"The Affairs of Dragons" part 1 -- Morwen & Kazul, Enchanted Forest Chronicles, G
Title: The Affairs of Dragons
Author: Elizabeth Culmer (edenfalling)
Fandom: Enchanted Forest Chronicles
Rating: G
Prompt: #68 - The world is round, and the place which may seem like the end may also be the beginning. -- Ivy Baker Priest.
Summary: In which Morwen loses her house, meets a princess and a knight, does a favor for the king of the dragons, makes a new friend, and finds a new home, all within two days. This story uses some of my personal backstory for Morwen, but it should be perfectly comprehensible to anyone who's read Patricia C. Wrede's books... and, hopefully, even to people who haven't. Thanks to uminohikari and sirena_lune for the lightning-fast beta!
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The Affairs of Dragons, part 1
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The village of Tolchester lay on the banks of the Debatable River, just where it became navigable after the confusion of its underground journey through the Caves of Chance. Perhaps because of the oddness of their river, the people of Tolchester were extremely hidebound, insular, and defensive. They lived the same way their parents and grandparents and great-grandparents had lived, and they considered themselves much superior to any outsiders.
In retrospect, Morwen should never have agreed to be their village witch. But she had wanted so much to be like her Aunt Grizelda -- wanted to be out in the world, doing something useful, instead of hiding in the Academy or a remote tower and doing arcane research like Telemain -- and Tolchester had seemed so much like her home village of Splot that she'd refused to listen to her second and third thoughts until it was far too late.
Morwen landed her broom in a wide, shallow valley between two mountains and stretched, trying to work out the kinks and cramps of a nearly nine hour flight with only minimal breaks. Immediately, eight cats boiled out of the carrying baskets tied over the back of the broom, leapt to the ground, and flowed over the rocks and wildflowers, complaining in a cacophony of yowls and hisses.
A ninth cat uncoiled himself from Morwen's shoulders and began washing his cream and silver fur. "Please say we won't have to do this again tomorrow. I don't think I've ever been so miserable in my life, and I know Trouble and Scorn will raise havoc if you try to get them back into one of those baskets."
Morwen looked around with a critical eye. A small stream tumbled and meandered through the center of the valley, some of the plants were wild carrots, and the cats seemed to be enjoying themselves chasing rodents of some sort. She wouldn't want to live here -- for one thing, she had only a vague idea where 'here' was, and it was never wise to move into a new country without at least knowing whom it belonged to -- but it would do nicely as a camp for a few days.
"We'll have to fly on sooner or later, Jasper," she told the cat, "but not tomorrow and probably not the day after either. You can give the others the good news while I set up the tent."
Jasper dashed off at lightning speed.
Morwen unhooked the baskets from her broom and reached inside the left-hand one. They didn't look nearly large enough to hold four cats each, let alone anything else, but magic was wonderfully useful at circumventing physics. She fished around, concentrating, and pulled out a long, lumpy roll of canvas. Then she pulled out a bundle of metal poles, a coil of rope, four long stakes, and a hammer.
Morwen was a firm believer in being prepared. Camping in the wilderness was not something she'd ever wanted to do, but when the Tolchester village council had delivered the eviction notice two days ago, she'd refused to waste more than one hour on annoyance and worry before planning a way to leave that kept most of her possessions intact and that didn't involve begging her aunt for help.
Unfortunately, setting the tent up was more difficult than she'd expected. The cats drifted back, listened to her fuming at the fabric, the poles, and the stakes, and made sarcastic commentary. Morwen put up with them for nearly ten minutes before her temper snapped.
"If you don't have anything better to do, why don't some of you go hunt something that I can make into stew?" she asked, brushing sweaty hair from her face and glasses. She grimaced; she hated looking less than tidy.
The cats exchanged a complicated network of glances, and then all of them except Jasmine and Murgatroyd -- a small ginger queen and a black-and-white tomcat, respectively -- drifted away again.
"You should have transported the whole cottage instead of buying this thing," Murgatroyd remarked, lashing his tail as he stalked around the half-erected tent. "It's ridiculous."
"The cottage belongs to the village," Morwen explained as she twisted one of the collapsible poles, trying to get the two sections to join properly. "That's part of what it means to be a village witch -- you get a free house and free food in return for providing free spells, potions, and advice, and not turning your neighbors into mice."
"I still don't think that's fair," said Jasmine, ambling over to sniff at one of the corner stakes. "You lived there for over two years; that made it ours. Wherever we end up, you should buy a house instead of letting someone else have any hold over us."
"Believe me, I have no intention of working for anyone but myself ever again," Morwen said. That sort of bargain might work for some witches and some towns, but clearly Morwen was a failure compared to Aunt Grizelda, even accounting for the differences between Splot and Tolchester. She banged on the pole with her hammer until the two parts slid together with an audible click. "Ha! That's the last of those. Why don't you two tell the others I should have this finished in half an hour or so, barring any interruptions."
Jasmine coughed and twitched her tail. "We're in the Mountains of Morning and people have camped in this valley before -- Fiddlesticks found someone's old rubbish pile. If we don't see at least one knight or dragon by tomorrow evening, I'll eat rabbit food for a week."
She and Murgatroyd strolled off, leaving Morwen to the sinking feeling that her departure from Tolchester had been much less well-planned than she'd thought.
"Well, it can't be helped now," she muttered, shoving the pole into the ground. At least a dragon attack wouldn't be boring.
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Dinner was rabbit and carrot stew -- the cats were surprisingly amenable to vegetables once they'd been cooked and disguised by broths or sauces -- after which Morwen settled down on the grass in front of her tent to check her maps. The clear, bluish light of summer evening slanted through the valley, striking glittery flashes from the stream and the mica chips in the stones. The lacy carrot blossoms waved in the warm breeze and a pair of indigo butterflies danced from flower to flower, tracked intently by several cats.
