Linderwall was a large kingdom, just east of the Mountains of Morning, where philosophers were highly respected and the number five was fashionable. The climate was unremarkable. The knights kept their armor brightly polished mainly for show—it had been centuries since a dragon had come east. There were the usual periodic problems with royal children and uninvited fairy godmothers, but they were always the sort of thing that could be cleared up by finding the proper prince or princess to marry the unfortunate child a few years later. All in all, Linderwall was a very prosperous and pleasant place. Cimorene hated it.
Cimorene was the youngest daughter of the King of Linderwall, and her parents found her rather trying. Their first six daughters were perfectly normal princesses, with long, golden hair and sweet dispositions, each more beautiful than the last. Cimorene was lovely enough, but her hair was jet black, and she wore it in braids instead of curled and pinned like her sisters.
And she wouldn’t stop growing. Her parents were quite sure that no prince would want to marry a girl who could look him in the eye instead of gazing up at him becomingly through her lashes. As for the girl’s disposition—well, when people were being polite, they said she was strong-minded. When they were angry or annoyed with her, they said she was as stubborn as a pig.
The King and Queen did the best they could. They hired the most superior tutors and governesses to teach Cimorene all the things a princess ought to know— dancing, embroidery, drawing, and etiquette. There was a great deal of etiquette, from the proper way to curtsy before a visiting prince to how loudly it was permissible to scream when being carried off by a giant. (Linderwall still had an occasional problem with giants.)
Cimorene found it all very dull, but she pressed her lips together and learned it anyway. When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she would go down to the castle armory and bully the armsmaster into giving her a fencing lesson. As she got older, she found her regular lessons more and more boring. Consequently, the fencing lessons became more and more frequent.
When she was twelve, her father found out.
“Fencing is not proper behavior for a princess,” he told her in the gentle-but-firm tone recommended by the court philosopher.
Cimorene tilted her head to one side. “Why not?”
“It’s ... well, it’s simply not done.”
Cimorene considered. “Aren’t I a princess?”
“Yes, of course you are, my dear,” said her father with relief. He had been bracing himself for a storm of tears, which was the way his other daughters reacted to reprimands.
“Well, I fence,” Cimorene said with the air of one delivering an unshakable argument. “So it is too done by a princess.”
“That doesn’t make it proper, dear,” put in her mother gently.
“Why not?”
“It simply doesn’t,” the Queen said firmly, and that was the end of Cimorene’s fencing lessons.
When she was fourteen, her father discovered that she was making the court magician teach her magic.
“How long has this been going on?” he asked wearily when she arrived in response to his summons.
“Since you stopped my fencing lessons,” Cimorene said. “I suppose you’re going to tell me it isn’t proper behavior for a princess.”
“Well, yes. I mean, it isn’t proper.”
“Nothing interesting seems to be proper,” Cimorene said.
“You might find things more interesting if you applied yourself a little more, dear,” Cimorene’s mother said.
“I doubt it,” Cimorene muttered, but she knew better than to argue when her mother used that tone of voice. And that was the end of the magic lessons.
The same thing happened over the Latin lessons from the court philosopher, the cooking lessons from the castle chef, the economics lessons from the court treasurer, and the juggling lessons from the court minstrel. Cimorene began to grow rather tired of the whole business.
When she was sixteen, Cimorene summoned her fairy godmother.
“Cimorene, my dear, this sort of thing really isn’t done,” the fairy said, fanning away the scented blue smoke that had accompanied her appearance.
“People keep telling me that,” Cimorene said.
“You should pay attention to them, then,” her godmother said irritably. “I’m not used to being hauled away from my tea without warning. And you aren’t supposed to call me unless it is a matter of utmost importance to your life and future happiness.”
“It is of utmost importance to my life and future happiness,” Cimorene said.
“Oh, very well. You’re a bit young to have fallen in love already; still, you always have been a precocious child. Tell me about him.”
Cimorene sighed. “It isn’t a him.”
“Enchanted, is he?” the fairy said with a spark of interest. “A frog, perhaps? That used to be quite popular, but it seems to have gone out of fashion lately. Nowadays, all the princes are talking birds, or dogs, or hedgehogs.”
“No, no, I’m not in love with anyone!”
“Then what, exactly, is your problem?” the fairy said in exasperation.
“This!” Cimorene gestured at the castle around her. “Embroidery lessons, and dancing, and—and being a princess!”
“My dear Cimorene!” the fairy said, shocked. “It’s your heritage!”
“It’s boring.”
“Boring?” The fairy did not appear to believe what she was hearing.
“Boring. I want to do things, not sit around all day and listen to the court minstrel make up songs about how brave Daddy is and how lovely his wife and daughters are.”
“Nonsense, my dear. This is just a stage you’re going through. You’ll outgrow it soon, and you’ll be very glad you didn’t do anything rash.”
Cimorene looked at her godmother suspiciously. “You’ve been talking to my parents, haven’t you?”
“Well, they do try to keep me up to date on what my godchildren are doing.”
“I thought so,” said Cimorene, and bade her fairy godmother a polite good-bye.
A few weeks later, Cimorene’s parents took her to a tourney in Sathem-by-the-Mountains, the next kingdom over. Cimorene was quite sure that they were only taking her because her fairy godmother had told them that something had better be done about her, and soon. She kept this opinion to herself. Anything was better than the endless rounds of dancing and embroidery lessons at home.
Cimorene realized her mistake almost as soon as they reached their destination, for the King of Sathem-by-the-Mountains had a son. He was a golden-haired, blue-eyed, and exceedingly handsome prince, whose duties appeared to consist entirely of dancing attendance on Cimorene.
“Isn’t he handsome!” Cimorene’s lady-in-waiting sighed.
“Yes,” Cimorene said without enthusiasm. “Unfortunately, he isn’t anything else.”
“Whatever do you mean?” the lady-in-waiting said in astonishment.
“He has no sense of humor, he isn’t intelligent, he can’t talk about anything except tourneys, and half of what he does say he gets wrong. I’m glad we’re only staying three weeks. I don’t think I could stand to be polite to him for much longer than that.”
“But what about your engagement?” the lady-in-waiting cried, horrified.
“What engagement?” Cimorene said sharply.
The lady-in-waiting tried to mutter something about a mistake, but Cimorene put up her chin in her best princess fashion and insisted on an explanation. Finally, the lady-in-waiting broke down.
“I ... I overheard Their Majesties discussing it yesterday.” She sniffled into her handkerchief. “The stipulations and covenants and contracts and settlements have all been drawn up, and they’re going to sign them the day after tomorrow and announce it on Th-Thursday.”
“I see,” said Cimorene. “Thank you for telling me. You may go.”
The lady-in-waiting left, and Cimorene went to see her parents. They were annoyed and a little embarrassed to find that Cimorene had discovered their plans, but they were still very firm about it. “We were going to tell you tomorrow, when we signed the papers,” her father said.
“We knew you’d be pleased, dear,” her mother said, nodding. “He’s such a good-looking boy.”
“But I don’t want to marry Prince Therandil,” Cimorene said.
“Well, it’s not exactly a brilliant match,” Cimorene’s father said, frowning. “But I didn’t think you’d care how big his kingdom is.”
“It’s the prince I don’t care for,” Cimorene said.
“That’s a great pity, dear, but it can’t be helped,” Cimorene’s mother said placidly. “I’m afraid it isn’t likely that you’ll get another offer.”
“Then I won’t get married at all.”
Both her parents looked slightly shocked. “My dear Cimorene!” said her father. “That’s out of the question. You’re a princess; it simply isn’t done.”
“I’m too young to get married!”
“Your Great-Aunt Rose was married at sixteen,” her mother pointed out. “One really can’t count all those years she spent asleep under that dreadful fairy’s curse.”
“I won’t marry the prince of Sathem-by-the-Mountains!” Cimorene said desperately. “It isn’t proper!”
“What?” said both her parents together.
“He hasn’t rescued me from a giant or an ogre or freed me from a magic spell,” Cimorene said.
Both her parents looked uncomfortable. “Well, no,” said Cimorene’s father. “It’s a bit late to start arranging it, but we might be able to manage something.”
“I don’t think it’s necessary,” Cimorene’s mother said. She looked reprovingly at Cimorene. “You’ve never paid attention to what was or wasn’t suitable before, dear; you can’t start now. Proper or not, you will marry Prince Therandil three weeks from Thursday.”
“But, Mother—”
“I’ll send the wardrobe mistress to your room to start fitting your bride clothes,” Cimorene’s mother said firmly, and that was the end of the conversation.
Cimorene decided to try a more direct approach. She went to see Prince Therandil. He was in the castle armory, looking at swords. “Good morning. Princess,” he said when he finally noticed Cimorene. “Don’t you think this is a lovely sword?”
Cimorene picked it up. “The balance is off.”
“I believe you’re right,” said Therandil after a moment’s study. “Pity; now I’ll have to find another. Is there something I can do for you?”
“Yes,” said Cimorene. “You can not marry me.”
“What?” Therandil looked confused.
“You don’t really want to marry me, do you?” Cimorene said coaxingly.
“Well, not exactly,” Therandil replied. “I mean, in a way. That is—”
“Oh, good,” Cimorene said, correctly interpreting this muddled reply as No, not at all. “Then you’ll tell your father you don’t want to marry me?”
“I couldn’t do that!” Therandil said, shocked. “It wouldn’t be right.”
“Why not?” Cimorene demanded crossly.
“Because—because—well, because princes just don’t do that!”
“Then how are you going to keep from marrying me?”
“I guess I won’t be able to,” Therandil said after thinking hard for a moment. “How do you like that sword over there? The one with the silver hilt?”
Cimorene left in disgust and went out to the castle garden. She was very discouraged. It looked as if she were going to marry the prince of Sathem-by-the-Mountains whether she wanted to or not.
“I’d rather be eaten by a dragon,” she muttered.
“That can be arranged,” said a voice from beside her left slipper.
Cimorene looked down and saw a small green frog looking up at her. “I beg your pardon. Did you speak?” she asked.
“You don’t see anyone else around, do you?” said the frog.
“Oh!” said Cimorene. She had never met a talking frog before. “Are you an enchanted prince?” she asked a little doubtfully.
“No, but I’ve met a couple of them, and after a while you pick up a few things,” said the frog. “Now, why is it that you want to be eaten by a dragon?”
“My parents want me to marry Prince Therandil,” Cimorene explained.
“And you don’t want to? Sensible of you,” said the frog. “I don’t like Therandil. He used to skip rocks across the top of my pond. They always sank into my living room.”
“I’m sorry,” Cimorene said politely.
“Well,” said the frog, “what are you going to do about it?”
“Marrying Therandil? I don’t know. I’ve tried talking to my parents, but they won’t listen, and neither will Therandil.”
“I didn’t ask what you’d said about it,” the frog snapped. “I asked what you’re going to do. Nine times out of ten, talking is a way of avoiding doing things.”
“What kinds of things would you suggest?” Cimorene said, stung.
“You could challenge the prince to a duel,” the frog suggested.
“He’d win,” Cimorene said. “It’s been four years since I’ve been allowed to do any fencing.”
“You could turn him into a toad.”
“I never got past invisibility in my magic lessons,” Cimorene said. “Transformations are advanced study.”
The frog looked at her disapprovingly. “Can’t you do anything?”
“I can curtsy,” Cimorene said disgustedly. “I know seventeen different country dances, nine ways to agree with an ambassador from Cathay without actually promising him anything, and one hundred and forty-three embroidery stitches. And I can make cherries jubilee.”
“Cherries jubilee?” asked the frog, and snapped at a passing fly.
“The castle chef taught me, before Father made him stop,” Cimorene explained.
The frog munched briefly, then swallowed and said, “I suppose there’s no help for it. You’ll have to run away.”
“Run away?” Cimorene said. “I don’t like that idea. Too many things could go wrong.”
“You don’t like the idea of marrying Prince Therandil, either,” the frog pointed out.
“Maybe I can think of some other way out of getting married.”
The frog snorted. “Such as?” Cimorene didn’t answer, and after a moment the frog said, “I thought so. Do you want my advice or not?”
“Yes, please,” said Cimorene. After all, she didn’t have to follow it.
“Go to the main road outside the city and follow it away from the mountains,” said the frog. “After a while, you will come to a small pavilion made of gold, surrounded by trees made of silver with emerald leaves. Go straight past it without stopping, and don’t answer if anyone calls out to you from the pavilion. Keep on until you reach a hovel. Walk straight up to the door and knock three times, then snap your fingers and go inside. You’ll find some people there who can help you out of your difficulties if you’re polite about asking and they’re in the right mood. And that’s all.”
