Wrede, Patricia C - Enchanted Forest 02 (14 page)

Raising a hand, Telemain began to mutter rapidly. Mendanbar watched with interest as the magician worked, calling up magical power and shaping it into a loose net that surrounded all three of them.

“There,” Telemain said at last. “That should do it.” He repossessed the staff from Cimorene and looked at Mendanbar. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Mendanbar studied the net uncertainly. “Is that all there is to it? Should I aim through one of the holes or through one of the threads?”

“Holes?” Telemain said. “Threads? What are you talking about?”

“This net of yours,” Mendanbar said. “The warding spell. Does it matter where I aim?”

“You can
see
the warding spell?” Telemain looked and sounded considerably startled by the very idea.

“It’s not
seeing,
exactly,” Mendanbar said. “But I can tell where it is and how it’s put together.”

“Fascinating,” Telemain said. “Have you always been able to do that?”

“No. It comes with being King of the Enchanted Forest.”

“Does
it?” Telemain’s expression was all eager interest. “Can you do it for any spell? Here, let me try a listening spell, and you see if you can spot it.”

“I thought we were supposed to be trying to get to the Enchanted Forest,” Cimorene put in pointedly. “Can’t you wait and experiment
after
we rescue Kazul?”

“Of course,” Telemain said. “Do forgive me. I sometimes get carried away.” He nodded apologetically, but Mendanbar thought he sounded disappointed.

“About this net—” Mendanbar reminded him.

“Oh, yes, you wanted to know about aiming.” Telemain considered for a moment. “It shouldn’t make the least bit of difference.”

“Good,” said Mendanbar. He drew his sword, and both Telemain and Cimorene jumped. Mendanbar supposed the sword must be leaking again. He pushed careful little dabs of power through the sword to mark Telemain and Cimorene, to be sure that they would come along with him. Then he raised the sword and pointed toward the mountain, where Jack had said the Enchanted Forest lay.

“I think I’ll try to take us straight to the palace,” he said, and began forming the picture in his mind.

“No, no!” Telemain interrupted. “Do it
exactly
the way you did before. That’s the whole point of this exercise.”

“I thought the point was to get to the Enchanted Forest,” Cimorene muttered.

Mendanbar shrugged. The castle would be a better place from which to try and locate Kazul, since it was at the center—
near
the center—of the Enchanted Forest, but once they were in the forest, getting to the castle would be no trouble. If Telemain wanted to watch an exact duplication of the transportation spell that had dumped them in the ravine, there was no reason not to let him. Releasing his image of the palace, Mendanbar substituted a mental picture of the Green Glass Pool.

He took his time over the image, painstakingly remembering every detail of the rocks and trees and water. When the picture was as clear as he could make it, he took a deep breath and gave the power of the sword a slow, twisting pull.

The mountains and the trees and Jack’s queer little house faded to gray ghosts, then melted into mist and were gone. An instant later, the mist vanished. They were standing at the edge of the Green Glass Pool.

“Absolutely fascinating!” Telemain said. “That is, without a doubt, the neatest transportation spell I have ever had the pleasure of utilizing. But I thought you said you had some trouble with it.”

“He did, last time,” Cimorene said.

“Well, you’d better not put your sword away, then,” Telemain said. “I can’t tell what the problem was until I see it. You’ll just have to do the spell again.”

Mendanbar, who had already stuck his sword back in its sheath, shook his head. “I never use the sword to move around the Enchanted Forest. I don’t need it.”

“By the way, your sword has stopped spraying magic around again,” Cimorene said. “I thought you might want to know.”

“So it has,” Telemain said. “What an intriguing phenomenon.”

“That reminds me,” Mendanbar said. “The burned-out area I told you about should be right over there. Would you mind taking a look at it, since we’re here?”

“Happy to oblige,” Telemain replied.

“What about finding Kazul?” Cimorene asked.

“I’ll try and locate her while Telemain is examining the clearing,” Mendanbar said. “A locating spell takes a while to set up, anyway, so we won’t lose any time to speak of, unless looking at the charred spot takes a lot longer than I expect it to.”

Cimorene still did not look altogether pleased, but she nodded, and Mendanbar led the way between the enormous trees. There was the burned section, as empty of life and magic as it had been when he had first seen it. Cimorene’s expression changed to one of shock and anger, and even Telemain looked shaken.

“I see why you wanted me to look at this,” Telemain said.

“So do I,” Cimorene agreed.

