They found him, the very picture of exhaustion, staring off down the avenue of his concerns. Hebraun abruptly stirred, then eased at once at the sight of her taking her seat beside him. “Razzmorten,” he said, standing up to shake his hand. “How was it? Have the dragonets hatched?”
“They hadn't yet when I was there, though they probably have by now. Needless to say Spark and Lipperella were both anxious. I expect that once the gaggle arrives, they'll have their talons full enough that they might wish them back in their shells.”
“A truer statement never passed your lips, Wiz,” piped Hubba Hubba, as Pebbles pecked him on the head.
“Yes... Well, my trip was indeed disturbing,” said Razzmorten. “The magic in the Peppermint forest is quickly fading. At the rate things seem to going, the Peppermint might cease to exist as anything but Chokewoods before the year's out. Of course, that's how it was before Ugleeuh was there, but we need to know for certain if her magic is dying away or if there is tampering afoot.”
“Not to mention,” said Lukus, “we have friends in the forest whose lives will be in jeopardy if the magic there vanishes.”
Chapter 56
“There, 'way yonder,” said Spitemorta, above the frying chorus of insects in the waning light, as she shifted about on her saddle to see. “None of this around here looks quite right to me, but that has to be it.”
“You've been saying that,” said Demonica. “Why's that?”
“Well, the air is quite minty here, but not at all like I remember it. It's about as woodsy as anything. I came to find Ugleeuh about this time of year, and the air was so strong with mint that it made my nostrils cold just to breathe in sharply. And these trees, better than half of them are oaks or something. I'd swear that every single tree had red stripes on its trunk, back then.”
They meandered on through the brush, dodging briars and bending aside willowy branches. “I'm certain, now,” she said. “That cabin is her old hovel, all right. Bad as it is, I suppose it would do for place to have a bite to eat and a chance to get off of these saddles for the night.”
As they drew near, they saw that the front door and one of the shutters were off their hinges. Three small raccoons stared furtively at them out of the doorway from the far side of the fallen door, while a much larger one stood up and glared at them from the chimney where it had been lounging as the others finished their raid. It dropped off the far side of the sagging roof, as the small ones humped away to the nearby trees.
“Kenavo warc'hoaz!” called out Demonica, throwing her leg over Gwenole's rump.
“What?”
“Oh, just good bye to the creatures...which, by the way, appeared ordinary enough to me. I do believe Ugleeuh's enchantments are indeed failing if you haven't exaggerated their extent.”
“Absolutely not,” said Spitemorta. “Nor was my account of how many Peppermint trees there were at the time I visited your wretched daughter. Too bad you didn't come to Goll sooner so you could've seen it all with your infallible eyes.”
“I'm surprised that you credit me, Rouanez Bras. After all, you scarcely find me trustworthy to take you to the Heart. But too bad I wasn't here sooner...”
“What's 'Rouanez' supposed to mean?”
“You dear. It means 'Big Queen.' They'd call you that in Pennvro if they knew who you were.”
“Yea? Well, no one here knows Head as 'Pennvro' either. In fact, unless they've got some schooling, they don't even use 'Head.' They just call everything down there 'Dark Continent.'“ she said as she hitched Nightshade to the porch railing, then suddenly stood straight at the sight of one of the raccoons which had returned for a peep around the corner of the house. “Those 'coons could have been spies.”
Demonica followed her onto the sagging porch and into Ugleeuh's little cabin. She looked around quickly, her shrewd eyes missing nothing, even in the failing light. “I'd guess it unlikely that your mother ever entertained a small child, dwarf, or any other wee person,” she said as she picked up a little shirt and a pair of breeches, strewn across the floor. “I can't imagine it.”
“Then it looks like somebody was squatting in her house.”
“That,” she said, wagging her finger at Spitemorta, “does not mean that anyone has been here, including the raccoons, who was after anything other than a free place to be.”
Spitemorta gave an impotent glare. “Very well, Demonica, but just what if we are being watched? What if someone guesses what we are after just when we are about to recover it? I told no one, including James. He thinks we're off to our summer palace on the coast to discuss trade agreements with some ambassadors from the Eastern Continent.”