The frog turned abruptly and dove into the pool. “Thank you very much,” Cimorene called after it, thinking that the frog’s advice sounded very odd indeed. She rose and went back into the castle.
She spent the rest of the day being fitted and fussed over by her ladies-in-waiting until she was ready to scream. By the end of the formal banquet, at which she had to sit next to Prince Therandil and listen to endless stories of his prowess in battle, Cimorene was more than ready to take the frog’s advice.
Late that night, when most of the castle was asleep, Cimorene bundled up five clean handkerchiefs and her best crown. Then she dug out the notes she had taken during her magic lessons and carefully cast a spell of invisibility. It seemed to work, but she was still very watchful as she sneaked out of the castle. After all, it had been a long time since she had practiced.
By morning, Cimorene was well outside the city and visible again, walking down the main road that led away from the mountains. It was hot and dusty, and she began to wish she had brought a bottle of water instead of the handkerchiefs.
Just before noon, she spied a small grove of trees next to the road ahead of her. It looked like a cool, pleasant place to rest for a few minutes, and she hurried forward. When she reached the grove, however, she saw that the trees were made of the finest silver, and their shining green leaves were huge emeralds. In the center of the grove stood a charming pavilion made of gold and hung with gold curtains.
Cimorene slowed down and looked longingly at the cool green shade beneath the trees. Just then a woman’s voice called out from the pavilion, “My dear, you look so tired and thirsty! Come and sit with me and share my luncheon.”
The voice was so kind and coaxing that Cimorene took two steps toward the edge of the road before she remembered the frog’s advice. Oh, no, she thought to herself, I’m not going to be caught this easily! She turned without saying anything and hurried on down the road.
A little farther on she came to a tiny, wretched-looking hovel made of cracked and weathered gray boards. The door hung slantwise on a broken hinge, and the whole building looked as though it were going to topple over at any moment. Cimorene stopped and stared doubtfully at it, but she had followed the frog’s advice this far, and she thought it would be silly to stop now. So she shook the dust from her skirts and put on her crown (so as to make a good impression). She marched up to the door, knocked three times, and snapped her fingers just as the frog had told her. Then she pushed the door open and went in.
Inside, the hovel was dark and cool and damp. Cimorene found it a pleasant relief after the hot, dusty road, but she wondered why no sunlight seemed to be coming through the cracks in the boards. She was still standing just inside the door, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dark, when someone said crossly, “Is this that princess we’ve been waiting for?”
“Why don’t you ask her?” said a deep, rumbly voice.
“I’m Princess Cimorene of Linderwall,” Cimorene answered politely. “I was told you could help me.”
“Help her?” said the first voice, and Cimorene heard a snort. “I think we should just eat her and be done with it.”
Cimorene began to feel frightened. She wondered whether the voices belonged to ogres or trolls and whether she could slip out of the hovel before they made up their minds about eating her. She felt behind her for the door and started in surprise when her fingers touched damp stone instead of dry wood. Then a third voice said, “Not so fast, Woraug. Let’s hear her story first.”
So Cimorene took a deep breath and began to explain about the fencing lessons and the magic lessons, and the Latin and the juggling, and all the other things that weren’t considered proper behavior for a princess, and she told the voices that she had run away from Sathem-by-the-Mountains to keep from having to marry Prince Therandil.
“And what do you expect us to do about it?” one of the voices asked curiously.
“I don’t know,” Cimorene said. “Except, of course, that I would rather not be eaten. I can’t see who you are in this dark, you know.”
“That can be fixed,” said the voice. A moment later, a small ball of light appeared in the air above Cimorene’s head. Cimorene stepped backward very quickly and ran into the wall.
The voices belonged to dragons.
Five of them lay on or sprawled over or curled around the various rocks and columns that filled the huge cave where Cimorene stood. Each of the males (there were three) had two short, stubby, sharp-looking horns on either side of their heads; the female dragon had three, one on each side and one in the center of her forehead. The last dragon was apparently still too young to have made up its mind which sex it wanted to be; it didn’t have any horns at all.
Cimorene felt very frightened. The smallest of the dragons was easily three times as tall as she was, and they gave an overwhelming impression of shining green scales and sharp silver teeth. They were much scarier in person than in the pictures she remembered from her natural history books. She swallowed very hard, wondering whether she really would rather be eaten by a dragon than marry Therandil.
“Well?” said the three-homed dragon just in front of her. “Just what are you asking us to do for you?”
“I—” Cimorene stopped short as an idea occurred to her. Cautiously, she asked, “Dragons are ... are fond of princesses, aren’t they?”
“Very,” said the dragon, and smiled. The smile showed all her teeth, which Cimorene did not find reassuring.
“That is, I’ve heard of dragons who have captive princesses to cook for them and—and so on,” said Cimorene, who had very little idea what captive princesses did all day.
The dragon in front of Cimorene nodded. One of the others, a yellowish green in color, shifted restlessly and said, “Oh, let’s just go ahead and eat her. It will save trouble.”
Before any of the other dragons could answer, there was a loud, booming noise, and a sixth dragon slithered into the cave. His scales were more gray than green, and the dragons by the door made way for him respectfully.
“Kazul!” said the newcomer in a loud voice. “Achoo! Sorry I’m late, but a terrible thing happened on the way here, achoo!”
“What was it?” said the dragon to whom Cimorene had been talking.
“Ran into a wizard. Achoo! Had to eat him; no help for it. Achoo, achoo. And now look at me!” Every time the gray-green dragon sneezed, he emitted a small ball of fire that scorched the wall of the cave.
“Calm down, Roxim,” said Kazul. “You’re only making it worse.”
“Achoo! Calm down? When I’m having an allergy attack? Achoo, oh, bother, achoo!” said the gray-green dragon. “Somebody give me a handkerchief. Achoo!”
“Here,” said Cimorene, holding out one of the ones she had brought with her. “Use this.” She was beginning to feel much less frightened, for the gray-green dragon reminded her of her great-uncle, who was old and rather hard of hearing and of whom she was rather fond.
“What’s that?” said Roxim. “Achoo! Oh, hurry up and give it here.”
Kazul took the handkerchief from Cimorene, using two claws very delicately, and passed it to Roxim. The gray-green dragon mopped his streaming eyes and blew his nose. “That’s better, I think. Achoo! Oh, drat!”
The ball of fire that accompanied the dragon’s sneeze had reduced the handkerchief to a charred scrap. Cimorene hastily dug out another one and handed it to Kazul, feeling very glad that she had brought several spares.
Roxim went through two more handkerchiefs before his sneezing spasms finally stopped. “Much better,” he said. “Now then, who’s this that lent me the handkerchiefs? Somebody’s new princess, eh?”
“We were just discussing that when you came in,” Kazul said, and turned back to Cimorene. “You were saying? About cooking and so on.”
“Couldn’t I do that for one of you for a while?” Cimorene said.
The dragon smiled again; and Cimorene swallowed hard. “Possibly. Why would you want to do that?”
“Because then I wouldn’t have to go home and marry Therandil,” Cimorene said. “Being a dragon’s princess is a perfectly respectable thing to do, so my parents couldn’t complain. And it would be much more interesting than embroidery and dancing lessons.”
Several of the dragons made snorting or choking noises. Cimorene jumped, then decided that they were laughing.
“This is ridiculous,” said a large, bright green dragon on Cimorene’s left.
“Why?” asked Kazul.
“A princess volunteering? Out of the question!”
“That's easy for you to say,” one of the other dragons grumbled. “You already have a princess. What about the rest of us?”
“Yes, don’t be stuffy, Woraug,” said another. “Besides, what else can we do with her?”
“Eat her,” suggested the yellowish green dragon in a bored tone.
“No proper princess would come out looking for dragons,” Woraug objected.
“Well, I’m not a proper princess, then,” Cimorene snapped. “I make cherries jubilee, and I volunteer for dragons, and I conjugate Latin verbs—or at least I would if anyone would let me. So there!”
“Hear, hear,” said the gray-green dragon.
“You see?” Woraug said. “Who would want an improper princess?”
“I would,” said Kazul.
“You can’t be serious, Kazul,” Woraug said irritably. “Why?”
“I like cherries jubilee,” Kazul replied, still watching Cimorene. “And I like the look of her. Besides, the Latin scrolls in my library need cataloguing, and if I can’t find someone who knows a little of the language, I’ll have to do it myself.”
“Give her a trial run first,” a purplish green dragon advised.
Woraug snorted. “Latin and cherries jubilee! And for that you’d take on a black-haired, snippy little—”
“I’ll thank you to be polite when you’re discussing my princess,” Kazul said, and smiled fiercely.
“Nice little gal,” Roxim said, nodding approvingly and waving Cimorene’s next-to-last handkerchief. “Got sense. Be good for you, Kazul.”
“If that’s settled, I’m going to go find a snack,” said the yellowish green dragon.
Woraug looked around, but the other dragons seemed to agree with Roxim. “Oh, very well,” Woraug said grumpily. “It’s your choice, after all, Kazul.”
“It certainly is. Now, Princess, if you’ll come this way, I’ll get you settled in.”
Cimorene followed Kazul across the cave and down a tunnel. To her relief, the ball of light came with her. She had the uncomfortable feeling that if she had tried to walk behind Kazul in the dark, she would have stepped on her tail, which would not have been a good beginning.
Kazul led Cimorene through a long maze of tunnels and finally stopped in another cave. “Here we are,” the dragon said. “You can use the small room over on the right. I believe my last princess left most of the furnishings behind when she ran off with the knight.”
“Thank you,” Cimorene said. “When do I start my duties? And what are they, please?”
“You start right away,” said Kazul. “I’ll want dinner at seven. In the meantime, you can begin sorting the treasure.” The dragon nodded toward a dark opening on the left. “I’m sure some of it needs repairing. There’s at least one suit of armor with the leg off, and some of the cheaper magic swords are probably getting rusty. The rest of it really ought to be rearranged sensibly. I can never find anything when I want it.”
“What about the library you mentioned?” Cimorene asked.
“We’ll see how well you do on the treasure room first,” Kazul said. “The rest of your job I’ll explain as we go along. You don’t object to learning a little magic, do you?”
“Not at all,” said Cimorene.
“Good. It’ll make things much easier. Go and wash up, and I’ll let you into the treasure room so you can get started.”
Cimorene nodded and went to the room Kazul had told her to use. As she washed her face and hands, she felt happier than she had in a long time. She was not going to have to marry Therandil, and sorting a dragon’s treasure sounded far more interesting than dancing or embroidery. She was even going to learn some magic! And her parents wouldn’t worry about her, once they found out where she was. For the first time in her life, Cimorene was glad she was a princess. She dried her hands and turned to go back into the main cave, wondering how best to persuade Kazul to help her brush up on her Latin. She didn’t want the dragon to be disappointed in her skill.
“Draco, draconem, dracone,” she muttered, and her lips curved into a smile. She had always been rather good at declining nouns. Still smiling, she started forward to begin her new duties.
Cimorene settled in very quickly. She got along well with Kazul and learned her way around the caves with a minimum of mishaps. Actually, the caves were more like an intricate web of tunnels, connecting caverns of various shapes and sizes that belonged to individual dragons. It reminded Cimorene of an underground city with tunnels instead of streets. She had no idea how far the tunnels extended, though she rather suspected that some of them had been magicked, so that when you walked down them you went a lot farther than you thought you were going.
Kazul’s section of the caves was fairly large. In addition to the kitchen—which was in a large cave near the exit, so that there wouldn’t be a problem with the smoke from the fire—she had a sleeping cavern, three enormous treasure rooms at the far end of an intricate maze of twisty little passages, two even more enormous storage rooms for less valuable items, a library, a large, bare cave for eating and visiting with other dragons, and the set of rooms assigned to Cimorene. All the caves smelled of dragon, a somewhat musty, smoky cinnamony smell. Cimorene’s first job was to air them out.
Cimorene’s rooms consisted of three small connecting caves, just off Kazul’s living cavern. They were furnished very comfortably in a mixture of styles and periods, and looked just like the guest rooms in most of the castles Cimorene had visited, only without windows. They were much too small for a dragon to get inside. When asked, Kazul said that the dwarves had made them in return for a favor, and the dragon’s tone prevented Cimorene from inquiring too closely into just what sort of favor it had been.
By the end of the first week, Cimorene was sure enough of her position to give Kazul a list of things that she needed in the kitchen. The previous princess— of whom Cimorene was beginning to have a very poor opinion—had apparently made do with a large skillet with three dents and a wobbly handle, a wooden mixing bowl with a crack in it, a badly tarnished copper teakettle, and an assortment of mismatched plates, cups, and silverware, most of them chipped or bent.