Morwen spread three maps out on the lumpy ground, trying to get them overlapped so they would show the whole mountain range and the surrounding kingdoms. The scale was off, and the cartographer who'd drawn the northern mountains had clearly imagined a good deal of terrain out of whole cloth, but it was remarkably difficult to get good maps of dragon lands. Human cartographers had a distressing tendency to be eaten, since the dragons weren't pleased at the idea of people being able to find their homes and hoards.
"Have you figured out where we are?" Jasmine asked, hopping into Morwen's lap and resting her head on her front paws.
"Possibly. Tolchester is here," Morwen said, pointing to the southwestern edge of the Mountains of Morning, "and we left at seven in the morning, flew steadily with a slight tailwind, and headed as close to due north-northeast as I could manage, so... somewhere in this region." She traced one finger over a ten-inch swath of paper in the middle of the range, just on the western side of the central peaks.
Jasmine stared at the maps with slitted eyes. "Hmm. You do realize that Linnet claims the main entrance to the Caves of Fire and Night is somewhere in this region."
"Yes."
"The dragons don't let anyone but dwarves and a few wizards in there," Jasmine continued.
"True," Morwen agreed. "But we're not going to look for the caves and I'm perfectly willing to swear any oath testifying to my lack of interest in them, so I think we shouldn't have any trouble. I'm more worried about the giant hawks that MacAulay claims live in the passes through the central mountains. They'd eat you in one bite. If the young birds haven't left the nests yet, they might try to kill me as well."
"This is when you tell us to be grateful we're stuck in baskets while you fly, isn't it," Jasmine grumbled, kneading her paws on Morwen's thigh.
"Curses, you've discovered my wicked plan," Morwen said, absently scratching the cat behind her ears. "Make yourself useful -- once we cross the mountains, should we head south toward Linderwall or north toward Kaltenmark? Kaltenmark is more friendly toward witches and non-traditional folk, but Linderwall is bigger, warmer, and has better food and libraries."
"Which has more fish?" Jasmine asked, raising her voice.
"Fish? Who has fish? Can I have some too?" A slim brown cat bounced through the flowers, his tail raised like an exclamation point, and peered at the maps. "Jasmine, this isn't fish, it's only paper."
"I know, Fiddlesticks," Jasmine purred, "but there might be fish in the stream. Why don't you try to catch some? I'm sure you're smarter than a fish, so it won't be too difficult."
Fiddlesticks drew back in distaste. "And get wet? No thanks! I can catch those funny little not-quite-mice without getting wet, and they taste almost as good as fish."
"They're called pikas," Morwen said as Fiddlesticks bounded off again. "And that wasn't nearly as amusing as you thought it was," she added to Jasmine.
The cat purred smugly, and then said, "How traditional is Linderwall? If it's like Tolchester, not even good libraries will help."
Morwen frowned and glared at the maps. "I'm not honestly sure. On the one hand, I've never heard much about it one way or the other, which tends to imply that it's a boring country. On the other hand, maybe they're simply good at hiding any oddness."
"Do you want to be hidden?" Jasmine asked.
Morwen's frown deepened. "I'm not sure about that either. I do not want to be bothered at all hours of the day, like we were in Tolchester. But I don't want to be anybody's dirty secret." She sighed and poked her finger at the maps, shifting their alignment. "I wish I'd gone into research like Telemain instead of trying to imitate Aunt Grizelda."
Jasmine opened her mouth, but whatever she might have said was drowned by an outraged yowl from upstream. "Someone stepped on Miss Eliza's tail," shouted Trouble, a battered gray tom, as he raced downstream toward Morwen. "I think it's a princess!"
Morwen scrambled to her feet, shifting Jasmine to her right shoulder, and jammed her pointy black hat onto her head, trying to look stern, responsible and completely adult. She hated the hat, but it did tend to short-circuit some arguments about how a young and pretty woman couldn't possibly be a witch.
A young woman about Morwen's age dashed over the lip of the valley, between a granite outcropping and the rushing stream. Her golden hair was long and loose, her silk dress was sky-blue with pearls and silver embroidery for decoration, and a tiny white enameled crown was pinned to her hair. She wore a green enameled locket around her neck and a large canvas bag tied to her girdle.
The princess glanced over her shoulder, nearly slipped on the damp rocks, and then hurried down into the valley. After another dozen paces she finally noticed the angry cats at her feet and Morwen waiting ahead of her. She stopped, wobbled, and sank to the ground in a billow of damp fabric and tangled hair.
"Are you a good witch or a bad witch?" she asked, in a voice that chimed like silver bells.
Morwen hid a wince at the effect -- there was no telling what went through the minds of some fairy godmothers -- and straightened the sleeves of her black robes. "That depends on whether you annoy me," she said. "What brings you to the Mountains of Morning?"
"Stupidity?" Trouble offered. Morwen prodded him with her foot, hoping he would take a hint for once in his life.
"Initially, a dragon," the princess said, managing to sound wry despite the ethereal chimes. "But at this specific moment, I'm afraid that I brought myself. You see, I'm running away from my captor."
"Definitely stupidity," Jasmine murmured into Morwen's ear.
"This is not the time," Morwen muttered back, and then smiled brightly at the princess. "I see. And your captor would be...?"
"Kazul," the princess said. "She's quite decent as dragons go, but we argued a lot and I got tired of not being in charge of my own life. I finally found a knight worth the cost of his armor, and he defeated Kazul, but for some reason she refuses to let me go." The princess slumped further, golden hair falling to shadow her heart-shaped face. "She surprised us in the Pass of Broken Hawthorn and Andovan threw himself in her way to let me escape. Now I can't think of any way to rescue him without getting captured myself."
