Dealing With Dragons Read online

  “Draco, draconem, dracone,” she muttered, and her lips curved into a smile. She had always been rather good at declining nouns. Still smiling, she started forward to begin her new duties.

  Cimorene settled in very quickly. She got along well with Kazul and learned her way around the caves with a minimum of mishaps. Actually, the caves were more like an intricate web of tunnels, connecting caverns of various shapes and sizes that belonged to individual dragons. It reminded Cimorene of an underground city with tunnels instead of streets. She had no idea how far the tunnels extended, though she rather suspected that some of them had been magicked, so that when you walked down them you went a lot farther than you thought you were going.

  Kazul’s section of the caves was fairly large. In addition to the kitchen—which was in a large cave near the exit, so that there wouldn’t be a problem with the smoke from the fire—she had a sleeping cavern, three enormous treasure rooms at the far end of an intricate maze of twisty little passages, two even more enormous storage rooms for less valuable items, a library, a large, bare cave for eating and visiting with other dragons, and the set of rooms assigned to Cimorene. All the caves smelled of dragon, a somewhat musty, smoky, cinnamony smell. Cimorene’s first job was to air them out.

  Cimorene’s rooms consisted of three small connecting caves, just off Kazul’s living cavern. They were furnished very comfortably in a mixture of styles and periods, and looked just like the guest rooms in most of the castles Cimorene had visited, only without windows. They were much too small for a dragon to get inside. When asked, Kazul said that the dwarves had made them in return for a favor, and the dragon’s tone prevented Cimorene from inquiring too closely into just what sort of favor it had been.

  By the end of the first week, Cimorene was sure enough of her position to give Kazul a list of things that she needed in the kitchen. The previous princess—of whom Cimorene was beginning to have a very poor opinion—had apparently made do with a large skillet with three dents and a wobbly handle, a wooden mixing bowl with a crack in it, a badly tarnished copper teakettle, and an assortment of mismatched plates, cups, and silverware, most of them chipped or bent.

  Kazul seemed pleased by the request, and the following day Cimorene had everything she had asked for, except for a few of the more exotic pans and dishes. This made the cooking considerably easier and gave Cimorene more time to spend studying Latin and sorting treasure. The treasure was just as disorganized as Kazul had told her, and putting it in order was a major task. It was sometimes hard to tell whether a ring was enchanted, and Cimorene knew better than to put it on and see. It might be the sort of useful magic ring that turned you invisible, but it might also be the sort of ring that turned you into a frog. Cimorene did the best she could and kept a pile in the corner for things she was not sure about.

  There was a great deal of treasure to be sorted. Most of it was stacked in one of the innermost caves in a large, untidy heap of crowns, rings, jewels, swords, and coins, but Cimorene kept finding things in other places as well, some of them quite unlikely. There was a small helmet under her bed (along with a great deal of dust), a silver bracelet set with opals on the reading table in the library, and two daggers and a jeweled ink pot behind the kitchen stove. Cimorene collected them all, along with the other things that were simply lying around in the halls, and put them back in the storerooms where they belonged, thinking to herself that dragons were clearly not very tidy creatures.

  The first of the knights arrived at the end of the second week.

  Cimorene was busy cleaning swords. Kazul had been right about their condition; not only were some of them rusty, but nearly all of them needed sharpening. She was polishing the last flakes of rust from an enormous broadsword when she heard someone calling from the mouth of the cave. Feeling somewhat irritated by the interruption, she rose and, carrying the sword, went to see who it was.

  As she came nearer to the entrance, she was able to make out the words that whoever-it-was was shouting: “Dragon! Come out and fight! Fight for the Princess Cim­orene of Linderwall!”

  “Oh, honestly,” Cimorene muttered, and quickened her step. “Here, you,” she said as she came out into the sunlight. Then she had to duck as a spear flashed through the air over her head. “Stop that!” she cried. “I’m Princess Cimorene.”

