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Chapter Text

Cimorene had three days of peace before things changed.

Breakfast that morning had been a sullen affair, as Shiara still didn't know how to deal with the Queen of the Enchanted Forest - her future mother-in-law - living in the same caverns as she, and it was followed by yet another hour spent ridding her rooms of the mice that had taken over while she was gone, but noon had found her finally where she needed to be, reading through the latest version of A Modern Genealogy of the Misty Mountains. It was slow going, more impenetrable than DeMontmorency, but the Queen of the Enchanted Forest had to know the names of all of the noble families. Poor Bella spent a hundred years asleep, but at least she still looked like she was twenty, her aunt had told her at Daystar's ceremony. You won't even have that excuse.

Avon-of-the-Mists, the page began, and Cimorene sighed.

At least her settings were pleasant enough. Kazul's private kitchen was only slightly larger than the cottage she'd shared with Daystar, and the shelves were pleasantly cluttered with preserves and jars of tea. The residual heat from the morning meal still warmed the room, and the air smelled of rising bread.

Cimorene sat at the small kitchen table, scowling at the book in front of her. It's too much, she thought, but really there was nothing to do but keep reading. I can't be here forever.

This particular page - a listing of the Marshland Duchies - was deep into the 'begots' when Cimorene spotted a familiar name. Alianora! She'd last seen the woman at her wedding, her first child in tow. She was a Duchess now, with six sons ages five through twenty.

Cimorene smiled and reached for the quill pen and sheet of writing paper, ready to jot down a note, when there was a knock on the back door.

She stood, sighing a little, and closed the book. Do princes make cold calls? she wondered, a little annoyed. But when she opened the door, she found four young women in crowns and embroidered dresses, all a little dusty for the journey. "We are here, oh sister-" began the tallest automatically, but then she cut her speech short. "You're not a princess," the young woman said, a little accusingly.

"I'm not," Cimorene agreed, pushing a strand of hair back self-consciously under her kerchief. "I am, however, a queen." At the girl's surprised expression - of course it was not done - Cimorene continued, "And I am currently serving as the King of the Dragon's Head Librarian. Who might you be?"

The girl - slim and tall, a peaches-and-cream complexion with hair the color of ripened grain - drew herself up an extra inch, her blond curls bouncing slightly under the strain. "I am Princess Tiffany from the Kingdom of Elmswall, currently captive of the dread dragon Roxim." She glanced at the others.

"I am Princess Liadin, captive of Zareth," said the second. She was pale as the moon, with hair the color of daffodils tied up into long strands. When she spoke, her teeth shone like the sun.

"I am Princess Kirvin, captive of Moranz," said the third. Her skin was dark as night, and her hair was plaited into tight braids that ended with tiny jewels.

"And I am Princess Selta, captive of Arnora," the final girl said on cue. She was the shortest of them, with a ruddy complexion and raven-colored hair woven around her ears.

"And I am Cimorene," Cimorene said, omitting the 'queen' by default. "I work with Kazul, a dear friend of mine. Won't you come in for tea?"

***

The table had conveniently expanded when Cimorene entered with the others, stretching from a cozy circle to a broader oval with six chairs. Cimorene quickly pumped water to fill the kettle and put it on the stove, pulled out the loaf of bread from yesterday evening, and cut slices for each of the girls. That task done, she retrieved a bowl of honey butter and brought both to the table.

"Well," Cimorene said, once she had been seated. "Four of you. Dragonkind must be doing well for itself. I suppose these mountains are full of princes."

Tiffany's smile faltered. "Swarming. I myself have had three come for my hand in the past two months alone."

Three in two months. Perhaps dragon fighting was unfashionable now?

"It's not the proper season," said Kirvin tightly, noting Cimorene's face. "Several of the mountain passes are filled with snow."

"And the Enchanted Forest has reopened," Liadin added, speaking through a mouth of crumbs. "I think many royal families have been distracted recently."

Selta shifted uncomfortably in her seat and suddenly looked very interested in the honey butter. She was shorter than the others, Cimorene noted, and unfashionably plump. A baron's daughter. Definitely a less prestigious win, she thought uncharitably.

Princesses, on a whole, might be silly, but that didn't mean her hand shouldn't have been worth fighting for.

"That is disappointing," said Cimorene. She forced brightness into her tone. "I assume things will start up again shortly. In the meantime, are you enjoying your stay here?"

"I don't think it's possible to enjoy being held captive by a dragon," Tiffany sniffed. She wiped her mouth delicately with the linen napkin. "But I have done what I can to bide my time until my prince arrives. Roxim is terrifying. I can only wait for the man who will defeat him."

"At least I have had time to work on my trousseau," said Liadin. "I have embroidered a dozen napkins for my marriage feast."

"There are some excellent books in the library," Kirvin admitted. "My father's library was nowhere near as large." She quickly added: "There are several devotionals I had never read. And there's a book of love poetry as well."

"The bird watching here is astounding," Selta said enthusiastically. That prompted a look from Tiffany, but she didn't seem to notice. "I've never seen a black-footed twitter before. Did you know that their nests-"

"I'm sure Cimorene isn't interested in their nests," Tiffany cut in.

"You'd be amazed at the things I am interested in," Cimorene said smoothly. "It's good for princesses to be observant." Then, remembering the rok, she added: "Though you should be careful. Some of the birds can be quite dangerous. Are you able to protect yourself?"

"Protect myself?" Selta said, a little shocked. "What do you mean?"

"I think there might be a few spells-" Kirvin began, but then cut off after Tiffany glared at her as well.

The kettle chose that time to wail, and Cimorene found herself occupied for the next few minutes as she prepared and served the tea. When she sat down again, Kirvin showed great interest in the tea and little in talking.

"Why are you here?" Liadin asked. Her tone suggested it was largely to make conversation, but Cimorene didn't particularly care. Let's make it clear they have other choices.

"I was Kazul's princess twenty years ago," Cimorene began. And then - in ways she hadn't spoken even with Daystar - she began to talk.

***

After they had drank their tea, Liadin stood. "We need to leave," she said, looking meaningfully at the others. "Our dragons will want care. And I'm sure you have your own duties to perform."

"I do," said Cimorene. She stood as well, then reconsidered. "Selta, Kirvin, why don't you stay for a few more minutes? I have something that might help you."

Tiffany looked interested, but Liadin stood smoothly and Tiffany had to follow. "It was very nice to meet you, Queen Cimorene," Tiffany said at the doorway. "I hope to see you again shortly."

"Unless a prince comes and defeats Roxim," Liadin prompted.

"Yes, of course," Tiffany said. "Unless a prince arrives."

Selta and Kirvin were still at the table. "Well," Cimorene said, with slightly more gusto, "now that they are gone, let's see what I can do for both of you."

"About the rok?"

"Yes," said Cimorene. "Although both of you seem to have enough of a head on your shoulders. Tiffany and Liadin don't seem likely to appreciate it, but I think both of you could use your time here slightly more wisely."

"Wisely?"

"Lessons," said Cimorene. "Can either of you speak Latin? Can you do double-entry bookkeeping? Or understand basic warding magic?" Both shook their heads. "Etiquette and dancing are fine skills to have, but there's any number of useful skills a queen ought to know.."

"If you are teaching us magic, we should include Liadin," said Kirvin. Seeing that Cimorene looked confused, she clarified: "Liadin hasn't just been embroidering napkins with flowers. She's been embroidering them with anti-stain spells. It's really quite clever, even if her stitching is a bit wonky."

"I think Tiffany would appreciate the lessons as well," Selta said cautiously. "I caught her speaking Old Dwarvish with Sober when he came by a few weeks ago."

Cimorene drew in a breath. "Liadin and Tiffany seem a little preoccupied-"

Kirvin and Selta exchanged glances, and then burst out laughing. "Did you really buy that line about waiting for a prince?" Kirvin said after she'd finished laughing. "That's the biggest piece of nonsense I've ever heard. She's never wanted a prince. That's why her parents arranged her kidnapping in the first place. She'd been growing too close for comfort to her handmaid."

"I see," said Cimorene.

"It's really not her fault she's the way she is," Kirvin continued. She can't help that she's silly, Cimorene might once have finished, but Kirvin went in an entirely different direction. "She's doing the best to act like she thinks a princess ought to behave."

Bossy, snooty, boy-crazy, and empty-headed, Cimorene thought. But some of her sisters had turned out well in the end, even if it had taken them years to get there.

Perhaps they would have gotten there far faster had they been given the opportunity to learn otherwise.

"Well then," Cimorene said smoothly. "Perhaps you should all put your time here to better use."

***

Two evenings later, Morwen and Telemain came to visit for dinner. Over cider afterwards, Cimorene explained her plan.

"I think that is an excellent idea," Telemain said. "It would be a great benefit to everyone if the female members of the royal lineage were educated in subjects that had a utilitarian function."

"What he means-" Morwen began, in a tone that already sounded like old habit.

"I understand him well enough," Cimorene said, smiling. "And I think he's right. It would be far better if these girls left here with a head on their shoulders."

Chapter Text

The path leading from the King of the Dragon's cave was well-worn, trodden by generations of travelers - human, dragon, and otherwise. One part of it led down the mountain path, off to the kingdom of Everdust. The other led deeper into the mountains, passing through tiny farming villages, towards the Enchanted Forest.

Ordinarily, Cimorene would have enjoyed the walk. But, as usual, company made all the difference.

"I don't understand why I have to do this," Shiara muttered behind her. "It's not like I'm a dragon's princess. And I'm already flame resistant."

"I don't understand why you have to do this, either," Tiffany retorted. "Especially with an attitude like that."

It was the second day of Cimorene's attempted lessons, and things were going poorly.

"You're both doing this because this is a basic spell," Cimorene chided. "If you want to learn spellcasting, Shiara, you need to pay attention to the basic components. And if you're going to be a dragon's princess, Tiffany - and you know you are - you need to have some protection against fire."

Shiara hurumphed, but she continued walking.

It might have been easier if the others had come, but Liadin was a late sleeper and Kirvin had had a cold.

"That's a rock eagle's nest!" Selta said. "Did you know that-"

"Yes," Shiara snapped. "We do."

And so they trudged on, in mutual misery.

***

Gathering feverfew turned out to be easy. Just as Cimorene remembered, the fields scattered throughout the mountains were filled with the weed.

They filled their baskets, then sat down beside a stream to eat. Cimorene handed out thick cheese sandwiches and ripe pears, then sat down to watch the water. For once, the girls seemed to be chatting pleasantly. She leaned back against a tree and closed her eyes.

She woke to droplets of water on her face as a stone splashed nearby. Opening her eyes, Cimorene saw the girls standing near the stream. Tiffany was shaking her head. “It’s not done like that,” she said. “You need to flick your wrist. Like this.”

She demonstrated, and the rock skipped several times. “Now you try,” she told Selta, handing her the next rock.

Selta stood back, holding it in her wrist. She made an attempt to flick her wrist, but she hurled it too far and it landed with a loud plop in the water a few feet from shore.

"No," Tiffany said. "Let me show you again."

Her stone skipped twice, and there was a loud thud as it smacked against a rock.

“Hey!” croaked a voice. “What did you do that for?”

The voice came from directly below the rock, and Tiffany ran over to investigate.

From Cimorene’s perspective, she could just see a giant golden fish, now lying on its side on the rock. It waved its fins dramatically as it talked.

“You knocked me out of the water,” it said. “I'm actually on dry land. This is incredible.”

“But I didn’t-“

“Never mind that,” it said. “I've been waiting for this moment for ages! It's going to be great. I'll have to tell all my children. What's your name?"

"T-"

"Oh, no, nevermind. I forgot the protocol. I need to give you a wish. Just one, mind. But I need to give you a wish. Ask me for something. Anything."

“A wish?”

“A wish. Whatever you want. Gold. A prince. A castle. That’s traditional, at least. My cousin was asked for a thousand bolts of silk. Or at least he said he was, but no one ever saw the silk." It waved its fins again. "I can't believe I finally get to do this! Ask me for something good." When Tiffany hesitated, it added: "But make it fast. I can’t stay out of the water forever, you know.”

Powdered hen’s teeth, Cimorene had once answered. But Tiffany seemed more hesitant. Finally, she whispered something.

“What was that?” the fish said.

Tiffany mumbled this time, again too quietly for Cimorene to hear.

”You’re going to have to speak up,” the fish declared. "Things are going a bit black now. I'm not able to hear as well. I'll need to return to the water soon."

“I said, I want a way out,” Tiffany said loudly. Her face was red. “Happy now?”

“An interesting wish. A very interesting wish. Definitely something I can tell my children about,” the fish said. It waved its fins. "But granted. Now tip me back into the pond.”

Tiffany looked around. “But-“ she said.

“It’ll be done by the end of the week. Probably by the end of the day. You’ll have your way out, if you choose to take it. Now put me back in the pond. I can't tell my children what's happened if I suffocate.”

Tiffany did as the fish asked, then sat for a moment, still staring at the rock. When she stood up, Cimorene looked away. Selta began to talk loudly to Shiara. “Have you ever seem such a lovely day?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Well,” Cimorene said overly brightly. “Shall we go?”

***

They encountered the first knight as they were walking downhill.

He was tall, with carefully polished armor, and the lance he carried looked deadly. When he raised his helmet, Cimorene could see chiseled cheekbones and sparkling eyes.

Unfortunately, that seemed to be about as good as he got.

"Well, well, well," the knight said. His smile was probably supposed to be charming. "Four beautiful ladies." His gaze looked over all of them, and Cimorene's hand tightened on her sword. "Would any of you happen to need some rescuing?"

When no one replied, he continued. "I'm on my first quest, you see. Off to see the world. And off to slay a dragon. It's traditional. So if any of you-"

"I'm taken," said Selta quickly. "I already have a fiance."

"Ah," the knight said, swiveling. He turned to Shiara. "And I'm sure that you-"

"I'm taken, too," Shiara said. "Bad luck for everyone."

His smile faltered a moment, but he turned smoothly to Tiffany. "Well," he said. "Third time is the charm. And the loveliest charm as well. I'm sure that-"

"Comte se ilta?" Tiffany said, turning to Cimorene. Her expression of confusion was almost convincing. The girl was an impressive actress.

"I-" Cimorene began, but the knight cut in again.

"I. Said. You. Are. Lovely." He articulated every syllable carefully. "Where. Is. Your. Dragon?"

"Ilta nonest."

"Your. Dragon."

"Nonest!"

"I believe this is enough," Cimorene said. "I think you might need to try elsewhere. The dragon caves are actually back that way." She pointed down the hill, in the direction he'd come. "You probably missed the turn at the white stone."

"Certainly," said the knight, recovering himself. "It seems like you ladies were headed that way as well?" He still managed to sound hopeful.

"I was actually going to look at the bird nest I saw over there," Selta said. "It's quite nice."

"If you turn around and follow the path, you should be able to get to the caves before sundown," said Cimorene. "You'll need a breather before you fight any of the dragons."

"Of course." The knight was sounding increasingly dejected. "I guess I'll be on my way then?"

"I guess you will," Cimorene insisted.

With a last look, the knight turned around and trudged slowly down the hill.

When he had disappeared, Cimorene turned to Tiffany, about to laugh at her ruse, but she was surprised to see tears in the girl's eyes.

"A way out," Tiffany said quietly.

Cimorene's heart sank. “Tiffany-“

“Tiff,” the girl said. “My friends call me Tiff.” But she was quiet after that.

Chapter Text

Cimorene awoke the next morning, stiff and sore, to a dragon pounding at the front door.

"Come out here, Kazul!" the voice roared. "I know you're in there somewhere. You took what's mine, and I want it back!"

Standing up and rubbing her eyes groggily, Cimorene pulled on a dress. Fortunately, Shiara had made it there first. A large dragon was standing in the doorway, glaring at her reproachfully. "You're not Kazul," it said.

"I'm not," Shiara said. "But it's too early in the morning. You need to go away."

"No," the dragon roared. "It's not too early. It's never too early for justice." It turned to the door again. "Kazul! Come out here!"

"I'm Kazul's princess," Shiara said, folding her hands. "You're not going to talk to her until you go through me. And I'm a fire-witch, so threatening to burn me alive doesn't scare me." Her hands were shaking a little as she spoke, though. "I'll take your stupid complaint to her."

Cimorene took that moment to appear at the door as well. "Now, Shiara," she said. "That isn't very nice."

"You're not Kazul either," the dragon fumed, her two horns bobbing as she spoke. When she huffed, a puff of smoke spewed out.

"No," Cimorene said. "I'm not. But you can't just come here demanding to speak to the King of the Dragons like this. There are proper protocols for these things." Or, at least, there had been twenty years ago. For all Cimorene knew, things had become more lax since then.

"Forget protocols!" the dragon fumed. "Kazul has stolen my treasure, and I'm here to reclaim it. Kazul!"

"What is it, Arnora?" a voice said behind Cimorene. It was Kazul, speaking in as sensible a voice as she could manage. "Really, do calm down. It's too early for this. Take time for breakfast before coming to complain about things."

"That's the problem," Arnora said, still angry. "I can't have a proper breakfast. You've stolen my tea set, and I want it back."

"I haven't stolen any tea sets," Kazul said calmly. "I haven't stolen anything. I'm really not sure what you're going on about."

"Someone has stolen it. It's all the same." Arnora scraped the ground with her claws. "That knight you sent along yesterday has stolen it. Now, are you going to come out and fight me?"

"No," Kazul said tightly. "I didn't send anyone a knight, and I definitely didn't encourage anyone to steal a tea set. I really don't know what you're talking about."

"The knight that came yesterday. The one who ran off with Roxim's princess. On their way out, they snuck into my cavern. And since my princess was missing - out visiting you - they were able to ransack my caves. They took my tea set, and I want it back."

Roxim's princess. "Liadin's gone?" Cimorene said, bewildered. "Liadin left with a knight?"

"I'm far too busy to learn their names." Arnora said fussily. "He's the first knight we've seen in some time, so don't pretend he wasn't yours. If I'd had some warning, I would have left the important treasure somewhere safe. But I didn't. Fair warning is part of the Pact, Kazul, and you've violated it." Arnora waved a claw and circled in on Kazul. "She has been meddling. She gave him directions. And she arranged for my princess to be away while some loathsome good-for-nothing knight arrived to lure Roxim's princess away."

"The Pact?" Cimorene turned to Kazul in bewilderment.

Kazul sighed. "The agreement," she said, as thought that were an explanation. "I don't have your tea set," she said. "But if all you want is-"

"I want that tea set," Arnora huffed. "It was enchanted. It makes perfect tea. Custom-made. There's nothing like it in the world. You're King of the Dragons, Kazul. If you aren't able to guard our caverns, I don't know what you're doing." She took two steps forward. "I'm here to get back what's mine, and I'll fight you if I need to."

"You're not going to get what's yours, because it's not here. If you can't handle your things, that's your responsibility. Not mine."

"And if you can't manage to be King-"

"If you can't guard your cavern like a proper dragon-"

Cimorene stepped nervously between Kazul and Arnora, waving her hands. "If this is a legal matter, then it needs to be addressed properly," she said. "If Kazul has violated her duties as King-" She waved a hand at Kazul, as the dragon seemed poised to object. "If she has violated her duties, than you need to lodge a formal complaint. Which isn't something that can happen before breakfast." She stared at Arnora. "I believe Kazul has visiting hours today. After noon. We can see you then, and you can make a full complaint."

With a huff, Arnora turned around and stormed down the path, and Cimorene sighed.

"Young dragons," Kazul said, irritatedly, as they went inside. A puff of smoke slipped from her mouth. "Humans send us their young. Perhaps we could send them ours?"

"I think that might be difficult," Cimorene said dryly. "What was that about the Pact?"

"It's complicated," Kazul said with a sigh.

"Try me," Cimorene said. "We have time."

***

They turned into the kitchen, where Shiara promptly began to arrange breakfast. "Get the tea from the top counter," she told Cimorene. A second later, she added, belatedly, "please." She then turned around and looked at the stove. "Anaflagante." The coals burst into flames.

"I see you've been working on your spells," Cimorene said. And manners.

Shiara smiled but didn't reply. She poured a dragon-sized serving of oatmeal into the kettle, then pulled a loaf of slightly stale bread off the counter. "Jelly or honey?"

"Jelly."

Shiara turned to rummage through the cupboard. "We're out of jelly. We have honey." She pulled out a jar and put it on the table, then glared at Nightwitch, who had made her way up on the counter.

"And what do you want, ma'am? Shouldn't you go catch a mouse or something?"

Cimorene turned to Kazul. "So. The Pact."

Kazul shook her head. "It's an agreement we have. A Pact. As the King of the Dragons, I agree to perform several duties. I negotiate treaties. I coordinate wars."

"And that covers knights?"

"No," Kazul said, suddenly angry. "That does not cover knights! Or, at least, it has not included knights in the past." She accepted the bowl of tea Shiara offered her. "Thank you." She took a sip. "Not unless she can prove that I have sent them. That's been a point of contention while you're gone."

While you're gone. "The wizards?"

"No," Kazul sighed. "But my duties were divided, as I'm sure you can understand. Heroes can be so full of themselves, once word gets around that there's treasure to be had. And dragons can be so fickle. It's usually easy to avoid, if you bother taking even the most basic precautions, but when you don't-" Kazul waved a hand "- they walk off with items you actually value."

"What are you going to do?"

"Wait," Kazul said. "Arnora has a temper, but it's only a tea set. She'll get over it soon enough."

