Earth's Magic (16 page)

Several more days’ travel brought them to the town where they and Welly had all first met. The place was powerfully familiar but struck them both as smaller than it had loomed in their memories. So much had happened since they had last been there. They were tempted to go into the town itself, to see their old haunts, the shops and public spaces they had loved to visit when they’d gotten a day off from school. But sensing that time was short, they decided to deal with business first. They headed their horses toward the walled school grounds on the edge of town.

As they drew near, Merlin pulled his mare to a stop and said,
“I feel ridiculously nervous—like a truant schoolboy being dragged back for a scolding. This won’t do! We are representatives of Arthur Pendragon, High King of All Britain. Let’s look the part.”

The dragons were definitely too large to ride on their shoulders or even on their horses’ rumps anymore. But Sil and Goldie were easily talked into strutting along proudly beside them while Rus trotted ahead, his two muzzles held arrogantly up in the air. Even their mounts were impressive, being good-sized warhorses and not the usual puny farm breed.

As they processed into the school courtyard, the few students who were out there stopped and stared, while others poked their heads out of surrounding windows. Several faculty members stepped uncertainly from a doorway.

Without dismounting, Merlin raised his staff imperiously. “We are here on business of the High King, His Majesty Arthur Pendragon, and request an audience with Headmaster Greenhow, if he is in fact still headmaster of Llandoylan School.”

One teacher mumbled to another and stepped forward. “Yes, indeed, sir and madam, Headmaster Greenhow is still very much in charge. I will take you to his office.”

Stroking his beard nervously, the man looked at the mutie dog and two dragons. “But perhaps your animal companions should remain outside.”

“Animals?” both dragonlets spat indignantly along with gouts of flame.

“Thank you very much, Master Foxworthy,” Merlin said, to the man’s startled surprise. “But I believe it would be safer—for your students—if they accompany us. We would, however, appreciate someone tending to our horses.” With that, they both dismounted. While their former teacher studied them curiously, Merlin and Heather, with their dragon and dog escort, swept toward the door that they knew led to the headmaster’s office.

Leaning toward Merlin, Heather whispered, “I wish Welly were here. All those years that kids made fun of him here—the fat, bespectacled, unathletic boy who wanted to be a soldier.”

Merlin chuckled. “Right. And now he’s a muscular, seasoned warrior riding a huge dragon on the King’s business. Life does take some interesting turns.”

Master Foxworthy scurried ahead of them into Greenhow’s office, then after a moment came out and ushered them in. He tried to stay way back from the two dragons, but they both managed to cough as they passed him, slightly singing the hem of his robe.

Once inside, the dragons took up dignified posts on either side of Greenhow’s desk. Merlin was impressed that the headmaster somehow managed to not look too flustered by the creatures as he gestured to chairs for his two human visitors.

“Headmaster,” Merlin said respectfully, “we come on the King’s business, but perhaps you remember us from our student days here.”

The old man squinted at them, then nodded. “Foxworthy was right, though I scarcely believed him. Earl Bedwas, isn’t it? And … Heather McKenna?”

Merlin smiled. “Correct. And we should apologize for the hasty manner in which we departed here. But perhaps you gathered that the woman who called herself my aunt and offered you funding was not what she seemed?”

Greenhow shuddered. “When she returned and found you gone … Well, best forgotten, that is. The scars are almost healed. And it does me good to see former students of ours doing well in the world. You say you work for this new King Arthur?”

“We do,” Heather answered. “And in carrying out a mission for him, we would very much like to have a look at the school library. Yours is, after all, one of the best archives in all of Britain.”
Her flattering smile was aimed at melting any objections he might have, if the certainty of royal favor wasn’t enough.

“Of course you may,” Greenhow said, standing up, then casting a nervous glance at the two dragons, that were watching his every move. “You remember the way?”

Merlin laughed. “How could we forget, after spending so many hours there—even when we weren’t in detention?”

