'Are you sure you should-' 'I'm sure.' Morwen settled herself against the side of the laundry basket and took hold of the rim. Tapping three times with her left forefinger, she said, 'Onward and upward.'
The laundry basket shuddered, then slowly began to rise. Morwen made no attempt to speed it up. The broomstick spell was stretched a little thin as it was. As they passed Kazul's nose, Trouble stuck a long gray paw over the rim and waved. The laundry basket wobbled in response, and Trouble scrambled back toward the center.
'Hold still,' Morwen told him. 'You could dump us over if you aren't careful. This isn't a broomstick.'
'Now she tells me.'
'I should think it was obvious.'
To this Trouble made no reply. Morwen sat motionless, watching the pale surface of the tower glide past. Finally, the laundry basket reached the window. 'Stop,' said Morwen.
The laundry basket obliged. Peering in, Morwen saw a thin young man with bright red hair standing beside a fireplace, his back to the window..a fire-witch? thought Morwen. In the middle of a swamp?
Well, not all red-haired people were fire-witches. Morwen glanced around the rest of the room. On the far side, a staircase led downward next to the wall. A stone bench, a small desk, and three comfortable-looking chairs were the only furnishings.
With great care, Morwen leaned forward and tapped on the glass. The young man jumped and whirled, and his eyes got very large. When he did not come any nearer, Morwen tapped the window again.
'Just break it,' said Trouble. 'It would be less work.'
Scorn snorted. 'You are thinking about as much as that blue winged imbecile down below. If she breaks the window, some of the glass might fall on top of them.' She waved her tail at the figures of Kazul, Cimorene, and Killer beneath them. 'She can't count on all of it falling inside, even if she's careful.'
For the third time, impatiently, Morwen rapped at the window. The red-haired man blinked, as if he were coming out of a daze, and then walked over to the window.
'Who are you?' he said, his voice slightly muffled by the glass.
'My name is Morwen, and I have an injured friend here who needs rest and warmth. Open this window immediately, please.'
'I suppose I might as well.' The redhead unlatched the window and swung it open, narrowly missing Morwen's head. 'Sorry.'
'And well you should be,' Morwen told him. 'Are you always so careless?'
'Mostly,' said the man. 'How did you get up-That's my laundry basket?'
He stared for a moment, then hit his forehead with the palm of his hand. 'Stupid, stupid, stupid. You enchanted the basket. Why didn't she think of that years ago? Why didn't Rachel think of it? Why in heaven's name didn't I think of it?'
'Because you're stupid?' Scorn suggested.
'When I think of all the effort I could have saved, hauling that thing up and down and up and down and-' 'Yes, of course,' said Morwen. 'Now, if you could just give me a hand with-Trouble! Not yet.' The cat had crouched, preparing to spring out of the laundry basket.
'What's that?' said the man. 'What sort of trouble? And why do you want a hand with it?'
'Cats,' said Morwen. 'And I don't want a hand with them. It's Telemain who-' as if the sound of his name had partially awakened him, Telemain grunted and stirred. The laundry basket swung sideways, throwing Trouble off his feet. This made the basket swing even more wildly.
Morwen bent forward and grabbed the window ledge, which helped stabilize things a little. Then Telemain moaned and tried to sit up.
The laundry basket wobbled violently, nearly spilling everyone out.
The cats wailed, and Morwen was only just able to keep hold of the window ledge.
'Blast the maul' Morwen said. 'Why does he have to pick just this instant to start recovering? Telemain, hold still.'
The red-haired man leaned out of the window and grabbed the rim of the laundry basket. 'Stop that immediately,' he said sternly. 'Stay put.'
The laundry basket froze. Trouble yowled and leapt from the bottom of the laundry basket to the young man's bent-over back, and from there into the room. 'Good idea,' said Scorn, and followed.
'Oof! Oof?' said the man. 'What was that?'
'Cats,' Morwen said again. 'Help me get Telemain out of here before he dumps us over.'
Between the two of them, they wrestled Telemain out of the laundry basket and through the window. To Morwen's mild surprise, the basket remained perfectly stable throughout the entire operation, but as soon as the red-haired man turned away the basket began to wobble once more.
'There's another person and an oversized donkey at the foot of your tower as well,' Morwen said when Telemain was safely inside, lying comfortably on the floor in front of the fireplace. They'd have to wait to do anything about the mud that covered him from head to foot, but fortunately the red-haired man did not have much in the way of carpeting. The stone floor would sweep up easily enough. 'I'd like to bring the others up as soon as possible. The donkey will be a bit tricky.'
'I'll be glad to-' The young man broke off, and his expression darkened, as if he were remembering something that annoyed him. 'No.
I shouldn't have let you in. You had your chance.'
Morwen looked at him sternly over the tops of her glasses. 'If you are sulky because we didn't allow you to haul us up immediately, you are being unreasonable, unmannerly, and overly bad tempered, even for a fire- witch.
Enchanting that basket of yours has saved you a good deal of effort, now and in the future, and you ought to thank us for it.'
'How do you know I'm a fire-witch?' the man demanded angrily.
'You have red hair, a touchy disposition, and an instinctive control over magic, even other people's spells,' Morwen said. 'And from the way you burned that rope, you've some affinity for fire as well. It's obvious.
Now, are you going to let me bring up those people or not?'
'I don't-'
'Morwen, company,' said Scorn.
Morwen turned. Outside the open window, enormous wings flapping furiously, Killer was coming in for a landing. Cimorene lay low along his back to avoid the wings, her arms wrapped around his neck.
'Have you found something we can have for dinner?' Killer asked.
14
In Which They Trade Stories
The red-haired man stared at the apparition in disbelief. Morwen didn't blame him. Killer looked nearly as unsteady as the laundry basket, which was still hovering just outside the window.
'What on earth is that?' the man demanded.
'My friends,' Morwen said. 'You'd better back up. There's not much room to spare, coming through that window, and Killer's never done this before.'
'Killer?' The man backed up hastily. 'Good grief, it's blue.'
'Oh, really?' said Scorn, her voice dripping sarcasm. 'We hadn't noticed.'
'You know, I don't think his wings will fit through the opening unless he folds them,' Trouble said. 'I wonder how he'll manage?'
Killer flapped higher, then dove for the window, folding his wings at the last minute. His momentum wasn't quite enough to carry him through, and for an instant his front hooves flailed uselessly against air inside the tower while his back legs hung outside. Then he kicked, wiggled, and tumbled into the room, where he sprawled six inches above the floor, panting loudly. The sudden jerk tore Cimorene loose, and she landed next to Killer with a
