CHAPTER TEN: ZANTHIA COMES HOME

Drops of rain as soft as snow were falling when Zanthia finally came home. The inside of the cottage was aglow with the light of freshly lit candles, the floors were practically shining, and the pillowcases were fragrantly clean and tucked safely back in the closet.

Vanora was sitting at the kitchen table with Faun when Zanthia came through the front door with a bang. The young witch took one last look around the room, but the house couldn't be any cleaner. There wasn't any way to disguise the fact that she was wearing one of Zanthia's bathrobes while her normal clothes finished drying, though, so she hoped the young alchemist wouldn't mind her borrowing it...or that she also made use of her bathtub.

Zanthia didn't bat an eye as she entered the kitchen with an angry mutter, glancing neither at Vanora's attire or the fresh batch of cookies she and Faun were munching on.

"What took you so long?" Faun demanded before Vanora had a chance to even say hello. She shot him a warning look, but Zanthia was either too tired or too used to him to notice.

"I just don't understand," she muttered as she set two hefty, well-worn books on the kitchen counter, "why even the simplest of jobs always end up needlessly complicated for me."

"It's your raw talent," said Faun with a giggle.

This time Zanthia gave him a dirty look, but it quickly faded. Her nose twitched. "Are those oatmeal cookies?"

"I hope you don't mind me baking," said Vanora as Zanthia grabbed a cookie from the plate.

"I told you, she hates to cook almost as much as I hate how her cooking tastes," Faun reminded her with another giggle.

Zanthia gave him another dirty look, but her mouth was too full to scold him. Faun hastily grabbed another handful of cookies before hopping down from the table and dashing out of the kitchen.

"I hope the trip wasn't a total waste," Vanora said uncertainly. She wasn't sure if Zanthia's mood meant her day was hectic, or completely unproductive.

Zanthia rolled her eyes a little as she began pouring herself a glass of milk. "It wasn't my idea of fun," she grumbled as she sat across from her. "First I spent ages in Darm's stuffy hut, only to find out he doesn't even have the book I was looking for. It would have probably taken another age and a half for him to remember what he did with it, so I saved myself some time and paid a visit to the royal library."

"Did you have better luck there?" asked Vanora hopefully.

"I wouldn't call running into Kallak just as the wayward prince decides to drop by the castle very lucky," said Zanthia with a snort. "If I could have, I would have slipped in and out of the library without so much as saying hello. But it was locked, so I had to wait for Kallak to finish lecturing Brandon before I could ask for the key."

"But you got in eventually," ventured Vanora. She hoped she could hear about the results of the trip without having to listen to an entire recount.

"Eventually," sighed Zanthia dramatically. She paused to munch on another cookie while Vanora impatiently tapped her bare boot against the table leg.

"Mind you, the royal library is huge, and in a state of total disarray. It took me the entire afternoon to sift through that jumbled mess, and by myself, too. I tried asking Kallak for help, since ancient spells and literature are his specialty, but he was busy with lecture number two."

"Did Brandon do something bad?" wondered Vanora, though she had a hard time picturing the soft-spoken young man she met in Morning Mist being much trouble. "Faun explained his history to me last night," she added, in case Zanthia was worrying that she had to take the time to explain everything to her.

"Oh," said Zanthia, sounding relieved. "You already know the current situation regarding the throne, then."

Vanora nodded and tried not to think about the fact that the current king had it out for her.

"Needless to say," said Zanthia as she reached for another cookie, "us Mystics were against the idea, but Brandon insisted. His persuasive argument was his belief that Malcolm deserved to live out the remainder of his days in comfort, but I'm pretty sure he's alone in the idea that he will only be on the throne for a little while. I have a feeling he'll stick around for at least another decade, just to annoy us."

"He did seem rather spry when I saw him," agreed Vanora.

Zanthia set down her glass with a look of surprise. "You met Malcolm? When?"

"Yesterday," replied Vanora, averting her eyes in case her guilt was visible. "While I was in Morning Mist. I met Brandon there, too. That's why Faun explained things to me."