The headmaster blushed. “Yes, well, the past is past, don’t you know. And you will dine with us tonight? We would be honored.”

“If we find what we need by then,” Merlin answered. “But our time is limited.”

It wasn’t long before Heather and Merlin were seated at an old, scarred table surrounded by shelves of pre-Devastation books. Under strict orders not to cause any trouble, the two young dragons had gone out to the school’s old orchard to play with Rus and any of the schoolchildren brave enough to join in. There was also an unusual number of students frequenting the library, trying to glimpse their mysterious visitors while pretending to be engrossed in their studies.

For a moment, the two just sat there, soaking in the familiar sights and smells. Dusty shelves of ancient books crowded around them protectively, almost as if shielding them from the harsh contemporary world, as these same books shielded young students with memories of a gentler, more knowledgeable past. The air was heavy with the musty scent of old books, their leather and paper covers fragrantly crumbling, and with the rich smell of furniture oil that for centuries had been lovingly rubbed into the worn wooden table and chairs.

Sighing, forcing herself to push back this cocoon of warm safety, Heather got up and walked to the shelves of science books. She skipped over the books about ancient inventions and
machinery, few of which mattered anymore, and pulled out several volumes on natural history. Then, trying to ignore the awed whispers filtering through the concealing shelves, she and Merlin began leafing through the fragile pages.

Hours passed. The shrouded sun moved from one dirt-filmed window to another, sending dust motes skittering in its shafts. Finally Merlin plunked the book he’d been skimming onto a stack of others. “It looks like it’s Africa, doesn’t it?”

Heather nodded. “Eastern or southern Africa seems to be where scientists thought humans began. Is that what you’re looking for?”

“If the mortal and immortal worlds are as intertwined as they seem to be, then the connection probably arises from that time. I guess that’s where the roots are that I’m after. But Africa? According to the maps, it’s a huge place. And how do I get there? Even if Blanche were here and up for it, that could be a trip of months, considering the stretches of uninhabitable land between, and ocean as well. There’s not time.”

“What about the way we got from the Americas back to Britain?” Heather suggested.

“Through the Otherworld passages? But we had a spirit guide then who led us where we needed to go. And even if we could find an Otherworld portal now, there’s no guarantee it would link with the places we want, assuming we
knew
what we wanted. From what you’ve been saying about the minds you’ve contacted in Africa, it may not have suffered quite as spectacularly during the Devastation, because their nations weren’t armed as heavily. But if all I have to go by is ‘eastern or southern Africa,’ I could be months searching for the place—months we don’t have.”

Heather frowned over the book in her hands a moment more, then slammed it closed in a puff of dust. “Well, it looks
like we’ve found out all we can here. All this stuff was written pre-Devastation. There’s no useful talk about returning magic or the location of Otherworld portals.”

Merlin laughed. “No, there’s not. They didn’t seem to have the slightest clue about the kind of future they were bringing down on themselves. So I guess we’ll have to get back to Arthur and hope that Troll is with him. The little guy might have some suggestions. He can ferret out Otherworld portals no bigger than mouseholes.”

Heather stood up. Returning a stack of books to the shelves, she smiled at a couple of young students shyly spying on them through gaps in the bookshelves. Then she turned back to Merlin. “We might as well stay here for dinner now. It’s almost dark.”

Merlin groaned. “I don’t imagine the food’s gotten any better.”

“That’s not fair,” Heather protested. “Cook did the best she could with what she had to work with. And she was a good friend to us.”

“Yes, she was. Why don’t you run down to the kitchen and see her while I go back and talk with Greenhow. I expect he could use some news from the world beyond Llandoylan’s walls.”

Before Heather visited the kitchen, she stopped at the stable, took something from her saddlebag, and slipped it into a pocket. Then she hurried along the familiar stone hallways and peeked her head around the kitchen door. There was Cook at the same scarred cutting board chopping turnips. When she saw Heather, the plump woman squealed, dropped her knife, and hurried to envelop the girl in a hug.