Setting the wizard’s staff under a tree near the edge of the charred area, Telemain walked slowly forward until he reached the spot where the ashes began. Kneeling, he ran his fingers over the dry, dead earth. After a moment, he rose and moved on, into the burned section itself. Little swirls of ash followed him.

For a few minutes, Mendanbar watched the magician work. Then, remembering his promise to Cimorene, he tore his attention away and turned to his own task.

It was a relief to be back in the Enchanted Forest, where magic was nearly automatic. Quickly, Mendanbar sorted through the invisible threads of power, selecting the ones that ran all the way to the farthest edges of the Enchanted Forest. They made quite a bundle, but it was better to do it all at once than to split them up and risk skipping one by accident.

When he was sure he had all the threads he wanted, he looped them around his right wrist and twined his fingers through the strands as they fanned out in all directions. With his left hand, he caught a free-floating filament and wound it into a small ball.
He set the ball on the web of unseen tendrils that radiated out from the bundle at his wrist. In his mind, he pictured Kazul and the wizards as he and Cimorene had seen them in Herman’s window. Then he gave the invisible ball a flick and sent it rolling rapidly out along the first of the threads.

The ball picked up speed and vanished. Then it was back, bouncing to the next thread and spinning away along the new path. Out and back it went in the blink of an eye, over and over, eliminating one thread each time. And then it went out and did not return.

Mendanbar frowned. That wasn’t supposed to happen. If the spell-ball didn’t find Kazul, it should come back and hop to the next thread, to check along it. If it
did
find Kazul, it should come back and stop, marking the thread they should follow to lead them to the dragon. Either way, the spell-ball was supposed to come back.

“What is it?” Cimorene said.

Mendanbar looked up, startled, to find Cimorene watching his face closely. “Something’s wrong,” he told her. “Wait a minute while I try something.”

Gently, he wiggled the last thread down which the spell-ball had vanished. He felt a vibration travel the length of the thread, and for a moment he hoped that it was the spell-ball returning. Then, with a high, thin sound like a tight wire breaking, the thread snapped, leaving a long end waving loose in the air in front of him.

“What was
that?
” Telemain said, looking up.

“Something very wrong indeed,” Mendanbar said grimly. “You’d better stop that and come over here. We’re going to the palace right now.”

B
oth Cimorene and Telemain stared at Mendanbar for a moment. Then Telemain shrugged. “Very well,” he said, dusting ashes from his fingers. “I was nearly finished, in any case, though I can’t say that I like all this flitting around.”

“Mendanbar, what happened?” Cimorene demanded as Telemain walked out of the burned area and crossed to the tree to get the wizard’s staff.

“I’m not sure I can explain,” Mendanbar replied. “It has to do with the way I work magic. The spell—Telemain, what is it?”

Telemain had picked up the staff and was gazing down at the ground where it had lain. “I think you’d better come and see for yourself,” he said without looking up.

Feeling mildly irritated, Mendanbar went over to join Telemain. His irritation vanished when he saw what the magician was looking at. At the foot of the tree, a strip of moss had turned as brown and dead and brittle as the crumbling remnants within the burned-out area a few feet away. And the strip was the exact size and shape of the wizard’s staff.

“Wizards again,” Cimorene said in tones of disgust. “It figures.”

“It
looks
the same as that part,” Mendanbar said cautiously, waving at the dead spot. “But is it?”

“So far as I can determine from a limited visual examination, it is,” Telemain said. “If you want absolute certainty, you’ll have to give me another couple of hours for tests.”

“We don’t have a couple of hours,” Mendanbar said. “How sure are you, right now, that this wizard’s staff has done the same thing to this bit of moss as something did to that whole section over there?”

“And have you any idea how it did it?” Cimorene put in.

“The
how
is very simple,” Telemain answered. “The staff is designed to appropriate any unattached magic with which it comes in contact. Magic appears to be a fundamental property of the Enchanted Forest. So when the staff rested for
a few minutes in one location, it swallowed up all the magic from that location, leaving it as you see.”

“What about that?” Cimorene asked, waving at the burned area. “What did they do, roll a wizard’s staff around on the ground for an hour?”

“Of course not,” Telemain said. “It’s simply a matter of extending and intensifying the absorption spell. One couldn’t maintain such an expansion for very long, but then, one wouldn’t have to.”

“That’s it!” Mendanbar said suddenly.

The other two looked at him blankly. “What’s what?” said Cimorene.

“That must be what happened to that locating spell I sent out,” Mendanbar explained. “Some wizard’s staff sucked it up. That’s why it didn’t come back.”

