November 18

Word Count: 1960

The two laughed together and Frollee left for home with her basket tucked underneath her arm.

For about an hour, Mitty was truly peeved that they had laughed at her. She paced back and forth in her cell trying to calm down but her breath still came in hurried gasping breaths. She wasn't used to people thinking she was either lying or crazy, but had someone told her the story she'd told Frollee a few days ago, Mitty would have backed away slowly as well.

She would definitely not mention anything mystical to the next person she told her story to. She would stick straight with the usual and predictable. Unfortunately, that would leave out a lot of events that made her absence and flight make sense. Mitty knew she really had only one person here to blame for her predicament.

"Pader, you filthy rotten bounder, no good excuse for a brother," Mitty called as he entered the jail. The jailer laughed, and after a slight contribution from her brother, stepped outside for a few moments of fresh air. "How could you do this to me?"

"Mitty, why did you come back? I wouldn't have if I were you. You got caught. That was very clumsy."

"Pader, listen. I'm in big trouble here. You've got to get me out of here. The jailer said something about hanging. Father thinks I stole from him. You've got to tell him the truth so he'll help me. With both Father and Sir Dunlap upset, I will be hanged."

Pader refused to look at Mitty. He eyes traced the floor or looked out the small window over the jailer's desk.

"Well, Mitty, I think I can help you. They should only leave you in here for a year if you tell them where you put the treasure you stole. Tell me where you put the cloth and I'll make sure they won't hang you."

Pader knew her brother well enough to know he was hiding something. He was lying. "Pader, if you tell them that you helped come up with this whole idea, they might let me go free."

"Where's the cloth?" Mitty knew she'd hit a nerve when his voice became more stressed. He wanted the cloth. It would make him the hero if he returned it. If she produced it, the dragon cloth could also to incriminate her further. Her brother wanted to use it to frame her in a possibly worse situation.

"No, Pader. I don't have it anymore."

"Who was that man? Does he have it?"

"No, it was destroyed in a fire," Mitty lied. It would have been destroyed if the cloth hadn't been fireproof.

"How could you be so careless? So stupid?" Pader stepped back as the jailer reentered the building. He was whistling a happy melody that dipped and scooped its way through the air. Pader nodded to the jailer and left without another word.

Mitty sat down on the sagging cot and sighed. Perhaps she was being too cynical. Perhaps her brother truly wished to use the cloth to keep her from harm. Why had he lied to her? Why had he not looked at her? Why had he been so insistent, and so cruel? Mitty put her head in her hands, and waited. She couldn't decide whether to cry or laugh hysterically.

Where was this awesome power that she was supposed to possess as a Great Mage. Somewhere inside her, Mitty was supposed to be capable of lifting entire cities. She was also apparently able to transport herself over many miles and land safe in her bed. Mitty closed her eyes and wished herself out of jail. She imagined herself magically reappearing in the middle of the market, amongst the bread and the cheese sellers. The smell of their wares filled the air. Mitty opened her eyes and the empty barred cell next to her stared back.

Mitty wanted Pylon. She wanted to bury herself in his soft fur and feel his monstrous purr rattle her bones. He'd mew at her every time she'd stop scratching his ears until he settled in for a cat nap. Mitty lay down on the bunk. Still nothing. Were there magic words she had to say? Magic motions? Silly little amulets to cling to? Magic was beginning to be a useless and very annoying thing.

Saratin, apparently had not been the only brother out traveling with supplies in a dilapidated wagon and a horse that had seen better days. After a few harrowing hours to the edge of the forest on foot, with a keen eye out for more dragons, Iber and Saratin met Brother Joega.

As they approached Ladona, Saratin thought this was the perfect opportunity to test the reactions of fellow brothers to his news. He didn't have much success.

"You have been sipping way to much wine, Brother Saratin," Brother Joega explained after Saratin described their dragon fight. "Everyone knows that dragons died out a hundred years ago. There's none left in the forests. Perhaps you fell asleep too close to the fire."

"No, there were dragons; two of them," Saratin began again.

"They were dogs, then. Not dragons," Brother Joega replied. Iber simply remained silent shaking his head at Saratin. He'd been quiet since Saratin had explained why he was dressed like a brother. Brother Joega gave him a fairly stern grimace, which had increased after Saratin had told him the culprits were a pair of dragons. "No dragons."

With a sigh, Saratin stopped talking to the brother and stared straight at the road ahead. Hopefully he would have better luck with Brother Chauw who knew Saratin was not the kind to drown himself in wine and fall asleep to close to the fire.

