Patricia Wrede - Calling on Dragons

"Yesterday morning?" Morwen blinked. "So that's what disrupted Telemain's transportation spell! He must have gotten caught in the backwash of the Society of Wizards transporting en masse."

"Mendanbar and Kazul are quite capable of handling your society between them," Cimorene said to Antorell, putting up her chin.

The wizard frowned. "I doubt that. Father is prepared for anything."

"It's hard to be prepared for the King of the Dragons."

Antorell seemed to have forgotten Morwen for the moment. Hoping to move close enough for the melting spell to work, she stepped sideways around the end of the table. Unfortunately, the movement attracted his attention.

"Halt? Antorell raised his staff and pointed it at her. "Stay where you are, or I'll see to it that you can't move, either."

"Try it," Trouble growled. 'Just try it."

Muffled noises filtered through the door beside Antorell. A moment later, it swung open. Antorell glanced over and moved away as Telemain entered, supporting Brandel with one arm. Brandel's face was a grayish white, and his eyes were glassy. Even across the room, Morwen could smell a burned odor.

Telemain's eyes met hers. "He lost his temper, and the reflective sidewash from the shielding enchantment on Vamist produced a temporary circulating phase inversion at the energy source. He'll be all right in a few minutes."

"His own magic bounced back and stunned him," Morwen translated for Cimorene's benefit. Then she looked past Telemain and stiffened.

Behind Telemain and Brandel, the bald, sharp-faced man they had seen in the mirror entered, carrying Scorn at arm's length by the scruff of her neck. He had reason for caution: his hands were covered with scratches. Scorn's eyes were narrowed to slits and she was panting for breath, but she still managed an occasional swipe with a paw.

Unfortunately, she wasn't close enough to the bald man to connect.

"Put that cat down immediately," Morwen said. "You're suffocating her.

Adult cats aren't meant to be carried that way."

"Oh, is it yours?" said the bald man. "You should train it better.

It's not very well behaved."

Trouble bunched himself together and growled. If Telemain and Brandel had not been between him and Scorn's captor, Morwen thought, he would have leapt to the rescue at once.

"You seem to have had some difficulty after all, Vamist," said Antorell to the bald man. "I did warn you."

"It was nothing I couldn't handle," said Vamist.

"Put that cat down," Morwen repeated, sliding her hands into her sleeves in search of something to throw.

"You'd better do it," Cimorene said. "Hurting one of her cats is the only thing I know of that makes Morwen lose her temper."

"Morwen? Vamist's eyes widened, and he brandished Scorn as if she were a banner. "The so-called witch? Then you should thank me for-ow!"

Suddenly, Vamist jumped and FLAILED his arms in a desperate attempt to keep his balance. Morwen glimpsed a black-and-white blur between his feet.

Then Trouble launched himself from the table, ricocheted off Brandel's shoulder, and landed, claws extended, on top of Vamist's bald head.

Vamist howled and dropped Scorn, who landed heavily and dragged herself under the table, wheezing audibly. As he grabbed at Trouble, Morwen pulled the collapsible bucket from her sleeve and threw it.

The bucket hit Vamist in the shoulder just as he got a grip on one of Trouble's legs. The impact wasn't heavy enough to do any real damage, but it startled him into losing his hold. Trouble took a final swipe at the back of Vamist's neck and dropped to the floor, where he joined Horatio under a chair.

"You little-" Vamist bent and grabbed at the cats, only to trip over Telemain's conveniently extended foot. He went sprawling, and Telemain smiled slightly.

"You all right, Scorn?" Trouble asked, his voice slightly muffled by the table and chairs.

"I will be in a minute," Scorn said. She sounded hoarse but angry, "Save some of that creep for me."

"Grrrow," said Horatio, and he wound between the chair legs to Scorn's side, where he began washing her neck.

"Nothing you can't handle, eh, Vamist?" said Antorell. "No wonder you needed our help. You did fine as long as all you had to deal with were ordinary townspeople, but you can't handle even one witch's cats."

"I don't-yowch!" When Vamist looked up to answer Antorell, Horatio had reached out and calmly dug his claws into Vamist's hand. Vamist pulled back out of reach, glared at Horatio, and said, "traditional witches have one black cat. These are clearly not proper witches' cats, and there are far too many of them. Had we had the opportunity to discuss it, I would have advised that witch to dispose of these-these mongrels and find a more suitable companion."

"Is that what you called about?" Morwen said. "No wonder the cats were furious?"

"Do you blame us?" said Trouble. "'Dispose of these mongrels,' indeed"

"I can see how successful your persuasion would have been," Antorell said to Vamist.

"There are always those who insist on ignoring the great traditions," Vamist said with an attempt at dignity. "They are foredoomed to failure."

"Of course. You're doing this"-Antorell waved at the sword-"out of the goodness of your heart. You don't need us to protect you from the fire-witches, because they're doomed to failure. Right?"

"You're as bad as he is," Brandel said, scowling at the wizard. He still leaned heavily on Telemain, but his color was improving rapidly and his eyes had lost their glassy look.

For the first time, Antorell took a good look at Brandel. "A fire-witch! How fortunate. My staff can use a little more magic, and yours will do very nicely." Antorell stepped forward and raised his staff.

Morwen's lips tightened. She was no closer to Antorell than she had been, so she still couldn't make Telemain's melting spell work.

Telemain was near enough, but he was very sensibly saving what was left of his magic for the transportation spell that would take them all back to the Enchanted Forest. Brandel didn't know the melting spell, and Cimorene was close enough but couldn't move to point her finger because of Antorell's spell. Antorell's spell-wizard's magic. Mendanbar's sword automatically counters wizard's

Morwen leaned forward and grabbed the hilt of Mendanbar's sword. It felt as if she had grabbed the hot end of a poker, but she hung on.

Only for a minute, only long enough to swing it, she thought, and swept the flat of the blade up against Cimorene's arm. A jolt of magic shook her hand loose as the sword absorbed the wizard's spell, and the blade clattered to the table. At exactly the same instant, Antorell's staff exploded.

Everyone ducked, including Cimorene. "Ow! My staff!" yelled Antorell. "This isn't poss-Cimorene!"

Cimorene pointed at him. "Argelfraster. Argelfraster, you nasty little thief."

Antorell began to melt. "No! Cimorene, this is all your fault. I spent months making that staff! I'll get you for this, I swear I will.

If it takes me twenty years, I'll get you. You'll be sorry. You'll be…" His voice trailed off into a gurgle. Arona Vamist leaned forward, staring incredulously at Antorell's empty robe and the spreading puddle of brown goo on his floor.

"Well, that takes care of him, "Cimorene said with considerable satisfaction.

"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."