Wrede, Patricia C - Enchanted Forest Chronicles 2 - Searchin

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Searching
for
Dragons
The Enchanted Forest Chronicles
Book Two
Patricia C. Wrede
Copyright 1991 by Patricia C. Wrede
I would like to thank the
RIGHT HONORABLE WICKED STEPMOTHERS’
TRAVELING, DRINKING AND DEBATING SOCIETY
—Caroline, Ellen, and Mimi—
for kindly granting their permission
for use of their Society
in this book, and allowing me
to inflict them with a Men’s Auxiliary
CONTENTS
1In which the King of the Enchanted Forest Takes a Day Off
2In Which Mendanbar Discovers a Problem
3In Which Mendanbar Receives Some Advice from a Witch
4In Which a Wizard Pays a Visit
5In Which There Is a Misunderstanding and Mendanbar Does Some Plumbing
6In Which Mendanbar and Cimorene Have a Long Talk and Mendanbar ReluctantlyDecides
to Embark on a Journey
7In Which a Wizard Makes a Messand the Journey Begins
8In Which They Give Some Good Advice to a Giant
9In Which They Discover the Perils of Borrowed Equipment
10In Which Mendanbar Decides to Experiment
11In Which Mendanbar and Cimorene Are Very Busy
12In Which Yet Another Wizard Tries to Cause Trouble
13In Which They Return to the Enchanted Forest at Last
14In Which Mendanbar Has Some Interesting Visitors
15In Which Everyone Argues
16In Which Mendanbar Cleans Up
17In Which Mendanbar Grows Some Treesand Makes a Wicked Suggestion
18In Which Willin Finally Gets to Arrange a Formal Celebration
1
In which the King of the
Enchanted Forest Takes a Day Off
The King of the Enchanted Forest was twenty years old and lived in a rambling, scrambling, mixed-up
castle somewhere near the center of his domain. He some-times wished he could say that it wasexactly
at the center, but this was impossible because the edges and borders and even the geography of the
Enchanted For-est tended to change frequently and without warning. When you are the ruler of a magical
kingdom, however, you must expect some small inconveniences, and the King tried not to worry too
much about the location of his castle.
The castle itself was an enormous building with a wide, square moat, six mismatched towers, four bal-
conies, and far too many staircases. One of the previous Kings of the Enchanted Forest had been very
fond of sweeping up and down staircases in a long velvet robe and his best crown, so he had added
stairs wherever he thought there was room. Some of the steps wound up one side of a tower and down
the other without actually going anywhere, which caused no end of con-fusion among visitors.
The inside of the castle was worse than the outside. There were corridors that looped and curled and
twisted, rooms that led into other rooms, and even rooms that had been built inside of other rooms.
There were secret passageways and sliding panels and trap-doors. There were several cellars, a
basement, and two dungeons, one of which could only be reached from the sixth floor of the
North-Northwest Tower.
“There is something backwards about climbing up six flights of stairs in order to get to a dungeon,” the
King of the Enchanted Forest said, not for the first time, to his steward.
The steward, a small, elderly elf named Willin, looked up from a handwritten list nearly as long as he was
tall and scowled. “That is not the point, Your Majesty.”
The two were in the castle study, going over the day’s tasks. Willin stood in the center of the room,
ignoring several chairs of assorted sizes, while the King sat behind a huge, much-battered oak desk, his
long legs stretched out comfortably beneath it. He was not wearing a crown or even a circlet, his clothes
were as plain as a gardener’s, and his black hair was rumpled and needed trimming, but somehow he
still managed to look like a king. Perhaps it was the thoughtful expression in his gray eyes.
Willin cleared his throat and went on, “As the center of Your Majesty’s kingdom, this castle—”
“It’s not at the center of the kingdom,” the King said, irritated. “It’s only close. And please just call me
Mendanbar and save all that ‘Your Majesty’ nonsense for a formal occasion.”
“We don’thave formal occasions anymore,” Willin complained. “Your Majesty has canceled all of them
—the Annual Arboreal Party, the Banquet for Lost Princes, the Birthday Ball, the Celebration of Colors,
the Christening Commemoration, the—”
“I know,” Mendanbar interrupted. “And I’m sure you have them all written down neatly somewhere, so
you don’t have to recite them all. But we really didn’t need so many dinners and audiences and things.”
“And now we don’t have any,” Willin said, unmollified. “And all because you said formal occasions
were stuffy.”
