Free The Search for the Red Dragon by James A. Owen Page B

raven-haired and wore a blue dress of extraordinary richness. Of the three, only she seemed to be engaged in active work: She was slowly and methodically unraveling the threads of a great tapestry that hung across the entire rear wall of the cave.
    John couldn’t be sure, but it seemed as if the images depicted in the great weaving were in motion. It was too indistinct for his eyes to focus on any portion of it for more than an instant, however.
    The companions and the three women regarded each other silently, until the quiet was broken by a loud wail—which was coming from the Green Knight.
    “Nine years,” whimpered Magwich. “All that time I’ve been dealing with those three hags outside, and I never knew these beauties were waiting in the cave.”
    “Quiet, you nit,” said Charles. “I think these three are the old…ah, that is, I think they’re the same women.”
    “Just so,” concurred the fair-haired woman, bowing her head.
    “Are you here for the spindle?” the dark-haired woman asked, without looking at them or pausing in her labors. “Because if you are, you’re too late. We already gave it to that princess…what was her name again? Dawn?”
    “Aurora,” said the red-haired woman. “And you’re forgetting the order of things. These young men aren’t here for the spindle. They’ve come to ask us questions, haven’t you?”
    John looked askance at Bert, who nodded almost imperceptibly. “Yes,” said John. “We have.”
    “One each, then,” said the first woman. “Three questions asked, three answered. A question for Ceridwen, to set the stage. A question for Celedriel, to begin the play. And a question for Cul, to draw the curtain.”
    “I’ll be drawn and quartered,” Magwich moaned. “They are the same women. And I’ve been avoiding them all this time!”
    He threw up his hands and wailed, “Why is life so unfair?”
    “That is your first question, which I shall answer,” said Ceridwen.
    “That’s done it!” Charles shouted at the former steward. “Out! Out!” He grabbed Magwich by the shoulders and all but threw him to the front of the cave.
    “I’ll keep him occupied,” he called back to his friends. “Do what you can with the other two questions.”
    Ceridwen was already beginning to answer the first question—which, John thought to himself, was not really a terrible question to have asked. It just didn’t have much to do with their current situation.
    “Life is so unfair,” Ceridwen was saying, “because it is you whose vision is too small. Mistakes may become opportunities; accidents may become a chance for redemption. What seems unbalanced in a moment may become level over time, if only the canvas upon which your lives are painted is large enough.”
    John and Jack looked at each other in puzzlement. It was certainly the answer of a prophetess.
    “My question is next,” said Celedriel. “Ask of me what you will, and I shall answer.”
    John nodded at Jack, indicating that it was his turn. And as uncomfortable as that made him, Jack was somewhat relieved thathe wouldn’t have to talk to Cul—no matter how beautiful her present form was.
    He considered his options. His first impulse was to ask about his dreams, and Aven’s son—but that would be too limited a use of the question. It stood to reason that there were only two questions that needed to be asked: the location of the missing Dragonships, and the location of the missing children. Jack chose the former, expecting—silently hoping—that John mirrored his train of thought and would ask the latter.
    “The ships you seek,” Celedriel began in response, “are not in the Archipelago, nor are they in the world of men. They have been taken into the Underneath. The Chamenos Liber are what guard them. Find them, and find the Dragonships you seek.”
    “Short and sweet,” John muttered under his breath. “I hope Bert understood what that meant.”
    “I suppose I have to answer you now,” said Cul,