while I set up the wards."

With visible reluctance, Cimorene took the wizard's staff.  She
grimaced as her fingers touched it, as if it felt slimy and
unpleasant.

At the same time, Mendanbar laid a hand on his sword and pushed a
tendril of magic at the staff, to see whether there were any lingering
spells, but he did not sense anything.

Raising a hand, Telemain began to mutter rapidly.  Mendanbar watched
with interest as the magician worked, calling up magical power and
shaping it into a loose net that surrounded all three of them.

"There," Telemain said at last.  "That should do it."  He repossessed
the staff from Cimorene and looked at Mendanbar.  "Whenever you're
ready."

Mendanbar studied the net uncertainly.  "Is that all there is to it?

Should I aim through one of the holes or through one of the threads?"

"Holes?"  Telemain said.  "Threads?  What are you talking about?"

"This net of yours," Mendanbar said.  "The warding spell.  Does it
matter where I aim?"

"You can see the warding spell?"  Telemain looked and sounded
considerably startled by the very idea.

"It's not seeing exactly," Mendanbar said.  "But I can tell where it is
and how it's put together."

"Fascinating," Telemain said.  "Have you always been able to do
that?"

"No.  It comes with being King of the Enchanted Forest."

"Does it?"  Telemain's expression was all eager interest.  "Can you do
it for any spell?  Here, let me try a listening spell, and you see if
you can spot

"I thought we were supposed to be trying to get to the Enchanted
Forest," Cimorene put in pointedly.  "Can't you wait and experiment
after we rescue Kazul?"

"Of course," Telemain said.  "Do forgive me.  I sometimes get carried
away."  He nodded apologetically, but Mendanbar thought he sounded
disappointed.

"About this net-" Mendanbar reminded him.

"Oh, yes, you wanted to know about aiming."  Telemain considered for a
moment.  "It shouldn't make the least bit of difference."

"Good," said Mendanbar.  He drew his sword, and both Telemain and
Cimorene jumped.  Mendanbar supposed the sword must be leaking again.

He pushed careful little dabs of power through the sword to mark
Telemain and Cimorene, to be sure that they would come along with
him.

Then he raised the sword and pointed toward the mountain, where Jack
had said the Enchanted Forest lay.

"I think I'll try to take us straight to the palace," he said, and
began forming the picture in his mind.

"No, no!"  Telemain interrupted.  "Do it exactly the way you did
before.

That's the whole point of this exercise."

"I thought the point was to get to the Enchanted Forest," Cimorene
muttered.

Mendanbar shrugged.  The castle would be a better place from which to
try and locate Kazul, since it was at the center-near the center-of the
Enchanted Forest, but once they were in the forest, getting to the
castle would be no trouble.  If Telemain wanted to watch an exact
duplication of the transportation spell that had dumped them in the
ravine, there was no reason not to let him.  Releasing his image of the
palace, Mendanbar substituted a mental picture of the Green Glass
Pool.

He took his time over the image, painstakingly remembering every detail
of the rocks and trees and water.  When the picture was as clear as he
could make it, he took a deep breath and gave the power of the sword a
slow, twisting pull.

The mountains and the trees andJack's queer little house faded to gray
ghosts, then melted into mist and were gone.  An instant later, the
mist vanished.  They were standing at the edge of the Green Glass
Pool.

"Absolutely fascinating!"  Telemain said.  "That is, without a doubt,
the

neatest transportation spell I have ever had the pleasure of
utilizing.  But I thought you said you had some trouble with it."

"He did, last time," Cimorene said.

"Well, you'd better not put your sword away, then," Telemain said.  "I
can't tell what the problem was until I see it.  You'll just have to do
the spell again."

Mendanbar, who had already stuck his sword back in its sheath, shook
his head.  "I never use the sword to move around the Enchanted
Forest.

I don't need it."

"By the way, your sword has stopped spraying magic around again,"
Cimorene said.  "I thought you might want to know."

"So it has," Telemain said.  "What an intriguing phenomenon."

"That reminds me," Mendanbar said.  "The burned-out area I told you
about should be right over there.  Would you mind taking a look at it,
since we're here?"

"Happy to oblige," Telemain replied.

"What about finding Kazul?"  Cimorene asked.

"I'll try and locate her while Telemain is examining the clearing,"
Mendanbar said.  "A locating spell takes a while to set up, anyway, so
we won't lose any time to speak of, unless looking at the charred spot
takes a lot longer than I expect it to."

Cimorene still did not look altogether pleased, but she nodded, and
Mendanbar led the way between the enormous trees.  There was the burned
section, as empty of life and magic as it had been when he had first
seen it.

Cimorene's expression changed to one of shock and anger, and even
Telemain looked shaken.

"I see why you wanted me to look at this," Telemain said.

"So do I," Cimorene agreed.

Setting the wizard's staff under a tree near the edge of the charred
area, Telemain walked slowly forward until he reached the spot where
the ashes began.  Kneeling, he ran his fingers over the dry, dead
earth.  After a moment, he rose and moved on, into the burned section
itself.  Little swirls of ash followed him.

For a few minutes, Mendanbar watched the magician work.  Then,
remembering his promise to Cimorene, he tore his attention away and
turned to his own task.

It was a relief to be back in the Enchanted Forest, where magic was
nearly automatic.  Quickly, Mendanbar sorted through the invisible
threads of power, selecting the ones that ran all the way to the
farthest edges of the Enchanted Forest.  They made quite a bundle, but
it was better to do it all at once than to split them up and risk
skipping one by accident.

When he was sure he had all the threads he wanted, he looped them

around his right wrist and twined his fingers through the strands as
they fanned out in all directions.  With his left hand, he caught a
free-floating filament and wound it into a small ball.  He set the ball
on the web of unseen tendrils that radiated out from the bundle at his
wrist.  In his mind, he pictured Kazual and the wizards as he and
Cimorene had seen them in Herman's window.  Then he gave the invisible
ball a flick and sent it rolling rapidly out along the first of the
threads.

The ball picked up speed and vanished.  Then it was back, bouncing to
the next thread and spinning away along the new path.  Out and back it
went in the blink of an eye, over and over, eliminating one thread each
time.

And then it went out and did not return.

Mendanbar frowned.  That wasn't supposed to happen.  If the spell-ball
didn't find Kazul, it should come back and hop to the next thread, to
check along it.  If it did find Kazul, it should come back and stop,
marking the thread they should follow to lead them to the dragon.

Either way, the spell-ball was supposed to come back.

"What is it?"  Cimorene said.

Mendanbar looked up, startled, to find Cimorene watching his face
closely.  "Something's wrong," he told her.  "Wait a minute while I try
something."

Gently, he wiggled the last thread down which the spell-ball had
vanished.

He felt a vibration travel the length of the thread, and for a moment
he hoped that it was the spell-ball returning.  Then, with a high, thin
sound like a tight wire breaking, the thread snapped, leaving a long
end waving loose in the air in front of him.

"What was that?"  Telemain said, looking up.

"Something very wrong indeed," Mendanbar said grimly.  "You'd better
stop that and come over here.  We're going to the palace right now."

14

In Which Mendanbar Has Some Interesting Visitors

Both Cimorene and Telemain stared at Mendanbar for a moment.  Then
Telemain shrugged.  "Very well," he said, dusting ashes from his
fingers.  "I was nearly finished, in any case, though I can't say that
I like all this flitting around."

"Mendanbar, what happened?"  Cimorene demanded as Telemain walked out
of the burned area and crossed to the tree to get the wizard's staff.

"I'm not sure I can explain," Mendanbar replied.  "It has to do with
the way I work magic.  The spell-Telemain, what is it?"

Telemain had picked up the staff and was gazing down at the ground
where it had lain.  "I think you'd better come and see for yourself,"
he said without looking up.

Feeling mildly irritated, Mendanbar went over to join Telemain.  His
irritation vanished when he saw what the magician was looking at.  At
the foot of the tree, a strip of moss had turned as brown and dead and
brittle as the crumbling remnants within the burned-out area a few feet
away.  And the strip was the exact size and shape of the wizard's
staff.

"Wizards again," Cimorene said in tones of disgust.  "It figures."

"It looks the same as that part," Mendanbar said cautiously, waving at
the dead spot.  "But is it?"

"So far as I can determine from a limited visual examination, it is,"

Telemain said.  "If you want absolute certainty, you'll have to give
me another couple of hours for tests."

"We don't have a couple of hours," Mendanbar said.  "How sure are you,
right now, that this wizard's staff has done the same thing to this bit
of moss as something did to that whole section over there?"

"And have you any idea how it did it?"  Cimorene put in.

"The how is very simple," Telemain answered.  "The staff is designed to
appropriate any unattached magic with which it comes in contact.  Magic
appears to be a fundamental property of the Enchanted Forest.  So when
the staff rested for a few minutes in one location, it swallowed up all
the magic from that location, leaving it as you see."

"What about that?"  Cimorene asked, waving at the burned area.

"What did they do, roll a wizard's staff around on the ground for an
hour?"

"Of course not," Telemain said.  "It's simply a matter of extending and
intensifying the absorption spell.  One couldn't maintain such an
expansion for very long, but then, one wouldn't have to."

"That's it!"  Mendanbar said suddenly.

The other two looked at him blankly.  "what's what?"  said Cimorene.

"That must be what happened to that locating spell I sent out,"
Mendanbar explained.  "Some wizard's staff sucked it up.  That's why it
didn't come back."

"Come back?"  Telemain said.  "You mean your locating spells work on a
sort of echo principle?  Would you mind demonstrating just how you-"
"Not now, Telemain," Cimorene said.  She looked at Mendanbar.

"Does that mean you know where the wizards are?"

"No, but I think I know how to find out," Mendanbar said.  "Ready or
not, here we go."

Without waiting for a response, Mendanbar took hold of a thread of
magic and pulled.  Mist rose and fell, and they were standing in front
of the main door to the palace.

"Willin!"  Mendanbar shouted, throwing open the door.  "Willin, come
here.  I need-" He stopped short.  Standing in the middle of the
entrance hall was a boy of about ten in a blue silk doublet heavily
embroidered with gold, a middle-aged man in black velvet with a pinched
expression, two cats (one cream-and-silver, the other a long-haired
tabby), Morwen, and an extremely harried-looking Willin.  The footman
who tended the front door was watching them all with the carefully
blank face he kept for odd visitors and unusual events.  He had had a
lot of practice.

"Your Majesty!  Oh, thank goodness," said Willin in tones of heartfelt
relief.  "This woman-these people-"

The elf stopped abruptly and made a visible effort to pull himself
together.  While he was still working at it, Morwen stepped forward.

"Hello, Cimorene, Mendanbar," she said briskly.  "You're back just in
time.  These people have some very interesting infor-" "Morwen?"

Telemain's incredulous voice interrupted from behind Mendanbar.  A
moment later, the magician pushed his head between Cimorene and
Mendanbar to get a better look.  "It's you.  What on earth are you
doing in the Enchanted Forest?"

"Living in it," Morwen answered calmly.  "As you would know if you
bothered to keep up with the doings of your old friends, Telemain."

"I've been busy," Telemain said defensively.

One of the cats made a small growling noise.  "Nonsense," Morwen told
it.  "It's perfectly normal for him to be busy.  The question is, has
he got anything to show for it?"

Both cats turned Their heads and gazed expectantly at Telemain.

Mendanbar decided it was time to take a hand in the conversation,
before things got so far off track that he'd never get them back on
again.

"Telemain has been very helpful," he said.  "Morwen, who are these
other people?"

"His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Jorillam of Meriambee," Willin said
in a loud, formal tone before Morwen could reply.  The elf nodded at
the boy, who bowed uncertainly.

"And His Royal Highness's uncle and guardian, Prince Rupert," Willin
continued.  This time, the older man stepped forward to acknowledge the
introduction.

"They have come with the witch Morwen"-Willin paused, obviously waiting
for Morwen to curtsy.  Morwen only looked at him, and after a moment
the elf went on-"with the witch Morwen to beg a boon of His Majesty
Mendanbar, the King of the Enchanted Forest."

"It's not a big thing, Your Majesty," Prince Rupert said hastily.

"Really.  If I could just have a minute or two of your time .  . ."

His voice trailed off in an indistinct murmur.

Mendanbar looked from Prince Rupert to Morwen and back, completely
baffled.  "I'm in something of a hurry just now," he said at last.

"What is it?"

"If we could, ah, discuss the matter in private .  . . ," Prince Rupert
said with a sidelong look at his nephew.

"Oh, Uncle," said Crown Prince Jorillam in an exasperated tone.  He
turned to Mendanbar.  "He just doesn't want to say straight out that
we're lost.  And he especially doesn't want to say that the whole
reason we came was so he could leave me in the forest and go home and
take over my kingdom."

"Jorillam!"  Prince Rupert said, plainly horrified.

"Well, it's true, Uncle," the Crown Prince insisted.  "And if they're
in a hurry, it's better to tell them and not waste time."

"Mrow!"  one of the cats agreed emphatically.

"Morwen .  . ."  Mendanbar said, hoping he did not look or sound as
confused as he felt.

The ginger-haired witch shook her head and peered sternly over the top
of her glasses at Prince Rupert.  "You, sir, are here to tell these
people your story with as little shilly-shallying as you can manage.

You'd better get started, or I shall be tempted to do something
drastic."

"Like what?"  asked the Crown Prince, greatly interested.  "Could you
turn him into a toad?"

"I could," Morwen said repressively, "but I won't.  Not yet, anyway.

Provided he starts talking."

"Isn't that a bit severe?"  Telemain asked, frowning.

"You wouldn't think so if you'd been dealing with him for the last two
hours," Morwen said.

Cimorene stepped forward and gave Prince Rupert a perfectly charming
smile.  "Perhaps it would be best if you told us your story," she
said.

"Ah, yes, of course," Prince Rupert said, rubbing his hands against
each other.  "I, um, we, en" "It's because of that stupid club Uncle
joined," said Crown Prince Jorillam helpfully.  "Tell them, Uncle."

"What club is that?"  Cimorene asked.

Prince Rupert gave her a hunted look.  "The Right Honorable Wicked
Stepmothers' Traveling, Drinking, and Debating Society," he said, and
sighed.  "I've been a member of the Men's Auxiliary for the past
fifteen years."

"That would be for Wicked Stepfathers?"  Mendanbar guessed, wishing the
man would get on with it.

"Yes, though we don't get many of those," Prince Rupert said.

"Mostly, it's wicked Uncles.  You can even join on expectation, if
you're not an uncle yet."  He sighed again.  "That's what I did.  I
never really expected to be an uncle at all.  Rosannon-she's my
sister-was under a curse for a hundred years, and I thought I'd be dead
when someone finally broke it and married her."

"So you joined this club," Cimorene prompted.

"And it was wonderful!"  Prince Rupert's face lit up, remembering.

"The places we went to, and the wines, and the discussions!  It was
everything I dreamed.  Only then a smart-alec prince figured out a
shortcut and broke the curse, and he and Rosannon got married and had
Jorillam here.

And then the two of them left on some silly quest or other and put me
in charge of him."

"It isn't a silly quest!"  Joriliana objected.  "It's a matter of vital
importance to the future of Meriambee."

"You can see my problem," Prince Rupert said earnestly.  "If I don't do
something really wicked soon, I'll get kicked out of the club.  I only
have until sunset tomorrow."

"So you brought Crown Prince Jorillam to the Enchanted Forest,
intending to abandon him here," Mendanbar said.

"Actually, it was my idea," the Crown Prince put in.  "After the other
thing didn't work out, we needed to think of something fast."

"Other thing?"  said Telemain, fascinated.

Prince Rupert looked embarrassed.  "I hired a giant to ravage a village
by the eastern border.  He was supposed to show up yesterday, and I was
all ready to send the documentation in to the club when I got a letter
of resignation saying he'd quit that line of work and wouldn't be
coming."

Mendanbar and Cimorene exchanged looks.

"Did he say why?"  Cimorene asked.

"No, just that he'd done enough pillaging for one giant, thank you all
the same, and now he was going to try something new."

"So I said Uncle Rupert should abandon me in the woods," Jorillam
said.

"That's much more wicked than hiring a giant, isn't it?  And I'd get to
have some adventures, too, instead of sitting home while Mother and
Father are off on their quest.  Only first we couldn't find the forest,
and then we got chased by some wizards, and then we found the forest
just in time and lost the wizards, except we got lost, too, and Uncle
Rupert wouldn't leave.  And then we were captured by a witch and she
brought us here.  Are you going to throw us in a dungeon?"

"What was that part about wizards?"  Mendanbar demanded.

"I thought you'd be interested," Morwen said with considerable
satisfaction.

"But that was before we got to the Enchanted Forest," Prince Rupert
said in a bewildered tone.  "Why would the King of the Enchanted Forest
be interested in that?"

"Never mind," said Mendanbar.  'Just tell me what happened."

"Well, we were just coming out of the old Pass of the Dragons," Prince
Rupert said.  "It cuts straight through the Mountains of Morning to the
Enchanted Forest, and hardly anyone uses it these days, so I thought it
would be a good choice.  Only things must have changed, because when we
came out of the pass we were in a wasteland, and not in the Enchanted
Forest at all."

Mendanbar, Telemain, and Cimorene looked at each other.  "Describe
this wasteland," Mendanbar said.

"It was-it was bare," Rupert told him.  "Um, well, bare.  No grass or
trees or anything.  Just .  . . just .  . ."

'Just bare," Cimorene finished for him.  "Did it look burned?"

"Yes, now that you mention it.  I didn't examine it closely, you
understand, because that was when the wizards came out of the cave and
chased US off."

"We had to run for miles," Crown Prince Jorillam said with relish.

"They almost caught us."

"It was a long way, but it wasn't miles, "his uncle corrected.  "And
they lost us as soon as we got to the trees."

The forest must have shifted, thought Mendanbar.  Good for it.  "Thank
you very much," he said aloud.  "You've been very helpful."

"We have>" Prince Rupert said.

"Does that mean you're not going to throw us in a dungeon?"  asked
Crown PrinceJorillam, sounding disappointed.

"Not at all," Mendanbar said.  "Willin, after we're gone, see that His
Royal Highness, here, is made comfortable in one of the dungeons.  The
one under the North-Northwest Tower, I think."  Mendanbar smiled to
himself, thinking that it might do the overeager young prince good to
climb up and down six flights of stairs to get what he wanted, and it
certainly wouldn't do him any harm.

"Of course, Your Majesty," said Willin in tones of perfect
understanding.

He paused.  "May I inquire where you are going and when?"

"To rescue the King of the Dragons," Mendanbar said, "and as soon as
possible."

Willin swallowed hard, Prince Rupert choked, and even Morwen looked
slightly startled.

"The only question is, what's the best way of doing it," Mendanbar
continued.  "Any suggestions?"

"We can't just charge in and attack the cave," Cimorene said,
frowning.

"The wizards could kill Kazul before we got to her.  And if the area
around the cave looks like that bit you showed us a few minutes ago, it
simply won't be possible to sneak up on them."

"What we need is a back way in," Telemain said.  "I don't suppose there
is one?"

"Every cave in the Enchanted Forest has a back way in," Mendanbar
said.

"The problem is finding it.  Do you know anything about that part of
the forest, Morwen?"

"I'm afraid not," Morwen said.  She turned to the cats.  "Chaos?

Jasper?

How about you?"

The cats looked at each other, blinked, and looked back at Morwen.

"They aren't familiar with the area, either," Morwen said with
regret.

Willin coughed.  "If I may venture a suggestion, Your Majesty .  . ."

"Go ahead," Mendanbar said.

"I believe there is a list of caves, passages, vestibules, and
entrances in the Royal Archives," said the elf.  "Would you care to
examine it?"

"Immediately," Mendanbar replied.  "I might have known you'd have a
list somewhere with the right information, Willin.  I should have asked
you at once."

The elf bowed deeply, looking very pleased.  "I shall bring it without
delay, Your Majesty," he said, and whisked off down the corridor.

"Hey!"  cried Crown Prince Jorillam.  "Are you going to fight the
wizards?

Can I come?"

"Yes, we are, and no, you can't," Mendanbar told him.  "You're going to
be locked in the dungeon, remember?"

"But a fight with wizards is much more interesting than being locked in
a dungeon," Jorillam complained.  "I want to watch."

"Maybe so," Cimorene said.  "But that's how it is with dungeons.  You
aren't supposed to get a choice about whether you're going to be locked
up in one, you know."

This was evidently a new idea for the young prince, and he did not look
happy about it.  "But-" "But, nothing," Mendanbar said.  "I'm the King,
and I say you go to the dungeon instead of fighting wizards, and no
argument."

"Yes," said Morwen.  "We have much more important things to argue
about.  Such as how to get rid of the wizards once we find them."

"Buckets," said Cimorene.  "Lots of buckets, and soap, and lemon
juice.

Where do you keep your buckets, Mendanbar?"

"Around somewhere," Mendanbar said vaguely.  "I'll have someone bring
us a few.  Can the three of us carry enough buckets to get rid of all
the wizards?"

"Four of us," said Morwen.  The cats yowled.  "Yes, I know, and of
course you're coming, but you can't carry a bucket of soapy water, so
for purposes of this discussion it doesn't matter," she told them.

The cats gave her an affronted look, turned their backs, and began
making indignant little noises at each other.

"It seems probable that the wizards will be present in force," Telemain
said.  "They were certainly aware of Prince Rupert's appearance among
them this morning, and they may well have detected your unsuccessful
locating spell, Mendanbar.  Consequently, I would wager that there will
be far too many to dispose of by means of your, er, interesting
methods, Princess Cimorene."

"We'll bring some buckets along anyway," Mendanbar said.  "It can't
hurt."

He nodded a summons to the blank-faced footman by the front door.

The footman came over at once, and Mendanbar told him to bring half a
dozen buckets of soapy water mixed with lemon juice out to the entrance
hall immediately.  The footman, who had worked at the palace for a long
time and was used to peculiar requests, bowed impassively and
departed.

"Any other ideas?"  Mendanbar asked.

"Can't the witch turn them into toads?"  said the Crown Prince.

"I certainly don't object to trying," Morwen said.

Cimorene shook her head.  "I don't think it would work.  The Society of
Wizards has some new spell that soaks up magic.  That's what makes the
bare spots in the Enchanted Forest."

"I still wish I understood why the Society of Wizards is doing all
this," Mendanbar said, half to himself.  "I suppose it makes sense to
try and blame the dragons for burning bits of the Enchanted Forest, but
they've been deliberately trying to start a war.  That would make
almost as much trouble for them as for everyone else."

"Ah, well, but would it?"  put in Prince Rupert timidly.  "I mean, if
these wizards are soaking up magic, they must want it for something."

Cimorene, Morwen, Mendanbar, and Telemain stared at one another in
dismay.  "Yes, what are they using it for?"  Cimorene said after a
long, thoughtful silence.

"In all probability, to intensify their general enchantments," Telemain
said.  "Alternatively, to enable themselves to achieve something more
substantial than would otherwise be possible."

Prince Rupert looked at the magician blankly.  "Oh," he said in a
doubtful tone.

"Don't mind him," Morwen said.  "He always gets technical when he's
talking about spells."

"But what did he mean?"  the prince asked.

"He meant that the Society of Wizards wants more magic to power their
spells," Mendanbar replied.  "Or maybe to use in a spell that would be
too big for them to work without it."

"Yes, and that is an idea I don't care for at all," said Morwen,
frowning.

"The Society of Wizards is too powerful already, if you ask me."

"You know, if the dragons start fighting with the Enchanted Forest, any
new wasted areas would be blamed on the war," Telemain commented.

"The Society of Wizards could absorb considerable quantities of magic
before anyone realizes what they are up to."

"That would explain why they're doing this, all right," Mendanbar

said.  "We have got to stop them."  Without thinking, he put his hand
on the hilt of his sword.

"Mendanbar!"  said Cimorene suddenly.  "Didn't that wizard say
something about you reversing his spell?  Not Antorell, the wizard
atJack's house.

And you were using the sword.  Maybe it can reverse this spell, too."

"It's worth trying," Mendanbar said.

"Not until we have a better idea of exactly what we're up against,"
Morwen said firmly.  "If the King of the Enchanted Forest gets killed
trying to rescue the King of the Dragons from the Society of Wizards,
goodness only knows what will happen."

"We'll sneak in and take a look around," Telemain agreed.  "Then we can
formulate a plan of action."

"As long as it doesn't take too long," Cimorene muttered.  "This isn't
some kind of experiment, where we can take our time and try again.  If
those wizards figure out that someone is trying to rescue Kazul .  .

."

Mendanbar tried to smile reassuringly at her.  "I don't see how
they-ah, Willin!  Did you find that list?  Good!  Then let's all go
into the parlor and look at it.  The sooner we're done, the sooner we
can be on our way."

15

In Which Everyone Argues Willin's list was remarkably clear and well
organized.  Once they found the section headed "Caves and Caverns Near
the Mountains of Morning," it was only a matter of a few minutes before
they discovered the listing for the Cave of Stone Icicles, the only
cave at the western end of the Pass of the Dragons.  As Mendanbar had
predicted, there was a back way into it.  A tunnel started from the
bottom of the Crystal Falls and wound around under the hills and forest
until it reached a crack at the rear of the cave.

"This doesn't look as if it will be hard at all," Cimorene said.

"Let's go."

"Right," said Mendanbar.  "This shouldn't take long.  I'll be back in
an hour or so.  Willin, take care of everyone while I'm gone-you know,
refreshments and things."

"Wait a minute?  Cimorene said, her voice rising above startled
objections from everyone else.  "You're not going without me."

"But-" "I am Kazul's Chief Cook and Librarian," Cimorene said firmly.

"It's my job to help rescue her."

"I suppose so," Mendanbar said, "but all I'm going to do is sneak in
and look at the wizards, and then sneak out again."

"That's all you think you're going to do, but what if something goes
wrong?"

"Exactly," Morwen said.  "You should have someone with you.  Several
someones, in fact."

"I'm real good at sneaking," Crown Prince Jorillam put in eagerly.

"And I want to see a dragon up close."

"No, you don't," Mendanbar said.  "Morwen, are you trying to tell me
you want to come along as well?"

"No," Morwen said, looking at him sternly over the tops of her
glasses.

"I'm telling you I'm going to come whether you like it or not.  Kazul
is my friend, and besides, I want a crack at those wretched wizards."

"We aren't going to do anything to the wizards until we know more about
what we're up against," Mendanbar said, feeling harried.

"Then how come you wanted those buckets of soapy water?"  Crown Prince
Jorillam demanded.

'Just in case," Mendanbar said.  "This is only to find out what the
wizards are doing and how many of them there are."

"Which is precisely why I must accompany you," Telemain put in.

"Not you, too!"

Telemain frowned at him.  "You don't seem to realize what a priceless
opportunity this is," the magician said.  "It is entirely possible that
we shall be able to observe the Society of Wizards in the very act of
casting their magic-absorbing spells.  Since they are extremely
secretive about their methods, this may be the only chance we have of
studying their techniques."

"It isn't worth the risk," Mendanbar said.

"Not to you, perhaps," Telemain told him.  "I, however, intend to take
full advantage of these circumstances.  One way or another, I am going
to get a look at those wizards."  He leaned the wizard's staff against
the wall and folded his arms stubbornly.

"Yeah, and then we melt them!"  Crown PrinceJorillam said
enthusiastically.

"You are not coming with us," Mendanbar told him.

"But I'm real, real good at sneaking," Jorillam said.  "Tell them,
Uncle!"

"He is," Prince Rupert said earnestly.  "And I'll keep an eye on him so
he won't get in your way."

Mendanbar stared at him.  "No, you won't.  Because you aren't coming
with me, either.  I am going to sneak into the Cave of Stone Icicles by
myself" "No, you're not," said everyone at once.  Morwen's two cats
glanced up, then went back to washing their tails.  Mendanbar got the
distinct impression that the only reason they hadn't joined in the
general outcry was that they thought it was beneath them to argue.

"It is inappropriate for the King of the Enchanted Forest to embark on
a mission to the King of the Dragons without a formal escort," Willin
added.

"You want me to take all these people along as a formal escort?"

Mendanbar said incredulously.  "Really, Willin-" "Not at all," the elf
replied.  "They are all persons of distinction, and it would not be
suitable for any of them to take a position as a formal escort to Your
Majesty.  Properly, only those of your subjects already in Your
Majesty's employ may make up such a retinue.  Due to Your Majesty's
general dislike of formality, we have very few such persons available
at present."

"What are you suggesting?"  Mendanbar asked with a sinking feeling.

"That I am the only possible person who can accompany Your Majesty in
this capacity," Willin said.

"If he gets to go, so do I!"  Crown Prince Jorillam cried.

"Not without me," Prince Rupert said, setting his jaw.  "I don't know
anything about this business with the dragons and wizards, butJorillam
is my responsibility.  Until I lose him in the forest, that is."

"And Kazul is my responsibility," Cimorene said.

"Like it or not, I am going to get a look at those spells," Telemain
stated flatly.

"Those wizards have caused me a lot of trouble, what with one thing and
another," Morwen pointed out.  "I intend to cause them a bit of trouble
back."

"It is necessary to Your Majesty's dignity that Your Majesty take a
proper escort with you," Willin put in.

"Quiet!"  Mendanbar said.

Everyone stopped talking.  Willin looked utterly astonished.  Jorillam
had a wary expression, and Prince Rupert and Telemain both looked
mildly taken aback.  Morwen's eyes gleamed approvingly behind her
glasses.

Cimorene looked momentarily startled, but then she smiled.

Mendanbar took a deep breath.  First things first.  "Crown Prince
Jorillam."

"Yes?"

"You are not coming on this expedition.  You will stay here, at my
castle, until I return.  In the dungeon, just as you requested."

"But it's not fair," Jorillam said.  "I didn't know then that you were
going to go fight wizards.  And that elf-" "Wilin is one of my people,
and a native of the Enchanted Forest," Mendanbar said.  "You aren't.

Don't bother arguing; you don't get a choice.

I'm the King here, remember."

Jorillam gave him a sulky nod.

"Prince Rupert," Mendanbar went on, "you were quite right to say that
your nephew needs watching.  You will stay here and keep an eye on him
while I'm gone."

"Certainly, Your Majesty," Prince Rupert said with a relieved sigh.

"If you say so."

"I'm afraid I can't bring you with me, either, Willin," Mendanbar said,
turning to his steward.  "Somebody has to take care of our visitors,
you know, and you're the only possible person."

Willin hesitated, plainly torn.  "It is my duty to serve Your Majesty
regardless of the danger."

"I appreciate your willingness to accompany me," Mendanbar assured
him.

"I feel, however, that you would serve me better here.  Now, please
take these two guests to the North-Northwest Tower dungeon and see that
they get some refreshments."

"As Your Majesty commands," Willin said, bowing.  He gestured to Prince
Rupert and Crown Prince Jorillam, and led them away.

Well, that takes care of them, anyway, Mendanbar thought as the three
rounded a bend in the corridor and vanished from sight.  The rest
wouldn't be that easy.  He looked over and saw Morwen, Cimorene, and
Telemain standing side by side, wearing identical expressions of
stubbornness, and he sighed.  He supposed he could
accidentally-on-purpose forget to include them in the transportation
spell, but somehow he didn't think that would stop them.  Not when one
was a witch, one a magician, and one an experienced dragon's
princess.

"Don't even bother trying to talk us out of it," Cimorene warned.

"You'll only waste more time."

"You're probably right," Mendanbar said at last.  "And anyway, I
suspect I really should have some help with me, just in case."

"Very sensible of you," Morwen told him.

"Yes, well, let's get our buckets and go," Mendanbar said
uncomfortably.

The four of them collected buckets of soapy water from the
imperturbable castle footman.  Cimorene and Telemain took two each, but
Mendanbar only took one, because he wanted to keep one hand free in
case he needed his sword.  Morwen also took only one bucket.  She did
not explain, and her expression dared anyone to comment.  No one did.

The footman left, removing Telemain's staff along the way.  "Be sure
you put that somewhere safe," Telemain called after him.

Mendanbar looked around one last time, checking to make sure everyone
was finally ready, then twitched the strands of power and transported
them all to the foot of the Crystal Falls.

They appeared on the slippery bank of a narrow stream.  A little
farther on, the Crystal Falls poured in a shining curtain down the side
of a sheer cliff of black glass.  The water foamed and swirled at the
foot of the falls, forming a small, restless pool, then rushed down the
channel at their feet

and dashed on into the deeper parts of the Enchanted Forest.  The
noise of the falling water was tremendous, and the air had a clean,
sharp smell.

Mendanbar looked around to see that everyone was there and that no one
had spilled the soapy water.  He noticed, without surprise, that the
two cats had come along, even though he had not specifically included
them in the transportation spell.  Cats were like that.

"Which way is the tunnel entrance?"  Cimorene asked.  She had to shout
to make herself heard over the roar of the waterfall.

"Over there," Mendanbar shouted back, waving at a clump of fir trees
near the foot of the cliff.  "Watch your step."

"What did you say?"  Telemain yelled.

"He said, 'Watch your step,'" Cimorene replied at the top of her
lungs.

Telemain nodded, and they moved cautiously away from the water-slick
bank of the stream.  The cats had already moved out of range of the
mist billowing up from the base of the waterfall.  When the rest of the
group caught up to them, the two cats gave Mendanbar looks of deep
reproach, as if to imply that he should have more sense than to set
everyone down so close to such a damply uncomfortable spot.

The runnel entrance was a narrow crack in the side of the cliff, hidden
behind the clump of firs.  The cats trotted through it and vanished
into the darkness.  Morwen gazed after them with a thoughtful
expression on her face.

"I don't suppose anyone remembered to bring a light?"  Cimorene said,
eying the crack with evident misgiving.

Telemain smiled and said three words that crackled in the air.  A small
globe of golden light appeared above his head.  "I'll go first, so the
rest of you can see where you're stepping," he said, smiling with a
trace of smugness.

"And what do you think will happen when we get near the wizards and
their magic-absorbing spell gets hold of your little glow-ball?"

Morwen said sharply.  "You're not thinking, Telemain."

"I suppose you have a better idea?"

Morwen pushed her glasses firmly into place, set down her bucket of
soapy water, and reached into one of her long, loose sleeves.  She
pulled out a small lantern and set it on the ground.  Then she reached
into the other sleeve, from which she pulled a flint striker and a long
splinter of wood.

Expertly, she struck a spark and lit the splinter, then used the
splinter to light the lantern.  She blew the splinter out, stuffed it
and the flint back into her sleeve, and smiled at the surprise on
everyone else's face.

"I thought we might be needing this," she said.  Picking up the lantern
and the bucket, she started for the mouth of the tunnel.

"Hang on a minute," Mendanbar said.  "I should go first.  Would you
give me the lantern, Morwen?"

"Only if you don't dawdle," Morwen responded.  "My cats are in
there."

"Of course.  You come next, then, and Telemain after you.  Cimorene can
come last.  That way we'll have a light between every two people."

Cimorene did not look happy about these arrangements, but Mendanbar did
not give anyone time to argue.  As soon as Morwen nodded, he took the
lantern and started into the crack.  It was only wide enough for one of
them at a time to edge sideways, and the ground was covered with
shattered rock, which made the footing treacherous.  Juggling the
lantern and his bucket back and forth from hand to hand, Mendanbar
tried to see what lay ahead of him while still giving Morwen enough
light to follow.

Progress was slow, and he began to wonder whether the whole tunnel was
going to be as narrow and difficult as this beginning.

"Maybe we would have been better off charging at the main entrance," he
muttered to himself.

After what seemed a very long time, but was probably only a few
minutes, the runnel widened.  The piles of shattered rock became fewer,
then ceased altogether.  Mendanbar heaved a sigh of relief and stopped
to let the others catch up.

Morwen was the first.  "Good," she said as she clambered over the last
of the rock piles, balancing carefully to avoid spilling her bucket.

"I was beginning to think that rocky stuff was never going to end.  Any
sign of my cats?"

"It would be more reasonable to ask whether there is any sign of the
wizards," Telemain said, following Morwen into the wider part of the
tunnel.

There was a large wet spot down one side of his many-pocketed vest;
apparently he had not been as careful with his buckets as Morwen.

"I haven't seen a trace of the wizards," Mendanbar said, "but the cats
have been by here."  He pointed at two small trails of footprints
leading down the tunnel.

"Thank goodness that's over," Cimorene said as she emerged from the
narrow section of the tunnel to join them.  "Why are you all just
standing here?  The Cave of Stone Icicles is a lot farther on."

As this was undeniably true, they set off again.  There was still not
room for all four of them to stand in a line, but at least now they
could walk two by two without difficulty.  Somehow, Cimorene ended up
walking with Mendanbar in the front.  Mendanbar was not sure whether to
be glad or sorry.  He enjoyed walking with Cimorene, even if they did
not dare to talk much; the wizards might have someone listening for odd
noises.  On the other hand, being in front meant that he and Cimorene
were the ones the

wizards would attack first.  Mendanbar did not like the idea of anyone
attacking Cimorene, although he knew she could take care of herself.

He had some time to consider this, for the tunnel was long and winding,
but he found it hard to concentrate with Cimorene walking so close
beside him.  He discovered that he wanted to put his arm around her as
they walked-the one carrying the bucket of water, not the lantern-but
somehow that didn't seem like the right thing to do when they were
supposed to be watching out for wizards.  He had never met a princess
like Cimorene before.

He had never met anyone like Cimorene before.  She was smart and brave
and kind and loyal, and he liked her.  In fact, he liked her a great
deal.

In factSuddenly, the light around Mendanbar dimmed.  He stopped and
glanced over his shoulder.  The little globe that had been hovering
over Telemain's head had gone out.

"Telemain?"  Mendanbar whispered.

"I didn't turn it off," Telemain whispered back.  "We must be getting
near the wizards."

Mendanbar nodded without surprise-the atmosphere in the tunnel felt dry
and magicless, and though they were still within the Enchanted Forest,
he could no longer sense threads of power floating invisibly in the
air.  He swallowed, hoping he would not have to do any spells in a
hurry.

"Keep close," he whispered to Telemain and Morwen, and slowly started
forward once more.

The tunnel bent sharply to the left, then right, and without further
warning opened out into a forest of stone pillars.  A glimmer of light
showed between the stones, and they could hear a mumble of voices in
the distance.

Hastily, Mendanbar covered the lantern with a corner of his cloak, so
that it only lit the area just in front of his feet.  Cimorene dropped
back.  After a moment, she put her hand on his shoulder, and Mendanbar
wondered briefly what she had done with the bucket.  She gave his
shoulder a brief squeeze to indicate that Morwen and Telemain had taken
their places.  Then he heard her pick the bucket up again.

Carefully, Mendanbar edged through the pillars toward the light and
voices.

As they drew nearer, Mendanbar began to understand what the voices were
saying.

"I don't like this," grumbled one.  "We've wasted too much time
already.

We should just take her outside, dose her with dragonsbane, and leave
her for someone to find."

"Stop complaining, Dizenel," replied a smooth voice, and Mendanbar
frowned as he reconized Zemenar's fluid tones.  "I have told you a
hundred

times how foolish that would be," Zemenar went on.  "I am not going to
tell you for the hundred and first."

"He's right, though," another voice said.  "Someone is going to notice
us pretty soon, and then where will all our planning be?"

"Someone already has," a fourth voice rasped.  "What about those two
this morning?"

"A couple of adventurers," Zemenar said dismissively.  "They don't
matter."

"They got away, didn't they?  If they tell someone what they saw-"
"They won't," Zemenar said.

"How can you be sure of that?"

Zemenar gave a snort.  "Because of who they are.  Can't you recognize a
Wicked Uncle when you see one?  He was probably here to drop the boy
somewhere in the Enchanted Forest.  He isn't going to tell anyone about
us.

And even if he does, what of it?  Everyone knows odd things happen in
the Enchanted Forest.  His story will only be one more."

Mendanbar was at the end of the stone columns, close enough to see the
wizards if he peeked around a pillar.  There were ten of them, grouped
about a small table at one side of an enormous cavern.  Zemenar and two
others were seated; the rest leaned against the wall of the cave or
stood in clumps close by.  High above the wizards, hundreds of long,
cone-shaped columns hung like stone icicles from the ceiling.  Four
torches dangled from iron brackets on the wall and a lamp stood in the
center of the table, throwing shadows like dark fangs from the hanging
rocks.

Partway across the cavern, a pale golden glow cut across the shadows
like a drawn curtain.  On the other side of the glow was a dragon, her
wings folded along her back, her eyes narrowed to slits.  Mendanbar
recognized her at once, even without Cimorene's hiss.  She was the same
dragon they had seen in the magic window at the dwarfs house-Kazul, the
King of the Dragons.

16

In Which Mendanbar Cleans Up

Mendanbar blew out the lantern and set it on the floor.  They didn't
need it anymore anyway.  They were near enough to see by the light of
the wizards' torches, even in the shadows.  Carrying their buckets,
Cimorene, Morwen, and Telemain slipped behind nearby pillars as another
wizard came around the corner from the far end of the cave.

"Most gracious and powerful Head Wizard," he said, bowing to Zemenar.

"We've checked everything at least twice.  There's no one outside and
no sign of anyone coming.  That spell Xinamon felt before must have
been some sort of normal variation."

Behind the pillars, Mendanbar winced.  The wizards had noticed the
locating spell he had sent out earlier.  Cimorene frowned and shook her
head at him, but he wasn't sure what she meant by that.  Morwen scowled
at them both and put her finger to her lips.

"Possibly," Zemenar replied.  "I don't want to take any chance,
though.

The King of the Enchanted Forest has a certain amount of magic, and we
don't fully understand it.  Call in a few more wizards, just to make
sure."

"If you don't want to take chances, we ought to use up the dragon now
and get out of here," Dizenel said.

"I'm with you," the most recent arrival agreed.  "Dragons make me
nervous.  Are you sure she can't get out?"

"If she could, she'd have done so right away," Zemenar said.  "Don't
worry about it.  We've put the power of at least an acre of the
Enchanted Forest into building that shield, and no one can lower it
except us."

"Are you sure?"  the wizard persisted.

"Take a closer look, if you're not satisfied," Zemenar said, waving at
the glow.

"It's impressive," the wizard said, moving nearer.  "But with a spell
this new, how can you be positive-Say, what's that?"

At their companion's change in tone, the wizards' heads swiveled to
look at Kazul.  For a frozen moment, no one spoke.  Then a wizard at
the back said, "It's a cat."

Mendanbar glanced sideways in time to see Morwen shake her head and
take a firmer grip on her bucket of soapy water.  He grimaced.  They
had only six buckets of soapy water among them, and there were already
eleven wizards in the cave.  If it came to a fight, they would be badly
outnumbered.

"How did a cat get inside the shield?"  another wizard asked.  "It
wasn't there yesterday."

"It wasn't there a few hours ago," Dizenel said.  "Where did it come
from?"

"Spread out and search the cave," Zemenar commanded, rising.  "And
bring in the dragonsbane.  Someone's snooping."

The wizards fanned out across the cavern and started toward the forest
of pillars.  There was no way Mendanbar and the others could get away
without being seen, even if they had been willing to abandon Kazul to
her fate.  Mendanbar drew his sword.  Soapy water or not, he felt
better with a weapon in his hand.

As the first wizard reached the pillars, he jerked in surprise, then
raised his staff.  Before he could release whatever spell he had
planned, a shower of soapy water drenched him from head to foot.  The
wizard shrieked loudly.

"Blast you six ways from next Wednesday!"  he shouted as he began to
melt.  "This is the second time you've liquefied me!  May you and your
pet dragon and your triple-cursed wash water turn purple with orange
spots and fall down a bottomless pit!"

The other wizards stopped in their tracks.  "It's Cimorene!"  one of
them said nervously.

"That's Princess Cimorene, to you," Cimorene said, stepping out from
behind a pillar.  She held her second bucket in plain sight, ready to
throw.

"Stay back," Zemenar ordered.  "Blast her from a distance."

"Cowards!"  Cimorene taunted, and ducked behind another of the stone
columns.  "Come and get me!"

It wasn't going to work, Mendanbar told himself, taking a firmer grip
on his sword.  Zemenar was too clever to let his wizards chase Cimorene
into the maze of stone.  They would stay at a safe distance and throw
bolts of

power into the pillars until they destroyed the maze or killed
everyone in it, or both.

Three more wizards came running in.  Zemenar stopped them with a
gesture.  The rest of the wizards backed away from the pillars and
lined up across the width of the cave.

"Now, then," the Head Wizard said, lifting his staff and pointing it at
the pillar Cimorene had ducked behind.  "Take this."

Mendanbar felt magic swell around the end of the staff.  An instant
later, before he had time to reach for the magic himself, the spell
shot forward and exploded, shattering the pillar and sending chips of
rock flying in all directions.

"Ow!"  Cimorene's voice cried from somewhere in the shadows.

Without thinking, Mendanbar stepped out from behind his pillar, bucket
in one hand, sword in the other, into full view of the wizards.  "Over
here!"  he called.  If he could distract them for a minute or two,
perhaps Cimorene could get safely behind another column.

"Mendanbar!"  For an instant, Zemenar looked thoroughly startled.

Then he smiled nastily.  "How nice to see you.  I've been hoping you
would turn up, so we could finish this little business at last."

As he spoke, Zemenar stepped forward and shifted his staff to point at
Mendanbar.  Mendanbar raised his sword and stayed where he was.  He
felt magic building around the staff once more and decided not to wait
to find out what Zemenar intended it to become.  Instead, he reached
out through the sword and touched the wizard's spell, the same way he
touched the magic threads of the Enchanted Forest.

It was much easier to do here than it had been in the Mountains of
Morning.  The sword sopped up the spell in an instant.  Mendanbar could
sense the channels of power Zemenar had been using to feed his spell,
and he touched those, too, and pulled.  The sword obligingly drank them
in.

"What are you doing?"  Zemenar cried in astonishment, lowering his
staff.  His hair stood out around his head, as wild and tangled as the
magical mess he'd left on the floor of Mendanbar's castle.

"I'm stopping you," Mendanbar said.  His whole arm tingled with the
power the sword had absorbed.  If he could just think of the right
thing to do with it .  . .

"And a good thing, too," Morwen said from several pillars over.

"You're too greedy for your own good, or anyone else's, for that
matter."

"I am not greedy," Zemenar protested angrily.  "I have every right to-"
"You're greedy, all right," Cimorene said from just behind Mendanbar.

"And you wouldn't know what to do with all the power you want even if
you got it.  Just look at you!  Your hair's like a bird's nest."

Zemenar scowled.  Mendanbar stared at him without really seeing him,
trying to remember why Cimorene's words sounded familiar.

"The gargoyle!" he said suddenly.  "Why didn't I think of that
before?"

"What gargoyle?"  one of the wizards asked.

"Never mind him," Zemenar said.  "He's only trying to distract us.  All
together, now: blast them?"

The line of wizards raised their staffs.  Mendanbar grinned and twisted
the mass of power in the sword, just as he had done two days earlier
when he had grown tired of the gargoyle's complaints.  Soapy water
spurted out of the empty air in front of the wizards in a hard, fast
stream, as if it were being pumped through an invisible hose.  The
foaming spray washed over the entire line, thoroughly soaking them
all.

Puddles grew rapidly on the stones underfoot, and wizards shouted and
slid on the suddenly slippery floor.

Several of them dropped their staffs to rub at their eyes, which had
apparently gotten soap in them.  None of them melted.

Mendanbar felt a moment of panic.  He'd been sure that his magically
created soapy water would work just as well as the buckets they had
hauled with them from the castle, but it didn't seem to be doing
anything.  The wizards would get themselves together any minute, and
what would he do then?

"Did you remember the lemon juice?"  Cimorene said in his ear.

"Oh, right," said Mendanbar.  He twisted the power again, and another
spray of soapy water (this time smelling strongly of lemon) squirted
over the wizards.  To Mendanbar's considerable relief, they collapsed
into gooey puddles, one after another.  In another moment, there were
no wizards left in the cave at all, only staffs, soggy robes, and a
great deal of water and soapsuds.

Mendanbar studied the puddles, then set his bucket of soapy water on
the ground.  It didn't look as if he'd be needing it anymore.  He kept
his sword out, however, since he didn't know how many more wizards
might still be outside.

"Fascinating," said Telemain.  He moved forward and knelt at the edge
of a puddle.  "This mess appears to be mainly the liquefying agent."

"It does?"  Cimorene asked.

"He means it's mostly soapy water," Mendanbar said.

"And a good thing, too, or it would take forever to clean up," Morwen
said.  "Wizards are a nuisance even when they're gone."

"It's a pity it isn't permanent," Cimorene said.  "I'd like to get rid
of that Zemenar once and for all."

"Removing their staffs will delay their reappearance," Telemain said.

"I suggest we do so before we leave."

"Good idea," Morwen said.  She picked her way between puddles and

began collecting the wizards' staffs.  Telemain went back to studying
the puddle.

Cimorene turned to Mendanbar.  "Now, if Kazul can just-oh, no!"

Mendanbar followed Cimorene's gaze.  The glowing, golden shield spell
still blocked half of the cavern, imprisoning Kazul.

There was a long silence.  Then Cimorene said, "Telemain, were those
wizards right when they said they were the only ones who could take
down that spell?"

"What's that?"  Telemain said, looking up.  "Really, must you interrupt
so constantly?  I'm never going to get anything finished at this
rate."

"But think of all the interesting things you're finding out," Mendanbar
said.  Kazul's shield, for instance.  Have you ever seen anything like
it before?"

"Now that you mention it, no," Telemain replied, scrambling to his
feet.  "Let me look at it."

"That was the idea," Cimorene muttered.

They all watched while Telemain examined the shield.  He walked from
one end to the other, then put a hand gingerly against the glow and
pushed.

When nothing seemed to happen, he twisted one of his rings twice and
touched it to the glow.

"Can you get rid of it?"  Cimorene asked.

"I don't know yet," Telemain said.  "I'm still checking the parameters
of the primary enchantment."

"Oh."

The magician twisted a different ring and touched it to the glow.  This
time there was a spark.  "Ah!"  Telemain said in a satisfied tone.  "I
suspected as much."

"Well, are you going to tell us about it?"  Morwen said as she dropped
a load of wizards' staffs in a pile against the wall.

"It's a self-sustaining barrier produced by a recirculation of the
initial power input," Telemain explained.  "Because of the rotation
effect, most physical substances cannot pass through the shield in
either direction.  Unlike the majority of spells, this one needs no
exterior energy source, so the usual procedures for dismantling such
sorceries would be completely ineffective."

"What does that mean?"  Cimorene demanded.

"The spell keeps itself up, we can't get in or out, and we don't have
any way of getting rid of it," Mendanbar translated.

"Then how did the cat get in?"  Cimorene asked, pointing at Morwen's
large silver-and-cream cat, which had climbed onto Kazul's back and lay
curled up between her wings.

"Cats are like that," Morwen said.  "When he comes out, I'll ask him

how he did it, if you want me to, but don't expect too much in the way
of an answer.  Cats enjoy being mysterious."

"I don't care what they enjoy," Cimorene said.  "We have to get Kazul
out of there, and if that cat can help-" "It is unlikely," Telemain
interrupted, stepping back from the glow.

"The cat's method of moving through the barrier is, in all probability,
useless to anyone else.  Fortunately, we have other resources."

"We do?"

Telemain looked at Mendanbar.  "While I have not had a chance to make a
thorough and complete examination of that extremely intriguing weapon
you carry, I have observed enough to determine that its function is
fundamentally antithetical to wizards and their magic.  A
straightforward penetration appears quite possible and would disrupt
the recirculation effect, resulting in the collapse of the
self-sustaining mechanism."

"What?"  said Cimorene.

"Really, Telemain, must you?"  said Morwen.

"Right," said Mendanbar.  He took three steps forward and stuck his
sword into the glowing spell.

A jolt of power ran up his arm and the globe of light flashed brighter
than the sun.  Mendanbar's eyes were dazzled by the flare, so he
couldn't see anything except purple spots, but he heard a loud roar,
the angry hiss of a cat, and the sound of scales on stone, so he was
sure the barrier was gone.

"Kazul," Cimorene called from behind him.  "It's all right.  It's not
wizards, it's us."

"And about time," a deep, unfamiliar voice said.  "Hello, Cimorene,
Morwen.  It's nice to see you again.  Who are these others?"

"This is Mendanbar, the King of the Enchanted Forest," Cimorene
answered, and Mendanbar felt her hand on his shoulder.  "He's the one
who let you out.  Over there is Telemain.  He's a magician, and he
figured out how to do it."

"Greetings, Your Majesty," Mendanbar said, blinking.  The purple spots
began to fade at last, and he found himself staring into the green-gold
eyes of an enormous female dragon.  He only just managed to keep
himself from backing up automatically.  "Pleased to meet you."

"Under the circumstances, most definitely so am I," said the dragon
with a smile that showed a large number of sharp-looking silver
teeth.

"How did you manage it?"

"Weren't you watching?"  Cimorene asked.

"Watching what?"  Kazul replied.  "I couldn't see a thing except what
was inside that blasted bubble with me."

"We could see you."

"The shielding spell was unidirectional," Telemain put in.  "The
external absorptive effect would enhance its efficiency."

Kazul gave Telemain a hard look and smiled again, this time showing
a//of her teeth.  "What was that again?"

Telemain looked at Kazul.  Then he looked at Mendanbar.  He frowned in
concentration, and finally he said carefully, "The shield was a one-way
spell.  It soaked up everything that tried to get in from outside and
used the energy to make itself stronger."

"Very good," Morwen said.  "I was beginning to think you were
hopeless."

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about," Telemain said
A yowl of complaint made them all turn their heads.  The
cream-and-silver cat was standing at the edge of the wet, soapy,
lemon-scented area where the wizards had melted, shaking his front paws
one at a time and eying the water with extreme disfavor.

"Too bad," Morwen told the cat.  "If you hadn't sneaked in and
attracted their attention, Mendanbar might not have had to be quite so
extravagant with the spray.  You'll have to get across it by
yourself.

Where's Chaos?"

The cat blinked disdainfully and began washing his right paw.  Kazul
snorted softly.  "If you want a ride, climb up," she told the cat.

"But you'd better hurry, because I'm leaving now."

Kazul rose to her feet, shaking her wings.  The cat looked up from his
washing, then took two bounds and leaped from the top of a projecting
rock.  He disappeared behind Kazul's shoulder, and there was a brief
sound of claws scraping against scales.  Then the cat appeared on
Kazul's back, riding comfortably between the dragon's wings and looking
tremendously pleased with himself.

"Wait a minute," Mendanbar said as the dragon started toward the other
end of the cave.  "There may be more wizards out there."

"Good," said Kazul without slowing down at all.  "Four days is a long
time to spend inside a blank bubble, and I owe them one.  Besides, I'm
hungry."

"I should think so!"  Cimorene said, following the dragon.  "Didn't
they give you anything to eat?"

"No, and I wouldn't have taken it if they had," Kazul said.  Her voice
became muffled as her head turned the corner at the far end of the
cave.

"For all I knew, those mumble mumble could have mumble dragonsbane in
everything.  I mumble mumble end up like Tokoz."

"But if there are more wizards-," Mendanbar began, then gave up and
hurried after Cimorene.  Clearly, neither she nor Kazul was going to
listen to him, and if there were more wizards outside it would be
better if he-and his sword-were there to help.

17

In Which Mendanbar Grows Some Trees and Makes a Wicked Suggestion There
were, however, no wizards outside the cave.  There was only an enormous
stretch of barren land that looked as if it had been burned.

Morwen's long-haired tabby cat sat in the ashes several feet from the
mouth of the cave, surveying the waste with evident disapproval.

"There you are," Morwen said to the cat as she joined Cimorene and
Mendanbar by Kazul's left shoulder.  "Any sign of more wizards?"

The cat meowed.

"Good," said Morwen.  "Did any of the others get away?"

The cat made a growling noise.

"Very good," said Morwen.  She turned to Mendanbar.  "Can you keep them
from interrupting us by accident?"

"I don't think so," Mendanbar said.  "There isn't any magic here for me
to work with."  He was horrified at the extent of the destruction.  How
was he going to fix it?

"So this is how they did it," Telemain's voice said from behind
Mendanbar.  He sounded pleased, as if he had just solved a very
difficult puzzle.  "I'd been wondering."

"Did what?"  Mendanbar asked.

"Established that shield spell," Telemain said.  "The power involved
was clearly several factors beyond the generating capacity of-" Kazul
turned her head and looked at Telemain.

Telemain coughed.  "There weren't enough wizards to have done it by
themselves."

"Power," Mcndanbar said, half to himself.  "They sucked all the magic
out of this whole area and put it in the shield.  Where did it go when
the shield disappeared?"

"Into your sword, of course," said Telemain, as if that were so obvious
that everyone should have realized it without his saying anything.

"And the sword is linked to the forest," Mendanbar said.  "And this is
part of the forest, or should be.  So .  . ."

"So all you have to do is use the sword to put the magic back where it
belongs," Cimorene finished.

"Theoretically, that should work fine," Telemain said, frowning.  "But
the practical applications aren't always that easy."

"Nonsense," said Cimorene.  "That sword turned a whole patch of the
Mountain of Morning into a bit of the Enchanted Forest when we were
having all that trouble getting here.  Mendanbar pulled it back into
the sword then; all he has to do now is turn that spell around and push
magic out.  Try it, Mendanbar."

Slowly, Mendanbar lowered the tip of the sword until it touched the
ashes.  He couldn't feel anything at first.  Then he realized that he
was trying to reach outside himself for the threads of magic that
always floated around him in the Enchanted Forest.  And in this
wasteland there were no threads.

He frowned.  Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the sword instead.

That felt more promising.  He could sense power crackling along the
length of the blade, lots of power, but he did not think it would be
enough.

He stretched deeper, using his experience outside the Enchanted Forest
to pull together every last bit of magic he could reach.  It was still
not enough.

"I don't think I can do it, Cimorene," he muttered.

"You can, too," Cimorene said, and put her hand on his shoulder
encouragingly.  "Try again."

As she touched his shoulder, Mendanbar felt it come-not just magic, not
only power, but all the magic and power of the Enchanted Forest
itself.

It washed over him, and as it did he saw patterns in it, patterns that
were the threads he manipulated to work magic in the forest.  And he
saw how to shift the pattern just a little, filling it in with the
power stolen from the forest and stored in the sword, to repair the
damage the wizards had done.  Without thinking, he did it.

He heard an astonished gasp from Cimorene, a snort from Kazul, a low
whistle from Telemain, and a surprised noise from one of the cats.

"Well?  said Morwen.

Mendanbar opened his eyes.  A thick carpet of moss, greener than
Kazul's scales, spread out in all directions from the cave mouth.

Massive

oaks and beeches with cooper leaves stood so close together that it
was hard to see more than a little way into the shadows below them,
packing every part of what had been a burned-out waste moments
before.

All around, Mendanbar could feel threads of magic hovering in the air,
ready to use for more ordinary spells.

No one said anything for a long moment.  Then Telemain tore his gaze
away from the restored forest and turned to Mendanbar.

"Could you do that again, slowly, so I can analyze it?"  he asked.

Despite Telemain's urging, Mendanbar refused to repeat the spell
immediately, though he did offer to let the magician watch when he went
to clean up the barren area near the Green Glass Pool.  Then Telemain
wanted to stay and investigate the melted wizards some more, but Morwen
and Cimorene insisted that this was a bad idea, and eventually he gave
in.  He was inclined to be sulky about it until Morwen pointed out that
he had fourteen more wizards' staffs to study, including one that had
belonged to the Head Wizard.  It cheered him up enormously.

"You're quite right," he told Morwen.  "Those wizards will get
themselves back together before long, and once they do, they'll come
looking for their staffs.  If I don't examine the staffs before then,
I'll lose my chance.  I can always melt another wizard later and study
the disintegration process then."  He hurried back into the cave,
reappearing a moment later with his arms full of wizards' staffs.

"Be careful with those!"  Mendanbar said as Telemain came out onto the
moss-covered ground.

"They are unlikely to be a source of difficulty without intelligent
guidance," Telemain said reprovingly.  "So long as the wizards are not
in contact with them, they are merely passive instruments of
assimilation.  There's nothing to worry about."

"Yes, there is," Cimorene put in.  "If you drop them, Mendanbar will
have a lot of ugly brown marks on his nice new moss.  And if they can
do that, there's no telling what else they might do."

"Wizards store spells in their staffs," Morwen said, nodding.  "You
can't always be sure what will set one off."

Telemain looked at them with annoyance.  "I suppose you'd rather I left
them here.  Have you no spirit of scientific investigation?"

"Not where wizards are concerned," Cimorene muttered.

"Nonsense," Morwen said.  "I'm just as curious as you are, Telemain,
but I never heard that a spirit of scientific inquiry precluded taking
intelligent precautions."

"Oh, I see," said Telemain.  "Why didn't you just say so in the first
place?"

While the others talked, Mendanbar studied the staffs, keeping a
careful watch on the threads of Enchanted Forest magic that were
nearest to Telemain.  To his surprise, the threads showed no tendency
to drift toward the magician or wind themselves into knots around the
staffs he carried.  Apparently, Telemain was right-the staffs would
only be a minor nuisance as long as their wizards weren't carrying
them.  He resolved to mention this to Telemain later.  Perhaps Telemain
could even help him find a way to deal with the problems the staffs
caused when they did have their wizards with them.

A few minutes later, when Kazul was satisfied that there were no
wizards left in the area, Mendanbar took them all back to the castle
with a quick spell.  He was relieved that the wizards' staffs caused no
trouble, and pleased to discover that transporting a dragon was no
harder than transporting anyone else.

They materialized in the castle courtyard, just inside the moat.

Willin, who had apparently been watching for their arrival, came
hurrying out to meet them.

"Welcome home, Your Majesty," the elf said with evident relief.

Mendanbar noticed that he'd dug up a formal uniform somewhere, all
sky-blue velvet and dusty gold braid.  "May I assume that your mission
was a success?"

"Yes, you may," Mendanbar said.  "Willin, this is Kazul, the King of
the Dragons, and she's very hungry.  See if you can scare up something
in the kitchen that would do for a dragon-sized meal."

"At once, Your Majesty," Willin said, bowing.  "And may I congratulate
you and your companions on your great achievement and welcome King
Kazul to the Enchanted Forest."

"The welcome I'm interested in is dinner," Kazul said with a smile that
showed all her teeth.

Willin backed away hastily.  "Of course, of course.  I'll see about it
immediately."

"I'd better come with you," said Cimorene.  "I've been Kazul's Chief
Cook for over a year, and I know what she likes."

The two of them left, heading for the other side of the castle, with
Kazul trailing hopefully behind them.

Mendanbar wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or relieved.  He
wanted very much to talk to Cimorene, but he wasn't sure how to tell
her what he wanted to say, and anyway they certainly couldn't discuss
the things he wanted to talk about with all these other people
around.

"Mendanbar, have you got somewhere I could work on these without being
disturbed?"  Telemain asked, nodding at the load of wizards' staffs he
was carrying.

"I wouldn't mind examining them myself," Morwen said.

"The blue room would be best, I think," Mendanbar said.  "The light is
better in my study, but there's a gargoyle in the corner who can be,
um, difficult."

"We'll take the study," Morwen said decisively.  "Light is important,
and once Telemain gets involved, he won't notice any distractions."

"What about you?"  Telemain asked, nettled.

Morwen sniffed.  "I can handle considerably more than a mere
gargoyle."

"All right," Mendanbar said.  "As long as you're sure."

He showed them to the study and helped them get settled, then went down
to the kitchen to see how Cimorene and Kazul were doing.  He found
Kazul in the rear courtyard, eating an enormous kettle of stew that had
been intended to be supper for the entire castle.  Cimorene was in the
kitchen, her arms covered in flour to the elbows, rolling out pie crust
and giving orders to the cook.  Mendanbar stayed long enough to make
sure the cook would do whatever Cimorene told him to, and then Cimorene
chased him away, saying that it was difficult enough to cook in a
strange kitchen without people hovering over her.

"You don't have to cook anything," Mendanbar told her.

"I do if we want any dinner," Cimorene retorted.  "Kazul is already
eating everything that was ready for tonight, and she's going to want
more as soon as she's finished.  Your people aren't really prepared to
cope with a visiting dragon."

"We've never had one before."

"Well, you have one now."  Cimorene glanced toward the courtyard and
lowered her voice.  "I think We'll be staying for a few days at least,
if that won't cause too many problems.  Kazul needs to get her strength
back before she tries to fly back to the Mountain of Morning."

"You can stay as long as you like," Mendanbar assured her.  "Is there
anything I can do to help?"

"You can let me get back to making dinner!"  Cimorene said.  She was
smiling, but she obviously meant what she had said.

"All right.  Call me if you need anything."  Mendanbar bowed and left,
feeling a little put out.

He went to the castle library, since his study was occupied, and poked
about in the scrolls for a few minutes.  Then he decided to check on
Prince Rupert and his nephew.  He found the middle-aged prince quickly
enough, but he had to send someone to retrieve the young Crown Prince
from the dungeon.

"Did you enjoy your stay?"  Mendanbar asked when Crown Prince Jorillam
arrived at last.

"It was all right," Jorillam said.  He looked rumpled and vaguely
dissatisfied.

"But there weren't any rats.  I thought there'd be rats.  There wasn't
a rack, either."

"Jorillam!"  Prince Rupert said sharply.  "It's not polite to complain
about things like that.  Where are your manners?"

"I don't understand,"Jorillam said, frowning.  "If there were rats and
a rack, I'd be expected to object, wouldn't I?  So why can't I complain
when they aren't there?"

"It's not the same thing," Rupert told him.  "I'm sorry, Your Majesty,"
he went on, turning to Mendanbar.  "He's used to getting his own way.

I'm afraid I haven't done a very good job of teaching him how to
behave."

"I behave just fine," Jorillam said.

"I am beginning to understand why you wanted to abandon him in the
Enchanted Forest," Mendanbar said to Prince Rupert.

Rupert flushed.  "No, no, it's not that.  I'm really very fond of the
boy.

But I have an obligation, you know, and there's no getting out of
it."

"You can leave me here, Uncle," Jorillam said persuasively.  "That's
abandoning me in the Enchanted Forest, isn't it?"

"I don't think so," Mendanbar put in quickly.  He didn't want to think
about the problems the young Crown Prince could cause if he stayed at
the castle.  "There are too many people here for it to count as
abandonment."

Prince Rupert nodded gloomily.  "I'm afraid you're right.  And frankly,
I'm not at all sure that abandoning him is the right notion.  I just
can't think of anything else wicked to do on short notice."

"But you promised you'd abandon me in the Enchanted Forest,"Jorillam
protested.  "And I want to be abandoned and have all sorts of
adventures and come home covered in glory."

"You're a little young for that," Mendanbar commented, studying the
Crown Prince.  He smiled suddenly as an idea came to him.  "What you
need is some proper training."

"There isn't time," Jorillam said smugly.  "Uncle has to do something
wicked to me right away."

"Ah, but that's just the point," Mendanbar said.  He turned to Prince
Rupert, ignoring Jorillam's suddenly wary expression.  "Abandoning
Crown PrinceJorillam won't do you any good, because he wants to be
abandoned.

Letting him have his own way isn't terribly wicked, even if it isn't
good for him."

"I'm afraid you're right," Rupert said sadly.

"But Uncle-" "On the other hand," Mendanbar went on,
disregardingJorillam's interjection "if you promised you'd abandon
him, breaking that promise would certainly be wicked.  And if you sent
him off to a private school for princes-" "I don't want to go to
school!"

"Oh, my."  Prince Rupert looked from Mendanbar to Jorillam-who now
looked thoroughly alarmed-and back.  "I think I see what you're getting
at.  If he hates the idea, then it probably is wicked, even if it's
good for him.  And there's breaking the promise, too."

"And you wouldn't have to tell anyone at home what you'd done with
him," Mendanbar said.  "You could rule the country just as if you
really had abandoned him in the forest, and no one would know.  Surely
misleading all those people would be wicked enough for your society."

"I think you're right," Prince Rupert said, smiling for the first time
since Mendanbar had met him.  "I really think you're right."  His face
fell suddenly.  "But how am I going to find a good school before sunset
tomorrow?"

"Don't worry about that," Mendanbar said reassuringly.  "I know just
the place.  It's up in the Mountains of Morning, where no one is likely
to run across it, and it's run by a dwarf named Herman.  If you like,
I'll send a messenger off right away to arrange things."

"No!"  said Jorillam.

That would be wonderful," said Prince Rupert with relief.  "Ah, I don't
suppose this Herman person would be willing to write a letter to the
Society explaining matters?"

"I don't see why not," Mendanbar said.  "But what do you want it

'Just to confirm that I'm fulfilling the requirements," Prince Rupert
explained.  "It's a rather unusual arrangement, you see, and I want to
be sure the Society will think I've been wicked enough."

"I understand," Mendanbar told him.  "Don't worry about it.  If Herman
won't write you a negative enough letter, I'll send one myself.  I'll
bet even the Right Honorable Wicked Stepmothers' Traveling, Drinking,
and Debating Society will believe the King of the Enchanted Forest."

18

In Which Willin Finally Gets to Arrange a Formal Celebration

For the next several days, Mendanbar was busier than he could remember
being in a long, long time.  Besides arranging for Crown Prince
Jorillam's schooling, a stream of messengers had to be sent to the
dragons in the Mountains of Morning to explain where their King was and
to warn them about the wizards.

Morwen and Telemain argued constantly about what they were finding out
from the wizards' staffs, and when they weren't arguing, they were
asking for obscure reference books and peculiar ingredients for their
spells.

Between the two of them, they kept the small castle staff busy hunting
for things.

The wizards themselves seemed to have disappeared completely, but
Mendanbar didn't trust them to stay gone.  He spent several hours every
day checking the entire network of magic that enveloped the Enchanted
Forest, looking for the tangles that wizards with staffs always caused,
so that he would know if any of them returned.  In the process, he
found several more burned-out areas where the wizards had stolen the
magic of the forest.

Fortunately, none of the charred spots were very big, but repairing
them was not an easy task, and Mendanbar worried constantly about what
would happen if a wizard sneaked into the forest and soaked up a larger
patch before he could be melted.

He confided this worry to Cimorene on the third day after Kazul's
rescue.

"What you really need is a way to keep them from soaking up magic in
the first place," said Cimorene.  "Then it wouldn't matter if they
sneaked in, because they wouldn't be able to do any real harm."

"They could still cause plenty of trouble," Mendanbar said.  "But
you're right, it would solve a lot of problems.  Unfortunately, I can't
think of a way to stop them."

"Well, of course you can't," Cimorene said.  "You don't know enough
about wizards and that ridiculous magic-absorbing spell of theirs.  Why
don't you ask Telemain?"

So Mendanbar went off to find Telemain, who was with Morwen, working on
the last of the wizards' staffs.  At first, Telemain was a little
annoyed at being interrupted, but when Mendanbar explained his problem,
however, the magician nodded.

"An automatic spell to reroute any magical power should do the trick,"
Telemain said.  "That way, anything they try to grab will just slide
back where it belongs, and there will never be any new holes to fix."

Morwen looked at Telemain in mild surprise.  "You're slipping," she
said.  "I actually understood that."

"Can you make up an automatic spell for me?"  Mendanbar asked quickly,
before Telemain could take offense.

"It shouldn't be a problem," Telemain said.  "It'll need some sort of
anchor, though, or you'll have to keep checking to see if it's still
working.

Any ideas?"

The three of them discussed it for a few minutes, and finally Morwen
suggested tying the spell to the sword.  This turned out to be an even
better idea than it first appeared.  Working through the sword,
Mendanbar could manipulate the power of the Enchanted Forest directly,
and with Telemain's help he made the new spell an integral part of the
forest's magic.

"What does that mean?"  Cimorene asked when he sought her out to tell
her how well her idea had worked.

"It means that if any wizards come into the Enchanted Forest, their
staffs won't absorb any magic, ever, for as long as they stay,"
Mendanbar explained.  "I won't even have to check the spell very often,
because it's tied to the sword.  As long as the sword is anywhere in
the forest, the wizards can't do a thing."

Cimorene frowned.  "They could still use the spells they have stored in
their staffs, couldn't they?  And what if you have to leave the
Enchanted Forest again?"

"I'll have to take a different magic sword, that's all," Mendanbar
said.

"I ought to do that anyway, because of the way that one sprays magic
around outside the forest.  It's not exactly inconspicuous."

"Very true," Cimorene said with a smile.

They were silent together for a moment.  Then Cimorene shook her
head.

"Kazul will be ready to leave tomorrow.  She thinks she's ready today,
but I told her not to push."

"I- That's good," Mendanbar said.  He hesitated, then said tentatively,
"I suppose you'll be going with her?"

"What else would I be doing?"  Cimorene asked.  She sounded more
curious than sarcastic.

Mendanbar took a deep breath.  "You could stay here.  At the castle, I
mean.  With me."  This wasn't coming out at all the way he had wanted
it to, but it was too late to stop now.  He hurried on, "As Queen of
the Enchanted Forest, if you think you would like that.  I would."

"Would you, really?"

"Yes," Mendanbar said, looking down.  "I love you, and-and-" "And you
should have said that to begin with," Cimorene interrupted, putting her
arms around him.  Mendanbar looked up, and the expression on her face
made his heart begin to pound.

'Just to be sure I have this right," Cimorene went on with a blinding
smile, "did you just ask me to marry you?"

"Yes," Mendanbar said.  "At least, that's what I meant."

"Good.  I will."

Mendanbar tried to find something to say, but he was too happy to
think.  He leaned forward two inches and kissed Cimorene, and
discovered that he didn't need to say anything at all.

The first person they told was, of course, Kazul.  Mendanbar was a
little nervous about it, because from what he'd heard, dragons tended
to get testy when their princesses ran off with someone, but Kazul
didn't seem to mind at all.

"Good for you," she said to Mendanbar.  "And congratulations to the
pair of you."  Her eyelids lowered halfway, and she looked at
Cimorene.

"I'd been wondering how much longer you were going to stay."

"I don't know what you mean," Cimorene said indignantly.  "I wasn't
planning to leave!  This just sort of happened."

"I know," Kazul said.  "But you'd have gone soon in any case.  Now that
you've gotten things organized, there isn't really enough work to keep
you busy in the Mountains of Morning.  You wouldn't have stayed long,
once you started to get bored."

"Living with dragons doesn't sound boring to me," Mendanbar said.

"That's because you've never done it," Kazul replied.  "Being Queen of
the Enchanted Forest will give Cimorene more scope for her talents."

"Then you really don't object?"  Mendanbar asked.

"Why should I?"  Kazul said.  "You're a nice enough person, as humans
go, and you've been very polite about the whole thing.  That doesn't
happen often.  Normally, knights and princes just grab a princess and
run.  And most of the princesses don't even bother to say good-bye,
much less give proper notice."  She looked at Cimorene and sighed.

"I'll miss your cooking, though."

"I can come back for a week or two, if you'd like, and train a
replacement," Cimorene offered.

"I may take you up on that, once I find one," Kazul said
thoughtfully.

"And in the meantime, you can come over for dinner a lot," Mendanbar
said, and both Cimorene and Kazul smiled at him.

When Willin heard about the engagement, he was delighted.  The wedding
of the King of the Enchanted Forest was just the sort of vast formal
occasion the elf had been craving, and he threw himself into the
preparations with enthusiasm.  He didn't even object when he learned
that the bride wanted the King of the Dragons for her matron-of-honor
and a witch for her bridesmaid.

"Kazul and Morwen are my best friends," Cimorene explained.  "Besides,
if I have them, Mother won't insist that my sisters be bridesmaids."

"You have sisters?"  Mendanbar asked, somewhat taken aback.

Cimorene nodded.  "Six of them.  They're all perfectly lovely and
sweet, and the sight of Kazul will probably scare them silly."

"Typical princesses," Mendanbar muttered, but without any active
dislike.  He didn't seem to mind foolish princesses much anymore, as
long as he didn't have to marry one.  It was amazing what a difference
being engaged to Cimorene made.

"They aren't as featherbrained as they sound," Cimorene told him.

"They just act as if they are."

"I don't think I like the sound of that," Mendanbar said.  "Are you
sure they won't want to be bridesmaids anyway?  Maybe we should just
elope."

"No, it's too late for that," Cimorene told him.  "Don't worry about
it, though.  It will work out fine."

"If you say so," Mendanbar said, but he was not really convinced.

The note Cimorene's mother sent to acknowledge the engagement only
increased Mendanbar's misgivings.  I am delighted to hear that you are
going to be properly settled at last, Cimorene dear, ran the note.  I
am enclosing a list of relatives and family friends who ought certainly
to be included in your wedding plans, however

unconventional those may be.  Your father wishes to know which half of
the kingdom your betrothed would prefer, as he is anxious to get the
paperwork out of the way as soon as possible.

"Half the kingdom?"  Mendanbar asked cautiously.

Cimorene looked more than a little put out.  "It's the usual reward for
rescuing a princess from a dragon.  I hoped they'd forgotten about it,
but I should have known better.  Mother would never do anything so
incorrect."

"Well, I don't want it.  One kingdom is more than enough for me."

"Then you'd better write them immediately and tell them so," Cimorene
advised.  "Otherwise they'll have all the forms and documents and
records written out, signed by twenty noble witnesses, and sealed by
every member of Father's Council, and you'll never be able to get rid
of it."

"I'll see to it at once."

"Good."  Cimorene picked up the long list of names that had been
enclosed with the note.  "I'll take this in to Willin, so someone can
start addressing the invitations."

"Do we have to invite all of them?"

"We might as well," Cimorene said.  "We're asking everyone else.  And
most of them are family."

"I think it would be easier to elope," Mendanbar said.

The guest list was enormous.  Almost all the dragons were coming, and
so were a great many of their princesses, past and present.  After some
initial misgivings, Cimorene's entire family decided to attend,
including all six of her sisters and their husbands, her fourteen
nieces and nephews, her parents, three of her aunts, two uncles,
seventeen cousins, and her fairy godmother.  Queen Alexandra was also
coming, along with all twelve of her daughters.  Mendanbar couldn't
help feeling a little nervous about that, out of habit.  All the kings
and queens and princes and grand dukes who lived around the edges of
the Enchanted Forest had had to be invited, and so had most of the odd
and unusual people who lived inside the forest itself.  Even the ogres
and trolls had agreed to behave themselves if they were allowed to be
present.  In fact, the only people who hadn't been invited were the
wizards.

"This wedding will be the best and most prestigious event in years!"

Willin said happily as the acceptances poured in.

"It's certainly going to be the biggest," Mendanbar said, gazing at the
stacks of paper in mild amazement.  "Where are we going to put them
all?"

"You are not to worry about that, Your Majesty," Willin told him
sternly.  "It is my job to oversee the preparations, and that includes
arranging an appropriate place to hold the ceremony and the reception
afterward."

"I really think it would have been easier to elope," Mendanbar
grumbled.

In the end, they decided to hold the wedding in Fire-Flower Meadow.

The gargoyle in Mendanbar's study complained about the decision long
and loudly, because it would obviously be unable to attend, but the
meadow was the only open area in the entire Enchanted Forest that would
be large enough for the enormous crowd of guests.

"I bet you think that makes it all right," the gargoyle told Mendanbar
and Cimorene several days before the wedding.  'Just because you want
to have hundreds and hundreds of people at your wedding, I'm supposed
to smile and say I don't mind being left out.  Well, it isn't all right
and I won't do it!"

"I wouldn't expect you to smile about anything," Mendanbar muttered.

Cimorene studied the gargoyle thoughtfully.  "If you're that eager to
come, I suppose we could take the molding in that corner apart and find
someone to bring you down to the field to watch," she offered.

The gargoyle looked down at her in alarm.  "Take me apart?  Oh, no, you
don't!  I'm not stupid.  I know what would happen.  Even if you managed
to get me out of here without damaging me, you'd forget to put me back
afterward, and I'd spend centuries in a storeroom somewhere.  Dust and
dry rot!"

"Well, then I'm afraid all I can do is stop in before I leave for the
ceremony," Cimorene said.  "Unless Telemain can fix up a spell on one
of the windows so you can watch from here."

"I don't want that magician messing around with anything in my-wait a
minute, did you say you'd stop in?  You mean, here?  In this room?"

"That's what she said," Mendanbar told it.

"I wasn't talking to you," the gargoyle said.  Looking back at
Cimorene, it went on, "You mean, you'd come and see me before the
wedding?"

"That's right," Cimorene said, nodding.  "Right before?  All dressed
up and everything?"

"Of course," Cimorene promised.

"Hot dog!"  said the gargoyle.  "I'll take it!  Oh, boy, I can hardly
wait!

This is going to be even better than going to the wedding."

"It is?"  Mendanbar said suspiciously.  "Why?"

"Because I'll get to see her all dolled up before you do, that's why,"
the gargoyle answered smugly.  "Everybody knows the groom doesn't get
to see the bride on the wedding day until the ceremony.  And she's
going to stop in here first!  Oh, boy, oh, boy!"

Mendanbar looked at Cimorene.

"He's right, you know," Cimorene said apologetically.  "And I've
promised."

"He's never going to let me forget this," Mendanbar muttered and left
to talk to Telemain about setting up Fire-Flower Meadow for the
wedding.

Despite Willin's determination to handle the wedding plans himself,
there were a number of things only Mendanbar could do.  Among the most
important was making sure that Fire-Flower Meadow and the area around
it stayed firmly in one spot on the day of the wedding, so that all the
guests could find it.  This was not an easy thing to arrange.  Even
with Telemain's help, it took Mendanbar several days' worth of work
before he was positive no one would miss the wedding because of a shift
in the forest.

The night before the ceremony, Mendanbar and Telemain went over the
whole field an inch at a time, to make certain that all the
fire-flowers had been picked (so that none of the guests would get an
accidental hotfoot) and to take care of any lingering minor
enchantments.  They found two princesses who had been turned into
pinks, a frog prince, and a hedgehog that had once been somebody's
groom.  All of them were grateful to be disenchanted and very happy to
be invited to the wedding.

The day of the wedding dawned bright and clear.  Telemain had spent
most of the previous week making sure that it would, while explaining
to anyone who would listen that weather magic worked best if one set it
up over a long period of time, which was what made it so difficult.

The guests started arriving early, and Mendanbar was kept busy greeting
them.

A large corner of the field had been roped off as a landing place for
dragons, and for most of the morning the sky was full of flashing green
wings.  Ballimore and Dobbilan-who had come the previous evening to
make sure their Cauldron of Plenty would have enough time to produce a
proper wedding dinner for so many guests-directed traffic, as they were
the only ones large enough for the dragons to see clearly from a
distance amid the growing crowd.

Jack was early, too.  He parked his wagon in a corner of the field and
did a brisk business selling seven-league boots, cloaks of
invisibility, and magic rings(along with wrapping paper and tape) to
those who had forgotten to bring wedding presents.  Nearby, all nine of
Morwen's cats prowled on, around, under, and through the stacks of
gifts that covered the six long benches that had been set out to hold
them.  Whenever someone brought a new package to lay on the benches,
three of the cats would converge on him and purr loudly, while the
others kept a watchful eye on the rest of the presents.

Slowly, the meadow filled up.  Everyone was in a good mood, everyone
was on his or her best behavior, and everyone was trying to be
helpful.

Even Cimorene's family seemed to be having a good time.  Her father
was deep in conversation with Dobbilan, discussing ways of discouraging
marauding giants.  Several of her sisters were comparing notes with the
dragons' ex-princesses, while her mother helped Queen Alexandra and her
daughters (who did not seem nearly as awful as Mendanbar remembered)
set bowls of punch and trays of sandwiches on a table at the far end of
the meadow for people to nibble on until dinner was served.

Herman and his flock of children-including Crown Prince
Jorillam-arrived and bought several bags of walnuts from Jack to feed
the squirrels.

Jorillam was delighted to discover that the squirrels would give him
advice about quests.  He went through three bags of nuts before the
ceremony began and had to be almost dragged to his seat when the time
came.  His uncle, Prince Rupert, showed up at the last minute, wearing
a black cloak and an enormous fake mustache.  He looked very wicked and
thoroughly pleased with himself.

Finally, everyone was there, everything was ready, and it was time.

Resplendent in deep green velvet, milk white satin, and his best crown,
Mendanbar waited nervously while the musicians, a talented group of
Goldwing-Shadowmusic elves, began the wedding march.  Willin, who had
at first argued-but not very hard-that he was not a proper person to be
a groomsman because he was Mendanbar's steward, came down the long,
open aisle with Morwen, who was wearing her best black robe.  Following
them came Kazul, the matron-of-honor, and Telemain, Mendanbar's best
man.  Then came Cimorene, and Mendanbar forgot about everyone else.

Instead of her usual crown of black braids, Cimorene had let her hair
hang in loose, shining waves down her back.  She wore a wreath of
fire-flowers, specially enchanted to burn without being hot or setting
anything ablaze; from the wreath hung a veil of silver lace.  Her
bouquet was of fire-flowers, too, and her dress shimmering snow-silk
trimmed with silver.  She was stunningly beautiful.

The ceremony went by in a blur, but Mendanbar was pretty sure he hadn't
made any mistakes because suddenly he was kissing Cimorene and everyone
was cheering.  He felt like cheering himself, except he would have had
to stop kissing Cimorene.

A finger poked him surreptitiously.  With considerable reluctance,
Mendanbar broke away from Cimorene and turned.

"Enough," Telemain said in a voice so low Mendanbar could hardly hear
it over the cheering.  "Now it's time for the party."

Mendanbar looked at Cimorene, who gave him a wry smile as if to say
that she didn't think it was enough, either, but there was nothing they
could do about it now.  He looked back at Telemain.

"I knew we should have eloped," he said.

Cimorene laughed and shook her head at him.  "You don't really mean
that, any more than you mean it when you complain about the gargoyle,"
she said, taking his arm.

"Who told you that?"

"The gargoyle did," she admitted, and they both laughed.  "Come enjoy
the party."

Arm in arm, the King and Queen of the Enchanted Forest went to accept
the congratulations of their guests.

CALLING ON

DRAGON'S

For my nieces and nephews, with love and the hope that they will grow
up reading

Contents

1 In Which a Great Many Cats Express Opinions

	2

	In Which Morwen Encounters a Rabbit

3 In Which Morwen Makes a Discovery and Some Calls

4 In Which Morwen and Telemain Argue and Killer Discovers the Perils of
Mixing Cosmetics and Magic

5 In Which the Plot Thickens

6 In Which the Plot Positively Curdles and the King of the Dragons
Loses her Temper

7 In Which Killer Rises in the World

8 In Which Telemain Does a Spell and Morwen Misses a Call

9 In Which the Expedition Leaves the Enchanted Forest at Last

10 In Which Telemain Works Very Hard "In Which They Make an Unexpected
Detour

12 Which Is Exceedingly Muddy

13 In Which They Make a New Acquaintance

14 In Which They Trade Stories

15

	In Which They Have Difficulties with a Mirror

16

	In Which They Learn Something Worth Knowing

17 In Which There Is Much Excitement

18 In Which They Concoct a Plan

19

	In Which They Confront the Villains

20 In Which Disaster Strikes

21 In Which Nobody IS Satisfied

EPILOGUE Which Hints at Things to Come

1

In Which a Great Many Cats Express Opinions

Deep in the Enchanted Forest, in a neat gray house with a wide porch
and a red roof, lived the witch Morwen and her nine cats.  The cats
were named Murgatroyd, Fiddlesticks, Miss F. llza Tudor, Scorn,
Jasmine, Trouble, Jasper Darlington Higgins IV, Chaos, and Aura
Ophelia, and not one of them looked anything like a witch's cat.  They
were tabby, gray, white, tortoiseshell, ginger, seal brown, and every
other cat color in the world except a proper and witchy black.

Morwen didn't look like a witch any more than her cats looked as if
they should belong to one.  For one thing, she was much too young-less
than thirty-and she had neither wrinkles nor warts.  In fact, if she
hadn't been a witch people might have said she was quite pretty.  Her
hair was the same ginger color as Jasmine's fur, and she had hazel eyes
and a delicate, pointed chin.  Because she was very short, she had to
stand quite straight (instead of hunching over in correct witch
fashion) if she wanted people to pay attention to her.  And she was
nearsighted, so she always had to wear glasses; hers had rectangular
lenses.  She refused even to put on the tall, pointed hats most witches
wore, and she dressed in loose black robes because they were
comfortable and practical, not because they were traditional.

All of this occasionally annoyed people who cared more about the
propriety of her dress than the quality of her spells.

"You ought to turn him into a toad," Trouble said, looking up from
washing his right front paw.  Trouble was a large, lean gray tomcat
with a crooked tail and a recently acquired ragged ear.  He had never
told Morwen exactly how he had damaged either the tail or the ear, but
from the way he acted she assumed he had won a fight with something.

"Who should I turn into a toad?"  Morwen asked, looking an unusually
long way down.  She was sitting sideways on her broomstick, floating
comfortably next to the top of the front door, with a can of gold paint
in one hand and a small paintbrush in the other.  Above the door, in
black letters partly edged in gold, ran the message "NONE OF THIS
NONSENSE, PLEASE," which Morwen was engaged in repainting.

"That fellow who's making all the fuss about pointy hats and respect
for tradition," Trouble replied.  "The one you were grumbling about a
minute ago-what's his name?"

"Arona Michaelear Grinogion Vamist," Morwen recited, putting the final
gold line along the bottom of the 'P' in "PLEASE.."

"And it's a tempting thought.  But someone worse would probably replace
him."

"Turn them all into toads.  I'll help."

"Toads?"  purred a new voice.  A small ginger cat slithered out the
open window and arched her back, then stretched out along the window
ledge, where she could watch the entire front yard without turning her
head.  "I'm tired of toads.  Why don't you turn somebody into a mouse
for a change?"

