Cimorene tried to imagine coffee, even Turkish coffee, strong enough to take the roof off a dragon’s mouth and failed. “I told Roxim about the wizard Alianora and I met, and Roxim said I ought to tell Woraug because Woraug is in charge of finding the poisoner,” she said. “But—”
“But when you caught Antorell picking dragonsbane, he thought Woraug had sent you,” Kazul said. “If Woraug’s mixed up with wizards—” She broke off, coughing. Cimorene watched her anxiously, but the coughing spasm did not last long. “I don’t like this,” Kazul finished when she got her breath back.
“I don’t, either,” Cimorene agreed. “But what can we do about it?”
Kazul frowned and said nothing. For several minutes, the two sat and thought in silence. Then Kazul said, “We can’t do anything until the new King has been chosen. Did Roxim say when the testing will be?”
“Tomorrow,” Cimorene said.
“Tomorrow!” Kazul surged to her feet. “Why didn’t you say so at once? If I’m to be at the Ford of Whispering Snakes tomorrow, I have to—”
“Lie down!” Cimorene commanded. Kazul looked at her in surprise and collapsed in another fit of coughing. Cimorene waited until the dragon’s coughing had subsided, then said sternly, “You’re in no condition to go hauling rocks all over the countryside. I’d be surprised if you can even fly as far as the end of the pass. I think you’re going to have to give up on the trials this time around.”
Kazul made a choking noise. Cimorene looked at her in alarm, then realized that the dragon was laughing.
“It’s not optional, Princess,” Kazul said. “All the adult dragons in the Mountains of Morning are required to show up, no matter what condition they’re in.”
“But—”
“There is no acceptable excuse for missing the testing of a new King,” Kazul repeated. “None. And I have a great deal to do before I leave, so if you’ll—”
“If anything needs to be done around here, I’ll do it,” Cimorene said firmly. “If you don’t rest, you won’t be able to fly at all, and then how will you get to the ford?”
“A reasonable point,” Kazul said, settling reluctantly back into place. “Very well. The first thing I need is a coronation present for the new King. There’s a jeweled helmet on a shelf in the second storeroom that might do. Bring it out so I can take a look at it.”
Cimorene spent the rest of the evening running errands for Kazul. Besides choosing a coronation gift (Kazul rejected the helmet and two crowns before deciding on a scepter made of gold and crystal), innumerable messages had to be delivered to various dragons who were in charge of arranging the trials. This one had to be informed of Kazul’s ill health, so that it could be taken into account when the order of the testing was established; that one had to be told that Kazul would not be able to join the coronation procession. Substitutes had to be found to perform Kazul’s various ceremonial duties, then their names had to be approved by a surly dragon in charge of protocol, and finally the substitutions had to be recorded on all the lists of all the dragons who were managing each of the events. It reminded Cimorene strongly of Linderwall and her parents’ court.
By the time the last arrangement had been made and the last message delivered, it was very late and Cimorene was exhausted. She was also very glad she had not let Kazul do all the running around. The dragon, who had slept most of the time Cimorene was out, was looking much better, even in the dim light of Cimorene’s lamp. Tired but satisfied, Cimorene went to her room and dropped into bed.
Cimorene was up early the next morning, stirring a dozen ostrich eggs in a large iron kettle for Kazul’s breakfast. Kazul ate all of them, then slid out of the cave and prepared to leave for the Ford of Whispering Snakes.
“Don’t fret, Princess,” Kazul said. “The testing doesn’t start until ten. I have plenty of time to get there, even if I stop to rest now and then.” Her voice sounded much better than it had the day before, and it no longer seemed to rasp her throat. “While I’m gone, why don’t you visit Woraug’s princess? See if she’s noticed anything odd these past few days. We need to know as much as we can before we talk to the new King about Woraug and the wizards.”
“All right,” Cimorene said. “As soon as I’m done with the dishes.”
