The mapmaker’s shoulders slumped once again. “I have done a foolish thing.”
“What is that?”
“I vowed to accept Wulder’s existence and seek a knowledge of His ways if we were rescued.”
“Foolish?” Librettowit clapped the man’s shoulder. “Probably the most intelligent thing you have yet to do in your life.”
“Ha!” The word came from the mapmaker’s lips without his typical bluster. “A coincidence has put me in this position. A coincidence and fear and my own stupid words.”
The librarian shook his head. “Nay. Do you not realize that Wulder Himself was in pursuit of you?”
The guttural grunt in reply only made Librettowit smile more broadly. “You’re still under the influence of years of disbelief. You’ll soon see that what you call coincidence was a carefully laid plan devised by Wulder to bring you to a place where you had to accept Him for who He is.”
The same grunt rumbled in the mapmaker’s throat. “What makes you think so? Why should I change?”
“Initially, because your pride will force you to honor your vow. But more importantly, Wulder has begun a work in you, and He will not abandon you.”
“The meech said something similar. He said Wulder had not abandoned us in the illusion.”
Librettowit nodded. “Smart fellow, our meech wizard.”
Movement inside her cape drew Kale’s attention away from the two tumanhofers. The minor dragons crawled out of their dens and flew from one member of the rescue party to the next, chirruping greetings.
Pat dove into Fenworth’s beard, searching for a snack of insects. Kale started to call him out, but the old wizard held up his hand. “He’s a growing dragon.”
“He’s growing round,” said Kale with a smile.
Fen’s eyes wandered around the gathering. Kale felt compelled to follow his gaze and knew her mentor was impressing her with his thoughts.
Regidor stood tall with his tail swishing across the ground. Three of their group were squat. The tumanhofers seldom topped five feet, and their bodies often resembled the shape of boulders. Furry Toopka barely covered Bardon’s arm with her small frame. Two male wizards had aged, and the two female wizards had not. The squire looked healthy, strong, and ready. Kale’s eyes lingered on how mature and reliable her friend looked. The various minor dragons flashed a variety of colors as they flitted about.
“I believe,” said wise old Fenworth, “that Wulder appreciates diverse sizes, shapes, and colors in His creation. And if He does, then who are we to pass judgment based on such criteria?” He turned to look Kale in the eye. “Let Pat be round.”
Fenworth strode over to Bardon, using his walking stick, but by no means depending upon it. “Young Squire,” he boomed, “I am the oldest, and by rights, should be the leader of this quest. But, as you may have heard, I am retired. So, I defer to you. I have been informed that Paladin chose you to head this party.”
Bardon studied the old man’s face for a moment, seeing the fatigue around his eyes and the blue tinge of his lips. He wanted to put his hand on the old man’s thin arm but knew Fenworth would not appreciate that type of sympathy.
Fenworth’s eyes narrowed as if he read the squire’s thoughts. “Well, boy, where do you wish to go? What do you wish to do? And when do you suggest we get started?”
Bardon spoke with authority, “We shall return to the castle and endeavor to free the knights, Wizard Fenworth. And now seems to be an appropriate time to get started.”
“That way, then.” Fen pointed his staff in the direction they had come from and marched off, leaving the rest to follow.
Cam doused the fire Regidor had provided.
“Wait!” Fen came tramping back. “I smell soup. Delicious Regidor soup. Let’s eat before we go.”
Bowls came tumbling out of nowhere, aimed at each member of the party. If they failed to catch the dishes coming their way, they circled around and returned to be caught on the second try. Kale ladled up the brew. The pot emptied only when the last person’s appetite had been satisfied.
Fenworth again set out abruptly, commanding the others to “step lively.” Toopka scampered through the burrows, content to play chase with the minor dragons and to pick up smaller lightrocks of different colors. When they reached the trek through the forest, she slowed some. As they trudged up a mountain path, she began to complain.
Regidor picked her up, swung her around to land on his back, and spread his wings. Toopka giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck. The meech dragon took to the air and soared high, soon disappearing ahead of them.
