Dragon's Breath
Authors: E. D. Baker
Praise for
DRAGON'S BREATH
"A rollicking sequel to THE FROG PRINCESS,
[it] does not disappoint."
-KIRKUS REVIEWS
"As magically adventurous as
fantasy can get. . . . [A] fast-moving,
inventive coming-of-(witch)age sequel."
-VOYA
"DRAGON'S BREATH continues the tradition
of feisty princesses who turn the normal fantasy
clichés inside-out. Self-aware and independent,
Emma is a heroine to root for."
-SCIENCE FICTION CHRONICLE
Books by E. D. Baker
THE TALES OF THE FROG PRINCESS:
THE FROG PRINCESS
DRAGON'S BREATH
ONCE UPON A CURSE
NO PLACE FOR MAGIC
THE SALAMANDER SPELL
DRAGON'S
Breath
Book Two in the Tales of the Frog Princess
E. D. BAKER
Copyright © 2003 by E. D. Baker
First published by Bloomsbury U.S.A. Children's Books in 2003
Paperback edition published in 2005
All rights reserved. No part, of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Published by Bloomsbury U.S.A. Children's Books
175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010
Distributed to the trade by Holtzbrinck Publishers
The library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition as follows:
Baker, E. D.
Dragon's breath / E. D. Baker.
p. cm.
Sequel to: The frog princess.
Summary: Having recovered their human shape, Emeralda and Eadric try to help Aunt Grassina find the special objects needed to break the spell that turned Grassina's true love, Haywood, into an otter.
eISBN: 978-1-58234-666-3
[1. Fairy tales. 2. Witches—Fiction. 3. Magic—Fiction. 4. Princesses—Fiction. 5. Princes—Fiction. 6. Humorous stories.] I. Title.
PZ8.B173 Dr 2003 [Fic]—dc21 2002028337
Typeset by Dorchester Typesetting Group Ltd.
Printed in the U.S.A. by Quebecor World Fairfield
6 8 10 9 7 5
All papers used by Bloomsbury U.S.A. are natural, recyclable products made from wood grown in well-managed forests. The manufacturing processes conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin.
This book is dedicated to Ellie, Rimmy, Nate and Emiko.
I would also Like to thank Victoria Wells Arms for asking the right questions
Contents
When I was a little girl, I dreamed about being a witch like my aunt Grassina. I imagined that the next time a page stuck out his tongue at me, I'd wiggle my fingers and turn him into a salamander. If my nurse nagged me about the dirt on my clothes, I'd say a magic word and her voice would become a sparrow's chirp. If my mother scolded me for being clumsy and sent me to my chamber, I'd wave my hand, banishing her to some far-off cave guarded by trolls. I never did these things, of course, but I comforted myself with the thought that someday everyone who had been mean to me would be sorry. Someday I would be a witch and no one would dare tell me that I wasn't as smart or pretty or graceful as a princess ought to be.
Lately, I had decided that those dreams were a waste of time. Although my grandmother and aunt were both witches, my mother hated magic and let everyone know it. According to her, no self-respecting princess would ever be interested in magic, not if she really wanted to make something of herself. She threatened to send me to a convent if she ever saw me try it. "They'll know how to keep you too busy for such nonsense," she told me more than once.
If it hadn't been for my aunt Grassina, I might have given up my dream entirely, but she said I had a talent that shouldn't be ignored. I resolved not to tell my mother I planned to study magic, and my attempts remained a secret between my aunt and me.
In a way, I owed all the excitement in my life to my mother. Because she never seemed to want me around, I'd often wandered off to the swamp or to my aunt's tower chamber. Then, when my mother had tried to get me to marry a prince I couldn't stand, I hid in the swamp, unwilling to meet with him. There I met Eadric, a prince who'd been turned into a frog. I'd ended up kissing Eadric, and that kiss had turned
me
into a frog as well.
The morning after I returned home as a human, I was eager to work on my magic, if only to gain more control over my suddenly crazy life. I had never learned how to cook, so I thought I'd use a spell to make breakfast for Grassina and my no-longer-a-frog-friend Prince Eadric. I chose a recipe from one of Grassina's books,
Wolanda's Big Book of Recipes, Potions and Cooking Spells for the Inexperienced Witch
—"time-tested, witch-approved." It was a simple spell, one that even I should have been able to handle.
