Chapter 37

The last thing Mitty expected to see when she went to grab a couple of apples from the orchard was her son tearing up the road on a horse with Pylon fast on his heels. She was glad he was finally home, but his method of arrival was a bit dramatic.
“Hello dear,” she said as she put her basket on the ground.
“Hi Mom,” he said as he dismounted, followed closely by a rather confused looking prince.
“Good afternoon, Your Highness,” Mitty said. “Would you like to come in for some tea?”
The prince looked at her as if she’d turned orange.
“I thank you for your kind offer Mrs. Masonae’s mom,” he began.
“Mitty. Call me Mitty. Everyone does.”
“I thought you said you lived in the north,” he said to Masonae.
“I do.”
“But we were traveling south.”
“Yes, we were.”
“Then how did we get here?”
Snult chuckled on his shoulder. “Because Masonae’s rather special. And his parents are a little overprotective.”
“Were. Were a little overprotective. We’re working on that.”
“Thanks Mom, but we’ve got kind of an emergency. Brother Valdin and some lord named Sir Bontin took Cybele and are going to try and finish Orin’s quest.”
“But if anyone finishes my quest, then Cybele dies.”
“Oh dear.” It was a rather stupid thing to say, but Mitty couldn’t manage much else. Her hopes were pinned on someone finishing the quest. She was glad her son had finally tacked on to a friend, and a prince at that, but she really didn’t care who completed healing the tree as long as it was done.
“I think this calls for an emergency meeting.”
“A meeting?” The prince was still confused.
“Yes. Let me go get Malek. I think he’s inside.”
“Why do we need a meeting? We need a way to stop Bontin.”
“Mom, I still haven’t told him,” Masonae said.
“About what, sweetheart?”
“About what you do for a living. When I tell people, it tends to have unfortunate side effects.”
“She’s a tailor. You told me that a long time ago. And your father is a locksmith.”
“Well, those are our day jobs. You can tell him now Masonae, I’ve fixed the problem.”
Mitty turned to go back to the cabin to fetch Malek. She could here Prince Orin’s exclamation from quite a long distance.
“Your parents are what?!”
Mitty opened the door to the cottage. Malek was right in the middle of the floor working on some large box lock.
“Isn’t that what your work shed is for?” She put her hands on her hips, trying to look stern. One twitch of his eyebrow and her false frown faded into a smile.
“He’s home, and he’s brought a friend. I think we have to go save the day again. Something about the seed being kidnapped.”
“I thought we were letting him find his own way.”
“He found his way home. You don’t want us to just abandon him out in the wilderness? He’s asking for our help.”
“I suppose since he asked.” Malek stood up and put a hand around her waist. Mitty instantly popped them to the two boys standing outside. Orin nearly fell over.
“Okay, let’s go.” She put a hand on Masonae and one on Orin while Masonae touched Pylon. In a moment they were standing in Saratin’s study.
“Good afternoon, what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” Saratin eyed the party curiously.
It took less than six minutes to round up the rest of the mages and explain the dilemma.
“Wait a minute,” Trevelyn said. “Tell me we didn’t waste so much time finding an object we don’t intend to use to save ourselves.”
“Well, we can’t ask the girl to die for us,” Iber added.
“You want to die instead?” Lasser asked.
“Think of all the benefits,” Trevelyn said. “We could actually find a cure for Lynah. I wouldn’t have to spend the rest of my life babysitting her.”
“And potentially we could add more mages,” Mitty said, eyeing Masonae.
“But we can’t kill her,” Iber repeated.
They continued to argue back and forth, but Mitty kept her eyes on Saratin, who she could tell was thinking, and Prince Orin, who was watching the conversation bounce back and forth between the mages like a ball. Finally a break occurred and Orin stepped forward.
“Whether or not we should let Cybele sacrifice herself is not the point right now. The point is, if we don’t hurry and rescue her, that decision won’t be ours or hers to make. It will be Bontin and Valdin’s.”
All the mages turned to stare at him. Prince Orin met each in the eyes in turn.
“He’s right,” Iber said. “Let’s go. I’ll do it.”
“I’ll do it,” Lasser said as they all joined hands. “I don’t have to rhyme.”
“Do you always have to keep picking on me? I’m sure that Prince Orin would agree with me that poetry is a most noble occupation. Much nobler than baby sitting.”
Before Lasser could respond, Mitty herself transported them to the Calca tree.
