“I’m afraid I can’t bring you with me, either, Willin,” Mendanbar said, turning to his steward. “Somebody has to take care of our visitors, you know, and you’re the only possible person.”
Willin hesitated, plainly torn. “It is my duty to serve Your Majesty regardless of the danger.”
“I appreciate your willingness to accompany me,” Mendanbar assured him. “I feel, however, that you would serve me better here. Now, please take these two guests to the North-Northwest Tower dungeon and see that they get some refreshments.”
“As Your Majesty commands,” Willin said, bowing. He gestured to Prince Rupert and Crown Prince Jorillam, and led them away.
Well, that takes care of them, anyway, Mendanbar thought as the three rounded a bend in the corridor and vanished from sight. The rest wouldn’t be that easy. He looked over and saw Morwen, Cimorene, and Telemain standing side by side, wearing identical expressions of stubbornness, and he sighed. He supposed he could accidentally-on-purpose forget to include them in the transportation spell, but somehow he didn’t think that would stop them. Not when one was a witch, one a magician, and one an experienced dragon’s princess.
“Don’t even bother trying to talk us out of it,” Cimorene warned. “You’ll only waste more time.”
“You’re probably right,” Mendanbar said at last. “And anyway, I suspect I really should have some help with me, just in case.”
“Very sensible of you,” Morwen told him.
“Yes, well, let’s get our buckets and go,” Mendanbar said uncomfortably.
The four of them collected buckets of soapy water from the imperturbable castle footman. Cimorene and Telemain took two each, but Mendanbar only took one, because he wanted to keep one hand free in case he needed his sword. Morwen also took only one bucket. She did not explain, and her expression dared anyone to comment. No one did.
The footman left, removing Telemain’s staff along the way. “Be sure you put that somewhere safe,” Telemain called after him.
Mendanbar looked around one last time, checking to make sure everyone was finally ready, then twitched the strands of power and transported them all to the foot of the Crystal Falls.
They appeared on the slippery bank of a narrow stream. A little farther on, the Crystal Falls poured in a shining curtain down the side of a sheer cliff of black glass. The water foamed and swirled at the foot of the falls, forming a small, restless pool, then rushed down the channel at their feet and dashed on into the deeper parts of the Enchanted Forest. The noise of the falling water was tremendous, and the air had a clean, sharp smell.
Mendanbar looked around to see that everyone was there and that no one had spilled the soapy water. He noticed, without surprise, that the two cats had come along, even though he had not specifically included them in the transportation spell. Cats were like that.
“Which way is the tunnel entrance?” Cimorene asked. She had to shout to make herself heard over the roar of the waterfall.
“Over there,” Mendanbar shouted back, waving at a clump of fir trees near the foot of the cliff. “Watch your step.”
“What did you say?” Telemain yelled.
“He said, ‘Watch your step,’ “ Cimorene replied at the top of her lungs.
Telemain nodded, and they moved cautiously away from the water-slick bank of the stream. The cats had already moved out of range of the mist billowing up from the base of the waterfall. When the rest of the group caught up to them, the two cats gave Mendanbar looks of deep reproach, as if to imply that he should have more sense than to set everyone down so close to such a damply uncomfortable spot.
The tunnel entrance was a narrow crack in the side of the cliff, hidden behind the clump of firs. The cats trotted through it and vanished into the darkness. Morwen gazed after them with a thoughtful expression on her face.
“I don’t suppose anyone remembered to bring a light?” Cimorene said, eying the crack with evident misgiving.
Telemain smiled and said three words that crackled in the air. A small globe of golden light appeared above his head. “I’ll go first, so the rest of you can see where you’re stepping,” he said, smiling with a trace of smugness.
“And what do you think will happen when we get near the wizards and their magic-absorbing spell gets hold of your little glow-ball?” Morwen said sharply. “You’re not thinking, Telemain.”
“I suppose you have a better idea?”
