Wrede, Patricia C - Enchanted Forest 01

Dealing

with

Dragons

The Enchanted Forest Chronicles

Book One

Copyright 1990 by Patricia C. Wrede

1
In Which Cimorene Refuses to Be Proper and Has a Conversation with a Frog
.
4

2
In Which Cimorene Discovers the Value of a Classical Education and Has Some Unwelcome Visitors
 
11

3
In Which Cimorene Meets a Witch and Has Doubts about a Wizard
.
20

4
In Which Kazul Has a Dinner Party, And Cimorene Makes Dessert
26

5
In Which Cimorene Receives a Formal Call from Her Companions in Dire Captivity
.
33

6
In Which the Wizards Do Some Snooping, And Cimorene Snoops Back
.
42

7
In Which Cimorene and Kazul Make a Journey Underground
.
50

8
In Which Cimorene and Kazul Pay a Call, and Cimorene Gets into a Fight
55

9
In Which Therandil Is a Dreadful Nuisance, and Cimorene Casts a Spell
62

10
In Which Cimorene and Alianora Conduct Some Tests and Disturb a Wizard
.
70

11
In Which Kazul Is Unwell, and Cimorene Makes a New Acquaintance
.
79

12
In Which Cimorene Calls on a Dragon, and the Stone Prince Discovers a Plot
87

13
In Which Alianora Discovers an Unexpected Use for Soap and Water, and Cimorene Has Difficulty with a Dragon
.
93

14
In Which the Wizards Try to Make Trouble, and Cimorene Does Something about It
99

15
In Which the Dragons Crown a New King, and Cimorene Gets a New Job
.
105

L
inderwall was a large kingdom, just east of the Mountains of Morning, where philosophers were highly respected and the number five was fashionable. The climate was unremarkable. The knights kept their armor brightly polished mainly for show—it had been centuries since a dragon had come east. There were the usual periodic problems with royal children and uninvited fairy godmothers, but they were always the sort of thing that could be cleared up by finding the proper prince or princess to marry the unfortunate child a few years later. All in all, Linderwall was a very prosperous and pleasant place.

Cimorene hated it.

Cimorene was the youngest daughter of the King of Linderwall, and her parents found her rather trying. Their first six daughters were perfectly normal princesses, with long, golden hair and sweet dispositions, each more beautiful than the last. Cimorene was lovely enough, but her hair was jet black, and she wore it in braids instead of curled and pinned like her sisters.

And she wouldn’t stop growing. Her parents were quite sure that no prince would want to marry a girl who could look him in the eye instead of gazing up at him becomingly through her lashes. As for the girl’s disposition—well, when people were being polite, they said she was strong-minded. When they were angry or annoyed with her, they said she was as stubborn as a pig.

The King and Queen did the best they could. They hired the most superior tutors and governesses to teach Cimorene all the things a princess ought to know— dancing, embroidery, drawing, and etiquette. There was a great deal of etiquette, from the proper way to curtsy before a visiting prince to how loudly it was permissible to scream when being carried off by a giant. (Linderwall still had an occasional problem with giants.)

Cimorene found it all very dull, but she pressed her lips together and learned it anyway. When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she would go down to the castle armory and bully the armsmaster into giving her a fencing lesson. As she got older, she found her regular lessons more and more boring. Consequently, the fencing lessons became more and more frequent.

When she was twelve, her father found out.

“Fencing is not proper behavior for a princess,” he told her in the gentle-but-firm tone recommended by the court philosopher.

Cimorene tilted her head to one side. “Why not?”

“It’s ... well, it’s simply not done.”

Cimorene considered. “Aren’t I a princess?”

“Yes, of course you are, my dear,” said her father with relief. He had been bracing himself for a storm of tears, which was the way his other daughters reacted to reprimands.

“Well, I fence,” Cimorene said with the air of one delivering an unshakable argument. “So it is
too
done by a princess.”

“That doesn’t make it proper, dear,” put in her mother gently.

“Why not?”

“It simply doesn’t,” the Queen said firmly, and that was the end of Cimorene’s fencing lessons.

When she was fourteen, her father discovered that she was making the court magician teach her magic.

“How long has this been going on?” he asked wearily when she arrived in response to his summons.

“Since you stopped my fencing lessons,” Cimorene said. “I suppose you’re going to tell me it isn’t proper behavior for a princess.”

“Well, yes. I mean, it isn’t proper.”