Kazul turned and leaped into the air, her wings churning clouds of dust from the dry surface of the ground. Cimorene squinted after her and shouted, “Good luck!” Kazul’s wings dipped in answer before the dragon soared out of sight behind the shoulder of the next mountain. Cimorene stood looking after Kazul, her forehead wrinkling in worry. After a moment she shook herself and went inside. She had work to do.
Washing the dishes did not take long, and as soon as she was done, Cimorene set off to visit Alianora. The tunnels and passageways were silent and empty, and Cimorene’s footsteps echoed eerily through the darkness. She began to wish she had taken the longer route along the outside of the mountain. She had not realized that the dragon city would seem so strange and lifeless with all the dragons gone.
“Psst! Cimorene!”
Cimorene jumped. She whirled in the direction of the voice, raising her lamp like a club, and Alianora stepped out of the adjoining tunnel and into the circle of light. In one hand she clutched a large bucket, three-quarters full of soapy water, and she looked rather pale.
“Alianora!” Cimorene said, lowering her arm. “What are you doing out here?”
“Shhh!” Alianora said. She looked nervously over her shoulder. “Woraug told me to scrub off the table in the banquet room while everyone was away. And—and I heard someone moving around in there. Even though everyone but us is gone. And I dropped my lamp, and—”
“Oh, my goodness,” Cimorene said. “The stone prince! I’d forgotten all about him.”
“Who?”
“The stone prince.” Quickly, Cimorene explained how she had found and hidden him the day before. “And I hadn’t thought about it until now, but this is the perfect time to get him out of the mountains,” she finished. “All the dragons are gone and no one will see him. Come on, before I forget again.”
Alianora nodded dubiously, and the two girls headed for the banquet room. When they arrived, Cimorene went in first, holding her lamp high. “Prince?” she called. “Are you there? It’s me, Cimorene.”
“Yes, I’m here,” said the stone prince, unfolding stiffly from a gray lump in the corner. “I’m glad you’re back. Who’s this you’ve brought with you?”
“Princess Alianora of the Duchy of Toure-on-Marsh,” Cimorene said. “She’s the princess of the dragon Woraug just now.”
“Does her father need a great service done for him?” the prince asked hopefully.
“Not that I know of,” Cimorene replied. “Unless you’re good at getting rid of aunts, but that would be more of a service to Alianora than to her father.”
“I can think of nothing that would make me happier,” the prince said with evident admiration as he bowed stiffly to Alianora. “Good afternoon, Princess. Or should it be ‘good evening’? It’s hard to tell without windows.”
Alianora blushed and looked down at her bucket without answering.
“Actually, it’s good morning,” Cimorene told the prince. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come back for you, but . . . well, a lot has been going on.”
Alianora looked up sharply. “You’ve been sitting here in the dark all night?” She shuddered. “You could at least have left him a candle, Cimorene.”
“Thank you for the thought, Princess Alianora, but it’s just as well she didn’t,” the stone prince said. “If I’d been sitting here with a lit candle, they’d have noticed me right away. And an unlit candle isn’t much use in the dark, is it?”
“What do you mean?” Cimorene said. “Who would have noticed you?”
“The dragon and the two men he was talking to,” replied the prince. “I think they were wizards.”
“What?” said Cimorene and Alianora together.
“W
ell, they talked as if they were wizards,” the prince said. “They weren’t carrying staffs, though.”
“What did they look like?” Cimorene said.
“They were both tall, and they both had beards. The older one’s was gray and the younger one’s was brown.”
“Antorell and Zemenar!” Cimorene said. “And they were talking to a dragon?”
The stone prince nodded.
“Then they wouldn’t have been carrying staffs. Dragons are allergic to them. Did you hear what they said?”
“Something about a contest,” the stone prince said. “The wizards were going to fix it so this dragon would win. It sounded like a kind of cross-country race, and the wizards were going to hide along the path and—and help the dragon out somehow. I’m afraid I’m not very clear about that part. Spells aren’t my specialty. I’m much better at hopeless causes.”
Alianora and Cimorene exchanged appalled glances.
