Wrede, Patricia C - Enchanted Forest 01 (3 page)

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The first of the Knights arrived at the end of the second week.

Cimorene was busy cleaning swords. Kazul had been right about their condition; not only were some of them rusty, but nearly all of them needed sharpening. She was polishing the last flakes of rust from an enormous broadsword when she heard someone calling from the mouth of the cave. Feeling somewhat irritated by the interruption, she rose and, carrying the sword, went to see who it was.

As she came nearer to the entrance, she was able to make out the words that whoever-it-was was shouting: “Dragon! Come out and fight! Fight for the Princess Cimorene of Linderwall!”

“Oh, honestly,” Cimorene muttered, and quickened her step. “Here, you,” she said as she came out into the sunlight. Then she had to duck as a spear flashed through the air over her head. “Stop that!” she cried. “I’m Princess Cimorene.”

“You are?” said a doubtful voice. “Are you sure? I mean—”

Cimorene raised her head cautiously and squinted. It was still fairly early in the morning, and the sun was in back of the person standing outside the cave, so that it was difficult to see anything but the outline of his figure against the brightness. “Of course I’m sure,” Cimorene said. “What did you expect, letters of reference? Come around here where I can see who you are, please.”

The figure moved sideways, and Cimorene saw that it was a knight in shiny new armor, except for the legs, where the armor was dusty from walking. Cimorene wondered briefly why he hadn’t ridden, but decided not to ask. The knight’s visor was raised, and a few wisps of sandy hair showed above his handsome face. He was studying her with an expression of worried puzzlement.

“What can I do for you?” Cimorene said after several moments had gone by and the knight still hadn’t said anything.

“Well, um, if you
are
the Princess Cimorene, I’ve come to rescue you from the dragon,” the knight said.

Cimorene set the point of the broadsword on the ground and leaned on it as if it were a walking cane. “I thought that might be it,” she said. “But I’d rather not be rescued, thank you just the same.”

“Not be rescued?” The knight's puzzled look deepened. “But princesses
always
—”

“No, they don’t,” Cimorene said firmly, recognizing the beginning of a familiar argument. “And even if I wanted to be rescued, you’re going at it all wrong.”

“What?” said the knight, thoroughly taken aback.

“Shouting, ‘Come out and fight,’ the way you did. No self-respecting dragon is going to answer to a challenge like that. It sounds like a child’s dare. Dragons are very conscious of their dignity, at least all the ones I’ve met so far are.”

“Oh,” said the knight, sounding very crestfallen. “What should I have said?”

“ ‘Stand forth and do battle’ is the usual challenge,” Cimorene said with authority, remembering her princess lessons. She had always been more interested in what the knights and dragons were supposed to say than in memorizing the places where she was supposed to scream. “But the wording doesn’t have to be exact as long as it’s suitably formal. You’re new at this, aren’t you?”

“Rescuing you was going to be my first big quest,” the knight said gloomily. “You’re
sure
you don’t want to be rescued?”

“Quite sure,” Cimorene said. “I like living with Kazul.”

“You
like
—” The knight stared at her for a moment. Then his expression cleared and he said, “Of course! The dragon’s enchanted you. I should have thought of that before.”

“Kazul has not enchanted me, and I do
not
want to be rescued by
anybody
,” Cimorene said, alarmed by the knight’s sudden enthusiasm. “This place suits me very well. I
like
polishing swords and cooking cherries jubilee and reading Latin scrolls. If you don’t believe me, ask anyone in Linderwall. They’ve been complaining about my un-princess-like behavior for years.”

“I did hear something about fencing lessons,” the knight said doubtfully, “but knights aren’t supposed to pay attention to that kind of thing. We’re supposed to be above rumors and gossip.”

‘The fencing lessons were just the beginning,” Cimorene assured him. “So you see why I’m perfectly happy being a dragon’s princess.”

“Um, yes,” said the knight, but he did not look convinced. “Speaking of dragons, where’s yours?”

“Kazul’s not
my
dragon,” Cimorene said sharply. “I’m
her
princess. You’ll never have any luck dealing with dragons if you don’t get these things straight. She’s gone to the Enchanted Forest on the other side of the mountains to borrow a crepe pan from a witch she knows.”

