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were high, and his brown hair, distinctively striped with gray at the temples, waved handsomely back
from his forehead. In his hand was a wine glass and at his elbow the innkeeper s wife, pouring him a refill.
 It s such an honor to have you stay with us here at Bayshore Inn, Master Brown, the woman
simpered, setting down the wine crock.  Will you be staying with us long?
 Only till the second loading is done, Goodwife, the man replied.
 It s Uncle Fearchar! said Maggie, now that the reason for his familiar appearance was clear.
 Of course, that s why I thought I d seen him, the bear said,  the fellow s the spittin image of you,
gurrrl.
Maggie blushed guiltily.  I m afraid the magic mirror must show what I want to see, not what I think I
ought to see. But
I wish we could get Winnie back maybe  she returned her eyes to the mirror but the image was
already gone. She shook her head.  Too bad. That was the last one, too.
The bear sat back down by the fire, and Maggie put the mirror away.  I propose that we use the
nonmagical clues we have. All roads seem to lead to Dragon Bay. Let s get over there so I can get the
boy s heart and tear out of that smiling sorcerer what he s done with your sister.
It was easier to talk of getting to Dragon Bay than to do it, for the way led into the foothills and over a
high passage that crossed the Mountains of Mourn. The mountains had been named, said the bear, who
had studied wars foreign and domestic as Crown Prince of Ablemarle, after a battle involving giant
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soldiers who landed on the shores of Argonia, wreaking destruction in the coastal villages. They were
repulsed finally, at the cost of many lives, from crossing into interior Argonia when the loyal home guard
defended their home from the towering slopes. It was reported to have been a terrible battle, with even
the Argonian dragons aiding in the defense. Maggie said she d heard of it too, except she had heard that
the dragons only helped the Argonians because the enemy tasted better and were larger. The dragons
had been concern- ing themselves more with their plates than their patrio- tism.
Although there was a footpath, perhaps left from the days of old before the Argonian Navy became
strong enough that the mountains did not need to be foot-patrolled, the going was by no means easy.
Road-hardened as Maggie s feet had become, her lungs were entirely unconvinced they were able to
breathe the rarified mountain air, and the bear often had to wait while she caught her breath.
It was cold up there, too, and the snow was deeper than her riding boots, which were growing thinner
and thinner with each magical patching. She shivered even in her woolen cloak, which was not,
unfortunately, her winter-weight cloak. If she had only brought her hand spindle from the pack she might
have woven some of the bear s fur into a coat, but it was too late for that now.
When they finally came down out of the mountains it had been a full seven days since they d left the
river. By noon of that day they stood on a hill overlooking Dragon Bay and the little town that lay along
its shore.
From where they stood, the Bay was silver and white, smooth as glass in long flat curves offset by
choppy glit- tering expanses of water. Beyond the Bay was the open sea, but behind it was another
mountain range, craggier and even more forbidding than the one they had just crossed.
Studding the waters were a number of small islands, some no more than rocks for the waves to break
against, and others fairly large and green and covered with vegetation. The largest of the islands was
crowned by a castle. Even from their vantage point it appeared crude and ancient, two enormous stone
houses, one taller than the other, with towers stuck at each corner and surrounded by a high wall.
The town was situated on what was the only possible site for it, having been built on a beach that was
backed by the hill on which they stood. Fierce rocky cliffs brooded over the water on either side of the
town, their grimness somewhat softened by the sparkling falls of spring water cascading down their faces
and by the wildflowers growing in the deep cracks that scored them.
 I ll wager, said the bear,  that that s where the dragons of Dragon Bay lurk. Maggie shaded her eyes,
straining to see.  In those caves in yon cliffs, gurrl. Just the thing for dragons. Bears too, matter of fact.
 I was getting ready to speak to you about that, your Highness, she said, turning back to him.  I m
really afraid that the sight of you will cause undue panic in the town. Perhaps I d better go find out if I can
where the sorcerer dwells.
 No, gurrl, he replied.  You re a good gurrrl to offer to take my chances for me. But sorcerers are
tricky, and you might be trapped with no way to send for me. I think if you enlarge that cloak of yours to
fit me, and put a hood on it, I can pass for a foreign pilgrim, and none ll be the wiser.
Maggie had been almost afraid he wouldn t object to her suggestion, for she felt safe in his company, if
not from dangers sorcerous and arcane, at least from those physical ones like ogres and goblins which
were well within the competence of a bear s strength.
When the clock had been altered as he requested and he stood before her on his hind legs, paws
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concealed in the folds of the garment, she smiled with satisfaction at her handiwork and pulled the hood a
little lower over his snout.  There. If you just keep your voice down and your claws hidden, your
Highness, this might do the trick.
 You d better make out that I m fasting, as well, then, replied His Highness,  I m not much for knives
or forks these days.
It was odd coming into a town again after being in the woods and mountains for so long. There seemed
to be too many buildings and too many people moving too quickly. The self-preoccupied looks on the
faces of the townspeople as they brushed past the travelers forced Maggie to keep reminding herself that
their own business was just as important and they needn t keep giving way before people. Though
Dragon Bay was small, it was still much larger than a gypsy camp, where the bear had spent his last few
years, or Maggie s home at Fort Iceworm. Many of the hurrying people were driving geese, ducks,
cows, and pigs through the streets, so that the noises of those animals were mixed with the cries of their
drivers and the general conversation of day-to-day com- merce.
Careful to keep the bear as far as possible from the larger animals, Maggie looked around for a point of
reference.  I m not sure how to do this, now that we re here, she told the bear.  I feel so silly just [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]