In Which Magic is Investigated and a Dragon is Corrected

Although Morwen's invitation to visit often returned to his mind, Telemain found himself so busy that several months slipped past without taking her up on it. Then he wanted to bring a gift, and that took another month. When at last it was finished to his exacting standards, he packaged it up and transported himself to the castle to ask for directions. There, Mendanbar offered to simply send him to Morwen's doorstep by the king's magic. After a moment's thought, Telemain had to admit that was the best plan, considering the large stack of books Cimorene had also asked him to carry.

Now he stood facing a gray cottage with a red roof. It was small, neat, and practical, just like the woman who lived inside. It was also covered with cats—again, not unlike her. He recognized only one of them, the large cream-and-silver cat who'd walked through the wizards' barrier when they rescued Kazul, but he couldn't remember its name. Anyway, it was asleep.

In fact, only three of the cats were awake. They all blinked at Telemain in unison, so he addressed them. "Er, hello. Is Morwen at home? I have some things for her."

The calico on the porch railing and the ginger in the windowsill ignored him and turned to each other, offering the impression of a conversation that would not have been flattering to overhear. Just as Telemain was about to walk up and knock on the door himself (although he was not sure how to manage it, with a package under one arm and a stack of books under the other), the third cat, a small tortoiseshell, gave a prim little meow and slipped inside.

While he waited to see what would come of that, Telemain read and re-read the sign over the door and tried to ignore the muttering of the other two cats. When Morwen emerged onto the porch a few minutes later, he completely forgot to greet her. "None of which nonsense?"

"Mrowow," opined the calico.

"You're right," Morwen told it. "Telemain is capable of many kinds of nonsense. Such as arriving unannounced with a large, peculiar-shaped package."

"There was no option to announce myself," objected Telemain. "I suppose I could have asked Mendanbar to go first and tell you I was coming, instead of just sending me here, but that would be far more nonsensical. Anyway, this will take care of the problem." He hefted the package with a smile. "The one in the castle is working exactly to specifications."

The cat meowed again, and Morwen gave it a stern look over her glasses. "He is exasperating, but he's an old friend and a guest. You could be a little more polite." She turned to Telemain. "Come in, have some cider, and tell me what on earth you're talking about."

Inside, the first flat surface Telemain saw was the large table in the middle of the room. As he set down the package, Morwen took the stack of books from under his other arm. "These must be from Cimorene," she said. "I hope she enjoyed them."

"She did, and sent apologies for not returning them herself. She and Mendanbar have been rather tied up with the Frost Giant negotiation."

"Of course. I'm glad they have Dobbilan to consult with this year." She moved toward a door on the far side of the room. "I'll put these in the library, then we can sit down."

Telemain watched Morwen step into a large, well-lit library that looked even better organized than his own. The rows of books on their dark-stained shelves captivated him, and he was about to follow her in when he noticed the enchantment on the door itself.

"Six separate rooms through the same door, and space for more," he said admiringly, when she came back through and shut it. "Did you enchant it yourself?"

"Six rooms and the garden," Morwen corrected with a smile. "Yes and no. All the cats worked with me on the initial enchantment, though I only need a couple of them when I add a new room."

Telemain considered the cats that were now visible. The calico and the ginger had stayed on the porch, but the little tortoiseshell sat on the trunk, washing her face, and a fluffy white Persian was curled up beside her. One window was occupied by the fat brown cat who'd tripped Telemain while dancing at the King's wedding. And a long, lean gray tomcat somehow managed to cover two of the three chairs in the room. "They seem extremely helpful," he observed.

"They are," said Morwen, bringing a jug and two mugs to the table. "And they know it, unfortunately. Trouble, you may have one chair, or you may excuse yourself."

The tomcat gave Telemain an appraising look, then slid carelessly to the floor and stalked over to sprawl in front of the oven. "Trouble," repeated Telemain, taking one of the vacated chairs. "I suppose I'd better learn all their names."

"There's plenty of time," said Morwen with a shrug, but Telemain thought she looked pleased. She sat next to him and filled the mugs. "Try the cider."

He did. It was remarkably good, and he said so.

"Thank you," she said. "I was picking apples for the next batch when you arrived, or I would have come to the door sooner. All right. What is this strange object you've brought?"

"Open it," said Telemain eagerly.

Morwen pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and peeled back the paper. She stared fixedly at the package's contents for a minute, then said, "Since I'm not widely known for vanity, shall I presume this is a magic mirror?"

"State-of-the-art. I've been working on communication enchantments for years, and this one operates with unprecedented speed and efficiency. It's distance-independent and backwards-compatible. You can even contact Kazul on the King's Crystal."