“Theyare stuffy,” King Mendanbar replied. “Stuffy and boring. And so is being ‘Your Majestied’ every
third word, especially when there’s only the two of us here. It sounds silly.”
“In your father’s day, everyone was required to show proper respect.”
“Father was a stuffed shirt and you know it,” Mendanbar said without bitterness. “If he hadn’t drowned
in the Lake of Weeping Dreamers three years ago, you’d be grumbling as much about him as you do
about me.”
Willin scowled reprovingly at the King. “Your father was an excellent King of the Enchanted Forest.”
“I never said he wasn’t. But no matter how good a king he was, you can’t deny that he was a stuffed
shirt, too.”
“If I may return to the topic of discussion, Your Majesty?” the elf said stiffly.
The King rolled his eyes. “Can I stop you?”
“Your Majesty has only to dismiss me.”
“Yes, and if I do you’ll sulk for days. Oh, go on. What about the North-Northwest dungeon?”
“It has come to my attention that it is not properly equipped. When it was first built, by Your Majesty’s
great-great-great-great-grandfather, it was naturally stocked with appropriate equipment.” Willin set his
list of things to do on Mendanbar’s desk. He drew a second scroll from inside his vest and began to
read. “Two leather whips, one Iron Maiden, four sets of thumbscrews—”
“I’ll take your word for it, Willin,” the King said hastily. When Willin got going, he could read lists for
hours on end. “What’s the point?”
“Most of these items are still in the dungeon,” Willin said, rerolling the scroll and stowing it inside his vest
once more, “but the rack was removed in your great-great-grandfather’s time and has never been
replaced.”
“Really?” King Mendanbar said, interested in spite of himself. “Why did he take it out?”
The little steward coughed. “I believe your great-great-grandmother wanted it to dry tablecloths on.”
“Tablecloths?” Mendanbar looked out the window at the North-Northwest Tower and shook his head.
“She made someone haul a rack up eight flights of stairs and down six more, just to dry tablecloths?”
“A very determined woman, your great-great-grandmother,” Willin said. “In any case, the dungeon is in
need of a new rack.”
“And it can stay that way,” said Mendanbar. “Why should we get another rack? We’ve never used the
one we have.” He hesitated, frowning. “At least, I don’t think we’ve ever used it. Have we?”
“That is not the point, Your Majesty,” Willin answered in a huffy tone, from which the King concluded
that they hadn’t. “It is my duty to see that the castle is suitably furnished, from the topmost tower to the
deepest dungeon. And the dungeon—”
“—needs a new rack,” the King finished. “I’ll think about it. What else?”
The elf consulted his list. “The nightshades are becoming a problem in the northeast.”
“Nightshades are always a problem. Is that all?”
“Ah . . .” Willin cleared his throat, then cleared it again. “There is the matter of Your Majesty’s
marriage.”
“What marriage?” Mendanbar asked, alarmed.
“Your Majesty’s marriage to a lady of suitable parentage,” Willin said firmly. He pulled another
scroll from inside his vest. “I have here a list of possible choices, which I have compiled after a thorough
survey of the lands surrounding the Enchanted Forest.”
“You made a survey? Willin, you haven’t beentalking to that dreadful woman with all the daughters, have
you? Because if you have I’ll . . . I’ll useyou to test out that new rack you want so badly.”
“Queen Alexandra is an estimable lady,” Willin said severely. “And her daughters are among the loveliest
and most accomplished princesses in the world. I have not, of course, talked to the Queen about the
possibility, but any one of her daughters would make a suitable bride for Your Majesty.” He tapped the
scroll meaningfully.
“Suitable?Willin, all twelve of them put together don’t have enough common sense to fill a teaspoon!
And neither have you, if you think I’m going to marry one of them.”
Willin sighed. “I did hope Your Majesty would at least consider the idea.”
“Then you weren’t thinking straight,” the King said firmly. “After all the trouble I’ve had . . .”
“Perhaps Your Majesty’s experiences have given you a biased view of the matter.”
“Biased or not, I’m not going to marry anyone any time soon. Particularly not an empty-headed
princess, andespecially not one of Queen Alexandra’s daughters. So you can stop bringing it up every
day. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. But—”
“But nothing. If that’s everything, you may go. And take that list of princesses with you!”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” With a final, fierce scowl, Willin bowed and left the room, every inch of his two-
foot height reeking of disapproval.
Mendanbar sighed and dropped his head into his hands, digging his fingers into his thick, dark hair.