“Nothing interesting seems to be proper,” Cimorene said.

“You might find things more interesting if you applied yourself a little more, dear,” Cimorene’s mother said.

“I doubt it,” Cimorene muttered, but she knew better than to argue when her mother used that tone of voice. And that was the end of the magic lessons.

The same thing happened over the Latin lessons from the court philosopher, the cooking lessons from the castle chef, the economics lessons from the court treasurer, and the juggling lessons from the court minstrel. Cimorene began to grow rather tired of the whole business.

When she was sixteen, Cimorene summoned her fairy godmother.

“Cimorene, my dear, this sort of thing really isn’t done,” the fairy said, fanning away the scented blue smoke that had accompanied her appearance.

“People keep telling me that,” Cimorene said.

“You should pay attention to them, then,” her godmother said irritably. “I’m not used to being hauled away from my tea without warning. And you aren’t supposed to call me unless it is a matter of utmost importance to your life and future happiness.”

“It
is
of utmost importance to my life and future happiness,” Cimorene said.

“Oh, very well. You’re a bit young to have fallen in love already; still, you always have been a precocious child. Tell me about him.”

Cimorene sighed. “It isn’t a him.”

“Enchanted, is he?” the fairy said with a spark of interest. “A frog, perhaps? That used to be quite popular, but it seems to have gone out of fashion lately. Nowadays, all the princes are talking birds, or dogs, or hedgehogs.”

“No, no, I’m not in love with anyone!”

“Then what, exactly, is your problem?” the fairy said in exasperation.

“This!” Cimorene gestured at the castle around her. “Embroidery lessons, and dancing, and—and being a princess!”

“My dear Cimorene!” the fairy said, shocked. “It’s your heritage!”

“It’s boring.”

“Boring?” The fairy did not appear to believe what she was hearing.

“Boring. I want to do things, not sit around all day and listen to the court minstrel make up songs about how brave Daddy is and how lovely his wife and daughters are.”

“Nonsense, my dear. This is just a stage you’re going through. You’ll outgrow it soon, and you’ll be very glad you didn’t do anything rash.”

Cimorene looked at her godmother suspiciously. “You’ve been talking to my parents, haven’t you?”

“Well, they do try to keep me up to date on what my godchildren are doing.”

“I thought so,” said Cimorene, and bade her fairy godmother a polite good-bye.

*
         
*
         
*

A few weeks later, Cimorene’s parents took her to a tourney in Sathem-by-the-Mountains, the next kingdom over. Cimorene was quite sure that they were only taking her because her fairy godmother had told them that something had better be done about her, and soon. She kept this opinion to herself. Anything was better than the endless rounds of dancing and embroidery lessons at home.

Cimorene realized her mistake almost as soon as they reached their destination, for the King of Sathem-by-the-Mountains had a son. He was a golden-haired, blue-eyed, and exceedingly handsome prince, whose duties appeared to consist entirely of dancing attendance on Cimorene.

“
Isn’t
he handsome!” Cimorene’s lady-in-waiting sighed.

“Yes,” Cimorene said without enthusiasm. “Unfortunately, he isn’t anything else.”

“Whatever do you mean?” the lady-in-waiting said in astonishment.

“He has no sense of humor, he isn’t intelligent, he can’t talk about anything except tourneys, and half of what he does say he gets wrong. I’m glad we’re only staying three weeks. I don’t think I could stand to be polite to him for much longer than that.”

“But what about your engagement?” the lady-in-waiting cried, horrified.

“What engagement?” Cimorene said sharply.

The lady-in-waiting tried to mutter something about a mistake, but Cimorene put up her chin in her best princess fashion and insisted on an explanation. Finally, the lady-in-waiting broke down.

“I ... I overheard Their Majesties discussing it yesterday.” She sniffled into her handkerchief. “The stipulations and covenants and contracts and settlements have all been drawn up, and they’re going to sign them the day after tomorrow and announce it on Th-Thursday.”

“I see,” said Cimorene. “Thank you for telling me. You may go.”

The lady-in-waiting left, and Cimorene went to see her parents. They were annoyed and a little embarrassed to find that Cimorene had discovered their plans, but they were still very firm about it. “We were going to tell you tomorrow, when we signed the papers,” her father said.

“We knew you’d be pleased, dear,” her mother said, nodding. “He’s
such
a good-looking boy.”

