Roxim is too old for adventures, and Marchak has to stay and take care of business while I'm gone. And I hope you're not going to suggest I borrow Marchak's princess.'
'I wouldn't dream of it,' Mendanbar said sincerely. 'Is she very awful?'
'Actually, she's one of the nice ones,' Cimorene admitted. 'But she's very silly. She'd try, but she wouldn't enjoy it at all, and she'd be much more of a nuisance than she's worth. I'd rather take my chances alone.'
'That's almost as bad an idea as taking that princess along,' Mendanbar said. He sighed. 'I suppose I'll have to come with you myself.'
Cimorene stared at him blankly for a moment, then began to giggle.
'It isn't funny,' Mendanbar said. 'I mean it.' He felt a little hurt by Cimorene's reaction. He wasn't necessarily stuffy or useless or a nuisance to travel with just because he was the King of the Enchanted Forest. Cimorene ought to realize that. After all, he'd fixed the sink for her, hadn't he?
'I know you mean it,' Cimorene said when she could talk again. 'It wasn't what you said, it was the way you said it.' She shook her head, chuckling. 'You sound about as eager to come with me as I am to have company. Which isn't much.'
'Maybe not, but somebody-' 'What was that?' Cimorene interrupted, holding up a hand for silence.
'I didn't hear anything,' Mendanbar said.
'Shhh,' Cimorene hissed. She rose and tiptoed to the door, listening.
In the quiet, Mendanbar heard a faint thud outside. Cimorene's lips tightened.
'Princes or wizards?' she muttered. 'Wizards, I'll bet. Princes are noisier.'
Still frowning, she picked up the bucket of soapy water that was sitting beside the door. As she reached for the doorknob, Mendanbar started after her. Cimorene hadn't asked for his help, but a bucket of soapy water wasn't much of a weapon against a wizard. If it was a wizard.
The corridor outside the kitchen was pitch black. Cimorene vanished into the gloom, moving with the calm sureness of long familiarity.
Cursing mentally, Mendanbar picked his way after her, one hand on the cave wall for guidance, the other stretched out in front of him to keep him from running into anything.
Another muffled crash echoed from up ahead. Mendanbar took two more steps and his outstretched arm touched Cimorene's shoulder. A moment later, Cimorene's voice said calmly, 'Phrazelspitz.'
Mendanbar felt magic rise around him. Light flared from the walls, then settled into a steady glow, revealing an enormous cavern. He and Cimorene stood in one of five dark openings spaced unevenly around the wall. Halfway across the cave, a tall man in blue and brown wizard's robes stood hanging onto a staff and trying to squint in all directions at once. His hair and beard were brown, and he bore a strong resemblance to Zemenar, only younger.
'Antorell,' Cimorene said in tones of disgust. 'I might have guessed.'
'I'm glad to see you again, Princess Cimorene,' the wizard said in an oily tone. 'But who could fail to rejoice at the sight of so lovely a princess?'
'What are you doing here?' Cimorene demanded. Mendanbar was pleased to note that she didn't sound at all mollified by Antorell's flattery.
'And how did you get in without being eaten?'
'Oh, we wizards have our little ways,' Antorell said airily. 'And I came because-well, because I was concerned about you, Princess.'
'I'll bet,' Cimorene muttered. 'What do you mean?' she said in a louder voice.
'I thought you might need a friend.' Antorell's voice oozed sincerity.
'Especially after what Father said when he came back from the Enchanted Forest. If King Mendanbar really is getting ready for a war with the drag 'Where did your father get that idea?' Cimorene asked in tones of mild interest.
Antorell frowned slightly, as if he had hoped for a stronger reaction.
'Something the King said to him, I think. I shouldn't have repeated it, I suppose, but I was carried away by my feelings.'
'Sure you were,' Cimorene said. 'That's why you sneaked in here without knocking and went blundering around in the dark, instead of calling me or at least bringing a lamp.'
'I didn't want to disturb King Kazul, if she happened to be here,' Antorell said stiffly.
Cimorene snorted. 'If you'd really thought Kazul was here, you wouldn't have come at all. She doesn't like it when people ignore her rules.
One of which, may I remind you, was that wizards aren't allowed in the Mountains of Morning anymore.'
'But if there's going to be a wan' 'There isn't,' Mendanbar said, stepping forward into the light. 'At least, not if I can help it. Why are you people trying so hard to make trouble, anyway?'
Antorell's eyes widened, and he sucked in his breath. 'Mendanbar? You'll ruin everything, blast you.' He smiled a sudden, nasty smile.
'Unless I deal with both of you now. Oh, yes, that will do very well.
Father will be so pleased.'
He raised his staff. Mendanbar started toward him, pulling his sword free as he ran, though he knew the wizard was much too far away to reach before he finished the spell. Cimorene followed quickly, not quite running, carrying her bucket carefully to avoid spilling. They had only gone a few steps when a swirl of smoke appeared in the air in front of them.
The smoke thickened rapidly, then congealed with shocking suddenness into the largest nightshade Mendanbar had ever seen. It was two feet taller than Mendanbar and covered with spikes of coarse black fur. Its beady black eyes glared at him as it raised a long arm and clicked its dark purple claws together. It hissed, showing a mouthful of fangs.
'There!' cried Antorell over the nightshade's noise. 'Vanquish that, Cimorene-if you can!'
7
In Which a Wizard Makes a Mess and the Journey Begins
Ignoring Antorell, Mendanbar kept his eyes on the nightshade. He had a moment's useless wish that he were in the Enchanted Forest , where he could have disposed of the monster with relative ease. Here, things were going to be a lot more complicated. He shifted his grip on the sword and pulled at the power within it.
The nightshade swung at him: its fully extended claws carving a whistling arc in the air. It was very, very fast. Mendanbar barely managed to block in time. The force of the blow knocked him to one side, and he almost lost hold of the sword. The nightshade hissed in pain and shook its arm, but Mendanbar knew it was not seriously hurt.
Without active magic behind it, the most damage the sword could have inflicted on a nightshade this big was a bruise.
Again he pulled at the power in the sword, then had to roll to avoid another swing by the nightshade. This time he kept on rolling until he was out of the monster's reach. He came up on one knee and pointed the sword at the nightshade, pushing power through the sword in the pattern he had pictured in his mind.
Antorell's staff struck him across the shoulders. The sword flew out of his hands and he went sprawling. His half-formed spell spun wildly in the air and then was sucked away. He heard an angry shriek from Cimorene, then a shout: 'Mendanbar! Dodge left, quick!'
Without hesitation, Mendanbar threw himself to his left. He heard a rush of wind as the nightshade's claws missed him by inches. There was a splash somewhere behind him, and Antorell's voice cried, 'No! No! You'll be sorry for this, Cimorene!' Then Mendanbar's hand closed on the hilt of his sword. He twisted and brought the sword up, shoving power through it recklessly.
The blast of barely formed magic caught the nightshade in mid leap.
The creature hung frozen in the air for an instant, then dissolved in a cloud of bright sparks. Mendanbar seized the remnants of magic and pulled them together into a tight knot, ready to throw at another nightshade or at
