A green stone marked the path beside an arch that led to a steep tunnel hewn from the rock. The passage was too neat and precise to be natural. Yes, and it had steps in it, here and there.
And it ended abruptly, blocked by a pile of rubble that went all the way to the ceiling.
It must have caved in at some point in the last three hundred years.
Chantel picked up a slab of fallen rock and, with considerable effort and pinched fingers, moved it. There was an ominous rumbling, and several other slabs shifted and slid toward her. She jumped back. The passage had collapsed before and could collapse again. She hurried back down the human-made passageway.
Chantel loved swimming. It was almost like flying. But she didn’t much care for being underwater.
Nonetheless, all the girls and Franklin practiced diving deep, and staying under as long as they could. Chantel disliked the feel of the water pressing in on her, and being so far down frightened her.
But she was desperate to find out what was happening in the city. And so she swam deeper and deeper, searching for the entrance to the underwater tunnel.
She groped in the darkness. Her ears rang and she saw deep red flashes at the corners of her eyes. And something moved toward her . . .
“Are you summoning me for a third time, sorceress?” Queen Haywith’s voice rippled through the water.
“No!” said Chantel, her voice coming out in bubbles. “I mean, no, thank you. Not yet. Go away, please, and when—if I need you, come again. Thank you.”
She was out of air. She fought her way to the surface.
She hadn’t found the tunnel, and the thought of being trapped in it terrified her. She was going to have to wait for Lightning to wake up.
Chantel had never seen Anna so excited about anything as she was about inventing the new Buttoning. The other girls caught the excitement from her, and they worked for hours on end, practicing new signs and new combinations of magical ingredients.
There would be no drawing signs on the cobbles with their feet. The cobbles were deep underwater.
Chantel told the others how she’d felt the interconnectedness of the switches, and the whole wall. If the girls worked all the spells from a rooftop near Dimswitch, and if Chantel herself touched the wall, it might be enough.
When Chantel wasn’t working on the spell, she taught Franklin to read. He was quite disagreeable about it at first, which Chantel supposed she could understand. After all, even the smallest girls could read. It must be embarrassing.
And they explored the caves. Anna sent the younger girls to look for a magical ingredient she said was called amberat, which she insisted could be found sticking into crooked crannies in the upper regions of the cave.
“It’s crystallized pack rat urine,” Anna explained.
The girls howled in gleeful disgust and went running off in search of it.
“Does it really exist?” Chantel asked skeptically. Anna had gotten good at coming up with distractions to keep the girls from running amok.
“Oh yes,” said Anna. “Could you go after them and make sure they don’t fall into anything?”
Chantel went, but slowly. Most of the things to fall into—shafts and potholes and the like—were in the lower, more distant regions of the cave, the ones that hadn’t been worked on by humans.
She wandered off along the green-stone path to think. Weirdly, she didn’t see the round chamber with the painting of the robed men and women. It seemed to have disappeared. She went up through the royal chambers to the rubble that blocked the passage. She looked at it.
What was going on up above? Had the city fallen? Were the streets even now running with blood?
There was no way to know. There was nothing she could do.
She went to help the little girls gather amberat.
The spell still had to be done at dawn, Anna insisted. The rising sun strengthened spells of opening and closing.
At last the dragon woke. Chantel told him about the collapsed passage up to the castle.
“We were wondering if maybe you could help us dig it out,” said Chantel. “If you please.”
The dragon gave a huge yawn, showing a flame-lit throat which could have swallowed Chantel whole. “Help?” he asked, sounding amused.
And of course it wasn’t help. Lightning did all the work, and the girls and Franklin kept well back as he flung rocks.
Chantel hoped it wasn’t too late to save the city.
They packed up all their magical equipment and ingredients. And they followed the end of Lightning’s tail as he snaked his way up through passages that began to look more and more like a part of the city of Lightning Pass, until finally they came out in the castle cellars, deep inside Castle Rock.
