The Lazy Dragon and Bumblespells Wizard (11 page)

Moire Ain doubled back and peered over his shoulder. The peasant inside pointed to Moire Ain and Cl'rnce. “Get out of my home. You're too big, and you'll pull it down, big, fat dr'gon.” She squinted angry eyes at them.

“Am not fat. I'm perfect; my mother said so,” Cl'rnce muttered as he backed out of the hut's opening. “Everybody's in a foul mood.” He tapped Moire Ain's arm as she backed away. “You do notice the peasant's not afraid of me. Told you so.”

The peasant bustled out of her hut, brushing chicken feathers off her robe. “Get out, you big, hungry dr'gon! We are not sharing our chickens!” The peasant punched him in the leg. “You're fat, and you're soft. Lazy.”

She turned to Moire Ain, catching hold of one of the little wizard's hands and running a finger over the calluses. “This little one is a hard worker. Why are you
hanging around with him?” She jerked her thumb backward at Cl'rnce.

“He's my friend,” Moire Ain said.

“Hrumph.” The peasant spit out of the corner of her mouth, just missing Cl'rnce's foot. “I don't care what you saw in the hut, you need to move on. We only have enough chickens for our village. Especially after that big, snarky dr'gon blew through here yesterday. Go away!”

“Was it a one-legged dr'gon?” Moire Ain pointed to the tracks.

“Of course not. Dr'gons all have two hind legs to run and steal chickens on. But this one didn't bother to run after our birds; he just swooped and scooped, and sort of skipped, coming back three times.” She slapped a hand over her mouth. “I mean, another dr'gon hopped by and took all the rest of our chickens, so if you're from the king looking for tax-chickens, we're out.”

“Of course!” Moire Ain said.

But Cl'rnce looked puzzled. “Dr'gons don't eat chickens. Dr'gons are vegetarians.”

“Tell that to that nasty dr'gon.” She snorted. “Haven't you ever heard of Killer Dr'gons? They eat all kinds of animals. Even dr'gons, especially fat, lazy ones like you!”

Cl'rnce choked. “We have to go.” He grabbed Moire Ain's arm and pulled her away and down the road.

“What's wrong?” Moire Ain asked.

But Cl'rnce just shook his head. “We're leaving. I'm
not that hungry. We need to get to Ghost Mountain.”

The peasant turned to one of the villagers, who had slowly gathered behind her. After a few words, she turned back to Cl'rnce and Moire Ain. “Easy. A day's flight.” she pointed through the collection of huts to a low purple range of mountains. “See the big white peak? That's the one.”

Before Cl'rnce could answer, Moire Ain said, “Oh, he can't fly. We'll have to walk. How far would that be?”

“Can't fly?” the peasant frowned. “I've never heard of a dr'gon who couldn't fly.”

“It's okay. Once I become a mighty wizard, I'll teach him to fly,” Moire Ain said.

“Oh, you're a wizardry student,” the peasant said. “I could use a good spell for chicken food that never runs out.” She raised her eyebrows like she was hoping Moire Ain would spit a spell out for her right then and there.

“Oh, uh….” Moire Ain dug her toes into the dirt. Even if her last spell had gone well, she was nervous about a failure like the one before it.

“She's still in the training phase,” Cl'rnce said quickly. “You know, where they only let her do a spell in front of her instructor. Very important that she learns everything exactly right during the first few months.”

“Of course,” the peasant said. “No chance of a simple spell to ensure rain every other night? Keep the crops growing?”

Cl'rnce shook his head. “Sorry, not until she's through probation.”

“Too bad,” the peasant said. “So why are you going to Ghost Mountain?”

Cl'rnce cleared his throat. “I need to pay a courtesy call on an old friend.”

“Good bye,” Moire Ain said, holding up her arm. Raspberries flew from the hut roof, landing lightly on her shoulder. But before she followed Cl'rnce, she bent over one of the naked chickens, who had waddled out of the hut and into the road, and whispered. The chicken bobbed its head and shook a stubby wing. A last white feather drifted into her outstretched hand. “Thank you,” she said, and tucked the feather into the pouch with her book.

When Cl'rnce and Moire Ain had marched beyond the last hut, Cl'rnce asked, “Why did you ask for a feather from the chicken?”

“It's for your flying spell,” she said, patting the pouch.

“Oh.”