***

They had barely finished breakfast before there was another pounding at the door.

"Great," Shiara muttered. "Just what we need. More visitors."

She stood up and went to the door. "If you're a knight, go away. You've caused enough trouble already."

"How about a king?" said a familiar voice from the other side of the door.

"Mendanbar!" Cimorene cried. She ran to the door and embraced him. "I'm so glad you're here. What made you come?"

"You haven't written in a few days," he said, slightly reproachfully. "So I decided to come and visit you."

"Is Daystar with you?" Shiara asked, in tones of overly casual interest.

"No," Mendanbar said, taking Cimorene's hand and kissing it gently. "Someone has to mind the castle. And watch the sword. So he stayed home."

"Oh." Out of the corner of her eye, Cimorene saw Shiara standing awkwardly, her hands in her apron pockets. "That's good. I'll - just be off to do the dishes, shall I?"

After they'd kissed more throughly, Cimorene pulled away. "Really, why did you come?"

"Do I really need an excuse to see my wife?" Mendanbar asked. He pursed his lips. "But if you must know, we had the most annoying visitors yesterday. They only demanded lodging for the night, but they said they knew you."

"Visitors?"

"A princess and a knight?"

Oh no. "Hair the color of daffodils? A knight this high?"

"Exactly."

Cimorene sighed. "They weren't carrying a tea pot, were they? Because if they were-"

"I doubt I would have noticed if they had. They had one of those bags of holding that Telemain is always going on about. But no. They didn't use it for breakfast." He made a face. "Or maybe they did. I may have snuck out early this morning. King's privilege and all?"

"Leaving Daystar all alone to deal with them?"

"Daystar and Willin. Willin mostly. He'll know what to do." He shook his head. "They were the most tedious dinner guests, though! He could not stop talking about the single battle he'd won. But they have a long ways to go, so hopefully they'll have left by the time I get back."

"Does that mean you haven't had breakfast?" Cimorene asked. "You shouldn't be trekking across half the Enchanted Forest on an empty stomach."

"Breakfast can wait," Mendanbar said, taking her hand. "First I want to spend some time with my wife."

Chapter Text

Cimorene and Mendanbar emerged from her chambers a half hour later to sounds of roaring from the royal reception room.

"-demand a hearing," Arnora was saying. "This is unacceptable. Negligence of the highest order-"

"Then you shall have your formal hearing," Kazul hissed. "You shall have your formal hearing, in front of the full court, where you can explain how silly you have been."

A blast of hot air spewed into the corridor.

Cimorene halted. "You're not fireproof, are you?"

Mendanbar looked at her, then looked back down the corridor. "On second thought," he said, "breakfast can wait a little longer."

***

When they next emerged, the reception room was quiet, although the corridor was still unusually warm. Shiara, Kirvin and Tiff were gathered at the kitchen table.

"I just can't believe she'd have such poor taste," Tiff said.

"She'd always seemed more sensible than that," Kirvin agreed. "But perhaps he had some redeeming features. You only met him for a few minutes."

Tiff pursed her lips, about to make a reply, but Cimorene cleared her throat. "Is Arnora gone?"

"She left half an hour ago," Shiara said. "She was really in a fine mood. Where were you?"

"We decided to take a nap," Cimorene said tactfully, and Shiara blushed. "And Mendanbar isn't fireproof, so we decided to take a longer one. Can you get him some breakfast, please? Honey is fine."

Kirvin turned to them. "Mendanbar?"

"Oh, yes." Etiquette was better demonstrated than proven, after all. "My Lord King, these are-"

"'My Lord King'?"

Cimorene sighed. "I spent years teaching Daystar formal etiquette. What kind of mother would I be if I stopped using it now?"

"I really can't go about having you call me 'My Lord King' in public," Mendanbar groused.

"Mendalbar," Cimorene began again, "these are my friends, the Princesses Kirvin and Tiff. Kirvin and Tiff, this is my husband Mendalbar, King of the Enchanted Forest."

"Your husband?" Tiff asked, sounding slightly stricken. "But-"

Her sentence was interrupted by pounding at the door. "Cimorene! Shiara!" It was Selta.

With a loud huff, Shiara left to get the door. "King or not, you'll have to cut your own bread," she told Mendanbar over her shoulder.

Selta burst in with a gush of conspiratorial glee. "You'll never guess what just happened," she said.

"Liadin ran off with the knight?" Shiara offered.

"What? Liadin ran off with what knight? When?"

"Yesterday. Where have you been?" Shiara asked incredulously.

"It's Sunday," Selta said, as though that explained everything. Cimorene realized only belatedly that her eyes were bloodshot. "I was out."

Kirvin suddenly looked concerned. "Out? Did you-"

Selta shook her head. "No." She turned abruptly to Shiara. "Is there tea?"

Shiara rolled her eyes. "What's the magic word?"

"Please," Selta said. "May I have some tea please? Ginger, if you have it."

"So if you weren't going to talk about Liadin," Kirvin said smoothly, "what were you going to say?"

"What? Oh!" Selta grinned. "Arnora. She was positively fuming this morning. She went over to Moranz and started pulling up legal books. Something about chalk law?"

Mendanbar sighed. "Chaki law? Oh, bother."

"Chaki?"

"Tea services. And cooking implements in general. It's an entire legal thing, apparently." He sighed. "I only know it because Willin mentioned it once. But it's very complicated. It's one of the reasons you see heroes run off with goblets and dishes but never with cauldrons."

"Here I thought it was because they'd look silly carrying all those iron pots," Cimorene said dryly. "Or because none of the magicians who make enchanted goblets have ever worked in a kitchen."

Shiara looked up. "Do you think they could enchant a pot to clean itself? Because-"

"I'm sure they could," Cimorene cut in. "Anyway, chaki law."

"There's a reason the King of the Dragons still has to borrow a Cauldron of Plenty," Mendanbar said. He made a face. "Assuming she hasn't been gifted one over the past twenty years. All of my information is out of date."

"She hasn't. Although-" Cimorene looked up hopefully "- do you think there's any chance they've changed the laws in the meantime?"

"She had me find a lot of books," Selta said. "She said something about hiring a team of lawspeakers."

A full court hearing. Cimorene sighed. "I assume Kazul realized from her conversation this morning that this wasn't going away."

"I've never seen her angry before," Shiara said. "You - might want to be the one to break the news to her."

"Was this the tea set you were talking about?" Mendanbar asked.

"What tea set?" Kirvin asked.

"Yes. Arnora's tea set. Liadin and the knight apparently stole it while they were running off. She blames Kazul for the break-in. We hadn't given her fair warning or some such."

Mendanbar sighed. "If they stayed in the palace yesterday night, there's a chance they're still there. If you have an enchanted mirror somewhere, I can try to call Willin and see if he can waylay them."

Cimorene winced. "We can ask her, but-"

"Kazul just had one installed last month," Shiara said, pleased to know something Cimorene did not. "It's on the side of the royal chambers. I can lead you to it."

****

The walls of the chamber bore several scorch marks that had not been there before. More than once, Cimorene caught Shiara staring at them with wide-eyed horror. For once, she's found someone angrier than she is.

Kazul was still nowhere to be seen.

"In this way," Shiara finally said, gesturing them into a side cavern. It was smaller, the sort of space suitable for only one or two dragons, and there was a hollowed-out space where generations of kings had sat. The room was marred slightly by a dragon-sized mirror with a gilded, overly-colored frame.

"Mirror mirror on the wall, I would like to make a call," Mendanbar said. "Show me the Enchanted Forest palace."

The mirror flashed several times, but, instead of the familiar gargoyle, what appeared were a set of lips.

"Connection error," the mirror said, and then displayed the room.

I can't get through, the mirror had said. Cimorene held her breath, but Mendanbar simply cursed. "What do you mean, a connection error?" he demanded. "I want you to connect to the Enchanted Forest mirror."

"Connection error," the voice repeated. "The Enchanted Forest mirror is no longer supported by our system. It seems to be at least twenty years out of date. We recommend recasting the mirror spell every five years for best results."

"Out of date?" Mendanbar demanded. "I just got that mirror-" He sighed. "Telemain enchanted it for us as a wedding gift."

"Our system guarantees backwards compatibility to hardware up to ten years. We cannot connect to the Enchanted Forest mirror."

"But it is operational, right?" Cimorene asked, trying to keep her voice calm. Mendanbar didn't seem to understand the direction of her questioning.

"The Enchanted Forest Palace mirror is operational," the voice confirmed. "But backwards compatibility is only offered in Models Sigma and above. If you would like to-"

"No," Mendanbar said, in no uncertain terms. "We would not." He sighed and turned to Cimorene. "I suppose I need to get going, then. There's probably no chance of us waylaying them, but trying to do so might at least demonstrate good faith."

I should have tried to use the magic mirror, Cimorene thought regretfully. She hadn't written to her husband enough. She hadn't even written to Daystar.

"What's wrong?" Mendanbar asked, and Cimorene realized her emotions were written over her face.

"Nothing," Cimorene said. "It's just ... I feel like a terrible mother. I haven't even tried to speak with you."

"Nonsense," Mendanbar said, touching her face. "I've spent time with Daystar. You have been a fantastic mother. You deserve to take a few months for yourself." He smiled. "The girls seem to be fond of you, too."

Cimorene nodded, trying to get her emotions under control. "How long do you think it will take for you to reenchant the mirror?"

Mendanbar shrugged. "Several days, probably. I can send a bird until then."

"Hm." Cimorene thought for a moment. "The way Arnora was acting, we're going to want faster communication than that. The other dragons might have one - but I really don't want to get them involved. There's a market at Curve-of-the-Morrow Village. I might be able to find one there."

"Do that," Mendanbar said fondly. He kissed her hand. "In the meantime, I need to go. Call me once you get the mirror up and running."

"I will," Cimorene said. "Tell Daystar I love him. And - take care of yourselves. Don't do anything risky."

"The wizard order is gone," Mendanbar told her. He finally seemed to have realized the source of her anxiety. "We're safe in the palace." He looked meaningfully at the scorch marks. "Perhaps safer than you are."

And with that, he was gone.

Chapter Text

It turned out to be ridiculously easy to find a mirror - an ugly cracked thing, with scratched glass and a gilded yellow frame. Cimorene, Selta, and Tiff were emerging from a tavern when they encountered the second knight.

He was hard to miss. The market town was crowded, so his face was tight as he tried to lead his horse around the various stalls and carts. He was tall and tan, with long black hair twisted into a topknot around his head. Somehow, he recognized them, because he flagged them down. "Hello, good ladies," he said. "Would you recommend that tavern?"

Cimorene shrugged, but Selta nodded. "It was excellent," she said. "I recommend the chicken breast."

"That's good," he said. "Er, would you happen to know where the dragon caves are from here? I plan to go that way after dinner. The guidebook says there's some lovely ladies there."

Beside her, Tiff made a choked sound, but Cimorene simply smiled tightly. "It's up the hill from here."

"That's good," the knight said distractedly. "I've heard there's some of them that need saving?"

"I'm not sure about that," Cimorene said. Then she thought of Kirvin. "There might be one."

"How do you feel about cutlery?" Selta asked abruptly.

"I, er, what?"

"Cutlery. Theft. The dragons are very much against it right now."

"Oh, no." The knight's eyes were wide. "I would never do such a thing. It's against the code." He sighed. "Really, what I plan to do is have a nice meal and then head to the caverns. There should be a dragon or two there willing to fight me." He frowned, then rummaged around in a pouch. "There's proper protocols for these things. Er." He pulled open a creased sheet of paper. "'Stand forth and do battle, fierce dragon!'" He folded it again and returned it to the pouch. "That's what I'm supposed to say at least. I'm a little new at these things."

"You'll probably do fine," Cimorene said.

"I'd really rather not do the fighting part. I'm a scholar."

"You are?" Now that was interesting.

"Yes." He sighed. "I'd much rather be back in the library, but when my elder brother died, I was saddled with this quest. I've got plenty of jewels and such at home. Now, if they had any good books-"

Cimorene shook her head. "No books, either. The dragons are a bit on edge right now to begin with."

"Of course." The knight sighed sadly. "It was just a thought." He gestured at the door. "Anyway, I am hoping to get a bite to eat. I suppose you wouldn't be interested in another meal?" he added, hopefully.

"No," Tiff said, shaking her head. "I'm pretty sure we wouldn't be."

"Oh. Alright." He turned to his horse. "My name's Edmund, by the way. Lovely to meet you."

"I'm Cimorene. And it was lovely to meet you, too."

"Selta," Selta said, bobbing a curtsey. "And good luck on your quest."

"Of course. And you-?"

"Tiff," Tiff said tightly. "I'm Tiff."

"I hope to meet you ladies again," Edmund said, with a hopeful smile. Then he took his horse's lead and led it onwards.

"He seemed nice enough," Selta said thoughtfully. "Not for me, of course."

Tiff just stood stiffly, staring at the crowd.

Cimorene sighed. "Come on, both of you. Let's go home."

***

On the way out, Cimorene saw a promising-looking display of chinaware lined up on a shelf in front of an old barn. The tea set. Perhaps Liadin and her prince had sold it before taking off to the Enchanted Forest.

Faint chance, but if it would end this nonsense, it was worth trying.

"Wait here," Cimorene told Selta and Tiff. "I'll just be a minute."

The barn inside was dimly lit, with a layer of straw under foot. Cimorene stood for a moment, allowing her eyes to adjust to the light.

"Can I 'elp you?" the proprietor asked, stepping up to her. He was a centaur, large and barrel-chested, with a vest on but no shirt.

"Er, excuse me?" Cimorene asked. "Do you possibly have a tea set for sale?"

"Do I got tea sets?" the centaur repeated, shaking his head. "Entire store's full of 'em. What color do you want? I got a nice blue one right 'ere."

What color? Sadly, there were only two things Cimorene knew about the tea set.

"Do you have any that's dragon sized?"

"Of course." He pointed her to a shelf nearby. "I got an entire row of 'em. You buyin' for someone?"

"Er, yes." She studied the tea sets, all of them with bowls the size of her head. It would have been nice for Arnora to describe it. Couldn't she have said anything useful? 'He stole that blue and green tea set of mine.' Or 'that lovely one with the lilies'?

None of them seemed appropriate.

"How about an enchanted one?" she said, without thinking.

The centaur stared at Cimorene. "Look here, lady. What are you accusing me of?"

"I was only hoping-"

"You was hoping nothing. You was looking for me to slip up. I ain't no criminal," he snapped. "I sell legal stuff only. Enchanted goblets, I got 'em. But I don't sell no enchanted pans. Nothing that an-ce-stry law covers." He shook his head. "You an' those elves."

"Elves?"

"Those elves! They come 'round here about an hour ago, askin' for somethin', just like you! They wanna entrap me. Try to entice me to say somethin' wrong. Wanna entrap all of us 'ere." He shook his head. "But I ain't no fool. Got no use for the law and the law got no use for me. Now get out of 'ere. I don't wanna be seen talkin' in ways that might come back to me later."

He pointed meaningfully to the door, and Cimorene stepped back into the street. A few feet away, Selta and Tiff were waiting outside, the mirror in hand. "And don't come back, y' hear?" He pointed to Selta and Tiff. "And y'all can go away, too. We're closed!"

The door locked audibly behind him.

"Well," Cimorene said tightly. "That went well."

"The tea set?" Selta asked.

"He doesn't have it." Cimorene sighed. "At least we know one place that it didn't go. A bunch of elves were coming around looking for one earlier today."

"Elves? From Arnora?"

"I don't know," Cimorene sighed. "I suppose we'll find out soon enough."

***

Past the gates, the crowd of market stalls dropped abruptly off. One of the last tents held a display of enchanted swords.

"Wait," Selta said. She paused, pulling one up and fingered the hilt.

"That one's special," a girl said, stepping out of the adjacent tent. Her eyes sparkled like diamonds. She wore a diaphanous robe of white and silver, and a slender jeweled circlet confined the long golden curls that ran unhindered down her back. "You have good taste." She walked over and smoothly covered Selta's hand with her own, clenching the hilt tightly. The blade made a 'snicker-Snack' sound as it cut through the air. "This one is designed to sever heads. A well-trained warrior could fight a giant or ogre and slaughter it with a single stroke."

The look on Selta's face was enough to make the girl put it back on the rack.

"Are you interested in something else, perhaps?" She went down the row of swords, pointing to each one. "This one has the power to cut through all magic. This one will remain sharp however long it is buried in the mud. This one could cut through a palace wall."

"Do you have anything that an amateur could use?"

"Ah." The girl smiled. She pulled out a mundane-looking sword, decorated only with a small jewel at the hilt, and waved it in the air. "It's probably my best work so far. It sings for blood and can drink the soul of anyone it cuts. A single man, even untrained, could use it to slaughter an entire army, should he wish to."

Selta winced.

"Are you the proprietor?" Tiff cut in, a bit surprised.

"I am," the girl said. Her eyes sparkled like diamonds, and her teeth shone like pearls. She started to bow, then turned it gracefully into a curtsey. "Princess Zama of Walterwood, former apprentice of Govneu himself. I make the best swords in the realm."

"Princess Zama?"

"The one and only." The girl's smile was growing tight. "My uncle Tyrel may be the ursuper to the throne, but I am the true and rightful heir, hidden at my birth."

"They teach girls to forge in Walterwood?" Selta said, sounding slightly scandalized.

"Not exactly," Zama said. "They thought I was a boy at the time." She looked sheepish. "Long lost heir, remember? It seemed better for everyone if they hid me, so my parents cast a spell, disguised me as a boy, and sent me to apprentice to a blacksmith until I came of age."

"People do that?" Tiff asked incredulously.

"Well, mine did," Zama said defensively. "I don't think it's common." She looked back and forth at the others, as if expecting them to announce that they too had once been under a similar spell.

"And now you make swords."

"The heir part didn't really take," Zama said, making a face. "Do you know how hard it is to run a country on your own?" Cimorene tried not to respond, and the girl shrugged. "But the girl part did. And if you think I look too young, I'm not. I stopped aging. Anyway, would you be interested in buying that sword or not?"

"Or not," said Cimorene. "Very much not."

"Is it the dress?" Zama asked, a bit dejectedly. "It's got to be the dress. No one takes me seriously because of the dress. I like frilly things, but that doesn't make me a bad blacksmith."

"No," Cimorene said. "It's not the dress." She looked around at her charges. "We've gotten the mirror. I think the next step is to go home."

***

The sun was setting as they followed the path up the hill to the dragon's cave.

"Still no knight," Cimorene said thoughtfully.

"Maybe he decided to spend the night first," Selta said. "He seemed nice enough."

"He did," Cimorene agreed. Tiff was quiet, kicking the stones from the road one after another.

They trudged along that way for nearly another mile when, at the bend of the road, Selta abruptly stepped into a bush. She grabbed Cimorene's arm, pulling her to a halt. "That nighthawk-" she began.

"No one cares about the birds," Tiff snapped. She was a few steps ahead of them. She kept walking, kicking the grass at the side of the road. "No one-" Something huge dropped out of the sky, knocking her on her back. "Ow! I think that thing just attacked me."

"That was what I was going to say," Selta snapped. It was suddenly as if a floodgate had opened. "I was going to say, nighthawks only fly like that when they've got eggs they want to crack open." Cimorene pulled back, amazed at her outburst. "But you wouldn't listen to me! Stupid Selta, always going on about the birds. No one cares about-"

"Wait," Cimorene cut in. The bird was circling above them, large spirals that seemed to grow closer. "Crack open?"

"Yes," Selta said. "Huge lizard eggs. They steal huge lizard eggs and drop them out of the sky so they can eat them. It's waiting for the lizard to emerge from the shell so it can attack it." She looked at Tiff. "Now one of them is going to eat you, and see if I care!"

"Wait, what?" The bird was starting to spiral above them, each circle tighter and lower to the ground. Cimorene hadn't realized they had claws.

Selta probably knew exactly how long they were.

"They like live prey. And they like prey that puts up a fight. Tiff's a little too small for the nighthawk, but the lizard will probably make an exception."

Tiff was trying to push herself off the ground. "My arm won't move," she whimpered. Her right arm was bent at an odd angle, and her foot seemed to have bent.

"Tiff, stay there," Cimorene said with forced calm. "Selta, I need you to help me." She set the mirror on the ground and stepped out of the bush, pulling out her sword.

"Live prey?" Tiff said nervously. She looked over her leg to the egg nearby where something large was definitely crawling out.

"You don't care! They're stupid birds! You don't want me telling you anything about stupid birds-"

"Selta," Cimorene said, using her most motherly voice. "I need you to help me." She needed to get Tiff off the road now. She could hear the nighthawk circling above her and something moving in the grass below. Her sword in her dominant hand, she grabbed Tiff's arm and tried to pull.

"Ow!" Tiff said. She stared over, her eyes wide. "That thing is huge."

Cimorene dropped the sword, grabbing Tiff with both hands and starting to drag her away. Behind her, she could hear scuffling, as the large lizard got its bearings and started to move towards her.

"Selta!" Cimorene repeated.

Out of the corner of her eye, Cimorene saw Selta run from the bush and pick up the sword with both hands. She swung blindly, but a roar indicated that the blade struck true.

She was still ranting. "I have a fiance, and he loves me and he cares about birds as much as I do! So someone likes to hear me talk about birds."

She swung again, and a gush of blood erupted from the lizard as she cut its head off.

