Searching for Dragons

by Patricia C. Wrede

  “I still don’t see—”

  “The caves are the source of many of the ingredients we use in our spells,” Zemenar broke in once more. “They are also the only place it is possible to make certain items we need for our research.” He paused and blinked, fingering his staff with one hand as if he thought there might be a rough spot somewhere along it and he was trying to find it without attracting attention. “We—the Society of Wizards—must have some way of entering the caves.”

  “Go on.” Mendanbar tried not to sound as irritated as he felt. He did not like Zemenar’s lecturing tone, he was tired of being interrupted, and he still did not see what the Society’s dispute with the dragons had to do with him. On top of that, the invisible threads of magic were moving toward Zemenar’s staff again, almost as if something were sucking them in. Mendanbar yanked at them hard, wishing he could do the same to the Head Wizard.

  “That is where you come in, Your Majesty,” Zemenar said. He sounded vaguely confused, as if he were trying to concentrate on two things at once. “You, ah, could be of great use . . . that is, you could help us enormously.”

  “How?” The strands of magic were gliding toward the staff more quickly than ever. Mendanbar could see that if he kept pulling at them he would soon be unable to pay attention to anything else. He thought for a moment, while Zemenar rambled, then he took hold of a fat, invisible cord and with a swift gesture threw it in a loop around Zemenar. The loop hovered three feet from the Head Wizard in all directions, spinning slowly. Other cords floated toward it and glanced off before they came anywhere near Zemenar or his staff. Mendanbar smiled slightly.

  The Head Wizard broke off his speech in midsentence. “What was that?” he demanded.

  “I beg your pardon,” Mendanbar said with dignity. “As the ruler of the Enchanted Forest, there are sometimes matters that require my immediate attention. I have dealt with this one.”

  Zemenar frowned, plainly taken aback. “You have? But I didn’t sense any spell—” He stopped short, staring at Mendanbar in consternation.

  “You would not,” Mendanbar said in an offhand manner. Inwardly, he smiled. Apparently wizards could feel normal spell-casting, but they could not sense Mendanbar’s way of doing magic. He wondered why no one had ever mentioned it. Undetectable spells could be a big advantage, if he ever had trouble with the Society of Wizards. “It was not exactly a spell, just something to do with the forest forces. It need not concern you.”

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” Zemenar said after a long pause. “If I may continue?”

  “Please do.”

  “What we are asking is that you allow the wizards of our society to enter the Caves of Fire and Night from the Enchanted Forest,” Zemenar said. “There is a way in somewhere along your eastern border, I believe.”

  “Yes, but it doesn’t stay put,” Mendanbar pointed out. “Nothing in the Enchanted Forest does, at least, not for long.”

  “It’s always in the same general area, though,” Zemenar said confidently. “We’re willing to take whatever time is needed to find it.”

  Mendanbar thought of the enormous number of knots and tangles that the wizards would cause while they wandered around looking for the entrance to the caves, and he could barely suppress a shudder. “What about the dragons?”

  “If you have no authority over them, they can have none over your gateway into the Caves of Fire and Night,” Zemenar said, watching Mendanbar closely with his hard, bright eyes.

  “That’s not what I meant.” Mendanbar paused, pretending to consider. “I think I must refuse your request, temporarily at least,” he said in as judicious a tone as he could manage. “I have certain . . . differences of my own to settle with the King of the Dragons at the moment. From what you say, the dragons would object if I let your wizards into the Caves of Fire and Night, and I do not want to make my discussion with them any more difficult than it is likely to be already. I hope you understand.”

  “Ah.” A fleeting expression of satisfaction flicked across Zemenar’s face. “I am sorry to hear that you, too, are having trouble with dragons. I hope you will be able to settle things suitably. They are sly creatures, you know, and one can never tell what they are thinking.”

  The same thing could be said about the Head Wizard of the Society of Wizards, thought Mendanbar. “Thank you for your kind wishes,” he said aloud.

  “If you would like our assistance, the Society of Wizards would be happy to advise you,” Zemenar said with a smile. “We have had a great deal of experience with dragons over the years.”

