The liquid spattered upward as if someone had thrown a large rock into it. Three icy droplets fell on Morwen's extended hand, and several more sprinkled her robe and glasses. It was all she could do not to flinch.
Then, with a burbling hiss like a giant steam bubble bursting, the liquid exploded into a dense white cloud and rolled over them. The clean parts of Morwen's glasses fogged up immediately. Beside her, she heard Mendanbar cough.
"That's right, take a deep breath." Telemain's voice sounded very far away. Somewhere in the thick fog, Cimorene gasped and started coughing.
Warily, Morwen sniffed. The fog was bitterly cold and smelled strongly of lemons and bleach. "Bother," she muttered, and breathed in as Telemain had directed. As she had expected, she began to cough. A moment later, the fog cleared.
"Very good," Telemain said, beaming at the three of them as they gasped for air. "You can put your hands down now."
"You might have warned us," Cimorene said when she could talk again.
"About what?" Telemain sounded genuinely puzzled.
briefly, she reached into her sleeve, pulled out a clean handkerchief, and carefully wiped the lenses. "The temperature of that concoction, the fact that we were supposed to breathe that steam, and the presence of bleach in the mixture, for example."
"Why the bleach?" Mendanbar asked, in a tone nearly as puzzled as Telemain's.
Morwen settled her glasses back on her nose and scowled at Telemain.
"Take a good look at my robe." She held out her arms so that he could clearly see all the pale purple-gray dots where his magic fluid had spattered across the black fabric.
"I'm sorry, Morwen," Telemain said. "I didn't realize it would do that."
"Obviously." Tucking her handkerchief into her sleeve, Morwen shook her head. "At least the spell worked."
"You're sure?" Cimorene asked. "I didn't feel anything when it went off. Except like coughing."
"An unfortunate but necessary side effect," Telemain said, nodding.
"It may be possible to eliminate the discomfort in the future, but this time I thought it best to use a proven method."
"Didn't you have to adjust for the number of people involved?" Morwen asked.
"A simple matter of altering the balance of ingredients," Telemain assured her.
"And the trigger word is argelfraster. Morwen went on. "For all of us?"
Telemain nodded. "Say it, or think it very clearly, and point your finger at the wizard. It's quite effective."
"How did you pick a word like argelfraster?" Cimorene asked.
"I wanted something memorable."
"It is that," Morwen murmured. "Telemain, if you are quite finished, I am going home. I want to change clothes and make arrangements with the cats before I go sword hunting. Oh, and take a look at Killer before you leave, or he's likely to float off and starve."
"Float off?"
Cimorene shook her head. "Morwen, in your own way you can be just as bad as he is. It's like this, Telemain…" She began explaining what had happened in and around the kitchen.
Frowning, Mendanbar moved closer to Morwen. "I understand why you want to stop at your house before we leave," he said, "and I know you can get yourself back there somehow-" "I have my broom with me," Morwen said. "It's outside, by the front door where we arrived."
Mendanbar nodded. "Still, I'd like to get this expedition under way as fast as I can. If I send you home on a quick spell, you'll get there much sooner than if you fly."
"That would be fine, as long as you're willing to send my cats and my broom with me," Morwen said. "And make sure someone remembers about Killer. He's a nuisance, but it isn't his fault that he's turned into a six-foot blue floating donkey. Well, mostly it isn't."
"Of course." Mendanbar's eyes got a faraway look, as they always did when he was drawing on the magic of the Enchanted Forest. His right hand moved, as if he were plucking a string, and Fiddlesticks, Jasper, and Scorn appeared on the green marble in front of Morwen. All three were crouched around a bowl-sized circle, and Fiddlesticks had cream on his nose.
"Hey!" said Fiddlesticks. "I wasn't finished!"
"I'll give you something more when we get home," Morwen said. "I believe that's everyone, Mendanbar."
"I'll see you later, then," Mendanbar said, and raised his hand.
"Telemain and Kazul and I will meet you at your house. We won't be long."
His fingers twitched and the room started to fade.
As the walls blurred into gray mist, Morwen heard Telemain say, "Ah, about this expedition, Mendanbar, I don't think…" His voice grew faint and faraway, then was swallowed in the mist. A moment later, the mist cleared, leaving Morwen standing in the large open area in front of her house.
"Remarkably convenient," Morwen said, bending to pick up her broom.
"He could have set us on the porch, if he'd wanted to."Jasper strolled forward and paused at the foot of the steps. "Do you need me for anything now, Morwen?"
"I didn't mean the transportation," Morwen said. "I was referring to the timing. And no, I won't need you for a while."
"Then I'll just take a nap until you do. All this running around is exhausting." Jasper vanished under the porch.
"What timing?" Fiddlesticks asked. "Do you mean it's time for some fish?"
"No, I mean that I won't have to help explain to Mendanbar why he can't leave the Enchanted Forest to look for his sword." Morwen walked briskly up the steps and set her broom against the wall next to the door, where it would be handy. "Scorn, please get everyone together in the garden in about half an hour."
"Half an hour? I thought you were in a hurry."
"We are, but it'll take at least that long for Cimorene and Telemain to convince Mendanbar that he can't go. Run along, now. I've got to pack." With that, Morwen pushed open the front door and went inside.
Slightly less than half an hour later, Morwen walked out the back door into the garden. The sleeves of the bleach-speckled robe had been emptied and disenchanted, and the robe itself dumped into the rag basket. She had transferred the sleeve spell to her new robe (identical to the old one, except for the bleach speckles) and packed both sleeves with magic supplies and a variety of everyday items that might come in handy, including several lemons, a small collapsible bucket, and a bottle of liquid soap. Spells or no spells, Morwen did not intend to take unnecessary chances. Since she did not know how long they would be gone, she added an extra robe, a blanket, and several chicken-salad sandwiches. She considered putting in a few bottles of cider as well, but there were limits to what the spell would hold, and her sleeves were growing heavy, a sure sign that the limits were close.
The cats had already collected in the garden, lolling in patches of sun, perching in the branches of the largest apple tree, or stalking along the garden rows, as if they had all intended to be there for reasons of their own.
Smiling slightly, Morwen sat down on the back step next to Miss Eliza.
In a few minutes, the other cats drifted over to join them.
"I'm glad you're all here," Morwen told them. "There's been some trouble, and there'll probably be more."
"Scorn and Jasper told us," Murgatroyd said. "Wizards."