DragonSpell

  Fenworth paced for a few minutes, deep in thought. Abruptly, he turned to Kale. “You can’t go, of course. You’re too big.”

  Kale’s disappointment at the announcement overcame her reluctance to talk to someone as important as the bog wizard. “Too big?”

  “Yikes!” Fenworth rapidly crossed the distance between them and stopped to tower over the o’rant girl. “Who are you?”

  “Kale Allerion, sir. We met in Bedderman’s Bog.” Kale remembered clinging to the cygnot planking, trying not to slide through while the wizard stood by saying, “tut-tut” and “oh dear.” Then she remembered the bird. “You didn’t help me. And you pretended you weren’t even there!”

  And now he said she couldn’t go on the quest because she was too big. Paladin had said she could go on the quest, and she was going to go.

  “I’m not too big!” she shouted.

  “Of course, you’re not too big. What are you talking about?”

  “You just said I’m too big.”

  “What nonsense! As if I couldn’t tell you’re just the right size. Best size for an Allerion. Best size for an o’rant. Best size for a girl. Why are you complaining? Questing is no place for whiners.”

  “You said I couldn’t go. I’m too big.”

  “You’re not too big! Quit saying so!”

  Kale had to cover her ears now. The wizard’s voice was taking on thunderous volume.

  The tumanhofer came up beside his distraught companion and spoke clearly, pointing behind Kale as he did. “You said the urohm can’t go and is too big.”

  Kale glanced behind her to see Brunstetter standing by the dragons and grinning. Annoyed that she’d misunderstood Fenworth and been trapped in a ridiculous argument, Kale glared at the gleeful urohm.

  “Of course he’s big,” roared Fenworth. “He’s a urohm, Librettowit. Happened centuries ago at the Battle of Ordray. Not to him, of course, because he is younger than that, but to his people. A good thing, too. Urohms come in handy at times, but not in The Bogs. Dragons aren’t welcome, either. No dragons, no urohms, but little girl o’rants can enter at any time. That is, if they are questing. And this one is questing.” There was a pause as the wizard tugged on his beard and glared down at the tumanhofer. “Where did I leave the castle?”

  “In a pumpkin patch.”

  “Ha! That was a diversion. The times are perilous. I changed my mind and moved it.” Fenworth put his hand over his chin, closed his eyes, and frowned.

  “A beehive?” suggested Librettowit.

  The wizard shook his head. A score of bees flew out from his hair and zoomed away.

  “A lily pad?”

  Fenworth groaned and frogs dropped from the sleeves of his robe. “Do be sensible, Wit. I left it someplace safe.”

  “You’ve left it on a lily pad four times in the last month,” grumbled the tumanhofer.

  “Aha!” Fenworth snapped his fingers and opened his eyes. “Feather on a bird.”

  “And you remember which bird?” Librettowit did not look hopeful.

  “No, but he is to come to me when I give the secret signal.”

  “And you remember the signal?” The tumanhofer sat down and pulled out his pen and book once more.

  “Well…no.”

  “You wrote it down somewhere? You left yourself a clue?”

  “See here, Wit, you are not to be difficult about this.”

  The tumanhofer shook his head and began writing in his book, evidently giving up on an immediate departure of the questing party.

  The kimens and Dar slowed their preparations to leave. Fenworth strode back and forth, occasionally stopping to converse with a butterfly or a plant. Kale sat down beside Leetu and projected the images of the odd man’s afternoon antics into her sleeping friend’s mind.

  Fenworth sat in the grass and a dozen rabbits gathered around him as if having a conference. He spoke to each one of them. Wondering what language they used, Kale was tempted to use her mindspeaking abilities to listen in on the conversation. Remembering Leetu’s instructions on the polite use of her talents, though, she did not eavesdrop.

  Later the wizard sat on a large rock and didn’t move for an hour. He began to look like a bush entangling the boulder. Kale repeatedly blinked her eyes to keep the man in focus, or else he blurred into part of the landscape. Several birds swooped out of the sky and perched in his branches…on his arms. They flitted away after moments of intense chattering.