Moire Ain was surprised to see his eyes go a little watery. She had this feeling Cl'rnce didn't know what to do when someone wanted to be nice to him, be his friend. She felt sad for him, and happy that she wanted to be his friend, and she was sure he wanted to be hers.

“I don't need a flying spell,” Cl'rnce grumbled.

Moire Ain looked hard at the dr'gon. She hoped he was just being a grump, protecting his own embarrassed feelings. She didn't want to believe he was too lazy to learn flying so he could finish his hero's journey.

Raspberries squawked and squinted at Cl'rnce. He took off and circled over the dr'gon. Cl'rnce's head followed Moire Ain's pet. She tried not to laugh; she was pretty sure this big dr'gon was afraid of little Raspberries—or at least of his bad habit of pooping on the dr'gon.

“Come, Raspberries,” Moire Ain called, holding out an arm. “Be nice to Cl'rnce. He's our new friend. He's going to help me become a proper wizard. And I'm going to help him fly.”

“Rude bird!” Cl'rnce snorted at the bird. He turned to Moire Ain, “Who says I'm going to help you? I don't fly because I don't want to.”

Raspberries flew off so fast, Moire Ain didn't have
time to feel hurt by Cl'rnce's selfish words. She was too amazed at her pet, who had rarely moved at anything but a leisurely pace.

When she looked back at Cl'rnce, she decided she had to persuade him to help. She would never be a great and mighty wizard if she couldn't be positive about learning. “Sure you are—going to help me that is. You're a dr'gon. I need a dr'gon. Dr'gons help. And as for flying, I saw it in my book. You know you want to fly. All dr'gons do.” Moire Ain smiled, then pointed ahead. “Look! Raspberries has it. My banner. I don't need it anymore since you can teach me magick.”

She watched the tiny, far-off banner rippling on the winds. “It sure is a good banner. Very eye catching. OH! Eye catching. Hedge-Witch. We have to get rid of it, or she'll find me.” She clamped her mouth shut. She didn't want to scare Cl'rnce off with the old witch. Moire Ain swallowed hard and said, “We have to get it from Raspberries.”

The raven flew in front of them, dragging the poster in the dusty road.

“We?” Cl'rnce grumbled. “What did you say about a hedgehog?”

Moire Ain inhaled a cool breath of relief. Cl'rnce hadn't heard ‘witch'. She ran after the raven, grabbing for the end of the banner. Raspberries jerked the cloth out of reach just as she got close.

Cl'rnce jogged past her and snatched at the cloth, catching it in his claws. With a pretty hard tug, he jerked it out of Raspberries talons. The raven squawked, circled, and dumped a greenish poop on Cl'rnce's head. But Cl'rnce didn't flinch. He held the cloth stretched between his paws. “Parsimonious wizard? You want to be a cheap wizard?” He squinted at her.

“No!” she said. “How silly. I need to hire a cheap wizard. I mean ….” Her face went bright red. She grabbed for the banner, but Cl'rnce kept hold.

He read, “‘Wizard for Hire, Parsimonious Rates.'”

His scaly eye ridges climbed nearly to his horns. “The wording is a little confusing, but I'm pretty sure this says you're for hire, and you're cheap.”

“No. It doesn't. That's not what I meant. No one would think I was a cheap wizard for hire.” Moire Ain grabbed the banner, wadded it up, and tucked it under her arm. “This was to find a wizard teacher who doesn't cost much. Parsimonious. Inexpensive.” With her arms full, she stuck her chin out trying to look sure of herself.

“Bad wording, and does too mean you're a cheap wizard,” Cl'rnce mumbled. He stared up at her raven, as if expecting it to defend her and splat him again for arguing with Moire Ain.

But Raspberries cocked his head to one side and seemed to shrug. Moire Ain waited for Cl'rnce to point out that even her raven agreed that the banner was
bumbled, like her magick. She tried not to let the dump of hurt make her weep. She was not a crier! Moire Ain wiped her nose on her sleeve.

“Oh, for rivers' sakes, don't cry,” Cl'rnce said. “It's no big thing. It's not like you left your address on banners all over Albion. Nobody's going to hound you about the misunderstanding.”

“I forgot that too! No one could even find me!” Moire Ain sobbed. “It doesn't matter what it said. Don't you see? I can't do anything right. I can't even get a teacher.” Moire Ain blinked to try and stop the fall of tears that betrayed her.

Cl'rnce looked alarmed and puzzled all at the same time. “We can fix this,” he finally said. “Look. I think you're making too much of the banner. You don't need a teacher. You just need practice. I think you're getting better with your spells.”

