"Especially after what Father said when he came back from the Enchanted Forest. If King Mendanbar really is getting ready for a war with the drag "Where did your father get that idea?" Cimorene asked in tones of mild interest.
Antorell frowned slightly, as if he had hoped for a stronger reaction.
"Something the King said to him, I think. I shouldn't have repeated it, I suppose, but I was carried away by my feelings."
"Sure you were," Cimorene said. "That's why you sneaked in here without knocking and went blundering around in the dark, instead of calling me or at least bringing a lamp."
"I didn't want to disturb King Kazul, if she happened to be here," Antorell said stiffly.
Cimorene snorted. "If you'd really thought Kazul was here, you wouldn't have come at all. She doesn't like it when people ignore her rules.
One of which, may I remind you, was that wizards aren't allowed in the Mountains of Morning anymore."
"But if there's going to be a wan" "There isn't," Mendanbar said, stepping forward into the light. "At least, not if I can help it. Why are you people trying so hard to make trouble, anyway?"
Antorell's eyes widened, and he sucked in his breath. "Mendanbar? You'll ruin everything, blast you." He smiled a sudden, nasty smile.
"Unless I deal with both of you now. Oh, yes, that will do very well.
Father will be so pleased."
He raised his staff. Mendanbar started toward him, pulling his sword free as he ran, though he knew the wizard was much too far away to reach before he finished the spell. Cimorene followed quickly, not quite running, carrying her bucket carefully to avoid spilling. They had only gone a few steps when a swirl of smoke appeared in the air in front of them.
The smoke thickened rapidly, then congealed with shocking suddenness into the largest nightshade Mendanbar had ever seen. It was two feet taller than Mendanbar and covered with spikes of coarse black fur. Its beady black eyes glared at him as it raised a long arm and clicked its dark purple claws together. It hissed, showing a mouthful of fangs.
"There!" cried Antorell over the nightshade's noise. "Vanquish that, Cimorene-if you can!"
Ignoring Antorell, Mendanbar kept his eyes on the nightshade. He had a moment's useless wish that he were in the Enchanted Forest , where he could have disposed of the monster with relative ease. Here, things were going to be a lot more complicated. He shifted his grip on the sword and pulled at the power within it.
The nightshade swung at him: its fully extended claws carving a whistling arc in the air. It was very, very fast. Mendanbar barely managed to block in time. The force of the blow knocked him to one side, and he almost lost hold of the sword. The nightshade hissed in pain and shook its arm, but Mendanbar knew it was not seriously hurt.
Without active magic behind it, the most damage the sword could have inflicted on a nightshade this big was a bruise.
Again he pulled at the power in the sword, then had to roll to avoid another swing by the nightshade. This time he kept on rolling until he was out of the monster's reach. He came up on one knee and pointed the sword at the nightshade, pushing power through the sword in the pattern he had pictured in his mind.
Antorell's staff struck him across the shoulders. The sword flew out of his hands and he went sprawling. His half-formed spell spun wildly in the air and then was sucked away. He heard an angry shriek from Cimorene, then a shout: "Mendanbar! Dodge left, quick!"
Without hesitation, Mendanbar threw himself to his left. He heard a rush of wind as the nightshade's claws missed him by inches. There was a splash somewhere behind him, and Antorell's voice cried, "No! No! You'll be sorry for this, Cimorene!" Then Mendanbar's hand closed on the hilt of his sword. He twisted and brought the sword up, shoving power through it recklessly.
The blast of barely formed magic caught the nightshade in mid leap.
The creature hung frozen in the air for an instant, then dissolved in a cloud of bright sparks. Mendanbar seized the remnants of magic and pulled them together into a tight knot, ready to throw at another nightshade or at Antorell himself. Only then did he pause to look around.
Cimorene stood a little way away, swinging the empty bucket in one hand and looking at him as if she were impressed in spite of herself.
Antorell had vanished.
"You really do like flashy magic," Cimorene commented as Mendanbar climbed warily to his feet. "I haven't seen anything like that since Kazul's coronation party."
"Where's Antorell?" Mendanbar asked. "Did he get away?"
"No," Cimorene said, waving her free hand at a damp area of floor to Mendanbar's right. "I melted him."
"Melted him?" Mendanbar looked at the damp patch more closely.
Antorell's soggy robes were plastered to the floor in the middle of a gooey puddle. His staff lay along one side of the robes, half-in, half-out of the goo.
There was no other trace of him. Mendanbar was impressed, and said so.
"It's really not hard," Cimorene said. "All it takes is a bucket of soapy water with a little lemon juice in it. A friend of mine discovered by accident how to do it, and I've kept a bucket ready ever since, just in case."
"I thought that only worked on witches."
Cimorene shrugged. "Lots of things don't work the way they're supposed to. Morwen's a witch, but she certainly doesn't melt in a bucket of soapy water."
Mendanbar thought of the shining stone step and the spotless wooden floor in Morwen's house, and nodded. "I can see that. But why does it work for wizards?"
"We don't know." Cimorene gave him a sidelong look. "I'm sorry I let Antorell wallop you with his staff, but I didn't want to throw the water at him while you were in the way."
"Why-oh, you mean you were afraid it would melt me, too?"
Mendanbar blinked. "But I'm not a wizard."
"You work magic," Cimorene pointed out. "And I don't know how strict the soapy-water-and-lemon:juice trick is about defining wizards. It would cause a lot of trouble if I melted the King of the Enchanted Forest in the middle of Kazul's living room, even if it isn't permanent."
"You mean he'll be back?" Mendanbar had started to put his sword back in its sheath, but he stopped at once. "How soon?"
"Not for a couple of days, at least," Cimorene reassured him.
"Antorell may be Zemenar's son, but he's never been a very good wizard."
"Antorell is the son of the Head Wizard?" Mendanbar shot a considering look at the puddle and the pile of soggy robes. "So that's what he meant when he said his father would be pleased."
"Probably." Cimorene frowned pensively at Antorell's staff. "I've got to find Kazul. The Society of Wizards is up to something for sure, and she needs to know right away."
"Couldn't Antorell have come here on his own?" Mendanbar asked, although he didn't really believe it himself.
Cimorene shook her head. "I don't think he'd have dared. As I said, he's not a very good wizard. He wouldn't have been able to keep himself concealed from the dragons, and he certainly must have had help to make anything as nasty and complex as that construct you took care of."
"That wasn't a construct," Mendanbar said. "That was a nightshade.
They're fairly common in parts of the Enchanted Forest . Antorell didn't make it, he just snatched it from somewhere nearby."
"Snatched it?" Cimorene's eyes widened. "Yes, I suppose he could have managed that. I begin to see what you meant about traveling in the Enchanted Forest alone," she added in a thoughtful tone.
"I should hope so," Mendanbar muttered, turning away. "Then you've changed your mind about going?" he added hopefully over his shoulder.