Wrede, Patricia C - Enchanted Forest 01

by Dealing

  “I see,” said Cimorene. Privately she thought that the stone prince had been rather wishy-washy.

  Some of her opinion must have crept into her tone because the stone prince nodded glumly. “You’re right. It was a mistake. As long as I didn’t pick a king to serve, all the messengers and ambassadors and envoys stayed, hoping to persuade me. The inns around the castle were stuffed with them. It got to the point where I couldn’t show my face without at least three of them pouncing on me.

  “Finally I couldn’t stand it any more, and I ran away. It was a relief at first, not having everyone hovering over me waiting for me to do something great. But after a while I started feeling uncomfortable. Then I realized that even if nobody around me expected me to do anything special in the service of a king, I expected me to do something.

  “I was so flustered that I ran up to the next palace I saw and asked whether the king needed any services done. It turned out that he was ill, and his doctors had told him that the only thing that would cure him was a drink of the Water of Healing from the Caves of Fire and Night. So I left to get it at once.”

  “So that’s what you were doing!” Cimorene said.

  The stone prince gave her another gloomy nod. “I should have known better. That king had three sons, and the first two had already gone off to get the water and failed. Anyone with sense would have seen that the youngest son was the one who would succeed; it sticks out all over. But I was too eager to do my great service and get it over with, and I didn’t stop and think.”

  “What happened?”

  “It took me a long time to find the Caves of Fire and Night, but once I did, it wasn’t hard to find the Water of Healing. The chamber’s getting crowded. All the princes who’ve tried to get the water and failed have been turned into slabs of rock.”

  “I know. I’ve seen them,” Cimorene said. “Watch out for your head; the ceiling is low along here.”

  “Then you know what it’s like, and you’ve seen the two dippers on the wall by the spring.” The stone prince’s shoulder’s sagged. “I knew I should use the tin one. It was one of the first things we learned at school. But I thought it wouldn’t do any harm if I just looked at the gold one, so I took it off the wall. And as soon as I touched it, I started to stiffen up.”

  “Um,” said Cimorene. The stone prince was obviously well aware of how foolishly he had behaved. She saw no reason to make him feel worse by pointing it out to him again.

  “So I stuck my arm in the spring,” the prince said.

  “You stuck your arm—oh, I see! That was clever,” Cimorene said.

  “Do you really think so?” the stone prince asked anxiously. “I thought that since the water from the spring is going to turn all the slabs of stone back into princes when someone finally succeeds in the quest, then the water ought to keep me from turning into a slab of stone in the first place. Only it didn’t work the way I expected,” he finished disconsolately.

  “I can see that,” Cimorene said. “But at least you can still do things. It would be much worse to have to lie there waiting for the right prince to come along and break the spell.”

  “I wouldn’t have had to lie there very long,” the stone prince said. “That king’s youngest son is going to arrive any day now, I just know it. Anyway, if I were a slab of stone, I wouldn’t know about it until it was all over and I’d been turned back into a prince again.”

  “How do you know?” Cimorene demanded. “Have you ever been a stone slab?”

  The stone prince looked startled. “No, I haven’t. I never thought of that.”

  “Well, start thinking now,” Cimorene said tartly. “Here’s the service room. Wait here for me, and don’t go wandering off if I’m late getting back. I don’t know how long this errand is going to take, and it would be very awkward for me if the dragons found you roaming through their tunnels.”

  “I’ll remember,” the stone prince promised. “But what do I do if someone comes in?”

  “Duck into the banquet area,” Cimorene said, showing him. “And if someone comes in there, too, curl up in the corner and pretend you’re a rock.”

  “All right,” the prince said doubtfully. Cimorene did not like leaving him, but she was even less enthusiastic about taking him to see Roxim. Roxim probably wouldn’t object to the prince himself, though Cimorene suspected that there might have been some difficulty over his proposed theft of the Water of Healing. But explaining everything to the gray-green dragon would take hours. Roxim was nice, but he tended to take a simple view of things, and the prince’s situation was anything but simple. So Cimorene gave the prince one more warning, just to make sure he understood, and started off toward Roxim’s cave to finish her errand.

