to the sorceress who lived in this tower, to be apprenticed.'
'A sorceress chose to live in a swamp?' Cimorene said skeptically.
'They like inaccessible places,' Morwen said. 'Though I'll grant you, this is a little extreme. Go on, Brandel.'
'The sorceress agreed to take Rachel in and teach her magic, and once every five years or so we would come and visit. Since there wasn't a door in the tower, the sorceress lowered a chair on a long rope and hauled us up to the window one at a time.' Brandel shook his head.
'The laundry basket is a lot safer; it's not so easy to fall out of.
'In any case, the sorceress asked us to keep the arrangement a secret, and we tried, but that sort of thing always seems to get out somehow.
Some of the rumors were pretty wild: one of the stories said my mother sold Rachel to a wicked witch in exchange for some vegetables.'
'I think I've heard that one,' Cimorene said.
'Anyway, there wasn't much we could do. By the time Rachel was sixteen, all sorts of people were showing up in the swamp to rescue the beautiful princess from the wicked witch.'
Cimorene nodded. 'I know what that's like. When I was Kazul's princess, the knights and heroes made themselves a dreadful nuisance.
You wouldn't believe how stubborn some of them could be.'
'Want to bet? They're still coming around, and half the time they won't listen when I say she isn't here any longer.' Brandel looked down.
'That's what I thought you were, at first: a group of heroes.'
'Sounds like a reasonable description to me,' said Trouble.
'Is your sister beautiful?' Morwen asked.
Brandel shrugged. 'She's pretty enough, I suppose. For a while, she was flattered by all the attention, but the constant interruptions just irritated the sorceress. Finally, she gave the tower to Rachel and moved somewhere else, just to get away from it all.'
'I can't say I blame her,' Cimorene said, nodding.
'I don't know,' said Killer, who had been listening with great interest.
'It must have taken a lot of work to build a place like this. Couldn't she have just kept them away somehow?'
'They're very persistent,' Cimorene said. 'You have no idea.'
'And besides, heroes weren't the only problem with this location,' Brandel said. 'Just the main one.'
Killer snorted softly. 'I still think-' 'About the tower,' Morwen said to Brandel. 'The sorceress gave it to your sister…'
'And she lived here for a while, until she couldn't stand having strangers stand outside and shout, 'Rachel! Rachel, send down the chair' any longer. Half the time they didn't even get her name right.
So when Arona started making life difficult for me, she-' Morwen stiffened. 'Hold on a minute. Who did you just say was making life difficult for you?'
'Arona Vamist.' Brandel's eyes narrowed and his fists clenched. 'He is the meanest, lowest, most obnoxious, narrow-minded, opinionated ...' With every word Brandel's voice rose, until he was shouting at the top of his lungs. Then, abruptly, his hair burst into flames.
After a shocked instant, Morwen relaxed. Fire-witches were supposed to be immune to fire, among their many other gifts, and she found this demonstration extremely interesting. Cimorene, too, seemed more surprised than frightened, but Killer was not so sanguine. He reared back in surprise, forgot to allow for his wings, and almost overbalanced. To keep his footing, he had to flap several times, filling the room with the wind from his wings.
The flames brightened briefly, but then the breeze distracted Brandel from his angry tirade, and a moment later his hair went out.
'That was interesting,' said Trouble.
'Interesting isn't the half of it,' said Morwen. 'That wouldn't by any chance have been Arona Michaelear Grinogion Vamist you were railing at a moment ago, would it?'
'That's the one,' Brandel said, nodding vehemently. 'And if I ever get my hands on the sneaking little-' 'Yes, of course,' Morwen interrupted hastily, hoping to forestall another outburst. 'If talking about it won't upset you too much, would you mind telling me exactly how Arona Michaelear Grinogion Vamist was 'making life difficult' for you?'
'Not just for me. That weasel has it in for the whole family.' The ends of Brandel's hair began to glow like embers in a high wind. With a visible effort, he controlled himself and went on. 'He'd been going on about true magic and traditional forms for a long time, but nobody ever paid much attention.
Then he petitioned the Town Council to outlaw all 'nontraditional' magic, and somehow he got them to do it.'
'And fire-witches aren't on his traditional list,' Morwen said.
Brandel nodded. 'He got us thrown out of our home, and there wasn't a thing we could do about it.'
'Nothing?' Cimorene raised an eyebrow. 'From what I've heard about fire-witches-' 'Using our magic against him would only have made his arguments to the Town Council sound more reasonable,' Brandel said.
Cimorene and Morwen just looked at him.
'All right, we tried? Brandel hit the arm of his chair with one fist, and little flames flickered in his hair. 'Somebody was helping the little creep. He has a really first-class protective spell, one the whole lot of us couldn't get a handle on. When we found out we couldn't get at him, the others went to visit my uncle in Oslett. I came here, hoping Rachel would know where the sorceress had gone. I thought maybe she'd help.'
'Rachel didn't know, I take it?' said Morwen.
'No, but she let me have the tower. She even warned me about all the knights and heroes before she left, but I didn't believe her.' Brandel sighed.
'I do now. That's why I filled in the end of the sorceress's walkway.'
'Walkway?' said Cimorene.
'The one lined with invisible dusk-blooming chokevines. Didn't you notice?'
'We noticed the vines. We didn't notice a walkway. Just mud.'
Brandel shrugged. 'I don't think she got out much, and when she did, she usually flew.'
'So you've been living here ever since you got thrown out of your hometown?' Morwen asked.
Brandel nodded.
'How long is that?'
'Around four months, I think. I lose track. Not a lot happens, except knights, and the days sort of blur together. I don't even know what's been happening outside the swamp.'
'Arona Michaelear Grinogion Vamist seems to have decided to move on from fire-witches to regular witches,' Morwen said. 'As near as I can tell, he's trying to get everyone to wear pointy hats and cackle a lot.'
'You watch out,' Brandel said. 'He's up to something.'
'I'm beginning to regret missing his call,' Morwen said.
'You got a call from this Vamist person?' said Cimorene. 'What did he want?'
'The cats didn't say.'
Trouble let his eyelids close almost to slits. 'Nothing important.'
'That reminds me,' Cimorene said. 'Brandel, have you got a magic mirror around that I could use? I promised Mendanbar I'd let him know how things were going every once in a while.'
'I think the sorceress left an old one in the storage closet,' Brandel said. 'I'll check.'
The fire-witch disappeared down the staircase. Morwen and Cimorene looked at each other.
'This is not going well,' Cimorene said.
'I wouldn't say that,' Morwen replied. 'We have somewhere dry to spend the night. Under the circumstances…'
'That's just it. The circumstances. We're goodness-knows-how-many leagues from where we ought to be, Telemain's hurt, and we still don't have any idea where Mendanbar's sword is. And we've wasted a whole day. Any minute now, that sword may start leaking magic and-' '-and fretting yourself into fits won't help a bit,' Morwen
