“What—this is impossible!” said one of the wizards indignantly as he began to melt.

“Too bad,” Cimorene said, throwing her second load of water at the next-to-last wizard.

“Watch where you’re throwing that!” Morwen said to the stone prince, who had sloshed his second bucket over the fifth wizard with such enthusiasm that water sprayed in all directions.

“Sorry,” the prince apologized. “Is that all of them?”

“It’s all five of the ones we saw,” Cimorene said cautiously.

“Then we did it!” Alianora said.

“Not quite,” said Zemenar, stepping out of the bushes behind Morwen. “You interrupted the spell, of course, but we were nearly finished anyway. And as long as the stone remains enchanted, Woraug won’t have any trouble getting it all the way to the Vanishing Mountain. Look.” He pointed with his staff, and Cimorene saw three dragons, high in the air, flying steadily toward the mountains. One of them had a long black stone clutched in his claws, and the other two appeared to be escorting him at a careful distance.

“Woraug and the two judges,” Cimorene murmured.

Zemenar nodded. “You might as well put that bucket down,” he went on, turning to Alianora. “You can’t throw it at me without melting your witch friend here. What’s in it, by the way?”

“I don’t see why we should tell you,” Cimorene said as Alianora set the last of the six buckets down.

“Because I’m interested, Princess,” Zemenar said with an oily smile. “And it will pass the time until the next shift gets here, and I can decide what to do with you.”

“If you’re that interested, why don’t you take a closer look?” said the stone prince, picking up Alianora’s bucket.

“Stay where you are!” Zemenar commanded. As he spoke, he raised his staff and sidestepped so that Morwen was between him and the stone prince.

“If you insist,” said the prince. He shrugged, lifted the bucket, and flung the water over Morwen and Zemenar at the same time.

“What—no!” Zemenar cried in horror as he began to melt. “Not soapsuds! It’s demeaning.”

“There’s a little lemon juice in it, too,” Alianora offered.

Zemenar glared at her. He was less than half his normal height and shrinking as they watched, while a dark puddle spread out beneath him. “Lemon juice! Bah! How dare you do such a thing? I’m the Head Wizard of the Society of Wizards!” His voice grew fainter and higher as he shrank. “Interfering busybodies! Soapsuds! Of all the undignified tricks. You’ll be sorry for this! You can’t melt a wizard forever, you know! You’ll be sor . . .”

The wizard’s voice ceased. All that remained of him was a pile of silk robes and a long wooden staff lying on some damp moss. Alianora and Cimorene stared for a moment, then Alianora turned to the stone prince.