Calling on Dragons - Wrede Patricia Collins - Страница 24

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"Flying ointment," Morwen said. "It's a standard spell for broomsticks, but it should work equally well on a straw basket. Be quiet for a moment, please."

"What's going on down there? Hurry up, or I'll haul it in without you!"

"Kazul, would you mind?" Morwen flicked a finger at the rope.

"Not at all." Kazul took hold of the knot where all the ropes met, inserting her claws carefully in the gaps between ropes so as not to damage anything.

Satisfied that the laundry basket wasn't going anywhere, Morwen dipped a finger in the flying ointment and smeared it along the basket's rim.

The straw soaked it up much faster than a broom handle, so it took longer than she had expected to work her way around the basket.

Overhead, the man in the tower shouted again, but Morwen did not bother to listen.

Suddenly, as she neared the spot where she had started, Scorn hissed and the laundry basket swayed wildly.

Her concentration broken, Morwen looked up. A palm-sized semicircle had disappeared from the rim of the laundry basket in front of her, and Killer was backing rapidly away. A ragged fringe of straw stuck out around the edges of his mouth.

"Killer? said Morwen.

"I'm sorry," Cimorene said. "I should have been watching him, but I got too interested in what you were doing."

"Men hmph hmphrraph," said Killer. He swallowed and tried again. "I was hungry. You wouldn't let me eat those vine things."

"Straw has no nutritional value," Morwen said. "And after all that's happened to you already, I'd think you'd know better than to take a bite out of something while I'm casting a flying spell on it."

"Oh, I was careful," Killer said. "I aimed for the part you hadn't gotten to yet."

"I think you missed," said Kazul.

Killer's ears pricked up, then dropped. "What? No, I'm sure I-ouch! Oh no, now what? Morwen, this hurts!"

"What hurts?"

"My back. Owww! Can't you do something?"

"In a minute," Morwen said. Whatever was happening to Killer, it was unlikely to damage him seriously. Finishing the spell was far more important.

To break off now might cause difficulties, and even if it didn't, there wasn't enough of the flying ointment to start over from the beginning.

Morwen turned back to the laundry basket. With two more swipes, she covered the rest of the rim, including the part Killer had bitten out.

She wiped her fingers carefully on the side of the laundry basket, nodded to the cats, and said, One of fire, Two of light, Three from ground at dead of night.

Four in strands of deep sea foam, Five that si and brings them home."

The cats stretched upward and dug their claws into the straw. With a faint pop, a spark of dim purple light appeared on the rim of the laundry basket. It rolled around the edge, then spread down along the sides to where Scorn and Trouble held on. The cats meowed in harmony, and the light winked out, leaving a smell of burned nutmeg.

"There," said Morwen. "Now, Killer-" "Hurry!" said the donkey. "It's getting worse. Owww! None of the other things hurt like this."

"That doesn't surprise me," Morwen said after a quick look. "You're growing wings, and Telemain's lying across the top of them. Cimorene, give me a hand, please."

"Wings?" Killer sounded stunned. "Me?"

Trouble snickered. "A bright blue six-foot donkey with wings. What an idea."

Together, Morwen and Cimorene got Telemain off Killer's back and into the laundry basket. Killer sighed in relief as the weight lifted, then he craned his neck backward to get a look at his new appendages.

"They're awfully large," he said after a stunned moment.

"They're not just large," Cimorene said. "They're enormous."

"And they're still growing," Trouble pointed out.

"Fertilizer," Morwen said resignedly. "Magic fertilizer. I thought there'd be trouble over that hay."

"Can't you stop them?" Killer asked nervously.

"They'll stop growing on their own, when they run out of-of the fertilizer magic," Morwen said. "It shouldn't take too long. You didn't eat much of MacDonald's hay. Now, Kazul, if you'll let go of the rope and tell our future host to give it a tug-" Fire ran down the rope from the window to the knot, then flared brightly and died. When Kazul opened her hand, the charred ends of the three short ropes fell into the laundry basket, along with a few horrible-smelling flakes of black ash. There was nothing left of the long rope. Above them, the window slammed shut.

Shaking her hand as if it stung, Kazul said, "I think he's changed his mind."

"Too late," Morwen said. "Trouble, Scorn, let's go."

"Do we get a raise?" Trouble asked as he leapt into the laundry basket.

"Move over," Scorn said, following.

"Morwen, what are you going to do?" Cimorene asked in a worried tone.

"Get Telemain inside where it's warm and dry," Morwen replied. "I'll send the basket back for you and Killer."

"Are you sure you should-" "I'm sure." Morwen settled herself against the side of the laundry basket and took hold of the rim. Tapping three times with her left forefinger, she said, "Onward and upward."

The laundry basket shuddered, then slowly began to rise. Morwen made no attempt to speed it up. The broomstick spell was stretched a little thin as it was. As they passed Kazul's nose, Trouble stuck a long gray paw over the rim and waved. The laundry basket wobbled in response, and Trouble scrambled back toward the center.

"Hold still," Morwen told him. "You could dump us over if you aren't careful. This isn't a broomstick."

"Now she tells me."

"I should think it was obvious."

To this Trouble made no reply. Morwen sat motionless, watching the pale surface of the tower glide past. Finally, the laundry basket reached the window. "Stop," said Morwen.

The laundry basket obliged. Peering in, Morwen saw a thin young man with bright red hair standing beside a fireplace, his back to the window..a fire-witch? thought Morwen. In the middle of a swamp?

Well, not all red-haired people were fire-witches. Morwen glanced around the rest of the room. On the far side, a staircase led downward next to the wall. A stone bench, a small desk, and three comfortable-looking chairs were the only furnishings.

With great care, Morwen leaned forward and tapped on the glass. The young man jumped and whirled, and his eyes got very large. When he did not come any nearer, Morwen tapped the window again.

'Just break it," said Trouble. "It would be less work."

Scorn snorted. "You are thinking about as much as that blue winged imbecile down below. If she breaks the window, some of the glass might fall on top of them." She waved her tail at the figures of Kazul, Cimorene, and Killer beneath them. "She can't count on all of it falling inside, even if she's careful."

For the third time, impatiently, Morwen rapped at the window. The red-haired man blinked, as if he were coming out of a daze, and then walked over to the window.

"Who are you?" he said, his voice slightly muffled by the glass.

"My name is Morwen, and I have an injured friend here who needs rest and warmth. Open this window immediately, please."

"I suppose I might as well." The redhead unlatched the window and swung it open, narrowly missing Morwen's head. "Sorry."

"And well you should be," Morwen told him. "Are you always so careless?"

"Mostly," said the man. "How did you get up-That's my laundry basket?"

He stared for a moment, then hit his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Stupid, stupid, stupid. You enchanted the basket. Why didn't she think of that years ago? Why didn't Rachel think of it? Why in heaven's name didn't I think of it?"

"Because you're stupid?" Scorn suggested.

"When I think of all the effort I could have saved, hauling that thing up and down and up and down and-" "Yes, of course," said Morwen. "Now, if you could just give me a hand with-Trouble! Not yet." The cat had crouched, preparing to spring out of the laundry basket.

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