Kazul seemed pleased by the request, and the following day Cimorene had everything she had asked for, except for a few of the more exotic pans and dishes. This made the cooking considerably easier and gave Cimorene more time to spend studying Latin and sorting treasure. The treasure was just as disorganized as Kazul had told her, and putting it in order was a major task. It was sometimes hard to tell whether a ring was enchanted, and Cimorene knew better than to put it on and see. It might be the sort of useful magic ring that turned you invisible, but it might also be the sort of ring that turned you into a frog. Cimorene did the best she could and kept a pile in the corner for things she was not sure about.
There was a great deal of treasure to be sorted. Most of it was stacked in one of the innermost caves in a large, untidy heap of crowns, rings, jewels, swords, and coins, but Cimorene kept finding things in other places as well, some of them quite unlikely. There was a small helmet under her bed (along with a great deal of dust), a silver bracelet set with opals on the reading table in the library, and two daggers and a jeweled ink pot behind the kitchen stove. Cimorene collected them all, along with the other things that were simply lying around in the halls, and put them back in the storerooms where they belonged, thinking to herself that dragons were clearly not very tidy creatures.
The first of the Knights arrived at the end of the second week.
Cimorene was busy cleaning swords. Kazul had been right about their condition; not only were some of them rusty, but nearly all of them needed sharpening. She was polishing the last flakes of rust from an enormous broadsword when she heard someone calling from the mouth of the cave. Feeling somewhat irritated by the interruption, she rose and, carrying the sword, went to see who it was.
As she came nearer to the entrance, she was able to make out the words that whoever-it-was was shouting: “Dragon! Come out and fight! Fight for the Princess Cimorene of Linderwall!”
“Oh, honestly,” Cimorene muttered, and quickened her step. “Here, you,” she said as she came out into the sunlight. Then she had to duck as a spear flashed through the air over her head. “Stop that!” she cried. “I’m Princess Cimorene.”
“You are?” said a doubtful voice. “Are you sure? I mean—”
Cimorene raised her head cautiously and squinted. It was still fairly early in the morning, and the sun was in back of the person standing outside the cave, so that it was difficult to see anything but the outline of his figure against the brightness. “Of course I’m sure,” Cimorene said. “What did you expect, letters of reference? Come around here where I can see who you are, please.”
The figure moved sideways, and Cimorene saw that it was a knight in shiny new armor, except for the legs, where the armor was dusty from walking. Cimorene wondered briefly why he hadn’t ridden, but decided not to ask. The knight’s visor was raised, and a few wisps of sandy hair showed above his handsome face. He was studying her with an expression of worried puzzlement.
“What can I do for you?” Cimorene said after several moments had gone by and the knight still hadn’t said anything.
“Well, um, if you are the Princess Cimorene, I’ve come to rescue you from the dragon,” the knight said.
Cimorene set the point of the broadsword on the ground and leaned on it as if it were a walking cane. “I thought that might be it,” she said. “But I’d rather not be rescued, thank you just the same.”
“Not be rescued?” The knight's puzzled look deepened. “But princesses always—”
“No, they don’t,” Cimorene said firmly, recognizing the beginning of a familiar argument. “And even if I wanted to be rescued, you’re going at it all wrong.”
“What?” said the knight, thoroughly taken aback.
“Shouting, ‘Come out and fight,’ the way you did. No self-respecting dragon is going to answer to a challenge like that. It sounds like a child’s dare. Dragons are very conscious of their dignity, at least all the ones I’ve met so far are.”
“Oh,” said the knight, sounding very crestfallen. “What should I have said?”
“ ‘Stand forth and do battle’ is the usual challenge,” Cimorene said with authority, remembering her princess lessons. She had always been more interested in what the knights and dragons were supposed to say than in memorizing the places where she was supposed to scream. “But the wording doesn’t have to be exact as long as it’s suitably formal. You’re new at this, aren’t you?”
“Rescuing you was going to be my first big quest,” the knight said gloomily. “You’re sure you don’t want to be rescued?”
“Quite sure,” Cimorene said. “I like living with Kazul.”
“You like—” The knight stared at her for a moment. Then his expression cleared and he said, “Of course! The dragon’s enchanted you. I should have thought of that before.”
“Kazul has not enchanted me, and I do not want to be rescued by anybody,” Cimorene said, alarmed by the knight’s sudden enthusiasm. “This place suits me very well. I like polishing swords and cooking cherries jubilee and reading Latin scrolls. If you don’t believe me, ask anyone in Linderwall. They’ve been complaining about my un-princess-like behavior for years.”
“I did hear something about fencing lessons,” the knight said doubtfully, “but knights aren’t supposed to pay attention to that kind of thing. We’re supposed to be above rumors and gossip.”
‘The fencing lessons were just the beginning,” Cimorene assured him. “So you see why I’m perfectly happy being a dragon’s princess.”
“Um, yes,” said the knight, but he did not look convinced. “Speaking of dragons, where’s yours?”
“Kazul’s not my dragon,” Cimorene said sharply. “I’m her princess. You’ll never have any luck dealing with dragons if you don’t get these things straight. She’s gone to the Enchanted Forest on the other side of the mountains to borrow a crepe pan from a witch she knows.”
“She’s what?” said the knight.
“She’s gone to borrow a crepe pan,” Cimorene repeated in a louder voice. “Perhaps you’d better have your helmet checked when you get back. They’re not supposed to interfere with your hearing, but sometimes—”
“Oh, I heard you,” the knight said. “But what does a dragon want with a crepe pan?”
“She doesn’t want it; I do. I found a recipe in the library that I want to try, and the kitchen just isn’t equipped to handle anything but the most ordinary cooking. Kazul will fix that eventually, but for the time being we have to borrow things like crepe pans and soufflé dishes.”
“You really do like it here,” the knight said wonderingly.
Cimorene refrained from replying that this was what she had been trying to tell him all along and instead said, “How did you know where I was?”
“Things get around.” The knight waved a hand in a vague manner. “In fact, I had to hurry to make sure I was the first. Half of the Kingdom of Linderwall and a princess’s hand in marriage is a reward rich enough to tempt a lot of people who wouldn’t normally bother with this sort of thing.”
“Father’s offered half the kingdom to whoever rescues me?” Cimorene said incredulously. “That’s more than all my sisters’ dowries put together!”
“It’s the usual thing in cases like this,” the knight said mildly.
“It would be,” Cimorene said in tones of deep disgust. “Well, at least you can go back and tell them I don’t want to be rescued. Maybe that will keep anyone else from coming up here.”
“I can’t do that!” the knight said. “It’s—”
“—just not done,” Cimorene finished. “I understand perfectly.” She gave him a polite farewell, more because she had been well brought up than because she felt like being polite, and sent him on his way. Then she went back into the cave and polished the broadsword until it was mirror-bright, which relieved her feelings a little.
There were two knights the following day, and four more the day after that. On the fourth day there was only one, but he was exceptionally stubborn, and it took Cimorene nearly two hours to get rid of him. By then she was thoroughly disgusted and even considered letting Kazul handle the knights from then on. She could not quite bring herself to do it. The knights would certainly attack Kazul as soon as they saw her, since that was what they were coming for, and sooner or later someone would get hurt. Cimorene did not like to think that someone might be hurt trying to rescue her, particularly since she did not want to be rescued, so with a sigh she decided that she would continue to handle the knights as long as Kazul would let her.
Prince Therandil showed up at the end of the third week. He was limping a little, as if his metal boots pinched his toes, and the feathers attached to the top of his helmet sagged badly. He stopped and carefully struck an impressive pose before issuing the usual challenge.
Cimorene was not in a mood to be impressed. Besides, she could see that his helmet was a different style from his gold armor and that the armor had gaps at the knees and elbows where it didn’t fit together quite right.
“Aren’t you a little slow?” she asked irritably. “There’ve been eight knights here before you.”
“Eight?” the prince said, frowning. “I thought by now there’d have been at least twelve. Perhaps I’d better come back later.”
Cimorene stared at him in surprise. “Why?”
“Well, it would look better,” Therandil explained seriously. “There’s not much glory in defeating a dragon that hasn’t already beaten ten or fifteen people at least. Sir Gorolax of Mirstwold won’t even consider going after a dragon whose score is less than forty-five. I don’t think I want to risk waiting that long, but eight just doesn’t seem like enough.”
“You’re going to go away and wait until Kazul has defeated fifteen knights before you come back to rescue me?” Cimorene said. She found Therandil’s smug confidence very annoying, but she didn’t like to say so straight out.
“Not if you’d rather be rescued now, of course,” Therandil said hastily. “Though you ought to consider the advantages, and I expect it won’t be so very long ...” His voice trailed off, and he looked at her hopefully.
“I’m afraid it will be a very long time,” Cimorene said with satisfaction. “You see, Kazul hasn’t defeated any knights at all yet.”
“B-b-but I thought you said there’d been eight,” Therandil spluttered.
“I said eight of them had come by; I didn’t say they’d fought anybody. I sent them away.”
“You sent them away?” Therandil repeated, plainly horrified. “But that’s—that’s—”
“—not done, I know.” Cimorene smiled sweetly. “But I’ve done it. And I intend to go on doing it, so you might as well go home and warn your friends. They’d feel so foolish, you know, if they came all this way into the mountains to rescue me and then had to turn around and go back home without doing anything.”
“They certainly would!” Therandil said indignantly. “What do you mean by playing these kinds of tricks? Don’t you want to be rescued?”
“No,” said Cimorene, losing her patience at last, “I don’t. And I’m tired of having my work constantly interrupted. So please go away, and don’t come back.”
“You can’t possibly mean that,” Therandil said. “Besides, everyone expects me to rescue you.”
“That’s your problem,” Cimorene told him. “I’m going to go fix dinner. Good-bye.” Before he could say anything else, she turned and ducked back into the cave, hoping the prince wouldn’t follow.
Therandil left, but he came back again the next day, and the day after that. It got so that Cimorene could not even step outside the cave without running into him. She might have been flattered if it hadn’t been so obvious that Therandil was only worried about how foolish he’d look if he went home without fighting the dragon. On his fifth visit Cimorene was very sharp with him, and when he had not returned by midafternoon of the next day, she began to hope that he had finally left for good.
Cimorene was in the kitchen taking the pits out of cherries when she heard someone knocking at the mouth of the cave.
“Go away,” she shouted in complete exasperation. “I’ve told you and told you, I don’t want to be rescued, and I’m not going to argue with you any more!”
“I didn’t come here to argue,” said a no-nonsense female voice from outside. “I came to meet the person who keeps borrowing my crepe pan. It’s not something there’s normally much call for.”
“Oh, dear,” said Cimorene. She wiped her hands hastily on a corner of her apron and hurried out to greet her visitor. “I’m sorry,” she said, coming around the gray rock at the cave mouth. “But I’ve been having a problem with knights lately, and I thought—” She stopped short as she got a good look at her caller for me first time.
The woman standing outside the cave was considerably shorter than Cimorene. Her ginger hair was piled in waves on top of her head. She had on a loose black robe with long sleeves, which she wore unbelted. A small pair of glasses with rectangular lenses sat firmly on her nose, and she carried an extremely twiggy broom in her left hand. Despite her unusual appearance, she projected an air of great self-assurance.
“I quite understand,” she said, studying Cimorene shrewdly. “You must be Kazul’s new princess.”
“Yes, I’m Cimorene. And you are ... ?”
“Morwen,” said the black-robed woman, leaning the broom against the rock. “Kazul and I have been friends for a long time, ever since I moved to the Enchanted Forest, so I thought I’d come have a look at her new princess.”
“You’re the person Kazul’s been borrowing dishes from, aren’t you?” Cimorene said, and blinked. “But then you must be—”
“A witch,” Morwen finished. “I don’t see why you find it surprising. It’s not exactly an unusual profession in these parts.”
“It’s just that I haven’t met one before,” Cimorene said, not mentioning the fact that in Linderwall witches were considered dangerous and probably evil and were therefore avoided if at all possible. But then, people in Linderwall didn’t like dragons much, either. “Won’t you come in and have some tea?”
“I certainly will,” said the witch, and she did. She prowled around like a nervous cat while Cimorene put the kettle on the stove and got out the tea things.
“Well,” Morwen said approvingly as Cimorene filled the teapot, “you’re the first princess I’ve ever met who has the sense to keep up with the kitchen.”
Cimorene decided that she liked Morwen’s down-to-earth manner. She soon found herself telling Morwen everything, from the fencing and philosophy and Latin lessons to the seemingly endless stream of knights. The story lasted through two cups of tea and finished with Therandil’s stubborn insistence on rescuing her.
