Talking to Dragons (6 page)

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 if 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 lightheaded 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.

W
E 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,” the woman 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.