“That hadn’t occurred to me,” Cimorene said with a worried frown. “What can I do about it?”
“I’m not sure,” Morwen replied. “The situation’s not at all usual, you know. I’ve never heard of a princess volunteering for a dragon before. Which rather surprises me, now that I think of it. A dragon’s princess is practically guaranteed a good marriage, so you’d think princesses from the smaller kingdoms would be clamoring for the job.”
“They’re probably worried about being eaten,” Cimorene said. “Do you think it would help if I sent my parents a letter?”
“Probably not,” Morwen said after a moment’s consideration. “But it can’t hurt to try. I’ll check my spell books when I get home. It may give me an idea. I suggest that you hunt through Kazul’s library. She’s been collecting scrolls for centuries; you ought to be able to find something useful. Meanwhile, we’ll put up a sign.”
“A sign?” Cimorene stared at Morwen for a moment, then began to smile. “‘Road washed out,’” she said. “‘Use alternate route.’ Is that the kind of sign you were thinking of?”
“Exactly,” Morwen said with approval. “It won’t stop anyone who’s really determined, but it will certainly slow them down. That should give us time to come up with something better.”
The two women set to work at once and in a short time produced a large, official-looking sign. Morwen offered to set it up on her way back to the Enchanted Forest, but Cimorene thought it would be too awkward for her to carry while riding the broom. So, once Morwen had gone, Cimorene tucked the sign under her arm and started down the path.
Cimorene had not had a chance to do any real exploring before, though she had looked out at the mountains every day and wondered. She was happy to have an excuse to see more of the outside of her new home.
It was a lovely day, warm and sunny, and at first the path was level and easy. Cimorene was just beginning to wonder whether anyone would believe her sign, once she got it put up, when the path swung left around a boulder and narrowed to a tiny ledge that sloped steeply upward.
Cimorene stopped. Now she knew why none of the knights had ridden up to the cave. The ledge was barely wide enough for a person on foot to edge along sideways; the best rider in the world couldn’t have gotten a horse down it. Cimorene rolled her sign up into a firm, tight cylinder and stuck it through her belt, so she would have her hands free while she climbed. Then she stepped out onto the ledge.
Sidling up the slope took a long time, for Cimorene was careful to make sure that each part of the ledge would hold before she trusted her weight to it. She was also careful not to look down. Heights had never bothered her before, but there was a big difference between standing solidly on top of a tower in Linderwall Castle behind a four-foot parapet and inching along a ledge barely six inches wide with nothing between her and a long fall.
She had almost reached the top of the slope, where the path widened again, when a portion of the ledge disappeared just ahead of her. Cimorene pulled her foot back and tried to figure out what had happened. She hadn’t seen or heard the rock crumble and fall away; there was simply a two-foot gap in the ledge that hadn’t been there before. She studied it for a moment, trying to think of a way of getting past. Nothing occurred to her. She felt a twinge of annoyance at the thought of all her wasted efforts, but cheered up at once when she realized that this would solve the problem of the visiting knights. If she couldn’t get around or over the gap, an armored knight wouldn’t be able to get by, either. Cimorene smiled and turned her head to creep back to safety.
There was another two-foot gap in the ledge on her other side. Cimorene frowned. Something very odd was going on, and she didn’t like it.
“You look as if you are in need of assistance,” said a deep voice from above her. “May I be of help?”
Cimorene turned her head and saw a man standing four feet away, on the path at the top of the ledge. He was tall and sharp-featured, and his eyes were a hard, bright black. Though he had a gray beard that reached nearly to his waist, his face did not look old. He wore loose robes made of blue and gray silk, and in one hand he held a staff as tall as himself made of dark, polished wood.
“Possibly,” Cimorene answered. She was certain that the man was a wizard, though she had never met one before, and she did not want to agree to anything until she was sure of what she was agreeing to. The court philosopher had always claimed that wizards were very tricky. “May I know to whom I am speaking?”
