"We know," Scorn said. "Shut up."

Telemain slid down from Killer's back, stepped quickly to one side, and shook himself as if to check that everything still worked. Then he walked over to Morwen. With a glance over one shoulder to make sure Killer was out of hearing distance, he said in a low voice, "Morwen, this is absolutely the last time I agree to one of your… your ideas. That beast has a gait that would rattle the teeth out of a troll."

"It's not my fault," Killer said. "I'm supposed to be a rabbit."

Telemain looked startled, then chagrined.

"You forgot how long his ears are," Morwen said. "Never mind. The tracks I told you about are over here."

She led the way to the cluster of brown pencil-sized holes at the far side of the clover patch. When he saw them, Telemain immediately lost interest in the rest of his surroundings.

"Fascinating," he murmured. He pulled something that looked like a bright metal tube in a wire cage from one of his pockets and began twisting and pulling and unfolding. In less than two minutes, he held a small telescope attached to three long, spidery legs. He jabbed the legs into the moss and peered through the end of the telescope.

"Absolutely fascinating. The residual energy displays the characteristic spiral, but its concentration-" "Tell me about it when you decide what it is," Morwen said. She was in no mood for one of Telemain's long digressions into magical theory, even if she was one of the few people who actually understood most of what he said. Besides, listening only encouraged him.

Telemain peered through his telescope again, then pulled out several other peculiar instruments and poked at the holes. Finally he looked up.

"Where's the other one?"

"Other one?" Morwen said. Even when he was being simple, Telemain didn't seem to be able to make himself clear.

"The full-sized, er, splotch. I believe you said there was one?"

"Trouble found it." Leaving Killer to nibble disconsolately at the moss and the cats to wander as they pleased, Morwen led Telemain to the two-inch circle of brown moss. "There."

"This is really amazing. Look here, Morwen, along the perimeter.

There's no regeneration occurring at all. And-" "Yes, of course," Morwen interrupted. "But all I want to know is, is it wizards?"

"Oh, certainly. That's what I was saying," Telemain replied with maddening innocence. "And it looks as if they've figured out how to evade the enchantment the King and I worked out. You were quite right to call me."

"Quite right?" Scorn said with considerable indignation. "That self-centered, conceited idiot! Of course you were quite right.

Magicians, bah!"

Tail stiff with disapproval, she stalked off.

"Exactly," said Morwen. "Now, what was the bit about that enchantment of yours?"

"Of mine and the King's." Telemain was a stickler for accuracy, even when it meant sharing the credit for a major magical achievement. He pointed at the brown spot in front of him, then waved back toward the clover patch. "None of these should be here."

"Well, obviously. wizards aren't supposed to come into the Enchanted Forest any-" Morwen stopped short. "That isn't what you meant. Very well. Explain what you did mean, and none of your jargon. I've too much on my mind already without trying to unravel your sentences."

Telemain looked hurt. "I'm only trying to be precise."

"Right now I'll be quite content with fast and sloppy. Now, why shouldn't there be any dead patches in the moss?"

"Because the spell Mendanbar and I worked out should-should repair them as soon as they're made," Telemain said carefully. "As long as the spell is working, the absorptive properties of the wizard's staff should be balanced immediately by the recirculation of-" "Telemain!"

"I'm trying," Telemain said in a plaintive tone. "There just isn't any other way to say it."

"No?" Morwen thought for a minute. "How about this: When a wizard's staff sucks up magic from the forest, your spell sucks it back. And it works so fast that the moss shouldn't die this way."

"Or it should regenerate," Telemain said, nodding. "This has obviously not done either."

"Can you tell how they did it?"

"Not without an examination of the primary linkages." Telemain frowned down at the dead moss. "if something has damaged one of them, it might account-" A loud cat squall erupted from behind a nearby bush, followed by a high shriek. Morwen started forward, but before she had taken two steps, Fiddlesticks came trotting around the left side of the bush.

He held his head very high, and his tail was a long brown exclamation mark.

Dangling from his mouth by a bunched-up wad of blue-and-brown wizard's robes was a man about six inches tall.

Fiddlesticks halted just in front of Morwen's feet. The man he was carrying kicked, then tried to punch backward and overhead at the cat's nose.

Fortunately, he missed. Fiddlesticks growled and shook his head, and the man shrieked as he swung back and forth.

"How interesting," Telemain said. "Morwen, your cat appears to have captured a miniature wizard."

"So I see," Morwen said. "What did you do with his staff?"

"Mmmph hmmmph uff," said Fiddlesticks, and jabbed his tail back toward the bush.

"Good. Don't let him anywhere near it." Morwen turned and started for the clover patch.

"Where are you going?" Telemain said.

"To get the bucket," Morwen called over her shoulder. There was another high-pitched shriek from the wizard and a jumbled protest from Telemain, both of which she ignored. Having collected her bucket, she returned to find the wizard on his feet with Fiddlesticks standing guard.

Telemain sat cross-legged in front of them, holding something that looked like a silver watch with an orange dial and four hands. He kept looking from the watch to the wizard and back.

"Has he told you what they're up to yet?" Morwen said, setting the bucket down a little to one side, where it would be handy but out of the immediate way.

Telemain looked up, frowning. "I haven't asked. Do you realize that this is the first opportunity I have had to observe a wizard in situ?

Of course, the magical connections would be clearer if his staff were a little closer."

"You leave that staff where it is," Morwen said. "Fiddle, if either of them tries to go get it, stop them. I don't care how."

"You don't? That's easy, then." Fiddlesticks curled his lips back, showing most of his teeth. "Did I do good? Does this mean I can have fish for dinner?"

"It certainly does," Morwen said. "And possibly a bowl of cream as well. Where's Scorn?"

"With Jasper, watching the staff. Do they get fish, too?"

"Yes, if they want it." Morwen transferred her attention to the six-inch wizard. He had a sharp, angular face half-covered by an untidy brown beard, and he seemed a little young compared to most of the wizards Morwen had met. Not to mention short. "If it won't interfere with your observations, Telemain, I'd like to ask this fellow a few questions."

"Hmmm? Oh, not at all." Telemain did not even glance up.

"Good. Now, wizard, who are you and what are you doing in the Enchanted Forest?"

The wizard drew himself up to his full height, which brought his head about even with Fiddlesticks's nose. "I am Antorell, and if you know what is good for you, you will not meddle with me!" he said in a shrill voice.

"I might have known," Morwen said.

"What's that?" Telemain said, looking up. "Morwen, these readings are absurd. This fellow can't be very good."

Antorell's face turned bright red. Morwen smiled. "He isn't. This is Antorell, Telemain."

"Antorell, Antorell. Oh. The son of Head Wizard Zemenar?"

"That's right," Antorell said. "And you'll regret-" "Isn't he the one Cimorene keeps melting?" Telemain said. "And shouldn't he be larger?"