Zanthia nodded and took another bite of her cookie. "Anyway," she went on with a sigh, "Kallak and Brandon are bumping heads right now because Kallak wants him to stay close to the castle during Malcolm's reign. He wants him to stay on top of things so he can smoothly retake the crown once Malcolm's, for lack of a better term, 'rule' of the kingdom ends."

"It doesn't sound like things are going according to plan," noted Vanora.

Zanthia rolled her eyes again and took a large bite out of her cookie. "You can say that again. Kallak is extremely stubborn and won't admit that Brandon's just a country boy at heart. He's really not cut out for royalty, despite his bloodline. He took the crown after Malcolm's defeat because it was the right thing to do, but between you and me, I don't think he was any more interested in being king back then than is he right now."

Vanora propped her chin in her hands as she tried to picture what a reluctant royal might be like. She had heard many stories of lost princes back home, and those tales always turned out the same way. The prince was whisked away from his kingdom as an infant for some reason or another and raised in a cabin hidden in the woods, or some equally humble place. Despite being raised as a commoner and without any knowledge of his true heritage, the prince's true nature somehow managed to shine through. He would handle each task handed to him, no matter how mundane, with strength, discipline and an air of nobility, all while looking impossibly handsome.

He would later discover who he truly was, usually after some tragedy befell the one who had raised him. After completing a quest of some sort and avenging the death of his caretaker, he would return home to the sound of trumpets, to dancing in the streets and huge banquets. And there would be no end of eligible princesses, of course. She had never heard a story of a prince who wasn't interested in being a prince before.

The sound of the chair leg scraping across the kitchen floor as Zanthia got up from the table pulled Vanora from her thoughts. She pushed her own chair back and began to clear the table.

"Is there anyone else in line for the throne?" she asked as she carried her dishes to the sink.

Zanthia shook her head. "Not that I know of. Katherine was Kallak's only child, so Brandon doesn't have any long-lost cousins or something. Although a really strange rumor surfaced around the time Malcolm was crowned, about a son he didn't know he had suddenly popping up. No one believed it, though...how could someone his age be fathering children?"

Vanora shrugged and set the dishes in the sink. There wasn't any water left over, so her tired arms were spared from having to wash anything else at the moment.

Vanora turned away from the sink and watched Zanthia, who was leafing through one of the large books she came home with. She looked like she had forgotten what they had originally been talking about, so Vanora quickly reminded her.

"Did you have any more trouble after you were done in the library?" she asked, trying to be subtle about shifting the topic.

"More than I care to talk about," muttered Zanthia. She closed the book with a thump and carried it into the front room. Vanora grabbed the other one and followed at her heels.

"But I won't go into that now," she added as she set the book on her desk.

Thank goodness, thought Vanora.

"But I will tell you that I'm not any closer to getting you home."

"Oh."

Vanora tried not to let her disappointment show, but her entire form drooped as she set the book she was holding on top of the other. She turned sadly away to begin preparing her sleeping area.

"Don't act like that," chided Zanthia mildly. "I didn't go through all that for nothing, you know. I did come up with a plan, but it involves reconstructing the method in which you arrived."

Vanora turned around again in a hurry. "Will that be difficult to do?" she asked expectantly.

"Probably, but it's the only idea I have. I'm still reading up on it, but I'm pretty sure the only way I'll be able to recreate the mirror you described is by using a piece of the original."

Vanora nervously bit her lip as an image of the shattered mirror flashed through her mind. She pictured the broken shards as they fell to the ground just before the spell knocked her unconscious; had a piece or two jumped to Kyrandia with her and Doyle?

"I'll start combing the swamp near where I woke up," said Vanora eagerly, though she wasn't sure just where that was. "I'll search every inch of this place, if I have to."

"A little late to start now," said Zanthia. She reached over her desk and latched the window. A frown crossed her face as she pulled something off the sill.

"What exactly were the two of you up to today?" she queried, turning away from the window with the object cupped in her hand.