Morwen pushed her glasses firmly into place, set down her bucket of soapy water, and reached into one of her long, loose sleeves. She pulled out a small lantern and set it on the ground. Then she reached into the other sleeve, from which she pulled a flint striker and a long splinter of wood. Expertly, she struck a spark and lit the splinter, then used the splinter to light the lantern. She blew the splinter out, stuffed it and the flint back into her sleeve, and smiled at the surprise on everyone else’s face.
“I thought we might be needing this,” she said. Picking up the lantern and the bucket, she started for the mouth of the tunnel.
“Hang on a minute,” Mendanbar said. “I should go first. Would you give me the lantern, Morwen?”
“Only if you don’t dawdle,” Morwen responded. “My cats are in there.”
“Of course. You come next, then, and Telemain after you. Cimorene can come last. That way we’ll have a light between every two people,”
Cimorene did not look happy about these arrangements, but Mendanbar did not give anyone time to argue. As soon as Morwen nodded, he took the lantern and started into the crack. It was only wide enough for one of them at a time to edge sideways, and the ground was covered with shattered rock, which made the footing treacherous. Juggling the lantern and his bucket back and forth from hand to hand, Mendanbar tried to see what lay ahead of him while still giving Morwen enough light to follow. Progress was slow, and he began to wonder whether the whole tunnel was going to be as narrow and difficult as this beginning.
“Maybe we would have been better off charging at the main entrance,” he muttered to himself.
After what seemed a very long time, but was probably only a few minutes, the tunnel widened. The piles of shattered rock became fewer, then ceased altogether. Mendanbar heaved a sigh of relief and stopped to let the others catch up.
Morwen was the first. “Good,” she said as she clambered over the last of the rock piles, balancing carefully to avoid spilling her bucket. “I was beginning to think that rocky stuff was never going to end. Any sign of my cats?”
“It would be more reasonable to ask whether there is any sign of the wizards,” Telemain said, following Morwen into the wider part of the tunnel. There was a large wet spot down one side of his many-pocketed vest; apparently he had not been as careful with his buckets as Morwen.
“I haven’t seen a trace of the wizards,” Mendanbar said, “but the cats have been by here.” He pointed at two small trails of footprints leading down the tunnel.
“Thank goodness that’s over,” Cimorene said as she emerged from the narrow section of the tunnel to join them. “Why are you all just standing here? The Cave of Stone Icicles is a lot farther on.”
As this was undeniably true, they set off again. There was still not room for all four of them to stand in a line, but at least now they could walk two by two without difficulty. Somehow, Cimorene ended up walking with Mendanbar in the front. Mendanbar was not sure whether to be glad or sorry. He enjoyed walking with Cimorene, even if they did not dare to talk much; the wizards might have someone listening for odd noises. On the other hand, being in front meant that he and Cimorene were the ones the wizards would attack first. Mendanbar did not like the idea of anyone attacking Cimorene, although he knew she could take care of herself.
He had some time to consider this, for the tunnel was long and winding, but he found it hard to concentrate with Cimorene walking so close beside him. He discovered that he wanted to put his arm around her as they walked—the one carrying the bucket of water, not the lantern—but
somehow that didn’t seem like the right thing to do when they were supposed to be watching out for wizards. He had never met a princess like Cimorene before. He had never met anyone like Cimorene before. She was smart and brave and kind and loyal, and he liked her. In fact, he liked her a great deal. In fact—
Suddenly, the light around Mendanbar dimmed. He stopped and glanced over his shoulder. The little globe that had been hovering over Telemain’s head had gone out.
“Telemain?” Mendanbar whispered.
“I didn’t turn it off,” Telemain whispered back. “We must be getting near the wizards.”
Mendanbar nodded without surprise—the atmosphere in the tunnel felt dry and magicless, and though they were still within the Enchanted Forest, he could no longer sense threads of power floating invisibly in the air. He swallowed, hoping he would not have to do any spells in a hurry.
“Keep close,” he whispered to Telemain and Morwen, and slowly started forward once more.
The tunnel bent sharply to the left, then right, and without further warning opened out into a forest of stone pillars. A glimmer of light showed between the stones, and they could hear a mumble of voices in the distance.