“But I don’t want to marry Prince Therandil,” Cimorene said.

“Well, it’s not exactly a brilliant match,” Cimorene’s father said, frowning. “But I didn’t think you’d care how big his kingdom is.”

“It’s the prince I don’t care for,” Cimorene said.

“That’s a great pity, dear, but it can’t be helped,” Cimorene’s mother said placidly. “I’m afraid it isn’t likely that you’ll get another offer.”

“Then I won’t get married at all.”

Both her parents looked slightly shocked. “My dear Cimorene!” said her father. “That’s out of the question. You’re a princess; it simply isn’t
done
.”

“I’m too young to get married!”

“Your Great-Aunt Rose was married at sixteen,” her mother pointed out. “One really can’t count all those years she spent asleep under that dreadful fairy’s curse.”

“I won’t marry the prince of Sathem-by-the-Mountains!” Cimorene said desperately. “It isn’t proper!”

“What?” said both her parents together.

“He hasn’t rescued me from a giant or an ogre or freed me from a magic spell,” Cimorene said.

Both her parents looked uncomfortable. “Well, no,” said Cimorene’s father. “It’s a bit late to start arranging it, but we might be able to manage something.”

“I don’t think it’s necessary,” Cimorene’s mother said. She looked reprovingly at Cimorene. “You’ve never paid attention to what was or wasn’t suitable before, dear; you can’t start now. Proper or not, you will marry Prince Therandil three weeks from Thursday.”

“But, Mother—”

“I’ll send the wardrobe mistress to your room to start fitting your bride clothes,” Cimorene’s mother said firmly, and that was the end of the conversation.

*
         
*
         
*

Cimorene decided to try a more direct approach. She went to see Prince Therandil. He was in the castle armory, looking at swords. “Good morning. Princess,” he said when he finally noticed Cimorene. “Don’t you think this is a lovely sword?”

Cimorene picked it up. “The balance is off.”

“I believe you’re right,” said Therandil after a moment’s study. “Pity; now I’ll have to find another. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Yes,” said Cimorene. “You can
not
marry me.”

“What?” Therandil looked confused.

“You don’t really want to marry me, do you?” Cimorene said coaxingly.

“Well, not exactly,” Therandil replied. “I mean, in a way. That is—”

“Oh, good,” Cimorene said, correctly interpreting this muddled reply as
No, not at all
. “Then you’ll tell your father you don’t want to marry me?”

“I couldn’t do that!” Therandil said, shocked. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“Why not?” Cimorene demanded crossly.

“Because—because—well, because princes just don’t do that!”

“Then how are you going to keep from marrying me?”

“I guess I won’t be able to,” Therandil said after thinking hard for a moment. “How do you like that sword over there? The one with the silver hilt?”

Cimorene left in disgust and went out to the castle garden. She was very discouraged. It looked as if she were going to marry the prince of Sathem-by-the-Mountains whether she wanted to or not.

“I’d rather be eaten by a dragon,” she muttered.

“That can be arranged,” said a voice from beside her left slipper.

Cimorene looked down and saw a small green frog looking up at her. “I beg your pardon. Did you speak?” she asked.

“You don’t see anyone else around, do you?” said the frog.

“Oh!” said Cimorene. She had never met a talking frog before. “Are you an enchanted prince?” she asked a little doubtfully.

“No, but I’ve met a couple of them, and after a while you pick up a few things,” said the frog. “Now, why is it that you want to be eaten by a dragon?”

“My parents want me to marry Prince Therandil,” Cimorene explained.

“And you don’t want to? Sensible of you,” said the frog. “I don’t like Therandil. He used to skip rocks across the top of my pond. They always sank into my living room.”

“I’m sorry,” Cimorene said politely.

“Well,” said the frog, “what are you going to do about it?”

“Marrying Therandil? I don’t know. I’ve tried talking to my parents, but they won’t listen, and neither will Therandil.”

“I didn’t ask what you’d
said
about it,” the frog snapped. “I asked what you’re going to do. Nine times out of ten, talking is a way of avoiding doing things.”

“What kinds of things would you suggest?” Cimorene said, stung.

“You could challenge the prince to a duel,” the frog suggested.

“He’d win,” Cimorene said. “It’s been four years since I’ve been allowed to do any fencing.”

“You could turn him into a toad.”

“I never got past invisibility in my magic lessons,” Cimorene said. “Transformations are advanced study.”