Calling on Dragons (3 page)

“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 sweet peas 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 cats.”

“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.”

T
HERE 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 his staff,” Miss Eliza said. “Careless creatures.”