“She’s
what?
” said the knight.

“She’s gone to borrow a crepe pan,” Cimorene repeated in a louder voice. “Perhaps you’d better have your helmet checked when you get back. They’re not supposed to interfere with your hearing, but sometimes—”

“Oh, I heard you,” the knight said. “But what does a dragon want with a crepe pan?”

“She doesn’t want it; I do. I found a recipe in the library that I want to try, and the kitchen just isn’t equipped to handle anything but the most ordinary cooking. Kazul will fix that eventually, but for the time being we have to borrow things like crepe pans and soufflé dishes.”

“You really
do
like it here,” the knight said wonderingly.

Cimorene refrained from replying that this was what she had been trying to tell him all along and instead said, “How did you know where I was?”

“Things get around.” The knight waved a hand in a vague manner. “In fact, I had to hurry to make sure I was the first. Half of the Kingdom of Linderwall and a princess’s hand in marriage is a reward rich enough to tempt a lot of people who wouldn’t normally bother with this sort of thing.”

“Father’s offered half the kingdom to whoever rescues me?” Cimorene said incredulously. “That’s more than all my sisters’ dowries put together!”

“It’s the usual thing in cases like this,” the knight said mildly.

“It would be,” Cimorene said in tones of deep disgust. “Well, at least you can go back and tell them I don’t want to be rescued. Maybe that will keep anyone else from coming up here.”

“I can’t do that!” the knight said. “It’s—”

“—just not done,” Cimorene finished. “I understand perfectly.” She gave him a polite farewell, more because she had been well brought up than because she felt like being polite, and sent him on his way. Then she went back into the cave and polished the broadsword until it was mirror-bright, which relieved her feelings a little.

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There were two knights the following day, and four more the day after that. On the fourth day there was only one, but he was exceptionally stubborn, and it took Cimorene nearly two hours to get rid of him. By then she was thoroughly disgusted and even considered letting Kazul handle the knights from then on. She could not quite bring herself to do it. The knights would certainly attack Kazul as soon as they saw her, since that was what they were coming for, and sooner or later someone would get hurt. Cimorene did not like to think that someone might be hurt trying to rescue her, particularly since she did not want to be rescued, so with a sigh she decided that she would continue to handle the knights as long as Kazul would let her.

Prince Therandil showed up at the end of the third week. He was limping a little, as if his metal boots pinched his toes, and the feathers attached to the top of his helmet sagged badly. He stopped and carefully struck an impressive pose before issuing the usual challenge.

Cimorene was not in a mood to be impressed. Besides, she could see that his helmet was a different style from his gold armor and that the armor had gaps at the knees and elbows where it didn’t fit together quite right.

“Aren’t you a little slow?” she asked irritably. “There’ve been eight knights here before you.”

“Eight?” the prince said, frowning. “I thought by now there’d have been at least twelve. Perhaps I’d better come back later.”

Cimorene stared at him in surprise. “Why?”

“Well, it would look better,” Therandil explained seriously. “There’s not much glory in defeating a dragon that hasn’t already beaten ten or fifteen people at least. Sir Gorolax of Mirstwold won’t even consider going after a dragon whose score is less than forty-five. I don’t think I want to risk waiting that long, but eight just doesn’t seem like enough.”

“You’re going to go away and wait until Kazul has defeated fifteen knights before you come back to rescue me?” Cimorene said. She found Therandil’s smug confidence very annoying, but she didn’t like to say so straight out.

“Not if you’d rather be rescued now, of course,” Therandil said hastily. “Though you ought to consider the advantages, and I expect it won’t be so very long ...” His voice trailed off, and he looked at her hopefully.

“I’m afraid it will be a very long time,” Cimorene said with satisfaction. “You see, Kazul hasn’t defeated any knights at all yet.”

“B-b-but I thought you said there’d been eight,” Therandil spluttered.

“I said eight of them had come by; I didn’t say they’d fought anybody. I sent them away.”