“I am the wizard Zemenar,” the man said. “And you must be Kazul’s new princess. I hope you’re not trying to run away. It’s—”
“Not done,” Cimorene said, feeling particularly annoyed because for once she was not doing anything improper. “Yes, I’m Cimorene.”
“I was going to say that it isn’t wise to run away from your dragon,” the wizard corrected mildly. “I believe it’s done all the time.”
“I’m sorry,” Cimorene said, but she didn’t try to explain. “And I’m not running away. How did you know who I was?”
“It seemed unlikely that I would find any other charming young lady walking so casually through the Pass of Silver Ice,” Zemenar answered. He smiled. “As you see, it is easy to find oneself in difficulties if one is not properly . . . prepared.”
Cimorene decided that she didn’t like him. He reminded her of one of her father’s courtiers, a humorless, sneaky little man who had paid her compliments only when he was after something and who couldn’t resist giving advice even when nobody wanted it. “The ledge was all here when I started,” she said. An idea crossed her mind, and she looked hard at Zemenar. “I don’t suppose you know what happened to the two missing bits?”
A flash of startled annoyance crossed the wizard’s face; then his expression smoothed back into pleasant politeness. He shrugged. “The Pass of Silver Ice is a strange place. Odd things frequently occur.”
“Not like this,” Cimorene muttered. She was sure, now, that the wizard had made the ledge vanish so that he could pretend to rescue her, but she had no idea why he would want her to think she owed him a favor. Actually, it surprised her that he had destroyed the ledge. She didn’t think the dragons would be too happy when they found out. Unless he hadn’t really destroyed it.
“What did you say?” Zemenar said, frowning uncertainly.
Cimorene ignored him. Without looking down, she slid her right foot along the ledge. The rock felt firm and solid. Slowly she transferred her weight and brought her left foot up beside her right. She shifted again, still careful not to look down, and slid her right foot forward once again.
“What are you doing?” Zemenar demanded.
“Getting off this ledge,” Cimorene replied. “I should think that was obvious.” One more step would bring her to the path, but Zemenar was squarely in her way. “Would you mind moving back a little so I’ll have somewhere to stand?”
Zemenar’s eyes narrowed, but he backed up several paces, and Cimorene stepped onto the path. She wanted to heave a sigh of relief, but she did not. She wasn’t going to let Zemenar have the satisfaction of knowing she had been worried. Instead, she gave him her best royal smile and said with polite insincerity, “Thank you for offering to help, but as you see, it wasn’t needed. Do stop by and visit some time.”
“I will,” Zemenar said as if he meant it. “And a very good day to you, Princess Cimorene.”
With that he vanished. There was no smoke or fire or whirlwind. There wasn’t even a shimmer in the air as he disappeared. He was simply and suddenly gone.
Cimorene stared at the place where the wizard had been and felt a shiver run down her spine. It took a very powerful wizard indeed to vanish so quietly. And she still didn’t know what he wanted.
She shook herself and started down the path. She would worry about the wizard later; right now she had to find a place to put up her sign so she could get back to the cave. She didn’t feel much like exploring any more.
She hadn’t taken more than
two or three steps when a dark shadow passed over her. Looking up, startled, she saw a flash of yellow-green scales. An instant later a dragon landed on the path in front of her, blocking the way completely. His tail hung over the edge, and he had to keep his wings partly unfurled in order to stay in balance. Cimorene recognized him at once. It was the yellow-green dragon who had wanted to eat her the day she arrived so unexpectedly in the dragons’ cave.
“I saw the whole thing,” the dragon said with nasty, triumphant glee. “Running away—and talking to a wizard! Just wait until Kazul hears. She’ll be sorry she didn’t just let us eat you and be done with it.”
“I offer you greetings and good fortune on your travels,” Cimorene said, figuring that it was best to be polite to anyone as large and toothy as a dragon, even if he wasn’t being at all polite to her. “I’m not running away.”
“Then what are you doing? Kazul doesn’t have any business that would bring you down this side of the pass.”
“I came out to put up a sign to keep the knights away,” Cimorene said.
“That’s ridiculous.” The dragon sniffed. “I’ve been on patrol in this part of the mountains for the past week, and I haven’t seen or smelled even a hint of a knight.”
