Cimorene said. "He's gotten himself back together awfully fast this time. It must be all the practice he's had."
"That's Arona!" Brandel said at the same instant, staring at the bald man. "Is that the sword you're looking for?"
"It appears to be," said Telemain.
Cimorene nodded. "That's Mendanbar's sword, all right. See how it looks twice as bright as anything else? I bet it's leaking magic all over."
"Leaking magic?" said Killer, poking his long nose over Morwen's shoulder to peer at the mirror. "You never said anything about that sword leaking magic. It doesn't sound very safe."
"It isn't," Cimorene told him. "Which is another reason why we have to get it back to the Enchanted Forest quickly. The longer it's outside the forest, the worse it gets. That sword belongs in the Enchanted Forest."
"Don't worry about it," Morwen said to Killer. "It won't hurt you unless you try to eat it."
"That would be fun to watch," said Trouble, cocking his head to one side.
"Mrow?" said Horatio.
"Probably not," Scorn said with some regret. "Even Killer isn't that stupid."
Brandel was still staring at the mirror with a grim expression. "So that's it. That no-good, interfering, lousy little troublemaking weasel has gotten the Society of Wizards to help him!" His voice rose steadily until he was shouting, and on "troublemaking" his hair burst into flames.
"Yow!" said Killer, jumping backward. "Ouch! That was my ear.
Whoops!" As he recoiled from Brandel's blazing head, his wings flopped open, catching air and throwing him off balance. Twisting frantically to keep his left wing tip away from the fire, Killer flapped twice and fell over in a tangle of legs and ears and feathers. The cats bounced away from him; startled and bristling.
"Hey, watch what you're doing," said Scorn. "You could hurt someone."
Horatio gave her neck a reassuring lick.
Slowly, Killer settled his wings into place and climbed back to his feet.
"I think I sprained something," he said mournfully. "And my ear is singed."
He gave Brandel a reproachful look.
Brandel didn't notice. Hair still burning merrily, he turned to Cimorene. "If you want some help getting that sword back, just ask.
That sneaking, repulsive little-" "Are you done?" asked the mirror.
"Or do you actually want to watch these two have breakfast?"
"Possibly," said Morwen. "Telemain-, is there any way we can hear what they're saying?"
"I doubt it," Telemain said. "In any event, it would require considerable time to determine the precise adjustments appropriate to the subcategory.
Antiques are not my area of specialization."
"Watch who you're calling antique, buster," the mirror said. "I'll have you know that I found that sword in less than half the time it'd take some of your newfangled hotshot mirrors."
"And a good job you did of it," Morwen said. "We're finished. Go to sleep."
"'Antique,'" muttered the mirror as the reflection faded into white and then cleared to show the tower room once more. "Bah-phooey to 'antique'. I'm just as good as I was a hundred years ago. Better! I've got more experience. And I give personal service. 'Antique'? Some people…"
"I think he hurt her feelings," Scorn said.
"What about my feelings?" Killer said loudly. "My ear is burned, I've bent three feathers and pulled a muscle in my back, and I'm hungry."
"So are the rest of us," Trouble said. "But you don't hear us complaining."
He glanced at Scorn and Horatio, and then all three cats looked up at the humans with matching expressions of starvation being nobly borne in a good cause.
Morwen sighed. "Brandel, would you be good enough to calm down, stop flaming, and see about a morning meal? Or if you'd rather not be bothered, at least tell us how to work the pantry spell?"
Setting up breakfast took nearly half an hour, mostly because everyone except Killer and the cats had other preoccupations. Brandel and Cimorene kept getting sidetracked into a discussion of Arona Michaelear Grinogion Vamist and his involvement with the Society of Wizards and the theft of the sword. Telemain was more interested in studying the mirror than in talking or food, and Morwen made a mental note to make sure he didn't skip breakfast. Backshock or not, he was still recovering, and he'd be a great deal more use if he ate well before they left. Morwen herself would have liked to join either Cimorene's discussion or Telemain's investigation, but for the most part she forced herself to stay out of them. After all, someone had to keep the others moving.
Finally, everything was ready, and they sat down to eat. "I still can't believe it," Brandel said, tipping three sausage patties onto his plate and handing the platter to Cimorene. "Vamist never liked the idea of wizards.
They weren't traditional enough for him."
"Don't start on that again," Morwen said. "You'll use up all your energy burning your hair."
Cimorene swallowed a bite of toast and said, "Yes, what we need now is a plan. Can you give us directions to this Vamist person's house, Brandel?"
"I'll do better than that. I'll show you." Brandel scowled and a wisp of smoke rose out of his hair. "The idea of that pompous, overbearing skunk helping wizards after he got us kicked out of town for being nontraditional . .. "
"I wonder what they offered him?" Telemain said.
"How about a warding spell powerful enough to protect him from half a dozen fire-witches?" Morwen suggested.
"You mean he was working with them all along?" Brandel said. "That little-" "We don't know that for certain," Cimorene said hastily.
"Yet. And if you still can't go home, you can come back to the Enchanted Forest with us after we get the sword. I'm sure Mendanbar would be happy to have you, and the rest of your family, too."
"It's lots nicer than a swamp," Killer put in. "There's plenty of clover-at least, there's plenty for rabbits. I don't know if there's enough for six-foot donkeys with wings." His ears drooped at the thought.
"We'll worry about that later," Morwen told him. "Eat your breakfast.
Brandel, how long will it take us to get to Vamist's house? And does anyone have any suggestions as to how we should proceed once we get there?"
"That's easy," Cimorene said. "It looked like Vamist and Antorell were the only ones there. Brandel and Telemain can go to the front door and distract them while you and I sneak in through the back and grab the sword. And if Antorell tries to stop me, I'll melt him. Pass the salt, please."
17
In Which There Is Much Excitement
Although they discussed the matter for the rest of the meal, Cimorene's plan was the best idea they had. Since only Cimorene could carry the sword, she had to be the person who sneaked in and took it. Morwen had to go with her because the cats were going to act as lookouts and no one else could understand them. Brandel was the logical person to distract Arona Vamist, and Telemain had to be with him in order to melt any wizards who might show up.
"What about me?" asked Killer.
"You get to stand outside the back door and stay out of mischief," Morwen told him. "You'd be safer here, but we'll probably want to transport home right from Vamist's house."
"You're sure you can manage that part, Telemain?" Cimorene asked.
"Quite certain," Telemain said a little crossly. "The last error was due to a cross-matrix interference that is not at all likely to be repeated."
"I might agree with you if we knew exactly what caused the interference in the first place," Morwen said. "Since we don't…"
"if it will make you feel better, I'll put a screening mechanism in the bypass module." This time, Telemain made no attempt whatsoever to hide "Temperamental, isn't he?" said Scorn.