The ginger cat ran her tongue around her lips.

"Good morning, Jasmine," Morwen said.  "I'm not planning to turn anyone
into anything, at the moment, but I'll keep it in mind."

"That means she won't do it," said Trouble.  He looked at his right
paw, decided it was clean enough for the time being, and began washing
his left.

"Won't do what?"  said Fiddlesticks, poking his brown head out of the
from door.  "Who's not doing it?  Why shouldn't he-or is that she?  And
who says so?"

"Turn someone into a mouse; Morwen; I certainly don't see why not; and
she does," Jasmine said in a bored tone, and pointedly turned her head
away.

"Mice are nice."  Fiddlesticks shouldered the door open another inch
and trotted out onto the porch.  "So are fish.  I haven't had any fish
in a long time."  He paused underneath Morwen's broom and looked up
expectantly.

"You had fish for dinner yesterday," Morwen said without looking
down.

"And you ate enough breakfast this morning to satisfy three ordinary
cats, so don't try to pretend you're starving.  It won't work."

"Someone's coming," Jasmine observed from the window.

Trouble stood up and ambled to the edge of the porch.  "It's the

Chairwitch of the Deadly Nightshade Gardening Club.  Wasn't she just
here last week?"

"It's Archaniz?  Oh, bother," said Morwen, sticking her paintbrush into
the can.  "Has she got that idiot cat Grendel with her?  I told her not
to bring him anymore, but nine times out of ten she doesn't listen."

Fiddlesticks joined Trouble at the top of the porch steps.  "I don't
see him.  I don't see anyone but her.  I don't want to see her,
either.

She doesn't like me."

"That's because you talk too much," Trouble told him.

"I'm going inside," Fiddlesticks announced.  "Then I won't have to see
her.  Maybe someone's dropped some fish on the floor," he added
hopefully as he trotted into the house.

Morwen landed her broomstick and stood up, just as the Chairwitch
reached the porch steps.  The Chairwitch looked exactly as a witch
ought: tall, with a crooked black hat, stringy black hair, sharp black
eyes, a long, bony nose, and a wide, thin-lipped mouth.  She hunched
over as she walked, leaning on her broom as if it were a cane.

Morwen put the paint can on the window ledge next to Jasmine, set her
broom against the wall, and said, "Good morning, Archaniz."

"Good morning, Morwen," Chairwitch Archaniz croaked.  "What's this I
hear about you growing lilacs in your garden?"

"Since I don't know what you've heard, I can't answer you," Morwen
replied.  "Come in and have some cider."

Archaniz pounded the end of her broom against the porch floor, breaking
some of the twigs and scattering bits of dust and bark in all
directions.

"Don't be provoking, Morwen.  You're a witch.  You're supposed to grow
poison oak and snakeroot and wolfsbane, not lilacs.  You'll get thrown
out of the Deadly Nightshade Gardening Club if you aren't careful."

"Nonsense.  Where in the rules does it say that I can't grow what I
please in my own garden?"

"It doesn't," Archaniz admitted.  "And I'll tell you right away that
you aren't the only one who puts a few lilacs and daylilies in with the
rampion and henbane.  Why, I've got a perfectly ordinary patch of
daisies in the corner myself."

"Daisies."  Jasmine snorted softly.  "She would."

"But I've been getting complaints," Archaniz continued, "and I have to
do something about them."

"what sort of complaints?"

"That the Deadly Nightshade Gardening Club is too normal for witches,"
Archaniz said gloomily.  "That all we grow are everyday plants like
cabbages and apples-" "Apples are a basic necessity for witches,"
Morwen said.  "And every day plants don't turn the people who eat them
into donkeys.  Who's complaining?"

"Arona Michaelear Grinogion Vamist?"

The Chairwitch nodded.  "That's the one.  I've gotten six regular
letters and two by Eagle Express in the past month.  He says he's going
to write a letter to the Times next."

"He would," Trouble muttered.  "I said you should turn him into a
toad."

"That idea sounds better all the time," Morwen told Trouble.  Then she
looked back at Archaniz, who of course had not understood a word
Trouble had said.  "Vamist isn't a witch," Morwen said.  "He's an
idiot.  Why worry about what he says?"

"That's all very well, Morwen, but if he convinces people he's right,
it'll ruin our image.  And if people think we're not dangerous, they'll
come around asking for love potions and penny curses whenever they
like.  We'll be so busy mixing up cures for gout that we won't have
time for the things we want to do.  Look what happened to the
sorceresses?"

"I haven't seen many of them around lately."

Archaniz nodded.  "They got a reputation for being kind and beneficent,
and the next thing you knew everyone was begging them for help.

Most of them moved to remote islands or deep forests, just to get away
from the pestering.  It's all very well for you, Morwen, living out
here in the Enchanted Forest anyway, but I-" A loud yowl interrupted
the Chairwitch in mid-sentence.  An instant later, four cats tore
around the corner of the house.  The one in front was a heavy,
shortlegged tomcat with yellow eyes and fur as black as night.  Behind
him came a fat, long-haired tabby tomcat and two females, one a large
calico and the other a fluffy white cat with blue eyes.  The black cat
streaked out into the front yard, made a hairpin turn, and leapt for
the porch, where he clawed his way up Archaniz's skirts to a perch on
her shoulder.

The three pursuing cats jumped gracefully onto the porch roiling and
sat down, curling their tails around their feet, just as Fiddlesticks
poked his head out of the front door.

"What's all the noise about?  Who's shouting?  Is it a fight?  Who's
winning?  Can I join?"  With every question, Fiddlesticks pushed a
little farther, until he was entirely outside the house, staring up at
Archaniz and the cat on her shoulder.  "Who's that?"

"Mrow!"  said the black cat in a complaining tone.  "Yow wow mrr"Oh,
yeah?"  said Trouble.  "Well, your father wears boots!"

Morwen gave the black cat a speculative look.  "One of these days, I
am going to have to work up a spell that will let me understand other
people's cats as well as my own," she said to Archaniz.  "What was that
about?"

"We caught him nosing around in back of the garden," the long-haired
tabby growled.

"He had no business there," the white cat added primly.  "He's not one
of us, after all.  So we thought we would drive him away."

"Stupid creature was babbling something about a rabbit," the calico cat
said with a disdainful look at the black cat.  "As if that was any
excuse."

"Why didn't you call me?"  Trouble demanded.  "I never get to have any
fun."  Radiating hurt pride, he stalked to the far end of the porch and
disappeared into a large clump of beebalm.

"You know, people have been trying to perfect a universal
cat-translating spell for years," Archaniz said to Morwen in a dry
tone.  She glanced at the cats on the porch railing.  "If you do come
up with one, I'd like a copy for myself."

"Nosy old biddy," said the calico cat.

"On second thought, perhaps it would be better if I left things as they
are," Morwen said.

"Being disagreeable, are they?"  Archaniz said knowingly.  "It's only
to be expected.  Who ever heard of a polite cat?"

The black cat hissed.  "Grendel!"  said Archaniz.  "Behave yourself.

It wasn't that bad, and besides, you can use the exercise."

"He certainly can," said the calico cat.

"What's all this racket?"  rumbled a low, sleepy cat voice from under
the porch.  "Dash it, can't a fellow take a nap in peace?"  A moment
later, a long cream-and-silver cat oozed around the steps to blink at
the growing assembly above him.

"That's another thing, Morwen," Archaniz said, scowling at the
newcomer.

"Cats and witches go together, I admit.  And I know they're a big help
with your spells, but one really ought to observe some reasonable
limits."

"I do," said Morwen.  All nine cats were useful, particularly when it
came to working long, involved spells that required both concentration
and power.  Nine cats working together could channel a lot of magic.

To explain all this would sound uncomfortably like bragging, however,
so Morwen only added, "Anyway, I like cats."

"She is simply jealous because we're all smarter than he is," the white
cat informed Morwen with a look at the black cat on Archaniz's
shoulder.

"What, all of you?"  Morwen said, raising an eyebrow.

"All of us," the white cat said firmly.  "Even Fiddlesticks."

"I'm very smart," Fiddlesticks agreed.  "I'm lots smarter than Fatso
there.  Don't you think I'm smart, Morwen?"

Grendel hissed and bunched together as if he were preparing to launch
himself from Archaniz's shoulder.  Hastily, Archaniz put up her free
hand to hold him back.  "Perhaps I had better leave now," she said.

"We can finish our discussion some other-" "There's a big garden show
coming up in Lower Sandis," Morwen said thoughtfully.  "Why doesn't the
Deadly Nightshade Garden Club enter an exhibit?  If we all work
together, we should be able to put together something quite
impressive."

Archaniz considered.  "Monkshood and snakeroot and so on?  In a large
black tent."

"And if everyone sends one or two really exotic things-" "Morwen,
you're a genius!  People will talk about it for years, and that Airy
McAiling Grinny person won't have a leg to stand on."

"I don't think it will be that simple," Morwen cautioned.  "But an
exhibit will buy us time to find out why he's so interested in making
witches do things his way.  And stop him."

"Of course," the Chairwitch said happily.  "Let's see-Kanikak grows
Midnight fire-flowers, and I have half a dozen Giant Weaselweeds.  If I
can talk Wully into letting us use her smokeblossoms .  . ."

"I'll contribute two Black Diamond snake lilies and an invisible
dusk-blooming chokevine," Morwen said.  "I won't keep you any longer
now; just let me know when you've got things arranged.  Chaos, Miss
Eliza, Scorn, wait for me inside, if you please."

The three cats sitting on the railing looked at each other.  Then
Chaos, the long-haired tabby, jumped down and sauntered past
Fiddlesticks into the house.  The white cat, Miss Eliza Tudor,
followed, tail high, and Fiddlesticks fell in behind her, apparently
without even thinking about what he was doing.  Scorn sat where she
was, staring stubbornly at Morwen.

"I'm not leaving while that idiot of hers is still here," Scorn said
with a sidelong glance at Grendel and Archaniz.  "There's no telling
what he might get up to."

As this did not seem unreasonable, for a cat, Morwen let it pass.  She
walked Archaniz out into the yard, where there was plenty of room for a
takeoff, and bade her a polite good-bye.  As soon as the Chairwitch was
out of sight above the trees, Morwen turned to go back inside.  Jasper
Darlington Higgins IV was sitting in front of the porch steps, watching
her.

"Was that a good idea?"  he said.  "Invisible dusk-blooming chokevines
aren't exactly easy to find, you know.  Much less to grow.  And you
haven't got any, unless you've added them to the garden since early
this morning."

"I'm well aware of that," Morwen said.  "But I've been wanting some

for a long time, to put along the fence by the back gate.  Now I've
got a good excuse to hunt them up."

"As long as you know what you're getting into,"Jasper said.  "Can I go
back to sleep now, or is there going to be more noisy excitement?"

"Go to sleep," said Morwen.  As she climbed the porch steps, she gave
Scorn a pointed glare.  Dignity dripping from every whisker, Scorn
jumped down from the railing and walked into the house.  Morwen shook
her head, picked up her broomstick and her paint can, and followed.

2

In Which Morwen Encounters a Rabbit

Miss Eliza, Scorn, and Chaos were sitting in the kitchen, trying to
look as if they were waiting for something interesting to happen and
not as if they were doing as Morwen had told them.  The only one who
managed it was Scorn, who had jumped up onto the bench below the side
window and begun washing her face.  When Morwen entered, she looked up
briefly and then returned to washing.  In contrast, Chaos jumped
guiltily and Miss Eliza Tudor looked away.  There was no sign of
Fiddlesticks.

"Archaniz has left, and Grendel has gone with her," Morwen said,
setting the paint on the table.  "Now, which of you three would like to
begin?"

"Begin what?"  Chaos asked warily.

Scorn stopped washing and snorted.  "Don't be dense.  She wants to know
about our chasing Grendel."

"We have already explained that," Miss Eliza said.

"Not to my satisfaction," Morwen said.  "You know better than to pick a
fight with another witch's cat.  At least, I thought you did."

"It's our job to keep things out of the garden," Chaos said, looking up
with his green eyes wide.  "That's all we were doing."

Morwen sighed.  "Well, at least I don't have to ask who started it.

What happened, exactly?"

The cats exchanged looks.  "We were out by the back fence, the three of
us and Aunt Ophelia and Murgatroyd," Miss Eliza said.  "Chaos was in
the apple tree-"

"As usual," Scorn put in.  "You'd think it belonged to him."

"-and he saw that witch swoop down over the hill behind the house.

He said he saw her cat jump off the broomstick-" "Probably looking for
that blue catnip that grows on the far side," Scorn said.  "Grendel's a
little too fond of his nibbles, if you ask me."

"Nobody did," said Chaos.

Miss Eliza glared at the other two and lashed her tail.  "If I may
continue .  . . ?"

"Nobody's stopping you," Scorn said, and to show her complete
indifference she bent sideways and began washing her side.

"We were concerned," Miss Eliza went on.  "It seemed unusual.  A minute
or two later, while we were discussing whether to do anything about it,
that black cat came tearing over the hill and down toward the garden,
shouting about some rabbit."

"Stupid excuse for a cat," Chaos muttered.  "Running away from a
rabit!

I ask you!"

Scorn merely snorted expressively.

Miss Eliza looked at them.  "While I do not like all these
interruptions, I must confess that I agree with you.  It is not the
kind of behavior one hopes for in a cat."

"So you couldn't resist tearing off after him."  Morwen shook her
head.

"He was heading for the garden," Chaos said, avoiding her eyes.  "We
were just doing our job."

"Murgatroyd and Aunt Ophelia stayed in back, in case the rabbit showed
up," Miss Eliza Tudor offered.

"At least that much was well done," Morwen said.  "I think-" "Morwen?

Morwen?  Open the door and let me in.  Morwen?"  The new cat voice
floated in through the back window.

With a faint frown, Morwen crossed to the far door and opened it.

Immediately, Aunt Ophelia, a spiky tortoiseshell cat, shot through the
opening and bounded onto a chair.  "Thank goodness!  I was afraid you
weren't going to hear me."

"I thought you and Murgatroyd were watching for rabbits," Morwen
said.

"We found one," said the tortoiseshell.  "And I think you had better go
look at it."

"I suppose it's got fangs," Scorn said, looking down her nose.  "Or
webbed feet."

"You needn't sneer at Ophelia," Miss Eliza said.  "The last one I
chased out of the sweetpeas had both."

"Where is this interesting rabbit?"  Morwen asked.

"Heading for the back fence," Aunt Ophelia said with poorly concealed
relief.  "Murgatroyd is in Chaos's apple tree, keeping an eye on it."

Morwen nodded and went out onto the back step.  The garden seemed neat
and peaceful, the square beds of vegetables on the left, the more
exotic plants and herbs on the right.  A shoulder-high row of new apple
trees marched along the rear of the vegetable beds, just inside the
picket fence.

The first was just beginning to leaf out, the second was speckled with
white blossoms, the third held a half-dozen marble-sized green fruit,
and the fourth was beginning to drop its dark, rust-colored leaves as
if in preparation for winter.  At the far end of the garden stood a
much older tree, heavily laden with apples that were just turning
red.

Below it, the back gate led out onto a grassy hill.  An enormous lilac
bush, nearly as tall as the apple tree, leaned over the fence on the
right side of the gate.

There was no sign of Murgatroyd or of the interesting rabbit, so Morwen
started toward the gate.  Halfway there, she heard a thump and the top
of the lilac thrashed violently.

"Murgatroyd?"

A loud hiss from the apple tree was followed by more thrashing in the
lilac.  "Get back, you, you-you rabbit!"  snarled Murgatroyd's voice.

"I warn you!  Watch out, Morwen, it's in the lilac!"

"I suspected as much," Morwen said.  "Exactly where-" "Here," said a
deep, mournful voice.  "I'm stuck."

"If you break any of those branches, Morwen'll turn you into a lizard,"
Murgatroyd yelled from the apple.

"Lizards?"  said Fiddlesticks from behind Morwen.  "But I thought she
was doing mice now."

"Quiet," Morwen said without looking back.  "You in the lilac, hold
still.  Murgatroyd, stop making him nervous."  She opened the gate and
went slowly around the end of the lilac.  "Now, then-good heavens."

Standing on the far side of the lilac was an enormous white rabbit.  He
was at least six feet tall, not counting the ears that drooped
miserably down his back.  Apart from his size, he did not seem unusual
to Morwen: he had bright black eyes, a pink nose, and long whiskers.

His front paw was caught in the branches of the lilac bush.

"I don't suppose you can do anything about this," the rabbit said
gloomily.  He tugged at his paw and the top of the lilac waved wildly
to and fro.

From the apple tree, Murgatroyd hissed again.  The rabbit cringed.

"Stop that, both of you," Morwen commanded.  "I think I can help if
you'll hold still.  What is your name, by the way?"

"Killer," said the rabbit in the same melancholy tone.

Morwen blinked, then shook her head.  Rabbits had the oddest ideas

about appropriate names.  Perhaps it was because they had to come up
with so many of them.  She peered into the tangled heart of the lilac,
then reached through the outer branches and tapped one of the fat
trunks at the center.

With a reluctant creak, the trunk bent slowly outward, freeing Killer's
paw.

"My goodness," said the rabbit.  He looked at his paw as if he were not
quite sure it was properly attached, then shook it, then wiggled its
toes.  "My goodness gracious.  Thank you very much, ma'am."

"Morwen.  And I would still like that explanation."

A low, warning growl of agreement came out of the apple tree, and a
moment later Murgatroyd scrambled down through the apple's branches to
the fence rail.

Killer gave the cat a nervous look and began backing away.  "It isn't a
very interesting story.  I'm sure you all have better things to do."

"All?"  Morwen glanced back over her shoulder.  Fiddlesticks, Miss
Eliza, Aunt Ophelia, Jasmine, Trouble, Chaos, and Scorn were lined up
in a long row at the bottom of the garden, staring at the rabbit.  They
made an intimidating picture.  When Morwen looked at Killer again, he
had retreated another couple of feet.  Morwen glared.

"I, ah, was just going," said the rabbit.  "You see, I'm late."

"For what?"  Morwen demanded.

"Something important, I'm sure.  Not that it matters.  I'm always late,
you see.  It runs in the family; my brother even got himself a big gold
pocket watch, and he still can't get anywhere on time."

"In that case, it won't matter if you're a little later.  How did you
happen to get caught in my lilac bush?"

The rabbit sighed.  "I wanted something to eat, and this thing-you say
it's a lilac?-looked large enough for a meal.  It takes a lot to fill
me up, now that I'm so big.  Only I couldn't reach the bit I wanted,
and when I tried, the branches twisted around and I got stuck, and then
he snarled at me-" Killer broke off, cringing, as Murgatroyd
demonstrated the snarl for Morwen's benefit.

Morwen frowned at the rabbit.  "How long have you been six feet
tall?"

"Seven feet, eleven inches," corrected Killer, "counting the ears.

Since this morning.  And it's no fun, believe me.  I'm hungry all the
time, and I don't fit in my hole, and I can't hide under bushes the way
I used to."

"And how did you happen to grow so large so quickly?"

"I don't know."  Killer sighed again and his ears lifted and dropped
expressively.  "I was just nibbling at my clover patch when all of a
sudden everything started shrinking.  The next thing I knew, I was
nearly eight feet tall-counting the ears-and there wasn't enough clover
for a snack, much less breakfast.  It didn't even taste right," he
finished sadly.

"Before or after you started growing?"

The rabbit's ears stiffened as he frowned in concentration.  "The
taste?

Before.  Definitely before.  The leaves were a little sour and the
stems didn't crunch right."

It sounded as if some enchanted seeds had gotten mixed in with the
clover, and Killer had eaten the sprouts.  If Morwen was lucky, he
wouldn't have eaten all of them.  A plant that increased one's size
would be a valuable addition to the garden, even if it only worked on
rabbits.  "I'd like to see this clover patch."

"Well .  . ."  Killer hesitated.  "Do you have to bring them?  I don't
like

"I don't think I'll need everyone," Morwen said.  "Aunt Ophelia,
Trouble, and Miss Eliza will be quite enough."

"Why can't I come?"  Fiddlesticks trotted up to the gate and inspected
the rabbit through the slits.  "I didn't get to chase Fatso, and I
didn't get to chase the rabbit.  My, he's big.  And I didn't get any
fish."

"You talk too much, that's why," Trouble told him.

"Perhaps you should go tell Jasper what's happened," Miss Eliza put
in.

"Right," said Fiddlesticks.  "Maybe he's caught a mouse while we've
been out here talking to rabbits.  Maybe he'll share?  And he bounded
off.

"Optimist," said Scorn, looking after him.

"If we are going to look at vegetables," said Aunt Ophelia in tones
that conveyed her poor opinion of the entire undertaking, "perhaps we
should get it over with."

"Are you done for now, Morwen?"Jasmine asked.  "Because if you are I'm
going back to the window before someone else grabs it."

"Go ahead," Morwen told her.  Immediately, Jasmine and Scorn took off
at a dead run for the house.  Morwen turned to the rabbit.  "Now, about
this clover patch .  . ."

Killer dropped to all fours, which brought his head nearly level with
Morwen's.  He sniffed the air twice and cocked an ear to the right.

"That way."  He started off, and Morwen and the three chosen cats
followed.

After ten minutes, Morwen was wishing she had brought her broomstick.

Killer set an extremely uneven pace, taking two or three long hops that
would nearly carry him out of sight and then pausing to sniff the air
and twitch his whiskers nervously.  It would have been much easier to
follow him by air, Morwen thought, but she did not say anything because
it would only encourage the cats to complain.  Trouble, in particular,
was extremely put out at having to let a rabbit lead.  To make up for
it, he pretended to stalk Killer, slinking around trees like a gray
shadow and muttering under his breath.  Aunt Ophelia and Miss Eliza
contented themselves with making

malicious remarks.  Fortunately, Killer was usually too far ahead to
hear any of them.

When they finally reached the clover patch, Morwen was nearly as cross
as her cats.  Killer did not seem to notice.  He sat back on his
haunches, waved proudly, and said, "Here we are!"

"This is it?"  Trouble said, staring at an irregular mat of small green
plants.  It was no more than four feet across, and a third of the
plants had been nipped neatly off, leaving only short, bare stems.

"That's all?"

"It's much larger when I'm my normal size," Killer said in an
apologetic tone.  "And it's got much better flavor than the one by the
little pond or the one by the currant bush.  At least, it used to."

Morwen suppressed a sigh of irritation.  As long as she'd come this
far, she'd better have a look at the thing, even if it didn't seem
particularly promising.  Pushing her glasses firmly into their proper
position-they had slid down her nose a little on the walk-she knelt
beside the clover patch.

At first glance, nothing looked out of the ordinary.  Trouble came up
beside her and sniffed at the plants.  "Don't nibble on any of them,"
Morwen said.

"I'm not stupid," said Trouble.

"No, but you've done things like that before," Aunt Ophelia put in.

"Don't interrupt Morwen while she's working."

Trouble licked his front paw twice, displaying his unconcern to the
world at large, then pounced on an imaginary mouse in the middle of the
clover patch.

"Morwen, there's something rather odd over here," Miss Eliza said.

She was crouched at the opposite edge of the clover patch, and her tail
was lashing back and forth in a way that belied her casual tone.  "When
you have a moment, you may wish to look at it closely."

"I'll take a moment now," Morwen said, rising.  "What is it?"

"These."  Miss Eliza sat back and waved a paw at the moss in front of
her.  A six-inch strip next to the clover patch was peppered with small
brown spots, as if someone had pushed the end of a pencil into it
several times.

"You're quite right," Morwen said.  "This is odd.  Killer, do you
remember which part of this patch you were nibbling on when you started
to grow?"

"Not really.  Does it matter?"

"It might.  Trouble, would you please look around and see whether you
can find any more of these spots?"

"Oh, all right," said Trouble, but his yellow eyes gleamed with
pleasure as he circled the clover patch.

"What are they?"  Aunt Ophelia asked, joining Miss Eliza at Morwen's
side.  "Besides odd."

"I don't know.  They look like a small version of-" "Morwen!"  Trouble
yelled from the foot of a nearby tree.  "Here's a big one!"

With a sinking feeling, Morwen crossed to Trouble's side, followed by
the other cats.  In the moss at the foot of the tree, just where
someone might have set the end of a staff to lean against the trunk,
was a dead brown circle about two inches across.

"A wizard!"  Morwen said.  "I was afraid of this."

3

In Which Morwen Makes a Discovery and Some Calls There was an instant
of silence, and then all of the animals tried to talk at once.

"One at a time, please," Morwen said.  "Or I won't understand a thing
any of you are trying to say.  Killer first."

"The rabbit?"  Trouble curled his lip back, showing his fangs in an
expression that wasn't quite a snarl.  "Why him?"

"Courtesy to a guest," Morwen replied.  "Killer?"

"It's just a hole in the moss," said the rabbit.  "It doesn't look like
a wizard to me."

"Of course that's not a wizard," Aunt Ophelia said.  "That is what a
wizard's staff does when it touches a part of the Enchanted Forest.  I
thought everyone knew that."

"He obviously hasn't been paying attention to the news for at least a
year," Miss Eliza said.  "Possibly longer."  She switched her tail.

"Are you even aware that the King of the Enchanted Forest has been
married for nearly fourteen months?"

"Stop badgering," Morwen said to the cats.  "And remember that you are
in something of a privileged position when it comes to news from the
castle."  She turned to Killer.  "Queen Cimorene has been a friend of
mine since before the wedding, and we still keep in touch."

"You knew about the wizards' staffs long before then," Miss Eliza
objected.

"Knew what about wizards' staffs?"  Killer's ears swiveled from the
cats to Morwen.  "That they make holes in the forest?"

"Exactly," Morwen said.  "Wizards' staffs absorb magic from anything
that happens to be around.  Unfortunately, in the Enchanted Forest
everything is magical, one way or another, and when a staff soaks up
enough magic it kills part of the forest."

"And this certainly looks like the kind of thing that happens when a
wizard sets down the end of this staff," Miss Eliza said.  "Careless
creatures."

"Well, if this bit is from a wizard's staff, what made all those tiny
dots back by that clover patch?"  Aunt Ophelia said.  "Miniature
wizards?"

"Quite possibly," Morwen replied.  "If a wizard worked a size-changing
spell in this area and let a little spill over into the clover patch,
it would explain Killer's unusual growth very nicely."

Miss Eliza's nose twitched as if she smelled something unpleasant.  "I
said they were careless."

"Yes, but look, Morwen, this can't be wizards," Trouble said.  "The
King chased all of them out of the forest before he got married."

"One of them seems to have come back," Morwen said, looking pointedly
at the bare spot.  "And I think we had better notify the King
immediately."

"Couldn't you just, uh, plant something new in the hole and forget
about it?"  asked Killer nervously.  "I mean, the King must have more
important things to do than worry about my clover patch."

All three of the cats swiveled their heads and stared at him with
disapproval.

The rabbit's ears wilted under their combined gaze.  "It was just a
thought."

"On the contrary," said Miss Eliza.

Aunt Ophelia shrugged.  "What do you expect from a rabbit?"

"It's the wizards that are important, not your clover," said Trouble.

"If there are wizards."

"Nothing else I know of does that."  Morwen pointed at the hole.

"Just because you don't know of it doesn't mean there isn't something,"
Trouble retorted.

"Mmhmph.  I suppose you're right."  Morwen considered for a moment.

She couldn't tell whether the holes had been made by a wizard's staff
or not, but she knew at least three people who could.  The first two
were the King of the Enchanted Forest and his Queen, Cimorene.  The
third .  . .

"I'd better give Telemain a call, then, as well as Mendanbar and
Cimorene.

If we're lucky, he'll think it's a fascinating challenge."

"And if we're not, he'll prose on about it for hours," Trouble
muttered.

"Who's Tele-whatsis?"  asked Killer.

"An old friend and magical theoretician," Morwen said.  "He's
interested in wizards."

"Among other things."  Trouble poked his nose into the brown spot, then
pulled it back very quickly and sneezed.  "Can we go now?"

Morwen started back toward the clover patch.  "As soon as I take a
sample of Killer's clover."

"I guess I'll be going, then," Killer said, backing away as he spoke.

"Nice meeting you and all that."

"Don't be silly," Morwen said over her shoulder.  "You're coming with
us.  I want you to tell your story to Telemain and the King.  And how
else are you going to get a decent meal?"

The rabbit didn't answer, and Morwen stopped paying attention to him.

Kneeling next to the clover patch once more, she reached into the loose
left sleeve of her robe, which she used as a sort of enchanted
backpack.  The spell on her sleeves allowed her to carry around all
kinds of useful things, but it required a certain amount of
concentration to retrieve them.  And, of course, she had to remember
what she had put into the sleeve in the first place.

"Sample jars," she muttered to herself.  "Small sample jars with the
lids that clamp down-ah!"  With a smile of satisfaction, she pulled a
glass jar the size of her fist out of the sleeve.  The glass had a
faint purple tint, and the lid was a glass bubble that was attached to
the jar with a complicated-looking wire clamp.  Morwen flicked the wire
with her thumb, and the lid popped up.  She could hear Killer and the
cats arguing in the background, but she refused to listen.  Reaching
into her sleeve once more, she took out a small pair of herb snips and
began cutting clover.

By the time the jar was half-full, the argument had stopped and the
animals had joined her.  Half a jar was enough, for now, Morwen
decided.

She clamped the lid down and put the jar and snips back into her
sleeve, then rose, dusting bits of clover off her hands.

"Are you all ready to go now?"  she asked.

"Yes," said Miss Eliza.

"No," said Killer.  Trouble glared at him.  "I mean, yes.  I suppose
so.

Oh, I don't like cats!"

"That's what comes of being a rabbit," Aunt Ophelia said.  "Size makes
no difference whatsoever."

"Come along, then," Morwen said, and started briskly off in the
direction of the house.  The sooner she got home and relayed her news
to the King, the better.

When they arrived home, the other cats were lined up in the garden,
waiting for them.  Chaos was loudly surprised to see that the rabbit
was still tagging along, and Fiddlesticks demanded explanations and
fish in the same breath, while Jasmine pretended to find the whole
affair boring beyond expression.

"You'll just have to wait a bit longer," Morwen said over the racket.

"I've work to do.  In the meantime, try to remember that Killer is a
guest."

"Killer?"  said Fiddlesticks.  "Who's Killer?"

"The rabbit, you idiot," Trouble told him as Morwen went into the
house.

The closing door cut off whatever else Trouble might have had to say.

Morwen shook her head but did not go back outside.  As long as the cats
left Killer alone and didn't damage each other too much, it was better
to let them settle matters among themselves.  Frowning in
concentration, Morwen reached into her sleeve and pulled out the sample
jar of clover.  She set it on the kitchen table, then turned around and
went out through the door by which she had just entered.

The door now led into her study.  Making that door-and the various
rooms it led to-had taken Morwen a great deal of time and effort,
considerably more than her sleeves, but it had been worth every
minute.

She had added a library, a study, several bedrooms for visitors, a
magic workshop, and a large storage area since she moved in, and all
without using up any of the garden.  And there was still space for
three or four more rooms, if she needed them, before she'd have to add
a second magic door.

Frowning slightly, Morwen skirted the cluttered desk and stopped in
front of an oval mirror in the corner.  The silvered glass was the size
of a serving platter, and it was surrounded by a gilt frame three
inches wide.

The effect was a little too elaborate for Morwen's taste, but when
someone makes one a present of a state-of-the-art magic mirror, one
doesn't put it down simply because it doesn't fit in with one's
decor.

I suppose I'll get used to it eventually, she thought.  After all, I
only got around to hanging it this morning.

"All right, let's see if this thing works as well as he said it would,"
she muttered.  Taking a deep breath, she said clearly, "Mirror, mirror,
on the wall, I would like to make a call."

Immediately, the mirror turned milky white and a pleasant voice from
somewhere inside the glass said, "What party are you calling,
please?"

"The King of the Enchanted Forest," Morwen answered, impressed in spite
of herself.  Telemain had been right; this was an enormous improvement over the mirrors Morwen had used in the past.  And on top of
that, it was polite.

"One moment, please," said the mirror.

Almost before it finished speaking, the glass cleared.  Morwen blinked,
startled.  The face looking out at her was dark brown, with bulging
eyes and a wide mouth full of crooked teeth.  "This is the castle of
the King of the Enchanted Forest, you lucky person," said the face with
a leer.  "Nobody else is here to answer the mirror, so you're gonna
have to leave a message with-oh, it's you."

By this time, Morwen had recognized the bad-tempered wooden gargoyle
that occupied the upper corner of King Mendanbar's study.  "Good
morning, gargoyle.  Do Mendanbar and Cimorene know how you answer their
mirror?"

The gargoyle snorted.  "It was her idea.  She thought it might cut down
on the stupid questions people ask."

"I might have guessed.  Where are they?  I've got some news they should
hear right away."

"They've gone to the beach with Kazul," the gargoyle said in tones of
disgust.  "Work's piling up, but do they care?  No!  Do they even ask
if it's a good idea?  No!  They just pack a bag of towels and take
off.

Poof!"

"I see.  In that case-" "He humors her too much," the gargoyle went on
confidentially.

"She's healthy as a horse, but you wouldn't know it, the way he fusses
over her.  And I'm going to have to put up with it for another six or
seven months, at least!  What he'll be like when the baby actually
arrives-well, all I can say is that I'm going to have a full-time job
trying to see that the kid isn't spoiled rotten."

"I expect Cimorene will help," Morwen said.  "How soon will they be
back?"

"How should I know?  I'm not a secretary."

"Well, as soon as they arrive-either of them-tell them that I've reason
to think that there's a wizard running around in the forest."

The gargoyle's eyes widened, making him look even uglier than before.

"A wizard?  Hoo boy?"

"I'm going to call Telemain next," Morwen went on.  "If we're not here
when they call back, tell them to come on out anyway.  The cats can
show them how to find us."

"I bet," the gargoyle muttered.  "Anything else?  'Cause if there
isn't, I'm going back to sleep."

"That's all," Morwen said, and the mirror clouded over.  As soon as it
cleared, she repeated the rhyme and snapped, "Telemain," in response to
the mirror's polite question.

This time it took much longer for the glass to clear.  When it did,
Telemain's face scowled out of the mirror.  His ferocious expression
lightened only fractionally when he saw who was calling.

"Oh, hello, Morwen!  Will this take long?  I've just set up an
exceedingly sensitive spell to test the stability quotient of-" "It's
wizards," Morwen interrupted.  "Well, one of them, at the very least,
though in my experience whenever one turns up a half-dozen more are
sure to follow.  They're worse than cockroaches."

"You're in a poor humor this morning."  Telemain ran a hand across his
neat black beard, a sure sign that he was interested but didn't want to
show it.  "What about this wizard?"

"He appears to have been poking around near my home," Morwen said.  "Or
so I conclude from the splotches his staff left in the moss."

Telemain shook his head.  "That is quite impossible.  The warding
enchantment that Mendanbar and I worked out keeps wizards from
absorbing, manipulating, utilizing, or controlling any portion of the
magical basis on which the Enchanted Forest is founded.  So even if a
wizard were unwise enough to enter the forest, his staff could not
possibly leave, er, 'splotches in the moss."" "I know it's supposed to
work that way," Morwen said.  "But the splotches are there.  So is a
six-foot rabbit-this wizard is careless as well as nosy and
impossible.

If you don't believe me, come and look at them yourself."

"I believe I shall," Telemain said.  "It'll only take me a few minutes
to set up the transportation spell, and firsthand observation is always
superior to reports from even the most reliable of witnesses.  Now, let
me see; I had better bring the microdynometer, and some detection
instruments, and-" He turned away, muttering to himself, and the mirror
blanked abruptly.  Morwen rolled her eyes.

"He's in rare form today," said Aunt Ophelia from behind her.  "What
was that about 'reliable witnesses'?"

Turning, Morwen saw the tortoiseshell cat standing just inside the open
study door.  "Since it came from Telemain, I'd have to say it was a
compliment."

"Someone should take him in hand before he talks himself into a real
mess."

"He can take care of himself," Morwen said.  "If he couldn't, someone
would have murdered him years ago.  I've been tempted a time or two
myself."  Out of habit, she glanced around the study to see if there
was

anything she needed.  Then she walked out to the kitchen and picked up
the can of paint she'd abandoned there after Archaniz's visit.  With a
little luck, she could finish touching up the sign over the door before
any of her visitors arrived.

4

In Which Morwen and Telemain Argue and Killer Discovers the Perils of
Mixing Cosmetics and Magic

By the time Telemain appeared in the front yard, Morwen had finished
the sign and was cleaning her brush.  He did a tidy transportation
spell, Morwen had to admit, even if her own taste ran more to flying.

The passage hadn't even ruffled his dark hair.  He'd clearly come
prepared: The many pockets of his open knee-length black vest were
bulging, and so were the pouches that hung from his wide black belt.

Seven magic rings glittered on his fingers, three on his left hand,
four on his right.  His bright blue eyes were alight with
anticipation.

"Well, it's about time," Aunt Ophelia said acidly as he walked up the
porch steps.

"Hello to you, too," Telemain said, nodding far more politely than he
would have if he'd understood her comment.  "There you are, Morwen!

Where are these hypothetical wizards of yours?"

"I bet he doesn't even know which one of us you are," Scorn said from
the porch rail.  "Hypothetical wizards, indeed!"

"What's that?"  Fiddlesticks shouted from inside the house.

On the window ledge, Jasmine yawned, curling up her tongue and
stretching her head back.  Then she called back, "Telemain's here."

"Who's here?"  Fiddlesticks poked his head around the edge of the
door.  "Telemain!  Chaos, Murgatroyd, Trouble, Telemain's here!"

"Chaos and Trouble are watching that rabbit, "said Miss Eliza, in a
tone that indicated clearly that she would have liked very much to call
it something else but was far too polite to actually do so.

"If I knew where the wizards were, I wouldn't need your help," Morwen
said to Telemain.  "The dead spots in the moss are about twenty
minutes' walk from my back garden, if the forest hasn't moved them."

"Twenty minutes!  Morwen, I don't have time-" "I'd have told you to
transport straight there, but I don't think you've been to the place
before, and there's no sense in taking chances.  Besides, it'll only
take two minutes by broomstick, even riding double and with an extra
load."

Telemain shook his head.  "No.  No.  Absolutely not.  I have no
intention of riding on that uncomfortable contraption of yours ever
again.  Once was quite enough."

"Wimp," said Scorn.

"You only think broomsticks are uncomfortable because you insist on
riding astride," Morwen said to Telemain.  "If you'd sit sidesaddle,
the way you're supposed to-" "No!"

"Well, if you really want to hand-carry a bucket of soapy water mixed
with a little lemon juice on a twenty-minute walk-" "What?  Morwen, you
didn't say anything about buckets."

"Water?"  Fiddlesticks sat up very straight, his nose twitching.

"Buckets of water?  With soap?  Maybe I won't come with you this time,
either, Morwen."

"I thought the buckets were obvious," Morwen told Telemain.  "If there
are wizards around, I want to be able to get rid of them in a hurry."

And the only way to do that, so far as anyone knew, was to dump a
bucket of soapy water mixed with a little lemon juice over the top of
them.  For some reason, this made them melt into a gooey puddle, and it
usually took several days for them to put themselves together again.

Cimorene had discovered the method by accident, back when she was
living with the dragon Kazul.

"Soapy water," Telemain muttered.  "Buckets.  I still say it's terribly
inelegant."

"If you'd finish working out a spell to do the same thing, the buckets
wouldn't be necessary," Morwen pointed out.

Telemain flushed.  "I've designed a prototype, but it requires the
immediate accessibility of a target.  It has therefore been impossible
for me to run the necessary tests to ascertain its effectiveness."

"What?"  said Fiddlesticks.

"He's invented a spell for melting wizards, but he can't tell whether
it works because there aren't any wizards around to try it on," Miss
Eliza said.

"Oh.  Why couldn't he just say that?"

"Because that's how he is," said Aunt Ophelia.

"We still need the buckets," Morwen said to Telemain.  "I haven't the
slightest objection to your testing your new wizard-melting spell on
any wizards we run across, but I want to bring something that I know
works, in case your spell needs some adjusting."

"Reasonable."  Telemain rubbed his chin thoughtfrilly.  "But I still
categorically refuse to travel on that broomstick of yours."

"Morwen?"  Even muffled by the front door, Trouble's tone was clearly
far too casual, and when he strolled out onto the porch Morwen felt a
strong twinge of misgiving.  Every whisker dripped the kind of
deliberate unconcern that usually meant he'd been living up to his
name.

"Excuse me a moment, Telemain," Morwen said.  "What is it, Trouble?"

"You know that rabbit you wanted us to watch?"

Morwen's misgivings deepened.  "Yes?"

"Well, he's kind of upset," Trouble said.  "Murgatroyd thought I'd
better come tell you."

If Murgatroyd thought Morwen should be told about it, it was probably
serious.  Not urgent, though, or he'd have come himself, at a dead
run.

And he didn't expect Morwen to be happy about it, or he wouldn't have
sent Trouble.  Morwen sighed.  "What is Killer upset about?"

"Oh, things.  I wouldn't have bothered you if Murgatroyd hadn't
insisted."

"Such a fuss about a rabbit."  Aunt Ophelia sniffed.

Trouble studied the porch roof, as if he were hoping to spot a fly.

"Not exactly ."

"I see."  Morwen turned to Telemain.  "I appear to be needed in the
garden.  You're welcome to come along."

"Certainly."

All of the cats followed them, except Jasmine, who had fallen asleep on
the window ledge, and Jasper, who was presumably still napping under
the porch.  When they reached the garden, they found the grass inside
the gate trampled flat and a six-foot donkey with a blotchy
brown-and-white coat standing next to the vegetable patch.  The donkey
wore a mournful expression, and half a cabbage leaf was stuck to the
side of his muzzle.  The green cabbage directly in front of him was
missing a large chunk from its left side.

"Hello, Killer," Morwen said to the donkey.

"I thought Killer was a rabbit," Telemain said, frowning in mild
puzzlement.

"He was, until he started eating my cabbage."  Morwen eyed the donkey
reprovingly.

"He ate a cabbage?"  Fiddlesticks said, horrified.  "Why would he do
that?"

"I was hungry," said the donkey.  His tail switched and he jumped,
startled .

"Hmph," said Aunt Ophelia.  "Just what I'd expect from a rabbit."

"Yes, you'd think anyone would have more sense than to nibble on plants
in a witch's garden," Miss Eliza said.

"I thought the gray cat said it was all right.  And it tasted very
nice.

Almost spicy.  And the crunch-" The donkey stopped as all the cats
glared, and his ears drooped.  "I must have misunderstood."

Morwen glanced around.  Trouble was nowhere in sight.  "I don't think
you misunderstood him at all."  She looked sternly at Chaos and
Murga-troyd.

"Why didn't you stop him?"

"You've got plenty of donkey-cabbages," Chaos said.  "And donkeys are
nearly as stupid as rabbits, so it's not as if Killer lost anything by
it."

"I think it's a definite improvement," Murgatroyd said, nodding.

"A six foot donkey doesn't look nearly as silly as a six-foot rabbit,"
Aunt Ophelia put in.

"Seven feet, eleven inches, counting the ears," said the donkey,
twitching them.  "I always know how big I am."

"That is not the point," Morwen told the cats.  "You were left here to
prevent any untoward happenings.  This is an extremely untoward
happening.

I am seriously displeased."

"And you know what that means," Scorn said.  "No fish in the food bowl
tonight."

"No fish?"  Fiddlesticks looked up at Morwen with large, distressed
eyes.  "Not even for me?"

"I'm sorry about this, Killer," Morwen said.  "Those cabbages aren't
supposed to work on rabbits."  She paused, considering.  The red
cabbages on the other side of the row were an antidote, but she wasn't
sure she wanted to mention that.  It was entirely possible that they
wouldn't work, or that Killer would end up turning into a
twelve-foot-tall rabbit or something even more inconvenient.

"Can't you do anything?"  the donkey said.  "It's not that I mind being
a donkey, exactly, but I don't like what it did to my coat."

"He is awfully blotchy," Scorn said.

posed to work on rabbits, Morwen?  And this rabbit was already under
the influence of a magnifying enchantment.  So the layered interaction
of the two magical energies produces a synergistic effect .  . ."

Killer looked at Telemain, and his ears twitched forward.  "Is that why
my coat is all funny?"

"Highly unlikely," Telemain said.  "The two spells seem to affect
primarily the parameters of form and stature, rather than
coloration."

Morwen stared at the donkey.  Suddenly her eyes narrowed.  "Killer, do
you dye your fur?"

"I, um-well, actually .  . ."

"I thought so.  That's what your problem is.  Spells are hard on
cosmetic changes.  The dye job lasted through one spell, but now that
you've been enchanted twice it's wearing off."

"Oh no," said Killer.  "You mean if you turn me back into a rabbit,
I'll look even worse?"

"Probably," Morwen said.  "And you won't be able to redye it until the
residue of the spell wears off.  That usually takes about six weeks."

"How do you know all this?"  Telemain asked her.

Morwen gave him a look.  "Why do you think witches never color their
hair?"

"This is terrible."  Killer's ears waggled in distress, and several of
the cats snickered.  "I won't be able to hold up my head.  This is
awful.  Can't you do anything?"

"Not right now," Morwen said.  "We have some wizard hunting to do.

And if you're willing to help, you may have solved a little problem for
us."

"I don't mind being helpful," said Killer.  "What problem?"

Morwen turned to Telemain.  "You can ride him instead of the
broomstick.

He knows how to find the clover patch, and at that size he ought to
move fairly quickly.  I'll take the broomstick and a bucket and meet
you there.  And you can study the interaction of the size- and
shape-changing spells on the way."

Less than ten minutes later, Morwen, Telemain, and Killer met at the
half-eaten patch of clover.  As Morwen landed her broomstick-with some
care, so as not to spill the bucket she had hung on the front end-Scorn
and Fiddlesticks slid out of the bushes and sat down at the foot of
the nearest tree.  The two cats wore identical smug expressions.

"What are you doing here?"  Morwen said.

"We all discussed it and decided you might need help," Scorn replied.

"Aunt Ophelia and Miss Eliza came last time, Trouble and Murgatroyd and
Chaos are in disgrace because of the cabbages, and Jasmine didn't want
to be bothered.  So it came down to the three of us."

"Three of you?"

'Jasper's around somewhere."

"I came because I'm very brave," Fiddlesticks announced.  He rose and
sauntered over to the clover patch.  "Don't you think I'm brave,
Morwen?

What's all this prickly stuff?"  He sniffed at the bare stalks on the
eaten portion of the patch.

"That's Killer's clover patch," Morwen said.  "Don't eat any of it."

'Eat it?"  Fiddlesticks looked up, green-gold eyes wide.  "Why would I
eat it?  It's some kind of plant."

"We know," Scorn said.  "Shut up."

Telemain slid down from Killer's back, stepped quickly to one side, and
shook himself as if to check that everything still worked.  Then he
walked over to Morwen.  With a glance over one shoulder to make sure
Killer was out of hearing distance, he said in a low voice, "Morwen,
this is absolutely the last time I agree to one of your .  . . your
ideas.  That beast has a gait that would rattle the teeth out of a
troll."

"It's not my fault," Killer said.  "I'm supposed to be a rabbit."

Telemain looked startled, then chagrined.

"You forgot how long his ears are," Morwen said.  "Never mind.  The
tracks I told you about are over here."

She led the way to the cluster of brown pencil-sized holes at the far
side of the clover patch.  When he saw them, Telemain immediately lost
interest in the rest of his surroundings.

"Fasdnating," he murmured.  He pulled something that looked like a
bright metal tube in a wire cage from one of his pockets and began
twisting and pulling and unfolding.  In less than two minutes, he held
a small telescope attached to three long, spidery legs.  He jabbed the
legs into the moss and peered through the end of the telescope.

"Absolutely fascinating.  The residual energy displays the
characteristic spiral, but its concentration-" "Tell me about it when
you decide what it is," Morwen said.  She was in no mood for one of
Telemain's long digressions into magical theory, even if she was one of
the few people who actually understood most of what he said.  Besides,
listening only encouraged him.

Telemain peered through his telescope again, then pulled out several
other peculiar instruments and poked at the holes.  Finally he looked
up.

"Where's the other one?"

"Other one?"  Morwen said.  Even when he was being simple, Telemain
didn't seem to be able to make himself clear.

"The full-sized, er, splotch.  I believe you said there was one?"

"Trouble found it."  Leaving Killer to nibble disconsolately at the
moss and the cats to wander as they pleased, Morwen led Telemain to the
two-inch circle of brown moss.  "There."

"This is really amazing.  Look here, Morwen, along the perimeter.

There's no regeneration occurring at all.  And-" "Yes, of course,"
Morwen interrupted.  "But all I want to know is, is it wizards?"

"Oh, certainly.  That's what I was saying," Telemain replied with
maddening innocence.  "And it looks as if they've figured out how to
evade the enchantment the King and I worked out.  You were quite right
to call me."

"Quite right?"  Scorn said with considerable indignation.  "That
self-centered, conceited idiot!  Of course you were quite right.

Magicians, bah!"

Tail stiff with disapproval, she stalked off.

"Exactly," said Morwen.  "Now, what was the bit about that enchantment
of yours?"

"Of mine and the King's."  Telemain was a stickler for accuracy, even
when it meant sharing the credit for a major magical achievement.  He
pointed at the brown spot in front of him, then waved back toward the
clover patch.  "None of these should be here."

"Well, obviously.  wizards aren't supposed to come into the Enchanted
Forest any-" Morwen stopped short.  "That isn't what you meant.  Very
well.  Explain what you did mean, and none of your jargon.  I've too
much on my mind already without trying to unravel your sentences."

Telemain looked hurt.  "I'm only trying to be precise."

"Right now I'll be quite content with fast and sloppy.  Now, why
shouldn't there be any dead patches in the moss?"

"Because the spell Mendanbar and I worked out should-should repair them
as soon as they're made," Telemain said carefully.  "As long as the
spell is working, the absorptive properties of the wizard's staff
should be balanced immediately by the recirculation of-" "Telemain!"

"I'm trying," Telemain said in a plaintive tone.  "There just isn't any
other way to say it."

"No?"  Morwen thought for a minute.  "How about this: When a wizard's
staff sucks up magic from the forest, your spell sucks it back.  And it
works so fast that the moss shouldn't die this way."

"Or it should regenerate," Telemain said, nodding.  "This has obviously
not done either."

"Can you tell how they did it?"

"Not without an examination of the primary linkages."  Telemain frowned
down at the dead moss.  "if something has damaged one of them, it might
account-" A loud cat squall erupted from behind a nearby bush, followed
by a high shriek.  Morwen started forward, but before she had taken two
steps, Fiddlesticks came trotting around the left side of the bush.

He held his head very high, and his tail was a long brown exclamation
mark.

Dangling from his mouth by a bunched-up wad of blue-and-brown wizard's
robes was a man about six inches tall.

5

In Which the Plot Thickens

Fiddlesticks halted just in front of Morwen's feet.  The man he was
carrying kicked, then tried to punch backward and overhead at the cat's
nose.

Fortunately, he missed.  Fiddlesticks growled and shook his head, and
the man shrieked as he swung back and forth.

"How interesting," Telemain said.  "Morwen, your cat appears to have
captured a miniature wizard."

"So I see," Morwen said.  "What did you do with his staff?"

"Mmmph hmmmph uff," said Fiddlesticks, and jabbed his tail back toward
the bush.

"Good.  Don't let him anywhere near it."  Morwen turned and started for
the clover patch.

"Where are you going?"  Telemain said.

"To get the bucket," Morwen called over her shoulder.  There was
another high-pitched shriek from the wizard and a jumbled protest from
Telemain, both of which she ignored.  Having collected her bucket, she
returned to find the wizard on his feet with Fiddlesticks standing
guard.

Telemain sat cross-legged in front of them, holding something that
looked like a silver watch with an orange dial and four hands.  He kept
looking from the watch to the wizard and back.

"Has he told you what they're up to yet?"  Morwen said, setting the
bucket down a little to one side, where it would be handy but out of
the immediate way.

Telemain looked up, frowning.  "I haven't asked.  Do you realize that

this is the first opportunity I have had to observe a wizard in
situ?

Of course, the magical connections would be clearer if his staff were a
little closer."

"You leave that staff where it is," Morwen said.  "Fiddle, if either of
them tries to go get it, stop them.  I don't care how."

"You don't?  That's easy, then."  Fiddlesticks curled his lips back,
showing most of his teeth.  "Did I do good?  Does this mean I can have
fish for dinner?"

"It certainly does," Morwen said.  "And possibly a bowl of cream as
well.  Where's Scorn?"

"With Jasper, watching the staff.  Do they get fish, too?"

"Yes, if they want it."  Morwen transferred her attention to the
six-inch wizard.  He had a sharp, angular face half-covered by an
untidy brown beard, and he seemed a little young compared to most of
the wizards Morwen had met.  Not to mention short.  "If it won't
interfere with your observations, Telemain, I'd like to ask this fellow
a few questions."

"Hmmm?  Oh, not at all."  Telemain did not even glance up.

"Good.  Now, wizard, who are you and what are you doing in the
Enchanted Forest?"

The wizard drew himself up to his full height, which brought his head
about even with Fiddlesticks's nose.  "I am Antorell, and if you know
what is good for you, you will not meddle with me!"  he said in a
shrill voice.

"I might have known," Morwen said.

"What's that?"  Telemain said, looking up.  "Morwen, these readings are
absurd.  This fellow can't be very good."

Antorell's face turned bright red.  Morwen smiled.  "He isn't.  This is
Antorell, Telemain."

"Antorell, Antorell.  Oh.  The son of Head Wizard Zemenar?"

"That's right," Antorell said.  "And you'll regret-" "Isn't he the one
Cimorene keeps melting?"  Telemain said.  "And shouldn't he be
larger?"

Antorell's face became downright purple.  Curious about the change,
Fiddlesticks leaned forward, and his whiskers brushed the side of
Antorell's head.  The wizard shrieked and jumped away, the cat pounced,
and bits of moss flew in all directions.  After a moment, the rapidly
moving tangle resolved into Fiddlesticks crouched over the wizard.  One
front paw, with claws fully extended, rested on each of Antorell's
shoulders.  Antorell looked terrified.

"He's the one," Morwen said to Telemain.  "Very good, Fiddle.  You may
back up now.  I don't think he'll do that again."

"Fascinating," Telemain murmured, his eyes fixed on the cat.  "Did you
see the sparks, Morwen?  He cast a basic warding-off spell, but it
didn't affect the cat at all!

Morwen frowned in concern.  "Fiddlesticks?"

"Well, of course it didn't do anything to me."  Fiddlesticks eased
slowly off Antorell's chest and sat down very close beside him.

"Wizards don't know how to handle cats.  I don't think they're very
smart."

"Get that beast away from me!"  Antorell cried as Fiddlesticks raised a
paw and flexed his claws.

"See?"  said Fiddlesticks, and began washing wizard germs out from
between his toes.

"Calm down," Morwen told Antorell.  "Fiddlesticks won't hurt you.

Unless I tell him to, of course.  What are you doing in the Enchanted
Forest?"

"I won't tell you."  Antorell was plainly trying to sound defiant, but
all he managed was sulky.

"Morwen?"  Scorn wound her way around the far edge of the bush.

"How long are we going to have to watch this staff?.  It's not doing
anything, and Jasper wants to take a nap."

"I'll be there as soon as we finish with Antorell," Morwen said.

"What is it?"  Telemain asked.

"Scorn wants the staff taken care of," Morwen told him.  "Antorell-"
"That presents no difficulty," Telemain said.  "If you'll just fetch it
here, Scorn, I'll do it for you."

Scorn gave him a long look.  "Dogs fetch."  She turned her back and lay
down, her tail thrashing indignantly.

"That means 'no,' I take it," Telemain said with a sigh.

"It does.  And I told you I didn't want the staff anywhere near the
wizard," Morwen said.

"A proper spirit of scientific investigation-" "I'm more interested in
self-preservation.  Study the staff later.

Antorell-" "Ha!"  said Antorell.  "You are too late!  Behold!"

With a flourish, he raised his right arm.  As he did, he began to
glow.

Fiddlesticks pulled his head back in surprise, and the glow began
pulsing, first bright, then dim.  After three pulses, Antorell started
growing.  He gained an inch on the next pulse, two on the one after
that, and then he had grown to a foot in height.

"Bother," said Morwen, and grabbed for the bucket.

"Argelfraster," said Telemain, and pointed at Antorell.

"Eeeaugh!"  said Antorell, his expression changing from sinister to
shocked.  He continued to glow and pulse, but he was no longer getting
taller.  A puddle of brown goo began to spread out from under his robe
where his feet should have been.  "No!  Help!  You can't do this to
me!"

"Wow!"  said Fiddlesticks.  "Look at him go!"

Morwen nodded, but she kept the bucket of soapy water ready to throw,
just in case.  Antorell was now melting faster than he was growing.  In
another minute, all that was left were his robes and the puddle of goo
sinking slowly into the moss.  Fiddlesticks edged up to it and sniffed,
then backed away rapidily.

"What was all that noise?"  Killer said from behind Telemain.  "Part of
it sounded like another donkey."

"No, it was a wizard, though in this case it's much the same thing,"
Morwen said.  "You needn't worry.  He's gone now."  She set her bucket
down once more and gave Telemain a nod of approval.

"Congratulations.

It works."

"Yes, and did you notice the echo effect on the size-amplification
spell?"

Telemain shook his head.  "Remarkable.  The theoretical ramifications-"
"Are very interesting, I'm sure," Morwen said.  "How permanent is
this?"  She waved at the gooey robes.

"Not very, I'm afraid," Telemain said.  "He'll be back in a day or
two."

Killer ambled over to the puddle.  "Is this edible?"  he asked in a
doubtful tone.

	"No!"

		said Morwen and Telemain together.

	"What an awful idea," said Fiddlesticks, wrinkling his nose.

	"What a mess," said Scorn.

"Don't touch it," Morwen said to Killer.  "With two spells on you
already, you shouldn't take any chances with wizard residuum."

"Oh," said Killer.  He looked at the puddle again and sighed.  "But I'm
hungry.  And thirsty.  What do donkeys eat?"

"We'll take care of you in a minute or two," Morwen promised.  "Finish
up quickly, Telemain.  We're leaving."  Beach or no beach, King
Mendanbar and Queen Cimorene had to be found and informed as soon as
possible.  Morwen started back toward the clover patch to collect her
broomstick.

	"Don't forget about that staff!"  Scorn called after her.

Getting ready to leave didn't take long.  Morwen picked up the
staff-and Jasper, who was still guarding it-on her way back to
Telemain.  She noticed with interest that the staff was over three feet
long and expanding slowly.  Apparently the shrinking spell was wearing
off it even without Antorell's help.

When she reached him, Telemain was just stowing the last of his shiny
instruments back in one of his pockets.  "Have we got everyone?"  the
magician asked.

	"Everyone but the wizard," Scorn said.  "And good riddance to him, I

"Yes," Morwen replied to both Telemain and Scorn.  "If you'll take the
staff, Telemain-" "I wouldn't do that,"Jasper said, jumping down from
Morwen's shoulder.

Morwen paused, frowning, then saw Killer standing by the bucket of
soapy water.  He lowered his head and sniffed experimentally.  "Why
not?  It smells nice."

"That's the lemon juice," Morwen said.

"It's got soap in it," Fiddlesticks said, lashing his tail.  "It's for
melting-" "There aren't any wizards around, and I'm thirsty."  Before
anyone could stop him Killer took a large slurp.  His ears stood
straight up and he reared back, shaking his head.  "Blea-eea-eaugh!

That tastes terrible."

"Fiddle warned you," said Scorn, with a visible lack of sympathy.  "So
did Jasper.  Serves you right for not listening."

"What's it doing to his nose?"  Fiddlesticks said, poking his own nose
forward until he had to stand up and follow it.  "Look at his nose,
Morwen.

It's turning blue."

"Not just the nose."  Jasper stared in fascination.  "His whole face is
changing color."

Killer gave a frightened snort and shook his head, sneezing soap
bubbles in all directions.  The color went on spreading.  Soon his head
and neck were a bright, clear sky blue that continued to inch up his
ears, down his forelegs, and across his back.

"Help!"  Killer cried.  "Morwen, you're a witch.  Make it stop?

"That would be inadvisable," Telemain said.  He, too, was watching
Killer's changing color with great interest.  "The synergistic action
of the original wizardly enchantment, which was itself an unstructured
mechanical surplus and therefore liable to produce unpredictable side
effects, and the secondary vegetation-based enchantment has rendered
you vulnerable to the wizard liquefication fluid while also,
fortunately, mitigating its effects."

"What?"  said Killer.

"You've got a leftover bit of a wizard's spell on you and you don't
know what all it may do.  You're lucky you aren't melting, the way the
wizard did," Scorn summarized.

"But just look at me!"

"I think it's an improvement," Morwen said.  "Much better than being
blotchy."

"Blue?  Blue is better than blotchy?"  The color had spread to Killer's
hindquarters.  Only his tail and his back legs were still a patchy
white-and-brown.

"Not much," said Scorn.

"Settle it later," Morwen said.  "We have to go.  Telemain-" "Everyone
still here?  Good."  Telemain raised a hand and made a circle in the
air with his left forefinger.  The wide silver band on his finger
sparkled as he said in a low voice, "Convey this crowd On wind and
cloud to the castle of the King By the power of this ring."

On the last word, Telemain clapped his hands together loudly.  The
trees melted and ran like soft wax on a hot stove.  To her surprise,
Morwen felt no sensation of movement.  It was more as if she were
standing still while everything around her shifted.  As she nodded in
approval, the blur flowed into a new shape and solidified.

They now stood on the paving stones of the castle courtyard, in the
relatively narrow strip between the moat and the main door.  A large
dragon lay along the left side of the castle, basking in the sun.  Her
head, with the three stubby horns that proclaimed her a female, rested
at the edge of the moat; most of her body was hidden by a tower with
two staircases running around its outside.  Her wings were partway open
to catch the sun, and her green scales glittered, even where they were
beginning to turn gray at the edges.

"Eee-augh!"  Killer brayed in terror.  "A dragon!" Oh, good," Morwen
said at the same moment.  "That will save some time."

"Good?"  Killer seemed to be trying to hide behind Telemain and to
watch the dragon at the same time.  "A dragon is good?"

"Not a dragon, you idiot," said Scorn.  "That's Kazul, the King of the
Dragons."

Killer edged away.  "Does he eat rabbits?  Or donkeys?"

"She prefers cherries jubilee," Jasper said.

"She?"  Killer looked thoroughly confused, as well as alarmed.

"But-the 'King of the Dragons'?"

"'King of the Dragons' is the name of a job," Jasper said.  "It has
nothing to do with gender."

"Dragons are very sensible about things like that," Fiddlesticks put
in, nodding.  "Almost as sensible as me.  But they don't like fish."

"I'd be happier if they didn't like donkeys."

"Don't worry about King Kazul," Morwen said to Killer.  "She doesn't
eat friends of friends."

"Not even if she's hungry?"  Killer's ears pricked forward
nervously.

"She looks hungry to me."

Before Morwen could respond, the castle door creaked open.  From the
dark hallway inside, a voice called, "Madame Morwen!  Magician
Telemain!

Welcome to the castle."

6

In Which the Plot Positively Curdles and the King of the Dragons Loses
her Temper

As everyone turned to look, a three-foot elf wearing a gold lace collar
and a crisp white shirt under a green velvet coat with gold buttons,
white silk hose, and green shoes with chunky gold heels stepped into
view in the doorway of the castle.  "Welcome, all of you," he added,
bowing low.

"Hello, Willin," Morwen said.  "We need to see King Mendanbar and Queen
Cimorene right away."

"In regard to what?"  the elf asked.

"Technical difficulties," Telemain said.  "We have discovered a
possible disruption in the obstructive enchantment fabricated by King
Mendanbar and myself, and-" "Er, yes, of course," said Willin.  "I'll
tell the King immediately.  You needn't give me the details."

Telemain caught Morwen's eye and winked.  Morwen suppressed a smile and
said, "And while we're waiting, Killer's hungry."  She nodded at the
donkey.  "If your kitchen could put something together that would
suit

"Certainly," Willin said.  'Just trot around backer, Killer, and the
cook will take care of you."  He waved toward the left, where Kazul was
sleeping.

"I'm not hungry!"  Killer said.

"Go around the other way, then," Morwen told him.  "It doesn't really
matter.  Just go."

"I'll show him!"  Fiddlesticks bounded across to Killer.  "The kitchen
is this way.  They have cream, and butter, and fish, and .  . ."  His
voice faded as they rounded the crooked tower by the stone bridge.

Scorn stood up and stretched.  "What a pair of idiots."  She looked at
Jasper.  "Maybe we should go after them and make sure they don't get
into trouble."

"An excellent idea," Jasper agreed.  With an air of determined
casualness, the two cats strolled off, following the donkey.

Willin looked after them with a worried frown.  "Did I offend them?"

"Not at all," Morwen assured him.  When his expression did not clear,
she added, "They're hoping the cook will give them some cream.  Now,
we'll just go have a word with Kazul while you let Cimorene know we're
here.  Oh, and would you put this bucket somewhere?  I've enough to
carry without it."

"Very good, ma'am," Willin said stiffly.  He accepted the bucket and
vanished into the castle, closing the door carefully behind him.

"Morwen, Mendanbar's the one we really need to see," Telemain said
softly.  "King Kazul-" "Has good reason to be just as interested in the
doings of wizards as the rest of us," Morwen said.  "Besides, it
wouldn't be polite to go in without at least saying hello."

"I suppose not," Telemain said, and the two walked across the courtyard
to talk to the dragon.  Up close, Kazul was an even more impressive
dragon than she looked from a distance.  Standing, she was at least six
times Morwen's height, even without her wings, and every inch was
muscle and armor scales.  The sleepy, contented expression on her face
vanished as Morwen and Telemain drew nearer, and by the time they were
close enough to talk, the dragon was wide awake and ready for them.

"Hello, Morwen, Telemain," Kazul said.  "Wizards again?"  She flicked a
claw in the direction of the staff Morwen held.

"Hello, Kazul," Morwen said.  "It's a wizard, at least."

"I thought you'd shut them out of the forest," Kazul said to
Telemain.

"What one magician can do, another can find a way around," Telemain
said with a shrug.  "Unless the quantity of energy involved reaches a
magnitude that renders-" Kazul cleared her throat pointedly.  Telemain
stopped.  "Unless what?"  asked the dragon.

"Um.  Unless you .  . . put so much power into a spell that nobody

caner, examine it closely enough to, um, figure out how to break it
without getting fried by the backlash," Telemain said carefully.

"Ah.  Well, I suppose nothing's perfect."

A bell chimed, and all three turned to look at the castle.  The door
swung open, and Willin marched out.  "Their Majesties King Mendanbar
and Queen Cimorene of the Enchanted Forest," he announced, and bowed
low.

"Hello, Morwen, Telemain.  We were just trying to get you on the magic
mirror."  The speaker was a tall young woman in a loose cream-colored
shirt and a pair of baggy gray pants tucked into short leather boots.

Her black braids were wound around and around her head like a crown,
and her face was both lovely and intelligent.

As she came down the steps and into the courtyard, a man emerged from
the door behind her.  He was equally tall and dark-haired, and he wore
a plain gold circlet that he had pushed back off his forehead.  It gave
him a rakish look.

"Yes, the gargoyle said something about wizards," the man said, coming
forward.  "Is it urgent?"

"Important, certainly," Morwen said.  "Urgent, possibly.  I don't think
it's an emergency.  Not yet.  Hello, Cimorene, Mendanbar."

There was a brief round of greeting, and then Mendanbar said, "I
thought something was wrong in the forest.  It's been higgling at me
ever since we got home."

Cimorene frowned.  "You didn't say anything."

"I didn't want to worry you."

Cimorene rolled her eyes.  "Mendanbar, I haven't suddenly turned to
glass just because I'm going to have a baby."

"Well, but-" "I believe that can wait," Morwen interrupted tactfully.

"The wizards shouldn't."

"Yes, now that we're all here, tell us where you came across that.

"Kazul waved at the wizard's staff in Morwen's right hand.

Morwen nodded and launched into a summary of the events following
Killer's appearance in her back garden.  Cimorene, Mendanbar, and Kazul
listened without interrupting, though their expressions grew more and
more serious.  When she finished, Mendanbar turned to Telemain.

"These dead spots.  I thought the spell we worked out prevented
them."

"It should have," Telemain said, nodding.  "And since the spell has
worked perfectly well for over a year, it seems unlikely that the
breakdown is due to an inherent flaw; nonetheless, I think the initial
phase of our

investigation should involve an examination and analysis of the
primary linkages."

Cimorene blinked and looked at Mendanbar.

"He doesn't think there should be anything wrong with the spell, but he
wants to check and make sure," Mendanbar translated.  "In that case,
we'll need the sword, won't we?  I'll go get it."  He snapped his
fingers, and a small gold key materialized out of the air in front of
him and dropped into his hand.  An instant later, Mendanbar and the key
vanished.  A quiet huff of air rushed in to fill the space he had
vacated.

"Now that is a transportation spell that has everything," Telemain said
with a touch of envy.  "Power, elegance, and economy of style.  I wish
I could determine exactly how he does it."

"I wish he could get it to work properly outside the Enchanted Forest,"
said Cimorene.  "It would make visiting Kazul much easier."

"A little walking in the mountains is good for you," Kazul said.

Cimorene looked at the dragon with fond exasperation.  "It may be a
little walk to you, but it takes a good deal longer for us.  And as I
recall, you usually fly most of the way.  You shouldn't give advice you
don't follow."

"When I was your age, I did follow it."

"When you were Cimorene's age, you were a rambunctious dragonet barely
out of the egg," Morwen said.  "None of which has anything to do with
our present problems."

Air puffed outward as Mendanbar reappeared.  His face was set in grim
lines and his hands were empty.  "It's gone," he said.  "The lock on
the chest has been melted to a puddle, the lid is up, and the sword is
gone.  And there are tangles of wizard magic all over the armory.

It'll take me a week to straighten them out."

There was a moment of stunned silence.  Then Kazul made a low growling
sound and a small flame flickered around her jaws.  Cimorene's eyes
went wide and she stepped quickly in front of Mendanbar, muttering
something under her breath as she moved.

Probably the fireproofing spell she discovered when she was Kazul's
princess, Morwen thought.  I hope it still works.  Dropping the
wizard's staff, Morwen grabbed Telemain's arm and hauled him forward.

"Morwen, what are you-" Kazul sat back on her haunches, snapped open
her wings, and roared, sending a bright stream of fire shooting across
the courtyard.  The flames missed Telemain's head by inches, and the
near edge engulfed Cimorene and Mendanbar.

"Kazul, stop that immediately!"  Cimorene cried from the center of the
fire.  She didn't sound as if she were in pain, so the fire-proofing
spell must be working.

"Yes, you don't want to finish those wizards' work for them," Morwen
said as loudly as she could.  "And I'm sure they'd be delighted if you
roasted the King and Queen of the Enchanted Forest for them."

The roaring and the flames did not stop, but Kazul tilted her head so
that the stream of fire shot harmlessly up into the air, As the flames
lifted away from Cimorene and Mendanbar, Morwen breathed a sigh of
relief.

Cimorene's creamy shirt was now closer in color to toast, and the ends
of Mendanbar's hair had crinkled visibly from the heat, but they both
seemed unhurt.  They ran forward to join Morwen and Telemain next to
Kazul's right shoulder.  Windows were flying open and closed all over
the castle as people looked out to find out what all the noise was and
then quickly ducked back inside.

"I've never seen her like this before, not even when the wizards
kidnapped her!"  Cimorene shouted over the roaring.

"I hope I never see her like this again!"  Mendanbar shouted back.

"I'd have been roasted if it hadn't been for that fire-proofing spell
of yours.  It's a good thing you're so tall."

"Fire-proofing spell?"  Telemain lowered his hands from his ears and
leaned forward.  "What fire-proofing spell?  Why hasn't anyone
mentioned this before?"

"Later, Telemain," Morwen yelled.

Finally, Kazul paused for breath.  In the sudden silence, Cimorene
yelled, "Kazul!  For goodness' sake, calm down!"

"I will not calm down!"  Kazul said, but at least now she was shouting
and not breathing fire indiscriminately.  "This time the Society of
Wizards has gone too far, and I'm not settling for throwing them out of
the Enchanted Forest or limiting their power.  This time I'm going to
see the end of them, I swear I am, even if it takes two centuries.  By
my fire, I swear it!"

"Ah, Kazul."  Mendanbar tapped one of the dragoh's shoulder scales.

"It's my sword they've stolen."

"Yes," Cimorene said, "and the first thing we have to do is get it
back.

The Enchanted Forest needs it."

"Very well," said Kazul.  "You may help me exterminate the Society of
Wizards."  Slowly, she settled back to the ground, scales rattling
faintly as she let her wings close.

"First things first," Morwen said.  "Cimorene's right; we have to get
the sword back, and quickly.  Otherwise, the Society of Wizards can
walk into the Enchanted Forest and soak up pieces of it until there's
nothing left."

"That's probably why they took it," Cimorene said.

"No, no," Telemain put in.  "The sword is only one of the primary
loci.

Its physical removal does not invalidate .  . ."  He paused, glanced at
Kazul, and cleared his throat.  "Ah, that is, the King's sword just
helps maintain the

spell.  Taking the sword out of the forest doesn't destroy the whole
spell.  It just weakens it.  That's why the dead spots Morwen showed me
didn't fill in right away.  But the spell is still strong enough to
keep the wizards from gobbling up large chunks of the forest."

"Does that mean that if we recover the sword, the forest will be fully
protected again?"  Mendanbar asked.

Telemain nodded.

"Good.  Give me a minute or two to explain to Willin, and I'll be ready
to go."

"Go?"  Telemain blinked.  "But-" With a huff of air, Mendanbar
vanished.

"But what?"  asked Cimorene.

"Mendanbar shouldn't go anywhere right now," Morwen said.  "It's bad
enough that the sword's missing, but no one will know about that for a
while unless we tell them.  But if the King of the Enchanted Forest
goes tearing off on a quest while mysterious things are happening in
the forest, people are bound to notice."

"There's more to it than that," Telemain said.  "Mendanbar can't go
after the sword, not if he wants to keep what's left of the antiwizard
spell working.  He's the other main focus."

"Oh, dear."  Cimorene looked back toward the castle, and her lips
twitched.  "He's not going to like that at all."

"I'm certain that Morwen, Telemain, and I will be able to handle it,"
Kazul said.

Cimorene frowned.  "Don't you start fussing at me, Kazul.  I'm
perfectly capable of-" "I'm sure you are," Morwen said.  "But the Queen
of the Enchanted Forest shouldn't go tearing off any more than the King
should.  You have responsibilities."

"Bother my responsibilities?

"If I thought you meant that, I'd be worried."

"Retrieving the sword is much more important than anything else I have
to do right now.  Thank goodness it won't be hard to find."

Morwen frowned, puzzled.  "Why do you say that?"

"Well, the wizards have taken it out of the forest, haven't they?

Otherwise Telemain's antiwizard spell would still be working."

Cimorene smiled briefly at Telemain.  "The last time that sword was
outside the forest, it started leaking magic the minute it crossed the
border."

"Leaking magic?"

Cimorene shrugged.  "I don't know what else to call it.  And it gets
worse and worse the longer the sword is outside the forest.  By the end
of the

week, anyone with any magical ability at all will be able to find that
sword with his eyes closed."

"I don't think we can afford to wait that long," Telemain said
slowly.

"What?  Why not?"  Cimorene looked at the magician in alarm.  "You
don't think the Society of Wizards will try to destroy it, do you?"

"It's not that."  Telemain began to pace up and down beside Kazul.

"It's the magic leakage.  I'd forgotten about it, and of course it
didn't matter as long as the sword was inside the forest, but now-"
"Now the wizards have it," Morwen said.  "And wizards' staffs absorb
magic.  If they absorb all the magic the sword leaks, and the leak
keeps growing, it won't be long before they're more than we can
handle."

"That, too," Telemain said, nodding.  "But the real problem is the
source of the magic the sword leaks."

"The source-oh.  Oh, dear."  Morwen looked at Telemain.  "You mean the
Enchanted Forest itself?"

Slowly, Telemain nodded again.  "I'm afraid so.  Mendanbar and I linked
the sword directly to the heart of the forest's magic.  The defensive
enchantment will inhibit the, er, leakage for a while, but after a few
days-" "-the pressure will build up and the sword will start leaking.

And all the magic of the Enchanted Forest will drain out of the sword,"
Morwen finished.

"But that will kill the forest?  Cimorene said.  "We have to get that
sword back right away."

"Not quite," Kazul said.  A thread of smoke continued to trickle
angrily out of the corner of her mouth, but otherwise she seemed to be
in complete control of herself again.  "From what Telemain said, it
will take another day or two for the sword to start leaking.  Right?"

Telemain nodded.  "As near as I can tell."

"Then we don't have to learn to fly by jumping off a cliff.  There are
still a few things I want to know before we go chasing off."

"Such as?"  Morwen asked.

"How the Society of Wizards got inside the castle to steal the sword
without anyone noticing, whether they're likely to be back soon, and
what we can do about it if they are."

Morwen, Telemain, and Cimorene looked at each other.  Then Telemain
looked at Kazul.  "Commendably methodical.  And now that you mention
it, I'd better teach all of you the wizard-liquefying spell before we
leave."

"You mean you've come up with a better way of melting wizards than
soapy water with lemon juice in it?"  Cimorene's smile was only a
little forced.  "Wonderful!"

"I don't know that it's better,"Telemain said.  "However, it appears
to

have the same effect, requires far less preparation, and is
considerably more portable."

"He melted Antorell with it," Morwen said.

Kazul shook herself and stood up.  "Enjoy the lesson.  I'm going to ask
your cook to pack us something for dinner."

"Don't you want to know how to melt wizards?"  Cimorene said.

"No."  Kazul smiled fiercely, showing all her sharp, silver teeth.  "If
I run into any wizards, I'm going to eat them."

"Then why are you bothering about dinner?"  Telemain asked, frowning.

Kazul's smile broadened.  "That's for the rest of you," she said, and
glided off.

7

In Which Killer Rises in the World

Mendanbar returned just as Telemain began his explanation of the
wizard-melting spell.  "You'll want to know this, too, Mendanbar,"
Telemain said, and went right on with his lecture.  The enchantment was
typical of the magician's spare spells: it required a lot of
preparation and a complicated ritual to set it up, but once that had
been done, you could use it several times simply by pointing and saying
a trigger word.  According to Telemain, you didn't even have to say the
trigger word aloud.

"Theoretically, a mental recitation would be just as effective,"
Telemain said.  "This theory, however, remains unverified, as no
opportunity for experimentation has-" "Telemain, if you don't stop
babbling gobbledygook, I'm going to bring Kazul back to listen,"
Morwen said.  "Mendanbar and I know what you're saying, but Cimorene
hasn't the slightest idea what you're talking about."

"Yes, and I'd appreciate it if somebody would translate that last bit,"
Cimorene said.  "It sounded important."

'Just thinking the trigger word ought to be as good as saying it,"
Mendanbar explained.  "But he doesn't know for sure because he hasn't
had a chance to test it on a wizard yet."

"Well, you'll probably get one soon," Cimorene said.  "Have we got all
the ingredients you need for the ritual?  Because I think everyone
ought to be prepared to melt wizards before anyone goes sword
hunting.

It's all very

well for Kazul to say she'll eat them, but if they have any
dragons-bane .  . ."

"Good idea," Mendanbar said.  "What will we need?"

"I brought the rarer components with me," Telemain said.  "If you have
seven lemons, a book that's missing half its cover, and three pints of
unicorn water, I can start working on it at once."

Mendanbar pursed his lips.  "I don't think we have any unicorn
water."

"Yes, we do," said Cimorene.  "It's in the cupboard by the buckets, in
a jug marked 'Magic-Mirror Cleaner."  Don't look at me like that.  It
was the safest place I could think of.  Ever since we put the gargoyle
in charge of answering the mirror, nobody but me dares to clean it."

Mendanbar laughed.  "I don't blame them."

"Why don't you and Telemain check the library and start setting up in
the Grand Hall?"  Cimorene suggested.  "Morwen and I will get the other
ingredients and meet you there."

The two men agreed to this plan, and the group split up.  As the castle
door closed, Cimorene gave a sigh of relief.

"How do you stand it?"  she asked Morwen.

"The way Telemain complicates things when he talks?"  Morwen shook her
head.  "I don't have to, much."

"I thought you were old friends."

"We are.  That doesn't mean we see a lot of each other, though I'll
admit that he drops by much more often now that he lives in the
Enchanted Forest, tOO."

"Even so .  . ."

Morwen thought for a minute.  "The only thing you can do is avoid
talking about magic with him;" she said at last.  "He's reasonably
clear when it comes to normal conversation, but as soon as anyone
mentions spells he gets technical.  Or you could make sure Kazul is
always with you."

"Yes, I'd noticed that Telemain doesn't-" A distant bray interrupted
Cimorene in mid-sentence.  "Good heavens," she said.  "What on earth
was that?"

"Killer," Morwen said, walking more quickly.  "Unless you've acquired a
donkey since the last time I was here."

"A donkey?  No, but-" As they rounded the last corner and came in sight
of the kitchen, Cimorene stopped short.  The cook stood in the
half-open kitchen door, brandishing a copper frying pan to keep Killer
from forcing his way inside, while Scorn and Jasper watched from the
safety of a nearby window ledge.

Midway between the kitchen and the moat, Kazul sat on her haunches,
smiling down at the terrified blue donkey in amusement.  Since the
smile showed a fair number of teeth, it wasn't helping Killer's state
of mind at all.

"Killer," Morwen said sternly.  "Stop that this instant."

"But it's a dragon!"  Killer wailed.  "And it's right there!

Eee-augh!"

The cook glanced toward them, gasped, and dropped the frying pan.

"Your Majesty!"

Taking full advantage of the cook's distraction, Killer flung himself
forward.  He hit the door with a thud, shoving it wide and knocking the
cook over backward.  As his head and front feet disappeared inside the
kitchen, a cat yowled loudly in surprise and pain.

"Fiddlesticks?"  Morwen said.  "That does it."  She raised her arms.

"Sky and sea and whirling sands, Stop that creature where he stands!"

On the final word, she brought both hands down in a swift chopping
gesture.  Killer stopped moving and gave a startled bellow.  An instant
later, Fiddlesticks shot out from between the donkey's legs.  Morwen
breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

"He stepped on my tail!"  Fiddlesticks said with great indignation.  He
sat down at Kazul's feet and began energetically washing the offended
part.

"I'm surprised it wasn't your nose," Scorn said.  "You poke it into
enough peculiar places."

"Help!  Hee-eeau-elp!"  Killer cried.  "I'm going to be eaten?

"Get this creature out of my kitchen!"  the cook yelled as he scrambled
to his feet.

"Quiet, all of you," said Cimorene, edging her way through the narrow
gap between Killer's rear end and the door frame.  Since Fiddlesticks
seemed more or less unharmed, Morwen followed Cimorene inside.  Killer
continued to moan and whimper despite Cimorene's order, but he at least
stopped braying.

Inside, Cimorene glanced around the kitchen, which was nearly as clean
and tidy as Morwen's, and nodded to the cook.  The cook bowed deeply.

Cimorene turned to Killer.  "Nobody is going to eat anyone here unless
I say so.  Now, how did this happen?"

'Just how you'd expect," Scorn said from the window.  "Killer was being
stupid again."

"I'm not stupid," Killer said.  "Eee-eeaugh!  Oh, help?

"I said quiet," Cimorene said.

"But I can't move, and there's a dragon-" "I can arrange it so you
can't talk, either," Morwen said.  "And if you don't start behaving
yourself, I'll do it.  Cimorene, this is Killer.  He ought to be a
rabbit of the usual size and color, but he's had some trouble with

wizards lately.  This is Cimorene, the Queen of the Enchanted Forest I
think you should answer her question."

Killer rolled his eyes and waggled his ears, managing to look foolish
and terrified at the same time, but after a few more minutes of
reassurance, coaxing, and stern commands, he calmed down enough to
explain.  He had been waiting for the castle cook to mix up his
promised lunch, and hadn't noticed Kazul's arrival.  When the cats
pointed her out to him he had been nervous, but he hadn't really
started to worry until Kazul asked the cook to pack provisions for a
journey.  What had really panicked him, though, had been the dragon
saying, in answer to a question from the cook, that the provisions
should be for human people only, because she would find her own
meals.

"There, you see?"  Scorn said, lashing her tail.  "He was being
stupid."

"I can see why it might make you nervous," Cimorene said to Killer.

"Kazul can be a bit intimidating up close."  She considered for a
moment.

"Kazul won't eat you once you've been properly introduced.  Let him
loose, Morwen, and I'll take him over and present him."

"Are you sure?"  Killer asked.

"Positive," Cimorene told him.  "Dragons are very polite.  Morwen?"

Since all the cats were out of danger and Killer seemed to have settled
down, Morwen nodded agreement.  Bringing her hands together at waist
height, she said, 'Fire and cloud and rain and snow, Lift the spell and
let him go!"

As she spoke, she raised her arms in a slow reversal of the movement
she had used to freeze Killer where he stood.

For a long moment, nothing seemed to happen.  Morwen frowned, wondering
if the wizards' size-changing spell was interfering with her
witchcraft.

Then a ripple ran across Killer's back, like heat rising from an iron
stove.  He shivered, shook himself, and pranced backward several steps,
ducking his head to clear the top of the doorway.

"Thanks," he said.  "Um, could we just sort of skip the part about
presenting me to the dragon for now?"

"That wouldn't be a good-Killer, are you growing again?"  Morwen
asked.

"You look taller."

Jasper yawned widely and jumped down from the window ledge.  "He's not
taller," the cat said, strolling forward.  "He's just farther up."

Automatically, Morwen, Cimorene, and the cook glanced down, following
Jasper's movement.  Morwen blinked.  Between Killer's front hooves and
the flagstones of the courtyard stretched a long inch of empty air.

"I wonder if he'll still leave footprints?"  Cimorene said, half to
herself.

"What is it?"  Killer asked nervously.  "What are you all staring
at?"

He looked down and his ears stiffened.  "Eee-augh!"  He pranced
backward, out of sight, and Cimorene and Morwen hurried out after
him.

With every step, he gained a little more height, until he was a good
four inches above the ground.  "Help!  I'm falling!"

"You're not falling," Scorn said.  "You're floating."

"He is, isn't he?"  Fiddlesticks said, walking over.  "And it's a very
good idea.  He can't step on anybody's tail now."

"Hold still," Morwen said to the donkey.  "Every time you take a step,
you get farther up.  If you keep moving, you'll be over the castle in
no time.

And if the spell suddenly wears off .  . ."

"Eee-augh!"  Killer rolled his eyes and planted his feet firmly in thin
air.

"Now what?"

"Now you wait," Morwen told him.  "This looks like another side effect
of mixing different kinds of magic, and that's really Telemain's
specialty.  I'll send him out as soon as we're done inside."

"Tell him to hurry!"

Cimorene shook her head.  "I'm afraid it will take a while, but we'll
bring him as soon as we can.  In the meantime, Evim will get you some
lunch."  She looked back over her shoulder at the cook, who nodded and
vanished into the kitchen.

Behind Killer, scales scraped noisily against stone.  "This is very
entertaining," Kazul said, "but haven't we got more important things to
do than argue with an oversized blue donkey with avian ambitions?"

Killer rolled his eyes and choked back another bray.  Cimorene smiled
but shook her head.  "It's not quite as silly as it looks.  Kazul, this
is Killer; Killer, this is Kazul, the King of the Dragons.  Killer is
the one who found out that the wizards are back in the forest,
Kazul."

"He is?"  Kazul came around in front, where she could see Killer more
clearly.  "Have you got any idea how they got into the palace?"

"N-no, sir-I mean, ma'am," said Killer.

"The size-changing spell must have had something to do with it," Morwen
said.  "If they shrank themselves small enough to sneak through the
door without being seen-" "That would be hard," Cimorene said.  "Our
regular doorman is on vacation, so Willin's been handling it.  And he's
not all that big himself.

Those wizards would have had to shrink awfully small to get past
him."

"There are other doors," Kazul pointed out.  "This one, for
instance."

She waved a claw at the kitchen entrance.

"Yes, but there's a spell on them that rings a bell in the footman's
room whenever someone who doesn't belong here comes through one of
them."

"However they did it, we aren't going to figure it out standing here,"
Morwen said.  "Either we should go down to the armory and investigate,
or we should get those lemons and go meet Mendanbar and Telemain the
way we planned."

"Good heavens, I almost forgot," Cimorene said.  "Lemons and unicorn
water it is.  I'm sorry, Kazul, but we can't do everything at once."

Cimorene and Morwen said good-bye to Kazul and went back into the
kitchen, where they collected the lemons and unicorn water.  Just as
they were leaving, Jasper slipped out from behind a large basket of
apples that was leaning against a corner wall.

"Morwen?"  said the cat.  "I've got something to tell you."

"All right," Morwen said.  "Would you mind waiting a minute,
Cimorene?

Jasper wants to talk to me, and he wouldn't interrupt if it weren't
important."

"Of course," Cimorene said.  "But do try to be quick, Jasper.  We've
already taken more time than we should have."

Jasper favored Cimorene with a slow blink of approval.  "I like her.

She understands cats better than most people do."

"Very likely," said Morwen.  "Now, what was it you wanted to tell
me?"

"I know how the wizards got into the armory."

"Well?"