“That is absurd,” Morwen said decidedly when Cimorene finished. “If this continues, you’ll never get anything done.”
“I know,” Cimorene said. “I keep telling them I don’t want to be rescued, but they’re all so honorable that none of them will tell anyone when they go back because they think it would be gossiping.”
“More likely they don’t want to look foolish.”
“Maybe, but even if they did tell people, I’m not sure anyone would believe it. I have a hard enough time convincing the knights when they show up in person.”
“It’s just as well that your visitors have been honorable,” Morwen said, looking thoughtful. “Underwall’s a prosperous kingdom. Sooner or later the chance of getting hold of half of it is going to tempt someone to try rescuing you whether you want to be rescued or not.”
“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 Underwall 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 re minded 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 smelted 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.
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 mistakable 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 afraid 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.”
“Ugh!” said Cimorene. “I see your problem.”
“Exactly. Can you manage?”
“Not if you want cherries jubilee,” Cimorene said, frowning. “I haven’t got a pot large enough to make seven dragons’ worth of cherries jubilee. Would chocolate mousse do? I can make two or three batches, and there should be time for all of them to chill if you’re not starting until eight-thirty.”
“Chocolate mousse will be fine,” Kazul assured her. “Come along and I’ll show you where to bring it.”
Cimorene picked up a lamp and followed Kazul into the public tunnels that surrounded Kazul’s private caves. She was a little surprised, but when she saw the size of the banquet cave, she understood. It was enormous. Fifty or sixty dragons, perhaps even a hundred of them, would fit into it quite comfortably. Obviously it had to be a public room; there simply wasn’t enough space under the Mountains of Morning for every dragon to have a cave this size.
Kazul made sure Cimorene could find her way to the banquet cave without help and then left her in the kitchen to melt slabs of chocolate and whip gallons of cream for the mousse. By the time she finished, she was hot and tired, and all she really wanted to do was to take a nap. But Kazul was expecting her to serve the mousse, and Cimorene wasn’t about to appear before all those dragons in her old clothes with sweaty straggles of hair sticking to her neck and a smear of chocolate across her nose, so instead of napping, she pumped a cauldron of water, heated it on the kitchen fire, and took a bath.
Once she was clean she felt much better. She checked to make sure the mousse was setting properly, then went into her own rooms to decide what she should wear. Unfortunately, she was afraid she didn’t have much choice. The wardrobe in her bedroom was full of neat, serviceable dresses suitable for cooking in or rummaging through treasure, but the only dressy clothes she had were the ones she had arrived in. She got them out of the back of the wardrobe and found to her dismay that the hem of the gown was badly stained with mud from her long walk. There was no time to clean it; she would have to wear one of the everyday dresses.
With a sigh Cimorene turned back to the wardrobe and opened it once more to look for the nicest of the ordinary clothes. She gasped in surprise. The hangers were now full of the most beautiful gowns she had ever seen. Some were silk, and some were velvet; some were heavy brocade, and some were layers of feather-light gauze; some were embroidered with gold or silver, and some were sewn with jewels.
“Well, of course,” Cimorene said aloud after a stunned moment. “Why would a dragon have an ordinary wardrobe? Of course it’s magic. What’s in it depends on what I’m looking for.”
One of the wardrobe doors waggled slightly, and its hinges creaked in smug agreement. Cimorene blinked at it, then shook herself and began looking through the gowns.
She chose one of red velvet, heavily embroidered with gold, and found matching slippers in the bottom of the obliging wardrobe. She let her black hair hang in loose waves nearly to her feet and even dug her crown out of the back of the drawer where she’d stuffed it on her first night. She finished getting ready a few minutes early. Feeling very cheerful, she went to the kitchen to fetch the mousse.
It took Cimorene four trips to get the mousse down to the serving area just off the banquet cave. A dragon-sized serving was a little over a bucketful, and she could barely manage to carry two at a time. When everything was ready, she stood in the serving area and waited nervously for Kazul to ring for dessert. She could hear the muffled booming of the dragons’ voices through the heavy oak door, but she could not make out what any of them were saying.
The bell rang at last, summoning Cimorene to serve dessert. She carried the mousse into the banquet cavern, two servings at a time, and set it in front of Kazul and her guests. The dragons were crouched around a shoulder-high slab of white stone. Cimorene had to be very careful about lifting the mousse up onto it. Fortunately, she didn’t have to wonder which dragon to serve first. She could tell which dragons were most important from their places at the table, and she made a silent apology to her protocol teacher, who had insisted that she learn about seating arrangements. (Protocol had been one of the princess lessons Cimorene had hated most.)
As she set the last serving in front of Kazul, one of the other dragons said in a disgruntled and vaguely familiar voice, “I see the rumors are wrong again, Kazul. Or did you have to go after her and haul her back the way the rest of us do?”
Cimorene turned angrily, but before she could say anything, a large gray-green dragon on the other side of the stone slab said, “Nonsense, Woraug! Girl’s got more sense than that. You shouldn’t listen to gossip. Next thing you know, you’ll be chasing after that imaginary wizard Gaurim’s been on about.” Cimorene recognized the speaker at once. He was Roxim, the elderly dragon she had given four of her handkerchiefs to.
“I suppose it was that idiot Moranz again, trying to cause trouble,” a purple-green dragon said with bored distaste. “Someone should do something about him.”
“Kazul still hasn’t answered my question,” Woraug said, and his tail lashed once like the tail of an angry cat. “And I’d like her to do so if the rest of you will stop sidetracking the conversation.”
“Here, now!” Roxim said indignantly. “That's a bit strong, Woraug! Too strong, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t,” Woraug said. “I asked Kazul. And I’m still waiting.”
“I’m very pleased with my princess,” Kazul said mildly. “And no, I didn’t have to haul her back, as you would realize if you’d given the matter a little thought. Or does your princess normally leave seven servings of chocolate mousse in the kitchen when she runs away?”
“Hear, hear!” Roxim said.
Cimorene noted with interest that Woraug’s scales had turned an even brighter shade of green than normal and that he was starting to smell faintly of brimstone.
“One of these days you’ll go too far, Kazul,” he said.
“You started it,” Kazul pointed out. She turned to the gray dragon. “What's this about Gaurim and a wizard, Roxim?”
“You haven’t heard?” Roxim said, sounding surprised. “Gaurim’s been raving about it for weeks. Somebody snuck into her cave and stole a book from her library. No traces, but for some reason she’s positive it was a wizard. Achoo!” Roxim sneezed, emitting a ball of flame that just missed hitting his bowl of mousse. “Gives me an allergy attack just thinking about it.”
“If it wasn’t a wizard, who was it?” the dragon at the far end of the table asked.
“Could have been anybody—an elf, a dwarf, even a human,” Roxim responded. “No reason to think it was a wizard just because Gaurim didn’t catch him in the act. Not with the amount of time she spends away from home.”
“Which book did she lose?” said the thin, brownish-green dragon next to Kazul.
“What does it matter?” the purple-green dragon muttered. “Some history or other. And that’s another thing— what would a wizard want with a history book? No, no, Gaurim’s making a lot of fuss over a common thief. That’s what I say.”
“It could have been a wizard,” said the dragon at the far end. “Who knows why they want the things they want?”
“Ridiculous!” Roxim replied with vigor. “A wizard wouldn’t dare come through this part of the mountains. They know what we’d do to ‘em, by George! Beg pardon,” he added to the silver-green dragon next to him, who appeared to have been rather shocked by his language.
“I’m afraid you’re wrong there,” Kazul said. “Cimorene met one today, less than a two-minute flight from my cave.”
“What? What?” Roxim said. “You’re sure?”
“That's done it.” The purple-green dragon rolled his head in an irritated gesture, so that his scales made a scratching noise as they rubbed together. “You’ll never get him to quit talking about it now.”
“Quite sure,” Cimorene assured Roxim, after glancing at Kazul to make sure she was expected to answer Roxim’s question for herself. “He made two bits of the ledge I was standing on turn invisible so I would think it wasn’t safe to keep going.”
“Certainly sounds like a wizard to me,” the dragon at the far end commented.
“What did he look like?” asked the silver-green dragon.
Cimorene described the wizard as well as she could, then added, “He said his name was Zemenar.”
“Zemenar? That’s ridiculous!” Woraug snorted. “Zemenar was elected head of the Society of Wizards last year. He wouldn’t waste his time playing games with somebody’s princess.”
“Not unless he had a great deal to gain by it,” the thin dragon said in a thoughtful tone. She turned her head and looked speculatively at Cimorene.
“Such as?” Woraug said. He waited a moment, but no one answered. “No, I can’t believe it was Zemenar. The girl’s made a mistake; that’s all.”
“Perhaps it wasn’t him,” Cimorene said, holding on to her temper as hard as she could. “I’ve never met Zemenar, so I wouldn’t know. But that’s who he said he was.”
“And wouldn’t it be amusing if she were right?” the purple-green dragon said, showing some interest in the proceedings for the first time.
“I don’t see that it matters,” the silver-green dragon said. “The important thing is that he was a wizard, poking around smack in the middle of our mountains. What are we going to do about it?”
“Tell King Tokoz,” Roxim said. “His job to handle this sort of thing, isn’t it?”
“What can Tokoz do about it?” Woraug said, and there was a faint undercurrent of contempt in his tone.
“He could use the King’s Crystal to find out what the wizards are really doing,” the thin dragon said in a prim tone.
“He won’t use the crystal for anything less than a full-fledged war,” Woraug said. “And why should he? What could Tokoz do even if he did find out some wizard was preying on poor defenseless dragons like Gaurim?”
“Lodge a formal protest with the Society of Wizards,” Roxim answered promptly, ignoring Woraug’s sarcasm. “Proper thing to do, no question. Then the next time anyone sees a wizard ...” His voice trailed off, and he snapped his teeth together suggestively.
“He’d probably just set up a committee,” the purple-green dragon said. “Can’t anyone think of something else?”
“I don’t think we should do anything until we have some idea what Zemenar was after,” said the thin dragon. “It could be important.”
“We have to do something!” the silver-green dragon said. Her claws clashed against the stone table. “We can’t have wizards wandering in and out whenever they please! Why, we’d lose half our magic in no time.”
“Not to mention everyone sneezing themselves silly every time one of those dratted staffs gets too close,” added the dragon at the far end.
The dragons began arguing among themselves about what to do and how best to do it. It reminded Cimorene of the way her father’s ministers argued. Everyone seemed to agree that something ought to be done about the wizards, but they each had a different idea about what was appropriate. Roxim insisted huffily that the only thing to do was to inform the King, who would then make a formal protest. The thin dragon wanted to find out what the wizards were up to (she didn’t say how this was to be done) before anyone tried to chase them off. The silver-green dragon wanted patrols sent out immediately to eat any wizard who ventured into the Mountains of Morning. The dragon at the far end of the table wanted to attack the headquarters of the Society of Wizards the following morning, and the purple-green dragon thought it would be most entertaining to wait and see what the wizards did next. Woraug was the only one of the guests who did not have a proposal, though he made occasional comments, usually sarcastic ones, about everyone else’s suggestions.
Kazul did not say anything at all. Cimorene was at first surprised and then puzzled by her silence, since Kazul was the one who had set the whole discussion going to begin with. As the argument grew more heated, however, Cimorene began to be glad that there was at least one dragon present who was not involved in it. The dragon at the far end of the table was starting to breathe little tongues of fire at the purple-green dragon, and Roxim was threatening loudly to have another allergy attack, but Cimorene was fairly sure that Kazul would stop the discussion before things got completely out of hand.
She was right. A moment later, while the dragon at the far end was taking a deep breath to continue arguing and the thin dragon was winding up a long, involved train of logical reasons why her proposal was the best, Kazul said, “Thank you all for your advice. I’ll certainly think about it before I decide what to do.”
“What do you mean by that?” the thin dragon asked suspiciously.
“It was my princess who met the wizard,” Kazul pointed out. “Therefore, it is my decision whether to report the matter to the King, or to take some action on my own, or to ask for cooperation from some of you.”
None of the other dragons appeared to like hearing this, but to Cimorene’s surprise none of them gave Kazul any argument about it. The dragon at the far end of the table made a few half-hearted grumbles, but that was all, and the conversation turned to the intricacies of several draconian romances that were currently in progress. As soon as her guests appeared to have calmed down, Kazul gave the signal for the empty mousse dishes to be taken away, so Cimorene only heard a few incomprehensible snatches of the new conversation. She did not really mind. She had plenty to think about already.
