Dealing With Dragons Page 11

  “First we have to get into the center of the star,” Cim­orene reminded her. “Be careful not to smudge the lines!”

  “Smudge them, after all that work?” Alianora said in tones of mock horror. She lifted her skirts and stepped carefully into the middle of the diagram. Cimorene followed, carrying a small mixing bowl half full of something that looked like brown sludge with a white eagle feather sticking out of one side. “It smells awful,” Alianora said, grimacing.

  “It doesn’t matter what it smells like, as long as the spell works,” Cimorene said. “Ready?”

  “As ready as I’m ever going to be,” Alianora replied, shutting her eyes and screwing up her face as if she expected to have a glass of cold water poured over her head.

  Cimorene plucked the eagle feather out of the bowl and raised it quickly over Alianora’s head before it could drip on the floor. She let four large drops of the brown gunk fall onto Alianora’s hair, then brushed the end of the feather across her forehead twice. She finished by drawing a circle with the feather on the palm of Alianora’s left hand.

  “That tickles!” Alianora complained.

  “Well, you can do it to me now,” Cimorene said.

  Alianora took the bowl and feather from Cimorene.

  “You’re right,” Cimorene said a moment later. “It does tickle.”

  “Now what?” Alianora said.

  “Set the bowl down and shut your eyes,” Cimorene instructed. When Alianora had done so, Cimorene closed her own eyes and said:

  “Power of water, wind and earth,

  Turn the fire back to its birth.

  Raise the spell to shield the flame

  By the power that we have tamed.”

  “Oh!” said Alianora. “That feels peculiar. Can I open my eyes now?”

  “Yes,” said Cimorene, opening her own. “We’re finished.”

  “Did it work?” Alianora asked, cautiously opening one eye and squinting at Cimorene.

  “Well, something happened. We both felt it,” Cim­orene said. “And your hair and forehead don’t have brown gunk on them any more.”

  Alianora promptly opened both eyes and studied Cimorene. “Neither do yours. What does that mean?”

  “It means we go back to the kitchen and test it,” Cimorene said. She bent over and picked up the mixing bowl. “We’ll clean up later. Come on.”

  10

  In Which Cimorene and Alianora Conduct Some Tests and Disturb a Wizard

  BACK IN THE KITCHEN, CIMORENE AND ALIANORA quickly determined that the fireproofing spell had indeed worked. First Cimorene, then Alianora tossed a pinch of feverfew into the air and recited the spell-verse, then put a hand into a candle flame and held it there. Neither was burned at all, though Alianora claimed that the candle tickled almost as much as the eagle feather had done.

  “How long does the spell last?” Alianora asked.

  “I’m not sure, exactly,” Cimorene said. “At least an hour, but I’ll have to do some tests to pin it down beyond that. I hope Kazul gets back soon. I want to see if it works with dragon fire.”

  “You’re going to have Kazul breathe fire at you, just to see if the spell works?” Alianora said, horrified. “What if it doesn’t?”

  “Then I’ll talk to Kazul, and we’ll go see Morwen, and the three of us will try to figure out what to change to make the spell work for dragon fire, too. Don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to stand in front of Kazul and have her breathe fire at me. I’ll just stick out a finger, the way we did with the candle.”

  This was not enough to convince Alianora, but Cim­orene was determined. “The whole point of trying this spell was to make ourselves immune to dragon fire,” she said. “If it doesn’t work, I don’t want to find out for the first time when one of Kazul’s guests gets mad and breathes fire at me because he doesn’t like the way I cooked his cherries jubilee.”

  Alianora had to admit that this was a good point, but she was still disposed to argue. The discussion was cut short by Kazul’s return. At first the dragon was more inclined to agree with Alianora than with Cimorene, but after Cimorene proved her invulnerability to candle flames, lighted torches, and the fire she had built in the kitchen stove, Kazul agreed to the trial. She insisted, however, on working up to full firepower in gradual stages, and Cimorene was forced to agree.