The cat coughed and looked around to make sure none of the other
animals were within hearing distance.  "Plumbing and mouse holes," he
said very softly.  "There's an old drain that goes under the moat and
comes out in the forest.  The wizards used it to get into the castle
and then wandered around in the walls until they found a mouse hole
into the armory.  Once they had the sword, they used a transport spell
to leave."

"How do you know all this?"

Jasper hunched his shoulders in embarrassment.  "I asked the castle
mice.  A couple of them are friends of mine, and they gave me the whole
story.  Don't tell anyone, will you?  If Scorn finds out, I'll never
hear the end of it."

"If Scorn or anyone else says one word about it, you let me know,"
Morwen said.  "That was very well done, Jasper.  Thank you."

Jasper raised his chin and arched his back proudly.  "You're welcome.

But I'd still rather you didn't tell Scorn."

"I won't," Morwen promised.  "All right, Cimorene.  Let's go."

"What was that about?"  Cimorene asked as they left the kitchen.  "J
asper found out how the wizards got in," Morwen said, and explained as
well as she could without mentioning Jasper's friendship with the
mice.

Cimorene frowned.  "Mouse holes?  That's awful.  We'll never find them
all, and even if we did, the mice would just make new ones.  And no one
has ever invented a spell to keep mice out.  Not one that works,
anyway."

"And if you can't keep the mice out, you can't keep the wizards out,
either.  It's a problem."  Morwen thought for a minute.  "Why don't you
ask the mice to help?"

"Ask the mice?"  Cimorene looked startled, then nodded.  "Of course.

Even if they won't tell us where their holes are, they can let us know
if any more wizards try to use them.  But who should we get to talk to
them?"

"Your gargoyle.  I'll wager my best broomstick that the mice will talk
to him, and Telemain can rig up some portable magic mirrors so he can
warn you when you're in other parts of the castle."

"Can Telemain make portable magic mirrors?"

"I don't know," Morwen said.  "But we can ask."

They turned down the last long corridor that led to the Grand Hall, and
Morwen's eyes widened.  "Impressive," she said after a moment.

"Haven't you been to the Grand Hall before?"  Cimorene said.

"No," Morwen said positively.  "I'd remember."

The door to the Grand Hall was made of gold.  It was twice as wide and
three times as tall as a normal door, and it was covered with relief
patterns that moved and twisted if you looked at them too long.

Cimorene smiled at Morwen, tapped at the door with one finger, and
waited.  After a moment, the door swung smoothly open.

"We're here," Cimorene said, stepping forward.  "Are you ready to
start?"

8

In 	Which Telemain Does a Spell and Morwen Misses a Call

The Grand Hall was as large as a ballroom, with a high ceiling and a
green marble floor.  Sunlight streamed through a dozen windows in the
upper half of the walls, and two branches of unlit candles hung below
each window, ready for evening or a cloudy day.  Mendanbar and Telemain
had pushed the few pieces of furniture-five high-backed wooden chairs
and a long low-backed couch-up against the far wall.  In the empty
center of the room, Telemain had set up a large iron brazier, about
three feet high and nearly five feet across.

"Where on earth did you get that?"  Cimorene asked.

"I ordered it from the dwarfs," Telemain said, stooping to squint
across the rim of the brazier.  "And I had to send it back twice.  The
wizard liquefication spell requires extraordinary precision in the
initial stages."  With considerable difficulty, he shoved the brazier
half an inch to the right and stooped to check its position once
more.

"I made a quick trip to his house just now to bring it," Mendanbar
said.  "I don't need the sword for a spell that simple."

Cimorene smiled at him.  "Thank you.  How long will this take?"

"Not long," Telemain said, rising.  "You've got the lemons and the
unicorn water?"

Morwen handed them to him.  "I don't think I've seen a setup quite like
this before.  How did you think of it?"

"The design was not difficult, once the theoretical basis for the
spell was determined."  Telemain carefully set the lemons on the floor
and opened the bottle of unicorn water.  It glowed with a faint
silver-white light as he poured it into the brazier.  "The efficacy of
the cleansing solution in liquefying wizards suggested the operation of
an antithetical principle, which-" "Did you have to get him started?"

Cimorene asked reproachfully.

"Yes," said Morwen.  "I want to know how this works.  Talk to
Mendanbar, if you'd rather not listen."

From one of his many pockets, Telemain produced a small envelope.

As he mixed and poured and arranged the various elements of the spell,
he explained each procedure in detail.  Morwen was impressed in spite
of herself.

The spell was clearly a major magical achievement.

Finally the preparations were finished and the brazier was half-full of
white, foamy liquid.  "That's enough," Telemain said.  "Now, would all
of you come here and hold your right hands over the brazier, please."

Frowning, he watched the bubbling liquid until the foam reached the lip
of the brazier.  Then he said, "Over and under, in and out.

Back and through and roundbout.

Send them away when we wish them to go.

ArgelJaster!"

The liquid spattered upward as if someone had thrown a large rock into
it.  Three icy droplets fell on Morwen's extended hand, and several
more sprinkled her robe and glasses.  It was all she could do not to
flinch.

Then, with a burbling hiss like a giant steam bubble bursting, the
liquid exploded into a dense white cloud and rolled over them.  The
clean parts of Morwen's glasses fogged up immediately.  Beside her, she
heard Mendanbar cough.

"That's right, take a deep breath."  Telemain's voice sounded very far
away.  Somewhere in the thick fog, Cimorene gasped and started
coughing.

Warily, Morwen sniffed.  The fog was bitterly cold and smelled strongly
of lemons and bleach.  "Bother," she muttered, and breathed in as
Telemain had directed.  As she had expected, she began to cough.  A
moment later, the fog cleared.

"Very good," Telemain said, beaming at the three of them as they gasped
for air.  "You can put your hands down now."

"You might have warned us," Cimorene said when she could talk again.

"About what?"  Telemain sounded genuinely puzzled.

trating briefly, she reached into her sleeve, pulled out a clean
handkerchief, and carefully wiped the lenses.  "The temperature of that
concoction, the fact that we were supposed to breathe that steam, and
the presence of bleach in the mixture, for example."

"Why the bleach?"  Mendanbar asked, in a tone nearly as puzzled as
Telemain's.

Morwen settled her glasses back on her nose and scowled at Telemain.

"Take a good look at my robe."  She held out her arms so that he could
clearly see all the pale purple-gray dots where his magic fluid had
spattered across the black fabric.

"I'm sorry, Morwen," Telemain said.  "I didn't realize it would do
that."

"Obviously."  Tucking her handkerchief into her sleeve, Morwen shook
her head.  "At least the spell worked."

"You're sure?"  Cimorene asked.  "I didn't feel anything when it went
off.  Except like coughing."

"An unfortunate but necessary side effect," Telemain said, nodding.

"It may be possible to eliminate the discomfort in the future, but this
time I thought it best to use a proven method."

"Didn't you have to adjust for the number of people involved?"  Morwen
asked.

"A simple matter of altering the balance of ingredients," Telemain
assured her.

"And the trigger word is argelJaster.  Morwen went on.  "For all of
us?"

Telemain nodded.  "Say it, or think it very clearly, and point your
finger at the wizard.  It's quite effective."

"How did you pick a word like argelJaster?"  Cimorene asked.

"I wanted something memorable."

"It is that," Morwen murmured.  "Telemain, if you are quite finished, I
am going home.  I want to change clothes and make arrangements with the
cats before I go sword hunting.  Oh, and take a look at Killer before
you leave, or he's likely to float off and starve."

"Float off?"

Cimorene shook her head.  "Morwen, in your own way you can be just as
bad as he is.  It's like this, Telemain .  . ."  She began explaining
what had happened in and around the kitchen.

Frowning, Mendanbar moved closer to Morwen.  "I understand why you want
to stop at your house before we leave," he said, "and I know you can
get yourself back there somehow-" "I have my broom with me," Morwen
said.  "It's outside, by the front door where we arrived."

Mendanbar nodded.  "Still, I'd like to get this expedition under way
as

fast as I can.  If I send you home on a quick spell, you'll get there
much sooner than if you fly."

"That would be fine, as long as you're willing to send my cats and my
broom with me," Morwen said.  "And make sure someone remembers about
Killer.  He's a nuisance, but it isn't his fault that he's turned into
a six-foot blue floating donkey.  Well, mostly it isn't."

"Of course."  Mendanbar's eyes got a faraway look, as they always did
when he was drawing on the magic of the Enchanted Forest.  His right
hand moved, as if he were plucking a string, and Fiddlesticks, Jasper,
and Scorn appeared on the green marble in front of Morwen.  All three
were crouched around a bowl-sized circle, and Fiddlesticks had cream on
his nose.

"Hey!"  said Fiddlesticks.  "I wasn't finished!"

"I'll give you something more when we get home," Morwen said.  "I
believe that's everyone, Mendanbar."

"I'll see you later, then," Mendanbar said, and raised his hand.

"Telemain and Kazul and I will meet you at your house.  We won't be
long."

His fingers twitched and the room started to fade.

As the walls blurred into gray mist, Morwen heard Telemain say, "Ah,
about this expedition, Mendanbar, I don't think .  . ."  His voice grew
faint and faraway, then was swallowed in the mist.  A moment later, the
mist cleared, leaving Morwen standing in the large open area in front
of her house.

"Remarkably convenient," Morwen said, bending to pick up her broom.

"He could have set us on the porch, if he'd wanted to."Jasper strolled
forward and paused at the foot of the steps.  "Do you need me for
anything now, Morwen?"

"I didn't mean the transportation," Morwen said.  "I was referring to
the timing.  And no, I won't need you for a while."

"Then I'll just take a nap until you do.  All this running around is
exhausting."  Jasper vanished under the porch.

"What timing?"  Fiddlesticks asked.  "Do you mean it's time for some
fish?"

"No, I mean that I won't have to help explain to Mendanbar why he can't
leave the Enchanted Forest to look for his sword."  Morwen walked
briskly up the steps and set her broom against the wall next to the
door, where it would be handy.  "Scorn, please get everyone together in
the garden in about half an hour."

"Half an hour?  I thought you were in a hurry."

"We are, but it'll take at least that long for Cimorene and Telemain to
convince Mendanbar that he can't go.  Run along, now.  I've got to
pack."  With that, Morwen pushed open the front door and went inside.

Slightly less than half an hour later, Morwen walked out the back door
into the garden.  The sleeves of the bleach-speckled robe had been
emptied and disenchanted, and the robe itself dumped into the rag
basket.  She had transferred the sleeve spell to her new robe
(identical to the old one, except for the bleach speckles) and packed
both sleeves with magic supplies and a variety of everyday items that
might come in handy, including several lemons, a small collapsible
bucket, and a bottle of liquid soap.  Spells or no spells, Morwen did
not intend to take unnecessary chances.  Since she did not know how
long they would be gone, she added an extra robe, a blanket, and
several chicken-salad sandwiches.  She considered putting in a few
bottles of cider as well, but there were limits to what the spell would
hold, and her sleeves were growing heavy, a sure sign that the limits
were close.

The cats had already collected in the garden, lolling in patches of
sun, perching in the branches of the largest apple tree, or stalking
along the garden rows, as if they had all intended to be there for
reasons of their own.

Smiling slightly, Morwen sat down on the back step next to Miss
Eliza.

In a few minutes, the other cats drifted over to join them.

"I'm glad you're all here," Morwen told them.  "There's been some
trouble, and there'll probably be more."

"Scorn and Jasper told us," Murgatroyd said.  "Wizards."

"Revolting creatures," Miss Eliza said.

"I'll kill one for you, if you want," Trouble offered.

"I don't think that will be necessary," Morwen said.  "Telemain and I
hope to retrieve the King's sword and put a stop to this nonsense once
and for all.  Trouble and Scorn will come with me.  The rest of you
will stay here and guard the house and garden."

"How long will you be gone?"  Aunt Ophelia asked.

"I'm not sure.  At least a week, I expect, unless we're very lucky."

"You should take us all," Chaos said, crouching and lashing his tail
fiercely.  "You might need us.  Wizards are tough."

"Hah," said Trouble.  "Wizards aren't tough.  You just have to know the
right place to dig in your claws.  Ogres, now, ogres are-" "We are well
aware of your talents, Trouble," said Miss Eliza.  "This is not the
time to brag."

"I would prefer that you stay here," Morwen said to Chaos.  "It's
possible that Telemain will be bouncing us around with his transport
spells, and he's not used to dealing with a crowd.  I'd worry about
someone getting left behind."

"I'm staying," Jasmine announced with an enormous yawn.

"Telemain's spells give me motion sickness."

"Moving gives you motion sickness," Trouble muttered.  "But the rest
of

US--" "Several of you should stay here in case the wizards show up
while I'm gone," Morwen pointed out.

"I'll be ready for them."  Fiddlesticks jumped onto the window ledge,
where he balanced precariously, trying to look fierce and watchful
without stepping on Jasmine.  "I won't let them in, even if they offer
me some fish!"

"You are an example to us all," Miss Eliza said.  It was impossible to
tell from her tone whether or not she meant it to be sarcastic.

"He'll do better than Jasmine would," Murgatroyd said.  "She didn't
hear a thing when the mirror went off a bit ago."

Morwen frowned.  "Someone called while I was out?  Why didn't you
mention it?"

"It was that fellow you don't like," Trouble said.  "The one with the
long name that you won't turn into a toad."

"Arona Michaelear Grinogion Vamist?"  Morwen said incredulously.

"That's him.  He was annoyed when he didn't see anyone but us."

Trouble's tail whipped sideways, up, and then down onto the ground with
a thump that showed what he thought of such lack of taste.

"'lls'?  How many of you were in my study when he called?"

Several of the cats shifted uncomfortably and looked away.

"Oh, never mind," Morwen said.  "Vamist will have to wait; I haven't
time for him now.  The fate of the Enchanted Forest is much more
important than his idiotic notions."

"She sounds cranky," Fiddlesticks said to Jasmine.  "Do you think
she'll turn him into a toad after all?"

Before anyone could answer, there was a loud thwump from the other side
of the house.  Fiddlesticks fell off the window ledge, and all of the
rest of the cats except Jasmine jumped.  The moment he landed, Trouble
leapt for the back door with an angry growl, Chaos and Murgatroyd close
behind.

"Wait for me!"  Fiddlesticks yelled, scrambling to his feet.  "Wait-"
"Morwen!"The shout came from the front yard as Morwen rose unhurriedly
to her feet.

"That sounds like Kazul," Scorn said.

I suspect it is," Morwen said.  "Come along, Scorn.  It's time to
leave."

9

In Which the Expedition Leaves the Enchanted Forest at Last The rest of
the cats, even Jasmine, followed Morwen and Scorn through the house and
out onto the front porch.  Kazul was standing in the center of the
yard, along with Telemain and Killer.  The donkey was still floating a
good six inches above the ground, and he looked extremely
uncomfortable.

Standing beside him was Mendanbar, who was frowning ferociously, and
Cimorene, who seemed to be trying to suppress a satisfied smile.  With
some dismay, Morwen noted that Cimorene now had a small pack slung over
one shoulder and a slim sword belted to her waist.

The cats flowed across the yard and converged on Kazul.  Making little
noises of satisfaction, all nine of the cats scrambled up the dragon's
sides.

Their claws rasped against Kazul's scales, making Cimorene wince, but
neither they nor the dragon seemed to notice.

Morwen looked at Telemain while the cats draped themselves contentedly
all over Kazul.  "I thought you were going to explain to him why he
couldn't come along," she said, nodding sideways at Mendanbar.

"I did," Telemain said grumpily.

"Then what is he doing here?"

"Making trouble?"  Scorn suggested from a comfortable perch on Kazul's
left shoulder.

"He'd better not be," Trouble said.  "That's my job."  He stretched

himself full length along the lower part of Kazul's neck, beside her
spinal ridges, his tail and one front paw dangling lazily.

"I'm taking you to the edge of the Enchanted Forest," Mendanbar said.

"I can do that much, at least, even if I can't come with you.  My magic
will get you there faster than anything else, and you'll be safe from
most of the things that live in the forest if you're with me."

"I see."  That explained Telemain's bad mood: he hated having to admit
that anyone's magic was better than his, even the King's.  Morwen
looked at Cimorene.  "What about you?"

"I'm coming with you," Cimorene said.  Mendanbar scowled fiercely as if
he wanted to object, but before he could, Cimorene hurried on, "I have
to.

Otherwise you'll have as much difficulty with the sword as I hope those
blasted wizards are having right now."

Kazul snorted angrily, sending out a large ball of smoke, which made
everyone in front of her cough.  "If they aren't having trouble now,
they will soon."

Morwen gave Kazul a stern look over the tops of her glasses.  "We are
going on this expedition to recover Mendanbar's sword, Kazul.  We
aren't trying to destroy the entire Society of Wizards."

"Yet," said Trouble.

"You be quiet, or I'll leave you at home," Morwen said.  "Now, would
someone explain to me just why Cimorene has to come along?"

"Resonance and half-hard deflection mechanisms," Telemain said.

"Which are-" "-as clear as mud," Kazul put in.

Telemain looked annoyed.  "I wasn't talking to you.  Morwen understands
what I mean."

"Most of the time," Morwen said.

"I think he means that Mendanbar's sword is painful to touch, unless
you happen to belong to the King's family," Cimorene said.  "And the
longer it stays outside the forest, the harder it is to handle."

"The deflection increases exponentially," Telemain said.  "Rather like
the magic leakage we discussed earlier, only the defense spells won't
slow down the deflection.  By this time, it is undoubtedly past the
transfer-resonance point."

"So the Society of Wizards can't use the sword against us."  Morwen
smiled grimly.  "Good.  I'd been wondering about that."

"Unfortunately, you can't use it, either," Cimorene said.  "If Telemain
is right about the timing-" "And I am."

"-then in a day or two nobody but a member of the Royal Family will be
able to pick up the sword at all, much less carry it back to the
Enchanted

Forest.  So since Mendanbar and I are the only members of the Royal
Family right now, and since Mendanbar has to stay in the forest-" "-you
have to come with us to retrieve the sword," Morwen finished, raising
an eyebrow.  "I see."

Cimorene grinned.  "Telemain explained it at least three times at the
castle, and by the time he and Mendanbar finished arguing, I had a
pretty good idea what he meant, even if he never did say it straight
out."

"I did, too!"  Telemain said indignantly.  "Several times."

"Not so I understood."

"That is unfortunately not very surprising," Morwen said.

"Mendanbar, your sword is very inconveniently designed."

"Don't blame me, "Mendanbar said.  "The blasted thing came with the
kingdom."

"Hmph."  Morwen glanced around.  "What about Killer?  Why is he
here?"

Killer's ears twitched anxiously forward.  "They told me I was supposed
to come.  Is it all right?"

"Once we're away from the interference patterns of the Enchanted
Forest, we should be able to trace the residual energy in the
morphological field trap," Telemain said.  "At that point, a standard
locus delimiter should-" "Telemain," Kazul said in a warning tone.

Morwen rolled her eyes.  "He thinks we can use what's left of the
size-changing spell on Killer to find the wizards.  But are you sure
there's enough, Telemain?"

"I can't tell until we're out of the forest," Telemain said.  "The
interference-" He glanced at Kazul and stopped.

"I understand," Morwen said.  "But remember: bringing him along was
your idea, so you're responsible for keeping him out of trouble."

"And he'd better do a good job," Trouble said.  "If that overgrown blue
idiot steps on my tail, he'll wish he'd never left his rabbit hole."

"I already wish I'd never left my hole," Killer said.  "Rabbits aren't
supposed to have adventures.  Our temperaments aren't suited to
them."

"Are you people going to stand around talking all day?"  Kazul asked
pointedly.  "Or are we going wizard hunting?"

"Sword hunting, Kazul, if you please," Morwen said.  "And I am ready to
leave as soon as we decide which way we're heading."

There was a pause while Cimorene, Telemain, and Mendanbar looked at
each other.  Scorn snickered.  "Look at them!  They didn't even think
of that."

"The central office of the Society of Wizards is in the Brown Forest,"
Telemain said at last.  "We should probably start there."

"Why waste time?"  Kazul said.  "The wizards wouldn't be stupid enough
to take Mendanbar's sword to their main office."

"Antorell would," Cimorene said.

"Where is the Brown Forest?"  Killer asked timidly.  "It doesn't sound
very... appetizing."

"It's worse than it sounds," Telemain told him.  "The Brown Forest is
actually a corner of the Great Southern Desert."

Frowning, Cimorene looked at Telemain.  "I always thought the Brown
Forest was a dead woods.  Are you sure it's really a desert?"

Telemain nodded.  "I've been there."

"You have?"  Kazul said.  "Why?"

"I wanted to learn wizardry, and the school the Society of Wizards runs
is the only-" "You wanted to be a wizard?"Kazul said, outraged.

"No," Telemain said in the too-patient tone of someone who has had to
give the same explanation far too many times.  "I didn't want to be a
wizard.

I wanted to study them.  Their magical methods are unique, and
magicians have been attempting to figure them out for a long, long
time."

"And you thought they would tell you if you asked politely?"

Cimorene said.

Telemain shrugged.  "It was worth a try.  Anyway, I've been to the
Brown Forest in the Great Southern Desert.  I can probably even find
the area where the central office of the Society of Wizards was when I
was "The area where it was?"  Kazul said.

"They move the building every couple of months," Telemain explained.

"I don't know whether they do it to stay hard to find or whether they
take turns practicing the relocation spell."

"No wonder they keep trying to steal other people's magic," Kazul
muttered.  "They waste what they've got moving buildings around."

"South, then?"  Mendanbar said, glancing around.  "Very well."  He
raised a hand, then paused.  "Morwen, are you taking all your cats
along on this expedition?"

"Phooey," said Murgatroyd.  "I was hoping no one would think of
that."

'Just Trouble and Scorn," Morwen said, giving the cats a stern look.

"The rest of you should get down now."

Cats flowed along Kazul's back and off her shoulders, until only
Trouble and Scorn remained.  When the whole crowd had reached the
porch, Morwen nodded to Mendanbar.  An instant later, gray mist rose,
thickened to hide the house and forest, then faded to reveal a grove of
slender young trees, none of which were much taller than Kazul.  They
looked odd and

spindly, and it was a moment before Morwen realized that they only
seemed scraggly by comparison to the giant oaks that surrounded her
house.

"This is as far as I take you," Mendanbar said unhappily.  "The edge of
the Enchanted Forest is over there."

"What about getting back in, once we leave?"  Telemain asked.

"If we recover the sword, getting into the forest won't be a problem,"
Cimorene said.  "If we don't-" "I'll keep an eye on the border,"
Mendanbar said.  "As soon as I see you, I'll come out to meet you."

"Don't worry about watching for us," Morwen said.  "Worry about the
wizards.  We'll call on the magic mirror when we're ready to come
back."

"And a couple of times before then, just to say hi," Cimorene put in.

Mendanbar looked at Cimorene for a long minute, then turned to
Telemain.  "Are you sure I can't leave the Enchanted Forest?"

"Not without destroying the energy loop that prevents the Society of
Wizards from primary absorption inside the forest," Telemain said.

"Then can't you transfer the spell's focus from me to Cimorene?"

"Hey!"  said Cimorene, frowning.  "Who says I want to be a focus?"

"No," Telemain said to Mendanbar.  "The top links connect directly to
the central-" "'No' is quite enough," Morwen said.  "Didn't you go over
all this at the castle?"

"Yes," Cimorene said.  "Mendanbar is just trying to keep me out of
this."  She stepped forward and drew Mendanbar a little away from the
others.  "Look, dear, there's nothing you can .  . ."  Her voice faded
to a murmur.

"How far is the Brown Forest from here?"  Morwen asked Telemain.

"Three transports and a two-day walk."  Telemain looked at Kazul and
frowned suddenly.  His gaze traveled down the dragon's neck, across her
wings and massive back, and out along her tail.  "Make that five
transports and a two-day walk.  I didn't have quite so much to move
last time."

"I could stay here," Killer offered hopefully.

"No, you couldn't," Morwen said.  "Telemain needs you to find the
wizards.  Why a two-day walk, Telemain?"

"Because the Society of Wizards has established an interference pattern
around the Brown Forest."

"So?"  said Scorn.

"So that means it isn't safe to use transportation spells anywhere near
the forest," Morwen said.

"I bet you could break it," Trouble said.  "Wizards are wimps.

"Maybe," Morwen said.  "And maybe you would end up with Killer's

ears and Scorn's tail.  Even simple interference patterns are tricky,
and this one has the whole Society of Wizards behind it."

"Committees never do a good job," Scorn said, but she did not pursue
the issue.

"Are you sure you need the donkey?"  Kazul asked.  "Because I think I
can carry everyone else for at least a little way, and that would cut
down on the travel time."

Killer's ears pricked up, then drooped as Telemain shook his head.

"Without Killer we'd have to hunt for the Society of Wizards'
building.

We'd probably lose more time than we gained."

Kazul shook her head irritably.  "Well, if you human people didn't
waste so much time arguing, we'd-oh, good, Cimorene's finished."

Turning, Morwen saw Mendanbar and Cimorene coming toward them.

Mendanbar's expression was even more unhappy than before, and Cimorene
looked equally sober.  "Ready to go?"  she asked as they reached the
group.

"Whenever you are," Telemain replied.

"Cimorene .  . . ," said Mendanbar.

"Don't start," Cimorene said in a gentle tone.  "One of us has to go,
and you can't."

"If Telemain and Morwen weren't with you, I'd say let the wizards have
the blasted sword," Mendanbar muttered.  "It isn't worth the risk."

"Telemain and Morwen?"  Kazul muttered.  "What am I, diced troll
food?"

Cimorene kissed Mendanbar's nose.  "You'd say 'let the wizards have the
sword, but you wouldn't mean it.  Don't worry, I'll be all right."  She
turned to Morwen, her eyes suspiciously bright.  "Come on, let's go
before he thinks of another objection."

Morwen nodded and started off.  The edge of the Enchanted Forest was
only a few yards away, clearly visible as a sharp line where the bright
green moss stopped and ordinary grass began.  At the border, Morwen
waited a moment for everyone to line up, then they all crossed at more
or less the same time.  Telemain had them walk several yards, to get
away from the "field influences," before he was satisfied that his
transportation spell would work properly.  Then, frowning in
concentration, he made a circling gesture and muttered under his
breath.  The trees melted and shifted, then solidified into an open
field.

"One down, four to go," said Telemain.

10

In Which Telemain Works Very Hard

Telemain had to stop and rest for a while after the second
transportation spell, and after the third he looked so pale that Morwen
said, "We don't have to go on immediately, you know.  We've got at
least one more day, and probably two, before the sword reaches the
critical point."

"It's getting late."  Telemain puffed as if he had been running hard
for a long time.  "Still, I'm quite capable of casting another spell or
two."

Cimorene glanced at the tall pines that surrounded them and dug an
experimental toe into the spongy accumulation of needles underfoot.

"If you're sure it won't be too much-" "We're going to have to spend
the night somewhere, and this looks like as good a place as any,"
Morwen broke in quickly.  "Better than some."

"Boring," said Trouble.  "It looks boring.  Jasmine would love it.

Let's try for somewhere more interesting."

Kazul coiled her tail loosely around the base of one of the trees and
stretched herself out on the ground.  "It's comfortable, and there's
plenty of room."

"I thought you were in a hurry," Telemain said irritably.  "Do you want
to find Mendanbar's sword or not?"

"If you wear yourself out doing transports, you won't be able to do the
locating spell," Morwen said as Cimorene opened her mouth to speak.

"I'm not worn out!"

Cimorene closed her mouth and gave Telemain a long, thoughtful look.

Good, thought Morwen.  Now if I can just get Telemain to agree to stop
transporting before he falls over .  . . "If we go on, where will we
land next?"

"I'm not sure," Telemain admitted.  "Normally, I transfer from here
straight to the edge of the Great Southern Desert, but the interval is
incompatible with the number of people and the mass I'm transporting on
this occasion.  Given the ratios, I would approximate a landing site at
three-fifths of the normal distance."

"Do you know what we'd find there?"  Morwen asked, ignoring Cimorene's
puzzled expression.

"No."

"Then we're better off here," Morwen said in a tone intended to
discourage further discussion.  "It looks comfortable and quiet, and
the next stop might not be either."  She stepped closer to Telemain and
murmured, "And we should be careful not to let Cimorene get too
tired."

"Oh!"  Telemain sighed in relief.  "Of course.  Very well, we'll camp
here, and go on in the morning."

Cimorene glanced at Morwen suspiciously, but all she said was, "That's
settled, then.  Why don't you rest for a few minutes while we set
things up?"

Killer's nose twitched.  "Does that mean we'll get dinner soon?

Because I'm hungry."

"Again?  All those layers of spells must be affecting your metabolism,"
Morwen said.  "Or didn't Cimorene's cook feed you properly before you
left the castle?"

"Oh, he had plenty to eat," Scorn said.  "He was gorging himself when
we left, and he had nearly half an hour after that before Telemain
brought him and the others to the house.  You should have seen him,
Morwen.  He's worse than Fiddlesticks with a plate of fish."

"It's not my fault," Killer said in a plaintive tone.  "I can't help
being hungry.  I just am."

"Well, we can't get anything for you to eat until after we've set up
camp," Morwen said.  "Telemain, is there a source of water around
anywhere?"

Telemain directed her to a small pool a short distance away.  As Morwen
set off, Cimorene fell into step beside her.  Once they were too far
from the others for anyone to hear, Cimorene said, "I'm sorry I wasn't
more help with Telemain, Morwen.  I was so worried about Mendanbar's
sword that I didn't see how tired he was until he snapped at you.  How
did you convince him to stay here?"

"I told him you needed to rest."

"You told him I needed to-Morwen!  I'm not sick.  I'm going to have a

baby, that's all.  I feel fine.  "Cimorene hesitated.  "Well,
mostly.

Sometimes in the mornings my stomach gets a little queasy.  But that's
not the point."

"No.  The point is that Telemain needs rest."  Morwen pushed aside a
low-hanging branch and looked at Cimorene.  "Do you really want an
overtired magician transporting you?  I let someone do that.  Once."

"What happened?"

"I ended up forty leagues west of where I wanted to be, and I had an
upset stomach for a week afterward.  No one had a spare broomstick, so
I had to fly home on a borrowed rake.  All forty leagues.  In the
rain.

It's the only time in my life I've been airsick."

Cimorene shuddered.  "I can see why you'd want to keep Telemain from
overextending himself.  I just wish you'd thought of some other way to
do it."

Pushing through a sweep of long, prickly pine branches, they found the
pool Telemain had described.  Morwen pulled the collapsible bucket out
of her sleeve and filled it, and they started back to the others.

Just before they reached the camp, Cimorene paused.  "Morwen, how tired
is Telemain?"

"He could probably do one more transport without any problems," Morwen
admitted.  "Two more are definitely out of the question.  And if we
land in the middle of a battle or on top of a troll's hill-" "I see."

Morwen nodded.  "I prefer not to take chances."

"But a smaller spell wouldn't be a problem for him, would it?"

"What did you have in mind?"

Cimorene blushed slightly.  "Well, I did promise I'd call Mendanbar
whenever I could.  And even if I'd had room for a full-sized magic
mirror in my pack, I wouldn't have brought one because they're too
breakable.  I was hoping Telemain .  . ."

"I understand."  Morwen thought for a minute.  "The hardest part of
Telemain's magic-mirror spell is making it permanent.  He shouldn't
have any difficulty with a temporary speaking spell, especially if he
has a chance to rest first.  Ask him about it after dinner."

"I will," Cimorene said with a smile.

Cimorene's cook had provided plenty of food for the people and cats, so
dinner for them was fairly straightforward.  After some initial
grumbling, Killer nibbled at low-hanging pine branches and even
admitted that they didn't taste too bad, once he got used to them.

Since there was not enough of anything to make a dragon-sized meal,
Kazul left to forage for herself.

As soon as she finished eating, Cimorene broached the subject of the
speaking spell with Telemain.  The magician frowned and patted his
pockets.

"I believe I have the necessary materials," he said.  "All I need is
an object."

Waving at her pack, the various cups and containers Morwen had produced
from her sleeves, and the half-empty water bucket, Cimorene said,
"Aren't there plenty of things around?"

"No, I mean an object for the enchantment.  Something with the correct
reflective properties.  To be compatible with the existing enchantment
on the castle mirror, a provisional communications spell must employ
the same similarities and reversals of congruence as the original.

Therefore-" "You need a mirror, right?"  Cimorene guessed.

"No," Morwen said.  "He needs something like a mirror.  Something you
can see your reflection in."

"Maybe if we polish the dishes?"  Cimorene said, eyeing the dented
metal dubiously.

The castle cook had sent along four of the oldest tin plates Morwen had
ever seen.  They were suitable for camping, but not, Morwen thought,
for spell making.

"What about this?"  Scorn said, circling the water bucket.

"Yes, that might do."  Hastily, Morwen picked up the bucket, barely in
time to keep Trouble from setting his paws on the rim to peer in and
collapsing it.  "What do you think, Telemain?"

"Between the metallic surfaces and the water, the reflective properties
appear to be adequate," Telemain said after a moment's inspection.  "As
long as there is no previous enchantment, it should do."

"Does carrying it in my sleeve count?"

"Since the bucket is no longer inside the spell's sphere of influence,
it should have no impact on the application of a transitory
enchantment."

"What does he mean?"  Killer asked.

"It doesn't count-as long as the bucket isn't in my sleeve when he
tries to enchant it," Morwen said.  "How long will the spell last,
Telemain?"

"About a quarter of an hour."  Telemain set the bucket in front of him
and began removing things from his pockets.  "It should return to its
base state by dawn tomorrow."

Setting up the speaking spell did not take long.  Morwen watched
Telemain closely as he crouched over the bucket, for he still seemed
unusually tired, but he had no difficulty in casting the enchantment.

"There," he said finally, sitting back on his heels.  "You can go ahead
now, Cimorene.  Just don't move the bucket."

"All right, then," Cimorene said, though she looked as if she felt a
little silly.

"MIrror, mirror, on the wall, I would like to make a call."

The water in the bucket turned white.  "Tell it who to find," Morwen
said softly.

"I wish to speak to Mendanbar, the King of the Enchanted Forest,"
Cimorene said.

With a swish and a gurgling noise, the milky color cleared.  "Who's
there?"  snarled the wooden gargoyle.  "Nobody's home and they can't be
bothered, so-oh, hello, Your Majesty."

"Hello.  Mendanbar at home?"  said Cimorene.

"Sure.  Hey, King!  There's somebody on the mirror you should talk
to!"

the gargoyle shouted.

"Tell him who it is," Cimorene commanded.

"Aw, you spoil all my fun," grumbled the gargoyle, but it yelled, "It's
Queen Cimorene!"

An instant later, the picture in the water shifted rapidly, then
steadied to show King Mendanbar.  "Cimorene!  Is everything all
right?"

"Everything's fine," Cimorene said.  "We're halfway to the Great
Southern Desert-" "About three-fifths of the way, actually," said
Telemain.

"-and we decided to stop for the night.  How are things at home?"

"I caught a couple of wizards prowling around the forest right after
you left," Mendanbar said.  "You can tell Telemain that his
wizard-melting spell works just fine."

"Kazul will be disappointed," Cimorene said.  "We haven't seen any
traces of wizards, and I think she's been hoping for a good fight."

"Well, tell her to be careful if you do run across them," Mendanbar
said.  "One of the ones I melted was carrying dragonsbane."

"Oh, dear.  Maybe I should send Kazul home."

"You can try."

They both paused.  In the brief silence, Morwen caught Telemain's eye
and nodded toward the far side of the clearing.  Telemain looked
puzzled, then suddenly his expression changed and he rose hastily and
joined her.

"We might as well give them a few moments' privacy," said Morwen when
they were out of earshot.  "Unless you have to stay nearby to maintain
the mirror spell?"

"No, the spell is self-maintaining once it's established," Telemain
said.

"If someone wants to make another call, I'll have to reset everything,
but she and Mendanbar can talk as long as they like without worrying
about any sudden termination."

Trouble appeared around the trunk of a pine and leaned against it,
scratching his back against the bark.  "Well, I hope they don't go on
much longer.  You wouldn't believe how mushy they're getting."

"I don't want to hear about it," Morwen said.

"What's that?"  Telemain asked.  "Is something wrong?"

"Only a cat's usual refusal to let morals interfere with satisfying his
curiosity," Morwen said.  "Don't ask.  It only encourages him."

Fortunately, Cimorene and Mendanbar did not chat for very much
longer.

Later, when Cimorene reported the conversation to Kazul, the dragon
refused to consider leaving.

"I want some wizards, and one way or another I am going to get them,"
Kazul said.  "If I don't go on to the central office of the Society of
Wizards, I'll go back to the Enchanted Forest and hunt up a few of them
there, dragonsbane or no dragonsbane."

"I don't think that's necessary," Cimorene said quickly.  "Mendanbar
seems to have everything under control."

"For now," said Scorn.

Not for the first time, Morwen was glad that Cimorene and Telemain, at
least, could not understand what her cats were saying.

11

In Which They Make an Unexpected Detour The next morning, much to
Morwen's relief, Telemain appeared to have recovered: Without tiring,
he walked briskly to and from the stream to wash up, and his color was
nearly normal, After breakfast, he arranged everyone to his
satisfaction and muttered the transportation spell.

They materialized on a sunny, grass-covered hillside, and as soon as
their feet were firmly planted, Telemain sat down.

"Telemain?"  Morwen said with concern.  The magician looked a little
gray.

"I'm all right," Telemain said.  "I just need a minute to catch my
breath."

Killer's long blue ears pricked up.  "How long a minute?  Have I got
time for a snack?  Because I think I smell a patch of clover off to the
left there, and I'm hungry."

"I don't know what you're complaining about," Kazul said.  "You had
plenty of breakfast.  Four cheese sandwiches aren't much of a meal for
a dragon."

"Five," said Trouble.

"Pine needles are not very filling," Killer said with dignity.

"Besides, I want to see what the clover is like outside the Enchanted
Forest.  I may not get the chance again."

Flicking a look at Telemain, Morwen said, "Go ahead, Killer.  Just
don't get out of sight."

Killer ambled off, his hooves just grazing the tips of the waving
grasses.

"What a good thing you got him stabilized," Morwen said to Telemain.

"Otherwise he'd be walking around Kazul's head by now."

"It would serve him right," Scorn said, switching her tail.  "That
idiot rabbit is worse than Fiddlesticks."

"Nobody's worse than Fiddlesticks," said Trouble.

Scorn gave him a green glare, then bounded over to Kazul.  Two seconds
later, both cats were perched on the dragon's back, basking in the
sun.

Smiling slightly, Morwen found a sun-warmed rock and sat down.

Cimorene joined her at once, and though Telemain gave them both a
suspicious frown, he did not comment.

"It's so nice to be able to just sit down, without worrying about what
you're sitting on," Cimorene said.  "In the Enchanted Forest, you have
to be careful that you don't land on someone who's been transformed
into a flower or a rock."

"Or sit on something that will transform you into a flower or a rock,"
Telemain added.  He appeared to have his breath back, but he still
looked a little pale so Morwen did not suggest that they continue.

The drowsy silence was broken by an earsplitting bray.  "Eee-augh!  Go
away!"  yelled Killer.  "Morwen said I could eat this, and I'm going
to.  Leave me alone?

Morwen looked up.  The curve of the hill hid the donkey from sight,
along with whatever he was shouting at.

"Blast that creature," Morwen muttered, getting to her feet.  "I told
him to stay in sight.  No, you stay here, Telemain," she added as the
magician started to follow.  "There's no need to let him inconvenience
both of us."

Nodding, Telemain settled back.

He must really be tired, or he'd disagree, Morwen thought.  Perhaps I
can get Kazul or Cimorene to override his objections to staying here,
or-no, it will be better if Trouble gets conveniently lost for a few
hours.  I'll have to speak to him as soon as I'm done with Killer.

As she came around the hill, she saw a tall, grayhaired man in baggy
blue overalls with a length of rope in one hand and an empty bucket in
the other.  Standing at the far edge of the clover patch, he stared
expressionlessly at Killer and Morwen.

"This your donkey, ma'am?"  the man asked.

"Not exactly," Morwen said.  "What seems to be the problem?"

"He says I can't eat any more," Killer complained.  "And I'd only just
figured out how to get at it, too."

Morwen glanced down.  Below Killer's front hooves, a double hand-span
of grass and clover had been trimmed several inches below the
surrounding meadow.  "So I see.  How did you manage it?"

"Well, if I kneel down and stretch way out-"

"Excuse me, ma'am," said the man in the overalls, setting his bucket
at his feet, "but if this ain't your donkey, whose is it?"

"He doesn't belong to anyone in particular," Morwen said.  "And he's
not actually a donkey.  Why?"

The man in the overall, who had begun uncoiling the length of rope,
paused.  "Not a donkey, eh?"  He studied Killer intently for a
moment.

"Blue's kind of an unusual color for a donkey."

"What's he getting at, Morwen?"  Killer's ears waggled nervously.

"Quiet, Killer," Morwen said.

"And I got to admit that donkeys don't normally talk much," the man
added.  "So what is he?  Enchanted prince?  Knight?  Circus sideshow
performer?"

"Rabbit," Morwen said.  'Judging from his behavior, a permanently
hungry rabbit."

"Huh."  The man in the overalls eyed Killer speculatively.  "A rabbit
named Killer.  Amazing, the things people come up with.  How'd he end
up a blue donkey?"

"It's a long story," Morwen said.  "Killer, why don't you go back to
the others?"

"But what about the clover?  I was just getting started.  And it's
different-not so crunchy, and not as sweet, and there's sort of a
cinnamon un-dertaste that-" "Not now, Killer.  Go let the others know
what's happening."

"Oh, all right."  Muttering sullenly, Killer started back around the
hill.

"What's this about others?"  demanded the man in the overalls as Morwen
turned back to him.  "How many of you are there?"

"Seven, altogether," Morwen said.

"There are seven of you trampling across my fields and mining the
harvest?"  the farmer asked, plainly appalled.

"Not exactly.  Killer couldn't trample anything right now if he tried,
and the rest of us haven't moved around much."

The farmer shook his head.  "It was bad enough having that donkey or
rabbit or whatever eating up my crops, but this!  I want the lot of you
out, right now."

"Crops?"  Morwen looked pointedly to the left, then to the right, then
raised her chin and stared directly at the man in the overalls.  "Grass
and clover?"

"Hay," the man said, unperturbed.

"Hey what?"  said Cimorene's voice.  "Morwen, who is this and what is
going on?  Killer said something about trespassers, but then he got
into an argument with your cats, and it's a little hard to follow when
you can't understand half of the conversation."

"This appears to be the man who owns this hill," Morwen said.

"Name of MacDonald, ma'am," the man said, nodding politely.  "And this
is my farm, and I'd appreciate it if you'd take your friend and your
donkey and your cats elsewhere."

"I'm Cimorene, the Queen of the Enchanted Forest," Cimorene said.

"Pleased to meet you, Farmer MacDonald.  And we'll be leaving just as
soon as our magician recovers a bit more.  I'm sorry if we've caused a
problem."

"Queen, eh?"  MacDonald's eyes narrowed speculatively.  "Little unusual
to find a queen out adventuring.  Mostly it's princes and younger sons,
and once in a while a princess."

"So I'm unusual," Cimorene said.

"I wasn't criticizing," MacDonald said peaceably.  "I just wondered if
you'd be in the market for some vegetables."

"Vegetables?  Why would I-" "I got a full line of specialty crops," the
farmer went on.  "My peas are perfectly round, and hard as rock.  I
sell them by the bag if you want to scatter them on the floor for
maidens disguised as huntsmen to walk on, or you can buy one at a time
for sticking under the mattress of a visiting princess."

"I don't think I-" "Then there's straw, first quality, for spinning
into gold.  I can deliver as much as you want, on a regular schedule.

I grow four kinds of grain-oats, barley, millet, and wheat-on the same
plants, so it's harvested premixed.

I sell it by the bushel, to people who want to test someone by making
them sort out the different kinds.  And beans, naturally.  I got the
kind that jump and the kind that grow giant stalks.  I've got apples,
poisoned or gold, in several varieties; extra-large pumpkins for
turning into coaches; and walnuts with anything you want inside, from a
miniature dog to a dress as shining as the stars."

"I appreciate the offer," Cimorene said, "but I don't think I need any
of those things."

"You wouldn't happen to have any invisible dusk-blooming chokevines,
would you?"  Morwen asked.

"No, I don't grow ornamentals," MacDonald replied.  "I stick to
vegetables, fruit, and nuts.  Farm things.  I'm hoping to branch out
into livestock soon."

Cimorene blinked.  "What sort of livestock?"

"Oh, little dogs that laugh, winged horses, geese that lay golden eggs,
that sort of thing.  That's why I'm growing hay."  The farmer waved at
the hillside.  "I want to have it on hand when the horses arrive."

"It's not enchanted hay, is it?"  Morwen asked with sudden misgiving.

"Not exactly.  Why?"

ments."  Nothing seemed to have happened yet, though.  At least,
Morwen hadn't heard any horrified braying since Killer disappeared over
the hill.

Perhaps it would be all right.

MacDonald shrugged.  "I use enchanted fertilizer to help it grow, but
the hay itself is nothing special.  Winged horses eat pretty much the
same thing as regular horses, plus a little birdseed."

"You sound as if you've thought about it quite a bit," Cimorene said.

"Had to," MacDonald said, nodding.  "This farm's been in the family for
a long time, but I couldn't make a living running it the way my dad
did.

Here a horse, there a pig-that just doesn't work anymore.  These days,
you have to have a plan.  So I decided to specialize.  Sure you don't
need anything?"

"Not right now," Cimorene said, "but I'll keep you in mind."

"Thanks."  The farmer hesitated.  "About that blue donkey-" "He isn't a
donkey," Morwen reminded him.  "He's an enchanted rabbit."

"Oh, that's right.  Pity.  He'd make an interesting start at stocking
the barnyard."  Fingering his rope thoughtfully, MacDonald stared off
in the direction Killer had taken.

"I don't think you'd want him," Cimorene said.  "He doesn't seem to be
good for much."

"And he eats a great deal," Morwen added.  "Most of it unsuitable,
inconvenient, or both.  Besides, it's time we were leaving."

"What about my hay?"

Morwen glanced at the nibbled clover and raised an eyebrow.  "Killer
hardly touched it.  In a couple of days, you won't be able to tell
which part of the patch he got at."

"Well .  . ."

"Then that's settled," Cimorene said in a tone that somehow reminded
everyone that this was the Queen of the Enchanted Forest talking, and
if she said it was settled, it had better be settled.  "It's been nice
meeting you, Mr. MacDonald, and I shall certainly mention your special
crops to my friends.

Now, we really must be going."  She turned and swept off.

Nodding a brisk farewell to MacDonald, Morwen followed.  Halfway around
the hill, she glanced back and saw MacDonald frowning uncertainly after
them.  At least he isn't chasing after us, she thought.  Goodness knows
how he'd react if he saw Kazul.

The same thought had apparently occurred to Cimorene.  "We need to
leave right away, if we can," she said as soon as they reached the
others.

"Can you manage it, Telemain?"

"Of course," the magician said.  "But what's the problem?"

"Nothing dangerous, but if we stay we're likely to waste the whole
afternoon arguing.  I'll explain later."

"Wait a minute," Morwen said as Telemain climbed to his feet.

"Where's Scorn?"

"She went after you," Trouble said.

"Bother," said Morwen.  "I'm sorry, Cimorene, but-" A narrow path of
grass stirred and shifted.  An instant later, Scorn leapt for Morwen's
back.  Her claws dug into the folds of material, and with another brief
effort she pulled herself the rest of the way up to Morwen's shoulder,
where she perched, purring smugly.

"No wonder you wear loose robes," Cimorene said.

Balancing carefully, Scorn stretched.  Then the purring stopped and she
said, "That farmer is coming after you, Morwen.  I thought you'd want
to know."

"Scorn says MacDonald is on his way," Morwen said to the rest of
them.

"If you really want to avoid him, Cimorene, we should go now."

"Then let's go."  Cimorene looked at Telemain.

"Everyone here?  Very well, then."  Eyes narrowed in unwonted
concentration, Telemain raised his hands and recited the spell.

The hillside wavered like a reflection in a suddenly disturbed pool.

Reluctantly, it began to melt and shift.  Morwen caught a glimpse of
MacDonald's face, too distorted to tell whether his expression was one
of astonishment or fear, before the scene became unrecognizable.

Suddenly, everything froze.  For an impossibly long instant, they hung
between greenish blurs and brown blobs.  Then, with a painful jerk,
everything darkened and slammed into proper shapes once more.  Morwen
dropped two inches into a puddle of mud.  The landing jarred her
glasses loose and tore Scorn from her shoulder.  Morwen managed to
catch the cat, but her glasses vanished into the mud.  Behind them,
there was a squishy thwump as Kazul landed, followed by a yowl from
Trouble and various startled noises from Killer and Cimorene.

"Drat," Morwen muttered, swallowing hard.  "I knew I should have
brought a stomach remedy."  The air was damp and smelled like rotten
eggs, which didn't help any.

"And boots," Scorn said, relaxing in Morwen's hands.

"Definitely boots," Morwen agreed.  The mud was cold, soft, and ankle
deep, and between the gloom and her missing glasses she could not spot
a better place to step to.  Assuming, of course, that there was a
better place to stand.

"Morwen?"  Cimorene called.  "Where are you?"

"Where are we, is the question," Scorn said.

"Quiet," said Morwen.  "Over here, Cimorene.  Scorn, I'm going to

hunt for my glasses, and I'll need both hands.  If you don't want to
walk around in this, you'd better climb up on my back."

With a disdainful snort, Scorn scrambled out of Morwen's grasp and back
to her shoulder.  Slowly, Morwen bent forward, giving Scorn time to
adjust her balance.  Holding her sleeves out of the way with one hand,
she fished in the mud with the other.

A series of sucking noises and squelches came near.  "Morwen, what are
you doing?"  Cimorene asked.  She was muddy to the elbows, and she held
her drawn sword in one hand.

"Looking for my glasses," Morwen replied.  "Unfortunately, I don't seem
to-Wait a minute."  Carefully, she worked her hand free of the mud.

"There.  Now all I have to do is clean them."

"Easier to say than done in this muck," Cimorene said.  "Didn't you
bring an extra pair?"

"Chaos broke my extra pair last week."  Morwen squinted at the
mud-covered glasses, then shrugged.  Pinching a fold of material from
her robe, she began wiping the lenses.  "The replacements haven't been
delivered yet."

"Well, I'm afraid I can't help.  I slipped when we landed, and even my
handkerchiefs are full of mud.  Morwen, where are we?  This doesn't
look like the edge of a desert."

"No kidding," said Scorn.

"Ask Telemain," Morwen said, putting on her glasses.  "He should have
some idea where we were when he lost control."  The lenses were still
streaky, but at least she could see.

A worry line appeared between Cimorene's eyebrows, below the mud that
smeared her forehead.  "I don't know where Telemain is," she said.  "I
was hoping he was over here, with you."

12

Which Is Exceedingly Muddy Morwen looked around.  Here and there, tall,
thin trees shot upward from the omnipresent mud.  High in the air, they
suddenly sprouted a wide, dense mat of twisted branches.  Long, fuzzy
gray-green strips of moss dangled from the branches, shutting out most
of the light, and patches of dirty white fog drifted among the
trunks.

Between the fog and the shadows, it was hard to be sure of seeing
anyone.  Even Kazul seemed to melt into the gloom.  Only Killer's vivid
blue stood out against the muddy colors of the swamp.

"Is everyone else here?"  Morwen said.  Her stomach was already
settling down, which was a relief.  The last time this had happened, it
had taken much longer.

Cimorene nodded.

"Then I'll look for Telemain.  There's bound to be some residue from
the transportation spell for me to trace.  The rest of you stay
together so I can find you again.  If we split up in this mess, we're
likely to lose someone permanently."

"I suppose that's best," Cimorene said, but she did not sound happy.

Morwen was not very happy about the arrangement, either, but she did
not say anything more as Cimorene squelched back to Kazul.  Then, with
a resigned sigh, she reached into her left sleeve and pulled out a ball
of red yarn and a shiny metal plate three inches across with a small
hole near the rim.  Focusing her attention on her most recent memories
of Telemain's

magic, she tied the yarn to the plate.  She bent and breathed on the
metal, clouding it over, then said quickly, "Green and growing; show
me.

Swift and silent, show me.

Damp and dingy, show me.

Deep and shining; show me what I would see."

With her last words, she released the plate so that it hung free.  It
spun wildly on the end of the yarn, and she felt it tug lightly to the
right, well away from the others.  Carefully, she turned, letting the
faint pull guide her.

It took considerable concentration to follow the spell while slogging
through the cold, sticky mud.

"I thought something smelled different over this way," Scorn said.

Morwen spared a moment for a glance at the cat.  "You might have told
me."

"You were busy."

"True.  Next time, tell me anyway."  The tug was growing stronger.

Morwen dodged around a tree trunk and almost stepped on Telemain.  He
lay face up in the mud, his eyes closed and his skin an unhealthy
grayish white.  Morwen had to look twice to be sure that he was still
breathing.

Stuffing her yarn and the metal plate back into her sleeve, Morwen
shouted for Cimorene to come at once and bring the others.  Then she
crouched next to Telemain to see what she could do for him.

Unfortunately, what he needed most was to be warm, dry, and somewhere
he could sleep in comfort.

He must have been even more tired than I thought he was, or the
backshock wouldn't have acted him this badly, Morwen thought.  He
should have said something.

"Stubborn fool," she said aloud.

"This comes as a surprise?"  Scorn said.

"Morwen, what-oh, my."  Cimorene squished over as quickly as she could,
followed by Killer and Kazul.  Trouble, somewhat muddy and damp
looking, was clinging with grim determination to a spot high on Kazul's
back.  The moment the dragon stopped moving, Trouble extended a rear
leg and began washing it vigorously.  Killer looked unusually pleased
with himself, probably because floating six inches off the ground had
kept him the only completely dry and unmuddy member of the group.

"What happened?"  Kazul asked as Cimorene joined Morwen.  "That was not
one of the most enjoyable experiences I've ever had."

"I'm not completely sure."  Morwen reached into her right sleeve and

began fishing around.  "I'm a witch, not a magician.  But I think it's
backshock from that transportation spell."

"Backshock?"  said Killer.

"If you pull a rubber band too hard, it breaks and snaps your fingers,"
Cimorene explained.  "The same sort of thing can happen when someone
loses control of a spell, only it's usually more serious than stinging
fingers."

"Oh."  Killer looked at Morwen.  "Rubber band?"

"Never mind," Morwen said.  "Ah, there it is."  She pulled her
heavy-duty wool camping blanket out of her sleeve, glanced around for a
dry spot to put it, and ended by draping it across Killer's back.

"Cimorene, we have to get Telemain out of this mud.  Help me lift him
onto Killer."

"What?  Wait a minute!"  said Killer, taking two hasty steps
backward.

"I'm not supposed to do things like this.  I'm a rabbit."

"You used to be," said Morwen.  "Now you're a six-foot floating blue
donkey.  Hold still."

"But you'll get mud all over me!"

Trouble glanced up from his washing.  "Good idea.  Can I help?"

"If you do, you'll get muddy, too," Scorn said.  She looked at
Trouble.

"Muddier."

"The mud will get on my blanket," Morwen said.  "And I can tell you
already that Mendanbar is going to get a really enormous cleaning bill
when this is all over."

"But-" "Don't argue," Kazul said to the donkey.  "I'm feeling cross
enough already, and my stomach is bothering me."

"The stomachache is a side effect of snapping the transportation
spell," Morwen said.  "The bad temper is probably from waking up too
early.

Ready, Cimorene?"

Killer did argue, of course.  It took nearly as long to convince him as
it took to pry Telemain's unconscious body out of the mud, wrap him in
Morwen's blanket, and hoist him onto the donkey's back.

"There," Cimorene panted, steadying Telemain with one hand.

"That's done."

"And it looks pretty useless to me," Scorn said.  She had joined
Trouble on top of Kazul and was watching the whole procedure with an
expression of disapproval.  "Now that you've got him there, what are
you going to do with him?"

Killer shifted his feet in evident unease.  "This is really
uncomfortable.

Isn't there somewhere else you could put him?"

"He doesn't care much for riding on you, either," Morwen said.

"Don't worry, we'll try to keep it short.  Kazul, can you see anything
that looks like a way out of here?"

Stretching up to her full height, Kazul peered into the fog.  "No.

The fog's getting thicker, and the trees all look the same."

"Hey, warn me before you do that," Trouble said reproachfully.  "I
almost fell off."

Kazul lowered her forelegs and glanced over her shoulder.  "That can be
arranged."

"It wouldn't matter," Scorn said to Trouble.  "All that washing hasn't
done much good.  You still look like something the dog dragged in."

"You've got wings," Killer said to Kazul.  "Why don't you fly up and
look around?"

"Because there isn't enough room between the trees for a proper
takeoff, because flying in a fog is dangerous, and because I probably
couldn't find you again once I got up above the treetops," Kazul
said.

"The tops of forests all look the same."

"Oh."

"You found Telemain," Cimorene said to Morwen.  "Can't you use the same
method to find a way out of here?"

"I could if there were any magic left to trace," Morwen said.

"Unfortunately, there isn't.  Pick a direction."

"That way," said Cimorene, and they started off.

Walking through the swamp was hard work.  With every step, the
ankle-deep mud sucked at their feet.  Twice, Cimorene almost lost one
of her short leather boots, and even Kazul had difficulty making
headway.  The only one who had no problem was Killer.  Telemain's added
weight did not pull him down at all; his hooves stayed a dry six inches
above the muck no matter what.  Morwen found herself wondering a little
sourly whether the donkey could walk across water the same way he did
across the endless mud.

Around noon, Morwen passed out chicken-salad sandwiches to everyone.

Her sleeves had protected them from the mud, which was doubly fortunate
since Cimorene's pack had leaked and the remains of breakfast were
inedible.  Unexpectedly, no one complained of a stomachache (though
Killer complained about the taste of the lettuce and the bread), and
the sandwiches disappeared rapidly.

When they finished eating, they went on.  Morwen kept a close but
unobtrusive eye on Telemain.  Though he did not stir, he did not appear
to grow any worse, either, which surprised her a little.  She kept both
her surprise and her worries to herself.

On and on they waded, until the shadows began to thicken as did the
fog.  Beads of moisture glistened on Kazul's scales, and the cats
complained loudly of the damp.  Morwen gave up trying to keep her
glasses from clouding over.  Telemain remained unconscious, and the
worry line between Cimorene's eyebrows grew deeper.

"It'll be dark soon," Cimorene said at last.  "We should find somewhere
to camp.  If there is anywhere.  We haven't seen a dry spot since we
got here.

Killer, where do you think you're going?"

"I'm hungry," Killer said.  "If you're going to make me haul people
around, the least you could do is let me eat.  It's been a long time
since lunch."

"There isn't anything to eat," Cimorene said.

"Not for you, maybe, but those things over there look edible to me."

"What things?"  Feeling slightly annoyed, Morwen took off her glasses
and began hunting for a clean patch of robe to wipe them on.

"Those things wrapped around the trees," Killer said, cocking a bright
blue ear to his left.  "The viney things with the silver leaves.  There
was one patch of clover back home that had saver leaves sometimes, and
it was especially good.  Sweet and tart at the same time, and quite
strong."

"You're seeing things," Cimorene said.  "There aren't any vines on
those trees."

"There are, too.  You must be looking in the wrong place.  Here, I'll
show-" Morwen shoved her glasses back onto her nose and snapped,
"Killer, stop right where you are.  Don't you take another step toward
those vines of yours.  If they're really there, they could be very
dangerous."

Killer looked at her in disbelief.  "They're just plants."

"Possibly.  Kazul, do you see anything?"

"Trees, fog, and mud," the dragon replied.  "Lots and lots of mud.  And
I agree with Cimorene.  We should be trying to find somewhere to camp,
not arguing about imaginary vines."

"Not imaginary," Morwen corrected.  "Invisible.  To be exact, invisible
dusk-blooming chokevines."  She peered at the trees, wishing she had
time to collect one or two of them.  Then she shook her head.  Cimorene
and Kazul were right, and they'd wasted enough time already.

"They don't look dangerous," Killer said stubbornly.  "And I'm
hungry."

"The last time you said that, you drank Morwen's wizard-melting water
and turned blue," Scorn said.

"Quiet," said Trouble.  "Go on, Killer.  I would if I were you."

"You hush," said Morwen.  "Keep away from those plants, Killer.

They're called 'chokevines' for a very good reason.  Try to remember
you're carrying Telemain, and avoid anything dangerous.  And let us
know if you see any more of those vines."

"Oh, there are patches of them all over," Killer said.  "We've been

walking by them for the last hour.  You really can't see them at
all?

None of you?"

"I can," Trouble said.

Morwen gave him a look.  "We'll discuss it later."

As she turned away, a soft globe of light blossomed from the side of
one of the trees Killer had pointed out.  "What on earth is that?"

Cimorene said.

Another light appeared, and another, and suddenly the swamp was full of
ghostly radiance.  "Invisible dusk-blooming chokevines, all right,"
Morwen said.  "The sun must be setting."

"It's beautiful," Cimorene said.  "How long will it last?"

"An hour, maybe two."  As she spoke, Morwen moved to Killer's side to
check on Telemain's condition once more.  His color was no better, and
the skin of his wrist was cold and clammy where she touched it to take
his pulse.  Of course, everything was cold and damp after hours of
laboring through the mud.  At least his pulse was strong.

"Will he be all right?"  Cimorene asked, joining her.

"Probably," Morwen said with more confidence than she felt.  The worst
case of backshock she had ever seen prior to this trip had regained
consciousness in a little over an hour.  Telemain had already been out
more than twice that long and showed no sign of awakening.  Bouncing
about on Killer's back should not have delayed his recovery that
long.

"Look at the bright side," Scorn said.  "As long as he's unconscious,
he can't go on about things no one else understands."

Realizing that Cimorene and Kazul were watching her anxiously, Morwen
shook herself.  "What he really needs is warmth, rest, and a bowl of
hot broth .  . ."

"... and we aren't going to find them standing here," Cimorene finished
for her.  "Come on, Killer.  We'd better keep moving while we can still
see."

In one way, the next half hour of walking was easier than the last
couple had been.  The invisible dusk-blooming chokevines lit the swamp
with a silvery glow, like the light of a hundred miniature moons.  As
the group went farther along, the vines grew more and more thickly, and
their blossoms shone more and more brightly, until even the mud seemed
to glisten like liquid silver.  Not only was it pretty to look at, but
it also made it much easier to see where they were stepping.

After a while, they paused to rest.  Morwen checked on Telemain again,
with no better results.  Frowning, she turned away.  If they didn't
find somewhere dry and warm soon .  . .

"Cimorene, Morwen," said Kazul, "look at these lights."

"I have been, all the time we were walking," Cimorene said.  "They're
useful as well as pretty."

"No, I mean look at them."  Kazul stretched out her neck and swiveled
her head from one side to the other.  "They aren't just growing at
random.

They're in rows."

Morwen studied the lights.  "Not quite.  The trees aren't in rows, so
the vines can't be, either.  But they're close."

"It's as if someone arranged them to light a path," Cimorene said after
a moment.  "I don't know if I like this."

"I do," Morwen said.  "Paths lead somewhere.  And if someone has gone
to the trouble of lighting this one up, there's a good chance it leads
somewhere useful."

"In that case, why didn't they pave it?"

"Maybe they like mud.  Come on, we've only got another hour or so
before the lights go out."

With renewed energy, they went on.  Less than a quarter of an hour
later, they reached a dead end.  The invisible dusk-blooming chokevines
covered the trees on either side and hung in swirls of glowing silver
across the trunks ahead.  The only way out was the way they had come.

"Useful, huh?"  said Scorn.

"This doesn't make any sense," said Cimorene.  "Why would anyone make a
path that leads nowhere?"  She drew her sword, eyeing the vines
doubtfully.  "Can we cut our way through, do you think?"

"I don't know," said Kazul, "and I don't care."  Her tail thumped into
the mud for emphasis, spattering thick, sticky gobs in all
directions.

"Uh-oh," said Trouble.  "Hang on, Scorn."

The dragon sat back and arched her neck.  "I am not going to spend
another two hours fighting the same mud we just came through.  If I
must wade through mud, it is at least going to be new mud.  Get out of
my way, the rest of you."

"If you're thinking of diving through the vines, don't," Morwen said,
moving sideways.  "Invisible dusk-blooming chokevines are very strong,
and there are enough of them here to kill even someone as large as you
are."

"Not if they've been toasted first."  Stretching her head forward until
it was only a few yards from the chokevines, Kazul opened her mouth and
blew.  Long streamers of bright orange fire shot between the trees.

Kazul's head moved back and forth, sweeping the flames across the end
of the path.

Steam hissed from the mud, and glowing silver blossoms winked out in
puffs of ash.  As Kazul's flame moved across the tree trunks, it left
smaller flickers of fire behind hanging in midair.  On the second pass,
the flickers spread, outlining leaves and stems in tongues of flame.

Blackened spirals

slowly materialized around the trees as the fires burned upward and
the charred vines lost their invisibility.

"I think that's enough, Kazul," Cimorene said at last.

The fire died.  "Good," said the dragon, sounding a little out of
breath.

"Shall we go on?"

"I think we'd better wait until the mud cools off," Morwen said.  "You
got a trifle overenthusiastic, I'm afraid."

"No kidding," said Scorn.  "Next time, warn us before you do that."

"Killer!"  Cimorene shouted.  "Come back here!"

"Why?"  said the donkey.  He stood in the middle of the path Kazul's
flame had cleared through the chokevines, flecks of ash drifting
through the air around him.  Beyond, the fog and darkness closed in
once more.  "You said it was the vines that were dangerous, and they're
gone."

"Even so, we shouldn't split up," Morwen said.  "There may be other
dangerous things around."

"We haven't seen any so far."

"And that's supposed to mean it's safe?"  Scorn shook her head.

"Rabbit logic."

"Isn't that a contradiction in terms?"  Trouble said.

Morwen sighed.  "We may not have seen anything but the chokevines, but
that doesn't mean there aren't other dangers."

"All right," Killer said.  "But I thought you wanted to get this wizard
of yours somewhere dry."

"He's a magician, not a wizard," Morwen said automatically.  "And just
because Kazul dried out some of the mud-" "No, no, I'm talking about
that tall building in the open space."  Killer pointed both ears into
the gloom ahead of him and a little to the right.  "It looks dry.  Why
don't we take him there?"

13

In Which They Make a New Acquaintance

Gingerly, Morwen moved forward to take a look at whatever Killer had
found.  The acrid scent of burned chokevines made her stomach feel
queasy again, but the mud turned out to be cool enough to wade through
without discomfort.  Where Killer stood, it was almost dry enough to be
solid ground, and the warmth that remained to filter through her shoes
was very welcome.

"Now, where-ah, I see."  Dimly visible in the foggy dark, a white tower
stood among the trees ahead of them.

"Yes, that looks promising.  Let's go."  Morwen started forward, and
the others followed.

Less than five minutes later, they stood at the foot of the tower.  It
was at least four stories high, and made of something smooth and pale
that did not feel like stone.  Ten feet from the base of the tower, the
mud changed to hard, bare ground.  This gave Morwen and Cimorene a
comfortably wide area on which to stand, though Kazul was a little
cramped.

"There's no door," Cimorene announced after circling the tower.  "No
stairs on the outside, either, but there are four windows at the top.

One of them is showing a light, so somebody's home."

"But how could anybody get in?"  Killer asked.

"Through the windows," Morwen said.  "What a pity I didn't bring my
broomstick."

"Maybe whoever lives here has some other way of getting inside,"
Cimorene said.

"There's one way to find out," said Kazul.  With Morwen, Cimorene, and
Killer in line after her, the dragon edged around the tower until she
stood below the single lighted window.  Then she sat back and stretched
her neck upward, until her head was halfway up the side of the tower.

"Here we go again," said Trouble, wrapping all four paws tightly around
one of Kazul's back spines.

"Hello, the tower!"  Kazul bellowed.  "Who's home?  Come out and meet
your visitors!"

The window flew open with a force that ought to have shattered the
glass.  "Go away!"  shouted someone inside the tower.  "She doesn't
live here anymore, and if you keep pestering me, I'll burn you to
cinders!"

Cimorene's eyes narrowed and she muttered something Morwen could not
hear.  Then she motioned Morwen and Killer to move back.  After a
moment's consideration, Morwen stayed where she was.  If there were any
real danger of being burned, her cats would not still be cringing to
Kazul's spikes; their instinct about such things was very good.

"Come out and talk!"  Kazul roared again.

A man's head appeared at the window, silhouetted against the light.  "I
don't want-Good lord, a dragon."

"Don't go away!"  Cimorene shouted.  "We need to talk to you."

"I wasn't going away," the man yelled down.  "Not yet, anyway.  What is
a dragon doing in the middle of the Smoking Swamp?"

"So that's where we are," Trouble said.

"We missed our way," Morwen called.  "And we have an injured companion
who needs to rest in a warm, dry place.  We were hoping you could
help."

"Another one?"  The man leaned precariously out, peering into the
gloom.  "How many of you are there?"

"Three humans, a donkey, two cats, and a dragon," Cimorene said.

"Are you going to help or not?"

"Help."  The man sounded mildly surprised by the idea.  "I suppose I
could.  Since you didn't actually come looking for me."

"What's that got to do with it?"  Killer whispered.  "I don't
understand this person at all."

"I expect we'll find out in a little while," Morwen said.  Raising her
voice, she called, "Are you going to let us in or not?"

"I think so.  Yes, I believe I will.  Hold on a minute while I get the
laundry basket."

"Basket?"  Killer's ears waggled.  "I don't like the sound of this."

"Neither do I," said Kazul.

"Don't be unreasonable," Cimorene said to the dragon.  "You can't
expect everyone to be able to accommodate a dragon on short notice."

"This place doesn't look as if it could accommodate a dragon on any
notice," Kazul said.

"Here it comes," said the man's voice above them.  "Look out below."

Something large and dark poked out of the window, trembled, and fell.

Kazul ducked, and her rear legs slid back into the mud.  An instant
later, a large straw laundry basket jerked to a stop a foot from the
ground, bounced once, and swung twisting in the air.  Three short ropes
stretched from metal anchors around the basket's rim to a much longer
rope that extended upward into the dark.

"One at a time, please," the man called.  "And send somebody light
first."

"I don't like the sound of that at all," Kazul said.

Morwen studied the laundry basket, nodded, and reached into her left
sleeve.  "One person at a time?  Nonsense.  There is no reason to drag
things out."  She withdrew a fat round jar and opened it.  "Trouble,
Scorn, I'd like your assistance, please."

Alerted by her tone, the cats slid down Kazul's sides and bounded
over.

Purring loudly, they took up positions on either side of the laundry
basket without further instructions.

"What's that?"  Cimorene asked, nodding at the jar Morwen was
holding.

"Flying ointment," Morwen said.  "It's a standard spell for
broomsticks, but it should work equally well on a straw basket.  Be
quiet for a moment, please."

"What's going on down there?  Hurry up, or I'll haul it in without
you!"

"Kazul, would you mind?"  Morwen flicked a finger at the rope.

"Not at all."  Kazul took hold of the knot where all the ropes met,
inserting her claws carefully in the gaps between ropes so as not to
damage anything.

Satisfied that the laundry basket wasn't going anywhere, Morwen dipped
a finger in the flying ointment and smeared it along the basket's
rim.

The straw soaked it up much faster than a broom handle, so it took
longer than she had expected to work her way around the basket.

Overhead, the man in the tower shouted again, but Morwen did not bother
to listen.

Suddenly, as she neared the spot where she had started, Scorn hissed
and the laundry basket swayed wildly.

Her concentration broken, Morwen looked up.  A palm-sized semicircle
had disappeared from the rim of the laundry basket in front of her, and
Killer was backing rapidly away.  A ragged fringe of straw stuck out
around the edges of his mouth.

"Killer?  said Morwen.

"I'm sorry," Cimorene said.  "I should have been watching him, but I
got too interested in what you were doing."

"Men hmph hmphrraph," said Killer.  He swallowed and tried again.  "I
was hungry.  You wouldn't let me eat those vine things."

"Straw has no nutritional value," Morwen said.  "And after all that's
happened to you already, I'd think you'd know better than to take a
bite out of something while I'm casting a flying spell on it."

"Oh, I was careful," Killer said.  "I aimed for the part you hadn't
gotten to yet."

"I think you missed," said Kazul.

Killer's ears pricked up, then dropped.  "What?  No, I'm sure I-ouch!

Oh no, now what?  Morwen, this hurts!"

"What hurts?"

"My back.  Owww!  Can't you do something?"

"In a minute," Morwen said.  Whatever was happening to Killer, it was
unlikely to damage him seriously.  Finishing the spell was far more
important.

To break off now might cause difficulties, and even if it didn't, there
wasn't enough of the flying ointment to start over from the
beginning.

Morwen turned back to the laundry basket.  With two more swipes, she
covered the rest of the rim, including the part Killer had bitten
out.

She wiped her fingers carefully on the side of the laundry basket,
nodded to the cats, and said, One of fire, Two of light, Three from
ground at dead of night.

Four in strands of deep sea foam, Five that si and brings them home."

The cats stretched upward and dug their claws into the straw.  With a
faint pop, a spark of dim purple light appeared on the rim of the
laundry basket.  It rolled around the edge, then spread down along the
sides to where Scorn and Trouble held on.  The cats meowed in harmony,
and the light winked out, leaving a smell of burned nutmeg.

"There," said Morwen.  "Now, Killer-" "Hurry!"  said the donkey.  "It's
getting worse.  Owww!  None of the other things hurt like this."

"That doesn't surprise me," Morwen said after a quick look.  "You're
growing wings, and Telemain's lying across the top of them.  Cimorene,
give me a hand, please."

"Wings?"  Killer sounded stunned.  "Me?"

Trouble snickered.  "A bright blue six-foot donkey with wings.  What an
idea."

Together, Morwen and Cimorene got Telemain off Killer's back and into
the laundry basket.  Killer sighed in relief as the weight lifted, then
he craned his neck backward to get a look at his new appendages.

"They're awfully large," he said after a stunned moment.

"They're not just large," Cimorene said.  "They're enormous."

"And they're still growing," Trouble pointed out.

"Fertilizer," Morwen said resignedly.  "Magic fertilizer.  I thought
there'd be trouble over that hay."

"Can't you stop them?"  Killer asked nervously.

"They'll stop growing on their own, when they run out of-of the
fertilizer magic," Morwen said.  "It shouldn't take too long.  You
didn't eat much of MacDonald's hay.  Now, Kazul, if you'll let go of
the rope and tell our future host to give it a tug-" Fire ran down the
rope from the window to the knot, then flared brightly and died.  When
Kazul opened her hand, the charred ends of the three short ropes fell
into the laundry basket, along with a few horrible-smelling flakes of
black ash.  There was nothing left of the long rope.  Above them, the
window slammed shut.

Shaking her hand as if it stung, Kazul said, "I think he's changed his
mind."

"Too late," Morwen said.  "Trouble, Scorn, let's go."

"Do we get a raise?"  Trouble asked as he leapt into the laundry
basket.

"Move over," Scorn said, following.

"Morwen, what are you going to do?"  Cimorene asked in a worried
tone.

"Get Telemain inside where it's warm and dry," Morwen replied.  "I'll
send the basket back for you and Killer."

"Are you sure you should-" "I'm sure."  Morwen settled herself against
the side of the laundry basket and took hold of the rim.  Tapping three
times with her left forefinger, she said, "Onward and upward."

The laundry basket shuddered, then slowly began to rise.  Morwen made
no attempt to speed it up.  The broomstick spell was stretched a little
thin as it was.  As they passed Kazul's nose, Trouble stuck a long gray
paw over the rim and waved.  The laundry basket wobbled in response,
and Trouble scrambled back toward the center.

"Hold still," Morwen told him.  "You could dump us over if you aren't
careful.  This isn't a broomstick."

"Now she tells me."

"I should think it was obvious."

To this Trouble made no reply.  Morwen sat motionless, watching the

pale surface of the tower glide past.  Finally, the laundry basket
reached the window.  "Stop," said Morwen.

The laundry basket obliged.  Peering in, Morwen saw a thin young man
with bright red hair standing beside a fireplace, his back to the
window..a fire-witch?  thought Morwen.  In the middle of a swamp?

Well, not all red-haired people were fire-witches.  Morwen glanced
around the rest of the room.  On the far side, a staircase led downward
next to the wall.  A stone bench, a small desk, and three
comfortable-looking chairs were the only furnishings.

With great care, Morwen leaned forward and tapped on the glass.  The
young man jumped and whirled, and his eyes got very large.  When he did
not come any nearer, Morwen tapped the window again.

'Just break it," said Trouble.  "It would be less work."

Scorn snorted.  "You are thinking about as much as that blue winged
imbecile down below.  If she breaks the window, some of the glass might
fall on top of them."  She waved her tail at the figures of Kazul,
Cimorene, and Killer beneath them.  "She can't count on all of it
falling inside, even if she's

For the third time, impatiently, Morwen rapped at the window.  The
red-haired man blinked, as if he were coming out of a daze, and then
walked over to the window.

"Who are you?"  he said, his voice slightly muffled by the glass.

"My name is Morwen, and I have an injured friend here who needs rest
and warmth.  Open this window immediately, please."

"I suppose I might as well."  The redhead unlatched the window and
swung it open, narrowly missing Morwen's head.  "Sorry."

"And well you should be," Morwen told him.  "Are you always so
careless?"

"Mostly," said the man.  "How did you get up-That's my laundry
basket?"

He stared for a moment, then hit his forehead with the palm of his
hand.  "Stupid, stupid, stupid.  You enchanted the basket.  Why didn't
she think of that years ago?  Why didn't Rachel think of it?  Why in
heaven's name didn't I think of it?"

"Because you're stupid?"  Scorn suggested.

"When I think of all the effort I could have saved, hauling that thing
up and down and up and down and-" "Yes, of course," said Morwen.  "Now,
if you could just give me a hand with-Trouble!  Not yet."  The cat had
crouched, preparing to spring out of the laundry basket.

"What's that?"  said the man.  "What sort of trouble?  And why do you
want a hand with it?"

"Cats," said Morwen.  "And I don't want a hand with them.  It's
Telemain who-"

as if the sound of his name had partially awakened him, Telemain
grunted and stirred.  The laundry basket swung sideways, throwing
Trouble off his feet.  This made the basket swing even more wildly.

Morwen bent forward and grabbed the window ledge, which helped
stabilize things a little.  Then Telemain moaned and tried to sit up.

The laundry basket wobbled violently, nearly spilling everyone out.

The cats wailed, and Morwen was only just able to keep hold of the
window ledge.

"Blast the maul" Morwen said.  "Why does he have to pick just this
instant to start recovering?  Telemain, hold still."

The red-haired man leaned out of the window and grabbed the rim of the
laundry basket.  "Stop that immediately," he said sternly.  "Stay
put."

The laundry basket froze.  Trouble yowled and leapt from the bottom of
the laundry basket to the young man's bent-over back, and from there
into the room.  "Good idea," said Scorn, and followed.

"Oof!  Oof?"  said the man.  "What was that?"

"Cats," Morwen said again.  "Help me get Telemain out of here before he
dumps us over."

Between the two of them, they wrestled Telemain out of the laundry
basket and through the window.  To Morwen's mild surprise, the basket
remained perfectly stable throughout the entire operation, but as soon
as the red-haired man turned away the basket began to wobble once
more.

"There's another person and an oversized donkey at the foot of your
tower as well," Morwen said when Telemain was safely inside, lying
comfortably on the floor in front of the fireplace.  They'd have to
wait to do anything about the mud that covered him from head to foot,
but fortunately the red-haired man did not have much in the way of
carpeting.  The stone floor would sweep up easily enough.  "I'd like to
bring the others up as soon as possible.  The donkey will be a bit
tricky."

"I'll be glad to-" The young man broke off, and his expression
darkened, as if he were remembering something that annoyed him.  "No.

I shouldn't have let you in.  You had your chance."

Morwen looked at him sternly over the tops of her glasses.  "If you are
sulky because we didn't allow you to haul us up immediately, you are
being unreasonable, unmannerly, and overly bad tempered, even for a
fire-witch.

Enchanting that basket of yours has saved you a good deal of effort,
now and in the future, and you ought to thank us for it."

"How do you know I'm a fire-witch?"  the man demanded angrily.

"You have red hair, a touchy disposition, and an instinctive control
over magic, even other people's spells," Morwen said.  "And from the
way you burned that rope, you've some affinity for fire as well.  It's
obvious.

Now, are you going to let me bring up those people or not?"

"I don't-"

"Morwen, company," said Scorn.

Morwen turned.  Outside the open window, enormous wings flapping
furiously, Killer was coming in for a landing.  Cimorene lay low along
his back to avoid the wings, her arms wrapped around his neck.

"Have you found something we can have for dinner?"  Killer asked.

14

In Which They Trade Stories The red-haired man stared at the apparition
in disbelief.  Morwen didn't blame him.  Killer looked nearly as
unsteady as the laundry basket, which was still hovering just outside
the window.

"What on earth is that?"  the man demanded.

"My friends," Morwen said.  "You'd better back up.  There's not much
room to spare, coming through that window, and Killer's never done this
before."

"Killer?"  The man backed up hastily.  "Good grief, it's blue."

"Oh, really?"  said Scorn, her voice dripping sarcasm.  "We hadn't
noticed."

"You know, I don't think his wings will fit through the opening unless
he folds them," Trouble said.  "I wonder how he'll manage?"

Killer flapped higher, then dove for the window, folding his wings at
the last minute.  His momentum wasn't quite enough to carry him
through, and for an instant his front hooves flailed uselessly against
air inside the tower while his back legs hung outside.  Then he kicked,
wiggled, and tumbled into the room, where he sprawled six inches above
the floor, panting loudly.  The sudden jerk tore Cimorene loose, and
she landed next to Killer with a thud.

"Ow!"  said Cimorene.  "Morwen, are you all right?  When the basket
didn't come down again, I got worried."

"Everything is fine," Morwen said.  "Telemain is even beginning to come
out of the initial stages of backshock."

"Then what took you so long?"  Cimorene demanded.

"I was chatting with our host .  . ."  Morwen turned expectantly to the
red-haired man.

"Brandel," the red-haired man supplied.  He still sounded sullen, but
there was an undercurrent of interest, too.  "I suppose that, since
you're in, you can stay."  He looked from Morwen to Killer to the cats
to Cimorene.

"But you're going to have to explain yourselves."

"In a minute," Morwen said.  "First, we have to tell Kazul what's been
going on.  Unless you want a worried dragon tearing your tower
apart."

Without waiting for Brandel to answer, she leaned out the window and
began shouting reassurances.

Explaining to Kazul took some time, and after that they had to haul the
laundry basket back inside.  Once it was in, they discovered that
Killer had kicked a hole in the side in his last desperate lunge
through the window.

This put Brandel out of sorts again.

"I should throw you all back out the window immediately," he
grumbled.

"You're nothing but a lot of vagabonds."

"That doesn't sound right," Killer said, climbing to his feet.  "Unless
vagabonds is a word for a witch and a magician and the Queen of the
Enchanted Forest and the King of the Dragons and some cats.  And me.

Is that what it means, Morwen?"

"Not exactly.  Brandel is just grouchy."

"Oh."  Killer shook himself, which made his wings flop open.  He had to
flap them once to keep his balance and then again to get them back in
position.  "I thought having wings would be interesting, but they're
just a big

"What was that about queens and kings and magicians?"  Brandel asked
Morwen.

So Morwen made a round of formal introductions, which soothed
everyone's feelings.  Then, just when they were getting ready to sit
down and talk, Telemain stirred again and Morwen had to quiet him.

"I thought you wanted him to wake up," Killer said.

"I do, but thrashing around won't help him recover," Morwen said.

"He needs to keep quiet."

"No problem," said Trouble.  He stood up, stretched, strolled over to
Telemain, and draped himself down the center of the magician's chest.

"How long do you want him like this?"

"Thank you, Trouble," Morwen said, feeling relieved.  Not only would
Trouble's efforts hasten Telemain's recovery, but keeping Telemain
quiet would also keep Trouble from getting into trouble.  Given a
specific job, the cat was quite reliable.  "Two or three more hours
should do it, now that he's warm.  Then we can wake him, feed him some
broth, and put him to bed."

"I bet he won't want to go," said Scorn.

"Three hours.  Right."  Trouble yawned and put his head down on his
paws.

"I thought regular witches were supposed to have black cats," said
Brandel, looking from Trouble to Scorn.  "Unless-are you a fire-witch,
too?"

"No," said Morwen.  "But I don't see why that should limit me to
black

Brandel started to ask something else, then stopped, frowning.  "No.

I'll ask you about that later.  Right now, you're here and you're all
settled, and I want my explanation.  Before something else happens."

"First, I'd like to know how you feel about wizards," Morwen said.

"I've never met one," Brandel replied.  "And I'm not sure I want to.

They don't have a very good reputation."

"Good," said Cimorene.  "It's like this .  . ."  And she launched into
the explanation.

Brandel listened with interest, but when Cimorene reached the end of
her tale, he frowned.  "How did you get by the invisible dusk-blooming
chokevines?  I thought I'd gotten all the openings near the tower
filled in."

"Kazul burned a path through them."

"Mmph.  Must be handy, traveling with a dragon."

"Sometimes," said Morwen.  "Other times it's an inconvenience."

Suddenly, Scorn's ears pricked up and her whiskers twitched forward.

"Well, well.  What's this?"

Morwen glanced sideways to see what Scorn was watching so intently.

On the top step of the staircase, a large, fluffy cat stood gazing at
the newcomers.  He was mostly black, with a white chin, white front
paws, and a white tuft at the very end of his tail, and his expression
was wary and disapproving.

"So you've finally decided to come see what was going on, have you?"

Brandel said to the cat.

"Mrrow," said the cat.

"We have visitors," Brandel said.  "Morwen, Cimorene, Killer, this is
my cat, Horatio."

"Well, hell-lo, handsome," said Scorn.  Her tail lashed once each way,
and she sat up and began washing her face with great unconcern.

"He doesn't look that great to me," Trouble snarled.

"Behave yourself," Morwen said sternly.  "We're guests."

Horatio eyed the group a moment longer, then came slowly forward.

Halfway across the room, he stopped, studying Scorn with an intensity
that matched hers.  "Mmmrrr," he said at last.  "Mrow yow eiou?"

"No, she won't!"  Trouble shifted uneasily, as if longing to jump up
and

pounce on this intruder.  Then Morwen caught his eye, and he settled
back into place on Telemain's chest, muttering under his breath.

Scorn looked from Trouble to Horatio and made a show of considering.

"You don't need me for anything right now, do you Morwen?"

"No," said Morwen.

"Then I'll be happy to look around," Scorn said to Horatio.  "See you
later, folks."

"Watch your step," Trouble growled.  "You can't trust him."

"I should hope not," said Scorn.  "After all, he's a cat."  Tail high,
she sauntered over to Horatio.  The two cats exchanged sniffs, then
Horatio led the way to the staircase and they disappeared.

"She's going to regret this," Trouble said.  "So is he, as soon as I-"
Morwen caught his eye again, and he stopped short.  "I don't expect to
have to warn you twice," she said.

"All right, all right, but you wait and see."

"Quiet," said Morwen.  "Brandel, we've told you what we're doing
here.

Now suppose you tell us what you're doing here."

"Living," said Brandel.  "Staying out of trouble.  At least, that's how
it was supposed to work," he added sourly.

"Of course," said Cimorene with considerably more patience than Morwen
could have mustered.  "But how did you come here in the first place?

The middle of a swamp is an unusual place to find a fire-witch."

Brandel sighed.  "It's a little complicated.  I come from a family of
fire-witches.

Both my parents are fire-witches, and so are most of my aunts and
uncles and cousins.  My eldest sister is a fire-witch, and my younger
brother.

Everyone, in fact, except my younger sister, Rachel."

"That must have been difficult for her," Cimorene said.  "Being the
only different one in the family is hard."

"My parents thought the same thing," Brandel said.  "So when Rachel was
very small, Mother brought her to the sorceress who lived in this
tower, to be apprenticed."

"A sorceress chose to live in a swamp?"  Cimorene said skeptically.

"They like inaccessible places," Morwen said.  "Though I'll grant you,
this is a little extreme.  Go on, Brandel."

"The sorceress agreed to take Rachel in and teach her magic, and once
every five years or so we would come and visit.  Since there wasn't a
door in the tower, the sorceress lowered a chair on a long rope and
hauled us up to the window one at a time."  Brandel shook his head.

"The laundry basket is a lot safer; it's not so easy to fall out of.

"In any case, the sorceress asked us to keep the arrangement a secret,
and we tried, but that sort of thing always seems to get out somehow.

Some

of the rumors were pretty wild: one of the stories said my mother sold
Rachel to a wicked witch in exchange for some vegetables."

"I think I've heard that one," Cimorene said.

"Anyway, there wasn't much we could do.  By the time Rachel was
sixteen, all sorts of people were showing up in the swamp to rescue the
beautiful princess from the wicked witch."

Cimorene nodded.  "I know what that's like.  When I was Kazul's
princess, the knights and heroes made themselves a dreadful nuisance.

You wouldn't believe how stubborn some of them could be."

"Want to bet?  They're still coming around, and half the time they
won't listen when I say she isn't here any longer."  Brandel looked
down.

"That's what I thought you were, at first: a group of heroes."

"Sounds like a reasonable description to me," said Trouble.

