34
MISLAID CASTLE
Dar served sandwiches, fresh fruit, sweet pastries, and, of course, tea. Before they sat down to eat, the tumanhofer went around to each person and introduced himself as Trevithick Librettowit, a librarian. Fascinated by the wizard, Kale watched Fenworth eat with gusto everything the doneel placed in front of him. During the entire meal, the old man said little besides an occasional thank-you and many requests to pass one dish or another. Midway through his second helping, the wizard reached into his tangled beard, pulled out a mouse by its tail, and set it on the ground. The tiny creature scampered away.
Kale barely kept from laughing out loud. She coughed to hide the gurgle that rose in her throat. She wouldn’t want to offend the man. He was someone who fell into shouting easily. She looked to see the reaction of the others in her party. Everyone looked busy, almost too busy, as if they were purposely not watching Wizard Fenworth.
Perhaps it’s rude to notice when a wizard does something strange.
The tumanhofer ate more slowly, occasionally scribbling a line or two in a book he balanced on his knee.
“Well then,” said the wizard, standing and brushing crumbs from the front of his robe. He also dislodged brown, dried leaves, a nest of beetles, several moths, and a lizard. “Let’s go questing.”
Librettowit put his book away and stood. “Yes.” He looked up at the wizard with a cautious expression. “But first, home to prepare.”
The stout tumanhofer sighed his relief when Fenworth accepted his suggestion. Shimeran made a gesture to his fellow kimens. They scrambled to take down the tent and prepare a litter. Dar doused his fire and packed his culinary tools.
Fenworth paced for a few minutes, deep in thought. Abruptly, he turned to Kale. “You can’t go, of course. You’re too big.”
Kale’s disappointment at the announcement overcame her reluctance to talk to someone as important as the bog wizard. “Too big?”
“Yikes!” Fenworth rapidly crossed the distance between them and stopped to tower over the o’rant girl. “Who are you?”
“Kale Allerion, sir. We met in Bedderman’s Bog.” Kale remembered clinging to the cygnot planking, trying not to slide through while the wizard stood by saying, “tut-tut” and “oh dear.” Then she remembered the bird. “You didn’t help me. And you pretended you weren’t even there!”
And now he said she couldn’t go on the quest because she was too big. Paladin had said she could go on the quest, and she was going to go.
“I’m not too big!” she shouted.
“Of course, you’re not too big. What are you talking about?”
“You just said I’m too big.”
“What nonsense! As if I couldn’t tell you’re just the right size. Best size for an Allerion. Best size for an o’rant. Best size for a girl. Why are you complaining? Questing is no place for whiners.”
“You said I couldn’t go. I’m too big.”
“You’re not too big! Quit saying so!”
Kale had to cover her ears now. The wizard’s voice was taking on thunderous volume.
The tumanhofer came up beside his distraught companion and spoke clearly, pointing behind Kale as he did. “You said the urohm can’t go and is too big.”
Kale glanced behind her to see Brunstetter standing by the dragons and grinning. Annoyed that she’d misunderstood Fenworth and been trapped in a ridiculous argument, Kale glared at the gleeful urohm.
“Of course he’s big,” roared Fenworth. “He’s a urohm, Librettowit. Happened centuries ago at the Battle of Ordray. Not to him, of course, because he is younger than that, but to his people. A good thing, too. Urohms come in handy at times, but not in The Bogs. Dragons aren’t welcome, either. No dragons, no urohms, but little girl o’rants can enter at any time. That is, if they are questing. And this one is questing.” There was a pause as the wizard tugged on his beard and glared down at the tumanhofer. “Where did I leave the castle?”
“In a pumpkin patch.”
“Ha! That was a diversion. The times are perilous. I changed my mind and moved it.” Fenworth put his hand over his chin, closed his eyes, and frowned.
“A beehive?” suggested Librettowit.
The wizard shook his head. A score of bees flew out from his hair and zoomed away.
“A lily pad?”
Fenworth groaned and frogs dropped from the sleeves of his robe. “Do be sensible, Wit. I left it someplace safe.”
“You’ve left it on a lily pad four times in the last month,” grumbled the tumanhofer.
“Aha!” Fenworth snapped his fingers and opened his eyes. “Feather on a bird.”
“And you remember which bird?” Librettowit did not look hopeful.
“No, but he is to come to me when I give the secret signal.”
“And you remember the signal?” The tumanhofer sat down and pulled out his pen and book once more.
“Well…no.”
“You wrote it down somewhere? You left yourself a clue?”
“See here, Wit, you are not to be difficult about this.”
The tumanhofer shook his head and began writing in his book, evidently giving up on an immediate departure of the questing party.
The kimens and Dar slowed their preparations to leave. Fenworth strode back and forth, occasionally stopping to converse with a butterfly or a plant. Kale sat down beside Leetu and projected the images of the odd man’s afternoon antics into her sleeping friend’s mind.