Bontin and Valdin were already there, looking quite victorious. They laughed when they saw the group, though Mitty was sure some of it was nervous laughter at their sudden arrival.
“Poor Mother Tree,” Cybele said as she hugged the tree. “Poor old thing.”
“Cybele,” Prince Orin cried as he stumbled toward her. “You don’t have to heal it if you don’t want to. We don’t expect you to sacrifice yourself.”
“You’re too late. We’ve already completed the quest,” Valdin called after him.
“Says who?” Masonae said.
“Who? I do. No one will argue with me. Bontin will be the next king.”
Seven pairs of eyes stared hard at Bontin. Saratin shook his head.
“There’s more to becoming a king than winning a quest. It’s simply a test of skills.”
“Oh, and what skills did Prince Orin show?”
“Leadership,” Saratin answered.
“Decision making,” Trevelyn said.
“Loyalty,” Malek said.
“Compassion,” Mitty said.
“Determination,” Lasser said.
“And fashion sense,” Iber said. They all turned to look at him. “Well, you took all the good ones.”
“The only question is what are we going to do with them?” Mitty asked.
“I say we give them to Cunegunde,” Lasser suggested.
“You wouldn’t dare do anything to us,” Bontin said. “I am a very important man in Galadin.”
“Then why have I never heard of you before today?” Malek asked.
Bontin drew his sword.
“You know you don’t stand a chance against one of us, none the less six. We’re called Great Mages for a reason.”
“I challenge him to a duel, then,” Bontin pointed his sword at Masonae.
“And as a gentleman, you have to other option but to accept,” Valdin added.
“He’s not a gentleman,” Mitty said with a smile. “He’s my son.”
The look on Valdin’s face was priceless. It was finally dawning on him how horrid the situation was for him.
“I’ll be right back,” Lasser said a moment before he disappeared.
“I have my rights!” Bontin shouted, his voice laced with a barely disguised sense of panic.
“Oh no you don’t,” Trevelyn said.
“What is the meaning of…Oh. Hello,” King Deseda tried to hide the fork she held up her sleeve.
“Valdin, as a Great Mage and before the King of Galadin, I charge you with high treason for conspiracy to commit murder of the Crown Prince Orin.”
“You tried to kill my son?” King Deseda withdrew the fork and brandished it at Valdin. “You dirty rotten… I knew you were up to something, but I didn’t think you’d go that far.”
“Sir Bontin helped,” Masonae added cheerfully.
“You should be so glad that I abolished the death penalty. Otherwise I’d stake the two of you out in the middle of the forest as dragon bait!”
“Your Majesty,” Valdin began smoothly. “Do you really think I’d ever try to lay a finger on your beloved son? My loyalties have always been-” Deseda poked him with the fork.
“You big fat liar. You scheming two faced…”
“Canker sore?” Lasser supplied.
“Maggoty puss bag?” Malek added.
“Open oozing wound on the back of a dragon so ugly his mom wouldn’t nurse him?” Iber smiled. Lasser and Malek nodded and slapped on the back.
“Banishment,” Deseda said simply.
“No, say death rather than banishment!” Bontin cried.
“Okay, death.”
“Never mind, I’ll take banishment. Surely he’ll get a longer sentence. It was all his idea.”
“Banishment is permanent. If I ever see your faces again in Galadin, you really will find yourself staked out in the middle of the forest.”
“But Your Majesty!” Brother Valdin said, bowing low.
“Can I roast them now? Can I? Can I,” Snult said as he bounced up and down in mock enthusiasm.
“Turn around and count to ten. If they are still there when you get to ten, then you can roast them as toasty as you please.”
“Oh goody! One, two, three, four,” Brother Valdin and Bontin took one look at the dragon who grew larger every number. They turned and fled.
“Five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten!” Snult turned around and blew a jet of flame that licked at their heels. They screamed and sped out of sight. Snult chuckled and turned back around.
“I never get to roast nobody.”
“I say we head to The Crazy Lady for a celebratory drink!” Iber said.
“Cybele!” All attention was brought to Prince Orin who was trying to pull Cybele out of the trunk of the tree. She was already halfway in. Masonae scrambled to help him, but Cybele shook her head.
“Mother Tree is in pain. She needs me. I’ll help.”
“But Cybele!”
“Let go, silly boy.”
She slid out of his fingers and into the tree. He fell back into Masonae’s arms. Orin scrambled back to the trunk, but it was as hard and solid as had always been.
“We were too late,” Prince Orin said dejectedly.