“Gracious gods, it’s little Heather! Though not so little anymore, I see. Oh, I heard you were back. What a dear to come see old Cook! And they say that odd, skinny Earl Bedwas is with you
too. Poor, strange boy. I always felt so sorry for him, having no family and all. But nearly grown up now and with a bit of a beard, they say. And what about your pudgy little friend Wellington? When you three ran off, I quite missed you, I did. Working for this King Arthur fellow, are you? That’s what they’re saying, and little dragons traveling with you as well. Come, come, tell me all about it!”

Heather laughed. “If I do, tonight’s meal will never be ready. Let me help you, and we’ll talk as we chop.” So, in the steamy air thick with the smell of boiling vegetables, Heather joined the suddenly shy kitchen helpers as they chopped, sliced, and stirred. To their squeals of interest, fear, and excitement, she recounted some of what had happened to her since that last time when she and Welly had snuck some food from the school’s pantry and run off to join their friend Earl—back before he’d even remembered who he was or why he felt he should hide from the pale, beautiful woman calling herself his aunt.

When supper was ready, Heather joined Merlin, Greenhow, and the other masters at the head table. So as to not cause mass indigestion, she had suggested that the young dragons not be invited into the dining hall but be fed beforehand in the yard behind the kitchen. At first the kitchen staff had been reluctant to go anywhere near the two, but soon they were all enjoying tossing scraps of meat and potato peels into the air and watching Rus and the gold and silver dragonlets dive and spin for their supper.

Now, surveying the lower tables, where students were eating, Heather realized she’d felt more comfortable in the kitchen than here. The shadowy beamed ceiling and long wooden tables lit by flickering lamps were familiar, but she didn’t see many students whom she recognized. Not that she’d had many real friends at the school—besides Welly and then Earl. Most of her
age-mates would have graduated by now anyway—and probably even married. She remembered how she’d once part resented and part envied those popular girls with good looks and family money, girls whose futures had seemed so assured. Now she smiled at the memory. Though she had already endured more dangers than they were likely to see in a lifetime, she now wouldn’t trade lives with any of them. Contentedly, Heather turned to where Greenhow and the other schoolmasters were peppering Merlin with questions.

“You say, young Bedwas, that this Arthur is the
real
King Arthur, the one the old stories are about? Well, we’ve all seen enough magic and strangeness happening lately to not dismiss that out of hand, but do all those around him really believe that tale?”

“They have come to,” Merlin said, crumbling his slab of barley bread into his soup as he always used to. “Arthur was a remarkable leader two thousand years ago, and he is again.”

“Well, if that’s all true,” old Master Bigley said from the far end of the table, “I wish he’d send that old graybeard wizard of his here to drive off the nasty dark creatures creeping around the place. They quite put the students off their studies.”

“Creatures?” Heather asked.

“Oh, they’re not much different from the things that are creeping around everywhere these days, I suppose. There are rumors about omens and battles and such, and it makes us all jumpy. Particularly when inky shapes ooze over the school walls or plaster themselves to the windows and peer in. Like that one right now,” he added, pointing his spoon at a high arched window. One of its rare remaining glass panes was darkened by a sluglike shape staring into the room with glowing yellow eyes.

Frowning, Merlin studied the thing. “That one’s not a particularly dangerous creature, but it is a minion of the dark, all
right. And it’s definitely nothing you want lurking around while students are trying to learn.”

Grasping his staff, he stood up. “Unfortunately, Arthur couldn’t spare any gray-bearded wizards if he had them, so I suppose I’ll have to do.”

Swiftly he pointed the staff toward the watching creature. At his muttered command, a purple glow spiraled down the staff and shot in a fine beam out from its tip. The light passed through the glass without breaking it but instantly shriveled the black thing to ash. Then the light widened, veered left, and shot off to encircle the school in protective power.

After moments of stunned silence from the rest of the room, Merlin sat down and looked along the head table. “Could you please pass the bread? That sort of thing always makes us old wizards hungry.”

G
RUDGE