The castle cellars were very ancient, and had several layers, starting with sub-sub-sub-basements. The children passed through dungeons where long-forgotten skeletons were manacled to the wall, and Chantel was uncomfortably reminded of fiends. They passed through an armory, stripped bare of everything except broken swords, leather armor that came to pieces in their hands, and a battle-ax with only half a head.
On the next level up there were storerooms . . . these were better stocked. There were barrels of wine and ale, and of flour, and even sugar. There were jugs of honey and bins of potatoes and vegetables. All the things, in fact, that you couldn’t get anymore in the markets of Lightning Pass.
Following the dragon, Chantel and the others climbed the last steep stone staircase out of the basements. They emerged into a tiled hallway. Everything was quiet. Either the city was still unconquered, or . . . Chantel clenched her fists.
There was the painting of Queen Haywith, inexplicably red-haired, being driven from the city by dogs.
They moved as quietly as they could along the deserted corridor. Nonetheless, the dragon’s claws and scales rattled against the tiles, and their own feet echoed loudly in the night stillness. Chantel kept expecting someone to cry “Halt!”
Where was everyone?
They reached the front door of the castle. The great iron hinges creaked horribly. Outside, the moon was full and the night was cold. Chantel guessed it might be halfway between midnight and dawn.
Lightning stepped out onto Castle Peak. And before Chantel could say anything to stop him, he took flight. Chantel watched him soar away over the city.
Meanwhile, the king’s mother sat on a small stool, knitting in the cold moonlight.
24
IN WHICH JUST ONE THING GOES VERY BADLY WRONG
Lady Moonlorn looked up sharply. “So! It’s you again! And how did you get into the castle, eh?”
“We came in by the back way,” said Chantel, curtseying briefly.
She looked down over the city. There were lights here and there in the higher neighborhoods. Down in the lower city, there were many more lights. Some of them were moving. She thought she could see torches reflecting off the floodwaters. A battle? No, it was too quiet for that. Men preparing for battle?
“There is no back way.” Lady Moonlorn reached the end of a row, and set her knitting aside. “Did you just see a dragon? It is not real, you know. It is a symbol of the city’s power, which is to say, my son’s power.”
Lightning was coasting over Seven Buttons. Chantel could feel a connection to him in her mind.
“There are a great many of you,” said Lady Moonlorn. “The king wishes to have you under his protection. You will place yourselves in my care.”
“What’s going on down there?” Chantel asked.
“My son is handling matters,” said Lady Moonlorn repressively.
“It looks like they’re massing to defend the wall near Dimswitch,” Franklin muttered, too low for the king’s mother to hear. “Karl the Bloody’s forces must be attacking there.”
Chantel and Anna looked at each other. They’d intended to take the smallest girls, those too young to help with the spell, down into the city with them. This now struck Chantel as too dangerous. But leaving them wit
h the king’s mother, as hostages, was out of the question.
“Couldn’t you stay here with them, Franklin?” Anna asked.
“No,” said Franklin firmly. “I have to—” He looked down at the ground. “I have to do something.”
“It’ll have to be Miss Flivvers, then,” said Chantel. “Can you just wait with them till I get her please? Then we’ll go to the battle.”
Franklin assented, grumbling.
“What do you think you’re talking about?” Lady Moonlorn demanded. “Battle? You? My son is in charge of defending the city. Do you think my son is a coward?”
Chantel thought about this. “I’m not sure.”
The old woman scowled. “It was a rhetorical question, girl. You’ll stay here. My son will deal with you when he returns.”
“Where is he?” said Chantel.
“That’s not your concern. Nonetheless, I shall tell you, lest you doubt his courage. He is in the Hall of Patriarchs, renamed the Hall of Kings, and he is commanding the forces that defend the city.”