"Not much," murmured Vanora. She glanced at Faun, who was curled up on his pillow and cleaning cookie crumbs from his fingers. "A little cleaning, a little laundry..."

"We visited Herb," volunteered Faun, smiling innocently.

Zanthia abruptly blew on her palm, sending a puff of ash into the air. "Well, next time you clean up, don't dump any embers out the window."

Vanora bit her lip. "I did take a peek at one of your spell books," she admitted slowly.

"She managed a whole fire potion," Faun added with a grin.

Vanora gaped at him in shock, but Zanthia didn't look angered by the news. Instead, she put her hands on her hips and studied her for a moment, looking like she was trying to make up her mind about something. Her eye fell on the white bathrobe she was wearing.

"You'd probably like to sleep in a nightgown for a change, right? I'll go find you one."

"Thank you," Vanora called as Zanthia went upstairs. "You've got a big mouth," she added under her breath, glaring at Faun.

The child-like creature just grinned at her as he wrapped himself in his blanket. He yawned loudly and closed his eyes. Zanthia returned a moment later with a bundle tucked under her arm.

"I haven't any use for this anymore," she said as she handed her a small book. She draped a long-sleeved nightgown on the back of the desk chair and left the room again.

After unrolling her pallet and changing into the nightgown, Vanora sat down near Faun's pillow and took a closer look at the book Zanthia had given her. Embossed on the red leather cover was a large Z, and written on the inside cover was Zanthia's home address. Vanora slowly flipped through the collection of spells, taking note of the words Norton's Potion Primer scrawled on each page.

She laughed suddenly. "Did Zanthia use this when she was in Alchemist School or something?"

When Faun didn't answer, she looked up and saw that he was fast asleep. Smiling to herself, she continued reading quietly. When she looked up again, it had grown later than she thought, and she quickly got up to look out the window.

Zanthia came into the room as she was pushing open the glass. "Is something wrong?"

Vanora was quiet as she peered outside at the shadow-covered path. She could vaguely make out the shape of the giant frog as it lounged in the pool across from her. Except for the sound of crickets, the swamp was still and peaceful.

"It's Doyle," Vanora explained as she latched the window again. "I haven't seen him since before I left yesterday."

Zanthia nodded, a look of understanding on her face. "That's why no one here keeps pets. The swamp is a little too harsh for them."

Vanora frowned as Zanthia began blowing out the lamps. "He's pretty smart, so he's probably fine," she said, with more confidence than she felt. She really couldn't imagine what could be keeping him, other than a few things she didn't want to think about...like the alligator population.

Zanthia caught the look on her face. "You're probably right," she told her, flashing the first real smile Vanora had seen on her face. "He's probably just lost. He'll turn up."

"Thank you," Vanora murmured, managing a small smile of her own.

"You can practice all the spells you want," Zanthia added, nodding to the potion primer. "Just don't forget to look for the mirror."

"I won't," Vanora promised. "Goodnight."

Zanthia bade her goodnight and left the room. Vanora lay down on the pallet, pulled the blanket to her chin and closed her eyes, but she couldn't relax. She kept picturing Doyle, soggy and frightened and waiting somewhere for her to find him. He never left her alone for more than a day, so the longer he was gone, the more convinced she became that something had happened to him.

Eventually she fell asleep to the sound of Faun snoring. When she awoke the next morning there were raindrops pelting the window. Remembering that Doyle was still out in the swamp, Vanora sat up with a heavy heart and rubbed her tired eyes.

Faun was still snoring, so she rolled her pallet up quietly and went to change into the fresh outfit she found draped over the chair. The skirt was a burgundy color, and the blouse was slightly fancier than the one from before. Leaving the nightgown on the seat of the chair, Vanora went into the kitchen.

Zanthia was at the stove, stirring something in a steaming pot. She smiled as she walked into the room. "It's a little chilly today, so I'm making vegetable soup."

Vanora nodded a little and started setting the table. As she dug in the cabinet for clean bowls, she wondered if Zanthia was acting friendlier because she was growing used to her, or because she knew she was upset about Doyle.