"Is your sister beautiful?"  Morwen asked.

Brandel shrugged.  "She's pretty enough, I suppose.  For a while, she
was flattered by all the attention, but the constant interruptions just
irritated the sorceress.  Finally, she gave the tower to Rachel and
moved somewhere else, just to get away from it all."

"I can't say I blame her," Cimorene said, nodding.

"I don't know," said Killer, who had been listening with great
interest.

"It must have taken a lot of work to build a place like this.  Couldn't
she have just kept them away somehow?"

"They're very persistent," Cimorene said.  "You have no idea."

"And besides, heroes weren't the only problem with this location,"
Brandel said.  'Just the main one."

Killer snorted softly.  "I still think-" "About the tower," Morwen said
to Brandel.  "The sorceress gave it to your sister .  . ."

"And she lived here for a while, until she couldn't stand having
strangers stand outside and shout, 'Rachel!  Rachel, send down the
chair' any longer.  Half the time they didn't even get her name
right.

So when Arona started making life difficult for me, she-" Morwen
stiffened.  "Hold on a minute.  Who did you just say was making life
difficult for you?"

"Arona Vamist."  Brandel's eyes narrowed and his fists clenched.  "He
is the meanest, lowest, most obnoxious, narrow-minded, opinionated .

.

." With every word Brandel's voice rose, until he was shouting at the
top of his lungs.  Then, abruptly, his hair burst into flames.

After a shocked instant, Morwen relaxed.  Fire-witches were supposed to
be immune to fire, among their many other gifts, and she found this
demonstration extremely interesting.  Cimorene, too, seemed more
surprised than frightened, but Killer was not so sanguine.  He reared
back in surprise, forgot to allow for his wings, and almost
overbalanced.  To keep his footing, he had to flap several times,
filling the room with the wind from his wings.

The flames brightened briefly, but then the breeze distracted Brandel
from his angry tirade, and a moment later his hair went out.

"That was interesting," said Trouble.

"Interesting isn't the half of it," said Morwen.  "That wouldn't by any
chance have been Arona Michaelear Grinogion Vamist you were railing at
a moment ago, would it?"

"That's the one," Brandel said, nodding vehemently.  "And if I ever get
my hands on the sneaking little-" "Yes, of course," Morwen interrupted
hastily, hoping to forestall another outburst.  "If talking about it
won't upset you too much, would you mind telling me exactly how Arona
Michaelear Grinogion Vamist was 'making life difficult' for you?"

"Not just for me.  That weasel has it in for the whole family."  The
ends of Brandel's hair began to glow like embers in a high wind.  With
a visible effort, he controlled himself and went on.  "He'd been going
on about true magic and traditional forms for a long time, but nobody
ever paid much attention.

Then he petitioned the Town Council to outlaw all 'nontraditional'
magic, and somehow he got them to do it."

"And fire-witches aren't on his traditional list," Morwen said.

Brandel nodded.  "He got us thrown out of our home, and there wasn't a
thing we could do about it."

"Nothing?"  Cimorene raised an eyebrow.  "From what I've heard about
fire-witches-" "Using our magic against him would only have made his
arguments to the Town Council sound more reasonable," Brandel said.

Cimorene and Morwen just looked at him.

"All right, we tried?  Brandel hit the arm of his chair with one fist,
and little flames flickered in his hair.  "Somebody was helping the
little creep.  He has a really first-class protective spell, one the
whole lot of us couldn't get a handle on.  When we found out we
couldn't get at him, the others went to visit my uncle in Oslett.  I
came here, hoping Rachel would know where the sorceress had gone.  I
thought maybe she'd help."

"Rachel didn't know, I take it?"  said Morwen.

"No, but she let me have the tower.  She even warned me about all the
knights and heroes before she left, but I didn't believe her."  Brandel
sighed.

"I do now.  That's why I filled in the end of the sorceress's
walkway."

"Walkway?"  said Cimorene.

"The one lined with invisible dusk-blooming chokevines.  Didn't you
notice?"

"We noticed the vines.  We didn't notice a walkway.  Just mud."

Brandel shrugged.  "I don't think she got out much, and when she did,
she usually flew."

"So you've been living here ever since you got thrown out of your
hometown?"  Morwen asked.

Brandel nodded.

"How long is that?"

"Around four months, I think.  I lose track.  Not a lot happens, except
knights, and the days sort of blur together.  I don't even know what's
been happening outside the swamp."

"Arona Michaelear Grinogion Vamist seems to have decided to move on
from fire-witches to regular witches," Morwen said.  "As near as I can
tell, he's trying to get everyone to wear pointy hats and cackle a
lot."

"You watch out," Brandel said.  "He's up to something."

"I'm beginning to regret missing his call," Morwen said.

"You got a call from this Vamist person?"  said Cimorene.  "What did he
want?"

"The cats didn't say."

Trouble let his eyelids close almost to slits.  "Nothing important."

"That reminds me," Cimorene said.  "Brandel, have you got a magic
mirror around that I could use?  I promised Mendanbar I'd let him know
how things were going every once in a while."

"I think the sorceress left an old one in the storage closet," Brandel
said.  "I'll check."

The fire-witch disappeared down the staircase.  Morwen and Cimorene
looked at each other.

"This is not going well," Cimorene said.

"I wouldn't say that," Morwen replied.  "We have somewhere dry to spend
the night.  Under the circumstances .  . ."

"That's just it.  The circumstances.  We're goodness-knows-how-many
leagues from where we ought to be, Telemain's hurt, and we still don't
have any idea where Mendanbar's sword is.  And we've wasted a whole
day.  Any minute now, that sword may start leaking magic and-" "-and
fretting yourself into fits won't help a bit," Morwen said.  "Magical
pressure takes time to build up, and it's only been a day and a half
since the sword was stolen.  We probably have at least another day
before the marc of the Enchanted Forest starts draining out."

"Probably.  But what if we don't?"

Morwen sighed.  "Perhaps we're approaching the problem from the wrong
direction.  Let me think about it."

"With Telemain to take care of, when will you have time?"

"I'll manage," Morwen said.

A muffled thump echoed from the stairwell.  Another followed, then

some scraping noises.  "Ow!"  said Brandel's voice.  A moment later,
the carved wooden rim of an enormous old mirror thrust up out of the
stairwell.

"My goodness, it's large."  Cimorene rose hastily and went over to
help.  "You should have said something."

"I'd forgotten how big it is," Brandel panted.

Together, they hoisted the mirror the last few feet up the stairs and
propped it against the wall.  "Will it do?"  Brandel asked.

"I don't see why not," Cimorene said, but she sounded doubtful.

Morwen couldn't blame her.  The sorceress's magic mirror was so old
that the glass had uneven areas that distorted the reflection.  Tarnish
mottled the silver backing like black moss, and the wooden frame had
deep cracks.

"Well, there's no point in waiting," Cimorene said.

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall, I would like to make a call."

Leaning forward, she waited eagerly for the mirror's response.

15

In Which They Have Difficulties with a Mirror Slowly, the splotchy
reflection of the room faded into a smooth, even white.  Then a voice
from the mirror said, "Really?"  It sounded hoarse, as if it hadn't
been used in a long time.  "Are you sure you don't want to leave me
down in that storeroom for another twenty or thirty years, gathering
dust and cobwebs and talking to the magic cloaks for company?  Not that
I'm complaining, mind, but cloaks don't have much in the way of
conversation."

"I wish to speak to Mendanbar, the King of the Enchanted Forest,"
Cimorene said firmly.

"You're supposed to specify that in the verse, you know," the mirror
said.  "Though I guess I can make an exception, this once.  Especially
since you know exactly who you want to talk to.  None of this 'fairest
of them all' silliness.  I hate that.  I have to hunt through seven or
eight hundred people, and in the end it's a matter of opinion anyway,
and nobody is ever happy with the results.  Now, you are clearly a
woman of decision.  'I wish to speak to Mendanbar, King of-' Wait a
minute.  King?  Are you sure?"

"Quite sure," said Cimorene.  "Put me through to him, please."

"If you insist," said the mirror, "but I should warn you that in my
experience kings don't talk to just anyone."

"He'll talk to me.  I'm his wife."

"Well, sorry, Your Majesty," said the mirror in a hurry tone.  "I'll
get right to it.  I suppose you know that there's mud on your cheek."

Before Cimorene could reply, the mirror filled with slowly swirling
colors, and from it came the sound of someone humming a soft melody
ever-so-slightly off key.  "Mirror!"  said Cimorene.  "Mirror?"

The mirror did not respond.  "I think you just have to wait until it
comes back," said Brandel.

"Isn't there some way to make it stop humming?"  said Cimorene.

"Morwen?  You know about magic mirrors."

"Not enough to do that," Morwen said regretfully.

Finally, the humming stopped and the mirror cleared, but instead of the
grinning face of the gargoyle in Mendanbar's study, or Mendanbar
himself, they saw only the same milky whiteness as they had before.

"I'm sorry," said the mirror.  "I don't seem to be able to get
through."

Cimorene and Morwen stared at the mirror for a moment in appalled
silence.  Then Cimorene said, "Can't get through?  Why not?"

"How should I know?  I'm just a mirror."

"Try again," said Morwen.

"And no humming this time!"  Cimorene added, but she was too late.

The swirling colors-and the humming-were back.

This time the wait seemed interminable.  Cimorene paced back and forth
in front of the mirror, frowning and biting her lower lip.  Finally,
the humming stopped and the mirror cleared.

"Nope," it said.  "There's nothing to communicate with.  Are you sure
he has a magic mirror?"

"He did when we left," Cimorene said.

"Maybe someone broke it," Killer suggested.

"Unlikely, but possible," Morwen told him.  "Still, I think the
difficulty is probably at this end."

"There's nothing wrong with me!"  said the mirror indignantly.  "I've
had no complaints, not one, in all the years since I was first
enchanted."

"That was, however, a long time ago."  Morwen turned to Cimorene.

"Telemain did the spell on the mirror at the castle, didn't he?"

Cimorene nodded.  "Last year, as a wedding present.  He updated it just
a few weeks ago."

"Then it is possible that the two mirrors are incompatible," Morwen
said.

"Ridiculous," said the mirror.  "I'm very easygoing.  I get along with
everyone, even that dreadful woman who spied on her stepdaughter all
the time.  Now, that woman was incompatible with everyone.  Honestly,
the things she did-" "Go to sleep," Morwen said.

"Phooey," said the mirror, and the milk white surface faded back into
blotchy silver.

"Do you really think it's just a problem with the different spells?"

Cimorene asked doubtfully, but her expression had lightened a little
already.

"It doesn't happen often, but it does happen," Morwen said.  "We can
ask Telemain about it tomorrow morning.  Maybe he'll have some sugges-"
"I don't know."  Cimorene chewed gently on her lower lip.  "I think I
need to talk to Kazul.  Killer-" "Oh no," said the donkey.  "Not me.

Flying is too much work.  And I haven't had any dinner yet."

"He does sound like Fiddlesticks," said Trouble.

"I suppose I should get you something," Brandel said without much
enthusiasm.  "What would you like?"

Killer's eyes lit up.  "Clover.  With sweet flowers and slightly tart
leaves, for a nicely balanced mix of flavors, and maybe a little
parsley as a palate cleanser.  Not the kind of parsley that crinkles
up, the kind with the flat leaves."

"I'll see what I have," Brandel said, sounding slightly stunned.

"Well, if Killer won't help, I'll have to take the laundry basket,"
Cimorene said with a shrug.  "Will you show me how to use it,
Morwen?"

"Certainly," Morwen said.  "Just bear in mind that the balance is a
little tricky."

"It can't be any worse than the magic carpet Mendanbar and I had to
ride when we were looking for Kazul," Cimorene replied.  "I'll
manage."

Morwen nodded, and she gave Cimorene the short list of basket-control
commands.  Together, the two women wresded the basket out the window
and set it hovering.  Then Morwen held it while Cimorene climbed
carefully into it.  To make sure nothing went wrong, Morwen watched as
Cimorene started down, then she turned away from the window with a
smile.  Cimorene was right.  She could manage.

A new series of thumps and scrapes echoed up the stairwell, and Brandel
appeared, carrying a bushel basket heaped full of clover.

"Now, where did you find that?"  Morwen asked.

"The sorceress didn't like running to town for groceries," Brandel
said, setting the basket in front of Killer.  "So she enchanted her
pantry so it would always have whatever she needed, for herself or for
any visitors who happened to stop by."

"I thought she didn't have visitors," Morwen said.

"She didn't have many.  I suppose she thought having company was bad
enough without having to go shopping to feed them, too."

Killer's ears stiffened, and he paused in midbite.  "Enchanted?"  he
said around a mouthful of clover.  "This is more enchanted food?"

"No, no, it's the pantry that's enchanted.  The food is perfectly
normal," said Brandel.  "Weren't you listening?"

"You'll have to pardon him," Morwen said.  "He's trying to be cautious
because he's had a bad experience.  A series of bad experiences."

"You're sure this is safe?"  Killer said anxiously.  "I'm getting tired
of all these changes."

"It's a little late to worry about it now," Trouble told him.  "You've
already eaten some.  I don't suppose Brandel thought to bring a saucer
of cream along with all that rabbit food?"

"Yes, about the rest of us .  . . ," Morwen said.

"Oh, sorry."  Brandel looked embarrassed.  "I guess I'm not used to
having company.  What would you like?"

"Let's see what you have," said Morwen, and started for the stairs.

By the time Cimorene returned, Morwen and Brandel had laid out a
substantial supper, including roast boar, baked potatoes, carrots,
green beans and tiny onions, and spring water for the people; and
sardines with cream for the cats.  Killer had finished his first basket
of clover, the second was half gone, and he was beginning to slow
down.

It looked as if he might, for once, have enough to eat at a meal.

"Did you have a nice chat with your dragon?"  Brandel asked as Cimorene
pushed the laundry basket into a corner where it would be out of the
way.

Cimorene rolled her eyes.  "Kazul is not, and never has been, my
dragon.  I was her princess for a while, but now we're just friends."

"Oh.  Well, did you have a nice chat with your friend, then?"

"Sort of."  Cimorene looked at Morwen.  "Kazul is leaving."

Morwen considered.  "When?  And why?"

"Right away.  She-" Something large whooshed past the window outside.

"There she goes," Cimorene said.

"That still leaves why."  Morwen pulled a chair up to the table and sat
down.  "You can explain over dinner."

"Something smells good up here," Scorn said from the staircase, poking
her black nose over the top of the last step.  "Hey, Horatio, there's
cream!"

"iF i don't get any, I will be very upset," said Trouble, lashing his
tail for emphasis as the other two cats bounded out of the stairwell
and headed for the bowls Brandel had left on the floor.

Cimorene smiled absently at the cats and joined Morwen at the table.

"It's-well, dragons aren't very patient at the best of times.  And we
haven't run into any wizards yet, and Kazul wasn't sure your enchanted
pantry would be up to feeding a dragon.  So since I was worried about
Mendanbar-" "And since Mendanbar said something about wizards in the
Enchanted Forest when you talked to him last night-" Morwen said.

And since there's not much dragon food in the swamp-" Killer put in.

"-Kazul offered to go home and-and see what's going on."  Cimorene took
a large helping of the roast boar and dug in with relish.

"It may be just as well."  Morwen took a much smaller portion of the
boar and looked at it doubtfully, wondering whether her stomach was up
to it.  "Once we have the sword, we'll want to return to the Enchanted
Forest immediately.  Telemain won't be fit for much for a day or so,
but-" "Oh no!  Morwen, we can't afford to sit around here for a whole
day!"

"If you have a better idea, I'd like to hear it," said Morwen.

"Besides, we haven't got the slightest idea where we're going, so
rushing off won't get us there any quicker.  We'll be better off if we
take time to plan."

"I suppose so," Cimorene said, but she didn't sound happy about it.

"As I was saying: By tomorrow morning, I'll have some idea when
Telemain will be able to do a proper transport spell again.  Without
Kazul, he can take us considerably farther each time and still stay
within the safety

Cimorene swallowed a mouthful of potato.  "That's good.  The faster we
go, the sooner we'll get the sword back to the Enchanted Forest."

"Exactly."  With some regret, Morwen set down her fork.  "For tonight,
the best thing we all can do is rest.  Brandel, will you help us with
Telemain?"

"I don't need help," Telemain said unexpectedly from the floor in front
of the fire.  "I need dinner.  Where are we, and why is there a cat on
my chest?"

"He was supposed to be making sure you stayed asleep," Morwen said,
TURning to give Trouble a reproving look.

"It's not my fault," Trouble said.  "He doesn't react right.  I've
never had to use that spell on a magician before; maybe that's why."

He rose and stepped carefully down from Telemain's chest.  "Are there
any sardines left?"

Telemain sat up and looked at Trouble with dislike.  "That animal is
remarkably heavy for something that looks that skinny."

"That's gratitude for you," said Trouble.  "He should be glad I'm not
Chaos."

"How are you feeling?"  Cimorene asked Telemain anxiously.

"Squashed," said Telemain.  "And may I point out that as yet no one
has answered my first question.  Where are we?"

"The Smoking Swamp," Morwen told him.  "And this is Brandel.  We were
fortunate enough to find his tower in time to spend the night, or you'd
be sleeping in mud."

"I appear to have done that already," Telemain said, picking flakes of
dried mud from the left shoulder of his vest.  Suddenly, he looked up,
frowning.

"Spend the nIght?"

"You got an unusually heavy Dose of backshock when you lost control of
the transportation spell," Morwen told him.  "You've been unconscious
all day."

"Ridiculous," said Telemain.  "I did not lose control of the
transportation spell, and I am not suffering from backshock."

"Well, this certainly isn't the edge of the Great Southern Desert,"
Cimorene said.  "And something knocked you out for most of the day."

"I had to carry you," Killer said, bobbing his head up and down for
emphasis.  "You're heavy."

Morwen's eyes narrowed.  "If it isn't backshock, what is it?"

"The opposite of backshock," Telemain said.  "I don't believe there is
a word for it."

"Explain."

"Backshock occurs when the accumulated magical energy contained within
an enchantment-in-process rebounds upon the magician casting the spell
due to his inability to maintain control," Telemain said.

"He's feeling better, all right," said Trouble, glancing up from the
sardines.

"Mrrow vrow?"  said Horatio.

"Yes," said Scorn.  "Sometimes he's even worse."

"In this instance, both the disruption of the transportation spell and
the prolonged unconsciousness that followed resulted from an
expropriation of magical energy as a result of the partial absorption
of my enchantment-inprocess by a similar but much more extensive
enchantment."

"What?"  said Brandel.

"You're sure?"  Morwen said, frowning.

"Positive," said Telemain.  "The sensation was quite unmistakable.  And
I must also point out that the normal secondary consequences of
backshock are not in evidence."

"What does that mean?"  Cimorene said.

"It means I'm starving," Telemain said, climbing to his feet.  "Can we
finish this discussion over dinner?"

"Most of us have eaten," Morwen said.  "You can have dinner while the
rest of us discuss.  About this other spell-"

"What other spell?"  Cimorene said.  "Morwen, will one of you please
explain what you're talking about?"

"Sorry," Morwen said.  "Telemain said that he didn't lose control of
the transportation spell.  Somebody else was transporting at the same
time-" "A very large somebody else," Telemain said, piling a plate with
slices of roast boar and heaps of vegetables.  "Or possibly someone
moving a moderately large house."

"-and the second spell sucked up enough of Telemain's magic to break
his spell right in the middle of things."

"Sucked up Telemain's magic?"  Cimorene scowled.  "That sounds an awful
lot like wizards."

"Aren't you jumping to conclusions?"  Brandel said.  "I know wizards
have a bad reputation, but they aren't thieves."

"They took Mendanbar's sword."

"And they've been stealing magic on a small scale for years," Morwen
said.  'Just ask the dragons."

"But if it was wizards, where were they going?"  Cimorene tapped her
fingers nervously against the arm of her chair.  "And what were they
planning to do when they got there?  Oh, I wish I'd been able to reach
Mendanbar."

Telemain made a questioning noise, so Morwen explained about Brandel's
magic mirror.  "I thought the spell might be incompatible with the one
in the castle," she finished.  "Do you feel up to checking, once you're
done eating?"

"I can certainly try," Telemain said.  "If that's the problem, though,
I doubt that I'll be able to do anything about it until tomorrow.  It
takes time to rebuild magical reserves."

But when Telemain examined the mirror, he shook his head.  "It's an old
universal-application single-unit enchantment.  Quite an impressive
antique, and I can see that it's been well maintained.  The connective
interface is pretty basic, therefore-" "Can you fix it to get through
to Mendanbar or not?"  Cimorene asked.

"I was getting to that."  Telemain looked at the expression on
Cimorene's face and sighed.  "I'm afraid it doesn't need adjusting," he
said with unusual gentleness.  "There's nothing wrong with the spell,
and it shouldn't be incompatible with the castle mirror.  The problem
is somewhere else."

"I knew it," Cimorene said.  She rose and began to pace in front of the
fireplace.  "Something is wrong at home."

16

In Which They Learn Something Worth Knowing

Both Morwen and Telemain agreed with Cimorene, at least in part, but
even if they had wanted to, they could not have done anything that
night.

Telemain was much too drained to cast another transportation spell, and
they had no other way of getting back to the Enchanted Forest in a
hurry.

Furthermore, there was not much point in going back without the
sword.

"Mendanbar has all the magic of the Enchanted Forest to use against the
wizards," Morwen said.  "He doesn't need more magicians.  He needs his
sword, so he can stop all of the wizards at once instead of attacking
them one or two at a time."

"Yes, but there are so many of them," Cimorene said.  "And there's only
one of him.  And what if the sword has started draining magic out of
the forest?  The wizards will be getting more powerful and Mendanbar
will be getting less."

"If the sword has started leaking Enchanted Forest magic, the best
thing we can do is to get it back to the forest quickly," Morwen
said.

"And anyway, there are only three of us," Telemain pointed out.  "That
wouldn't change the odds much."

"There are six of us," Trouble said indignantly.  "What's the matter,
can't he count?"

"I'll admit that the rabbit isn't good for much, even as a donkey,"
Scorn said.  "We, however, are another matter entirely."

"Kazul will be far more help to Mendanbar than we would," Morwen told
Cimorene.  "Our job is to get hold of that sword.  And you are the only
one who can do that."

Cimorene sighed.  "I know.  I just wish I could be there with him."

"Then we had better stop worrying about what Mendanbar is doing and
start figuring out how to find his sword in the shortest possible time,
so we get back as soon as we can," Morwen said.

Everyone agreed that this was an excellent idea, but though they
discussed the matter for another hour, no one had any suggestions.

Finally, Morwen put an end to the discussion.  "We are all getting too
tired to think," she said.  "We will do much better in the morning."

Brandel supplied them each with a room and a warm bath-which the cats
declined-and Morwen made certain that the others were settled in before
she retired herself.

The following morning, Morwen rose early.  Even so, Telemain was up
before she was.  She found him in the topmost room of the tower,
sitting in front of the dead ashes of the fire and staring at Brandel's
magic mirror with an expression of concentration on his face.  On the
far side of the room, Killer slept with his head down and his oversized
wings flopped awkwardly across his back.

"Good morning," Morwen said as she climbed the last few stairs.

"How are your magic levels?"

"Much better," Telemain said absently.  "Morwen, how much do you know
about these old universal-application units?"  He waved at the
mirror.

"Using them or enchanting them?"

"Using them."

"(tite a bit," Morwen said.  "Forty years ago they were standard
equipment for witches, and learning to use them is still considered
part of a witch's basic education.  Why?"

"How universal is the universal application?"  Telemain asked.

"It depends on the mirror.  Can't you figure it out from looking at the
underlying enchantment?"

Telemain frowned.  "Probably, but it's not a good idea to take a
working antique apart unless you absolutely have to.  They're old and
fragile, and if I popped one of the main core links it could take days
to repair."

Morwen suppressed a sigh of irritation.  There was no point in snapping
at Telemain when he was in this mood.  He wouldn't notice.  "It would
help if you told me what you want to do with it."

"I was considering the possibility of using the mirror as a locating
device," Telemain said.  "If the universal-application portion of the
enchantment is truly universal .  . ."

"... then we can use it to find Mendanbar's sword," Morwen said.

"What an excellent suggestion.  I should have thought of it myself.

Back at the castle, perhaps, when it would have saved us some time."

"It wouldn't have done any good then."  Telemain bent over the mirror,
oblivious to Morwen's sarcasm.  "The enchantment on the castle mirror
is limited to animate, sentient beings, and while Mendanbar's sword is
occasionally temperamental, it is neither animate nor sentient.  Now,
if you'll just show me where the external connectors are, I'll hook
this to a low-level identification spell and-" "If all you want to do
is find Mendanbar's sword, you shouldn't need an identification
spell.

The mirror is quite capable of handling the whole thing itself, if it's
approached correctly."

"Who's approaching what, and why do you have to be correct about it?"

Cimorene asked, climbing the last few stairs into the room.  Trouble,
who seemed to have been escorting her, bounded over the last step and
stopped dead in his tracks.  Cimorene did not quite trip over him, but
it was a near thing.

"Telemain wants to use Brandel's mirror to find the sword," Morwen
said, giving Trouble a reproving look.  Trouble looked away and
wandered casually toward Killer, who raised his head and blinked
sleepily at the cat.

Dubiously, Cimorene examined the mirror.  "Can it do that?"

"I see no reason why not," Morwen said.  "You heard what it said last
night about hunting for the fairest in the land.  If it can do that, it
ought to be able to look for a sword."

"Good," said Cimorene.

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall, I would like to make a call."

Nothing happened.  "What's the matter?"  said Cimorene.  "Is it
broken?"

"Possibly," Telemain said.  "Antique spells are easily disrupted."

"They're also cranky," said Morwen.  Stepping forward, she tapped the
mirror briskly on the left side.

Immediately, the mirror turned white, as if someone had thrown a large
bucket of milk at the reverse side.  "Now what?"  it said, sounding
extremely cross.

"I want to see where Mendanbar's sword is," Cimorene told it.

"Too bad," said the mirror.  "I told you yesterday, that has to be
specified in the verse.  Get it right, or don't bother asking.  I
really can't make any more exceptions."  Without waiting for an
objection, the mirror turned its usual blotchy silver.

"Come back here!"  said Cimorene, but the mirror remained obstinately
silver.

"Hmph," said Morwen.  "I suppose I should have expected this.  My first
magic mirror used to be irritable in the mornings, too."

"What can we do about it?"  Cimorene asked.

"Give me a minute to think."

"I could constrain a certain level of performance," Telemain said,
frowning.  "However, the accuracy of the information obtained might
leave something to be desired.  On the other hand-" "Better think
fast," Trouble said to Morwen.

Footsteps sounded in the stairwell.  "You're all up early," said
Brandel.

"Would you like some breakfast?"

"I'd like your blasted mirror to cooperate," Cimorene muttered under
her breath.

"Got it," Morwen said.  "Move over, Cimorene."

"Mirror, mirror, on a hook, Where's the sword the wizards took?"

As the mirror's surface reluctantly faded to white, Telemain stared at
Morwen in disbelief.  "You call that a spell?"

"It rhymes and it scans," Morwen said.  "What more do you want at this
hour of the morning?  And on the spur of the moment, too."

"I agree with him," the mirror said.  "That was a lousy couplet."

"If you'd found us the sword to begin with, you wouldn't have had to
listen to it," Morwen said, unperturbed.  "Do your job."

Cimorene leaned forward.  "And this time, please don't-" Whirling
colors filled the mirror, and a soft but penetrating off-key hum echoed
through the room.

"-hum," Cimorene finished, half a second too late.  "Bother!"

"As long as it finds the sword for us, I don't care if it sings an aria
backward," Morwen said.  "If it annoys you that much, put your fingers
in your ears."

Trouble jumped onto the window ledge and curled his tail around his
feet.  Two seconds later, Scorn and Horatio tore out of the stairwell
and raced around the room, startling Killer into wakefulness.  A loud
bray drowned out the mirror's humming, and Brandel winced.  As the cats
settled onto various pieces of furniture for their morning wash,
Cimorene nudged Morwen's side.  "Look!  It's working."

Morwen turned back to the mirror and smiled in satisfaction.  The glass
had cleared to show a large, ramshackle house with two chimneys and a
steeply pointed roof.  The windows were made up of small glass
rectangles, and ivy covered most of them so thickly that it seemed
unlikely that anyone could see out.

"That's the central office of the Society of Wizards?"  Cimorene
said.

"No," Telemain replied.  "Apparently I was wrong, and they aren't
keeping the sword at the central office.  It's a good thing I thought
to check."

He sounded extremely smug.  "Now all we have to do is find out where
that house is."

"It's about five miles past the edge of the swamp," Brandel said.

"Right outside the town where I grew up.  But I don't think knowing
that does you much good."

"Why do you say that?"  Morwen asked.

"Because you said the Society of Wizards stole this sword you're
after.

That house belongs to Arona Michaelear Grinogion Vamist."

"What?"

"You mean it's the wrong place?"  Cimorene said.  "After all that?"

"It is not the wrong place?  the mirror said indignantly.  "I've been a
magic mirror for one hundred and forty-seven years, and I haven't made
a mistake yet.  Look here!"

The scene in the glass swooped and whirled dizzyingly, and then the
view plunged through one of the ivy-covered windows into a dimly lit
room.

Inside, two men sat at a dusty table, drinking black coffee and
contemplating a shiny sword lying on the table between them.  One of
them was bald and sharp faced, while the other"That's Antorell!"

Cimorene said.  "He's gotten himself back together awfully fast this
time.  It must be all the practice he's had."

"That's Arona!"  Brandel said at the same instant, staring at the bald
man.  "Is that the sword you're looking for?"

"It appears to be," said Telemain.

Cimorene nodded.  "That's Mendanbar's sword, all right.  See how it
looks twice as bright as anything else?  I bet it's leaking magic all
over."

"Leaking magic?"  said Killer, poking his long nose over Morwen's
shoulder to peer at the mirror.  "You never said anything about that
sword leaking magic.  It doesn't sound very safe."

"It isn't," Cimorene told him.  "Which is another reason why we have to
get it back to the Enchanted Forest quickly.  The longer it's outside
the forest, the worse it gets.  That sword belongs in the Enchanted
Forest."

"Don't worry about it," Morwen said to Killer.  "It won't hurt you
unless you try to eat it."

"That would be fun to watch," said Trouble, cocking his head to one
side.

"Mrow?"  said Horatio.

"Probably not," Scorn said with some regret.  "Even Killer isn't that
stupid."

Brandel was still staring at the mirror with a grim expression.  "So
that's it.  That no-good, interfering, lousy little troublemaking
weasel has gotten the Society of Wizards to help him!"  His voice rose
steadily until he was shouting, and on "troublemaking" his hair burst
into flames.

"Yow!"  said Killer, jumping backward.  "Ouch!  That was my ear.

Whoops!"  As he recoiled from Brandel's blazing head, his wings flopped
open, catching air and throwing him off balance.  Twisting frantically
to keep his left wing tip away from the fire, Killer flapped twice and
fell over in a tangle of legs and ears and feathers.  The cats bounced
away from him; startled and bristling.

"Hey, watch what you're doing," said Scorn.  "You could hurt
someone."

Horatio gave her neck a reassuring lick.

Slowly, Killer settled his wings into place and climbed back to his
feet.

"I think I sprained something," he said mournfully.  "And my ear is
singed."

He gave Brandel a reproachful look.

Brandel didn't notice.  Hair still burning merrily, he turned to
Cimorene.  "If you want some help getting that sword back, just ask.

That sneaking, repulsive little-" "Are you done?"  asked the mirror.

"Or do you actually want to watch these two have breakfast?"

"Possibly," said Morwen.  "Telemain-, is there any way we can hear what
they're saying?"

"I doubt it," Telemain said.  "In any event, it would require
considerable time to determine the precise adjustments appropriate to
the subcategory.

Antiques are not my area of specialization."

"Watch who you're calling antique, buster," the mirror said.  "I'll
have you know that I found that sword in less than half the time it'd
take some of your newfangled hotshot mirrors."

"And a good job you did of it," Morwen said.  "We're finished.  Go to
sleep."

"'Antique,'" muttered the mirror as the reflection faded into white and
then cleared to show the tower room once more.  "Bah-phooey to
'antique."  I'm just as good as I was a hundred years ago.  Better!

I've got more experience.  And I give personal service.  'Antique?

Some people .  . ."

"I think he hurt her feelings," Scorn said.

"What about my feelings?"  Killer said loudly.  "My ear is burned, I've
bent three feathers and pulled a muscle in my back, and I'm hungry."

"So are the rest of us," Trouble said.  "But you don't hear us
complaining."

He glanced at Scorn and Horatio, and then all three cats looked

up at the humans with matching expressions of starvation being nobly
borne in a good cause.

Morwen sighed.  "Brandel, would you be good enough to calm down, stop
flaming, and see about a morning meal?  Or if you'd rather not be
bothered, at least tell us how to work the pantry spell?"

Setting up breakfast took nearly half an hour, mostly because everyone
except Killer and the cats had other preoccupations.  Brandel and
Cimorene kept getting sidetracked into a discussion of Arona Michaelear
Grinogion Vamist and his involvement with the Society of Wizards and
the theft of the sword.  Telemain was more interested in studying the
mirror than in talking or food, and Morwen made a mental note to make
sure he didn't skip breakfast.  Backshock or not, he was still
recovering, and he'd be a great deal more use if he ate well before
they left.  Morwen herself would have liked to join either Cimorene's
discussion or Telemain's investigation, but for the most part she
forced herself to stay out of them.  After all, someone had to keep the
others moving.

Finally, everything was ready, and they sat down to eat.  "I still
can't believe it," Brandel said, tipping three sausage patties onto his
plate and handing the platter to Cimorene.  "Vamist never liked the
idea of wizards.

They weren't traditional enough for him."

"Don't start on that again," Morwen said.  "You'll use up all your
energy burning your hair."

Cimorene swallowed a bite of toast and said, "Yes, what we need now is
a plan.  Can you give us directions to this Vamist person's house,
Brandel?"

"I'll do better than that.  I'll show you."  Brandel scowled and a wisp
of smoke rose out of his hair.  "The idea of that pompous, overbearing
skunk helping wizards after he got us kicked out of town for being
nontraditional .  . ?

"I wonder what they offered him?"  Telemain said.

"How about a warding spell powerful enough to protect him from half a
dozen fire-witches?"  Morwen suggested.

"You mean he was working with them all along?"  Brandel said.  "That
little-" "We don't know that for certain," Cimorene said hastily.

"Yet.  And if you still can't go home, you can come back to the
Enchanted Forest with us after we get the sword.  I'm sure Mendanbar
would be happy to have you, and the rest of your family, too."

"It's lots nicer than a swamp," Killer put in.  "There's plenty of
clover-at least, there's plenty for rabbits.  I don't know if there's
enough for six-foot donkeys with wings."  His ears drooped at the
thought.

"We'll worry about that later," Morwen told him.  "Eat your
breakfast.

Brandel, how long will it take us to get to Vamist's house?  And does
anyone have any suggestions as to how we should proceed once we get
there?"

"That's easy," Cimorene said.  "It looked like Vamist and Antorell were
the only ones there.  Brandel and Telemain can go to the front door and
distract them while you and I sneak in through the back and grab the
sword.  And if Antorell tries to stop me, I'll melt him.  Pass the
salt, please."

17

In Which There Is Much Excitement

Although they discussed the matter for the rest of the meal, Cimorene's
plan was the best idea they had.  Since only Cimorene could carry the
sword, she had to be the person who sneaked in and took it.  Morwen had
to go with her because the cats were going to act as lookouts and no
one else could understand them.  Brandel was the logical person to
distract Arona Vamist, and Telemain had to be with him in order to melt
any wizards who might show up.

"What about me?"  asked Killer.

"You get to stand outside the back door and stay out of mischief,"
Morwen told him.  "You'd be safer here, but we'll probably want to
transport home right from Vami.t's house."

"You're sure you can manage that part, Telemain?"  Cimorene asked.

"Quite certain," Telemain said a little crossly.  "The last error was
due to a cross-matrix interference that is not at all likely to be
repeated."

"I might agree with you if we knew exactly what caused the interference
in the first place," Morwen said.  "Since we don't .  . ."

"if it will make you feel better, I'll put a screening mechanism in the
bypass module."  This time, Telemain made no attempt whatsoever to hide
"Temperamental, isn't he?"  said Scorn.

"A screening mechanism sounds like a very good idea to me," Morwen told
Telemain.  "And we aren't questioning your competence, so stop
frowning.  Getting the sword back to the Enchanted Forest is too
important to take chances, even small ones."

"Then you'd better help me figure out what kind of adjustments to make
to the springbase loader so that it won't ignore Brandel," Telemain
said.  "Since I assume you don't want to leave him behind for the
wizards."

Brandel looked at Telemain with alarm.  "Leave me behind?  Why?"

"Fire-witches are immune to most spells," Morwen said.  "Including
ordinary transportation spells.  Telemain is quite right; if we don't
make a few changes, you'll undoubtedly find yourself standing alone in
the middle of Arona Michaelear Grinogion Vamist's yard when the spell
goes off."

"We can't let that happen!"  Cimorene said.  "If the Society of Wizards
catches him, they'll do something awful."

"But you just said he's immune to spells," Killer said in a puzzled
tone.

"So what can the wizards do to him?"

"Break his legs, tie him to a tree for the nightshades to eat, stick
him in a dungeon with no food," said Trouble.  "Wizards don't need
magic to do nasty things."

Horatio hissed.  Killer's ears went stiff and the hair along his neck
bristled.  "No food!  They wouldn't.  Not really."

"Yes, they would," said Morwen.  "If they caught him.  Which they
won't, because before we leave here, Telemain and I are going to make
sure the transportation spell works on Brandel."

Killer bobbed his head up and down in vigorous agreement.  "That's
good.  We don't want to leave anyone behind.  No food!  Those wizards
really are horrible."

"You two work on the spell," Cimorene said.  "I'll get everything else
ready to go.  How far away did you say this place is, Brandel?"

"Two or three hours' walk," Brandel said.  "It'll take us an hour or so
to get out of the swamp, but after that it should be easy."

Trouble lowered his head and lashed his tail in disgust.  "More mud.

And no dragon to ride on this time, either."

"Dibs on Morwen's shoulder," said Scorn.

"Mrrow!"  said Horatio in an emphatic tone.

"Will you need me for the changes you want to make in the
transportation spell?"  Brandel asked Telemain.  "Because if you won't,
I'd like to make a few calls.  The rest of the family ought to know
that the Society of Wizards is behind Vamist."

Telemain removed a silver globe the size of a tennis ball from the
pouch at his belt and studied it.  "What?  Yes, of course.  Go ahead.

Morwen, I think we should start with the shift alignment linkages.

We'll have to add two or three interrupt vectors, and we may have to
modify the invisible channel connection as well."

"We'll need you when we test our work," Morwen said to Brandel, "but
that won't be until we're finished.  You'll have plenty of time for
your calls; this will take at least half an hour, possibly more."

Brandel nodded and left.  Morwen turned back to Telemain.  "I don't see
the point of adding interrupt vectors.  All we really need is a
temporary change in the definition section so that it includes
fire-witches."

Telemain's face went blank for a moment as he considered the idea.

Then his nose wrinkled and his mouth twisted as if he had bitten into
something very sour.  "Temporary changes.  How inelegant."

"As long as it's effective, who cares?  Think of it as a trial run.

You can study the ways all the various pieces interact, and do a
permanent redesign later."

"True."  The magician began to look more cheerful.  "In that case,
where do you suggest we start?"

Changing the transportation spell was simple, compared to keeping
Telemain from putting in various extra things he wanted to test.

Morwen insisted on doing the last few checks, since she was still a
little worried about Telemain's condition.  When they were sure
everything worked properly, they called Cimorene, who had vanished down
the stairwell while they were working.

"Coming."  A moment later, Cimorene appeared at the head of the stairs,
carrying her pack over her left shoulder and a long-handled straw broom
in her right hand.  "Morwen, have you got any of that flying ointment
left?  Because if you do, I think you should use it on this.  We'll get
to Vamist's house a lot faster if we don't have to slog through all
that mud."

"I am not riding on that thing," Telemain said.  "Mud or no mud."

"He wouldn't say that if he'd spent most of yesterday wading through
the stuff," Scorn observed.

"You should talk," said Trouble.  "Between riding on Morwen's shoulder
and riding on Kazul's back, you never even got your paws dirty."

"I was going to suggest that you and Brandel ride in the laundry basket
anyway," Cimorene said to Telemain.  "There isn't room for all of us on
the broomstick."

"There's a flying mortar and pestle in the basement," Brandel
offered.

"It's too heavy to use every day, and it's a little small, but if
you'll help me haul it upstairs you can use it."

"It sounds nearly as uncomfortable as a broomstick," Telemain said.

"No, thank you.  I'll take the laundry basket."

"What about us?"  Trouble demanded.

"You will come on the broomstick, where I can keep an eye on you,"
Morwen told him as she fished in her sleeve for the jar of flying
ointment.

"Scorn and Horatio should probably go in the laundry basket or
possibly on Killer's back.  We don't want to overload anything."

"I don't know," Killer said, ruffling his wings nervously.  "I still
don't like cats.  And they've got claws."

"You bet we do."  Trouble held up a paw and flexed it, displaying five
wickedly curved and sharply pointed claws.

Killer shuddered.  "Couldn't I go by myself?"

"No," Cimorene said firmly.  "We all have to do what we can, and what
you can do is carry the cats."

"Well, I'm not doing any more flying," Killer said, planting his feet
for emphasis.  "It's too hard, and it scares me."

"I bet he gets airsick, too," said Scorn.  "Rabbits!"

While Morwen enchanted the broomstick, Brandel picked up the laundry
basket and shoved it through the open window.  Cimorene set it hovering
and helped steady it as the two men climbed in.  Then she sent Killer
and the two cats out after the basket and turned to Morwen and
Trouble.

"All done," Morwen said.  "I hope the laundry basket holds together,
because that was the last of the flying ointment."

"Then let's go.  We don't want Telemain and Brandel to get too far
ahead of us."

"Not to mention that rabbit," Trouble said.

They climbed onto the broomstick and took off.  Cimorene had to duck as
they went through the window..

"Excuse me, Cimorene," Morwen said as they swooped out and down.

"I forgot how tall you are."

"Better watch for low branches," Trouble said.

"There aren't any low branches," Morwen told him, setting the
broomstick to fly about ten feet off the ground.

A moment later, they caught up with Killer and the laundry basket, and
the whole group continued on together.  Their speed was limited to
Killer's trotting pace, but with all the trees to dodge they could not
have traveled much faster, even without him.  Following Brandel's
directions, they reached the edge of the swamp in fifteen minutes.

"It's straightforward from here," Brandel said.  "Head west, toward
those hills.  At this rate, we should be there within half an hour."

"Half an hour!"  Killer shook his mane, drawing yowls of protest from
Scorn and Horatio.  "You want me to keep running like this for another
half an hour?  I can't do it.  And don't ask me to fly.  That's even
more work."

"Maybe if you didn't eat so much you'd be in better shape," Scorn
said.

"Hrrm," agreed Horatio.

"I do not!"  said Killer.  "It's all very well for the rest of you.

You all get to ride.  I want a rest and a drink and a snack to keep my
strength up."

Morwen landed the broomstick.  "That sounds reasonable enough, if you
don't take too long.  Five minutes now, and we'll stop again halfway
there."  She looked at Cimorene, who was frowning impatiently.

"I suppose we don't have much choice," Cimorene said.  "And it really
isn't fair to make Killer work so hard when it's so easy for the rest
of us.  But I do wish there were some way to-to speed things up.  I'm
worried about what those wizards might be doing at home."

"I'll think about it," Morwen said.  "Now, as long as we're stopping
for a few minutes... Killer, are there any invisible dusk-blooming
chokevines around?"

"I can see two of them right over there."  Killer pointed with his
right ear.  "Are you going to let me eat one?"

"No, I'm going to collect them for my garden," Morwen said.  "Goodness
knows when I'll get another chance."  She began rummaging in her
sleeves for a trowel and some specimen bags.

"Is this an appropriate time to be gathering plants?"  Telemain said.

"We've promised Killer a five-minute rest.  I may as well use the time
constructively.  You're going to analyze Brandel's magic again, aren't
you?"

Telemain glanced at Brandel and shifted uncomfortably.  "Given the
necessity of a transportation spell and the possibility of
unpredictable interactions between it and fire-witch magic, it seems
wise to repeat-" "Then don't fuss about my plants."  Morwen turned to
Killer.  "Show me exactly where the vines are, and I'll give you the
last bottle of cider.

Don't get too close; they're dangerous, remember."

"How are you going to collect them, then?"  Killer asked.

"Watch."

Puzzled but willing, Killer described the exact positions of the two
chokevines.  Cautiously, Morwen edged closer, until Killer said she was
just within three feet of the plants.  Then she stopped and took a
spray bottle and a paper packet of powdered slowstone from her right
sleeve.

"What's that?"  Cimorene asked, interested in spite of herself.

"The bottle is plain water."  Morwen pumped the top to get the spray
working, then aimed it at the tree in front of her and covered as much
as she could reach with a fine mist.  Shining drops of water collected
in midair, outlining invisible leaves and stems that shifted restlessly
as if trying to reach Morwen and her friends.

"That's pretty," said Killer.

"That's wet," growled Trouble, shaking his fur as if he were the one
who had been sprayed.

Morwen slipped the spray bottle back into her sleeve, then carefully

opened one corner of the packet.  Checking the direction of the wind,
she shifted position until the slight breeze came from behind her,
blowing toward the invisible dusk-blooming chokevines.  "Everyone else,
stay back," she said, and sprinkled the slowstone over the vines.

The gray powder settled over the dampened leaves, outlining them even
more clearly than before.  Slowly, the restless movement of the plants
died down, until it was only a sluggish tremor.  Morwen smiled in
satisfaction.

She hadn't been altogether certain that slowstone would work the same
way on plants as it did on animals and people.

"What was that?"  Telemain asked, breaking off his conversation with
Brandel in mid-sentence.

"Powdered slowstone," Morwen said.

"It smells good," Killer said.  "Like fresh dandelion greens with
cinnamon bark."

"You wasted powdered slowstone on a couple of plants?"  Telemain
sounded completely outraged.

"I had to do something to calm them down," Morwen said.  "This should
keep them quiet for a day or two-long enough to transplant them in my
garden, at any rate."

"Does that mean they're safe now?"  Killer asked.

"Temporarily," Morwen replied, reaching for her trowel.  "That is, they
won't bother you if you get close, but I wouldn't eat them if I were
you."

"Oh."  Killer's ears drooped.  "Why not?  They smell awfully good,
especially with that powdered stuff all over them."

"Weren't you listening at all?"  Scorn said with a superior sniff.

"'That powdered stuff is slowstone.  It's magical, and it does just
what it sounds like it ought to do.  We'd be lucky to get to Vamist's
house by tomorrow night if you ate any of it."

Killer looked at Morwen.  "You mean it would slow me down?  I thought
you said it made those plants safe?"

"Safe to walk near, not safe to eat."  Morwen knelt next to the
chokevines and began to dig.  "And I don't know whether you'd slow down
or not.  So far, you haven't reacted with any particular consistency to
any of the things you've eaten."

"It's possible that the slowstone would inhibit the onset of any
alteration resulting from the consumption of invisible dusk-blooming
chokevines," Telemain said.  "There is precedent for such an
eventuality in Killer's response to the growth-enhancing qualities of
MacDonald's fertilizer, although the parallel is not perfect."

"What did he say?"  Killer asked anxiously.

"That the slowstone might slow down your reaction to the invisible
dusk-blooming chokevines, instead of slowing you down."  Having dug
all

the way around the roots of both plants, Morwen slid her trowel under
the clump of dirt and carefully lifted the first paralyzed chokevine
into a sample bag.  "Unfortunately, the only way to tell for certain
would be to try it and see what happens."

"You mean the vines might do something to me, too, if I ate them?

Why didn't you warn me?"

"I did."

"You told me they were dangerous!  You didn't say they were magical."

Trouble gave Killer a look of deep disgust.  "You think normal plants
get named invisible dusk-blooming chokevines?"

"But they aren't invisible!"  Killer protested.  "Not to me."

"Then maybe nothing would happen to you if you ate one," Cimorene
said.

"You can experiment later.  Morwen, are you finished?  We've been
longer than five minutes, and I'd like to get going again."

"I'm done."  Climbing to her feet, Morwen tucked the sample bags and
trowel into her sleeve and smiled.  "And I believe I've thought of a
way to speed up the rest of the trip.  Have you got any rope in your
pack?"

18

In Which They Concoct a Plan

Cimorene looked at Morwen, frowning.  "Rope?  I think so.  Why?"

"So we can tow Killer," Morwen said.  "Between the laundry basket and
the broomstick, we should have plenty of power, and we'll be able to go
a lot faster, now that we're out of the trees."

"Good idea," Brandel said.  "It's a pity you didn't think of it
sooner.

I've got plenty of rope back at the tower."

"I don't know about this," Killer said.  "It doesn't sound very
comfortable."

"Do you want to run all the way to Vamist's house?"  Morwen said.

"That's your other choice.  Take it or leave it."

Killer took it, but not without grumbling the whole time they spent
rigging a harness for him and tying it to the laundry basket and
broomstick.

"This is UNDIGNIFIED," he complained as they prepared to start off once
more.

"What's so dignified about a six-foot floating blue donkey with
oversized wings?"  said Scorn.

"I'm very .  . . very .  . . Eee-augh!  Help!  Slow down!  Oh, I knew
this was a bad idea.  Rabbits weren't meant to go this fast."

Morwen glanced back and almost laughed.  Killer hung at the end of the
tow ropes, all four feet braced against the air (which did him no good
whatsoever).  His wings and ears streamed behind him in the wind.  On
his back, barely visible between the blue ears and feathers, Scorn and
Horatio lay flat with their froNT claws dug into the rope harness.

Smiling, Morwen turned back to concentrate on flying the broomstick.

Despite Killer's loud complaints, by her standards they were not
traveling particularly fast.  Between the extra weight on both broom
and basket and the energy it took to pull Killer, Morwen estimated
their speed at about a third of her usual rate.  Still, it was much
faster than walking, especially over the open meadows that stretched
ahead of them.

They had gone several miles and Killer's objections had degenerated
into occasional terrified brays when Brandel slowed the laundry
basket.

Morwen matched his reduction in speed, and a moment later they landed
in a small stand of trees near the top of a hill.

"That's enough of that!"  Killer said.  "I don't care if you want to
get there quickly, I don't care if I have to run, I don't care if those
wizards turn me into a pancake and eat me for breakfast.  I'm not doing
that again."

"You won't have to," Brandel said, climbing out of the laundry
basket.

"Vamist's house is over this hill and down the road about a quarter of
a mile."  He looked at Cimorene a little apologetically.  "I know you'd
rather be CLoser, but with him making all that noise-" "You'd make
noise, too, if you were being hauled along three times as fast as any
reasonable rabbit should go," Killer said unrepentantly.

"Well, you're not being pulled anywhere now, so be quiet," Cimorene
said.  "If you do anything that messes up our getting Mendanbar's
sword, I'll · .  . I'll turn you into a pancake and eat you myself."

"You can't do that!"  Killer's ears jerked nervously.  "Can you?"

"Killer will behave himself."  Morwen looked at her cats.  "Scorn and
Trouble will see to it."  And between keeping Killer out of mischief
and acting as lookouts, the cats might actually have so much to do that
they wouldn't get up to anything unfortunate.  She hoped.

Cimorene nodded and turned to Brandel.  "How easy will it be to sneak
up on this house without being seen?"

"It shouldn't be too difficult," Brandel replied.  "There are a lot of
trees and bushes around the house."

"Let's go, then."

"What about these?"  Brandel asked, waving at the empty laundry basket
and broomstick.

"Leave the basket here," Morwen said.  "It's too awkward to carry, and
I can always enchant another one for you when this is all over.  I'll
take the broomstick in case Cimorene and I need to get away quickly."

"Then we're ready," Cimorene said.  "Let's go."

Twisting his rings absently, Telemain nodded and started up the hill.

The rest followed in silence.  No one seemed to feel much like talking
as they went up over the hill and down the tree-lined lane on the other
side.

A few minutes later, Brandel stopped and looked at Cimorene.

"Vamist's house is just around the bend.  If you and Morwen cut through
these bushes and head off to the right, you should come out in his
backyard."

"Good," said Morwen.  "Scorn, Trouble, run ahead and find out which
room the sword is in and where Antorell and Vamist are.  Don't forget
to come back and let me know."

"We aren't amateurs," Scorn said, switching her tail.

"Right," said Trouble.  "And Kazul's not here, so I get first crack at
the wizard."  He stood up and stretched to show that it wasn't all that
important, then vanished into the bushes.

"I don't know why you care so much about the wizard," Scorn said,
following.  "That obnoxious idiot with no hair is the one I want dibs
on.  The things he said .  . ."

Frowning, Morwen looked after the cats.  "When we get back I'm going to
have to make one of them tell me just what Arona Michaelear Grinogion
Vamist said when he called the other day.  Scorn is really annoyed."

"Yow mrow," said Horatio, and began washing his left front paw.

A few minutes later, the two cats returned.  "Vamist and Antorell are
in a big room with glass doors at the side of the house," Trouble
reported.

"They've got the sword on the table and they're arguing."

"Arguing?"  said Morwen.

"About what to do with the sword.  Vamist thinks the Society of Wizards
should stick it into a rock and leave it somewhere becaUSe that's
traditional, but Antorell says that's only for important swords that
are supposed to be found again.  I don't think he knows what that sword
does."

"Or else he doesn't want it found," said Scorn.

"Hmph.  We'll see about that."  Morwen turned to the others.  "Trouble
says things haven't changed much since we saw them in the mirror.

Cimorene and I will leave now; Killer, you come with us."  She looked
at Telemain.  "You two get ready, and I'll send Scorn to signal you
when to knock on the door."

"Good luck," Telemain said, and the two groups started off in different
directions.

Sneaking up on Arona Michaelear Grinogion Vamist's home was much easier
than Morwen had expected.  The garden at the rear of the house was
wildly overgrown, so there were plenty of shrubs to hide behind, and
most of the windows were covered with dense vines.  As far as Morwen
could tell, all anyone would be able to see out of those windows were
the back sides of leaves.

As they approached, Scorn vanished under a scraggly chrysanthemum.

THE ENCHANTED FOREST CHRONICLES

She returned a moment later.  "They're still arguing.  The doors are
over here on the left."

Morwen translated for Cimorene, who nodded and murmured, "Good.

Killer, you stay here.  And don't eat anything.  Arona Vamist consorts
with wizards, so there's no telling what he has in his garden."

Weeds, mostly.  It looks as if he HASN'T paID attention to it for
years, Morwen thought, but this was no time to say so.  She looked at
Scorn and said softly, "As soon as we're next to the doors, go around
to the front so Telemain and Brandel will know when to knock."

"No problem," said Scorn.

"And don't forget to come back when they've seen you," Trouble said.

"You don't want to get left behind."

Scorn looked at him.  "I won't be left behind.  Telemain's the one
who's doing the transport spell."

"Enough," said Morwen.  "Do your jobs and argue about it later."  She
started toward the corner of the house.

"Are you going to be long?"  said Killer.

"Keep your voice down," Cimorene whispered.  "I don't know, so stay
alert.  We're going to be leaving in something of a hurry."

Trouble snorted.  "There's an understatement."

Cautiously, they edged up to the corner, leaving Killer to watch
anxiously from among the vines.  Long ago, someone had built a stone
patio along the far side of the house, with a flower border along the
south edge and a row of tall bushes to the west for privacy.  Now,
weeds and grass grew in the cracks between stones, the bushes were an
untidy mass of prickly twigs, and the flower border was full of
thistles.  Cimorene and Morwen had to step carefully to avoid being
stuck.

Scorn directed them to a spot that was in easy reach of the glass doors
but still out of sight.  As soon as they were in position, Trouble
insinuated himself between the vines and the wall of the house and
crept around the corner and out of sight.

"He's ready," said Scorn after a minute.  "See you later."  She threw
Morwen a slow blink of affection and disappeared into the unpruned
hedge.

The wait that followed seemed to last hours.  Morwen could feel
Cimorene's tension, and she was not exactly calm herself.  Planning to
avoid a direct confrontation with any wizard-even if it was only
Antorell-was all very well, but there was no guarantee that the wizard
would cooperate.  She fingered her sleeves, wishing that witches'
spells did not take such a long time to perform, or that there were
some way of storing them for quick use, the way wizards did.

The ivy trembled, and an instant later Trouble appeared.  "They've left
the room.  Both of them.  And the sword is just sitting on the
table."

"Did you spot any alarm spells?"  Morwen asked.

"Nope."  Trouble lashed his tail.

"This sounds too easy."  But Morwen turned to Cimorene anyway and said,
"They're gone."

"Then let's go."  Cimorene stepped over a patch of gigantic dandelions
onto the ruined patio, and Morwen followed.  Together they crossed to a
set of double doors made of small rectangular windowpanes, eight down
and four across on each door.

Cautiously, Morwen tried the handle.  With a sharp click, the latch
opened and the right-hand door popped half an inch inward.

They looked at each other, and without a word they leaned forward to
peer through the nearest windowpane.  The room looked just as empty of
people as Trouble had claimed, though it was rather full of other
things.

Ornate chairs lined the walls, and most of them had things piled on
their seats.  One held a stack of books; another, a clay pot filled
with dirt; a third, a stuffed pigeon sitting on a stringless violin.

Two dusty suits of armor holding spears stood on either side of the far
door, and the walls were covered with cobwebby pictures.  In the center
of the room was a large table, with two chairs pulled out crookedly
from opposite sides, as if the occupants had gotten up quickly.

In the center of the table, shiny and positively reeking of magic, lay
an unsheathed sword.

Cimorene looked at Morwen and sighed.  "It must be a trap.  But that's
Mendanbar's sword in there, for certain, and we have to try to get
it.

And I don't think we're going to have much time.  Any suggestions?"

"qUIT fussing and go get the silly thing," Trouble said.

"Are you volunteering to be first in line?"  Morwen asked.

"Why not?"  Trouble rose on his back legs and set his front paws
against the unlatched door.  As it swung inward, he dropped to all
fours once more and sauntered through.  He paused just out of reach,
glanced around, and then took a short running start and leapt onto the
table.  Looking very smug, he twitched his tail and sat down on the
hilt of the sword.

"I should have known better," Morwen muttered.  "Well, at least we know
he was right about the alarms.  If there were any, that performance
would have set them off."

"Then let's-" From the front of the building came a loud, angry yowl,
carrying easily over and around the intervening walls.  Trouble jumped
to attention, straddling the sword, and Morwen took a worried half step
toward the sound before she caught herself.  the sword IS the important
thing right now, she reminded herself, but she couldn't quite make
herself believe it.

"That's torn it."  Shoving the door the rest of the way open, Cimorene
darted inside.  Morwen had no real choice except to follow.

"Drat," she said, and did so.

As Cimorene ran across the two yards of open space that separated the
doors and the table, Morwen felt a ripple of magic in the air.

"Cimorene, stop!"  she said, but she was not quite in time.  The ripple
hit Cimorene and froze her motionless, one hand stiffly extended toward
the hilt of Mendanbar's sword.

"Oh!"  said Cimorene.  "I can't move.  Morwen, what's happened?  Can
you do something about it?"

"I am what has happened!"  said a new voice, and one of the suits of
armor shifted and began to change.  Its hard edges blurred and
darkened, and its feet and legs spread out into a long robe.  The spear
it held lost its head and shrank a foot and a half.  Last of all, the
face came clear.

"Antorell!"  said Cimorene.

"Exactly," the wizard said with an evil grin.  "And I don't think
there's anything at all that your witchy friend can do about me."

Morwen's eyes narrowed.  "We'll see about that."  She pointed at him
and said firmly, "Argelfraster."

Nothing happened.

19

In Which They Confront the VIlLains

A startled expression crossed Antorell's face.  Then he smiled smugly
and said, "You see?  I have taken care of your little spell."

Hmph, thought Morwen.  I certainly don't believe that.  He's probably
just out of range.  Now, how can I get close enough to melt him before
he gets suspicious and FReezes me?

"How interesting that Mendanbar sent the two of you to retrieve
this"-Antorell waved his free hand at the sword, and Trouble
bristled"instead of coming himself.  It must not be as important to him
as Father thought it was.  Not that it matters now.  Even if Father and
the others haven't taken control of the castle yet-" "Taken control of
the castle?"  Cimorene sounded thoroughly alarmed.

"I knew there was something wrong at home."

"And just how was the Society of Wizards planning to take over the
castle of the King of the Enchanted Forest?"  Morwen asked in as
politely skeptical a tone as she could manage.

Antorell flushed angrily.  "One man is no match for the combined might
of the Society of Wizards."

"He has been until now," Morwen said.  Of course, until now he's had
the sword.  It's a good thing CIMorene sent Kazul back last nIGht; it
sounds as if Mendnbar can use the help.

"Until now, we have not acted in concert," Antorell said.  "But
yesterday morning, all of the wizards of the Society of Wizards, led by
my father, the Head Wizard Zemenar, transported themselves to the
Enchanted Forest

to take the magic that rightfully belongs to us.  By this time, they
should be finishing up their work."

"Yesterday morning?"  Morwen blinked.  "So that's what disrupted
Telemain's transportation spell!  He must have gotten caught in the
backwash of the Society of Wizards transporting en maSSe."

"Mendanbar and Kazul are quite capable of handling your society between
them," Cimorene said to Antorell, putting up her chin.

The wizard frowned.  "I doubt that.  Father is prepared for
anything."

"It's hard to be prepared for the King of the Dragons."

Antorell seemed to have forgotten Morwen for the moment.  Hoping to
move close enough for the melting spell to work, she stepped sideways
around the end of the table.  Unfortunately, the movement attracted his
attention.

"Halt?  Antorell raised his staff and pointed it at her.  "Stay where
you are, or I'll see to it that you can't move, either."

"Try it," Trouble growled.  'Just try it."

Muffled noises filtered through the door beside Antorell.  A moment
later, it swung open.  Antorell glanced over and moved away as Telemain
entered, supporting Brandel with one arm.  Brandel's face was a grayish
white, and his eyes were glassy.  Even across the room, Morwen could
smell a burned odor.

Telemain's eyes met hers.  "He lost his temper, and the reflective
sidewash from the shielding enchantment on Vamist produced a temporary
circulating phase inversion at the energy source.  He'll be all right
in a few minutes."

"His own magic bounced back and stunned him," Morwen translated for
Cimorene's benefit.  Then she looked past Telemain and stiffened.

Behind Telemain and Brandel, the bald, sharp-faced man they had seen in
the mirror entered, carrying Scorn at arm's length by the scruff of her
neck.  He had reason for caution: his hands were covered with
scratches.  Scorn's eyes were narrowed to slits and she was panting for
breath, but she still managed an occasional swipe with a paw.

Unfortunately, she wasn't close enough to the bald man to connect.

"Put that cat down immediately," Morwen said.  "You're suffocating
her.

Adult cats aren't meant to be carried that way."

"Oh, is it yours?"  said the bald man.  "You should train it better.

It's not very well behaved."

Trouble bunched himself together and growled.  If Telemain and Brandel
had not been between him and Scorn's captor, Morwen thought, he would
have leapt to the rescue at once.

"You seem to have had some difficulty after all, Vamist," said Antorell
to the bald man.  "I did warn you."

"It was nothing I couldn't handle," said Vamist.

"Put that cat down," Morwen repeated, sliding her hands into her
sleeves in search of something to throw.

"You'd better do it," Cimorene said.  "Hurting one of her cats is the
only thing I know of that makes Morwen lose her temper."

"Morwen?  Vamist's eyes widened, and he brandished Scorn as if she were
a banner.  "The so-called witch?  Then you should thank me for-ow!"

Suddenly, Vamist jumped and FLAILED his arms in a desperate attempt to
keep his balance.  Morwen glimpsed a black-and-white blur between his
feet.

Then Trouble launched himself from the table, ricocheted off Brandel's
shoulder, and landed, claws extended, on top of Vamist's bald head.

Vamist howled and dropped Scorn, who landed heavily and dragged herself
under the table, wheezing audibly.  As he grabbed at Trouble, Morwen
pulled the collapsible bucket from her sleeve and threw it.

The bucket hit Vamist in the shoulder just as he got a grip on one of
Trouble's legs.  The impact wasn't heavy enough to do any real damage,
but it startled him into losing his hold.  Trouble took a final swipe
at the back of Vamist's neck and dropped to the floor, where he joined
Horatio under a chair.

"You litTLe-" Vamist bent and grabbed at the cats, only to trip over
Telemain's conveniently extended foot.  He went sprawling, and Telemain
smiled slightly.

"You all right, Scorn?"  Trouble asked, his voice slightly muffled by
the table and chairs.

"I will be in a minute," Scorn said.  She sounded hoarse but angry,
"Save some of that creep for me."

"Grrrow," said Horatio, and he wound between the chair legs to Scorn's
side, where he began washing her neck.

"Nothing you can't handle, eh, Vamist?"  said Antorell.  "No wonder you
needed our help.  You did fine as long as all you had to deal with were
ordinary townspeople, but you can't handle even one witch's cats."

"I don't-yowch!"  When Vamist looked up to answer Antorell, Horatio had
reached out and calmly dug his claws into Vamist's hand.  Vamist pulled
back out of reach, glared at Horatio, and said, "traditional witches
have one black cat.  These are CLearly not proper witches' cats, and
there are far too many of them.  Had we had the opportunity to discuss
it, I would have advised that witch to dispose of these-these mongrels
and find a more suitable companion."

"Is that what you called about?"  Morwen said.  "No wonder the cats
were furious?"

"Do you blame us?"  said Trouble.  "'Dispose of these mongrels,'
indeed?

"I can see how successful your persuasion would have been," Antorell
said to Vamist.

"There are always those who insist on ignoring the great traditions,"
Vamist said with an attempt at dignity.  "They are foredoomed to
failure."

"Of course.  You're doing this"-Antorell waved at the sword-"out of the
goodness of your heart.  You don't need us to protect you from the
fire-witches, because they're doomed to failure.  Right?"

"You're as bad as he is," Brandel said, scowling at the wizard.  He
still leaned heavily on Telemain, but his color was improving rapidly
and his eyes had lost their glassy look.

For the first time, Antorell took a good look at Brandel.  "A
fire-witch!

How FORTUNATE.  My staff can use a little more magic, and yours will do
very nicely."  Antorell stepped forward and raised his staff.

Morwen's lips tightened.  She was no closer to Antorell than she had
been, so she still couldn't make Telemain's melting spell work.

Telemain was near enough, but he was very sensibly saving what was left
of his magic for the transportation spell that would take them all back
to the Enchanted Forest.  Brandel didn't know the melting spell, and
Cimorene was close enough but couldn't move to point her finger because
of Antorell's spell.  Antorell's spELl-wizard's magic.  Mendanbar's
sword automatically counters wizard's

Morwen leaned forward and grabbed the hilt of Mendanbar's sword.  It
felt as if she had grabbed the hot end of a poker, but she hung on.

Only for a minute, only long enough to swing it, she thought, and swept
the flat of the blade up against Cimorene's arm.  A jolt of magic shook
her hand loose as the sword absorbed the wizard's spell, and the blade
clattered to the table.  At exactly the same instant, Antorell's staff
exploded.

Everyone ducked, including Cimorene.  "Ow!  My staff!"  yelled
Antorell.  "This isn't poss-Cimorene!"

Cimorene pointed at him.  "Argelfraster.  Argelfraster, you nasty
little thief."

Antorell began to melt.  "Noooo!  Cimorene, this is all your fault.  I
spent months making that staff!  I'll get you for this, I swear I
will.

If it takes me twenty years, I'll get you.  You'll be sorry.  You'll be
. . ."  His voice trailed off into a gurgle.  Arona Vamist leaned
forward, staring incredulously at Antorell's empty robe and the
spreading puddle of brown goo on his FLOOr.

"Well, that takes care of him, "Cimorene said with considerable
satisfaction.

"Who blew up his staff?"

"I think it was Mendanbar's sword," Morwen said, gesturing.

sible.  I was observing with great care, and the necessary connections
for such a serious shift interference were not present."

"Then who did it?"  Brandel asked.

"I suspect you did."  Telemain let go of Brandel, waited a moment to
make sure the fire-witch would not fall over, and then began picking up
splinters of Antorell's staff.  "At this point, it is only speculation,
but a fundamental incompatibiLity between your magic and that of a
wizard would account for the phenomenon very nicely.  I will be able to
say for certain after I do a few tests."

"Good," said Cimorene.  "Do them after we get back."  Gingerly, she
leaned forward and picked up Mendanbar's sword.  Morwen's hand still
felt sore and she could not help flinching, but although Cimorene held
it with obvious care, the sword did not appear to bother her.  "And now
that we've got this, we can-" "Not so fast!"  Arona Michaelear
Grinogion Vamist had straightened and edged around the table as
Antorell melted.  Now he picked up a CLay pot filled with dirt from the
seat of a nearby chair and held it poised to throw.

The angry red scratches that covered his hands and head made him look
very fierce.  "Put that sword down at once and leave."

"No," said Cimorene.  "It's my husband's sword, and I'm taking it
home.

Telemain, how soon can you do that transportation spell?"

"The initial preparations require a mental effort that-" Telemain
paused, looked at Cimorene, and then said carefully, "I'll be ready in
a minute or two."

"Thank you," Cimorene said, smiling.  "Then let's-" "Cimorene, duck!"

Cimorene dodged in response to Morwen's shout, and Arona Vamist's clay
pot flew over her left shoulder.  For a moment, it looked like a clean
miss.  Then Cimorene yelled in surprise and clawed at her face with her
free hand.  Even before Morwen saw the pot dangling from nothing at all
down Cimorene's back, she knew.

"It's an invisible dusk-blooming chokevine," she said.  "Stay back,
everyone, or it'll grab you, too."

"I waRned you," Vamist said.  "now will you leave?"

"Get that thing off Cimorene."

"No.  Not until you leave."

"I bet he doesn't know how," Trouble said.

"He kept it from attacking him when he threw it," Scorn objected.  "He
must know something."

"Well, why don't you shove him into it and see what happens?"  Trouble
emerged from underneath the table and approached Vamist.

"Good idea."  Morwen stalked around the table to join Trouble.

"What's a good idea?"  Vamist said, backing away from them along the
far side of the table.  "You get out of my house, all of you!"

"Aren't you finished yet?"  said Killer from the doorway.  "I thought
this wasn't supposed to take long."

"What is that?"  said Vamist, looking wildly over his shoulder.

"Killer!"  said Morwen.  "Get in here and eat this vine immediately."

"Isn't that one of those things you say you can't see?"  Killer said
doubtfully, shoving his way through the partly open double doors.  "You
said before that they weren't safe.  And what if there are side
effects?"

"Eat it!"  Morwen said.  "I'll take care of the side effects later.

Hurry up!"  Cimorene had kept her grip on the sword and she was still
on her feet, but she was beginning to turn blue.

"If you say so."  Killer stretched out his neck and bit at the air in
back of Cimorene.  The clay pot crashed to the floor and shattered,
spewing dirt and shards of clay, while Killer munched thoughtfully.

"Not bad.  It's much more delicate than I'd expected from the way it
smells, though.  And I can't quite place the flavor."  He nibbled
delicately next to Cimorene's ear.

Cimorene choked, gasped, and began to regain her proper color.  Taking
two or three deep breaths, she made a series of brushing and pulling
motions around her head and shoulders.

"Hey!"  said Killer.  "You're knocking it all over the floor!"

Cimorene coughed and glared at him.  "That's the idea."

"But it'll get all dusty!"

"You won't have time to worry about that," Vamist said.  "I have other
snares in my house for criminals and thieves!"

Dodging between two chairs, he jabbed his thumb against a wooden flower
carved into the wall.  With a high-pitched screeching of metal against
metal, the suit of armor next to the door raised its spear to throw.

"Telemain," cried Morwen, "get us out of here!"

The suit of armor let fly.  Cimorene evaded the missile easily, but
Killer was too large to avoid it quickly.  As the edges of the room
blurred and ran together in the beginning of Telemain's transportation
spell, the spear struck the left side of Killer's chest.

"Eeee-augh!"

Killer reared back, wings flapping.  As the mist of transportation
cleared, he sat down on the air six inches above a clump of violets.

The spear fell to the ground below him with a loud thump, flattening a
strip of moss.

"Killer!"  said Cimorene.  "Oh no!  Morwen-" With the back of her mind,
Morwen noted that Telemain had managed to transport them all the way
back to the Enchanted Forest in one jump, and that for some reason he
had brought Arona Michaelear Grinogion Vamist

along.  Most of her attention, however, was centered on Killer, who
was flopping around in a manner that would have looked exceptionally
silly if she had not been so concerned.

"Stop floundering about like that," Morwen said to the donkey.  "I
can't do anything to help if I can't get near you."

"Waugh!"  Killer rolled sideways and struggled to his feet.  "That was
uncomfortable.  Am I dead?"

"No such luck," said Scorn.

Everyone stared at Killer.  There was not a mark on him to show where
the spear had struck, though they had all seen it hit him.  Then
Trouble sauntered forward.  Reaching up, he batted at Killer's front
hooves.  His paw went right through them as if there were nothing in
the way but air.

"That's a handy trick," Trouble said.  "How'd you do it?"

"Do what?"  Killer asked.  He looked down in time to see Trouble jump
through his right leg.  "Eee-augh!  I'm a ghost!  Oh, help."

"You can't be a ghost," Cimorene said.  "It's the middle of the day.

Ghosts only come out at night."

"Most of them," Morwen corrected.  "I knew a ghost once who was afraid
of the dark, so he always appeared at noon.  He had a terrible time
scaring anyone.  Still, I believe you're right about Killer."

"If I'm not a ghost, why is that-that cat prancing through me like
this?"

Killer demanded.

"Side effect," said Morwen.  "An extremely opportune side effect, in
fact.  Eating that invisible dusk-blooming chokevine seems to have made
you insubstantial."

"Shouldn't it have made him invisible?"  Brandel asked.

"Not necessarily," Telemain said.  "The pattern of interactivity among
the various layers of enchantment affecting Killer is such that the
precise effect of additional incidents is not subject to the usual
predictive methods."

"Eeeeee-aaauugh!"  Killer's wail of distress was louder and longer than
any of his earlier complaints.  "If I'm insubstantial, how am I going
to eat?"

"We'll take care of that as soon as we return Mendanbar's sword,"
Morwen told him.  "Telemain, if you're quite recovered, we should-Arona
Michaelear Grinogion Vamist!  Where do you think you're going?"

"Somewhere else," Vamist said.  "You have no right to kidnap me like

"And you have no business aiding and abetting the theft of important
magical items from the King of the Enchanted Forest," Cimorene said.

"Besides, I'm a witch," Morwen put in.  "Isn't it traditional for
witches to steal people away?"

"Not people like me!"  Vamist said.  "Babies and princesses."

"Babies and princesses are of no practical use whatsoever," Morwen

said.  "Most of them, anyway.  And the ones that are useful don't need
to be kidnapped."

"That's not the point!"

"No," said Cimorene.  "The point is that we have more important things
to do right now.  We'll deal with you later; until then, you stay with
us.  Telemain, can you take us to the castle now?"

"It will be simpler if you will all stand a little closer together,"
Telemain said.  "That's better."  He gestured, and the familiar mist
rose around them.

When it cleared, they found themselves in a large empty area.  Forty
feet ahead of them, the enormous trees of the Enchanted Forest rose in
massive splendor, but where they stood were only ashes and bare,
blackened ground.  For a moment, Morwen thought Telemain had made a
mistake.

Then she turned her head and saw the castle, with its improbable towers
and windows and staircases, shimmering inside a giant ball of golden
light.

"Good heavens!"  said Cimorene, speaking for them all.  "What's
happened?"

20

In Which Disaster Strikes

For a long moment, no one answered.  Then Morwen said, in a voice that
sounded grim even to herself, "The Society of Wizards happened.  I just
wonder where they've all disappeared to."

"Good riddance, wherever it is," Scorn said.  "What a mess."

"Maybe they're inside the castle?"  Brandel suggested.

"No," said a pleasant female voice behind them.  "Outside the forest.

At least, that's what the dragons tell us.  Hello, Brandel; it's nice
to.  see you again."

"Amory!"  Brandel spun around, kicking up a small cloud of ash, and
hugged the slender red-haired woman standing in back of him.  "So Marli
passed my message on."

"Yes, and we've certainly had an interesting time of it."  The
red-haired woman smiled over Brandel's shoulder at the rest of the
group.  "I'm Brandel's cousin Amory.  You must be Queen Cimorene and
the others King Kazul told us about.  She wants to see you right
away."

"I should hope so," said Trouble.

"What's been going on here?"  asked Cimorene.  "And where's
Mendanbar?"

"Who?"  said Amory.

"The King of the Enchanted Forest," Brandel said.  "Her husband."

"Oh.  I'm afraid I don't know anything about him.  I think King Kazul
does, though."

"Then take us to Kazul right away," Cimorene said.

Telemain took hold of Vamist's shoulder-the bald man had been trying
to slip off again, although there was nowhere near to slip off to-and
they followed Amory around the castle.  As they walked, little eddies
of ash followed everyone except Killer.  The cats were very unhappy
about the way the fine gray particles stuck to them; Trouble even tried
to jump onto Killer's back to get out of the dust, having forgotten
about the donkey's lack of solidity.

A quarter of the way around the castle, they saw the first few dragons
walking purposefully along the boundary between the forest and the ashy
area.  As they went on, they saw more dragons, some walking, some
flying above the trees.  A number of red-haired people-presumably more
of Brandel's fire-witch relatives-were standing guard near the edge of
the glow that surrounded the castle.  Amory nodded to them in passing
and cut across the open area to the forest on the far side.

Kazul was just inside the forest, talking with another dragon and two
more fire-witches.

"... and now it seems to have stopped growing completely, Your
Majesty."  The second dragon had a deep, clear voice that carried
plainly to the approaching party.  "Nobody's sure why."

"Well, it's a good thing, whatever the reason," Kazul said.  "Send
someone over to-" "Kazul!"  Cimorene quickened her pace.  "What's been
happening?

Where's Mendanbar?"

"I think he's still in there," Kazul said, nodding at the castle, which
was partially visible through the trees.  "I see you got the sword.

I'm glad something's gone right lately."

Trouble and Scorn ran ahead and jumped onto Kazul's tail, but Horatio
hung back.

"Mrow?"

"If Kazul doesn't care, I don't see why you should," Scorn told him,
and began to wash the ashes off of her back.

"You think Mendanbar's in the castle?"  Cimorene paled slightly.  "why
don't you know?  Kazul-" "Stop flapping your wings over it and let the
dust settle," Kazul said.

"I'll explain in a minute.  Marchak, send someone to notify the air
patrol about this area, and tell them that if they find any other
ashed-out spots they're to check whether the spots are stable before
they report in.  Let them know that Cimorene's back, with Mendanbar's
sword."

"Right away, Your Majesty," said the other dragon.  With a cheerful
wave in Cimorene's direction, he walked off.

Cimorene took a deep breath.  "Kazul, tell me right away.  Is Mendanbar
all right, or .  . . or .  . ."

"Mendanbar is not dead," Morwen said firmly.

"Why are you so sure of that?"  Kazul asked.

"I've lived in the Enchanted Forest for a long time.  I was here four
years ago when the old King, Mendanbar's father, died.  Believe me,
when a King of the Enchanted Forest dies, the forest makes sure
everyone knows it.

I didn't get a good night's sleep for a week, and neither did anyone
else."

Trouble looked up from washing his tail.  "Including cats," he said in
tones of deep disapproval.  "I remember that."

"That's good," Kazul said.  Then her head turned to look at the castle
and the sphere of gold light that surrounded it.  "I think."  She
glanced at Cimorene and sighed.  "It was the Society of Wizards."

"Of course it was the Society of Wizards," Cimorene said shortly, and
Killer backed away from her, ears twitching nervously.  "But what,
exactly, did they do?"

"Well, when I got here late last night, they had the castle
surrounded," Kazul said.  "They must have been using their staffs a
lot, because there was a good thirty yards of dead forest around the
castle already.  I thought it would be better to head back to the
Mountains of Morning for reinforcements."

"I should think so!"  said Amory.  "Even a dragon can't take on the
whole Society of Wizards single-handed.  'Scuse me, Your Majesty."

"We attacked at dawn," Kazul continued.  "About fifteen minutes after
the right started, that bubble went up around the castle and no one
could get in.  A couple of wizards came out, but I'm afraid they, ah,
got eaten in all the excitement, and no one thought to ask them any
questions first.  So we don't know what happened inside."

"Isn't there some way of finding out?"  Cimorene turned to Telemain.

"Can't you adjust your magic mirror spell to get through that bubble,
now that you know it's there?  If I could talk to somebody inside-"
"There isn't anybody inside, Your Majesty," said a new voice, and
everyone turned to see Willin, the castle steward, standing by the base
of a nearby oak.  The normally immaculate elf looked awful: his gold
lace collar was torn and blackened; his crisp white shirt was wrinkled,
dusty, and smeared with ashes; his velvet coat was ripped in several
places and was missing most of its buttons; his white silk hose were
torn and dirty; and his left shoe had lost its gold heel.

"Willin!"  said Cimorene.  "Sit down-you look exhausted.  What
happened?

How do you know there's no one in the castle?"

"I should say, no one other than His Majesty," Willin said.  "When he
realized that the Society of Wizards intended to attack the castle, he
sent the staff away.  Including me.  I wouldn't have left, Your
Majesty, only he insisted .  . ."

"You mean Mendanbar was all alone in there when the wizards got
here?"

"An unusual strategy, but quite possibly an extremely effective one,"
Telemain said thoughtfully.  "I doubt that anyone but Mendanbar really
knows all the passages in that castle, and with everyone else gone, he
could use his magic full force, without worrying about hurting someone
on his own side."

"Well, it doesn't seem to have worked very well, does it?"  Cimorene
snapped.

"Kazul, did you manage to catch Head Wizard Zemenar?"  Morwen asked.

"If anyone knows what the Society of Wizards did, he does."

Kazul shifted in evident embarrassment.  "I'm afraid I ate Zemenar
myself.  I caught up with him coming out of the Caves of Chance just a
little while ago, and by then I was so angry .  . ."

"It's a good thing you did," Amory put in.  "That was what set the rest
of them running.  Before then, we were barely holding our own."

"I'm confused," Killer said.  "And this talk about eating is making me
hungry.  Somebody explain it all so we can have lunch."

"You can't have lunch," Trouble said.  "You're insubstantial."

"So somebody can fix me, and then we can have lunch," Killer said.

"Then let us take things in a proper order," said Telemain, for all the
world as if he were talking about laying out a new spell.  "Willin, you
are the reasonable person to begin.  What happened at the castle after
we left?"

Willin glanced at Cimorene to make sure it was all right to let this
unofficial person take charge.  When she nodded, he began to speak.  At
first, the others interrupted him frequently with questions, but
Telemain insisted that answers wait until the whole tale had been
told.

Once they realized that he meant it, everyone except the cats stopped
interrupting.

The first wizards, Willin said, had turned up almost as soon as
Cimorene and her party had left the Enchanted Forest.  Mendanbar had
melted them with Telemain's spell, but they had damaged several
sections of the Enchanted Forest before he caught up with them.

Without the sword, he could not repair the harm they'd done, and he had
been very concerned.  To help minimize the problem, he'd called in
several tribes of elves and asked them to keep watch.

"The elves could melt some of the wizards with soapy water and lemon
juice," Willin said, "and if they couldn't get close enough, or if
there were too many wizards, they could let the King know right away.

Then he'd come and take care of the wizards before they did too much
damage."

the entire Society Of Wizards had appeared outside the castle.

Before anyone had realized what was happening, they had destroyed a
wide patch of the forest, leaving the elves no way of getting near them
with buckets of soapy water.

"That was when King Mendanbar sent us away," Willin finished sadly.  "I
tried to make him let me stay, I really did, but-" "I understand,"
Cimorene said.  "You did your best."

"Did you see what happened outside the castle after you left?"

Telemain asked.

"Some of it.  The wizards cleared a twenty-foot ring around the castle
and then spent most of the day working some spell; I wasn't close
enough to see what.  Around the middle of the afternoon, the circle
they'd cleared started to expand.  Fortunately, it didn't grow very
fast, and those of us who were watching had plenty of time to move
back.  Then about ten of them walked across the main bridge into the
castle.  That's all I can tell you, I'm afraid.  It got harder to see
what was going on because I kept having to move back to stay out of
sight."

"Was Head Wizard Zemenar one of the group that went into the castle?"

Morwen asked.

Willin nodded.

Turning to Kazul, Telemain said, "So when you got here that night,
Zemenar was inside the castle and the rest of the Society of Wizards
were camped in the burned-out area just outside."

"Right," said Kazul.  "I called in the rest of my people, and we
attacked in the morning.  Four or five wizards came out of the castle,
the shield spell went up-" "Wait a minute," said Brandel.  "Shield
spell?"

"That glow around the castle," said Telemain.  "The Society of Wizards
invented it, and it's really a remarkable piece of work.  Nobody can
get in or out while it's up, not even a dragon-remember, Morwen?-and
they're the only people who can take it down."

"Not quite," Morwen said.  "Mendanbar's sword got rid of the last one
we fell intO."

"Mnmm, yes.  Cimorene, how well can you use that sword?"

"I can't use it at all really, the way you mean," Cimorene replied.

"From what Mendanbar said, the sword has to .  . . to agree to work for
you somehow before you can use it for magic, and it'll only do that for
the Kings of the Enchanted Forest and their direct descendants.  I'm a
member of the family, so it will let me hold it as a sort of courtesy,
but I'm not a direct descendant of any of the Kings of the Enchanted
Forest, so I can't use its magic."

"Blast.  It's probably got a selectivity module in the central
linkage

generator, and if it's braided to the spell core .  . ."  Telemain's
voice trailed off into muttering.

Morwen frowned.  The last time they had encountered the Society of
Wizards' shield spell, the wizards had been using it to hold Kazul
prisoner.

And if she remembered correctly .  . . She caught Trouble's eye and
motioned to him.  Tilting his head, Trouble considered for a moment.

Then he jumped down from Kazul's back and sauntered over.

"What is it?"

"Do you think you could get inside the shield spell around the
castle?"

Morwen asked in a low voice.  If the answer was no, she didn't want
Cimorene getting her hopes up.

"I don't see why not," Trouble said.  'Jasper did it last time, and I'm
as good at that sort of thing as he is."

Morwen didn't bother to ask what sort of thing he was talking about.

If it was a cat sort of thing, as was likely, Trouble wouldn't explain
anyway, and questioning him might make him refuse to help at all.  "I'd
like you to go inside and see if you can find out what's happened to
Mendanbar."

Trouble's ears pricked up in interest.  "Sounds amusing," he said in a
tone that tried to be casual and failed.  "I'll do it."

As he walked off toward the castle, Morwen hid a smile.  Now that he'd
realized he could get inside, it would take more than wizards to keep
him from satisfying his curiosity.  She turned her attention back to
the main conversation as Amory said, "... doing very well when we got
here."

Kazul snorted.  "You're being generous.  We weren't doing well at
all."

She looked at Cimorene.  "It's hard to fight when you're having an
allergy attack, and with all those wizards' staffs in one place every
dragon for miles was sneezing so hard they could barely see
straight."

"I understand perfectly," Cimorene said.  "And thank you both for
trying."

Kazul must have heard something in her tone that everyone else missed,
because she lowered her head almost to the ground so she could look at
Cimorene eye to eye and said, "It will be all right, Cimorene.  If he's
not dead-and if Morwen says we'd know, then we'd know-then he's
probably perfectly all right.  All we have to do is get him out of the
castle."

"And how are we going to do that?"  Cimorene said crossly.  "The sword
is the only thing that can get rid of that shield, and he's the only
one who can use the sword."

"We'll think of something," Kazul said.

"In the meantime, what are you going to do about him?  "Brandel asked
with a dark look in Vamist's direction.

"If he's a wizard, I'm sure I can find someone to eat him once you're
finished with him," Kazul offered.  "Everyone can't be full yet."

Vamist turned white, making the cat scratches on his head look even
redder.  "You can't do this to me!"

"Why not?"  Morwen said.  "It's traditional for dragons to eat people,
isn't it?"

"Princesses!"  Vamist said in the tones of someone grasping desperately
for a straw.  "It's traditional for dragons to eat princesses, not
people."

Cimorene frowned.  "Princesses are people.  Some of them aren't very
sensible, but they're still people."

"And anyway, dragons don't eat princesses," Kazul said.  "We never
have.  I don't know how that silly story ever got started."

"I'm afraid you're mistaken, madam," Vamist said.  "Rathenmor Quil-len
says quite clearly in his Observations of Magical Beasts that-"
"Rathenmor Quillen was an idiot," Kazul said.  "And so, it seems, are
you!"

"Got it in one," said Scorn.  "He's as dumb as that rabbit."

"I'm not dumb," said Killer.  "I'm hungry.  I just thought I'd mention
it, in case you'd forgotten."

"Rathenmor Quillen, an idiot?"  Vamist's outrage got the better of both
his terror and his good sense, and he drew himself up stiffly and
glared at Kazul.  "How dare you say such a thing about the greatest
scholar of the past two hundred years!  Who do you think you are?"

"I say it because it's true."  Kazul smiled, starting slowly and
letting the corners of her mouth draw back farther and farther until
all of her sharp, shiny silver teeth were exposed in a fierce grin.