"Thank you, Telemain," she said, still staring at the mirror. "That's very thoughtful."

"Would you like to test it?" he asked.

"Later." Morwen rewrapped the paper and moved the package to the trunk, where two cats immediately began sniffing it. Then she returned to the table and gave Telemain a warm smile. "The person I most want to talk to now is already right here."

This did a great deal to assuage Telemain's disappointment at not being able to show off his mirror enchantment. "You've got a leaf in your hair," he said, and reached over to remove it. "I would have thought that your trichological spell might prevent such occurrences."

"I guess not." Her cheeks looked slightly red. "But I imagine I could fix that."

"Absolutely," said Telemain, and they spent a very enjoyable half-hour drinking cider and dissecting the spell that Morwen used to keep her hair up, deciding what alterations would best avert the accumulation of accidental debris.

When there wasn't any cider left, Morwen looked at him speculatively. "We were planning a trip to the mountains, weren't we?"

Telemain nodded. "To visit Kazul and Ballimore. When would you like to go?"

"How about right now?"

"Now?" Telemain blinked.

Morwen stood and brought the dishes to the sink. "It's less than an hour's ride to Kazul's cave from here, and Flat Top Mountain isn't much further. And it'll be pretty clear from a preliminary test whether the prophylactic is going to work, won't it?"

"Well, yes. And we don't have everything we need for the cauldron seeding—"

"But it doesn't matter, because we need to assess the cauldron first, anyway," finished Morwen.

Telemain smiled. When they were children, he and Morwen had practiced (and botched) a great deal of magic together. Even in failure, it had always been gratifying to work with her. "Then let's go."

Morwen disappeared into her study to gather a few things, then reemerged, added two bottles of cider to her sleeves, and opened the enchanted door to the garden. "Visiting the dragons always reminds me that I need to replicate Cimorene's fireproofing spell," she commented. "This time I think I'll ask Kazul if her royal treasure chambers have any powdered hens' teeth."

"It's getting to be a full trip," said Telemain, though he had no objection to spending the extra time in Morwen's company. "Maybe we should make a list."

Morwen pulled a slip of paper out of one sleeve, and showed it to him. There in the witch's impeccable script he read:

1. Discuss allergy prophylactic with Kazul/Roxim

2. Inquire about powdered hens' teeth

3. Assess Cauldron of Plenty for seeding possibility

Telemain chuckled. "I should have known."

Morwen tucked the paper away and lifted her broom from beside the door. "Shall we ride?"

"Will it hold us both?" asked Telemain, casting a dubious eye over the conveyance.

"Would I have invited you on if it wouldn't?" Morwen retorted. She set the broom in the air at chair height and sat on it. Then she patted a space behind her, looking expectantly at Telemain.

He took a deep breath and swung one leg over the hovering broom. Morwen frowned at him. "A broom is not a horse, Telemain."

He frowned back at her. "I understand you have to sit sidesaddle, but I'm not wearing a robe."

"Just because you can sit astride doesn't mean it's a good idea. You'll be far more comfortable if you sit like I do."

"I'll be fine," said Telemain firmly. He felt much more secure if he could grip the broom with his legs. Besides, men just didn't ride sidesaddle.

"Suit yourself," said Morwen with a sigh. She tapped the broom, and it lifted off the porch, up through the trees, and away over the top of the Enchanted Forest. The verdant tops of trees streaked away beneath them as they soared east, then gave way to the rocky foothills of the Mountains of Morning.

At first Telemain found the scenery too enthralling to notice his own comfort, but soon he began to wish he were perched on anything wider than a broomstick. He shifted from side to side. "Don't squirm," said Morwen without turning around, the wind carrying her crisp words back to Telemain. He gritted his teeth and strained his eyes to see the dragon caves. It felt like they had been riding for hours by the time the broom finally swooped down on a smooth landing strip lined with boulders.

Telemain couldn't dismount fast enough. As he winced and adjusted his clothes, Morwen just shook her head, stepped forward and rapped on the rock next to a large cave entrance.

"It's Morwen and Telemain!" she called into the shadows. A somewhat hoarse voice called back, "Come in!"

Morwen led the way through a dim entry tunnel into a wide receiving cave, lit by shafts of sunlight slanting through the rocks above. Several stone tables, large enough for dragons to gather around, dotted the room. An iron crown sat on one of them, glowing faintly, and Telemain stepped closer to take a look. Morwen put a hand on his arm. "Don't touch it."

"Why not?" He looked at her, puzzled. "There's no evidence of a contact enchant—"

"Because it's hot," explained Kazul, as she slithered into the cave from a back entrance. She stretched out two claws to pick up the crown, looking at it with distaste. "I'm afraid I breathed rather a lot of fire at it today." She turned to Morwen. "It's good to see you, but I don't have time to chat just now. Meetings, conferences, councils! Ugh!"