After fetching some peacock eggs from the kitchen, I hurried up the tower stairs to my aunt's rooms. Since my aunt often cooked her own meals, she already had everything else I needed. According to the directions, all I had to do was assemble the ingredients and the cooking spell would do the rest.
Li'l Stinker, a bat who had become a friend in my days of being a frog, greeted me at the door. The room was quiet; my aunt was probably still sleeping.
I'd decided to use Grassina's magic pot. Made of iron and black with age, it heated itself until the food was cooked. I'd never known Grassina to burn anything when she used the pot, and I hoped the same would be true for me.
Glancing from the pot to the book and back again, I was careful to read the spell aloud exactly as it was written.
A pinch of this, a dash of that
A hint of Lard, a dab of fat
A broken egg, no, make it three
One's not enough, as you can see.
Drop them in a cooking pot.
Add some spice, no, not a Lot.
Chop an onion, put it in.
Stir it once, then stir again.
Heat the pot until it cooks,
Sniff, then see how good it looks.
Get the dishes, serve it all.
Don't Let the portions be too small!
Cooking spells are fun to watch, but I enjoyed watching Li'l even more. She chorded when the eggs cracked themselves and plopped into the pot. I heard her gasp when the onions broke into small pieces, then spiraled into the mixture with the spices.
When I read
sniff,
the steam rising from the eggs wafted toward my nose, drifting past Li'l. "Smells good," she said, breathing deeply. "Now what do you do?"
"I'll taste them, just to be sure they're all right. Then we'll invite Grassina and Eadric to breakfast."
Although I'd used only three eggs, the magic recipe had doubled them, so there was more than enough for everyone. Wondering if it had doubled the spices as well, I nibbled a tiny morsel. It needed salt, so I glanced toward the shelves holding my aunt's supplies. A small salt cellar rested on a high shelf beside jars of dried herbs. Pleased by my success with the cooking spell, I pointed at it and said, "Salt cellar," expecting it to fly into my hands. Straightforward and simple—I didn't think anything could possibly go wrong.
Whoosh!
A damp breeze whisked me from the stool where I'd been sitting, twirled me until I was dizzy and plopped me down on a lumpy sack somewhere cold and dark. Dazed, I shook my head and looked around. It could have been worse. At least I knew where I was: my parents' dungeon. And the door was most certainly locked.
I'd visited the dungeon often, but always dressed warmly and carrying a torch. It wasn't safe to walk around the dungeon in the dark. Unseen hands moved barrels, holes appeared where none had been before and doors that were centuries old suddenly disappeared. Witches had lived in the castle for generations, and here, where the early witches had set up their workshops, the magic had permeated the walls and still floated about in currents and eddies that smelled like rotting vegetables.
My mother, who wasn't a witch, had ordered the dungeon cleaned out and now used it just for storage. But the witches' ghosts remained to haunt the old dungeon, and not all of them were friendly. My mother didn't believe in ghosts and kept the salt in the room where I now found myself, a long, narrow room that had once been used as the torture chamber. Why had I wanted salt for the eggs?
The torture chamber had no windows; not even the faintest glimmer disturbed the inky dark. I thought about using magic to go back upstairs, but I didn't know any spells that would take me from one place to another. Though I wanted to practice my magic, I didn't think I was ready to try to come up with my own spells yet, especially since it was a simple spell that had brought me to the dungeon. To get out safely, I needed some sort of light. A tethered witches' light would have to do, even though it would be vulnerable to the old magic wafting through the dungeon.
One of the first spells my aunt had taught me was for creating such a light. I'd used it many times, but only when Grassina was around. I recited the spell, shaping my hands as if I was holding a ball.
Create a glow to chase the dark.
A light to help me see.
Let neither wind nor rain nor snow
Take it away from me.
The space between my hands began to glow a rosy shade of pink as a ball of gentle light took form. I released the ball, and it drifted above my head.
I'd started toward the door when a whisper of sound behind me made me turn to look. A swirling mist glowing a faint blue poured through a hole in the wall. As the mist filled the room, a young woman appeared only a few feet away, her long tresses lifting in a nonexistent breeze. She gazed at me through shadowed eyes, her lips moving, her hands reaching in a pleading sort of gesture. An aura as cold as a winter's night surrounded her, giving me goose bumps as she drew near. Her lips moved again, and I strained to hear her words.
"I'm sorry," I said, tilting my head so that I might hear her better. "Could you repeat that?"