  “You are?” said a doubtful voice. “Are you sure? I mean—”

  Cimorene raised her head cautiously and squinted. It was still fairly early in the morning, and the sun was in back of the person standing outside the cave, so that it was difficult to see anything but the outline of his figure against the brightness. “Of course I’m sure,” Cimorene said. “What did you expect, letters of reference? Come around here where I can see who you are, please.”

  The figure moved sideways, and Cimorene saw that it was a knight in shiny new armor, except for the legs, where the armor was dusty from walking. Cimorene wondered briefly why he hadn’t ridden, but decided not to ask. The knight’s visor was raised, and a few wisps of sandy hair showed above his handsome face. He was studying her with an expression of worried puzzlement.

  “What can I do for you?” Cimorene said after several moments had gone by and the knight still hadn’t said anything.

  “Well, um, if you are the Princess Cimorene, I’ve come to rescue you from the dragon,” the knight said.

  Cimorene set the point of the broadsword on the ground and leaned on it as if it were a walking cane. “I thought that might be it,” she said. “But I’d rather not be rescued, thank you just the same.”

  “Not be rescued?” The knight’s puzzled look deepened. “But princesses always—”

  “No, they don’t,” Cimorene said firmly, recognizing the beginning of a familiar argument. “And even if I wanted to be rescued, you’re going at it all wrong.”

  “What?” said the knight, thoroughly taken aback.

  “Shouting, ‘Come out and fight,’ the way you did. No self-respecting dragon is going to answer to a challenge like that. It sounds like a child’s dare. Dragons are very conscious of their dignity, at least all the ones I’ve met so far are.”

  “Oh,” said the knight, sounding very crestfallen. “What should I have said?”

  “‘Stand forth and do battle’ is the usual challenge,” Cimorene said with authority, remembering her princess lessons. She had always been more interested in what the knights and dragons were supposed to say than in memorizing the places where she was supposed to scream. “But the wording doesn’t have to be exact as long as it’s suitably formal. You’re new at this, aren’t you?”

  “Rescuing you was going to be my first big quest,” the knight said gloomily. “You’re sure you don’t want to be rescued?”

  “Quite sure,” Cimorene said. “I like living with Kazul.”

  “You like—” The knight stared at her for a moment. Then his expression cleared and he said, “Of course! The dragon’s enchanted you. I should have thought of that before.”

  “Kazul has not enchanted me, and I do not want to be rescued by anybody,” Cimorene said, alarmed by the knight’s sudden enthusiasm. “This place suits me very well. I like polishing swords and cooking cherries jubilee and reading Latin scrolls. If you don’t believe me, ask anyone in Linderwall. They’ve been complaining about my un-princesslike behavior for years.”

  “I did hear something about fencing lessons,” the knight said doubtfully, “but knights aren’t supposed to pay attention to that kind of thing. We’re supposed to be above rumors and gossip.”

  “The fencing lessons were just the beginning,” Cim­orene assured him. “So you see why I’m perfectly happy being a dragon’s princess.”

  “Um, yes,” said the knight, but he did not look convinced. “Speaking of dragons, where’s yours?”

  “Kazul’s not my dragon,” Cimorene said sharply. “I’m her princess. You’ll never have any luck dealing with dragons if you don’t get these things straight. She’s gone to the Enchanted Forest on t
he other side of the mountains to borrow a crepe pan from a witch she knows.”

  “She’s what?” said the knight.

  “She’s gone to borrow a crepe pan,” Cimorene repeated in a louder voice. “Perhaps you’d better have your helmet checked when you get back. They’re not supposed to interfere with your hearing, but sometimes—”

  “Oh, I heard you,” the knight said. “But what does a dragon want with a crepe pan?”

  “She doesn’t want it; I do. I found a recipe in the library that I want to try, and the kitchen just isn’t equipped to handle anything but the most ordinary cooking. Kazul will fix that eventually, but for the time being we have to borrow things like crepe pans and souffle dishes.”

  “You really do like it here,” the knight said wonderingly.