Vanora listened for the sound of the small cat pushing the door open, but all she heard as she sat down to eat was Faun's snores. "I think he ate too many cookies last night," commented Zanthia.

"Probably," sighed Vanora.

Breakfast passed in silence. Afterwards, Vanora automatically cleared the table and left the dishes in the waterless sink. "I'll handle them later," Zanthia told her. "There's a basin outside collecting the rainwater."

Vanora nodded and went to look out the front window. Zanthia sat down at the desk and began reading one of the books she brought back. Behind them, Faun snored away as the morning wore on. The rain slowly grew softer, but it continued to fall as the sun rose higher behind the blanket of gray clouds. Stuck inside for now, Vanora began pacing the room as her mind was plagued by thoughts of Doyle and the mirror piece, outside in the rain and mud.

Zanthia suddenly looked up from her book, and Vanora almost felt relieved to see that her usual stern expression was in place. "You're making me nervous. Can't you find some other way to entertain yourself?"

"Not really," Vanora replied with a sigh. "The house is spotless, the laundry is done, and it's too wet to go looking for the mirror..."

"It's always wet in the swamp," said Zanthia logically. "Just go grab the boots I use for walking in the mud and you'll be fine."

"Did the rain stop?"

"It will have, by the time you have the boots. They're in the back closet."

Vanora glanced at the window as she turned to leave the room; the rain had become a drizzle barely worth mentioning. Still, she was glad to change out of her own boots and put on the ones she found in the back of the laundry closet. They were made from a thick, sturdy leather and reached her knees, much more appropriate for swamp-tramping than her own ankle-high boots.

"I'll be back later," she called as she opened the front door.

Zanthia nodded absently, her attention focused on the book in front of her. Vanora glanced over her shoulder, but Faun was still sound asleep. "If the little squirt ever wakes up, tell him he's free to come help me."

"I doubt he'll jump at the chance to work, but I'll tell him," Zanthia promised with a chuckle.

Vanora smiled at the other woman briefly before she stepped outside. She walked a few paces away from the cottage before she paused to think back on the night she arrived.

She knew she must have come from the north, since the forest was to the south, and on the other side of a pool of water. She pictured the route from Zanthia's to Herb's, but it was so dark that night she couldn't be sure if she came from that way.

It was as good a place as any to start, though, so she started in that direction, nodding politely to the giant frog as she passed. Tiny frogs who were out soaking up the rain hopped out of her way with a squeak as she strolled past the dock.

The shore where the ferry usually sat was empty, so Vanora continued on into the dark hollow below Herb's house. The soggy moss squished and popped beneath her feet, but Vanora barely noticed as her mind wandered back to her mother's beloved cat. She briefly thought about going to Herb's and asking if any of the toads had seen him, but she decided not to bother them with her worries.

She continued on, moving away from the darkened area to a spot that looked like a large patch of quicksand. Feeling surprised and puzzled, the young witch paused at the edge. A dead tree lay across the ground, forming a bridge across the unsafe ground. She was positive that she hadn't stepped across it, or the quicksand itself, so she turned around and went back the way she came.

It had been dark and she had been frightened, so she couldn't remember what the area she woke up in looked like, but the area below Herb's house seemed like it matched the distance she had walked before she found Zanthia's house.

With that decided, she began poking around the weeds and bushes that grew near the water's edge. As she looked around, it occurred to her that if a mirror piece had made it to Kyrandia with her, there was a chance it might have fallen into the swamp.

"Lose something? Do you need a hand finding it?"

Vanora set down the rock she had been looking under and turned around. Perched on a branch of an old dead tree was Kyrandia's king, and he was grinning at her in the same unpleasant way he had the day they met by the stream.

Vanora tried to stay composed as she experienced a flutter of nerves. To her surprise, the same annoyance she felt the last time she encountered the strange little man was present, too.

Be polite, her mother told her. Royalty is royalty, no matter how naughty they behave.