The ghost sighed and dropped her arms to her sides. "Then listen carefully this time," she yelled. "I
hate
repeating myself. I said, 'Help, help, save me. The executioner is coming and I've done nothing wrong.'" She spoke in a matter-of-fact sort of way, as if reciting lines that she'd repeated too often.
"Too late!" said a voice by the far wall. "I'm already here!" A broad-chested ghost dressed all in black materialized before us. His eyes glowed crimson through holes in the hood covering his head. Silently, the executioner wielded an axe, its blade dark with blood. The young lady shrieked and started to run. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, her head lay on the floor, gazing up in silent reproach.
"That was pretty good," I said, "although it works better when you delay your entrance, Cranston. It's more effective when Margreth convinces me of her innocence first."
"Sorry," said the executioner. "We're both a bit off today. We've had so many visitors lately, stomping around in heavy boots and thrusting torches in dark corners."
"Why were they here?" I asked.
Cranston shrugged. "Looking for something, I suppose. We're much better with the torture scene. Would you like to see that one? It's more realistic."
"No, thanks," I said, never having cared for the gruesome historic reenactments that some of the ghosts enjoyed. "I have too much to do this morning."
The ghosts disappeared, leaving me alone once again. I was stepping into the next room when my witches' light dimmed so much that I could hardly see. Something scrabbled against the stone floor like scores of metal-hard claws. I took another step, hoping to take the light out of the drifting pool of magic that had muted its glow.
A large shape loomed out of the dark, its glowing red eyes unblinking. If I hadn't encountered the creature before, I would have been terrified, but Grassina had shown me how to deal with it on one of our early visits. It was a shadow monster left behind by one of my ancestors and could be deadly to anyone who didn't know its weakness. I took one more step into the room, and the creature charged. It was almost upon me when I danced aside, rapping it between the eyes with my clenched fist. As the eyes were its only vulnerable spot, the shadow beast whined and fled into the old torture chamber.
I took another tentative step, not caring to fall into a bottomless pit or tread on a magic serpent created by an old spell. My witches' light grew brighter, lighting the darkened niches. I was halfway across the floor when a pale glow played around the edge of a door, outlining it in an eerie blue light. The light pulsed and wavered, seeming to seep through the door itself. It grew stronger the closer it came, finally taking on the shape of a man, taller than most, with shoulder-length white hair and finely chiseled features. Although the image remained translucent, I recognized him right away.
"Grandfather, you're back! I thought you were still away on ghostly business." I smiled up at the holes where his eyes should have been.
Clammy fingers touched my hand; the scent of old leather grew strong. "My darling Emma!" he answered, a chilly puff of air caressing my cheek. "I'm sorry I was away for so long. The meeting of the Council of Ghosts seems to last longer every year. I hear that you were away as well. Grassina told me something about a frog and a prince. You remind me of your grandmother. She was always doing the unexpected, too. Still is, from what I hear. You even look like her in a way."
"What?" I was horrified at the thought of resembling my grandmother in even the smallest detail. Although I had my father's large nose, I'd been told that with my taller-than-average height, auburn hair and green eyes I looked like my aunt Grassina. This was the first time anyone had ever compared me to my grandmother. Her long hooked nose, pointed chin, beady eyes, warts and straggly white hair were enough to frighten me, so I couldn't imagine that
anyone
would want to look like her. At least no one had ever accused me of acting like my grandmother.
"Olivene wasn't always like she is now. She was quite lovely when I married her, and was the sweetest and gentlest woman. It wasn't until your mother and your aunt Grassina were nearly grown that your grandmother changed."
"You're talking about the family curse, aren't you?"
"So you've heard about how the first Green Witch, Hazel, insulted a fairy?"
I had. It was Hazel's sixteenth birthday, and she didn't have enough everlasting bouquets to give one to the fairy. The fairy got angry and cursed Hazel: if she ever touched a flower, she'd end up nasty, like my grandmother was now. Aunt Grassina told me that the curse was still strong and that any female in our family who touched a flower after she turned sixteen would become a nasty hag.
"Oh, yes," I said.
"And you believe it?"
"Yes, of course. Why wouldn't I?" I asked.
"Because your grandmother didn't, at least not until it happened. Her mother had avoided flowers her entire life, but Olivene thought her mother was crazy, so she didn't believe her stories about the curse. After the curse changed her, your grandmother didn't care enough to do anything about it except send me to the dungeons."
"Is that how you ended up down here?"