She sighed musically. "I don't suppose there's anything I could say to persuade you to help me?"
Morwen closed her eyes and counted to ten while the cats laughed. This was precisely the sort of complication she didn't need when she was trespassing on dragon lands without most of her usual resources. She shouldn't agree to help. She was obviously no good with people, or she wouldn't have failed in Tolchester. This could only end in tears.
But it was almost certain to be interesting.
"Fine," Morwen said, walking over and offering her hand. "Come have dinner and tell me all the details. I'll see what I can do."
"Sucker," said Trouble.
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"My name is Thelistra, and I'm the seventh child of the king of Veritand," the princess explained, between mouthfuls of stew. "I have three older brothers and three older sisters, so everyone except my grandmother overlooked me most of the time. That suited me; I'm not terribly fond of most people. But on my eighteenth birthday, my parents decided that since they couldn't find a good marriage alliance with any neighboring kingdom, it would be best to have me kidnapped by some villain from whom I could be rescued."
Morwen, who had heard several variations on this story during her years at the Academy, nodded and made encouraging noises, while subtly motioning the cats to help out. After a long moment, Miss Eliza Tudor sauntered across the tent and curled up at Thelistra's side.
"You owe me for this," she said, and began to purr.
"Kazul happened to be in the northwest corner of Veritand at the time -- I'm still not certain why -- and she agreed to take me on in return for three bags of assorted treasure and eight books from the court wizard's collection," Thelistra continued. "It wasn't all bad, being a dragon's princess, but she expected me to cook and clean and I'd never learned how. I wasn't even much use at organizing her library, since I kept getting distracted and reading the books. We tried to get along -- we're both interested in books and magic and history, so it seemed as though we should have been friends -- but we never managed more than a week or two without a screaming argument. Unfortunately Kazul had promised my parents to keep me until she was defeated, so we were stuck with each other."
Thelistra sighed and began to stroke Miss Eliza's white hair. The cat leaned shamelessly into the petting.
"I met Andovan three months ago. He's quite hopeless as a knight -- he has two left feet, to be honest -- but he's a good man, he's clever, he has a lovely smile, and he treats me like a person instead of a decorative sofa cushion or an irritating teacup poodle." Thelistra's smile was a touch watery, but genuine; apparently this was true love. "I asked Kazul to throw their fight. She refused, since no one is supposed to interfere with honorable combat during a ceremonial battle... but she pointed out that there are no rules against knights getting outside aid before the battle."
"I believe I see where this is going," Morwen said. "Cider?"
Thelistra set down her bowl and took the mug gratefully. "Thank you. Yes, I found a needlework charm that makes its bearer invincible in battle. The catch is that it can't be reused and I didn't think to make more than one, so when Kazul found us this afternoon, Andovan stood no chance against her. And I don't know why Kazul is chasing us, since all the terms of her contract have been fulfilled! I thought I was finally free, but now she has Andovan and I don't know what to do."
Thelistra began to sniffle, a few tears rolling down her nose and dropping into her cider.
"At least she doesn't cry diamonds or flower petals," Trouble said. He stretched luxuriously, batting at the tent flap.
"Fairy godmothers are all crazy," agreed Scorn, looking up from washing her tail. "Look, she's going all red and blotchy."
"You hush," Morwen hissed to the calico cat. She stuck her hand into her left sleeve, concentrated, and produced a large handkerchief. "Here, Thelistra. Blow your nose; you'll probably feel better."
Thelistra obeyed, with a sound like a rather melodic, chiming foghorn. "Sorry," she mumbled.
"Don't worry about it. Anyone would be upset after a day like yours," Morwen said, awkwardly. She'd never been much use at comforting people. Why had she thought she could deal with a whole village's problems? Why did she think she could help Thelistra?
Well, she'd agreed to try; she couldn't back out now. She poured herself a mug of cider and tried to think logically. "As I see it, you have two problems. First, rescue your knight, and second, find out what Kazul wants. Or rather, first, find out what Kazul wants and second, trade that for your knight. That order might be more effective."
Thelistra looked doubtful. "I don't have anything to trade -- just my clothes, my sewing bag, and my grandmother's locket. There's no reason for a dragon to want those." She held up the canvas bag and the lumpy green enameled square as if to demonstrate their worthlessness.
"Well, we won't know until we ask, and we can't ask until we see her, so there's no use speculating, " Morwen said. "And since it's already sunset and I have no intention of walking through the Mountains of Morning at night, I suggest we turn in and wait for tomorrow. Kazul will probably stay nearby until she finds you, and I'm sure everything will look more manageable in the morning."
"I shan't sleep a wink until I know Andovan is safe," Thelistra insisted, but she allowed Morwen to make a slapdash bed from a pile of blankets and a spare pillow, and she lay down with her back to the center of the tent. After a minute, she began to sniffle, quietly.
"Are we quite sure she's all right?" asked Jasper, oozing in under the back wall of the tent. His voice was slightly muffled by the dead pika in his mouth.
"She's young, she's just lost her lover, and she's clearly not used to being on her own," said Miss Ophelia, a rather spiky tortoiseshell cat. "I don't expect you'd be all right if you were her."
"But we aren't her. We're not stupid enough to let anyone tell us where to live, not even Fiddlesticks," said Scorn.
"Hey!" Fiddlesticks said. Everyone ignored him.
"If my mother had tried to sell me to a dragon," Scorn continued, "I'd have scratched her and run off even earlier than I did. Are you going to share that mouse-thing, Jasper?"
"It's a pika," said Fiddlesticks, "Morwen said so. And Jasper caught it, so I don't see why he should have to share. You and Chaos didn't share that trout with me this afternoon."