  Before they began, Cimorene threw another pinch of feverfew into the air and recited the couplet again, just to be sure the spell wouldn’t wear off in the middle of the test. Then Kazul lowered her head nearly to the ground, and Alianora watched nervously as Cimorene lowered her hand slowly into various intensities of dragon flame. Finally, Cimorene stood right in front of Kazul while the dragon breathed her hottest. The spell worked perfectly every time.

  “There!” Cimorene said when Kazul stopped at last. “Now we know it works. Aren’t you glad?”

  “I’m glad,” Alianora said fervently. “And I hope I never have to watch anything like that again as long as I live. I didn’t dare blink for fear you’d go up in smoke while my eyes were closed.”

  “Why don’t you try it yourself?” Cimorene said mischievously.

  “No!” said Alianora and Kazul together.

  “Watching you was bad enough,” Alianora went on with a shudder. “I believe it works. I don’t see any reason for me to test it.”

  “Besides, I’ve done more than enough fire-breathing for one day,” Kazul added. “I’m starting to get overheated.”

  “All right, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to,” Cimorene said. “If we’re all done, I’d better go tidy up.”

  Alianora stayed to help Cimorene finish cleaning up the traces of the spell, by which time she had calmed down considerably and was very nearly her usual self again. Cimorene gave her a pouchful of dried feverfew before she left and made her recite the words that activated the spell several times, to make sure she had memorized them correctly.

  “Remember, you only have to repeat the first half of the verse to get the spell going, now that it’s been set up,” Cimorene said. “Can you do it?”

  “It’s only two lines, and they rhyme!” Alianora said, laughing. “How could I forget that? My memory isn’t that bad!”

  “Maybe not, but say it anyway,” Cimorene said. Alianora laughed again and did so. At last she set off into the tunnels, and Cimorene went back to the main cave to see what Kazul and Roxim had found out about the Caves of Fire and Night.

  Kazul was somewhat out of temper, and Cimorene thought privately that she had been telling the truth about getting overheated. Rather than annoy the dragon further, Cimorene asked if she could read the book Kazul had borrowed from Morwen.

  “It’s in the treasure room,” Kazul said. “Read it there. And I hope you see something in it that we didn’t.”

  Cimorene nodded, picked up her lamp, and hurried off before Kazul could change her mind. The book was lying near a pile of sapphires, next to an ornate gold crown. She picked it up, went over to the table, which was large and very sturdy because it was intended for counting piles of gold and silver coins, and sat down to read.

  It was even dryer and duller than Kazul had said. There were a great many “mayhaps” and “perchances” and “wherefores,” strung together in long, involved sentences that compared the strange and wonderful things in the caves to obscure philosophical ideas and odd customs from places Cimorene had never heard of. After a few pages, Cimorene put the book down and went and got a quill pen, an ink pot, and some paper, so that she could write down the things she thought were important. She didn’t want to have to read A Journey Through the Caves of Fire and Night more than once.

  For the next three days, Cimorene spent bits of her spare time in the treasure room, taking notes on the DeMontmorency. It took her that long because she could never manage to read for more than a little while without getting so bored that she nearly fell asleep. Her persistence gained her several pages of notes about the caves, but nothing that seemed as if it might be o
f particular interest to wizards.

  Alianora came to see her a few days later, looking very cheerful.

  “It worked!” she announced as she came into the library where Cimorene was going over her notes. “Keredwel’s gone. Therandil rescued her, just the way you said he would.”

  “Good,” Cimorene said. “I’m glad something is going right.”

  “What’s the problem?” Alianora asked, seating herself on the other side of the table from Cimorene.

  “This,” Cimorene said, waving at the paper-covered table. “Kazul is sure that the key to what the wizards are after is somewhere in that dratted book she borrowed from Morwen. I copied out everything that looked interesting, but none of it seems like anything a wizard would care about.”

  “How do you know that?” Alianora asked curiously.

  “I don’t,” Cimorene said. “I’m just guessing. That’s the problem.”

  “Oh.” Alianora picked up the sheet of paper nearest her and frowned at it. “What on earth does this mean?”