Demonica shook her head and went out the door, pausing briefly to study the evening before walking unhurriedly to Gwenole to begin sorting through one of her panniers. “I never told you that this venture would be without risk, dear girl,” she said when she heard Spitemorta behind her. “If you've become too faint hearted, go back now. But if you do, you'll probably never amount to more than you do now because you'll throw away the one chance in your life to recover Kalon Bras, or the Stone Heart if you must.” She found her stirrup and mounted. “Better choose now, because I'm out of patience trying to impress upon you the power that you have near to hand.”
“The Staff is mine. I'm here for the Heart,” she said firmly. “But what about rest and food?”
“We can eat some of that dried fruit we brought with us as we ride. And you just had all the rest you're going to get until we reach the cave where Kalon Bras is hidden.”
“Let's find this powerful artifact then, if it still exists,” she spat, giving Nightshade a hateful smack with her reins before furiously digging in her heels, causing him to bolt forth at full speed.
Demonica shook her head and followed in earnest in the darkening woods. Soon Spitemorta slowed again to a walk, allowing them to travel side by side. An owl wailed and was answered by another far away through the timber.
“If we ride through the night we might reach the cave by sunrise,” said Demonica, pulling her cloak more tightly around herself.
“Smallies are supposed to hunt in force after dark, aren't they?” said Spitemorta. “Could we conjure a mage light? I've heard they fear fire and anything that appears to pass for it.”
Suddenly, a bright ball of light the size of an orange appeared above Spitemorta's head, lighting the path for twenty rods, staying with her as they rode. “There you be, dearie. Of course, if there are spies about, we certainly have set them a right fair beacon.”
“Better alive and watched than dead and forgotten.”
“Whee! You're loosening up,” cried Demonica, throwing her head back for a laugh. “Keenly profound. I don't reckon it dawned on you that being watched by the wrong person could also get us dead and forgotten? Only moments ago that was your main concern.”
A sudden rending and popping of timber off the path beyond the light caused both unicorns to rear up in fright. It was all they could do to keep them from bolting. “Let's go,” said Demonica. “I've got to see this.” At once the mage light winked out.
“I certainly can't see anything this way!”
“Just give it a minute, dear.”
“Over there,” said Spitemorta, “It sounds like a tree being pulled in two.” Before them in the blackness they could make out the motion of something huge.
“Let's go,” said Demonica, riding into the brush. At once the mage light came on away ahead in the trees where they had seen the motion. They rode up directly under the light.
“I don't see a thing but this oak, Demonica.”
“Choke oak. No, I don't either, but this is exactly where we saw the commotion.”
“Well, we both couldn't have imagined it.”
A rending creaking and popping like gargantuan new leather riveted their attention high up in the choke oak. The final pop, loudest of all, showered them with dozens of plummeting pieces of something large. Demonica dismounted in a frenzied whi
rl and pounced on the largest piece which she saw. It was clearly bark from high in the choke oak which they were standing under. She turned it over several times in her hands, then smelt it. “Here,” she said, tossing it to Spitemorta. Look at it, smell it and tell me what you think.”
“Why, this is peppermint bark, not choke oak. It's bright red and white and smells like mint.”
“Yea, and you saw as well as I where it fell from,” she said as the choke oak popped again, flinging more bits of bark. “This tree has just now lost the enchantment Ugleeuh put on it with the Staff and has twisted up and become a choke oak all over again. Now we know for sure that it is the failing of your mother's magic that explains the appearance of the choke oaks here.”
“But you already said that Ugleeuh's magic would fade.”
“Good. You're paying attention. And now we have absolute proof that it has begun.”
“Well, the sooner the better. This place is a disgrace to anyone with magical ability.”
“Don't worry, Spitemorta,” said Demonica with a smile, as she gracefully mounted Gwenole. “I doubt that a single soul would blame you for Ugleeuh's eccentric work. Only a tiny number of people even know this place exists.”
“It's those amongst that tiny number who bother me the most.”