“You
sent them away?
” Therandil repeated, plainly horrified. “But that’s—that’s—”

“—not done, I know.” Cimorene smiled sweetly. “But I’ve done it. And I intend to go on doing it, so you might as well go home and warn your friends. They’d feel so foolish, you know, if they came all this way into the mountains to rescue me and then had to turn around and go back home without doing anything.”

“They certainly would!” Therandil said indignantly. “What do you mean by playing these kinds of tricks? Don’t you want to be rescued?”

“No,” said Cimorene, losing her patience at last, “I don’t. And I’m tired of having my work constantly interrupted. So please go away, and don’t come back.”

“You can’t possibly mean that,” Therandil said. “Besides, everyone expects me to rescue you.”

“That’s your problem,” Cimorene told him. “I’m going to go fix dinner. Good-bye.” Before he could say anything else, she turned and ducked back into the cave, hoping the prince wouldn’t follow.

T
herandil left, but he came back again the next day, and the day after that. It got so that Cimorene could not even step outside the cave without running into him. She might have been flattered if it hadn’t been so obvious that Therandil was only worried about how foolish he’d look if he went home without fighting the dragon. On his fifth visit Cimorene was very sharp with him, and when he had not returned by midafternoon of the next day, she began to hope that he had finally left for good.

Cimorene was in the kitchen taking the pits out of cherries when she heard someone knocking at the mouth of the cave.

“Go
away,
” she shouted in complete exasperation. “I’ve told you and told you, I don’t want to be rescued, and I’m not going to argue with you any more!”

“I didn’t come here to argue,” said a no-nonsense female voice from outside. “I came to meet the person who keeps borrowing my crepe pan. It’s not something there’s normally much call for.”

“Oh, dear,” said Cimorene. She wiped her hands hastily on a corner of her apron and hurried out to greet her visitor. “I’m sorry,” she said, coming around the gray rock at the cave mouth. “But I’ve been having a problem with knights lately, and I thought—” She stopped short as she got a good look at her caller for me first time.

The woman standing outside the cave was considerably shorter than Cimorene. Her ginger hair was piled in waves on top of her head. She had on a loose black robe with long sleeves, which she wore unbelted. A small pair of glasses with rectangular lenses sat firmly on her nose, and she carried an extremely twiggy broom in her left hand. Despite her unusual appearance, she projected an air of great self-assurance.

“I quite understand,” she said, studying Cimorene shrewdly. “You must be Kazul’s new princess.”

“Yes, I’m Cimorene. And you are ... ?”

“Morwen,” said the black-robed woman, leaning the broom against the rock. “Kazul and I have been friends for a long time, ever since I moved to the Enchanted Forest, so I thought I’d come have a look at her new princess.”

“You’re the person Kazul’s been borrowing dishes from, aren’t you?” Cimorene said, and blinked. “But then you must be—”

“A witch,” Morwen finished. “I don’t see why you find it surprising. It’s not exactly an unusual profession in these parts.”

“It’s just that I haven’t met one before,” Cimorene said, not mentioning the fact that in Linderwall witches were considered dangerous and probably evil and were therefore avoided if at all possible. But then, people in Linderwall didn’t like dragons much, either. “Won’t you come in and have some tea?”

“I certainly will,” said the witch, and she did. She prowled around like a nervous cat while Cimorene put the kettle on the stove and got out the tea things.

“Well,” Morwen said approvingly as Cimorene filled the teapot, “you’re the first princess I’ve ever met who has the sense to keep up with the kitchen.”

Cimorene decided that she liked Morwen’s down-to-earth manner. She soon found herself telling Morwen everything, from the fencing and philosophy and Latin lessons to the seemingly endless stream of knights. The story lasted through two cups of tea and finished with Therandil’s stubborn insistence on rescuing her.

“That is absurd,” Morwen said decidedly when Cimorene finished. “If this continues, you’ll never get anything done.”

“I know,” Cimorene said. “I keep telling them I don’t want to be rescued, but they’re all so honorable that none of them will tell anyone when they go back because they think it would be gossiping.”

“More likely they don’t want to look foolish.”

“Maybe, but even if they did tell people, I’m not sure anyone would believe it. I have a hard enough time convincing the knights when they show up in person.”

