CHAPTER FOUR: VANORA MAKES A FRIEND

By the time Vanora returned to Zanthia's cottage, her stomach was growling loudly for lunch. "I'm back," she called as she pushed the heavy front door open. "I hope I brought enough water," she added, not wanting to have to walk all the way back to the stream again.

Inside the cottage, the air was perfumed with a warm, gentle fragrance. Zanthia breezed out of the kitchen and took the bucket from her. "I know you missed lunch, so I baked some bread," she told her. "There's some jam in the cabinet, if you like," she added before heading into the laundry room.

Vanora hurried to grab a slice. Doyle followed at her heels, meowing for a bite. After the two finished the loaf together, they returned to the main room. Zanthia was getting ready to go out again.

"Where are you off to this time?" wondered Vanora, feeling a little cross by the idea of being left alone again.

Zanthia gave her a 'that's none of your business' look. "We Mystics are busy people, you know." She took a moment to secure a leather travel bag around her waist. Vanora looked at Doyle and mouthed 'What's a Mystic?'

Doyle gave the cat's version of a shrug and started on his after-meal bath. "Don't touch anything while I'm gone," Zanthia called as she opened the front door.

"I didn't forget from the last time you told me," muttered Vanora.

"Just making sure. Your clothes are clean and drying in the laundry room, by the way."

The young alchemist closed the door with a thump. Vanora let out a sigh and sat down on the blue rug. "Sitting around isn't going to get us home," she grumbled.

Doyle stopped licking his paws and sat down beside her. "We've only just arrived, and this is a strange place. It's best for us to spend some time getting to know this land before we go searching for a way back to the Enchanted Forest."

"Maybe," agreed Vanora reluctantly. "But I hate doing nothing."

"I know," sighed Doyle. "You're so unlike your mother."

Vanora could already hear her mother's voice even without Doyle's reminder. "Patience is the quickest path to what you seek," she would say. "A steady, clear mind always reaches the destination sooner than a mind clouded by worry and haste."

Repeating her mother's words to herself while picturing the dainty woman sitting quietly and painstakingly constructing a spell didn't stop Vanora from fidgeting uncontrollably. As the minutes ticked by, she grew more and more restless, until she was on her feet and pacing the room. Doyle watched her through narrowed lids, knowing it was only a matter of time before she gave up trying to be patient and went looking for trouble.

Finally, the young witch threw her hands in the air. "I can't stand it anymore," she exclaimed. "I need some air."

"Would you like me to go with you?" asked Doyle as she hurried for the door.

"No, I'll only be gone a minute," Vanora promised before hastily stepping outside and closing the door behind her.

Outside, the swamp was still darker than she was used to, though it was brighter than before. The air was filled with the scent of rotting wood and wet moss, scents Vanora wasn't overly familiar with. Undaunted, she started down the damp path, heading in the opposite direction from where she went earlier.

The damp grass squished beneath her feet as she headed north of Zanthia's cottage. The thick trees, still sagging beneath the weight of the raindrops saturating their leaves, cast long shadows across her way. Vanora almost didn't see it when the path curved next to a river-like stream of swamp water the color of mud. She stopped herself just as she was about to stumble over the edge and backed up with a grumble. The water bubbled like it was laughing at her.

Jutting from the muddy shore was a small dock, and tied to it was a tiny boat built for one. Vanora couldn't imagine boating in a swamp being a very enjoyable pastime, and quickly moved on.

The path wound to her left for a bit before the trees opened up to form a small clearing. As Vanora entered, she had to pause as she remembered how she had stumbled around in the dark last night. She knew she must have passed through this way and was very glad she made it through unharmed.

Across from her was a tangle of leaves and vines, and resting in the mix were two very large plants, with stems like tree-trunks and heads like an alligator's mouth. She stood as still as she could as she stared, trying not to imagine what would have happened if she had accidentally bumped into them while she fumbled around in the darkness.

Maybe it was the heavy rainfall, but Vanora thought the pair looked sleepy. One of them even spread its jaws like it was yawning as she watched. She felt relieved by the sight, since she was pretty sure they weren't about to take notice and start snapping at her, but she decided not to take any chances. Moving quietly, she backed slowly away before turning around and hurrying back to the cottage.

Doyle was curled up on the blue rug, peacefully napping the afternoon away. Vanora sat down at Zanthia's writing desk and watched out the window until Zanthia came back, several hours later.

Vanora hastily set down the letter she was reading and got up from the desk. "Welcome back," she said.

Zanthia gave a nod of acknowledgement before breezing through the room and into the kitchen. "I hope your day was more productive than mine," she added under her breath.

