Wrede, Patricia C - Enchanted Forest 02 (5 page)

“Have you met the new King of the Dragons or her princess?” the Head Wizard went on.

“No, I—princess?” Mendanbar forgot his misgivings in a wave of surprised dismay. “The King of the Dragons has a princess?”

“She does indeed,” Zemenar said. There was a faint frown in his eyes, and his fingers were stroking his staff again. “She’s a real troublemaker, too—the princess, I mean. Our misunderstanding with the dragons is all her fault.”

“Oh, lord,” Mendanbar said. He raised a hand to run his fingers through his hair and remembered just in time that he was wearing his circlet. “And King Kazul listens to her?”

“Certainly. Most of the dragons do, now. Cimorene is quite the power behind the throne in the Mountains of Morning.”

There was a sneer in Zemenar’s voice, along with a good deal of suppressed anger. Mendanbar couldn’t blame him. He’d had enough trouble with princesses himself to know the type. Cimorene must be one of the beautiful, empty-headed, ambitious bores whose only talents were the ability to stare innocently with their blue eyes and a knack for wrapping people—or, in Cimorene’s case, dragons—around their fragile fin
gers. She was probably too stupid to realize how much trouble her manipulations caused, but if she did notice she probably liked having the power to produce turmoil.

“Oh, lord,” Mendanbar repeated. Why hadn’t Morwen warned him? Well, he had to talk to Kazul, one way or another. Perhaps Morwen had heard about his aversion to princesses and hadn’t wanted to give him any reason to put off the visit. Mendanbar looked at Zemenar, completely in charity with the wizard for the first time. “Thank you for telling me.”

“You’re very welcome,” Zemenar said. “You will let me know how things go, won’t you? And do remember that the Society of Wizards will be happy to give you whatever help you may need. It’s in our own interest, after all. The sooner you get this little matter settled, the sooner you’ll be able to reconsider our request about the Caves of Fire and Night.”

“Yes, certainly,” Mendanbar said. “Is that all, then? I’ll have Willin show you out.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Zemenar gave Mendanbar a smile that set Mendanbar’s teeth on edge. “I
am
a wizard, after all. Good day, Your Majesty.”

Zemenar bowed and was suddenly and completely gone. No, not completely; Mendanbar could feel a lump of magic in the center of the looping spell where Zemenar had been standing. Mendanbar frowned. He might appreciate Zemenar’s warning about Kazul’s Princess, but that was no reason for the wizard to go leaving leftover bits of magic in his castle.

Mendanbar reached for the loop, to undo it, and paused. As long as he was at home, he might as well do this the easy way. He twitched a different strand of magic, and the audience chamber dissolved around him.

*
            
*
            
*

He materialized in the cool darkness of the castle armory. Lighting the wall torches with another twitch of the magic threads, he looked around. Willin had been hard at work since the last time Mendanbar had visited the armory. Most of the swords and shields that had been piled in one corner or another were now hanging in neat pairs on the walls. Extra swords, spears, maces, lances, and knives hung in closely spaced rows higher up. The effect was almost decorative. Mendanbar made a mental note to compliment Willin, then turned his attention toward the wooden chests along the far wall.

The one he wanted was in the center. He reached into his pocket for the key and realized he had left it in his desk. He sighed and snapped his fingers. With a small pop, the key appeared in the air level with his nose and fell into his palm. Mendanbar smiled at it and bent to open the chest. Willin was always after him to have a proper set of keys made for the various doors and drawers and chests and hiding places in the castle, but Mendanbar couldn’t see any reason to waste the effort when the Key to the Castle was all you needed to open any lock in the place.

It wasn’t as if Willin needed a spell to call the Key, either, Mendanbar thought as he lifted the lid of the chest. The Key had its own magic. As long as it was inside the castle, it came to whoever called it. Willin
just wanted to puff up his own consequence by carrying a big bunch of keys jangling at his belt. Mendanbar looked down and forgot about Willin.