Kazul slept late the following morning, and Cimorene was afraid that she would leave before Cimorene had a chance to ask about the dragons’ after-dinner conversation. To her relief, Kazul called her in as soon as she was thoroughly awake and asked Cimorene to bring in the brushes for cleaning her scales.
“What was that crystal your friend mentioned last night?” Cimorene asked as she laid out the brushes, “The one she thought King Tokoz could use somehow to find out what the wizards are doing?”
“The King’s Crystal?” Kazul said. “It’s one of the magical objects that belongs to the King of the Dragons.”
“But what does it do? And why did Woraug think that King Tokoz wouldn’t want to use it?”
“Using the crystal is difficult and tiring, and Tokoz is getting old,” Kazul replied. “Zareth was right to say that the crystal ought to be used, but it will take more evidence than we have right now to persuade the King of that. As to what it does, the crystal shows things that are happening in other times and places. It’s useful, but it can be very difficult to interpret correctly.”
“Oh, a crystal ball,” Cimorene said, nodding. She tapped Kazul’s side, and the dragon bent her elbow so that the scales were easier to reach. “The court wizard at Linderwall had one, but I had to stop my magic lessons before he got a chance to show me how to work it.”
“The King’s Crystal is more like a plate, but the principle is the same,” Kazul said.
“A crystal plate?” Cimorene blinked. “No wonder nobody talks about it much. It just doesn’t sound right.”
Kazul shrugged. “The King’s Crystal is much more accurate than an ordinary crystal ball, and if ‘crystal plate’ sounds odd to most people, it means that fewer of them will try to steal it.”
“Was that what the silver-green dragon meant when he said that if the wizards started wandering through the mountains you’d lose half your magic in no time? I never heard that wizards stole magic rings and swords and things.”
“Not magic things,” Kazul said. “Magic. Wizards steal magic. That’s where their power comes from.”
“How can a wizard steal magic?” Cimorene said skeptically. She climbed on a stool and began working at the ribs of Kazul’s wings.
“Wizards’ staffs absorb magic from whatever happens to be nearby,” Kazul said, stretching out her left wing so Cimorene could get at the base. “That's why they’re always hanging around places like the Mountains of Morning and the Enchanted Forest. The more magic there is in the area, the more their staffs can soak up.”
“What would happen if someone stole a wizard’s staff? Would the wizard still be able to use it?”
“The wizard wouldn’t be able to work any magic until he got it back,” Kazul said. “Most of them have a great many anti-theft spells on their staffs for exactly that reason. Of course, it happens anyway, now and then. And as long as the wizard and the staff are separated, the staff doesn’t absorb magic.”
“It doesn’t sound like a very good arrangement to me,” Cimorene said. “I can think of half a dozen ways a staff could be lost or forgotten or stolen or something. It doesn’t seem sensible for a wizard to depend so much on anything that’s so easy to mislay.”
Kazul shrugged. “They seem to like it.”
“I can see why you don’t want them in your part of the mountains.”
“Can you? Do you have any idea how unpleasant it is to have part of your essence sucked out of you without so much as a by-your-leave? Not to mention the side effects.”
“Side effects?” Cimorene said, puzzled. “There! Turn around, and I’ll do your other side.”
“Roxim isn’t the only dragon who’s allergic to wizards,” Kazul said dryly as she shifted her position. “Or rather, to their staffs. We all are. Roxim’s just a little more sensitive than most. That’s why we made the agreement with them in the first place.”
“The dragons have an agreement with the wizards?”
Kazul nodded. “To be precise, the King of the Dragons has an agreement with the head of the Society of Wizards: the wizards stay out of our portions of the Mountains of Morning, and we allow them partial access to the Caves of Fire and Night. At least, that’s the way it’s supposed to work. King Tokoz is getting old and forgetful, and lately wizards have been turning up in all sorts of places they aren’t supposed to be.”
“Like that wizard Zemenar I met on the path,” Cimorene said. “Do you think he really was the same Zemenar that’s the head of the Society of Wizards?”
“I doubt that anyone, even another wizard, would dare impersonate him,” Kazul said. “He has a nasty reputation.”
Cimorene remembered the hard black eyes and sharp features of the wizard she had met. He had certainly looked nasty enough, even when he was pretending to be nice. He was sneaky, too, or he wouldn’t have tried to trick her. And he had been very annoyed when Cimorene got off the ledge without his help. Cimorene frowned.
“I wonder what he wanted, really,” she mused. “Do you suppose he’ll stop by the way he said he would?”
“I almost wish he would try,” Kazul said. There was an angry glint in her eye, and her claws made a scratching sound against the stone floor of the cave as she flexed them.
“Don’t wiggle,” Cimorene said. “If Zemenar is as tricky as everyone says, he won’t come while you’re here. He’ll wait until you’ve gone somewhere and I’m alone.”
“True.” Kazul frowned. Then she looked at Cimorene, and her eyes took on a speculative gleam. “He probably thinks you’re as silly as most princesses, so he’ll be hoping to trick you into giving him whatever it is he’s after. And if he does—”
“Then maybe I can fool him instead,” Cimorene finished. “And once we know what he’s after, we can decide what to do about it.”
Kazul and Cimorene discussed this idea while Cimorene finished brushing the dragon’s scales. There was very little they could do to prepare since they did not know when Zemenar might show up at the cave or what he might do when he arrived. Then Kazul went off to inspect the ledge where Cimorene had met the wizard, to see whether bits of it were still invisible.
When Kazul had gone, Cimorene went into the library to hunt through all the books and scrolls of spells. The behavior of the dragons at dinner the previous evening had made a considerable impression on her, and she wanted to see whether she could find a spell to fireproof herself. Until then she hadn’t realized that when a dragon lost his temper, he started breathing fire. Not that she was planning to do anything to irritate Kazul—or any other dragon, for that matter—but the dragons at dinner had been too annoyed to be careful, and she didn’t want to get burned by accident, no matter how sorry the dragon might be afterward.
At first Cimorene didn’t have much luck. She hadn’t had time to do much organizing in the library, and most of the books and scrolls were lying in haphazard, dust-covered piles. Some had even fallen onto the floor, and there were spiders everywhere. Cimorene realized that if she wanted to find anything, she was going to have to do some more cleaning first. With a sigh she went to get a bucket of water, some cloths for washing and dusting, and a handkerchief to tie over her hair.
She worked for several hours, dusting books and manuscripts, wiping off the dirty bookshelves, and putting the books back in neat rows when the shelves were dry. She found two books and five old scrolls that looked as if they might be interesting. These she set on one of the tables to look at later. She had just pulled a stained and yellowed stack of papers out of the back of the second-to-last bookshelf when she heard someone hallooing outside.
“Now what?” she muttered crossly. She set the papers on the table with the rest of the books she was planning to look at later and went out to see who was there.
To her surprise, the noise was coming from the back entrance, not from the mouth of the cave. She hurried into the passage, rounded the corner, and found herself facing three beautiful, elegantly dressed princesses. They were all blonde and blue-eyed and slender, and several inches shorter than Cimorene. The first one wore a gold crown set with diamonds, and her hair was the color of sun-ripened wheat. The second wore a silver crown set with sapphires, and her hair was the color of crystallized honey. The last wore a pearl-covered circlet, and her hair was the color of ripe apricots. They looked rather taken aback by the sight of Cimorene in her dust-covered dress and kerchief.
“Oh, bother,” Cimorene said under her breath. Then she smiled her best smile and said, “Welcome to the caves of the dragon Kazul. May I help you with anything?”
“We have made the perilous journey through the tunnels to see the Princess Cimorene, newly come to these caverns, to comfort her and together bemoan our sad and sorry fates,” the first princess said haughtily. “Tell her we are here.”
“I’m Cimorene,” Cimorene said. “I don’t need comforting, and I’m not particularly sad or sorry to be here, but if you’d like to come in and have some tea, you’re welcome to.”
The first two princesses looked as if they would have liked to be startled and appalled by this announcement but were much too well bred to show what they were feeling. The princess with the pearl circlet looked surprised and rather intrigued, and she glanced hopefully at her companions. They ignored her, but after a moment the first princess said grandly, “Very well, we will join you, then,” and swept past Cimorene into the cave.
The other princesses followed, the one with the pearl circlet giving Cimorene a shy smile as she passed Cimorene, wondering what she had gotten herself into brought up the rear. The princesses stopped when they reached the main cave, and the ones in the gold and silver crowns looked a bit disgruntled. The one in the pearl circlet stared in unabashed amazement. “My goodness,” she said, “you certainly do have a lot of space.”
“Alianora!” the gold-crowned princess said sharply, and the princess with the pearl circlet flushed and subsided, looking unhappy.
“This way,” Cimorene said hastily, and led the three princesses into the kitchen. “Do sit down,” she said, waving at the bench beside the kitchen table.
The gold-crowned princess looked at the bench with distaste, but after a moment she sat down. The other two followed her example. There was a brief silence while Cimorene filled the copper teakettle and hung it over the fire, and then the gold-crowned princess said, “I am remiss in my duties, for I have not yet told you who we are. I am the Princess Keredwel of the Kingdom of Raxwel, now captive of the dread dragon Gomul. This”—she nodded toward the princess in the silver crown—”is the Princess Hallanna of the Kingdom of Poranbuth, now captive of the dread dragon Zareth. And this”—she waved at the girl in the pearl circlet—”is the Princess Alianora of the Duchy of Toure-on-Marsh, now prisoner of the dread dragon Woraug.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Cimorene said. “I am Princess Cimorene of the Kingdom of Linderwall, now princess of the dragon Kazul. What sort of tea would you like? I have blackberry, ginger, chamomile, and gunpowder green. I’m afraid I used the last of the lapsang souchong this morning.”
“Blackberry, please,” Keredwel said. She gave Cimorene a considering look. “You seem to be most philosophic about your fate.”
“Would that I had so valiant a spirit,” Hallanna said in failing accents. “But my sensibility is too great, I fear, for me to follow your example.”
“If you don’t like being a dragon’s princess, why don’t you escape?” Cimorene asked, remembering that Kazul had said that three princesses in a row had run away from the yellow-green dragon, Moranz.
Keredwel and Hallanna looked shocked. “Without being rescued?” Hallanna faltered. “Walk all that way, with dragons and trolls and goodness knows what else hiding in the rocks, ready to eat me? Oh, I couldn’t!”
“It isn’t done,” Keredwel said coldly. “And I notice that you haven’t tried it.”
“But I’m enjoying being Kazul’s princess,” Cimorene said cheerfully. “I suppose I might have been upset if I’d been carried off the way you were, but I can hardly complain as it is, can I?”
Alianora leaned forward. “Then you really did volunteer to be Kazul’s princess?”
Keredwel and Hallanna turned and stared at their companion. “Where did you get that ridiculous idea, Alianora?” Hallanna said.
“W-Woraug said—” Alianora faltered.
“You must have misunderstood,” Keredwel said severely. “No one volunteers to be a dragon’s princess. It isn’t done.”
“Actually, Alianora’s quite right,” Cimorene said as she set the teacups in front of her visitors. “I did volunteer.” She smiled sweetly at the thunderstruck expressions on the faces of the first two princesses. “I got tired of embroidery and etiquette.”
Keredwel and Hallanna seemed unsure of how to take this announcement, so they made polite conversation about the tea and asked Cimorene questions about the current fashions. Alianora didn’t say very much, and the few times she tried either Keredwel or Hallanna jumped on her. Cimorene felt rather sorry for Alianora.
The princesses swept off at last, still somewhat puzzled by Cimorene’s attitude. Cimorene gave a sigh of relief and set about cleaning up the kitchen. She was just rinsing the last of the cups when she heard someone hesitantly clearing her throat behind her. Cimorene turned and saw Alianora standing timidly in the doorway.
“Hello again,” Cimorene said. “Did you forget something?”
“Not exactly,” Alianora said. “I mean, I told Keredwel I did, but actually I just wanted to get away from them for a while. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all as long as you don’t expect more hospitality,” Cimorene assured her. “I have to get back to work on the library.”
“What are you doing?” Alianora asked. She seemed really interested, so Cimorene explained about the fireproofing spell.
“It sounds like a wonderful idea,” Alianora said when Cimorene finished. “The dragons are careful around us, but it would be nice not to have to depend on them not to lose their tempers.” She hesitated. “May I help?”
“I don’t think Kazul would mind,” Cimorene said. “But you’d better change clothes first. The library isn’t very clean, I’m afraid.”