Vanora absently wiped a streak of mud off her skirt. "No, sir. I can handle it on my own, thank you."

She wasn't quite able to duplicate the solemn, respect-filled voice she usually used when speaking to royalty, but it was close enough.

The broad grin left the odd man's face. "What was that? I'm not sure I heard you."

"I said I'm fine," she repeated, a little louder. "I can find what I'm looking for on my own."

She politely inclined her head before she turned away. She bent and began checking around the base of a nearby bush.

A wet thump sounded behind her, indicating that the jester-king had jumped down from the tree. Vanora fought the urge to turn around; at worst he might push her into the swamp, and she knew she deserved it if he did. Hopefully, that would make them even and he wouldn't want to bother her anymore.

"What's wrong with you?" Malcolm asked instead.

"Nothing, sir."

Vanora moved away from the bush and turned over a small stone with her toe.

"There must be something the matter with you," Malcolm insisted with a grumble. "You're not acting right."

Vanora wasn't sure what he meant by that, so she continued poking at the moss with the toe of her boot. "How should I act, sir?"

A long silence followed. Vanora finally paused her search and turned around; the small man had one hand on his hip and was scratching the side of his head with the other. "Actually, I was expecting to talk to the same fiery girl I bumped into the other day. And would you stop calling me 'sir'? It's making me nervous."

Vanora was actually trying to call him 'sire', but she couldn't quite manage it, not when the man she was talking to had pom-poms hanging off his hat. And she didn't think 'fiery' was a very accurate description of her. "It's only polite."

"You certainly weren't polite before," Malcolm pointed out.

"No...and I apologize for that. I didn't know who you were."

A flicker of anger flashed across the jester-king's face. "Who told?" he demanded sharply.

Vanora hesitated mentioning Faun's name. She had a feeling Malcolm's pranks would head his way if she did. "It's common knowledge, isn't it?" she asked instead.

"Dodging questions is rude," Malcolm informed her, "even if your tone is polite."

Vanora struggled not to frown at the grin that sprang to his face as he spoke; didn't he want her to be polite?

"I was taught to treat royalty with respect," she said, as evenly as she could. Her formal tone was starting to slip as her nerves grew; just what did he want from her?

Her words made his grin broaden significantly. "I see," he said almost gleefully. He folded his slender arms and drew himself to his full height. Though he was still only eye-level with her collar, Vanora felt a little intimidated. "Basically you're saying that the only reason you're being so nice is because you know now that I'm king. If I wasn't, then you'd be just as waspy as before, right?"

Vanora was taken aback. He was right; she hadn't regretted dumping him into the stream when she still thought he was just an annoying jester. It was a little too late, but her mother's voice crept into her mind again; Be kind to everyone you meet. Everyone is important in their own way, but you never know when you'll meet someone who's truly special.

"You're right," Vanora admitted with a sigh. "That was wrong of me, and I apologize."

Malcolm's gleeful grin faded. "Are you serious?"

Vanora's carefully neutral expression finally wrinkled with a puzzled frown; she was getting the feeling that neither of them were reacting the way the other expected.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

Malcolm scratched his head again. "I can't think of anything reason why you would be. Unless you're playing games with me."

Vanora's frown deepened. The hopeful tone in his voice was clear and plain, and the blue eyes watching her were expectant.

She understood now. Faun and Zanthia were right; the strange little man was king in name only. There was nothing beyond the title but a silly prankster of a jester who liked stirring up trouble. Well, she wasn't about to play along. In name only or not, he still sat on the throne, so she was sticking to her best behavior.

That was what she told herself, anyway. Deep down, Vanora knew that even if he was as common as can be she would still go against his games, just because she knew it would annoy him.

"I wouldn't dream of it, your majesty."

She took hold of her skirt and made the best curtsey she could on soggy ground and wearing bulky boots. "If you'll excuse me, I need to get back to what I was doing."

It wasn't easy, but she managed not to laugh at Malcolm's stunned expression. She quickly turned away and went back to digging in the bushes.

"'Your majesty'?" he echoed dumbly.