"That was different," Chaos put in, eyeing Jasper's pika with great interest. He inched forward, until Jasper swiped a paw at him, claws unsheathed. "Yow! Even if you don't want to share, you don't have to be so rude about it."
Trouble and Jasmine snickered, and Scorn bent her ire on them. Morwen tuned out the bickering with the ease of long practice, extinguished the fire under the stewpot, shuttered the will-o-the-wisp in her lantern, and rolled herself up in her blankets.
She had a dragon to meet tomorrow, and Thelistra was counting on her. She needed all the sleep she could get.
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Thelistra woke at the first gray light of false dawn and tripped over Miss Eliza in her attempt to get out of the tent. This woke Morwen, who decided that they might as well wash up and eat breakfast. Unfortunately, breakfast was nothing but cider and dry toast.
"I would cheerfully murder someone for a bit of cheese," Morwen said as she shoved a second slice of bread onto the poker and held it over the fire. "I'm obviously not nearly as good at packing as I thought I was."
"You're much better than I am," Thelistra said, nibbling on a crust. "I didn't think to bring anything except my sewing bag." She looked somewhat more composed this morning; her hair was neatly brushed and braided, her crown was pinned at a better angle, and her face wasn't blotchy anymore. Her dress was surprisingly unwrinkled, but then, she did know some fabric-based magic.
"You didn't expect to end up on your own," Morwen said, wondering if Thelistra would share her anti-wrinkle spell. "I'm sure your knight has food in his saddlebags."
Thelistra's face twisted into a mix of sheepishness and annoyance. "Yes, well, he most likely did, but he lost his horse in a tourney two weeks ago. I've been sneaking him leftovers from my own meals."
Morwen stared across the tent. "You must be joking."
"You're burning the toast," said Jasmine.
Morwen yanked the poker back from the flames. "Thank you, Jasmine."
Thelistra blinked. "Are you talking to your cat?" she asked, setting down her empty mug. "Wait, you're a witch; they must be your familiars. Of course you can speak with them. That's fascinating -- how does the spell work? Can anyone learn it, or is it a secret of your magical tradition? How effective are they at helping you focus and manipulate spells?"
Chaos attempted to cover his ears with his forepaws. "Morwen, make her stop. She's as bad as that magician!"
"Worse!" said Trouble. "He didn't chime."
"There is nothing wrong with being like Telemain," Morwen said, reflexively. Then her mind caught up to her mouth and she added, "Well, in moderation. And she can't help her voice. But anyway, Thelistra, they're quite effective when they feel cooperative."
"Effective enough to help us fight Kazul?" Thelistra asked. She tucked a stray wisp of golden hair behind her ear and looked hopefully at Morwen and the cats.
"Do we look stupid enough to fight a dragon?" Scorn demanded. "That's insulting."
"Speak for yourself," Trouble said, speculatively. "It might be fun to try." His ragged ear twitched and his tail curled in anticipation.
"Maybe for you, but you're crazy," said Scorn. "Morwen, tell her we're not fighting her dragon."
"I'm afraid defeating a dragon is a bit beyond me," Morwen said, pulling her toast off the poker and juggling it on her fingertips. "Let's try diplomacy and see where that gets us. We'll move on to dirty tricks if we have to, but I'd much rather not get on a dragon's bad side." Aunt Grizelda would never let her hear the end of that.
"That's all very well for you," Thelistra said, "but I'm already on Kazul's bad side, and I don't much care what she thinks of me so long as I rescue Andovan and don't have to go through this again."
Morwen swallowed a bite of toast and pointed out, "The less she dislikes you, the more chance you have of a successful escape. Would you like some more cider?"
"No," Thelistra said, and proceeded to mope, quietly, until Morwen had finished eating and brushed her teeth. "Can we go now?"
Morwen checked the contents of her sleeves, twisted her hair into a bun, pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, grabbed her broom (in case she and Thelistra needed to make a quick escape), and settled her pointy hat firmly on her head. "Yes. Let's go rescue your knight."
They followed Thelistra's trail back upstream, over the lip of the valley and into a narrow, moss-lined gorge. There was scarcely any dry ground beside the stream, and the two women spent half the journey stepping carefully from stone to stone midstream, trying not to fall into the water.
The cats complained every inch of the way.
After nearly a mile, the gorge opened into another valley, which led upward toward the shoulder of a towering peak. "That's the Pass of Broken Hawthorn," Thelistra said, pointing along the narrow path. "Kazul's cave is about five miles beyond, not far from the Pass of Silver Ice."
"I've heard of that one," Morwen said, wringing out the hem of her robes. "Why not go that way? You'd have reached human lands much sooner."
"Yes, but the Pass of Silver Ice leads down into Raxwell, and my sister Penelope is married to the crown prince. I didn't want my family to know where I'd gone, since they wouldn't approve of Andovan," Thelistra said. "We didn't expect pursuit, so the extra two days' travel shouldn't have mattered. We were thinking of settling in Kaltenmark or the Border Duchies around the Enchanted Forest."
"Aren't the Border Duchies a bit insular?" asked Morwen. "I've always heard that strangers tend to complain about being shut out, and they mostly leave after a year or two."
Thelistra shrugged. "So long as I have Andovan, I wouldn't mind being shut out, and if nobody talks to strangers, my family would have no way to find me. It seemed like a reasonable secondary plan. But I prefer Kaltenmark -- it should be easier for us to make a living in a larger town. I'll sell charms and Andovan can train horses or find a job as a clerk. He's hopeless with a sword, but he's excellent with words and numbers."
For someone who'd been raised in a castle and had most likely never needed to do an honest day's work in her life -- at least until she'd gone to live with a dragon -- that wasn't half bad as a plan. Morwen approved.
"Well, Andovan can't go anywhere until we rescue him," she said, and began walking up the path toward the Pass of Broken Hawthorn.
