A Bad Spell in Yurt - Wizard of Yurt - 1 (13 page)

With little to do, I set myself the goal of reviewing everything I had supposedly learned at the wizards' school. Within a week, I had finished al the assignments from the first year. I was both pleased to see that I real y had progressed in my eight years at the school, from an audacious but (in retrospect) shockingly ignorant young man from a merchant family in the City to someone recognizable as a real wizard, at least to an il usion-weaver at a carnival, and embarrassed to see what truly basic information I had managed not to learn. At the end of the week, I sat down to write Zahlfast a letter.

It was hard thinking what to write, out of al that had happened to me since leaving the City. It would in fact have been easier to write a twenty-page letter, but I was restricted by the size of message the pigeons could carry. Unless one was wil ing to wait to send one's letter by someone from Yurt or someone stopping by Yurt who was traveling to the City, the only alternative was to write one's letter on one of the tiny, light-weight pieces of paper the pigeons could carry. There were postal stations spread in a semicircle, fifty miles from the City, where carrier pigeons from al the western kingdoms brought messages and dropped them into the greater urban postal system. The postal system itself could handle almost any size letter, but only if mailed within fifty miles of the City.

"I am enjoying being Royal Wizard," I final y wrote, "and at last I may be learning some of the magic you tried to teach me. So far I've made a series of magic lights. I am even learning some of the old herbal magic as wel . My king is sick now, however, so I don't know what wil happen. If you were ever near Yurt, it would be nice to see you."

The last line surprised me, as I had not intended to write it. Just getting lonely for company, I said to myself, but I let the sentence stay. I folded the tiny piece of paper I was al owed, wrote the address on the outside, rol ed it up and slipped it into the cylinder that would be attached to the pigeon's leg, and took it across the slick courtyard and up to the south tower. The pigeon keeper assured me my letter would be delivered in the City the next day--or certainly within two days.

Back in my chambers, I found the book in the front of which I had written the schedule of courses and readings at the beginning of my second year at the school. Some of the courses I had no recol ection of, and I was quite sure I did not own al the books.

I was sitting, frowning at the list, when I heard running feet outside. My door swung open without even a knock, and Gwen burst in. "Sir, oh sir, excuse me, but you must come at once!"

The book fel from my hands unheeded as I leapt up. My heart fel with as heavy a thump, for I was sure the king was dead.

"Someone's trying to poison the king with magic! You must find out who it is!"

At least it sounded as though the king was not dead yet. "But how do you know?"

"Please come!" she cried, tugging at my hand. "The others don't believe me--they say I don't know any magic."

We hurried across the rainy courtyard to the kitchens. I was too confused and upset to even try a spel to stay dry.

In the warmth and steam of the kitchen, the cook was standing looking thoroughly angry, her ample fists on her aproned hips. The rest of the kitchen servants hovered in the background, looking worried.

"So, Wizard," said the cook. "Now maybe we can have the real story! Gwen has been trying to tel us you've taught her magic, and now she's accusing us of wanting the king dead!"

"I didn't say that!" Gwen cried. "I never thought it! I'm not accusing any of you, but someone's doing it!"

"Wait, wait," I said. "I never taught Gwen magic."

"Yes you did!" she countered. "That spel that turns food red! Only in this case it turned green."

There was a babble of voices, but I tried to stay calm. "Let's start at the beginning. What food are you talking about?"

"This, sir," said Gwen. From the table she picked up what appeared to be a bowl of chicken soup, except that it was a bril iant green--almost the same color, in fact, as the queen's eyes.

"I was going to take it to the king; the queen thought a little soup would do him good. And then I remembered that you had taught me a spel to say to see if someone had slipped a potion in your food."

Jon was standing next to her, but she looked determinedly straight ahead. "You'd said if someone had, the food would turn red. And then I wondered, suppose someone had tried to slip a potion to the king? So I decided to say the spel over his soup. But it didn't turn red, it turned green. That's probably just because it's a different kind of potion, but I know someone wants to kil him!" At this she burst into tears. Jon tried to put his arms around her, but she pul ed herself away.

I had no idea what it meant. Al I knew was that the old wizard had told me this spel would detect a love potion. When I learned it and taught it to Gwen, it had never occurred to me that it might be a way to detect the spel which Dominic said someone had put on the king.

It stil might not be the way, but I could not hesitate. "We've got to get the king out of the castle," I said.

They al looked at me as though I had lost my mind. "But it's cold and it's raining! He can't travel in this weather! Where would he go?"

"Not far," I said, hoping what I was saying was true. "His rose garden should be far enough. Wrap him up wel , and put hot irons in the wrappings to keep him warm. Pitch a tent in the garden, and set charcoal braziers in it. And you," to the cook, "wil have to make him some more soup, but don't make it here. Make it outside the castle."

"What? You expect me to leave my warm kitchen and make a campfire in this rain and--"

"It may be the only way to save the king's life," I said. The cold touch of evil I had been feeling since summer was stronger in the kitchen than ever before, though I stil could not tel where it was coming from. It might be Gwen, the cook, or one of the other servants, but I thought I would have been able to tel if it had been. "Come on!" I said. "There isn't enough time to waste any of it."

Almost to my surprise, they obeyed me. Within a very short time, the king, heavily wrapped and shielded from the rain, was being carried out into his rose garden. The few last blooms dripped wet.

