trunk-a piece
of paper or something," Eleanor said, pointing to a tree.
It was as she said. A weather-beaten piece of paper bore the
words, "To the Sword Bearer and his companion Eleanor:
Greetings. I have seen evidences of enchantment in this area.
Proceed with special caution. Use the power of the treasures.
Authentio."
John held the paper in fingers that trembled partly with fear
and partly with excitement. "I hope he's OX There's danger
for him as well as us-and he doesn't have the treasures."
Cautiously, their eyes darting here and there for any hidden
dangers, they began to follow the path slowly. It was too narrow
for the two of them to walk side by side in comfort, so John led
the way. Weatherworn rocks, mantled with a glowing green
moss jutted unevenly along the path, which continued to wind
and twist. Tree roots also sent thin knuckled fingers across the
path, seeming to say, "Please do not step on us. We have rheumatism."
A velvet hush and an expectant stillness reigned. The forest
seemed to be waiting. But for what? The notes of an occasional
bird call fell as liquid droplets into a pool of silence. Automatically John and Eleanor lowered their voices when they spoke.
"You know, it must have been quiet in the desert when we
were there-but I didn't notice it like I do here," John murmured.
"It's the birds," Eleanor replied. "There weren't any birds in
the desert. But their calls sort of remind you how still everything
is."
Beside the path, and in sunlit openings, asters, dandelions
and clover seemed to raise their heads in greeting, while lady
slippers and tiger lilies lowered their heads modestly.
"It's not a bit like I expected," John said softly. "I thought an
enchanted forest would be-well, sort of sinister. Look at the
flowers! They're so nice and not a bit magical or enchanted."
"I don't know." Eleanor had been examining a tiger lily.
"Have you seen the stalks? This one's a sort of purple color."
"Mebbe it's another variety-"
"And this . . ." Eleanor held out a dandelion. "See? Its stalk
is bright red. I think they're all enchanted."
John stared with knitted brows at the dandelion. It certainly
looked strange, even repulsive now that it had been plucked.
He shrugged his shoulders. "Shagah?"
Eleanor stared at the purple stalk of the tiger lily. "Perhaps
these are not real flowers. They're the results of a spell. They're
something Shagah created-or this Lord Lunacy person."
John shook his head. "I don't believe so. Mab and I used to
talk about things like this when I was here last. Lord Lunacy
can't create anything-except illusions. And he never makes
natural things. He can only mess up what the Changer has
created. I guess we're looking at messed-up flowers. It's Shagah,
all right. The only thing is-where's the danger?"
By now they had penetrated a little way into the forest. The
trees were getting taller, and there was less sunlight. Here and
there, among aspens and birches they would see clumps of
dead firs, gaunt and blackened, draped with gray-green moss.
They looked like the skeletons of ancient prophets, rags still
hanging from their bones, their arms pointing accusingly at
their neighbors. Others stood gaunt and naked, silently crying
their injustices to the skies. "They're all dying," John said.
"They look awful. I bet that's part of the spell too."
"Do you feel scared-I mean about being inside an enchanted area?" Eleanor asked.
"No, neither do I. It's funny, isn't it? After all, I'm the scaredycat."
"You were. You're not anymore."
"Oh, I don't know-I was pretty scared yesterday. I've been
scared half the time since we set out. Even the mention of Shagah's name usually starts me trembling. But this wood
seems so ordinary."
"Like with dandelions on red stalks?"
"No, but the forest itself. You know what I mean."
Now that the trees were getting taller, the sun invaded the
forest with golden shafts of light. Bracken stretched its fronds
of paper or something," Eleanor said, pointing to a tree.
It was as she said. A weather-beaten piece of paper bore the
words, "To the Sword Bearer and his companion Eleanor:
Greetings. I have seen evidences of enchantment in this area.
Proceed with special caution. Use the power of the treasures.
Authentio."
John held the paper in fingers that trembled partly with fear
and partly with excitement. "I hope he's OX There's danger
for him as well as us-and he doesn't have the treasures."
Cautiously, their eyes darting here and there for any hidden
dangers, they began to follow the path slowly. It was too narrow
for the two of them to walk side by side in comfort, so John led
the way. Weatherworn rocks, mantled with a glowing green
moss jutted unevenly along the path, which continued to wind
and twist. Tree roots also sent thin knuckled fingers across the
path, seeming to say, "Please do not step on us. We have rheumatism."
A velvet hush and an expectant stillness reigned. The forest
seemed to be waiting. But for what? The notes of an occasional
bird call fell as liquid droplets into a pool of silence. Automatically John and Eleanor lowered their voices when they spoke.
"You know, it must have been quiet in the desert when we
were there-but I didn't notice it like I do here," John murmured.
"It's the birds," Eleanor replied. "There weren't any birds in
the desert. But their calls sort of remind you how still everything
is."
Beside the path, and in sunlit openings, asters, dandelions
and clover seemed to raise their heads in greeting, while lady
slippers and tiger lilies lowered their heads modestly.
"It's not a bit like I expected," John said softly. "I thought an
enchanted forest would be-well, sort of sinister. Look at the
flowers! They're so nice and not a bit magical or enchanted."
"I don't know." Eleanor had been examining a tiger lily.
"Have you seen the stalks? This one's a sort of purple color."
"Mebbe it's another variety-"
"And this . . ." Eleanor held out a dandelion. "See? Its stalk
is bright red. I think they're all enchanted."
John stared with knitted brows at the dandelion. It certainly
looked strange, even repulsive now that it had been plucked.
He shrugged his shoulders. "Shagah?"
Eleanor stared at the purple stalk of the tiger lily. "Perhaps
these are not real flowers. They're the results of a spell. They're
something Shagah created-or this Lord Lunacy person."
John shook his head. "I don't believe so. Mab and I used to
talk about things like this when I was here last. Lord Lunacy
can't create anything-except illusions. And he never makes
natural things. He can only mess up what the Changer has
created. I guess we're looking at messed-up flowers. It's Shagah,
all right. The only thing is-where's the danger?"
By now they had penetrated a little way into the forest. The
trees were getting taller, and there was less sunlight. Here and
there, among aspens and birches they would see clumps of
dead firs, gaunt and blackened, draped with gray-green moss.
They looked like the skeletons of ancient prophets, rags still
hanging from their bones, their arms pointing accusingly at
their neighbors. Others stood gaunt and naked, silently crying
their injustices to the skies. "They're all dying," John said.
"They look awful. I bet that's part of the spell too."
"Do you feel scared-I mean about being inside an enchanted area?" Eleanor asked.
"No, neither do I. It's funny, isn't it? After all, I'm the scaredycat."
"You were. You're not anymore."
"Oh, I don't know-I was pretty scared yesterday. I've been
scared half the time since we set out. Even the mention of Shagah's name usually starts me trembling. But this wood
seems so ordinary."
"Like with dandelions on red stalks?"
"No, but the forest itself. You know what I mean."
Now that the trees were getting taller, the sun invaded the
forest with golden shafts of light. Bracken stretched its fronds
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