"Who blew up his staff?"
"I think it was Mendanbar's sword," Morwen said, gesturing.
Impossible. I was observing with great care, and the necessary connections for such a serious shift interference were not present."
"Then who did it?" Brandel asked.
"I suspect you did." Telemain let go of Brandel, waited a moment to make sure the fire-witch would not fall over, and then began picking up splinters of Antorell's staff. "At this point, it is only speculation, but a fundamental incompatibility between your magic and that of a wizard would account for the phenomenon very nicely. I will be able to say for certain after I do a few tests."
"Good," said Cimorene. "Do them after we get back." Gingerly, she leaned forward and picked up Mendanbar's sword. Morwen's hand still felt sore and she could not help flinching, but although Cimorene held it with obvious care, the sword did not appear to bother her. "And now that we've got this, we can-" "Not so fast!" Arona Michaelear Grinogion Vamist had straightened and edged around the table as Antorell melted. Now he picked up a clay pot filled with dirt from the seat of a nearby chair and held it poised to throw.
The angry red scratches that covered his hands and head made him look very fierce. "Put that sword down at once and leave."
"No," said Cimorene. "It's my husband's sword, and I'm taking it home.
Telemain, how soon can you do that transportation spell?"
"The initial preparations require a mental effort that-" Telemain paused, looked at Cimorene, and then said carefully, "I'll be ready in a minute or two."
"Thank you," Cimorene said, smiling. "Then let's-" "Cimorene, duck!"
Cimorene dodged in response to Morwen's shout, and Arona Vamist's clay pot flew over her left shoulder. For a moment, it looked like a clean miss. Then Cimorene yelled in surprise and clawed at her face with her free hand. Even before Morwen saw the pot dangling from nothing at all down Cimorene's back, she knew.
"It's an invisible dusk-blooming chokevine," she said. "Stay back, everyone, or it'll grab you, too."
"I warned you," Vamist said. "now will you leave?"
"Get that thing off Cimorene."
"No. Not until you leave."
"I bet he doesn't know how," Trouble said.
"He kept it from attacking him when he threw it," Scorn objected. "He must know something."
"Well, why don't you shove him into it and see what happens?" Trouble emerged from underneath the table and approached Vamist.
"Good idea." Morwen stalked around the table to join Trouble.
"What's a good idea?" Vamist said, backing away from them along the far side of the table. "You get out of my house, all of you!"
"Aren't you finished yet?" said Killer from the doorway. "I thought this wasn't supposed to take long."
"What is that?" said Vamist, looking wildly over his shoulder.
"Killer!" said Morwen. "Get in here and eat this vine immediately."
"Isn't that one of those things you say you can't see?" Killer said doubtfully, shoving his way through the partly open double doors. "You said before that they weren't safe. And what if there are side effects?"
"Eat it!" Morwen said. "I'll take care of the side effects later.
Hurry up!" Cimorene had kept her grip on the sword and she was still on her feet, but she was beginning to turn blue.
"If you say so." Killer stretched out his neck and bit at the air in back of Cimorene. The clay pot crashed to the floor and shattered, spewing dirt and shards of clay, while Killer munched thoughtfully.
"Not bad. It's much more delicate than I'd expected from the way it smells, though. And I can't quite place the flavor." He nibbled delicately next to Cimorene's ear.
Cimorene choked, gasped, and began to regain her proper color. Taking two or three deep breaths, she made a series of brushing and pulling motions around her head and shoulders.
"Hey!" said Killer. "You're knocking it all over the floor!"
Cimorene coughed and glared at him. "That's the idea."
"But it'll get all dusty!"
"You won't have time to worry about that," Vamist said. "I have other snares in my house for criminals and thieves!"
Dodging between two chairs, he jabbed his thumb against a wooden flower carved into the wall. With a high-pitched screeching of metal against metal, the suit of armor next to the door raised its spear to throw.
"Telemain," cried Morwen, "get us out of here!"
The suit of armor let fly. Cimorene evaded the missile easily, but Killer was too large to avoid it quickly. As the edges of the room blurred and ran together in the beginning of Telemain's transportation spell, the spear struck the left side of Killer's chest.
"Eeee-augh!"
Killer reared back, wings flapping. As the mist of transportation cleared, he sat down on the air six inches above a clump of violets.
The spear fell to the ground below him with a loud thump, flattening a strip of moss.
"Killer!" said Cimorene. "Oh no! Morwen-" With the back of her mind, Morwen noted that Telemain had managed to transport them all the way back to the Enchanted Forest in one jump, and that for some reason he had brought Arona Michaelear Grinogion Vamist along. Most of her attention, however, was centered on Killer, who was flopping around in a manner that would have looked exceptionally silly if she had not been so concerned.
"Stop floundering about like that," Morwen said to the donkey. "I can't do anything to help if I can't get near you."
"Waugh!" Killer rolled sideways and struggled to his feet. "That was uncomfortable. Am I dead?"
"No such luck," said Scorn.
Everyone stared at Killer. There was not a mark on him to show where the spear had struck, though they had all seen it hit him. Then Trouble sauntered forward. Reaching up, he batted at Killer's front hooves. His paw went right through them as if there were nothing in the way but air.
"That's a handy trick," Trouble said. "How'd you do it?"
"Do what?" Killer asked. He looked down in time to see Trouble jump through his right leg. "Eee-augh! I'm a ghost! Oh, help."
"You can't be a ghost," Cimorene said. "It's the middle of the day.
Ghosts only come out at night."