Fenworth hollered back to Bardon. “Squire, did you say he could do that?”
“No,” he answered.
“Didn’t think so. Cheeky rascal. He’s been a hard one to raise. Too sure of himself. Cocky. Usually right. A horrible trait in an apprentice.”
They reached the courtyard of Strot’s castle an hour later.
Fenworth stretched his arms over his head, and several birds flew out of his sleeves. “Exercise!” He lowered his arms, and a rabbit, a mouse, and a squirrel popped out from under the robe’s hem. “Exercise is good for mind, body, and spirit.” He sat on one of the stone benches and promptly went to sleep, turning into a stunted tree after the second snore. Pat scrambled out of the tangled branches and perched on top.
Toopka barreled around a corner of the building. “You’re here!” she shouted. “Regidor found a door. He says it’s the main entrance to the castle. But he needs the other wizards to help him get it open. Follow me.” She dashed back the way she had come.
Librettowit and Bardon gently lifted the tree off the bench and carried it. Kale followed with the others close behind. A muted snore reverberated within the trunk.
Toopka skipped back to hold Kale’s hand. “Do you know what?”
“No. What?”
“You can’t tell this is a castle from the air. We only knew it was the right place because Regidor saw the waterfall. You can’t see the statues or the benches or the walkways. Nothing! And then Regidor couldn’t find the door. He had to use his forefoot instead of his eyes. He closed his eyes and walked around the mountain with his forefoot on the rock. I followed. Then he found it. I couldn’t see it. He said he didn’t see it, but he felt the gap in the stone. I didn’t see the gap in the stone, but he showed me and showed me and finally I saw it. Hurry up.”
She ran ahead.
Bardon looked over his shoulder at Kale. “You know, she doesn’t seem one bit older than she did three years ago.”
“She has learned to read a little,” Kale said.
“She can be quite helpful in the kitchen,” added Taylaminkadot.
Librettowit shifted his burden and said, “Emerlindians and doneels have a longer maturing period. They’re considered youngsters for almost a hundred years. Tumanhofers and o’rants mature in eighteen to twenty years. Mariones’ and urohms’ maturation period is about the same, but their life span is considerably shorter than the other high races. Kimens mature rapidly, in three or four years. No one outside of the kimen race is sure about their longevity.”
“Still,” said Taylaminkadot, “there has always been something secretive in Toopka’s manner. She refused to choose a day to celebrate her birth every year. And when I urged her to pick a number to say it was how old she was and start counting from that, she didn’t want to. In fact, she became quite stubborn.”
The subject of their conversation danced toward them, hopping, skipping, and twirling. “Come on! You’re almost there.”
They followed her around a hedge and spotted Regidor inspecting a section at the base of what looked like a cliff.
After placing Fenworth in the shade, they gathered around the meech dragon. He showed them the camouflaged entry. The tumanhofers and Toopka sat down to watch as Lyll, Cam, Regidor, and Kale worked to open the door. Cam assigned each wizard a range of colored threads to manipulate. Bardon scouted the area to make sure this important work would
n’t be interrupted by grawligs.
Kale had never seen such a complicated weave. She had to concentrate to keep the strands from slipping away from her. Sometimes, it was a matter of holding hers in one place while another wizard moved his strands. She smiled as she realized her mother was the best at unwinding the threads.
“Just like untangling a mess of necklaces or yarn when you’re knitting,” her mother said.
“I try not to let my knitting get in a tangle,” said Cam.
“I rarely wear necklaces,” said Regidor.
Lyll chortled and directed Cam to move his threads through a loop in Regidor’s strand.
In the end, they had the colors isolated and tied off. Regidor gave a push against the door, and it swung open.
Librettowit and Bromptotterpindosset lifted Fenworth and carried him in after the others. They stood in a vast entryway with tapestries and huge oil paintings on the walls, a two-sided, curved stairway before them, and a marble floor done in many colors, much like a mosaic.
Regidor tilted his head. “Odd.”