  The rest of the afternoon, Fenworth went about visiting just as if he were a host making sure his guests were acknowledged and made to feel welcome. At some time during this aimless chitchat, he asked the members of their group to tell him their ages. With each revelation, he would exclaim. “Ha! See? I am older than you.”

  Seezle tilted up her chin, and with mischief in her eye, said, “Now how am I to know that for sure? You haven’t told us how old you are.”

  The old man fumed. He harrumphed, blew in his beard, clapped his hands against his robes, and glowered at the tiny creature before him.

  Seezle’s smile only grew broader. “You don’t remember, do you?”

  “Sixty,” Fenworth barked. “Seventy. Maybe eighty-something.” He stood straighter, and his expression brightened. “Seventy-two. Something very close to seventy-two, I believe.” He turned and walked away, humming the little ditty every child sang at birthday celebrations.

  Seezle giggled and plopped down next to Kale and Leetu.

  “Seventy-two years old?” Kale’s face pulled into a puzzled frown. “He looks a lot older than that.”

  “He’s talking about centuries, not years,” explained Seezle.

  Kale gasped and watched the sprightly old fellow with new admiration.

  At dusk a black bird flew into their camp and landed on Fenworth’s shoulder.

  “Oh, yes,” said the old man, “I remember now. The sun falling over the side of the world, that was the signal for Thorpendipity to bring me my castle. Makes sense, you see. Nighttime. Suppertime. Bedtime. Want to be at home. My own table. My own bed. Comforts. Don’t you see? Questing can be such an uncomfortable business.”

  For one second Kale observed the befuddled expressions of her comrades. A burst of light filled the meadow, making it impossible to see anything. She squinted, put her arm across her eyes, and felt as if her body were being sucked through a hole.

  She heard horses neighing, a duck quacking, and bacon sizzling. She smelled the bacon, but also flowers, and then strong lye soap.

  “Now where’s the key to the front door?” She heard the wizard mutter practically in her ear. She turned toward the sound and reached out, but felt nothing but moving air. The swirling wind astonished her as it made almost no noise. Odd sounds, a drum beating, a door opening and shutting, a cat’s meow, could be heard distinctly.

  Fenworth’s voice floated on the air. “Yes, you see, I am the leader, because I am the oldest. I asked, and I am definitely the oldest. The senior wizard on the expedition. Well, actually the only wizard on the expedition. That is, the only one on the good side of things. There are other wizards involved who are not. But of course, these wizards are not in our party of questers but are, more specifically, the reason for the questing.”

  Odors rode on the currents as if picked up from faraway places and passed under her nose. She smelled leather, baking bread, apples, and she wrinkled her nose against dirty barn fumes.

  Kale smiled as she heard Dar declare he didn’t want to lose his pack with his flute in it. She heard kimens’ laughter, and Fenworth said, “Here’s the key. Now where’s that door?”

  Kale placed her hand on the pouch holding the egg to be hatched. No problem there. She moved her hand to the bulge made by Gymn in the moonbeam cape.

  Fainted.

  Kale patted the little dragon absent-mindedly.

  Oh, Gymn, this is exciting, not scary.

  She first realized she no longer sat on the grassy ground when the wooden floor beneath her shuddered and thum
ped as if dropped. She put her hand down and felt the wood grain and edges of old boards worn smooth by years of use.

  “Ah,” said Wizard Fenworth. “Of course I remember. How could one forget an Allerion? A new apprentice. Will she be as talented as her mother?”

  Kale jerked her head around and tried to see him, forgetting how the dazzling light hurt her eyes. Her eyelids flinched against the brilliance but not before she saw an outline of the wizard closing a massive wooden door.

  The wind ceased. The light faded. Kale opened her eyes to view her surroundings. Wizard Fenworth, Librettowit, Dar, Leetu, and the kimens all crowded in a small room. All but the wizard and the emerlindian sat on the floor. Leetu lay among the cluster of kimens. Fenworth stood with his hands on his hips and a satisfied smile on his face.