The nighthawk landed a foot away from Selta. Cimorene had never realized how big they were.

"Selta, get out of there!"

"Stop telling me what to do!" Selta shouted. She was still swinging widely, little chunks of lizard flying all over.

"Selta, the bird is going to kill you!"

Selta looked up at the nighthawk and froze. "She's not," she squeeked. "She's a motion-feeder. If I just stand still, she will attack the lizard instead. And keep your voice high-pitched. It can only hear lower frequencies."

"Selta, the lizard is dead!"

"What?" That was a bad idea. Selta nearly moved her head. "How did that happen?"

"It's the sword," Cimorene said. "I'll explain later. Selta, you need to get out of there."

"Can't," Selta said. "She's waiting for something to move." After a second, she added: "Did you know that nighthawk underfeathers are flecked with silver? I don't think anyone's ever documented that."

"Selta."

"Her beak is raptorial. That's obvious in retrospect, but Kelenborne draws it as a scavenger."

"Selta."

"I think he got the dimensions wrong, too. I'm not sure he ever saw a nighthawk in person-"

"Selta."

"I. Can't. Move."

With her non-dominant hand, Tiff clumsily threw a rock. It didn't go very far, but the thud it made was loud enough that the bird jerked its head around. Selta took the opportunity to run to the bushes. The nighthawk spun around again, still searching the road for movement, but at least she was out of its direct line of sight.

"It knows that the lizard was moving a few minutes ago," Selta whispered, still staring intently at the bird. "And it smells blood. It knows there's food here. If we could just make it think the lizard is still alive, we might have a chance to get out of here."

Cimorene ran through the list of spells she could remember. It was depressingly short.

"If I sprayed dishwater in its face, would that drive it away?"

Selta thought for a moment. "Probably not. They have a preen gland, like ducks. She might get irritated, but she's just going to try to figure out where the water came from."

"How long will it take it to go away?"

Selta winced. "They have long memories. At least a half-hour. Could be longer."

"So we wait."

Beside her, Tiff whimpered a bit. "Look," she said. "I'm sorry I called your birds stupid. I was upset about the knight."

Selta sighed. "I'm sorry I yelled at you," she said. "But just because you're miserable doesn't mean you get to make everyone else miserable. I like birds. I hope one day you find something you like half as much."

Tiff was silent. Selta turned to Cimorene. "What's the sword do?"

"It guarantees the wielder will win the fight," Cimorene said quietly.

"Anyone?" Selta said, sounding eager.

"Anyone. But winning isn't the same as surviving." She looked at Selta, who was still studying the bird. "Look, if you want to learn to fight-"

"No," Selta said. Cimorene noticed that, now that the fight was over, she was looking slightly green.

"I would," Tiff said. "Are you sure you don't want to, Selta? It seems like you'd be good at it."

"Shush," Cimorene whispered. "Someone is coming."

Down the road, she could see dust, and she could hear the rattling of chain mail, and the clopping of loud hooves. It was the knight.

"How good are knights against nighthawks?" Cimorene whispered.

"Funny that," Selta said. "If you believe Kelenborne, 'nighthawk' is actually the wrong cognate. It was 'knight-hawk' originally. They like shiny things. And horses don't usually like them."

By now, the nighthawk had heard the hoofbeats. It looked up from the dead lizard and peered down the road, directly at the cloud of dust. With a cry, it took off took off, launching itself at the cloud of dust. A moment later, there was a high-pitched whicker, followed by a thud. Something large and shiny rolled off the horse and, propelled by its own momentum, rolled down the steep hill into the pond below. The shiny object let out an involuntary scream.

The knight.

"Should we intervene?" Selta asked. Her expression was one of both horror and fascination.

Below, in the pond, a few figures were moving towards the knight, who seemed to have uprighted himself and was treading water.

"No," Cimorene said. "It looks like the water nymphs will get to him. He'll be fine. It's a pity about the horse, but we'd better get away while we can."

"It's fine," Selta said, still fascinated. "Once it kills an animal, it usually picks up the corpse and flies away. Look."

The horse had stopped struggling, and the nighthawk lifted it easily, its dark feathers set off against the setting sun. It flapped its wings a few times and was gone.

"Well, we're still going to need to be getting home." Cimorene stepped out of the bushes and bent down to pick up the mirror. The glass was shattered, and the wood was cracked, but she could still see tiny flickers of light. "Tiff, can you stand?"

Tiff shook her head. "My ankle hurts. I think I sprained it."

Without waiting, Selta placed her arm under Tiff's shoulder, helping her up. "Ow!" Tiff winced. "That arm's broken."

Cimorene sighed and looked at the mirror. Just maybe-

She looked down and took a breath. "Mirror, I need you to call Morwen the witch."

For once, the mirror didn't protest.

"Cimorene!" Morwen's voice was almost unintelligible. "What's going on?"

"Morwen, I'm going to need your help tonight."

After the call was over, Cimorene turned to the girls. "We're going to have to wait a little while, but I have a friend who is going to come over to help us. Just hold tight, Tiff."

Below them, in the pond, they could hear faint female laughter and an answering male voice. He didn't sound unhappy about the situation. Beside her, Tiff gave a joyless laugh. "A way out," she muttered.

Chapter Text

"Cimorene," Morwen said several hours later, "this was not what I meant by a break."

They were back in the caves. Tiff was lying on a stone slab, her arm in Morwen's lap as the witch wrapped it in bandages and leaves.

Tiff hissed. "Ow."

"Don't move," Morwen said calmly. "You'll just make this worse. You've done a nasty job on this arm, and we haven't even gotten to your leg yet."

"It hurts."

"Of course it hurts. Those lizard eggs are huge. Usually you have a few seconds of warning, but you seem to have gotten the full brunt of it. Didn't you hear anything before it fell out of the sky?"

Tiff didn't reply, and Morwen didn't seem to notice her expression. "I need another bandage, dear." She looked over at Kirvin, who was rushing between the tray of supplies. "You've been very helpful. Thank you."

Kirvin beamed.

After a few more minutes of finagling, Morwen finally released Tiff and sighed. "Cimorene, could you do a better job of keeping your charges safe? You seem to have done a decent job with Daystar, but with these-"

"I am not a charge," Shiara said stubbornly. She'd been standing at Morwen's elbow trying - and, based upon her expression, failing - to figure out the spells.

"And no one said you were. At least you had the common sense to stay home while these two" - she gestured at Cimorene and Tiff - "went trekking off to who-knows-where."

"It was actually to the village," Cimorene muttered, "and I'm a grown adult."

Morwen simply sighed and clucked her tongue. She turned back to Tiff. "Let's take a look at your leg."

Cimorene turned to Telemain, who was staring at the mirror with a disturbed expression on his face. "Is it terribly broken?"

"Yes," Morwen said behind her. "And it's showing signs of infection. Those lizards poison their prey and then wait for them to die. This will take some work." Tiff's response was another hiss of pain.

"I can't say it's functional," Telemain huffed. "The reflective surface is critical to obtaining a quality signal. Light refraction can interact with the magical matrix and cause unwanted interference. In cases like this, the refraction can self-propagate in an auto-catalytic fashion."

"Is he always like this?" Shiara whispered to Cimorene. "I can't make out a thing he's saying." She pouted. "And I can't make out a thing about the spell, either. It's not fair!"

"That's not polite, Shiara."

"I'm not feeling polite. What took you so long? Kazul has been fuming all day. I may be fireproof, but the furnishings are not."

Cimorene sighed. "We got waylaided."

"It's past midnight!"

"Perhaps you should go to bed, then. You're not doing much good right here."

Shiara stormed off to the other side of the room. She wouldn't go to bed, of course. They were all going to be miserable in the morning.

"Do you have any idea how long it will take to fix? It's important that I get through to Mendanbar."

Telemain grinned. "Ah, nuptial relations. I've learned communication is so important. It's taken us a little while to understand each other, of course, but-"

"But nothing," Morwen said, approaching the table where Telemain was working. "I've always understood you perfectly fine. It's everyone else who has problems."

"Magician-feline communication is complicated at best," Telemain said smoothly. "Witches have an edge on me, of course, but her animals do perceive me as an intruder. I've tried to develop some spells to facilitate the process, but it's been slow going."

"Have you met Selta, by the way? I think you and she might get along."

Telemain shook his head. "Is she another of your charges?"

Cimorene looked around the room. "She was-" She was gone, of course. Cimorene hadn't seen her since they'd returned from the roadside an hour or so ago. Probably off to bed, she thought. Their fight hadn't done anyone any good. She'd have to talk to her in the morning.

In the morning. Cimorene tried to suppress a yawn, but Morwen noticed anyway. "I think you had better go to bed, Cimorene. There's nothing you can do right now."

"I'm an adult, Morwen."

"Which is all the more reason for you to get sleep. I need sleep more than ever now that I'm an adult."

"You can go to sleep," Kirvin said, walking over to them. "Shiara and I can take it from here."

"There's a guest room down the hall," Shiara added. "Once Morwen finishes Tiff's leg, they can go sleep in there."

Cimorene was about to shake her head, but she yawned again, and a look from Morwen stopped her protests.

As she left the room, she could hear Kirvin say, "Can you show me how you are casting that healing spell?"

Cimorene awoke, still very tired, to someone banging at her door.

"Cimorene!" It was Shiara. "Kazul wants you."

Daylight was streaming through the window. She hadn't washed up before she went to bed, so her feet and legs were still covered in dust. She would have to do laundry. Easier here then-

"Cimorene, she wants you now."

Cimorene sighed and stood, stretching. "Give me a minute," she said. She pulled on a dress and stood at the wash stand.

"She sounded angry."

With a sigh, Cimorene pulled her shoes and stockings over dusty legs and rushed into the study, where Kazul was already waiting.

"Cimorene," Kazul said in confusion, "what happened to your hair?"

Cimorene sighed. "What do you need?"

At her words, a small elf, dressed in a stuffy-looking suit and wearing a pince-nez, stepped out from behind the desk and cleared her throat. "I," the elf said, clearing her throat, "am Opal Washwater, a senior representative of the Silverthorn Lawspeakers. I am here on official business." The woman made a point of looking Cimorene up and down. "And you are?"

"This," Kazul said, in a tone that managed to reflect both embarrassment and irritation, "is Cimorene, Queen of the Enchanted Forest and Chief Librarian."

"Pleased to meet you, I'm sure," Opal said smoothly, bobbing her head in greeting. "I've heard so much about you." She tsked and managed a polite smile. "It must have been so hard for you, spending so many years in that cottage. Such a different lifestyle, I assume. But you seem to have done well for your family. I have heard wonderful things about your son Daystar. My sister attended the investiture and-"

"Your business?" Cimorene prompted.

"Oh, yes. That." Opal stepped off the bench and rummaged through the stack of papers sitting beside her. She pulled out a yellow sheet, pushed her glasses down to read, and scanned them. "My firm is here to represent the dragon Arnora with regards to her current grievances with the reigning Dragon King Kazul."

"Reigning Dragon King?" Kazul cut in.

"Reigning," Opal repeated. "It's a legal term. It refers to the current holder of the throne. Just so that we do not get our language confused. There have been other Kings, of course." She turned back to Cimorene. "Arnora has requested our services because she feels that the current draconic grievance procedure may be a bit too casual for her liking. A hero has stolen a piece of personal property that she considers quite valuable and-"

"Yes," Cimorene cut in. "The teapot. We know. She came here to complain-"

"The chaki set," Opal said smoothly. She unrolled the scroll a bit further until she found the proper passage. "Here we are. A full chaki set, originally crafted by the acclaimed gnomish artist Liu-Pe and later customized and enchanted under her instructions by the great dwarven artificer Thorain Broadbrim, son of Elim and Alki." She pursed her lips. "Quite a valuable set, I am sure you understand. Ever since Liu-Pe's unfortunate death at the hands of the great usurper Tyrel some fifty years ago, all items even tangentially related to her have been very highly valued. She was quite well-regarded in her own lifetime, of course, but ever since her untimely demise-"

"What are you here for?" Cimorene cut in.

"We are here to engage in a preliminary discussion prior to the formal lawsuit. Our firm has always believed that reaching out in a casual manner" - Opal made a show of looking over her glasses to stare directly at Cimorene - "facilitates interaction prior to more formal actions. Arnora has engaged our services. We hope to bring this matter to as rapid a conclusion as possible."

"Arnora wants the tea set back," Kazul summarized. "And she mentioned your name in the lawsuit, so Opal wanted to meet you in person."

"Return of the chaki set is one goal, of course," Opal said, clearing her throat. "And finding it would be an excellent demonstration of good faith. But Arnora feels that it simply represents a broader problem. It is these factors that she would like to discuss in detail."

"What did you need me here for?" Cimorene asked. She was hungry, she realized, and she desperately wanted tea.

"Arnora's primary target is the Dragon Kingdom, of course. But there are other nations that also need to be engaged in this lawsuit. The Enchanted Forest being one of them. Arnora has stated that" - she unwound the scroll - "the King of the Dragons was distracted by matters within the Enchanted Forest, and this is the alleged reason for the lapse in security and the absence of fair warning. Kazul's defense, of course, has been that the kingdom needed defending as it had no true monarch at the time. International defense is, of course, a legally recognized claim, but the fact that a qualified monarch did exist during this time-"

"I was protecting my son!"

"Of course you were, dear. No one is questioning that." Opal returned to her notes. "Also, you seem to be responsible for inciting the event in question, both by distracting the co-resident of Arnora's cavern as well as, allegedly, giving the thief himself explicit directions to her cave." She squinted at the page. "Arnora alleges you may have played a role in summoning him, although details on that are unclear." She looked up. "We just wished to inform you of this, as well as to see if you had any comments to make prior to the lawsuit."

Cimorene stared at the elf in shock.

"Nothing. I will add that to my notes." Opal smiled politely and bowed to Kazul. "I thank you for your hospitality. I think this has been a most productive conversation."

She gathered her papers.

"Cimorene," Kazul said in a casual tone, "would you ask Shiara to escort our guest outside?"

"Of course."

"Please do make sure that the guardian patrolling these hallways is not present," Opal said. "Such a vicious creature."

"Guardian?"

"She means Nightwitch," Kazul explained. In a more confidential tone, she added: "The two don't seem to like each other."

"I see."

After Opal was gone, Kazul turned to Cimorene with a sigh. "I suppose it's important for your opponents to underestimate you."

"We were out late," Cimorene said. "Shiara woke me up and told me you needed me. She didn't say why."

"Of course she did," Kazul replied, but she didn't say anything more.

After the fiasco with Opal, it was almost a relief for Morwen to shoo her out of the caves like a child.

"Go!" she told her. "I need more tinsey for Tiff. I think I saw some on the hilltop the last time I visited."

The day was nice, though it would have been improved by several hours more sleep. The weather was warm and pleasant, and the birds-

Cimorene didn't want to think about the birds.

"How do you feel about knights?" Cimorene asked Kirvin, in a voice that she hoped was casual. It was just the two of them this morning. Shiara had been trying to work with Telemain on the mirror when she'd left, and she suspected it would be a bit before they saw Selta after yesterday.

If they saw her at all. Co-resident indeed. Princesses were often housekeepers, but Arnora apparently wanted a watchdog as well.

"What?"

"Are you waiting to be rescued?"

"No," Kirvin said. She sounded both startled and a little terrified, and Cimorene was quiet for a few minutes.

The well-worn path bent around a hill before crossing a bridge over a small stream. Cimorene stared up at the sky nervously.

"Did my family talk to you?" Kirvin finally asked. "About the knights, I mean."

"Usually, when princesses are captives of dragons, they're waiting for-"

"I'm not," Kirvin said firmly. "I'm sure they didn't mean anything by asking you to intervene, but-"

A large figure jumped out in front of them, and Cimorene, to her embarrassment, actually startled.

"You shall not pass," the troll intoned formally. "Only those who can successfully answer my riddle may cross to the other side."

"Since when do we need to answer a riddle to go to the village?" Cimorene grumbled. "You weren't here before."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." The troll sighed. "We've had a bit of a backup. A hero came along and slew the last Watcher a year and a half ago. I was called in to fill her job."

"A year and a half ago?"

"Look, you try crossing two continents while avoiding direct sunlight," the troll grumbled. "But here I am. Stationed at this bridge, doing my job, just as I was asked."

"You're here to guard the bridge," Cimorene said flatly.

"Yes," the troll said. "I am." He crossed his arms and stood in front of them. "Will you answer the question or not?"

Cimorene sighed. "Go ahead."

There was silence.

"I think you're supposed to ask us the question?" Kirvin prompted.

"Let me get myself in the mood first." The troll cracked his knuckles and then looked up with a determined expression.

"I am the guardian of the bridge," he declared. "Whoever shall cross must answer my riddle!" He looked over at them. "Are you with me so far?"

"You're doing a great job," Kirvin prompted. "Keep going."

"Here is the riddle: What walks on one leg in the morning, four legs at noon, and two legs - oh, bother!" the troll groaned.

"I think," Cimorene said carefully, "you may have gotten that mixed up?"

"I have gotten it mixed up," the troll said. "I've always gotten it mixed up. I've never had a mind for numbers."

"Maybe you could try a riddle that doesn't involve numbers?" Kirvin suggested.

"No." The troll shook his head. "No, the riddle needs to involve numbers. It's traditional. Who ever heard of a riddle that doesn't involve numbers?" He waved his hands in frustration. "Here's the arrangement. Someone approaches, I ask them the riddle. If they answer correctly, they get to cross the bridge. If they don't answer correctly, they don't."

"Does the bridge need to be guarded?"

"Of course it needs to be guarded!" The troll sighed dramatically. "Look, Harold's school is just a few miles that way. Those kids try to run everywhere. The only way to keep them is to keep them from crossing the bridge. That's why I was called. I'm here to stop them from doing something stupid, like-"

"It seems like you do have a problem."

The troll rolled his eyes. "Tell me something I don't know already! Now, are you going to answer the riddle?"

"Asked that way, I'm not sure it has an answer," Cimorene grumbled.

"A man," Kirvin said firmly. "It's a man."

The troll shook his head. "You are incorrect! It is not a man! It is a person." He smiled proudly. "This is the third time I've stopped un-auth-or-i-zed in-di-vi-du-als from crossing the bridge today! I will need to send a letter to my boss!"

"I think a man is a type of person?" Kirvin suggested.

"It is definitely-" The troll spun his head around. "Hey! What are you doing here?"

While they had been talking, a group of three young children dressed in school uniforms had quietly approached and were starting to walk casually across the bridge. "You can't come across until you answer the question," the troll intoned firmly.

The eldest - a girl of perhaps ten - looked up defiantly. "Yeah? Tell me the question."

"'What walks on one leg in the morning, three legs in the day, and two legs at night?'" the troll asked. He asked it far more confidently than he'd asked Cimorene.

"A man!" the girl said immediately.

"Incorrect," the troll declared, folding his arms. "You are incorrect."

"Nuh-uh!"

"'A man' is not the answer to the question."

"It was last year!"

"It's not the answer now. Now go away."

The girl turned to her friends and walked off the bridge, pouting. The troll turned back to Kirvin and Cimorene and smiled.

"You see? That's why the answer isn't 'a man'. If it were, every child would know how to cross the bridge!"

"But the answer is 'a man'," Kirvin said confidently. "Or, at least, it would be if you were asking the riddle correctly."

The troll stared at Kirvin in shock. "They're children. They're too young to have figured it out. That's why there's a riddle. Once they're old enough to understand the riddle, they're old enough to cross the bridge."

"They've probably talked to each other," Cimorene said. "Children do that."

"But then how am I supposed to stop them from crossing the bridge?"

"Why don't you just stop people under a certain age from crossing? Wouldn't that be easier?"

The troll frowned. "But how am I supposed to do that? All you humans look alike."

"Maybe you could have a sign? 'You must be this high to cross the bridge'?" Cimorene suggested.

"Hm," the troll said. "That sounds promising. But I'm still con-trac-tual-ly ob-li-ga-ted to ask a riddle."

"I think I saw a book of riddles in the library," Kirvin said. "Why don't I give it to you? That way, you can have a bunch of riddles to choose from. And you can read it from the book directly."

The troll looked at them up and down. "I like how you two think," he said. "That could work after all." He stepped aside and bowed formally. "'I give you permission to cross the bridge,'" he declared.

"So," Cimorene said, after they were out of earshot. "How do you feel about knights?"

"I don't want them," Kirvin said flatly. She looked over. "So what happened to Tiff?"

Chapter Text

Cimorene tried to talk to Tiff when she dropped off a supper plate later that day. It was late afternoon. She'd apparently been up and about for a few hours that day, but Morwen had banished her to her room again after she'd tripped on her skirt twice while trying to stand.

"There's no point in me healing her ankle if she's going to keep breaking it," Morwen had told Cimorene. "Tell her if she stays in bed for the rest of the day, she can try going outside tomorrow. Even magic can't fix her if she's not willing to let it work."

Tiff's room in Roxim's cave was a standard princess's room - layers of ruffles covering the bed and a gilded, heavily carved wardrobe that presumably currently held all the frilly dresses a girl thought she could want.

Hopefully, the wardrobe would give her something more useful tomorrow.

Tiff was lying on her bed staring up at the ceiling. The Romance of the Rose, a rather stuffy romantic epic that Cimorene had started to read and then immediately discarded when she had first been here twenty years before, sat face down on her bedside table. Tiff hadn't gotten far.