There was only one thing in the chest: a sword, gleaming in the torchlight. It was very plain, almost ordinary-looking, and it didn’t have an air of magic about it at all, though anyone who looked at it closely would notice that it shone too brightly and had too sharp an edge to be an ordinary sword. Mendanbar reached in and took the hilt in his hand with a sigh of satisfaction. In the air around him, the unseen strands of power hummed in response, for this sword was linked to the warp and weft of the Enchanted Forest in ways no one, not even the Kings of the Enchanted Forest, really understood. Mendanbar always felt better when he had the sword with him, but he couldn’t wear it around the castle all the time. It made Willin unhappy and visitors nervous. So he kept the sword in the armory unless he could think of an excuse to use it.

Rising, he swung the sword twice, just for fun. Then he hunted around until he found a sword belt and scabbard, put the sword in the sheath, and buckled the belt around his waist. With another wave of his hand, he was back in the audience chamber.

T
he awkward lump of wizard-magic was right where Mendanbar had left it. He studied it for a moment, then drew his sword.

“Your Majesty!” said Willin from the doorway. “What are you
doing?”

“Cleaning up after our visitor,” Mendanbar replied. “Do be quiet for a minute, Willin. I need to concentrate.”

“But—
”

Mendanbar shot an irritated look at Willin. The castle steward broke off and closed his mouth into a thin, disapproving line. Mendanbar waited half a moment longer to make sure the elf was not going to say anything else, then turned back to the lump. Raising
the sword, he reached over the loop of Enchanted Forest magic and stuck the point into the center of the mass.

A surge of power ran through the sword as it sucked up the wizard’s leftovers and sent them to reinforce the invisible network of Enchanted Forest magic. The surge was stronger than Mendanbar had expected, and he frowned as he lifted the sword away from the now-empty space and put it back in its sheath. Perhaps it hadn’t been extra, unused magic, after all; perhaps Zemenar had deliberately left a spell behind. It was too late to test it now, though. The sword was thorough, and whatever the lump had been, it was now gone for good.

“Your Majesty?”

Willin’s voice sounded much more tentative than it had a moment before. Mendanbar almost smiled, but Willin was sure to get upset if he thought he was being laughed at. So Mendanbar kept his face stiff and took a little longer than necessary to undo the loop he had left to guard the wizard’s magic. When he was positive that his expression was normal, he turned.

“Yes, Willin?”

“What was all that about? Has my lord the Head Wizard gone? Why are you wearing your sword? What—”

“One thing at a time,” Mendanbar interrupted gently. “Zemenar has gone, yes. He cast a vanishing spell, and a very good one, too. No smoke, no whirling dust, just
poof
and he was gone. Unfortunately, he wasn’t as tidy with the end of his spell, and some of it got left behind. Or at least, that’s what I thought until I got rid of it a minute ago.”

“I . . . see,” Willin said in a tone that meant he didn’t. “And that’s why you have your sword?”

“Partly.” Mendanbar looked at the empty patch of floor where the wizard had been, then shook his head. Whatever Zemenar might have been up to, it would have to wait. “I have to pay a visit to the King of the Dragons.”

Willin’s face went completely blank. “You what?”

“I’m going to the Mountains of Morning, to see the King of the Dragons,” Mendanbar repeated. “And I’m certainly not going without a sword. There are lots of dangerous creatures in those mountains, and some of them wouldn’t care that I’m the King of the Enchanted Forest, even if they bothered to stop for an introduction before they attacked.”

“But you can’t just
leave,
Your Majesty!” Willin said. “A formal embassy to the King of the Dragons will take weeks to arrange. You’ll want a full escort, and—”

“I don’t think there’s time,” Mendanbar broke in, before Willin could get too involved in planning. “Something’s come up, and it needs to be dealt with
now
. So I’m going today, in another minute, and you’re in charge of the castle until I get back.” In a sudden inspiration, Mendanbar pulled the Key to the Castle out of his pocket and handed it ceremoniously to Willin.

“I am deeply honored by Your Majesty’s confidence,” Willin said. “But are you sure this is necessary?”

“Yes,” Mendanbar said. “Oh, and don’t let any wizards in while I’m gone. Something funny is going on, and I don’t want any of them inside the castle until I figure out what, especially if I’m not here.”