  “I appreciate the offer,” Mendanbar replied cautiously. He did not want to offend the Head Wizard, but he doubted that the wizards’ advice would help him much. After all, they seemed to be having more trouble with dragons than he was.

  “Have you met the new King of the Dragons or her princess?” the Head Wizard went on.

  “No, I—princess?” Mendanbar forgot his misgivings in a wave of surprised dismay. “The King of the Dragons has a princess?”

  “She does indeed,” Zemenar said. There was a faint frown in his eyes, and his fingers were stroking his staff again. “She’s a real troublemaker, too—the princess, I mean. Our misunderstanding with the dragons is all her fault.”

  “Oh, lord,” Mendanbar said. He raised a hand to run his fingers through his hair and remembered just in time that he was wearing his circlet. “And King Kazul listens to her?”

  “Certainly. Most of the dragons do, now. Cimorene is quite the power behind the throne in the Mountains of Morning.”

  There was a sneer in Zemenar’s voice, along with a good deal of suppressed anger. Mendanbar couldn’t blame him. He’d had enough trouble with princesses himself to know the type. Cimorene must be one of the beautiful, empty-headed, ambitious bores whose only talents were the ability to stare innocently with their blue eyes and a knack for wrapping people—or, in Cim­orene’s case, dragons—around their fragile fingers. She was probably too stupid to realize how much trouble her manipulations caused, but if she did notice she probably liked having the power to produce turmoil.

  “Oh, lord,” Mendanbar repeated. Why hadn’t Morwen warned him? Well, he had to talk to Kazul, one way or another. Perhaps Morwen had heard about his aversion to princesses and hadn’t wanted to give him any reason to put off the visit. Mendanbar looked at Zemenar, completely in charity with the wizard for the first time. “Thank you for telling me.”

  “You’re very welcome,” Zemenar said. “You will let me know how things go, won’t you? And do remember that the Society of Wizards will be happy to give you whatever help you may need. It’s in our own interest, after all. The sooner you get this little matter settled, the sooner you’ll be able to reconsider our request about the Caves of Fire and Night.”

  “Yes, certainly,” Mendanbar said. “Is that all, then? I’ll have Willin show you out.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” Zemenar gave Mendanbar a smile that set Mendanbar’s teeth on edge. “I am a wizard, after all. Good day, Your Majesty.”

  Zemenar bowed and was suddenly and completely gone. No, not completely; Mendanbar could feel a lump of magic in the center of the looping spell where Zemenar had been standing. Mendanbar frowned. He might appreciate Zemenar’s warning about Kazul’s Princess, but that was no reason for the wizard to go leaving leftover bits of magic in his castle.

  Mendanbar reached for the loop, to undo it, and paused. As long as he was at home, he might as well do this the easy way. He twitched a different strand of magic, and the audience chamber dissolved around him.

  He materialized in the cool darkness of the castle armory. Lighting the wall torches with another twitch of the magic threads, he looked around. Willin had been hard at work since the last time Mendanbar had visited the armory. Most of the swords and shields that had been piled in one corner or another were now hanging in neat pairs on the walls. Extra swords, spears, maces, lances, and knives hung in closely spaced rows higher up. The effect was
almost decorative. Mendanbar made a mental note to compliment Willin, then turned his attention toward the wooden chests along the far wall.

  The one he wanted was in the center. He reached into his pocket for the key and realized he had left it in his desk. He sighed and snapped his fingers. With a small pop, the key appeared in the air level with his nose and fell into his palm. Mendanbar smiled at it and bent to open the chest. Willin was always after him to have a proper set of keys made for the various doors and drawers and chests and hiding places in the castle, but Mendanbar couldn’t see any reason to waste the effort when the Key to the Castle was all you needed to open any lock in the place.

  It wasn’t as if Willin needed a spell to call the Key, either, Mendanbar thought as he lifted the lid of the chest. The Key had its own magic. As long as it was inside the castle, it came to whoever called it. Willin just wanted to puff up his own consequence by carrying a big bunch of keys jangling at his belt. Mendanbar looked down and forgot about Willin.