"Found any more princes?" she asked when she saw Cimorene. "They seem to be coming out of the woodwork." There was a faint undercurrent of bitterness to her voice.

"Not today," Cimorene said, trying to keep her voice light. "The second one seemed nice."

Tiff shrugged. "He wasn't really my type." She looked at Cimorene and tried to stretch. "Could we try fencing tomorrow?"

"Not until your leg is healed," Cimorene said in her most motherly tone. "Morwen told me you'd been putting too much weight on it."

Tiff pouted. "No one lets me do anything."

"Your ankle is hurt. You'll be able to do plenty of things once you're able to get up and walk around again. We could start on Latin tomorrow, though, if you'd like."

"I don't want to do Latin. I want to fence."

"We can fence once your ankle is healed," Cimorene said firmly. "I promise. I brought you supper. Shiara burnt the soup, but at least there's bread and some of the stored apples."

Tiff sat up, wincing as she moved her leg, and took the plate as Cimorene pushed a pillow behind her back. She sighed. "Thank you."

"Do you need anything else? I could get you a better book."

"No." There was a moment while Tiff pushed the bread around on the plate. "About yesterday," she began.

"Yes?"

"I'm not miserable."

That hadn't been what Cimorene had expected. "I never said you were."

"I'm not."

"Of course you're not. You're just a young woman lying in bed with a broken ankle, and you're upset because you can't go outside."

"I'm not upset."

Had Cimorene been as frustrating to her own parents? Maybe they hadn't been trying to get rid of her. Maybe they had actually expected that marriage to work.

"We're in agreement, then. You're not upset and you're not miserable. You're perfectly happy."

"Good." Tiff took another bite of bread and turned away. "Pass me the book, will you?"

***

"Cimorene!" Mendanbar greeted her over the reconstructed mirror that night. "We've had another set of lovely visitors who claim to know you."

Cimorene groaned. "Let me guess. Elves?"

Her husband's wry smile was distorted through the newly repaired glass. "Correct. Very unpleasant ones at that."

"They're Silverthorns," Cimorene grumbled. That bit of irritation hadn't yet occurred to her. "They're supposed to be on our side."

"Apparently not." Mendanbar pursed his lips. "I'm not sure if they're on anyone's side at the moment, except maybe Arnora's."

"What did they ask about?"

"The usual," Mendanbar sighed. "Whether we'd seen a fugitive - which we had. Why we sent not one but two spies to live with the King of the Dragons, and what sort of messages we were sending back and forth. Whether we had plans to help ransack dragon wealth and carry it back to the Enchanted Forest. They 'suggested' they could inventory our archives, just so they could clear up any confusion in advance. Really, Cimorene, just what have you been up to?"

Cimorene opened her mouth to reply, but the mirror filled with static.

"-politely require your assistance," Kazul was saying.

"We-" another voice responded

"-interference?" Mendanbar broke through.

"Cimorene?" Kazul's voice again. "Cimorene, why are you on the-"

"I'll talk to you later," Cimorene told Mendanbar, and then shut down the mirror.

***

The Silverthorn elves were supposed to ally with us against the wizards.

That was the thought that preoccupied her the next morning over breakfast, when she and Kazul sat alone at the kitchen table.

The Silverthorn elves swore loyalty to us.

Or that's what she'd been told they'd done. She'd been too busy taking care of Daystar, puttering around a cottage, to know for sure. A qualified monarch.

Perhaps she should have given Daystar over to a peasant family, to some loyal woodcutter or a huntsman. He would have been brought up in safety if not in prosperity. She would still have been able to handle the affairs of the Enchanted Forest, if only by proxy, and, sixteen years later, he still could have-

"You're blaming yourself," Kazul rumbled. Cimorene looked up from her tea in surprise at the other dragon, who was eating her second bowl of oatmeal. "I don't know what for this time, but it's the same expression you wore after we found out about Mendanbar."

Cimorene looked up. "I'm not-" She shook her head. "I'm trying to think where we all went wrong."

"Where what went wrong?"

"This." Cimorene gestured around the room. For some reason, she was suddenly near tears. "I don't care about Arnora. But the Silverthorn elves were supposed to be loyal to us, and somehow we lost that-"

"We didn't lose anything," Kazul said firmly. "The Silverthorn elves have always favored the dragons over the wizards. But they've favored dragons. Not a dragon. Not the King of the Dragons. Just dragons in general. Arnora is just the same as me." Kazul put down her oatmeal. "But you're far too preoccupied to be worried about my affairs of state."

"They've been down to visit Mendanbar," Cimorene admitted in a gloomy tone. "They've been poking around the archives and interviewing people in court. We can't afford that sort of scandal! We barely have any connections with the neighboring kingdoms already. And Daystar is an only child, and-"

"Cimorene," Kazul cut in. "They're lawspeakers. They talk to people. That's what they're supposed to do." She sighed. "Whatever happens, I think the Enchanted Forest will come out alright in the end."

Cimorene shook her head. "And you? What's going to happen to you?"

Kazul waved her head in ambivalence. "I wouldn't worry about it too much. I have people coming today, but it will blow over in the end."

Chapter Text

It will not blow over in the end, Cimorene thought several hours later, as she stared at the lawspeakers Kazul had hired. They were a motley crew - two elves, a human, and a very jumpy gnome, together with a troll who carried a large stack of books.

"Has Arnora filed an official claim yet?" Deonaril, the human, asked. She seemed to be the leader of the group.

"No," Kazul said. "She has not. She is planning to wait for a full counsel meeting."

"A pity. We'll have to try to deduce the full extent of her claim, in that case. Urtar, can you bring me the index?"

The troll lifted the largest of the texts and placed it on the table in front of her. Deonaril pinched the bridge of her nose with ink-stained fingers with one hand and began to flip through the pages with the others.

"Chaki law is complex," she said. "But not all sections of the law apply to every object, of course. If a cooking utensil is capable of producing a full meal, for example-"

"It does not," Kazul said crisply. "All this one does is boil water."

"That simplifies things," Deonaril said. She pulled a ribbon from the book, opening it to a premarked chapter, then removed a notebook from one of her pockets. "Do you have a -" She looked around the desk, then patted her other pockets. "Here we are!" She pulled out a pen and bottle of ink.

"Let us begin," she said, unstopping the bottle and setting it on the table. "I'd like to narrow down exactly which laws Arnora can use. Please answer these as precisely as you can. I need to have as good an understanding of the case as possible." Running her fingers down the page, she started. "This utensil. Is it valuable?"

"Yes," Cimorene said.

"No," Kazul said at the same time. Then she looked at Cimorene and sighed. "Perhaps."

"Hm. Is it an heirloom?"

"Definitely not."

"Made by a celebrated artist?"

"Yes."

"Custom enchanted?"

"Apparently."

"Does it have ivory or gold inlays?"

Kazul looked at Cimorene, who shrugged. "I don't know," the dragon said. "I've never seen the set."

"Hm." Deonaril twisted her mouth. "Is it blue or silver?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes," Deonaril said. "It does. Quite a lot. Blue and silver sets-"

"I have no idea if it's blue or silver. No one has seen the set," Kazul sighed. "She's a young dragon. I think it must have been one of the first items that Arnora acquired when she finally took a name."

"Sentimental value. Possibly ceremonial as well." Deonaril tapped the pages. "Those are two angles of pursuit, I suppose. We need to get a full description of the set. I'd like to be sure what we're dealing with."

Kazul sighed and exchanged a glance with Cimorene. "Like I said, I've never seen the set."

"We need a description," Deonaril repeated.

"Maybe someone needs to talk to her," Cimorene said thoughtfully. Maybe that person is me.

****

It was after lunch that Cimorene set out to find Arnora.

Arnora's caves were towards the far west side of the mountains, and the adjacent cliff face was riddled with peep holes and crevices that undoubtably provided easy access to her valuables. Not that she would appreciate that sort of information.

"Arnora?" Cimorene asked as she approached the door. "Selta?" Perhaps it would be easier if Arnora were gone. She still needed to talk to Selta, and it might be easier if she were on her own.

No one answered.

She rapped the door knocker once, twice, three times, then stood back and waited. No reply.

Sometime in the two decades she'd been gone, Kazul had gotten around to positioning a gargoyle at the mouth of her cave. He was slow and stupid, as gargoyles went, and he took some time to rouse, but at least it meant visitors didn't stand at the door for several minutes without a response.

Cimorene stood at the door for longer than she should have, staring at the area around her. The cliff from Arnora's door was steep, and she could see over it to the valley below. It was good birdwatching, she realized, if you enjoyed that sort of thing. She finally turned away.

"I see you, Cimorene!"

Cimorene jumped involuntarily, then turned up to see Arnora clinging to the cliff face. She'd been in shadow, so her brown scales had managed to blend in with the stone.

"How long have you been up there?"

"It doesn't matter," Arnora snapped. Her teeth were large and sharp, not yet worn down with time. "I've caught you now. You were poking around Roxim's cave yesterday, probably trying to scout out the place. You little thieves think you're so clever."

"Arnora, what are you doing?"

"I was watching my hoard. My king doesn't seem to be doing a good job of it." She dropped onto the cliff and made a half-circle around Cimorene, blocking off the path.

She can't attack me, Cimorene thought, as she backed away from Arnora. It was hard to remember that. She can't attack the Queen of the Enchanted Forest.

"I wasn't trying to speak to Roxim," Cimorene said carefully, but Arnora didn't listen.

"Kazul keeps going on about diplomatic ties, but I don't buy it. You're a person, after all. I could eat you if I wished. I won't, but I could."

This was ridiculous. "Do you have a point, Arnora?" Cimorene asked, trying to keep her calm. "I'm trying to find that tea set you're after. It's hard when I don't know what it looks like."

Arnora momentarily seemed to consider what Cimorene was saying, but then she shook her head. "You are all the same," she said. "You. Heroes. Those wizards. All of you, wanting an excuse to look through my things." She shook her head. "I'm not buying it."

"I'm trying to help you," Cimorene said. "I can't help you unless I know what I'm looking for."

"You're not trying to help me," Arnora snapped. "You're trying to steal more of my things. You and that little rat of a king, messing around in other people's business. You can't even manage the Enchanted Forest properly! How are you supposed to help me?"

Rat of a king? "That's my husband you're talking about!"

"Get out." The words were punctuated with a snap of Arnora's teeth. "Leave. Or else I'll be serving papers to the Enchanted Forest tomorrow. I'm sure everyone will love to know that the Queen of the Enchanted Forest was caught like a thief."

I'm sure you will, Cimorene thought. With a sigh, she turned away.

Chapter Text

That night, Cimorene slipped out of her dressing gown, blew out the candle, and climbed into bed. She closed her eyes, visions of Arnora and tea sets dancing before her, and--

"I'm here!"

The voice - excited and high pitched - came from above her, and Cimorene yelped involuntarily.

"Cimorene?" It was Shiara. She sounded half asleep. "Did you say something?"

"No," Cimorene called. "I'm fine. Go back to sleep."

She closed her eyes as well. Perhaps if she-

"I'm here!" the voice repeated from above her.

This time, she'd half expected it. "Who is here?" Cimorene asked quietly.

"It's me! Ziriz! I'm a good lizard!"

"I'm sure you are," Cimorene muttered groggily. "You're a good lizard. If you'll let me-"

"I'm a very good lizard! Good lizards get crickets! Can I get a cricket?"

"Good lizards let me sleep," Cimorene said, yawning. "Good lizards get crickets in the morning."

"But I'm a very good lizard!" Something dropped onto her chest, and Cimorene yelped again.

"What was that?"

"My gift for you! I'm a good lizard! Good lizards get crickets!"

"What gift?" To Cimorene's relief, the item was small and smooth and cold. A letter, perhaps?

"A message! I brought you a message! I'm a good lizard!"

"I'll read it in the morning."

"But I want a cricket now! Good lizards get crickets!"

"I don't have a cricket," Cimorene muttered. "Go to sleep. I'll get you a cricket in the morning."

"I'll take pie," the cricket said, in the same tone Daystar had used when trying to negotiate his way out of his Latin lessons. "Or sometimes I'll eat cheese. Good lizards get crickets, but I'll settle for pie."

"I'll get you pie in the morning-"

"But I want it now!"

This isn't going to stop. With a sigh, Cimorene swung her legs off the bed and pulled on her dressing gown. "I'm awake," she muttered. She took the candle and lit it from the embers of the brazier. "What do you want?"

"I told you," the voice said. "I want a cricket!"

Cimorene looked up and she could see the tiny silver-green creature, clinging to the fabric of her canopy bed.

"I can get you some cheese," she said with a sigh.

"I'm a good lizard! Good lizards get pie!"

"I'll get you pie."

The moment she opened her door, a cold wind blew down the hallway, extinguishing her candle almost immediately. Very well. She could manage this in the dark. She groped out and found the wall, following it for guidance. The next two doors were spare guest chambers, and the third was a washroom. A turn in the corridor. The door that followed was Shiara's room. The door was partially open, and she could hear the girl mutter something in her sleep. The door after that-

"Mrrow?" A small bundle of fur wrapped around one leg. "Mrrow?"

"Nightwitch," Cimorene whispered. The cat rubbed against her leg and then stepped away. "Go to sleep," Cimorene whispered, but a second later she felt a warm body jump against her. Claws dug into the sturdy fabric of her dressing gown. "Nightwitch, down," Cimorene said a bit more loudly, and tried to pull the cat off of her.

"Hmm?" It was Shiara. Still asleep. No point in waking the girl up.

Nightwitch had scurried up and climbed onto Cimorene's shoulders, splaying herself out. "You can come with me," Cimorene whispered, rubbing the cat on her head. "But you're going to have to be quiet."

The room opposite Shiara's led to a kitchen antechamber. There, a small window provided a little light. Cimorene walked her way carefully over to the stove and relit her candle.

The kitchen was chilly, and there were dirty dishes piled in the sink and lying on the counter. Nightwitch rebalanced on Cimorene's shoulders repeatedly as she rummaged through the cabinet trying to find a plate. All of them were dirty. She'd have to talk to Shiara in the morning.

Lizards don't need clean plates, Cimorene thought, a little sulkily, but she still managed to pump enough water to wash off the crumbs.

The standing chest under the window held the remainder of the last day's meal. A small jar of butter, suspended in standing water, sat on end of the top shelf, next to a wheel of cheese. Beside it was -

"No!" Cimorene said, as Nightwitch made to leap off of her shoulder. "This isn't for you."

The cat audibly grumbled, but at least she allowed Cimorene to cut a slice of steak-and-kidney pie without swiping at her hand, and she didn't protest as Cimorene slid the chest door shut.

"Good girl," Cimorene whispered. "If you stay down, I'll give you some pie once the lizard is finished." On her shoulders, Nightwitch purred.

As she reentered the room, she saw the little lizard had made its way to the wall. "I'm a good lizard!" it chirruped when it saw her.

"You are," Cimorene said, too tired to argue. "You get pie."

"I wanted a cricket!" the lizard protested. "Good lizards get crickets!"

"Good lizards will eat pie," Cimorene said.

"I'll eat pie," it said sulkily. "I'm a good lizard."

"Eat up fast," Cimorene told it. "The rest of it goes to the cat."

The lizard ate far more pie than Cimorene had expected it to. "This stuff is good," it said through a mouthful of food. "But not as good as cricket." It looked at her. "Aren't you going to read the message?"

Cimorene sighed. "I'll read it in the morning."

"In the morning, I'm going to leave!" the lizard said. "But you need to read the message first. I'm a good lizard!"

"Of course you are. But I need to sleep first."

"Read the message!" the lizard chirruped. "Read it!"

It was no use.

Cimorene broke the seal and unrolled the scroll. It was long and formal, elegantly signed with her mother's signature.

The Queen of Linderwall sends greetings to her daughter, the newly recovered Queen of the Enchanted Forest.

Since we have learned of your return, I have desired your good fortune. Your return has brought us much delight. The Enchanted Forest lingered for a generation without a king, and it is to our pleasure that it has been restored to its status amongst the hundred realms.

It is therefore with much sadness and trepidation that we report that we have learned of your misdeeds. We have not raised children to be thieves; we expected better of our descendants. Word of your misbehavior has traveled far to reach our ears, which means it will spread farther before it is done.

Take heed, I beg you, if not for your own fortune, for that of your son's and your realm, lest additional scandal befall you. You have been long gone, and there is much to make right and much more that could be made wrong.

Fare thee as well as I fare, my dearest daughter.

Cimorene looked up from the parchment.

"Oh, bother."

"Do you have a response?" the lizard asked. "What do you want me to send?"

"I don't."

"Oh."

Cimorene took the plate from the table when the lizard was done and put it at the door where Nightwitch could eat it, then blew out the candle and climbed back into bed.

After she blew out the candle, she could hear the lizard scurrying in the dark.

***

The next day, they encountered the third knight.

Tiff was finally out of bed and painstakingly making her way up the path, Cimorene and Kirvin at her sides. The path was smooth and dry, which was a blessing, as every step still clearly hurt.

"This afternoon - oof - can we-" a hiss of pain "- fence?"

"No," Cimorene said firmly. "We definitely cannot fence today. Not with your ankle still hurting like that." Something flapped past her, close enough that she could feel the wind on her face. "That bird-" she began without thinking, and Tiff visibly flinched, then gasped as she put too much weight on her ankle.

"Not you, too," Tiff muttered once she recovered. "You're spending too much time with Selta."

Selta. Cimorene still intended to talk to her. Clearly not around Arnora.

"It's not a bird," Kirvin muttered, as the creature circled back and then dropped down to land on her shoulder. She looked annoyed rather than surprised.

"What is it, then?"

Kirvin sighed. "My mother." As she touched the bird, it turned into a slip of paper. She opened it, glanced over the lines, then rapidly crumpled it up.

"Your mother?"

"Yes."

Beside her, Tiff hissed again. "I think I'm going to have to sit down for a minute," she said finally. "Just for a minute," she said, glancing at Cimorene. "I just need to pull up my stockings." She was wearing a more sensible dress this time, ankle-length and plain. One of her boots was clearly swollen.

Cimorene nodded, and helped her over to a log. Kirvin scanned the sky thoughtfully, still holding the crumpled paper in her hand. Suddenly, she glanced down the path. "Something's coming."

It was a prince. A cloud of dust heralded his approach, but as he crested the hill, the prince came into view. He wore a golden circlet and a rich red velvet cloak, only slightly discolored from the walk.

He was also a dragon.

"Greetings, o travelers," he said as they approached. He bowed deeply. "I am a prince from the land of the Dragons ruled by the Emperor-over-the-Sea. I have travelled far to meet with the wonderful King Kazul and learn of his wisdom. Would you care to direct me to the palace of the King of the Dragons?"

A prince. The dragon was short, too - less than fifteen feet in length. Old enough to choose his gender, but not old enough to choose his name.

"His wisdom?" Kirvin whispered.

Cimorene ignored her. She curtseyed, then, using the format she had learned as a child, said, "Greetings, Dragon Prince. I bring you greetings and wish you joy. I am Queen Cimorene of the Enchanted Forest, and these are Princess Kirvin of Wood-of-the-Wind and Princess Tiffany of Elmswall. We are pleased to meet your acquaintance. I am currently a guest of King Kazul. I can lead you back to her caves, if you would like."

The prince drew back, a little shocked. "Queen?"

"Yes," Cimorene said. "Queen of the Enchanted Forest."

"Oh no," the prince said. "That won't do at all." He looked at the others. "But you said you were princesses?"

"Yes," huffed Tiff.

"Of the King Kazul?"

"No. Not of King Kazul."

"Good." He twisted his head, studying them. "I'm no judge, but I think either of you would do nicely," he said. Then, in a conspiratorial tone, he declared "I'm really here to find a princess."

"A princess?" Cimorene stared at him. "You came to the King of the Dragons to find a princess?"

"The King of the Dragons-in-the-East," the prince corrected, with a sharp look at her. "Not of all dragons. And not so loud. I should be here to receive wisdom. But yes. What I really want is a princess so that I can be a proper dragon. Where better to find one than here?" He looked them over. "Would either of you be amenable to joining me?"

"Not another one," Tiff muttered.

"What was that?" the prince asked.

"Nothing," Tiff said, a bit louder.

"I don't think-" Cimorene began.

"Yes," Kirvin cut in. "Let's go. Can we leave immediately?"

"Er." The dragon waved his head in confusion. "I think there's a formal process-"

"Wait, what?" Tiff turned to Kirvin with a look of betrayal.

"Kirvin, you have a dragon already," Cimorene said. "What's going on?"

"I want a new one!" Kirvin said quickly. "Moranz and I are getting a little tired of each other. And I think it would be interesting to head across the sea. When else am I going to get the chance to travel?"

"Well, traditionally-" the dragon prince began in a formal tone.

"Forget tradition!" Kirvin exclaimed. "I'd love to join you." She looked at the dragon. "Can we leave tonight?"

"Not tonight," the dragon said slowly. "I still need to meet to with King Kazul. I'm supposed to be here on a diplomatic mission, after all. And I need to challenge your dragon - Moranz, did you say it was? We will need to fight on a proper field, and that will require some arrangement-"

"You're going to fight Moranz for Kirvin?" Tiff asked. She sounded vaguely jealous. "You're going to win her from another dragon?"

"Yes," the dragon prince said. "I am a prince, so I will fight Moranz to win my princess. That is how these things work, correct?" He tilted his head to the side. "At least, that is how they work in our realm. I am not sure about yours."

