Read Dragon on a Pedestal for Free Online

people had them. A human carrier would have been unable to keep the pace, but horses were designed for running.
    They glided to the turret, the bird-plant still trying to balk. Annoyed, Irene kneed it harder; plants were not usually very smart, so often they were not able to obey well, but this was a simple landing procedure. There was no excuse for holding back.
    The leg- and foot-roots touched—and made no contact. The bird-plant continued on down into the stone. “What?” Irene asked, startled to see her own legs disappearing into the castle rampart.
    Then they were all the way in it. The Good Magicians’s castle was nothing but fog! She nudged the bird, and it ascended rapidly, drawing out of the darkness, glad to get away from this. Now she knew why the steed had balked; it had realized something was wrong.
    Irene looked down. There was the castle, exactly as before. “Illusion!” she exclaimed. “The castle doesn’t exist!”
    Then she had a second thought. “It
has
to exist! I need Humfrey’s advice, in case Dor fouls up the search!”
    She nudged the bird down again, cautiously. Again the two of them intersected the castle—and found nothing of substance. The Good Magician’s castle simply wasn’t there.
    Irene shook her head. “Some joker is playing games, and I’m sure it isn’t my mother.” Her mother Queen Emeritus Iris was mistress of illusion, but she seldom used her talent now, and never for mischief. It was a sad fact that age was softening the senior Magicians of Xanth, all except Humfrey, the oldest of all. Irene wondered again what the Good Magician’s secret was. He had been old before Irene herself was born and he remained old—but no older than before in appearance. Maybe he had achieved the ultimateage, the plateau beyond which the years became meaningless. But she couldn’t ponder that at the moment; she needed to find him and quickly, so as to learn how to save her child. Dor might or might not find and rescue Ivy, though he would certainly try; Humfrey’s advice would make that rescue certain.
    “If the castle isn’t here, it must be elsewhere,” she decided. “I know I’m in the right general region.” For she had flown here before and was familiar with the lay of the land. She nudged the bird and it flew on northeast.
    Now an unrelated thought struck her. She should have asked Mare Imbri about the vision! After all, Imbri’s statue had been in the vision; maybe—but no, Imbri no longer brought bad dreams, so she should not have done this. Still, the next time the mare showed up, Irene would inquire. Imbri might know, or be able to find out, who had brought the vision, and why, and what it signified.
    Soon another castle hove in view. They glided down, touched—and passed through. “Another illusion!” Irene exclaimed in disgust. She slapped at the fog that formed it, without effect, wishing she had another watermelon seed to dry it up. Then she nudged her mount to zoom onward.
    Very soon she came to a third castle. Again she approached cautiously, and again it was illusion.
    Irene uttered an unladylike word. The bird-of-paradise plant, startled by the expletive, shed several tendril feathers. It derived from a line of creatures which associated with a far loftier realm than that described by such a word, and so the shock was formidable.
    Irene was getting downright annoyed, but sealed her erring lips. The bird was getting tired; no sense hurting it this way. She had to find the correct castle soon, before the bird wilted, for she had no other flying seed with her. Oh, the hazards of unpreparedness! Had she but known what was to happen—
    Maybe that dreadful vision had arrived late. Had it come to her before she left Castle Roogna, she would have packed some devastating seeds! A foul-up in scheduling for visions—
    But such bemoanment was useless, and Irene was a practical woman. She directed the bird back the way they had come, a new suspicion teasing her mind. Sure