Talking to Dragons (13 page)

“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. Nightwitch 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.

I 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 midsentence 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.

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?”