Moire Ain's eyes filled all over again. He believed in her.

His eyes got purpler and bigger. “Please don't cry. I'm not good with crying. I tried to comfort my sister once with a pat, right after a snake bit her on the snout. She turned and snapped at me, biting so hard Mother sent for a hedge-witch to pry her off and sew up my arm.”

“Hedge-Witch?” Moire Ain snuffled out. He knew about witches; did he know how evil her foster mother, Hedge-Witch, was?

His face straightened like he'd found a way to make her stop crying, which he had. “Yep. This hedge witch was an extremely cranky old hag who spent most of the time complaining about her worthless assistant who kept disappearing for hours when she was supposed to be herb hunting. When the old crone ran out of whining and snarling, she spit on a leaf, smacked it on my arm, and said, ‘You'll live.'”

Moire Ain started to smile around her leaky face. Cl'rnce's tone of outrage at how he'd been treated made her picture Hedge-Witch and her foster mother's fear of only one creature—dr'gons.

Cl'rnce continued, “It got worse. Mother refused to discipline Hazel. Instead, Mother just shook her head at me and sighed. The whole thing was very painful.” He held out his paws. “You can see why I'm not taking any chances on another bite from anyone. So, you okay?”

Moire Ain snuffled up, but the story wasn't enough to stop the cascade of tears. She could tell by the way he started pacing that she was causing him pain. After so many years of being the ‘stupid girl' Hedge-Witch yelled at, Moire Ain was determined to be the best partner Cl'rnce could ever have. But already she had failed. She cried harder.

“I am worried about you. Crying too long can lead to very, very bad occurrences. You knew that, right?” He stopped pacing and looked at her.

Moire Ain hiccuped and shook her head.

“It's very bad for the scales. Rusts them, you know. And besides, any minute I expect frogs.” Cl'rnce said, adding a smile.

She sniffled to a stop and asked, “What did you say?”

“The way you're pouring water, I thought a frog would swim out of your nose or something,” Cl'rnce said, grinning bigger.

“I—I—I wish I could conjure a frog!” She started crying louder all over again. “I can't do any magick right!”

Cl'rnce stomped down the road, turning around a wooded curve before Moire Ain could catch up. She was still crying when she nearly ran into him.

“Yipes stripes! Look over there. Is that a king pacing on that castle wall?” Cl'rnce yelled over the wailing.

“Huh?” Moire Ain snorted a stop to the tears. “I wonder if he's the one.” She looked around. She didn't know what king Hedge-Witch meant her to kill. Could this be the one?

“Do you want to see a king?” Cl'rnce said. He took a deep breath, like he was making an offer he didn't want to. “Now, mind I have to get to Ghost Mountain quickly, but for you …. We can detour so you can see one.”

Moire Ain stared down the road. She didn't see any kings or anyone else. If this was the one, she could warn him. “Thank you.” She scrubbed her face with one
sleeve. “Do you think I could offer to do magick for him? So I could talk to him? Warn him.” She said the last bit in a whisper, because she wasn't ready to tell Cl'rnce or anyone that she was supposed to be an assassin.

Cl'rnce stared at her. “I have exceptional hearing, you know. Warn him about what? Chicken-covered peasants and chicken-stealing dr'gons?” Cl'rnce snorted. “Kings never mess with dr'gons. The peasants are on their own.”

Moire Ain muttered a promise that if she had to, she'd go see this king alone. Even standing on tiptoes she couldn't see the king, but if Cl'rnce saw him, then she would go warn him. She squared her shoulders and marched ahead.

Surprisingly, Cl'rnce didn't argue anymore. Instead he followed, whistling a tune that was short and repeated over and over. Pretty soon it played in Moire Ain's head, and she couldn't stop it. She whistled along with him as they got to a rise in the road. At the top, they looked down into a very green valley. In the center of the valley, a wide river circled a village and castle on three sides before it meandered off toward the mountains again. An hour more, and they stood before the gates.

Moire Ain checked the sun and thought about how she could warn the king without getting herself and Cl'rnce into trouble. It would be tricky, but she thought about questions she could use to find out if he was the king Hedge-Witch was after. If he was, she'd warn him and get
away quickly. After all, Cl'rnce had to get to Ghost Mountain. She could hear him grumble about her ignoring his quest. She wouldn't do that, but she had to do this.