Searching for Dragons

Morwen examined him for another moment, then nodded briskly. "So you're the King. Come in and tell me why you're here, and I'll see what I can do for you."
"How do you know I'm the King?" Mendanbar asked as the cats exchanged glances and then began wandering off in various directions. He felt disgruntled, because he had not intended to mention the fact. At least Morwen wasn't curtsying or simpering, and she hadn't started calling him "Your Majesty" yet, either. Perhaps it would be all right.
"I recognize you, of course," Morwen said. She set the broom against the wall behind the door as she spoke. "You've let your hair get a bit long, but that doesn't make much difference, one way or another. And Mendanbar isn't exactly a common name these days. Are you going to stand there all day?"
"I'm sorry," Mendanbar said, following Morwen into the house. "I didn't realize we'd met before."
"We haven't," Morwen said. "When I moved to the Enchanted Forest five years ago, I made sure I knew what you looked like. I'd have been asking for trouble, otherwise."
"Oh," said Mendanbar, taken aback. He had never thought of himself as one of the hazards of the Enchanted Forest that someone might wish to be prepared for, and he did not like the idea much, now that it had been pointed out to him.
Morwen waved at a sturdy chair next to a large table in the center of the room. "Sit down. Would you like some cider?"
"That sounds very good." Mendanbar took the chair while Morwen crossed to a cupboard on the far wall and began taking mugs and bottles out of it. He was glad to have a minute to collect his wits. He was not sure what he had expected her to be like, but Morwen was definitely not it.
Her house was not what he had expected, either. The inside was as neat and clean as the outside. The walls of the single large room were painted a pale, silvery gray. Six large windows let in light and air from all directions. There were no gargoyles or grimacing faces or wild tangles of trees and vines carved into the window ledges or the woodwork around the ceiling, and no intricate patterns set into the floorboards. One of the cats had come inside and was sitting on a big, square trunk, washing his paws; another was lying in an open window, keeping an eye on the backyard.
There was a large black stove in the corner by the cupboard, and three more chairs around the table where Mendanbar was sitting. It was all very pleasant and uncluttered, and Mendanbar found himself wishing he had a few rooms like this in his castle.
"There," said Morwen as she set a large blue jug and two matching mugs in the center of the table. "Now, tell me about this problem of yours."
Mendanbar cleared his throat and began. "About an hour ago, I ran across a section of the Enchanted Forest that had been destroyed. The trees had been burned to stumps and there wasn't even any moss left on the ground. I'm afraid it may have been a rogue dragon. I found dragon scales in the ashes, and a squirrel suggested I come and see you."
"Dragon scales?" Morwen pressed her lips together, looking very grim indeed. "Did you bring them with you?"
"Yes," said Mendanbar. He dug the scales out of his pocket and spread them out on the table.
"Hmmm," said Morwen, bending over the table. "I don't like the look of this."
"Can you tell anything about this dragon from his scales. Mendanbar asked.
"For one thing, these scales aren't all from the same dragon," Morwen said. Her frown deepened. "At least, they shouldn't be."
"How can you tell?" Mendanbar asked, his stomach sinking.
"Look at the colors. This one is yellow-green; that one has a grayish tinge, and this one has a purple sheen. You don't get that kind of variation on one dragon."
"Oh, no," Mendanbar groaned, shutting his eyes and leaning his forehead against his hands. He had so hoped that it had been a single dragon.
It would have been a nuisance, sending letters of complaint to the King of the Dragons and waiting for an answer, but it would have been better than a war. If a group of dragons had attacked the Enchanted Forest, war was almost inevitable. "You're sure there were several dragons involved?"
"I didn't say that," Morwen snapped. "I said that these scales look as if they came from different dragons."
"But if the scales came from different dragons-" "I didn't say that, either," Morwen said. "I said they looked as if they came from different dragons. Have a little patience, Mendanbar."
Mendanbar opened his mouth to say something else, then closed it again.
Morwen was staring with great concentration at one of the scales, the one that was the brightest green, and she didn't look as if she would welcome an interruption. Suddenly she straightened and in one swift movement scooped the scales together like a pile of cards. She tapped the stack against the tabletop to straighten it, then set it down with an air of satisfaction.
"Ha! I thought there was something odd about these," she said, half to herself.
"What is it?"
"Just a minute and I'll show you." Morwen went back to the cupboard and took down a small bowl and several jars of various sizes. As she spooned and mixed and muttered, Mendanbar felt magic gather around her, like a tingling in the air that slowly concentrated itself inside the bowl.
At last she capped the jars and carried the bowl, brimming with magic, over to the table.
"Stay back," she warned when Mendanbar leaned forward to get a better view.
Mendanbar sat back, watching closely, as Morwen spread the five dragon scales out in a line. She set the purple scale at one end and the bright green one at the other. Then she held the bowl over the center of the line, took a deep breath, and said, "Wind for clarity, Stone for endurance, Stream for change, Fire for truth: Be what you are!"
As she spoke, she tilted the bowl and poured a continuous line of dark liquid in a long stripe across the middle of the five scales.
There was a flash of purple light, and the liquid began to glow. The glow spread outward, like fire creeping around the edges of a piece of paper, until it reached the rims of the dragon scales. Then it flashed once more and vanished.
Five identical scales lay side by side on the table, all of them bright green.
"I thought so," Morwen said with satisfaction. "These scales all came from the same dragon. Someone altered them so that they would each look different."
"Oh, good," Mendanbar said with some relief. "How did you know?"
"The scales were the same shape, and very nearly the same size," Morwen said. "Different dragons might have scales about the same size, if they were the same age, but there's as much variation in the shape of dragon scales as there is in their color."
"Really?" Mendanbar said, interested. "I didn't know that."
"Not many people do. But look at these-they're all round, with one flat edge. If they'd come from different dragons, I'd expect one to be, say, squared off, another oval, another long and wiggly, and so on."
"In that case, it shouldn't be too hard to find the dragon who destroyed that chunk of forest," Mendanbar said.
Morwen looked at him severely over the tops of her spectacles. "I'm not sure it was a dragon at all."
"Why not?" Mendanbar asked. "Because the scales were changed? But if he didn't want to be blamed-"
"If some dragon wanted to avoid being blamed for burning up a piece of the Enchanted Forest , he wouldn't have left his scales lying around, changed or not," Morwen said dryly. "Picking them up would be a lot easier than enchanting them. Besides, a healthy dragon doesn't shed scales at this rate. Unless you think your rogue dragon burned down a lot of trees and then stood around looking at them for a week or two."
"I see." Mendanbar picked up one of the scales and ran his fingertips across it.