Kazul changed course several times for no reason that Cimorene could see, but she did not like to distract the dragon by asking questions. They passed a mansion guarded by a fence made of gold and a short tower without any windows or doors. Then Kazul splashed through a shallow stream and made a sharp turn. The trees thinned a little, and Kazul stopped in front of a neat gray house with a wide porch and a red roof. Over the door was a black-and-gold sign in large block letters reading, “NONE OF THIS NONSENSE, PLEASE.”

There were several cats of various sizes and colors perched on the porch railing or lying in the sun. As Cim­orene dismounted, Kazul said to one of them, “Would you be good enough to tell Morwen that I’m here and would like to talk to her?”

The cat, a large gray tom, blinked its yellow eyes at Kazul. Then he jumped down from the porch rail and sauntered into the house, his tail held high as if to say, “I’m doing this as a particular favor, mind, and don’t you forget it.”

“He doesn’t seem very impressed,” Cimorene commented in some amusement.

“Why should he be?” Kazul said.

“Well, you’re a dragon,” Cimorene answered, a little taken aback.

“What difference does that make to a cat?”

Fortunately, Cimorene did not have to find an answer, for at that moment Morwen appeared in the doorway. She was wearing the same black robe she had worn when she visited Cimorene, or another one exactly like it, and she peered through her glasses with the air of someone studying an unexpected and rather peculiar puzzle.

“Good morning, Kazul,” she said after a moment. “This is a surprise.”

“Good,” said Kazul. “If you aren’t expecting us to be here, no one else is, either.”

“That’s the way of things, is it?” Morwen commented thoughtfully. “How much of a hurry are you in?”

“Not much of one, as long as no one knows we’re here,” Kazul replied.

“Then Cimorene had better get down and have something to drink,” Morwen said in a tone that forbade contradiction. “There’s cider, or goat’s milk, though if you want that, you’ll have the cats after you, or I can put a kettle on for tea. Good gracious, what have you done to your hand?”

While Morwen had been talking, Cimorene had turned and slid carefully down Kazul’s side. It was a long slide, and when her feet hit the ground, she had to put out a hand to keep from falling. Morwen’s exclamation made her blink in surprise, and she looked down. The palm of her right hand was covered with blood from half a dozen deep slashes and as many scrapes.

“Oh, dear,” Cimorene said. “It must have happened in the caves, when it was so dark. I didn’t realize. It doesn’t hurt at all.”