  12

  In Which Cimorene Calls on a Dragon,

  and the Stone Prince Discovers a Plot

  The shortcut to Roxim’s worked just as well as Cimorene had hoped, and she even made up some of the time she had lost earlier. Roxim was in, too. She could hear the scraping of his scales as he moved around inside. She stepped up to the entrance of the cave and called, “Dragon Roxim!”

  Something round and shiny flew through the air, missing Cimorene by inches. It hit the wall of the tunnel with a loud clang and slid rattling to the floor. Cimorene jumped.

  “Roxim!” she shouted at the top of her lungs.

  “What’s this?” the dragon said, poking his nose out of the cave entrance.

  “I am Cimorene, princess to the dragon Kazul, and I offer you greetings and good fortune in all your endeavors.” Cimorene thought it best to be particularly polite, in case Roxim were in a bad mood. She suspected he might be. In her experience, someone in a good mood did not throw things at visitors.

  “Very good,” Roxim said. “Nice to see you again and all that, but I haven’t got time for visitors at the moment. Sorry.”

  “I’m not a visitor, exactly. Kazul sent me with a message for you.”

  “Oh, well, that’s different. Just hand me that shield there, would you?”

  Cimorene picked up the shield from the floor of the tunnel. There was a large dent in one side where it had hit the tunnel wall, and several smaller ones over the rest of it from banging against things on its way to the tunnel floor.

  “You ought to be more careful,” she said severely. “Just look at this!”

  “Ha!” Roxim snorted, examining the dents. “Shoddy work, shoddy work, that’s the problem. In my day, you could roll a knight in full armor down the far side of the Vanishing Mountain and bounce him off two or three cliffs without so much as scratching his surface, much less denting it. This cheap modern stuff just doesn’t hold up.”

  “If you know it doesn’t hold up, you shouldn’t throw it around like that,” Cimorene said. “You almost hit me.”

  Roxim shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry. Didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “All right, but next time look before you throw things,” Cimorene said, handing him the shield.

  “I always have this problem when I try to find something,” Roxim confided. “Never know where to look. Gets frustrating, and next thing you know I’m pitching armor at the walls. Bad habit, but hard to break.”

  “Maybe I could help,” Cimorene suggested. “After I give you Kazul’s message, that is.”

  “Don’t need help to put dents in things,” Roxim said. “Comes to that, I don’t really want it.”

  “I didn’t mean help throw things,” Cimorene said patiently. “I meant help find whatever you’re looking for.”

  “Oh, that. Well, come in then.”

  Cimorene followed the dragon into a moderately large cave, similar to the one Kazul used as a living area. Roxim’s cave, however, was full of clutter. Cimorene had to pick her way past bits of armor, one half of a pair of bookends, a box of tea, a pink scroll, three mismatched kitchen pots, a small wooden statue, a broken flute, and four partially burned candles. Roxim walked straight over the mess as if it weren’t there, squashing a mangy-looking
stuffed pigeon and flattening a tin cup in passing. He dropped the shield on a pile of silk flowers and waved Cimorene to a seat on a large wooden chest near one wall. “Now, what’s this message of Kazul’s?”

  “It’s about the wizards,” Cimorene said, settling gingerly onto the dusty surface of the chest. She made a mental note to find Roxim a nice princess as soon as she possibly could. “Alianora and I found one of them picking dragonsbane a few days ago, and Kazul thinks King Tokoz will listen to you if you tell him about it.”

  “So that’s where they got it,” Roxim said in tones of disgust. “Pity you didn’t mention it sooner.”

  Cimorene got a sinking feeling. “What do you mean?”

  “Somebody poisoned King Tokoz this morning,” Roxim explained. “Slipped some dragonsbane in his coffee. Fast-acting; nothing to be done. Now we need a new king.”

  “That’s awful!” Cimorene said. “Do you know who did it?”

  “Those dratted wizards, that’s who,” Roxim said angrily. “It’s obvious. Stupid thing to do; has to be wizards, by George! But Woraug won’t listen to me “

  “Woraug? What’s Woraug got to do with it?”

