The ivy trembled, and an instant later Trouble appeared. "They've left the room. Both of them. And the sword is just sitting on the table."
"Did you spot any alarm spells?" Morwen asked.
"Nope." Trouble lashed his tail.
"This sounds too easy." But Morwen turned to Cimorene anyway and said, "They're gone."
"Then let's go." Cimorene stepped over a patch of gigantic dandelions onto the ruined patio, and Morwen followed. Together they crossed to a set of double doors made of small rectangular windowpanes, eight down and four across on each door.
Cautiously, Morwen tried the handle. With a sharp click, the latch opened and the right-hand door popped half an inch inward.
They looked at each other, and without a word they leaned forward to peer through the nearest windowpane. The room looked just as empty of people as Trouble had claimed, though it was rather full of other things.
Ornate chairs lined the walls, and most of them had things piled on their seats. One held a stack of books; another, a clay pot filled with dirt; a third, a stuffed pigeon sitting on a stringless violin.
Two dusty suits of armor holding spears stood on either side of the far door, and the walls were covered with cobwebby pictures. In the center of the room was a large table, with two chairs pulled out crookedly from opposite sides, as if the occupants had gotten up quickly.
In the center of the table, shiny and positively reeking of magic, lay an unsheathed sword.
Cimorene looked at Morwen and sighed. "It must be a trap. But that's Mendanbar's sword in there, for certain, and we have to try to get it.
And I don't think we're going to have much time. Any suggestions?"
"Quit fussing and go get the silly thing," Trouble said.
"Are you volunteering to be first in line?" Morwen asked.
"Why not?" Trouble rose on his back legs and set his front paws against the unlatched door. As it swung inward, he dropped to all fours once more and sauntered through. He paused just out of reach, glanced around, and then took a short running start and leapt onto the table. Looking very smug, he twitched his tail and sat down on the hilt of the sword.
"I should have known better," Morwen muttered. "Well, at least we know he was right about the alarms. If there were any, that performance would have set them off."
"Then let's-" From the front of the building came a loud, angry yowl, carrying easily over and around the intervening walls. Trouble jumped to attention, straddling the sword, and Morwen took a worried half step toward the sound before she caught herself. the sword IS the important thing right now, she reminded herself, but she couldn't quite make herself believe it.
"That's torn it." Shoving the door the rest of the way open, Cimorene darted inside. Morwen had no real choice except to follow.
"Drat," she said, and did so.
As Cimorene ran across the two yards of open space that separated the doors and the table, Morwen felt a ripple of magic in the air.
"Cimorene, stop!" she said, but she was not quite in time. The ripple hit Cimorene and froze her motionless, one hand stiffly extended toward the hilt of Mendanbar's sword.
"Oh!" said Cimorene. "I can't move. Morwen, what's happened? Can you do something about it?"
"I am what has happened!" said a new voice, and one of the suits of armor shifted and began to change. Its hard edges blurred and darkened, and its feet and legs spread out into a long robe. The spear it held lost its head and shrank a foot and a half. Last of all, the face came clear.
"Antorell!" said Cimorene.
"Exactly," the wizard said with an evil grin. "And I don't think there's anything at all that your witchy friend can do about me."
Morwen's eyes narrowed. "We'll see about that." She pointed at him and said firmly, "Argelfraster."
Nothing happened.
19
In Which They Confront the Villains
A startled expression crossed Antorell's face. Then he smiled smugly and said, "You see? I have taken care of your little spell."
Hmph, thought Morwen. I certainly don't believe that. He's probably just out of range. Now, how can I get close enough to melt him before he gets suspicious and freezes me?
"How interesting that Mendanbar sent the two of you to retrieve this"-Antorell waved his free hand at the sword, and Trouble bristled"instead of coming himself. It must not be as important to him as Father thought it was. Not that it matters now. Even if Father and the others haven't taken control of the castle yet-" "Taken control of the castle?" Cimorene sounded thoroughly alarmed.
"I knew there was something wrong at home."
"And just how was the Society of Wizards planning to take over the castle of the King of the Enchanted Forest?" Morwen asked in as politely skeptical a tone as she could manage.
Antorell flushed angrily. "One man is no match for the combined might of the Society of Wizards."
"He has been until now," Morwen said. Of course, until now he's had the sword. It's a good thing Cimorene sent Kazul back last night; it sounds as if Mendanbar can use the help.
"Until now, we have not acted in concert," Antorell said. "But yesterday morning, all of the wizards of the Society of Wizards, led by my father, the Head Wizard Zemenar, transported themselves to the Enchanted Forest to take the magic that rightfully belongs to us. By this time, they should be finishing up their work."
"Yesterday morning?" Morwen blinked. "So that's what disrupted Telemain's transportation spell! He must have gotten caught in the backwash of the Society of Wizards transporting en masse."
"Mendanbar and Kazul are quite capable of handling your society between them," Cimorene said to Antorell, putting up her chin.
The wizard frowned. "I doubt that. Father is prepared for anything."
"It's hard to be prepared for the King of the Dragons."
Antorell seemed to have forgotten Morwen for the moment. Hoping to move close enough for the melting spell to work, she stepped sideways around the end of the table. Unfortunately, the movement attracted his attention.
"Halt? Antorell raised his staff and pointed it at her. "Stay where you are, or I'll see to it that you can't move, either."
"Try it," Trouble growled. 'Just try it."
Muffled noises filtered through the door beside Antorell. A moment later, it swung open. Antorell glanced over and moved away as Telemain entered, supporting Brandel with one arm. Brandel's face was a grayish white, and his eyes were glassy. Even across the room, Morwen could smell a burned odor.
Telemain's eyes met hers. "He lost his temper, and the reflective sidewash from the shielding enchantment on Vamist produced a temporary circulating phase inversion at the energy source. He'll be all right in a few minutes."
"His own magic bounced back and stunned him," Morwen translated for Cimorene's benefit. Then she looked past Telemain and stiffened.
Behind Telemain and Brandel, the bald, sharp-faced man they had seen in the mirror entered, carrying Scorn at arm's length by the scruff of her neck. He had reason for caution: his hands were covered with scratches. Scorn's eyes were narrowed to slits and she was panting for breath, but she still managed an occasional swipe with a paw.
Unfortunately, she wasn't close enough to the bald man to connect.
"Put that cat down immediately," Morwen said. "You're suffocating her.
Adult cats aren't meant to be carried that way."
"Oh, is it yours?" said the bald man. "You should train it better.
It's not very well behaved."
Trouble bunched himself together and growled. If Telemain and Brandel had not been between him and Scorn's captor, Morwen thought, he would have leapt to the rescue at once.
"You seem to have had some difficulty after all, Vamist," said Antorell to the bald man. "I did warn you."
"It was nothing I couldn't handle," said Vamist.