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part 2
Author: Elizabeth Culmer (edenfalling)
Fandom: Enchanted Forest Chronicles
Rating: G
Prompt: #68 - The world is round, and the place which may seem like the end may also be the beginning. -- Ivy Baker Priest.
Summary: In which Morwen loses her house, meets a princess and a knight, does a favor for the king of the dragons, makes a new friend, and finds a new home, all within two days. This story uses some of my personal backstory for Morwen, but it should be perfectly comprehensible to anyone who's read Patricia C. Wrede's books... and, hopefully, even to people who haven't. Thanks to uminohikari and sirena_lune for the lightning-fast beta!
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The Affairs of Dragons, part 1
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The village of Tolchester lay on the banks of the Debatable River, just where it became navigable after the confusion of its underground journey through the Caves of Chance. Perhaps because of the oddness of their river, the people of Tolchester were extremely hidebound, insular, and defensive. They lived the same way their parents and grandparents and great-grandparents had lived, and they considered themselves much superior to any outsiders.
In retrospect, Morwen should never have agreed to be their village witch. But she had wanted so much to be like her Aunt Grizelda -- wanted to be out in the world, doing something useful, instead of hiding in the Academy or a remote tower and doing arcane research like Telemain -- and Tolchester had seemed so much like her home village of Splot that she'd refused to listen to her second and third thoughts until it was far too late.
Morwen landed her broom in a wide, shallow valley between two mountains and stretched, trying to work out the kinks and cramps of a nearly nine hour flight with only minimal breaks. Immediately, eight cats boiled out of the carrying baskets tied over the back of the broom, leapt to the ground, and flowed over the rocks and wildflowers, complaining in a cacophony of yowls and hisses.
A ninth cat uncoiled himself from Morwen's shoulders and began washing his cream and silver fur. "Please say we won't have to do this again tomorrow. I don't think I've ever been so miserable in my life, and I know Trouble and Scorn will raise havoc if you try to get them back into one of those baskets."
Morwen looked around with a critical eye. A small stream tumbled and meandered through the center of the valley, some of the plants were wild carrots, and the cats seemed to be enjoying themselves chasing rodents of some sort. She wouldn't want to live here -- for one thing, she had only a vague idea where 'here' was, and it was never wise to move into a new country without at least knowing whom it belonged to -- but it would do nicely as a camp for a few days.
"We'll have to fly on sooner or later, Jasper," she told the cat, "but not tomorrow and probably not the day after either. You can give the others the good news while I set up the tent."
Jasper dashed off at lightning speed.
Morwen unhooked the baskets from her broom and reached inside the left-hand one. They didn't look nearly large enough to hold four cats each, let alone anything else, but magic was wonderfully useful at circumventing physics. She fished around, concentrating, and pulled out a long, lumpy roll of canvas. Then she pulled out a bundle of metal poles, a coil of rope, four long stakes, and a hammer.
Morwen was a firm believer in being prepared. Camping in the wilderness was not something she'd ever wanted to do, but when the Tolchester village council had delivered the eviction notice two days ago, she'd refused to waste more than one hour on annoyance and worry before planning a way to leave that kept most of her possessions intact and that didn't involve begging her aunt for help.
Unfortunately, setting the tent up was more difficult than she'd expected. The cats drifted back, listened to her fuming at the fabric, the poles, and the stakes, and made sarcastic commentary. Morwen put up with them for nearly ten minutes before her temper snapped.
"If you don't have anything better to do, why don't some of you go hunt something that I can make into stew?" she asked, brushing sweaty hair from her face and glasses. She grimaced; she hated looking less than tidy.
The cats exchanged a complicated network of glances, and then all of them except Jasmine and Murgatroyd -- a small ginger queen and a black-and-white tomcat, respectively -- drifted away again.
"You should have transported the whole cottage instead of buying this thing," Murgatroyd remarked, lashing his tail as he stalked around the half-erected tent. "It's ridiculous."
"The cottage belongs to the village," Morwen explained as she twisted one of the collapsible poles, trying to get the two sections to join properly. "That's part of what it means to be a village witch -- you get a free house and free food in return for providing free spells, potions, and advice, and not turning your neighbors into mice."
"I still don't think that's fair," said Jasmine, ambling over to sniff at one of the corner stakes. "You lived there for over two years; that made it ours. Wherever we end up, you should buy a house instead of letting someone else have any hold over us."
"Believe me, I have no intention of working for anyone but myself ever again," Morwen said. That sort of bargain might work for some witches and some towns, but clearly Morwen was a failure compared to Aunt Grizelda, even accounting for the differences between Splot and Tolchester. She banged on the pole with her hammer until the two parts slid together with an audible click. "Ha! That's the last of those. Why don't you two tell the others I should have this finished in half an hour or so, barring any interruptions."
Jasmine coughed and twitched her tail. "We're in the Mountains of Morning and people have camped in this valley before -- Fiddlesticks found someone's old rubbish pile. If we don't see at least one knight or dragon by tomorrow evening, I'll eat rabbit food for a week."
She and Murgatroyd strolled off, leaving Morwen to the sinking feeling that her departure from Tolchester had been much less well-planned than she'd thought.
"Well, it can't be helped now," she muttered, shoving the pole into the ground. At least a dragon attack wouldn't be boring.
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Dinner was rabbit and carrot stew -- the cats were surprisingly amenable to vegetables once they'd been cooked and disguised by broths or sauces -- after which Morwen settled down on the grass in front of her tent to check her maps. The clear, bluish light of summer evening slanted through the valley, striking glittery flashes from the stream and the mica chips in the stones. The lacy carrot blossoms waved in the warm breeze and a pair of indigo butterflies danced from flower to flower, tracked intently by several cats.