  There was only one thing in the chest: a sword, gleaming in the torchlight. It was very plain, almost ordinary-looking, and it didn’t have an air of magic about it at all, though anyone who looked at it closely would notice that it shone too brightly and had too sharp an edge to be an ordinary sword. Mendanbar reached in and took the hilt in his hand with a sigh of satisfaction. In the air around him, the unseen strands of power hummed in response, for this sword was linked to the warp and weft of the Enchanted Forest in ways no one, not even the Kings of the Enchanted Forest, really understood. Mendanbar always felt better when he had the sword with him, but he couldn’t wear it around the castle all the time. It made Willin unhappy and visitors nervous. So he kept the sword in the armory unless he could think of an excuse to use it.

  Rising, he swung the sword twice, just for fun. Then he hunted around until he found a sword belt and scabbard, put the sword in the sheath, and buckled the belt around his waist. With another wave of his hand, he was back in the audience chamber.

  5

  In Which There Is a Misunderstanding and Mendanbar Does Some Plumbing

  THE AWKWARD LUMP OF WIZARD-MAGIC was right where Mendanbar had left it. He studied it for a moment, then drew his sword.

  “Your Majesty!” said Willin from the doorway. “What are you doing?”

  “Cleaning up after our visitor,” Mendanbar replied. “Do be quiet for a minute, Willin. I need to concentrate.”

  “But—”

  Mendanbar shot an irritated look at Willin. The castle steward broke off and closed his mouth into a thin, disapproving line. Mendanbar waited half a moment longer to make sure the elf was not going to say anything else, then turned back to the lump. Raising the sword, he reached over the loop of Enchanted Forest magic and stuck the point into the center of the mass.

  A surge of power ran through the sword as it sucked up the wizard’s leftovers and sent them to reinforce the invisible network of Enchanted Forest magic. The surge was stronger than Mendanbar had expected, and he frowned as he lifted the sword away from the now-empty space and put it back in its sheath. Perhaps it hadn’t been extra, unused magic, after all; perhaps Zemenar had deliberately left a spell behind. It was too late to test it now, though. The sword was thorough, and whatever the lump had been, it was now gone for good.

  “Your Majesty?”

  Willin’s voice sounded much more tentative than it had a moment before. Mendanbar almost smiled, but Willin was sure to get upset if he thought he was being laughed at. So Mendanbar kept his face stiff and took a little longer than necessary to undo the loop he had left to guard the wizard’s magic. When he was positive that his expression was normal, he turned.

  “Yes, Willin?”

  “What was all that about? Has my lord the Head Wizard gone? Why are you wearing your sword? What—”

  “One thing at a time,” Mendanbar interrupted gently. “Zemenar has gone, yes. He cast a vanishing spell, and a very good one, too. No smoke, no whirling dust, just poof and he was gone. Unfortunately, he wasn’t as tidy with the end of his spell, and some of it got left behind. Or at least, that’s what I thought until I got rid of it a minute ago.”

  “I . . . see,” Willin said in a tone that meant he didn’t. “And that’s why you have your sword?”

  “Partly.” Mendanbar looked at the empty patch of floor where the wizard had been, then shook his head. Whatever Zemenar might have been up to, it would have to wait. “I have to pay a visit to the King of the Dragons.”

  Willin’s face went completely blank. “You what?”

  “I’m going to the Mountains of Morning, to see the King of the Dragons,” Mendanbar repeated. “And I’m certainly not going without a sword. There are lots of dangerous creatures in those mountains, and some of them wouldn’t care that I’m the King of the Enchanted Forest, even if they bothered to stop for an introduction before they attacked.”

  “But you can’t just leave, Your Majesty!” Willin said. “A formal embassy to the King of the Dragons will take weeks to arrange. You’ll want a full escort, and—”

  “I don’t think there’s time,” Mendanbar broke in, before Willin could get too involved in planning. “Something’s come up, and it needs to be dealt with now. So I’m going today, in another minute, and you’re in charge of the castle until I get back.” In a sudden inspiration, Mendanbar pulled the Key to the Castle out of his pocket and handed it ceremoniously to Willin.

  “I am deeply honored by Your Majesty’s confidence,” Willin said. “But are you sure this is necessary?”