"And I'm the King of the Dragons."

"Ah, er-oh, ah-" said Vamist, deflating abruptly.

"Cimorene, when you're finished with this fellow, whoever he is, I
believe I'd like to see how he tastes," Kazul went on.  "Unless you
want to save him for later, of course."

"I don't know," said Cimorene.  "He's certainly caused a lot of
trouble, but I'm not sure he deserves to be eaten."

"He hasn't got any manners," Kazul said.  "That's enough for me.  And I
could do with some dessert."

"Could you stop talking about food?"  Killer said plaintively.

"So if you haven't got any better ideas .  . ."  Kazul said.

Morwen smiled suddenly.  "I think perhaps I have one that's more .  .

.

appropriate.  If you'll forgo your dessert, Kazul, I'd like to-" "what
dessert?"  asked Trouble, strolling into the center of the group.

"I thought all the wizards were gone.  Oh, and does anyone want to know
what I found in the castle, or are you busy with other things right
now?"

21

In Which Nobody Is Satisfied

No one except Morwen and the other animals-Killer, Kazul, Scorn, and
Horatio-understood what Trouble had asked, but everyone, even Vamist,
could tell by their reactions that it was important.

"All right, hotshot, what did you find in the castle?"  asked Scorn,
switching her tail in annoyance at having to admit to so much curiosity
in public.

"One moment, please," Morwen said.  Quickly, she explained to Cimorene,
Telemain, Brandel, and Amory where Trouble had been and what he had
just said.  Cimorene bit her lip, glanced at Vamist, and turned to
Willin.  "Willin, can you keep this fellow under control and out of the
way?

He was working with the wizards, and I don't think he should hear
this."

"He may have some insight to offer, Your Majesty," said the elf.

"However, if you wish it, I will do my best."

"I'll get his insights later," Cimorene said grimly.  "Get him out of
here."

"I'll help," Amory offered.

"Me, too," said Brandel.  "I'd be quite happy to help, in fact."

Vamist looked at the two fire-witches, who were eyeing him the same way
Murgatroyd and Chaos tended to eye a particularly plump mouse, and
blanched.

"Thank you," Cimorene said to Brandel.  "Just leave enough of him for
me to get some answers out of later."

"I think we can manage that," said Brandel.

Willin bowed and the three of them marched Vamist off into the
forest.

Cimorene turned back to Trouble.  "Morwen .  . ."

Morwen nodded at the cat.  "Go ahead now, but slowly, so I can
translate."

"Couldn't you just let them wonder?"  asked Trouble.  "Oh, all right.

The castle is empty, except for the usual furniture and a couple of
gooey wizards' robes.  I'd guess Mendanbar melted a few of them before
they got him."

"Got him?"  Cimorene said after Morwen's translation.  "What does he
mean by that, Morwen?"

"If she doesn't interrupt, I'll tell you."  Trouble was plainly
enjoying all the attention.  "I didn't see any trace of Mendanbar, so I
asked the gargoyle in the study-the one that answers the magic
mirror-if it knew what happened.

Apparently, the wizards didn't notice that it was intelligent, so they
did quite a bit of talking in front of it."

"What did they say?"  Killer asked with the air of someone interested
in spite of himself.

"Oh, this and that.  Most of it wasn't very interesting."

Kazul put one forearm down next to Trouble and flexed claws that were
almost as long as the cat's tail.  "Little one, tell your story without
these digressions, or I may lose what little patience the Society of
Wizards has left me."

"If you insist."  Trouble stretched, to show that even a dragon
couldn't impress him, then went on.  "The gargoyle said I was right
about the robes: Zemenar and his group lost four wizards before they
managed to corner Mendanbar.  The gargoyle knew about it because they
all came into the study afterward to decide what to do next.  Seems
that the wizards found out that they couldn't kill a King of the
Enchanted Forest outright without messing up what they were doing to
the forest.  And Zemenar didn't want to just hold him prisoner, because
he was afraid we would come back any minute."  Trouble shook his head
in admiration.  "You know, Mendanbar's almost as good as a cat."

"At what?"  asked Morwen.  "Oh, never mind.  What did they do with
him?"

"Zemenar put him in storage," said Trouble.

"What does that mean?"  Cimorene asked once Morwen had translated
this.

Trouble shrugged.  "He sent Mendanbar somewhere where he couldn't make
any difficulties while the wizards finished up with the forest.  'I'll
put him through a door and then hide the door,' is what the gargoyle
heard him say.  Too bad Zemenar didn't work the spell in the study
where old wooden-head could watch, or I might have been able to tell
you what it means."

"This doesn't make any sense."  Cimorene sounded thoroughly
frustrated.

"Of course it doesn't make sense," Scorn said.  "Wizards don't have
sense.  If they did, they wouldn't make all these problems."

Morwen did not translate Scorn's comment.  Instead, she asked Trouble,
"Where did the wizards do their spell?  Could you tell?"

"Piece of cake," Trouble said.  "In the Grand Hall.  The place reeked
of recent spell casting, and-" "Did you check the rest of the
castle?"

Morwen interrupted.  "The Grand Hall is where Telemain did his
wizard-liquefication spell, and you may have been sensing the residue
from that."

"Give me credit for some sense," Trouble said.  "Besides, it's not that
hard to tell Telemain's magic from a wizard's.  Even though they used
some of his equipment."

"I still don't understand," Killer complained.  "And-" "And you're
hungry," said Scorn.  "We know."

"I don't understand either," said Cimorene.  "What does 'put him
through a door and then hide the door' mean?"

"Telemain?"  said Morwen.

"Mmmm.  It sounds as if someone did a partial transportation spell,
looped it, bound the residual to a temporary construct, and then-"
Kazul cleared her throat pointedly.  Telemain paused, frowned, and said
crossly, "I don't know any other way to explain it."

"They used a transportation spell to send Mendanbar somewhere, only
they stopped in the middle," Morwen suggested.

"No, that would be unstable," Telemain said.  "The field would collapse
unless they looped it and bound the ends to something.  It's
theoretically possible, but it takes an enormous amount of power."

Cimorene glanced over her shoulder at the destruction that surrounded
the castle.  "As much power as you'd get from soaking up a big chunk of
the Enchanted Forest?"

"I think they used most of that for the shield spell," Telemain said.

"But if anyone could have done a looped transport, Zemenar could.

After all, he was Head Wizard of the Society of Wizards."

"I don't care if he was First Minister to the Grand Poobah of the Great
Cathayan Empire," Cimorene said.  "How are we going to get Mendanbar
out?"

"We can't," Telemain said.

"What?"

"To dismantle the spell, we would need to be inside the castle.  To get
into the castle, we would have to get through the wizard's shield
spell.  The

only thing-besides the Society of Wizards themselves-that can take
down that shield spell is Mendanbar's sword.  And none of us can use
it."

Cimorene looked appalled.  "Then Mendanbar's stuck forever."

"Or until he starves to death," Killer put in gloomily.

"Not necessarily," Morwen said.  Everyone turned to look at her.  "In
the first place, if Telemain is right about what they did, Mendanbar
won't starve.  A looped transportation spell makes it temporarily
unnecessary to eat."

Telemain nodded, pleased.  "Hershenfeld's experiments proved it.  They
were quite definitive."

"In the second place, it is only true that none of us can use the sword
yet.  "Morwen pushed her glasses firmly up and gave Cimorene a
significant look.

"What-oh, Morwen, you can't mean the baby/" said Cimorene.

"Sounds reasonable to me," said Killer.

"It would," said Scorn.

Telemain frowned.  "I don't think it will work, Morwen.  The sword
requires a certain level of deliberate control, and I doubt that a baby
could provide coherent directions."

"We'll wait for him to grow," Kazul said.  "It won't take long."

"Maybe not by dragon standards," Cimorene said.  "But fifteen or
sixteen years is a long time for people.  I don't want to wait.  And
what if he's a she?"

"That shouldn't make any difference," Telemain said.  "What's important
to the sword is the bloodline and the-the personality.  Or perhaps it's
attitude that counts.  I've never actually seen the linkage process
that enables someone to use the sword, so I can't say for sure."

"No," said Cimorene.  "Absolutely not.  It would take too long, and
it's too iffy.  And what if one of the wizards decides to come back and
sneak into the castle to finish Mendanbar off?"

"Have you got any better ideas?"  Kazul asked.

"How about lunch?"  Killer said pointedly.  "Aren't people supposed to
think better when they've eaten?  I do."

"It wouldn't take much," Scorn said.  "You're a rabbit."

"Not anymore."  Killer's ears went limp and his wings drooped at the
thought.  "Now I'm a-a something else."

"Lunch sounds like a very good idea to me," Kazul said.  "Especially
since we needn't rush right in to rescue Mendanbar."

Looking suddenly uneasy, Killer backed away from the dragon.  All at
once, he stopped and his eyes got very big.  "You can't eat me!  I'm
insubstantial."

His muzzle twitched.  "I never thought there'd be anything good about
that."

"I'm not interested in eating you," Kazul said.  "What I want is six
gallons of Morwen's cider and a big helping of cherries jubilee."

Morwen frowned.  "I thought you were full."

"I'm never too full for dessert," said the dragon.  "And chasing
wizards is thirsty work."

"I suppose we might as well," Cimorene said.  "It doesn't look as if
any of you will make much sense otherwise."

"Does that mean someone is going to fix me?"  said Killer.

"I thought you wanted to stay insubstantial," Trouble said with a sly
glance in Kazul's direction.

"Not if it means I can't eat."

Since this was an eminently reasonable attitude, and since Killer had
been very patient, all things considered, Telemain agreed to take a
look at the spells afflicting Killer.  While Kazul called in various
dragons and fire-witches to set up lunch, Telemain unloaded a large
number of peculiar-looking implements from his pockets and began
stalking around the donkey, muttering under his breath.  Morwen, after
a moment's consideration, chose to help Telemain rather than assist
with lunch.  It gave her a fighting chance of keeping the magician from
getting so absorbed in studying the interconnecting layers of
enchantment that he forgot about removing them.

They were, it turned out, just in time.  The various enchantments
seemed almost to have taken on a life of their own, linking and
intertwining with each other until there was no separating them.

Fortunately, Killer's insubstantiality had only just begun to be
incorporated into the main mass, but even so it took the combined
efforts of Morwen and Telemain to nullify it.  The process was slow,
and by the time they finished they stood in the center of a circle of
interested observers attracted by the spectacle of a six-foot-something
blue donkey with wings blinking on and off as bits of the spell came
loose.

"Whew!"  said Telemain when the last of the insubstantiality had been
removed and canceled out.  "That was more of a job than I expected."

"Can you stop now?"  Cimorene asked.  "Lunch is ready.  If you could
leave the rest of the spells for afterward-" "I think we're going to
have to leave the rest of the spells for good," Telemain said, stowing
his implements back in their appropriate pockets.

"What?"

"Killer has so much magic stuck to him that the bottom layers have
melted together," Morwen said.  "It's practically impossible to undo
the spells he's under.  We were lucky to get the top layer off."

"You mean I'm going to be a seven-foot, eleven-inch--counting the
ears-bright blue floating donkey with oversized wings for the rest of
my life?"  Killer wailed.

"Count your blessings," said Scorn.  "At least you're not
insubstantial "And you're not a rabbit," Trouble pointed out.  "That's
a plus."

"But I'm supposed to be a rabbit!"

"Quiet," Morwen told them sternly.  "As I was saying, undoing the
spells is next to impossible.  But moving them .  . ."

"... is elementary magic," Telemain said, nodding.  "We won't even need
any special equipment.  But who were you thinking of moving them to?"

Morwen smiled.  "Cimorene, would you ask Willin to bring Arona
Michaelear Grinogion Vamist over here for a moment, please?  This won't
take long, and then we can relax and have lunch."

For a moment, Cimorene and Telemain stared at Morwen, and then they
began to smile, too.  "It will be my pleasure," Cimorene said, and
called Willin over.  A short time later, Vamist appeared, flanked by
Brandel and Amory.

"What do you want now?"  Vamist asked.  "I demand that you send me home
at once."

"In a minute," Morwen said.  "Stand over here by Killer.  Trouble,
Scorn-" "Right here," Scorn purred.  "Go ahead whenever you're
ready."

"Good."  Morwen raised her left hand, palm up, then flipped it over.

"Front to back, White to black, Young to old, Silver to gold."

As she finished speaking, Killer began to glow green.  The glow pulsed
once, brightly, far enough for the edge to touch Vamist.  "Whoops!"

said Vamist, and "Eek!"  said Killer, and then an ordinary brown rabbit
with a few faded patches of white-dyed fur dropped to the ground next
to an oversized blue floating donkey with wings.

"Look," said Scorn.  "He's got a little bald patch between his ears."

"What-eee-augh!"  said Vamist.  "No!  You can't do this to me!"

"Want to bet?"  said Trouble.

"Goodness, he looks silly," said Killer, twitching his nose.  "Is that
really what I was like?"

"Except for the bald patch," said Scorn.

"You can't mean to leave me like this?  Vamist cried.  "You wouldn't
make me stay a donkey?"

"You're not just a donkey," Morwen said, letting her smile grow.

"You're a seven-foot bright blue floating donkey with oversized
wings.

And as far as I'm concerned you can stay that way for the rest of your
life.

Telemain, have you got enough energy left to send him to the main
square in his hometown?"

"I believe I can manage that," Telemain said.

"No!  I'll be the laughingstock of the whole countryside!  And how will
I get people to pay attention to what I say?"

"You won't," Brandel said with considerable relish.  "No one will
listen to someone who looks that silly.  Morwen, it's perfect."

"It certainly is," Cimorene said.  "How on earth did you think of
it?"

"It came to me a while back, when Scorn said he was 'as dumb as that
rabbit."  Now all that's left is the problem of what to do about the
castle."

But though they discussed it over lunch, after lunch, and through the
afternoon until dinner, no one could think of anything that might
work.

Telemain spent an hour studying the shield spell, but he could not find
any way to get rid of it.  The dragons could not get close to it
because the spell was too similar to the one on the wizards' staffs and
made them sneeze.  The fire-witches' magic just bounced off.  In
desperation, Cimorene even tried to stick Mendanbar's sword into the
spell, but it stopped at the edge of the glow and refused to penetrate
it.

"I think we're going to have to wait for the baby," Telemain said
finally.

"I'm not giving up yet," Cimorene said.  "There's got to be some way to
get in, or to get Mendanbar out."

"Don't be so sure," Morwen said.  "Barrier spells frequently come with
a time delay, rather than any specific sort of key.  I believe a
hundred years is the usual period, though that normally applies to
hedges of briars, not glowing magic shields.  Still .  . ."

"I'm not giving up," Cimorene repeated.  "And I'm certainly not waiting
a hundred years!"

And she didn't.  For the next two months, while Telemain and Morwen
disposed of Vamist the donkey and sent Killer the rabbit back to his
clover patch, while the dragons combed the Enchanted Forest for stray
wizards, while the fire-witches finished helping out and went home (or,
in some cases, built new homes in the Enchanted Forest), Cimorene tried
everything anyone could think of to get herself through the wizards'
shield.  She had dwarves dig runnels and birds dive at the top of the
shield; she sprayed it with soapy lemon water and sprinkled it with
powdered dragon scales (donated for the purpose by Kazul); she cast
spells alone at midnight and at noon in combination with Morwen,
Telemain, all of the fire-witches, and several dragons.

Nothing made any difference.

Kazul left a squad of dragons to keep watch for wizards near the
castle, and she herself visited frequently.  Eventually, she persuaded
Cimorene to slow down, at least until the baby was born.  Since none of
the other attempts had shown any sign of success, Cimorene's child
seemed more and more to be their best hope of getting into the castle,
rescuing Mendanbar, and defeating the wizards once and for all.  Rumors
began circulating, each purporting to give the real truth about the
battle and the whereabouts of King Mendanbar.

The Society of Wizards was too busy with its own affairs-choosing a new
Head Wizard and recovering from the unexpected onslaught of dragons and
fire-witches-to make new trouble for the time being.  So the pause in
the fighting stretched out longer and longer until it became a sort of
uneasy, unofficial peace.

And everyone waited.

EPILOGUE

Which Hints at Things to Come

Motherhood suits Cimorene, Morwen thought as she watched the Queen of
the Enchanted Forest and the King of the Dragons making peculiar noises
over the infant Prince Daystar, aged two months, six days, and some-odd
hours.  On the moss beside them, at the foot of an ancient and enormous
willow, lay Mendanbar's unsheathed sword.

"Telemain says he melted another wizard in the eastern part of the
forest yesterday," Morwen said aloud.  "They're getting bolder."

Cimorene looked up, her face clouded.  "I know.  Antorell found me this
morning.  It's all right.  I melted him," she added quickly.  "But he
was very angry.  I think he blames me because Kazul ate his father."

"Antorell never was very strong on logic," Kazul said.  "Ooochy-ooo.

What a fine big boy you are?"

Since this last was directed at the baby Prince, Morwen only smiled.

"It's a good thing none of my cats are here, or you'd have to make an
equal fuss the next time one of them has kittens."

"As long as I don't have to be their godmother, I'll be happy to fuss,"
Kazul said.

"I didn't know your cats were expecting kittens," Cimorene said.

"None of them is, yet."  Morwen smiled again.  "Though the way Scorn
and Horatio are behaving, it's only a matter of time.  You should hear
some of the things Trouble says about them-'mushy' is probably the
kindest."

"It's a good thing you like cats," Cimorene said.

"Yes, it is."  Morwen looked at Cimorene, and her smile faded.

"You're

avoiding the real subject, which is, What are you going to do now?  It
will be a long time before Daystar is old enough to use Mendanbar's
sword, and if the Society of Wizards is looking for him-" "I don't
think they are," Cimorene said.  "I don't think they even know Daystar
exists.  Mendanbar and I hadn't officially announced it before they
attacked, and afterward it seemed like a good idea to keep quiet about
it.  So they haven't heard, and they're not looking for Daystar.

They're looking for the sword, and they're looking for me."

"It amounts to the same thing," Morwen said.  "And doesn't Antorell
know about Daystar, if he found you this morning?"

Cimorene snorted.  "Antorell was so mad at me that he didn't notice
anything else.  He walked right by the sword and tripped over Kazul's
tail before I melted him."

"Still, if he found you, it's only a matter of time before the rest of
the Society does, too.  Isn't it?"

"Not quite."  Cimorene glanced sideways at Kazul and took a deep
breath.  "I've thought about this a lot, and I have an idea how to
outsmart them.  I want to know what you think of it."

"You know what I think of it," Kazul rumbled.  "I don't like it one
bit.

The idea of-" "Hush, Kazul, you'll upset Daystar.  It's like this,
Morwen: The Society of Wizards knows I've brought Mendanbar's sword
back to the Enchanted Forest, because they can't swallow big chunks of
the forest's magic anymore and they know that the sword is what keeps
them from doing that.  So they're poking around here, looking for me
and the sword.  If I leave the forest-" "But you can't take the sword
out of the Enchanted Forest or the Society of Wizards will start
destroying it again," Morwen said.  "Or else the sword will leak all
the magic out of the forest, which amounts to the same thing."

"I'm not going to take the sword out of the Enchanted Forest," Cimorene
said.  "I'm going to hide it in here, and then I'm going to take
Daystar and settle down outside the forest somewhere.  Not with the
dragons; the wizards will expect that."

Morwen frowned, forcing herself to consider the proposal carefully.

"So the Society of Wizards will look for you inside the Enchanted
Forest, because they'll expect you to be with the sword and they'll
know that the sword is still inside the forest.  And since you'll be
outs' the forest, you and Daystar will be relatively safe.  And things
won't get any worse inside the forest, because the sword will keep the
wizards from destroying new bits.

Very neat.  But what if they find the sword?"

ments with a wizard's staff, and he says that as long as the sword is
inside the Enchanted Forest, it's invisible to wizards' magic.  If I
hide it well, they'll have to search the whole forest, inch by inch, on
foot, in order to find it."

"And I doubt any of them have the patience for that.  But are you sure
that the wizards won't think up a way to get around it?"

"Telemain says that the only way a wizard could use magic to find the
sword would be to use a spell that finds the person who's carrying
it.

And for that to work, the person carrying it has to know that what he's
got is Mendanbar's sword.  That's why I can't give it to you or
Telemain."

"I see.  So by the time the wizards think of casting that type of
spell, if they ever do, the sword will be hidden and you'll be outside
the forest."

Cimorene nodded.  "I'd like to have you or Telemain check on the sword
once in a while to make sure it's all right, but if the wizards start
looking for someone who knows what it is-" "That shouldn't be a problem
as long as we don't try to carry it."

Morwen's right hand tingled, remembering the way it had burned when she
held it.  "And I certainly don't intend to try!"

"Oh, that only happens outside the Enchanted Forest," Cimorene said,
then frowned.  "At least, I'm fairly sure that's what Telemain meant
when he explained.  Inside the Enchanted Forest, the sword does
different things."

"Well, I'm not giving it the chance to do them to me," Morwen said.

"If you want to be certain the wizards won't catch us checking, I'll
send one of the cats."

"That should work.  Not too often."

"No, we wouldn't want to lead the Society of Wizards right to it."

Morwen shook her head.  "I don't like it any more than Kazul does, but
it sounds as if it will work.  As far as it goes."

"As far as it goes?  What do you think I've forgotten?"

"The Society of Wizards put up that shield spell.  What if they decide
to pull it down in a year or two and take over the castle?  We can't
keep a guard on it for the next sixteen or twenty years.  Not an
effective one, anyway."

"Speak for yourself," Kazul said.  "Sixteen or twenty years of guarding
a castle is nothing to a dragon."

"And Kazul and Telemain have already solved that problem anyway,"
Cimorene said.  "You must not have come by the castle, or you'd have
seen it."

"Seen what?"  said Morwen.

"The second shield spell, the one the dragons put up."  Cimorene's eyes
sparked.  "Telemain analyzed the wizards' shield spell, and then Kazul
got all the dragons to duplicate it.  It works the same way the
Society's spell does: only the people who put it up can take it
down."

Morwen pursed her lips.  "So we can't get at the castle because of the
wizards' spell, and the wizards can't get at their spell because of the
dragons' spell.  You do seem to have thought of everything."

"'Thank you," said Kazul.  "Now convince Cimorene that she'll be safe
in the Mountains of Morning with the rest of us, and we'll be all
set."

"I don't think I can do that," Morwen said.  "In the first place,
Cimorene is stubborn as a pig when she wants to be, and in the second
place, she's right.  As soon as the Society of Wizards figures out
she's not in the Enchanted Forest, they'll look for her with dragons.

And they're sneaky enough to find her, and that would ruin
everything."

She sighed.  "When do you intend to leave, Cimorene?"

"This afternoon, as soon as I hide this."  Cimorene picked up the
sword.  "It's a pity I can't put it in a sheath, but Telemain says that
with Mendanbar .  . . unavailable, a sheath would obstruct some of the
sword's spells that interfere with wizards."

"Would you like some help?"  Morwen said.

"It can't hurt.  Kazul, will you watch Daystar for an hour or two?"

"I suppose so.  Since you seem determined."

"Good."  Cimorene patted the dragon's shoulder.  "And thank you.

Bye, Daystar."

As she bent forward to kiss him, the flash of light on the blade of the
sword caught the child's attention, and he reached for it with both
hands.

"Ah-ah-ah!"  he demanded.

"No, Daystar," Cimorene replied gently.  "Not now.  This is for later,
when you're older."

"Ah-ah-ah?"  said Daystar emphatically.

"When you're older," Cimorene said again.  "Come on, Morwen, let's get
started."  Together they walked through the trees to find a place to
hide the sword against the time when Daystar would be old enough to use
it.

TALKING TO DRAGONS

For NATE (who started it), and for the rest of the Scribblies:

STEVE PAM KARA , Will And Emma

Contents

1 In Which Daystar Leaves Home and Encounters a Lizard

2 In Which Daystar Is Polite to a Bush and Makes a Friend

3 In Which They Meet a Wizard and Get Wet

In Which They Learn the Perils of Inspecting 	a W'izard's Broken
Staff

5 In Which They Meet a Watch

6 In Which Daystar Makes a Mistake

7 In Which There Is a Good Deal of Discussion

8 In Which They Meet Their First Dragon

	9

	In Which There Is a Fight, Sort of, and They Find Out

			Where They Are Going

	10 In Which They Take a Shortcut and Run into an Obstacle "In Which a
Lizard Suggests a Solution

12 In Which They Ask Many questions

13 In Which They Learn the Difference Between a Wizard and a Magician

14 In Which the Dragon Has an Allergy Attack

15 In Which They Take a Chance

16

	In Which Things Get Very Dark for a While

17 In Which They Get out of the Caves

		and into Even More Trouble

18 In Which the King of the Dragons Does Some Explaining

19 In Which the Battle Begins

20 In Which Daystar Uses His Sword

21 In Which the Battle Ends and Antorell Makes Trouble Again

22 Which Contains an Engagement, a Feast, and a Happy Ending

1

In Which Daystar Leaves Home and Encounters a Lizard

Mother taught me to be polite to dragons.  Particularly polite, I mean;
she taught me to be ordinary polite to everyone.  Well, it makes
sense.

With all the enchanted princesses and disguised wizards and transformed
kings and so on wandering around, you never know whom you might be
talking to.

But dragons are a special case.

Not that I ever actually talked to one until after I left home.  Even
at the edge of the Enchanted Forest, dragons aren't exactly common.

The principle is what matters, though: Always be polite to a dragon.

It's harder than it sounds.  Dragon etiquette is incredibly
complicated, and if you make a mistake, the dragon eats you.

Fortunately, I was well trained.

Dragon etiquette wasn't the only thing Mother taught me.  Reading and
writing are unusual skills for a poor boy, but I learned them.  Music,
too, and fighting.  Don't ask me where Mother learned to use a sword.

Until I was thirteen, I didn't know we had one in the house.  I even
learned a little magic.  Mother wasn't exactly pleased; but growing up
on the edge of the Enchanted Forest, I had to know some things.

Mother is tall-about two inches taller than I am-and slender, and very
impressive when she wants to be.  Her hair is black, like mine, but
much longer.  Most of the time she wears it in two braids wound around
and around her head, but when she really wants to impress someone she
lets it hang straight to her feet.  A lot of the disguised princes who
stopped at our

cottage on their way into the Enchanted Forest thought Mother was a
sorceress.

You can't really blame them.  Who else would live at the edge of a
place like that?

Sometimes I thought they were right.  Mother always knew what
directions to give them, even if they didn't tell her what they were
looking for.  I never saw her do any real magic, though, until the day
the wizard came.

I knew right away that he was a wizard.  Not because of his brown beard
or his blue-and-brown silk robes-although no one but a wizard can walk
around in blue-and-brown silk robes for very long without getting
really dusty.  It wasn't even his staff.  I knew he was a wizard
because he had the same feel of magic that the unicorns and griffins
have when you catch a glimpse of them, farther on in the forest.

I was surprised to see him because we didn't get too many wizards.

Well, actually, we'd never gotten any.  Mother said that most of them
preferred to go into the forest through the Gates of Mist and Pearl at
the top of the Crystal Falls, or through the Caves of Fire and Night if
they could manage it.  The few that went into the forest in other ways
never stopped at our cottage.

This wizard was unusual.  He turned off the road and walked right past
me without saying anything, straight up to our cottage.  Then he banged
on the door with the head of his staff.  The door splintered and fell
apart.

I decided that I didn't like him.

Mother was cooking rabbit stew in the big black pot over the chimney
fire.  She didn't even look up when the door fell in.  The wizard stood
there for a minute, and I sneaked a little closer so I could see
better.  He was frowning, and I got the impression he wasn't used to
being ignored.  Mother kept stirring the stew.

"Well, Cimorene, I have found you," the wizard said at last.

"It took you long enough," Mother said without turning.  "You're
getting slow."

"You know why I am here."

Mother shrugged.  "You're sixteen years too late.  I told you, you're
getting slow."

"Ha!  I can take the sword now, and the boy as well.  There is nothing
you can do to stop me this time," the wizard said.  I could tell he was
trying to sound menacing, but he didn't do a very good job.

Mother finally turned around.  I took one look at her face and backed
up a couple of steps.  She looked at the wizard for a minute and
started to smile.  "Nothing, Antorell?  Are you sure?"

The wizard laughed and raised his staff.  I backed up some more.  I
mean, I wanted to see what was going on, but I'm not stupid.  He paused
a moment-for effect, I think-and Mother pointed at him.

"Argelfraster," she said, and he started to melt.

"No!  Not again!"  he screamed.  He shrank pretty quickly-all but his
head, which was shouting nearly the whole time.  "I'll get you,
Cimorene!

I'll be back!  You can't stop me!  I'll-" Then his head collapsed and
there was nothing left but a little puddle of brown goo and his
staff.

I stared at the puddle.  All I could think was, I never knew Mother
could do that.  Mother let me stand there for a while before she told
me to clean it up.

"Don't touch the staff," she said.  "And don't forget to wash your
hands before you come to dinner."

I went to get a bucket.  When I came back, the staff was gone and
Mother was stirring the stew as if nothing had happened.  She didn't
mention the wizard again until the next morning.

I was out by the remains of our door, trying to fix it.  I didn't think
my chances were very good.  I picked up the hammer, and as I looked
around for nails I saw Mother walk out of the Enchanted Forest.  I was
so surprised I dropped the hammer and nearly smashed my foot.  Mother
never went into the Enchanted Forest.  Never.  Then I saw the sword she
was carrying, and if I'd still been holding the hammer, I'd have
dropped it again.

Even from a distance, I could tell it wasn't an ordinary sword.  It was
about the same size and shape as the one I practiced with, but it shone
too brightly and looked too sharp to be ordinary.  Mother brought it
over to me and set it down on top of the boards I'd been working on.

"Don't touch it," she said, and went into the house.

I had a hard time following Mother's instructions.  The more I looked
at the sword, the more I wanted to pick it up and try a few of the
passes Mother had taught me.  It was such a beautiful weapon!  Just
looking at it made me shiver.  But Mother always had good reasons for
the things she told me to do, so I waited.

I didn't have to wait long.  She came back almost immediately, carrying
a sword belt and a sheath that I'd never seen before.  They were old-so
old that the leather had turned nearly gray-and very, very plain.  I
was disappointed; the sword deserved something more impressive.

Mother went straight to the sword and put it in the sheath.  She
relaxed a little then, as if she'd been worried about something.

Mother almost never worried.  I started wondering just what that weapon
did.  I didn't have much time to think about it, though.  As soon as
she had sheathed the sword, Mother turned and gave me her
You're-not-much-but-you'll-have-to-do look.

I started to worry.

Mother picked up the sword belt.  "This is for you, Daystar."  I
reached for it, but she shook her head.  "No, I'll do it this first
time.  Hold still."

She bent down and buckled the belt around my waist, then hung the

sheathed sword on the belt.  I felt a little strange letting her do
all that, and my elbows kept getting in the way.

Finally she straightened up.  "Now, Daystar, I have a few things to
tell you before you leave."

"Leave?"  I was shocked.  Mother had never mentioned leaving before.

It occurred to me that she'd said "you," not "we."  I swallowed hard.

"By myself?"

"Of course.  You're sixteen; it's time you left, and I'm certainly not
coming with you.  Now pay attention."  She gave me one of her sharp
looks.

I paid attention.

"You have a sword, and you know as much as I can safely teach you.  I
don't want to see you back here again until you can explain to me why
you had to leave.  Do you understand?"

I nodded.

Mother went on, "Start with the Enchanted Forest.  One way or another,
things will happen more quickly there.  Don't lose your sword, and
don't draw it unless you need to use it.  Oh, and watch out for
Antorell.  It'll take him a couple of days to get himself back together
and find out where I put his staff, but once he does he'll try to make
trouble again.  All right?"

"But you haven't explained anything!"  I blurted.  "Why did that wizard
come here yesterday, anyway?  Why should he want to make trouble for
me?  And if he's so dangerous, why are you sending me-" "Daystar!"

I stopped in mid-sentence.

Mother glared at me.  "what happened to the manners I've tried to teach
you?"

"I-I'm sorry, Mother," I said.  "I was upset."

"Being upset is no excuse," Mother said sternly.  "If you're going to
be rude, do it for a reason and get something from it."

I nodded.

Mother smiled.  "I know it's hard, and it's rather short notice, but
this will probably be the best chance we get.  I can't waste it just to
give you time to get used to the idea of leaving home.  Besides, if I
tell you too much now, it could ruin everything.  You'll just have to
work things out for yourself."

I was more confused than ever, but I could see Mother wasn't going to
tell me anything else.  She looked at me for another moment, then bit
her lip as if she wanted to say something and couldn't.  Abruptly, she
turned and walked away.  At the door of the cottage, she stopped and
looked back.

"Good luck, Daystar.  And stop wasting time.  You don't have much of
it."

Before I could say anything, she disappeared inside.

I started off toward the Enchanted Forest.  Mother's advice was
always

good.  Besides, I was afraid she'd melt me or something if I hung
around very long.

I didn't bother to follow the road.  It isn't particularly useful,
anyway-it disappears as soon as you cross into the forest.  Or at
least, it usually does.

At any rate, I wanted to start with the section of the Enchanted Forest
that I knew.

The Enchanted Forest comes in two parts, the Outer Forest and the Deep
Woods.  Most people don't realize that.  The Outer Forest is relatively
safe if you know what you're doing, and I'd gathered herbs there a few
times.  I'd never gone more than an hour's walk from our cottage, and
nothing particularly interesting had ever happened, but I'd always
known that something might.  The way things were going, I was pretty
sure that this time something would.

I felt the little tingle on my skin that marks the border between the
ordinary woods, where our cottage was, and the Enchanted Forest.  Some
people have trouble getting in and out of the Enchanted Forest, but I
never did.  I was feeling exalted and adventurous, and maybe a little
scared.  I mean, for years I'd watched all those princes and heroes and
so on go into the forest, and now it was my turn.  I looked back over
my shoulder to see if Mother was watching.  The cottage was gone.

That shook me.  You just don't expect the place you've lived in for
sixteen years to vanish like that.  I looked around.  The trees were
huge-much larger than the ones by our cottage.  I couldn't reach more
than a quarter of the way around the trunk of the smallest one.  The
ground was covered with dark green moss that ran right up the bases of
the trees and stopped short.  I could see a couple of bushes, including
one that had three different colors of flowers on it.  Everything felt
very dark and green and alive, and none of it looked familiar at all.

I shivered.  This wasn't the Outer Forest.  This was the Deep Woods.

I waited for a couple of minutes, but nothing happened.  Somehow, I
wasn't reassured.  Being lost in the Enchanted Forest does not do much
for one's peace of mind.

After a while I started walking again.  I felt much less adventurous
and considerably more scared.

I walked for a long time.  Eventually I quit being scared, at least
mostly.

Finally I started looking for a place to rest; my feet hurt and I was
getting very tired.  I was careful, though.  I didn't want to sit on a
flower that used to be someone important.  After about fifteen minutes
I found a spot that looked all right, and I started to sit down.

Unfortunately, I'd forgotten I was wearing the sword.  It got tangled
up in my legs and I sort of fell over.

Somebody giggled.  I looked around and didn't see anyone, so I decided
to get untangled first.  I straightened my legs out and sat up,
making

sure the sword belt was out of the way this time.  Then I took a
second look around.  I still didn't see anyone, but the same somebody
giggled again.

"Sir or madam on" I stopped.  What was the proper honorific for
something that wasn't male or female?  I was pretty sure there was one,
but I couldn't remember it.

"Oh, don't bother," said a high, squeaky voice.  "I've never cared for
all that fancy stuff."

I still didn't see anyone.  "Forgive my stupidity, but I can't seem to
find where you are," I said.

The giggle came again.  "Down here, silly."

I looked down and jumped.  A little gold lizard was sitting right next
to my hand.  He was about twice as long as my middle finger, and half
of that was tail.

"Hey, watch it!"  said the lizard.  "You might hurt someone if you keep
jumping around like that.  Me, for instance.  You big people are so
careless."

"I'm very sorry," I said politely.

The lizard lifted his head.  "You are?  Yes, you are!  How amazing.

Who are you, anyway?"

"My name is Daystar," I said, bowing slightly.  It was a little awkward
to do from a sitting position, but I managed.  Being polite to a lizard
felt peculiar, but there are only two rules of behavior in the
Enchanted Forest: Don't take anything for granted, and Be polite to
everyone.  That's if you don't live there.  The inhabitants have Their
own codes, which it's better not to ask about.

"You're Daystar?"  The lizard did something very tangled very quickly
and ended up balanced on his tail.  "So you are!  Well, my goodness.  I
hadn't expected to see you around here for a while yet."

"You were expecting me?"

"Of course."  The lizard looked smug.  "I know everything that goes on
in the Enchanted Forest.  Absolutely everything!  I've seen you in the
Outer Forest.  It was only a matter of time before you got this far,
though I thought it would take longer.  I'm Suz, by the way."

"Pleased to meet you," I said.

"You are?"  The lizard leaned forward and almost lost his balance.

"Yes, you really are!  How positively extraordinary.  Whatever are you
doing in the Enchanted Forest?"

"I don't know," I said.

"You don't know?  The lizard did a back flip and scurried up onto a fat
tree root, where he would have a better view.  He balanced on his tail
again and looked at me thoughtfully.  "If you don't know what you're
doing, why are you here?"

I thought for a moment.  "Do you really know everything that happens
in this forest?"

"Of course I do."  Suz looked offended.  An offended lizard is an
interesting sight.

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings or anything," I said hastily.  "I
just wondered if you could tell me where this came from."  I touched
the sword Mother had given me.

The lizard squinted in my general direction.  "What?  It's on the wrong
side of you, silly.  Bring it over where I can see it.  If it came from
the Enchanted Forest, I can tell you about it."

I lifted the sword, sheath and all, and twisted it around so it was on
the same side of me as Suz.  The lizard promptly fell over backward.

"Oh dear me my gracious goodness my oh," he squeaked.  "Do you know
what that is?"

"I wouldn't have asked you if I knew," I said.  "It's a sword.  I think
it's

"It's a sword!  He thinks it's magic!"  Suz ran around twice in a small
circle, then did the tail-balancing trick again.  "Where did you get
it?"  the little lizard demanded.

"My mother gave it to me.  She got it out of the Enchanted Forest
somewhere."  I was getting a little tired of this.  "Are you going to
answer my question?"

"Your mother gave it to you.  The Sword of the Sleeping King, that
everyone in the world has been looking for for fifteen or twenty years,
and your mother gave it to you.  "The lizard got so agitated he fell
over again.  "That isn't right.  That isn't reasonable.  My dear boy,
that simply isn't done!  Even in the Enchanted Forest there is a proper
order for these things!  Someone will have to notify them at the castle
immediately.  Oh, dear, what a stir this will cause!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't know.  What's the Sword of the Sleeping King?"

I'd never heard of it before, which rather surprised me.  After Mother
made me memorize all those pages of names and titles and peculiar
weapons, I'd thought I knew the name of every magic sword in the
world.

"You don't know?"  The lizard froze in the middle of getting back up on
his tail.  He looked like a golden pretzel.  "No, you don't!  Oh, my.

You'd better go to the castle at once.  Kazul will know what to do with
you.  I'd better go there myself, right away."  Suz untwisted and
darted off into the undergrowth.

"Wait!"  I shouted.  "What castle?  Who is Kazul?  And why-" The lizard
looked back.  "I don't have time for that!  And even if I did, I
couldn't tell you.  You have to find out yourself.  Magic swords always
work that way.  Don't you know anything?"

"Do you want me to recite the names of the Four Hundred Minor Swords
of Korred the Spellsmith?  .  . . I know lots of things.  I just don't
know about this.  How do I find out?"

"Follow the sword, silly," Suz said, and disappeared among the
leaves.

2

In Which Daystar Is Polite to a Bush and Makes a Friend I didn't try to
chase the lizard.  For one thing, there wasn't much point in it.

Suz was small enough to hide practically anywhere.  For another, I
didn't want to go running through the Enchanted Forest.  People get
killed that way, or enchanted, or other unpleasant things.  Besides, I
wanted to think.

I settled back against the tree and looked down at the sword, a little
unhappily.  "Follow the sword," Suz had said.  But Mother had told me
not to draw it unless I meant to use it, and I didn't think "following"
it was the kind of use she meant.  Besides, I wasn't sure I wanted to
draw a magic sword in the middle of the Enchanted Forest, especially
one I didn't know anything about.  I decided to try something else.

I stood up and looked around.  Over on my right there was a little gap
in the trees, not enough to call a clearing, just a place where the
trees were farther apart than usual.  I went over to the middle of it
and stood there while I tried to unfasten the sheath.  That was a lot
more complicated than it looked, and in the end I had to take the whole
belt off.  I wrapped the belt around the sheath and set it down in the
middle of the open space.  I backed up a couple of steps and sat down
on the ground with the hilt of the sword close to me and the end of the
sheath pointing away from me.

The woods had gone very, very quiet.  I didn't like that, but after all
the trouble I'd had getting out of the belt, I would have felt stupid
if I'd just picked up the sword again without doing anything.  Besides,
I'd started

setting up for a spell, and leaving things like that half-finished can
be awfully dangerous.

I took a deep breath and spoke as steadily as I could:

"Sword of the Sleeping King I conjure thee: By stream and starlight, By
sun and shadow, By song and storm wind, Show me thy tail!"

It was the simplest spell I knew-almost the only one, in fact.  It's
supposed to let the spell caster know more about the nature of whatever
object is named in the first line of the chant.  I didn't think the
spell would work quite the usual way on a magic sword, but it wouldn't
do any harm, and I was hoping to find out something useful.

I finished the spell, and everything was quiet for about two
heartbeats.  Fast heartbeats.  I was nervous.  Then the world turned
over.

That's what it felt like.  The ground started shaking, and the part
under the sword pushed up until it made a mound taller than I was.  I
didn't have much of a chance to look at it, though, because I was
rolling all over the open space and trying to grab hold of something.

Then everything went dark, and I was falling, and a huge, deep voice
said solemnly, "All hail the Bearer of the Sword!"

And then it was over and everything was back to normal.  I was lying on
the ground in the Enchanted Forest, trying to dig my way through the
moss.  I stopped and waited.  Nothing else happened, so I sat up and
looked around.  I was still sitting in the same not-quite-a-clearing,
with the sword and sheath in the middle.  The sword .  . .

The sword was standing upright, half-buried in a knee-high mound that
hadn't been there before.  The blade was about a handspan out of the
sheath, and it glittered when the sun got far enough through the trees
to hit it.  I stood up and walked over.  The mound was covered with
moss, just like the rest of the forest floor.  It could have been there
forever.  I shivered, wondering how I was going to get the sheath out
of the ground.

I put one hand on the hilt, intending to shove it back down into the
sheath.  When my hand touched it, my whole arm started to tingle.  I
jerked my hand away and stared at the sword.  It just sat there.  I
reached out again, this time for the sheath.

As soon as I touched it, the sheath slid out of the ground.  The belt
was still wrapped around it, and no dirt clung to either of them.  I
touched the hilt again.  My arm tingled, but this time I was ready for
it, and I shoved the

sword back into the sheath.  Then I stuffed the sword belt under my
arm and started walking.  I was sure somebody must have noticed what
had just happened, and I didn't want to be around when they came to
find out what was going on.

I didn't stop again until midafternoon.  By then I was hungry as well
as tired.

I hadn't brought any food with me, and even if I'd known how to get
home it was much too late to go back for some.  I sighed and sat down
under another tree to rest and think, but I didn't get much thinking
done.  Mostly, I stared at the sword.

Finally, I gave up.  Sitting under a tree wasn't going to teach me
anything.  I stood up and buckled on the sword belt.  As I adjusted it,
my hand touched the hilt of the sword again.  Three little tingles ran
up my arm before I pulled my hand away.  I looked at the sword for a
moment, then shrugged and reached for the hilt with my right hand, as
if I were going to draw it.

As soon as my hand touched the hilt, I felt the tingling.  This time,
instead of letting go, I concentrated on the way it felt.  I got three
distinct impressions.  One was a low sort of background vibration, like
a kitten purring in its sleep; one was a deep rumble; and one was a
bright buzz, like a bee in a jar.  Almost as soon as I figured them
out, they started to fade.  In another minute they were completely
gone, and they didn't come back.

I took my hand off the sword's hilt, then put it back.  I didn't feel
anything.  I tried a couple more times, but whatever it was had
stopped.  Finally I gave up and started walking again.  I wasn't
getting anywhere trying to figure out the sword, and I had to find
somewhere to spend the night.

At least I didn't have to worry about giants; they live farther east,
in the Mountains of Morning.  It occurred to me suddenly that I didn't
know where I was.  I might be in the Mountains of Morning.  It wasn't a
particularly cheerful thought.  I started walking more quietly.

I'd been walking for nearly half an hour when I realized that I knew
where I was going.  Unfortunately, I didn't know where I'd be when I
got there.  It was very odd, and I was a little uneasy until I realized
that I didn't have to go that direction.  I could have turned around
and walked the other way, or gone sideways.  In fact, I did go sideways
for a while, just to prove I could.

After that I felt better, so I stopped avoiding whatever it was and
started walking toward it again.  I wasn't going to get anywhere if I
kept avoiding things, and I might miss something important.  Besides,
there isn't any way you can avoid everything in the Enchanted Forest.

This way, at least I knew something was coming.

I was still walking very quietly when I heard somebody crying.  I

headed toward the sound, wondering what I was getting myself into.

You can't just ignore things like that, especially in the Enchanted
Forest.  On the other hand .  . .

I stopped, staring at a thick, prickly hedge.  It was taller than my
head and impossible to see through, much less to shove through.  The
crying was coming from the other side.

I bent over.  The bushes were much too close together for me to crawl
through them.  I could make out sunlight and long red hair and a brown
tunic on the other side, but not much else.  I stood up and walked to
one side, looking for a thin spot in the hedge.  It wasn't long before
I realized I was going in a circle.  Terrific, I thought.  I bet it
goes all the way around without breaking.  I kept walking anyway, just
in case.

It didn't take long to make the full circle.  I bent over and peered
through the bushes again.  Suz might be able to get through, but I
never would.  I stood up and tapped lightly on the outside of the
bushes.

"Excuse me, please, but would you mind letting me through?"  I asked as
politely as I could.

The bushes rustled and pulled apart.  I stared at them for a minute.  I
hadn't really thought it would work.  The bushes rustled again.

Somehow they managed to sound impatient.

"Ah, thank you very much," I said, and stepped through.

The hedge closed behind me with a prim swish, and I looked around.

Inside the hedge was a circular clearing full of sunlight and the feel
of magic.

A red-haired girl in a brown tunic was lying at one side of the
clearing.  She sat up as I came in; her face was tearstained.

"Who are you?"  she demanded fiercely, as soon as she saw me.  "And
what do you want?"  She looked about my age, but I never have been very
good at guessing how old people are, especially people who aren't in
disguise or enchanted.

"My name is Daystar," I said.  "I heard you, um, crying, and I wanted
to see if I could do anything."

She looked at me suspiciously.  "You just walked through that hedge?

Ha!  I've been trying to get out of here all day.  It's not that
easy.

I bet you're a wizard."  I noticed some scratches on her arms and some
fuzzy places in the tunic where it might have caught on branches or
trees.

"I'm not a wizard.  Maybe it's easier to get in than it is to get out,"
I offered.

The red-haired girl sat back.  "That could be true," she said a little
less belligerently.  She eyed me skeptically, and I tried to look
trustworthy.

"Well, you don't look like a wizard," she said at last.  "Can you get
out again?"

"I don't know," I said.

"Well, try!"  she said.  "No, wait.  I'll stand next to you so I can
get out, too.  Then we'll both be rescued."  She jumped to her feet.

"What are you waiting for?"

"I'm sorry, but I don't really think I need to be rescued," I said.  "I
was looking for a place to spend the night and this seems pretty
safe.

I'm not sure I want to leave just yet.  Besides, I don't know anything
about you.

Maybe I don't want to rescue you."

"Oh, rats."  The redhead sat down again.  "I thought you might be a
hero.  You can talk them into anything.  Stupid creatures."

"Who are you?"  I asked.  "And why are you worried about wizards?"

"I suppose it won't matter if I tell you," she said after thinking for
a minute.  "They're chasing me.  My name's Shiara," she added.

"Wizards are chasing you?  More than one?"  I was impressed.  Wizards
usually don't cooperate much, even the ones who belong to the Society
of Wizards.  At least, that's what Mother always told me.  "What did
you do?"

Shiara hesitated, then threw her hair back over her shoulder with a
toss of her head.  "I," she said defiantly, "am a fire-witch."

You're a fire-witch?"  Well, she had the red hair for it, but that
doesn't always mean someone is a fire-witch.

She must have heard the doubt in my voice, because she scowled at me.

"I am a fire-witch!  I am!"

"I didn't say you weren't," I said hastily.  That only seemed to make
it worse.

"You don't believe me!  But I am so a fire-witch[ I am!  I am!"  By the
time she finished, she was shouting.  She glared at me, and her hair
burst into flame.

That settled it.  "I believe you, I believe you," I said.  "Uh,
shouldn't you do something about your hair?"

Shiara burst into tears and her hair went out.

I stood there feeling silly and useless.  Finally I remembered my
handkerchief.

Mother made me carry one all the time, even to chop wood, so I actually
had it with me.  I pulled it out and offered it to her.

After a couple of sniffs, she took it and mopped her face, but she
didn't say anything.

"I'm sorry," I said finally.  "I didn't mean to make you mad."

"Well, you did," she snapped.  She crumpled the handkerchief into a
little ball and threw it at me.

I caught it and stuffed it back into my pocket.  "I said I was
sorry."

"I can't help having a temper," Shiara said crossly.  "All fire-witches
do."

"Really?  I've never met one before.  I've met heroes and princes, but
no fire-witches.  Does your hair always do that when you get mad?"

"No," she said.  She looked Like she was going to cry again.

"Why are the wizards chasing you?"  I asked hastily, hoping it was a
safer topic.

"I burned the Head Wizard's staff," Shiara said matter-of-factly.

My jaw dropped about a foot.  A wizard's staff is the source of his
power, and furthermore, most wizards store spells in them.  Sort of an
emergency reserve.  A lot of the staffs get passed down from one wizard
to the next, accumulating magic as they go.  They're practically
indestructible.

Sometimes they get lost or stolen and then found in the nick of time
under peculiar circumstances, but I'd never heard of one being
destroyed before.

And the Head Wizard's staff .  . .

"You burned a wizard's staff?"  I managed finally.

"You bet."  Shiara's eyes glinted at the memory.  "He deserved it,
too.

But the rest of them got mad.  So I ran away while they were arguing
about what to do with me."

"And you came to the Enchanted Forest?  On purpose?  Isn't that a
little extreme?  I mean, you could get, well, enchanted.  Or killed or
something.

This place is dangerous."

"Having the whole Society of Wizards mad at you isn't exactly safe,"
she snapped.

I thought about it.  She was right.  "Why did you burn the Head
Wizard's staff?"  I asked after a minute.

"I didn't like him," Shiara said shortly.  I got the distinct
impression she didn't want to talk about it, so I decided to change the
subject again.  Besides, my feet hurt.

"Would you mind if I sat down?"  I asked.  "I've been doing a lot of
walking today."

"Go ahead."

I moved the sword out of the way and sat down.  This time I didn't fall
over the sheath; I was starting to get the hang of it.

Shiara saw the weapon and frowned.  "Are you sure you're not a hero or
an apprentice hero or something?"

"I don't think I am," I said cautiously.  "I'm not really sure."

"You're not sure?  Don't you know who you are?"

I blinked.  I'd never really thought about it that way.  "I know who I
am, "I said.  "I just don't know what I'm supposed to be doing.  Except
finding out what I'm supposed to be doing."

Shiara stared at me.  "I don't believe it.  Nobody comes to the
Enchanted Forest without some kind of reason."

"What's yours, then?  Besides running away from wizards."  I was
getting a little tired of people and animals and things not believing
me.

"None of your business!"  Shiara glared at me again.  Then she jumped
up and glared down at me.  "I want to leave," she announced.  "Right
now."

"All right," I said.  "But I thought you couldn't get through the
hedge."

Shiara stamped her foot, and a little flame flared up from it.  "I
can't!

Open it for me!  Right now!"  She was really mad, but at least this
time her hair wasn't burning.  I was glad.  Watching someone glare at
you with her hair on fire is a little unnerving.

"I don't want to open the hedge yet," I said reasonably.  "I don't even
know if I can.  Besides, it would be dangerous.  There are wolves in
this forest.  And it's getting dark.  There could be nightshades out
there already.

That may not bother a fire-witch, but-" "I hate you!"  Shiara cried.

She sounded like she meant it.

'Just because I don't want to get eaten by wolves or driven mad by a
nightshade or something?"  I said, puzzled.  "What's wrong with
that?"

Shiara just turned her back on me.  I watched her for a minute, then
sort of settled back on the ground.  Things were getting very
complicated.  I was lost in the Enchanted Forest, with no food or
water.  I had a magic sword I didn't want to use because it did strange
things to the ground.  In another day or so I would probably have a
wizard looking for me.  I didn't have any idea how I was going to
figure out why Mother wanted me to leave home.  And then there was
Shiara.

Fire-witches are rare.  Nobody can learn to be one.  You're either born
one or you're not.  They're very powerful.  They can burn anything, of
course, and fire doesn't hurt them at all.  Fire-witches can learn
almost any kind of magic there is.  They're immune to most spells, too,
which is why wizards don't like them.  Fire-witches can even summon
Elementals and get them to listen.  Well, sometimes.  And Shiara was a
fire-witch.  With enough power to burn a wizard's staff.  The Head
Wizard's staff.

I didn't think I wanted her to be mad at me.

I didn't know what to do about it, though.  I didn't even know what I'd
done wrong, and I wasn't at all sure what to do next.  What do you say
to a mad fire-witch?

Right about then I heard snuffling noises.  I looked up.  Shiara was
crying again.  I sighed and dug out my handkerchief.

"I don't mean to make you mad," I said as I watched her mop her face
again.  "I just keep doing it by accident.  It'd make things a lot
easier for both of us if you would tell me what I'm doing wrong so I
can stop."

Shiara looked at me over the top of the handkerchief, which was
starting to look sort of damp and wrinkled.  "You want to talk to me?

You're

not scared?"  She lowered the handkerchief and stared at me.  "You
mean it!"

"Of course I mean it," I said.  "Why shouldn't I?  And why should I be
scared?"

"I guess I'd better tell you," she said with a sigh.

3

In Which They Meet a Wizard and Get Wet The problem was, Shiara was a
fire-witch who couldn't do anything.  On purpose, I mean.  Things
happened when she got mad, and once in a while a spell worked for her,
but most of the time she couldn't make anything happen, which was why
she hadn't just burned her way out of the bushes before I got there.

She didn't have very many friends because everyone was afraid of her.

I could understand that.  I mean, with a temper like hers and no way of
telling what would happen when she lost it, people had reason to be
nervous.

On top of that, everyone kept telling her all the things she ought to
be able to do because she was a fire-witch.  Like not worrying about
nightshades.

That was why she got mad at me.  She was awfully sick of being told
what fire-witches could do, especially when she couldn't, and she
thought I was starting, so of course she lost her temper.

And then the Society of Wizards heard about this fire-witch who
couldn't cast spells or anything.  They decided it would be a great
chance to find out more about fire-witches, so a whole bunch of them
came and grabbed Shiara right out of the middle of town.  Shiara didn't
like it.  She liked it even less when she found out they wanted her to
stand in the middle of a circle of wizards while they threw spells at
her to see what would work.

"I said no," Shiara told me.  "And they said I didn't have any
choice.

That's when I burned the Head Wizard's staff.  I don't like wizards."

"I don't blame you," I said.

She nodded and went on, "Anyway, it turned out that the wizards had
brought me to the edge of the Enchanted Forest.  So as long as I was
here, I decided to see if there was somewhere in the forest I could
find out how to use my magic.  Only then I stumbled in here and I
couldn't get out.  I was afraid the wizards would catch up with me, and
I was tired and hungry and mad, and I couldn't make my fire magic work
enough to burn even a little hole in those bushes.  That's why I was
crying."

I wished she hadn't mentioned being hungry.  Until then I'd almost
forgotten that I hadn't eaten since breakfast.  But there wasn't any
food inside the hedge, and I wasn't going to try opening it.  I'd
already done enough experimenting for one day, and besides, it was
getting dark.

"Your turn.  What are you doing in the Enchanted Forest?"  Shiara asked
when I didn't say anything.

"I don't know," I said.

"How can you not know?"  she demanded.  "I told you why I came!"

So I explained about Mother and the wizard.  Shiara was very
interested.

"I want to meet your mother," she said.  "After I learn how to use my
magic.  Do you think she would teach me how to melt a wizard?"

"I don't know."

Shiara thought for a minute.  "I don't see how you can find out what
you're supposed to be doing just by wandering around the Enchanted
Forest."

"Well, you're planning to wander around until you find out how to use
your magic, aren't you?"  I said.  "I don't think I really see the
difference."

"I know what I'm doing," Shiara said.  "That's the difference."

"If you knew very much about the Enchanted Forest, you wouldn't have
gotten caught by this hedge."

Shiara scowled, then looked suddenly thoughtful.  "Is it more dangerous
to wander around the forest alone than with someone?"

"It depends," I said.  "Two people attract more attention than one, but
sooner or later everyone in the Enchanted Forest runs into something
dangerous.

And when you do get into trouble it's sort of nice to have someone
around to help."

"Why don't we stay together, then?  After we get out of this stupid
hedge, I mean.  As long as neither of us knows exactly where we're
going, we might as well wander in the same direction."

"All right."  It sounded like a good idea, especially since it's hard
to run into someone completely by accident in the Enchanted Forest.

Then Shiara made me describe Antorell in detail, and she decided that
he wasn't one of the wizards who had kidnapped her.  I wasn't sure
whether

that was good or bad.  Shiara was nice when she wasn't mad, and I was
beginning to like her.  But if we were going to stick together, we
would have two sets of wizards looking for us, and that didn't sound
too good.  Shiara was still curious, so I wound up telling her about
the sword and the lizard and everything.

"The Sword of the Sleeping King," she said thoughtfully when I
finished.

"Well, it sounds important.  Can you do that spell again?  I'd like to
watch.  Maybe I could figure it out."

"I could do it, but I won't," I said.  "Once was enough."

"You scared or something?"  Shiara said scornfully.

"I'm not scared, I'm being sensible.  That was no minor magic I set
off.

Are you trying to attract attention?"

"No, I suppose you're right.  Will you let me see the sword, at
least?"

"Sure, if you promise not to take it out of the sheath or say any
spells at it or anything," I said.  I stood up and started trying to
unbuckle the belt.  It was hard to do in the dark.  Finally Shiara got
tired of waiting and came and helped.  It still took a while, and my
elbows got in the way again, but finally we managed to get the sword
belt off.  Shiara took the sheath and squinted at the parts of the
sword that showed.

"I can't see anything," she complained.

"There isn't much to see," I said.  "Besides, it's dark.  Maybe we
should Wait until tomorrow."

"I wanted to see it now.  Oh, all right."  She handed it back, hilt
first.  I took it and nearly let go again right away.  The tingling was
back, the one that reminded me of a bee, and it was a lot stronger than
it had been before.

"Watch out!"  Shiara said.  "You almost dropped it."

"It's tingling again," I said.

"It is?  Let me see."  I handed the sword back, and Shiara touched the
hilt.  "I don't feel anything.  Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure."  I reached out and put my hand on the hilt, next
to Shiara's.

"Ow!"  I said, and Shiara went, "Oh!"  and we both dropped the sword.

We looked at each other for a minute.

"What did it feel like to you?"  I asked finally.

"Like something pulling at me."  Shiara eyed the sword warily.  "You
can have it back now.  I don't want to look at it anymore."

I picked up the sword and put it back on.  I still wanted to know what
it was doing, but I wasn't going to mess around with it in the dark.

Shiara and I talked a little, but we were both tired, and finally we
decided to just go to sleep.  We would have plenty of time to
experiment in the morning if we still felt like it.

Spending the night in the Enchanted Forest sounds awfully exciting,
but it isn't really.  Either you stay up all night so the wolves and
nightshades and things won't get you and they don't, or you fall asleep
and they do, or you find someplace safe and sleep there and never
know.

We slept all night-at least, I did-and when we woke up in the morning
the hedge was still there.

By that time I was really hungry, and since there wasn't anything to
eat inside the hedge I was ready to leave.  So was Shiara.  She was
still worried about the Society of Wizards.  We brushed most of the
moss off our clothes, and I checked the sword, just to be safe.

"Will you quit fussing with that and come open this stupid hedge?"

Shiara said.

I walked over to the bushes.  They looked very dense and very
prickly.

"Excuse me," I said to the hedge.  "I would like to thank you for
keeping the wolves and things out all night, and I would very much
appreciate it if you would let us through now."

"That's the dumbest-" Shiara began, and the bushes rustled and
parted.

I grinned and stepped through.  The branches shut behind me with a
snap.  "Ow!"  said Shiara.  I turned around.  She was still on the
other side of the hedge.

"What happened?"  I yelled.

"What do you think happened?  And you don't have to shout.  I'm not
that far away."

"Sorry."

"Make it open up again!"

"I'll try," I said doubtfully.  I addressed the bushes again.  "Excuse
me, but you seem to have a friend of mine inside, and she can't get
out.  Will you please let her through?"

The bushes rustled smugly and didn't move apart at all.  "I'd really
appreciate it if you would let her out," I said.  "She's nicer than you
think."

The bushes rustled again.  This time they sounded skeptical.  They
still didn't open.

"Well?"  said Shiara's voice.

I sighed.  "They won't open up.  I'm afraid you'll have to
apologize."

"Apologize?  To a bush?"  Shiara sounded outraged.  "I won't!  I'll
burn this hedge to cinders!  I'll-Ow?

"I really think you'd better apologize," I said.  "Otherwise you
probably won't get out before the wizards come."

There was silence for a while.  Finally Shiara said, "Oh, all right.

I'm sorry I said you were a stupid hedge."  She paused.  "Now will you
please let me through?"

Reluctantly, the bushes pulled apart.  Shiara sighed with relief and
stepped through.

She almost didn't make it.  The bushes closed again so fast they
caught a piece of her tunic.

"Hey!"  she said.  "Stop that!"

"I hate to mention this," I said as I helped Shiara work her tunic
free, "but you really ought to be more polite."

"To lizards and bushes?  Ha!"  She jerked her tunic free and glared at
the hedge.

"I mean it," I said.  "It only gets you into trouble when you're
not."

"I'm a fire-witch," Shiara said sullenly.  "People are supposed to be
polite to me."

"I thought you didn't like having everyone scared of you," I said.  I
turned to the bush.  "Thank you very much."

The branches rustled politely.  I turned back to Shiara, who was
watching me with her mouth open.  "If you act that way all the time, I
don't think people would like you much even if you weren't a
fire-witch.  Good-bye."  I turned around and started walking.

"Wait!"

I stopped.  Shiara ran up beside me.  "I-I'm sorry.  I guess I'm not
used to being nice to people."

"That could really get you in trouble in the Enchanted Forest," I
said.

Shiara looked back over her shoulder at the hedge and shuddered.  "No
kidding.  Well, I'll try."

"All right.  Let's find something to eat."

That was easier to say than do.  We found a bush that had some berries
on it, but half of them were blue and half were red.  I wasn't quite
hungry enough to take a chance on them, and neither was Shiara.

"If my fire magic doesn't always work, my immunity to magic might not
always work, either,"she said.  "I'd hate to turn into something awful
just because of a few berries."  I thought that was very sensible.  We
kept going.

Eventually we found a clearing full of blackberry brambles.  It was so
ordinary that it looked very odd sitting there in the middle of the
Enchanted Forest.  The berries were full of seeds, but we ate a lot of
them anyway.  I picked some extras and tied them up in my handkerchief
for later.  When we finished, we started walking again.

It wasn't a very exciting walk.  The trees didn't get any smaller, the
moss still covered the ground, and every once in a while there was a
peculiar bush growing next to one of the trees.  It would have gotten
boring if Shiara hadn't been there.  It was nice to have someone my own
age to talk to.  I'd never had any friends.  Most people don't want
their children getting close to the Enchanted Forest, so Mother and I
had never had any visitors except the princes and heroes and so on.  I
told Shiara about living at the

edge of the forest, and she told me about the town she lived in.  I
thought it was very interesting.

By the middle of the morning we were both hungry again.  Blackberries
don't stick with you for long.  We stopped and ate the berries I'd
saved in my handkerchief.  They were squashed and messy, but they
tasted fine.

When we finished, we walked some more.  It was a warm day, and by the
time we saw the stream we were both very thirsty.

"Water!  Oh, great!"  Shiara said as we reached the bank.  It was a
small stream, ankle deep and a little too wide to jump.  I could see
the pebbles on the bottom.  Shiara knelt on the bank and reached
down.

"Wait a minute?"  I said.  "You shouldn't just drink that.  You could
turn into a rabbit, or lose your memory, or disappear, or something."

Shiara looked at me.  Then she looked at the stream.  "I don't care,"
she said finally.  "I'm thirsty."  She leaned toward the water again.

"But what if-Watch out!"  I grabbed Shiara and pulled her away just as
a huge swirl of muddy water came rushing down the stream.  She
scrambled back and stood up, and we watched the stream for a minute.

It was now almost a river, deep and fast and angry.

Shiara looked at me.  "Thanks."

"You're welcome.  I guess we'll have to go back-" I started to turn
back toward the woods and stopped.  There was dark water on that side
of us, too.  We were standing on an island.  A very small island.  It
was getting smaller every minute.

I stared at the churning water, and my hand went to my sword.  I don't
know why-most swords aren't any good against floods.  As soon as I
touched the hilt I knew that it wasn't in the nature of this particular
stream to do this sort of thing.  I didn't know how I knew, but I was
sure someone was creating the flood.

Right about then I heard a chuckle.  Not a nice chuckle.  I was looking
around for the chuckler when Shiara grabbed my arm.  "Daystar!  Over
there?

I turned.  A man was leaning against one of the trees.  He had blue
robes and black hair, and he held a wizard's staff in one hand.  I
didn't like the way he was watching Shiara.

"Well, little fire-witch, I seem to have caught you again," he said.

"You leave me alone!"  Shiara shouted.  "Or I'll burn your staff,
too."

The wizard chuckled again.  He really had a nasty chuckle.  "Oh, I
don't think so.  I've taken precautions, you see."  He waved at the
water that surrounded us and smiled patronizingly.  "Or weren't you
aware that fire magic won't cross water?"

"Magic may not cross water, but we can," I said.  I was beginning to
share Shiara's dislike of wizards.  "Come on, Shiara.  It can't be very
deep."

"Where did you find the hero?"  the wizard asked.  Shiara just glared
at him.  The wizard laughed.  I didn't like his laugh any better than
his chuckle.

"I should give him something to do, don't you think?  A monster,
perhaps.

Heroes like monsters."  He waved his staff in the general direction of
the flooding stream.

The water on one side of our island bunched up and began to solidify
rapidly.  I didn't even have time to step back before the thing
finished growing.

When it was done, it looked sort of like a giant snake's head that
dripped.  The outlines kept changing because it was made out of water
that wasn't completely solid, but it was pretty clearly a snake.

It lunged at me.  I dodged, barely in time, and drew my sword.  Shiara
yelled, and steam puffed from the snake head.  The snake didn't seem
particularly hurt.  Some of the stream water bunched up around it, but
that was all.  I heard the wizard laugh again.

"I'm afraid that won't work very well, young lady," he said.  "You'd
have to boil the whole stream away to get rid of my monster, and I
don't think you can.  Pity, isn't it?  Be patient.  You'll have your
turn in another minute, and then the Head Wizard will owe me a
favor."

The head lunged again.  By now I was ready for it, but it was awfully
fast.  I dodged and struck at it with the sword, even though I wasn't
sure what good it would do me to wound something that wasn't even
alive.

The sword made a humming noise.  I heard the wizard shout, and then a
sound like an explosion.  The snake head made a bubbly noise and
collapsed in a wave of muddy water that swept over the little island
Shiara and I were standing on, soaking everything.  In another minute,
the flood water drained away, leaving a lot of wet moss.  And Shiara
yelled again.

I whirled around.  Shiara was pointing.  It took me a second to realize
what she was pointing at.  It was the big tree that the wizard had been
leaning against.  A couple of short branches were lying at the foot of
the tree.

The wizard was gone.

4

In Which They Learn the Perils of Inspecting a Wizard's Broken Staff I
stood where I was, panting, and dripping.  When I got my breath back, I
went over to the tree.  There was no sign of the wizard, except for the
"branches" I'd noticed.  There were three of them, and they weren't
branches.  They were pieces of a staff.

I looked at Shiara.  "That's two wizards' staffs you've broken.

They're really going to be after you now."

"I didn't break it," Shiara said indignantly.  "You did."

"I did not," I said.  We looked at each other for a minute.

"If neither of us broke it," Shiara said finally, "who did?"

"Me," said a voice.  I looked up.  A little man was sitting in the
branches of the tree.  He was about two feet tall and dressed entirely
in green.  His eyes were black and very bright, and his ears were
slightly pointed.  He had to be an elf.

"I think you mean 'I,'" I said automatically.

"I shouldn't wonder if you're right."  The elf tilted his head to one
side.

"Does it matter?"

"Can you get down from that tree?"  Shiara said.  "You're giving me a
crick in my neck."

The elf looked from me to Shiara and back to me again.  "Introduce me
to your charming companion."

"Oh, excuse me," I said.  I told the elf our names and thanked him for
taking care of the wizard.  I was a little curious about that.  I'd
never met an elf, but they didn't have a reputation for altruism.  I
wasn't sure I wanted to trust one, either.  Elves can be very tricky.

"You're welcome," the elf said.  "I've never cared much for wizards.

Unfortunately, it's very difficult to do anything permanent to them.

This one will be back in a day or two."

"If there is anything we can do for you in return, I would like to hear
what it is," I said.  If someone in the Enchanted Forest does you a
favor, you have to offer to do one for them.  Well, you don't have to,
but if you don't, things seem to go wrong a lot after that.  You have
to be careful, though.  If you promise to do a favor before you hear
what it is, you can end up in more trouble than you started with.  I
wasn't going to promise anything without finding out first what I was
promising.

"Consider the debt canceled," the elf said politely.  I thought he
sounded disappointed, and I didn't like the way he was looking at my
sword.  Suddenly I was very glad Mother had told me about making
promises in the Enchanted Forest.

"Thank you," I said.  "You did a very neat job."  He had, too; the
staff had been sliced cleanly into thirds.  I began to wonder how he
had done it.  I hadn't thought elves were powerful enough to break a
wizard's staff.  I didn't want to offend him by asking about it,
though.

"You may have the staff, if you want it," the elf said, waving at the
pieces.

"What good is a busted wizard's staff?"  Shiara asked.  "You can't do
anything with it."

"Nonsense," said the elf.  "Wizards' staffs are just as powerful in
pieces as they are whole, and they're fairly easy to put back
together.

Please, take it with you."

I didn't like the way he kept suggesting that, though it sounded
reasonable enough.  "Are you sure you don't want it?"  I asked
finally.

"What would an elf do with a wizard's staff?.  If you don't take it,
I'll just have to get rid of it somewhere."

That sounded reasonable, too, but I wasn't going to commit myself.  He
was too insistent.  "Thank you for the suggestion," I said.  "We'll
think about it."

"Do," the elf said.  His black eyes twinkled.  "Perhaps I'll see you
later.

Good-bye."  Before I could say anything he had disappeared into the
treetops.

Elves move very quickly.

"What was that about?"  Shiara demanded.

"I don't know about that elf," I said slowly.  "I think something
funny is going on.  He was trying too hard to get us to take that
staff."

"Well, we have to do something with it," Shiara said.

"Why?"  I said.  "We didn't break it.  And I don't want to mess with a
wizard's staff, even a broken one."

Shiara frowned.  I made a gesture toward the pieces and realized that I
was still holding the sword in my hand.  I started to put it back in
its sheath, then stopped.  The sheath was as wet as everything else I
was wearing.  I couldn't put the sword in that.  I mean, not all magic
swords are rustproof, and even if you have one that is, putting your
sword away without cleaning it is a bad habit to get into.  I checked
my pockets, just in case, but even my handkerchief was wet.

"Shiara, do you have anything-no, you wouldn't, you were in the middle
of that stream, too."

"What?  What are you mumbling about?"  Shiara said.

"I need something to dry off my sword," I said.  "Everything I have is
soaked.  But you're just as wet as I am .  . ."  My voice trailed off,
because right then I really looked at her, and she wasn't.  Wet, I
mean.  Her shoes were steaming a little, but her hair and her clothes
weren't even damp.

"Fire-witches dry off fast," Shiara said in a smug tone.

"Then can you give me something to clean my sword?"  I asked.

"Everything I have is soaked."

"What does that have to do with the wizard's staff?.  Oh, give it
here.

I'll fix it."  She held out her hand a little reluctantly.  I could see
she didn't really want to take the sword.  After what had happened the
last time she'd touched it, I couldn't blame her.

"That's all right, I'll do it," I said.  "It's my job.  All I need is
something dry to wipe it with."

Shiara glared at me.  "All I have is my tunic, and I am not going to
take it off just so you can dry your stupid sword!  If you won't give
it to me, it can rust."

My face got very hot.  "I, um, I'm sorry, I didn't mean .  . . I mean,
I "Oh, shut up and give me the sword."

I held it out.  Shiara took it a little gingerly, but neither of us
felt anything unusual.  While she wiped it dry on the front of her
tunic, I walked over to the stream.  I was pretty sure, now, that the
water was safe to drink.

I'd swallowed some of it when the wizard's wave hit me, and nothing had
happened to me yet.  I bent over and took a drink.

The water was clean and cold, with just a hint of lime.  It tasted
awfully good, though I prefer lemon-flavored streams myself.  I think I
like lemon because Mother and I got most of our drinking water from a
lemon-flavored

stream just inside the forest.  It was much nicer than the well water
we used for washing, even if it was more work to haul the buckets that
far.

Shiara came over just as I finished.  She looked at me for a minute,
then handed me the sword.  "Here."  I took it, and she sat down and
started trying to drink out of her cupped hands.  Most of the water ran
out, but she kept trying.

I stood holding the sword and wondering what I was going to do with
it.

I mean, walking through the Enchanted Forest with a sword in your hand
is just looking for trouble.  On the other hand, I couldn't put it away
until the sheath dried out, and that would probably take hours.

Shiara finished drinking and sat up.  "Now, what are we going to do
about that wizard's staff?"

Neither one of us wanted to take it with us.  Shiara suggested hiding
the pieces before we left, and finally I agreed.  We walked back over
to the tree.  I started to put my sword down, then changed my mind.

One of the easiest ways of losing important things in the Enchanted
Forest is to put them down while you do something else.  Then you have
to go to all the bother of finding whoever took your things before you
can get on with whatever you really want to do.  I shifted the sword
into my left hand and looked around for the nearest piece of staff.

"Daystar!  Come see!"  Shiara was waving a piece of the staff to
attract my attention.

"You really shouldn't do that," I said as I walked over.  "You might
set off a spell or something.  This used to be a wizard's staff,
remember?  We ought to at least try to be careful."

"Yes, but look what it did," Shiara said, pointing.  I looked down.

There was a brown patch in the moss, just the size and shape of the
stick Shiara was holding.  I bent over and looked more closely.  The
moss was so dry and brittle that it turned to powder when I touched
it.

"But this is the Enchanted Forest," I said to no one in particular.

"You aren't supposed to be able to do things like this."

"Well, this wizard's staff did," Shiara said.  "I bet it'll do it
again, too."

Before I could stop her, she laid the stick down on the moss.  She
picked it up almost immediately.  The moss underneath it was brown and
dead.

I stared.  "I don't like this," I said.  There aren't very many things
you can be sure of in the Enchanted Forest, but I'd never seen a dead
plant there, not even in the Outer Forest.  The whole place felt too
alive to put up with that sort of thing.  "I wonder if all wizards'
staffs do that."

"I don't know about other staffs, but we can check the other pieces of
this one," Shiara said.  She walked toward one of the other two
sticks.

I sighed and started for the last one.

"This one's the same," Shiara reported after a minute.  "What about
yours?"

"Just a minute," I said.  I bent over and picked it up in my right hand
....

When I woke up, Shiara was dripping water on my face.  "You can stop
now," I said.  "I'm wet enough already."

Shiara shook her head.  "Are you all right?  I mean, you're not
enchanted or anything, are you?"

I thought about it for a moment.  "I don't think so, but if I am, we'll
find out pretty soon."  I sat up and realized I'd been lying on the
moss at the foot of the tree.  "What happened?"

"How should I know?  One minute you were standing there with that
sword, and then there was some kind of explosion and when I turned
around you were lying here and that piece of the wizard's staff was
over there, burning.  I don't think anyone's going to put that staff
back together again.  It was the middle piece."  Shiara scowled.  "But
I think you were right about that elf."

"Where's my sword?"  I asked.  All of a sudden I was sure someone had
taken it while Shiara and I weren't paying attention.

"In your hand," Shiara said.  She sounded a little exasperated.  "You
wouldn't let go of it."

I looked down.  My left hand was still clenched around the hilt.  When
I relaxed my hand, the fingers started to tingle.  I'd been holding on
so tightly that my hand had fallen asleep.

Well, at least I hadn't lost it.  I started to shift the sword back to
my right hand, then stopped and swallowed hard.  The hand was burned
black.

I couldn't even feel it.  I looked away, feeling sick.  Shiara was
staring, too.

"Daystar, I didn't notice, I was so worried about waking you up I
didn't even see-" She stopped.  She tilted her head back until she was
looking up the tree trunk, and her eyes flashed.  "I'm going to find
somebody who can fix this," she said grimly.  "And then I'm going to
find that stupid elf and make him sorry he ever mentioned that wizard's
staff."  The way she said it made me very, very glad I wasn't an elf,
particularly the elf she'd be looking for.

"It doesn't really hurt or anything," I offered.  As soon as I said it,
my arm started to throb.  Not the hand; it was my wrist and arm that
hurt.  As far as I was concerned, that was more than enough.

"That's bad," Shiara said.  She looked worried.  "I know a little about
burns, from the times when I .  . . Are you sure you can't feel
anything?"

"Not in my hand," I said.  "And I'd really rather not talk about it.

It might help me not notice the way my arm feels."

"Well, let me look at it, then, and I won't have to ask questions,"
Shiara said.

I stuck my right hand out in her direction and stared at my sword for a
couple of minutes.  I didn't succeed in ignoring the sensations that
were coming from my arm, but I tried awfully hard.  Finally Shiara
said, "You can put it down now."  I looked back in her direction.

"It's bad," she said.  "I don't know what to do for it, either.  We
have to find help, and pretty soon, too.  There has to be someone in
this forest who knows something about healing.  Can you walk?"

"My legs are all right," I said.  I started to stand up and discovered
I was very dizzy.  I made it on the second try, but only by using the
sword as a prop.

Shiara picked a direction and we started walking.  After about twenty
steps I stopped worrying about which way we were going and concentrated
on walking and hanging on to the sword.  It was hard; I really had to
work at it.  I was still dizzy, and I was beginning to feel cold,
too-all but my arm, which felt as though it were on fire, and I
wondered whether the wizard's staff had done more than just burn my
hand.

I don't know how far we went before we stopped.  By that time, Shiara
was holding my good arm, trying to help me walk.  She couldn't help as
much as she might have, because she had to keep out of the way of the
sword.  As soon as we quit walking, I sat down.

"Daystar, are you sure you can't put that sword away yet?"  Shiara
asked.  "It gets in the way a lot."

"The sheath is still wet," I said hazily.

"Well, can we at least put the sheath in the sun so it'll dry
faster?"

I looked around, feeling sort of light-headed as well as dizzy.  On top
of everything I was getting thirsty.  "We can't do that," I said.  "The
cat has the only patch of sun around here."

"What cat?"

"That one."  I pointed at the large, dignified, black-and-white cat
that was cleaning its face in the middle of a puddle of sunlight.  It
didn't even strike me as odd that I hadn't noticed it until I started
talking about it.

Shiara turned her head.  As soon as she looked at it, the cat stopped
washing itself.  It stared at her for a minute, then stood up.  The tip
of its tail twitched three times, and it turned around and started
walking away.  After a minute, it stopped and looked back over its
shoulder.  It was obviously waiting.

Shiara jumped up.  "Come on, Daystar.  We're going to follow the cat.

I think somebody sent it."

"That doesn't make sense," I said, but I wasn't in very good shape to
argue.  Eventually, Shiara got me back on my feet.  The cat was still
waiting

for us, but as soon as we moved in its direction it started walking
again.  I decided Shiara was right and concentrated on walking.

I don't know how far we followed the cat.  It seemed like a long way,
but anything would have seemed like a long way at that point.  My arm
hurt, and every muscle in my body felt shaky.  I never quite dropped
the sword, but a couple of times I came close.  After a while I stopped
thinking about it.  Finally Shiara stopped moving.

"I was about ready for another rest," I said fuzzily.  "Is the cat
still around?"

"This isn't a rest," Shiara said.  "We're here."

I looked up.  We were standing in front of a neat gray house with a
wide porch and a red roof.  A wisp of smoke was coming out of the
chimney, and whatever was cooking smelled delicious.  Over the door was
a black-and-gold sign in block letters that read, "NONE OF THIS
NONSENSE, PLEASE."

I'm going to like whoever lives here.  I thought The door of the house
was closed, but the black-and-white cat jumped up on the porch and
scratched at it.  A moment later, the door swung partway open and the
cat disappeared inside.

5

In Which They Meet a Witch

We stayed where we were for a minute, waiting.  I don't think either
one of us really knew what to do next.  A few seconds after the cat
vanished, the door opened the rest of the way and the owner of the
house appeared.

She wore a very loose black robe with long sleeves and a small pair of
glasses with rectangular lenses.  She was considerably shorter than I
was, though she obviously wasn't a dwarf; she managed to look down her
nose at both of us anyway.  Standing on the porch helped, I think.

"It's about time you got here," she said.

"Do you know anything about healing?"  Shiara demanded.

"Of course I do, or I wouldn't have sent Quiz out to get you," said the
woman.

"Quiz?"

"The cat.  Do you plan to stand there all day?  I certainly can't do
anything for you while you're outside."

So we went inside.  The porch steps didn't creak.  Neither did the
porch, and the hinges of the door didn't squeak at all.  I didn't think
they would dare.

The inside of the house seemed to consist of a single large, airy room
full of cats.  I counted five before I stopped.  Several of the cats
had furniture under them, and there was a table in the middle of the
room and another door next to the stove in the corner.

The woman in the black robe shooed two cats off of chairs, and Shiara

and I sat down at the table.  Shiara looked at me.  "You can put that
stupid sword down now.  No one's going to take it."

"No."  I didn't know why I wanted to hold on to the sword, and I didn't
have enough energy to explain it if I had known.  I just knew I wanted
it in my hand.

"Sword?"  said the woman in black.  "Oh, that sword.  It's quite proper
of you to keep it for now.  If I may see your hand?"  She came over
next to me and examined my right arm while I carefully didn't watch.

Oddly enough, it didn't hurt when she touched it.  After a minute or
so, she nodded.

'Just as I thought.  This could have been very bad, but you got here in
plenty of time."  She went over to a cupboard by the stove and took out
a piece of something that looked like dried vine.  She brought it back
to me and tied it around my arm, muttering something as she did.

Suddenly my head wasn't fuzzy anymore.

"That should take care of things for the time being," she said, "and in
a little while I can take care of the magic.  Then we can pack the
burns with salve.  Would you like some cider while you wait?"

I nodded.

Shiara frowned.  "Can't you do anything right away?"

"I have done something," the woman said.  She set three mugs on the
table, all different.  "Several things, in fact.  I sent Quiz out to
bring you here, and I have stopped the damage from spreading.  I have
also made gingerbread, which should finish baking any minute now."

"Gingerbread?"  Shiara blinked.  "Daystar is hurt!  Why are you baking
gingerbread?"

"For you to eat," Morwen said.  "Why, were you expecting me to make a
house out of it?"

"Well, no, but-Oh, never mind the gingerbread!  How did you know to
send a cat out for us?  Who are you, anyway?"

The woman looked through her glasses.  "I know a lot of things.  I'm a
witch.  My name is Morwen.  And you?"  She stopped.  The cats looked at
us.

"Pleased to meet you," I said.  "This is Shiara, and I'm Daystar."

"why do we have to wait?"  Shiara asked again.

"Mixing magic and cooking is never a good idea," Morwen said.  "Don't
worry, the gingerbread won't take much longer."  She got out a large
jug and began pouring the contents into the mugs.  "There!"  she said
as she set the jug down.  "Help yourselves.  I'll be back in a
minute."

Morwen went over to the second door and opened it.  I got a glimpse of
a small yard with a square garden, a well, and two more cats.  Then the
door closed with a swish of black robe.  I stared at my mug, wondering
how I was

going to pick it up without putting my sword down.  Then I heard a
sniffle and turned my head.  Shiara was not crying.  Much.

"What's wrong?"  I said.

"It's all my f-fault!"  Shiara said miserably.  "If you hadn't been
with me, you wouldn't have run into that wizard at all, and if I hadn't
insisted on hiding that stupid staff, your hand wouldn't have gotten
.

. ."  Her voice trailed off into snuffles.  I sighed.

"If you want my handkerchief, you'll have to get it out yourself," I
said.  "And it's probably still pretty wet.  But you can have it if you
want it."

That made Shiara look like she was really going to burst into tears.

Fortunately, just then the door opened and the witch came back in.

When she saw Shiara, she set down the plants she was carrying and
produced a large black handkerchief from somewhere inside her sleeve.

"That is quite enough of that," she said, handing the handkerchief to
Shiara.  "It does nothing constructive, it makes everyone else feel
bad, and it is extremely self-indulgent.  Drink your cider.  You'll
feel much better."

Just then one of the cats made a loud noise, sort of a cross between a
purr and a meow.  "Good, the gingerbread is done," Morwen said.  She
got it out of the oven and gave us each a piece.  Shiara looked much
better by that time, even if she still didn't seem really happy.

Morwen put a large pot of water on the stove and then started sorting
through the plants she had brought in.  After a minute, she frowned.

"Two sprays or three?"  she muttered.  "I suppose I'd better look it
up."

She put the plants down and went out again.  A few seconds later, she
came back holding a book.  I saw a roomful of shelves behind her before
the door closed.

I blinked.  My head didn't feel fuzzy, but I was sure that a minute ago
that door had led out to the yard.  I looked around the room, but there
weren't any other doors, except the one we'd come in through.  Finally
I decided to ask.

"Excuse me, Morwen, but would you mind telling me where that door
leads?"

Morwen stuck a finger in the book and looked up.  "Wherever I want to
get to.  What good is a door if you can't get somewhere useful by
walking through it?  Within reason, of course."  She went back to the
book.

I thought about it for a minute.  Then I decided not to think about
it.

I was afraid it was going to make sense.  Instead, I looked at my cider
and gingerbread.  I was just about ready to put the sword on the floor
so I could eat when Morwen set the book down next to the plants and
looked over at me.

"Daystar, you aren't-Oh, of course, you're still holding the sword.

No, don't put it down yet.  This will only take a few more minutes."

She picked up a handful of plants.  "Come here, please, both of you."

We got up and walked over.  Morwen had me stand next to the stove,
holding the sword across the front of my chest so that the tip of it
rested on the pot of water.  Shiara was behind me, with one hand on my
right arm just above the dried vine.  It took a while before Morwen was
satisfied with our positions, but finally she stepped back.  "Very
good.  Stay just like that until I'm finished, please."

She reached inside one of her sleeves and brought out a silver knife.

She dipped the knife in the pot of water, then began muttering over the
plants she was holding.  Immediately, all the cats jumped down onto the
floor and formed a half-circle around the stove, with Morwen and Shiara
and me in the middle.  They just sat there with their eyes glowing and
only the tips of their tails moving, in tiny twitches.  Suddenly, there
was a sizzling noise from my right.  The water was boiling.

Morwen gave a shout.  Then she held the plants high over her head and
said loudly, 'By the darkness of the stone's heart, By the silence of
the sea's tears, By the whisper of the sky's breath, By the dawning of
the star's flame, Do as I will thee!"

Just as she finished she threw the plants into the boiling water.

A cloud of steam puffed out of the pot, smelling of herbs and magic and
gingerbread, and I sneezed.  The steam spread out around me and got
thicker.  It smelled more and more like herbs and magic and less and
less like gingerbread.  My right arm started to ache, and my left arm
started to tingle.  The ache got stronger, but it stayed where it was;
the tingle spread.  In another second or two I was tingling all over,
except for the arm that was aching.

By now the steam was so thick I couldn't see anything, but I could
still feel Shiara's hand and the vine Morwen had tied around my arm.

For what seemed like a long time, nothing else happened.  Then one of
the cats yowled.  I saw Morwen's hand, the one holding the silver
knife, come out of the mist.

"In the King's name!"  Morwen's voice said, and the knife cut the vine
from my arm and pulled it away.

My sword flashed once, very brightly.  Most of the steam settled on my
right arm and turned black.  The ache started to creep upward, and
something that felt like lightning or wind ran up my left arm and down
my right

one.  I heard Shiara gasp.  The black steam stuff dropped off my arm
into a slimy blob on the floor.  My right arm stopped hurting, and my
other arm stopped tingling, and everything felt normal again.  I let my
breath out and looked around.

Morwen was looking in my direction with an expression of extreme
distaste.  "That," she said, "was an exceptionally nasty wizard.  He
deserves what's coming to him."