Morwen spread three maps out on the lumpy ground, trying to get them overlapped so they would show the whole mountain range and the surrounding kingdoms. The scale was off, and the cartographer who'd drawn the northern mountains had clearly imagined a good deal of terrain out of whole cloth, but it was remarkably difficult to get good maps of dragon lands. Human cartographers had a distressing tendency to be eaten, since the dragons weren't pleased at the idea of people being able to find their homes and hoards.
"Have you figured out where we are?" Jasmine asked, hopping into Morwen's lap and resting her head on her front paws.
"Possibly. Tolchester is here," Morwen said, pointing to the southwestern edge of the Mountains of Morning, "and we left at seven in the morning, flew steadily with a slight tailwind, and headed as close to due north-northeast as I could manage, so... somewhere in this region." She traced one finger over a ten-inch swath of paper in the middle of the range, just on the western side of the central peaks.
Jasmine stared at the maps with slitted eyes. "Hmm. You do realize that Linnet claims the main entrance to the Caves of Fire and Night is somewhere in this region."
"Yes."
"The dragons don't let anyone but dwarves and a few wizards in there," Jasmine continued.
"True," Morwen agreed. "But we're not going to look for the caves and I'm perfectly willing to swear any oath testifying to my lack of interest in them, so I think we shouldn't have any trouble. I'm more worried about the giant hawks that MacAulay claims live in the passes through the central mountains. They'd eat you in one bite. If the young birds haven't left the nests yet, they might try to kill me as well."
"This is when you tell us to be grateful we're stuck in baskets while you fly, isn't it," Jasmine grumbled, kneading her paws on Morwen's thigh.
"Curses, you've discovered my wicked plan," Morwen said, absently scratching the cat behind her ears. "Make yourself useful -- once we cross the mountains, should we head south toward Linderwall or north toward Kaltenmark? Kaltenmark is more friendly toward witches and non-traditional folk, but Linderwall is bigger, warmer, and has better food and libraries."
"Which has more fish?" Jasmine asked, raising her voice.
"Fish? Who has fish? Can I have some too?" A slim brown cat bounced through the flowers, his tail raised like an exclamation point, and peered at the maps. "Jasmine, this isn't fish, it's only paper."
"I know, Fiddlesticks," Jasmine purred, "but there might be fish in the stream. Why don't you try to catch some? I'm sure you're smarter than a fish, so it won't be too difficult."
Fiddlesticks drew back in distaste. "And get wet? No thanks! I can catch those funny little not-quite-mice without getting wet, and they taste almost as good as fish."
"They're called pikas," Morwen said as Fiddlesticks bounded off again. "And that wasn't nearly as amusing as you thought it was," she added to Jasmine.
The cat purred smugly, and then said, "How traditional is Linderwall? If it's like Tolchester, not even good libraries will help."
Morwen frowned and glared at the maps. "I'm not honestly sure. On the one hand, I've never heard much about it one way or the other, which tends to imply that it's a boring country. On the other hand, maybe they're simply good at hiding any oddness."
"Do you want to be hidden?" Jasmine asked.
Morwen's frown deepened. "I'm not sure about that either. I do not want to be bothered at all hours of the day, like we were in Tolchester. But I don't want to be anybody's dirty secret." She sighed and poked her finger at the maps, shifting their alignment. "I wish I'd gone into research like Telemain instead of trying to imitate Aunt Grizelda."
Jasmine opened her mouth, but whatever she might have said was drowned by an outraged yowl from upstream. "Someone stepped on Miss Eliza's tail," shouted Trouble, a battered gray tom, as he raced downstream toward Morwen. "I think it's a princess!"
Morwen scrambled to her feet, shifting Jasmine to her right shoulder, and jammed her pointy black hat onto her head, trying to look stern, responsible and completely adult. She hated the hat, but it did tend to short-circuit some arguments about how a young and pretty woman couldn't possibly be a witch.
A young woman about Morwen's age dashed over the lip of the valley, between a granite outcropping and the rushing stream. Her golden hair was long and loose, her silk dress was sky-blue with pearls and silver embroidery for decoration, and a tiny white enameled crown was pinned to her hair. She wore a green enameled locket around her neck and a large canvas bag tied to her girdle.
The princess glanced over her shoulder, nearly slipped on the damp rocks, and then hurried down into the valley. After another dozen paces she finally noticed the angry cats at her feet and Morwen waiting ahead of her. She stopped, wobbled, and sank to the ground in a billow of damp fabric and tangled hair.
"Are you a good witch or a bad witch?" she asked, in a voice that chimed like silver bells.
Morwen hid a wince at the effect -- there was no telling what went through the minds of some fairy godmothers -- and straightened the sleeves of her black robes. "That depends on whether you annoy me," she said. "What brings you to the Mountains of Morning?"
"Stupidity?" Trouble offered. Morwen prodded him with her foot, hoping he would take a hint for once in his life.
"Initially, a dragon," the princess said, managing to sound wry despite the ethereal chimes. "But at this specific moment, I'm afraid that I brought myself. You see, I'm running away from my captor."
"Definitely stupidity," Jasmine murmured into Morwen's ear.
"This is not the time," Morwen muttered back, and then smiled brightly at the princess. "I see. And your captor would be...?"
"Kazul," the princess said. "She's quite decent as dragons go, but we argued a lot and I got tired of not being in charge of my own life. I finally found a knight worth the cost of his armor, and he defeated Kazul, but for some reason she refuses to let me go." The princess slumped further, golden hair falling to shadow her heart-shaped face. "She surprised us in the Pass of Broken Hawthorn and Andovan threw himself in her way to let me escape. Now I can't think of any way to rescue him without getting captured myself."