“It’s just as well that your visitors
have
been honorable,” Morwen said, looking thoughtful. “Underwall’s a prosperous kingdom. Sooner or later the chance of getting hold of half of it is going to tempt someone to try rescuing you whether you want to be rescued or not.”

“That hadn’t occurred to me,” Cimorene said with a worried frown. “What can I do about it?”

“I’m not sure,” Morwen replied. “The situation’s not at all usual, you know. I’ve never heard of a princess
volunteering
for a dragon before. Which rather surprises me, now that I think of it. A dragon’s princess is practically guaranteed a good marriage, so you’d think princesses from the smaller kingdoms would be clamoring for the job.”

“They’re probably worried about being eaten,” Cimorene said. “Do you think it would help if I sent my parents a letter?”

“Probably not,” Morwen said after a moment’s consideration. “But it can’t hurt to try. I’ll check my spell books when I get home. It may give me an idea. I suggest that you hunt through Kazul’s library. She’s been collecting scrolls for centuries; you ought to be able to find
something
useful. Meanwhile, we’ll put up a sign.”

“A sign?” Cimorene stared at Morwen for a moment, then began to smile. “ ‘Road washed out,’ “ she said. “ ‘Use alternate route.’ Is that the kind of sign you were thinking of?”

“Exactly,” Morwen said with approval. “It won’t stop anyone who’s really determined, but it will certainly slow them down. That should give us time to come up with something better.”

The two women set to work at once and in a short time produced a large, official-looking sign. Morwen offered to set it up on her way back to the Enchanted Forest, but Cimorene thought it would be too awkward for her to carry while riding the broom. So, once Morwen had gone, Cimorene tucked the sign under her arm and started down the path.

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Cimorene had not had a chance to do any real exploring before, though she had looked out at the mountains every day and wondered. She was happy to have an excuse to see more of the outside of her new home.

It was a lovely day, warm and sunny, and at first the path was level and easy. Cimorene was just beginning to wonder whether anyone would believe her sign, once she got it put up, when the path swung left around a boulder and narrowed to a tiny ledge that sloped steeply upward.

Cimorene stopped. Now she knew why none of the knights had ridden up to the cave. The ledge was barely wide enough for a person on foot to edge along sideways; the best rider in the world couldn’t have gotten a horse down it. Cimorene rolled her sign up into a firm, tight cylinder and stuck it through her belt, so she would have her hands free while she climbed. Then she stepped out onto the ledge.

Sidling up the slope took a long time, for Cimorene was careful to make sure that each part of the ledge would hold before she trusted her weight to it. She was also careful not to look down. Heights had never bothered her before, but there was a big difference between standing solidly on top of a tower in Underwall Castle behind a four-foot parapet and inching along a ledge barely six inches wide with nothing between her and a long fall.

She had almost reached the top of the slope, where the path widened again, when a portion of the ledge disappeared just ahead of her. Cimorene pulled her foot back and tried to figure out what had happened. She hadn’t seen or heard the rock crumble and fall away; there was simply a two-foot gap in the ledge that hadn’t been there before. She studied it for a moment, trying to think of a way of getting past. Nothing occurred to her. She felt a twinge of annoyance at the thought of all her wasted efforts, but cheered up at once when she realized that this would solve the problem of the visiting knights. If she couldn’t get around or over the gap, an armored knight wouldn’t be able to get by, either. Cimorene smiled and turned her head to creep back to safety.

There was another two-foot gap in the ledge on her other side. Cimorene frowned. Something very odd was going on, and she didn’t like it.

“You look as if you are in need of assistance,” said a deep voice from above her. “May I be of help?”

Cimorene turned her head and saw a man standing four feet away, on the path at the top of the ledge. He was tall and sharp-featured, and his eyes were a hard, bright black. Though he had a gray beard that reached nearly to his waist, his face did not look old. He wore loose robes made of blue and gray silk, and in one hand he held a staff as tall as himself made of dark, polished wood.

“Possibly,” Cimorene answered. She was certain that the man was a wizard, though she had never met one before, and she did not want to agree to anything until she was sure of what she was agreeing to. The court philosopher had always claimed that wizards were very tricky. “May I know to whom I am speaking?”