  “He’s in charge of the investigation,” Roxim replied. “Taking his time about it, too, if you ask me.”

  “But if the King was only poisoned this morning ...”

  “What does that have to do with it?” Roxim said unreasonably. “Besides, if Woraug doesn’t hurry, he won’t have the culprit in hand by the time the trials start tomorrow.”

  “Trials? You mean with Colin’s Stone, to choose the new king?” Cimorene said with some hesitation. She did not see how it could be a trial for the person who had killed the King if they hadn’t caught him yet, but she was not completely certain that the dragons didn’t have some way of getting around the problem and trying him anyway.

  “That’s it,” Roxim said, pleased. “And before I leave I have to find that emerald I picked up fifty years ago. Coronation present for the new King.”

  “But you haven’t got a new King yet,” Cimorene said feeling somewhat bewildered. “And what if you’re the King?”

  Roxim smiled broadly. “Knew you were a nice gal. Me the King! I rather like the idea. I still have to find the emerald, though. Wouldn’t do to show up at the trials without a coronation present. Rurn thing to do. Overconfident.”

  Though she was upset and more than a little worried, Cimorene helped Roxim as best she could. After about an hour of poking through the clutter, Cimorene found the emerald, wrapped in a gold-embroidered handkerchief and stuffed into the mouth of a large brass horn. Roxim thanked her and invited her to stay to tea, but Cimorene politely declined. She was eager to get back to Kazul, to tell her what had happened and decide what to do next.

  * * *

  Cimorene hurried back to Kazul’s cave by the shortest route, thinking so hard about Tokoz’s death that she forgot everything else. She found Kazul sleeping and was forced to wake her, despite her worries about the dragon’s health. She knew Kazul would want to hear about the King of the Dragons as soon as possible, and she wanted to hear what Kazul made of Woraug’s involvement in the investigation.

  “Back already?” Kazul said, opening her eyes. “Didn’t Roxim get you in to see King Tokoz?”

  “No,” Cimorene said. She hesitated, uncertain of the best way to break the news. “It was too late.”

  “Too late?” Kazul raised her head, startled. She eyed Cimorene briefly, then said, “All right, let’s have it. What’s happened?”

  “King Tokoz was poisoned this morning. Roxim said someone put dragonsbane in his coffee.”

  Kazul snorted. “Somebody knew Tokoz pretty well.” Seeing Cimorene’s surprised expression, she explained, “Tokoz drank Turkish coffee every morning. The stuff is strong enough to take the roof off your mouth. It’s why no one ever went to talk to him over breakfast. You could boil a whole field’s worth of dragonsbane in Turkish coffee without changing the taste enough to notice. Or the texture.”

  Cimorene tried to imagine coffee, even Turkish coffee, strong enough to take the roof off a dragon’s mouth and failed. “I told Roxim about the wizard Alianora and I met, and Roxim said I ought to tell Woraug because Woraug is in charge of finding the poisoner,” she said. “But—”

  “But when you caught Antorell picking dragonsbane, he thought Woraug had sent you,” Kazul said. “If Woraug’s mixed up with wizards—” She broke off, coughing. Cimorene watched her anxiously, but the coughing spasm did not last long. “I don’t like this,” Kazul finished when she got her breath back.

  “I don’t, either,” Cimorene agreed. “But what can we do about it?”

  Kazul frowned and said nothing. For several minutes, the two sat and thought in silence. Then Kazul said, “We can’t do anything until the new King has been chosen. Did Roxim say when the testing will be?”

  “Tomorrow,” Cimorene said.

  “Tomorrow!” Kazul surged to her feet. “Why didn’t you say so at once? If I’m to be at the Ford of Whispering Snakes tomorrow, I have to—”

  “Lie down!” Cimorene commanded. Kazul looked at her in surprise and collapsed in another fit of coughing. Cimorene waited until the dragon’s coughing had subsided, then said sternly, “You’re in no condition to go hauling rocks all over the countryside. I’d be surprised if you can even fly as far as the end of the pass. I think you’re going to have to give up on the trials this time around.”

