Jasper raised his chin and arched his back proudly. "You're welcome.

But I'd still rather you didn't tell Scorn."

"I won't," Morwen promised. "All right, Cimorene. Let's go."

"What was that about?" Cimorene asked as they left the kitchen. "J asper found out how the wizards got in," Morwen said, and explained as well as she could without mentioning Jasper's friendship with the mice.

Cimorene frowned. "Mouse holes? That's awful. We'll never find them all, and even if we did, the mice would just make new ones. And no one has ever invented a spell to keep mice out. Not one that works, anyway."

"And if you can't keep the mice out, you can't keep the wizards out, either. It's a problem." Morwen thought for a minute. "Why don't you ask the mice to help?"

"Ask the mice?" Cimorene looked startled, then nodded. "Of course.

Even if they won't tell us where their holes are, they can let us know if any more wizards try to use them. But who should we get to talk to them?"

"Your gargoyle. I'll wager my best broomstick that the mice will talk to him, and Telemain can rig up some portable magic mirrors so he can warn you when you're in other parts of the castle."

"Can Telemain make portable magic mirrors?"

"I don't know," Morwen said. "But we can ask."

They turned down the last long corridor that led to the Grand Hall, and Morwen's eyes widened. "Impressive," she said after a moment.

"Haven't you been to the Grand Hall before?" Cimorene said.

"No," Morwen said positively. "I'd remember."

The door to the Grand Hall was made of gold. It was twice as wide and three times as tall as a normal door, and it was covered with relief patterns that moved and twisted if you looked at them too long.

Cimorene smiled at Morwen, tapped at the door with one finger, and waited. After a moment, the door swung smoothly open.

"We're here," Cimorene said, stepping forward. "Are you ready to start?"

The Grand Hall was as large as a ballroom, with a high ceiling and a green marble floor. Sunlight streamed through a dozen windows in the upper half of the walls, and two branches of unlit candles hung below each window, ready for evening or a cloudy day. Mendanbar and Telemain had pushed the few pieces of furniture-five high-backed wooden chairs and a long low-backed couch-up against the far wall. In the empty center of the room, Telemain had set up a large iron brazier, about three feet high and nearly five feet across.

"Where on earth did you get that?" Cimorene asked.

"I ordered it from the dwarfs," Telemain said, stooping to squint across the rim of the brazier. "And I had to send it back twice. The wizard liquefication spell requires extraordinary precision in the initial stages." With considerable difficulty, he shoved the brazier half an inch to the right and stooped to check its position once more.

"I made a quick trip to his house just now to bring it," Mendanbar said. "I don't need the sword for a spell that simple."

Cimorene smiled at him. "Thank you. How long will this take?"

"Not long," Telemain said, rising. "You've got the lemons and the unicorn water?"

Morwen handed them to him. "I don't think I've seen a setup quite like this before. How did you think of it?"

"The design was not difficult, once the theoretical basis for the spell was determined." Telemain carefully set the lemons on the floor and opened the bottle of unicorn water. It glowed with a faint silver-white light as he poured it into the brazier. "The efficacy of the cleansing solution in liquefying wizards suggested the operation of an antithetical principle, which-" "Did you have to get him started?"

Cimorene asked reproachfully.

"Yes," said Morwen. "I want to know how this works. Talk to Mendanbar, if you'd rather not listen."

From one of his many pockets, Telemain produced a small envelope.

As he mixed and poured and arranged the various elements of the spell, he explained each procedure in detail. Morwen was impressed in spite of herself.

The spell was clearly a major magical achievement.

Finally the preparations were finished and the brazier was half-full of white, foamy liquid. "That's enough," Telemain said. "Now, would all of you come here and hold your right hands over the brazier, please."

Frowning, he watched the bubbling liquid until the foam reached the lip of the brazier. Then he said, "Over and under, in and out.

Back and through and roundabout.

Send them away when we wish them to go.

Argelfraster!"

The liquid spattered upward as if someone had thrown a large rock into it. Three icy droplets fell on Morwen's extended hand, and several more sprinkled her robe and glasses. It was all she could do not to flinch.

Then, with a burbling hiss like a giant steam bubble bursting, the liquid exploded into a dense white cloud and rolled over them. The clean parts of Morwen's glasses fogged up immediately. Beside her, she heard Mendanbar cough.

"That's right, take a deep breath." Telemain's voice sounded very far away. Somewhere in the thick fog, Cimorene gasped and started coughing.

Warily, Morwen sniffed. The fog was bitterly cold and smelled strongly of lemons and bleach. "Bother," she muttered, and breathed in as Telemain had directed. As she had expected, she began to cough. A moment later, the fog cleared.

"Very good," Telemain said, beaming at the three of them as they gasped for air. "You can put your hands down now."

"You might have warned us," Cimorene said when she could talk again.

"About what?" Telemain sounded genuinely puzzled.

briefly, she reached into her sleeve, pulled out a clean handkerchief, and carefully wiped the lenses. "The temperature of that concoction, the fact that we were supposed to breathe that steam, and the presence of bleach in the mixture, for example."

"Why the bleach?" Mendanbar asked, in a tone nearly as puzzled as Telemain's.

Morwen settled her glasses back on her nose and scowled at Telemain.

"Take a good look at my robe." She held out her arms so that he could clearly see all the pale purple-gray dots where his magic fluid had spattered across the black fabric.

"I'm sorry, Morwen," Telemain said. "I didn't realize it would do that."

"Obviously." Tucking her handkerchief into her sleeve, Morwen shook her head. "At least the spell worked."

"You're sure?" Cimorene asked. "I didn't feel anything when it went off. Except like coughing."

"An unfortunate but necessary side effect," Telemain said, nodding.

"It may be possible to eliminate the discomfort in the future, but this time I thought it best to use a proven method."

"Didn't you have to adjust for the number of people involved?" Morwen asked.

"A simple matter of altering the balance of ingredients," Telemain assured her.

"And the trigger word is argelfraster. Morwen went on. "For all of us?"

Telemain nodded. "Say it, or think it very clearly, and point your finger at the wizard. It's quite effective."

"How did you pick a word like argelfraster?" Cimorene asked.

"I wanted something memorable."

"It is that," Morwen murmured. "Telemain, if you are quite finished, I am going home. I want to change clothes and make arrangements with the cats before I go sword hunting. Oh, and take a look at Killer before you leave, or he's likely to float off and starve."

"Float off?"

Cimorene shook her head. "Morwen, in your own way you can be just as bad as he is. It's like this, Telemain…" She began explaining what had happened in and around the kitchen.

Frowning, Mendanbar moved closer to Morwen. "I understand why you want to stop at your house before we leave," he said, "and I know you can get yourself back there somehow-" "I have my broom with me," Morwen said. "It's outside, by the front door where we arrived."