“But what should I tell them, if they ask for you?”

“I don’t care, as long as you don’t let them in,” Mendanbar replied. “Is that all? Then I’m going.” He took hold of a strand of magic and pulled. When the misty whiteness cleared away, he was standing among the trees of the Enchanted Forest just outside the castle. With a bit more care, he chose another magic thread and pulled again, harder. This time, he appeared at the very edge of the forest, where the Mountains of Morning began. Two paces in front of him, the vibrant green moss stopped as if it had been sliced away, and the dry gray rock began. He checked to make sure this was the right place—Morwen’s directions had been very specific—and then, reluctantly, stepped over the boundary.

Mendanbar had not left the Enchanted Forest for over three years, not since he had become King, and he had forgotten how very barren everything felt outside. He could still sense the free-floating network of magic behind him, but where he stood, the air was empty. Thin grass and scrubby bushes grew in patches wherever dirt had accumulated in low spots and cracks and corners. Ahead, the mountains rose high and sharp and dead. Many magical creatures lived here, but the Mountains of Morning had no magic of their own. Mendanbar could feel the emptiness where the magic should have been, and he shivered in spite of himself

“At least I don’t have to worry about finding Kazul,” he told himself. “As long as I don’t get my directions mixed up, I should be able to walk straight to her cave.” He smiled suddenly. “And it will still be there when I get to it!” That was worth something. And he still had some of the magic of the Enchanted Forest along with him in the form of his sword. Even through the sheath, Mendanbar could feel the reassuring pulse of power.

“Well, there’s no sense in putting it off.” He shrugged, took a last look back at his forest, and started walking.

*
            
*
            
*

Once he got used to the dry, dead, magicless feel of the mountains, Mendanbar actually enjoyed the walk. Much as he loved the Enchanted Forest, he had to admit that it was nice to see so much sky. Since dragons liked high places, the walk was mostly uphill, but that was fun, too. With no trees to block the view, Mendanbar could see for miles, and the higher he got, the more he could see. The hills in the Enchanted Forest tended to be either low, rolling bumps that you hardly noticed, or steep mounds that were usually home to something dangerous, or magical, or both. Most of the latter were made of something strange, too—jasper or polished coal or solid silver. There was even one made of glass somewhere along the southern edge of the forest. Some king had built it in order to get rid of his daughter.

Daughter. King’s daughter. Princess!
Mendanbar’s good mood vanished. He’d forgotten about Kazul’s princess.

“And I’ll have to be particularly polite to her, no matter how irritating she is,” he reminded himself gloomily. If she had as much influence as Zemenar hinted, she could make things very difficult if she took a dislike to him. He wondered why Kazul had kept her. The King of the Dragons didn’t normally bother with a princess, or at least, Mendanbar had never before heard of one who did.

He came around a curve and saw the mouth of a cave in front of him. There was a wide, flat, sandy space in front of the cave, big enough for several dragons to land at the same time, if they were careful about it. The mountain rose straight up behind the cave mouth. Set in the stone over the center of the opening was an outline of a spiky black crown.

As Mendanbar drew nearer, he saw a tarnished brass handle sticking out of a small hole beside the cave. The handle was level with his waist, and next to it was a sign that read: “WELCOME TO THE CAVE OF THE DRAGON KING. Pull handle to ring bell.” On the line below, someone had added in neat letters printed in bright red paint, “ABSOLUTELY
NO
wizards, salespeople, or rescuers. This means YOU.”

Mendanbar stared at the sign for a minute and began to smile. No wonder Zemenar didn’t like Kazul’s princess. Well, he wasn’t a wizard, he wasn’t selling anything, and he certainly didn’t want to rescue anybody. He gave the handle a pull.

Somewhere inside the cave, a bell rang. “Well, it’s about time,” said a woman’s voice, and Mendanbar’s heart sank. He heard footsteps coming toward the mouth of the cave, and the same voice continued, “I was hoping you’d get here before I left. The sink is—”

The speaker came out of the cave, took a look at Mendanbar, and broke off in midsentence. “Oh, no, not
another
one,” she said.