A faint smell of brimstone oozed from the dragon's nostrils. Morwen nodded. "That's quite all right. I know it's risky to drop in on the King of the Dragons without an appointment. I'm just glad you were in, so I could give you this." She pulled a bottle of cider from her sleeve and handed it to Kazul, who sighed gratefully. "And if you know a dragon who might be available, Telemain and I would like to try a preliminary test for the anti-allergy spell."

"Oh yes, I mentioned your magician's idea to Roxim a while back, and he said he'd be glad to work with you. He's most likely home now. Do you remember where his cave is?"

"Yes, thank you," said Morwen. Then she folded her arms and stared up at the dragon as if it were one of her cats. "Kazul, Telemain is not my magician. We're old friends, that's all, and we might occasionally work together—if he can find the time, between trying to scorch his fingers and fall off brooms."

Kazul glanced between Morwen and Telemain, who could think of nothing to say and knew his face was probably red. Then she let out a wide, toothy chortle. "Of course, Morwen. I'm sorry to have implied otherwise. I have to go meet with some committee or other, but good luck with the allergy spell!"

The dragon slid back into the depths of the mountains with the crown dangling from her claws and the cider tucked under her arm.

"She doesn't sound sorry," said Telemain, looking at Morwen.

"No," agreed Morwen, not looking at Telemain. "For the most part, dragons only apologize when they think it's funny. Well, I'm glad she got a laugh—she needed one."

They walked to Roxim's cave in silence. Telemain felt oddly hurt by Morwen's determination not to let Kazul call him "her" magician. He wondered whether she had a particular reason why she wouldn't want to be associated with him too strongly. He was just thinking he might ask when Morwen stopped walking and called a greeting into a cavern entrance.

Roxim answered at once, stretching his gray-green head out to look at them. "Morwen, is it? Nice to see you again. Who's your friend?"

"This is Telemain, a magician," Morwen said. "He's the one with the idea for the anti-allergy spell Kazul told you about. We'd like to try a few tests, if this is a good time for you."

"Fine, fine. Come on in." As they entered the cave, Roxim eyed Telemain curiously. "What's the matter with him—do all magicians walk like that?"

"Only the ones who are also stubborn idiots," Morwen informed him. "Telemain was determined to ignore my advice about riding broomsticks."

"Shouldn't do that, my boy," said Roxim, leaning back on a large boulder. "Never met a witch who gave bad advice."

Telemain scowled. "Yes, well, let's get on with the study. Dragon Roxim, do you have a cave with better light than this one?"

"Yes, I suppose so. The first treasure room has that lovely skylight. Not that I can ever find anything when I want it, light or no . . ." Roxim moved off through the tunnels, muttering.

As Morwen started to follow, Telemain put his hand on her shoulder and said quietly, "Let me see that list again."

She handed it to him, and he made a great show of examining it. "Hmm. You didn't put 'humiliate Telemain at every opportunity' on here."

"That's because I knew I wouldn't forget." Morwen put the paper away and patted Telemain's arm. "Come, the dragon awaits."

As Roxim settled down on a spectacularly diverse pile of coins, armor, and jewelry, much of it battered or broken, Telemain and Morwen set up for their first test. Morwen sat near the dragon's head and placed a small clear glass under his nose, while Telemain paced around the perimeter.

"So what's the idea here?" asked Roxim with a yawn.

Telemain spoke rapidly as he rounded the tip of the dragon's tail. "This treatment concept is driven by my suspicion that the conditional rhinitis arises, not directly from absorptive properties of wizard staffs, but from a hypersensitive reaction—"

"Telemain, let me." Morwen shook her head and addressed Roxim. "He thinks that when a wizard's staff tries to absorb magic from a dragon, your magic resists so forcefully that it makes your body overreact. That's what creates the allergy attack. So we might be able to develop a sort of magic-calming spell that you can activate whenever you get close to a wizard."

"But then his blasted staff would absorb my magic!"

"Not at all. Your magic would still resist absorption, it just wouldn't trigger the overreaction. And we're not going to cast any kind of spell right now, so don't worry. We're just trying to map your internal magic to see whether we can design the spell."

This satisfied Roxim. He shuffled around on the pile, sighed deeply, and closed his eyes. Telemain spent the next ten minutes circling the dragon, then circling him again backwards, all the time holding by a chain a silver sphere that contained a dozen smaller spinning spheres. Morwen kept her eyes on the patterns of mist the dragon's breath produced on her glass.

At last Telemain stopped next to her and let out a frustrated sigh. "Are your conclusions as definitively disappointing as my own?"