  The room resembled Granny Noon’s cozy home. Even General Lee Ark’s pinewood cabin was more elegant than this humble abode. Most of the homes in River Away had newer furniture. Fenworth needed a maid with a dust rag. In no way did this hovel look as Kale thought all castles would.

  Fenworth extended his arms in a gesture of welcome.

  “My home is your home. Welcome to my castle.”

  35

  WIZARD AT HOME

  Kale soon learned why Librettowit, the librarian, spent his time with Wizard Fenworth.

  In the “castle,” a common room served as the main gathering place. It was the only square room in the castle. The kitchen took one corner of this space. A table and benches nestled close to the oven. On a small rug, a cluster of stuffed chairs made an excellent place to sit in front of the hearth.

  To the right side of this huge fireplace, a door led to Fenworth’s bedroom. To the left was Librettowit’s room. The wall across from the fireplace held a double wooden door that led to the outdoors. The door with its beveled glass windows did look as though it belonged in a mansion.

  Round windows of various sizes spotted the walls in no clear order. In the middle of each of the remaining walls stood one circular door that lead to a tubular hallway. Along these labyrinths of corridors were round rooms with floor-to-ceiling bookcases, each overflowing with books.

  Hundreds of books. Old books, new books. Big books, tiny books. Thick books, skinny books with no covers. Books with leatherlike pages, books with colored pages, books with no pages but pictures inside that moved and changed constantly. In one room a table sat in the center upon which four books lay open. As Kale watched, words appeared on the page of one of these books. When the lines of script reached the bottom, the page turned and new words surfaced on a clean sheet as if they floated to the top of a pond.

  In the days while Kale waited for Wizard Fenworth to be ready, she wandered around in these rooms. Each room had one large, comfortable chair and lightrock lanterns to use. Occasionally, she picked out a book from the shelves to read.

  She also got lost in these rooms and hallways. The best thing to do when lost in the castle was to find a door to the outside. From the exterior, the castle appeared to be a giant cygnot with a gathering of slightly smaller trees around it. The round hallways Kale walked through in the castle were limbs connecting those trees.

  Librettowit had shown her around the maze of halls and rooms.

  “Fenworth’s castle is the center of The Bogs,” the tumanhofer explained. “This tree is the oldest living tree in Amara. The trees around are not much younger.” He beamed at his surroundings when he showed her his study room. “Fenworth’s collection of books outshines all others. It is a privilege to be his personal librarian, although he does forget exactly what my duties are from time to time.”

  “What are we doing to prepare for the quest?” asked Kale. It seemed to her that they did little beyond reading, eating Dar’s good meals, and sleeping in the hammocks the kimens strung from bookcase to bookcase in various rooms.

  “I am gathering information on Risto, his history.” Librettowit peered over his thick glasses. His small eyes examined Kale. He sighed. “There is so very much that can be learned from books. It is most often not necessary to figure things out for oneself. One only needs to read the proper book on the subject. For instance, I am also researching known facts on meech dragons. They are rare, you know, but still there are valuable accounts of them. And I am copying maps to send with Fenworth to aid in the journey. Actually, I will give them to Brunstetter. Fenworth would misplace them.”

  “You aren’t going with us?”

  “Oh, no. I’m a librarian.”

  Kale tried to corner Fenworth for a talk. He had said a number of puzzling things. He mentioned her mother. No one had ever mentioned her mother. She tried to tell herself that the way crazy things came out of his mouth in no particular order was a sign that she shouldn’t believe anything he said. But she wanted to ask just in case.

  The man had a talent for disappearing. She would follow him into a corridor, but he’d turn off into a room or down another corridor. No matter how quickly she ran to catch up, the room or the hallway would be empty.

  He could be within sight and totally inaccessible. Sometimes she would see him sitting in the top tree limbs among a gaggle of birds. When she tried to climb that high, the thin branches swayed and bent, depositing her gently on a lower level of the cygnot network. They felt like fingers grasping her clothes and then releasing her when she found secure footing.

  Each night Fenworth retired early to his chamber. In the morning he rose before the sun to converse with animals of nocturnal disposition. In fact, he spent a great deal of time visiting with animals who came to call.

  All this time, Leetu showed no signs of getting any better.