Vanora sat down next to Doyle, who was lounging next to the cauldron. A few minutes later, Zanthia called her into the kitchen to help her with dinner.

"I'm not used to cooking for anyone but myself, so I'd appreciate it if you could light the candles and set the table," she instructed. "The candles are in that drawer, and the dishes are up there," she added, pointing to each place with the wooden spoon she was holding.

While Zanthia tinkered with whatever was cooking on the stove, Vanora found fresh taper candles, which she placed in the holders on the kitchen table. After lighting them, she went digging in the high cabinet Zanthia pointed at. "Do you need bowls or plates?" she asked as she eyed the stacks of dishes.

"Both. Utensils are in that drawer," she added, pointing again.

Vanora grabbed two bowls, two plates, a handful of utensils and was soon finished setting the table. Dinner turned out to be soup and salad, and it was much, much better than breakfast had been.

Dinner conversation was light. In fact, if it weren't for the scattered comments Doyle made under the table, the evening would have passed by in complete silence. Vanora was getting the feeling Zanthia wasn't used to having a guest. She wasn't the warmest person she had ever encountered, that was for sure.

After leaving Vanora to wash the dishes, Zanthia went upstairs. "You look unhappy," Doyle noted as Vanora scrubbed at a bowl.

"I'm stranded in a strange land, and I have no idea how to get home again...do you really expect me to look happy?"

"I meant with your current situation. Specifically, your hostess."

Vanora was quiet as she finished wiping the last dish. "She's not like anyone I've ever met, if that's what you mean," she said as she dried her hands. "She's so...crisp, I guess. She's not outright rude, but she's..."

The young witch glanced over her shoulder to make sure Zanthia wasn't around before shrugging. She went over to blow out the candles. "She has an air around her, like she's really, really sure of herself."

"Self-confidence is a good thing," said Doyle mildly.

"I guess, but it's more like she's sure that she's better than everyone else."

"Maybe she is, as far as her craft is concerned," said Doyle as he followed Vanora into the main room of the house. "Or maybe she's used to being surrounded by inept people."

Vanora didn't reply; Zanthia was kneeling on the blue rug, and was busy rolling out something white. She set the blanket Vanora had used last night next to it, still folded neatly, and stood. "I don't have a spare bed, so this pallet will have to do. Good night."

Vanora watched her leave the room. "Good night," she called as Zanthia headed upstairs.

"That was nice of her," said Doyle as he inspected the pallet.

Vanora was quiet as she unfolded the blanket. "Are you going out?" she asked as she lay down.

"It isn't raining," replied Doyle. He took a moment to stretch before padding across the hard floor. "Besides, I didn't get any dinner, and who knows...I might bump into Behelak, still stumbling around out there."

An image of the silly young wizard popped into Vanora's head, wandering through the darkness, sopping wet and whimpering like a frightened puppy. She smiled.

Light as a breeze, Doyle leaped from the floor to the ledge of the open window. "I bet she isn't used to being around someone who's as self-confident as she is," he commented.

Vanora gave him a funny look. "Who? Zanthia?"

"Who else? Sleep well, little witch," said Doyle, before he disappeared into the night.

Vanora sighed heavily as she pulled the blanket to her chin. "I'm not sure I should be called that anymore," she murmured aloud. "And I'm not that confident."

Like the night before, Zanthia had left the lamp closest to the desk lit. With the window open, the breeze pushed and tugged at the small flame, causing the shadows to dance wildly on the walls. Vanora watched them with sleepy eyes, until the fire was blown out completely.

Paired with the soft sounds of the night, the darkness didn't feel threatening. Vanora listened to the gentle songs of the insects and night birds until she was lulled to sleep. In her dreams she saw visions of home, of the Enchanted Forest and all her favorite places.

When she awoke the next morning, she felt calmer than she did yesterday, but there was a deep sadness in her heart. She lay still and listened to a lone bird, up at daybreak and greeting the sun. Everything was different here, but Vanora decided that she liked the wildlife. She couldn't say much about the people, since the only person she knew was Zanthia. She wondered if anyone else lived in Darkmoor Swamp...other than the toads Doyle said he saw.

Vanora was thinking about taking another walk when she felt something tickling her back. Thinking it was the affects of sleep wearing off, Vanora wiggled against the pallet for a moment. The feeling persisted, and as she wiggled harder, she swore that it felt like the tickling was traveling further down her back.

Vanora froze as a cold chill ran through her; there was something moving under her pallet.