Fenworth sat in the grass and a dozen rabbits gathered around him as if having a conference. He spoke to each one of them. Wondering what language they used, Kale was tempted to use her mindspeaking abilities to listen in on the conversation. Remembering Leetu’s instructions on the polite use of her talents, though, she did not eavesdrop.
Later the wizard sat on a large rock and didn’t move for an hour. He began to look like a bush entangling the boulder. Kale repeatedly blinked her eyes to keep the man in focus, or else he blurred into part of the landscape. Several birds swooped out of the sky and perched in his branches…on his arms. They flitted away after moments of intense chattering.
The rest of the afternoon, Fenworth went about visiting just as if he were a host making sure his guests were acknowledged and made to feel welcome. At some time during this aimless chitchat, he asked the members of their group to tell him their ages. With each revelation, he would exclaim. “Ha! See? I am older than you.”
Seezle tilted up her chin, and with mischief in her eye, said, “Now how am I to know that for sure? You haven’t told us how old you are.”
The old man fumed. He harrumphed, blew in his beard, clapped his hands against his robes, and glowered at the tiny creature before him.
Seezle’s smile only grew broader. “You don’t remember, do you?”
“Sixty,” Fenworth barked. “Seventy. Maybe eighty-something.” He stood straighter, and his expression brightened. “Seventy-two. Something very close to seventy-two, I believe.” He turned and walked away, humming the little ditty every child sang at birthday celebrations.
Seezle giggled and plopped down next to Kale and Leetu.
“Seventy-two years old?” Kale’s face pulled into a puzzled frown. “He looks a lot older than that.”
“He’s talking about centuries, not years,” explained Seezle.
Kale gasped and watched the sprightly old fellow with new admiration.
At dusk a black bird flew into their camp and landed on Fenworth’s shoulder.
“Oh, yes,” said the old man, “I remember now. The sun falling over the side of the world, that was the signal for Thorpendipity to bring me my castle. Makes sense, you see. Nighttime. Suppertime. Bedtime. Want to be at home. My own table. My own bed. Comforts. Don’t you see? Questing can be such an uncomfortable business.”
For one second Kale observed the befuddled expressions of her comrades. A burst of light filled the meadow, making it impossible to see anything. She squinted, put her arm across her eyes, and felt as if her body were being sucked through a hole.
She heard horses neighing, a duck quacking, and bacon sizzling. She smelled the bacon, but also flowers, and then strong lye soap.
“Now where’s the key to the front door?” She heard the wizard mutter practically in her ear. She turned toward the sound and reached out, but felt nothing but moving air. The swirling wind astonished her as it made almost no noise. Odd sounds, a drum beating, a door opening and shutting, a cat’s meow, could be heard distinctly.
Fenworth’s voice floated on the air. “Yes, you see, I am the leader, because I am the oldest. I asked, and I am definitely the oldest. The senior wizard on the expedition. Well, actually the only wizard on the expedition. That is, the only one on the good side of things. There are other wizards involved who are not. But of course, these wizards are not in our party of questers but are, more specifically, the reason for the questing.”
Odors rode on the currents as if picked up from faraway places and passed under her nose. She smelled leather, baking bread, apples, and she wrinkled her nose against dirty barn fumes.
Kale smiled as she heard Dar declare he didn’t want to lose his pack with his flute in it. She heard kimens’ laughter, and Fenworth said, “Here’s the key. Now where’s that door?”
Kale placed her hand on the pouch holding the egg to be hatched. No problem there. She moved her hand to the bulge made by Gymn in the moonbeam cape.
Fainted.
Kale patted the little dragon absent-mindedly.
Oh, Gymn, this is exciting, not scary.
She first realized she no longer sat on the grassy ground when the wooden floor beneath her shuddered and thumped as if dropped. She put her hand down and felt the wood grain and edges of old boards worn smooth by years of use.
“Ah,” said Wizard Fenworth. “Of course I remember. How could one forget an Allerion? A new apprentice. Will she be as talented as her mother?”
Kale jerked her head around and tried to see him, forgetting how the dazzling light hurt her eyes. Her eyelids flinched against the brilliance but not before she saw an outline of the wizard closing a massive wooden door.
The wind ceased. The light faded. Kale opened her eyes to view her surroundings. Wizard Fenworth, Librettowit, Dar, Leetu, and the kimens all crowded in a small room. All but the wizard and the emerlindian sat on the floor. Leetu lay among the cluster of kimens. Fenworth stood with his hands on his hips and a satisfied smile on his face.
The room resembled Granny Noon’s cozy home. Even General Lee Ark’s pinewood cabin was more elegant than this humble abode. Most of the homes in River Away had newer furniture. Fenworth needed a maid with a dust rag. In no way did this hovel look as Kale thought all castles would.
Fenworth extended his arms in a gesture of welcome.
“My home is your home. Welcome to my castle.”