She sighed musically. "I don't suppose there's anything I could say to persuade you to help me?"
Morwen closed her eyes and counted to ten while the cats laughed. This was precisely the sort of complication she didn't need when she was trespassing on dragon lands without most of her usual resources. She shouldn't agree to help. She was obviously no good with people, or she wouldn't have failed in Tolchester. This could only end in tears.
But it was almost certain to be interesting.
"Fine," Morwen said, walking over and offering her hand. "Come have dinner and tell me all the details. I'll see what I can do."
"Sucker," said Trouble.
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"My name is Thelistra, and I'm the seventh child of the king of Veritand," the princess explained, between mouthfuls of stew. "I have three older brothers and three older sisters, so everyone except my grandmother overlooked me most of the time. That suited me; I'm not terribly fond of most people. But on my eighteenth birthday, my parents decided that since they couldn't find a good marriage alliance with any neighboring kingdom, it would be best to have me kidnapped by some villain from whom I could be rescued."
Morwen, who had heard several variations on this story during her years at the Academy, nodded and made encouraging noises, while subtly motioning the cats to help out. After a long moment, Miss Eliza Tudor sauntered across the tent and curled up at Thelistra's side.
"You owe me for this," she said, and began to purr.
"Kazul happened to be in the northwest corner of Veritand at the time -- I'm still not certain why -- and she agreed to take me on in return for three bags of assorted treasure and eight books from the court wizard's collection," Thelistra continued. "It wasn't all bad, being a dragon's princess, but she expected me to cook and clean and I'd never learned how. I wasn't even much use at organizing her library, since I kept getting distracted and reading the books. We tried to get along -- we're both interested in books and magic and history, so it seemed as though we should have been friends -- but we never managed more than a week or two without a screaming argument. Unfortunately Kazul had promised my parents to keep me until she was defeated, so we were stuck with each other."
Thelistra sighed and began to stroke Miss Eliza's white hair. The cat leaned shamelessly into the petting.
"I met Andovan three months ago. He's quite hopeless as a knight -- he has two left feet, to be honest -- but he's a good man, he's clever, he has a lovely smile, and he treats me like a person instead of a decorative sofa cushion or an irritating teacup poodle." Thelistra's smile was a touch watery, but genuine; apparently this was true love. "I asked Kazul to throw their fight. She refused, since no one is supposed to interfere with honorable combat during a ceremonial battle... but she pointed out that there are no rules against knights getting outside aid before the battle."
"I believe I see where this is going," Morwen said. "Cider?"
Thelistra set down her bowl and took the mug gratefully. "Thank you. Yes, I found a needlework charm that makes its bearer invincible in battle. The catch is that it can't be reused and I didn't think to make more than one, so when Kazul found us this afternoon, Andovan stood no chance against her. And I don't know why Kazul is chasing us, since all the terms of her contract have been fulfilled! I thought I was finally free, but now she has Andovan and I don't know what to do."
Thelistra began to sniffle, a few tears rolling down her nose and dropping into her cider.
"At least she doesn't cry diamonds or flower petals," Trouble said. He stretched luxuriously, batting at the tent flap.
"Fairy godmothers are all crazy," agreed Scorn, looking up from washing her tail. "Look, she's going all red and blotchy."
"You hush," Morwen hissed to the calico cat. She stuck her hand into her left sleeve, concentrated, and produced a large handkerchief. "Here, Thelistra. Blow your nose; you'll probably feel better."
Thelistra obeyed, with a sound like a rather melodic, chiming foghorn. "Sorry," she mumbled.
"Don't worry about it. Anyone would be upset after a day like yours," Morwen said, awkwardly. She'd never been much use at comforting people. Why had she thought she could deal with a whole village's problems? Why did she think she could help Thelistra?
Well, she'd agreed to try; she couldn't back out now. She poured herself a mug of cider and tried to think logically. "As I see it, you have two problems. First, rescue your knight, and second, find out what Kazul wants. Or rather, first, find out what Kazul wants and second, trade that for your knight. That order might be more effective."
Thelistra looked doubtful. "I don't have anything to trade -- just my clothes, my sewing bag, and my grandmother's locket. There's no reason for a dragon to want those." She held up the canvas bag and the lumpy green enameled square as if to demonstrate their worthlessness.
"Well, we won't know until we ask, and we can't ask until we see her, so there's no use speculating, " Morwen said. "And since it's already sunset and I have no intention of walking through the Mountains of Morning at night, I suggest we turn in and wait for tomorrow. Kazul will probably stay nearby until she finds you, and I'm sure everything will look more manageable in the morning."
"I shan't sleep a wink until I know Andovan is safe," Thelistra insisted, but she allowed Morwen to make a slapdash bed from a pile of blankets and a spare pillow, and she lay down with her back to the center of the tent. After a minute, she began to sniffle, quietly.
"Are we quite sure she's all right?" asked Jasper, oozing in under the back wall of the tent. His voice was slightly muffled by the dead pika in his mouth.
"She's young, she's just lost her lover, and she's clearly not used to being on her own," said Miss Ophelia, a rather spiky tortoiseshell cat. "I don't expect you'd be all right if you were her."
"But we aren't her. We're not stupid enough to let anyone tell us where to live, not even Fiddlesticks," said Scorn.
"Hey!" Fiddlesticks said. Everyone ignored him.
"If my mother had tried to sell me to a dragon," Scorn continued, "I'd have scratched her and run off even earlier than I did. Are you going to share that mouse-thing, Jasper?"
"It's a pika," said Fiddlesticks, "Morwen said so. And Jasper caught it, so I don't see why he should have to share. You and Chaos didn't share that trout with me this afternoon."
"That was different," Chaos put in, eyeing Jasper's pika with great interest. He inched forward, until Jasper swiped a paw at him, claws unsheathed. "Yow! Even if you don't want to share, you don't have to be so rude about it."