"I can't answer that without more information," said Morwen calmly. "But I would say that this looks like it's not going to work at all."

"Of course I've read all about the resistance of dragons to most types of enchantment." Telemain sank down glumly onto a wooden chest covered with gold filigree. "But I thought a prophylactic treatment for hypersensitivity within the dragon itself might be exempt."

"Apparently not." Morwen picked up the glass, polished it with a fold of her robe, and tucked it away in her sleeve. She touched Telemain's hand. "It was worth checking."

They looked at Roxim. The heaps of disorganized treasure must have been comfortable. He was snoring. "I hate to wake him up just to tell him it won't work," said Morwen.

"Maybe we should leave a note," suggested Telemain. As Morwen fished out a blank paper and began to write, he let his thoughts wander over everything else he'd learned about wizards and their staffs, and began to feel more cheerful. "At least the melting spell is taking shape."

"That will be even more useful than the allergy treatment would have been," Morwen assured him. She looked around at the chaos as she stuck her note on Roxim's claw. "Cimorene's right; Roxim could use a good princess. I'll have to keep an eye out for one. Look at this mess—there could be a jar of powdered hens' teeth here, but who would ever know?"

"You forgot to ask Kazul about that," noted Telemain with a certain satisfaction.

Morwen shook her head. "No, I decided to skip it when I saw how busy she was. I'm still gathering the rest of the ingredients anyway."

They walked back out to the landing strip, and Morwen set her broom in the air. "Try sidesaddle this time," she said.

"I'll meet you there," Telemain said firmly, lifting his left hand so she could see his rings. "A giants' castle shouldn't be too hard to find."

"All right," said Morwen, and she zipped away on her broom before he had even settled on the parameters of the transportation. He ended up a bit farther from the castle than he intended, and had to walk quickly to arrive at the front gate just as Morwen landed.

"Good timing," she said. Telemain couldn't tell if she was joking. As he paused to catch his breath, she knocked on the gate.

The gate creaked open by itself, and a voice drifted out to greet them. "Morwen, dear! Come in. Did you bring any cats? They're so darling when they curl up in my hand."

They crossed the courtyard and entered the open doors to the giants' hall, where Ballimore waited to greet them with a giant smile. "I didn't bring any of the cats today," Morwen told her. "But I did bring Telemain, who has many qualities in common with cats. Such as an insatiable curiosity, and a refusal to explain anything so it make sense."

Ballimore leaned down to peer at Telemain. "Will he curl up in my hand, though?" she asked, stretching it out.

"Er," said Telemain. "I was hoping to take a look at your cauldron, actually."

"Of course, of course! Kazul told me all about you. I was just having a little fun." The giantess beamed at him, then turned to an enormous cupboard and unfastened its great locks. After rolling the Cauldron of Plenty out into the middle of the floor, she knelt down and whispered to Morwen, "He does look cozy to curl up with, though. I like a nice beard on a man, don't you?"

Telemain decided that it would probably be best to focus his attention on the magical cauldron and ignore the subsequent conversation between the two women. He twisted the silver ring on his right forefinger and touched it to the cold iron. It sparked, which was an encouraging sign. Then he pulled a device from a pouch on his belt and settled down on the floor to take readings.

"Ah," he said, just as Morwen came to sit beside him.

"What's the verdict?" she asked.

"Category five. The trickiest one, of course. But at least we know where to start."

She sighed. "That's something, anyway."

They spent a few more minutes examining the cauldron, but that was really all they needed to know. Since it was already out, Ballimore insisted on using the cauldron to feed them, which made Telemain realize how hungry he was. The giantess sat and chatted amiably while they ate, though she was waiting to have dinner with Dobbilan when he got home.

The shadows were growing long as they thanked Ballimore and stepped out of the castle. In front of the gates, they stood together quietly, struggling to say good-bye. At least, Telemain knew he was struggling. As usual, it was difficult to tell just what Morwen was thinking, behind her spectacles and her brisk smile. But it did seem that her smile was a little more wistful this evening, and she certainly wasn't jumping onto her broom in any great hurry.

"You can call me anytime," he said. "Really. The parameters of the mirror enchantment—"

"You sound awfully pleased with your work there, Telemain." Morwen tilted her head to the side. "You don't need to impress me, you know."

His face felt hot. "That's not what I meant."

"I think I know what you meant." She took a step closer and wrapped one arm around him, the other still holding her broom. Her head rested briefly on his shoulder, and Telemain breathed in the clean soapy smell of her hair as he hugged her back. She sighed, so softly that he barely heard it, then stepped back and mounted her broom.

"Good-bye, Telemain."

He smiled. "Till next time, Morwen."