by Dealing
“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 of 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 dose 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 buttonshaped 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.
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 thegrass 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.”
Alianora curtsied, murmuring something polite and inaudible. Antorell, who had stiffened in surprise when he realized that Cimorene was not alone, relaxed visibly. “Woraug’s princess? That’s all right, then. Though he really shouldn’t have sent you.”
“But Woraug didn’t—ow!” said Alianora. The “ow” was because Cimorene had hastily kicked her ankle to keep her from telling Antorell too much.
“Didn’t what?” Antorell asked, frowning suspiciously.
“Didn’t know you were going to be here,” Cimorene said.
“Well, of course he didn’t know!” Antorell said, looking annoyed. “That’s the whole point, after all.”
Cimorene would have very much liked to ask him what the point was, but she was afraid it would make him suspicious again. “I don’t understand,” she said instead, batting her eyes at him.
“Of course not,” Antorell replied in a condescending tone that made Cimorene’s teeth hurt. “But it doesn’t matter. I’m not annoyed with you.”
“I’m so glad,” Cimorene murmured.
Antorell gave her an oily smile. “In fact, there’s no need for you to tell Woraug that you met me here.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Cimorene said with perfect truth.
“Excellent,” Antorell said. “Then may I escort the two of you back to the path?”
Alianora looked hopefully in Cimorene’s direction.
“But we can’t leave yet,” Cimorene said, opening her eyes very wide. “We haven’t picked any cornflowers or daisies.” Behind her, she heard Alianora making a smothered, choking noise, as if she were trying very hard not to laugh.
“Daisies,” Antorell said in a flat, incredulous tone “You want to stay and pick daisies?”
Cimorene nodded vigorously. “And cornflowers, and flax, and all sorts of things,” she said, waving her hand at the flowers blooming all around. “They’ll look so pretty in a bowl of water in the kitchen.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Antorell said. He looked as if he would have liked to object, but couldn’t think of anything to object to. “Perhaps I could help you?” he said reluctantly.
“Oh, we wouldn’t dream of keeping you,” Cimorene said.
Antorell was clearly reluctant to leave the two girls in the valley, but Cimorene did not give him much choice. After another minute or so of conversation, the wizard was forced to go. He did not use a vanishing spell but trudged away on foot. Cimorene watched him until he was out of sight among the bushes, wondering whether he had some special reason not to use spells in the valley or whether he simply didn’t know the right spells to make himself vanish.
“That’s a relief!” Alianora said. “Why did you insist on staying when it was so obvious that he wanted us to leave? I was afraid he was going to turn us into toads or something.”
“I wanted to see what he was up to,” Cimorene said. “And I don’t think Antorell is a very good wizard. He probably couldn’t manage anything worse than a squirrel.”
Alianora did not appear to find this very reassuring. Cimorene checked to make sure Antorell was out of sight, then went over to the place where he had been standing when she peered around the bush. At first she did not notice anything unusual. Then she saw a purplish plant oozing sap from the places where several of its spiky, saw-toothed leaves had been broken off.
“Look at this.”
“What is it?” Alianora asked.
“I don’t know,” Cimorene said absently. “I saw a couple of other plants like this while we were picking feverfew, but I thought they were just weeds.”
“Maybe it is a weed.”
“A wizard wouldn’t sneak into the dragons’ section of the Mountains of Morning just to pick weeds. They don’t even use herbs to cast spells, so what does Antorell want with this prickly looking thing?”
Alianora shrugged. “Maybe he needs it for something he can’t do with magic.”
“I wonder what that would be?” Cimorene reached out and
carefully broke off a spray of leaves. She wrapped them in her handkerchief and put the packet in her pocket. “Let’s see if we can find out whether he picked anything else.”
Antorell had left a dark trail of bent and broken plants to mark the way he had come, so his path was easy to follow. Cimorene and Alianora searched carefully along it for some way, looking for signs that the wizard had picked other herbs, but neither of them saw any.
“I don’t think there’s anything to find,” Alianora said, pushing her apricot-colored hair out of her face. “And it’s getting awfully warm.”
“Have you noticed that there aren’t any of those purple plants along here?” Cimorene said. “I’ll bet that was all he wanted.”
“Then let’s leave before that wizard thinks to circle around to check on what we’re doing,” Alianora urged.
Cimorene doubted that Antorell would think of doing such a thing, but she nodded agreement, and the two girls left the valley. Alianora was quiet and thoughtful for most of the walk back to Kazul’s cave. Cimorene was grateful for her silence. She had a lot to think about herself. From what Antorell had said, it seemed likely that Woraug was helping the wizards somehow, or at least that he had known what Antorell was looking for in the little valley. Cimorene found it difficult to imagine a dragon helping a wizard, but she couldn’t say with certainty that it was impossible. And if Woraug was involved with Antorell and Zemenar, it might explain why he had been so touchy lately.
* * *
When they arrived back at the cave, Cimorene shook herself free of her preoccupation. She and Alianora unloaded their baskets and tied the herbs in bunches to hang in a dark comer of the kitchen to dry.
“How long will it be before I can use the feverfew?” Alianora asked worriedly.
“I’m not sure,” Cimorene said in a considering tone. “It will take at least a week to dry thoroughly, but you might be able to use it in the spell before then. The directions don’t say how dry the feverfew has to be. We could try it every day with a pinch of leaves from one of these bunches if you like.”