“You haven’t been by Kazul’s cave, then,” Cimorene said. “At least nine of them have shown up there in the past week. Though for the past couple of days it’s been mostly a prince.”
“Princes don’t smell any different from knights, and I’d have noticed if any of them were hanging around,” the dragon said flatly. “And what about that wizard you were talking to?”
“Chaaarrge!” shouted a familiar voice from the other side of the dragon.
“Therandil!” Cimorene shouted. “I told you to go away!”
The yellow-green dragon twisted his long neck and glanced back over his shoulder. He seemed to bunch together like a cat crouching. Then he sprang straight up into the air, and Cimorene was blinded by the cloud of dust raised by the flapping of his enormous wings. She had the presence of mind to flatten herself back against the rocks by the side of the path, and a moment later she heard someone blundering by. She stuck out a foot.
“Ow!” she said as Therandil fell over with a clatter. She’d forgotten that he’d be wearing iron boots along with the rest of his armor.
“Cimorene? Is that you?” Therandil said.
“Of course it’s me,” Cimorene replied, rubbing her ankle. “Open your eyes; the dust’s settled.” She looked up as she spoke and saw the dragon soar out of sight behind a cliff.
“I’m sorry,” Therandil said, and then in an anxious tone he added, “I hope I didn’t hurt you, stumbling into you like that.”
Cimorene started to say that it was nothing and that it had been her fault anyway, when she suddenly got a much better idea. “I think you’ve sprained my ankle,” she declared.
“Oh, no,” Therandil said. He sounded truly dismayed, though Cimorene couldn’t see his face because he was wearing his helmet with the visor down.
“I probably won’t be able to walk for at least a month,” she declared. “And there’s certainly no way I can climb down this mountain.”
“But if you can’t walk—” Therandil said, and paused. Then he squared his shoulders and went on, “—then I suppose I’ll have to carry you.” He didn’t sound as if he liked the idea.
“I don’t think that would work very well,” Cimorene said quickly. “How will you fight when all the dragons come back if you’re carrying me? No, you’ll have to leave me here and go back alone.”
“You can’t stay here!” Therandil protested, though Cimorene’s talk of when all the dragons come back had plainly made him nervous.
“I have to,” Cimorene said, trying to sound noble and long-suffering. “The dragons will make sure I get safely back to Kazul’s cave, and a month isn’t too long a wait, after all.”
“I don’t understand,” Therandil said, and he did look thoroughly puzzled.
“There’s no point in you or anyone else coming up here to rescue me for at least a month, not till my ankle’s better,” Cimorene explained patiently.
“Oh, I see,” Therandil said. He tilted his head back and scanned the empty sky. “You’re quite sure you’ll be all right? Then I’ll just be going before those dragons return.” He turned and started down the path as quickly as he could manage in full armor.
4
In Which Kazul Has a Dinner Party, and Cimorene Makes Dessert
CIMORENE WATCHED THERANDIL GO with feelings of great relief. Now she had at least a month to find a permanent way of discouraging the knights, for she was quite certain that Therandil would spread the news of her “injury.” She decided to put up her sign anyway, just in case, and after a little looking she found a scrubby tree beside the path and hung the sign on it.
On her way back to Kazul’s cave, she noticed that the two pieces of the ledge were still invisible, and she was very careful about crossing them. She looked down once, out of curiosity, and was immediately sorry. She was not comfortable with the sight of her own feet firmly planted on nothing at all, with the sharp, spiky tops of spruce trees in full view some fifty feet below.
Kazul arrived only a few minutes after Cimorene herself. Cimorene was looking for some thread to mend her skirts (which had gotten torn and stained while she was climbing along the ledge) when she heard the unmistakable sounds of a dragon sliding into the main cave.
“Cimorene?” Kazul’s voice called.
“Coming,” Cimorene called back, abandoning her search. She picked up her lamp and hurried out to greet Kazul.