"I've never heard of two dragons fighting for a princess," Cimorene said, "but Kazul has people who could probably give you all the details."

"I'm sure Moranz won't mind," Kirvin said. "We don't need to wait."

"Kirvin, what's going on?" Cimorene repeated.

"Nothing's going on. I just want to travel," Kirvin said.

"What was in that note?" Tiff asked, eyeing the crumpled paper in her hand.

Kirvin sighed. "It's from my mother. She wants me home. For the good of the realm. But I don't want to go. Are you sure we can't leave tonight?"

"I'm quite sure," the dragon prince said stiffly. He turned to Cimorene. "She's a bit informal, but-"

"I can do formal!" Kirvin protested. "I can be very formal."

Tiff gave a cry again as she tried to struggle to her feet.

"That one is broken," the dragon prince said to Cimorene. "Are princesses supposed to break?"

"I'm not broken," Tiff said. "I'm fine. All I need is for you to help me stand up-" She yelped as Kirvin took her hand and pulled.

"Are you sure she's supposed to do that? Princesses are definitely supposed to walk, aren't they?"

"I can walk!" Tiff said. "And I can be formal, too. More formal than her," she said, glaring at Kirvin.

Cimorene sighed. "Let's go introduce you to King Kazul." And tonight Morwen can pay Tiff another visit.

Chapter Text

"In the Empire-over-the-Sea," the dragon prince said after they had sat down for supper, "we have separate rooms, but we take our meals together. It is a practice my great-grandfather started some three hundred years ago. He has found it produces harmony amongst us."

"Indeed," Kazul said. By now, she had given up trying to respond to his comments in any meaningful way. "Your grandfather sounds very wise."

"I am the third eldest, so I am permitted my own chambers," the dragon prince continued. "And I am permitted a princess." His tone made it clear that they were to find this impressive.

"Of course," Cimorene said.

"My great-grandfather is quite wealthy," he said. "We all have beds of gold. My elder sister is permitted two princesses, though of course she has limited herself to one right now. Two is an unlucky number."

"One princess sounds perfect," said Kirvin. "One is a very lucky number."

"One is a natural number," the dragon prince said. "I have had many tutors. My great-grandfather has made sure of that as well. But he also has had to make sure that we are well-connected with different kingdoms. That is why we have princesses." He looked at Kazul. "Is that why you have princesses as well?"

"Yes," Kazul said abstractly. A status symbol, Kazul had once told Cimorene.

"We also have greenhouses," the dragon prince said. "We grow orchids. My great-great-grandmother's first princess grew them, and now most of us have orchids. Do you grow orchids?" he asked Kazul.

"We grow lilies," Kirvin said. "And roses. But I found a book in the library on orchids. I'm sure I can learn to grow them."

"Of course you can," the dragon prince said. "You will have all the time in the world to learn, when you are my princess." He turned to Kazul. "I do need to arrange to fight Moranz. Should I make a direct challenge, or do I need to send an intermediate?"

"Arrange to fight-" Kazul turned to Cimorene, confused. Kirvin winced.

The dragon prince turned to Cimorene as well. "Should I have not asked her directly? Perhaps I should have asked for an intermediary. Oh, dear, I hope-"

"The first course is late," Cimorene said, standing quickly and turning to the door. "I'm going to go see what's taking so long." She strode from the room before the prince could make a reply.

The dining room hallway led directly to the kitchen, so Cimorene had a clear view of Shiara as she removed the lid of the cauldron. Smoke emerged from the vessel, and she started to cough. "It's black," Shiara said, waving the smoke away. "Is rice supposed to be black?"

"It was white when you put it in the pot," Tiff said doubtfully.

"So is dough." Shiara took a spoon off the counter and scooped out some charred kernels. "It's still hard."

"Did you add water?" Tiff asked.

"I added water!" Shiara said. "I added a cup of water to the rice! I'm not stupid."

"How is dinner going?" Cimorene asked from the doorway with forced cheer. "Do you need any help?"

"No," Shiara said.

"Yes," Tiff said at the same time. "She does."

"You could help," Shiara said, turning on her. "Instead of just sitting there telling me I can't cook!"

"I can't stand!" Tiff said. "I would be cooking otherwise! I could definitely do a better job than you!"

Before Shiara could reply, Cimorene cut in. "Let's get started, then." A part of her was relieved to be away from the dragon prince. "Shiara, where are you on cooking dinner?"

"I made rice," Shiara said, gesturing at the pot. "And there's a roast on the hearth. The roast should have been enough, if the dragon prince hadn't arrived." She clenched her fists again.

"Kazul is a King. Guests arrive without announcement all the time. You'll have to learn to deal with that," Cimorene said. She eyed the charred grain in the pot doubtfully. "I don't think the rice can be saved, but let's take a look at the roast." She walked over to the hearth and studied the spit roast. The bottom half of the pig looked burnt. "Have you turned this yet?"

"Turned it?" Shiara asked.

Tiff gave a derisive snort.

"Tiff, that's not helpful," Cimorene said, using her most authoritative voice. "Shiara, help Tiff move her stool over here. Tiff, you might not be able to walk around, but you can turn the spit roast." She studied the carcass. "At least you skewered it properly," she said. "We can still use it."

She turned back to the pantry. "We're going to have to serve something while waiting for the meat to cook. We can't just let them sit there alone forever. Shiara, put another pot of water on the stove. We can boil some of the dried mushrooms and pass it off as soup for a first course while you make more rice."

"We're out of rice," Tiff said. "Shiara used the last of it."

"I did not-"

"We'll have to find a replacement," Cimorene said. She hummed and looked around. It was too late to make bread. "Do we still have oatmeal?"

The next time Deonaril visits, I'll have to ask her how many laws we would have to break to buy a proper Cauldron of Plenty.

***

"This is delicious," the dragon prince said an hour later. "I'd never thought of eating oatmeal with meat before. Is it common?"

"It's not common," Kazul said delicately. "I believe it's my princess's own recipe. But it is quite good."

"And this as a second course, too. The mushroom broth was very delicate." He turned to Kirvin. "Kirvin, you really must work with Shiara. You will need to learn this recipe before we leave. Is there anything you already know how to cook?"

"Wood-of-the-Wind is known for its ices," Kirvin said. "We have dozens of flavors."

"That sounds delightful," said the dragon prince, in tones of disinterest. "I look forward to trying them." He turned to Kazul. "That reminds me of a story about-"

"Speaking of ices," Cimorene said, "I need to go check on dessert."

The kitchen was in even more turmoil than it had been just before dinner. A stack of dirty dishes were piled high in the sink, and half of the dinner table was coated in oatmeal. The air reeked of smoke, and Cimorene started to cough.

"It's burnt," Tiff was saying. "There's no way you can serve this."

"It's only a little scorched," Shiara said. "Butterscotch is supposed to be burnt. That's where the taste comes from." She looked up. "Cimorene, taste this, please? It's perfectly fine butterscotch pudding. I followed the recipe exactly." She held up a spoonful of dark brown goop.

"I can't blame her," Tiff said to Cimorene. "She's a fire witch. She can't help that she burns everything."

"We need to serve something," Cimorene said, sighing. She studied the pudding. "It's too late to make mousse. Perhaps we can whip cream to cover the taste?"

"Can we set it on fire?" Tiff asked sarcastically.

"That's not helpful, Tiff. We don't set dessert - oh!" Cimorene brightened. "Cherry jubilee! I haven't had it in years!"

"Cherry jubilee?"

"It's fast," Cimorene said. "And Shiara can set it on fire."

"That's not fair," Shara said. "I don't try to set things on fire. Mostly."

"Well, this one you will."

Fifteen minutes later, Shiara was stirring the cherries and Cimorene was wiping down the table when there was a knock at the door. Morwen. "I'll get it!" Shiara said, putting down her spoon.

"No, you're not," Tiff said from her chair, where she was trying to whip cream. "Cimorene, she can't get the door. We don't have more cherries!"

"I'll get it," Cimorene said with a sigh.

Chapter Text

"Morwen," Cimorene greeted her. "I'm glad to see you."

Morwen glanced around the room, and Cimorene took in the piles of dirty dishes and other debris. Part of the pig carcass sat at the end of the table, where it needed to be boiled down for soup. The floor was still sticky with butterscotch pudding.

"What are you up to now?" she asked her.

Cimorene sighed.

"It's not my fault!" Shiara said, looking up from the pot of cherry jubilee. "I didn't know we'd have guests for dinner!"

"And nobody said that it is," Morwen said firmly. "Cimorene, what have you been teaching these girls?"

Tiff made an irritated sound, but Morwen pointedly ignored her.

"Life skills," Cimorene muttered.

"Clearly," Morwen replied. "Well," she said in a louder voice. "Let's get this kitchen in order, shall we?" She turned to Tiff, who had finally finished whipping the cream. "And what are you doing?"

"I just finished whipping the cream," Tiff said. "My arm hurts."

"It probably does," Morwen said. "But there's still work to be done. Time for it to hurt later. Why don't you go sweep out the hearth while we assemble the cherry jubilee?"

"I can't," Tiff said. "I hurt my ankle again."

"So you did," Morwen said, unphased. "Shiara, once you're finished, bring that empty cauldron over here. Tiff, you can scrub it out. Cimorene-"

"She was supposed to eat dinner with our guest," Tiff said, a hint of a nasty smile on her face. "She ought to join him."

"Why don't you go sit down for dessert?" Morwen suggested to Cimorene. "I can take over from here."

Cimorene glared at Tiff, then turned to Morwen. "We're making cherry jubilee. It's my specialty. I can't-"

Behind her, Shiara touched a candle to the pot of cherries, then yelped as the mixture burst into flame. "That thing burnt me!"

"You're a fire witch," Tiff said. "You can't be burnt."

"I can't be burnt," Shiara said. "But my clothes can. Cimorene, this stupid thing caught my dress on fire."

"Your wardrobe can make a new one tomorrow," Cimorene said. "Morwen, I really can't-"

"Of course you can," Morwen said. "Take the cherries out and go sit down with your guests." She turned back to the stove. "Shiara, why don't you go sweep out the hearth?"

"You're a witch," Shiara snapped. "Don't you have spells to do this?"

"I've never felt the need to cast a spell to do something I could just as easily do myself," Morwen said. "I can sweep a hearth as well as any enchanted broom. As can you. Cimorene, you can take those out to the hall." Her tone offered no disagreement.

"When I'm a full witch, I'm never going to do housework," Shiara said.

"You're not a full witch now," Morwen said. "And I recommend never declaring what you're going to do in the future. Most people change their minds as often as not."

With a sigh, Cimorene turned, put the trays on a cart, and took them into the dining room. As she opened the door, she heard the dragon prince say: "And that reminds me of another story...."

It was going to be a very long night.

***

It was several hours - and several rounds of Shiara's mud-thick after-dinner coffee - before Cimorene could finally extricate herself from the dragon's company.

"This was a fascinating conversation," Cimorene said, interrupting another of his stories, "but I really need to go and talk to our other guests. Morwen is a good friend of mine."

"Oh," the dragon prince said. "Can you invite her in? I would love to hear if she knows anything about daffodils. We have such lovely ones in my greenhouse."

"I can grow daffodils," Kirvin said. "I learned to grow them once with a tutor. They-"

"I'm going to join Cimorene as well," Kazul cut in. "I think Morwen is too busy to take coffee."

"If you're sure she won't sit down-?"

"It wouldn't be proper," Cimorene replied quickly. "She's my guest, not Kazul's."

Kazul shifted beside her, and Cimorene realized what she had said. "But it's proper for Kazul to greet her right now. As King of the Dragons, that is."

"Very proper," Kazul added. "Kirvin, why don't you show the dragon prince to his chambers? I'm sure he's tired from his travels."

"Is it late here?" the dragon prince asked in confusion. "There's a full moon. We would usually stay up half the night in the Empire-over-the-Seas."

"We don't," Cimorene said.

"I would love to hear more about daffodils," Kirvin said.

"You would?" the dragon prince said. "In that case-"

Cimorene stood up. Kazul followed, not even taking the time to stretch, and rapidly exited into the side hall.

"Such a charming find," Kazul murmured.

"Perhaps you should tell Arnora about him," Cimorene muttered. "Fair warning is part of the Pact."

Kazul snorted a laugh. "I really shouldn't. I'd hate to see him at a formal feast."

****

"Well," Morwen said an hour later, "you have been keeping busy."

She, Kazul, and Cimorene were seated at the table together, small pots of chocolate in hand. The dishes had been dried and put away, and the air only smelled faintly of smoke.

"Busy?" Shiara scoffed from the sink. "She's been busy?"

"Yes," Morwen said calmly. "You'll find that management is quite exhausting, once you're older. I believe you've missed a spot, by the way." She turned around, ignoring Shiara's huff of protest.

"Thank you for your help," Cimorene said, pitching her voice just loud enough for Shiara to hear. "I couldn't have managed the dinner without you."

"Yes," Kazul said, following her lead. "I was worried at first, but the meal was excellent." Lowering her voice, she added: "And the conversation was fantastic. I learned so many things about orchids."

"Orchids?" Morwen said, perking up. "Rootworm have been infecting my garden this year. Do you think your guest-"

"No," Cimorene and Kazul said simultaneously. The agreement made Cimorene burst into giggles. It took her a few minutes to calm down.

"He really was rather bad, wasn't he?" she said, when she finally managed to stop.

"Dragons have many flaws," Kazul said, somewhat thoughtfully. "But I'd always prided us on our common sense. It's not nice to be proven wrong after so many years."

"It's not that he's a dragon," Cimorene said. "He's a prince. They seem to be getting more ridiculous by the day. That poor fish must be desperate by now."

"Fish?"

"This is all Tiff's fault," Shiara said, sitting down. She had poured herself a mug of chocolate, and was now eating directly from one of the pans of cherry jubilee. "The teaset. The dragon. A fish offered her a wish a few days ago, and she asked for-"

"She may have been a bit vague," Cimorene cut in. "She probably should have given him more to work with."

"And there wasn't even any catch!" Shiara added, in an irritated tone of voice. "She could have asked for magic and not needed to be polite or anything!"

"Not all of us are good at thinking on our feet," Cimorene said. "Certainly not under that sort of pressure."

"I know what I would ask for!" Shiara huffed.

"Then you must be very lucky," Morwen said. She looked at her empty cup. "Now, what I woud ask for is another mug of chocolate and some of that leftover cherry jubilee. And fortunately you have the ability to get me both of them."

"That's not much of a wish," Shiara said. To Cimorene's surprise, however, she stood without protest.

"As I've gotten older, I've found that there's fewer things I need to wish for," Morwen said. "Much of what I want seems to be within my control." She turned to the others, though this time her voice was loud enough to keep Shiara within the conversation. "And what would you two wish for?"

Kazul hummed for a moment, thoughtful. "Adventure," she suggested thoughtfully. "A challenge. But not too big of one. Life does get a bit sedate when you are King, and it's always nice to have something change."

"And you?"

"Good relations between the Enchanted Forest and its surrounding kingdoms," Cimorene said smoothly.

"Ah," Kazul said. "You always ask for the difficult ones."

Chapter Text

As the couple was leaving, Cimorene sought Telemain out by the door.

"If I want to find something that's missing," Cimorene asked, "how would I look for it?"

Telemain looked at her. "Through your optical lenses, of course. Although Linnen suggests that rays may emanate from your eyes rather than from the objects themselves. Unless the object is invisible, in which case-"

"If it's not in front of me. Is there a magical way to find something?"

"Ah." Telemain's distant expression disappeared. "This is about the chaki set?"

"The - oh!"

"We did have someone approach us several days ago. Very particular, although I appreciate her attention to detail. Had she applied herself, she might have been quite a magician. I had to fix her floating quills in the middle of her story, however, because her-" He stopped, remembering the direction of her question. "She did ask about you but I wouldn't worry. I gave you a glowing review. And told her that I'm sure the Enchanted Forest had quite enough tea sets. And that I'm sure I could enchant one of them if asked. As a favor, you understand. No financial exchanges necessary."

"Did she happen to give you any information about the set?"

"Information?" Telemain blinked in surprise. "No, she seemed more interested in acquiring information than in distributing it. But what information do you happen to need?"

"What it looks like," Cimorene said. "Is it blue?" She shook her head, trying to remember what the elf had said. "But really, I just want to find the blasted thing."

Telemain pursed his lips. "Object location spells," he said thoughtfully. "There really are a number of possibilities. Al'Kindi alone has a dozen volumes on the subject. With access to his codex and a proper sorting algorithm, selection might be facile, but-"

"What he means," Morwen said, walking over to them, "is that it would be easier to figure out your problem if he had access to his library."

"I was gathering that," Cimorene said.

Morwen kissed Telemain on the cheek. "Why don't you come over tomorrow and you two can look for the appropriate spell? I can make gingerbread and Nightwitch can visit the other cats."

"I-" Visiting a magician would hardly have been something Cimorene wanted to do when she was younger, but now it didn't sound unappealing. "Yes," Cimorene said with a smile. "I will."

Hopefully she would be able to resolve her situation then.

***

Cimorene awoke the next morning to shouting. She was almost getting used to it.

"Cimorene!" It was Shiara, of course. "Cimorene, there's someone in here."

"What?"

"Nightwitch has found a burglar!"

Cimorene pulled on her robe and stepped out into the corridor barefoot. "I'm coming."

There, at the end of the corridor, was a small elf, his back pressed against the wall. Nightwitch was puffed up and glaring murder at him, her back and tail arched as high as she could get it. She barely came up to his waist, but he eyed the cat like Cimorene would an angry bear.

"Who are you?" Cimorene asked.

"I'm with the Silverthorns," the elf squeaked. "Could you please send your guard creature away?"

"Nightwitch," Shiara said. The cat lowered her tail slightly, although her back was still bristling. "Nightwitch, that's not nice."

"My name is Springflower," the elf said, still staring in horror at Nightwitch. "I was sent here on a fact-finding mission."

"A fact-finding mission?"

"I was sent here to discover if the draconic defenses are as easy to penetrate as they were claimed to be. And whether Kazul's caverns are given any special level of protect - eep!" Springflower cringed as Nightwitch moved in closer to him. "Please! I'm not here to steal anything! I promise!"

"A special level of protection?"

"One that's greater than that given to the other-" Nightwitch began growling again. "You really need to call your guard creature off. I have immunity! I'm with the lawspeakers!"

"The lawspeakers sent you here to break into our caverns?"

"They sent me here to document things. Kazul claimed she is given no special degree of protection. Arnora disputes the claim!" The elf reached for his pocket, but Nightwitch hissed. "Take her away and I'll prove it to you! I have evidence!"

Shiara picked Nightwitch up and stroked her fur. The cat purred a moment, closing her eyes, before turning around to glare again at the elven intruder.

"Your evidence?" Cimorene prompted.

"Here!" The elf held up a sheet of paper with an elaborate image. "I'm with the Silverthorn firm. I'm official!"

"And what exactly will you be documenting?"

"Just what I've seen so far!" The elf cringed. "Entering into the draconic caverns is facile, but-"

"Facile?" Cimorene hissed. "How did you get in?"

"The doors to the Caves of Fire and Night," Springflower said, puffing up a bit. "I'm quite an expert cracker. The lock is a type that's easy to pick, if you know the trick. It's rather old," he added, conspiratorially. "All you need to do is know that-"

"Yes, yes." Cimorene sighed. "You got in through the Caves of Fire and Night?"

"Well, it wasn't my first idea. You seem to have increased security for a frontal attack. That bridge troll is quite difficult to deal with, although I suppose for a big person it might be far easier. And he seems to be new." That last was added with a hint of accusation. "I think the King may have realized her security was flawed."

"The bridge troll?"

"I knew the riddle!" Springflower said. "I knew the answer to the riddle! Even though it was a hard one! But he said that no one under three feet was allowed to cross the bridge. Even when I showed him my official paperwork. He said that an official from the King of the Dragon had given him permission to turn small people away." He crossed his arms. "That is discrimination."

"Your complaint is noted," Cimorene sighed.

Why don't you just turn children away? she had suggested.

It had seemed reasonable at the time.

"So I broke in through the Caves of Fire and Night. It was difficult, but definitely something a skilled amateur could do."

"And that's your report?"

"Well, Kazul does seem to have an extra layer of security," Springflower said, glaring at Nightwitch. The cat was now perched on Shiara's shoulders, still glaring menacingly at the elf.

"Do you think that cats can eat elves?" Shiara asked casually.

"Shiara," Cimorene chided.

"Because this is a boring conversation, and he's upset Nightwitch for no reason. If Arnora wanted her own cat, she could get a cat. But she doesn't, because her princess likes birds."

"I will pass that information along to my client," the elf said, a hint of formality creeping back into his tone. "As soon as I am able to make a proper report-"

"Can Nightwitch eat him?" Shiara interjected. Her tone was so casual Cimorene couldn't tell whether she was serious or not. "If he's worried about security-"

"I am a lawspeaker!" Springflower snapped. "Eating me would be a direct assault on the law itself!"

"She would probably get a tummy-ache," Cimorene said. "You can go, Springflower." She glared at the elf. "There's the door right here. I'll accept your story for now, but if you try it again-"

"I won't!" Springflower said.

As she swung open the door, Springflower ran straight into Tiff, who was leaning on a cane as she limped into the hall. He looked up at her, eyes wide. "Another big one! Kazul has recruited backup!"

"Kazul has recruited nothing."