“Come back?” Telemain said. “You mean your locating spells work on a sort of echo principle? Would you mind demonstrating just how you—”

“Not
now,
Telemain,” Cimorene said. She looked at Mendanbar. “Does that mean you know where the wizards are?”

“No, but I think I know how to find out,” Mendanbar said. “Ready or not, here we go.”

Without waiting for a response, Mendanbar took hold of a thread of magic and pulled. Mist rose and fell, and they were standing in front of the main door to the palace.

“Willin!” Mendanbar shouted, throwing open the door. “Willin, come here. I need—”

He stopped short. Standing in the middle of the entrance hall was a boy of about ten in a blue silk doublet heavily embroidered with gold, a middle-aged man in black velvet with a pinched expression, two cats (one cream-and-silver, the other a long-haired tabby), Morwen, and an extremely harried-looking Willin. The footman who tended the front door was watching them all with the carefully blank face he kept for odd visitors and unusual events. He had had a lot of practice.

“Your Majesty! Oh, thank goodness,” said Willin in tones of heartfelt relief. “This woman—these people—
^”

“Willin.”

The elf stopped abruptly and made a visible effort to pull himself together. While he was still working at it, Morwen stepped forward.

“Hello, Cimorene, Mendanbar,” she said briskly. “You’re back just in time. These people have some very interesting infor—”

“Morwen?”
Telemain’s incredulous voice interrupted from behind Mendanbar. A moment later, the magician pushed his head between Cimorene and Mendanbar to get a better look. “It
is
you. What on earth are you doing in the Enchanted Forest?”

“Living in it,” Morwen answered calmly. “As you would know if you bothered to keep up with the doings of your old friends, Telemain.”

“I’ve been busy,” Telemain said defensively.

One of the cats made a small growling noise. “Nonsense,” Morwen told it. “It’s perfectly normal for him to be busy. The question is, has he got anything to show for it?”

Both cats turned their heads and gazed expectantly at Telemain. Mendanbar decided it was time to take a hand in the conversation, before things got so far off track that he’d never get them back on again.

“Telemain has been very helpful,” he said. “Morwen, who are these other people?”

“His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Jorillam of Meriambee,” Willin said in a loud, formal tone before Morwen could reply. The elf nodded at the boy, who bowed uncertainly.

“And His Royal Highness’s uncle and guardian, Prince Rupert,” Willin continued. This time, the older man stepped forward to acknowledge the introduction.

“They have come with the witch Morwen”—Willin paused, obviously waiting for Morwen to curtsy. Morwen only looked at him, and after a moment the elf went on—”with the witch Morwen to beg a boon of His Majesty Mendanbar, the King of the Enchanted Forest.”

“It’s not a big thing, Your Majesty,” Prince Rupert said hastily. “Really. If I could just have a minute or two of your time . . .” His voice trailed off in an indistinct murmur.

Mendanbar looked from Prince Rupert to Morwen and back, completely baffled. “I’m in something of a hurry just now,” he said at last. “What is it?”

“If we could, ah, discuss the matter in private. . . ,” Prince Rupert said with a sidelong look at his nephew.

“Oh, Uncle,” said Crown Prince Jorillam in an exasperated tone. He turned to Mendanbar. “He just doesn’t want to say straight out that we’re lost. And he especially doesn’t want to say that the whole reason we came was so he could leave me in the forest and go home and take over my kingdom.”

“Jorillam!” Prince Rupert said, plainly horrified.

“Well, it’s true, Uncle,” the Crown Prince insisted. “And if they’re in a hurry, it’s better to tell them and not waste time.”

“Mrow!” one of the cats agreed emphatically.

“Morwen . . .” Mendanbar said, hoping he did not look or sound as confused as he felt.

The ginger-haired witch shook her head and peered sternly over the top of her glasses at Prince Rupert. “You, sir, are here to tell these people your story with as little shilly-shallying as you can manage. You’d better get started, or I shall be tempted to do something drastic.”

“Like what?” asked the Crown Prince, greatly interested. “Could you turn him into a toad?”

“I could,” Morwen said repressively, “but I won’t. Not yet, anyway. Provided he starts talking.”

“Isn’t that a bit severe?” Telemain asked, frowning.

“You wouldn’t think so if
you’d
been dealing with him for the last two hours,” Morwen said.

Cimorene stepped forward and gave Prince Rupert a perfectly charming smile. “Perhaps it would be best if you told us your story,” she said.

“Ah, yes, of course,” Prince Rupert said, rubbing his hands against each other. “I, um, we, er—”

“It’s because of that stupid club Uncle joined,” said Crown Prince Jorillam helpfully. “Tell them, Uncle.”

