“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 singlehanded. ’Scuse me, Your Majesty.”
“We attacked at dawn,” Kazul continued. “About fifteen minutes after the fight 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.
“I’m confused, too,” Brandel said. “Even if I’m not particularly hungry.”
“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.”
Unfortunately, the wizards were well prepared. The following morning, 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 ran into.”
“Mmmm, 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 f
rowned. 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 Quillen 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?”
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