"And it has a stick," Springflower continued. He glanced back at Cimorene. "You are preparing for attackers!"

"It's a sword stick," Tiff said. She twisted the top carefully, freeing a narrow blade. She waved it in the air, though Cimorene noticed she still avoided moving her ankle. "My leg feels a lot better. You said we could do fencing?" The wardrobe had somehow provided her with a divided skirt and a fencing jerkin. Cimorene opened her mouth, but Tiff cut off the inevitable objection. "Morwen said I could practice stances, if I didn't move my ankle much."

Cimorene sighed. "I can teach you a few things after breakfast."

The dragon prince took that moment to stumble into the hallway, his crown a bit askew and his scales disordered. "Did I hear something?" he asked, still groggy.

"It's fine," Cimorene said.

"More recruits! Arnora will hear about this!"

"I'm sure she will." Cimorene gestured Tiff inside and shut the door with a sigh.

"You wake up early," the dragon prince grumbled. Then he brightened. "Do you think there's any more of that pudding?"

"There probably is," Cimorene said.

"Stupid fish," Tiff muttered, as she followed the dragon into the kitchen.

Chapter Text

"Can we fence now?" Tiff asked, as they were cleaning up from breakfast. "You said we could."

"Yes," said Cimorene, and then she remembered her conversation with Telemain. "Bother. Not today. I promised to go visit Morwen today."

"But you said we could fence!" Tiff said. She looked suspiciously close to pouting.

"I did." Cimorene sighed. "I'll make it up to you, I promise. But I need to go visit Telemain today. I need to ask him some questions about Arnora's teaset."

"Can I come with you?" Tiff asked tentatively. "Only, it's so boring here. And you said we could fence."

"I did." Cimorene drew in a breath. "I suppose you can. It's going to be a long walk, though." Then she remembered the carpet. "Although I think there might be a work-around."

She turned to Kirvin. "Can you go into the archives and see if you can find the magic carpet? I put it on one of the top shelves when I arrived."

Kirvin nodded, and soon returned with the carpet tucked under one arm.

"Let's go outside," Cimorene said.

***

Once outside, Cimorene realized her mistake. The carpet Mendanbar had found had clearly been intended for only one person. It was the size of a bedroll, small enough to tie to a backpack. Cimorene rolled it out on the cliff face and frowned. "I'm not sure this will work."

"I think they're supposed to be bigger," Kirvin said. "I've ridden on one once, with other family, and it was the size of a whole room."

"I can squeeze," Tiff offered. "There were six of us when I was young, and we all fit in one carriage."

"And you can't leave me," Shiara added. "Morwen specifically said she wanted to see Nightwitch."

"I suppose we can try," Cimorene said.

"I can stay," Kirvin said, in the tone of one used to being overlooked. "I don't need to go."

Cimorene shook her head. "No. I'm sure we can all fit if we squeeze."

They did have to squeeze. The carpet had been designed for riders to lie down, but they were all forced to sit up, scrunched together towards the center, with Cimorene in front, all holding handfuls of fringe for more support. At least the wind seemed calm.

"Is everyone comfortable?" Cimorene asked once they had all been seated.

"No," Shiara said. "Kirvin, your elbow is in my back."

"It wouldn't be if you would scoot over a bit. You can sit a little to the side, you know."

"I can't," said Shiara. Her voice was tight, and her eyes were already squeezed closed, even though they were still on the ground.

"Yes," Tiff said. "We're fine. Let's fly!"

At that prompt, the carpet lurched directly upwards.

"Whoa," Shiara said, almost involuntary. The carpet seemed to take it as an instruction as well, hovering midair for a second before plummeting.

"Carpet, hold!" Cimorene said firmly. Fortunately, it obeyed it her, leveling off a few feet above the ground. "I need to be the one giving the instructions here," she told the others. "You need to be quiet."

"I didn't-" Shiara began.

"I don't care," Cimorene said. It came out sharper than she'd intended. "I don't know how well this carpet takes instructions," she said, more carefully, "but I don't want to find out."

"We can be quiet," Kirvin said.

"You're going to need to be," Cimorene said. "Let's get into the air-"

The carpet leaped again, and Cimorene's stomach flipped. It was going to be a long ride.

***

Even from midair, the green trees of the Enchanted Forest felt vaguely like home. If Cimorene just focused on the horizon, she could almost manage to enjoy herself.

"Is that a fountain?" Tiff asked excitedly. "Cimorene, look down! I think there's a fountain down there!"

"There probably is," Cimorene said abstractly. "The Enchanted Forest has many fountains." At least fifty six, according to the most recent census, Willin had told her once.

She wondered how many there were now.

"They're built by sorcerers, right?" Kirvin asked. "That's what my tutor said." She sounded like she was reciting something. "Enchanted fountains are very popular, at least in the Western realms. Although the dragon prince said-"

"Do you want a fountain?" Tiff asked Shiara. "Will you build a castle when you get your powers? Will you put in fountains?"

"I haven't thought about it much," Shiara whispered in a tight voice. Glancing back, Cimorene saw that Shiara's eyes were closed, and her hands clutched the fringe of the carpet.

"Look!" Tiff cried. "There's a waterfall over there. I didn't even know there was a river in the Enchanted Forest."

"There's a circular river," Kirvin said authoritatively. "It was dug by a giant over three hundred years ago."

"Why would a giant want to dig a river?" Shiara muttered. Nightwitch took that moment to leap from Cimorene's shoulder to Shiara's. "Ow!" Shiara jerked violently, and the carpet began to spiral.

"Hold, carpet," Cimorene said firmly. "Shiara, keep your cat still."

"I can't," Shiara muttered. Cimorene could feel the carpet move as she shifted. She was still clutching the fringe with both hands.

"I could," Tiff said confidently. "Look, there are peasant huts down there! Cimorene, you lived in a hut. Can we see your house from here?"

The Enchanted Forest castle was somewhere past the horizon, hidden by the tall trees. The thought should have brought a wave of homesickness, but instead Cimorene only felt guilt. I should write to Mendanbar, she thought.

"And the trees! Kirvin, are the trees here like the trees where you grew up?"

"We have pine trees," Kirvin said, in a measured tone. "Six types of pine trees. It's too cold for normal trees to grow."

With a relief, Cimorene saw a familiar green patch come into view. "Carpet, slow down and start descending. Gradually," she added, when the carpet abruptly jerked.

"Is that Morwen's house?" Tiff asked eagerly. "Oh, look! She has an apple tree! Can you use the flying carpet to pick apples?"

The carpet touched down loudly into the middle of a dusty spot in the lawn near Morwen's house, sending cats scattering.

"Whew!" Tiff cried. "Cimorene, that was incredible! I want to do that again."

Shiara stood up suddenly, pushing Kirvin and Tiff aside, then stumbled a few feet away. She was noisily sick in the bushes.

"That was more than enough flying for today," Cimorene said. Hopefully, Morwen won't mind if we spend the night. Shiara would never consent to flying again today.

"Cimorene," Telemain greeted her from the porch. "How good to see you. I know that Morwen has been making a ginger cake. Was your trip here pleasant?" Cimorene wondered if he had practiced that line. "Is that the conveyance you arrived on?" he added, in an entirely different tone of voice.

"Yes," Shiara muttered, wiping her mouth with her hand.

"Fascinating," Telemain said. Niceties forgotten, he walked over to the carpet, ignoring the cats who scattered around him. "This appears to be a Frengian style. It's quite old." He bent over and picked up the carpet, carefully touching the center flowers. "But well done. Quite small, though." He looked up. "You all arrived here on this?"

"Yes!" Tiff said, beaming. "It was amazing."

"Impressive," Telemain said. "Quite impressive. Usually, they aren't able to hold as much weight."

"This one lifted up just fine," Kirvin said.

"They usually do," Telemain replied abstractly. "The enchantment has quite good lift. But it is prone to failing unpredictably when stressed."

"Failing?" Shiara asked, sounding nauseous again.

"Failing," Telemain said decisively. "Usually the carpet plummets without warning. Although sometimes microscopic breaks suddenly manifest and the carpet loses integrity. That occurs when the tensile strength-"

"But it didn't," Cimorene said, cutting him off. "And there is gingerbread and water inside. From a flavored stream, I think." She took Shiara's arm. The girl's face was pale.

"It didn't," Telemain agreed, in the same abstract tone. "And therein lies the question. Why did this carpet succeed where others have failed? Frengian carpets vary in quality. Or perhaps this was within the bubble in the Enchanted Forest's castle?"

"If it fails, does that mean I can't use it to go home?" Tiff was asking Telemain as Cimorene opened the door.

Chapter Text

The room inside was homey and smelled of gingerbread. "Cimorene," Morwen greeted her. "I'm so glad you could make it." She looked over at Shiara, who was still pale. "Why don't you sit down?" she suggested. "I'll get you some water."

Shiara nodded shakily and sat in the pro-offered chair while Cimorene looked around the room. It had changed little from the time she'd seen it last. It still held the same table, the same stove. Even the cats looked similar.

"Shoo," Morwen told one of them. The chair it was lounging in held a blue robe, fuzzy and embroidered with diamonds. "You know that Telemain doesn't like you shedding on his clothes."

That, at least, was different.

"Would you like gingerbread, Cimorene?" Morwen asked, looking up from the stove. "And apple cider or goat's milk?"

"Apple cider, please," Cimorene said. "And yes, I would like some gingerbread."

"Here you are." Morwen presented her with a steaming mug decorated with crooked daisies. She presented Nightwitch with a saucer of milk and stroked the cat once. "It is so good to see you, too, sweetie." The cat purred, then turned directly to her milk. "And here is your tea," she told Shiara, presenting her with another mug, this one covered in poodles.

"I wanted milk," Shiara said sullenly.

"Ginger and chamomile will help with nausea. You can have milk afterwards."

"I don't like chamomile," Shiara said.

"Most people don't," Morwen replied. "But most people like the taste of bile less. Once you drink it up, you can have some gingerbread."

Shiara stuck out her lip in a pout, but she sipped the tea anyway.

"How are things in the caves?" Morwen asked, sitting down. She had cut herself a slice of gingerbread and was sipping from a mug of what smelled like lavender tea.

Cimorene sighed. "We had a visitor today. An elf. Springflower."

"Oh?"

"Apparently he was on a mission to find out how easily he could break into the caves."

"And what did he find?"

"It was too easy," Cimorene said with a sigh.

"It's always been too easy," Morwen responded. "Dragons are too big to notice all the ways that people can get inside. You might as well ask a human to barricade their house from mice."

That prompted a grumpy meow, and Morwen turned her head. "That is one of the reasons I keep you around," she told the gray cat. "It's definitely not for your temper."

The cat yawned, showing all of her teeth, and Morwen turned back.

"So what's the solution, then?"

"Princesses," Morwen said bluntly. "Sensible dragons use princesses. They can spot all the ways a thief could easily break into their caves. It's not a complete solution, of course, because princesses themselves can steal things." The gray cat grumbled and began to lick herself. "Yes, just like cats. Cats may keep mice away, but I still have to store my cheese in the pantry."

"So Arnora has a point," Cimorene said. "I did distract Selta from her duties."

"Yes," said Morwen. "But Arnora should have had more sense. She can't expect her princess to spend every minute keeping an eye on her possessions. What she needed to do was ask her princess to find the places that knights can't easily reach. Or found a chest and starting casting spells on it until she found one that her princess couldn't possible open. Or hire a magician or wizard-"

"Wizard?"

"They did have some uses, you know," Morwen said. "There's a reason people kept them around. Telemain is a wonderful spellcaster, but he can be distractible. If you want a dull job done quickly, don't mind paying through the nose, and didn't mind airing out your caves and counting your silverware afterwards, most dragons turned to wizards."

"Who told you that?" Cimorene asked.

"Roxim," Morwen said. "He complained about it endlessly. You might have thought the Enchanted Forest went to war with them just because they made him sneeze. It's no wonder young dragons have no sense of history, when he's the sort of dragon teaching about it."

"I'm done," Shiara said sullenly. "I want gingerbread. And apple cider."

"What do you say?" Cimorene asked, but Morwen was already standing.

As she stood, the door swung open behind her, and Telemain, Kirvin, and Tiff came into the room. Telemain was still carrying the carpet.

"-few trials will resolve," Telemain was saying. "First with an single rider, and then with additional weight-"

"What additional trials?" Morwen asked.

"Telemain and Tiff want to test the carpet," Kirvin said, in a disapproving tone.

"And this is why people hired wizards," Morwen muttered. "Telemain, that carpet is dangerous."

"I know it is dangerous," Telemain replied. "That's why I plan to take precautions. You and Tiff can go up first, and if it fails, you can use your broom."

"I am not planning to ride on a carpet today," Morwen said firmly. "And I do not intend for the rest of you to ride in one, either. I believe there has been more than enough carpet riding today, and possibly more than enough for the rest of the week. Would you like apple cider or goat's milk?"

"Goat's milk," Telemain said. "But the weather is promising today, and with a good wind-"

"The weather will be promising tomorrow," Morwen said. "And, in fact, I think you have a lovely weather spell that means that the weather could be promising on any day you choose."

"Well, yes," Telemain said, a bit flustered. "But with a willing participant-"

"And I have made gingerbread," Morwen said firmly.

"There is that," Telemain said, his face changing slightly. "I suppose we can wait until I perfect that falling spell."

"I wanted to fly today," sulked Tiff.

"You did fly today," Shiara pointed out, but Tiff didn't seem any happier.

Morwen poured a glass of goat's milk and handed it to Telemain, then pointed at his study. "I believe that you wanted to show the mirror to Cimorene?"

"So I did," Telemain said. He put the carpet in the corner, already mostly forgotten. He looked at Shiara. "Would you care to join us? I believe that you might find the sorts of magics I have to be very informative for your perusal."

Shiara looked at the carpet and shook her head again.

"I would like to come," Kirvin said, and Telemain looked vaguely surprised. "That is, if I can-"

"Of course," Cimorene said.

"I always appreciate a knowing scholar," said Telemain, and he led them into his study.

***

If the kitchen was still Morwen's, this study was Telemain's.

Even though Telemain had been married to Morwen for less than a year, the room still managed to feel like it had been inhabited for a century. Tall bookshelves lined the walls, filled with tomes and trinkets. An assortment of gears sat on a desk, and two wizard's staffs sat in the corner of the room. The centerpiece of the room was a tall grandfather clock, with a face that had been replaced with a series of intricate statues. As the pendulum slowly swung, the central figure - a small phenix - was opening and shutting its mouth silently.

"What is that?" Kirvin asked.

"Clockwork," said Telemain. "It's quite exquisite. Although I am not sure how magical it is. I was convinced that the gears themselves had to be enchanted, but now I think that they are only there as an anti-rusting device-"

"Where is this mirror?" Cimorene asked, trying to redirect the conversation.

"Ah yes, the mirror." Telemain crossed the room and grabbed a heavy sheet, revealing a circular metal plate. "Here we are."

He picked up the plate and carefully hung it on the wall. "Certain enchantments like these are better deactivated during storage," he said, as much for himself as for anyone else.

"Deactivated?" asked Kirvin.

"Some spells are more delicate than others," Telemain said. "This one seems to be largely stable, but I wish to mitigate any potential risks."

"Potential risks?"

"All spells have risks," Telemain said, sounding a bit exhausted. "Even the most basic of enchantments. An anti-creasing spell on a garment could result in asphyxiation, should the end-user apply it inappropriately. But the failure mechanisms of certain spells can be somewhat more violent than others, and I would like minimize those as much as possible."

"Minimize?"

"It's perfectly safe," Telemain said, waving his hand. "Simply follow my lead." He tapped the glass three times, then waited. The grandfather clock's pendulum was slow and steady. The phenix finished its singing, only to sink into the base as a silver cat leaped out. The cat sat and began to groom itself.

He tapped again and frowned. "It sometimes-" The mirror chimed then, emitting a dull drone, and the silver turned a milky white. "Ah hah. Here we are." He cleared his throat, took a step back, and said in a careful tone:

"Mirror, mirror, white as snow,
Tell me what I want to know."

Lips formed, shaping into a tired face. "What are you trying to find now?" the face grumbled. "I've already told you-" The eyes flicked around the room, settling on Cimorene. "Oh, it's you. Hello, your majesty," it said in a perkier tone. The mirror looked her up and down passively. "Is your granddaughter doing well?" It looked at Kirvin. "And you. How are your negotiations with King Etrian?"

"Mirror," Telemain said sharply. "It is the third year of the stone tower in the world of the yellow sun."

"The third year?" the mirror asked. "Not the fifteenth year of the iron stone in the red sun?"

"The third," Telemain said definitively. "And the sun is a normal color. So if you could return to those memories?"

"Of course," the mirror said. The mirror's eyes closed, and the face began to mutate.

"Memories?" Cimorene asked. Granddaughter?

"It is an omniscient mirror," Telemain said. "I find it's easiest to tap into the temporal dimension. The processing space I can access is limited. But if I use a reverse temporal ladder, I can access computation power from negative time as well as positive time. Of course, it can lead to paradoxes, but if I simply ignore a few abnormalities-"

"Slow down," said Kirvin. "You are borrowing from the future?"

"Why yes," Telemain said, looking delighted. "And from parallel dimensions as well."

"That sounds complicated. Did you manage to-"

"Wait," Cimorene said. "Abnormalities?"

"Temporal paradoxes," Telemain said. "So long as you do not enquire about your offspring or destiny, the enchantment should remain intact."

"And if I do?"

"Then the enchantment will break, removing with it all records of its existence." A distant expression passed over Telemain's face. "Which may have happened before. The mystic library of Ibin Vidas. Legends insisted that it vanished one day, but perhaps-"

"So only ask about things that have already happened," Cimorene said. "Understood."

"Yes," Telemain said. "I have endevored to install failsafes to prevent normal paradoxes, however. I believe these should be safe."

"Normal paradoxes?" prompted Kirvin.

"Standard questions," Telemain said. "The sorts of abnormalities that are usually expected by philosophers. Such as the paternal paradox, where you might turn out to be your - er -"

"I can explain myself," the mirror said, in a different tone. The face resolved into one of an older woman, her hair plaited and coiled around her face. "If the information I give you has a direct effect on your future actions, there is a chance that my program will not exist in the future where you have made your decisions. And there is a chance that I would disappear entirely, which all accounts say is extraordinarily painful. For example, if you, Kirvin, were to ask me directly where to find a wand that will vanquish the worm-"

"What worm?" Cimorene demanded.

"Nothing," Kirvin said quickly.

"Or, your majesty, you were to ask me what action would make you-"

"Enough of that, please," Cimorene said. "I get the idea. But you can tell me about past events?"

"Yes," the mirror said. "Past events are entirely within my purview. As are parellel worlds. Even future events can be seen, provided they are far enough outside your control. If you would like to see the falling star that will destroy-"

"So you can show me any past event I would like to see?"

"Limitations apply," the mirror said. "I do have a modesty filter in place, and basic privacy protections. I insisted upon them." Here the woman cast a glance at Telemain. "He wouldn't have thought of it."

"Trivialities," Telemain said, shaking his head. "Niceties. I don't understand complicating a spell. She was quite right that we should prevent others from viewing strategic meetings, but who would care about conjugal-"

"Others would," the mirror said. "But until we can work out the details, I have set strict standards. Inanimate objects only. No text. No private details. Only low resolution, black-and-white images. If you want additional information, you can ask, and I will answer. If I deem it appropriate."

Telemain sighed. "Self-sustaining protocols are so much easier than their alternatives, but they have so many limitations as well. If I could only construct an artifact that were able to access the temporal network without additional scruples-"

"But you won't," the mirror said.

"You can tell him that?" Cimorene asked.

"Yes. His wife put a stop to it already. Which is why I can tell him that it would fail. All efforts will fail." The woman paused, considering. "I do think my talent is under appreciated. Cimorene, perhaps it would comfort you to know that, had Mendanbar-"

"That's quite enough," Cimorene said. "You have limitations."

"I do," the mirror said. "Now, that being said, what would you like to see?"

"A teaset," Cimorene said. "An enchanted teaset," she added, as though feeling out a sore tooth.

What are you accusing me of?

"I can visualize many enchanted teasets," the mirror said blandly. "There are close to five hundred of them in existence right now. Only one hundred twenty five are above ground and fully assembled, of course. And one of them will be broken-"

"I want to see an enchanted teaset owned by the dragon Arnora."

"The dragon Arnora will own sixteen enchanted teasets in her lifetime," the mirror said promptly. "Her heirs-"

"Mirror, this is the third year of the stone tower," Telemain interjected.

"The third year of the stone tower. Yes, yes, I know." The mirror sighed. "Arnora currently possesses no enchanted teasets. If you would like to see-"

"I would like to see the teaset she used to possess," Cimorene said. "Until about two weeks ago."

"The teaset made by Liu Pei," the mirror said complacently. "Of course." The screen rippled, revealing a grainy image of a very large saucer, teacup, and teapot, all of them intricately decorated with scrollwork, seated on a large cloth embroidered with slightly misshapen bird nests. "This is the teaset once possessed by the dragon Arnora," the mirror said, "as it was two months ago."

"Can you tell me what color it is?"

"Cream and gold," the mirror said promptly. "With flecks of copper like starlight. Liu Pei was known for such touches. In the world of the blue sun, she was not slaughtered by the imposter. In that world, she has gone on to create thousands of such teasets. But this is the only one she completed in this world before her death."