Alianora looked down at her silk gown, which was embroidered heavily with silver and pearls, and giggled. Cimorene took her into the bedroom and found a plain, serviceable cleaning dress in the magic wardrobe. It took two tries before the wardrobe figured out that she wanted a dress for someone else, but once it caught on, it provided a splendid selection in Alianora’s size. Then they went to the library and got to work.
Cleaning was much more enjoyable with Alianora for company. By the time they finished dusting and straightening the last bookcases, the two girls were fast friends, and Alianora was comfortable enough to ask Cimorene straight out how it was that she had come to volunteer for a dragon.
“It’s a long story,” Cimorene said, but Alianora insisted on hearing it. So Cimorene told her and then asked how Alianora had happened to be carried off by Woraug.
To her surprise, Alianora flushed. “I think it was the only thing left that they could think of,” she said, not very clearly. “My family, I mean.”
“I don’t understand,” Cimorene said.
“It’s because I’m not a very satisfactory princess,” Alianora said. “I tried, I really did, but. ... It started when the wicked fairy came to my christening.”
“She put a curse on you?”
“No. She ate cake and ice cream until she nearly burst and danced with my Uncle Arthur until two in the morning and had a wonderful time. So she went home without cursing me, and Aunt Ermintrude says that that’s where the whole problem started.”
“Lots of princesses don’t have christening curses,” said Cimorene.
“Not if a wicked fairy comes to the christening,” Alianora said positively. “And that was only the beginning. When I turned sixteen, Aunt Ermintrude sent me a gold spinning wheel for my birthday, and I sat down and spun. I didn’t prick my finger or anything.”
Cimorene was beginning to see what Alianora was getting at. “Well, if you didn’t have a christening curse ...”
“So Aunt Ermintrude told Mama to put me and a spinning wheel in a room full of straw and have me spin it into gold,” Alianora went on. “And I tried! But all I could manage was linen thread, and whoever heard of a princess who can spin straw into linen thread?”
“It’s a little unusual, certainly.”
“Then they gave me a loaf of bread and told me to walk through the forest and give some to anyone who asked. I did exactly what they told me, and the second beggar-woman was a fairy in disguise, but instead of saying that whenever I spoke, diamonds and roses would drop from my mouth, she said that since I was so kind, I would never have any problems with my teeth.”
“Really? Did it work?”
“Well, I haven’t had a toothache since I met her.”
“I’d much rather have good teeth than have diamonds and roses drop out of my mouth whenever I said something,” Cimorene said. “Think how uncomfortable it would be if you accidentally talked in your sleep! You’d wake up rolling around on thorns and rocks.”
“That never occurred to me,” Alianora said, much struck.
“Was that everything?” Cimorene asked.
“No,” Alianora said. “Aunt Ermintrude persuaded one of her fairy friends to give me a gown and a pair of glass slippers to go to a ball in the next kingdom over. And I broke one before I even got out of the castle!”
“That's not so surprising,” Cimorene said. “Glass slippers are for deserving merchants’ daughters, not for princesses.”
“Try telling Aunt Ermintrude that,” Alianora said. “I think she was the one who found out that Woraug was going to ravage a village just over the border and arranged for me to go and visit on the right day so I could be carried off. She didn’t even warn me. I suppose she thought that if I knew, I’d mess it up somehow.”
“I don’t think I would get along very well with your Aunt Ermintrude,” Cimorene commented thoughtfully.
“Oh, it wasn’t so bad, at least at first,” Alianora said. “Woraug ignored me most of the time, especially after he found out I can’t cook, and it was a real relief not to have Aunt Ermintrude around any more. Only then Gornul brought Keredwel and Zareth brought Hallanna, and ...”
“And they’ve been making life miserable for you ever since,” Cimorene finished. “Why don’t you stand up to them?”
“I tried, but you don’t know what they’re like,” Alianora said, sighing. “Keredwel goes on and on about correct behavior, and Hallanna dissolves in tears as soon as it looks like she’s losing an argument. And they’ve both had dozens of knights and princes try to rescue them. I’ve only had two.”
“How do you do it?” Cimorene asked. “I’ve had nine already, and they’re a dreadful nuisance.”
Alianora stared at Cimorene, then began to giggle.
“What’s so funny?” Cimorene demanded.
“Keredwel bragged for a week because two knights and a prince tried to rescue her the first month she was here,” Alianora explained between giggles. “She said it was some kind of record. You’ve barely been with Kazul for four weeks, and you’ve had nine, and you didn’t even mention it when Keredwel was here. She’s going to be furious when she finds out.”
“If she wants them, she can have them,” Cimorene said. Her expression grew thoughtful. “Maybe they’d be easier to get rid of if I sent them along to another princess, instead of just trying to get them to go home.”
“Oh!” said Alianora, and went off into gales of laughter again. Cimorene gave her a questioning look. “It’s the idea of Keredwel being—oh, my—being rescued by a secondhand knight,” Alianora gasped. “Oh, dear!”
Cimorene’s eyes began to dance. “I could take a good look at them first, to make sure they’re worthy of her before I sent them on,” she suggested.
This was too much for either of them, and they both collapsed in laughter. “You wouldn’t, really, would you?” Alianora said when she began to recover.
“Send the knights to rescue someone else? I certainly would,” Cimorene said emphatically. “I meant it when I said they were a nuisance. I wouldn’t want to upset Keredwel, though. I’ll have to think about the best way of handling it. It’s a good thing there probably won’t be any more of them for a few weeks. I should have plenty of time to figure something out.”
“How do you know that?” Alianora asked. Cimorene explained about the sign and Therandil and her “sprained ankle.” Alianora was impressed and promised to help if she could. “I’ll tell Hallanna that you’ve twisted your ankle. I know she’ll tell the next knight who comes to rescue her, and then it won’t matter if your Prince Therandil doesn’t tell anybody.”
This settled, the two girls sat down and began looking through the books and scrolls Cimorene had piled on the table. Alianora, having been brought up as a proper princess despite the tiny size of her country, did not read Latin, so Cimorene had to examine those scrolls herself. There was a sizable stack of books left, however, and Alianora waded into them with a will.
It was Cimorene, however, who finally found the spell they were searching for.
“I think this is it!” she said, looking up from an ancient, crumpled scroll. “ ‘Being a Spell for the Resisting of Heat and Flames of All Kinds, in Particular Those Which Are the Product of Magical Beasts,’ “ she read. “Yes, there’s a list and it includes dragons.”
“I would think dragons would be at the top,” Alianora said. “Is it difficult?”
“It doesn’t look hard,” Cimorene said, studying the page. “Some of the ingredients are pretty rare, but it says you only need them for the initial casting. After that, you can reactivate the spell just by throwing a pinch of dried feverfew in the air and reciting a couplet.”
“That’s not bad,” Alianora said. She came around the table and peered over Cimorene’s shoulder at the faded ink. “Is it Latin?”
“No, it’s just an ornate style of writing,” Cimorene assured her. “It’s not hard to read, once you get the hang of it. See, there’s the couplet.
“Power of water, wind and earth,
Turn the fire back to its birth.”
“It’s a variation on a dragon spell,” Cimorene added thoughtfully.
“How do you know that?” Alianora asked.
“The court wizard at home mentioned it when he was teaching me magic,” Cimorene replied, studying the directions.
“Then maybe it really will work on dragon fire. Can we get all the ingredients for the initial casting?”
“I think so, but it’ll take a while,” Cimorene said. “I don’t have any wolfsbane, and I’m not at all sure about unicorn water. Come on, let’s check and see what we need to get.”
They took the scroll into the kitchen and began hunting through the shelves and supplies. They found more of the ingredients than Cimorene had expected, and she began to wonder whether one of Kazul’s previous princesses might have studied magic. They did not, however, find any wolfsbane or unicorn water, nor were they able to locate any white eagle feathers. Alianora discovered a very cobwebby jar labeled “POWDERED HENS’ TEETH,” but it was quite empty.
Cimorene made a list of the ingredients they still needed, while Alianora changed back into her pearl-embroidered dress. Alianora took a copy of the list and went back to her quarters, much excited, to see whether she happened to have anything useful in the dusty, disused comers of her dragon’s kitchen. Cimorene doubted that she would find anything, but there was no harm in letting her look.
As soon as Alianora left, Cimorene tidied up the kitchen and put all but two of the books back on the shelves in the library. One was the scroll of spells in which she had found the fireproofing spell, because she wanted to take a more careful look at some of the other charms and enchantments it described. The other book was a fat volume bound in worn leather, with the words Historia Dracorum in cracked and flaking gold leaf on the cover. Cimorene had decided it was time she really got to work on her Latin.
FOR the next three weeks, Cimorene spent most of her free time studying the fireproofing spell and collecting the ingredients she would need to cast it. A few, like the wolfsbane and feverfew, she could gather herself from the herbs that grew on the slopes of the mountains. Alianora found a little jar of hippopotamus oil among the cosmetics left by her predecessor. The unicorn water Cimorene got from Morwen, after promising her a copy of the spell if it worked. She went to Kazul about the white eagle feathers, though she was a little afraid to explain what she wanted them for. She didn’t want Kazul to think that she was worried about Kazul losing her temper and accidentally roasting her. Fortunately, the dragon found the whole idea very interesting.
“It could be very useful,” Kazul said reflectively. “There are enough hot-tempered youngsters around that it would be well worth fireproofing the princesses who have to deal with them.”
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to fireproof anyone at all,” Cimorene said. “I still need the white eagle feathers and the powdered hens’ teeth, and nobody seems to have any.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Kazul said, and a few days later she dropped a bundle of white feathers at the door of the kitchen. Half a feather was stuck to one of her right claws, and another was caught between two of her teeth, and she looked very pleased with herself. Cimorene decided not to ask any awkward questions. Even Kazul, however, could not find any hens’ teeth, so Cimorene had to keep putting off trying out the spell.
When she wasn’t working on collecting the ingredients for the fireproofing spell, Cimorene read the Historia Dracorum. It was very difficult at first. After all, it had been a long time since her last Latin lesson. She kept working at it until she started to remember the right endings for the declensions and conjugations and cases. Shortly after that she realized that she was not having to look up quite as many words as she had at the beginning.
From then on, her progress was rapid. It helped that she found the book fascinating. Dragon history was not a subject commonly taught to princesses in Linderwall. But as she was now a dragon’s princess, she had personal reasons to be interested. Besides, the history of the dragons was very exciting. Every page was full of descriptions of dragons ravaging villages, carrying off princesses, defeating knights and princes (and occasionally being defeated by them), and fighting with wizards, giants, and each other. When the book wasn’t describing battles, it was describing famous dragons’ hoards and peculiar draconian customs.
Cimorene was in the library with the Historic Dracorum in front of her and her Latin dictionary on the table beside her left hand when she heard someone calling from the front of the cave. She had hoped it would be at least a little longer before the knights started coming back, so she couldn’t help sighing as she stuck a leather bookmark in the book and closed it. Then she went out to argue with whoever it was until they went away.
Two wizards were standing just outside the mouth of the cave. Cimorene saw their wooden staffs first, before she was close enough to see their faces. As she came nearer, she recognized the one on the left as Zemenar. The one on the right was taller and younger; his brown hair and beard showed no trace of gray. His blue and brown robes were identical to the older wizard’s, except for the colors. His eyes were the same bright black as his companion’s, and he looked at Cimorene in a way that made her feel uneasy.
“Good morning to you. Princess Cimorene,” Zemenar said. “I thought I would take you up on your kind invitation to visit. I hope we haven’t come at an inconvenient time?”
“Not at all,” Cimorene said, thinking hard. She had promised Kazul that she would try to find out what Zemenar was after if he showed up, and here he was. Maybe if she convinced him that she was as silly as her sisters, he would be careless enough to let something slip.
“I thought perhaps we might have since it took you so long to come out,” Zemenar said mildly, but Cimorene thought there was a hint of suspicion in his eyes.
“I must not have heard you right away,” Cimorene said, batting her eyes innocently, the way her next youngest sister did whenever she had done something particularly foolish. “Kazul has quite a large set of caves, and I was in one of the ones at the back. I’m so sorry.”
“Ah.” Zemenar stroked his beard with his left hand. “That would make it difficult for you. Perhaps we could set up a spell for you, one that would let you know whenever anyone comes to visit. It would be more pleasant for visitors, too, if they didn’t have to shout. What do you think, Antorell?”
“Like the one at the headquarters of the society,” the second wizard said, nodding. “We could do it in two or three minutes, right from here. It’d be easy.”
Zemenar shot a dark look at his companion. Cimorene was sure that he’d wanted to pretend he was inventing a difficult new spell, so that he would have an excuse to wander around Kazul’s caves. “Quite so,” said Zemenar. “Well, Princess?”