“The trials with Colin’s Stone to pick the new King!” Alianora said.
“Which dragon?” Cimorene asked urgently. “Do you know which dragon they were talking to?”
“I only heard the name once,” the prince said. He sounded apologetic and a little embarrassed. “And I don’t think I got it right. It’s too silly.”
“Tell us!” Cimorene commanded.
“Well, it sounded like ‘warthog,’” the prince said in an even more apologetic tone than before.
“Could it have been Woraug?” Cimorene asked.
“That’s it!” the prince said. “I knew it couldn’t really have been warthog.”
“What a pity you remembered,” said a voice from the entrance into the banquet hall.
Cimorene whirled. Antorell stood in the doorway, staff in hand, watching them with an intolerably smug expression.
13
In Which Alianora Discovers an Unexpected Use for Soap and Water, and Cimorene Has Difficulty with a Dragon
ANTORELL LOOKED PAST CIMORENE AND ALIANORA as if they were not there and spoke directly to the stone prince. “I told Father someone was listening. He won’t be happy when he finds out I was right, but he’ll feel better when I tell him I’ve taken care of things. He might even let me have the first look in the King’s Crystal, once Woraug gives it to us.”
“So that’s what you’re after!” Cimorene said.
Antorell favored her with a superior smile. “Quite right, Princess Cimorene. The King’s Crystal will show us the whereabouts of every piece of useful and interesting magic in the world. All we’ll have to do is go out and pick them up.”
“Somehow I don’t think it will be that easy,” Cimorene murmured.
“We knew Tokoz would never give it to us, but Woraug will, as soon as he’s King of the Dragons. He’ll have to, or we’ll tell everyone how we were the ones who made sure he was the new king. Of course, we can’t afford to have anybody around who might make . . . awkward revelations. I doubt that dragons will listen to a couple of hysterical princesses, but he”—Antorell pointed at the stone prince—“will have to go.”
“What are you going to do?” Alianora demanded. She was plainly frightened, and Cimorene could see that her knuckles were white with the force of her grip on the handle of the scrub bucket.
“Oh, gravel seems appropriate, don’t you think?” Antorell said. “No one will notice a few more rocks around here.”
“Ought I to be taking this person seriously?” the stone prince said in a rather doubtful tone.
“You’d better if you don’t want to end up as a lot of little pebbles,” Alianora answered. She still sounded frightened, but she seemed to be getting a grip on herself. “He’s a wizard.”
“You wouldn’t be talking about gravel if you were the one who had to sweep the floor,” Cimorene said to Antorell. She stepped forward as she spoke, hoping to get between Antorell and the stone prince before Antorell noticed what she was doing. She didn’t think Antorell was a good enough wizard to do any real harm, but there was no point in taking chances.
“Stay where you are, Princess Cimorene,” Antorell commanded. “I’ll deal with you in a moment.”
“Must you be so theatrical?” Cimorene said.
“Theatrical? You think I’m being theatrical?” Antorell said furiously. “I am simply showing a proper respect for the importance of this moment!”
“You’re showing off,” Cimorene said flatly. “And you’re not doing it very well.”
“He doesn’t sound much like a wizard to me,” the stone prince said. “Is he always like this?”
“Enough!” Antorell cried, and raised his staff. Light shimmered along its length and began to gather at the lower end. Grinning wolfishly, the wizard tilted the staff, aiming it toward the stone prince.
“Stop that!” Alianora said. Antorell ignored her. “I said, stop it!” Alianora shouted, and threw her bucket at Antorell’s head.
Alianora’s aim was off. The bucket hit Antorell’s shoulder. A bolt of fire shot from the end of his staff and whizzed between Cimorene and the stone prince to strike the far wall with a whumping noise and a shower of sparks. Antorell staggered, slipped in the cascade of soapy water, and fell over the bucket, dropping his staff in the process.
Cimorene darted in and kicked Antorell’s staff out of his reach. He stared up at her from a mound of soggy silk and soapsuds. “You can’t do this to me!” he shrieked.