Willin meant well, but why did he have to bring the subject upnow , just when it looked as if things were
going to calm down for a little while? The feud between the elf clans had finally been settled (more or
less to everyone’s satisfaction), the most recent batch of enchanted princes had been sent packing with a
variety of improbable remedies, and the giants to the north weren’t due to raid anyone for another
couple of months at least. Mendanbar had been looking forward to a quiet week or two, but if Willin
was going to start nagging him about marriage, there was little chance of that.
“I might just as well go on a quest or hire some dwarves to put in another staircase for all the peace I’m
likely to get around here,” Mendanbar said aloud. “When Willin gets hold of an idea, he never lets go of
it.”
“He’s right, you know,” said a deep, raspy voice from somewhere near the ceiling. The King looked up,
and the carved wooden gargoyle in the corner grinned at him. “Youshould get married,” it said.
“Don’tyou start,” Mendanbar said.
“Try and stop me,” snarled the gargoyle. “My opinion is as good as anyone else’s.”
“Or as bad,” the King muttered.
“I heard that!” The gargoyle squinted downward. “No thanks to you, I might add. Do you know how
long it’s been since anyone cleaned this corner? I’ve got dust in my ears, and I expect something slimy to
start growing on my claws any minute now.”
“Complain to one of the maids,” Mendanbar said,irritated. “We weren’t talking about hiring a
housekeeper.”
“Why not? What are you, cheap or something?”
“No, and I wouldn’t discuss it with you even if I were.”
“King Mendanbar the Cheapskate, that’s what they’ll call you,” the gargoyle said with relish. “What do
you think of that?”
“I think I won’t talk to you at all,” said Mendanbar, who knew from experience that the gargoyle only
got more unpleasant the longer it talked. “I’m leaving.”
“Wait a minute! I haven’t even gotten started yet.”
“If Willin asks, tell him I’ve gone for a walk,” Mendanbar said. As he left the room, he waved, twitching
two of the invisible threads of power that criss-crossed the Enchanted Forest. The gargoyle’s angry
screeching changed abruptly to surprise as a stream of soapy water squirted out of the empty air in front
of it and hit it squarely in its carved mouth.
Mendanbar smiled as the door closed behind him, shutting out the gargoyle’s splutters. “He won’t com-
plain about dust again for a while, anyway,” Mendanbar said aloud. As he walked down the hall, his
smile grew. It had been a long time since he had taken a day off. If Willin wanted to grumble about it, he
could go ahead and grumble, The King had earned a holiday, and he was going to have one.
* * *
Getting outside without being caught was easy, even without using any invisibility spells (which.
Mendanbar considered cheating). Willin was the only one who might have objected, and he was at the
other end of the castle somewhere. Mendanbar sneaked past two maids and the footman at the front
door anyway, just for practice. He had a feeling he might want to do a lot of sneaking in the near future,
especially if Willin was going to start fussing about Queen Alexandra’s daughters again.
Once he had crossed the main bridge over the moat and reached the giant trees of the Enchanted
Forest, he let himself relax a little, but not too much. The Enchanted Forest had its own peculiar rules,
and even the King was not exempt from them. If he drank from the wrong stream and got turned into a
rabbit, or accidentally stepped on a slowstone, he would have just as much trouble getting back to
normal as anyone else. He still remembered how much bother it had been to get rid of the donkey’s ears
he’d gotten by eating the wrong salad when he was eight.
Of course, now that he was King of the Enchanted Forest he had certain privileges. Most of the
creatures that lived in the forest would obey him, however reluctantly, and he could find his way in and
out and around without even thinking about it. He could use the magic of the forest directly, too, which
made him as powerful as any three wizards and a match for all but the very best enchanters.
“Magic makes things much simpler,” Mendanbar said aloud. He looked around at the bright green moss
that covered the ground, thick and springy as the finest carpet, and the huge trees that rose above it, and
he smiled. Pleasant as it looked, without magic he wouldn’t have wanted to wander around it alone.
Magic came naturally to the Kings of the EnchantedForest. It had to; you couldn’t begin to do a good
job of ruling such a magical kingdom unless you had a lot of magic of your own. The forest chose its
own kings, and once it had chosen them, it gave them the ability to sense the magic permeating the forest
and an instinct for using it. The kings all came from Mendanbar’s family, for no one else could safely use
the sword that did the choosing, but sometimes the crown went to a second son or a cousin instead of to
the eldest son of the king. Mendanbar considered himself lucky to have followed his father onto the
throne.
Uneasily, he glanced back toward the castle, then shook his head. “Even a king needs a day off once in
a while,” he told himself. “And it’s not as if they need me for anything urgent.” He turned his back and
marched into the trees, determined to enjoy his holiday.