“Oh, dear, I don’t know,” Cimorene said, doing her best to imitate the way her eldest sister behaved whenever anyone wanted her to decide anything. “It sounds very nice, but Kazul is so picky about where things go and how things are done... . No, I couldn’t, I simply couldn’t let you do anything like that without asking Kazul first.”
“What a pity,” Zemenar said. His companion coughed and shuffled his feet. “Ah, yes. Allow me to present my son, Antorell. I hope you don’t mind my bringing him along?”
“Of course not,” Cimorene said politely.
“I am pleased to make the acquaintance of such a lovely princess,” Antorell said, bowing.
Cimorene blinked. This wasn’t getting anywhere. Maybe if she brought them inside they’d relax a little. “Thank you,” she said to Antorell. “Won’t you come in and have some tea?”
“We would be delighted,” Zemenar said quickly. “If you’ll lead the way. Princess?”
“This way,” Cimorene said. She stopped just inside the mouth of the cave and gave the wizards her sweetest and most innocent smile. “You can leave your staffs right here. Just lean them up against the wall.”
Antorell looked considerably startled, and Zemenar frowned. “Is this, too, something your dragon requires?” he said.
“I don’t know,” Cimorene said, wrinkling up her forehead the way her third-from-eldest sister did whenever she was puzzled (which was often). “But they’ll be so awkward in the kitchen. Don’t you think so? There’s not very much room.”
“We’ll manage,” Zemenar said.
Cimorene hadn’t really expected to get the wizards to let go of their staffs, but it had been worth a try. She shrugged and smiled and led them on into the kitchen, where she made a point of bumping into the staffs or tripping over them every time she went by. Finally Antorell turned his sideways and stuck it under the table. Zemenar hung onto his with a kind of grim, suspicious stubbornness that made Cimorene wonder whether she was fooling him at all with her pretended silliness.
The wizards made uncomfortable conversation about the weather and the size of the kitchen for several minutes while Cimorene fixed the tea and poured it. “Are the rest of Kazul’s caves this large?” Zemenar asked as Cimorene handed him his teacup. She had given him the one with the broken handle, even though he was a guest, because she didn’t trust him.
“Oh, yes,” Cimorene said. She was beginning to think she was never going to find out anything. The two wizards seemed perfectly happy to sit at the kitchen table and talk about nothing whatever for hours.
“Remarkable,” said Antorell in an admiring tone. “You know, we wizards don’t often get to see the inside of a dragon’s cave.”
I’ll bet you don’t, thought Cimorene as she gave him a puzzled smile. “That’s too bad,” she said aloud.
“Yes, it is,” Zemenar said. “Perhaps you’d be willing to show us around?”
Cimorene thought very rapidly. It was obvious that she wasn’t going to learn anything if the wizards sat at the kitchen table and drank tea, so she decided to take a chance. “Well,” she said in a doubtful tone, “I suppose it would be all right as long as I don’t take you into the treasure rooms.”
“That’s fine,” Antorell said, a little too quickly.
“You won’t touch anything, will you?” Cimorene said as they stood up. “Kazul is so particular about where things are kept ...”
“Of course not,” Zemenar said, smiling insincerely.
Cimorene smiled back and led the way out into the hall. She watched the wizards carefully as she took them through the large main cave, the general storage caverns, and the big cavern where Kazul visited with other dragons. Zemenar made polite noises about the size and comfort of everything, but neither he nor Antorell seemed very interested. “And this is the library,” Cimorene said, throwing the door open.
“I am impressed,” Zemenar said, and Cimorene could tell that this time he meant it. She stepped sideways, so that she could keep an eye on both of the wizards at the same time.
“A remarkable collection,” Antorell commented. He began walking around the room, admiring the bookshelves and scanning the titles of the books.
“What’s this?” Zemenar said, bending over the table. “The Historia Dracorum? A surprising choice for light reading. Princess.” His eyes met Cimorene’s, and they were hard and bright and suspicious.
“Oh, I’m not reading it,” Cimorene said hastily, opening her eyes very wide. “I just thought it would make the library look nicer to have a book or two sitting out on the table. More—more lived-in.”
Zemenar nodded, looking relieved and faintly contemptuous. “I think it works very well. Princess,” he said. “Very well indeed.” Then he looked over at the other side of the room and said sharply, “Antorell! What are you doing?”
Cimorene turned her head in time to see Antorell put out a hand and deliberately tip several books off one of the shelves. “Stop that!” she said, forgetting to sound silly.
“I’m very sorry. Princess,” Antorell said. “Will you help me put them back where they belong?”
Cimorene had no choice but to go over and help him. It took several minutes to get everything back in place because Antorell kept dropping things. Cimorene got quite annoyed with him and finally did it all herself. As she started to turn back to the center of the room, she caught a glimpse of Zemenar hastily dosing the Historia Dracorum. Cimorene pretended not to notice, but she made a mental note that he had been looking at something near the middle of the book.
“That was dreadfully careless of you,” Cimorene said, frowning at Antorell.
“Very clumsy,” Zemenar agreed.
“I don’t know what Kazul will say when she finds out about it,” Cimorene went on. “Really, it is too bad of you. I did ask you not to touch anything, you know.”
“Yes, you did,” Zemenar said. “And I wouldn’t like to think that we had gotten you in trouble. Perhaps it would be best if you didn’t mention to Kazul that we were here at all.”
“I suppose I could do that,” Cimorene said in a doubtful tone.
“Of course you can,” Antorell said encouragingly. “And I’ll come back in a few days, to make sure everything’s all right.”
“I think it’s time we were on our way,” Zemenar said, giving his son a dark look. “Thank you for showing us around. Princess.”
Cimorene escorted them out of the cave and made sure they had left, then hurried back to the library. She spent the next several hours poring over the middle parts of the Historia Dracorum, trying to figure out what Zemenar had been looking at. She was still there when Kazul arrived home and called for her.
“That wizard Zemenar finally came, and he brought his son along with him,” Cimorene said as she came out of the library.
“I know,” said Kazul. Her voice sounded a little thick, as if she had a cold. “I could smell them the minute I came in.”
“Is that why you sound so odd?” Cimorene asked. “You’re not going to sneeze, are you?”
“I don’t think so,” Kazul replied. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll have plenty of time to turn my head away.”
“I wish I could get hold of some hens’ teeth,” Cimorene said, frowning. “That fireproofing spell—”
“Have you looked in the treasure rooms?” Kazul asked.
“No,” Cimorene replied, startled. She remembered seeing a number of jars and bottles of various shapes and sizes when she had been organizing the treasure, and none of them had been labeled. “I didn’t think of it and besides, it’s your treasure.”
“You’re my princess, at least until someone rescues you or I decide otherwise,” Kazul pointed out. “Go ahead and look, and if you find any hens’ teeth, use them. Be careful when you’re checking the jars, though. There are one or two with lead stoppers that shouldn’t be opened.”
“Lead stoppers,” Cimorene said. “I’ll remember.”
“Good. Now, what did those wizards want?”
“I’m not sure.” Cimorene explained everything that had happened, including how she had seen Zemenar closing the history book as she turned and how the two wizards had been perfectly willing to leave right after that. “But just before they disappeared, Antorell said he might come back another time,” Cimorene concluded. “So I don’t know whether they found what they were looking for or not.”
“Do you know which part of the Historia Dracorum Zemenar was reading?” Kazul asked.
“Somewhere in the middle, a little past my bookmark,” Cimorene replied. “I was just looking at it when you came in. It’s the part about how the dragons came to the Mountains of Morning and settled into the caves and chose a king.”
‘That’s the section where the Historia describes the Caves of Fire and Night, isn’t it?” Kazul said.
Cimorene nodded. “There was a whole page about somebody finding a stone in the caves so that the dragons could pick a king. It didn’t make much sense to me.”
“Colin’s Stone,” Kazul said, nodding. “We’ve used it to choose our king ever since the first time. When a king dies, all the dragons go to the Ford of Whispering Snakes in the Enchanted Forest and take turns trying to move Colin’s Stone from there to the Vanishing Mountain. The one that succeeds is the next king.”
“What if there are two dragons strong enough to move it?” Cimorene asked curiously.
“It’s not a matter of strength,” Kazul said. “Colin’s Stone isn’t much larger than you are. Even a small dragon could carry that much weight twice around the Enchanted Forest without any trouble at all. But Colin’s Stone has an aura, a kind of vibration. When you carry it, you can feel it humming through your claws, and the humming gets stronger the farther you go until your bones are shaking. Most dragons have to drop it or be shaken to pieces, but there’s always one who is ... suited to the stone. For that dragon, the stone’s humming is just a pleasant buzz, so of course it’s easy to get it to the Vanishing Mountain.”
“You sound as if you’ve had experience,” Cimorene said.
“Of course,” Kazul responded matter-of-factly. “I was old enough to participate in the tests when the last king died.” She smiled reminiscently. “I got farther than anyone expected me to, though I wasn’t one of the top ten by any means.”
Cimorene tilted her head to one side, considering. “I think I’m glad you didn’t win.”
“Oh? Why is that?” Kazul sounded amused.
“Because you wouldn’t have had any use for a princess if you were the Queen of the Dragons, and if you hadn’t decided to take me on, that yellow-green dragon Moranz would probably have eaten me,” Cimorene explained.
“You mean, if I were the King of the Dragons,” Kazul corrected her. “Queen of the Dragons is a dull job.”
“But you’re a female!” Cimorene said. “If you’d carried Colin’s Stone from the Ford of Whispering Snakes to the Vanishing Mountain, you’d have had to be a queen, wouldn’t you?”
“No, of course not,” Kazul said. “Queen of the Dragons is a totally different job from King, and it’s not one I’m particularly interested in. Most people aren’t. I think the position’s been vacant since Oraun tore his wing and had to retire.”
“But King Tokoz is a male dragon!” Cimorene said, then frowned. “Isn’t he?”
“Yes, yes, but that has nothing to do with it,” Kazul said a little testily. “ ‘King’ is the name of the job. It doesn’t matter who holds it.”
Cimorene stopped and thought for a moment. “You mean that dragons don’t care whether their king is male or female; the title is the same no matter who the ruler is.”
“That’s right. We like to keep things simple.”
“Oh.” Cimorene decided to return to the original topic of conversation before the dragon’s “simple” ideas confused her any further. “Why would the wizards be interested in Colin’s Stone if it’s only used for picking out the kings of the dragons?”
“I doubt that they are,” Kazul replied. “However, Colin’s Stone was found in the Caves of Fire and Night, and wizards have always been interested in the caves. But the dragons control most of them, and all the easy entrances are ours, so the wizards have never been able to find out as much as they would like. The Historia Dracorum is one of the few books that talks about the caves at all, and there aren’t many copies. I’ll wager Zemenar would have stolen it outright if he’d thought he could get away with it.”
“I thought the dragons let wizards into the Caves of Fire and Night,” Cimorene objected. “Why would Zemenar be poking through history books looking for information if he can just go and look at them whenever he wants to?”
“We don’t let wizards visit the caves whenever they want,” Kazul said. “If we did, they’d be running in and out all the time, and nobody would be able to breathe without sneezing. No, they’re limited to certain days and times, and if they want to visit the Caves of Fire and Night otherwise, they have to use one of the entrances we don’t control. Few of them try. The other ways of getting into the caves are very dangerous, even for wizards.”
“Maybe they’re looking for an easier way in.”
“Mmm.” Kazul did not seem to be paying much attention. She thought for a moment, then turned toward the cave mouth. “I’m going to go see Gaurim. Roxim said a book had been stolen from her library, and I want to know which one. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“I think I’ll go look at the Historia Dracorum again while you’re gone,” Cimorene said thoughtfully. “If there is something useful in it about the Caves of Fire and Night, maybe I can find it, now that I know what I’m looking for.”
Cimorene spent the rest of the afternoon carefully translating the chapter that talked about the caves. She was disappointed to find that there was very little about the caves themselves, though what was there was interesting. The book told how the dragons had discovered the back way into the caves and described some of the things they had found in them—caverns full of blue and green fire, pools of black liquid that would cast a cloud of darkness for twenty miles around if you poured three drops on the ground, walls made of crystal that multiplied every sound a thousandfold, rocks that spurted fire when they were broken. Most of the rest of the chapter was about Colin’s Stone, and how it was taken out of the caves by the first King of the Dragons.
Kazul returned just before dinner, and she and Cimorene compared notes. Cimorene told Kazul what she had learned from the chapter on the Caves of Fire and Night, and then Kazul explained what she had learned from Gaurim.