Trouble and Jasmine snickered, and Scorn bent her ire on them. Morwen tuned out the bickering with the ease of long practice, extinguished the fire under the stewpot, shuttered the will-o-the-wisp in her lantern, and rolled herself up in her blankets.
She had a dragon to meet tomorrow, and Thelistra was counting on her. She needed all the sleep she could get.
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Thelistra woke at the first gray light of false dawn and tripped over Miss Eliza in her attempt to get out of the tent. This woke Morwen, who decided that they might as well wash up and eat breakfast. Unfortunately, breakfast was nothing but cider and dry toast.
"I would cheerfully murder someone for a bit of cheese," Morwen said as she shoved a second slice of bread onto the poker and held it over the fire. "I'm obviously not nearly as good at packing as I thought I was."
"You're much better than I am," Thelistra said, nibbling on a crust. "I didn't think to bring anything except my sewing bag." She looked somewhat more composed this morning; her hair was neatly brushed and braided, her crown was pinned at a better angle, and her face wasn't blotchy anymore. Her dress was surprisingly unwrinkled, but then, she did know some fabric-based magic.
"You didn't expect to end up on your own," Morwen said, wondering if Thelistra would share her anti-wrinkle spell. "I'm sure your knight has food in his saddlebags."
Thelistra's face twisted into a mix of sheepishness and annoyance. "Yes, well, he most likely did, but he lost his horse in a tourney two weeks ago. I've been sneaking him leftovers from my own meals."
Morwen stared across the tent. "You must be joking."
"You're burning the toast," said Jasmine.
Morwen yanked the poker back from the flames. "Thank you, Jasmine."
Thelistra blinked. "Are you talking to your cat?" she asked, setting down her empty mug. "Wait, you're a witch; they must be your familiars. Of course you can speak with them. That's fascinating -- how does the spell work? Can anyone learn it, or is it a secret of your magical tradition? How effective are they at helping you focus and manipulate spells?"
Chaos attempted to cover his ears with his forepaws. "Morwen, make her stop. She's as bad as that magician!"
"Worse!" said Trouble. "He didn't chime."
"There is nothing wrong with being like Telemain," Morwen said, reflexively. Then her mind caught up to her mouth and she added, "Well, in moderation. And she can't help her voice. But anyway, Thelistra, they're quite effective when they feel cooperative."
"Effective enough to help us fight Kazul?" Thelistra asked. She tucked a stray wisp of golden hair behind her ear and looked hopefully at Morwen and the cats.
"Do we look stupid enough to fight a dragon?" Scorn demanded. "That's insulting."
"Speak for yourself," Trouble said, speculatively. "It might be fun to try." His ragged ear twitched and his tail curled in anticipation.
"Maybe for you, but you're crazy," said Scorn. "Morwen, tell her we're not fighting her dragon."
"I'm afraid defeating a dragon is a bit beyond me," Morwen said, pulling her toast off the poker and juggling it on her fingertips. "Let's try diplomacy and see where that gets us. We'll move on to dirty tricks if we have to, but I'd much rather not get on a dragon's bad side." Aunt Grizelda would never let her hear the end of that.
"That's all very well for you," Thelistra said, "but I'm already on Kazul's bad side, and I don't much care what she thinks of me so long as I rescue Andovan and don't have to go through this again."
Morwen swallowed a bite of toast and pointed out, "The less she dislikes you, the more chance you have of a successful escape. Would you like some more cider?"
"No," Thelistra said, and proceeded to mope, quietly, until Morwen had finished eating and brushed her teeth. "Can we go now?"
Morwen checked the contents of her sleeves, twisted her hair into a bun, pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, grabbed her broom (in case she and Thelistra needed to make a quick escape), and settled her pointy hat firmly on her head. "Yes. Let's go rescue your knight."
They followed Thelistra's trail back upstream, over the lip of the valley and into a narrow, moss-lined gorge. There was scarcely any dry ground beside the stream, and the two women spent half the journey stepping carefully from stone to stone midstream, trying not to fall into the water.
The cats complained every inch of the way.
After nearly a mile, the gorge opened into another valley, which led upward toward the shoulder of a towering peak. "That's the Pass of Broken Hawthorn," Thelistra said, pointing along the narrow path. "Kazul's cave is about five miles beyond, not far from the Pass of Silver Ice."
"I've heard of that one," Morwen said, wringing out the hem of her robes. "Why not go that way? You'd have reached human lands much sooner."
"Yes, but the Pass of Silver Ice leads down into Raxwell, and my sister Penelope is married to the crown prince. I didn't want my family to know where I'd gone, since they wouldn't approve of Andovan," Thelistra said. "We didn't expect pursuit, so the extra two days' travel shouldn't have mattered. We were thinking of settling in Kaltenmark or the Border Duchies around the Enchanted Forest."
"Aren't the Border Duchies a bit insular?" asked Morwen. "I've always heard that strangers tend to complain about being shut out, and they mostly leave after a year or two."
Thelistra shrugged. "So long as I have Andovan, I wouldn't mind being shut out, and if nobody talks to strangers, my family would have no way to find me. It seemed like a reasonable secondary plan. But I prefer Kaltenmark -- it should be easier for us to make a living in a larger town. I'll sell charms and Andovan can train horses or find a job as a clerk. He's hopeless with a sword, but he's excellent with words and numbers."
For someone who'd been raised in a castle and had most likely never needed to do an honest day's work in her life -- at least until she'd gone to live with a dragon -- that wasn't half bad as a plan. Morwen approved.
"Well, Andovan can't go anywhere until we rescue him," she said, and began walking up the path toward the Pass of Broken Hawthorn.
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part 2