Mendanbar stared at her in utter bafflement. If this was a princess, she was like no princess he had ever seen, and he had seen dozens. True, she had a small gold crown pinned into her hair, and she was very pretty—beautiful, in fact—but she was wearing a blue-and-white checked apron with large pockets. Mendanbar had never seen a princess in an apron before. The dress under the apron was rust-colored and practical-looking, and she had the sleeves rolled up above her elbows. He had never seen a princess with her sleeves rolled up, either. Her jet black hair hung in plain braids almost to her knees, instead of making a cloud of curls around her face. Her eyes were black, too, and she was as tall as Mendanbar.

“Well?” she said in an exasperated tone. “Are you going to stand there like a lump, or are you going to tell me what you want? Although I think I already know.”

“Excuse me,” Mendanbar said. He pulled himself together and bowed uncertainly. “I think there’s been some sort of mistake. I’m looking for Kazul, the King of the Dragons.”

“I’ll bet you are,” the young woman muttered. “Well, you can’t have her. I handle my own knights and princes.”

“I beg your pardon?” Mendanbar said, blinking.

He was beginning to think the mistake was his. This young woman didn’t look like a princess (except for the crown), she didn’t act like a princess, and she didn’t talk like a princess. But if she wasn’t a princess, what was she doing here?

“I handle my own knights,” she repeated. “You see, I don’t want to be rescued, and it would be silly for someone to get hurt fighting Kazul when I intend to stay here no matter what happens. Besides, Kazul has enough to do being King of the Dragons without people interrupting her to fight for no reason.”

“You really
are
Kazul’s princess”—what had Zemenar said her name was? Oh, yes—”Cimorene?”

“Yes, of course. Look, I haven’t got time to argue about this, not today. Could you please go away and come back in, oh, a week or so, when things are a little more settled? Or I can direct you to a more cooperative princess, if you’d rather not wait. Marchak has a very nice one just now, and he lives quite close by.”

“No, I’m afraid not,” Mendanbar said. He was beginning to think Willin had been right to say he should wait for a formal audience. “You see, I didn’t come to rescue you, or anybody. I’m the King of the Enchanted Forest, and I really did come to talk to Kazul. And it’s urgent. So—”

“Oh, drat,” said Cimorene. “Are you sure it can’t wait? Kazul isn’t here right now.”

“I’ll wait for her,” Mendanbar said with polite firmness. “As I said, the matter is urgent.”

Cimorene frowned suddenly. “Did you say you were the King of the
Enchanted Forest?”

Mendanbar nodded. “My name is Mendanbar.”

“Just why is it that you’re so eager to see Kazul, Your Majesty?” Cimorene said suspiciously.

“I ran across a . . . problem in the Enchanted Forest this morning,” Mendanbar replied, choosing his words with care. “A witch named Morwen advised me to talk to the King of the Dragons about it.”

“Morwen
sent you?” Cimorene looked surprised, then thoughtful. “It must be all right, then. Come in and sit down, and I’ll see if I can explain.”

“As you wish, Princess,” Mendanbar said, bowing.

“Just call me Cirnorene,” she said, leading Mendanbar into the cave. She bent to pick up a lantern from the floor inside the entrance and added, “My official title now is Chief Cook and Librarian, so I’ve gotten out of the habit of being called ‘Princess.’ “

“Chief Cook and Librarian?” Mendanbar said curiously. “How did that happen?”

“Kazul and I decided on it between us after she became King of the Dragons last year,” Cimorene said. “You see, the King of the Dragons doesn’t usually have a princess, and we didn’t want the other dragons grumbling about Kazul breaking with tradition. I was hoping it would discourage the knights a bit, too.”

“Oh?”

“Well, it doesn’t sound particularly noble and knightly to say you’ve rescued the Chief Cook and Librarian, does it? And it has cut down on the number of interruptions. I used to get two or three knights a day, and now there’s only about one a week. And the ones who
do
come are at least smart enough to figure out that I’m still a princess even if the dragons call me Chief Cook.”