Lyll’s eyes swept the room as she nodded. “Definitely.”
Cam breathed in deeply and expelled the air slowly. “We must proceed with caution.”
Kale felt goose bumps rise on her arms, and a shiver tingled her spine. “There’s someone in the castle now, isn’t there?”
“Yes,” said Regidor and drew his sword.
50
IN THE CASTLE ONCE MORE
Bardon also pulled his sword. Behind him he heard the swish of metal leaving leather. He glanced at Kale and saw she had her hand in front of her as if she held a sword, but nothing was there. A quick look at her mother showed she stood in the same position. They had invisible weapons. Bardon had seen Lyll Allerion wield her sword in a fight with mordakleeps. He presumed she had trained Kale to use the weapon just as effectively.
“How many people are in the castle?” he asked.
“Hard to say,” Regidor answered. “They’re scattered all over this wing.”
“We’re in the part of the castle where the Knights’ Chamber is located, right?”
“Right.”
“Let’s escort the wizards, Taylaminkadot, and Toopka there. Then, we’ll determine who is to stay and work on breaking the spell, and who will go looking for intruders.”
Regidor nodded. Bardon looked over his shoulder to see if his party was ready to go. Kale and her mother had changed into matching outfits that would not hinder their movements during a fight. Instead of the loose clothing that had been comfortable for a long hike, they now wore fitted garments of a blue material that stretched easily. Toopka clung to Taylaminkadot’s hand. Cam brought up the rear. The old wizard only had his staff for a weapon, but Bardon knew he could count on Cam to punish an attacker with more than just a blow from a stick.
The mapmaker’s red face and the perspiration dripping off his brow warned Bardon something was wrong.
“Bromptotterpindosset?”
“I don’t relish carrying this tree up those stairs.”
Bardon looked to Lyll and Kale, who flanked the tumanhofers carrying Fenworth. “Can you do something about that?”
They nodded in unison, then turned to face the tree. In a moment it floated.
Lyll smiled. “Now all you have to do is guide Fenworth, instead of carrying him.”
The group climbed the right side of the curving steps. Each one moved with great stealth. The only noise came from Fenworth’s occasional snore. Toopka jumped each time a snort broke the silence.
They passed down a hall with family portraits hanging on both sides, then up another stairway, this one only six feet wide and straight. Regidor and Bardon continued to lead the way. They listened at each passage that branched off from the main corridor.
At the first of these junctions, Bardon glanced at Kale. She met his eye and, by giving a small shake of her head, confirmed she did not feel the presence of another being outside their own little group. No one lurked down the hall.
Are you ready? he asked.
“Yes, I feel our connection as if we hadn’t been apart these three years.”
Bardon relaxed some, knowing he and Kale had entered into a state that, as far as they knew, only the two of them had ever experienced. Both alert. Both thinking along the same lines. They knew from past experience that if a fight broke out, they would react as if their movements were synchronized, thought out by one mind instead of two.
The group climbed another set of stairs and came to a third-floor hallway. Regidor mindspoke to each of them, saying they sought the room at the end of this corridor.
Light poured from the open door and made a bright patch on the dusty hall runner. The carpet’s colors of burgundy red and deep green struggled to show through a layer of fine dirt. The thick pile muffled their almost silent footsteps. Bardon signaled the men and women behind to stop. With a nod of his head, he indicated that Regidor and Kale should go with him.
They crept to the edge of the door, all three tensing.
“Bardon.”
The squire cocked an eyebrow, hearing Kale’s voice as clearly as if she had spoken aloud.
“There’s a woman in the room. She’s filled with sorrow. I don’t think she’s dangerous.”
Regidor tilted his head and suddenly relaxed. He shoved his sword into its sheath. “Granny Kye.”
Bardon put away his weapon and signaled the rest to come.
He stepped into the room so as not to startle the old emerlindian. She sat at her easel and concentrated on the picture she drew. He spoke softly, “Granny Kye?”
She frowned but did not look up.