"What's coming to him?"  Shiara asked hopefully.

"I don't know, but he certainly deserves it," Morwen said.  "Anyone who
would keep a spell like that in a staff..."  She shook her head and
looked down.  "I do hope it doesn't disagree with the cats."

I followed her gaze.  The cats had formed a small mob and were playing
with something I'd rather not describe in detail.  I looked up again
very quickly and took a step backward.  I bumped into Shiara and
remembered that Morwen had said not to move until she was finished.

"I'm sorry," I said to both of them.

"It's quite all right.  You can sit down again now," Morwen said.  "And
if you don't want to put your sword in your sheath, you can lean it
against the wall.  You won't need it for the time being."

I followed Morwen's instructions and sat down at the table again.  I
didn't realize until I reached for the gingerbread that although my
right hand felt better it didn't look any better.  I didn't have time
to worry about it, though, because Morwen was already standing by my
chair with some oily-looking salve and bandages.  She worked on my hand
while I ate gingerbread and cider left-handed.  We finished about the
same time, and I thanked her.

"You're welcome," Morwen said.  "Now, perhaps you would explain how you
got into such an uncomfortable situation?  I have a general idea, but I
would appreciate a few details."

I told her about the wizard and the elf, and then Shiara explained how
the staff had exploded.

"Of course the staff exploded!"  Morwen said severely.  "That sword
doesn't like wizard's staffs.  Next time, make sure it's sheathed
before you touch one."

"I knew it!"  Shiara said angrily.  "That elf was trying to get Daystar
hurt!"

"Not necessarily," Morwen said.  "He may simply have been trying to
make sure the wizard found you again.  If you'd taken the pieces of the
staff with you, the wizard would have had no trouble locating you once
he got himself back together, because the first thing he'd do would be
to look for

"If that elf wanted the wizard after us, why'd he get rid of the
wizard in the first place?"  Shiara objected.

"I doubt that he did," Morwen said calmly.  "It's more the sort of
thing the sword does.  I wouldn't depend on it in the future, though,
particularly since you still haven't learned how to use it properly."

I wanted to ask more questions about the sword, but I was pretty sure
Morwen wouldn't answer them.  "What if the wizard couldn't find his
staff when he came back?"  I asked instead.

"Wizards always know where their staffs are.  And it's almost
impossible to keep wizards away from their staffs for any length of
time.  One can slow them down a bit by putting the staffs somewhere
hard to get at, but they usually manage in the end."

"That's why Mother hid Antorell's staff2."  I said.

"I shouldn't wonder," Morwen murmured.  "Now, I strongly suggest that
you rest for a while, Daystar, and while you are doing so I will talk
with Shiara in the library."  She stood up and nodded to me.

Shiara frowned and opened her mouth to say something.  Then she looked
at me and seemed to change her mind.  "All right," she said.

Morwen went to the door, followed by Shiara and most of the cats.  It
was the room of books again.  Trying to be careful of my bandaged right
hand, I lay down on a bench that had had three cats on it before they
went into the library with Morwen.  I fell asleep almost immediately.

When I woke up, I could tell by the way the sunlight was slanting in
through the windows that it was late afternoon.  There wasn't anyone
else in the room, except for the black-and-white cat who had led us to
Morwen's house.  It was sitting in the middle of the table, washing its
tail.

"Hello," I said.  "And thank you very much for bringing Shiara and me
here."

The cat looked up briefly, decided I was uninteresting, and went back
to cleaning its tail.

I shifted a little; the bench was hard.  I felt much better than I had
when I lay down.  Then the back door opened-this time it was the door
to the yard-and Morwen came in.

"You're awake.  Good.  Shiara has been waiting for you."

I sat up just as Morwen saw the cat on the table.  She frowned at it.

"Child of Scorn," she said sternly, "you are not allowed on the
table."

The cat looked at Morwen.  Morwen looked at the cat.  After a minute,
the cat jumped down to the floor, where it did its best to pretend that
the floor was exactly where it had wanted to be all along.  Morwen
shook her head.

".... You'll have to excuse the Grand Inquisitor.  He knows he did me
a

favor when he brought you here, and he's inclined to take advantage of
it.  I would have sent Cass, but I was afraid you wouldn't pay
attention to her."

"Cass?"

"Cassandra."  Morwen nodded at a small gray cat that I hadn't noticed
before.  "She has much better manners than Quiz, but she tends to be
overlooked.

Nobody overlooks Quiz."

I studied the cats.  They both ignored me.  I glanced back at Morwen.

"I don't think I've thanked you yet for-for fixing my arm."  I wasn't
really sure what else to call whatever she'd done.

"Yes, you have," Morwen said.  "And if you insist on repeating
yourself, you'd better wait until you take the bandages off tomorrow.

Time enough for thanks if it's healed properly.  Not that I have any
doubts, mind, but it's better to be sure."

"All right," I said.  "Did you say Shiara was waiting for me?"

Morwen went over to the stove.  "Yes, I did.  She's out by the garden,"
she said over her shoulder.  She reached up and lifted a large kettle
down from a hook on the wall.

"Thank you," I said.  I got up and opened the back door.  There was a
room on the other side, with a bed and a large bookshelf and, of
course, a cat.  I shut the door and tried again.  This time I got the
library.  Morwen had more books than anyone I'd ever heard of.  I shut
the door and looked back at Morwen.

"How do I get out to the garden?"  I asked.

"Through the door," Morwen said without turning.  'Just be firm.

Sometimes it's a little contrary with strangers, but that won't last
long."

I turned back, wondering how to be firm with a door.  I opened it
again.  Still the library.  I closed it, wondering how long it would
take me to get to the garden.  I didn't really want to spend the rest
of the afternoon opening and shutting Morwen's door, but what else
could I do?  I sighed and opened the door again.

This time it worked: The door opened onto three steps going down into
the yard.  I went through quickly, before the door could change its
mind.  Shiara was sitting on a stone bench by the corner of the
house.

She looked a lot happier than she had earlier, but all she would say
was that she'd been talking to Morwen.

"She's been showing me some things," Shiara said.  "And she's going to
give me a kitten."

"That's nice," I said.  Actually, I wasn't sure it would be a good idea
to have a pet with us while we wandered around the Enchanted Forest.

On the other hand, if it was one of Morwen's cats, it could probably
take care of itself.

Shiara and I sat and talked for the rest of the afternoon.  I
discovered

that somehow she and Morwen had decided that we would be spending the
night here.  Shiara was very pleased about it.  Evidently Morwen had
promised to show her some interesting magic.  I wasn't sure we should
stay, even though I liked Morwen.  After all, neither of us had ever
met her before.  I had to admit, though, that it sounded a lot better
than sleeping out in the open.  We were still discussing it when one of
the cats came to bring us in to dinner.

6

In Which Daystar Makes a Mistake

Dinner was a stew that smelled and tasted awfully good, though it
didn't look like much.  Morwen had made a large pot of the stuff.  Half
of it she put in a big pan and set on the floor for the cats, and the
rest we ate.  By the time we'd finished, we had decided to spend the
night with Morwen and the cats.

I was a little worried, at first, about what to do with the Sword of
the Sleeping King.  I didn't want to leave it leaning up against
Morwen's wall all night.  Finally, I decided to keep it with me.  It
wasn't that I didn't trust Morwen, but Mother had given the sword to me
and it was my responsibility.

Once that was settled, I started wondering where Shiara and I were
going to sleep.

I shouldn't have worried.  Morwen had several extra bedrooms behind her
magic door, and she simply put each of us in one of them.  By that time
I was starting to wonder how many rooms she had in her house and where
she kept them all when they weren't needed.  That isn't the sort of
question you ask people in the Enchanted Forest, though.  So I
didn't.

Besides, I was tired again.  As soon as Morwen showed me to my room, I
stuck the sword under the bed and went to sleep.  I was pretty sure the
sword would be safe there.

I was right, too.  When I woke up in the morning, a cat was asleep on
top of it.

After breakfast, Morwen took the bandages off my hand.  The burns were
gone and it felt fine, but she examined it carefully anyway.  When she
was finished with my hand, she helped me get my sword belt on.  The

sheath was dry, so I put the sword back in it.  While I was doing
that, Morwen produced a couple of bundles and a small black kitten with
one white paw.  She gave Shiara the kitten and one bundle and turned to
me.

"This is for you," she said, handing me the other bundle.  "It should
make your travels a little easier.  Now, come outside."

She opened the front door and went out onto the porch.  I let Shiara
leave next and started to follow her, but one of the cats darted in
front of me and I nearly tripped.  I had to grab for the door frame to
keep my balance.

"Watch out!"  Shiara said, then, "Daystar!  What's the matter?"

I almost didn't hear her.  I was staring down at my sword.  My hand had
brushed it when I'd tripped, and I'd felt the tingling again.  Only
this time there was even more of it.  I reached over and took the hilt
in my right hand.  The rumbling tingle hadn't changed, but the buzzing
tingle and the purring tingle were considerably stronger than they had
been, and they'd been joined by a brisk vibration I hadn't felt
before.

I concentrated on the new feeling, trying to figure out where it had
come from, and found myself looking at Morwen.

I looked back at the sword.  I hadn't let go, and my arm was still
tingling.  I tried to pick out one of the other vibrations.  Suddenly I
was feeling mostly the purring tingle and looking out into the woods.

I blinked and tried again.  This time I got the buzz, and I was staring
at Shiara.

Suddenly I understood.

"It's magic!"  I said.

"Of course it's magic," Shiara said.  "Honestly, Daystar-" "No, I mean
that's what it does," I said.  "The Sword of the Sleeping King finds
magic!"

"Among other things," Morwen said in a satisfied voice.

"Finds magic?"  Shiara said skeptically.

"That's what the tingling is," I said.  I was completely sure of
myself, though I didn't know why.  "Different tingles mean different
kinds of magic, and the tingles get stronger when the sword gets closer
to the magic."  I looked at Shiara.  "No wonder it gave me such a jolt
when we both touched it at the same time."

Shiara had been reaching for the hilt, but she pulled her hand back
hastily.  "If the sword finds magic, how come I couldn't feel anything
until you touched it?  And if the tingles are the way it finds things,
why can't you feel them all the time?"

"I don't know," I said.  The tingling was fading again, the same way it
had when I held onto the sword before, so I let go of the hilt.

Morwen considered me through her glasses.  I couldn't tell what she was
thinking from her expression.  Finally she nodded very slightly.  "I
see.

There is considerably more to you than I had expected, Daystar," she
said in a thoughtful tone.

I was still trying to figure out what that statement meant when Morwen
turned away and said briskly, "However, it is time for you to be
going.

You see those two trees?  Walk straight between them and keep on until
you get to a stream, then follow the stream northward.  You'll get to
something eventually, and you should be able to figure out what to do
from there."

My eyes turned in the direction Morwen was pointing.  It was the same
way I'd been looking when I'd been concentrating on the purring tingle
from the sword.  I looked back at Morwen.

"Exactly," Morwen said.

"What?"  said Shiara.

"Let's go," I said.  I was feeling a little unsettled by the whole
thing, and I didn't want to talk about it anymore.  Shiara scowled, but
she didn't insist on an explanation.

We said good-bye and thank-you to Morwen and started walking toward the
trees.  Shiara carried the kitten for a while, but pretty soon the
kitten decided it wanted to walk.  We slowed down a lot after that,
until the kitten got tired enough to let Shiara pick it up again
without scratching her.

Shiara and I spent most of the walk talking.  I hadn't realized how
little she knew about the Enchanted Forest, and I wound up telling her
a lot of things.  Like about being polite to people and why you
shouldn't promise things without knowing what they are first.

Morwen hadn't told us how far away the stream was, and eventually I
started wondering how much longer it would take us to find it.  I was
also curious about where we were going.  Right about then, I noticed
that the trees we were walking past were larger than the ones I'd seen
the previous day.  At least, I thought they were larger.  I studied
them as we walked, trying to decide whether it was my imagination or
whether they really were larger.

I was just getting ready to mention this to Shiara when I heard a
cough.  I stopped and looked around.

"Ahem," said a voice.

This time I located the speaker.  It was the little gold lizard, Suz.

He was sitting on a branch at just about eye level, watching me.

"Oh, hello, Suz," I said.  Shiara looked around.  I nodded toward the
lizard and said, "Shiara, this is Suz.  You remember, I told you about
him.

Suz, this is my friend Shiara."

The lizard ignored the introduction and continued staring at me.

"Why," he demanded in an aggrieved tone, "didn't you tell me Cimorene
was your mother?"

"You didn't ask," I said.

Suz looked at me reproachfully.  "It would have saved me a great deal
of trouble if you'd mentioned it."

"I'm sorry," I said.  "I didn't know it mattered."

"You didn't?"  Suz ran down the branch and peered at me.  "No, you
really didn't!  How amazing.  I can't understand how it happened."

"What are you talking about?"  Shiara said.

The lizard appeared to see her for the first time.  He leaned outward
in Shiara's direction and I thought he was going to fall off, until I
saw that his tail was wrapped tightly around a sturdy twig on the far
side of the branch.

"You've brought someone with you?  Dear me, this will never do.  Who is
this?"

"I've already introduced you once," I reminded him.  "You weren't
listening."

"You did?  Yes, of course, you did.  How perfectly dreadful."  Suz ran
around the branch very fast, and for a minute I was afraid he was going
to try to stand on his tail.  If he did, I was sure he'd fall off,
because the branch wasn't very wide.

"What's so dreadful?"  Shiara demanded.  "There's nothing wrong with
me."

"No, of course, there isn't.  Oh, dear, Kazul will be terribly unhappy
about this."

"Who is Kazul?"  I asked.

Suz looked at me in astonishment.  "You don't know?  No, you don't.  I
haven't told you yet.  Kazul is who you're going to see."  He cocked
his head to one side as if that explained everything.

"Why should I want to see Kazul?"  I asked.  "And why should he care
about me, or Shiara, or anything?"

"She," Suz said.  "And of course you want to see her.  You have the
Sword of the Sleeping King, don't you?  I'm afraid she'll be dreadfully
upset if you bring someone with you, though."

"Well, I'm not going to leave Shiara alone in the middle of the
Enchanted Forest," I said firmly.

"No, no, you couldn't possibly do that," the lizard agreed.  "That
wouldn't be right at all.  Dear me, whatever are we going to do?"

"You don't have to worry about me," Shiara said indignantly.  "I'm a
fire-witch.  I can take care of myself."

"You are?"  Suz turned his head and looked at Shiara so intently that
his eyes crossed.  "You really are!  How convenient!  Everything's
quite all right, then.  Kazul won't mind a fire-witch at all."

"Who," I said very slowly and carefully, "is Kazul?"

The lizard stared thoughtfully at me for a long time.  "I don't think
I

ought to tell you any more," he said at last.  "You're quite safe, you
really are, but it wouldn't do at all for Kazul to lose her temper with
me.  Oh, dear, no."

"Quite safe?  In the middle of the Enchanted Forest, with wizards after
us?"  Shiara said sarcastically.  "You're crazy."

"I am?  No, I'm not at all!  How very rude."  He turned his back,
looking extremely offended.  Shiara stared at him.  As I said, an
offended lizard is an interesting sight.

I sighed.  "Shiara."

Shiara looked at me.  I just stood there.  After a minute, she looked
down.  "Well, it's dangerous to be out here, even if you do have that
stupid sword," she said defensively.  "What's wrong with saying so?"

"It wasn't very polite," I said.  "And you promised you'd try."

Shiara glanced up at me, then sighed.  "Oh, all right.  I'm sorry,
Suz."

The lizard twisted his head around.  "You are?"  He ran around the
branch again and peered at her upside down from underneath the limb.

"No, you're not at all.  How disappointing.  I accept."  He ran back up
on top of the branch.

"Accept?"  Shiara said.

"Your apology," the lizard said with dignity.  A dignified lizard looks
even odder than an offended one.

"Oh."  Shiara looked at Suz doubtfully.

"If you won't tell us who Kazul is, will you at least tell us how to
find her?"  I asked hastily.  I didn't want Shiara to say anything that
would offend Suz again, and she looked like she was going to.  Besides,
I was curious.

"You won't have any trouble," the lizard assured me.  "Just head for
the castle.  Kazul will-" He broke off in mid-sentence, staring at the
kitten Shiara was holding.  "What is that?"  he asked disapprovingly.

"A kitten," Shiara said.  "What does it look like?"

"You're sure it's under control?"  Suz seemed a little nervous.  I
looked at the kitten.  It was watching Suz with a great deal of
interest.

"What do you mean, under control?"  Shiara said.  "She's a perfectly
well-behaved kitten.  Morwen wouldn't have given her to me if she
wasn't."

"Cats are not-Did you say Morwen?"  Suz peered at Shiara.  "Yes, I said
Morwen.  Can't you finish a sentence?"

Suz ignored her.  "You've been to see Morwen?  I didn't know that.  Oh,
dear me, I must be dreadfully behind.  Why, all sorts of things could
be happening that I don't know about!  How perfectly dreadful.  I must
really get back to work at once.  Oh yes, indeed I must."

The lizard ran down the branch and disappeared behind the tree trunk.

"Wait a minute!"  I said.  I ducked around the back of the tree, but
Suz was

nowhere in sight.  I shook my head and went back to where Shiara was
standing.

"He's gone again," I said.  "And he still hasn't told me what castle
he's talking about."

"So what?  Nobody else has told us anything either."  Shiara glared at
the branch where Suz had been sitting.  "I don't think he's very
polite.  He didn't even say good-bye."

"He keeps going off like that," I said.  "I think that's just how he
is."

"Well, I can't say I'm sorry he left," Shiara said.  "Come on, let's
find that stream Morwen was talking about.  I'm thirsty."

We started walking again.  Shiara put the kitten down, and we took
turns keeping an eye on her.  She had a marvelous time jumping on
leaves and attacking bushes while Shiara and I talked about what Shiara
was going to name her.  Finally she decided on Nightwitch.  I didn't
think that was a very good name, but Shiara liked it, so I didn't say
anything.

By the time we found the stream, Shiara and I were tired and hungry as
well as thirsty, so we stopped.  We each took a drink, and then we sat
down and opened the bundles Morwen had given us.  Just as I had
expected, there were packets of food right on top-meat pies and apples
and gingerbread.

Shiara and I each ate some, and we gave one of the meat pies to
Nightwitch.

There was a little left over, so we wrapped it up and put it back in my
bundle before we started off down the stream.

We stayed as close to the bank as we could.  It's easy to get lost in
the Enchanted Forest, especially if you don't really know where you're
going.  If we got out of sight of the stream, we might never find it
again.

In a couple of places the trees grew in thick clumps, right up to the
water's edge, and we had to choose between wading and going around.  I
didn't like the dark look of the forest near the tree clumps, and the
water was only ankle deep, so we waded.  Nightwitch did not approve.

The forest got darker as we went along.  I was sure, now, that the
trees were bigger, and they were certainly closer together even when
they weren't growing in tight clumps.  We spent more and more time in
the stream, but the water wasn't very cold and the pebbles on the
bottom were smooth, so it wasn't particularly unpleasant.  Even so, I
was glad when the woods started to open up again.

Then I saw the clearing a little ahead of us.  A minute later, I saw
the person sitting in it.

She was a princess.  She had to be.  Her hair was long and golden and
not tangled at all, and her eyes were very blue, and her skin was very
white, and she was very, very beautiful.  One dainty foot was peeping
out from

under her blue silk gown.  Her hands were folded in her lap, and she
was looking at them with a sad expression.

Shiara poked me.  I realized that I was standing in a stream with my
shoes in one hand and Morwen's bundle in the other and my mouth hanging
open.  I swallowed and waded over to the bank.  I wanted to put my
shoes back on before we got any closer.  I had seen at least two
princesses before, that I knew of, but both of them were enchanted and
hadn't looked at all like their usual selves when I met them.  When I
finished with my shoes, the Princess was looking in our direction.

I stood up hastily and hurried toward her.  Shiara followed.  As soon
as I was within speaking distance, I stopped and bowed.  The Princess
smiled sadly.

"I bid you such poor welcome as I may," she said in a musical voice.

"Alas!  That I can offer you no refreshment.  For I am in great
distress."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said.  "Is there anything I can do to
help?"

"I fear not," said the Princess.  "For you are as yet a youth.  Alas!

and woe is me!  For I am in great distress."

"All right, all right.  So tell us about it," Shiara said.  She sat
down on the ground and looked at the Princess expectantly.

I frowned.  I didn't think that was the proper way to address a
princess, though I wasn't positive.  Mother had taught me a lot more
about dragons than she had about princesses.

"You are kind to inquire of my sad tale," the Princess said.  "It is
not long to tell.  My father was a king, much beloved of his people,
and I his only daughter.  Being lonely after my mother's death, my
father remarried, to a woman comely but proud, and under her influence
have I suffered these seven years.  And now the King my father is dead,
and my stepmother hath cast me out, to wander alone and friendless
through the world.  Alas!

For I am-" "In great distress.  We know.  You said that before," Shiara
said.  "Why didn't you throw her out when your father died?  It would
have saved you a lot of trouble."

The Princess's blue eyes filled with tears and she bowed her head.

"'Twas not within my power to work harm against her, alas.  And now I
seek some prince or hero who will take pity on my destitute state and
return me to my proper place.  Woe is me!  That I should be without
help in such distress."

"Sounds like a lousy excuse to me," Shiara muttered under her breath.

Fortunately, the Princess didn't hear.

"I'm afraid we can't help you get your kingdom back," I said.  "I'm
very sorry.  But if there's any other service I can do for you, I'd be
happy to

"Daystar?"  Shiara's voice was horrified, and suddenly I realized what
I'd said.  I swallowed.  At least I'd only promised to try.

"There is one thing," the Princess said.  She raised her head, and her
eyes were very bright.  I went cold.  The Princess smiled sweetly.

"Give me your sword," she said.

7

In Which There Is a Good Deal of Discussion I stared at the Princess.

Then I shut my mouth and swallowed again, hard.  Mother isn't going to
like this at all, I thought.  I was just about to draw the sword and
give it to her when Shiara said, "Wait a minute, Daystar."

I stopped and looked at her.  She looked at the Princess.  "Daystar
hasn't got a sword."

"What?"  the Princess and I said at the same time.  The Princess
frowned.  "I am not blind, to be so easily deceived.  See, there it
is."  She pointed to my scabbard.

"That," said Shiara triumphantly, "is the Sword of the Sleeping King.

So it belongs to him, not to Daystar, and Daystar can't give it
away."

The Princess looked very puzzled.  I thought for a minute.  Shiara was
right, but she was wrong, too.  I mean, it was obvious what the
Princess had meant, even if she hadn't said it right.  I sighed and
reached for the hilt.

Shiara turned on me.  "Daystar, what are you doing?"

"Giving her the sword," I said, tugging at it.  The sword wouldn't come
out of the sheath.  "You know as well as I do what she meant."

"Well, if all those wizards and sorceresses can be picky about the way
people say things, why can't you?"  Shiara was so mad I expected her
hair to start burning any minute.  "You can't even get it out of the
sheath!  You only said you'd try to do what she wanted.  Well, you've
tried.  Isn't that enough?"

I sighed.  "I'm sorry, Shiara, but it's my sword, and I'm not a
wizard.  I just have to do it."

"Daystar, you .  . . you .  . ."  Shiara gave up and just glared.

I tugged at the sword again, and Shiara turned her back.  The Princess
still looked puzzled.  I shook my head and unbuckled the whole sword
belt.  I stared at it for a minute, then held it out toward the
Princess.  "Here.  Take it."  My voice seemed too loud, and I realized
that the woods had gotten very quiet.  The Princess smiled and took
hold of the scabbard.  I let go of the sword.

There was a rumbling noise, and the Princess said, "Oh!"  very loudly
and dropped the sword belt.  The point of the scabbard hit the ground,
and there was another rumble, and an enormous geyser of water shot up
into the air.

I saw the Princess cringe, and Shiara fell backward.  Then I couldn't
see anything but white spray.  A voice said, "All hail the Holder of
the Sword?

The words echoed hollowly around me as the fountain vanished.

Shiara and the Princess were both staring at me, wide eyed.  All of us
were dripping.  The sword was standing upright in front of me, in the
middle of a pool of water about four feet across.  It was about halfway
out of the sheath, and the blade shimmered in the sun.

The Princess burst into tears.  "I knew not that this weapon was of
such potency," she said between sobs.  "Alas!  For I cannot hold the
sword, and who now will be my help?  Alas, and woe is me!"

"You mean you don't want the sword anymore?"  Shiara demanded.

The Princess nodded.  She was weeping too hard to say much.

"And Daystar can have it back now?"

The Princess nodded again.  She was still weeping.

I sighed and dug out my handkerchief.  It was wet.  I squeezed it out
and offered it to the Princess anyway.  She took it without thanking me
and cried some more.

"What am I to do?"  she kept saying.  "Who now will be my help?

Alas!

For I am in great distress!"

"Oh, help yourself," Shiara said crossly.  "Daystar, are you going to
take that stupid sword?"

I hesitated, then reached out and took hold of the hilt.  The blade
flashed once, and a brief shock ran through me as the hilt came to
rest.  I ignored the feeling and pulled at the scabbard.  It came free
almost at once, and the water closed silently behind it.  I took a
closer look at the bottom part of the sheath.  I wasn't even surprised
when I saw that it wasn't wet.

I looked up.  The Princess had just about stopped crying.  I looked
at

the sword.  Then I looked back at the Princess.  "Are you sure you
don't want this?"  I asked finally.

"Daystar!"  Shiara sounded like she wasn't sure whether to be mad or
horrified.

The Princess didn't seem to hear her at all.  "I cannot take it!"  she
cried.  "Oh, indeed, I cannot!  Alas!  That I am so helpless in my time
of need!"

"Well, if you didn't want the sword, why did you ask for it in the
first place?"  Shiara said angrily.

"I fear I have deceived you," the Princess said tragically.  "Yet I
myself have been misled.  Alas!  I beg of you, forgive me!  For indeed,
I am-I am in great distress."

"Distress?  Ha!"  said Shiara.  "You better tell us the truth, right
now, or you'll find out what distress is."

"Shiara-" I began.

Shiara turned.  "You shut up.  You obviously don't know anything about
handling princesses, so let me do it.  Now," she said to the Princess,
"explain.

And it better be good."

"I am a king's daughter," the Princess said.  "My father would have me
wed the prince of a neighboring kingdom, to bring us wealth.  Yet I
could not, for I love not him but another.  My father listened not, for
all my pleading, so my love and I fled into the forest.  We wandered
far, and great was our suffering, yet we were happy, for we had each
other.  But I, being unused to travel, became tired, and my love at
last set me here and bade me wait for him.  And here have I stayed
these two long days, and I fear me some evil may have befallen him.

Alas!  That we are parted!"

"What," said Shiara, "does all this have to do with Daystar's sword?"

The Princess sighed again.  "I was seated here, as you see me,
bewailing my bitter fate, when lo!  a man appeared, most wise and
powerful of aspect.

He told me my love was imprisoned by a mighty sorceress, and at that
news I wept bitterly.  Then he bade me desist from my grief, for the
means of delivering my love was at hand, to wit, a sword most
magical.

And he himself made promise of aid, if I would but attain the sword.

And this have I attempted, and I have failed.  Alas, and woe is me!"

"I don't think I understand," I said.  "Why didn't you tell us this to
begin with?"

The Princess began to weep again.  "My unknown friend instructed me in
what I was to say and told me that all would be well once I had the
sword in my own hands.  And in this he deceived me, for the touch of
the sword burned so that I cannot hold it.  And the cause is that I
deceived you, and tricked you into offering me the sword, and the sword
knew, and it will not abide in my hand, and now am I utterly without
hope."

"What did this person look like?"  Shiara asked unsympathetically.

"The one you were going to give the sword to."

The Princess seemed a lot more interested in explaining how wise and
powerful and helpful the man had been than she was in giving a simple
description, but eventually we managed to get some idea what he looked
like.  Tall, dark haired, blue eyed, and carrying a staff"It sounds a
lot like Antorell," I said finally.

"Antorell?"  Shiara asked.

"The wizard that Mother melted.  She said he might try to make trouble
for me in a day or two."

"Oh, great.  All we need is another wizard looking for us."

The Princess didn't seem to be following the conversation at all.

"Alas!"  she said finally.  "There is nothing left for me but grief.  I
have no means now to save my love, so I shall die with him.  I shall
fling myself in yonder stream and make an end."

"You are even dumber than Daystar," Shiara informed her.  "That stream
isn't deep enough to drown in.  You'll only get wet.  Besides, if that
stupid wizard lied about the sword, how do you know he didn't lie about
your love?  Who is this person you ran off with, anyway?"

"He is a knight," the Princess said, her eyes lighting up.  "Poor in
goods, yet rich in spirit, of most pleasing aspect.  His eyes are a
hawk's, his arms are mighty, and his sword is bright and-" "He sounds
like he can take care of himself," Shiara said.  "I don't think you
have to worry about him."

Shiara's words had a marvelous effect on the Princess.  "Truly, you
believe this?"  she said, and her face lit up even more.  "Then here
will I await his coming, for surely he will return to me.  Ah, joy!

That we shall soon be once more together!"

Shiara looked disgusted.  "I'm sure you'll be very happy.  Come on,
Daystar, let's go."  She stood up.

"I don't think we should leave her here by herself," I said.

"Daystar, you're impossible!"  Shiara was still mad.  "She tried to
trick you!  Besides, she's been here two days already, and nothing's
happened to her yet."

"Alas!  I did indeed attempt to deceive you," the Princess said.  "And
for that I beg forgiveness.  Yet consider my unhappy plight, and be not
harsh with me."

"Oh, shut up," Shiara told her.

"What if Antorell comes back?"  I said.  "Somebody ought to take care
of her.  Besides, I made a promise."

"Well, I didn't!"  Shiara said.  "And I'm not going to sit here doing
nothing just because of a stupid princess!  I'm leaving."

"You can't do that?"  I said.  I was really upset.  Shiara didn't know
very much about the Enchanted Forest, and she was going to go tramping
off into the middle of it with no one but Morwen's kitten.  I couldn't
let her do that, but I couldn't leave the Princess sitting there alone,
either.

"Want to bet?"  Shiara said.  She picked up the bundle Morwen had given
her.  "Come on, Nightwitch.  Let's go."

"Nightwitch?  What an unusual name for a cat," said a new voice.

Shiara stopped and both of us turned.  An old man was standing at the
edge of the clearing, in front of a clump of scruffy lilacs that were
almost tall enough to be considered trees.  His beard and what was left
of his hair were quite white, and he was stooped over and leaning on a
staff.  Even without the way my skin prickled, I knew he was a
wizard.

The Princess was the first to recover from the surprise of seeing him
there.  "Ah, sir, have pity on my sad state!"  she said.  "Have pity,
and if you have seen a knight, bright armored, hawk eyed, most fair and
pleasing in speech and semblance, then tell me speedily where he may be
found.  For he is my love, and we are parted, and thus am I in great
distress!  Alas?

"That's quite all right, my dear," the wizard said in a kindly tone.

"You've nothing to worry about.  In fact, he should be here before very
much longer.  That's why I hurried.  Just sit there and wait quietly,
like a good girl."

"Oh, joy!  Oh, bliss!"  said the Princess rapturously.  "To be with my
love again?  She started happily explaining how strong and handsome and
generally wonderful her missing knight was.  Since she didn't seem to
be speaking to anyone in particular, the rest of us ignored her.

Shiara, Nightwitch, and I were edging backward.  I had my right hand on
the hilt of my sword, and my whole side was tingling with the feel of
the wizard's magic.  The wizard noticed us and smiled.

"Take your hand from your sword," he said, looking at me.  "I am not
here to engage in a vulgar physical contest with you."

"Are you from the Society of Wizards?"  Shiara demanded.  Her voice
sounded a little shaky, but I don't think anyone who didn't know her
would have noticed.

"No," the wizard said.  "Why?  Are you looking for one of them?"

"Then why are you here?"  I said.

"Why, to assist you," the wizard said.

"Assist us?"  Shiara said.  "But you're a wizard!"

"I am not at all concerned with your baseless prejudices," the wizard
told her.  "I have come to offer to help your companion, and I will
thank you to cease interfering."

I stared at him.  "I don't want to be impolite," I said before Shiara
could say anything else, "but why do you want to help me?"

"Why, because you deserve it, of course," the wizard said.  "You made
a foolish promise to this other young lady," he went on, nodding toward
the Princess, who was still talking to the air.  "You could have gotten
out of it several times, but you refused to behave dishonorably.  I
think that is deserving of a reward."

"Thank you very much," I said.  I didn't really know what else to
say.

After all, there are people in the Enchanted Forest who go around
rewarding heroes and princes for noble deeds.  Why else would all those
heroes come here?

"Well, what would you like?"  the wizard said after a moment.

"Like?"

"As a reward."  He sounded a little impatient.

I thought about it for a moment.  "I appreciate the offer," I said
finally.

"But I really don't need anything.  Thank you very much all the
same."

"What?  Isn't there anything you want?"  he asked sharply.  He didn't
look nearly as friendly as he had at first.

"No, I don't think so," I said.

For a moment the wizard looked very disconcerted.  Then he seemed to
relax a little.  "Perhaps I did not make myself clear enough," he
said.

"You need not ask for something material.  Information will do just as
well.  The word for sorcery in the tongue of the giants, or the
location of the Well of Silver Storms, where the unicorns drink.  There
must be something you want to know, even if there is nothing you want
to have."

The only thing I wanted to know was what I was supposed to do in the
Enchanted Forest.  Somehow, I didn't think Mother had told him.  "No,"
I said.  "I don't think there is anything."

The wizard looked at me, and his eyes narrowed.  "Come, come!  You need
to know the name of your father, do you not?"

"No," I said, puzzled.  I'd wondered about my father a few times, but
I'd never asked Mother about him.  She would have told me if she'd
thought I ought to know.  And I certainly couldn't think of any reason
why I needed to know.  "Why should I?"

"You're looking for him, aren't you?"  the wizard snapped.

"No, not really."  That might be one of the things Mother wanted me to
do, but it certainly couldn't be the only one.  Furthermore, I couldn't
see how knowing his name would help much, even if I were looking for
him.  In the Enchanted Forest, looking for someone usually isn't the
best way of finding him.  You're much more likely to run into people by
accident.

"You aren't?  Then you must know!  She told you!  Who is it?"

"I thought you were going to tell Daystar that," Shiara said.  "Don't
you know?"

"Silence, fool!  I have waited too long for this."  The wizard turned
back to me.  "You will tell me now or regret it deeply: Who is your
father?"

"I don't know," I said.  "And if I did, I don't see why I should tell
you."

"There are other ways of learning what I wish to know," the wizard
said.  He straightened abruptly.  The Princess squeaked and fell
silent.

Nightwitch hissed.  Shiara started edging backward again.  And the
wizard changed.

He got a little taller and a lot younger; his beard and hair darkened
and filled in.  His eyes changed from brown to blue, but they still
glared.

"Antorell!"  I said, and drew my sword.

The steel rang as it came out of the sheath, and the blade shimmered
and flashed in front of me.  It made the whole clearing seem
brighter.

Antorell's lips curled into a sneer.

"Fool!  What use is a sword against a wizard?"

He raised his staff, and a globe of green light appeared at the lower
end of it.  A thread of green, dark and bright as the shine of a snake,
reached out toward me from the staff.  I raised the sword.

The green light touched the Sword of the Sleeping King.  The sword
hummed a little and the ray of light vanished, and that was all.

Antorell frowned, and another, larger ray of green reached out.  This
time, the humming was a little louder, and the light around the end of
Antorell's staff vanished, along with the ray touching the sword.  The
jangling feeling lessened a little.  I was considerably relieved.

Antorell looked shocked.

"You cannot!  Not possibly!  That sword can't .  . ."  His eyes moved
to my face, then back to the sword, and he took a deep breath.  "So!

She must have known all along.  But now I will have that weapon.  I
must have that weapon!"" "No," I said.  "Mother wouldn't like it."

Antorell's eyes narrowed.  "Cimorene has had her way long enough.  If
you will not give me that sword, I will take it."  He started to raise
the staff again.

The lilacs behind Antorell rustled noisily, and the wizard shifted.

"You, there?  he called over his shoulder.  "Show yourself at once!"

"Ach-ach-" said someone behind him, and the tops of the lilacs rustled
again.  I looked up at them, wondering how tall whoever-it-was was.

The branches that were rustting were a good ten feet off the ground.

Antorell frowned and turned around, raising his staff.  "I will teach
you to interfere-" The angry look on Antorell's face changed abruptly
to one of mingled surprise and fear.  He stepped backward very quickly
and waved his staff through the air in front of him.

"Achoo!"  said the voice, and an enormous ball of fire demolished the
lilacs and enveloped Antorell.  The wizard screamed and disappeared,
and we could see the person who had been behind the bush.

It was a dragon.

8

In Which They Meet Their First Dragon It was about twelve feet tall,
which is not very large, as dragons go.

But it was definitely a dragon.  It sneezed again, which took care of
the remains of the lilac bush, and slid forward over the ashes into the
middle of the clearing.

The Princess fainted.

I put my sword away.  Walking through the Enchanted Forest with a drawn
sword is bad, but talking to a dragon with a sword in your hand is much
worse.  Fortunately, the dragon hadn't noticed it yet.  As soon as the
sword was sheathed, I looked up again, and my stomach went hollow.

The dragon was eyeing Shiara, and I didn't like the gleam in its
eyes.

I didn't like the militant way Shiara was glaring back, either.  There
wasn't very much I could do, though.  You just don't interrupt a dragon
when it's busy with something else.  They don't like being
distracted.

The dragon slid closer and bent its head until it was staring at Shiara
from about a foot in front of her face.  Shiara jumped.  The dragon
blinked.

"Are you a princess?"  it asked hopefully.

"No.  I'm a fire-witch," Shiara said.  "And if you bite me, I'll burn
your nose off."

"Oh.  I thought you were a princess."  The dragon lost interest in
Shiara.  It looked around the clearing again and saw me.  Its head
moved over in my direction.

I bowed.  "Sir or madam," I said, trying to recall all the proper ways
of

addressing a dragon, "I offer you greetings in the name of myself and
my companions, and I wish you good fortune in all your endeavors."

"I beg your pardon?"  said the dragon.  Its voice reminded me of one of
those wooden wind instruments, the deep kind that you have to stand on
a chair to play.  It eyed me doubtfully.  "Are you a princess?"

"I-" I stopped and stared.  Dragons just don't beg people's pardon.

Then I realized that this must be a very young dragon, and I relaxed a
little.

Dragons don't usually insist on formality until they get old enough to
decide which sex they're going to be.  "I'm very sorry, but I'm afraid
I'm not a princess.  My Name is Daystar, and I'm very pleased to meet
you."

The dragon sat back.  "I had no idea princesses were so hard to
find."

It blinked and seemed to look at me for the first time.  "I'm sorry I
burned your bush, but I couldn't help it."

"Oh, please don't worry about it," I said.  "It really doesn't matter
in the least."

"It was the wizard," the dragon said confidentially.  "I'm allergic to
them.  All dragons are."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said.

The dragon looked at me.  "You're very polite, Daystar."  Its head
swiveled back toward Shiara.  "Say-you weren't polite at all!"

Nightwitch poked her head out from behind Shiara's ankle and hissed.

The dragon started and then peered down at the kitten.  "You aren't
polite, either," it said.

I nudged Shiara.  "Offer to do something for him," I hissed.

"What?  Why?"

"If you insult a dragon, you have to do him a favor," I said.  "Hurry
up!"  If she didn't say something quickly, the dragon would probably
eat both of us.  Unfortunately, the dragon might eat Shiara anyway.

The favor most dragons want is dinner.  I couldn't tell Shiara that,
though, without offending the dragon.  I wondered whether I could talk
the dragon out of eating us, if it came to that.  I didn't think so.

Dragons are stubborn.

The dragon's eyes glittered.  Shiara looked at it.  "Can I do anything
for you?"  she asked finally.  She sounded a little sullen, but dragons
aren't very good at tone of voice.  Besides, it's the offer that
counts.

"Find me a princess," the dragon said promptly.

I breathed a very quiet sigh of relief.  I didn't think there was a
polite way to kill a dragon, and I hadn't been able to think of any
other way of stopping it from eating Shiara and me if it wanted to.  It
was nice to know I wouldn't have to try.

"You want a princess?"  Shiara looked thoughtful.  "Why?"

"Dragons are supposed to have princesses," the dragon explained.  "I
can't be considered a proper dragon until I have one.  But I've been
looking

for two days, and I haven't seen even a smell of a princess, and I'm
tired of it.

So you do it."

"You aren't going to eat her or anything, are you?"  Shiara asked.

"Eat her?"  The dragon sounded horrified.  "And waste a perfectly good
princess?  Of course not!  There aren't enough of them to go around as
it is.  What kind of barbarian do you think I am?"

"Well, I've never met a dragon before," Shiara said.  "How was I
supposed to know?  I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"All right," said the dragon.  "But you have to get me a princess.  It
doesn't have to be a large one."

"Do you want any particular kind of princess?"  Shiara asked.  "I want
to be sure you'll be satisfied."

"Oh, young and beautiful, of course," the dragon said.  "Are there
other kinds?"

"There are enchanted princesses," Shiara pointed out.  "Especially
around here."

"That's right.  Say, maybe that's why I haven't found one!"

"I wouldn't be surprised," Shiara said.  "But will you take an
enchanted princess?"

The dragon thought for a minute.  "No, I don't think so.  Spells make
things too complicated."

"And does it matter how long it takes me to find her?"  Shiara went
on.

The dragon considered.  "I don't want to wait too long, but I really
don't want to be unreasonable, either.  How about a week?  You bring
the princess here by a week from today, otherwise you owe me another
favor."

It licked its lips with a long red tongue.

"That sounds reasonable," Shiara said.  "But what if I'm early?"

Suddenly I realized what Shiara was planning to do.  I edged around the
clearing, toward where the Princess was lying, but I wasn't quite fast
enough.

"The earlier the better," the dragon said.

"Then, there's your princess!"  Shiara said, and pointed.

"My, you do work fast," the dragon said.  It turned and looked at the
Princess.  "She's certainly beautiful enough, but are you sure she
isn't enchanted?"

"I'm quite sure," Shiara said.

"Then why is she asleep in the middle of the day?  I didn't think
princesses were nocturnal creatures."

"She just fainted when she saw you," Shiara said reassuringly.  "It's
nothing to worry about.  It happens to princesses all the time.  Will
she do?"

"Quite well."  The dragon nodded.  "You're very prompt.  Thank you very
much."

Shiara nodded.  I waited until the dragon turned away, then I frowned
at Shiara.

"Why did you do that?"  I whispered.  "That was a terrible thing to
do!"

"Would you rather I got eaten?"  Shiara whispered back.  "She won't get
eaten.  The dragon said so.  And I bet it won't want her for long.

Dragons are smarter than some people."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I looked back at the dragon.  As
it bent its head to inspect the Princess more closely, the Princess
opened her eyes.  She gave a small scream, and the dragon frowned.

"You don't have to be frightened," it said.  "Really.  You're my
princess now, and I'm going to take proper care of you, and you can
clean my scales and cook for me.  I believe that's the standard
arrangement."

The Princess burst into tears.  The dragon pulled back, eyeing her
uncomfortably.  "Did I say something wrong?"

The Princess just cried harder.  "Alas!  Ah, woe is me!  So recently
was I happy, awaiting the coming of my love to rescue me from this
dismal forest!

And now am I a prisoner of a monster, and when my love arrives he will
be eaten by this awful beast, and I abandoned to my fate!  Alas, that I
should come to this!"

The dragon looked considerably taken aback.  It turned to Shiara and
me.  "This is a princess?"

"Yes, she is," I said, and Shiara nodded.

The Princess had heard the question, too, and she raised her head.

"Indeed, I am a princess, and the daughter of a king, and see to what
misery I have been brought!"  she said tragically.  "Alas, the day I
left my father's house!  Yet would I flee again, and endure with
patience all the trials and woes which have come upon me, only to be
with my love once more!"

The dragon backed up a pace.  "Are you sure this is a princess?"

"Alas!  Now even my birth is doubted, and to whom shall I turn in my
distress?  Ah, pity my sad state!  For I am alone and friendless, and
parted from my love.  Ah, woe!  That ever I let him leave my side!  For
he is mighty among men, most brave and fearsome in battle, and of a
fair and pleasing appearance in all things, and he would not leave me
thus, did he but know my fate."  She went back to crying.

"If this is a princess, I'm not sure I want one after all," the dragon
said.

It looked at the Princess speculatively.  "Maybe I could eat her
instead."

"Ah, help!"  said the Princess.

"I really don't think you should eat her," I said.  "After all, you did
say you wouldn't."

"That's right, I did."  The dragon looked at the Princess, who was

crying again, and sighed.  "Nobody told me princesses were like this,"
it said in an aggrieved tone.  "And who is this love she keeps talking
about?"

"We haven't met him yet, I'm afraid," I said.  "She says he's a knight
that she ran away with because her father wanted her to marry someone
else."

"A knight?"  The dragon backed up a little farther.  "I don't think I'm
ready for knights yet.  They're so unpredictable.  I don't suppose you
could find me a princess without a knight?"

"All really good princesses have knights," Shiara said firmly.  "And
you wouldn't want a second-rate princess, would you?"

"All of them?"  the dragon asked plaintively.

"Well, not all of them," I said.  "Some of them have princes
instead."

"Princes are much worse than knights," Shiara said thoughtfully.

"They have magic rings and sorceresses for godmothers and things like
that.  With knights you only have to worry about their armor and
weapons, and maybe once in a while an enchanted sword."

"My love has no need of magic!" the Princess broke in indignantly.

"For he is most strong and skilled, and never has he been beaten in
combat with sword or spear.  Woe that he is no longer at my side?

"I don't like the sound of this," the dragon said uneasily.  "Maybe if
I just-" There was a loud crash from the bushes at the edge of the
clearing, and then a rather tinny-sounding voice said, "What ho!  A
dragon?"

The Princess stopped crying very suddenly and sat up quite straight.

"Hark!  My love approaches!  Now shall you see his prowess for
yourselves!"

There were more crashing noises.  The dragon backed up again, looking
nervous.  A moment later a knight in a dented suit of armor fell
through the middle of the thickest clump of bushes, right in front of
the dragon.

"On guard, monster!"  the knight said as he picked himself up.

"Prepare to die!"  He pulled out a sword and waved it at the dragon.

Well, actually, he waved it a couple of feet to one side.  His helmet
had slipped a little, and evidently he couldn't see very well.  The
dragon looked at him, and then back at Shiara.

"This is a knight?"  it said.

"My love is the bravest and best of knights!"  the Princess cried.

"If this is a knight, maybe I can handle him after all," the dragon
said.

"He doesn't look so bad."

"Ah, hideous reptile!  No longer do I fear you, for my love will defend
me!  Yea, he will defend me even unto death?

"Now, wait a minute, Isabelle," the knight said.  He pulled off his
helmet, looked at it disgustedly, and threw it on the ground behind
him.

"I'm perfectly willing to kill dragons for you, but who said anything
about dying?"

"You are my knight, and my brave love!"  the Princess said
dramatically.

"Oh, save me from this awful monster, who would carry me off and eat
me!"  She sprang up and threw her arms around the knight.

"It's going to be a bit difficult for me to save you if you hang about
my neck like that," the knight said apologetically.  "It's quite
awkward.  If you'll just sit down, I can see about doing this
properly."

The Princess only hung on to him more tightly, which made his aim
almost as bad as it had been when he was wearing his helmet crooked.

The dragon was watching them closely, and its eyes were starting to
glow.  "You certainly aren't very polite," it said.

"My love is the soul of courtesy!"  the Princess said from behind the
knight.  "For he is a knight most gentle and well spoken, much given
to-" "I say, Isabelle, must you go on like that?"  the knight said.

"It's embarrassing.

Do, please, sit down and let me fight the dragon.  Then you won't have
to worry about being eaten, you know."

The Princess gave a small scream.  "Alas?  she said in a quavery
voice.

"Behold my sad state!  For now must I watch a bloody battle, and
perhaps see my love slain before my eyes, and become a captive of this
monster."

"This is ridiculous," said Shiara, and before I could stop her she
marched over to stand between the dragon and the knight.  I followed
her, hoping I could get her out of trouble if I had to.

"Ah, save me!"  the Princess said as we got closer.  I wasn't sure
whether she wanted to be saved from the dragon or from Shiara.

Shiara glared at her.  "You shut up," she told the Princess.  "You've
caused enough trouble already."

"I say," said the knight.  "If we're going to discuss politeness-" "We
aren't," said Shiara.  "We're going to discuss battles.  Battles
between dragons and knights.  Why do you want to fight this dragon?"

"Knights are sworn to do battle with the beasts that ravage the fields,
carry off innocent maidens, and generally make a nuisance of
themselves," the knight said.  He sounded as if he were reciting
something, and he didn't look very pleased about the idea, but the
Princess nodded approvingly.

"Well, this dragon isn't ravaging anything, and it doesn't even want
your stupid princess," Shiara said.

"I do, too!"  the dragon broke in.  "If I'm not going to carry her off
I could eat her, after all.  And if I fought a knight no one could say
I'm not a proper dragon, even if I don't have a princess."

"I really don't think that's a good idea," I said.  "Princesses aren't
all that common, after all."

"Besides, you promised me you wouldn't," Shiara said.

"I did not!"  the dragon said.  "I only said I wouldn't waste a
perfectly good princess, and this one's not so great.  Eating her
wouldn't be much of a waste."

"I don't think that would be very polite," I said.  "Especially when
you've talked to her this long without bringing it up.  You really
ought to ease into these things gradually, you know."

"Are you sure?"  the dragon said.

I nodded.

"Oh, all right," said the dragon.  "I won't eat her, then.  But
couldn't I fight the knight anyway?  Just for practice?"

"I say, that sounds like an excellent idea," the knight said,
brightening perceptibly.  "A sort of exercise for both of us."

"A tourney!"  the Princess cried.  "Oh, brave and clever, to think of
such a thing?

The knight looked pleased.  So did the dragon.  It nodded, then
whispered to Shiara, "What's a tourney?"

"It's like a battle, only no one gets hurt.  Usually."

"Not even a little?"  the dragon said.  The knight started looking
worried again.

"Of course not?  Shiara said to the dragon.  "It's a show of skill."

"If you were trying to hurt each other, it wouldn't be a tourney," I
added.  Actually, it wasn't going to be a tourney anyway.  There are
very specific rules about what a tourney is, and a practice fight
between a dragon and a knight just doesn't qualify.  I decided not to
say so.

"Oh, all right, then," the dragon grumbled.  "I don't know why I'm
letting you talk me into this.  How do we start?"

9

In Which There Is a Fight, Sort of, and They Find Out Where They Are
Going

The hardest part was getting the dragon and the knight to agree about
rules.  The Princess was no help at all.  She kept talking about the
marvelous tourneys she'd seen, and which knights had been wounded.

Whenever she did, the dragon would start looking at the knight, and
pretty soon it would want to know why it couldn't bite off one of the
knight's arms, or at least a hand.  The knight would get worried, and
the Princess would start crying, and Shiara and I would have to talk
the dragon out of it.  As soon as the dragon agreed, the Princess would
cheer up and start talking about tourneys again.

Finally, Shiara told the Princess to shut up.  It wasn't very polite,
but it worked.  Well, sort of.  The Princess didn't stop talking, but
as long as she was complaining about Shiara and not talking about
tourneys we didn't have any more problems getting the dragon and the
knight to agree.

When we finally decided on the rules, we had to draw a circle in the
middle of the clearing for them to fight in.  It was harder than it
sounds.  For one thing, a circle has to be pretty big if a dragon is
going to fit inside it, even if it's a small dragon.  Also, the moss in
the Enchanted Forest grows awfully fast.  By the time we finished
drawing the circle, the first half of it

had already disappeared.  Shiara watched for a minute, then looked at
the knight.

"Are you sure you have to have a circle to fight?"  Shiara said.

"I really do think so," the knight said apologetically.  "It wouldn't
be a proper tourney without it, don't you see."

"I'm sick of proper dragons and proper princesses and proper tourneys,"
Shiara said under her breath.  Fortunately, the dragon didn't hear
her.

We started redrawing the circle, trying to make the line wider this
time.

The knight scratched at the moss with his sword.  Shiara used a
stick.

So did I; I didn't think Mother would approve if I used the Sword of
the Sleeping King to cut moss.  Nightwitch and the dragon sort of dug
at the ground.  The Princess sat under a tree.

Eventually we finished, and the knight and the dragon stepped inside
the circle.  "Well, what are you waiting for?"  Shiara demanded.

"Someone has to say, 'go,'" the knight said in a reasonable tone.

"Go!"  I said quickly.

Shiara gave me a disgusted look, but she didn't say anything, because
as soon as I shouted, the dragon and the knight got started.  They were
fairly evenly matched.  The dragon was much larger, of course, and it
had a very good sense of timing, but it didn't have much experience.

The knight was wearing armor, which helped, and he was obviously used
to fighting, but he was a little awkward most of the time.  They were
both good at dodging, though, and they each managed to take three or
four swings without hitting the other.  The dragon was just starting to
take another swipe at the knight when a little tree sprouted up in
front of him and hit him in the nose.

I was surprised.  I mean, even in the Enchanted Forest, trees don't
usually grow that fast.  The dragon was even more surprised than I
was.

It sort of reared back, and its tail came around very fast to balance
it.

Nightwitch was a little too close and had to scramble back out of the
way.

"Hey, watch out!"  Shiara said.

The dragon jumped and swung around, looking as if it expected another
tree to pop up behind it.  Its tail swung in the other direction, and
the end of it caught the knight right in the middle of his chest plate
as he was trying to back out of the way.  The dragon yelped, the
Princess screamed, and the knight fell over backward into the pool of
water that my sword had made when the Princess had tried to take it.

Evidently the pool was a lot deeper than it looked, because the knight
sank right out of sight.  We all forgot about the fast-growing tree and
leapt forward.  The Princess was faster than either Shiara or I. By the
time I got to

the pool, she had hold of the knight.  She wasn't quite strong enough
to pull him out, but she wasn't letting go, either.

Shiara got to the pool about the same time I did, and together the
three of us managed to get the knight out of the water.  He was
unconscious, and he had a large dent in his armor where the dragon's
tail had hit him.  The Princess checked to make sure he was still
alive, and then she burst into tears.

"Alas!  See now how sad is my fate!  For my love has been grievously
injured and I am without protection in this awful place.  Ah, woe is
me!"

"Is he dead?"  asked the dragon from right behind me.  I jumped.  It
peered curiously over my shoulder at the knight.

"Monster!"  said the Princess.  "Your base attempt to slay my love has
failed!  No second chance shall you have to harm him while I can stand
between you!  For if my love be slain, I care not whether I live or
die, and thus I now defy you."  She threw herself across the knight's
chest.

The knight coughed, moaned, and opened his eyes.  "I say, Isabelle," he
said weakly, "that really is a bit uncomfortable."

The Princess sat up and started weeping all over his face.  It didn't
seem to make him much more comfortable.

The dragon was still peering.  "That was a very good fight," it said to
the knight.  "Except for the last part.  My tail still stings.  I think
I may have sprained it.  Is armor always that hard?"

The knight tried to answer and started coughing instead.  The Princess
cried harder, until Shiara said pointedly, "I don't think all that
water is doing him much good."  The Princess stopped crying and glared
at Shiara for a minute, then turned back to the knight.  Somehow, she
looked a lot more unhappy now that she wasn't crying.  I felt sorry for
her.

Finally the knight managed to get his coughing under control.  He
looked up at the dragon and said, "I do believe I agree with you about
the fight.  That trick with the tail is quite good.  I don't recall
seeing it before.  I really must remember it."

"Actually, it was something of an accident," the dragon said
modestly.

"But 	I think I could do it again if I tried.  Did you really think it
was good?"

"Oh, quite," the knight said.  I got the feeling that he would have
tried to bow if he hadn't been lying on his back.  "I think perhaps you
broke one or two of my ribs."

"I'm sorry," said the dragon.  "Is that bad?"

"It is certainly a bit uncomfortable," the knight said.  "I don't
really blame-" A coughing spasm interrupted him.  The Princess looked
alarmed, but she didn't start crying.  I saw Shiara watching the
Princess with a surprised

look on her face, and right about then Nightwitch sprang up onto the
knight's chest.

"What is this?  Go hence, and leave my love in peace!"  cried the
Princess.

"You let my kitten alone," Shiara warned.

The Princess stopped in midreach and looked over at Shiara.  "And shall
I neglect aught that may bring comfort to my love in his hurt?"  she
said.

"Nightwitch isn't going to hurt-" Shiara started, then paused.  "I
guess it doesn't matter.  Go ahead."

I stared at Shiara in surprise, but she was watching the Princess and
Nightwitch.  The Princess got scratched a couple of times before she
finally managed to pick the kitten up and move her.  By then, the
knight wasn't coughing quite so hard anymore, but he still didn't seem
up to talking.

Shiara frowned at him.  "You don't sound very good," she said.

The dragon stuck its head farther over my shoulder.  "If you can't fix
him, can I eat him?"  it asked hopefully.

Nightwitch hissed.  The knight looked alarmed and tried to say
something, but all that came out was more coughing.  The Princess said,
"No!"  very loudly and looked as if she wanted to throw herself on top
of the knight again.

"Of course not," Shiara said.  "You promised."

"It wouldn't be polite," I added.  "After all, that was why you had the
tourney."

The dragon looked hurt.  "I was just asking."

"Ah, what are we going to do about them?"  I asked hastily, waving at
the Princess and the knight.  "They can't stay here, not when the
knight's been injured like that."

"It's not so bad, really it isn't," the knight said, looking at the
dragon nervously.  He started coughing again right away, but it didn't
sound as bad as it had before and he stopped fairly quickly.

"I suppose you could come with us," I said after a minute.

"That's frightfully kind of you," the knight said.  He looked
uncertainly at the dragon.  "Very kind, to invite us to come with
you.

All of you?"

"I don't know," I said.  "I haven't asked the dragon about its plans
yet.

But you're quite welcome to join us, if you want to."

"Yes," said Shiara.  "I'm sure you'll be very useful when the wizard
comes back."

"Wizard?"  said the knight.  He was so alarmed he almost started
coughing again.  "What wizard?"

"Well, actually, there are several of them," I said.  "Every now and
then

one of them shows up and tries to do something to us.  The last one
left when the dragon showed up."

"I'm sure he'll be back in a little while," Shiara said.  "Or one of
the others will They've been chasing us all over the Enchanted
Forest."

"You know," the knight said, "I really don't believe it would be a good
idea for me to join you.  I should almost certainly be a bit of an
inconvenience, you see.  Wet armor rusts, and with that and the ribs
I'm afraid I'd be a little slow.  Thank you terribly, all the same."

"If you don't come with us, what will you do?"  I asked.

"Mrow," said Nightwitch.

"Morwen!"  Shiara said.  "They can go to Morwen!  She'll know what to
do for them."  Nightwitch started purring loudly, sort of like a pepper
grinder with rocks in it.

I thought about it for a minute.  "It sounds like a good idea, but will
she want to?"

"Morwen seems to like helping people," Shiara said.  "And I'm sure she
can take care of both of them."

"You know Morwen?"  said the dragon.  "I like her.  She gives me apples
out of her garden."

I tried to imagine a dragon eating apples and failed.  I could imagine
Morwen giving them to a dragon, though.

"Who is this Morwen?"  asked the Princess, clasping her hands in front
of her.  "Think you that she could help my love, indeed?"

"Morwen's sort of a friend of ours," I explained.  "She lives back that
way, with a lot of cats, and her house has kind of a strange door."

"I didn't have any trouble with it," Shiara said.  "And she has nine
cats.

She told me while you were asleep."

"Nine cats?"  said the Princess, looking puzzled.  "But what has that
to do with my love, who is so grievously hurt?"

"I said it wasn't that bad, Isabelle," said the knight uncomfortably.

"Really, I wish you wouldn't make such a fuss.  I shall be quite all
right in a little, I'm sure."

"If this woman with the many cats can help you, then we shall go to
her," the Princess declared with more spirit than she had shown about
anything else.  "For you are my love, and I will have you whole and
well."

"Oh, but really, Isabelle-" "I'm sure Morwen won't mind," Shiara put
in.  "She fixed Daystar up just fine.  She's even good with wet
swords."

The Princess looked thoroughly confused, but the knight brightened a
little.  "Are you quite sure?  Because I'm frightfully wet, sword and
armor and everything, and it would be very nice if I could keep it all
from rusting.

It's rather expensive, you see."

"I'm sure she could manage that," Shiara said.  "Of course, you don't
have to go.  You could stay here and wait for the wizard to come
back."

The knight didn't argue.  I don't think he liked the idea of staying
around the dragon, especially if a lot of wizards were going to show up
any minute.  As soon as he agreed, the Princess started telling him how
wise and brave and wonderful he was.  Shiara looked disgusted, but the
knight seemed to like it.  He sat up and even managed not to cough very
much.

Shiara and I gave the knight directions back up the stream and through
the woods to Morwen's house.  He and the Princess said good-bye and
started off.

"That's a relief!"  Shiara said when they were out of earshot.  "For a
while I thought you were going to make us go with that stupid
princess.

It was bad enough having to listen to her here without following her
around."

I blinked at her.  "But I thought you changed your mind about her!  You
were being a lot nicer to her after the knight got hurt."

Shiara snorted.  "So I feel sorry for her.  She really cares about that
klutz in the tin can.  I could tell.  That doesn't mean I like her!  I
still think she's dumber than you are, but I'm glad they're going to
see Morwen."

I wasn't sure whether Morwen would object or not, but I didn't say
anything else about it.  By then, the knight and the Princess were
completely out of sight anyway.  I turned around to see where I'd put
the bundle of food and things Morwen had given me.  The dragon was
staring at me.

"Why," it said, "do you have wizards chasing you?"

"It's a long story," I said.  "I'll be glad to explain, but you might
want to make yourself comfortable first."

The dragon sighed.  "Have you ever tried to be comfortable with a
sprained tail?"

Shiara giggled.  I ignored her.  We waited while the dragon tried
curling into a couple of different positions.  One of them looked sort
of like Suz when he was halfway through getting up on his tail.

Finally, the dragon curled itself around the little tree that had
sprouted up in the middle of the tourney.  "That's better," it said.

"Enchanted trees are always more comfortable than regular ones."

"Enchanted trees?"  Shiara said.

"Of course," the dragon said.  "What else do you expect to find in an
enchanted forest?  I'm going to have to remember to tell someone about
this, though.  There haven't been any new ones in a long time."

I looked at the tree a little more closely.  It was nearly six feet
tall now, and it seemed to have stopped growing.  It didn't look very
different from the other trees in the Enchanted Forest, except that it
was a lot smaller than most of them.  And, of course, none of the other
trees had dragons wrapped around them.

"You were going to tell me about the wizards," said the dragon.

So I explained about Mother and Antorell, and the Sword of the Sleeping
King, and everything.  It took a long time.  The dragon didn't say
anything at all while I talked, but its tail twitched a couple of
times.  Whenever that happened, the dragon winced.

"That's very interesting," the dragon said when I stopped.  "Where are
you going now?"

"Morwen told us to follow the stream," Shiara said.  "And Suz said we
should go talk to someone named Kazul."

"It's the same thing," the dragon said.

"What do you mean?"  I asked.

"The stream goes to the castle, and Kazul lives right outside it.  I
wonder why she wants to see you?"

"What castle?"  Shiara said in an exasperated voice.  "And who is this
Kazul person, anyway?"

"It must have something to do with that sword," the dragon said,
ignoring her questions completely.  "Especially if it really does
belong to the Sleeping King."

"You mean you know something about it?"  Shiara said.  "Well, then,
tell us what the stupid thing does?"

The dragon looked sheepish.  Dragons just weren't meant to look
sheepish.  "I don't know.  I'm not old enough yet," it said.

"Not old enough?"

"That's why I wanted a princess," the dragon said.  "Otherwise, Kazul
won't tell me anything important until I'm two hundred.  She says that
before then dragons are irresponsible, unwise, and talk too much."  It
looked faintly indignant.  "I don't talk too much."

"Who is Kazul?"  I said.  I was getting a little nervous about meeting
her.  I hadn't ever known anyone who could tell a dragon what to do,
even a young one.  Well, Mother might have been able to get away with
it.

"Oh, I thought you knew," the dragon said.  "Kazul is the King of the
Dragons."

10

In Which They Take a Shortcut and Run into an Obstacle

Shiara and I looked at each other.  "Terrific," Shiara said.  "And I
thought wizards were bad."

"Did I say something wrong?"  the dragon asked.

"No, not at all," I said hastily.  "We were just a little surprised,
that's all."

"Hey!"  Shiara said.  "How can Kazul be King of the Dragons if she's a
she?  That doesn't make sense."

"It does too!"  the dragon said.  "What else would you call her?"

"How about Queen?"  Shiara said sarcastically.

"Queen?"  The little dragon wrinkled its nose.  "Why would you want to
call her Queen?  That's not the same thing at all!  You're the one who
doesn't make sense."

"I do too make sense?  Shiara said.  "Queens do the same things Kings
do."

"Not for dragons," I said hastily.  I didn't want the dragon to get
offended again.  "Dragons have a king, period.  The King of the Dragons
is whichever dragon can move Colin's Stone from the Vanishing Mountain
to the Ford of the Whispering Snakes.  It doesn't matter whether the
dragon is male or female."

"It's silly to have two names for the same job," the dragon said
complacently.

"People get confused."

"Oh."  Shiara looked skeptical, but at least she didn't object
anymore.  I decided I was going to have to explain a few things to her
soon, before she got us both in real trouble.  For about a minute, no
one said anything.  Then Shiara looked over at me.

"Daystar," she said, "why are we looking for the King of the
Dragons?"

I started to say something, then stopped because I wasn't really sure
what to say.  I mean, it would sound a little odd to say that I was
looking for a dragon because a lizard told me to.  Especially since the
dragon was apparently King of the Dragons.  I thought some more.

"I don't know," I said finally.  "But I think we have to.  At least, I
have to."

Shiara sighed.  "I was afraid you were going to say something like
that."

The dragon looked puzzled.  "What's the matter?  It doesn't sound
particularly unusual to me, but I suppose it'll be at least as
interesting as running away to find a princess."

Shiara and I looked at the dragon, then at each other, then back at the
dragon again.  "You ran away?"  Shiara said finally.

"It was the only way I could think of to get a princess."  The dragon
sighed.  "It didn't work out the way I thought it would, though."

Shiara and I exchanged glances again.  "You're sure you really want to
come?"  I said to the dragon.  "I mean, there are wizards after us, and
it might be a little inconvenient if they showed up again.  And I doubt
that we'll run into any more princesses."

The dragon looked thoughtful for a moment, then it shook its head.

"I'm coming with you, wizards or no wizards," it said stubbornly.

"Sneezing isn't so bad."

It was my turn to sigh.  Dragons are awfully hard to talk out of
things.

"We'd better go, then," I said.  "I'm sure Antorell will be back as
soon as he thinks it's safe, and I'd sort of like to be gone by
then."

Shiara grabbed Morwen's bundles and shoved one at me.  "You're
absolutely right.  Here.  Let's go."

I nodded and started toward the stream.  "Not that way?"  said the
dragon.  "It takes too long."

"How else are we going to find the stupid castle?"  Shiara demanded.

"We don't even know what it looks like?

The dragon looked smug.  "I do.  And I'm very good at shortcuts."

"Morwen told us to follow the stream," I said doubtfully.

"Morwen didn't know you were going to meet me."  The dragon looked at
us for a minute.  "I thought you were in a hurry."

"Come on, Daystar," Shiara said.  "I don't care which way we go, but
let's go!"

I decided not to argue.  I still didn't like the idea of leaving the
stream, but it didn't seem worth fighting over.  Not with a dragon,
anyway.

Besides, if we didn't leave soon, the wizards would catch us.  We
started off, following the dragon.

Traveling with a dragon was rather nice, in a way.  Nothing bothered us
at all.  When it started to get dark, we stopped and opened Morwen's
bundles again.  There was obviously something magic about them, because
the leftovers from lunch had turned into a fresh packet of food, and
there was plenty for everyone, even the dragon.

Nothing dangerous came near us all night, either.  I stayed awake for a
while, just to make sure, but evidently nightshades and wolves and
things don't want to annoy a dragon any more than people do.  Finally,
I went to sleep, too.

We started off again as soon as we woke up next morning.  The dragon
went first because it knew the way, and we followed.  After about an
hour, I noticed that I didn't feel quite comfortable for some reason.

I touched the hilt of the Sword of the Sleeping King a couple of times,
but I didn't feel any new magic tingles, just the same familiar ones.

I started watching the trees as we walked.  Finally, Shiara noticed.

"What's the matter, Daystar?"  she said.

"I don't know," I said.  "But I feel as if I'm being watched."

"Watched?"  Shiara looked at the trees quickly.  "Who's watching us?"

"I don't know," I said.  "I'm not even sure someone is.  I just feel
uncomfortable."

"You're being a little slow," the dragon called back over its shoulder,
and Shiara and I stopped talking and ran to catch up.  We didn't have a
chance to discuss it again, but I noticed Shiara looking uneasily at
the forest from time to time.  Even Nightwitch seemed to notice
something wrong; she stopped jumping at leaves and stayed close to
Shiara.  In fact, Shiara almost stepped on her once.  After that,
Shiara carried her.

In spite of all the worrying, nothing happened until late that
morning.

The dragon was moving on through the forest, ignoring all the little
branches and things that happened to be in its way.  Suddenly it gave a
smothered yelp and stopped.  Shiara and Nightwitch and I ran forward to
see what was the matter.

The dragon was sitting back, rubbing its nose and glaring at a large
open space in front of it.  I looked around, but I didn't see anything
else.

"What happened?"  I asked.

"I ran into something," the dragon said, glaring at me for a minute
instead of the open space.

"But there isn't anything-Ow!"  Shiara had started to wave toward the
clearing, but her hand stopped about halfway through the wave, as if it
had

hit something.  She rubbed her fingers, then put out her hand more
cautiously.

It stopped in midair, right where it had before.  Nightwitch hissed and
backed away.

I reached out, very carefully.  It was a little strange to feel
something where I couldn't see anything.  It was cool and smooth, like
stone, and it went up as far as I could reach.  "It's an invisible
wall," I said.

"No, it's an invisible castle," Shiara said.  Then she jerked her hand
away and stared at the air in front of her as if she could make herself
see something by trying hard.  "Hey!  How do I know that?"

"I don't know," I said.  "When did you figure it out?"

"I didn't!  I was just standing here, wanting to know what it was, and
all of a sudden I did."

"That sounds like fire magic!"  I said.

"I don't care what it is," the dragon said crossly.  "I want to know
where it came from.  It wasn't here last time I came this way."

"No, I mean what Shiara did sounds like fire magic."

"Really?"  The dragon looked at Shiara.  "Then use your fire magic to
find out what this invisible thing is doing in the middle of my
shortcut."

Shiara looked doubtful, but she put her hand back on the castle.  "It's
an invisible castle, all right.  Hey, I even know how to do it!"

"Do what?"  asked the dragon.  "Put your hand on a castle?"

"No, no, how to make things invisible," Shiara said.

"I don't want to know how to make things invisible," the dragon
snapped.  "What's it doing here?"

For once, I wasn't paying much attention to the dragon.  I was staring
at Shiara.  Analyzing spells is hard.  "You figured out how to turn a
castle invisible just by touching it?"

"No, you have to do a lot of other things to it."  Shiara's face
changed, as if she had just remembered something she didn't like, and
she stared at the open area for a minute.  Then she swallowed so hard I
could see it.

"Let's leave, Daystar.  I don't think I want to meet anyone who would
live in an invisible castle."

I looked at Shiara, then at the open space.  I looked back at Shiara
and opened my mouth to ask another question, but I stopped before I
said anything.  Shiara looked a little white, and a little sick, and a
lot scared.  I hadn't seen Shiara look like that before, not even when
the wizard tried to catch us with his snaky water monster.  Especially
not then.

"All right," I said.  "Let's go."

"But I want to know what it's doing in the middle of my shortcut," the
dragon complained.

"We can talk about it somewhere else," I said.

Shiara was already backing into the trees, her eyes fixed on the open

space where the castle would be if we could see it.  I glanced back at
the dragon.  It shrugged.  "Oh, all right.  But I don't see what all
the fuss is about."

Right then Shiara gave a half yell that stopped in the middle.  I
whirled around.  There was a woman standing where Shiara had been.  She
was very tall, and she had long hair that was so red it was almost
black.  She was dressed in something green and shining and elegant that
hung from a deep red jewel at her throat, and she was very beautiful.

More beautiful than the Princess, even.  I didn't care.

"Where's Shiara?"  I said.

She smiled, the same way a very satisfied cat smiles, except that cats
don't look evil.  Well, most cats don't.  "Shiara-is that your little
friend's name?  She's right here, my dear."  She stepped aside, and I
went cold.

Behind her, where it had been hidden until she moved aside, was a gray
stone statue that looked exactly like Shiara.

"That can't be Shiara!"  I said.  I was too upset to even think about
being polite.  "Shiara's a fire-witch, and fire-witches are immune to
magic!"

The woman smiled another unpleasant smile.  "Not to the magic of
another fire-witch.  I've been waiting a long time for someone like her
to come by.  I need her for something."

"How is turning her into a statue going to help?"  I asked.  I was
hoping I could talk her into changing Shiara back.  Then maybe I could
do something to keep Shiara that way.

The fire-witch glanced at the statue.  "It's an excellent way of
storing people until you need them.  I have quite a number in my
garden.  They're ornamental as well as useful."

"That doesn't sound nice," the dragon said.

The woman seemed to see it for the first time, which I thought was a
little odd.  After all, dragons aren't exactly easy to overlook.  "I am
not concerned with being nice," she said.

"Why not?"  I asked.

The fire-witch turned and looked at me.  Suddenly her eyes narrowed.

"Who are you, boy?"  she asked sharply.

"My name is Daystar," I said, "and I would appreciate it if you would
change Shiara back."

"No," she said flatly.  "Why should I?"  She was still staring at me,
as if she were trying to figure something out.  "You're very
interesting, Daystar," she said abruptly.  "I think perhaps I'll let
you go.  I haven't done anything like that in a long time.  It might be
an interesting experience.  I think you had better leave before I
change my mind."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not leaving until you turn Shiara back," I said.

"Then I am afraid you will grow rather bored."  The woman looked at

me thoughtfully for a moment, then shook her head.  "No, I don't have
any use for you, and I can't be bothered storing things that aren't
useful.  Pity; you'd make a nice fountain."  She lifted one hand and
snapped her fingers.

I had just enough time to realize that I hadn't drawn my sword.  I
grabbed for it and pulled, knowing I wasn't going to make it.  There
was something like an explosion just in front of me, and a wave of
heat, and then I was holding the Sword of the Sleeping King up in front
of me and watching the fire-witch cursing and stamping at something.

She didn't look at all elegant anymore.

Suddenly I realized why the fire-witch had missed.  "Nightwitch!"  I
yelled.  A small bundle of black fur darted out from under the witch's
skirts and vanished under a bush.  The fire-witch glared after the
kitten, then turned back to me.  "You'll suffer for-" Right next to me
there was a sound like someone blowing out several very large candles
all at once, and a stream of fire shot out and enveloped the
fire-witch.  She laughed.

"Fire, to harm me?  Even a dragon should know better!  I'll see to you
in a moment.  Or do you think I am fool enough to grow a garden without
dragonsbane?"

The dragon shuddered, and the fire-witch laughed again.  Then she
looked at me, and her eyes glittered.  "I want you first, though.

Now!"  She pointed at me, and I raised the Sword of the Sleeping King a
little higher, holding on to the hilt with both hands and hoping it
could handle fire-witches as well as it handled wizards.

Something hit the sword, and pain ran through my whole body.  It felt a
little like the shock I'd gotten when Shiara and I had tried to pick up
the sword at the same time, except it went on and on.  The Sword of the
Sleeping King began to get hot.  I felt as if boiling lead were running
down the sword and into my arms.  I think I screamed; I know the
fire-witch did, because I heard her.

The Sword of the Sleeping King glowed dull red in my hands.  It wasn't
behaving at all the way it had when it stopped Antorell's spell, and I
got the distinct impression that this wasn't very good for it.  It
wasn't very good for me, either; the sensation of boiling lead was
oozing farther up my arms.

I knew that if I didn't do something I was going to drop the sword.  I
shouted and pushed.  At least, pushing is the only way I can describe
what I did.  I wasn't really thinking too clearly by then.  I just
wanted the lead to go back into the sword and quit hurting.

I heard a wail from the fire-witch that kind of died out, and the pain
stopped very suddenly.  I noticed that the sword wasn't glowing
anymore, and then I fell over.  It wasn't that I felt particularly
tired or weak.  I just

couldn't stand up anymore.  The last thing I remember thinking was
that I had to hang on to the sword, no matter what.

I woke up because something small and warm and rough was rubbing my
chin.  I opened my eyes.  Night-witch was sitting on the ground in
front of me, licking my face.  I was lying face down on the moss.  I
could feel the Sword of the Sleeping King underneath me.  It was very
uncomfortable, but I didn't feel like moving.  I closed my eyes
again.

Nightwitch hissed and dug her claws into my shoulder.  Kittens have
surprisingly sharp claws, and I opened my eyes again very quickly.  The
dragon was staring at me from beside Nightwitch.  At least, its head
was beside Nightwitch.  The rest of it wouldn't fit.  It blinked at
me.

"Are you dead?"  it asked.

"No," I said.  I thought about saying something else, but I didn't have
the energy.

"Oh."  The dragon sounded almost disappointed for a minute.  Then it
brightened.  "I think that fire-witch is."

"That's nice."  I had the feeling I should remember something, but I
didn't want to think hard enough to figure out what.

Nightwitch hissed and dug her claws into me again.

"Stop that!"  I said, and I rolled onto my back.

"What?"  said the dragon.

"Nightwitch," I said.  Rolling over had taken all the energy I had, and
I didn't want to talk anymore.  I didn't even want to think anymore.  I
wanted the dragon to just leave me alone, but I couldn't say so without
being rude, so I closed my eyes and started drifting off to sleep
instead.  Then Nightwitch jumped onto my chest and dug her claws in
hard.

I yelled and sat up.  Nightwitch jumped down to the ground and ran
off.

I tried to see where she'd gone and saw Morwen's bundle instead.

Suddenly I realized that I was very hungry.  I started to reach for the
bundle, then remembered that I was still holding the sword.  I also
remembered the boiling lead, and I was almost afraid to look at my
hands.  I was sure that this time I'd burned both of them worse than
when I'd picked up the wizard's staff.

looked down.  There wasn't anything wrong with me-at least, not that I
could see.  I let go of the sword with one hand.  It didn't hurt.  I
heaved a sigh of relief and put the sword back in its sheath, then got
out some of Morwen's gingerbread and started eating.  It was a good
thing the food was right on top of the bundle, because I didn't have
the strength to hunt for it.

The dragon watched me for a few minutes with a puzzled expression.

"You're a very good magician," it said finally.  "Where did you learn
that spell?"

"Spell?"  I was having a little trouble remembering the details of
the

fight.  I wasn't sure whether it was because it had hurt so badly or
because I was too busy eating.

"The one you shouted right before the witch went up in smoke," the
dragon said, "You said, Power of water, wind, and earth, Turn the spell
back to its birth."" "Oh, that," I said, feeling a little silly.  "It's
just part of a rhyme Mother taught me when I was little.  I don't know
why I said it."

"Your mother taught you?  But that's a dragon spell!  Your mother
couldn't teach you dragon spells!"

"You don't know my mother," I said.  I'd eaten most of the gingerbread,
and I was feeling much better.  "She taught me two more lines to the
rhyme," I offered.  "They go, Raise the fire to free the lord By the
power of wood and sword."" The dragon looked at me suspiciously.

"Where did your mother learn dragon spells?"

"She didn't tell me," I said.  I finished the gingerbread and looked
around.  "Where did Shiara .  . ."  My voice died in mid-sentence as I
remembered exactly where Shiara had been when I saw her last.  I didn't
want to look, but I had to.  I took a deep breath and turned my head.

Sometimes, when witches or wizards die, all of their spells die with
them.  If the witch or wizard is skillful, sometimes the spells last.

The fire-witch had been skillful.  Shiara was still a statue.

11

In Which a Lizard Suggests a Solution I sat there for a minute, staring
at the statue and wondering what to do.

Finally I looked at the dragon.  "Do you know anything about magic?"

"Of course I do!"  the dragon said.  "Everyone who lives near the
Enchanted Forest knows something about magic."

I sighed.  "I mean, do you know anything about turning statues that
used to be people back into people again?  Because I don't, and we have
to figure out some way to fix Shiara."

"Oh."  The dragon looked doubtfully at the statue of Shiara.  "We could
take her to the Living Spring and drop her in," it suggested.  "That
would bring her back to life."

"You know where the Living Spring is?"  I said in surprise.

"No," said the dragon.  "But I bet if we found it, it would work."

I shook my head.  "I don't think we have time.  There are wizards
looking for us, remember?"

"Oh, that's right.  I keep forgetting.  I don't like to think about
wizards."

The dragon blinked.  "What about your sword?  You could say that spell
again."

I nodded.  I walked over to Shiara and pulled the Sword of the Sleeping
King out of its sheath.  I felt a little uncomfortable, partly because
I hadn't thought of using the sword and partly because the dragon spell
was still just one of Mother's nursery rhymes to me.  The idea of
standing in the middle of the Enchanted Forest holding a magic sword
and reciting a nursery rhyme made me feel very silly.  I looked at the
statue of Shiara again and

decided I'd try it anyway.  Slowly, I lowered the point so that it
touched the statue's shoulder, and I said, "Power of water, wind, and
earth, Turn the spell back to its birth.

Raise the fire to free the lord By the power of wood and sword."

For a minute I thought nothing had happened, but then three or four
little tingles ran up my arm from the sword.  I hadn't even realized
they were missing until they started again.  When I finally did notice,
I was relieved.

Mother wouldn't have been at all happy with me if I'd ruined the Sword
of the Sleeping King.

Unfortunately, Shiara was still a statue.  "I suppose we're going to
have to look for the Living Spring," I said.  "Unless you have some
other ideas."

"No," the dragon said.  "I've never been on an adventure before.  How
are we going to find the Spring?"

"I don't know," I said.  Half of the heroes who stopped at our cottage
had been looking for the Living Spring, but I'd never heard of anyone
finding it.  I tried to think of someone who might know where the
spring was.  "Suz!"  I said suddenly.

"What?"  the dragon said.

"Suz is sort of a friend of mine," I explained.  "He says he knows
everything that goes on in the Enchanted Forest, so he ought to know
where the Living Spring is.  I wish he were here."

"You do?"  said a squeaky voice by my right foot.  "Yes, you really
do!

How intriguing.  Why do you?"

"Suz!"  I said.  I looked around until I saw him, then carefully sat
down on the ground.  "I'm awfully glad to see you.  Do you know where
the Living Spring is?"

"The Living Spring?"  Suz said.  "Dear me!  Why do you want to know?"

"What's that?"  asked the dragon, who had finally managed to find the
source of the squeaky voice.  "It looks like a little dragon."

"Oh, I'm sorry.  This is Suz.  I was just telling you about him.  He's
not a dragon, he's a lizard."

"A lizard of extremely good family."  Suz frowned at the dragon, but
the dragon didn't seem to notice.  Suz gave up and looked back at me.

"Now, why do you want to know about the Living Spring?"

"Because Shiara got turned into a statue by the fire-witch who lived in
the invisible castle," I said.

"She did?"  The lizard peered around until he saw the statue, then

scurried over.  He cocked his head briefly and stared upward, then ran
up the gray stone in a spiral until he was sitting on one of the
statue's shoulders.

"She really did!  How exceedingly distressing.  What are you going to
do about it?"

"We thought if we dropped the statue in the Living Spring, it would,
well, fix Shiara," I said.  "But we don't know where the spring is."

"You don't?  No, of course you don't.  It's a secret."  Suz peered at
me from Shiara's shoulder.  "I suppose you want me to tell you where it
is."  He considered for a moment.  "I couldn't possibly do that, so you
needn't bother asking."

"But, Suz!"  I said.  "How else can we fix Shiara?  I've tried the only
other thing we could think of, and it didn't work."

"That is extremely obvious," the lizard said severely.  He ran down the
side of the statue and stopped right in front of me.  "If it had
worked, she wouldn't be a statue anymore, and you wouldn't be asking me
silly questions."

Suz did whatever the thing was that he did to balance on his tail.

"People who are looking for things in the Enchanted Forest have to find
them for themselves.  You really ought to know that, you really
ought."

"Well, what are we going to do about Shiara if you won't tell us where
the spring is?"

"My goodness gracious, you certainly are persistent," Suz said.  "Have
you tried kissing her?"

"Kissing her?"  I said incredulously.

"Kissing the statue," Suz explained condescendingly.  "It's one of the
standard cures for being made to sleep for years, or being turned into
a frog or a statue or such.  Have you tried it?"

I felt my face getting hot.  "Um, well, no."

"Well, then," Suz said pointedly.

I thought about it for a minute or two.  Shiara might not think much of
my kissing her, but I didn't really object, especially if it would
break the spell.  In fact, I sort of liked the idea.  At that point, I
stood up very quickly because my face was getting even hotter and I
could feel Suz staring at me.

I was right next to the statue, and as soon as I was all the way
standing I leaned forward and kissed it.  I didn't want to take time to
look before I did it, because I didn't really want to think about it.

First I felt cold stone, but it warmed up right away.  A second later
Shiara jerked away and said, "Hey!

Daystar, what on earth do you think you're doing?"

"It worked!"  I said.  I was awfully relieved.  If we hadn't been able
to break the fire-witch's spell, we'd have had to bring the statue with
us, and carrying a statue around would have been a lot of work.

Besides, having Shiara back felt good, even if she was glaring at me.

"What worked?"  Shiara demanded suspiciously.  "And where did that
witch go?  She was here a minute ago."

"You were a statue," the dragon informed her.  "The fire-witch did it,
but Daystar got rid of her.  I'm glad he did," it added thoughtfully.

"I didn't like her.  She wasn't polite at all, and she .  . . and she
.

. ."  The dragon leaned forward and said in a loud whisper, "And she
grew dragonsbaneI" Shiara stared at the dragon, but before she could
say anything there was a loud squeak from behind me, and Suz's voice
started shouting.  "Help!

Murder!  Wild beasts and dangerous lunatics!  Oh dear oh my help help
goodness gracious help oh!"

I turned around.  Nightwitch had come out from wherever she'd been
hiding and sneaked up on Suz while I was, well, kissing Shiara.  Suz
was rolled into a tight golden ball, and Nightwitch was batting him
back and forth between her paws in wide-eyed fascination.  I didn't
think she'd ever played with a ball that yelled at her before.

I bent over to pick up Nightwitch, but before I actually got hold of
her the lizard uncurled very quickly, slapped his tail sharply against
the kitten's nose, and curled up tight again.  He didn't stop yelling
the whole time.  The kitten jerked her head back so fast that she sat
down hard on her tail, and I grabbed her.

"It's all right now, Suz," I said.

The lizard poked his nose out of the ball.  "You're quite certain?"  he
said.

"Yes, of course," I said.

Suz uncurled a little more.  "This sort of thing is quite unsettling,"
he said.  "I do not approve at all.  Dear me, no, not at all."

"I'm very sorry," I said.  "I'm afraid I didn't know she was there."

"People who keep wild animals ought to know where they are so they
don't go around eating other people," the lizard said.  He uncurled the
rest of the way and lay on the moss, peering reproachfully up at me.

I bent down, and Suz scooted back a couple of feet.  "You keep
that-that beast away from me!"

"Nightwitch isn't a wild animal, she's a kitten," Shiara said
indignantly.

"And I don't believe she meant to eat you.  She just wanted to play."

"She's too young to know better," I said.  Shiara glared at me, and I
added hastily, "Nightwitch, I mean."

"She is?"  The lizard squinted at Nightwitch from a safe distance.

"Yes, I suppose she is," he said reluctantly.  "How unfortunate.  I
really do think I had better leave.  Dear me, yes, I really must."

Suz nodded and headed off into the woods.

"Suz, wait!"  Shiara called.

The lizard stopped and looked back over his shoulder.  "What is it?"

"I'm sorry Nightwitch scared you," Shiara said.

"You are?"  Suz turned around and ran back to where Shiara was
standing.

He cocked his head at her, then did his tangled tail-balancing trick
and stared up at her.  "Why, you really are!  How astonishing!  How
extraordinary!  How extremely unexpected!"

I was a little surprised myself, but I decided I'd better change the
subject before Shiara got offended.  "Suz?"

The lizard turned his head and looked at me.

"What's the best way to get to the castle where Kazul lives?"  I
asked.

"Why, it's-" Suz paused.  "Dear me, there seems to be an invisible
castle in the way.  How ridiculous.  I'm afraid you'll just have to go
around."

"That's what I thought," I said.  "But thank you anyway."

"It's quite all right.  And I really must be going now, I really
must.

Good-bye."  Suz bowed politely, then did a quick back flip and scurried
off into the woods.

"And thank you for telling me how to change Shiara back!"  I called.

Suz didn't answer.  I turned back to find Shiara glaring at me again.

"All right, Daystar, explain.  What's all this about statues and
getting rid of witches?"

"I already told you all that," the dragon said in an injured tone.

"Why do you want him to tell you again?"