  Cimorene refrained from replying that this was what she had been trying to tell him all along and instead said, “How did you know where I was?”

  “Things get around.” The knight waved a hand in a vague manner. “In fact, I had to hurry to make sure I was the first. Half of the Kingdom of Linderwall and a princess’s hand in marriage is a reward rich enough to tempt a lot of people who wouldn’t normally bother with this sort of thing.”

  “Father’s offered half the kingdom to whoever rescues me?” Cimorene said incredulously. “That’s more than all my sisters’ dowries put together!”

  “It’s the usual thing in cases like this,” the knight said mildly.

  “It would be,” Cimorene said in tones of deep disgust. “Well, at least you can go back and tell them I don’t want to be rescued. Maybe that will keep anyone else from coming up here.”

  “I can’t do that!” the knight said. “It’s—”

  “—just not done,” Cimorene finished. “I understand perfectly.” She gave him a polite farewell, more because she had been well brought up than because she felt like being polite, and sent him on his way. Then she went back into the cave and polished the broadsword until it was mirror-bright, which relieved her feelings a little.

  There were two knights the following day, and four more the day after that. On the fourth day there was only one, but he was exceptionally stubborn, and it took Cimorene nearly two hours to get rid of him. By then she was thoroughly disgusted and even considered letting Kazul handle the knights from then on. She could not quite bring herself to do it. The knights would certainly attack Kazul as soon as they saw her, since that was what they were coming for, and sooner or later someone would get hurt. Cimorene did not like to think that someone might be hurt trying to rescue her, particularly since she did not want to be rescued, so with a sigh she decided that she would continue to handle the knights as long as Kazul would let her.

  Prince Therandil showed up at the end of the third week. He was limping a little, as if his metal boots pinched his toes, and the feathers attached to the top of his helmet sagged badly. He stopped and carefully struck an impressive pose before issuing the usual challenge.

  Cimorene was not in a mood to be impressed. Besides, she could see that his helmet was a different style from his gold armor and that the armor had gaps at the knees and elbows where it didn’t fit together quite right.

  “Aren’t you a little slow?” she asked irritably. “There’ve been eight knights here before you.”

  “Eight?” the prince said, frowning. “I thought by now there’d have been at least twelve. Perhaps I’d better come back later.”

  Cimorene stared at him in surprise. “Why?”

  “Well, it would look better,” Therandil explained seriously. “There’s not much glory in defeating a dragon that hasn’t already beaten ten or fifteen people at least. Sir Gorolax of Mirstwold won’t even consider going after a dragon whose score is less than forty-five. I don’t think I want to risk waiting that long, but eight just doesn’t seem like enough.”

  “You’re going to go away and wait until Kazul has defeated fifteen knights before you come back to rescue me?” Cimorene said. She found Therandil’s smug confidence very annoying, but she didn’t like to say so straight out.

  “Not if you’d rather be rescued now, of course,” Therandil said hastily. “Though you ought to consider the advantages, and I expect it won’t be so very long . . .” His voice trailed off, and he looked at her hopefully.

  “I’m afraid it will be a very long time,” Cimorene said with satisfaction. “You see, Kazul hasn’t defeated any knights at all yet.”

  “B-b-but I thought you said there’d been eight,” Therandil spluttered.

  “I said eight of them had come by; I didn’t say they’d fought anybody. I sent them away.”

  “You sent them away?” Therandil repeated, plainly horrified. “But that’s—that’s—”

  “—not done, I know.” Cimorene smiled sweetly. “But I’ve done it. And I intend to go on doing it, so you might as well go home and warn your friends. They’d feel so foolish, you know, if they came all this way into the mountains to rescue me and then had to turn around and go back home without doing anything.”

  “They certainly would!” Therandil said indignantly. “What do you mean by playing these kinds of tricks? Don’t you want to be rescued?”

  “No,” said Cimorene, losing her patience at last, “I don’t. And I’m tired of having my work constantly interrupted. So please go away, and don’t come back.”

  “You can’t possibly mean that,” Therandil said. “Besides, everyone expects me to rescue you.”