For a few minutes, he strolled aimlessly, enjoying the cool, dense shadows. Then he decided to visit the
Green Glass Pool. He hadn’t been there for a while, and it was one of his favorite places. He thought
about using magic to move himself there in the blink of an eye, but decided against it.
“After all,” he said, “I wanted a walk. And the pool isn’tthatfar away.” He set off briskly in the direction
of the pool.
An hour later, he still hadn’t reached it, and he was beginning to feel a little cross. The forest had shifted
twice on him, each time moving the pool sideways or backward, so that not only was it farther away
than it had been, it was in a different direction as well. It was almost as if the forest didn’t want him to
find the place. If he hadn’t been the King of the Enchanted Forest, Mendanbar would never have known
he was going the wrong way.
“This is very odd,” Mendanbar said, frowning. “I’d better find out what’s going on.” Normally, the
Enchanted Forest didn’t play this sort of game with him. He checked to make sure his sword was loose
in its sheath and easy to draw if he needed it. Then he lifted his hand and touched a strand of magic
floating invisibly beside his shoulder.
All around him, the huge tree trunks blurred and faded into gray mist. The mist thickened into a woolly
fog, then vanished with a suddenness that always surprised him no matter how many times he did the
spell. Blinking, he shook his head and looked around.
He was standing right where he had wanted to be, on the rocky lip of the Green Glass Pool. The pool
looked as it always did: flat and still as a mirror, and the same shade of green as the new leaves on a
poplar.
“Oh!” said a soft, frightened voice from behind him. “Oh, who are you?”
Mendanbar jumped and almost fell into the pool. He recovered his balance quickly and turned, and his
heart sank. Sitting on the ground at the foot of an enormous oak was a girl. She wore a thin silver circlet
on her head, and the face below it was heart-shaped and very lovely. Her long, golden hair and sky blue
dress stood out clearly against the oak’s brown bark, like a picture made of jewels set in a dark-colored
frame. That was probably exactly the effect she had intended, Mendanbar thought with a resigned sigh.
Somehow princesses, even the ones with less wit than a turtle,always knew just how to appear to their
best advantage.
“Who are you?” the princess asked again. She was examining Mendanbar with an expression of great
interest, and she did not look frightened anymore. “And how did you come here, to this most solitary
and for-saken place?”
“My name is Mendanbar, and I was out for a walk,” Mendanbar replied. He sighed again and
added,Isthere something I might do for you?”
The princess hesitated.“Prince Mendanbar?” she asked delicately.
“No,” Mendanbar answered, puzzled.
“Lord Mendanbar, then? Or, belike, Sir Mendanbar?”
“I’m afraid not.” He was beginning to catch on, and he hoped fervently that she wouldn’t think of asking
whether he was a king. It was a good thing he wasn’t wearing his crown. Ambitious princesses were
even worse than the usual variety, and he didn’t want to deal with either one right now.
The princess’s dainty eyebrows drew together for a moment while she considered his answer. Finally,
her expression cleared. “Then you must be a virtuous woodcutter’s son, whose deeds of valor and
goodwill shall earn you lands and title in some glorious future,” she said positively.
“A woodcutter? In the Enchanted Forest?” Mendanbar said, appalled. Didn’t the girl haveany sense?
“No, thank you!”
“But how came you here to find me, if you are neither prince nor knight nor deserving youth?” the
princess asked in wide-eyed confusion.
“Oh . . . sometimes these things happen,” Mendanbar said vaguely. “Were you expecting someone in
particular?”
“Not exactly,” said the princess. She studied him, frowning, as if she were trying to decide whether it
would be all right to ask him for help even if he wasn’t a prince or a lord or a virtuous woodcutter.
“How didyou get here, by the way?” Mendanbar asked quickly. He hated to refuse princesses
pointblank, because they cried and pouted and carried on, but they always asked him to do such silly
things. Bring them a white rose from the Garden of the Moon, for instance, or kill a giant or a dragon in
single combat. It would be better for both of them if he could distract this princess so that she never
asked.
“Alas! It is a tale of great woe,” the princess said. “Out of jealousy, my stepmother cast me from my
father’s castle while he was away at war. Since then I have wandered many days, lost and alone and
friendless, until I knew not where I was.”
