"I, um-well, actually…"
"I thought so. That's what your problem is. Spells are hard on cosmetic changes. The dye job lasted through one spell, but now that you've been enchanted twice it's wearing off."
"Oh no," said Killer. "You mean if you turn me back into a rabbit, I'll look even worse?"
"Probably," Morwen said. "And you won't be able to redye it until the residue of the spell wears off. That usually takes about six weeks."
"How do you know all this?" Telemain asked her.
Morwen gave him a look. "Why do you think witches never color their hair?"
"This is terrible." Killer's ears waggled in distress, and several of the cats snickered. "I won't be able to hold up my head. This is awful. Can't you do anything?"
"Not right now," Morwen said. "We have some wizard hunting to do.
And if you're willing to help, you may have solved a little problem for us."
"I don't mind being helpful," said Killer. "What problem?"
Morwen turned to Telemain. "You can ride him instead of the broomstick.
He knows how to find the clover patch, and at that size he ought to move fairly quickly. I'll take the broomstick and a bucket and meet you there. And you can study the interaction of the size– and shape-changing spells on the way."
Less than ten minutes later, Morwen, Telemain, and Killer met at the half-eaten patch of clover. As Morwen landed her broomstick-with some care, so as not to spill the bucket she had hung on the front end-Scorn and Fiddlesticks slid out of the bushes and sat down at the foot of the nearest tree. The two cats wore identical smug expressions.
"What are you doing here?" Morwen said.
"We all discussed it and decided you might need help," Scorn replied.
"Aunt Ophelia and Miss Eliza came last time, Trouble and Murgatroyd and Chaos are in disgrace because of the cabbages, and Jasmine didn't want to be bothered. So it came down to the three of us."
"Three of you?"
'Jasper's around somewhere."
"I came because I'm very brave," Fiddlesticks announced. He rose and sauntered over to the clover patch. "Don't you think I'm brave, Morwen? What's all this prickly stuff?" He sniffed at the bare stalks on the eaten portion of the patch.
"That's Killer's clover patch," Morwen said. "Don't eat any of it."
'Eat it?" Fiddlesticks looked up, green-gold eyes wide. "Why would I eat it? It's some kind of plant."
"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."