Hastily, Mendanbar covered the lantern with a corner of his cloak, so that it only lit the area just in front of his feet. Cimorene dropped back. After a moment, she put her hand on his shoulder, and Mendanbar wondered briefly what she had done with the bucket. She gave his shoulder a brief squeeze to indicate that Morwen and Telemain had taken their places. Then he heard her pick the bucket up again.
Carefully, Mendanbar edged through the pillars toward the light and voices.
As they drew nearer, Mendanbar began to understand what the voices were saying.
“I don’t like this,” grumbled one. “We’ve wasted too much time already. We should just take her outside, dose her with dragonsbane, and leave her for someone to find.”
“Stop complaining, Dizenel,” replied a smooth voice, and Mendanbar frowned as he recognized Zemenar’s fluid tones. “I have told you a hundred times how foolish that would be,” Zemenar went on. “I am not going to tell you for the hundred and first.”
“He’s right, though,” another voice said. “Someone is going to notice us pretty soon, and then where will all our planning be?”
“Someone already has,” a fourth voice rasped. “What about those two this morning?”
“A couple of adventurers,” Zemenar said dismissively. “They don’t matter.”
“They got away, didn’t they? If they tell someone what they saw—”
“They won’t,” Zemenar said.
“How can you be sure of that?”
Zemenar gave a snort. “Because of who they are. Can’t you recognize a Wicked Uncle when you see one? He was probably here to drop the boy somewhere in the Enchanted Forest. He isn’t going to tell anyone about us. And even if he does, what of it? Everyone knows odd things happen in the Enchanted Forest. His story will only be one more.”
Mendanbar was at the end of the stone columns, close enough to see the wizards if he peeked around a pillar. There were ten of them, grouped about a small table at one side of an enormous cavern. Zemenar and two others were seated; the rest leaned against the wall of the cave or stood in clumps close by. High above the wizards, hundreds of long, cone-shaped columns hung like stone icicles from the ceiling. Four torches dangled from iron brackets on the wall and a lamp stood in the center of the table, throwing shadows like dark fangs from the hanging rocks.
Partway across the cavern, a pale golden glow cut across the shadows like a drawn curtain. On the other side of the glow was a dragon, her wings folded along her back, her eyes narrowed to slits. Mendanbar recognized her at once, even without Cimorene’s hiss. She was the same dragon they had seen in the magic window at the dwarf’s house—Kazul, the King of the Dragons.
16
In Which Mendanbar Cleans Up
Mendanbar blew out the lantern and set it on the floor. They didn’t need it anymore anyway. They were near enough to see by the light of the wizards’ torches, even in the shadows. Carrying their buckets, Cimorene, Morwen, and Telemain slipped behind nearby pillars as another wizard came around the corner from the far end of the cave.
“Most gracious and powerful Head Wizard,” he said, bowing to Zemenar. “We’ve checked everything at least twice. There’s no one outside and no sign of anyone coming. That spell Xinamon felt before must have been some sort of normal variation.”
Behind the pillars, Mendanbar winced. The wizards had noticed the locating spell he had sent out earlier. Cimorene frowned and shook her head at him, but he wasn’t sure what she meant by that. Morwen scowled at them both and put her finger to her lips.
“Possibly,” Zemenar replied. “I don’t want to take any chance, though. The King of the Enchanted Forest has a certain amount of magic, and we don’t fully understand it. Call in a few more wizards, just to make sure.
“If you don’t want to take chances, we ought to use up the dragon now and get out of here,” Dizenel said.
“I’m with you,” the most recent arrival agreed. “Dragons make me nervous. Are you sure she can’t get out?”
“If she could, she’d have done so right away,” Zemenar said. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve put the power of at least an acre of the Enchanted Forest into building that shield, and no one can lower it except us.
“Are you sure?” the wizard persisted.
“Take a closer look, if you’re not satisfied,” Zemenar said, waving at the glow.
“It is impressive,” the wizard said, moving nearer. “But with a spell this new, how can you be positive—Say, what’s that?”
