Calling on Dragons by Patricia C. Wrede Page A

eat?”
    â€œWe’ll take care of you in a minute or two,” Morwen promised. “Finish up quickly, Telemain. We’re leaving.” Beach or no beach, King Mendanbar and Queen Cimorene had to be found and informed as soon as possible. Morwen started back toward the clover patch to collect her broomstick.
    â€œDon’t forget about that staff!” Scorn called after her.
    Getting ready to leave didn’t take long. Morwen picked up the staff—and Jasper, who was still guarding it—on her way back to Telemain. She noticed with interest that the staff was over three feet long and expanding slowly. Apparently the shrinking spell was wearing off it even without Antorell’s help.
    When she reached him, Telemain was just stowing the last of his shiny instruments back in one of his pockets. “Have we got everyone?” the magician asked.
    â€œEveryone but the wizard,” Scorn said. “And good riddance to
him,
I say.”
    â€œYes,” Morwen replied to both Telemain and Scorn. “If you’ll take the staff, Telemain—”
    â€œI wouldn’t do that,” Jasper said, jumping down from Morwen’s shoulder.
    Morwen paused, frowning, then saw Killer standing by the bucket of soapy water. He lowered his head and sniffed experimentally. “Why not? It smells nice.”
    â€œThat’s the lemon juice,” Morwen said.
    â€œIt’s got
soap
in it,” Fiddlesticks said, lashing his tail. “It’s for
melting wizards.
”
    â€œThere aren’t any wizards around, and I’m thirsty.” Before anyone could stop him, Killer took a large slurp. His ears stood straight up and he reared back, shaking his head. “Blea-eea-eaugh! That tastes terrible.”
    â€œFiddle warned you,” said Scorn, with a visible lack of sympathy. “So did Jasper. Serves you right for not listening.”
    â€œWhat’s it doing to his nose?” Fiddlesticks said, poking his own nose forward until he had to stand up and follow it. “Look at his nose, Morwen. It’s turning blue.”
    â€œNot just the nose.” Jasper stared in fascination. “His whole face is changing color.”
    Killer gave a frightened snort and shook his head, sneezing soap bubbles in all directions. The color went on spreading. Soon his head and neck were a bright, clear sky blue that continued to inch up his ears, down his forelegs, and across his back.
    â€œHelp!” Killer cried. “Morwen, you’re a witch. Make it stop!”
    â€œThat would be inadvisable,” Telemain said. He, too, was watching Killer’s changing color with great interest. “The synergistic action of the original wizardly enchantment, which was itself an unstructured mechanical surplus and therefore liable to produce unpredictable side effects, and the secondary vegetation-based enchantment has rendered you vulnerable to the wizard liquefication fluid while also, fortunately, mitigating its effects.”
    â€œWhat?” said Killer.
    â€œYou’ve got a leftover bit of a wizard’s spell on you and you don’t know what all it may do. You’re lucky you aren’t melting, the way the wizard did,” Scorn summarized.
    â€œBut just
look
at me!”
    â€œI think it’s an improvement,” Morwen said. “Much better than being blotchy.”
    â€œBlue?
Blue
is better than blotchy?” The color had spread to Killer’s hindquarters. Only his tail and his back legs were still a patchy white-and-brown.
    â€œNot much,” said Scorn.
    â€œSettle it later,” Morwen said. “We have to go. Telemain—”
    â€œEveryone still here? Good.” Telemain raised a hand and made a circle in the air with his left forefinger. The wide silver band on his finger sparkled as he said in a low voice,
    Â 
    â€œConvey this crowd
    On wind and cloud
    To the castle of the King
    By the power of this