“What club is that?” Cimorene asked.

Prince Rupert gave her a hunted look. “The Right Honorable Wicked Stepmothers’ Traveling, Drinking, and Debating Society,” he said, and sighed. “I’ve been a member of the Men’s Auxiliary for the past fifteen years.”

“That would be for Wicked Stepfathers?” Mendanbar guessed, wishing the man would get on with it.

“Yes, though we don’t get many of those,” Prince
Rupert said. “Mostly, it’s Wicked Uncles. You can even join on expectation, if you’re not an uncle yet.” He sighed again. “That’s what I did. I never really expected to be an uncle at all. Rosannon—she’s my sister—was under a curse for a hundred years, and I thought I’d be dead when someone finally broke it and married her.”

“So you joined this club,” Cimorene prompted.

“And it was wonderful!” Prince Rupert’s face lit up, remembering, “The places we went to, and the wines, and the discussions! It was everything I dreamed. Only then a smart-alec prince figured out a shortcut and broke the curse, and he and Rosannon got married and had Jorillarn here. And
then
the two of them left on some silly quest or other and put me in charge of him.”

“It isn’t a silly quest!” Jorillarn objected. “It’s a matter of vital importance to the future of Meriambee.”

“You can see my problem,” Prince Rupert said earnestly. “If I don’t do something really wicked soon, I’ll get kicked out of the club. I only have until sunset tomorrow.”

“So you brought Crown Prince Jorillarn to the Enchanted Forest, intending to abandon him here,” Mendanbar said.

“Actually, it was my idea,” the Crown Prince put in. “After the other thing didn’t work out, we needed to think of something fast.”

“Other thing?” said Telemain, fascinated.

Prince Rupert looked embarrassed. “I hired a giant to ravage a village by the eastern border. He was supposed to show up yesterday, and I was all ready to send the documentation in to the club when I got a letter of resignation saying he’d quit that line of work and wouldn’t be coming.”

Mendanbar and Cimorene exchanged looks.

“Did he say why?” Cimorene asked.

“No, just that he’d done enough pillaging for one giant, thank you all the same, and now he was going to try something new.”

“So I said Uncle Rupert should abandon me in the woods,” Jorillarn said. “That’s much more wicked than hiring a giant, isn’t it? And I’d get to have some adventures, too, instead of sitting home while Mother and Father are off on their quest. Only first we couldn’t find the forest, and then we got chased by some wizards, and then we found the forest just in time and lost the wizards, except we got lost, too, and Uncle Rupert wouldn’t leave. And then we were captured by a witch and she brought us here. Are you going to throw us in a dungeon?”

“What was that part about
wizards?”
Mendanbar demanded.

“I thought you’d be interested,” Morwen said with considerable satisfaction.

“But that was
before
we got to the Enchanted Forest,” Prince Rupert said in a bewildered tone. “Why would the King of the Enchanted Forest be interested in that?”

“Never mind,” said Mendanbar. “Just tell me what happened.”

“Well, we were just coming out of the old Pass of the Dragons,” Prince Rupert said. “It cuts straight through the Mountains of Morning to the Enchanted
Forest, and hardly anyone uses it these days, so I thought it would be a good choice. Only things must have changed, because when we came out of the pass we were in a wasteland, and not in the Enchanted Forest at all.”

Mendanbar, Telemain, and Cimorene looked at each other. “Describe this wasteland,” Mendanbar said.

^,,
It was—it was bare,” Rupert told him. “Um, well, bare. No grass or trees or anything. Just . . . just . . .”

“Just bare,” Cimorene finished for him. “Did it look burned?”

“Yes, now that you mention it. I didn’t examine it closely, you understand, because that was when the wizards came out of the cave and chased us off.”

“We had to run for
miles,”
Crown Prince Jorillam said with relish. “They almost caught us.”

“It was a long way, but it wasn’t
miles,”
his uncle corrected. “And they lost us as soon as we got to the trees.”

The forest must have shifted,
thought Mendanbar.
Good for
it
. “Thank you very much,” he said aloud. “You’ve been very helpful.”

“We have?” Prince Rupert said.

“Does that mean you’re not going to throw us in a dungeon?” asked Crown Prince Jorillam, sounding disappointed.

“Not at all,” Mendanbar said. “Willin, after we’re gone, see that His Royal Highness, here, is made comfortable in one of the dungeons. The one under the North-Northwest Tower, I think.” Mendanbar smiled to himself, thinking that it might do the overeager young prince good to climb up and down six flights of stairs to get what he wanted, and it certainly wouldn’t do him any harm.