A ghostly sigh brushed my ear. "Before the change, Olivene complained that I never took her to tournaments or balls at neighboring kingdoms anymore. I didn't know she wanted to go! I thought she was happy raising our girls and running the castle. She was always so busy with her magic. When your grandmother said that if I loved her I'd be more attentive and bring her little gifts, I tried to please her."
"You mean you're the one who gave her the flowers that turned her into—"
"Yes, I was the one. I had never heard of the curse, but ignorance is no excuse. After I gave her the flowers and she changed, she used her magic to send me to the dungeon for a few days. I could have left anytime after that, but I liked the peace and quiet."
I could understand why he'd want to stay in the dungeon. I'd heard from my mother and my aunt how they had fought when they were young, and if my grandmother had been as nasty as she was now, the dungeon would have been the nicest place in the castle.
"I haven't seen your grandmother for years, but the funny thing is, I miss her. I saw your mother the other day, though. She stopped by to see if you were here. Chartreuse doesn't come down very often, I'm sorry to say. Why was she looking for you in the dungeon?"
"Maybe because she couldn't find me anywhere else. I kissed a frog named Eadric in the swamp. Then I became a frog, too. Until yesterday, that is. That's when I kissed him again with my charm reversal bracelet on and we both turned back into humans. Eadric is a prince and he wants to marry me, but I told him we had to wait and see."
"Do you love him? Your mother says that love isn't essential in a marriage, but it really is, you know. When we were young, I loved your grandmother so much."
"I guess I love him in a way," I said. I just didn't know if I loved him enough, not after seeing how much Grassina loved her betrothed, Haywood. He'd been missing for years; my grandmother had turned him into an otter. "But I'm not ready for marriage yet. I want to study magic first. Last night Aunt Grassina told me that if I work at it hard enough, I might be the Green Witch someday!"
"Just like her mother was before her."
"Grandmother was the Green Witch?"
"Before the curse took hold she was the nicest as well as the most powerful witch around. Those are both requirements for being the Green Witch." Grandfather floated beside me when I started toward the door. "Now, how did you get down here?" he asked.
"We're going to the Old Witches' Retirement Community this morning to see Grandmother and ask her to turn Haywood back into a human. She wants more grandchildren and my parents aren't about to have any more, so I think she'll do it. But I wanted to make a special breakfast first."
"Are you sure it's wise to ask your grandmother for help? She's a stubborn woman. You're going to have a difficult time changing her mind about Haywood."
"Even she has to see how much Grassina and Haywood love each other."
We were passing through a long corridor, and I could see the stairway leading out of the dungeon at the far end.
"OooOooOooO!" wailed a voice. "I smell a maiden with hair of flame—"
"Go on with you! You can't smell the color of her hair!" said an older and less refined voice.
"I was being poetic!" said the first voice. "You should have let me finish!"
"Oh, go ahead, then. What else were you going to say?"
"I forget now! And it's a real shame because it was going to be beautiful!" The voice grew fainter.
At the approach of the ghosts, the temperature of the room had dropped even further. "I don't think I've met those ghosts before," I began. "They seem ... ah ... ah ... ah-choo!" I knew right away that the sneeze wasn't an ordinary one. The tickling that had started in my nose filled my head, then rushed down my neck and into my entire body. I felt myself flash hot, then cold. My skin was suddenly sensitive to the air currents wafting through the dungeon, and I could clearly hear the sound of rats scurrying behind closed doors.
"Good gracious, child," said my grandfather. "What happened to you?"
"I don't know," I said, reaching for my tickling nose, but to my surprise, my nose wasn't there. "I think I ..." I patted my face, then ran my hands over the top of my head, feeling the smooth, moist, hairless skin. "I can't believe this! I've turned back into a frog! What's wrong with me, Grandfather? Can't I do anything right? I ... I ... ah-choo!" I sneezed explosively, and suddenly I was back to my normal self.
"Are you all right, Emma?"
I patted my hair into place, glad that I had hair again. "Fine, I guess. But why did I change when I sneezed?"
"I can't help you there. I don't understand magic very well."
We had reached the end of the corridor and started to climb the stairs when I felt the tickling again. Not wanting to turn into a frog, I pinched my nose. When the urge to sneeze faded, I took my hand from my face and said, "I'd better go before ... ah-choo!" I'd let go only briefly, but it had been enough. I was a frog once more.
"Perhaps if you sneeze again," said Grandfather, "you might turn yourself back."