At their companion’s change in tone, the wizards’ heads swiveled to look at Kazul. For a frozen moment, no one spoke. Then a wizard at the back said, “It’s a cat.”
Mendanbar glanced sideways in time to see Morwen shake her head and take a firmer grip on her bucket of soapy water. He grimaced. They had only six buckets of soapy water among them, and there were already eleven wizards in the cave. If it came to a fight, they would be badly outnumbered.
“How did a cat get inside the shield?” another wizard asked. “It wasn’t there yesterday.”
“It wasn’t there a few hours ago,” Dizenel said. “Where did it come from?”
“Spread out and search the cave,” Zemenar commanded, rising. “And bring in the dragonsbane. Someone’s snooping.”
The wizards fanned out across the cavern and started toward the forest of pillars. There was no way Mendanbar and the others could get away without being seen, even if they had been willing to abandon Kazul to her fate. Mendanbar drew his sword. Soapy water or not, he felt better with a weapon in his hand.
As the first wizard reached the pillars, he jerked in surprise, then raised his staff. Before he could release whatever spell he had planned, a shower of soapy water drenched him from head to foot. The wizard shrieked loudly.
“Blast you six ways from next Wednesday!” he shouted as he began to melt. “This is the second time you’ve liquefied me! May you and your pet dragon and your triple-cursed wash water turn purple with orange spots and fall down a bottomless pit!”
The other wizards stopped in their tracks. “It’s Cimorene!” one of them said nervously.
“That’s Princess Cimorene, to you,” Cimorene said, stepping out from behind a pillar. She held her second bucket in plain sight, ready to throw.
“Stay back,” Zemenar ordered. “Blast her from a distance.”
“Cowards!” Cimorene taunted, and ducked behind another of the stone columns. “Come and get me!”
It wasn’t going to work, Mendanbar told himself, taking a firmer grip on his sword. Zemenar was too clever to let his wizards chase Cimorene into the maze of stone. They would stay at a safe distance and throw bolts of power into the pillars until they destroyed the maze or killed everyone in it, or both.
Three more wizards came running in. Zemenar stopped
them with a gesture. The rest of the wizards backed away from the pillars and lined up across the width of the cave.
“Now, then,” the Head Wizard said, lifting his staff and pointing it at the pillar Cimorene had ducked behind. “Like this.”
Mendanbar felt magic swell around the end of the staff. An instant later, before he had time to reach for the magic himself, the spell shot forward and exploded, shattering the pillar and sending chips of rock flying in all directions.
“Ow!” Cimorene’s voice cried from somewhere in the shadows.
Without thinking, Mendanbar stepped out from behind his pillar, bucket in one hand, sword in the other, into full view of the wizards. “Over here!” he called. If he could distract them for a minute or two, perhaps Cimorene could get safely behind another column.
“Mendanbar!” For an instant, Zemenar looked thoroughly startled. Then he smiled nastily. “How nice to see you. I’ve been hoping you would turn up, so we could finish this little business at last.”
As he spoke, Zemenar stepped forward and shifted his staff to point at Mendanbar. Mendanbar raised his sword and stayed where he was. He felt magic building around the staff once more and decided not to wait to find out what Zemenar intended it to become. Instead, he reached out through the sword and touched the wizard’s spell, the same way he touched the magic threads of the Enchanted Forest.
It was much easier to do here than it had been in the Mountains of Morning. The sword sopped up the spell in an instant. Mendanbar could sense the channel’s of power Zemenar had been using to feed his spell, and he touched those, too, and pulled. The sword obligingly drank them in.
“What are you doing?” Zemenar cried in astonishment, lowering his staff. His hair stood out around his head, as wild and tangled as the magical mess he’d left on the floor of Mendanbar’s castle.
“I’m stopping you,” Mendanbar said. His whole arm tingled with the power the sward had absorbed. If he could just think of the right thing to do with it. . .
“And a good thing, too,” Morwen said from several pillars over. “You’re too greedy for your own good, or anyone else’s, for that matter.”
Wrede, Patricia C - Enchanted Forest 02 Page 16