“Oh, I know any number of ways to silence wagging tongues, my dear Rouanez,” said Demonica with a giddy grin as she urged Gwenole back onto the path. “You can certainly put your mind at ease on that count. Now come. Time's getting away from us.”
Soon they were making good time, guided by the mage light, since the path had widened in places enough to allow the unicorns to walk abreast. Here and there they heard owls of different kinds. They fell silent, listening to the leaves in the light breeze which began stirring after midnight.
“Do you still think we will reach this cave by sunrise?” said Spitemorta. “I'm exhausted.”
“Maybe not too long after that. And we can set up a few protective spells around the entrance and get some sleep before starting back.”
Spitemorta was relieved, but she could only manage a nod as she plodded along behind.
***
“Momma! Momma!” called the little tow-headed boy as he ran into the cave where Myrtlebell sat, mending a pair of his breeches.
She laid her sewing aside just as he ploughed into her, hugging her knees with all his might. She smiled as he looked up with clear blue eyes and giggled. “So, Edward. Is there a reason you rushed in here,” she said, ruffling his blond curls, “or did you just think I needed an emergency bear hug?”
Edward gave her an adoring look. “You always need emergency hugs,” he said as he continued giggling, “and even though we live with a bear, I'm the one who has to give you all the hugs. But this time I'm here to tell you and Uncafuzz that the ratcoons are back and they're all excited.”
Myrtlebell glanced at Fuzz, sitting at the table, listening attentively as he whittled a toy sword for Edward's birthday, a few months away. “That's raccoons, sweetling, not ratcoons,” she said with a smile. “Now, do you know what they're so worked up about?”
“They wouldn't tell me,” he said, shaking his head solemnly as he looked from his mother to Fuzz, “but they said they had to talk to you or to Uncafuzz right now.”
Fuzz put down his whittling and calmly ambled on all fours to the mouth of the cave. “You stay in here with your mom, Edward,” he said, heading outside. “I'll see what this is all about.”
“Let's go have some of those strawberries we picked yesterday,” she said, putting her arm around Edward. “We'll put some of Uncle Fuzz's honey on them.”
Edward's eyes lit up and he dashed to the table, climbing up on the stool Fuzz had made for him to await his most favorite treat for now. They had just gotten a good start on their strawberries when Fuzz dashed back in and hoisted the startled little boy onto his shoulders.
“Myrtlebell, grab your wraps and follow me,” he said, wide eyed. “I'll explain as soon as I can.”
Myrtlebell was behind Fuzz and Edward with two cloaks before they had gotten outside. They dashed across the clearing in front of the cave and into the woods just as Fuzz heard the sound of hooves. Myrtlebell's gown caught on a thorn bush.
Fuzz looked apologetic as he grabbed her skirt and yanked it free. “It was much nicer as a lemon drop bush,” he said as he took her hand and ran until they were quite out of breath.
***
“There's the cave,” said Demonica, with sudden effervescence. “Just through the clearing.”
“Yea?” said Spitemorta sullenly. “How's it different than the last half dozen others we've seen since it got light?”
Demonica ignored her comment, urging Gwenole to speed ahead. They were out of the woods and across the clearing and had already dismounted by the time Spitemorta and Nightshade appeared in the open. Spitemorta quickly reached the cave and slipped off of Nightshade.
“Someone has been living in this cave,” cried Demonica in a panicked voice. “and the Heart is gone!”
Chapter 57
So, you're expecting to sail right back to the Chokewoods for a closer look, then, aye?” said Hebraun, exchanging glances with Minuet.
“Yes, actually,” said Razzmorten, “but I will delay if you want me to start work at once trying to find a solution to the blight. However, I might add that it's possible that there is a connection between happenings in the Peppermint Forest and the blight here, particularly when it affects wheat, barley and rye instead of just one of them.”
“Hey, King. You could do both,” said Hubba Hubba with a dignified ruffling of his feathers. “Pebbles and I could go instead. We'd be with Rose and Lukus, and nobody in this room knows the Peppermint better than I do.”
