Calling on Dragons - Wrede Patricia Collins (книги онлайн читать бесплатно TXT) 📗

"You knew about the wizards' staffs long before then," Miss Eliza objected.

"Knew what about wizards' staffs?" Killer's ears swiveled from the cats to Morwen. "That they make holes in the forest?"

"Exactly," Morwen said. "Wizards' staffs absorb magic from anything that happens to be around. Unfortunately, in the Enchanted Forest everything is magical, one way or another, and when a staff soaks up enough magic it kills part of the forest."

"And this certainly looks like the kind of thing that happens when a wizard sets down the end of this staff," Miss Eliza said. "Careless creatures."

"Well, if this bit is from a wizard's staff, what made all those tiny dots back by that clover patch?" Aunt Ophelia said. "Miniature wizards?"

"Quite possibly," Morwen replied. "If a wizard worked a size-changing spell in this area and let a little spill over into the clover patch, it would explain Killer's unusual growth very nicely."

Miss Eliza's nose twitched as if she smelled something unpleasant. "I said they were careless."

"Yes, but look, Morwen, this can't be wizards," Trouble said. "The King chased all of them out of the forest before he got married."

"One of them seems to have come back," Morwen said, looking pointedly at the bare spot. "And I think we had better notify the King immediately."

"Couldn't you just, uh, plant something new in the hole and forget about it?" asked Killer nervously. "I mean, the King must have more important things to do than worry about my clover patch."

All three of the cats swiveled their heads and stared at him with disapproval.

The rabbit's ears wilted under their combined gaze. "It was just a thought."

"On the contrary," said Miss Eliza.

Aunt Ophelia shrugged. "What do you expect from a rabbit?"

"It's the wizards that are important, not your clover," said Trouble.

"If there are wizards."

"Nothing else I know of does that." Morwen pointed at the hole.

"Just because you don't know of it doesn't mean there isn't something," Trouble retorted.

"Mmhmph. I suppose you're right." Morwen considered for a moment.

She couldn't tell whether the holes had been made by a wizard's staff or not, but she knew at least three people who could. The first two were the King of the Enchanted Forest and his Queen, Cimorene. The third…

"I'd better give Telemain a call, then, as well as Mendanbar and Cimorene.

If we're lucky, he'll think it's a fascinating challenge."

"And if we're not, he'll prose on about it for hours," Trouble muttered.

"Who's Tele-whatsis?" asked Killer.

"An old friend and magical theoretician," Morwen said. "He's interested in wizards."

"Among other things." Trouble poked his nose into the brown spot, then pulled it back very quickly and sneezed. "Can we go now?"

Morwen started back toward the clover patch. "As soon as I take a sample of Killer's clover."

"I guess I'll be going, then," Killer said, backing away as he spoke.

"Nice meeting you and all that."

"Don't be silly," Morwen said over her shoulder. "You're coming with us. I want you to tell your story to Telemain and the King. And how else are you going to get a decent meal?"

The rabbit didn't answer, and Morwen stopped paying attention to him.

Kneeling next to the clover patch once more, she reached into the loose left sleeve of her robe, which she used as a sort of enchanted backpack. The spell on her sleeves allowed her to carry around all kinds of useful things, but it required a certain amount of concentration to retrieve them. And, of course, she had to remember what she had put into the sleeve in the first place.

"Sample jars," she muttered to herself. "Small sample jars with the lids that clamp down-ah!" With a smile of satisfaction, she pulled a glass jar the size of her fist out of the sleeve. The glass had a faint purple tint, and the lid was a glass bubble that was attached to the jar with a complicated-looking wire clamp. Morwen flicked the wire with her thumb, and the lid popped up. She could hear Killer and the cats arguing in the background, but she refused to listen. Reaching into her sleeve once more, she took out a small pair of herb snips and began cutting clover.

By the time the jar was half-full, the argument had stopped and the animals had joined her. Half a jar was enough, for now, Morwen decided.

She clamped the lid down and put the jar and snips back into her sleeve, then rose, dusting bits of clover off her hands.

"Are you all ready to go now?" she asked.

"Yes," said Miss Eliza.

"No," said Killer. Trouble glared at him. "I mean, yes. I suppose so.

Oh, I don't like cats!"

"That's what comes of being a rabbit," Aunt Ophelia said. "Size makes no difference whatsoever."

"Come along, then," Morwen said, and started briskly off in the direction of the house. The sooner she got home and relayed her news to the King, the better.

When they arrived home, the other cats were lined up in the garden, waiting for them. Chaos was loudly surprised to see that the rabbit was still tagging along, and Fiddlesticks demanded explanations and fish in the same breath, while Jasmine pretended to find the whole affair boring beyond expression.

"You'll just have to wait a bit longer," Morwen said over the racket.

"I've work to do. In the meantime, try to remember that Killer is a guest."

"Killer?" said Fiddlesticks. "Who's Killer?"

"The rabbit, you idiot," Trouble told him as Morwen went into the house.

The closing door cut off whatever else Trouble might have had to say.

Morwen shook her head but did not go back outside. As long as the cats left Killer alone and didn't damage each other too much, it was better to let them settle matters among themselves. Frowning in concentration, Morwen reached into her sleeve and pulled out the sample jar of clover. She set it on the kitchen table, then turned around and went out through the door by which she had just entered.

The door now led into her study. Making that door-and the various rooms it led to-had taken Morwen a great deal of time and effort, considerably more than her sleeves, but it had been worth every minute.

She had added a library, a study, several bedrooms for visitors, a magic workshop, and a large storage area since she moved in, and all without using up any of the garden. And there was still space for three or four more rooms, if she needed them, before she'd have to add a second magic door.

Frowning slightly, Morwen skirted the cluttered desk and stopped in front of an oval mirror in the corner. The silvered glass was the size of a serving platter, and it was surrounded by a gilt frame three inches wide.

The effect was a little too elaborate for Morwen's taste, but when someone makes one a present of a state-of-the-art magic mirror, one doesn't put it down simply because it doesn't fit in with one's decor.

I suppose I'll get used to it eventually, she thought. After all, I only got around to hanging it this morning.

"All right, let's see if this thing works as well as he said it would," she muttered. Taking a deep breath, she said clearly, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, I would like to make a call."

Immediately, the mirror turned milky white and a pleasant voice from somewhere inside the glass said, "What party are you calling, please?"

"The King of the Enchanted Forest," Morwen answered, impressed in spite of herself. Telemain had been right; this was an enormous improvement over the mirrors Morwen had used in the past. And on top of that, it was polite.

"One moment, please," said the mirror.

Almost before it finished speaking, the glass cleared. Morwen blinked, startled. The face looking out at her was dark brown, with bulging eyes and a wide mouth full of crooked teeth. "This is the castle of the King of the Enchanted Forest, you lucky person," said the face with a leer. "Nobody else is here to answer the mirror, so you're gonna have to leave a message with-oh, it's you."