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bit here, being in the thick of things.” Fenworth perched on a high wooden stool and folded his arms into the sleeves of his loose silken robe. His face twitched in annoyance, and he brought out one hand. A gray mouse dangled by its tail from his long fingers. He leaned over, set the animal on the floor, and waved his hand in a wide circle over the cowering creature. “Begone!” The mouse scurried away. Fenworth resumed his posture on the stool, with his arms crossed and hidden in his robe. The color of the fabric shifted from red to orange to purple and settled in a blue darker than the evening sky. A myriad of twinkling stars dotted the robe. A few pinpoints of light dusted his shoulders, but as the material flowed to the ground, the stardust grew more dense until the hem glowed brightly with starshine. “We will need,” said the wizard in solemn tones, “the fine powder ground from the annual grasses of the class of Triticum. And three ova of Gallus domesticus.” Regidor narrowed his eyes. “We need flour and three eggs.” Kale listened as Fenworth gave convoluted instructions and watched Regidor assemble the ingredients for an ordinary cake. She had seen women in River Away bake just such a cake. Sighing, she relaxed against the frame of the door and let her gaze roam the room. Bardon soon picked up a book and didn’t even pretend to be interested in the cooking class. Regidor nodded seriously at Fenworth when given instructions, then winked at the doneel child at every chance. Kale moved quietly into the room and sat beside Toopka. “He was just fooling.” Toopka gave her a toothy grin. “I’m not going to be part of the cake.” Kale nodded. She couldn’t see that this baking had any wizardry to it. She watched all the more carefully to see how Wizard Fenworth might surprise them with a twist of magic in the making of one two-layered round cake. Nothing but the extravagant names he gave for ordinary baking powder, butter, sugar, and vanilla was any different from the way any marione mistress put together a cake for Sunday dinner. While the cake baked in the old oven, Kale, Toopka, Wizard Fenworth, and Regidor sat around the table playing benders. Toopka’s cards kept falling out of her hands. Regidor patiently helped her sort them and get them back in order. “She’s won,” he said as he again helped rearrange her hand. “She has each of the seven high races and two wizards.” “Two wizards, you say?” Fenworth rubbed the beard at his chin. “An excess. One wizard suffices for almost any task. Kale, take the cakes out and let them cool.” The wizard rose from the table and put the cards back on the shelf. Standing over the cakes, he rubbed his hands together. “Shall we have mallow or cream frosting?” “Chocolate!” squealed Toopka. “Very well.” He went over and sat in his large cushioned chair, nodding to Dar and Librettowit as they entered. “Dar, be a good fellow and teach them how to make frosting.” Soon the wizard was snoring as the group around the table measured and stirred. “Do we get to eat it when we finish?” asked Toopka. “Of course we do,” said Regidor. Librettowit shook his head. “Maybe not.” Both Toopka and Regidor stopped to stare at the tumanhofer, disbelief written clearly on their young faces. Librettowit cleared his throat. “Remember Fenworth said we had company and more company coming. He could intend this for our guests when they arrive.” Toopka leaned across the table, eyes bright and a grin touching her black lips. “Who’s coming?” Librettowit cast a sidelong glance at the sleeping wizard and lowered his voice. “He hasn’t said, but it stands to reason that if you’re about to embark on a dangerous quest, Paladin would send warriors.” Bardon dropped his book in his lap and sat up with a jerk. Fenworth’s snores ceased abruptly. Without opening his eyes, he spoke. “Supposition. What need have we of Paladin’s warriors? We have a wizard, two apprentice wizards, two strong, able men, and a librarian.” “Not me,” objected Librettowit loudly. “Count me out. I’m staying with the books and the comfort of home. I’m not going questing.” Kale remembered the fiasco of their attempt to create and control a tornado. The creating part had gone all right, but nothing afterward had gone as planned. “Pardon me, Wizard Fenworth, but I think your two apprentices are inexperienced.” “Nonsense!” Fenworth stood, stretched, and turned to the table. He came across the room and stood, patting his beard. “Tut-tut, you have no confidence in yourselves. You’ve already had your first lesson in wizardry.” Toopka’s face folded into a fierce scowl. “Baking a cake is wizardry?” “Oh dear, oh dear, I see you don’t fully comprehend.” “It’s just a cake,” said Toopka. Her words directly reflected Kale’s thoughts. “Harrumph. Toopka, when you turn and look at the counter, what do you say then, dear little doneel?” All eyes shifted to the plain wooden counter along the kitchen wall. There sat another cake, the exact duplicate of the one they had just made. Fenworth’s eyes twinkled as he watched the expressions on their faces. “And then there’s the cake on the table in front of Bardon.” Again, everyone in the room turned as one to see a third cake, which had appeared out of nowhere. Regidor harrumphed. “That still doesn’t mean Kale and I can make cakes appear all around the room.” “It doesn’t?” Fenworth tilted his gray head to one side as if considering the matter. He stood that way for almost a minute, long enough for a vine to shoot out a tendril from his beard. “Are you sure, Regidor?” He considered the young meech dragon. “Have you tried?” Regidor’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. He shook his head slowly. Fenworth clapped his hands together, a smile breaking across his wrinkled face. “That [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |