Chapter 43 #2
“I do. Speaking of, do you know what happened to that old phoenix cage in the workroom? The gold one. It seems to be missing.”
It wasn’t missing. It usually sat on a pedestal much like the one the stone frog squatted on.
From its elevated position above the clutter, Henri could enjoy the cross-breeze from the balconies, and those same breezes would carry his ballads and arias so they could be heard and enjoyed throughout the whole tower.
At present, the gold cage with its amphibian opera singer was hiding in the non-temperature-controlled training room with the princess.
She’d taken the bean pot from the kitchen and turned it into a swimming pool so the little prince wouldn’t overheat.
Bradley wondered how many times he’d have to put it in the sink for the soap and sponge to wash before he was convinced it was truly clean.
“I, uh, was rooting around for something and must’ve buried it,” he answered Miss Penelope.
“Such is the way with sorcerous clutter,” she sighed. “Touch one thing and you start an avalanche.” She patted his hand excitedly. “But tell me more about your stutter, or lack thereof! How did you overcome it?”
“Practice. Hard work. Lots of tea.” And an iron will to show that princess that no matter how embarrassing or incendiary those tongue-twisters were, he would overcome them.
“Tea?”
“With honey.”
“Don’t barrage me with the details all at once,” she teased, swatting him again. “And your magic?”
Bradley ground his teeth. That still hadn’t come back, not even in fits and starts. He’d tried, by Caelus and every star in the sky, he’d tried, but the moment any High Aetherial tried to pass his lips, his stutter returned.
“Not yet,” he growled.
By now they had reached the workroom, and Miss Penelope turned to face him. She cupped his face gently in her gloved hands. “Bradley, it will come. You’ve come so far already.”
“Not fast enough,” he grumbled.
“None of that defeatist attitude.” She chucked him under the chin with the crook of her finger. “You have sixty days left. Oh, and Master Excelsior wanted me to give you this.”
From the inside pocket of her blue riding jacket, she produced a gray-green rock with a hole in its center.
“A hag stone,” Bradley exclaimed, immediately offering his cupped hands.
The hole at the center of a hag stone wasn’t man-made.
It evolved naturally from erosion and only in river water that had been blessed by a naiad.
If the naiad still made that river her home, the more potent the hag stone.
Some, when lifted to the eye, revealed that which magic concealed.
Some, like this gray-green one, created portals.
But there was a catch. Hag stones had to be found by chance or gifted to activate their powers. If you took one by force, or bought it, its magic was denied you for all time.
“Master Excelsior found this one nearly a century ago. Since it might take the full duration of your sojourn here to lift your curse, he didn’t want you to risk missing your Master’s exam because of travel. A long ways from Ashburnum to Bellafont, you know.”
She placed the hag stone in his cupped hands. He felt the power of its transference immediately, the stone warming against his skin. Bradley turned it over and over, the green flecks winking in the sunlight. Malachite. A very special hag stone indeed.
“He enchanted it himself to activate the moment your curse is lifted and bring you to the exam chamber,” she continued.
“This hag stone will create a portal for you wherever you are, so long as you have it on your person. Simply walk through, and bring Lung Shang with you, of course. Caelus knows he’s missing the cooler climes of the mountains and all the lake water.
Of course, if you somehow miss entering the portal, it will continue to provide them, or you may summon one yourself with just a thought. Now put that somewhere safe, darling.”
Bradley quit ogling and pocketed the stone.
Miss Penelope walked to the balcony, patting a snoozing Zora as she passed, and gazed down below. “I don’t think I’ll ever tire of such a sight. Magnificent little creature, isn’t he?”
Dirk’s tornado swirled above Sir Eustace’s camp, tighter and more controlled than his first attempt. The blue luck dragon seemed to be riding his own twister instead of directing it, cackling with joy the whole time.
“He is,” Bradley agreed.
Dirk waved up at them, then got sucked out of sight with a “Wheeee!”
Miss Penelope smiled and adjusted her riding hat, carefully tucking the loose hair back under the jeweled net. She adjusted the fit of her gloves and tugged her riding jacket to straighten it. She smoothed a hand over Zora’s head feathers. “Sweetie, wake up. It’s time to go home.”
The griffin opened one eye, the translucent nictitating membrane sliding away to reveal a sapphire iris.
Her large black beak opened wide in a fearsome yawn, and she rose fluidly to her feet.
Her rousing alerted the little ones, and four griffin kits chirped for food.
There were no more field mice left to be regurgitated, so Zora flipped the lid and shut them, and their chirping, away.
“Do they have names yet?” Bradley asked as he hoisted the basket so Miss Penelope could thread her arms through the straps more easily. Under the watchful gaze of the mother griffin, of course.
“Not until the grow their primary feathers and have their first flight. When the full moon comes, Zora and I will take them to the snowy summit of their birth and she’ll name them then.”
Tightening down the straps, Miss Penelope bounced on the balls of her feet to test that the basket was secure.
She mounted the griffin and adjusted her grip on her riding crop.
There was a miscreant or two who would love to get their greedy hands on Zora’s kits.
She swept that unpleasant thought from her mind and turned a smile towards the apprentice.
“You can do this, Bradley.”
“You’ll tell Master Excelsior that I’m trying? Please?”
“He knows, but of course I will.” She nudged the griffin with her heels, and the leopard jay took flight. “Ta-ta!”