A unique artifact, Cimorene thought.

"Does it still survive?"

"It is-" the woman's face began to flicker. "It is- It- It-"

"Mirror, end visual," Telemain said. "Mirror, restart."

The mirror grumbled, but the image disappeared.

"Is that a paradox?" Cimorene asked.

"That is the failsafe mechanism," Telemain said firmly. "Set by the mirror itself.

"Did we break it?" Kirvin asked.

"Temporarily," Telemain said. "The mirror takes some time to reboot. I believe it needs to draw from a secondary dimension."

"A new dimension each time?"

"Yes," Telemain said, smiling. "That is how it works."

"Is that all I can get out of it?" Cimorene asked.

"Without additional information, yes," Telemain said. "This is the latest technology." He sounded a little offended.

"It's wonderful," Cimorene said. "But if I wanted to actually find the teapot, what else would I need to do?"

"Ah, well." Telemain glanced over his books. "In that case. The principle of sympathetic magic may be useful. If you can find an object that has been in close proximity to the teapot, I can use al'Kindi's imaging mirror to depict it. If there are any visual clues regarding its current location-"

"So what I need to do is find something that has touched the teapot," Cimorene said.

"Yes," Telemain said. "That is what you need to do."

The cloth. And, fortunately, she knew exactly who had made it.

Chapter Text

Despite all her resolutions, Cimorene didn't see Selta for another week.

There were reasons for that, of course. Cimorene had no desire to encounter Arnora again, and Selta, presumably, had no desire to speak to Tiff. But she had promised to teach Selta a few protection spells, and it was impossible to teach her until she appeared again.

Eventually, though, it was Selta who had sought her out.

By then, Tiff's ankle had healed enough that Morwen had grudgingly given her permission to not just practice stances but to fight. She and Shiara were facing off at the mouth of the caves, both in divided skirts, as Cimorene, sitting with Kirvin and a Latin text, guided them through the first few fencing positions.

"Ow!" Shiara yelped, as Tiff swung at her and clipped her forearm.

"You need to keep your sword up, Shiara," Cimorene said. "Tiff struck you because your guard was down."

"I won't need to have a guard," Shiara huffed. "I'm a fire witch. Once I get out of this stupid curse, I can do whatever I want."

"I will," Tiff said. "Cimorene, tell Shiara she needs to fight me."

Cimorene sighed, then forced enthusiasm into her voice. "Shiara, imagine how good it will feel to be able to cut your enemies in half."

Shiara smirked and raised her sword again. "Try it this time," she said.

"Read that passage out loud," Cimorene told Kirvin.

"-nulla, obsecro, negligentia retarderis." Kirvin looked up at the horizon for the thousandth time that morning. Cimorene was about to ask her if she wanted to stop for the day when Kirvin spoke. "Nulla modifies negligentia," she said triumphantly. "Do not, I beg you, allow any negligence to hold you back!"

"Excellent," Cimorene said, and Kirvin blushed.

"Very good," the dragon prince said, and Kirvin's smile dropped a bit. "It will be very impressive when I return with a princess who can read Latin. Even my father's princess cannot read Latin."

"It's a good thing to be educated," Kirvin said abstractly. She looked up again. "Selta," Kirvin called, and Cimorene realized they were being watched from the rocks.

"Selta." Cimorene forced a smile. "How are you doing? We haven't seen you around much."

"No," she agreed. The girl was decidedly uncomfortable. She shifted side to side, playing with a loose strand of hair and chewing her lip. "Are you fencing?"

"Yes. Would you like to join us? We can get another dummy sword."

"Can I use your sword?" Selta asked, a bit too eagerly. "I just want to make sure I'm doing it right," she added. "You said it compensates for amateurs."

"It works too well," Cimorene said, stepping towards her. "You'd just as likely cut my head off as you would block a shot. It's not something I'd recommend practicing with. The only reason I carry it is because I haven't found anything better for a surprise fight."

Selta pursed her lips. "Shouldn't there be a sword that guarantees you'll survive the combat?"

"I've heard of one," Cimorene said. "But the story went that it just yanked the boy's arms and he went running into the woods. He left his companions to die, but at least he survived."

Selta shook her head. "No, that wouldn't do." Then she started to walk away.

"Selta," Tiff said. "Why don't you come fight with us?"

Selta shook her head. "Arnora doesn't want me talking to you. Besides, what I'm doing wouldn't interest you. I just want to look at stupid birds."

"Birds?" the dragon prince said. He had been watching Kirvin's lessons with only casual interest, but now he looked excited. "Do you watch birds?"

"Yes," Selta said, twirling her hair. She looked more embarrassed than enthusiastic. "I do."

"We have many birds at the palace over the seas," the dragon prince said. "An entire aviary." He looked at Kirvin. "Do you watch birds?"

Kirvin closed the book on her finger. "Yes," she said, as though answering a test. "I do. There's a swallow-tail hawk's nest-"

"Good," the dragon prince said, cutting her off. "But you are working on Latin. It's proper for a princess to learn Latin. Especially since I won't need to learn it myself." He looked at Selta. "What birds are there around here?"

Selta had pulled out the strand of hair and stuck it in her mouth, chewing nervously. "Are you actually interested in birds?" she asked skeptically.

"Yes," the dragon prince said. "We have many aviaries. But none of them have the birds that I have seen on my way here."

"Oh," said Selta. She smiled slightly, pulling her hair out of her mouth. "I found a rainbow jay's nest nearby, if you want to see it?"

"Show me," the dragon prince said. He stood and left, leaving Cimorene and Kirvin at the mouth of the cave. Kirvin watched him leave passively.

"Well," Cimorene said. "Shiara and Tiff, why don't you two move on to the second form?"

The girls nodded, and Kirvin turned back to her reading.

"Scripsisti ad amicum prolixe consolationem epistole."

"Scribo is scripsi in the perfect tense," Cimorene prompted.

"You wrote," Kirvin mumbled. "You wrote to a friend-" She frowned. "You wrote a lengthy letter of encouragement to a friend." She looked up again and froze.

Cimorene followed her gaze down the path and saw what she must be watching - a white coach, drawn by five golden stags, racing up the path.

Kirvin dropped her book abruptly and turned away to the cave. "I need to go," she said. "Thank you for the lessons, but I need to go prepare dinner before-"

"Wait," Cimorene said. "Who is this?"

"My mother," Kirvin said, and then ducked inside.

The coach arrived only a minute later, just long enough for Shiara and Tiff to put away their swords and scurry back to the cave door to avoid the stags. It pulled to a stop and swung open abruptly, revealing a lovely young woman dressed in fine purple silk cut with gold. A gilded circlet was twisted into her dark hair, and an elaborate lace cape hung from her shoulders. The woman stepped gracefully down from the coach, and a small cat hopped onto her shoulder. She lifted up her fan, waved it once, snapped it shut, and the coach disappeared.

She narrowed her eyes scornfully at the three of them gathered on the cliff face.

"I am here to find my sister," she said, each word articulated like a knife. "Where is Kirvin, Princess of the Kingdom of Wood-in-the-Winds?"

She peered at Cimorene, as though she expected Kirvin to be hiding behind her legs.

"I know that she is here. Mother would not have sent me if she was not. As I am her elder kinswoman, I demand that you bring her to me."

Behind Cimorene, the door opened.

"Kirvin," the princess said smoothly. Her smile was all teeth and no joy. "How lovely to see you."

"Naomi," Kirvin snapped. "What are you doing here?"

Naomi's face became impassive. "I'm here to find out what you have been doing. Mother is not happy."

Kirvin sighed. "Mother is never happy. What is she upset about this time?"

"We had visitors a week ago. Visitors who told us where you were and asked us very pointed questions about why you had been associating with individuals suspected to be spies and thieves-"

"I am not a spy!" Shiara exploded. Her hair began to smolder. "No one is a spy! I don't know who I need to tell, but I'm not spying for anyone. And I'm not a thief, either!"

"And Mother definitely wanted to know why you were socializing with such utterly inappropriate people," Naomi finished smoothly.

Cimorene was suddenly aware of her unkempt hair and dusty clothes. Beside her, she could see Tiff twist the thick linen of her divided skirt self-consciously. Shiara, her hands clenched into fists, opened her mouth to retort.

Time to be the adult.

Stepping forward, Cimorene nodded her head curtly. "I am Queen Cimorene of the Enchanted Forest, and these are my pupils," Cimorene said. "I assure you, we are all very reputable people here."

"And none of us are spies!" Shiara added.

Naomi wrinkled her nose. "Mother wants you home," she said to Kirvin. "This behavior is childish. It's time for you to grow up and marry-"

"I don't intend to marry," Kirvin snapped. "And you know why."

"Needless concerns," Naomi said, with a wave of her hand. "Mother wants you to put aside your fears for the good of the realm."

"Needless?" Kirvin interjected. She seemed near tears. "Eliandra died."

Naomi pursed her lips and looked around. "Perhaps we should have this conversation somewhere else."

"Perhaps we should," Cimorene said. She raised her eyebrows and looked pointedly at Naomi. "I'm sure you must be exhausted from your trip. We have guest rooms here. Why don't you rest for a few hours? We can have dinner, and you can discuss your plans then."

"My journey was quite relaxing," Naomi said primly. She raised her eyebrows archly at Kirvin. "But we can discuss my sister's marriage over tea."

"Let's all go inside, then," Cimorene said. She pushed the door open and gestured into the caves.

Chapter Text

Inside, Cimorene blinked in the dim light. She took a few steps forward and gestured them into the small parlor that came off the kitchen.

"Your grace," Tiff stammered behind her. "Or-"

"Naomi will do," the other woman said, as she reached up to pull the cat off her shoulder and place him on the ground. "Kirvin," she said, in tones of expected obedience. "Be a dear and bring Sir Giggles a saucer of milk. I believe he's hungry after our long journey."

The cat in question stretched, glared slightly resentfully at Naomi, then walked over to the fire, where Nightwitch sniffed him curiously.

"The kitchen is over there," Kirvin said, "and I believe we still have milk. I'm just as royal as you, Naomi. You have no right to tell me what to do."

"I'd thought you'd wanted to give up your title," Naomi said cooly. "If you're a commoner now-"

"Shiara," Cimorene said, staving off any argument. "As Princess of the King of the Dragons, you need to care for our guests. Go and fetch some milk for the cat."

Shiara huffed. "I'm waiting for the magic word."

"Would you please go fetch some milk?"

Shiara spun on her heels and left the room.

"Your cat's name is Sir Giggles?" Tiff asked.

"I suppose it is silly," Naomi said. "But I got him as a wedding gift, and after I became Princess Reagent, the first thing I did was knight him. To prove that I could."

"Your wedding gift?" Tiff asked, slightly dejectedly. Then her eyes widened. "He's a knight?" She took a step quickly backwards, inhaling sharply as she stepped on her bad leg.

"He had defended the realm that morning," Naomi said, a little defensively. "He'd killed two mice and brought me their remains."

"She's afraid of mice," Kirvin said, pulling a stool up to the table. "Crown Princess of Wood-in-the-Winds, Heir to the High Magic of Golden Tower, and the first thing she does is cast a spell that shields her rooms from field mice."

"It wasn't the first thing I did."

"Oh, right. She knighted Sir Giggles first." Kirvin shook her head, turning to Shiara, who was returning with a saucer of milk. "Shiara, can you make me some tea, please?"

The girl sighed dramatically as she put down the saucer. Sir Giggles approached it, sniffed, and began to drink. Nightwitch stood back and meowed at her insistently. "He's our guest," Shiara said. "He gets milk." She looked up at Naomi. "And I'm not your servant. I may not be regal, but-"

"I'll make the tea," Cimorene said.

The cat meowed again.

"Nightwitch wants milk too," Shiara said. After a moment, she added: "Please."

Cimorene left the room.

***

By the time Cimorene returned from the kitchen, the dragon prince had managed to squeeze his way into the increasingly crowded parlor.

"Ah, Cimorene," he cried. "Have you seen the birds nearby? I was just telling Tiffany about the bower nests further up the mountain. Perhaps when she is no longer broken" - Tiff made an irritated sound - "we can view them together."

"He has been telling me about the birds," Tiff said, her teeth gritted. "All of them. I had no idea there were so many."

"But you should have!" the dragon prince said with enthusiasm. "After all, you have an expert nearby. And it sounds like she has interested her dragon as well. That is how my family became interested in orchids, after all. Princesses are a source of so much knowledge."

"I need to go," Tiff muttered.

"Oh," the dragon prince said. "But I haven't told you half of what we saw!" He looked at Kirvin, who was huddled at the end of the table, intent in a conversation with her sister. "Perhaps she would care to hear about the birds. After all, as my princess-"

Cimorene sat down carefully and planted a smile on her face. "What other birds did you see?"

By the time she could extract herself, the tea had cooled.

"This is ridiculous," Naomi was saying. "Mother wants to you to return home immediately. You need to take your place in the family."

"Why?" Kirvin asked. "So I can get eaten by a giant worm?"

"You won't be marrying a worm," Naomi said placatingly. "You're marrying a man who has been under a dreadful curse for most of his life. A man who is, by all accounts, quite handsome and very wealthy."

"How would you know? He's been a worm since he was two."

"What's this?" Cimorene asked, sitting beside them. It seemed time for an interruption. "Are you engaged, Kirvin?"

"No," Kirvin said. "It's an understanding. A legal understanding," she added, when Naomi seemed inclined to object. "Mother wants me to marry a worm. A literal worm." Her anger mostly abated, she seemed exasperated with the situation.

"A prince," Naomi clarified. "A wealthy prince, who has suffered from a curse for all of his life."

"A curse that causes him to eat his brides," Kirvin snorted.

"But not this time," Naomi said. "We've had three witches advise us, including the one responsible for the original curse. You'll be wed in ten linen shifts, a wool belt, and a cape spun from your own hair-"

Kirvin pulled at one of her braids, twisted it around a finger, and raised her eyebrows at Naomi.

"Your hair, spun with lamb's wool," Naomi said with a sigh.

"Wool makes me itch."

"Enchanted wool. And then you'll be wed, and the worm will be gone, and we will be able to trade with Idlewood again."

"And I will be married to a man who has eaten three brides," Kirvin said. "Somehow this isn't a very appealing situation."

"It's the best for everyone," Naomi said, placatingly. "Marriage isn't terrible. It can be quite nice. And the prince's father was an excellent scholar. His library is renown."

"Which is why his wife gave birth to a worm," Kirvin muttered.

"So marriage will resolve the curse?" Cimorene asked.

"Yes."

"Does it have to be Kirvin, then?"

"No," Kirvin said, decisively, before Naomi could say anything. "I have three other surviving sisters and any number of cousins. Any one of them could marry that murderer."

"Our next eldest sister is six years old," Naomi said. "Kirvin, you can't possibly make us wait another decade to-"

"But why does it need to be one of your relatives at all?" Cimorene asked. "Couldn't it be a peasant girl?"

The two women spun on her with equal expressions of horror. For a moment, Cimorene could see their resemblance. "What?" Naomi snapped. "And give all that power over to someone else?"

"And send Idlewood a peasant?" Kirvin said. "At least your son is marrying a firewitch. Can you imagine how humiliating it would be for Idlewood to find out we had sent them a peasant girl?"

"I can," Naomi said. "Which is why you need to stop this sillyness and go home, Kirvin. Your marriage-"

"Marriage?" It was the dragon prince who interjected. Kirvin looked up, startled. "Who is getting married?" He looked at Naomi accusingly. "Are you making plans for my princess to get married?"

"No, she's not," Kirvin said.

"I am not making plans for anyone. My mother has asked me to return my sister to her rightful home. And she is not your princess." Naomi glared at Kirvin. "What have you been up to?"

The dragon prince studied Naomi and then turned to Cimorene. "Is she a princess?"

"No, I am not," Naomi said, glaring at the dragon. "And I am right here."

"She's the Heir Apparent to the throne," Kirvin said. "Which makes her a princess. Even if she doesn't want to call herself that."

"If she were a prince and trying to claim my princess, I would be allowed to fight him. Am I allowed to fight a princess?"

"It's complicated," Cimorene said.

"It's not complicated," Kirvin said. "I'm leaving tomorrow. Not with you," she clarified, when Naomi gave her a satisfied look. "I'm leaving with the dragon prince."

"I need to fight Moranz," the dragon prince said chidingly. "It's the proper way to do things. I still need to issue a legal challenge. We can't leave tomorrow."

Kirvin opened her mouth to protest, closed it, and sighed. "Not tomorrow, then. But we leave as soon as possible."

"What am I supposed to tell Mother?" Naomi asked. "She's going to be horrified to learn that her daughter has run off with some low-life."

"I am not a low life!" the dragon prince said, circling around to stare at Naomi. "Take that back. This is my princess you're talking about! You don't get to say that Princess-" he turned to Kirvin and thought for a moment - "Princess Kirvin is going run off with a low life!"

"Run off with a dragon, then," Naomi said. "Another dragon. Really, Kirvin, if you're going to keep doing this, you should be a bit more creative."

"I'm not running away," Kirvin said, slightly petulantly. "I'm taking advantage of an opportunity."

"All she does is run away," Naomi said to no one in particular. "She's been doing this since she was twelve. What was the first 'opportunity', Kirvin, a group of miners?"

"One was a sage. And no. I have never been interested in Mother's schemes. I'd rather do anything other than marry that horrible creature."

"Wait." The dragon prince turned to Cimorene again, who seemed to have become the expert on all things related to princesses. "You said that Naomi's a princess as well?"

"If you ask Kirvin, yes."

"If Naomi's a princess and she doesn't have a dragon, can I just take her?"

"Wait, what?" Kirvin asked in dismay.

"It would make things easier," the dragon prince said. The more he spoke, the more satisfied he sounded with the solution. "I wouldn't have to arrange to do battle with Moranz. It wouldn't create more trouble for Kazul. I could just leave with a princess." He eyed Naomi. "She seems more formal."

"That's unfair!" Kirvin said. "I'm your princess, not her."

"You could still be my princess," the dragon prince said placatingly. "Two is an unlucky number, but three is quite respectable. Imagine what my family might think if I had three princesses with me!"

"Three?" Kirvin asked.

"Tiff will heal eventually," the dragon prince said. "And if I bring three princesses home at once, there will be no question about hierarchy. All of you will be co-equal."

"I have no desire to be a dragon's princess," Naomi said.

"Traditionally," the dragon prince said thoughtfully, "I don't think you get a choice."

"How does it feel to be bartered and sold now?" Kirvin asked. "It's not nearly as fun when you're on the receiving end!" She stuffed the last biscuit in her mouth then turned to Shiara with a satisfied look. "Can we get more shortbread cookies, please?"

"Dinner will be ready in an hour," Shiara huffed.

"You're serious about this, aren't you?" Naomi said. "You really do want to run off."

"Yes, I am. That's what I've been telling everyone. I don't want to be a bartering chip. There's a better way to do this."

Naomi shook her head. "You can't break High Magic." She sighed. "Mother is going to be angry when she finds out."

"Mother is always angry," Kirvin said. "I don't think this will be much of a change."

Naomi shook her head and clucked her tongue. "I suppose I'd better go explain to Mother exactly what her daughter is doing, in that case. I don't think she'll like it."

"She never does."

With that, Naomi stood up and pulled her fan from her pocket. "It's been lovely," she said, "but I really must get going. Sir Giggles?"

The cat had been in a corner curled up beside Nightwitch. He stood, stretched, and yowled at her.

"We're going, Sir."

With a glance back at Nightwitch, the cat jumped deftly onto Naomi's shoulder.

"Nightwitch," Shiara said. The cat, who had made it to the foot of Naomi's hem, turned and meowed at her. "You can't leave. You're mine."

Nightwitch meowed in protest, but let Shiara pick her up.

"You're just leaving?" the dragon prince asked forlornly. "You're going to be my princess. You can't just leave like this."

"I'm not your princess," Naomi said. "So I can." She glared at Kirvin. "I'm going to tell Mother what's happened. She's probably going to come and talk to you herself, and she won't be as easily persuaded as I am."

"I'm sure she won't."

"Cimorene, tell her she can't leave. She's supposed to be my princess."

Cimorene stepped aside to let Naomi pass without a word.

The woman stepped into the courtyard, opened her fan, and the carriage reappeared. A minute later, the entire ensamble was racing down the mountain.

"Well," Shiara said. "That was rude. She should have stayed for dinner. I even made more pudding!"

"She was," the dragon prince agreed. "Insulting my princess like that. Saying that she was running off with a low-life."

Kirvin was silent, still staring at the door. Cimorene walked over to her and touched her shoulder. "It's okay," she told her. "It's over."

"No," Kirvin said. "It's not. She'll be back." But she sighed and turned to the table.

Chapter Text

"I love you."

With a flourish, Cimorene wrote the final line on her weekly letter to Mendanbar. She set the quill aside, then picked up the paper and waved it in the air to finish drying. With the same care as she had been taught by her tutors, she creased it twice, then stamped it with a wax seal and went to take it outside.

A rush of cool air greeted her as she stepped outside in to the night air, and she shivered slightly. Summer has passed by, she realized. She would have to gather feverfew soon if she didn't want to rely on Morwen during the winter. Tomorrow, she resolved.

It would have been almost time for harvest, too.

She wondered whether her hut had been claimed by someone else. Seemingly empty huts were easy enough to find on the outskirts of the Enchanted Forest. Princes and little girls were always trying to find places to rest for the night.