  “Yes,” Mendanbar said. “Oh, and don’t let any wizards in while I’m gone. Something funny is going on, and I don’t want any of them inside the castle until I figure out what, especially if I’m not here.”

  “But what should I tell them, if they ask for you?”

  “I don’t care, as long as you don’t let them in,” Mendanbar replied. “Is that all? Then I’m going.”

  He took hold of a strand of magic and pulled. When the misty whiteness cleared away, he was standing among the trees of the Enchanted Forest just outside the castle. With a bit more care, he chose another magic thread and pulled again, harder. This time, he appeared at the very edge of the forest, where the Mountains of Morning began. Two paces in front of him, the vibrant green moss stopped as if it had been sliced away, and the dry gray rock began. He checked to make sure this was the right place—Morwen’s directions had been very specific—and then, reluctantly, stepped over the boundary.

  Mendanbar had not left the Enchanted Forest for over three years, not since he had become King, and he had forgotten how very barren everything felt outside. He could still sense the free-floating network of magic behind him, but where he stood, the air was empty. Thin grass and scrubby bushes grew in patches wherever dirt had accumulated in low spots and cracks and corners. Ahead, the mountains rose high and sharp and dead. Many magical creatures lived here, but the Mountains of Morning had no magic of their own. Mendanbar could feel the emptiness where the magic should have been, and he shivered in spite of himself.

  “At least I don’t have to worry about finding Kazul,” he told himself. “As long as I don’t get my directions mixed up, I should be able to walk straight to her cave.” He smiled suddenly. “And it will still be there when I get to it!” That was worth something. And he still had some of the magic of the Enchanted Forest along with him in the form of his sword. Even through the sheath, Mendanbar could feel the reassuring pulse of power.

  “Well, there’s no sense in putting it off.” He shrugged, took a last look back at his forest, and started walking.

  Once he got used to the dry, dead, magicless feel of the mountains, Mendanbar actually enjoyed the walk. Much as he loved the Enchanted Forest, he had to admit that it was nice to see so much sky. Since dragons liked high places, the walk was mostly uphill, but that was fun, too. With no trees to block the view, Mendanbar could see for miles, and the higher he got, the more he could see. The hills in the Enchanted
Forest tended to be either low, rolling bumps that you hardly noticed, or steep mounds that were usually home to something dangerous, or magical, or both. Most of the latter were made of something strange, too—jasper or polished coal or solid silver. There was even one made of glass somewhere along the southern edge of the forest. Some king had built it in order to get rid of his daughter.

  Daughter. King’s daughter. Princess! Mendanbar’s good mood vanished. He’d forgotten about Kazul’s princess.

  “And I’ll have to be particularly polite to her, no matter how irritating she is,” he reminded himself gloomily. If she had as much influence as Zemenar hinted, she could make things very difficult if she took a dislike to him. He wondered why Kazul had kept her. The King of the Dragons didn’t normally bother with a princess, or at least, Mendanbar had never before heard of one who did.

  He came around a curve and saw the mouth of a cave in front of him. There was a wide, flat, sandy space in front of the cave, big enough for several dragons to land at the same time, if they were careful about it. The mountain rose straight up behind the cave mouth. Set in the stone over the center of the opening was an outline of a spiky black crown.

  As Mendanbar drew nearer, he saw a tarnished brass handle sticking out of a small hole beside the cave. The handle was level with his waist, and next to it was a sign that read: “WELCOME TO THE CAVE OF THE DRAGON KING. Pull handle to ring bell.” On the line below, someone had added in neat letters printed in bright red paint, “ABSOLUTELY NO wizards, salespeople, or rescuers. This means YOU.”

  Mendanbar stared at the sign for a minute and began to smile. No wonder Zemenar didn’t like Kazul’s princess. Well, he wasn’t a wizard, he wasn’t selling anything, and he certainly didn’t want to rescue anybody. He gave the handle a pull.

  Somewhere inside the cave, a bell rang. “Well, it’s about time,” said a woman’s voice, and Mendanbar’s heart sank. He heard footsteps coming toward the mouth of the cave, and the same voice continued, “I was hoping you’d get here before I left. The sink is—”