"Would you look at that?" Iber said as he vaulted over the edge of the wagon and into the bushes by the side of the road. "You rotten little beast you," he called fondly to his horse who was quite happily eating grass in the neighboring field. Iber scrabbled into the field and patted his horse on his flank. "I was afraid you'd been eaten."

Brother Joega huffed sarcastically as he and Saratin continued on. Iber mounted his horse and trotted alongside the wagon. Saratin thought Iber was beginning to look like a noble again.

"How far are we to Ladona?" Iber asked.

"Why, it's only a couple of miles up the road," Brother Joega pointed.

"I shall see you there!" Iber spurred his horse into a gallop and disappeared down the road.

Saratin turned to Brother Joega in a last attempt. "What would you say if I told you the Great Mages were still alive?"

"I'd tell you that you're dreaming."

"What if they came back to Galadin and to Tamarin?"

"I think the brothers would be very suspicious at most, cautious at least. It's been twenty years since the Great Mages expelled the brothers from Tamarin, and a whole lot longer since they've wielded any great power over the brotherhood. There are still some brothers that remember the time when they served the mages without question, but I think the power the Mages once had would be gone. The brothers are no longer servants to the Great Mages. They are servants to the whole of Galadin." Brother Joega paused for a moment before adding, "But this is all hypothetical because everyone knows the Great Mages are dead. And so are the dragons.

Saratin sighed. He was expecting to have quite an uphill battle when he returned to Ladona. The brothers were not going to take orders from a young apprentice who claimed to possess the powers of the Great Mages.

Saratin was so deep in thought, he almost missed Iber standing jauntily by the side of the road. He had been waiting for the wagon to catch up. His grin said a lot. His clothes said the rest.

"I am certainly feeling like me again," he said as he tossed the cassock into the wagon. "I'm so very glad that my scorched saddlebags were on the other side as my clothes." Indeed, Iber was looking much more like his noble self, dressed in his highly embroidered shirt, vest, and trousers rather than the formless plain cassock. Brother Joega seemed to approve. He began chatting with Iber about the weather and current trends in agriculture. Saratin sat silently improving his mental argument for Brother Chauw.

As they approached the monastery, the gates swung open wide in welcome. Brothers Chauw and Ilden looked only slightly surprised to see him. Iber courteously handed off his sword to the keeper. His horse was led away by a clucking brother who promised to salve his burns.

"I did not think to welcome you home so soon," Brother Chauw said as he took Saratin's hand. "But welcome all the same. Perhaps your friend should like some refreshment in our courtyard?" Brother Chauw suggested. Iber raised his eyebrows at Saratin who nodded for him to follow his guide. Saratin was quite capable of talking to Brother Chauw on his own, or so he thought.

"Saratin," Brother Chauw began. Saratin could hear the lecture in his voice. It reminded him of when he was ten and had eaten a whole bowl of apples before making himself sick. He was no longer ten. In fact, he was a Great Mage, technically Brother Chauw's superior, but he felt like he was ten. He'd forgotten how hard it was to think logically without sounding stupid to his elder.

"We were attacked by dragons. Big ones… well, actually considering the one the size of a house, they were little. They ate the supplies and burnt the wine. I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting to…"

"Saratin. I think we have more important things to talk about." Brother Chauw paused. "It's been coming for a while, has it not?"

Saratin breathed a sigh of relief. "Yes. The forest is alive with magic. The dragons are awake."

"And the Great Mages? Are they awake?"

"Awake?"

"Yes, they put themselves to sleep like the Great Dragons, did they not? The twelve will awake when the magic comes back. It's what the books say."

"The books you've never let me read?"

"Only Brother Ilden and I have read them. We knew that in your state of mind, had you read them, you would have bolted off to the nearest forest in search of a magic that may or may not be awakening. It's awakening for sure now. Have you seen the Mages? Have you come to deliver us a message? Are we to go back to Tamarin?" His voice was hopeful.

"What was Tamarin like?" Saratin asked.

"It was the home of the Great Mages, full of beauty and magic. It was peaceful, until the very end. The city was dying, we could see it, and finally they had no more power to keep it alive, so they sent us home and locked the doors behind them. I was still young then. Shall I see it again, Saratin?"

"Perhaps. But first I'm supposed to catch up on my reading." Brother's Chauw's eyes lit up. It couldn't hurt to let him think the Great Mages were sending Saratin as a messenger boy. It would certainly dash Brother Chauw's hopes to learn that a new Great Mage stood before him, without the slightest clue of where Tamarin was, nonetheless how to unlock it. Saratin did, however, have every intention of finding out.

"Come, Saratin. The restricted section of the library is in the crypt." The two Brothers headed down the steps to immerse themselves in the ancient spell books.