  Kazul made a choking noise. Cimorene looked at her in alarm, then realized that the dragon was laughing.

  “It’s not optional. Princess,” Kazul said. “All the adult dragons in the Mountains of Morning are required to show up, no matter what condition they’re in.”

  “But—”

  “There is no acceptable excuse for missing the testing of a new King,” Kazul repeated. “None. And I have a great deal to do before I leave, so if you’ll—”

  “If anything needs to be done around here, I’ll do it,” Cimorene said firmly. “If you don’t rest, you won’t be able to fly at all, and then how will you get to the ford?”

  “A reasonable point,” Kazul said, settling reluctantly back into place. “Very well. The first thing I need is a coronation present for the new King. There’s a jeweled helmet on a shelf in the second storeroom that might do. Bring it out so I can take a look at it.”

  Cimorene spent the rest of the evening running errands for Kazul. Besides choosing a coronation gift (Kazul rejected the helmet and two crowns before deciding on a scepter made of gold and crystal), innumerable messages had to be delivered to various dragons who were in charge of arranging the trials. This one had to be informed of Kazul’s ill health, so that it could be taken into account when the order of the testing was established; that one had to be told that Kazul would not be able to join the coronation procession. Substitutes had to be found to perform Kazul’s various ceremonial duties, then their names had to be approved by a surly dragon in charge of protocol, and finally the substitutions had to be recorded on all the lists of all the dragons who were managing each of the events. It reminded Cimorene strongly of Linderwall and her parents’ court.

  By the time the last arrangement had been made and the last message delivered, it was very late and Cimorene was exhausted. She was also very glad she had not let Kazul do all the running around. The dragon, who had slept most of the time Cimorene was out, was looking much better, even in the dim light of Cimorene’s lamp. Tired but satisfied, Cimorene wento her room and dropped into bed.

  * * *

  Cimorene was up early the next morning, stirring a dozen ostrich eggs in a large iron kettle for Kazul’s breakfast. Kazul ate all of them, then slid out of the cave and prepared to leave for the Ford of Whispering Snakes.

  “Don’t fret, Princess,” Kazul said. “The testing doesn’t start until ten. I have plenty of time to get there, even if I stop to rest now and then.” Her voice sounded much better than it had the day before, and it no longer seemed
to rasp her throat. “While I’m gone, why don’t you visit Woraug’s princess? See if she’s noticed anything odd these past few days. We need to know as much as we can before we talk to the new King about Woraug and the wizards.”

  “All right,” Cimorene said. “As soon as I’m done with the dishes.”

  Kazul turned and leaped into the air, her wings churning clouds of dust from the dry surface of the ground. Cimorene squinted after her and shouted, “Good luck!” Kazul’s wings dipped in answer before the dragon soared out of sight behind the shoulder of the next mountain. Cimorene stood looking after Kazul, her forehead wrinkling in worry. After a moment she shook herself and went inside. She had work to do.

  Washing the dishes did not take long, and as soon as she was done, Cimorene set off to visit Alianora. The tunnels and passageways were silent and empty, and Cimorene’s footsteps echoed eerily through the darkness. She began to wish she had taken the longer route along the outside of the mountain. She had not realized that the dragon city would seem so strange and lifeless with all the dragons gone.

  “Psst! Cimorene!”

  Cimorene jumped. She whirled in the direction of the voice, raising her lamp like a club, and Alianora stepped out of the adjoining tunnel and into the circle of light. In one hand she clutched a large bucket, three-quarters full of soapy water, and she looked rather pale.

  “Alianora!” Cimorene said, lowering her arm, “What are you doing out here?”

  “Shhh!” Alianora said. She looked nervously over her shoulder. “Woraug told me to scrub off the table in the banquet room while everyone was away. And-and I heard someone moving around in there. Even though everyone but us is gone. And I dropped my lamp, and—”

  “Oh, my goodness,” Cimorene said. “The stone prince! I’d forgotten all about him.”