He moved closer and touched her shoulder. “Granny Kye.”
She glanced at him. “There you are. I’ve found him. My son.” She raised a handkerchief to her trembling lips. “And my other son. The one I’ve thought dead. Twins.” She nodded toward one stonelike knight and then another. “If we don’t wake them soon, they will surely be gone forever.”
He knelt beside her and put his arms around her thin shoulders. “There is hope, Granny Kye. I’ve brought four more wizards besides Regidor, and a learned gentleman who will search this castle’s library.”
She nodded and rested her forehead against his chest. A little sob broke from her throat. “We’re so close to saving them. We must not fail.”
“How did you get here?”
“Captain Anton said it was time for us to return to Dormenae. The moonbird brought Regidor’s message, but another full day had passed. The captain said we would leave in the morning, but during the night, the voices spoke to Sittiponder. He said they were most urgent. We must follow you and Regidor into the warren. Captain Anton was reluctant, but the boy convinced him. Sittiponder led the way.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Three days.”
His breath caught in his throat, but Bardon merely nodded. Obviously, his and Regidor’s accounting of time had been influenced by the enchantment of the castle and the surrounding area.
Bardon looked at the painting of Granny Kye’s two sons. Although the knights stood as they did in actuality, and their clothing represented what he could see with his eyes, the portraits revealed vibrant life. In reality the figures slumped with their chins resting on their chests. In the portrait, they were pictured as awake. Each man’s eyes looked out from the canvas instead of being shut in perpetual slumber. Their expressions showed an eagerness to spring from the two-dimensional world and perhaps embrace their mother.
When Bardon stood, the son on the right seemed to watch him. A shiver ran down the squire’s spine. He crossed behind Granny Kye to stand at her other shoulder. The eyes of the one knight followed him.
“Which one is N’Rae’s father?” he asked.
“This one.” The old emerlindian pointed to the man on the left. “Jilles. His name is Sir Jilles.” Her head turned slightly, and her finger moved to the other man in the painting. “And this is my eldest
son, by a few minutes. Joffa. Sir Joffa. Their father was Jofil. I thought I was very clever when I named them.”
Bardon rested his hand on her shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. “We will do our best to wake them.” The portrait of Sir Joffa stared at Bardon, and now the expression held a deep sadness. The living, breathing squire gave himself a little shake to break loose of the feeling that the picture would speak if it could. He glanced up at the still, cold knight, who appeared not to breathe at all.
“Where are the others, Granny Kye? N’Rae, Holt, the boys, the guard?” he asked.
“They spend the days exploring. No one has found a way to get out of the castle. All the doors are locked. All the windows are sealed.”
Behind him, he heard Lyll Allerion and Kale speaking in muted tones. He turned to see the lady wizard kneeling beside a seated knight, her head in his stiff lap.
In a few steps, Bardon reached Kale and touched her elbow. She turned toward him, and he naturally enclosed her in his arms. Her arms came around his middle, and she held on as if she would fall without his support. His embrace tightened as she melted against him and cried.
He leaned his cheek against her hair and breathed in the fresh citrus smell of her. Affection and a fierce desire to protect her surged through him. He moved his chin a fraction of an inch and placed his lips against her temple, sure that she would not notice such an insignificant kiss.
He looked at Lyll and the sleeping knight.
“Your father?” Bardon asked.
Kale nodded and sniffed. Reaching into his pocket, he brought out a handkerchief and offered it. Kale took it with one hand but kept herself tucked close while she blew her nose.
“Mother said when she heard about the sleeping knights, she hoped my father would be among them. She knew Risto had captured him and cast a spell over him. No one had seen him fall in battle. No one knew where he had gone from the last inn where she had traced him. Then she heard the rumor of Risto’s mastering this sleep spell and that my father was under Risto’s power. But no word as to where these men were. But she was afraid to think she had found him at last. Afraid he would not be among those sleeping here.” She swallowed another sob. “Now she has new fears. She’s found him, and she is afraid we will not be able to wake him.”