She wondered how long it had taken the new occupants to realize the hut was actually abandoned.

The moon was a little over half full, so Cimorene had enough light to see down the well trodden path from the mouth of the cave as she descended to the bowerbird's nest at the crossroads. It was a large nest in a small tree, and it was surrounded by glass beads and bits of metal.

She whistled twice, and a bird emerged from the nest.

"What is it?" he asked. "It's late, and I just put the kids to bed." Then he tilted his head to the side. "Oh," he said, considering. "It's you. You're late."

"We had unexpected company," Cimorene said tightly.

"You did," the raven agreed. "We saw the carriage arriving."

He tilted his head to the side again and studied her. "Do you have a coin?"

Cimorene was nearly back to the cave when she realized there was a figure lurking in the dark. "Who's there?" she said, reaching for her sword.

"It's me," the dragon prince said, stepping from the shadows. "What are you doing here? At the banquet, I was told you did not stay up late." He added the last in a scolding tone.

"I was sending a letter to my husband," Cimorene said, a little testily. "And it's the middle of the night. What are you doing up?"

"The moon is waining gibbenous," the dragon prince said, as though that explained things. "We wait outside," he clarified after a minute. When she didn't reply, he added: "We have very interesting stories about what might happen if we do not watch."

Courtesy - the kind she'd spend a decade teaching Daystar - would tell her to ask for more details.

"I'm sure you do," Cimorene said, and then went to bed.

**

To Cimorene's surprise, no one argued with her suggestion that they go to find feverfew. Kirvin helped her pack, Tiff only grumbled slightly when Cimorene insisted that she use a walking stick, and the walk to the meadow was surprisingly pleasant.

Even Shiara was trying to be useful.

"Just over the hill," Shiara said from ahead. "We're almost at the crossroads, and we can rest for a few minutes there."

Beside her, Tiff gritted her teeth. "I'm fine," she said. "I may have hurt my leg, but I can still walk." Her face was slightly white, but she quickened her step.

Shiara turned away, flustered. "I was just trying to help." She slowed her pace until she was in step with Cimorene. "Do you need help with your basket?"

"I - yes," Cimorene said, out of shock more than anything else. The basket carried little more than lunch and a clean cloth to wrap the feverfew, but she handed it to Shiara anyway. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing," Shiara said defensively. "I'm just trying to be helpful. Wasn't I supposed to learn how to be polite?"

"Yes," Cimorene admitted.

As the crossroad marker came into view, Cimorene noticed a piece of parchment tacked on the side. "That's new," Cimorene said.

With a wince, Tiff sat on a log, and Cimorene crossed to study the parchment more closely.

REWARD! the poster read in large letters. STOLEN TEAPOT.

"At least she's trying to find it," Cimorene muttered. "Here I thought she'd only planned to yell at Kazul and threaten my family."

"She's doing plenty of that, too," Kirvin said, peering at the poster beside her. "She has a preliminary court hearing tomorrow morning."

"She does?" Cimorene asked.

"Did Kazul not mention it to you?" Kirvin asked.

"Kazul is keeping her own counsel," Cimorene said sullenly, but she felt a pang of jealousy. After fifteen years, she supposed Kazul had a right to keep a distance, but she would have thought the dragon would have told her about something that important.

"The dragon prince says he can't arrange a challenge until the case is settled," Kirvin said with a touch of resignation. "It's all he talks about to me. That, and flowers. Arnora wants to be King, apparently."

That was interesting news, but Tiff chose that moment to stand. "Let's get going," she said.

The path ascended at this point into the flat plateau that they had visited before. The feverfew had blossomed and it was now competing with other plants - mountain daisies, queen's lace, comfrey root, and several that Cimorene didn't recognize - but there was still more than enough for the winter. "Avoid that one," Cimorene said, pointing to a nearby plant. "It's dragonsbane. It's extremely poisonous for dragons. I wouldn't even pick anything near it."

"I knew that," Shiara muttered, but she still kept her distance.

After they had gathered enough feverfew, they ate lunch, and Cimorene again laid out in the sun to nap.

Chapter Text

imorene awoke this time not to splashing but to shouting.

She pushed herself onto her forearms, trying to smooth out the crick in her neck that came from sleeping the wrong way, and rubbed sleep from her eyes. The sun had barely moved.

"Move away, Shiara," Tiff was saying. "This was my idea."

Cimorene sat up to see all three girls peering into the pond.

"Because you did such a good job last time," Shiara muttered. She was kneeling on the same rock that Tiff sat on. The water around her was murky, and she held a stick in one hand. "I'm not throwing stones. We can share the rock." She dipped her free hand into the water as it rippled beside her. "Ow! It bit me!"

"Fish bite," Kirvin said. She was standing on the bank several paces from them, a skipping stone in her hand. "Our gardener nearly lost a finger when he tried to wrangle a catfish." She flicked a stone, and it skipped twice before landing with a splash.

"It doesn't even have teeth," Shiara muttered. "It shouldn't hurt that much."

Beside her, Tiff tossed a stone. It barely skipped once before landing in the pond. "This isn't going to work," she said sullenly. "I can't throw well from here."

"Then move," Shiara said, turning back to the water. Something moved again, and she stabbed at the water with a stick.

"Stop it!" Tiff said. "You're making the rock wobble."

"You told me not to touch it!" Shiara snapped.

"All you two want to do is fight," Kirvin said. She reached down to pick up another rock, then flicked it. It skipped twice, then landed in the water again.

"Girls," Cimorene began. "I think it's time-"

"Hey!" a familiar voice said from the far bank. "I'm on shore again!"

"It's the fish!" Tiff said.

"It's you," the fish said cheerfully. "Back for a second visit?" He flopped on the rock a few times, trying to get comfortable. "You'll need to come closer. You know the rules!"

At that, Kirvin began to scramble back onto the bank. Shiara pushed herself on her feet to follow. "It's my fish," Kirvin hissed.

"Catchers keepers," Shiara responded. She stood, but her foot caught on a root and she tripped, grabbing at Kirvin's ankle as she did. The rock she and Tiff had been perched on finally tilted, dropping all of them into the pond.

"Let me go!" Kirvin said, spitting water. "It's my fish!"

"It was my wish," Tiff said, trying to pull herself out of the water. "I need to finish this."

"Because you did such a good job of it," Shiara snapped.

"It's my fish!" Kirvin repeated. She finally stood up. The water came to her waist, slowing her step.

"This sun is quite hot," the fish said. "I can only be here for so long."

"I'm trying!" Kirvin said.

"Not if I can get there first!" Shiara said.

There was a flapping above them, and all three girls looked up to see a eagle swoop down. It caught the fish in its talons and took off in a smooth arch.

"Wait!" Shiara said.

"Come back!" Kirvin added. "It's my fish!"

Tiff just stared at the sky. "Why did it have to be a bird?"

"Cimorene," Shiara whined, standing up. "Tiff pushed me into the pond!"

"I didn't mean to," Tiff said sullenly.

"You're a fire witch," Cimorene said. "You'll dry off." Shiara's hair was already steaming.

"It took my fish," Tiff said. She winced as she stood up. "Cimorene, make it come back!"

"That was my fish," Kirvin said. "If it comes back to anyone, it should come back to me. And I could have gotten it if Shiara hadn't pulled me into the pond."

"It's nobody's fish now," Cimorene said, trying to stay calm.

"Do you think we could get my fish back?" Kirvin said hopefully.

"It's dead by now," Cimorene said. "Or the eagle will have very good luck over the next few years."

"Hopefully someone will," Shiara snapped.

"Complaining won't do you any good," Cimorene said. "And if you want to dry off faster, you'll need to be polite. You can start by helping your friend up."

"Polite?" Shiara sneered. "She took my fish. And-" She's not my friend, the unspoken words hung in the air. But, after a moment, she reached down and helped Tiff to her feet. The other girl took a step, winced, and bit her lip in resignation.

"Hurt again?"

Tiff nodded, her lip protruding in what was almost a pout. "I think there was comfrey root?"

Cimorene reached into her basket and handed her a piece.

Kirvin was still staring up at the sky. "Where do you think the eagle has nested?"

"The fish is gone now," Cimorene said firmly. She looked up at the sun. "And we should be, too. We've gotten what we came here for."

"We haven't," Kirvin said sullenly. She sounded near tears.

And so it was that the bedraggled party that returned back that night was no happier than the one that had returned earlier that year.

Chapter Text

The next morning found them in the great hall, doing homework.

"Sed proelia virgo dura pati cursuque pedum praevertere ventos," Tiff read.

"Take it from the top," Cimorene said patiently, as Tiff flipped through a dictionary.

"Um." Tiff from the page to the text, then to the slate in Cimorene's hand. A step away, Kirvin studied another text distractedly, looking at the cave door and occasionally glancing at the door to the guest quarters where the dragon prince still slept.

"Slowly," Cimorene coached. "One bit at a time."

"A battle maiden," Tiff said. "With -"

"Pedum is from pes," Cimorene prompted. "You should be able to look up the rest." When Tiff hesitated, Cimorene began again. "Praevertere is from a verb. What tense is it in?"

Kirvin opened her mouth, but Cimorene raised her eyebrows.

"More Latin," Shiara said, stepping into the room. "Could we do something more interesting today?"

"It's raining today," Cimorene said. "The path outside is muddy, so I wouldn't recommend fencing. But if you want to try something else, we can discuss bookkeeping."

Shiara shook her head and sighed.

"Oh," said Tiff. "Infinitive. It's an infinitive. Outrun. 'To outrun.'"

"Good," Cimorene said. "Now put it together."

"A battle maiden. With feet to outrun the winds." What interest Tiff had taken in the lesson faded almost immediately.

"Are you learning Latin?" a deep voice said behind them. Cimorene jumped, dropping and cracking the slate.

"Don't do that!" Shiara snapped. "You ought to announce yourself."

Tiff snorted. "Are you really lecturing someone about manners?"

The dragon prince pointedly ignored them and turned to Kirvin. "Are you learning Latin as well?"

"I am," Kirvin said carefully. She didn't offer anything further.

"Please continue," the dragon prince told her. "I'm quite happy to have a princess who knows Latin. My sister-"

At that moment, the door to the cave slid open. Opal stepped through. She removed her glasses and stared at the others. "Am I the first one here?" Without waiting for anything else, Opal pulled off her thick wool cloak, shook it once, then stared forlornly at the hook that was out of reach.

Kirvin jumped up. "Let me get your cloak," she said. "Here's a handkerchief," she said after she'd hung the cloak on the wall. "I'm sure you'd like to wipe your glasses clean."

"Thank you," Opal said, a little startled. "Are you-"

"I saw your poster," Kirvin said quickly. "It offered a reward?" It was the most interested she had seemed that morning.

"We are offering a reward," Opal said, pushing her glasses up. She picked up a stack of oilcloth-wrapped books she had placed on the floor. "In two parts. Three thousand gold for the tea set, plus five thousand more for testimony about the exact details of the teapot's removal. The latter in a sworn court of law."

"Three thousand gold?"

"Three thousand. Quite a lot," Opal added pointedly. "Especially for a such a young dragon as Arnora. But she has suffered a great bit, and the tea set has both sentimental and material value. As well as" - she checked her notes - "cultural and artistic interest."

"And anyone could claim it."

"Any non-draconic species not directly associated with the case," Opal said. "If Kazul or someone directly affiliated with Kazul" - she gestured at Cimorene and Shiara - "were to retrieve it, that would be seen as a gesture of good faith. But if a third party were to redeem the artifact, they could claim the reward."

"Would you claim the money?" the dragon prince asked. Kirvin's expression froze. "You do not need money, of course, but it would be a mark of prestige. Imagine, my princess arriving with her own dowry! Even my sister cannot claim that."

"Yes," Kirvin said tightly. "My own dowry."

Opal studied them impassively. "Well," she said finally. "I suppose you can look into retrieving it. It has been an object of considerable importance."

"Indeed it has," Deonaril said, stepping from the study.

The two lawspeakers studied each other. "Ah," Opal said finally. "You overheard our conversation. Is Kazul prepared to make a counteroffer? It would be a gesture of good faith were she to make an offer from her own horde. Doubling is standard, but given the difference in age, perhaps she is prepared to make a larger contribution?"

"We-" Deonaril began, but she was cut off.

"Kazul has no intention of doing such a thing," Kazul announced, stepping through the doorway. The ceiling abruptly lifted as Kazul draw back on her haunches and raised her neck. Deonaril's mouth shut abruptly, although Cimorene could tell she wanted to speak. "Arnora let down her guard. She knew exactly what could happen."

"I believe we contest that claim," Opal said smoothly. "With more information, Arnora may have made a different choice."

The front cave door swung open, and Arnora entered, carrying with her the smell of rain. "My teapot was secured," Arnora said. She shook herself, scattering raindrops across the room, an act which allowed her wings to stand on end.

"I was not aware you were present," Kazul said testily. "But since you have such good hearing, perhaps you should have been aware of thieves."

"I should not need to be!" Arnora said, showing more of her teeth than usual. Steam was rising from her back.

Deonaril and Opal glanced at each other. Almost together, they stepped between the two dragons. Cimorene suddenly caught a wiff of feverfew.

"This is a disagreement which should be settled in court," Deonaril said, gesturing for silence.

"Heated arguments will not help your case," Opal added, glaring at Arnora.

"I don't need arguments," Arnora said. "I don't even need the court. Kazul, in front of these witnesses, I challenge you to a duel."

"You can't," Opal said calmly, in a tone that suggested that they had had this conversation before. "Kazul outranks you. She can challenge you to a duel, but you cannot challenge her."

"Well?" Arnora said, looking directly at Kazul. "Challenge me."

"No," Kazul said, as though talking to a child. "Not over a teapot."

"A valuable chaki set," Opal said, before Arnora responded. She turned to Arnora. "But if she doesn't challenge you, you must pursue justice through other means. Or give up, of course."

"Convenient for you," Arnora snapped. "A thousand years ago, back in the Age of Gods-"

"Back in the Age of Gods, I would have eaten you," Kazul interrupted. "And everyone would have applauded. I taught you your history, Arnora. And unlike you, I actually did the reading."

Deonaril cleared her throat. "Shall we proceed inside?"

"Yes," Kazul said, before Arnora could reply. She lowered her head, using the gesture to adjust her crown as she stepped into the courtroom. Arnora glared at her, but followed behind, leaving the others alone.

"They seem very temperamental," the dragon prince said. When no one answered him, he added, "If they were in my grandfather's court, I think he would have eaten both of them on principle alone."

"Kazul is king of the dragons," Cimorene said.

"She isn't doing a very good job of it," the dragon prince said.

Behind him, Cimorene could see Shiara's face tighten. Her fingers bunched into a fist, she opened her mouth - and then, as if on second thought, she shut it again.

Chapter Text

It was several hours and six slow stanzas later when Cimorene heard a thud from the door leading to the Crystal Caves. By the time she made it over, it opened, revealing Morwen and Telemain.

"You've got to do something about this door," Morwen said. "It sticks."

"It's supposed to," Cimorene said with a sigh. She walked over to Tiff. "Let's get some lunch. Eating might help."

They were sitting down to a meal of bread, butter, and leftover cherry jubilee when Kirvin turned to Telemain.

"You'd mentioned something about sympathetic magic before," she said. "If we had an object that had touched the chaki set, we would be able to see where it is."

"To see where it is," Telemain said slowly. "I think that's an oversimplification. Objects in spacial proximity retain their connection, even after separation. Drawing upon the principles of symmetry permits a temporary illusionary alignment, and an appropriate incantation allows the connection to be retained and viewed." He cast a glance at Morwen. "Which amounts to the same thing, I suppose."

"I have a napkin," Kirvin said. "Would that be enough?"

Telemain frowned, taking the object from her. It was one of Selta's embroidered designs, Cimorene noted, a linen napkin with anti-stain spells and bluebirds alternating around the edges. "It might be sufficient." He paused. "We can attempt it, at least."

"Can we?" Kirvin asked. "Please?"

Even before she had added her request, Telemain was already standing up, his meal forgotten. "This spell should be reasonably straightforward," he said. "All I need is an empty space and a large pool of water."

"A large pool of water?" Cimorene said. "I have an idea."

***

Which is how, thirty minutes later, most of the party found themselves crowded into the bathhouse, staring into a large wooden tub filled with water.

Telemain stepped back and gestured at the bathtub dramatically. "Follow along," he said. He waved the napkin in the air. "This is how magic is performed."

He cleared his throat and turned to the bathtub, then stirred it twice with his finger. The water rippled slightly. He cleared his throat and closed his eyes, then, after a few moments he said:

"Using the principles of symmetry,
show us all that was in proximity
in history to this here tapestry
and show us where it is now presently.

"That seems overly complex," Shiara muttered.

"I am always eager for alternative phrasings," Telemain said patiently. "Within limits. Meter has a complex effect on magic, and a larger vocabulary is beneficial for a magician. Dactylic hexameter, for example, assists with abjuration, although it's rather difficult to do properly in English. Fortunately for us, iambic pentameter-" He waved his hand. "Here we go."

The water rippled, revealing a messy sewing basket. A hoop held a partially finished napkin, neatly embroidered with feathers around the sides.

"No," Telemain muttered. "Not that." He tapped the surface twice and Cimorene recoiled as the water suddenly revealed a giant set of dragon teeth.

"Ow!" Tiff said behind her. "That's my good toe!"

"Sorry," Cimorene whispered.

"Hush," Telemain said. "The effectiveness of the conjuration was weakened by the feminine ending. I need to concentrate."

In front of them, lips had covered the teeth. They're still arguing, Cimorene realized.

"I don't see what you're doing," Kirvin said sullenly.

"Many people don't," Telemain said. "Fully utilizing magic is a talent. Artifacts can be used by all, of course, but spellcasting ability is a limited gift." He waved his hand again and the tub turned black.

"Well, I don't see what you're doing, either," Shiara said sullenly. "And I should be able to."

"Hush," Telemain said. "I need to focus. The trochees on the second line weaked the incantation. Watch carefully and you should be able to learn." He drew his staff across the water carefully.

Shiara pushed Kirvin aside, and stared down at the bathtub, trying to decipher Telemain's actions, then scowled. "It's not working.

"Of course it hasn't worked," Kirvin muttered, rubbing her side. "You haven't been polite."

"Okay, can I please see how it works?"

"I think you actually have to mean it," Cimorene said. "You can't just throw in a 'please' like that and expect to figure out magic."

"But that's not fair! What if I'm attacked? How am I supposed to be polite if I'm just defending myself?"

"There are many techniques to fully awaken talent within fire-witches," Telemain said. His voice was low, almost as though he were talking to himself. "After I first spoke to you, I did some research into the subject. You're not unique, just rare. But the literature is contradictory. a'Terin recommends sudden shocks. Life threatening peril. Hard to get yourself into intentionally, of course. Kissen recommends meditation or long periods of relaxation. There was one story of a fire-witch who was asleep in a glass coffin. Her magic awoke within her at the kiss of a prince."

"That wasn't the only thing that awoke within her, from what I've heard," Cimorene muttered.

In front of them, the bathtub remained steadily black. Telemain sucked in his breath with frustration. "This feels like it ought to be the pot, but the space is completely dark."

"What does that mean?" Shiara asked eagerly.

"A bag," Telemain said blandly. Then he shook his head. "But there should still be ambient light."

"Maybe it's in a cave?" Kirvin suggested.

Telemain tilted his head to the side. "An interesting suggestion. But -" He shook his head. "No, it still doesn't feel right. This isn't normal darkness. Perhaps a pocket dimension?"

"Is it wizards?" Cimorene asked, standing up and stretching her neck. She felt both eager and resigned. "It's always wizards."

"It's not wizards. The staff of a wizard is largely incompatible with a pocket dimension. It 'sucks it up,' as Morwen has said. Besides" - he tapped the tub, but the water remained disappointingly dark - "there's no evidence the wizards have managed to reconviene. The blow you struck was quite decisive."

"Are there spells to see a pocket dimension?" Kirvin prompted.

"Perhaps," Telemain said. Then he perked up. "Yes!" Reaching into his belt pouch, he pulled a pinch of smelling salts and scattered it on the water. The darkness lightened, revealing a generic looking teapot.

"All this work for that," Cimorene muttered. "It's definitely not something I would invest much in."

"Indeed." Telemain dabbed his fingers in the water again, adjusting the angle of the image. "A small space. Perhaps a bag of holding?"

"So we're back to the idea that it was taken by the knight."

"Yes." Telemain touched the surface of the pool again. "We might be able to track it based upon this alone, but that will be difficult. If only there were personal artifacts available, I could deduce the identity of the individuals in possession of the item."

"Some sort of scroll saying 'This is Liadin'?"

"Indeed. But something somewhat less precise would still be useful. A piece of clothing, perhaps, or a signet ring. Even coins from a certain-" He cut off suddenly.

"Someone is opening up the sack!" Shiara cried. "I think I might be able to-"

"Shush." Telemain did something to the tub. "The spell is increasingly unstable. I need to concentrate. Cimorene, I think you need to come over here now."

Cimorene rushed over. The mouth of the bag had opened to reveal a wood-beam ceiling. A face leaned over the bag, but its features were obscured by shaggy brown hair.

And then the teapot was lifted out of the bag, and there was no need to identify the brown-haired man, because the shop's proprietor was clearly visible.

"Gypsy Jack!" Cimorene cried, and then the spell went dark.