Calling on Dragons (24 page)

“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?”

N
O 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?
”

“Telemain?” said Morwen.

“Mmmm. It sounds as if someone did a partial transportation spell, looped it, bound the residual to a temporary construct, and then—”

Kazul cleared her throat pointedly. Telemain paused, frowned, and said crossly, “I don't know any other way to explain it.”

“They used a transportation spell to send Mendanbar somewhere, only they stopped in the middle,” Morwen suggested.

“No, that would be unstable,” Telemain said. “The field would collapse unless they looped it and bound the ends to something. It's theoretically possible, but it takes an enormous amount of power.”

Cimorene glanced over her shoulder at the destruction that surrounded the castle. “As much power as you'd get from soaking up a big chunk of the Enchanted Forest?”

“I think they used most of that for the shield spell,” Telemain said. “But if anyone could have done a looped transport, Zemenar could. After all, he was Head Wizard of the Society of Wizards.”

“I don't care if he was First Minister to the Grand Poobah of the Great Cathayan Empire,” Cimorene said. “How are we going to get Mendanbar
out?
”

“We can't,” Telemain said.

“
What?
”

“To dismantle the spell, we would need to be inside the castle. To get into the castle, we would have to get through the wizards' shield spell. The only thing—besides the Society of Wizards themselves—that can take down that shield spell is Mendanbar's sword. And none of us can use it.”

Cimorene looked appalled. “Then Mendanbar's stuck
forever.
”

“Or until he starves to death,” Killer put in gloomily.

“Not necessarily,” Morwen said. Everyone turned to look at her. “In the first place, if Telemain is right about what they did, Mendanbar won't starve. A looped transportation spell makes it temporarily unnecessary to eat.”

Telemain nodded, pleased. “Hershenfeld's experiments proved it. They were quite definitive.”

“In the second place, it is only true that none of us can use the sword
yet.
” Morwen pushed her glasses firmly up and gave Cimorene a significant look.

“What—oh, Morwen, you can't mean the
baby!”
said Cimorene.

“Sounds reasonable to me,” said Killer.

“It would,” said Scorn.

Telemain frowned. “I don't think it will work, Morwen. The sword requires a certain level of deliberate control, and I doubt that a baby could provide coherent directions.”

“We'll wait for him to grow,” Kazul said. “It won't take long.”

“Maybe not by dragon standards,” Cimorene said. “But fifteen or sixteen years is a long time for people. I don't want to wait. And what if he's a she?”

“That shouldn't make any difference,” Telemain said. “What's important to the sword is the bloodline and the—the personality. Or perhaps it's attitude that counts. I've never actually seen the linkage process that enables someone to use the sword, so I can't say for sure.”

“No,” said Cimorene. “Absolutely not. It would take too long, and it's too iffy. And what if one of the wizards decides to come back and sneak into the castle to finish Mendanbar off?”

“Have you got any better ideas?” Kazul asked.

“How about lunch?” Killer said pointedly. “Aren't people supposed to think better when they've eaten? I do.”

“It wouldn't take much,” Scorn said. “You're a rabbit.”

“Not anymore.” Killer's ears went limp and his wings drooped at the thought. “Now I'm a—a something else.”

“Lunch sounds like a very good idea to me,” Kazul said. “Especially since we needn't rush right in to rescue Mendanbar.”

Looking suddenly uneasy, Killer backed away from the dragon. All at once, he stopped and his eyes got very big. “You
can't
eat me! I'm insubstantial.” His muzzle twitched. “I never thought there'd be anything good about that.”

“I'm not interested in eating you,” Kazul said. “What I want is six gallons of Morwen's cider and a big helping of cherries jubilee.”