“The stolen book was The Kings of the Dragons, and the entire first section was about Colin’s Stone and the Caves of Fire and Night,” Kazul said. “And only a wizard could have gotten past the spells and safeguards Gaurim puts on her library. I think that settles it. The wizards are definitely collecting information about the Caves of Fire and Night.”
“Then why do they keep looking at books of dragon history?” Cimorene asked. “It seems like a roundabout way of finding out whatever it is that they want to know.”
“There isn’t any other way to do it,” Kazul said. “Nobody but dragons has ever had much to do with the caves, and no one has written much about them except in dragon histories. Even the wizards weren’t particularly interested in them until a few years ago, except as a reliable route into the Enchanted Forest.”
“But from what I’ve been reading in the Historia Dracorum, the caves sound fascinating,” Cimorene said. “You mean to say that no one has ever written anything about the Caves of Fire and Night except dragons?”
“That’s—” Kazul stopped suddenly, and her eyes narrowed. “No, that’s not right. There was a rather rumpled scholar who talked his way into the caves a century or so back, and after he left he wrote an extremely dry book about what he found there. I’d forgotten about him.”
“Do you have a copy?” Cimorene asked hopefully.
“No,” Kazul said. “But I don’t think the Society of Wizards does, either. There weren’t very many of them printed, and a lot of those were lost in a flood a few years later. Some hero or other shoved a giant into a lake to drown him. The silly clunch didn’t realize that if he put something that big into a lake, the water would have to go somewhere.”
“Well, that doesn’t do us much good,” Cimorene said. “It’s nice that the Society of Wizards doesn’t have a copy of that book, but if we can’t get hold of one either—”
“I didn’t say that,” Kazul said. “I don’t have a copy myself, but I know who does.”
“Who?” Cimorene said impatiently.
“Morwen. I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to work on that fireproofing spell of yours tomorrow. We’re going to take a trip to the Enchanted Forest instead.”
Cimorene was surprised to hear that Kazul intended to take her along on the visit to Morwen, and she was not entirely sure she liked the idea. She had heard a great deal about the Enchanted Forest, and none of it was reassuring. People who traveled there were always getting changed into flowers or trees or animals or rocks, or doing something careless and having their heads turned backward, or being carried off by ogres or giants or trolls, or enchanted by witches or wicked fairies. It did not sound like a good place for a casual, pleasant visit.
On the other hand, it seemed unlikely that anything dreadful would happen to Cimorene if she were traveling with a dragon, and she was looking forward to seeing Morwen again. Besides, Cimorene was curious.
“And anyway,” she said to herself, “Kazul says I’m going, and there’s no point in worrying about it if I don’t have any choice.” Nevertheless, she decided to take one of the smaller magic swords along with her, if Kazul said it was all right. Cimorene saw no point in taking unnecessary chances.
Kazul had no objection, so Cimorene picked out a small, plain-looking sword in a worn leather scabbard that made the wearer invincible, and they started off. Cimorene had assumed that Kazul would fly through the pass, but Kazul said no.
“It’s not that easy to get into the Enchanted Forest,” she explained. “At least, not if you’re trying to get in. Princes and youngest sons and particularly clever tailors stumble into it by accident all the time, but if one wants to go there on purpose, one has to follow the proper route.”
“I didn’t think dragons had that kind of problem,” Cimorene said.
“Dragons don’t,” Kazul replied. “But you’re not a dragon.”
So instead of flying through the Pass of Silver Ice, Kazul led Cimorene through the tunnels. Cimorene had to walk very quickly to keep up, even though Kazul was moving slowly. It was not long before she was wishing that the tunnels were high enough for her to ride on Kazul’s back. The route twisted around and up and back and forth and down and around again until Cimorene was thoroughly lost. Finally they came to a gate made of iron bars that completely blocked the passage. Cimorene studied it carefully, but she could see no sign of a handle or a lock.
“This is the entrance to the Caves of Fire and Night,” Kazul said. “Be careful from here on, and don’t wander away or you’ll get lost.”
Cimorene refrained from saying that as far as she was concerned, they were lost already. “How are you going to open it?” she asked instead.
“Like this,” said Kazul.
“By night and flame and shining rock
Open thou thy hidden lock.
Alberolingam!”
As the sound of Kazul’s voice died away, the iron gate swung silently open. “That’s a very unusual opening spell,” Cimorene commented, impressed.
“It wasn’t always that complicated,” Kazul said. She sounded almost apologetic. “I believe the first version was very simple, just ‘Open sesame,’ but word got around and we had to change it.”
Cimorene nodded and followed Kazul through the gate and into the Caves of Fire and Night. For the first hundred yards or so, the only difference Cimorene could see between these caves and the ordinary tunnels on the other side of the gate was that the Caves of Fire and Night were warmer. Then, very suddenly, her lamp went out, plunging everything into complete and utter blackness.
Cimorene stopped walking immediately. “Kazul?”
“It’s quite all right. Princess,” Kazul’s disembodied voice said from out of the darkness. “This happens all the time here. Don’t bother trying to relight the lamp. Just put your hand on my elbow and follow along that way.”
“All right,” Cimorene said doubtfully. She groped with her free hand in the direction of Kazul’s voice and scraped her knuckles on the dragon’s scales. “Ow!”
“Take your time,” Kazul advised.
“I’m ready,” Cimorene said. Her right hand was pressed flat against the cool, rough-edged scales at the back of Kazul’s left forearm. “Just don’t move too fast, or I’ll lose you or get stepped on or something.”
Kazul did her best to oblige, but Cimorene still had difficulty in keeping up. She had to take at least three steps for every one of Kazul’s, and it seemed that every time she moved her foot, she hit a rock or an uneven place in the tunnel floor. Then she would stumble, and her hand would scrape and slide against Kazul’s scales, so that she was afraid she would lose contact with the dragon.
“Are you sure I shouldn’t try and relight the lamp?” Cimorene asked after her fifth painful stumble-and-slide.
“Quite sure,” Kazul said. “You see, it isn’t—ah, there it goes.” While Kazul was speaking, there was a flicker of light, and then the darkness rolled aside like a curtain being pulled. Cimorene found herself standing in a large cave whose walls glittered as if they were studded with thousands of tiny mirrors. The lamp in her left hand was burning cheerfully once more.
“Was it the lamp?” Cimorene asked after studying it for a moment. “Or was it me?”
“It was the caves,” Kazul said. “That was one of the reasons they’re ‘of night’ as well as ‘of fire.’ “
“Only one of the reasons?” Cimorene said thoughtfully. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“You’ll be quite all right as long as you’re with me,” Kazul assured her. “Very few things are willing to mess with a dragon, even in the dark. And the periods of darkness don’t last long. Ifs because the magic of these caves doesn’t affect us as much as other people, or so I’m told.”
“You mean that blackness is likely to come back?”
Kazul nodded.
“Then let’s get as far as we can before it does,” Cimorene said, and started across the cave.
There were four tunnels leading out of the opposite side of the glittering cavern. Kazul took the second from the left without hesitating an instant.
“Where do all these tunnels go?” Cimorene asked, glancing at the other three openings as she followed Kazul.
“The one on the right end leads to a chain of caverns,” Kazul said over her shoulder. “The first few are quite ordinary, but then you come to one full of hot sulfur pools. Some of the older dragons bathe there. They claim the water is good for rheumatism. Beyond that is a cave with molten silver dripping down the walls, and the chain ends at a deep chasm with a river of red-hot melted rock at the bottom.”
“Doesn’t sound very attractive,” Cimorene commented.
“The dwarfsmiths find it very useful for forging magic swords,” Kazul assured her. “The second tunnel on the right takes you into a maze. The tunnels and caverns constantly shift around, so that no matter how carefully you mark your way, you always get lost.”
“Even dragons?”
Kazul nodded. “Though I believe there was one prince who managed to find his way out with a magic ball of string.”
“Oh, bother!” said Cimorene. The lights had gone out again, just as they emerged into a small cave.
“It’s quite all right. This part’s easy,” Kazul said.
“Next time I’m going to bring a cane,” Cimorene muttered. “Where do the other tunnels lead?”
“The one on the far left goes through a couple of caverns that are pretty, but not very interesting. We’re always chasing knights and princes out of it, though. They come for flasks of water from the bottomless pool at the far end.”
“What does it do?” Cimorene asked. “Ow!” She had just banged her right elbow against the wall of the cave in the dark.
“It casts a cloud of darkness for twenty miles around when it’s poured on the ground,” Kazul replied.
“How useful,” Cimorene muttered balefully, rubbing her elbow.
“And this tunnel leads to the Enchanted Forest, by way of the King’s Cave,” Kazul finished.
“Oh, good. I was hoping to see that,” Cimorene said. The King’s Cave was the chamber where the first King of the Dragons had found Colin’s Stone, and the Historia Dracorum had not described it anywhere near well enough to suit Cimorene. “And here’s the light coming back, thank goodness. Let's hurry before it goes again.”
They went through three small caves and two more periods of blackness before they reached the King’s Cave. Kazul pointed out various locations of interest, such as the wall of crystal with a chip in one comer where the Prince of the Ruby Throne had stolen a piece to make a magic ring and the jewel-studded cavern where the King of the Dragons met with people who needed impressing. There was one very eerie cave full of slabs of black rock. Most were standing on end, though a few had fallen over. Kazul said they were all enchanted princes.
“All of them?” Cimorene asked, appalled. There were at least forty of the stone slabs, and the cave was quite crowded.
Kazul shook her head. “No, the one on the end there is just an ordinary boulder.”
“How did it happen?”
“The princes came to steal some of the Water of Healing from the well at the end of the cave,” Kazul said. “There are two dippers by the well: one is tin, the other is solid gold and covered with jewels. The princes all tried to use the gold one, even though they’d been told that only the tin dipper would work. It’s no more than they deserve.”
Cimorene frowned, thinking of some of the princes she had known. “Well, I won’t deny that they probably behaved foolishly, but—”
“Foolishly!” Kazul snorted. “Any reasonably well-educated prince ought to have sense enough to follow directions when he’s on a quest, but all of these fellows were sure they knew better. If they’d simply done what they were told, they wouldn’t be here.”
“Still, turning them into slabs of stone forever seems a little extreme.”
“Oh, they won’t be stone forever,” Kazul said. “Sooner or later someone will come along who has the sense not to improvise, and he’ll succeed in getting the water. Then he’ll use some of it to disenchant this lot, and the cave will be empty for a while until the next batch of young idiots starts arriving.”
Cimorene felt better knowing that the princes would someday be freed, though she had sense enough not to try doing it herself. Since she had not been sent on a quest for the Water of Healing, it was highly unlikely that she would be able to disenchant the princes even if she succeeded in taking the water. And she knew enough about quests and enchantments and the obtaining of things with magical properties to know that she would probably get into a lot of trouble if she tried. So she tucked the matter into the back of her mind and followed Kazul through the stone-filled cavern. She was careful not to step on any of the fallen slabs.
Just outside the entrance to the next cave, Kazul stopped. “This,” she said, “is the King’s Cave. We have to cross it as quickly as we can. Don’t stop in the middle, and don’t say anything while we’re inside. Understand? Good. Come on, then.”
As soon as she stepped inside the cave, Cimorene understood the reason for Kazul’s request for silence. The walls, the ceiling, and the floor were made of dark, shiny stone that multiplied and threw back echoes of even the smallest sound. The soft scraping of Kazul’s scales against the floor sounded like thirty men sawing wood, and the tiny gasp Cimorene gave at the sight and sound of the cave was as loud as if she had shouted. Cimorene went on as quietly and carefully as she could.
Halfway across, she noticed the vibration. It began as a gentle and not unpleasant buzzing in her bones, unrelated to the loud and continually multiplying echoes of her passage, though it, too, grew stronger the farther into the cave she went. Kazul was in front of her now, and she saw the dragon’s tail lash once, as if in pain or anger. Suddenly she remembered Kazul’s description of the aura that made it impossible for most dragons to carry Colin’s Stone, and that this was the place where Colin’s Stone had been found. No wonder Kazul was uncomfortable.
Cimorene found herself wishing she could stop and pay attention to the humming in her bones, but she remembered Kazul’s directions and continued walking. She had nearly reached the exit when she saw a pebble about the size of her thumbnail, made of the same dark, shiny stone as the cavern walls. Kazul had said nothing about picking things up, so Cimorene veered a little to the right and scooped the pebble up as she passed. A moment later she was out of the cave.
“Phew!” said Kazul. “I’m glad that’s over. From here on, it should be easy.”
“Good,” said Cimorene. She dropped the pebble into her pocket to look at more closely later and followed Kazul down the narrow, winding tunnel.