"Of course. Doesn't everyone call you that?"

"No one in their right mind."

Vanora hid a smile as she pushed aside a sprig of cattails. After several more minutes of searching, she felt fairly certain there wasn't anything to find in that particular spot, so she straightened and stepped across the small bride that led closer to Herb's house. She was thinking about going to see him after all; judging by the clutter in his house, he was a real pack rat.

She was starting up the hill when Malcolm called out something that made her stop in her tracks.

"You wouldn't happen to be looking for something furry, would you?"

Vanora spun around and stared at him. "What do you mean?"

Seeing that he had her attention again, Malcolm grinned at her as he shrugged, making his hat sway. "Just a hunch."

Vanora continued to stare at him as realization hit. "What did you do?" she demanded, frightened.

"To what?"

"Don't play dumb. What did you do to my cat?"

Malcolm giggled and practically bounced up and down with glee. "Oh, that. You didn't look like you were using him at the moment, so I thought I'd borrow him."

Vanora gaped at him, horrified. "Give him back!"

Malcolm looked at how upset she was becoming and giggled again. "I've grown rather attached to him, so I think I'll keep him." He grinned wickedly and rubbed his hands together as he spoke.

Vanora wasn't sure what to think or say. In Faun's story, Malcolm had not only stolen an important Kyrandian treasure, he had also attacked the Royal Kyrandian Mystics. But, he had also been cleared of the murder of Brandon's parents, so that meant he wasn't really capable of anything too horrible...right?

She wasn't really certain, but she was pretty sure he had only taken Doyle to annoy her. She didn't think he would actually hurt him, so she pushed aside the frightened feelings that were building inside her and told herself to calm down. She would stick to the polite, composed approach.

"It's best for you to give him back," she said slowly, choosing her words carefully. "He doesn't like strangers. And he gets cranky if he's forced to stay indoors for too long. Hanging on to him will just be an inconvenience, really."

The jester-king wrinkled his nose at her, looking puzzled. "You talk about him like he's a person."

In many ways, he almost is, Vanora thought dryly.

Out loud she said, "He couldn't be more important to me if he was. He's the only family I have left, so please..."

She put the faintest emphasis on 'please' and waited for a response. Instead of answering, Malcolm began scratching his head again as he studied her, one white eyebrow cocked. He muttered something under his breath that Vanora didn't quite catch, but she thought it sounded suspiciously like "Well, this isn't any fun..."

Despite how important it was for her to behave herself, Vanora couldn't help bristling a little. She had been arguing with silly wizards since childhood, and as a result she always had a sharp remark ready whenever someone was irritating her. It was a lot harder for her to hold her tongue than she thought it would be, even though she was talking to a king.

Discreetly taking a deep breath, Vanora pushed away the irritation and managed to pull a small smile. "I didn't quite catch that," she said, as sweetly as she could.

"I said you're not being any fun," Malcolm said loudly, and with unmasked annoyance. "I think I ought to go," he added. "It's time to find someone else to play with."

"Oh, don't," Vanora cried, finally giving up on trying to maintain her poise. "I said I was sorry for making fun of you, what else do you want?"

Malcolm gave her a funny look. "What do you mean?"

Vanora didn't think her words needed an explanation, but she hurried on impatiently. "I mean, what else can I do to make it up to you? Just name anything you want, and I'll do it, I promise. Just give me back my cat."

She clasped her hands and did her best to gaze at him imploringly, but she wasn't very good at begging for things. It wasn't until after she had forced the most pathetic face she could did it finally hit her; he was deliberately looking for a way to bother her, and she had made it quite clear by now that having Doyle bothered her more than anything else would. Tears sprang to her eyes as she realized that she may have just sabotaged any chance of getting him back.

"It's just a cat," Malcolm grumbled as she hid her face in her hands.

"But he's all I've got," Vanora whispered, sniffling.

She doubted crying would do much good, so she took a moment to calm herself down before she lowered her hands again. When she did, she saw that she was alone. King Malcolm had vanished.