I told you I c-c-could c-c-catch frogs,” said Ardent, carefully dropping the disgruntled Denholm’s bent-but-not-broken wicker cage at Anya’s feet, the dog correctly interpreting her panicked gaze as being caused by the realization that the prince was missing.
Anya picked up the cage very carefully. Her hands were shaking violently, and it wasn’t just from the cold. The giant had really frightened her. Coming so soon after the attack of the weasel creature, it had cemented just how dangerous it was to be on a Quest. It was quite different from reading about Quests, sitting in the best chair in the library, with her feet near the fireplace and a plate of honey cakes at her elbow.
Anya bit back a sob. She wished she hadn’t thought about the honey cakes.
They were a good quarter league past the giant’s ambush now, but they could still hear Beware howling in the distance. He’d broken his hip, Anya thought. It had looked like that from her swift glimpse as they were fleeing. If it was any lesser injury then he’d have staggered after them.
“Has anyone seen anything that might show us where the wizard is?” she asked the rest of her group. She suddenly felt even more tired, even hungrier, and even more despondent than ever, and didn’t know how she could go on. The burst of energy from being terrified by the giant and having to do something was now completely gone.
Smoothie scratched her sleek head. Shrub paused for a moment, one unblinking eye looking at the princess. Then he returned to dig at something interesting in the mud. Ardent ran in a circle, sniffing.
No one replied.
Anya took a deep breath to try to steady her nerves and looked about herself, shielding her eyes against the rain. The road had come to an end, and as far as she could see—which wasn’t very far—they were still in the middle of the grassy plain dotted with the same small thornbushes she’d been seeing for ages. There was no sign of any house, castle, tower, strange monolith, or anything else that might mark the presence of the Good Wizard.
“What’s a demesne anyway?” asked Shrub. “I mean, to look at. In case we missed it.”
“It just means the wizard’s lands.” Anya almost sighed, but managed to stop herself. It wasn’t a habit she wanted to develop any further than she already had. “The ‘Demesne of the Good Wizard’ is like saying the ‘Kingdom of Trallonia.’ I wish I could remember anything else from the map that might help me find it. And I really wish this rain would stop!”
“It’s going to stop soon,” said Smoothie.
“Is it?” asked Anya. “How do you know?”
“I just know.” Smoothie smiled, showing her fine sharp teeth. Her eyes twinkled. “It’s a Yarrow River otter thing. It’s going to stop raining, and the wind is going to come up from that direction.”
She pointed one webbed hand west.
“It will be colder,” she added.
Anya sneezed very violently. Her cold was already worse, without the temperature dropping. But this just made her more determined. She’d beaten a giant—she wasn’t going to be beaten by a sniffle.
“We have to find the wizard,” she said. “Let’s walk on a bit farther in the direction the road was heading. It looks like it’s climbing up a hill again. Maybe if the rain stops we’ll get a view and can spot something.”
“Would you like a grub?” asked Shrub. He’d found a decaying tree stump and had ripped it open with his claws to reveal a writhing group of white, segmented grubs.
“No thank you,” said Anya. “But please, you go ahead.”
Shrub needed no urging, gulping the grubs down before Ardent or Smoothie could get a look in.
Ten minutes later, just as Smoothie had predicted, it did stop raining. The wind changed direction and came back stronger and colder from the west, already beginning to clear the clouds away.
With the increased visibility, Anya saw that they had reached the top of a low ridge. She could see the road they’d left below and behind them. More important, looking ahead, the grassy plain extended to a narrow river, which had overtopped its banks and was busily flooding parts of the surrounding countryside. But there were also the remnants of a road leading to an almost-but-not-quite-submerged footbridge. On the other side the grassy plain became a meadow blessed with a great many charming yellow wildflowers, and in the middle of that meadow there was a building.
A wizard’s tower, to be precise.
It was easily recognizable as a wizard’s tower because it had the traditional kink in the middle and would have fallen down long since if there hadn’t been some kind of magic holding it up. Counting windows, which were not mere arrow slits but fine glass windows, each of four panes, it was seven stories high, and it had a sharp-peaked, shingled roof above a narrow sentry’s walk.
The stone facings were whitewashed, which did not indicate it was a Good Wizard’s tower, only that the inhabitant liked whitewashed walls. Plenty of Good Wizards lived in basalt-black towers, or houses painted blood red, or tents daubed with scary paintings. It was all personal taste and didn’t mean a lot.
A low cloud soon rolled back across, but it didn’t deliver any rain. Anya could still see the path, though the bridge and the river were now obscured by wisps of drifting white.
“Come on,” she said, relief lifting her voice, visions of hot baths and food and clean clothes flitting through her head. “Let’s go and meet the wizard!”
With their spirits buoyed by the prospect of food and shelter, their progress was swift. Low, wet white clouds kept blowing past, rather like a swift-moving fog. In other circumstances this would have been depressing, since they were already cold and wet, but it felt as if this was the last dash and soon all would be well.
Then, just as they came to the river, Ardent, who was in front, gave a bark of alarm.