  Cimorene looked at the page Alianora was holding. “‘Thus these Caves of Fire and Night are, in some sense, indivisible, whereas the Caves of Chance are, by contrast, individual, though it is preposterous to claim that these descriptions are true of either group of caves in their entirety . . . ’ That’s one of the bits I copied word for word; the whole book is like that. I think it means that if you have a piece of something magical from the Caves of Fire and Night, you can use it in a spell as if it were the whole thing.”

  “I can see why you wouldn’t be sure,” Alianora said. “Do you think it would help you figure things out if you stopped for a while?”

  “I have stopped,” Cimorene pointed out. “Or did you have something more specific in mind?”

  “I’m almost out of feverfew,” Alianora said, looking down at the table. “I was hoping you’d come with me to pick some more.”

  “You’re almost out?” Cimorene said in surprise. “How did that happen?”

  Alianora shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve been working that fireproofing spell every hour or so for the past two days,” she admitted. “Woraug has been getting more and more unpredictable, and I don’t feel comfortable otherwise. Hallanna was visiting yesterday when he came in—in the middle of the afternoon!—and he was roaring and dripping little bits of flame when he breathed. She was terrified, and I don’t blame her. If it weren’t for the spell, I’d be scared to death.”

  “What’s the matter with him?”

  “I don’t know. He doesn’t tell me anything about dragon politics or wizards or what he’s been getting so worked up about. He’s not like Kazul.”

  Cimorene frowned, considering. “Maybe Kazul will have some idea what’s bothering him. I’ll ask her this evening. In the meantime, let’s go get that feverfew. You’re right to say that I could use a break.”

  “Oh, good,” said Alianora in tones of considerable relief. “I’ve never picked herbs before, and I’m not sure what feverfew looks like. I don’t know what I’d have done if you’d said you wouldn’t come.”

  Cimorene put her notes away and got two wicker baskets and a small knife from one of the storage rooms. “Up or down?” Alianora asked as they left the cave.

  “Up,” Cimorene said. “The other way is the ledge I told you about, and I wouldn’t be surprised if bits of it are still invisible.”

  The path through the Pass of Silver Ice twisted and turned past the openings of other dragons’ caves. Most of the rocks around the caves had scorch marks, and Cim­orene and Alianora didn’t see much growing among them.

  “At this rate, we’ll have to go nearly all the way to the Enchanted Forest to find any grass, much less herbs!” Alianora complained.

  “Wait a minute!” Cimorene said. “Look over there, through that crack in the rocks. Doesn’t that look like something green?”

  Alianora’s eyes followed Cimorene’s pointing finger. “Yes,” she said without enthusiasm. “It looks green.”

  The rock Cimorene had indicated was a large boulder at the bottom of a steep slope. The slope was covered with gravel and looked as if it would be impossible to climb down without skinning a knee or an elbow at the very least. The boulder itself was in two pieces, with just enough space between them for someone to squeeze through, provided the someone was not very large.

  “Come on, let’s get a better look,” said Cimorene. She walked to the edge of the slope and wrapped her skirts tightly around her legs. Then she sat down with her basket in her lap and slid down the slope, raising an enormous cloud of dust and sounding like an avalanche in process. She reached the bottom in safety and stood up, brushing at her skirt. The dust was so thick that she could hardly see, and when she tried to call to Alianora, she coughed so hard that she could barely speak.

  “Cimorene! Are you all right?”

  “It’s just the dust,” Cimorene said in a muffled voice. She had taken out her handkerchief and put it over her mouth and nose to keep the dust out. It wasn’t perfect, but it helped a great deal. “Come on, it’s your turn.”

  “Are you sure we shouldn’t just go around?”

  “Stop stalling. It’s not that bad.”

  “That’s what you say,” Alianora muttered, but she wrapped her skirts around her, clutched her basket, and slid down the slope. She made even more noise than Cimorene had. When she got to the bottom, she was coughing and choking. Cimorene handed her the handkerchief, and they waited for a moment while the dust settled.

  Crawling through the split boulder was easier than they expected. The crevice was wider than it had looked from the path, and the bottom of the crack was so full of dust and gravel and dead leaves that it was almost flat. Cimorene and Alianora had to walk single file, and there were one or two spots where they had to turn sideways in order to get through, but it was not really difficult.

  On the other side of the boulder, the two girls found a lush, green valley. It was bowl-shaped and not very large, but flowers and grasses stood waist-high between the random clumps of bushes that dotted the valley floor. A squirrel, which had been sunning itself on a ledge near the entrance, leaped for a small tree as Cim­orene and Alianora appeared.

  “My goodness!” Alianora said, looking around with wide eyes. “This place looks as if no one but us has ever been here before. There aren’t even any scorch marks on the rocks.”

  Cimorene blinked. Alianora was right. Lichens covered the weathered gray rocks that rose above the valley, and small plants grew in cracks and crevices that showed no sign of the touch of dragon fire.

  “That’s odd,” Cimorene commented.

  “Why?” Alianora asked.

  “Those mountains aren’t tall enough to keep dragons from flying over, and they’re right in the middle of the dragons’ territory. So why haven’t the dragons been here? They usually keep a close eye on everything that belongs to them.”

  “Maybe they have been here, but they never found anything to breathe fire at,” Alianora said.

  “Well, I’m going to ask Kazul about it when I get back,” Cimorene said as she waded into the grass. “Why don’t you take that side, and I’ll look over here? We’ll cover more ground that way.”

  “First you’d better show me what I’m looking for,” Alianora said apologetically. “I’m afraid I couldn’t tell feverfew from carrots if there was a dragon chasing me and my life depended on it.”

  Cimorene nodded, and they started off. They had not gone far when she saw a patch of the white button shaped flowers she was looking for. “Here,” she said, showing them to Alianora. “This is feverfew. The younger plants are the best, the ones that haven’t blossomed yet.”

  Alianora studied the leaves and flowers with care. “I think I’ll recognize it now.”

  They cut some of the plants, leaving those that were blooming.

  “You find the next patch,” Cimorene said as they started off again.

  “Let’s try over there,” Alianora said, pointing.
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br />   They found several more patches of feverfew, and gradually their baskets began to fill. “I think this should be enough,” Cimorene said at last. “Unless you think—”

  “Cimorene!” Alianora hissed, clutching at Cim­orene’s arm. “There’s someone behind that bush!”

  Cimorene turned. A dark line snaked through the grass where something large had bent and broken the plants in passing. “You’re right,” she said, and started forward.

  Alianora hung back, still holding Cimorene’s arm. “You’re not going to go look, are you?”

  “How else are we going to find out who it is?” Cim­orene asked reasonably. She shook off Alianora’s hand. Quietly, she walked over to the clump of bushes and peered around it. Alianora followed with evident reluctance.

  A man in blue and brown silk robes was crouched on the other side of the bush with his back toward Cim­orene. He was stuffing saw-edged purple leaves into a small linen bag the size of Cimorene’s hand. His hair was brown, and on the ground beside him lay a long, polished staff.

  “Antorell?” Cimorene said in surprise.

  The man snatched up his staff and straightened as if a bee had just stung him. It was indeed Antorell, and he did not look at all pleased to see her. He stuffed the linen bag quickly into his sleeve and said, “P-princess Cimorene! What brings you here?”

  “I was about to ask you the same thing,” Cimorene said.

  “Wizards go where they wish, answering to no one,” Antorell said, waving his free hand in a lofty manner.

  “Maybe outside the Mountains of Morning they do, but around here they have to check with the dragons first,” Cimorene said.

  “You know nothing of the matter,” Antorell said, looking very put out.

  “Cimorene . . .” Alianora’s tone was doubtful. “You know this person?

  “I’m sorry; I should have introduced you. This is Antorell, one of the wizards I told you about. Antorell, this is Princess Alianora of the Duchy of Toure-on-Marsh. At the moment, she’s the princess of the dragon Woraug.”