Something in his voice made Cimorene and her friends look at him more closely. Alianora’s eyes went wide, and Cimorene blinked in surprise. “He’s—he’s collapsing,” Alianora said in a stunned voice.
“He’s melting,” Cimorene corrected her.
“I can’t be melting!” Antorell cried. “I’m a wizard! It’s not fa—” His head disappeared into a small brown puddle, and his cries stopped.
There was a moment of astonished silence. “I thought it was witches who melt when you dump water over them,” the stone prince said at last.
“It is, usually,” Cimorene said. “What on earth did you put in that bucket, Alianora?”
“Just water and soap, and a little lemon juice to make it smell nicer,” Alianora said.
“Um,” said Cimorene, thinking hard. “I’ll bet there’s a simpler way of melting wizards, but we don’t have time right now to figure out what it is. How many buckets can you get hold of in a hurry?”
“Buckets?” Alianora said. “Two, counting this one. And I suppose I could borrow one from Hallanna; that’s three.”
“And I’ve got two in the kitchen, and I expect the iron kettle is big enough. That’s six altogether; two for each of us. You will help, won’t you?” Cimorene added, turning to the stone prince.
“Of course,” the prince assured her. “Help with what?”
“Stopping those wizards,” Cimorene said. “We can’t let them make Woraug the next King of the Dragons by trickery.”
“I don’t see how we can stop them,” Alianora said. “We can’t possibly get to the Ford of Whispering Snakes before the trials start, and even if we could, we don’t know where the wizards will be hiding.”
“If we tell the dragons that Woraug’s trying to cheat, they’ll stop the trials,” Cimorene said with more confidence than she felt. “That will give us time to find the wizards. And I’ve got a way to get us to the ford. You go start collecting buckets. I’ll meet you at your place after I get the things I’ll need from Kazul’s.”
“What about . . .” Alianora gestured with distaste at the wet, messy lump of robes in the center of the puddle that was all that remained of Antorell.
“We’ll clean it up when we get back,” Cimorene said. “This is more important.”
Alianora nodded, and the three left the banquet room. The stone prince decided to accompany Alianora since he was not a fast walker and Cimorene had farther to go. Cimorene left them when they reached the main tunnel and ran back to Kazul’s cave. There she went straight to her room and opened the drawer where she kept odds and ends. In the back le
ft-hand corner, carefully wrapped in a handkerchief, were the three black feathers she had taken from beneath the left wing of the bird she had killed in the Enchanted Forest. She shoved the whole packet into her pocket without bothering to unwrap it and went on to the kitchen to collect her buckets. Then she hurried through the tunnels to Woraug’s cave, where Alianora and the stone prince were waiting.
When Cimorene arrived, she found the stone prince pumping water to fill Alianora’s third bucket while Alianora mixed soap and lemon juice into the second. Cimorene set her pots and pails next to the pump and went to help Alianora.
“Now what?” Alianora said when all the buckets were full of cleaning mixture.
Cimorene reached into her pocket and dug out the package. Gently, she unfolded the handkerchief and removed one of the feathers, noticing as she did that the package also contained the pebble she had picked up in the Caves of Fire and Night. “If we each take two buckets, can we still link elbows without spilling too much?” she asked.
Alianora and the stone prince looked at each other, shrugged, and picked up two buckets each. Cimorene took the last bucket and the iron pot, holding the handle of the pot with only three fingers so that she could keep a grip on the feather with her thumb and forefinger. A series of awkward maneuvers followed as Alianora and the stone prince tried to link elbows with Cimorene without losing their balance or dropping one of their buckets. In the process, Cimorene’s skirt got soaked.
“It’s a good thing I’m not a wizard,” Cimorene said. “Ready? Here we go.” She twisted her hand toward the edge of the iron pot and let go of the black feather. “I wish we were at the Ford of Whispering Snakes,” she said as the feather fell, and the room dissolved around them.