She bolted up and scurried away in a hurry, flinging the blanket across the floor in her haste. She hadn't seen any bugs in the cottage, but she was bound to run into a few, sleeping on the floor like this. She hoped she hadn't crushed any.

Her moment of shock passed quickly and she knelt beside the pallet, tentatively lifting a corner to peek beneath it. What she saw made her draw the slim bedding aside completely and stare at the floor blankly.

A pile of what looked like bits of tree root was tucked under her pallet, only they were...wiggling.

Grimacing, Vanora lifted a piece between her fingertips and held it up so she could see it better. It squirmed like a bark-covered worm, and she dropped it in a hurry.

"It's gnarly bark," a voice behind her said.

This time Vanora shrieked out loud as she spun around, her eyes darting over the room as she tried to locate the mystery speaker. She was growing a little tired of all the surprises; back home, she was hardly ever taken by surprise. Here in Kyrandia, things that made her jump seemed like a daily occurrence.

It took her a moment to locate the speaker. He was sitting on Zanthia's desk, stubby legs dangling over the side as he watched her. It was the same child-creature she saw the night she arrived in the swamp.

As her heart began slowing down again, Vanora smoothed her wrinkled skirt and eyed the odd being suspiciously. "Did you put those there?" she asked, pointing to the ever-writhing bark.

The small creature looked confused by the question. "Me? Why would I do that?"

"I don't know. But you look like the type who enjoys playing pranks."

"I don't," he said defensively. He folded his arms and pouted for a moment. "Okay, I do, but I didn't do that. Honest."

Vanora didn't quite believe him, but it was a harmless enough trick, so she decided to forget about it. She retrieved her blanket from the floor and began brushing it off. The child-like creature hopped down from the desk and trotted closer, his hooves clacking on the wooden floor.

"I've never seen Zanthia have a house-guest before," he said. "Besides me, that is."

Vanora stopped folding the blanket and looked at him curiously. "You stay here?" She looked around the room for a moment, finding it hard to picture someone so small sleeping there. Her eye fell on a set of shelves in the corner near the cauldron, half-hidden by a purple curtain. Vanora had noticed it earlier, but just assumed it was Zanthia's. Now she realized the shelves were small and low to the floor.

"Is that yours?" she asked, pointing to the corner.

"Uh huh. Here, let me get rid of this junk for you."

Vanora watched as the little creature trotted by, gathered up the gnarly bark in his small arms and ran out the front door, which was part-way open for some reason. It didn't seem to bother him at all, but Vanora doubted she could stand the feeling of the wriggling roots against her bare skin.

The funny little being returned as she finished rolling up the pallet. "I'm back," he announced cheerfully. He trotted over and sat down on the rug. "I'm Faun, by the way."

"I'm Vanora. Nice to meet you."

Vanora set her blanket next to the rolled-up pallet and sat with her knees tucked to her chest as she eyed her new friend. Faun studied her just as curiously. "I come from the forest south of here," he explained. "It's nice there, but it's lonely, and I have trouble finding food since I'm so small. Zanthia felt sorry for me and set up a place for me to sleep here, but I basically come and go as I please."

"I see," said Vanora, wondering if it was hard for Zanthia to share her personal space like that. "Does she mind you much?" she asked, after hesitating for several moments. She was also wondering just how well her own presence was being tolerated.

"I drive her nuts," said Faun with a grin. "But Zanthia doesn't let anyone in her house that she doesn't like. She's a good person, she just has lousy people skills."

Vanora felt her dreary mood fade away as she started to laugh. Faun spoke with such energy and enthusiasm, she couldn't help but cheer up. "You act like you don't get to talk to someone very often," she commented with another laugh.

"I don't," admitted faun. "Not to someone who talks back, anyway. I talk to the frog outside a lot, when Zanthia isn't around, but he's too dumb to talk."

"Frog," repeated Vanora. "Does he have two big, gloppy eyes?"

"That's him. Don't worry, he's really big, and he'll try to bully you if you let him, but all you need to do is show him who's boss."

Faun put his hands on his furry hips and puffed out his chest as he spoke, making Vanora chuckle. If someone as diminutive as he was could handle it, she was pretty sure she didn't have anything to worry about.

"Is there anything else I should know?"

"Like what?" wondered Faun, looking proud to be handing out such useful information.

"Well, there's two really big, nasty-looking plants near here..."

"Oh, them. Just keep your distance, it's not like they can chase you. Same thing with the alligators—they can chase you, but they're too lazy. And...that's about it, so far as danger goes."

"Really?"

