Free Kedrigern in Wanderland by John Morressy

silence was broken by Princess’s urgent voice. “Keddie, you must do something. If you don’t, who can?”
    “My dear, I fear that no one can.”
    “Don’t say that. It’s bad enough to be enchanted, but to be hopelessly, irrevocably, irremediably enchanted .
    “A moment, wizard,” said Panstygia sharply. “One of the cousins was my second cousin Hedvig. From childhood, Hedvig had been strangely immune to magic in all forms. No one could make anything of Hedvig. I cannot say for certain that she escaped the spell, but I do recall seeing the others transformed, and not Hedvig. I can picture the scene distinctly.”
    Kedrigern frowned, deep in thought. “Yes. It’s possible I’ve heard of such people. But after all these years, and the dissolution of the kingdom . . .“
    “There was the shield. That was William. Alice became a plain, simple golden crown,” Panstygia went on dolefully, headless of the wizard’s objections. “And Wanda. Oh, poor Wanda! I can see her now, lying there so slender and helpless. She’s the most tragic figure of us all. Wil
    ham and Alice and I insulted and threatened that dreadful man, but Wanda did nothing to offend him. Wanda never offended anyone. His cruelty was completely gratuitous. When be heard her name, Vorvas actually laughed and said that he couldn’t resist the opportunity
    Shaking his head slowly, Kedrigern said, “We’d be looking for Hedvig’s great-great-grandchildren, and hoping that one of them could tell us something that Hedvig overheard a century ago. No, it’s hopeless. The odds must be millions to one.” He fell silent, gazing gloomily down at the flagstones.
    “What did Vorvas do to Wanda?” Princess asked.
    “He turned her into a wand!” Panstygia cried.
    Kedrigern’s head snapped up. He turned to Princess. They shared a glance, then a smile, then an eager nod, and the wizard sprang to his feet and boldly declared, “But we defy the odds! We’ll take that chance, however remote it may be!” With a shake of his fist, he added, “We’ll go to the west and seek out Hedvig’s descendants. And we’d better leave at once—Princess and I want to be home before the first snow.”
    “Then you’ll help me!” Panstygia cried.
    “Of course,” said Kedrigern, with a gallant sweeping bow.
    “I want to come, too!” Hamarak said excitedly.
    Kedrigern turned to him, his expression solemn, and shook his head. “My good Hamarak, you are a king. You can’t just dash off on a quest, like ordinary people.”
    “Why can’t I?”
    “First of all, it’s very bad politics. I take it you enjoy being a king.”
    ‘It's been a little confusing so far, but I think I’m going to like it,” Hamarak said.
    “Well, one of the hard truths about kingship is that it’s much easier for a king to go away than it is for him to return. And besides, you can’t abandon Dendorric. Noblesse oblige, and all that.”
    “All what? What’s that you just said?”
    Before Kedrigern could speak, Panstygia’s stern voice said, “He means that when you’re a king, certain things are expected of you, and you jolly well do them. There’s no getting around it, Hamarak. Duty is duty. You’re a king now, like it or not, and you can’t let the side down.”
    “Remember, Hamarak,” said the wizard, “You’re the only one who stands between Dendorric and that wild gang from the forest. If you leave, they’ll be back here the next day, and there’ll be no champion to stop them.”
    Hamarak weighed that for a moment, then said, “If Louise goes, I won’t be able to stop anybody anyway.”
    “But Hamarak,” said the black blade in a tender maternal tone, “you never liked wielding me. You were always afraid of hurting someone.”
    “I wouldn’t have to wield you anymore, Louise,” Hamarak said earnestly. “All I’d have to do is let people see you, and that would scare off the robbers and give courage to the people of Dendorric.”
    “I think you’ve hit on