“That is truly a comfort, Hubba Hubba,” said Hebraun, trying to glance at Minuet without grinning. “That's a right honorable gesture. No doubt that having the two of you patrolling the air will indeed make it much safer for Rose and Lukus.”
“Yea. Don't worry about a thing. I'll make sure nothing harms them.”
“That's one reason why we want you to go,” said Hebraun. “You also should be indispensable in determining which things have changed since you were there...”
“Absolutely...”
“So, are you ready to determine what sort of magic is at work, causing the Peppermint Forest to change?”
“Uh...” said Hubba Hubba, suddenly preening under one wing.
“Well, that's why we want Razzmorten to be along,” said Hebraun. “Perhaps what you all find there will indeed help figure out the blight when the five of you get back.”
***
Spitemorta raced to Demonica's side, forgetting her complaints altogether. “What do you mean?” she said, casting about angrily. “We came all this way for nothing? But you certainly haven't searched everywhere in this pit.”
“Didn't have to!” snapped Demonica, brushing aside a lock of black hair. “Razzorbauch showed me exactly where he hid the Heart. See this cubby hole?” She pointed to a recess in the cave wall. “He carved out the compartment and then he fit this slab over it. See? Who would notice? How anyone would figure it out without prior knowledge, I can't fathom.”
“Well, obviously someone did fathom,” said Spitemorta, turning away at once to scour the cave for any sort of clue. “Maybe Razzorbauch moved it and didn't tell you.”
“No! He never would have done that. He was my... He and I were very close. He kept nothing from me.”
“Yea? But truth to tell, Grandmother, the Heart's just plain not here.”
Demonica went livid. “If Razzorbauch did move the Heart, he would have told me, but was slain by that droug-penn King Hebraun before he'd the chance.”
“Right,” said Spitemorta with a shrug. “That must be it then. I think we ought to do a thorough search of this cave in case we get lucky, though I certainly doubt it.”
Demonica flung her a scathing look, but began passionately rifling through
everything, dumping out drawers and overturning boxes to meticulously comb through every inch of Fuzz's den.
“Myrtlebell!” shouted Spitemorta from one of the side passages, causing Demonica to drop and shatter the vase she was shaking out. She furiously raced out with a small elegantly bound book that she shoved into Demonica's hand.
Demonica raised an eyebrow at Spitemorta.
“That wench has been hiding here all along!” screeched Spitemorta. “And she had the nerve, the unmitigated gall to give King Edmond another son. Not that it will get her, or that child anything, of course. After all James is the eldest, and therefore the rightful heir. Still, she's up to something, you can be sure of it.” She snatched the book out of Demonica's hand. “Perhaps she gives herself away in her diary. Ha! She never expected me to get my hands on it.”
“I don't know or care what you are going on about,” said Demonica, grabbing her by the shoulders, “but make no mistake Spitemorta, nothing, nothing is more important than finding the Stone Heart. If you want vengeance against this Myrtlebell, fine. However, it simply must wait until we have the Heart. Once Staff and Heart are one, the revenge you take on this wench will be exquisite. You have no idea at all what power you will wield.”
At once Spitemorta's took on a dreamy lustful gloat as she pictured herself with the power Demonica suggested. She would be a goddess. She would crush Niarg and the Elven Realm. She would rule the world.
“Hey Rouanez bras. Let's finish our search.”
Spitemorta snapped to, tucked away the diary in her belt pouch and eagerly resumed combing Fuzz's den. By noon, they were thoroughly convinced that the Heart was nowhere to be found in the cave. Spitemorta brushed away a hodgepodge of flotsam dumped out of drawers and stretched out on the sofa, while Demonica sank into Fuzz's deeply cushioned chair. “Suggestions or opinions?” she said.
“Firstly, I'd say by the looks of things that Myrtlebell and whoever else lived with her left the cave right before we got here.”
“Yea, strawberries and honey in bowels and not yet spoilt, a toy sword in a pile of fresh shavings and under my feet there's somebody's mending: a pair of little breeches. Also, everything was neat as a pin before we went to work...” said Demonica, flopping her arm across the arm of the chair as she rocked her head from side to side, studying the ceiling. “I agree, but so what?”
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