"Because I didn't understand it when you told it," Shiara said.  She
sounded a lot like Mother.  "And I want to know what's been going
on."

She sat down on the ground and looked at me.  "So explain."

I explained.  Shiara let me talk until I started to explain how we'd
finally turned her from a statue back into Shiara, but then she
interrupted.  "You don't have to keep going," she said.  She gave me an
odd look.  "I remember that part."

"Oh.  I'm sorry," I offered.  My face was getting hot again.  "But no
one could think of anything else, and it did work."

Shiara wasn't paying much attention.  "Daystar, did your sword burn
your hands when Antorell tried to throw that spell at you?"  she asked
suddenly.

"No," I said, relieved by the change of subject.  "It didn't do
anything at all."

"It did, too!"  Shiara said.  "It ate Antorell's spell.  And it didn't
do anything to you.  Why didn't it work like that on the fire-witch's
spell?"

"Who's Antorell?"  asked the dragon.

"The wizard you were sneezing at when we met," I said.  "He's not very
pleasant."

"Wizards aren't," the dragon said.

"Daystar, this is important!"  Shiara said.  "Why didn't your sword
work the same way on the fire-witch as it did on Antorell?"

"Fire-witches and wizards are different," I said.  "It makes sense that
the sword does different things to them.  I wish it would get rid of
Antorell, though.  Then I could stop worrying about him."

Shiara said something else, but I missed it.  All of a sudden I had the
same itchy feeling I'd had earlier, as if someone were watching me.  I
looked over my shoulder, but there wasn't anyone there.  Just trees.

"Daystar?"  Shiara almost sounded worried.

"I'm all right," I said.  "But can we get started and talk about this
somewhere else?  We still have to get to see Kazul, and there's an
invisible castle in the way."

"Shouldn't we do something about the people she turned into statues for
her garden?"  Shiara said, looking nervously at the clearing where the
castle ought to be.

"Why?"  said the dragon in a puzzled tone.

"Because it wouldn't be right to just leave them there," I said.

No one seemed to like the idea of going into the castle.  No one wanted
to leave the fire-witch's statue people there, either.  We spent a
little while trying to figure out how to get into the castle.  Shiara
wanted to climb over the wall, but I didn't think that was a very good
idea if we couldn't see the wall or what was on the other side.

Finally, she agreed to help me look for a door or a gate or
something.

We stretched our hands out in front of us and walked carefully toward
the castle.  It wasn't there.  We went a little farther.  It still
wasn't there.  We walked around the clearing for a few minutes while
the dragon watched with interest.  Eventually, we gave up.

"I don't understand," Shiara said as we came back to pick up Nightwitch
and Morwen's bundles.  "Where did it go?"

"Maybe the fire-witch moved it while she was talking to me," I said.

"A whole castle?  That fast?  Besides, didn't Suz say it was still in
the way?  It must have moved since he left."  Shiara stopped, and her
eyes widened.

"Daystar, you don't think she could still be around, do you?"

"She isn't around anywhere," the dragon said positively.  "She went up
in smoke.  I saw her."

"Good," Shiara said savagely.  I must have looked awfully surprised,
because Shiara glared at me and added, "She deserved it.  You don't
know what she had to do to make that castle invisible."

"What was it?"  the dragon asked curiously.

Shiara glared at it, too.  "I don't want to talk about it."

"why not?"  said the dragon.

"Because she tortured people to death!"  Shiara shouted.  "It was part
of the spell, and I know how to do it, and I don't want to think about
it!"

"I told you she wasn't a nice person," the dragon said.

Shiara snorted.  She picked up Nightwitch and her bundle and walked
straight across the clearing.  After a couple of seconds, the dragon
and I followed.

Once we got across the clearing, the dragon took the lead again.

Nobody said much for the rest of the morning, which was fine with me; I
still felt as if someone was watching me, and I didn't like it.

Finally even the dragon noticed.

"You look a little strange," it said.  "Is something wrong?"

"I don't think so," I said.  "I just feel like someone's watching
me."

"You're imagining things," Shiara said.  "I've been looking since you
told me about it this morning, and I haven't seen anyone."

"Someone's following us?"  the dragon said.  It blinked at me, then
turned in a slow circle, eyeing the trees.  "You're right," it said
finally.

"Someone is following us.  That's not polite."

Before Shiara or I could say anything, the dragon's head shot out
toward one of the trees.  I'd never seen anything move so fast.  There
was a loud yell from someone who wasn't the dragon.  Then the dragon
yelped and a bunch of leaves came drifting down to the ground.  I heard
a couple of crashing noises and another, louder yell, and then the
dragon reappeared.

Dangling by the seat of his pants from the dragon's mouth was an elf.

I stared for a minute, trying to decide whether this was the same elf
we'd met before.  He looked the same, but all elves look alike.

Besides, he was yelling and kicking, and every now and then the dragon
would shake its head, which made it hard to see the elf clearly.

I almost laughed; the dragon looked a lot like a very large cat with a
very small mouse.

Nightwitch evidently thought so, too.  She eyed the wriggling elf with
some interest, then glanced up at me.  "Mrrow?"  she said.

"I'm afraid he's too big for you," I said.

"He certainly is!"  yelled the elf.  "Put me down!  Let me down at
once!"

"Mrof!"  said the dragon through a mouthful of cloth.

"I don't think he wants to," I said to the elf.  "Why were you
following us?"

"Hey!"  said Shiara.  "Are you the elf we ran into before?  Because if
you are, I want to talk to you."

The elf stopped struggling and looked down at Shiara.  Then he twisted
around and looked at the dragon.  "On the other hand, maybe I'm better
off up here," he said.

"Mmnuf!"  said the dragon, and shook its head violently.

"Yow!"  said the elf.  "Help!  I surrender?"

"Really?"  Shiara said skeptically.

"Really!" said the elf.  "Absolutely!  Completely and without
question.

Will you put me down?"

"Maybe you should," I said to the dragon.  "I don't think he can get
away from all of us, and it will be a lot easier for you to talk."

The dragon looked at me for a minute, then slowly lowered its head and
dropped the elf in a heap in front of us.  The elf lay there breathing
hard while Shiara and the dragon and I closed in around him.  As soon
as we stopped moving, he bounced to his feet and spun rapidly in a
circle, bowing to each of us.  Then he sat down cross-legged and looked
up at us with bright black eyes.

"Now," said the elf, "what can I do for you?"

12

In Which They Ask Many Questions We looked at each other and then at
the elf.  "What you can do," said Shiara, "is answer some questions."

"My dear lady, I would be delighted," the elf said.  "What do you want
to know?"

"Why were you following us?"  the dragon rumbled.

"I thought she was asking the questions," said the elf.

"We're all asking questions," Shiara told him.  "So you can just stop
dodging and answer that one."

"What one?"  the elf said.  The dragon growled and made a snapping
motion at the elf, who jerked back hastily.  "Yes, ah, of course," he
said.  "That question.  I was, um, looking for information."

"Information?  Ha!"  said Shiara.  "What kind of information?"

"Who you are, where you're going, and what you're going to do when you
get there," the elf replied promptly.  He was pointedly not looking at
the dragon.

"That's all?"  Shiara said sarcastically.  "It sounds a lot like what
we want to know about you."

"How nice," the elf said, beaming.  "We have something in common."

"Excuse me," I broke in.  "But who exactly are you?"

The elf looked at me with a pained expression.  "I'm an elf."

"I can see that," I said politely.  "But would you mind telling me your
name?  I mean, I'd sort of like to know to whom I'm speaking."

"My dear boy, I would be delighted."  The elf rose and bowed with a

flourish.  "My name," he said, "is Janril."  He sat down again and
looked at me expectantly.

"Pleased to meet you, Janril," I said.  "This is Shiara, that's
Nightwitch .  . ."  I hesitated a moment.  Dragons don't pick their
names until they're old enough to pick what sex they're going to be,
too, and I wasn't quite sure how to introduce one.  I couldn't leave it
out, though.

"This is a dragon-" "Somehow I guessed," the elf muttered.

"-and I'm Daystar," I finished.

Shiara was frowning at me, but before she could say anything the elf
bounced to his feet and said, "Daystar!  Not Cimorene's son?  My dear
boy, I can't tell you how glad I am you've finally come.  It's about
time things got straightened out a little."

"I don't trust elves," Shiara said.  "And why should we listen to you,
anyway?"

"My dear girl, if you expect me to answer questions, you're going to
have to listen to me," said the elf.  "Otherwise there's no point in
it.  Why don't you trust elves?"

Shiara didn't want to tell him anything, but I was beginning to like
him.  Also, I didn't see any good reason not to explain, so I told him
about the first elf and the wizard's staff.  When I finished, Janril
nodded solemnly.

"That," he said, "makes your position entirely understandable.  I'm
afraid you ran into one of the Darkmorning Elves.  They're a rather
disreputable lot.  They've been running wild since the King
disappeared, so of course they'd cause you trouble."

"Why 'of course?"  said Shiara suspiciously.  "And what king are you
talking about?"

"The King of the Enchanted Forest," the elf said.  "The Darkmorning
Elves don't want him to come back.  They like the way things have been
run since he disappeared.  Since you have his sword, of course they
want to get rid of you.  If they can," he added thoughtfully.

"Personally, I don't think they really know what they're doing."

"How do you know about Daystar's sword?"  Shiara asked suspiciously.

"My dear girl, everyone who lives in the Enchanted Forest knows
something about the Vanished King's Sword," Janill said.  "It-" "Wait a
minute?"  I said.  "I only have one sword, and I thought it was called
the Sword of the Sleeping King."

"Sleeping, vanished, run away-what difference does it make?"  Janril
said.  "He's gone."

"I don't care about the sword," the dragon said.  "I want to know why
you were following us."

The elf looked annoyed.  "My dear .  . . ah .  . . dragon," he said,
"I told you already, I wanted to find out more about you.  I believe
that's the usual reason for following people around."

"But that doesn't explain anything," the dragon complained.

Shiara's eyes narrowed suddenly.  "All right, then, why did you want to
know more about us?"  anril considered for a moment, then grinned
reluctantly.  "Because I'm trying to find out what the Darkmorning
Elves are up to."

"What does that have to do with us?"  I asked.

"iF i knew that, I wouldn't have to follow you," the elf said
reasonably.

"But the Darkmorning Elves have been very active in this part of the
woods for the past few days, and we thought it might be you they were
interested in.  And of course, if they're interested, so are we."

"Who do you mean by 'we'?"  I said.

"The Goldwing-Shadowmusic Elves," Janril said with a touch of pride.

"We are on the side of the King, even if he is missing right now.  We
follow the sword."

"What does that mean?"  Shiara demanded.  "And how many kinds of elves
are there?"

"Quite a few," said Janril.  "But the only ones you have to watch out
for are the Darkmorning Elves and the Silverstaff Elves.  Fortunately,
the Silverstaff Elves don't know the sword is back yet, but I doubt
that your luck will hold much longer."

"How do you know these Silverstaff Elves don't know about Daystar's
sword?"  Shiara asked.

"My dear girl, if they did, you'd have wizards all over the place.  The
Silverstaff Elves are in league with them.  Undiscriminating, that's
all I can call it."Janril looked prim.  A prim elf is almost as odd
looking as a dignified lizard.  I found myself wishing Suz were still
around so I could compare them.

"How do we know you're telling the truth?"  Shiara said.

"I suppose you don't," the elf said cheenqally.  "But it doesn't really
matter.  We'll still be glad to help you."

Shiara snorted.  "The last elf who said he was going to help us almost
got Daystar killed."

"I'm sorry about that," Janril said politely.  "But I simply can't take
responsibility for the Darkmorning Elves.  Now, I must be going; I have
to let the rest of the Goldwing-Shadowmusic Elves know what's going
on.

We'll see you at the castle."

'Just a minute!"  Shiara said.  "What makes you think we're going to
let you go?"

"Can you think of anything else we could do with him?"  I said.

"I could eat him, I suppose," the dragon said dubiously.  "I don't
think I want to, though.  Elves don't taste very good."

I decided not to ask how the dragon knew that.  "You don't have to eat
him," I said.  "I think we should just let him go."

"But Daystar-" Shiara stopped and thought for a moment, biting her
lip.

"Oh, all right.  If you want to let him go, let's do it."

"Are you sure?"  I said, surprised.  "I thought you didn't like the
idea."

"I don't," Shiara said, glaring at me.  "But we'll be here all day if
we start arguing.  Besides, it's your sword."

"All right," I said toJanril, "You can go, as long as you don't follow
us around anymore."

"But of course!"  The elf bounced to his feet again, bowed to each of
us-including Nightwitch-and whisked off.  Shiara scowled after him and
opened her mouth, then apparently decided not to say anything.

"Well, let's go," I said after a minute.  We picked up our bundles and
started walking again.  The dragon and I both watched the trees for a
while, but Janril kept his promise.

Shiara walked just behind the dragon, looking thoughtful.  "Do you
really believe that elf?"  she finally asked me.

"I'm not sure," I said.  "I don't think it makes much difference,
though.

I'd still be going to see Kazul, no matter what he said.  I want to
find out about this sword and what it does and what's really going on
around here."

I must have sounded annoyed, because Shiara frowned at me and asked,
"What's the matter with you?"

"I'm getting sort of tired of people chasing my sword," I said.  "I'd
like to know why they want it so badly."  I was also beginning to
realize that I didn't know nearly as much about the Enchanted Forest as
I thought I did, which made me very nervous.  I wasn't going to mention
that to Shiara just yet, though.

"Oh."  Shiara looked thoughtful again.  "Well, you could-" The dragon
looked backward over its shoulder.  "You're slowing down," it said.

"Can't you two talk and walk at the same time?"

We made fairly good time for the rest of the afternoon, and we were
just beginning to think about finding a place to spend the night when
we came to a clearing.  The dragon stopped right at the edge of it,
very abruptly.

Fortunately, Shiara and I were back far enough to stop before we ran
into it or stepped on its tail or something.  Bumping into a dragon is
not a particularly good way to end a day.

"What's the matter now?"  asked Shiara.

"This looks just like that last clearing," the dragon said.  "The one
that had the castle in it."

"You mean we've been going in circles?"  Shiara said.

"No," said the dragon.  "I know my way around the Enchanted Forest
better than that.  I just don't like this."

"Why are you worried?"  Shiara said.  "You're not the one who got
turned into a statue."

"Well, if you think banging into something you can't see is fun, you go
first," said the dragon.

I put my hand on the hilt of my sword and felt a nice, strong rumble,
like a cart full of bricks on a bumpy road.  There was definitely a lot
of magic in the clearing, or at least close by.  I said so.

"If it's invisible, I don't want anything to do with it," Shiara said
decidedly.  "Can't we just go around?"

"No," said the dragon grumpily.  "I want to know who's putting all
these invisible things in my shortcut.  If there's another one here,
I'm going to find out about it."  It stalked cautiously out into the
clearing, heading straight through the middle.

Nothing happened.  The dragon walked all the way across, then turned
and looked at us.  "Are you sure there's something here?  I can't find
anything."

I touched the sword again.  "It feels like there is," I said.  I looked
at Shiara.  She looked dubiously across the clearing.  "Hurry up," said
the dragon.

I sighed and started forward.  I kept one hand on the hilt of my sword,
just in case, and I walked across the same part of the clearing the
dragon had.  Shiara shook her head and started around the edge of the
clearing.

I got about five steps.  Then there was a whooshirg noise and a wall of
flames shot up around me, very hot and bright.  I yelled, because I
couldn't see where I was going, and I yanked at my sword.  I think I
had some vague idea that the sword might keep me from burning to death;
I certainly couldn't see to fight anything.

Something hit me in the middle of my back just as the sword came out of
its sheath.  I felt a wave of anticipation from the sword followed very
closely by a surge of disappointment.  I was so surprised I nearly
dropped it.

Then I realized that it wouldn't matter if I did drop it, because I was
lying on the ground.  I was also much cooler than I had been a minute
ago, and someone was pounding on me.

"Stop it!"  I said.

The someone sat back, and I saw that it was Shiara.  "Are you all
right?"  she asked.

"I think so," I said.  "Why were you pounding on me?"

"Your clothes were on fire," Shiara said.  "I was trying to put them
out.

If I'd known you were going to fuss about it, I'd have let them
burn."

I apologized and thanked her, then looked around.  Shiara and I were
sitting on the ground, just inside a ring of fire.  In the center of
the ring was a short, round building with a pointed roof.  It wasn't
quite tall enough to call a tower, but it wasn't short enough to call a
house, either.  I moved away from the flames, which were uncomfortably
warm, and looked at Shiara.

"What happened?"

"How should I know?  One second you were walking across the clearing,
and the next second there was all this fire and you were yelling,"
Shiara said.  "And when I tried to shove you out of it, we both got in
here instead, and that thing was sitting there."  She waved at the
not-quite-tower.

"At least it isn't invisible," I offered.  Shiara gave me a disgusted
look, but she didn't say anything.

"Hello?"  called the dragon's voice from the other side of the wall of
fire.  "Are you there?"

"We're here," I called back.  "Both of us."

"How did you do that?"  the dragon shouted.

"I don't know," I said.  "And I don't want to stay here to find out."

I picked myself up off the ground and put the sword back in its
sheath.

"I think maybe we'd better go," I said to Shiara.  "Before something
comes out of that house."

"It isn't a house," Shiara said.  "But for once I agree with you."

"Achoo!"  said the dragon from the other side of the fire.

'Just a minute, there!"  a voice said behind me.

I turned around.  A medium-sized man was standing about ten feet away,
leaning on a staff that was about three feet taller than he was.  He
had black hair and three rings on each hand, and he was frowning
irritably at Shiara and me.

"Oh, rats," said Shiara disgustedly.  "Another wizard!"

"You," said the man, ignoring her statement completely, "are
trespassing.

I don't know how you got in here, but it was a great mistake for you to
do so."

"We didn't exactly do it on purpose," I said.  "We were just trying to
get across the clearing."

"Young man, I surround my home with a wall of fire for a reason," the
wizard said.  "And the reason is that I do not like to be disturbed.  I
wish to know how you penetrated it, or I would not be wasting my time
talking with you."

"I'm a fire-witch, that's how!"  Shiara said.  "And if you don't want
to be disturbed, you ought to be more careful with your stupid wall.

We would have gone right by if it hadn't jumped up all over Daystar
when he tried to cross the clearing!"

"A fire-witch?"  the man said.  He gave Shiara an extremely odd
look.

"You haven't mislaid an invisible castle recently, have you?"

"No!"  said Shiara.  "It isn't mine!"

The wizard looked even angrier.  "You know of it!"

"Well, sort of," I said.  "It isn't ours, but we ran into it this
morning."

"Did you," said the wizard.  He sounded skeptical and very dangerous.

I decided I didn't want to talk about the castle anymore.

"I think we ought to be going now," I said.  "We're really very sorry
to have bothered you."

"I'm not!"  Shiara said.

"Shiara!"

"Well, I'm not," Shiara said.  "He ought to apologize to us, not the
other way around.  And anyway, I'm not apologizing to any wizard,
especially not one that messes around with invisible castles!"

The man with the staff frowned, but this time he looked more thoughtful
than angry.  "What is your complaint against wizards?"

"Ha!"  said Shiara.  "You should know."

"No," said the man, "I should not.  I am not a wizard."

"ACHOo!"  came the dragon's voice, and the wall of fire bulged inward
on that side.

"Excuse me, but if you're not a wizard, why are you carrying a
staff?"

I asked.  "And why is the dragon sneezing?"

The man looked startled.  "Dragon?  You travel with a dragon?"

"No, it travels with us," I said.  "Does it make a difference?"

"Perhaps," the man said.  He looked at the wall of fire and made a pass
with his staff.  The flames began to die, and a moment later we could
see the clearing again.

13

In Which They Learn the Difference Between a Wizard and a Magician The
dragon was still sneezing in medium-sized puffs of flame.  The man with
the staff examined it and shook his head.  "That certainly is a
dragon."

He made another pass with his staff.

The staff vanished, and the dragon stopped sneezing abruptly.  It
sniffed a couple of times in an experimental way, looking surprised, as
if it expected to start sneezing again any minute.  I was surprised,
too.  I mean, wizards never let go of their staffs-not willingly,
anyway.

The man bowed politely to the dragon.  "I apologize for inconveniencing
you," he said.  "I offer you greetings and welcome to my home, and I
wish you good fortune when you leave."

"What?"  said the dragon.

The man looked a little startled and peered at the dragon more
closely.

"Oh, I see," he said after a moment.  "Well, you're welcome.  Come and
make yourself comfortable."

Shiara scowled at him and bent to pick up Nightwitch, who had come
running toward her as soon as the flames had died.  The dragon looked
suspiciously at the man.

"I don't like wizards," it said.  "And I don't like people who put
invisible things in the middle of my shortcut."

"I am not a wizard," the man said with a sigh.  "And my tower has

been here for years, and it isn't invisible.  Now, come in and talk.

There hasn't been a dragon by for a long time, and I'm a bit behind on
the news."

"If you're not a wizard, what are you?"  Shiara said, petting
Nightwitch and glaring at the man.

"I'm a magician," the man said.  "And my name is Telemain."

"Pleased to meet you," I said.

"Mrrow," said Nightwitch, and started purring loudly.

Telemain looked at the kitten, and suddenly he began to laugh.  He had
a nice laugh, sort of deep and friendly.  I started thinking that I
might be able to like him after all, even if his fire wall had nearly
burned me to a cinder.

"I don't believe I have ever seen a group quite like this one,"
Telemain said when he finished laughing.  "Please, tell me who you all
are."

I introduced everyone, and Telemain nodded courteously to each of us.

He gave me a sharp look when I told him my name.  "I thought that was
what your friend called you," he said.  "Welcome to my home."

"Some welcome!"  Shiara said.  "You nearly got Daystar killed, and you
started the dragon sneezing again.  And how come the dragon was
allergic to you if you aren't a wizard?"

"Dragons aren't allergic to wizards," Telemain said, sounding
surprised.

"What gave you that idea?"

"I did?  the dragon said.  It came forward and sat down emphatically,
right next to me.  "All dragons are allergic to wizards.  I should
know: I sneeze every time I get near one."  It eyed Telemain
belligerently.

"Oh, I don't doubt that at all," Telemain said.  "But the
hypersensitive reaction results from the indiscriminate absorption of
magical energy through the enchantments fixed in their staffs."

"What?"  said the dragon.

Telemain sighed.  "It's not wizards you're allergic to, it's their
staffs.  You stopped sneezing as soon as I got rid of mine, didn't
you?"

The dragon looked startled.  "I did, didn't I?"  it said after a
minute.

"If you aren't a wizard, what are you doing with a wizard's staff?"

Shiara asked.

Telemain raised his eyebrows.  "Why do you ask?"

"We've been having some trouble with wizards," I said before Shiara
could answer.  I didn't want her to make him angry.  We had enough
people mad at us already.

"Really."  Telemain looked as if he were going to laugh again.  "All of
you?"

"Well, mainly just Shiara and me," I said.  "We've been sort of worried
about them.  Most of them are after Shiara," I added.

"What would the Society of Wizards want with a fire-witch?"  Telemain
said.  "I can see that I shall have to invite you in, if only to hear
your tale."

"How do you know about the Society?"  Shiara said angrily.  "And why
should we trust a wizard, anyway?"

"Anyone who knows much about magic can tell you're a fire-witch, and
the only reason I can think of for a fire-witch to have several wizards
after her is if she has done something to offend the Society of
Wizards," Telemain said.  He still sounded amused.  "And for the third
time, at least, I am a magician, not a wizard."

"What's the difference?"  Shiara demanded.

"Magicians deal with many ways of magic," Telemain said.  "Wizards with
only one.  Now, will you come in and sit down?"

Shiara was still looking at him doubtfully.  Telemain smiled.  "Will an
oath content you?  If you mean no harm, I am not your enemy, and I will
o you no harm while you are my guests, save in self-defense.  I swear
by the sword," I felt a kind of popping at my side, even though I
wasn't touching the sword, and a tipple ran through the clearing, like
a shimmer of light in the air.  I thought it kept on going out into the
forest, but I couldn't be certain.

Shiara started and dropped Nightwitch, who landed on her feet with a
yowl.

The dragon stretched its neck, looking almost as if it were trying to
purr.

Telemain suddenly looked very intense.

"That is the way of it, then?"  he said when the tipple passed.  "I
don't think I blame you for your caution."  He looked pointedly at my
sword.

Shiara scowled again, but I thought she looked a little more doubtful
than the last time.  "If you're so smart .  . ."  she began, and
stopped.

Nightwitch was rubbing against Telemain's leg and purring.

"Nightwitch?"  said Shiara.

"An intriguing name for a cat," Telemain said, bending over to pick up
Nightwitch.  "Even more interesting for a kitten.  Where did you come
by her?"

"She was a present," Shiara said grudgingly.  "From a witch named-"
"Morwen?"  said Telemain.  Nightwitch purred louder.  "I suspected as
much.  Now, will you come in?  Or do you wish to continue this
discussion where anyone may hear?"

We went in.  The door of Telemain's home looked like an ordinary,
normal-sized door, but it couldn't have been, because the dragon fit
through it without any trouble.  The room inside was made of stone and
very bare.

In the center of the floor, two iron staircases twisted around each
other in a spiral and disappeared into the ceiling.  The whole place
seemed much taller from the inside.  iF i hadn't seen it before we came
in, I would have been sure we were in a tower.

As the door closed behind the dragon, Telemain waved his hand.  A

table and three chairs materialized beside the stairs.  "Sit down and
tell me more about yourselves."

We sat down, except for the dragon, who sort of curled itself around
the edges of the room.  I started explaining about Mother and Antorell
and everything that had happened in the Enchanted Forest.  I even told
him about the Sword of the Sleeping King, because I was pretty sure
from the way he looked at it that he already knew something about it.

The questions he asked made it pretty clear that I was right, although
sometimes he got so technical that I had to ask him to repeat
something.  He sounded as if he knew exactly what answers he expected,
too.  When I told him about the voice that had said, "All hail the
Bearer of the Sword," he nodded in satisfaction.

Then I explained how Shiara and I had met, and why the wizards were
after her, and about the one who'd tried to get us at the stream.

Shiara frowned at me, but she didn't interrupt.  When I told him about
meeting Morwen, Telemain seemed very interested.

"I haven't seen Morwen in a long time," he said.  "How is she?"

"You know Morwen?"  Shiara said.

"We grew up together," Telemain said.  "Now, exactly what did she have
you do to repair the damage to your hand?"

Telemain asked a lot of questions about the things the Sword of the
Sleeping King had done, but he didn't seem particularly interested in
the wizards.  He wasn't interested in the Princess at all.  Then I told
him about the invisible castle and the fire-witch.

"So that's how you knew about it," Telemain said.  "I wondered."

"That's how we knew," Shiara said.  "How did you know?"

"The castle landed in my clearing sometime around noon," Telemain said
dryly.  "I was understandably curious as to why someone would go to all
the trouble of making a castle invisible and then drop it on top of a
magician who can't help noticing it."

"It's not there now," Shiara said.

"Of course not!  What would I want with an invisible castle?  When I
found no one home, I cleaned the place up a bit and got rid of it."

"Cleaned it up?"  I said, puzzled.

"The most recent owner had a number of unattractive habits," Telemain
said even more dryly than before.  "In addition to casual
petrification of passersby, she indulged in seven varieties of
involuntary metamorphosis, as well as necromancy and demonology.  I
don't believe you would be at all interested in the technical
details."

"Oh."  He was right; I didn't really want to know about it.

Telemain looked at Shiara again.  "I owe you an apology," he said.

"I

knew that the castle was the property of a fire-witch, and I'm afraid
that when you showed up, I thought you had some connection with it."

"Well, I don't, but I suppose I can see why you might have gotten
mad."

Shiara sounded a lot friendlier than she had before.  I think she would
have been friendly to anyone who didn't like that other fire-witch.

Then she frowned.  "How did the castle get into your clearing,
anyway?"

Telemain shrugged.  "As far as I can tell, the unit transportation
spell operated on a set of totally random parameters, both in terms of
time and location."

"What does that mean?"  said the dragon.

"The castle was designed to move around the Enchanted Forest more or
less randomly.  It's a rather unusual spell to put on a building,
particularly an invisible one, because if you happen to be outside when
it moves, you get left behind."

"Then why on earth would anyone put a stupid spell like that on a
castle?"

"Presumably this fire-witch didn't expect to have any problems finding
the castle again.  I don't believe it occurred to her that someone else
might find it first."  He smiled.  "I left a few surprises for her.  I
doubt that she'll be pleased."

"Oh, that's all right," the dragon said.  "Daystar got rid of her."

Telemain looked at me.  "Really.  How did you manage that?"

"She threw some sort of spell at me, but Nightwitch scratched her, so
she missed," I said.  "And after that, I had the sword out."

"You used the Sword of the Sleeping King on a fire-witch?"Telemain
said.  He sounded somewhere between shocked and horrified.

"I couldn't think of anything else that might work," I said
apologetically.

"And it did work, sort of.  I mean, it got rid of the fire-witch."

"She went up in smoke," the dragon said with considerable
satisfaction.

"I watched."

"She went up in smoke," Telemain repeated in tones of fascination.

"And what were you doing while this was going on?"

"I was trying to hang on to the sword," I said.  "It was glowing red,
and my hands felt like they were burning or something, so it was sort
of hard to do.  But as soon as the fire-witch was gone, it stopped."

"You are extremely fortunate," Telemain said.  "You might have gotten
yourself killed and ruined everything.  I don't recommend that you try
that again.  Stick to wizards.  That's what the sword was meant for."

"It was?"  said Shiara.  "How do you know?  What else does it do?"

Telemain looked at her.  "Magicians know many kinds of magic."  He
turned back to me.  "Please, continue."

I was curious about what the sword did, too, but Telemain obviously

didn't want to talk about it, so I didn't ask.  Instead, I explained
about fixing Shiara and not finding the castle and meeting the second
elf.  Telemain listened carefully, then shook his head.

"So the war is beginning again," he said, half to himself.  "I had best
make my own preparations.  I wonder why no one let me know?"

"War?"  Shiara and I said together.

Telemain looked up, almost as if he had forgotten we were there.  "The
war between the dragons and the wizards," he said in the tones of
someone trying to be patient.

The dragon, who had been falling asleep, suddenly came awake.  "War
with the wizards?"

"It is obvious," Telemain said a trifle crossly.  "The elves are
choosing sides, the dragons are restless, the wizards are coming into
the Enchanted Forest in large numbers, and the Sword of the Sleeping
King has returned.

What more do you need to know?"

"What does the Sword of the Sleeping King have to do with a war between
the dragons and the wizards?"  I asked before the dragon could take
offense.

"The sword is what started the war in the first place," Telemain said,
and then he refused to say any more.  "If Cimorene didn't see fit to
explain, I certainly won't," he said.  "When you meet Kazul, I am sure
she will tell you whatever you need to know.  I'm afraid I don't have
time at the moment.  I must see to things at once, if we are to win
this war at last."

"Who do you mean, 'we'?"  Shiara asked suspiciously.

"The dragons," Telemin said, "and the rest of us who follow the
sword.

Now, if you will excuse me?"  He rose and started for the stairs.

"Wait a minute!"  Shiara said.  "What about us?"

"What?  Oh, of course," Telemain said.  He waved his hand again and
muttered something, and suddenly the table was full of plates and bowls
of food.  I jumped.  Telemain didn't seem to notice.  "Help yourselves
while I am gone," he said.  "I don't expect to be long."  He turned
away and went up one of the iron staircases.

Shiara and I looked at each other.  "Now what do we do?"  Shiara
said.

"I'm going to eat," I said.  "Would you like something?"

Shiara snorted, but she reached for one of the bowls.  There was plenty
for all of us, including Nightwitch and the dragon.  About the time we
finished, Telemain came back.

"I was right," he said to no one in particular.  Then he looked at
me.

"You'd better stay here for the night.  It will be much safer for
everyone, and it will give me time to look into things a little more.

You've been extremely lucky so far, but there's no reason to take any
more chances until you must."

I started to nod, then looked at Shiara.  Shiara looked at me, then at
Nightwitch, who was curled into a small ball on Telemain's chair.  She
shrugged.  "Let's stay."

"You will find rooms upstairs, on the second floor," Telemain said.

'Just pick one and go in."  He turned to the dragon.  "I think you'll
be more comfortable down here."

"I think you're right," said the dragon, eyeing the iron staircases a
little dubiously.

"And thank you very much for your hospitality," I said.

Telemain nodded.  Shiara and I started for the stairs.  Shiara got
there ahead of me and started climbing, but she didn't get anywhere.

"What's the matter?"  I asked.

"There's something wrong with this stupid staircase!"  Shiara said.  "I
keep trying to climb up, but I don't go anywhere?"

Telemain, who had been talking quietly to the dragon, turned.  "I'm
sorry; I should have warned you.  You'll have to take the other
staircase.

That one incorporates a unidirectional matrix focused groundward."

"Say that again, in English," Shiara said.

"That stairway just works going down."

"That's ridiculous?"  said Shiara.  "How can a staircase only work
going in one direction?"

"He's a magician," I said.

We didn't have any trouble getting up the other stairway.  Telemain's
tower really was a lot taller than it looked from the outside; the
stairs kept going after they got to the second floor.  Shiara and I
didn't climb any farther, though.  We got off on the landing at the
second floor and looked around.

We were standing on a narrow circle of wooden floor around the hole
where the two staircases came through.  Around the edge were six
identical wooden doors.

"Well, he said to just go in," Shiara said.

Each of us picked a door and opened it.  The rooms were all the same
and very comfortable looking.  They each had a bed, a table, a lighted
lamp in a bracket on the wall, a padded chair, and a small set of
drawers with a mirror above it.  Shiara looked thoughtful.  "I wonder
if he keeps lights going in all these rooms?"

"He might," I said.  "I mean, he is a magician.  Does it matter?"

Shiara glared at me and went into the room she'd picked, slamming the
door behind her.  I stood there for a moment, wondering whether to
knock on the door and apologize.  In the end I decided to wait until
morning to talk to her, since by then she probably wouldn't be mad
anymore, and anyway I wasn't sure what I should apologize for.

I kept the Sword of the Sleeping King with me all night.  It was a
little uncomfortable sleeping that way, but I felt better knowing where
it was.  It wasn't that I didn't trust Telemain.  I was just getting
more and more worried about the sword.  Everyone I met seemed to know
about it, or want to know about it, or just want to get hold of it.  I
spent a lot of time thinking instead of sleeping.

Telemain served breakfast the next morning on his magic table.  He was
very quiet while we were eating, but as soon as we finished he looked
at me and said, "I have watched the Enchanted Forest all night, and
there are some things you should know, but I do not wish to detain you
against your "What things?"  Shiara demanded.

Telemain smiled slightly.  "I fear you will have some difficulty in
reaching the castle," he said.  "I found no less than twelve wizards
searching the area between it and you."

"Oh, great," Shiara said disgustedly.  'Just what we need-more
wizards!"

"I don't think it's very good," the dragon said.  "Why do you?"

"I don't," Shiara said.

"Then why did you say so?"

"What can we do about them?"  I asked Telemain.

"I think you can avoid them if you go through the Caves of Chance,"
Telemain replied.

14

In Which the Dragon Has an Allergy Attack We all stared.  "Ha!"  Shiara
said finally.  "The Caves of Chance are even more dangerous than the
wizards!"

"I don't think so," Telemain said.  "I have been through them, and
they're not as bad as most people think.  Furthermore, there is an
entrance to the caves within half a day's travel, and an exit that is
very close to the castle.  And once you are inside the caves, the
wizards will not be able to find "Why not?"  Shiara asked.

"The Caves of Chance do not welcome wizards' magic."

"Can you give us directions?"  I asked.

Telemain nodded and pulled a large map out of his sleeve.  Most people
don't even try making maps of the Enchanted Forest because things
change so fast that an ordinary map is only good for a few days, so I'd
never seen one before.  This map must have been magical, because it
seemed fairly accurate.  At least, all the things Shiara and I had seen
were in the right places.

Telemain showed us where his tower was and where the castle was, and he
pointed out several places he'd found wizards.  Then he showed us the
entrance to the caves.  It really did look a lot closer and safer than
trying to get by all those wizards.  Even Shiara looked less
doubtful.

Then Telemain turned the map over, and on the back was a map of the

Caves of Chance.  He went over the routes from the entrance to the
exit we wanted and what to do about some of the things we might run
into inside.  It was very interesting.  I knew that trolls are allergic
to milk.  but I hadn't known that rock snakes like mirrors enough that
they'll stop squeezing someone in order to look at their reflections.

He also told us to hold anything we really didn't want to lose in one
hand until we were out of the Caves.

When telemain was satisfied that we knew our way, he rolled the map up
and put it back in his sleeve.  We went outside to say good-bye.

"When you meet Kazul, tell her I will be coming for the battle."

Telemain said.  "I called her last night on the magic mirror to let her
know that you're on your way, so she's expecting you."

"I'll remember," I said.  "And thank you again for your help."

"Yes," said Shiara.  I looked at her, a little surprised, but she was
watching Telemain with an odd look on her face.  "I think I ought to
apologize to you," she said finally.  "I wasn't very nice last
night."

This time I really did stare, but she didn't seem to notice.  Telemain
bowed.  "Neither of us was blameless," he said.  "I shall forget it, if
you will."

Shiara nodded and turned to me.  "Let's go, then."

I shut my mouth and picked up the bundle Morwen had given me.

Shiara already had hers.  We waved good-bye to Telemain and started off
into the forest again.

Nothing much happened all morning.  Shiara and I were both nervous
anyway, thinking of all those wizards ahead of us.  The dragon didn't
seem bothered, though, and Nightwitch certainly wasn't.  We found the
first few landmarks Telemain had told us about, and we were fairly
close to the entrance to the caves of chance when the dragon stopped
and demanded lunch.

As soon as the dragon mentioned food, Shiara and I realized that we
were hungry, too.  We started looking for a good place to sit down and
eat.

Almost immediately, we found a huge tree lying on the ground in the
middle of a small clearing.

The dragon wrapped itself around a medium-sized tree in front of us; it
said it was much more comfortable that way.  Nightwitch wandered around
investigating the interesting holes and crannies around the fallen
tree.  Shiara and I sat down and passed out gingerbread and meat pies
from Morwen's bundles.

"How much farther is it to the castle?"  Shiara asked the dragon,
handing it a slice of gingerbread.

"Oh, not very far," the dragon said.  "About another day, if we
weren't

going through the caves.  I've never been in the caves, so I don't
know how long that will take."

"I thought you said this was a shortcut," Shiara said.

"It is a shortcut," the dragon said in a hurt tone.  "How was I
supposed to know a fire-witch was going to get in the way?  Not to
mention an elf and a magician."

"Do you think Kazul will tell us anything about the sword?"  I asked.

Nobody else seemed willing to explain, and I didn't see why Kazul
should be any different.

"I'm sure she will," the dragon said reassuringly.  "That is, if you're
polite to her.  Kazul is very particular about .  . . about .  . . ahh
. . .

Shiara and I dropped our lunches and ducked hastily to either side.

"Achoo!"  said the dragon.  A large spurt of flame shot across the
clearing, just missing us, and the dragon's tree shook.  "Achoo!  Oh,
bother..  Achoo!"

"Daystar?  Shiara shouted.  "Over here!"

I ran around behind the dragon, who was now sneezing almost
continuously.

I pulled out my sword as I went.  When my hand touched the hilt, I felt
the same jangling that I'd gotten from Antorell earlier.  Then I came
around the tree, and even before Shiara pointed, I saw the wizards.

There were two of them right in front of Shiara, leaning on their
staffs and looking from Shiara to the dragon and back.

"Hurry up," one of them said nervously.  "We don't want this to get out
of hand."

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait," another voice said from behind him.

The first wizard jumped, and Antorell stepped out of the bushes.  His
beard and hair were several inches shorter than they had been, and his
staff had a scorched streak near the top, but getting caught in the
little dragon's fireball didn't seem to have done much to him
otherwise.  He smiled and went on, "You see, I want him, too."

"Um, can't we discuss this somewhere else?"  said the nervous wizard,
eyeing the dragon.

"Oh, you needn't worry about that," Antorell said, following his
gaze.

He smiled nastily.  "I came prepared."  He held up his free hand so
that all of us could see the spray of spiky, saw-edged purple leaves he
was holding.

"Dragonsbane," he said unnecessarily.

The other wizards relaxed a little.  "Such forethought," murmured the
tall one.  He exchanged glances with his companion, then bowed to
Antorell.

"Under the circumstances, we will be happy to split the reward with
you."

"I am afraid that is out of the question," Antorell said over the
dragon's sneezes.  "The boy and his sword are mine."

"The boy!"  said the nervous wizard.  "But-" The tall one frowned at
him, and he stopped.

The tall wizard turned back to Antorell.  "As you say, the boy is
yours.

I trust you have no objection if we take the girl?"

Antorell frowned.  He turned toward Shiara and stared at her for a
minute, then shrugged.  "She's no use to me.  Of course I have no
objection."

I started moving very, very slowly toward Shiara, so that when the
wizards started throwing spells at us I could try to stop them with the
sword.

The wizards didn't notice, and neither did Shiara.  By the time the
wizards finished deciding what to do with us, I was almost over to
her.

"It's settled, then," Antorell said.  "We help each other.  The girl
first?"

"Ah, why not start with the dragon?"  the nervous wizard asked.

Antorell smiled condescendingly.  "Very well."  He stepped forward and
started muttering over the dragonsbane.  Right away the dragon started
yelling.

"Yow!"  it said.  "Achoo!  I hate wizards.  Ouch!  Achoo!  Help!"

"You stop that!"  Shiara said to Antorell.  The wizards ignored her,
and Antorell kept mumbling.

I started forward.  If I could knock the dragonsbane out of Antorell's
hand, the spell would stop.  I wasn't sure whether it would be
completely broken, but at least he wouldn't be able to hurt the dragon
anymore.  Unfortunately, I'd forgotten about the other wizards.  I
didn't even realize one of them had done something until my feet stuck
to the ground and suddenly I couldn't walk forward anymore.  If I
hadn't been stuck, I'd have lost my balance.  It was very
disconcerting.  Antorell was still out of reach.

I took a quick glance back over my shoulder.  The dragon was sneezing
much too hard now to say anything at all.  I could see its coils going
slack, and it was losing its hold on the tree.  Here and there, its
scales were turning pink around the edges.  Even the tree looked
wilted.

"Shiara!"  I yelled.  "Get the dragonsbane!"  I didn't think I could
get loose in time, but the wizards wouldn't be able to stop a
fire-witch.

I didn't wait to see what she did.  I leaned forward a little and tried
to lay part of the Sword of the Sleeping King across my feet.  It
hadn't helped Shiara when she was a statue, but this was a wizard's
spell, not a fire-witch's spell, and Telemain had said the sword was
meant to be used on wizards.

Besides, I couldn't think of anything else.

It worked.  I straightened up just in time to see a little tongue of
flame shoot up from Antorell's hand.  Antorell yelled and dropped the
dragons bane, which was burning brightly.  Before it even hit the
ground, there was nothing left of the plant except ashes.

I looked behind me.  Shiara was standing with a surprised look on her

face and one finger pointing at Antorell.  The dragon was still
sneezing, but the green was already starting to come back to its
scales.  I sighed in relief.

"This is the assistance you give us?"  the tall wizard said to
Antorell, who was brushing ashes off the front of his robe.  "The
dragon still lives!"

"Did I say anything about killing it?"  Antorell said.  I got the
feeling he was trying to sound haughty, but he only managed to sound
annoyed.  "You need have no more fear of it.  It will take some time to
regain its strength, and by then we shall be finished.  What next?"

"The girl, I think," said the tall wizard.  "That is, if you're sure
you can handle her?"

Antorell glared.  "That is the least of my problems," he said
grandly.

"Ha!"  said Shiara loudly.  I moved back over to her, holding the sword
in front of me.  The three wizards looked at us, then at each other.

"Let us begin," said the tall one.

All three of them raised their staffs, but instead of pointing them
directly at us, they brought them together, so that they made a kind of
star about a foot from their ends.  There was a bright flash as the
three staffs touched, and I felt a shock from my sword.  I jumped, and
suddenly I realized that I could feel the forest.  The magic of the
forest, I mean; it was all around me, waiting.  I felt almost as if the
whole Enchanted Forest were watching me.

Right in front of me, I could feel the wizards' power growing and
building.  There was a kind of pattern in it that kept getting clearer
and more complicated, and I knew I had to do something about it before
the wizards finished.  I stepped forward and swung the sword right
through the middle of the pattern.

I felt a huge jolt of power from the sword, but it didn't hurt the way
the fire-witch's spell had.  In fact, it didn't hurt at all.  The
pattern collapsed in an invisible tangle.  Antorell's eyes started to
narrow; the other two wizards just looked stunned.  And then something
exploded.

I couldn't see anything.  It wasn't that things had gone dark, and it
wasn't that the light had blinded me.  It was more as if the whole
world had suddenly become invisible, so there was nothing left to
see.

There was a rushing noise all around me, and I felt as if I were
floating.  I heard a chorus of voices cry, "All hail the Wielder of the
Sword!"  and then the noise and the voices vanished, and I was standing
in the clearing with the Sword of the Sleeping King shining in my hand
and three very surprised wizards in front of me.

I stared at the wizards.  The wizards stared at me.  Antorell recovered
first.

"Enough of this!"  he cried, and raised his staff.  As he did, the
ground in front of him humped up a little bit.  A second later, a tree
shot up about

twelve feet into the air.  It reminded me of someone opening an
umbrella very quickly.  The branches shivered once as the leaves
unrolled, and then it burst into bloom with a sound like a hundred
little bells tinkling.

Antorell looked even more surprised than before, then he scowled
angrily and pointed his staff at me again.  The tall wizard next to him
grabbed his arm.  "Wait, fool!  Don't you know what that sword is?"

"Of course I know, oaf."  Antorell's eyes sparked.  "It is mine!  I
will have it!"

"You will be dead, you mean," the tall wizard said, but he let go of
Antorell's arm.  "This is a matter for the whole Society of Wizards.

There may still be time to stop him if we can bring them quickly
enough."

"More wizards?  Achoo!  Oh, no you don't!  Achoo!  Oh, drat, achoo!"

said the dragon.  It dove out of its tree, unwinding itself like a
spool of string, very quickly.  Its head shot past me, and I got a
fleeting glimpse of green scales and golden eyes and a very, very red
tongue.  One of the wizards yelled, and the dragon sneezed again.  I
jumped forward just in time to see all three of the wizards vanish
hastily.  Antorell looked a little white and he had one hand clutched
around a dark, wet-looking spot on his other arm as he disappeared.

I looked at the dragon.  It snapped its teeth together twice, swallowed
something, and sat back, looking very pleased with itself.  "Wizards,"
it announced, "taste much better than elves."

I swallowed hard and decided I didn't really want to finish my lunch.

The dragon looked at Shiara.  Shiara scowled.

"Don't you look at me like that!"  she said.  "I'm not a wizard, I'm a
fire-witch."

The dragon looked thoroughly shocked.  "But I wouldn't eat you!

You're my friend.  It wouldn't be polite at all!"

Shiara looked suspiciously at the dragon, then nodded.  "I just wanted
to make sure you remembered."

"I think we'd better get going," I said.  "Those wizards sounded like
they were going to come back with reinforcements."

"Oh, terrific," said Shiara.  "Let's go, then.  Where's Nightwitch?"

"Mrow," said a kitten voice from somewhere above me.

I looked up.  Nightwitch was perched on a branch of the tree that had
sprouted up in the middle of the fight.  She was washing her paws.  She
stopped and looked down at me for a second, then went back to
washing.

"Nightwitch, come down!"  Shiara said.  "Those wizards might come back
any minute!"

Nightwitch ignored her.  The dragon came over and peered curiously at
the tree.  "Where did this come from?"  it asked.

"It grew," I said.  "I think you were sneezing when it happened."

"Kazul is going to be surprised about this!"  the dragon said
happily.

"Two new trees in a couple of days!"

"What are you talking about?"  Shiara said.  "It's just a tree."

"No, it isn't," the dragon said.  "It's a new tree.  And it's the
second new tree I've seen in two days, so it's important.  The other
one hit me on the nose," it added in an aggrieved tone.

"You mean it's been a long time since there were any new trees?"  I
asked.

The dragon nodded.  "Kazul mentioned it once.  She sounded worried.

I think they're a nuisance, popping up like that."

"But where do they come from?"  Shiara asked.  "And why do they show up
when we-" She stopped short, and we looked at each other.

"Daystar," said Shiara finally.  "It's the wizards."

"It can't be," I said.  "What about the first one?"

The dragon tilted its head to one side and looked at us.  "What are you
talking about?"

"The trees," Shiara said.  "Both of them grew in places where a wizard
threw a spell at us .... But there wasn't any tree when the first
wizard tried to drown us, so it can't be wizards."

I looked down, trying to think, and saw the Sword of the Sleeping King
in my hand.  "It's the sword!"  I said.  "It stopped Antorell's spell
the first time, and a little while later a tree sprouted.  This time it
stopped a bigger spell, and we got a bigger tree.  It didn't stop any
spells when the first wizard made that water monster, so no new trees
grew.  It has to be the sword."

"You didn't get a tree when you fought the fire-witch," Shiara
objected, but she sounded half-convinced.

"Well, Telemain told us the sword was meant for wizards.  It probably
only does that for wizards' spells."

"Your sword grows trees?"  the dragon said skeptically.

"It does sound a little silly," I said.

"Mmmrrrow!"

We all looked up.  Nightwitch launched herself at Shiara, who just
barely managed to catch her.

"Good," said Shiara.  "Now, if you're all done fussing about trees and
swords, how about leaving?  Before the wizards come back."

The dragon and I looked at each other and nodded.  We picked up our
things and started off.

15

In Which They Take a Chance

The entrance to the Caves of Chance wasn't very difficult to find.

That worried me a little, partly because Antorell and the other wizards
would probably figure out where we had gone, and partly because it
isn't usually that easy to find something in the Enchanted Forest.

Especially if you're looking for it.

Not that the way into the Caves of Chance looked as if it would move
around easily.  It was a large, smooth, circular hole in the ground
with moss growing right up to the edge of it, and it was very dark.

The dragon and Shiara and I stood around the edge, staring down into
it.

"How are we going to get down there?"  Shiara asked finally.  "I can't
even tell how deep it is."

"We'll have to use the blankets Morwen gave us," I said.  "We can tie
them together."

"What about me?"  said the dragon.  "I can't climb down blankets."

"I don't know," I said.  "Maybe we'll think of something once we know
how far it is."

"What if you can't think of anything?"

"Hey?  Shiara had opened her bundle to get the blankets out, and now
she was staring at it as if she'd never seen it before.  "Daystar, look
at this!"

The dragon looked a little put out.  It usually isn't a good idea to
interrupt someone's conversation with a dragon, but for once I decided
not to say anything, because I was glad Shiara had yelled.  I didn't
know what

was going to happen if I couldn't think of a way to get the dragon
into the Caves of Chance, and I didn't really want to say so.

I said, "Excuse me," to the dragon and went over to Shiara.  "What is
it?"

"This," said Shiara.  She pulled a coil of rope out of the top of the
bundle.  "It wasn't here before."

"Are you sure?"  I asked.

"Of course I'm sure!"  Shiara said.  "Look in your pack.  Maybe you
have one, too."

Shiara was right: There was another coil of rope in my bundle, along
with a little silver lamp and a set of flints, and I didn't remember
seeing any of them before.  We tied the ropes together, then looped one
end around the tree closest to the hole.  The dragon watched, grumbling
the whole time.

When we finished, Shiara and I argued about who was going to get to
climb down first.  We wound up tossing a coin, and I won.

I stuck the flints and the lamp into my belt, right next to the Sword
of the Sleeping King, where I could find them easily.  Then I lowered
myself over the edge of the hole and started to climb down the rope.

It wasn't easy.

The rope kept twisting around, which made me dizzy, and I kept bumping
into the side of the hole.  I'd gotten about three feet from the top of
the hole when the lights went out.

I stopped climbing for a minute and just hung there.  I couldn't see
anything except a circle of sky right above me, and that looked much
farther away than it should have.  Then I realized that I had to start
climbing one way or another because my arms were going to get tired
very quickly if I didn't move.  I looked up at the sky.  I knew I'd
only come down a couple of feet, and it shouldn't have been difficult
to climb back up.  On the other hand, I knew it could be extremely
dangerous to start things and not finish them in the Enchanted
Forest.

I started down again.

Climbing in the dark is not pleasant.  I couldn't see where I was
going; I couldn't even see the rope.  It seemed like years before my
feet finally touched something flat below me.  I felt around to make
sure what I'd found wasn't just a narrow ledge, then I let go of the
rope and called to Shiara that I was at the bottom.

The next thing I did was to get out the lamp and light it.  I had a
little trouble, since I was doing everything by feel, but I finally got
it going.  At first all I could see was the tiny yellow flame.  Then
the lamp made a popping noise and suddenly I could see the cave.

Actually, it was more like a tunnel.  Where I was standing, the walls
were a smooth, speckled stone, but as soon as the tunnel got out from
under the hole the walls looked rough.  It was cool and dry and dusty,
as if no one had been there in a long, long time.

"That's not so bad," said a voice above me.  I looked up.  The dragon
was peering over the edge of the hole.  "I can jump that far."

"I think you should wait until Shiara climbs down," I said.  "Then you
can untie the rope and bring it with you."

Shiara's head appeared beside the dragon's.  "You're right; it's not
nearly so bad when you can see the bottom."

"If you drop the bundles Morwen gave us, I can catch them," I said.

"Then you can climb down and we can get started."

"All right."  Shiara's head vanished for a few seconds, then
reappeared, along with a pair of hands and a bundle.  "Ready?

Catch."

Nightwitch was more of a problem than the bundles.  I got a few
scratches catching her.  As soon as I had everything, Shiara climbed
down.

We picked up our things and moved into the tunnel while the dragon took
care of the rope, and then the dragon jumped down.

"That was easy!"  it said.

I thought about sliding down the rope in the dark and didn't say
anything.

Shiara looked from me to the dragon and back.  "Well?  Are you going to
stand there until the wizards show up again?"

"We have to decide what we're going to hold on to first," I said.

"Daystar, we have to carry everything ourselves anyway," Shiara said.

"What difference does it make?"

"I don't think that's what Telemain meant," I said.  "There are all
sorts of ways to lose things in the Caves of Chance if you aren't
paying attention, but if you have something in your hand all the time
and never set it down it's less likely to disappear."

"If you really believe that, you'd better carry the sword," Shiara
said.

"The only thing I don't want to lose is Nightwitch, and she can take
care of herself."

"You're right," I said doubtfully.  I didn't really want to march
through the Caves of Chance with the Sword of the Sleeping King in my
hand, but I certainly didn't want to lose it.  Finally I decided to
take the sheath off my belt and carry the sword and sheath together.  I
had some trouble doing it, though, and Shiara had to help.

"Are you sure this is necessary?"  she asked.  "Why can't you just wear
it?"

"Magic things are particularly easy to lose here," I said.  "And Mother
told me to take care of this sword."  I tucked the sheathed sword under
my arm and picked up the silver lamp and the bundle Morwen had given
me.

"Let's go."

The tunnel slanted down for a long way, then leveled.  Every now and
then we came to a dark opening in the wall that led to a side passage,
but we ignored all of them.  Telemain had been very specific about
that.  Not that they were particularly tempting.  The silver lamp had
no difficulty lighting up our part of the tunnel, but it didn't
penetrate into the side passages at all.

After a while, the tunnel we were following jogged sharply left, then
right again, and suddenly it opened out into an enormous cave.  The
walls were crystal, and they seemed to have hundreds of
different-colored lights shifting behind them.  I stopped abruptly,
staring, and the dragon bumped into me from behind.

"Excuse me," I said automatically.

"You shouldn't stop so fast," the dragon complained.  It craned its
neck to see around me.  "Hey!  This is nice!"  It stretched upward, and
a minute later it was clinging to the crystal wall several feet above
us.

I backed away hastily.  I didn't want to be underneath if the dragon
slipped.

"Where are we supposed to go from here?"  asked Shiara, ignoring the
dragon.

"This must be the Cave of Crystal Lights," I said.  "Telemain said to
walk straight across.  There ought to be three passageways on the other
side, and we want to take the left one."

"I see them," the dragon said.  It squinted across the cave, then
climbed down and sat beside us.  "They aren't straight across.  They're
over that way a little."  It waved toward the right.

I looked at the dragon.  "I think we should follow Telemain's
directions.

The Caves of Chance are even trickier than the Enchanted Forest.  I
don't want to risk getting in trouble if we don't have to."  I didn't
mention that the last time we had taken the dragon's advice we'd run
into the fire-witch and Shiara had gotten turned into a statue, but I
was thinking it.  Shiara nodded in agreement.

"All right," the dragon said sullenly.  "But I think you're being
silly."

We started walking again, trying to go straight across the cave.  The
walls curved in and out, and the floor humped up in low mounds and
ridges.  Between that and the shifting colored lights, it was hard to
be sure we were going straight.  Shiara and I backtracked a couple of
times, just to check, and every time we did the dragon grumbled.

Finally we got to the other side and saw the three openings.  The
dragon stared at them, then looked around suspiciously.  "Where did
these come from?  These aren't the ones I saw!"

"Well, then, it's a good thing we followed Telemain's directions,"
Shiara said.  "Otherwise, we'd be lost.  Come on, let's go."  She
scowled and headed for the left-hand passageway.

I started after her, and right away I tripped and fell.

"Ow!"  I said.  Shiara looked around, then came back to help me up.

"What happened now?"  she asked.

"I tripped," I said.  "I've still got the sword, but I dropped the
lamp.

Where is it?"

"I don't see it."  Shiara sounded a little worried.  She had reason to
be.

Without the lamp, we wouldn't be able to see anything once we got out
of the Cave of Crystal Lights.

"It can't be very far away," I said, and we started hunting.  Shiara
went one way and I went the other.  About half a minute later, I saw
something glittering.  "There it is!"

"No, it's over here," said Shiara.  She bent over and picked something
up from behind a rock.  "It's still burning," she said, sounding
surprised.

"It lights up more space than it ought to, too," I said over my
shoulder.

"Morwen probably put a spell on it."

"where are you going?"  Shiara said.

"I saw something over here, and I want to know what it is," I said.

"Especially since it obviously isn't the lamp."

Shiara started to object, but right then I saw the glittering thing
again and I bent to pick it up.  "Here it is," I said.  "See?"  My
fingers touched metal, and a fountain of sparks shot up from the floor
of the cave where my fingers were.

I yelled and fell backward.  The fountain hissed and sizzled angrily,
getting bigger and brighter and hotter every minute.  I scrambled back
toward the others.  Blue and white and purple sparks started falling
around us, and all of us ran for the left-hand tunnel.  Nightwitch
yowled as one of the sparks hit her, and Shiara scooped her up and kept
on running.

We made it to the tunnel, but no one stopped until we were well inside,
not even the dragon.  When we finally got out of reach of the falling
sparks, we stopped and panted for a while.  Fortunately, Shiara had
hung on to the lamp as well as to Nightwitch.  When she set Nightwitch
down, the kitten glared back toward the mouth of the tunnel, then began
determinedly washing a spot on her back where the fur was a little
singed.

"what was that?"  Shiara asked as soon as she had her breath back.  "I
don't know," I said.  "I was just trying to-" I stopped.  I was holding
something in my right hand.  I didn't even remember grabbing it.  "It
went off when I picked this up," I said, and I opened my fingers.

I had three pebbles of various sizes, a little sandy dirt, and a small
gold key.  A tingle ran down my back as I looked at the key, and I
jumped.  "Now what?"  said Shiara.

"I felt something," I said.  "Sort of like the sword when it's finding
magic, but not the same."

"Is it magic?"  the dragon asked.

"I don't know."

"Well, find out!"  Shiara said impatiently.  "I thought that was what
the stupid sword was for."

I sighed a little and shifted all the things I was carrying until I
could put my left hand on the hilt of the Sword of the Sleeping King.

I didn't feel any tingles, but the key started to glow.

We all stared at the key for a minute.

"I knew it was magic?  the dragon said happily.

"I don't feel anything from the sword, though," I said.  I took my hand
off the hilt, and the key stopped glowing.

"So?  The sword makes it glow, doesn't it?"  Shiara said.  "It has to
be magic.  What are you going to do with it?"

"I'm going to keep it, at least until we talk to Kazul," I said.  "She
may know what it's for, or who it belongs to."

"It b-b-belongs in the c-c-cave," something said in a bubbly voice
behind us.

I jumped and turned around.  There wasn't anyone there.  Shiara and the
dragon and I all peered into the darkness.  Nightwitch looked up from
washing her back long enough to hiss, then continued washing.

"Who said that?"  Shiara demanded.

"M-m-me.  You b-better put that k-k-key back right away," said the same
voice.

I still didn't see anyone.

"Why?"  I asked.

"B-because it b-belongs there!"  the voice said.  It sounded like water
hitting a hot frying pan.  "Gug-give it to me, and I'll put it back."

"If you want it, you'll have to come out here where we can see you,"
Shiara said firmly.

There was an unhappy bubbling noise from the dark part of the tunnel,
then a series of unpleasant squishing sounds.  A moment later something
wobbled into the light from the silver lamp.  It was about four feet
tall, and it looked like a slightly sloppy pillar of very dark
blackberry jelly.

"There?"  it said.  "Now, gug-give me that key!"

I was so busy trying to figure out how it could talk when it didn't
have a mouth that I didn't answer.  I was still trying when Shiara
asked, "How do we know it's your key?"

"It isn't my key.  I just take care of it.  Gug-give it to me!"  The
jelly was shaking angrily and bobbing up and down like the lid on a
teakettle.  Every time it bobbed up, the pillar of jelly stretched
thin; and when it bobbed down, the jelly made a sort of flattened lump;
and every time it moved at all, it wobbled.

The dragon, who had been standing behind Shiara, poked its head over
her shoulder to see better.  "That stuff reminds me of something," the
dragon said.  "I can't think what, though.  What is it?"

'I" huffed the jelly, "am a quozzel."  It leaned forward as if it were
trying to peer at us and asked haughtily, "What are you?"

"It's a dragon," Shiara said, a little nastily.  "Can't you tell?"

The pillar froze in mid-wobble.  "There are n-n-no dragons
under-gug-ground," it said.  "None!"  It leaned cautiously in Shiara's
direction for a minute, then started bobbing again.  "You aren't a
dragon.  I want that k-k-key!  It belongs in the cave, and it's g-going
to stay there!"

"Of course she's not a dragon!"  the dragon said.  "I'm a dragon.  And
I've never heard of a quozzel before."

The quozzel bent a little, then froze again.  "Glurb," it said.

The dragon tilted its head to one side.  "I don't think you're very
polite," it said.

The jelly burbled unhappily to itself.  It looked as if it were
boiling.  The little dragon kept staring at it, and suddenly the
dragon's eyes started to glow.  "I know what this reminds me of!"  it
said triumphantly.  "Dessert!"

The quozzel shrieked and collapsed backward into the darkness just as
the dragon's head shot toward it.  The dragon kept going, knocking
Shiara and me out of the way as it went past.  We heard several
squishing noises, then an angry snort from the dragon, followed closely
by a small puff of flame that lit up the dark end of the tunnel.  I got
a brief glimpse of the dragon before the light died, but I didn't see
the quozzel anywhere.  There was a disgusted-sounding growl, and a
moment later the dragon stalked back into the light from the silver
lamp.  "It got away."

"Well, I'm glad it's gone," Shiara said.  She frowned.  "You shouldn't
go around trying to eat things all the time, especially if you don't
know what they are.  I wouldn't be surprised if quozzels were poisonous
or something."

"Dragonsbane is the only thing that poisons dragons, and that quozzel
wasn't polite, and I'm hungry," the dragon said.  It shook its head
sadly.

"Wizards taste good, but they aren't very filling."

I put the key in my pocket and rummaged in Morwen's bundle.  I was sure
I still had some meat pies, and I didn't like the idea of traveling
with a hungry dragon.  I found the food and offered it to the dragon,
who brightened up a little and accepted.

"We ought to keep going," Shiara said as the dragon sat back against
the wall of the tunnel and started eating.  "Suppose that quozzel thing
comes back?"

"I don't think it could really do much to us," I said.  "It didn't look
very dangerous."

"You can't always tell by looking," Shiara said darkly.  "And if that

marmalade mess wants the stupid key badly enough, it'll think of
something."

"Marmalade is orange," I said.  "The quozzel looked more like
blackberry jelly to me.  And I still don't think it's going to come
back.  Not while the dragon is around."

"Well, you'd better carry that key in your hand," Shiara said.  "I
think it's important, and it might fall out of your pocket or
something."

"All right, but you'll have to keep the lamp.  I don't think I can
manage the sword and the things Morwen gave us and the lamp, and still
hold the key."  I dug the key out of my pocket again.  Maybe it did
belong to the quozzel, but the more I thought about it, the less likely
that seemed.  And if the key had something to do with the sword, I
wanted to hang on to it.

"You won't have to juggle things until we start walking again," Shiara
said, but she kept the lamp.

Just then the dragon looked up.  "I'm done," it said.  "Where do we go
now?"

16

In Which Things Get Very Dark for a While

Wee started walking again.  I don't know how far we went or how long it
took us.  The tunnel forked and we turned right, then it forked again
and we went left.  We walked through a large cave with walls like black
mirrors, and a damp one that dripped water onto our heads, and an
unpleasant slimy one with gray moss on the walls.  I was very glad that
Telemain had told us which way to go.  We would have gotten lost very
quickly without his directions.

A few times I thought I heard squishing noises behind us, but I wasn't
sure enough to say anything.  I was a lot more worried about
remembering all the things Telemain had told us than I was about the
quozzel.

Just when I was beginning to think we had taken a wrong turn somewhere,
we came to another cavern.

This one was long and narrow, full of orange light and very hot.  The tunnel
 came out halfway up one wall, about a hundred feet above the
floor of the cave.  A narrow path ran along one wall from where we
stood to a dark opening on the opposite side of the cave.

"Are you sure we're going the right way?"  Shiara asked, eyeing the
path dubiously.

"I am now," I said.  "This was the last cave Telemain mentioned.  Once
we're on the other side, it shouldn't take long to get to the
castle."

"We have to get to the other side first," Shiara pointed out.  "That
doesn't look very safe."

"The Caves of Chance aren't supposed to be safe," I said.  "I'm
surprised we haven't run into something a lot more dangerous than the
quozzel."

"I suppose-Nightwitch!"  Shiara shouted, a minute too late; the kitten
was already halfway across the narrow path.  Shiara sighed.  "Well, now
we have to go across."

Shiara insisted on going first, because Nightwitch was her cat.  I
didn't argue much.  I went next, and the dragon came last.  I had to
hug the wall to keep from losing my balance and falling, which was hard
to do with the key in one hand, Morwen's bundle in the other, and the
sword under one arm.

The dragon didn't have nearly as much difficulty as I did, even though
it was a little too large for the ledge.  It just dug its claws into
the rock and kept coming.

When we finally made it to the other side, Shiara and I were covered
with black rock dust.  We took turns brushing each other off while
Nightwitch sat far enough back to avoid getting any of it on her and
the dragon looked superior.  Evidently rock dust doesn't cling to
dragon scales, which was very nice for the dragon but didn't do much to
improve Shiara's temper.

"How much farther is it?"  Shiara asked as we started off.

"I don't know," I said.  "But it shouldn't take much longer."

"I hope not," said the dragon.  "I don't like this tunnel."

"Why not?"  Shiara asked.

"It isn't finished," the dragon said.

I looked around.  The tunnel was a lot rougher than the others we'd
come through, and there were rocks sticking out at odd angles from the
walls and the roof and even the floor.  Every now and then it narrowed
into a crooked little passage.  If the dragon had been much bigger, it
wouldn't have been able to fit through sometimes.  We still saw side
passages once in a while, but they seemed smaller and farther apart
than they had in the first part of the tunnel.

"It does look sort of incomplete," I said.  "I think somebody-"
"Daystar, look out?  Shiara yelled.  A large rock fell out of the
ceiling, just missing my head.  Along with the rock came a shower of
pebbles that didn't miss.

I heard a creaking noise and felt more pebbles.

"Get back!"  I shouted.  I dropped Morwen's bundle and shoved Shiara.

Shiara stumbled backward.  Nightwitch yowled and made a tremendous leap
right onto the dragon's nose.  The dragon jerked in surprise, and

Nightwitch made another jump and vanished into the darkness behind
it.

I heard more rumblings, and I shoved Shiara again, just as the roof
came down on top of us.

When I woke up, it was very dark and I was lying face down on the
tunnel floor.  Somehow I'd managed to keep hold of the sword and the
key.  I could feel them, one halfway under me and the other digging
into my left palm.  I ached all over.  I tried to move, but my legs
were pinned under something heavy, and I couldn't drag them free.  I
pushed myself up a little and stared into the darkness.  "Shiara?

Nightwitch?  Dragon?"

No one answered.  They couldn't all have gotten caught in the
cave-in.

I'd been closest to the falling rocks, and only my legs were pinned.  I
started wishing I had the lamp, and then I remembered that the key
glowed when I touched the Sword of the Sleeping King.  I pushed up
farther and felt around under me for the hilt, and something very moist
and heavy hit me in the middle of my back.

I slammed back into the floor and almost lost consciousness again.  The
thing on my back bubbled, "The k-k-key!  Let go, drop it, gug-give it
to me!"

Instinctively, I shoved my right hand farther under my chest, groping
for the sword.

My fingers touched the hilt, and the key started to glow.  It wasn't
quite as good as the lamp, but at least I could see.  I heard a muffled
shriek, and the weight left my back very suddenly.  An instant later, I
saw the quozzel bending over my hand, and I tightened my grip on the
key.

The quozzel bounced angrily.  "You're still alive!  I don't want you
alive.

I want that k-k-key.  That's why I fixed the rocks."

I shook my head to clear it.  "You made the tunnel cave in?  Just to
get a key?"

"Of c-c-c-course!"  the quozzel spluttered.  "I'm supposed to take
c-care of it.  I'll get it, too.  All I need is m-m-more rocks."

The quozzel wobbled backward, toward the caved-in part of the tunnel.

I rolled onto one elbow and looked back over my shoulder, trying to see
what it was doing.

A medium-sized rock came crashing down beside me.  The quozzel made an
angry whistling noise.  "H-hold still?

"So you can drop rocks on me?"  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a
long pile of something that seemed to end in a tangle of red hair.

Shiara hadn't been buried under the rocks, then.  Unfortunately, she
didn't look like she would be able to help me with the quozzel anytime
soon, and I still didn't know where Nightwitch or the dragon was.  I
twisted sideways, moving off the sword as much as I could with my legs
pinned, and started working the Sword of the Sleeping KIng out of its
sheath.  It's not easy to

draw a sword when you're lying on top of it, but I thought I might
need it if the quozzel came any closer.

There was a sizzling noise from somewhere behind me, and a dozen or so
rocks of assorted sizes came rolling down on top of me.  Some of them
hit places that had already been battered by the cave-in, and I
yelled.

The quozzel bubbled happily, and a few more rocks went by on one
side.

I shoved myself up on my hands as far as I could and yanked the sword
the rest of the way out of the sheath and out from under me at the same
time.  I twisted around, just as two more large rocks came rolling
down.

Awkwardly, I swung at the rocks with the flat of the sword, trying to
deflect them a little.  There was a bright flash as the sword hit them,
and the rocks went flying toward the far wall of the tunnel.  I heard a
low humming sound that changed suddenly into a rumble, and the light in
the cave went out.  For some reason, I thought of the clearing where
I'd said the spell at the Sword of the Sleeping King, when everything
had gone dark and the voice had called me the Bearer of the Sword.

This time I didn't hear any voice, but the rumbling got louder and
louder, and suddenly I realized that my legs were free.  I curled them
up under me, so I wouldn't be trapped again if the quozzel started
another cave-in or something.  The rumbling began to die down, and I
heard faint shouts mixed in with it, and the bubbling noise that the
quozzel made, and someone groaning.  Then the rumbling stopped, and I
could see again.

Carefully, because my legs felt kind of rubbery, I stood up and looked
around.  I could still hear the shouting; it sounded faint and far
away, and after a moment it faded completely.  Shiara was the person
who had groaned.  As I looked at her, she moved a little, and suddenly
I felt a lot better about things generally.  Then I heard squishing
noises from in back of me, and I whirled.

Behind me, the tunnel was completely blocked by a sloping pile of rocks
and dirt.  At the base of the pile, where I had been trapped, was an
empty space that looked as if something had sliced cleanly through the
rocks and lifted them out of the way.  Midway up the slope was the
quozzel.

It was wobbling hastily toward the tunnel floor.  I pointed the Sword
of the Sleeping King at it, and it stopped abruptly.

"Just a minute, you!"  I said.  "You have some questions to answer."

"I d-d-d-didn't know," said the quozzel.  "I still don't.  K-k-keep the
k-key.  Nice to m-m-meet you.  Gug-gug-good-bye."

"Oh, no, you don't."  I stepped in front of it, so that if it wobbled
forward any more it would get stuck on my sword.

"I'm gug-gug-gug-going," said the quozzel.  It seemed to be stammering
a lot more than it had before.  I found myself hoping it was even more
nervous than it looked.

"You aren't going anywhere until you explain why you want this key so
badly," I said.  "And maybe not then.  I don't think I ought to leave
something as sneaky and treacherous as you running around loose."  I
tried to sound intimidating, even though I had no idea what I was going
to do with the quozzel.  I didn't think I could just kill it, and I
certainly didn't want to bring it along with me, but I wasn't about to
tell the quozzel any of that.

After what it had tried to do, I thought it deserved to worry a
little.

"Daystar?"  Shiara's voice distracted me from the quozzel, which was
bubbling and popping worriedly to itself.  "Daystar, what happened?"

"The quozzel made the tunnel cave in," I said.  "It was trying to kill
me so it could get the key.  Are you all right?"

"Of course I'm-yow!"  said Shiara.  I looked quickly around and saw her
sitting up very carefully.  She looked a little pale.  "I think I broke
my arm," she said.

"Can I do anything to help?"  I asked.

"You can keep that stupid quozzel away from me!"  Shiara said.  "I'll
be fine as long as I don't move much."

I didn't believe her, but I couldn't have done much to help anyway.  I
didn't know anything about setting broken arms, except that you can
make things a lot worse if you don't know what you're doing.  And if
Shiara wanted me to keep watching the quozzel instead of trying to help
her, she would probably get mad if I didn't.  I doubted that that would
be good for her arm, either.  Besides, I didn't want the quozzel to get
away and try dropping the roof on us again.

"Where's Nightwitch?"  Shiara asked after a while.  "And the dragon?"

"I don't know," I told her.  "I haven't seen them since the tunnel fell
in."

"You miserable little blob!"

I looked around in surprise and was very relieved to see Shiara glaring
at the quozzel and not at me.

"If anything's happened to Nightwitch because of your stupid cave-in,
I'll-I'll melt you into a puddle?she went on.

"You'd better not try," the quozzel said, starting to bounce.  "The
w-w-wizard will gug-get you if you do!"

"What wizard?"  I said.

The quozzel bubbled unhappily.  "I can't tell you."

"Oh no?"  Shiara said.  She stood up slowly and came over beside me,
holding her right arm carefully in her left one.  "I guess I'd better
just melt you, then, and save some time."

"No-n-no!"  said the quozzel.  Little ripples ran over it, and it
seemed to shrink.

"Then you'd better tell us what wizard you're talking about," I said.

"The one who gug-gave me the key," the quozzel said unwillingly.  "He
told me to take care of it until he came back for it."

"How long ago was that?"  I asked, ignoring Shiara, who was rubbing her
bruises and muttering to herself.

"A long time," the quozzel said.  "He never came back, so it's still
m-m-my responsib-b-bility."

"Not if I melt you, it isn't," Shiara said, and the quozzel subsided
very suddenly.

"What is it the key to?"  I said.  "And why did the wizard leave it
here?"

"D-d-don't know," the quozzel said sullenly.  "He said people would
come look for it and try to take it.  That's why he wanted m-m-me to
look after it.  You aren't supposed to take it.  No one's supposed to
take it b-b-but the wizard!"

"What did this wizard look like?"  I asked, although I had an
unpleasant feeling that I knew already.

The quozzel's description sounded a little like Antorell, but he was
definitely older and he'd been wearing blue-and-gray robes instead of
blue and brown.  I was extremely relieved.  Shiara didn't recognize the
description, either, but she wasn't as relieved as I was.

"How do we know this stupid thing isn't lying?"  she said.  "I think we
should-what's that?"

I could hear something far down the tunnel, but it echoed too much for
me to be able to tell what it was.  It seemed to be getting louder.

"I think something's coming," I said to Shiara; then, "You stay where
you are!"  to the quozzel, who had been trying to wobble a little
closer to the bottom of the rock pile.

The quozzel froze again, and Shiara gave me a disgusted look.  "I know
something's coming, but what is it?"

I didn't answer.  The noise came closer, and I saw a flickering light
partway down the tunnel.  I shifted position so I could watch the
quozzel and still see some of the rest of the tunnel.  The light got
brighter, and a moment later a bunch of people came through one of the
side passages.  They were all short and sort of squashed looking,
bigger than the elves we'd met, but considerably shorter than a normal
person.  Most of them were carrying picks or shovels or long, pointed
iron poles, and a couple of them had torches.  They seemed to be
following something, but they were too far away and the light was too
bad for me to be sure.

"Dwarves!"  I said.  They must have heard the echo, because two of them
looked up and saw us.  One of them shouted something, but I couldn't
make out the words.

"Terrific!"  Shiara muttered as they started in our direction.  "What'd
you have to do that for?"

"They'd have seen us anyway," I said.  "I mean, we'd be sort of
difficult to miss, with the key lighting up the tunnel like this.  And
maybe they'll help us.  Dwarves do, sometimes; Mother had me study a
whole lot of examples two years ago, after the prince came through
looking for the glass coffin."

"I thought princes looked for glass shoes, not coffins," Shiara said.

She squinted into the dark part of the tunnel between us and the
dwarves.

"They're coming this way.  What's that in front of them?"

I didn't have to answer, because a second later Nightwitch came
bounding out of the darkness with her tail held very high.  She looked
extremely proud of herself.  She went straight to Shiara and started
rubbing against her legs and purring.

'm glad to see you, too," Shiara said.  She started to bend over and
winced.  "Sorry, kitten; you'll have to wait to get petted until
somebody does something about this stupid arm."

Nightwitch stopped rubbing and looked up.  "Mmrew?"

"Well, I said I was sorry," Shiara said.  "I didn't ask to break it."

The dwarves had reached the edge of the key's glow, and the whole
tunnel was lit up by their torches.  It made things a lot more
cheerful, as well as letting me get a good look at the dwarves.  There
were seven of them, five males and two females, all carrying shovels
and picks.  I could see the dragon in back of the dwarves, looking
almost as smug as Nightwitch had.

"Look!"  it said when it got close enough to talk without shouting.  "I
found a whole lot of dwarves!"

"I see that," I said.  I bowed to the dwarves as well as I could while
trying to watch the quozzel at the same time.  "My name is Daystar, and
that's Shiara.  We're very pleased to meet you."

"They're going to dig through the part of the tunnel that came down,"
the dragon said.

"Hold on just a minute?  one of the dwarves said.  "I didn't say I'd
help.  Not exactly.  I said I'd look at this cave-in of yours."

"Me too," said another.  "Proper mess it looks."

"Not natural," said a female dwarf.  She looked at Shiara and me
suspiciously.

"How do you know?"  Shiara said belligerently.

"We made this tunnel," still another dwarf said.  "And dwarf-made
tunnels don't just fall in."

"Not ever," agreed the first one.

"Of course not," I said.  "The quozzel made the tunnel cave in.  It was
trying to stop us from getting out of the Caves of Chance."

"The quozzel?"  the dragon said, looking interested.  "That dessert
thing is back again?"

"You can't eat it until we find out if it knows anything else," I
said.

"Besides, you had plenty of lunch."

The dragon sighed.  "I suppose so.  All right, I'll wait."

I looked at the dwarves.  "We'd be very much obliged to you if you
would help us get through this, or show us a way around it, or
something," I said."

"Now, why should we do that?"  one of them said.

"I don't see any reason," said another.

"Lot of work for nothing," added a third.

"And I don't like dragons!"  said a voice from the middle of the
group.

The dragon glared, but it couldn't pick out the dwarf who'd spoken.

"Could you at least set Shiara's arm?"  I asked.

One of the female dwarves started to reply, but she was cut off by a
yell from Shiara.  "Daystar!  Behind you!"

I raised the sword and spun around just as the quozzel bunched itself
together and jumped at me.  It came flying through the air, and I
ducked.

Something dark and purple shot out of it toward me, and I slashed at it
with the sword.  I got most of the purple stuff and part of the quozzel
as well.  I heard it shriek, and then it had landed and launched itself
again, straight for the wall of the tunnel.

"I'll kill all of you!"  it whistled angrily.  "Key stealers!

Cannibals!  I'll kill you d-d-dead!"

I lunged for it, but I was too late.  The quozzel hit the tunnel wall,
and instead of bouncing, it vanished into the rock like water being
absorbed by a sponge, only faster.  An instant later a shower of rocks
fell out of the roof of the tunnel, and I heard the walls creaking
ominously.

"Run!"  I yelled.  I started to follow my own advice but saw a large
rock shifting in the wall of the tunnel just above Shiara's head.  I
shouted again and swung the sword at it, hoping it would be deflected
like the other rocks the quozzel had tried to drop on me.

The flat of the sword hit the rock, and everything seemed to slow down
suddenly.  There was a lot of creaking, and the top of the tunnel
started to sag, as if it were trying to fall in again but couldn't
quite manage it.  The sword got very heavy, and then there was an
angry-sounding rumble and the whole tunnel shook.  The rock that had
been heading for Shiara went bouncing off the opposite wall of the
tunnel, and all the creaking and rumbling stopped very abruptly.

I didn't move for several seconds at least.  I didn't think the quozzel
would give up this easily.  Then I saw a thin trickle of dark purple
stuff dripping down the wall of the tunnel where the quozzel had
disappeared.  I watched it for a minute or two and decided that we
probably didn't have to worry about the quozzel anymore.  I looked at
Shiara.

"Are you all right?"

"That's a stupid question," Shiara said.  "My arm is broken!"

"I mean, you didn't get any more hurt than you were already, did
you?"

"No," she said.  She looked at me.  "Thanks."

I was so surprised that I couldn't think of anything to say for at
least a minute.

"Um, you're welcome," I said finally.  I realized suddenly that my
sword still had some wet purple stuff on it from hitting the quozzel,
and I started digging in my pocket for my handkerchief so I could wipe
off the sword.

I couldn't find it.  I sighed.  It had probably fallen out of my pocket
somewhere on the trip through the caves.  I didn't really mind losing
it, except that now I didn't have anything to get the purple goo off my
sword with.  I turned to the dwarves.  "Excuse me, but do any of you-"
I stopped.  The dwarves were standing in a tight group, and all seven
of them were staring at the sword.

"Now, why didn't you think to mention you had that?"  one of them
said.

17

In Which They Get out of the Caves and into Even More Trouble

Shiara and I looked at the dwarves.  "He's been holding it since before
you got here!"  Shiara said finally.  "Why should he have mentioned
it?"

"It would have saved a lot of bother," one of the female dwarves said
in an aggrieved tone.

"Time, too," said another.

"Inconsiderate, I call it."

"Well, not inconsiderate, exactly," said one of the male dwarves,
eyeing the dragon.  "A little thoughtless, maybe."

"Thoughtless?"  The dragon looked puzzled.  "Why?  What difference does
it make if Daystar has a sword?"

'"A sword is one thing.  That sword is something else again."

"Someone should have told us."

"Someone should definitely have told us."

"After all, we aren't elves."

"Of course you're not elves," the dragon said.  "Anyone can see that!

What does that have to do with Daystar's sword?"

"It's not his sword!"  one of the dwarves objected.  "It's the
King's!"

"And elves can recognize it just by looking at it," a female dwarf said
in a resentful tone.

"So can some other people," said another darkly.

"But not dwarves."

"Unless we get a good look at it, of course.  Which we couldn't,
because of the light, not to mention the fact that you were standing
there talking and distracting our attention."

"Which is why you should have mentioned it," a dwarf in the back
finished triumphantly.

"I didn't mention it because there seem to be a lot of people who want
it," I said.  "One of them is a wizard."

About six of the dwarves started talking so fast it was hard to tell
whether they were all speaking at the same time or whether they went
one after another.

"Of course there are a lot of people who want it!"

"Particularly wizards."

"It's the King's sword, isn't it?"

"Maybe it isn't; he hasn't said."

"It has to be the King's sword, silly.  There aren't any other swords
that the earth obeys."

"What about Delvan's blade?"

"That's not a sword, it's an ax."

"And the earth doesn't obey it, it just shakes a lot."

"So this has to be the King's sword."

"Wait a minute!"  I said.  "What do you know about my sword?"

"It's the King's sword," one of the dwarves said indignantly.  Another
dwarf shushed him, and a dwarf near the front of the crowd stepped
forward and bowed.

"We follow the sword," she said, as if it explained everything.

The other dwarves all smiled and nodded.  I sighed and gave up.  Either
none of them really knew anything else, or they knew and weren't going
to tell me, and I didn't think it mattered much which it was.  "If you
aren't going to tell me about my sword, could one of you do something
about Shiara's arm?"  I asked.  "And after that, we'll be going."

"Going where?"  the dragon said.

Some of the dwarves jumped.  Evidently they'd forgotten the dragon was
behind them.  I was surprised; if a dragon were standing behind me, I
certainly wouldn't forget it was there.

"We have to find another way out of the Caves of Chance," I told the
dragon.  "I don't really think we can dig through this one."

"That will not be necessary," said the dwarf closest to me.  "Had we
known you were the Bearer of the Sword, we would not have objected to
your request."

"Not at all," said the dwarf next to him.  She turned and waved at the
others.  "Lord Daystar requires this tunnel cleared.  Begin?

els and things and started toward the rocks that were blocking the
tunnel.  In a few minutes they were all digging furiously-except for
one, who came over to Shiara and bowed.

"I am Darlbrin," he announced.

"That's nice," Shiara said sarcastically.  I sighed, but I didn't say
anything.

You can't really expect a fire-witch with a broken arm to be
particularly polite.

Darlbrin didn't seem to notice.  "I have some skill at mending things,"
he said, and bowed again.  "If you will permit it, I would like to
examine your arm."  He looked at Shiara a shade anxiously and added,
"To see if I can mend it."

Shiara rolled her eyes, but she walked over to the edge of the tunnel
and sat down so the dwarf could see better.  Nightwitch followed,
alternately purring reassuringly and meowing anxiously.

I watched for a minute or two, then turned away.  I couldn't do
anything to help, and I wanted to think.

I didn't get the chance.  As soon as I turned, the dragon stuck its
head over a couple of dwarves and said, "I didn't know you were a
lord.

Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I'm not a lord!"  I said.  I think I sounded a little
desperate, and I know I felt desperate.  I didn't have the slightest
idea what was going on, except that it had something to do with my
sword.  Everything seemed to have something to do with my sword.  I was
getting tired of it, and more than a little worried.

"Well, if you aren't a lord, why did they call you one?"

"Because he has the King's sword," said a dwarf who was walking under
the dragon's chin with a boulder more than half as big as he was.  The
dragon pulled its head back far enough to eye the dwarf, who ignored it
and kept walking.

"I really wish you'd explain a little more," I yelled after the dwarf,
and then I thought of something.  "Why did you call me the Bearer of
the Sword?"

"I didn't call you anything," the dwarf said without stopping.  "That
was Cottlestone."  He set the boulder down and headed back toward the
pile of rocks, which was beginning to look smaller already.

"Excuse me," I said loudly, in the general direction of the crowd of
dwarves, "but would one of you tell me which of you is Cottlestone?

I'd like to talk to him; please."

"Cottlestone!"  shouted half a dozen voices.

For a minute I thought the roof was going to cave in again, but all
that actually happened was that one of the dwarves stepped out of the
crowd

and bowed to me.  He looked as if he really meant it, not as if he
were just being polite.

"Don't do that," I said.

"As you wish," the dwarf said, bowing again.  "What do you want to know
from me?"

"Why did you call me the Bearer of the Sword?"

Cottlestone looked surprised.  "It's obvious.  When the Bearer of the
Sword holds the King's sword, the earth obeys it.  So when you held up
the sword and the earth obeyed, we knew you were the Bearer of the
Sword."

"Oh."  I thought for a moment.  "Have you ever heard of the Holder of
the Sword?  Or the Wielder of the Sword?"

"Who?"

"Never mind," I said.  "How does someone get to be the Bearer of the
Sword?"

"No one knows," Cottlestone said, looking at me curiously.

"Oh," I said again.  I was trying to think of something else to ask
when there was a shout from the top of the caved-in section of the
tunnel.  Cottle-stone bowed again.  "If you will excuse me, I think
they've gotten through to the other side.  I ought to go help.  It's my
job."

"All right," I said uncomfortably.  Cottlestone turned away, and I
watched him melt into the crowd of dwarves.  I wasn't sure what I'd
found out, except that I didn't like people bowing to me.  I found
myself hoping that the rest of the dwarves wouldn't imitate
Cottlestone.

"Did he say they're almost finished?"  asked Shiara from behind me.

"Wonderful!  I can't wait to get out of here."