Chantel looked out over the city. Torchlight broke the darkness here and there, especially in the lower city. Lights reflected off the floodwaters, which seemed to cover much more of the city than before. And outside the walls, she could see the glow from the Marauders’ watchfires.
“It’s strange the people haven’t come to the castle,” said Franklin, beside her.
“Why would they?” said Chantel.
“For safety,” said Franklin. “It’s the whole point of castles.”
“I wonder if they’ve had a Contentedness spell put on them,” said Anna.
Chantel watched Lightning’s distant shape, like a shadow sliding across the ground.
“Come back, Lightning,” she said softly.
And the dragon turned slowly and gracefully, and rode the wind back up to the Castle Peak.
Lightning and Chantel delivered the girls who were going to do the spell to a flat rooftop near Dimswitch. Franklin stayed at the castle minding the little girls, with a very bad attitude and instructions to head back down to the dragon’s lair at the first sign of trouble.
It was still more than an hour before dawn when Chantel banged on the roof door of Miss Ellicott’s School for Magical Maidens.
She had to bang a long time before she heard footsteps on the ladder and a tremulous voice on the other side quavered “Go away!”
“Miss Flivvers, it’s me.”
There was a long pause. Then came the brassy rattle of bolts being shot back, and the door creaked open.
“Oh, it really is you,” said Miss Flivvers. She peered out, saw Lightning, and nearly fell down the ladder.
“It’s all right. It’s only Japheth,” Chantel lied.
Miss Flivvers stared at the dragon. “Where are the girls?”
“The littlest ones are up at the castle,” said Chantel hurriedly. “The king’s not there—”
“He’s down overseeing the defense of the city, of course,” said Miss Flivvers. “They say the Marauders have nearly breached the crack at Dimswitch. It could fall at any moment.” She seemed to recollect herself, and added, “But our king is doing everything for the best.”
Yes, definitely a Contentedness spell. Chantel could feel wisps of it in the air.
Miss Flivvers was still staring at the dragon. “The littlest ones are at the castle . . . Where are the others?”
“They’re safe,” said Chantel. If you could call standing on a rooftop in the midst of a flood, just one damaged wall away from masses of invaders, safe. “Can you get on the dragon please, Miss Flivvers? I’m in a hurry.”
Miss Flivvers, who was afraid of mice and cockroaches and almost anything with more than two legs, went on staring.
“You’ll be safer up at the castle,” Chantel said. “They—well, the invaders will get there last, anyway.”
That seemed to convince Miss Flivvers. She allowed Chantel to help her onto the dragon’s back, and they flew up to Castle Peak.
Chantel hurriedly whispered to the little girls that if things looked bad, if the Sunbiters got through Seven Buttons, they were to go to the dragon’s lair at once. If Miss Flivvers wouldn’t go, they should go without her.
And she climbed back on the dragon, and Franklin climbed up behind her, and they took off into the early morning twilight.
A stench rose from the flood—of dirty water, and rot, and dead things. Chantel tried to breathe through her mouth.
The scene in the lower city was chaotic.
The water had climbed to the top of Seven Buttons. Chantel was glad the girls could all swim now, although the water was so foul and dark, and so crammed with boats and rafts manned by soldiers and guardsmen, that falling in could still be disastrous.
They went to the roof where the girls, hidden by an abnegation, were getting ready to do magic. The girls were calm and serious. They used light-globes as they sorted their ingredients, practiced the new signs one last time . . .
“Chantel, it might still work if you stayed here,” said Anna.
“No, I’m going to the wall. There’s more chance of it working if I’m touching Dimswitch.”
Anna nodded. It was true.
“If it all goes wrong,” said Chantel, “head for the castle if you can. Don’t wait for me. I’ll . . . I’ll follow.”
“It won’t go wrong,” said Anna. She clenched her jaw. “It . . . ” She swallowed, and hugged Chantel. “Just remember you’re a Mage of the Dragon.”
Chantel nodded. She turned to Franklin. “You should stay here and . . .”