  Kale asked Dar when they would be on their way.

  He smiled over the pot he was stirring. “It would be a grievous mistake to leave before the wizard is ready. And since Paladin ordained the wizard to accompany us…” He shrugged and went back to fixing a noontime feast out of the wizard’s surprisingly well-stocked cupboards.

  She asked Shimeran.

  “No sense in hurrying a wizard,” he told her.

  She asked Librettowit.

  “No idea. Not going. So not much interested. It will be nice to have the libraries to myself once you and your party are gone. We haven’t had this much to-do in a hundred years or more. Usually, it’s rather pleasant, living with Fenworth. Quiet. Time for study.”

  The kimens were no help at all. They contentedly read or joined Dar in making music. They took care of Leetu and played with Gymn. Worry did not seem to be a part of their makeup.

  Kale found a whole room full of books by famous o’rants. She took one down from the shelf and started through it, looking mostly at the pictures.

  “I think we will wait for Metta to hatch.”

  Kale dropped the book, slapped a hand to her heart, and whirled around at the wizard’s unexpected voice right at her shoulder.

  “Metta?”

  “The minor dragon riding in a pouch suspended from a seventeen-and-a-half-inch thong around your neck.”

  Kale moved her hand on her blouse and felt the familiar pouch beneath the material. “Oh.”

  Fenworth turned away.

  “Wait,” cried Kale.

  When he turned back, she took a deep breath and plunged in. “I’ve wanted to ask you questions. What did you mean by apprentice? When will Leetu be well? Do you know my mother?”

  “Oh, we mustn’t speak of her. That’s dangerous. When we above mention those below, it puts them in deadly peril. So, of course our lips are sealed.”

  Kale tried to protest, but found her lips were indeed stuck together.

  Frowning fiercely, she used her talent. You may have stopped my mouth, but I can still mindspeak. Is she alive? Where is she? How do you know her? And my father? Do you know my father, too?

  Fenworth for once looked directly into her eyes, and she saw compassion before he covered it with a stern expression.

  “Yes, of course, you can be rude and naughty and impatient and cause all sort
s of trouble even though you’ve been warned. But you won’t. You don’t want further harm to come to the dear woman we are not speaking of.”

  Kale opened her mouth. “You’re right.”

  “Now for your other questions. Although we will pretend you only asked two for security reasons, of course. And therefore, we shall now address the first of your two questions. What do I mean by apprentice? I think you shall have to ask Wit. He’s a librarian, you know. He should have a good dictionary somewhere. And the third question: ‘When will Leetu be well?’ First, you must answer my question.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Who is Leetu?”

  “The emerlindian.”

  “I know many emerlindians, my dear.”

  “The emerlindian we brought with us. The one who is sick.”

  “Four thousand, six hundred, thirty-two emerlindians.” Fenworth tapped one bony finger against the palm of his other hand. “That’s how many I know. Living, of course.”

  Kale feared the wizard would get off track, and she’d never bring him back to the subject of her friend’s health.

  “Leetu Bends. Paladin assigned her to the quest. She was injured by mordakleeps. We’ve been helping her, but you must cure her.”

  “Why would I do that, my dear?”

  “Because Paladin said…”

  “Oh yes, of course, I do remember something…Where is this Leetu?”

  “In your kitchen, in a hammock the kimens put up.”

  “Ahhhh.” The wizard tapped a finger to his temple. “I know which one of my guests you speak of. Quiet young woman, speaks nary a word. Rather uninteresting on the whole, but we shan’t hold that against her. Mordakleeps, you say? Nasty.”

  He started walking down the hall in what Kale hoped was the direction of the kitchen. She would have had to go out the door and around the castle to the main entrance to find her way back.

  After many twists and turns they came into the warmth of the cozy common room. The kimens and Gymn sat on one of the stuffed chairs while Dar read to them.

  Fenworth marched across the room and stood beside Leetu.

  “Time to get up,” he barked. “Enough already of dwelling on your misfortune. Revolting creatures, those mordakleeps, but that’s behind you now. If you’re going to live, get up and live.”