I turned.  Shiara was standing, holding Nightwitch in the crook of her
left arm.  Her right arm was covered from her fingers almost to her
shoulder in something smooth and gray and shiny.  She looked a little
white, but that might have been the torch light.  "Well, what are you
staring at?"  she demanded.

"I wasn't staring," I said.  "I was just checking to see if you were
all right."

Darlbrin stepped up beside Shiara and bowed.  "Not quite all right.

But not bad, not bad at all."

"I wouldn't call a broken arm 'not bad,'" Shiara said sourly.

"Oh, I didn't mean that!"  Darlbrin said hastily.  "I was referring to
the mending."

"I'm sure you did a very good job," I told him.  "And I really
appreciate it."

"I suppose I do, too," Shiara mumbled.  "Thanks."

"It isn't really mended yet, you know," Darlbrin said with a touch of

anxiety.  "People aren't as easy to fix as ax handles.  It'll be a
month before you can take the sheath off."

"Yes, I know.  I've had a broken arm before."  Shiara scowled at the
sheath.

"Then you're very welcome!"  The dwarf beamed.  "Happy to be of
service!"

Shiara snorted, but quietly.  Darlbrin didn't notice.  He bowed to each
of us and went off to help the rest of the dwarves finish clearing the
tunnel.  I looked at Shiara.  "I didn't know you'd broken your arm
before."

"That's because I didn't tell you about it," Shiara said.  She looked
at me for a minute, then sighed.  "I was stealing apples from the
Prince's gardens and fell out of the tree, all right?"

"Oh.  What prince, and why were you taking his apples?"

"The Prince of the Ruby Throne," Shiara said after a minute.  "He had a
house and garden just outside town, and he never picked any of the
apples.  He just left them to rot.  And I was hungry.  So I sneaked
over the wall and climbed the tree, but there was a big snake in it,
with wings.  So I fell out of the tree and broke my arm, and the snake
went away."

"Shiara," I said, and stopped.  She obviously had no idea what she had
almost done.  I sighed and changed what I was going to say.  "Shiara,
the Prince of the Ruby Throne raises magic apples.  All kinds of people
have been trying to steal them for years and years, but he's a very
powerful sorcerer, and there are hundreds of spells protecting his
gardens."

"That must be why he was so upset," Shiara said in a tone of sudden
enlightenment.  "I'm pretty sure he was the one who told the Society of
Wizards about me.  I thought it was a lot of fuss to make about a few
apples."

I looked at her for a minute.  "I don't want to be nosy or anything,
but I'd really appreciate knowing if there's anyone else who's mad at
you."

"I don't think so," Shiara said, frowning.

"Good.  I don't think I want any more people chasing us.  Particularly
people with powerful magic.  It wouldn't be so bad if you could use
your fire

"She can!"  said the dragon, and Shiara and I both jumped and turned
around.  "She burned the dragonsbane, and she can make her hair
burn."

"When did you see Shiara's hair burning?"  I asked.  The only time I'd
ever seen Shiara's hair on fire was when she'd gotten mad at me right
after we'd met, and the dragon hadn't been there then.

'Just a few minutes ago," the dragon said.  "You were fighting that
dessert thing, so you might not have noticed."

I looked at Shiara, and she blushed.  "I was trying to do something to
the quozzel.  I thought it would work because it worked on the
dragonsbane."

"It worked on the dragonsbane," I repeated slowly.  "And that first
wizard, the one who made a water monster out of the stream-you did
something to that monster, too.  That's at least twice that you've made
your fire magic work properly.  Can you think of any others?  Maybe we
can figure out why it happens."

"She used it at the invisible castle," the dragon offered.  "The one
where that other fire-witch lived."

"I did not!"  Shiara said.  "I didn't have time.  We ran into the
castle, and she came out, and baM!  I was a statue."

The dragon sat back, looking smug.  "You said you wanted to know what
the castle was, and then you did.  That's fire magic, isn't it?"

"I suppose it is," Shiara said slowly.

"Then that's three," I said.  "Can you think of any more?  Before you
came to the Enchanted Forest, for instance?"

Shiara frowned and was silent.  "No," she said finally in a very
positive tone.  "Those are the only times I've ever gotten my magic to
do what I wanted it to, ever."

"So it's only been happening since you came to the Enchanted Forest," I
said.

"And met you and got bitten by that stupid sword," Shiara added, and
stopped.  We looked at each other for a minute.

"Not again!"  I said.  I thought for a minute.  "It can't be the sword
alone, or you would have been able to do something to the quozzel.

There has to be something else, too."

"Like what?"

"I don't know.  Did you do anything differently when it worked?"

"Well, then did you do anything differently right before it worked?"  I
said.  "There has to be some-" I stopped, remembering.  "Oh," I said.

"What is it?"

"I think I know what makes your magic work."  I didn't think Shiara was
going to like it much, but I couldn't just keep quiet about it.  "I
think you have to be polite to people."

"That's stupid!"

"It makes sense," I said.  "You apologized to me after we got out of
the hedge, and then when the first wizard came along your magic worked
against the snake thing.  You were nice to the Princess because you
felt sorry for her, and right after that you knew about the invisible
castle.  And you said thanks to Suz and apologized to Telemain, and
then you made the dragonsbane burn."

"But that other fire-witch wasn't polite!"  Shiara objected.

"I didn't say all fire-witches have to be polite to people before
their

magic will work," I said.  "I only said your magic works that way.

And I'm not positive.  I mean, it could be something else."

"Well, I'm not going to go around being nice to people just so I can do
magic!"

"I don't think it would work, anyway," I said unhappily.  "I mean, I
don't think you can just say things.  I think you have to really mean
them.

You meant it when you apologized to me, and when you were nice to the
Princess, and when you were talking to Telemain."

"Oh, great," Shiara said disgustedly.  "I bet this is all that stupid
sword's fault."  She glared at me for an instant, then turned her
back.

I sighed.

"Excuse me, Lord Daystar," said a voice by my elbow.  I looked down,
and the dwarf bowed.

"Don't do that," I said.

"Certainly, my lord," she said, and started to bow again, then stopped
and looked confused.  "The tunnel is clear.  You may continue your
journey whenever you wish."

I looked around.  The pile of rocks that had been blocking the tunnel
was nearly gone.  A few boulders were left along the sides, but there
was plenty of room to walk through, even for the dragon.  "Thank you
very much," I said.  "But I really ought to tell you: I'm not a
lord."

The dwarf smiled tolerantly.  "Of course not, my lord.  Is there
anything else we can do for you?"

"I'd appreciate it if we could borrow one of your torches," I said.

"Our lamp got lost in the cave-in."

"We would be pleased to offer you a torch," the dwarf said.  "You can
leave it by the exit, and someone will get it later.  The exit isn't
far."

We gathered up what we could find of Morwen's bundles, and the dwarves
did some more bowing.  One of them handed Shiara a torch.  She grumbled
a little because she had to put Nightwitch down in order to take it,
but she was the only one of us who could carry it.  I had the sword in
one hand and the key in the other, and the dragon couldn't hold a
torch.  Fortunately, Nightwitch didn't seem to mind walking.  We
thanked the dwarves and said good-bye, and they all bowed again, and
finally we started off.

The tunnel started slanting upward almost as soon as we were past the
cave-in, and shortly after that we stopped seeing side passages.

Eventually we came to a wide flight of stairs that curled around and
around until all of us were dizzy.  Just when I didn't think I could
climb anymore, the stairs ended against a hard, rocky surface, like a
trapdoor made of stone.

I shoved against it, but it didn't budge.  "It's too heavy."

"Really?"  said the dragon.  "It doesn't look so bad."

I looked down at the dragon, who was last on the stairs because
neither

Shiara nor I had wanted to be behind it if it slipped.  "It probably
isn't too heavy for you.  Why don't you try it?"

The dragon agreed, and Shiara and I squashed ourselves against the side
of the stairs so it could climb past us.  There were a couple of
minute's worth of grunts, and the dragon's tail whipped back and forth,
which made Shiara and me retreat farther down the stairs.  Finally
there was a loud noise like extremely rusty hinges, and the dragon
started moving upward.  A moment later, it stopped.  "Uh-oh," it
said.

"What's the matter?"  Shiara called.

The dragon didn't answer, but it moved out of the way so we could climb
up.  Shiara and I got to the head of the stairs at almost the same time
and looked around.

We were standing at the top of a small rise.  The sun was starting to
set, but there was still enough light to see the castle clearly.  It
was quite close, not more than a few minutes' walk from where I was,
and it fascinated me.

At first, I thought it was made of something shimmery, like
mother-of-pearl; then I realized that it wasn't the castle that was
shimmering, it was something around the castle, like a giant soap
bubble.  I was still trying to figure out what it was when Shiara poked
me, and I looked down.

There were approximately two hundred dragons sitting on the ground
around the little hill we were standing on.  Watching us.

18

In Which the King of the Dragons Does Some Explaining I swallowed hard,
and for a moment I wished I were wearing my sword instead of carrying
it under my arm.  Every dragon from inside the Enchanted Forest had to
be there, and quite a few from the Mountains of Morning as well.  They
were spread out in all directions, so I couldn't even see the ground.

The forest encircled the castle at a distance, and there seemed to be
something wrong about the trees.  I couldn't tell what, though, and
besides, I had other things to worry about right then.  Two hundred
dragons, for instance.

I stepped forward and bowed carefully in all directions.  One of the
first things Mother taught me about dragons was that they expect a new
arrival to make the first move.  They always allow you one chance to
convince them that you're too polite or too important to eat.  I didn't
think I could convince two hundred dragons that I was particularly
important, especially since I didn't believe it myself, so I was going
to have to rely on being polite.  I took a deep breath.

"Sirs and madams, I apologize most profoundly for intruding upon you in
this fashion, and I hope we have not inconvenienced you in any way," I
said, trying not to shout while still talking loudly enough for all the
dragons to hear.  "Nevertheless, I offer you greetings in the name of
myself and my companions, and I wish you good fortune in whatever
endeavors are most important to you."

The dragons stirred briefly, then settled back again.  After a moment,
an old gray-green male slid forward.  "We greet you and wish you well,"
he said.  "May we know your names?"

I bowed again, the half bow of respect for a dragon of great age and
uncertain status.  "I thank you for your greeting," I said.  "I am
called Daystar, and my companions are Shiara and Nightwitch.  This
young dragon has graciously accompanied us for part of our journey."

Simce some of them presumably knew the little dragon already, I didn't
have to introduce it.

I didn't ask for the dragons' names.  It's perfectly acceptable not to,
and I didn't feel like standing there through two hundred
introductions, especially since the dragons would expect me to remember
them all.

"Well met, Daystar," the old dragon rumbled.  "We've been expecting you
since early this afternoon."

"I'm sorry if I kept you waiting," I said.  "We had problems with some
wizards, and a cave-in, and a quozzel, and I didn't really know you
were all here."

"Of course not.  Telemain only told Kazul yesterday that you were
coming.  Silly way to do things, making everyone gather in such a
hurry."

He looked at me for a minute, then nodded approvingly.  "Well, come
along; no sense wasting any more time.  You might as well bring the
girl and the cat, too.  This way."

Our dragon lifted its head.  "What about me?"  It looked much smaller
next to the full-grown dragons all around us, and it sounded
considerably younger as well.

"You had better keep quiet," the older dragon said indulgently.

"You're in quite a bit of trouble already.  I wouldn't make it worse if
I were you."

"I don't have to keep quiet!"  our dragon said.  "I found a princess,
even if I did decide not to keep her, and I fought a knight and bit a
wizard.  I can talk if I want to!"

The crowd of dragons shifted again, very slightly.  Shiara shivered and
held Nightwitch closer.  I thought about wiping my hands on my tunic,
but I didn't want to look too nervous.  The older dragon just stood and
stared at our dragon, which finally shook its head and settled back,
watching the crowd below us with a sulky expression.

The old dragon smiled slightly.  "What do you think?"  he asked the
crowd of dragons behind him.

All of the dragons roared at once.  I couldn't tell what they were
saying, or even if they were saying anything, but the old dragon nodded
again and looked at the little dragon.  "You'll get your wish, then.

Well, don't just stand there."

I nodded and stepped forward as the old dragon turned.  Shiara followed
behind me, very closely, and our dragon came behind her.

"Where are we going?"  Shiara whispered to me.

The old dragon looked back over his shoulder, and his eyes glinted with
amusement.  "You're going to see Kazul."

"Oh," Shiara said.  We stepped down from the little hill, and there was
a loud clattering and rumbling as the dragons moved out of our way.  I
stopped short in shock.

The ground around the hill was dry and brown and bare.  It looked even
worse to me than it would have normally because I'd spent several days
looking at the rich green moss in the Enchanted Forest and the contrast
was striking.  Then I remembered that we were still in the Enchanted
Forest, and I started being worried as well as shocked.  I knew from
experience how fast the moss grew and how hard it was to clear off even
a small strip of ground.  I didn't like to think about what had
stripped the moss from the area around the castle.

Shiara poked me, and I moved forward again.  Fortunately, the dragon
ahead of us hadn't noticed my pause.  A few of the ones at the edge of
the crowd had, but they seemed more amused than anything.  I walked a
little faster, trying to ignore the large shapes on either side of
me.

With two hundred dragons around, I could waste a lot of time worrying
if I wasn't careful.

The old dragon led us toward the castle.  As we got closer, I could see
that there were two shimmerings in the air around the castle, one a few
feet inside the other.  The outer one looked like a shifting
green-and-silver veil, very thin and transparent.  The inner one seemed
to be a pale golden glow, but I couldn't be sure because the one on the
outside kept shifting around, interfering with my seeing the inner one
clearly.  After a few minutes, I gave up on trying to look at the
shimmerings and tried looking through them instead.

The shimmerings didn't get in the way at all, so I could see quite a
bit of the castle.  There was no wall around it, only the shimmerings
and a water-filled moat just inside them.  The castle itself was a
wonderful, ram-bung-looking place, with six towers of various sizes,
large square windows, and four balconies.  I could see several
stairways running up to oddly shaped doors or around the outsides of
towers, and a lot of walls that seemed to be there just to confuse
people.  I was so busy studying the castle and the shimmerings that I
almost didn't notice when the old dragon stopped.  I was lucky not to
step on his tail.

We were about halfway around the castle, and there seemed to be fewer
dragons around.  I was trying to guess which one was Kazul when the old
dragon who had been leading us stepped a little to one side and bobbed
his head respectfully.

"King Kazul, these are the travelers who wish to see you.  That one's
Daystar, the other one's Shiara, and the cat is Nightwitch."

Right away I bowed very deeply, and so did Shiara.  I was relieved.  I
hadn't been completely sure Shiara would do any of the things I'd
suggested.

As I straightened up, I got my first look at Kazul.

Even lying on the ground, she looked large for a dragon.  Her scales
were just beginning to turn gray around the edges, which surprised me;
I'd expected someone older.  Her eyes were hypnotic, green-gold
ovals.

She was the most dangerous-looking dragon I'd ever seen.

Kazul smiled broadly.  Dragons have a lot of teeth.

"So," she said, "you are the people Telemain sent through the Caves of
Chance, and you have the Sword of the Sleeping King."

"Yes, Your Majesty," I said.  I took the sword out from under my arm
and held it up so she could see it better.  "Mother gave it to me a few
days ago, and I was told you would want to know about it."

"Ahhhhhh."  As she looked at the sword, Kazul's eyes glowed.

Literally.

The light from them was a little like firelight, except it didn't
flicker.

After a minute, she transferred her gaze to me.  "And you got it here
safely.

Well done, Cimorene's son."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," I said.  "You know my mother?"

Kazul smiled again.  "Cimorene was the best princess I ever had."

Shiara choked, and my jaw dropped.

The little dragon said, "So that's how she knew dragon magic!"  in a
pleased tone.

I closed my mouth, swallowed hard, and bowed to Kazul.  "Excuse me,
Your Majesty.  I was, um, startled.  Mother is a princess?"

"She certainly was once," Kazul said.  She looked at the sword again.

"I'm glad she managed to keep it safe.  We didn't have a lot of choice
at the time, but it's still worrying to have to take a risk like
that."

I wasn't certain what to say.  Kazul didn't seem to be talking to me,
but it isn't a good idea to ignore a dragon.  So, just to be safe, I
bowed again.

Kazul looked up from the sword.  "You needn't be quite so formal.  I
have a lot to tell you, and the conversation will go faster if you're
not so SLY."

Before I could reply, Kazul turned toward the old dragon, who was still
standing beside me.  "It will be tomorrow morning.  Let everyone
know."

The old dragon nodded and left.  Kazul looked back at us.  "Come with
me."  She started to rise.

"What about me?"  the little dragon demanded.

Kazul sighed.  "Yes, you may come, too."  She stood, which made her
look twice as big as she had before, and started walking.  Shiara and I
looked at each other, then followed.

By this time the sun was completely down, but there was still enough
light in the sky to see where we were going.  Kazul led us a little
farther around the castle, then turned away from it.  As we walked
along, the other dragons slid out of the way for Kazul and bowed their
heads respectfully.  Then Shiara and I walked by and bowed respectfully
to the dragons.  It kept us too busy to see much of where we were
going.

Kazul led us to what looked like a jumbled pile of rocks a little way
from the castle.  There was a dark opening at one side of the pile, and
Kazul went right in.  Shiara and the little dragon and Nightwitch and I
followed.

It was very dark inside, almost as black as the Caves of Chance.  I
stopped immediately, since I didn't want to step on Kazul's tail in the
dark or run into her accidentally.  Shiara bumped into me, squeezing
Nightwitch between us.  Nightwitch said, "Mrowww!"  in a complaining
tone, and Kazul's voice came out of the darkness.

"I suppose you human people need some light."

"Only if it won't be inconvenient," I said.

"Not at all," Kazul replied, and added about five hissing words.

Silvery light sprang up all around us.  I squinted, and then I
blinked.

The inside of the pile of rocks looked a lot like a cave.  I looked for
the source of the light and realized that the light was coming from the
rocks.

That shook me.  Dragons don't usually do magic casually.  In
particular, the King of the Dragons wouldn't normally work a spell just
for a visitor's convenience.  I looked at Kazul, wondering exactly what
was going on.

"Sit down," said Kazul, nodding toward a row of rocks.  We did.  The
little dragon sat down by the entrance, looking half-sulky and
half-defiant.

Kazul ignored it.

"I think you had better tell me your story first," she said, looking at
me intently.  "Start at the beginning, when Cimorene gave you the
sword."

"I'm sorry," I said.  "I'll start with the sword if you want me to, but
I think the beginning is the wizard."

"Wizard?"

"His name's Antorell, and he came to our cottage the day before Mother
gave me the sword.  Mother melted him."

"Oh, him."  Kazul shook her head.  "Sounds like he hasn't learned
anything since the last time he tangled with Cimorene.  Yes, start with
him, by all means."

So I told Kazul everything that had happened to me since Antorell had
walked up to our cottage and knocked the door in.  It took a long
time-especially the part after Shiara and I met the little dragon,
because then the dragon kept adding things.  Finally, Kazul told it to
either be quiet or go away.  It looked terribly offended, but it quit
talking.

Kazul didn't ask any questions at all.  Once, when I mentioned
finding

the key in the Caves of Chance, she made a noise that sounded like an
astonished snort, but she apologized for interrupting and told me to go
on.  I did, once I got over the shock of having the King of the Dragons
apologize to me.

When I finished, there was silence for a minute or two.  Then Kazul
stirred.  "So.  You have accomplished a great deal in a short time,
Daystar."

"It doesn't seem like much to me," I said.

"A great deal," Kazul repeated.  She sounded as if she were talking to
herself.

Shiara shifted restlessly.  "Are you going to explain about Daystar's
sword?"

"Shiara!"  I said, horrified.  Nobody talks to the King of the Dragons
in that tone of voice.

Except Shiara.  "No," said Kazul.  "Or at least, I'm not going to tell
you as much as you want to know.  The Society of Wizards has more than
a hundred spells hunting for that sword right now, and all of them
depend on finding someone who knows what he's carrying.  Fortunately,
wizards' magic can't detect the sword itself.  If Daystar finds out too
much about that sword, we'll be up to our wings in wizards in no
time.

I don't want that to happen yet."

"I don't like wizards," the little dragon said suddenly.  "They make me
sneeze."

Kazul's head turned and she eyed the little dragon for a minute.  "I
think it is time you made yourself useful," she said at last.  "Go find
Marchak and tell him to bring us dinner.  Then go back to your teacher
and apologize for running off, and after that you can start getting
ready for tomorrow."

"What happens tomorrow?"  the little dragon said suspiciously.

"We have a war," Kazul said.  "Which you might live through, if you're
ready for it.  So go!"

"Yes, ma'am!"  The little dragon disappeared out the door of the
cave.

Kazul looked after it for a minute, then shook her head.  "That is
undoubtedly the most irritating grandchild I have."

"Who are you going to be-Grandchild?"

"said Shiara.

"Yes, of course."  Kazul looked mildly surprised.  "It's an annoying
youngster, but precocious children frequently are.  I'm hoping it will
grow out of it."

"Oh."  Shiara stared out the entrance thoughtfully.

"I enjoyed its company, most of the time," I said honestly.

"I'm glad," Kazul said.

After another minute, I went on, "Um, if you wouldn't mind telling us,
I'm sort of curious about whom you expect to be fighting tomorrow."  I
was

also wondering whether Kazul thought Shiara and I were going to be
included in this.  I wasn't particularly anxious to get involved in a
war between dragons.

Kazul smiled; I got the feeling she knew what I was thinking.

"Wizards," she said.  "There will be a few elves, of course, and maybe
some ogres and trolls, but mostly we'll be fighting wizards."

"Oh.  Of course."  I was even less interested in getting involved in a
war between dragons and wizards.  Dragons alone might overlook Shiara
and Nightwitch and me, but wizards certainly wouldn't.

"I'm afraid you already are involved," Kazul said.

"Because of the sword?"  Shiara asked while I tried to remember whether
I'd said anything out loud about not wanting to get involved.

"Yes," said Kazul.  "The sword and other things.  It's a long story.  I
hope you're comfortable."

We both nodded, and Kazul smiled again.  "Well, then.  There are two
types of magic in the world: the kind you're born with, and the kind
you get from something else.  Dragons"-Kazul looked smug-"elves,
unicorns, and fire-witches are born with magic.  Ordinary witches and
magicians get their magic from objects or from rituals involving things
that have magic, which works quite well and doesn't upset things.

"Wizzards, on the other hand, get their magic from everything around
them that happens to have magic.  Those staffs of theirs absorb little
bits of it constantly, and the suction gets worse every time a wizard
stores a new spell in his staff.  That, by the way, is why dragons are
allergic to wizards.  Whenever those staffs get near us, they start
trying to soak up some of our magic and we start sneezing."

"Telemain said something like that," I said.

Kazul nodded.  "Wizards' staffs create other problems, too."

"You mean those stupid wizards have been grabbing my magic every time
they come near me?"  Shiara said indignantly.

"Not yours," Kazul said.  "Wizards can't use fire-witches' magic; it's
too different.  Their staffs explode if they try."

"Good?"  Shiara's face grew thoughtful.  "I wonder if I could learn to
do that on purpose?"

Kazul looked as if she agreed with Shiara.  "Wizards get most of their
magic from the Enchanted Forest, but if they absorb too much magic in
any one place, things die."

"The moss!"  I said.  "That's why it turns brown when a wizard's staff
touches it."

"Yes," said Kazul.  "The King of the Enchanted Forest had a way of
reversing the process, taking magic out of a wizard's staff and putting
it back in the forest, so wizards weren't too much of a problem until
about seven teen years ago.  The fellow who was Head Wizard then
decided he was tired of stealing magic in bits, so he stole the tool
that the King used to keep wizards from swiping magic in large
chunks."

"The sword?"  I said.  "Telemain said it was supposed to be used on
wizards."

"Telemain talks too much," Kazul said a little sourly.  "Almost as soon
as they had the sword, the wizards attacked the castle.  They thought
that without the sword the King would be easy to take care of.  They
forgot that the King of the Enchanted Forest has friends."  She smiled
fiercely.  I felt almost sorry for the wizards.

"They wound up in a full-fledged battle, and while we were all
fighting, the sword got stolen again.  A few wizards managed to get
inside the castle, but without the sword they couldn't actually kill
the King.  So they found some way of keeping him out of action while
they hunted for the sword."

"They put the King to sleep?"  I said doubtfully.  It sounded a bit
unlikely.  Sleeping spells are very effective on guards and princesses,
and even a kingdom now and then, but they can't usually do much against
a good magician.  And whatever else he was, the King of the Enchanted
Forest had to be a master magician.

"We don't know exactly what they did," Kazul admitted.  "We know the
King isn't dead, because the Enchanted Forest reacts very strongly when
a King dies.  We know they did something, though, because the seal they
have around the castle wouldn't hold the King in by itself."

"You mean those shimmerings around the castle?"  I said.

"The outer one is ours," Kazul said with a grim smile.  "The wizards
put up a spell to keep everyone but themselves out of the castle, so we
put up one to keep the wizards out.  Without the sword, there wasn't
anything more we could do."

"Then how did Daystar's mother get hold of the sword?"  Shiara asked.

Kazul smiled again.  "Cimorene was the one who stole it back from the
wizards in the first place.  They've been trying to get hold of it
again ever since.  They'll show up as soon as we break through their
barrier tomorrow, but by then we should be ready for them."

"Uh, you expect Shiara and me to help you fight wizards?"  I said.

"Of course not," Kazul replied.  "Shiara may help us if she wishes, but
you, Daystar, will be going into the castle to break whatever spell the
wizards put on the King seventeen years ago."

19

In Which the Battle Begins That took some explanation.  What Kazul
meant was, the dragons would lower the barrier they had put up around
the castle.  Then I would draw the Sword of the Sleeping King and put
it into the wizards' barrier, which, according to Kazul, would bring it
down.  The wizards would know immediately that something was happening,
and they would start trying to get to the castle.  The dragons and
their various allies would hold off the wizards and whomever they
brought to help them while I ran into the castle, found the King, and
broke the spell.

I didn't like the sound of it at all, but I couldn't say much.  After
all, Mother had given me the sword, and I was pretty sure this was what
she'd wanted me to do with it.  Besides, Kazul seemed to think I was
the only one who could use the sword to break the spell.  And how do
you tell the King of the Dragons that you won't do something she wants
you to do?

Shiara, on the other hand, had a lot to say.  She thought it would be
stupid for me to go into the castle by myself.  Kazul asked if she was
volunteering, and Shiara said that she wasn't going to be left out just
when things were getting interesting.  Kazul pointed out that Shiara's
arm was broken, and Shiara told her that being inside the castle with
me sounded safer than being outside with a lot of wizards and dragons
fighting.

Finally Kazul said Shiara could go with me if she wanted to.  Shiara
said, Good, and were the dragons going to be able to keep all of the
wizards out of the castle, or were some of them going to sneak in after
us?  They kept on like that for quite a while.  I was very glad when a
middle-sized

dragon arrived with dinner and interrupted.  I couldn't see why Kazul
was being so patient with Shiara, and I was getting worried that her
patience wouldn't last much longer.

Dinner was excellent.  Kazul spent most of the meal lying on the floor
and watching us inscrutably.  Dragons are very good at being
inscrutable.  I found it a bit unsettling, but it didn't seem to bother
Shiara.  Or Nightwitch.

After dinner we talked some more.  Kazul told us about the castle and
what the floor plan was.  She also told us about a lot of things to
watch out for.  Most of them were magical items that would be dangerous
only if we accidentally did something to them, but there were a few
traps, too.

"This castle sounds awfully big," Shiara said after a while.  "How are
we supposed to find this King, anyway?"

"You look for him," Kazul said.  "I'm afraid I can't tell you exactly
where.  The only people who knew where the King was were the wizards
who went in and put the spell on him, and as far as I know they're all
dead."

"As far as you know?"  I asked.

"Some of them didn't come out of the castle."

"But you're sure that the ones who did come out are dead?"

"Positive."  Kazul smiled reminiscently and licked her lips.

"So what?"  said Shiara.  Kazul and I looked at her.  "I don't care
about the wizards who came out," she went on defensively.  "I'm worried
about the ones who might still be in there."

"They have to be either dead or enchanted," Kazul said.  "Even a wizard
can't live seventeen years without food."

Shiara relaxed a little.  "I suppose not.  All right, then, what does
this King look like?"

"You'll know him when you see him.  Besides, he's the only other person
in there."

"Oh, great."  Shiara wrinkled her nose disgustedly.  "We have to hunt
through an empty castle for someone we don't even know while a bunch of
wizards try to get in and stop us."

"It shouldn't be that bad," Kazul said.  "The sword and the key should
both help considerably."

"The key?"  I said.

"Of course, the key!"  Kazul said impatiently.  "It can open any door
in the castle; that's what it was made for.  You could have managed
with the sword alone, but it will be much faster with the key as
well."

"Are you saying I just picked up the key to the castle by accident?"

"Accidents like that happen all the time in the Caves of Chance," Kazul
said dryly.  "Where do you think they got their name?"

"How do you know it's the right key?"  Shiara demanded.  "The quozzel
said some wizard put it there."

Kazul shrugged.  "That's what makes it likely that it's the Key to the
Castle.  We caught one of the wizards coming out of the caves near the
end of the battle, and he'd been inside the castle more than long
enough to take the key.  But if it will make you more comfortable, I
can look at it."

I dug the key out of my pocket and held it out to Kazul.  Kazul glanced
at it and started to nod, then stopped suddenly and stared at the key
very intently .

"It's the Key to the Castle, all right, but that wizard's done
something to it."  She sounded outraged.

"Wonderful," said Shiara disgustedly.  "All we need is another wizard
to get mixed up in this."

"He isn't another wizard," Kazul said.  "He's the same one who stole
the sword in the first place.  And he's dead."

"You're sure he's not one of the wizards who didn't come out of the
castle?"  Shiara asked.

"I ate him myself."

"Oh."  Shiara frowned.  "Can you tell what he did?"

Kazul didn't answer.  She stared at the key instead, and her eyes
started glowing.  The key began getting warmer and warmer in my
hands.

Just before it got too hot for me to hold, the key jerked in the
direction of the castle outside.  A second later, I dropped it.  I
stood shaking my fingers, while Kazul and Shiara stared down at the
key, and Nightwitch walked over and sniffed at it.

"Nightwitch!"  said Shiara.  "Stop that.  You'll get enchanted or
something."

She bent over and grabbed awkwardly for Nightwitch with her left
hand.

The kitten jumped away, and Shiara's fingers brushed the key.  A look
of surprise came over her face, and she picked the key up.  "It feels
like fire," she said.

"I know," I said.  "It burned my fingers."

"No, I don't mean it's hot," Shiara said.  "It just feels like fire."

"It shouldn't," Kazul said, sounding interested.  "Bring it over
here."

Shiara took the key to Kazul, who looked at it for a few minutes and
handed it back.  "I thought so.  It's part of what that wizard did."

"But what's it for?"  Shiara said.

"I don't know," Kazul admitted.  "The fire spell is connected to
something inside the castle, but I can't tell what with the barriers
around the outside.  He may have set a trap with it."

"May I have my key back, please?"  I said.  Kazul and Shiara both
looked at me, and Shiara handed me the key.  "Thank you," I said, and
put

it in my pocket.  I wasn't quite sure why I wanted it; I only knew
that keeping it felt right, somehow.

"Is there anything else we need to know?"  I asked.  "I mean, we've
walked a long way today and we've been in a cave-in, and Shiara has a
broken arm, and if we're going to do all these things tomorrow, I would
sort of like to get some rest."

"Mrrrroww!"  said Nightwitch emphatically.

Kazul chuckled.  "It seems you aren't the only one who would like
rest.

Very well.  Marchak!"

The middle-sized dragon who had brought us dinner appeared, and Kazul
had him show us to our rooms.  They turned out to be normal,
human-sized rooms and quite comfortable.  I was surprised until it
occurred to me that the King of the Dragons would probably have
occasional human visitors who would need a place to stay.  Then I
wondered how many human magicians kept special places for visiting
dragons in their castles and towers and things, and right in the middle
of wondering, I fell asleep.

A loud pounding noise woke me.  Someone, probably a dragon, was
knocking on the door of my room.  "Just a minute, please," I called,
and the pounding stopped.

I got out of the bed, which I couldn't remember having gotten into, and
picked up my sword belt.  I checked my pockets to make sure I had the
key, started for the door, and stopped suddenly in the middle of the
room.  If the dragons expected me to do things with the Sword of the
Sleeping King, I wasn't going to carry it under my arm like a bag of
laundry.  I put the sword belt on and opened the door.

"It's about time," said the little dragon in the hall.  Shiara and
Nightwitch were already there.

"I'm sorry," I said.  "I didn't know you were in a hurry."

The dragon snorted and started off down the hall.  We went after it.

It didn't seem to be in a particularly good mood.  Shiara explained
that it wanted to come into the castle with us, but Kazul wouldn't let
it.  I couldn't see why it wanted to come.  There weren't supposed to
be any wizards inside the castle, and I thought the little dragon
wanted to fight wizards.  I didn't say anything, though.  Arguing with
a grouchy dragon isn't safe, even if it's only a small dragon.

The dragon brought us back to the cave where we'd talked to Kazul the
previous night.  Kazul wasn't there, but breakfast was, and we sat down
right away.  We were just finishing when Kazul arrived to take us out
to the castle.

Kazul led us out of the caves and across the hard brown ground.  All
around us, dragons were polishing their teeth and sharpening their
claws, and some of them were muttering spells under their breath.  A
couple of times, I saw elves hurrying through the crowd, and once I saw
a group of intense-looking, red-haired people who had to be
fire-witches.

Everyone was very serious and grim.

None of us said anything until we got to the castle.  Kazul led us
around the outside of the shimmerings until we were at the front of the
castle.  If I concentrated on looking through the barriers, I could see
a flat wooden bridge across the moat and a large door with steps
leading up to it.

Kazul stopped and turned to the little dragon.  "You'd better go find
your place now," she said.

"But I want to-" The little dragon went.  Shiara and I looked at each
other, and then at Kazul.  Kazul smiled.  "Are you ready?"

I nodded jerkily.  Shiara bent and picked up Nightwitch.  Kazul's smile
widened.  "When I say 'Now,' draw your sword and run for the castle.

Don't look back, and don't stop for anything."

I nodded again because I didn't trust my voice just then.  Kazul turned
to the crowd of dragons, and suddenly everything was completely
silent.

A shiver ran down my back, and I put my hand on the hilt of the Sword
of the Sleeping King.

I felt the bee-in-the-jar buzz that was Shiara's magic, and a strong
humming from all the dragons, but the strongest feeling of all was the
purring I'd felt from the first time the sword made my arm tingle.  It
came from the castle.  Not from the shimmerings around the castle; they
just got in the way.

What I was feeling was the magic of the castle itself.

I took a tighter grip on the hilt of the sword.  The tingling from the
dragons got stronger and more positive, and abruptly Kazul turned and
shouted, "Now!"  As she spoke, the silver-and-green shimmering around
the castle vanished.

I yanked the Sword of the Sleeping King out of its sheath and swung it
at the golden glow that was still left between me and the castle.  I
felt an enormous shock as the sword hit, and then the shimmering
vanished in an explosion of golden light.

I shook my head and heard Kazul shout, "Run!"

I took two steps and almost lost my balance.  The ground wasn't hard
and bare anymore; it was covered with slippery green fuzz.  Shiara
grabbed my arm just as I heard a series of explosions from behind us.

We ran.  I could feel the jangling from the sword that meant there were
wizards around somewhere, but I didn't stop to look for them.  I was
too busy trying to keep up with Shiara, hang on to the sword, and dig
the key out of my pocket, all at the same time.

Shiara was standing in front of the door, panting, when I got up to it
with the key.  I didn't see a keyhole, but as soon as my foot touched
the top step of the stairs, the door swung open.

"Daystar," Shiara said, "are you sure-" Something hit the stone of the
castle next to the door and exploded, showering us with little chips of
rock.  Shiara and I dove through the door and landed on the floor
inside with Nightwitch on top of us.  I sat up just as the door closed
silently behind us.

"Hey!"  Shiara said.  "Watch what you're doing with that sword!"

"I'm sorry."  I stood up, stuck the key in my pocket again, and held
out a hand to help Shiara up.  "Is your arm all right?"

"I think so," she said absently.  "At least, it doesn't hurt any more
than it did already.  Now, which way do we go?"

"I don't know."  The door shook as something hit it, and a moment later
there was a muffled explosion.  "I think we should get out of here,
though."

"Aren't you going to put that stupid sword away first?"

"No," I said.  "I'd rather have it in my hand, in case some of the
wizards do get into the castle."

Shiara scowled, but she didn't object again, and we started hunting.

The castle was even more confusing on the inside than it was on the
outside.  Rooms opened into more rooms and then suddenly into a hallway
or a flight of stairs.  All of them were full of chairs and tables and
books and suits of armor, and everything was dusty.  The wizards' spell
had kept spiderwebs and cobwebs out of the castle, but it hadn't done
anything at all about the dust.  Nightwitch didn't like it at all.  She
kept sneezing, until finally Shiara picked her up and carried her.

It took a lot longer to figure out where we were going than I'd
expected.

I could feel the sword pulling me toward the center of the castle, but
it was very hard to just go in that direction.  In spite of Kazul's
instructions, Shiara and I kept getting into hallways that curved the
wrong way and chains of rooms that ended with nowhere else to go.  It
was very discouraging.

Finally, we came to a pleasant room with a big window and a desk in one
corner.  "This doesn't look right, either," Shiara said.  "Do you
think-" "Doesn't look right?"  growled a voice up near the ceiling.

"Of course it doesn't look right!  It's been seventeen years since
anybody has dusted in here.  And I haven't had any visitors except the
mice."

I looked up and saw a wooden gargoyle in one corner.  It made a face at
me and went on, "Who are you, and what are you doing in here?"

"I'm Daystar, and I'm looking for the King of the Enchanted Forest," I
said.

"Oh yeah?  What for?"  the gargoyle demanded suspiciously.

"I think I'm supposed to return his sword."

"His-Oh, I see.  Well, he isn't here.  Hasn't been for seventeen years,
and boy, am I going to give him an earful when he gets back."

"Come on, Daystar, we're wasting time," said Shiara.

"Try the great hall, down the corridor to your left," the gargoyle
yelled after us as we left the room.  "And send somebody to wipe the
dust out of my ears!  The things I put up with-" Since nothing else had
worked, we followed the gargoyle's directions and found ourselves in
front of a large door at the end of a long hall.  It was three times as
wide as a normal door, and much taller, and it was made of gold with
designs in relief.  There was a staff lying on the floor in front of
it, and I could tell from the jangling of the sword that it was a
wizard's staff.

When I stopped to look at it, the sword jerked impatiently toward the
door.

"I think this is the place we've been looking for," I said.

Shiara tried the door.  "It's locked.  Where's the key?"

'Just a minute."  I dug for it.  As soon as I touched it, I felt the
key pulling at me, the same way the sword was.  "Hey!"

"What is it?"  Shiara said.  "Come on, hurry up!"

"It's this key," I said as I unlocked the door.  "It feels almost like
the sword, except-" I stopped as the door swung open.  The room inside
was very large and very high, full of light and not dusty at all.  In
the center of the floor stood something like a shallow iron brazier,
about three feet tall and nearly five feet across, full of glowing
coals.  On the other side of the brazier was a couch, and lying on the
couch was a man.

He was dressed in expensive-looking clothes, but there were mars in
them, as if he had been in a fight.  He didn't look old, even though
his beard was long and gray.  His head was bare, and at his side was a
jeweled scabbard, empty.  He was asleep.

Shiara took a deep breath.  "That must be him.  Come on, Daystar, let's
get this over with."

I stepped into the room and walked slowly toward the couch.  This is
too easy, I thought.  As I came around the brazier, I saw that there
was another wizard's staff lying beside the couch.  Something felt
wrong, and I slowed down even more.  I stopped, standing next to the
couch with the key in one hand and the sword in the other.

"Well, now that we're here, how do we break the spell?"  Shiara asked,
coming up on one side of me.

"Something's wrong," I said, and as I spoke I realized what it was.

The key was still pulling at me, but as soon as I had stepped into the
room, the

pulling from the sword had stopped.  All I could feel from the sword
was the jangling of the magic in the wizards' staffs.

"Maybe if you lay the sword on him it'll work," Shiara said, ignoring
me.  "You have to try something or we'll be here all day."

"I wouldn't try anything at all, if I were you," said a voice behind
us.

Shiara and I spun around.  The doorway was full of wizards.

20

In Which Daystar Uses His Sword I stared at the wizards for an instant,
then turned and jumped for the couch, hoping I could break the spell
before the wizards did anything.

I didn't make it.  As I brought the flat of the sword down, the
sleeping man vanished.  The sword clanged softly against the couch, and
I spun back to face the wizards.

Something hit me as I turned, and suddenly I couldn't move my body at
all.  I could turn my head far enough to see Shiara, but that was
all.

Shiara looked as if she were concentrating on something, so I turned my
head back to the wizards.  They were standing around the sleeping man,
who was now lying on the floor in front of the doorway.

"Well done," said one of the wizards to another.

"Thank you," the second wizard said.  "It was a mere trifle."

There was a stir at the back of the group of wizards, and a moment
later Antorell pushed forward to the front.  He had a bandage around
one arm, probably where the dragon had bitten him.  "I want the boy!"

he said.

"Now!"

The wizard in front, who seemed to be the leader of the group, looked
at Antorell coldly.  "We permitted you to join us in order to give you
an opportunity to repair some of the damage you did seventeen years
ago.  Not to further your private ambitions."

"But you said I could have the boy!"

"Antorell, you're a fool," the leader said.  "You may have the boy, but
after we have possession of the sword, not before."

"I'll give you the sword, then!"  Antorell said angrily.  He strode
around the edge of the brazier and reached for the hilt of the sword,
just above my hand.  I wanted to jerk away, but I still couldn't
move.

As Antorell touched the sword, there was a flash of blue-and-gold light
that flung him backward onto the floor.  If he'd fallen a few inches to
the other side, he'd have gone into the brazier.  I found myself
wishing he had, then found myself staring at the brazier.  Something
about it nibbled at my mind, but I couldn't make it come clear.  I
didn't have time to think about it, because the wizards started talking
again.

Antorell was picking himself up off the floor, and the leader of the
wizards smiled at him nastily.  "You see?"

"You knew this would happen!"  Antorell said furiously.

"Of course I knew," the leader said.  "Had you spent your time hunting
that sword instead of trying to get some sort of ridiculous revenge on
Cimorene, you, too, would know."

"Then demonstrate the proper method for me," Antorell said
sarcastically.

"If you know so much, you take the sword."

"I am not so foolish," the other wizard replied.  "No one save the King
of the Enchanted Forest can take that sword from a bearer who is not
willing to give it up, especially not inside this castle."

"Then how do you expect to get it?"  Antorell said even more
sarcastically than before.

"We kill the King," the wizard said, gesturing at the sleeping figure
on the floor in front of him.  "When the line of the Kings of the
Enchanted Forest is ended, one of us can take up the rule of the
castle."

"What good will that do?"  Antorell said.  "The boy will still have the
sword.  And, as you have reminded me so many times in the past two
days, he seems to be able to use it."

The leader shrugged.  "If your tale is true, I shall admit to some
surprise.

I thought no one but the King could use the sword.  Which is why one of
us must become King."

"You accuse me of lying?"

"Why should I bother?"

Antorell scowled and started to raise his staff, then seemed to change
his mind.  "When the boy blows your own spells back at you, perhaps you
will see what I mean."

"Nonsense!"  the leader of the wizards replied.  "You obviously know
little of what you speak."

"No, of course not.  I have only seen the boy in action," Antorell said
with awful sarcasm.

The leader shrugged again.  "What the boy has learned matters little.

The power of the sword passes to the ruler of the castle, and there is
nothing he can do about it.  He will be easy enough to take care of
then."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flicker of movement.  Shiara was
edging toward me.  I had to force myself not to turn my head.  The
wizards seemed to have forgotten both of us, and I didn't want to
remind them.  I hoped they wouldn't remember until after Shiara had
done whatever she was planning to do.  I also hoped Shiara was planning
to do something.  I certainly couldn't, and I didn't think Nightwitch
would be much help against all those wizards.

"Stop talking and let's get on with it," one of the wizards in the back
said.

"An excellent suggestion.  That is, if you are quite satisfied,
Antorell?"  said the leader.

Antorell glared and stalked over to the rest of the wizards.  The
leader looked around and nodded.  "Begin."

Under other circumstances, the spell casting would have been very
interesting to watch.  The wizards spent quite a bit of time arguing
about where each of them should stand, and exactly what the correct
angle was for each staff, and in what order the spells should be
said.

The leader seemed particularly concerned that things be done right.

Evidently there was something about the castle that would cause
problems if everything wasn't perfect.

Finally, they agreed on what they were going to do, and they got
started.

As the wizards started chanting, something touched my arm.  If I could
have moved, I'd have jumped.  It was Shiara.  "Do something before they
finish!"  I whispered.

"I've been trying!"  Shiara whispered back.  "But it isn't working."

"Oh no."  I was so upset that I spoke the words in a normal tone of
voice.  Fortunately, the wizards were too busy chanting to notice.

"You haven't been polite to anyone since you apologized to Telemain,
and you used that up on the last bunch of wizards."

Shiara looked stricken.  "Daystar, I'm sorry!"

"There isn't anything we can do about it now," I said.  "If you-" I
stopped because the wizards had stopped chanting.  Shiara and I both
looked at them, but the wizards didn't seem to be finished with what
they were doing.  They looked more like they'd been interrupted in the
middle of things.  The leader bent over the man on the floor, who was
still sleeping.  A moment later the wizard straightened with an
exclamation and stretched his staff out over the man's body.

The figure dissolved into sparkles, leaving a little blob of mud on the
floor, and the other wizards stirred in surprise.  "A simulacrum!"

said someone.

I let out my breath in relief.  Simulacra are very hard to make.  You
have to mix earth, air, fire, and water in exactly the right
proportions in order to get a good one, and that's fairly tricky.  A
really good magician can make a simulacrum that looks exactly like
someone but doesn't have any connection to the actual person at all.

As a result, a simulacrum can't be used against someone the way other
types of magic can.  What they're mainly good for is confusing
people.

This one seemed to have done an excellent job.  The wizards were
glaring at each other accusingly.  "If that was a simulacrum," one of
them said finally, "where's the King?  Who put it there, anyway?"

"Old Zemenar, probably," an older-looking wizard said.  "The simulacrum
looked like him, and setting up a decoy is just the sort of thing he
would do."

"That doesn't make sense!  He started this whole affair in the first
place.  Why would he put a false king in the castle to distract us?"

"Zemenar never trusted anybody.  He probably wanted to do this himself,
so he made it as hard as he could for anyone else to finish the job.

Or maybe he was just being ornery."  The older wizard shrugged.

"Either way, I doubt that he expected to get eaten by a dragon."

"We have wasted enough time here," the leader of the wizards said with
sudden decision.  "Silvarex, take three others and begin searching for
the King at once.  We cannot allow him to escape again."

He went on giving instructions, but I stopped paying attention.  He
wasn't talking to me, and I had other things to worry about.  I was
still holding the key in my left hand, and as soon as the simulacrum
disappeared, the key had stopped tugging me and started getting warm.

My other arm, the one with the sword, was tingling under the jangling
of the wizards, and my head felt very light.  I had a sudden, strong
feeling that there was something important I ought to remember, but the
jangling of the wizards' magic kept distracting me before I could
figure out what it was.

"Daystar!"  Shiara hissed, practically in my ear.

I jumped a little and realized that the wizard's spell holding me was
beginning to weaken.

I couldn't move very much or very fast, though, and if the wizards
noticed, they'd just throw the spell at me again.  I decided not to
move at all until I was sure I could move the sword fast enough to
block another spell, then whispered to Shiara, "Don't do that.  They
might notice."

Shiara snorted.  "If you don't want them to notice, you'd better try to
notice sooner.  That was the third time I called you."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"So am I. What are we going to do?"

"If you could-Nightwitch?  I broke off in mid-sentence as a small

black streak darted toward the group of wizards.  One of them raised
his staff; Shiara cried out and Nightwitch dodged.  The spell hit the
marble floor in a ball of light, and a moment later the kitten was
among the wizards' feet.

I couldn't see what was happening, but I could hear the wizards
shouting.

"There it goes!"

"Stop it!"

"It got away."

"Find it," the leader of the wizards commanded.  "You, Grineran, go
after it.  It may lead you to the one we seek."

One of the wizards nodded and left, and I blinked.  There were only
three wizards left now: a short, round one, the one who was giving
orders, and Antorell.

Antorell was staring at Shiara and me.  "What about them?"  he said
suddenly.  "They may know something."

The leader of the wizards looked thoughtful.  "For once, Antorell, you
may have made a useful suggestion.  Persuading them to explain what
they know may be difficult, however."

Antorell grinned nastily.  "I think I can manage it."

"Really."  The leader sounded skeptical.  "The girl is a fire-witch,
and the boy has the sword, remember."

"Sword or no, he cannot be immune to spells or Silvarex would never
have been able to bind him," Antorell said.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Something like this."

Antorell waved his staff casually in my direction as he spoke.  Even if
I'd been able to move, I wouldn't have been able to twist the sword
into a position to block the spell before it hit me, especially since I
didn't realize what he was doing until the pain struck.  It felt as if
I were fighting the fire-witch again, only this time the pain was all
through my body instead of just in my arms.  It was worse than anything
I'd ever felt.  I think I screamed, but I'm not sure.

Beside me, Shiara shouted, and a long ribbon of fire shot through the
air in front of me, straight at Antorell.  Antorell caught fire almost
at once.

As he slapped at his clothes and his staff, trying to put out the
flames, the pain stopped abruptly and the key in my left hand got even
hotter.  Neither of the other wizards even tried to help Antorell.

They just stood and stared at Shiara and me.

The ribbon of fire still hung in the air above the brazier, making a
curtain of flames between us and the wizards.  Slowly, reluctantly, it
began to fade, and as it died, the heat from the key in my left hand
faded along with it.  Fire, I thought.  Fire in the brazier, fire in
the key; Kazul had said the

key could open any door in the castle, and Shiara had said something
about the key and fire .  . .

I lifted my left hand, fighting the remnant of the wizard's spell, and
threw the key forward into the brazier.

There was a whoosh of flame that leapt all the way to the ceiling, then
died.  I thought I saw something in it, but it vanished before I could
be sure.

The brazier began to glow, and the whole room was suddenly thick and
heavy with magic, like the air just before a summer thunderstorm.  I
could feel the magic growing stronger, as if it was getting ready for
something, but nothing else happened.  I was sure there was something
else I should do, but I couldn't think what.

"Stop them!"  the leader of the wizards shouted.

"Move, Daystar!"  Shiara cried, and ducked down behind the brazier.

I tried to follow her, but I couldn't move fast enough because of the
remains of the binding spell and because I was worrying about what else
I was supposed to do in order to finish the spell I'd started with the
key.  I saw Antorell and the other wizards bring their staffs up, and I
tried desperately to move the sword far enough to block whatever they
were throwing at me.  I made it, but only just.

The sword flashed as the wizards' spell hit it, and a tingle ran
through me.  The spell that had been binding me vanished.  I could feel
what was left of it flowing through the sword, along with the rest of
the magic the wizards had thrown.  It felt a lot like the jolt of power
I'd gotten in the forest, when I'd used the sword on the spell the
wizards had aimed at Shiara, except that this time I could tell where
the power was going.  It was flowing through me, into the magic of the
Enchanted Forest itself.  Back where it had come from in the first
place, if Kazul was right about where wizards got most of their
magic.

Back to .  . .

I felt my eyes widening and almost missed blocking the next spell.

Then four more wizards appeared behind the three in the doorway.  If I
didn't do something soon, I wouldn't have time for anything except
blocking spells.  There was no way to find out whether I was right
except to try.

I stepped up to the edge of the brazier, took a deep breath, and said
loudly, "Power of water, wind, and earth, Turn the spell back to its
birth.

Raise the fire to free the lord By the power of wood and sword."

As I spoke the last word, I thrust the Sword of the Sleeping King into
the middle of the coals in the brazier.

As the sword touched the coals, all the waiting magic around me surged
forward, and suddenly I knew where it had come from.  It was the magic
of the castle and the Enchanted Forest itself, alive and growing,
running like a net through the ground and the trees and the air.  Fire
shot up to the ceiling, the same way it had when I threw the key into
the brazier, but this time the flames didn't fade.  They got brighter
and brighter until all I could see was fire.  I heard a rumbling sound
like the roof of the Caves of Chance falling in, and the floor shook
under me.

A voice said loudly, "All hail the Waker of the Sword?  and voices all
around me shouted, "Hail!"

Echoes from the shout rolled around the room, like thunder rolling back
and forth across the sky.  I couldn't see anything except fire, I
couldn't hear anything except echoes, and I couldn't feel anything at
all.  Then something in my head seemed to snap into place, and the
noise stopped abruptly.

I let go of the sword and stepped back a pace.  The light in my eyes
started to dwindle into flames again, but now I could see pictures in
them, outlined in fire: dragons fighting wizards outside the castle,
and dwarves fighting elves, and elves fighting wizards and other
elves.

I couldn't tell who was winning.  Sometimes it seemed to be one set of
fiery little shapes, and sometimes it seemed to be the other.

As I stared at the fire, I realized that I could feel the jangling from
all the wizards' staffs and the deep rumbling of the magic of the
Enchanted Forest and the purring of the castle itself, even though I
wasn't holding the sword anymore.  I could even feel the shape of the
wizards' spells inside and outside the castle, including the one around
and over the brazier.  I could feel the magic of the sword, too,
weaving a bright pattern through all the other types of magic.  I
followed the pattern until I saw how it worked, and then I reached out
toward all the different kinds of magic and twisted.

The jangling of the wizards' staffs stopped abruptly as the power of
the Enchanted Forest swallowed up the power of the staffs.

Immediately, the flames in front of me swirled and pulled together, so
that the pictures I'd been watching disappeared, and I found myself
staring at a crowd of very angry ex-wizards through a shifting curtain
of fire.

At least two of the wizards were wearing swords, and they were reaching
for them.  The leader started to point in my direction, and I ducked
instinctively.  Almost every wizard who's any good carries a spell or
two outside his staff, just in case the staff gets stolen.  The wizards
at the castle didn't have any magic in their staffs anymore, but they
could still make trouble with their spare spells.

I dove behind the brazier just in time to avoid something like a large
lightning bolt.  I swallowed, hoping these wizards didn't have very
many

more spells like that.  I heard shouts, and I peered around the edge
of the brazier, expecting to see the wizards with the swords coming
after me.

Wizards were running in several directions, but none of them seemed to
be heading for me.  For a moment, I was puzzled, but then I saw Morwen,
Telemain, and a couple of elves charging into the room from the
hallway.  I didn't stop to worry about how they had gotten there.  I
turned back to the brazier, to pull the Sword of the Sleeping King out
of it so I could join the fight-and stopped.

The flames were still swirling in the air above the brazier, but they
were denser somehow, and brighter.  All I could see was a mass of
white-and-yellow light, shot with power.  Then something flashed so
brightly that I had to cover my eyes.  When I could see again, there
was a door in the center of the brazier, right on top of the place
where I had thrown the key, and facing the point of the sword.  The
door hung between two pillars that looked as if they were made of solid
light, and I couldn't see anything around it except light and flames.

I stared at the door for a moment as it grew even more solid.  I wasn't
sure I wanted to find out what was on the other side.  Doors like that
are even worse than the one in Morwen's house; they can go anywhere.  I
reached for the Sword of the Sleeping King, but before my hand touched
it, the door opened and a man stepped through.

He didn't look at all like the simulacrum.  He was taller, with black
hair and tired-looking gray eyes, and he didn't have a beard.  He was
dressed in plain clothes, but there was a feeling of strength about
him, and power.

Even without the thin gold circlet he wore I would have guessed who he
was.  I took a deep breath of relief as he stepped down from the
brazier and onto the marble floor in front of me.

As he did, the doorway behind him melted back into leaping flames,
which faded quickly until there was nothing there except the brazier
and the glowing coals.  The room was utterly silent.  I looked up at
the King of the Enchanted Forest for a moment, then turned to the
brazier and reached for the hilt of the Sword of the Sleeping King.

he sword wasn't even warm from the fire, but the blade shone even more
brightly than it had the day Mother brought it out of the Enchanted
Forest and gave it to me.  I looked at it for a minute, then turned
back to the King and held it out.

"I've come to return your sword, Father," I said.

21

In Which the battle Ends and Antorell Makes Trouble Again

For a long moment the King of the Enchanted Forest looked at me over
the hilt of the sword.  Then he reached out and took it.  He held it up
for a moment, then turned and brought it down hard on the edge of the
brazier.

The brazier split and fell apart, scattering embers.  As soon as it hit
the floor, it started to melt and vanish, and in a few seconds there
was nothing left of it except the key.  The King bent and picked it up,
then turned back to me and smiled.  "Thank you."

"You're welcome," I said automatically.  Then I noticed Shiara sitting
on the floor, where she had dived when the wizards started throwing
spells around.  She was looking from me to the King and back, as if she
couldn't believe what she was seeing.  "Oh, I'm sorry," I said.

"Shiara, this is the King of the Enchanted Forest.  Father, this is my
friend Shiara.  She's a fire-witch."

Father bowed.  Shiara looked at him and cleared her throat, then
cleared it again and said, "Hey, tun, are you really Daystar's
father?"

The King smiled slightly and nodded.  "Of course.  Only the Kings of
the Enchanted Forest can use the sword."  He raised it so that the
light flashing from the blade filled the room, then in one fluid motion
he sheathed it in the empty scabbard at his side.  He looked at me and
smiled again.

Shiara blinked, then turned her head and glared at me.  "Why didn't

you tell me the King of the Enchanted Forest was your father?"  she
demanded.

"I'm sorry, but I didn't know it myself until just now," I said.

"Ha!"  said Shiara.  "Why-" Before she could finish her sentence,
Nightwitch pounced on her.

"Nightwitch!"  Shiara sounded relieved.  "Where did you come from?"

"I believe she came with them," Father said, nodding toward the
doorway.

Shiara and I turned.  A dozen wizards were sprawled on the floor in a
tangled pile.  Some of them were wrapped in vines, some of them seemed
to be frozen, and some of them had elves and cats sitting on them.  As
soon as we turned to look at them, the elves all got up and bowed, then
sat down again quickly before the wizards could get up and do
anything.

The cats just sat and blinked at us.

"I don't think you need to be quite so careful," the King said to the
elves.  "If you'll let them up one at a time, I'll decide what to do
with them!"

The elves nodded, and one of them stood up and bowed politely to the
King.  Father walked over to the wizard the elf had been sitting on and
started asking him questions.  The wizard didn't answer.  lYreally,
Father shrugged and waved a hand.  The wizard disappeared, and Father
went on to the next one.

As soon as they got off the wizards, the elves started gathering up the
staffs into a big bundle.  Most of the cats just sat down and washed
their paws.  None of the wizards would say anything to Father, and he
didn't waste much time on any of them.  In a few minutes, there were
only three wizards left.  I was watching them when Shiara poked me.

"Daystar, where's Morwen?"  she asked when I turned around.  "Those are
her cats; she has to be around somewhere."

"I don't know," I said.  "I remember seeing her right before Father
showed up, and Telemain was with her."  I looked toward the door, where
the last few wizards were, and blinked.  "Shiara, where's Antorell?"

"Didn't he disappear already?"

"No, he didn't.  I was watching," I said.  Shiara and I looked at each
other for an instant, then headed for the doorway.

No one tried to stop us.  One of the elves gave us an odd look, but
another elf grabbed his arm and whispered something to him, and he only
bowed deeply as we passed.  It made me feel almost as uncomfortable as
I felt when the dwarves bowed to me.

Outside in the hallway we found Morwen kneeling on the floor beside
Telemain and wrapping long strips of black cloth around his right
shoulder.

Pieces of odd-looking plants littered the floor, and a little way down
the hall

was a puddle of something dark and slimy.  The puddle had a wizard's
staff lying across it, and a wizard's robe was sort of crumpled up
under the staff.

"Morwen!"  Shiara said.  "What happened?  Can I help?"

"What happened was a battle," Morwen said.  "I should think that would
be obvious enough."

"But how did-" Shiara stopped because Telemain was stirring.  A moment
later he opened his eyes and looked up at all of us.

"What was that?"  he asked rather hazily.

"That," said Morwen, "was a sword.  They are long, pointed, and very
sharp.  You're lucky it didn't take your head off."

Telemain started to shake his head, then winced.  "A plain sword.  No
wonder I couldn't block it.  I thought it was a spell."

Morwen snorted.  "You may be one of the greatest magical theoreticians
in the world, but you don't have a particle of common sense," she said
acidly.  "Why, in heaven's name, didn't you duck?"

"I did duck?"  Telemain said, looking startled and indignant.  "He was
aiming for my chest, not my shoulder.  And if you think I'm going to
put up with you and your-" "You," Morwen said firmly, "are going to put
up with me until that shoulder is healed.  Which, may I remind you,
means that I will have to put up with you for the same period of
time.

Fortunately, it shouldn't take very long-a few days, at most."

"A few days?  Telemain said.  "Are you mad?  It'll take at least a
week!"

"Not if I change the herbs twice a day," Morwen said in an irritated
tone.  "I should know.  It's my field."

"Well, it's my shoulder?"

"I'm so glad you noticed," Morwen said.  "Stop fussing, or you'll make
things worse and I will have to put up with you for a week."

"If I have to continue lying on this floor-which is cold, hard, and
extremely uncomfortable-you'll have to put up with me a lot longer than
that!"

Morwen got a peculiar look on her face.  "I'll consider the idea
carefully.

Meanwhile"-she looked past Shiara and me-"Mendanbar, can you provide a
room for this stubborn .  . . magician?"

"Easily," said the King of the Enchanted Forest, from the doorway
behind us.  "Which room do you want?"

"The brown one," Morwen said before Telemain could answer.  "He'll need
a firm bed to support that shoulder."

Father laughed.  "Of course."  He started to lift his hand, and I
cleared my throat.

"I would like to ask them something before they go," I said when father
 turned toward me.  He nodded, and I looked at Morwen.  "Did you

notice what happened to the wizard who was halfway around the brazier
when you came in?  I didn't see him afterward."

"You mean Antorell?"  Yes, I thought I saw him," Morwen said.  "I'm
afraid I don't recall.  He wasn't the one I melted, if that's what
you're ask "Could he have gotten away?"  Shiara asked.

Morwen glanced at the King.  "If you will allow me, I can find out
fairly quickly."  Father nodded, and Morwen made a chuckling sort of
sound.  Two of the cats poked their heads around the corner of the door
frame.

"Daystar wants to know what's become of one of the wizards," Morwen
said to the cats.  "The one named Antorell."

The cats looked at each other, and one of them twitched its tail.  The
other one looked back at Morwen and said, "Rroowww!"  and they both
pulled their heads back out of sight.

"He got away," Morwen said, turning back to the King.  "Scorn says he
ducked down the hall while Telemain and I were busy with the rest of
them."

Father frowned.  "I'd better find him before he causes any more
trouble."

He looked back at Morwen.  "The brown room, I think you said?"

Morwen nodded, and Father waved his hand.  Morwen and Telemain
disappeared.  Father raised his hand to make another gesture, then
paused and looked at Shiara and me.  "I suppose you want to come,
too?"

"Yes, we do.  That is, if it isn't going to cause problems," I said.

I hadn't quite finished my sentence when the castle dissolved into mist
around us.  The mist cleared immediately, and we were standing on
springy green moss with the trees of the Enchanted Forest all around
us.  At first I thought Father had taken us to a place a long way from
the castle, but then I saw dragons and elves among the trees.  I looked
back over my shoulder, and there was the castle right behind us.

Shiara looked around.  "Hey, where did all the trees come from?"

"They came from the wizards' magic," Father said.  "When Daystar
released the magic they had stored in their staffs, it went back into
the forest, and things got back to normal in a hurry."

"When Daystar did what?"

"It was part of the sword and the fire and the brazier," I said
hastily.  "I think you were busy ducking."

"Oh," said Shiara.

By that time the dragons and elves had seen us, and everyone started
cheering and bowing.  In the middle of the cheering, one of the elves
came over and bowed deeply.  "It is good to see Your Majesty again," he
said.

"It is good to be here again, Willin," the King replied.  "How goes the
battle?"

"I believe the dragons are the proper persons to provide that
information," the elf said, sounding more and more pompous with every
word.  "If Your Majesty will wait here, I will arrange-" "Mendanbar!"

shouted one of the dragons.  "So it worked!"  As she made her way
through the crowd toward us, the elf frowned ferociously.

"Your Majesty," he said in a low tone, "if you would prefer a more
formal audience-" "I haven't time for that, Willin," said the King.

"Besides, I need you inside the castle, not out here.  Someone has to
look the place over, and arrange dinner for all these people, and see
about getting some of the housekeeping staff back."

"Yes, yes, of course!  At once, Your Majesty!"  Willin bustled away,
looking much happier now that he had a suitable job.

"How's the battle?"  the King asked again as the dragon reached us.

"Quite finished," the dragon said.  "There are a few still out herding
prisoners together, but that's about all."

"Excellent!"  the King said, but he was watching the trees out of the
corners of his eyes, and there was a tiny crease between his
eyebrows.

"If King Kazul is about, I would like to speak with her."

The dragon smiled, and her eyes glittered as if she were enjoying a
private joke.  "Kazul will be here in a moment."

Father nodded, managing to look impatient and polite at the same
time.

Suddenly the cheering got much louder, and then the dragons drew apart
and Kazul came through the trees toward us.  She was smiling, and she
looked very large and green and shining.  She was so magnificent that
none of us saw the figure with her until they were both quite close to
us.

I was the first to notice that Kazul had someone with her.  When I saw
who it was, I blinked and swallowed hard.  "Mother?"

"Cimorene!"  shouted Father.  He took three strides forward and took
her in his arms.  Kazul smiled and sat back, looking smug.

Mother was laughing and crying at the same time; I'd never seen her do
that before.  Not ever.  I was still staring when Shiara poked me.

"Don't stare," she whispered when I turned.  "It's not polite."

I looked at Shiara for a minute, and my face got hot.  I couldn't
really say anything, though, because she was right.  I felt very
peculiar, but fortunately Mother and the King stopped hugging each
other just then and started paying attention to the rest of us.

Father went to talk to Kazul, and Mother came over to us.  She gave me
a quick hug and said, "Well done, Daystar."

"Thank you, Mother," I said.  Shiara shifted uncomfortably, and I
remembered that I still hadn't introduced her.  "Oh, and this is my
friend Shiara.  She's a fire-witch."

"I can tell that by looking at her."  Mother smiled at Shiara.

"You'll stay with us for a few days, won't you?"

Shiara nodded.

"Good," Mother said.  "Now, if you will excuse me, there are still a
few things I have to attend to."

"Mother," I said, and she turned.  "That wizard, Antorell.  He was in
the castle, but he got away.  I thought you should know."

"He did not get away!"  said a familiar voice behind me.  "I caught him
myself.  Do you want him for anything, or can I eat him?"

We all turned.  The little dragon was sitting on the other side of the
bridge, holding on to one of Antorell's arms.  Antorell's robe was
dirty and he didn't have his staff anymore.  He looked tattered and
very unhappy, and the dragon looked extremely pleased with itself.

"Well?"  it said.  "Can I eat him?"

I looked at Mother, and she shook her head.

'I don't think you should eat him," I said to the dragon.  "The King
talked to all the other wizards, and he'll probably want to talk to
this one, tOO."

"Well, I want him back when the King gets finished with him," the
little dragon said.  "I caught him, and I'm going to eat him."

"He'll probably give you a stomachache," Shiara said.

I stopped listening to the conversation, because Antorell had
straightened and was glaring past me, at Mother.  He looked more
powerful, somehow, but no one else seemed to have noticed anything
unusual.  I glanced uneasily over my shoulder and saw Father still
talking to Kazul.  I looked back, wondering whether I really had
anything to worry about.  Without his staff, all Antorell had were his
extra spells, and he'd probably used them up in the battle.  At least,
I hoped he had.

Shiara and the dragon were still arguing.  Suddenly, Antorell twisted
and made a motion with his left hand.  The dragon shrieked in pain and
let go of him, and he ran toward the bridge, waving his hands and
shouting.  I felt a sudden, intense surge of magic around him, and an
instant later a demon appeared.

It materialized right in front of us, all purple scales and orange
claws and silver-green teeth.  Antorell shouted again, in a language I
didn't understand, and pointed at Mother.  The demon nodded, and one
arm darted out.

I grabbed something I couldn't see out of the air in front of me and
pulled.  The demon vanished, and Antorell cried out in surprise.  I
yanked at the something again and sent Antorell along with the demon.

After what he'd been trying to do, I didn't care whether the King
wanted to talk to him or not.  Then I saw that the little dragon was
turning pink around the edges again.  I let go of whatever it was,
grabbed a different one, and twisted.  The

dragon gave a surprised-sounding squeak and turned green again, all at
once.

I dropped the piece of nothing I'd been holding and turned.  Mother was
shaking her head.  "That was a bit extreme, Daystar," she said, but her
expression was proud.

"Daystar, what on earth did you .  . . I mean, how did you .  . ."

Shiara gave up and just stared at me.

"I don't know," I said.  I was at least as surprised as she was.  "I'm
not even sure what I did."

"What happened?"  the little dragon asked.  It looked around
suspiciously.

"Is that wizard dead?"

"No, but he probably wishes he were," Mother said.  "Demons do not like
surprise visitors."

"Oh, is that what Daystar did with him?"  said Father's voice from
behind me.  "I wondered."

I jumped and turned around to see the King and Kazul standing there.

The 	King was looking at Mother; Kazul was looking at the little
dragon.

"Where have you been?"  Kazul asked in a resigned voice.

"I've been catching wizards!"  the little dragon said proudly.  "Well,
one of them, anyway.  He threw dragonsbane at me again and called a
demon and Daystar got rid of both of them.  I didn't even get to eat
him," the dragon finished sadly.

"I see," Kazul said, shaking her head.  "I think you'd better spend the
rest of the day with me.  It may, just possibly, keep you out of
trouble."

"I don't understand?  Shiara burst out.  "How could Antorell do any
magic without his staff?.  And how could Daystar do any magic at all?

And what did Antorell have to do with the sword and everything?"

The King smiled at Mother, then looked at Shiara and me.  "As long as
things seem to be quiet out here, why don't we go inside?  That way, we
can be comfortable while I explain."

Shiara and I nodded.  Father waved his hand, and the Enchanted Forest
dissolved into mist around us.

22

Which Contains an Engagement, a Feast, and a Happy Ending

We appeared in one of the rooms inside the castle, a small,
cozy-looking place with lots of bookshelves.  It was just as dusty as
all the other rooms Shiara and I had been through, but when Father
waved, all the dust vanished.

Mother muttered something about instant cleaning being no excuse for
letting things get into such a state, and we all sat down.  The King
looked at us.

"I believe this should begin with you, Cimorene," he said.  Mother
looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded and began.

Apparently, Mother really was a princess.  She was the youngest
daughter of the ruler of a very large kingdom on the other side of the
Mountains of Morning, and she'd thought it was boring.  So she ran away
and became Kazul's princess.

Kazul wasn't King of the Dragons then.  She and Mother got along very
well, and after a while, Kazul started teaching her dragon magic.  And
then the wizards helped someone poison the old King of the Dragons, and
all the dragons went to the Ford of Whispering Snakes to try and move
Colin's Stone, and Kazul was the one who did.

Practically the first thing Kazul did after she became King was to kick
the wizards out of the Mountains of Morning, which made the wizards
plenty mad.  So they decided to start a war by getting the dragons to
attack the Enchanted Forest.

That was how Mother met my father.  He came to see Kazul about some
burned parts of the forest, and he found Mother instead.  Then the two
of them went searching for Kazul, who'd been kidnapped by the wizards,
and by the time they got her free, they had decided to get married.

Kazul was mother's matron-of-honor.

The wizards didn't make any more trouble for almost a year, but when
they finally did, they made up for the wait.  They stole Father's sword
right out of the castle armory.

"They'd figured out that the sword was the main thing keeping them from
absorbing magic in the Enchanted Forest," Father said, "and they
thought that if they got rid of it, they could soak up the whole forest
and use all that extra magic to wipe out the dragons.  They didn't
realize, at first, that even without the sword I could use the magic of
the forest against them."

"Well, then what good was the stupid sword, anyway?"  Shiara asked.

"If you didn't need it to stop the wizards-" "I did need it," Father
said.  "I can deal with one or two wizards at a time, but not the whole
Society of Wizards at once.  And I can't be everywhere.

The sword is connected directly to the magic of the Enchanted Forest,
so it protects the whole forest and not just the area where it happens
to be.  If you want the technical details, ask Telemain.  He helpd me
set it With the sword gone, Father had to stay in the Enchanted Forest
to keep the wizards out.  Kazul and Morwen and Telemain all volunteered
to go steal the sword back, but there was a problem.  When the sword is
outside the Enchanted Forest, only the King of the Enchanted Forest or
a member of his family can stand to hold it for more than a few
seconds.  And Mother was the only other member of Father's family
then.

Father wasn't too pleased about this, because Mother was going to have
a baby-me-but they didn't really have any other choice.  So Mother and
the rest left to find the sword, and Father stayed in the Enchanted
Forest to fight off the wizards.  They didn't expect the whole Society
of Wizards to attack the castle the day after they left, but that's
what happened.  Fortunately, Mother had a feeling something was wrong,
and she sent Kazul back to check.  When Kazul saw all the wizards
attacking the castle, she flew back to the Mountains of Morning and
ordered all the dragons to come help.

Meanwhile, Mother and the others found the sword, with Antorell
guarding it.  He was the son of Zemenar, the Head Wizard of the Society
of Wi zzards, and Mother didn't like him much.  So when he tried to
keep them from taking the sword back, Mother melted him.

Unfortunately, by the time they got back to the castle, the battle was
over and the wizards had put their shield up.  Kazul sent some dragons
out

to look for wizards who had gotten away, and then she and Mother and
Morwen and Telemain had a long talk about what to do next.

All of them were sure that the wizards had put a spell on the King, and
they were just as sure that the sword could break the spell.

Unfortunately, the sword could only be used by one of the Kings of the
Enchanted Forest or his children, and then only when the earth, air,
and water of the Enchanted Forest and the fire of the sword itself had
recognized the person holding it as a rightful heir.  And the only way
to be recognized was to go out in the Enchanted Forest and hope you
would do the right things at the right times.

So the dragons put their own shield up around the castle, to keep the
wizards from sneaking inside, and after a while Mother had me.  About
that time Antorell found her.  He blamed her for his father's death,
because she'd taken the sword, and he tried to kill her.  Mother had to
melt him again.

After that, Mother decided that she'd better find somewhere to hide
until I was old enough to use the sword.  As long as it stayed inside
the Enchanted Forest, the sword was invisible to wizards' magic.

Mother, however, wasn't.  If she stayed in the Enchanted Forest, one of
the wizards' spells would find her.  On the other hand, she couldn't
take the sword out of the forest and still keep it hidden, any more
than the wizards could.

So Mother hid the sword inside the forest, then left and never went
back until the day she gave the sword to me.  She put up some good
spells to keep Antorell from finding us, then waited.  She taught me
all the right spells and manners and history and things, without ever
telling me anything about the sword or the King of the Enchanted Forest
or the war with the wizards.

That way, I would have a chance of being recognized by the sword and
reaching the castle without getting caught by one of the wizards'
spells.

"I'm afraid it was rather hard on you, Daystar," she said.  "But we
couldn't think of anything else that had a chance of working."

"Well, I think we were lucky," Shiara said.

The King smiled at me.  "Kings of the Enchanted Forest are supposed to
be lucky."

Shiara blinked.  "You weren't very lucky, were you?  What did those
wizards do to you, anyway?"

The King shook his head.  "Zemenar and about ten others broke into the
castle during the battle.  I got a couple of them, but without the
sword I was outnumbered a little too badly.  They wanted to kill me,
but they couldn't do it inside the castle without the sword, and they
couldn't take me outside the castle because of the dragons.  So Zemenar
decided to put me in storage, in a manner of speaking, while he went
back for the sword.  The simulacrum was a decoy, in case someone
managed to get into the castle while he was gone."

"But where were you for seventeen years?"  Shiara said.

"There are .  . . places that can be reached through the proper doors,
places that can't be gotten into or out of except through such a
door.

Some of them are very large; some aren't.  Zemenar found one that
suited him and put me in it, then hid the door.  Without the sword or
the key, I couldn't get out until someone put the door back up."  His
smile was a little crooked.  "I'm lucky that one doesn't need to eat in
those places, or I wouldn't have lasted seventeen years."

"But I still don't understand about Antoreil.  He acted as if he wanted
to do something to Daystar a lot more than he wanted the sword."

"Antorell never knew what the sword was," Mother said.  "Zemenar, the
Head WIZard, was the only one who knew the whole story, and after the
way Antorell failed to guard the sword, the new Head Wizard wouldn't
tell him anything."

"Ha!"  said Shiara.  "Served him right.  But what did Daystar do to
Antorell, anyway?  And how?  He never did anything like it before."

"He couldn't do it before," Father said.  "The Kings of the Enchanted
Forest can use the magic of the forest directly, but only after the
sword has acknowledged them.  Daystar wasn't acknowledged until he put
the sword into the fire."

"Oh."  Shiara sat back, looking thoughtful.

There was a moment's silence, then I thought of something else I wanted
to ask about.  "Mother, do you know anything about fire-witches'
magic?"

"Yes, of course," she said.  "Why do you want to know?"

"Could you teach Shiara how to do things?"  I said.  "That's why she
came to the Enchanted Forest in the first place.  She helped me a lot,
and I think she ought to have some sort of reward."

"I didn't do very much," Shiara objected.  "You kept me from staying a
statue, and I think you saved my life when the roof of the Caves of
Chance fell in.  You're the one who deserves a reward."

"I think," Mother broke in before I could answer Shiara, "that it is
time you told us what you have been doing these past few days.  I have
a general idea, but I would like a few more details, and Mendanbar
hasn't heard anything about it yet."

I looked at Father, and he nodded, so Shiara and I went through our
story again.  I did most of the talking, with Shiara putting in a
comment now and then when she thought I was leaving something out.  I
finished by explaining about Shiara's magic.  Both Mother and the King
looked rather startled, and then the King began to smile.

"A polite fire-witch," he said thoughtfully.  "Very unusual."

"I don't want to have to be polite to people?  Shiara said angrily.

"Why not?"  I asked.  "You're getting much better at it."

"EspecIAlly not to you!"  Shiara said.

"I can understand that," Father said.  "It's his FAULT, after all."

"What?"  Shiara and I said together.

"It's Daystar's fault that you have to be polite," Father repeated.

"His and the sword's.  One of the things the sword does besides control
wizards is unlock people's talents, PARTICULARLY magical talents.  When
you met Daystar, both of you touched the sword at the same time.  You
wanted to use your magic and Daystar wanted you to be more polite.  I
think the sword did the best it could, under the circumstances."

"I knew it!"  Shiara glared at me.  "I saID it was that stupid sword's
FAULT!"

"I'm sorry," I said.  "I didn't know.  But at least you can use your
magic now, sometimes.  Isn't that better than not being able to use it
at all?"

"no!"  said Shiara.  "It's worse!  I have to go home and be NICE to
people, and it probably won't work most of the time, because I have to
mean it, and how can I mean it if I'm always thinking about being able
to do magic?  And it's BORING at home, and people will still keep
expecting me to do things I can't do.  I don't even know anyone who
could teach me about magic even if I could get it to work all the
time.

I'll never learn anything?"

Little flickers of flame started rUNNing down Shiara's cheeks.  It took
me a minute to realize that she was crying fire, and when I did, I
didn't know what to do about it.

"That is quite enough of that," Mother said while I was still
thinking.

Shiara looked up.  "You don't know what it's like!  It's horrible."

"On the contrary, I know quite well what it's like," Mother said.  "And
the solution is obvious.  In fact, it's the same one I used."

"what?"  Shiara blinked, and the flame tears stopped running down her
face.  "What do you mean?"

"You can become KazUL's princess," Mother said.  "She doesn't have one
at the moment.  It would have a great many advantages on both sides.

You will learn considerably more about magic, dragons, and the
Enchanted Forest than you WOULD anywhere else, and Kazul will get a
princess who can't be accidentally roasted if one of the other dragons
gets out of hand.

And you'll be living nearby, which will give Daystar and Mendanbar a
chance to figure out how to reverse that ridiculous politeness
spell."

"But I'm not a princess!"  Shiara said.

"If Kazul says you are a princess, then you are a princess," Mother
said firmly.  "No one is going to argue with the King of the Dragons.

Besides, it will be excellent experience for you later."

I opened my mouth to ask what Mother meant by that, but Shiara asked,
"But are you sure Kazul would be willing to do it?"

"Kazul will have no objection whatsoever to training the next qUeen of
the Enchanted Forest," Mother said calmly.  "You don't need to worry
about that."

I closed my mouth very quickly and looked at the floor, feeling my face
getting hot.  I heard Shiara say, "Oh," in a small voice, and then the
King laughed.

"Cimorene, you're going a little fast," he said, still chuckling.  "If
Shiara wants to go live with Kazul, I'm sure we can make the
arrangements, but there's no reason to hurry.  She can stay here until
she decides.  There's plenty of room.  Now, if you don't mind, I'd like
to go back outside.  Kazul was going to talk to Willin about a feast,
and I haven't had a good meal in sevenTEen years.  As a matter of fact,
I haven't had any meals in seventeen years."

Mother didn't object, so the King moved us all to the feast with
another wave.  Everyone was there: dwarves and dragons and elves and
cats, and even a few wizards who had been on the King's side.  Morwen
was there, too, but she spent quite a bit of time popping back to the
castle to make sure Telemain wasn't doing anything she disapproved
of.

Mother and the King sat at one end of a long table, and Kazul sat at
the other.  The elf Willin scurried up and down making sure everyone
had enough to eat and plainly having a wonderful time.  Shiara and I
sat at the middle of the table, and the people sitting next to us kept
changing.  All of them wanted to hear about how Mother had stolen the
sword back, and how Shiara and I had gotten into the castle and broken
the spell.

"I'm getting tired of this," Shiara whispered to me while some of the
people next to us were changing seats.  "Let's go someplace else for a
while, and let them tell each other about the stupid wizards."

"I'm tired of it, too, but I don't think we should leave," I said.

"You don't?  No, of course you don't.  How very irksome" said a squeaky
voice from the ground by my left foot.

"Suz!"  I said, looking down.  "Where did you come from?"

"The forest, of course."  The lizard ran up the leg of the table in a
thin gold streak, then stopped and looked around nervously.  "Is
that-that KItTen anywhere close by?"

"No, she's inside," said ShiARA.  "I don't think she likes the crowd.

Why?"

The lizard looked at her.  "If you'd ever been jumped on by something
four times as big as you are, and been rolled around until you were
dizzy, not to mention bruised, you wouldn't have to ask."  He balanced
on his tail and peered over the edge of a bowl of nuts.

"Would you like something to eat?"  I said.

"I believe I would," Suz said.  He made a very fast bouncing motion,
and a moment later he was holding one of the nuts.  "What are you
going to do now that the wizards are gone?"

"They aren't all gone," I said.  "I think a few of them were on our
side, and some of the others actually got away."

"They did?"  Suz considered for a moment.  "I suppose they did.  How
very annoying.  But what are you going to do?"  He looked from me to
Shiara and back.

"I'm going to be Kazul's princess," Shiara said before I could
answer.

Suz fell over backward, just missing a silver bowl full of cranberry
jelly.

"Oh my gracious goodness my oh!"  he squeaked.  "However did that
happen?"

"Mother suggested it," I said.  I looked at Shiara.  "But I thought you
hadn't made up your mind yet."

"I just decided," Shiara said.  "Home is boring, and this way I can
learn things and maybe even stop having to be polite to get my magic to
work."

I suspected Shiara was more interested in not having to be polite than
she was in learning things, but I didn't say so.  "I'm glad you're
going to stay," I said instead.

"You are?"  Suz said skeptically.  He peered up at me.  "Why, you
really are!  How amazing."

I didn't know what to say to that, but FORTUNATELY I didn't have time
to think about it.  Father and Mother and Kazul all stood up just then
and everyone else got very quiet.  Father looked around for a moment,
smiled, and started speaking.

FIRst he thanked everyone for coming to help with the wizards, and then
he introduced Mother formally as "my wife, Cimorene."  All the dragons
and elves and other people shouted and applauded; the din was
tremendous.

Then he introduced me, and I had to stand up and be clapped at.

After that, Kazul said that the dragons were pleased to be of
assistance, and everyone sat down and started talking again.  The whole
thing didn't take very much time, which surprised me.  I'd thought
speeches at feasts were supposed to be longer.

Even with short speeches, the feast lasted longer than I expected.

Shiara left after a while, to go find Nightwitch and talk to the little
dragon.  I stayed at the table.  I didn't have much choice; every time
I tried to get up, someone new would pounce on me and start asking
questions.  I got very T ired of it, but I couldn't seem to get away.

I was glad when it was finally over.

The next few days were a little hectic, but then the elves and dragons
who'd been in the battle went home and things started to settle down.

Morwen and TeleMAIn were almost the last to leave, because of
Telemain's shoulder.

Morwen had to stay to take care of it, and she wouldn't let Telemain
go anywhere until he was well.

"It's simply ridiculous," Telemain grumbled at breakfast on the third
morning after the battle.  "I am quite capable of traveling with my arm
in a sling."

"Yes, and the first time you ran across a slowstone or a pool of
transformaTion water you'd take your arm out of the sling and start
tinkering with it," Morwen said.  "Which would not be good for that
shoulder."

Telemain glared at her.  "I disagree."

"Disagree all you like, but you're not leaving the castle for another
two days," Morwen said.  She picked up a basket of muffins, took one,
and passed the rest to Mother.

"Two days!"

Mother raised an eyebrow.  "Is our hospitality unwelcome?"

"No, of course not, but .  . . Cimorene, I have a tremendous amount to
do if I'm to be ready for the wedding in time."

I hadn't heard about any wedding being planned, but I was carefully not
looking at Shiara anyway.  Then Father looked up.

"Wedding?"  he said.

Morwen smiled.  "Telemain and I are getting married."

Shiara and Father and I all said, "What?"  at the same time, but we
were nearly drowned out by a chorus of startled meows from Morwen's

"Yes, married," Morwen said to one of them.  "And it has nothing to do
with you, so you may as well be quiet and accept it."

The cats made unhappy noises for another minute, until Morwen frowned
at them.  Then they all got up and went over to a corner of the room,
where they sat muttering to each other with theIR tails twitching.

Morwen watched for a moment before she nodded and turned back to the
table.  "They'll get used to the idea."

"Um, congratulations to both of you," I said.

Father was looking at Mother.  "Cimorene, did you know about this?"

"Not exactly," Mother said, and smiled.

"I see."  Father shook his head.  "Well, congratulations."

"Thank you," Telemain said.  He started to reach for a plate of
sausages with his bad arm, and Morwen stopped him.

Two days later, Morwen announced that Telemain's arm was well enough
for him to travel.  She promised to invite all of us to the wedding,
even the dragons, and then she and Telemain left the castle, followed
by a string of disapproving cats.

Shiara and Kazul were the last to leave.  I was a little taken aback
when

I heard.  I knew that Kazul lived in the Mountains of Morning, but it
hadn't occurred to me that if Shiara was going to be Kazul's princess,
she would have to live there, too.  I didn't say anything about it,
though.  I felt too silly for not having realized it before.

Father and Mother and I went out to see them off.  Mother gave Shiara
some advice about princessing, and Father told her that if she was
going to glare at dragons, she'd have to learn to glare politely.  Then
they both went to talk to Kazul.  Shiara looked at me.

"I'm beginning to wonder whether I really want to do this or not," she
said.  "Does he really expect me to practice glaring at people?"

"No, just at dragons," I said.  "If he wanted you to glare at everyone,
he would have said so."

"Well, I think it's-Nightwitch!"  Shiara bent to retrieve the kitten,
who had been investigating one of Shiara's bundles a little too
vigorously.

"Where did you get all of this, anyway?"  I asked as she straightened
up.  There were three bundles in the heap Nightwitch had been climbing,
and I knew Shiara hadn't had any of them when we'd arrived at the
castle.

"Morwen gave me that one, and Cimorene gave me the others," Shiara
said.  "She said I would need them if I was going to live with Kazul.

I don't even know what's in all of them yet."

I couldn't think of anything to say because just then I realized how
much I was going to miss having Shiara around.  The Mountains of
Morning weren't exactly close to the castle, and I didn't think Kazul
would be interested in flying back and forth every day.

Shiara frowned.  "What's the matter with you?"

"I was just wishing you were going to be living a little closer to the
castle," I said.

"I don't see why.  I'm going to have to come here a lot anyway, at
least until you get that stupid politeness spell off of me so I can use
my fire magic.

So what difference does it make?  I'M the one who has to do all the
traveling back and forth."  Shiara looked toward Kazul.  "I think
they're ready to go.

Come on, Daystar."

She picked up one of the bundles and started walking.  I didn't say
anything, but I felt a lot happier than I had a few minutes earlier.

Getting rid of that spell didn't sound easy, and until it was gone
Shiara would have to spend quite a bit of time at the castle.  I was
sure that if I had enough time, I could think of some reason for her to
keep visiting after the spell was gone, and even if I couldn't, Mother
would be able to.  Smiling, I picked up the other two bundles and
followed happily after.