Calling on Dragons (8 page)

“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.

M
ENDANBAR 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 dragonsbane . . .”

“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 midsentence. “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 backwards. 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 backwards 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 backwards, 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.”