She sounded as if she had rehearsed her entire speech, and what little sympathy Mendanbar had had for
her vanished. She and her stepmother had probably talked the whole thing out, he decided, and come to
the conclusion that the quickest and surest way for her to make a suitable marriage was to go
adventuring. He was amazed that she’d actually gotten into the Enchanted Forest. Usually, the woods
kept out the obviously selfish.
“At last I found myself in a great waste,” the princess continued complacently. “Then I came near giving
myself up for lost, for it was dry and terrible. But I saw this wood upon the farther side, and so I
gathered my last strength to cross. Fortune was with me, and I achieved my goal. Fatigued with my
efforts, I sat down beneath this tree to rest, and—”
“Wait a minute,” Mendanbar said, frowning. “You crossed some sort of wasteland and arrivedhere?
That can’t be right. There aren’t any wastelands bordering the Enchanted Forest.”
“You insult me,” the princess said with dignity. “How should I he to such a one as you? But go and see
for yourself, if you yet doubt my words.” She waved one hand gracefully at the woods behind her.
“Thank you, I will,” said Mendanbar. Still frowning, he walked rapidly past the princess in the direction
she had indicated.
The princess’s mouth fell open in surprise as he went by. Before she could collect herself to
demand that he return and explain, Mendanbar was out of sight behind a tree.
2
In Which Mendanbar
Discovers a Problem
Mendanbar was still congratulating himself on his escape when the trees ended abruptly. He stopped,
staring, and quit worrying about the princess entirely.
A piece of the Enchanted Forest as large as the castle lawn was missing. No, not missing; here and
there, a few dead stumps poked up out of the dry, bare ground. Something had destroyed a circular
swath of trees and moss, destroyed it so completely that only stumps and a few flakes of ash remained.
The taste of dust on the wind brought Mendanbar out of his daze. He hesitated, then took a step
forward into the area of devastation. As he passed from woods to waste, he felt a sudden absence and
stumbled in shock. Where the unseen lines of power should havebeen, humming with the magical energy
that was the life of the Enchanted Forest, he sensed nothing. The magic was gone.
“No wonder that princess didn’t have any trouble getting into the forest,” Mendanbar said numbly.
Without magic, this section of forest couldn’t dodge away from her; all the princess had to do to get into
the woods was cross it.
Seriously annoyed, Mendanbar kicked at the ground, dislodging more ashes. He bent to touch one of
the stumps. The wood crumbled to dust where his hand met it. Coughing, he sat back and saw
something glittering on the ground beside the next stump. He went over and picked it up. It was a thin,
hard disk a little larger than his hand, and it was a bright, iridescent green.
“A dragon’s scale? What is a dragon’s scale doinghere?”
There was no one near to answer his question. He inspected the scale with care, but it told him nothing
more. Scowling at it, he shrugged and put it in his pocket. Then he began a methodical search of the
dead area, hoping to find something that would reveal a little more.
Half an hour later, he had collected four more dragonscales in variousshades of green and was feeling
decidedly grim. He had thought he was on good terms with the dragons who lived to the east in the
Mountains of Morning; he left them alone and they left him alone. Glancing around the burned space, he
grimaced.
“This doesn’t lookmuchlike ‘leaving me alone,’ he muttered angrily. “What do those dragons think they
are doing?” He began to wishhehad not leftthemquite so much alone for the past three years. Right now
it would be useful to know something more about dragons than that they were all large and breathed fire.
Absently, Mendanbar pocketed the dragon scales and walked back to the edge of the burned-out
circle. It was a relief to be under the trees where he could feel the magic of the forest again. Frowning,
he paused to look back at the ashy clearing.
“I can’t just leave it like this,” he said to himself. “If that princess came this way,anyonemight get into the
Enchanted Forest just by walking across the barren space. But how do I put magic back into an area that
’s been sucked dry?”
Still frowning, he circled the edge of the clearing, nudging at the threads of magic that wound through the
air. None of them would move any closer to the burned section, but on the far side he found the place
where the normal country outside the forest touched the clearing. He paused. It wasn’t a very wide gap.
“I wonder,” he said softly. “If I couldmove it a little, just around the edge . . .”
Carefully, he reached out and gathered a handful of magic. It felt a lot like taking hold of a handful of thin
cords, except that the cords were invisible, floating in the air, and made his palms tingle when he touched
them. And, of course, each cord was actually a piece of solid magic that he could use to cast a spell if he
wanted. In fact, he had to concentrate hard tokeepfrom casting a spell or two with all that magic
crammed together in his hands.