“I’m glad to see you’re still here,” Kazul said mildly as Cimorene came into the large cave. “Moranz was quite sure you’d run off with a knight or a wizard. I couldn’t make out for certain which.”
“Is Moranz the yellow-green dragon who wanted to eat me?” Cimorene asked. “Because if he is, he’s just trying to make trouble.”
“I’m well aware of that,” Kazul said with a sigh that sent a burnt-bread smell halfway across the cave. “But things would be easier for me if you didn’t provide him with any material to make trouble with. Exactly what happened?”
“Well, Morwen came to visit this afternoon,” Cimorene began. “We were talking about all the . . . interruptions I’ve been having, and she suggested putting up a sign . . .” She explained why she had gone to put up the sign herself and told Kazul in detail about her meetings with the wizard, the dragon, and the prince.
“So Morwen was here,” Kazul said. She sat back, and the scales on her tail rattled comfortably against the floor. “That simplifies matters. Did you bring the sign back with you?”
“No, I found a tree and hung it by the path,” Cimorene said, wondering what this was all about. “In case Therandil doesn’t tell everyone about my ankle after all.”
“Better still,” Kazul said, and smiled fiercely, showing all her teeth. “Moranz is going to regret meddling.”
“Meddling in what?”
“My business.”
“I’d like a little more of an explanation than that, if you don’t mind giving one,” Cimorene said with a touch of exasperation.
Kazul looked startled, then thoughtful. Then she nodded. “I keep forgetting that you’re not as empty-headed as most princesses,” she said. “Sit down and make yourself comfortable. This may take a while.”
Cimorene found a rock and sat on it. Kazul settled into a more restful position, folded her wings neatly along her back, and began. “It has to do with status. Dragons aren’t required to have princesses, you see. Most of us don’t. There are never enough to go around, and some of us prefer not to have to deal with the annoyances that come with them.”
“Knights,” Cimorene guessed.
“Among other things,” Kazul said, nodding. “So having a princess in residence has become a minor mark of high status among dragons.”
“A minor mark?”
Kazul smiled. “I’m afra
id so. It’s the equivalent of, oh, serving expensive imported fruit at dinner. It’s a nice way of showing everyone how rich you are, but you could make just as big an impression by having some of those fancy pastries with the smooth glazed icing and spun-sugar roses.”
“I see.” Cimorene did see, though she found herself wishing that Kazul had found something else to compare it to. The talk of dinner reminded her too much of Moranz’s repeated desire to eat her.
“Moranz is young and not very bright, I’m afraid,” Kazul said, almost as if she had read Cimorene’s mind. “He seems to have the mistaken impression that if a princess behaves badly, it reflects on the dragon who captured her. Possibly it comes from his inability to keep any of his own princesses for more than a week. Some of the lesser dragons were very snide about it when he lost his third one in a row. I believe she sneaked out while he was napping.”
“I don’t see how he can blame his princesses,” Cimorene objected. “I mean, if most princesses are unwilling, it must be fairly usual for them to try to get away.”
“Of course, but Moranz doesn’t see it that way. He’s been trying to catch someone else’s princess in a similar foolishness for years, and he’s quite sure he’s finally done so. He’s undoubtedly spreading the story of your escape far and wide at this very minute.”
“Oh, dear,” said Cimorene.
Kazul smiled again, and her teeth glittered silver in the lamplight. “He’ll look extremely foolish when it becomes obvious that you’re still here. Which is one reason I’ve asked a few of my friends to dinner tonight.”
“You’ve what?” Cimorene said. All her worries about Moranz were instantly replaced by worries about fixing dinner on short notice for an unknown number of dragons. “How many? What time will they be here? Where are we going to put them all?”
“Six. Around eight-thirty. In the banquet cave. And you won’t be doing anything but dessert. I’ve already arranged for the rest of the meal.”
“Arranged? With whom?”
“Ballimore the giantess. She’s loaned me the Cauldron of Plenty that she uses when her twelve-headed son-in-law drops in for dinner unannounced. It’ll handle most things, but all it can produce in the way of dessert is burned mint custard and sour-cream-and-onion ice cream.”