“No,” said Franklin. “If my father gets through . . . Well, anyway, I’m coming with you. There’s . . . something I need to do.”
Lightning was waiting patiently, treading water beside the rooftop, sending out waves.
They climbed on his back and he dragon-paddled through the lapping waters. All around them bobbed boats and rafts, full of boy-soldiers and sentinels silhouetted black against the sky. Chantel could see them pointing and muttering. They weren’t sure if Lightning was a good omen or a bad one.
“Hurry, Lightning, please,” Chantel urged. “We’re supposed to do the spell at dawn.”
A boat cut across their path. It was full of soldiers. Lightning started to swim around it.
“Halt!” called the sentinel standing in the bow.
Lightning swam on. Nobody tells dragons to halt.
“Chantel! Wait!” cried a voice from the boat.
Chantel’s heart leapt. “Wait, Lightning! It’s Bowser!”
The dragon stopped, with something of a shrug, and trod water.
Bowser stood up, making the boat rock. “Chantel, listen! The king wants—”
“His Majesty requires,” said a sentinel, casting a nervous glance at Lightning, “that the girl Chantel and the boy Franklin put themselves at his disposal immediately.”
“Bowser!” Chantel called. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”
Bowser goggled at the dragon. He blinked. Then he remembered Chantel. “The king’s been keeping me close. To get you to come to him.” There was a note of warning in his voice.
“But he had me locked up!” said Chantel.
“He must’ve known you’d get out. Everyone knew. There’s been talk.”
“Even with the Contentedness spell?”
Bowser frowned. “Is that what it is? I knew there was something weird. Anyway, people have been asking questions, about the dragon and—”
Bowser trailed off as one of the guards gave him an angry shake.
“Well, the king shouldn’t worry,” said Chantel. “I’m going to do the Buttoning. That’s what he wants. And I have to do it right now, because—”
“It’s not all he wants,” said Bowser.
“Oh goodness no,” said another voice from the boat. “No more spells on the wall, please. You’d better talk to the king.”
Chantel recognized Mr. Less, sitting among the guards. She could make out his c
urlicue mustache in the growing light.
He nodded a greeting. “Miss Flivvers is well, I hope?”
“About as usual,” said Chantel.
“Such a brave woman,” said Mr. Less, without apparent sarcasm.
“If we don’t do the spell now,” said Chantel, “the wall is going to collapse from the weight of all this water. It’s already been weakened, and—”
A guard interrupted. “You had better not do a spell without the permission of the king.”
“He already forbade the sorceresses to try it again,” said Bowser. “Because they’ve done so much damage already. And it kept raining and the floods kept rising. He’s got some of them trying to open the city gates now.”
“They can’t do that! If they open the gates, all the water will rush out and people in the harbor will drown!” Chantel thought of the kind woman and her daughter.
“Perhaps you’d care to come and tell him that yourself?” said the clerk.
The sky was growing lighter still. The sun would rise very soon.
“No. I’m going to do the spell. It didn’t work before because—”
A huge stone, flung by the Sunbiters’ catapult, came sailing overhead. It crashed down into the water, causing an enormous wave. The boats and rafts pitched and rolled. Some capsized; Chantel heard the cries of people tumbling into the water.
“It didn’t work because I wasn’t helping!” Chantel shouted. There was no time for maidenly modesty. “I have to help with any great working because I’m the dragonbound sorceress now.”
“How very interesting. When did—”
“Mr. Less, there’s no time!” said Chantel. “Excuse me, but I have to go now!”
There was a rasp as several sentinels drew their swords.
“No!” said Bowser.
The dragon arched his neck, and Chantel could feel fire rumbling inside him.
“No!” Chantel told him. “I would not! Not Bowser!”
“Where is the king?” Franklin called suddenly.
“His Majesty is in the upper tower of the Hall. His Majesty must be kept safe,” said Mr. Less in neutral tones.
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