  “That’s your problem,” Cimorene told him. “I’m going to go fix dinner. Goodbye.” Before he could say anything else, she turned and ducked back into the cave, hoping the prince wouldn’t follow.

  3

  In Which Cimorene Meets a Witch and Has Doubts About a Wizard

  THERANDIL LEFT, BUT HE CAME BACK AGAIN the next day, and the day after that. It got so that Cimorene could not even step outside the cave without running into him. She might have been flattered if it hadn’t been so obvious that Therandil was only worried about how foolish he’d look if he went home without fighting the dragon. On his fifth visit Cimorene was very sharp with him, and when he had not returned by midafternoon of the next day, she began to hope that he had finally left for good.

  Cimorene was in the kitchen taking the pits out of cherries when she heard someone knocking at the mouth of the cave.

  “Go away,” she shouted in complete exasperation. “I’ve told you and told you, I don’t want to be rescued, and I’m not going to argue with you any more!”

  “I didn’t come here to argue,” said a no-nonsense female voice from outside. “I came to meet the person who keeps borrowing my crepe pan. It’s not something there’s normally much call for.”

  “Oh, dear,” said Cimorene. She wiped her hands hastily on a corner of her apron and hurried out to greet her visitor. “I’m sorry,” she said, coming around the gray rock at the cave mouth. “But I’ve been having a problem with knights lately, and I thought—” She stopped short as she got a good look at her caller for the first time.

  The woman standing outside the cave was considerably shorter than Cimorene. Her ginger hair was piled in waves on top of her head. She had on a loose black robe with long sleeves, which she wore unbelted. A small pair of glasses with rectangular lenses sat firmly on her nose, and she carried an extremely twiggy broom in her left hand. Despite her unusual appearance, she projected an air of great self-assurance.

  “I quite understand,” she said, studying Cimorene shrewdly. “You must be Kazul’s new princess.”

  “Yes, I’m Cimorene. And you are . . . ?”

  “Morwen,” said the black-robed woman, leaning the broom against the rock. “Kazul and I have been friends for a long time, ever since I moved to the Enchanted Forest, so I thought I’d come have a look at her new princess.”

  “You’re the person Kazul’s been borrowing dishes from, aren’t you?” Cimorene said, and blinked. “But then you must be—”

  “A witch,” Morwen finished. “I don�
�t see why you find it surprising. It’s not exactly an unusual profession in these parts.”

  “It’s just that I haven’t met one before,” Cimorene said, not mentioning the fact that in Linderwall witches were considered dangerous and probably evil and were therefore avoided if at all possible. But then, people in Linderwall didn’t like dragons much, either. “Won’t you come in and have some tea?”

  “I certainly will,” said the witch, and she did. She prowled around like a nervous cat while Cimorene put the kettle on the stove and got out the tea things.

  “Well,” Morwen said approvingly as Cimorene filled the teapot, “you’re the first princess I’ve ever met who has the sense to keep up with the kitchen.”

  Cimorene decided that she liked Morwen’s down-to-earth manner. She soon found herself telling Morwen everything, from the fencing and philosophy and Latin lessons to the seemingly endless stream of knights. The story lasted through two cups of tea and finished with Therandil’s stubborn insistence on rescuing her.

  “That is absurd,” Morwen said decidedly when Cim­orene finished. “If this continues, you’ll never get anything done.”

  “I know,” Cimorene said. “I keep telling them I don’t want to be rescued, but they’re all so honorable that none of them will tell anyone when they go back because they think it would be gossiping.”

  “More likely they don’t want to look foolish.”

  “Maybe, but even if they did tell people, I’m not sure anyone would believe it. I have a hard enough time convincing the knights when they show up in person.”

  “It’s just as well that your visitors have been honorable,” Morwen said, looking thoughtful. “Linderwall’s a prosperous kingdom. Sooner or later the chance of getting hold of half of it is going to tempt someone to try rescuing you whether you want to be rescued or not.”