“I am the wizard Zemenar,” the man said. “And you must be Kazul’s new princess. I hope you’re not trying to run away. It’s—”

“Not done,” Cimorene said, feeling particularly annoyed because for once she was not doing anything improper. “Yes, I’m Cimorene.”

“I was going to say that it isn’t
wise
to run away from your dragon,” the wizard corrected mildly. “I believe it’s
done
all the time.”

“I’m sorry,” Cimorene said, but she didn’t try to explain. “And I’m not running away. How did you know who I was?”

“It seemed unlikely that I would find any other charming young lady walking so casually through the Pass of Silver Ice,” Zemenar answered. He smiled. “As you see, it is easy to find oneself in difficulties if one is not properly ... prepared.”

Cimorene decided that she didn’t like him. He re minded her of one of her father’s courtiers, a humorless, sneaky little man who had paid her compliments only when he was after something and who couldn’t resist giving advice even when nobody wanted it. “The ledge was all here when I started,” she said. An idea crossed her mind, and she looked hard at Zemenar. “I don’t suppose
you
know what happened to the two missing bits?”

A flash of startled annoyance crossed the wizard’s face; then his expression smoothed back into pleasant politeness. He shrugged. “The Pass of Silver Ice is a strange place. Odd things frequently occur.”

“Not like this,” Cimorene muttered. She was sure, now, that the wizard had made the ledge vanish so that he could pretend to rescue her, but she had no idea why he would want her to think she owed him a favor. Actually, it surprised her that he had destroyed the ledge. She didn’t think the dragons would be too happy when they found out. Unless he hadn’t really destroyed it.

“What did you say?” Zemenar said, frowning uncertainly.

Cimorene ignored him. Without looking down, she slid her right foot along the ledge. The rock felt firm and solid. Slowly she transferred her weight and brought her left foot up beside her right. She shifted again, still careful not to look down, and slid her right foot forward once again.

“What are you doing?” Zemenar demanded.

“Getting off this ledge,” Cimorene replied. “I should think that was obvious.” One more step would bring her to the path, but Zemenar was squarely in her way. “Would you mind moving back a little so I’ll have somewhere to stand?”

Zemenar’s eyes narrowed, but he backed up several paces, and Cimorene stepped onto the path. She wanted to heave a sigh of relief, but she did not. She wasn’t going to let Zemenar have the satisfaction of knowing she had been worried. Instead, she gave him her best royal smile and said with polite insincerity, “Thank you for offering to help, but as you see, it wasn’t needed. Do stop by and visit some time.”

“I will,” Zemenar said as if he meant it. “And a very good day to you. Princess Cimorene.”

With that he vanished. There was no smoke or fire or whirlwind. There wasn’t even a shimmer in the air as he disappeared. He was simply and suddenly gone.

Cimorene stared at the place where the wizard had been and felt a shiver run down her spine. It took a very powerful wizard indeed to vanish so quietly. And she still didn’t know what he wanted.

She shook herself and started down the path. She would worry about the wizard later; right now she had to find a place to put up her sign so she could get back to the cave. She didn’t feel much like exploring any more.

She hadn’t taken more than two or three steps when a dark shadow passed over her. Looking up, startled, she saw a flash of yellow-green scales. An instant later a dragon landed on the path in front of her, blocking the way completely. His tail hung over the edge, and he had to keep his wings partly unfurled in order to stay in balance. Cimorene recognized him at once. It was the yellow-green dragon who had wanted to eat her the day she arrived so unexpectedly in the dragons’ cave.

“I saw the whole thing,” the dragon said with nasty, triumphant glee. “Running away—and talking to a wizard! Just wait until Kazul hears. She’ll be sorry she didn’t just let us eat you and be done with it.”

“I offer you greetings and good fortune on your travels,” Cimorene said, figuring that it was best to be polite to anyone as large and toothy as a dragon, even if he wasn’t being at all polite to her. “I’m not running away.”

“Then what are you doing? Kazul doesn’t have any business that would bring you down this side of the pass.”