Faun rubbed his pointed ear and thought hard for a moment. "Well, I suppose going swimming in the swamp is a bad idea, but drinking it won't kill you. And there's a cave near here where you might hurt yourself, if you were to fall into a fissure or something, but you look too smart to do that. Most of the dangers around here just take common sense to avoid."

Vanora didn't doubt that, what worried her was that what required common sense might be different from what she was used to. "If I need to know anything else, I know where to come, then."

Her words made Faun beam. "Sure thing!"

At that moment, Doyle came slinking in through the front door. He stopped when he saw that Vanora wasn't alone. "Who's this?"

Faun whipped his head around when he heard Doyle's voice, which only sounded like an ordinary meow to anyone other than Vanora. "Where'd he come from?"

"He's mine," said Vanora. She got up and quickly scooped the sleek cat up in her arms, in case Faun decided to try grabbing him.

He didn't get up, but he watched Vanora with almost longing eyes. "You never see cats here in the swamp," he said. "Or much else, for that matter. Most of the animals here stay hidden."

Vanora sat down again, with Doyle in her lap. "You can pet him if you want," she offered.

"You know I hate being touched," said Doyle as Faun eagerly began scratching him behind the ear. "I only tolerate it from you out of respect for your mother."

"He has inside information," Vanora whispered into his ear. "And he's much more talkative than Zanthia."

Doyle flattened his ears in annoyance, but he didn't protest as Faun began rubbing under his chin. Fortunately, Faun was satisfied after that, and he got up to trot into the kitchen.

"Oh boy," he exclaimed. "Zanthia left out goodies."

Vanora quickly set Doyle down and hurried into the kitchen. Faun was standing on a chair next to the table and leaning over to grab what looked like a fresh blueberry muffin. Vanora quickly sat down and grabbed one for herself.

"Does Zanthia use her, what was the word...alchemy, when she cooks?" she asked, before taking a big bite.

"Only when she's in a hurry," replied Faun as he stuffed the last of his own muffin into his small mouth.

"She seemed to be in a hurry early this morning," said Doyle from under the table. "She left a few minutes before sunrise, and she didn't leave alone."

Vanora couldn't prod him verbally to continue, since it would sound like to she was talking to herself, so she waited out one of Doyle's long pauses by polishing off another muffin.

"I saw her leave with someone who looked like a wizard, or the Kyrandian equivalent of one. He was dressed in a blue robe that had white stars on it, a matching pointed hat, looked like he was eye-level with Zanthia's knee caps, and was a hundred years old if he was a day."

Vanora wondered what kind of business Zanthia had with such a person. "Does Zanthia know anyone short, dressed in blue robes and getting on in his years?" Vanora asked Faun as she tore a muffin in half. She put the other half back in the bowl for later.

Faun, on the other hand, looked like he wasn't anywhere near full yet as he grabbed another whole muffin and began gobbling it down. "That's Darm," he explained between bites. "He and Zanthia are both Royal Kyrandian Mystics."

"Zanthia said she was a Mystic yesterday," said Vanora. "What exactly does that mean?"

"They're a collection of the best magic-users in Kyrandia," replied Faun. "Besides the two of them, there's also Brynn-she's really nice-and Kallak."

"Who's he?" wondered Vanora.

"He's the king's grandfather. Well, he used to be king, but he's not anymore, so everyone calls him a prince again."

Even though royalty wasn't Vanora's favorite subject, the idea of a de-throned king sparked her curiosity. "How did that happen?"

Faun stuffed yet another muffin into his mouth and hopped down from his chair. "It's a long story," he said as he headed for the kitchen door, "and I'm getting kinda bored. I'll see you later, okay?"

"Um, okay," responded Vanora as Faun scampered out of the cottage. Doyle came out from under the table and stretched. "Restless little fellow, isn't he?"

"He's kind of like a miniature fountain of knowledge, though," said Vanora as she got up from the table. She headed into the laundry room to check on her clothes, which were hanging on a line near the back wall.

"After all, someone as small as he is gets into all sorts of places, and hears all kinds of things," she said as she tested the hem of her skirt. It was dry, and smelled clean and fresh, so she happily changed out of Zanthia's clothes and back into her own.

"That's what I do," said Doyle, with a hint of annoyance.

"True, but finding out how things work around here will take time, so it's quicker to just ask someone who already knows. Especially a particularly chatty someone."

"Assuming he holds still long enough to pass on his information," muttered Doyle. He followed at Vanora's heels as she headed back into the main room, tail twitching irritably.

"You're still my most valuable ally," Vanora assured him, though she could tell Doyle was still jealous over someone else taking his job. "Anyway," she said as she went to gaze out the open window, "let's go find out what the day has in store together, shall we?"