Pulling gently on the invisible threads, Mendanbar stepped slowly backward out of the Enchanted
Forest. The brilliant green moss followed him, rippling under his feet. The trees of the forest wavered as
if he were looking at them through a shimmer of hot air rising off sunbaked stone. He took another step,
and another. The threads of magic felt warm and thin and slippery. He tightened his grip and took
another step. The trees flickered madly, as if he were blinking very rapidly, and the moss swelled and
twitched like the back of a horse trying to get rid of an unwanted rider. A drop of sweat ran down his
forehead and hung on the tip of his nose. The magic in his hands felt hot and tightly stretched. He
stepped back again.
With a sudden wrench, everything snapped into place. The trees stopped flickering and the moss
smoothed and lay still. The forest closed up around the burned-out clearing, circling it completely and
cutting it off from the outside world. Mendanbar gave a sigh of relief.
“It worked!” he cried triumphantly. A breeze brushed past him, carrying the sharp smell of ashes, and he
sobered. He hadn’t repaired the damage; he had only isolated it. “Well, at least it should keep people
from wandering into the Enchanted Forest by accident,” he reminded himself. “That’s something.”
One by one, Mendanbar let go of the threads of magic he had pulled across the gap. He felt them join
the other unseen strands, merging back into the normal network of magic that crisscrossed the forest.
When he had released the last thread, he wiped his hands on his shirt, then wiped the sweat off his face
with his sleeve.
“Are you quite finished?” said a voice from a tree above his head.
Mendanbar looked up and saw a fat gray squirrel sitting on a branch, staring down at him with
disapproval.
“I think so,” Mendanbar said. “For the time being, anyway.”
“For the time being?” the squirrel said indignantly. “What kind of an answer is that? Not useful, that’s
what I call it, not useful at all. Finding my way across this forest is hard enough when people don’t make
bits of it jump around, not to mention burning pieces of it and I don’t know what else. I don’t know
what this place is coming to, really I don’t.”
“Were you here when the trees were burned?” Mendanbar asked. “Did you see what happened? Or
who did it?”
“Well, of course not,” said the squirrel. “If I had, I’d have given him, her, or it a piece of my mind, I can
tell you. Really, it’s too bad. I’m going to have to work out a whole new route to get home. And as for
giving directions to lost princes, well, it’s hopeless, that’s what it is, just hopeless. I’ll get blamed for it
when they come out wrong, too, see if I don’t. Word always gets around. ‘Don’t trust the squirrel,’ they’
ll say, ‘you always go wrong if you follow the squirrel’s directions.’ They never stop to think of the
difficulties involved in a job like mine, oh, no. They don’t stop to say thank-you, either, not them. Ask the
squirrel and go runningoff, that’s what they do, and never so much as look back. No consideration, no
gratitude. You’d think they’d been raised in a palace for all the manners they have.”
“If they’re princes, they probablyhavebeen raised in palaces,” Mendanbar said. “Princes usually are.”
“Well, no wonder none of them have any manners, then.” The squirrel sniffed. “They ought to be sent to
school in a forest, where people are polite. You don’t see any ofmy children behaving like that, no, sir.
Pleaseandthank youandyes, sirandno,ma’am—that’s how I brought them up, all twenty-three of them,
and what’s good enough for squirrels is good enough for princes, I say.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Mendanbar said. “Now, about the burned spot—”
“Wicked, that’s what I call it,” the squirrel interrupted. “But hooligans like that don’t stop to think, do
they? Well, if they did, they wouldn’t go around setting things on fire and making a lot of trouble and
inconvenience for people. Inconsiderate, every last one of them, and they’ll be sorry for it one day, you
just wait and see if they aren’t.”
“Hooligans?” Mendanbar blinked and began to feel more cheerful. Maybe he wasn’t in trouble with the
dragons after all. Maybe it had been a rogue who had burned out part of his forest. That would be bad,
but at least he wouldn’t have to figure out a way of dragon-proofing the whole kingdom. He frowned.
“How am I going to find out for sure?” he wondered aloud.
摘要：

 SearchingforDragonsTheEnchantedForestChroniclesBookTwoPatriciaC.WredeCopyright1991byPatriciaC.WredeIwouldliketothanktheRIGHTHONORABLEWICKEDSTEPMOTHERS’TRAVELING,DRINKINGANDDEBATINGSOCIETY—Caroline,Ellen,andMimi—forkindlygrantingtheirpermissionforuseoftheirSocietyinthisbook,andallowingmetoinflictthe...

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分类：外语学习 价格：5.9玖币 属性：113 页 大小：400.08KB 格式：PDF 时间：2024-12-20

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