Joachim came up to me, made as though to grab me by the arm but stopped himself in time, and instead drew me out of hearing range of the others with a jerk of his chin.

"Are you trying to kil the king?" he demanded, his black eyes glowing fiercely at me.

"I am not," I said back, just as fiercely. "I'm trying to save his life. I think there's an evil spel in the castle that's kil ing him, and I'm trying to see if he'l improve if he's outside."

"So now he'l die of pneumonia instead of magic? Is that your intention?"

"I hope he doesn't die," I said, fierce no longer. I had not seen the king in two weeks and had been shocked by his appearance. The shape of his skul was clear beneath the skin of his face, though he had tried to smile and speak normal y.

"It wil take a miracle to save him."

"I thought you said, if you need a miracle, see a priest," I retorted, and almost felt triumphant as he blinked and drew back.

When the king was settled in his tent, the queen sitting beside him, and when the cook, stil grumbling but beneath her breath, had started a new batch of soup on a smal fire started with coals from the kitchen, just outside the garden wal s, I drew Gwen to one side.

"I have to go somewhere," I told her. "Stay with the cook. Check the new batch of soup with the same spel . If it doesn't change color, the king should have some."

"But where are you going?"

"Not far. I'l be back soon."

Without giving her a chance to speak again, I rose from the ground and flew down the hil toward the forest, swifter than a horse could carry me.

I didn't know why I was embarrassed to tel her I needed to ask the old wizard for help, except that I never had told anyone I had been visiting him.

I was thinking very bitter thoughts about my own abilities and responsibilities. Although Dominic had told me he thought there was an evil spel on the king, and although I nearly believed him, I had done nothing to discover the source of that spel . For two weeks, while the king grew weaker and weaker, I had been concerned only with my own education, as though it was going to be useful to know wizardry even though I never practiced it in the service of the king who had hired me as his Royal Wizard. I had original y visited the old wizard to find out if he knew anything about this spel , but instead I had al owed myself to become distracted into learning the magic of herbs. It wouldn't be much good showing off my herbal magic to my friends in the City if I also had to tel them I had al owed my king to die of a magic spel when I hadn't bothered to find out its source.

The concentration needed for rapid flying beneath low-hanging branches made it difficult to carry this line of thought much further. I burst into sunshine as I entered the old wizard's val ey.

The lady and the unicorn were sitting by the little bridge, but today I saw no golden arrows.

I dropped to the ground outside the green door. The wizard was sitting in the doorway, the cat on his knee, enjoying the sunshine. He looked surprised to see me.

"Decided to skip the horse today, eh?" he said. "I just hope you weren't trying to impress me. We wizards trained in the old way have always been able to fly better than you young whippersnappers when we wanted to."

I swal owed my irritation. "I'm not trying to impress you, Master," I said. "I need your help." Quickly I explained to him about the soup that turned green when subjected to the spel to detect a love potion.

His brows furrowed, and he tossed the cat roughly from his lap as he stood up. "That spel just detects herbal potions," he said after a long pause, as though wondering what to tel me. "It turns food red if there's an herbal potion in it. There's no reason the spel should turn anything green. The girl probably got it wrong; maybe she said a spel of il usion by mistake."

"I don't think she got it wrong."

"Then it's detecting something else," he said abruptly, as though he had made a decision. "It might also detect the presence of the supernatural."

"You mean there's been black magic worked on the king's soup?"

"No, that's
not
what I mean, as you'd know if you listened properly! I meant that there's a supernatural presence in the castle. It might have nothing to do with the soup in particular, but in the right circumstances it might be detectable in food. No one need have put any potions in the soup for it to respond to that spel ."

"Dominic said that he thought an evil spel had been cast on the king," I said. "Did he ever mention it to you, Master? Might this be the supernatural presence?"

"I don't know what Dominic's been tel ing you," said the old wizard, sitting down again. "There certainly weren't any supernatural presences in the castle when
I
was Royal Wizard."

"Then I'd better see if I can find the source," I said and flew back up the val ey without even a proper farewel .

As soon as I left the wizard's val ey, the rain started again. I was furious with myself as I realized that, if he could create an island of good weather, I ought to have been able to do the same for the king. And the thought kept on nagging that the green of the chicken soup real y was the same color as the queen's eyes.

I had never flown so fast for so far before, and the concentration required left me no attention for a spel against the rain. I was wet through when I dropped to the ground outside the rose garden.

Gwen, standing under an umbrel a, met me by the gate. "The cook finished the new soup, sir," she said eagerly, "and the spel didn't affect it at al . The queen's giving him some now."

"Good," I said, though I feared it would take more at this point than the cook's excel ent chicken soup to heal the king. Hoping that drier weather might also help, I set to work at once on a weather spel .

But I realized immediately that I didn't know the spel against slow and steady rain. The spel s I had prepared during the harvest were al against sudden storm. I could go back to my chambers and try to work it out, but I felt a desperate sense of urgency and decided to improvise. If I could turn this rain into a thunderstorm, I could then dissipate it quickly.

"You'd better go inside, my dear," I said to Gwen, as she stood, hesitating, beside me. "Don't get any wetter."

She went back into the castle, and it was just as wel , because my first attempt to transform the rain into a real storm was so successful that a lightning bolt struck with a blazing flash and an acrid smel within ten feet of me, nearly taking off my eyelashes.

Peal after peal of thunder rol ed around my head, and the air was blinding with repeated lightning flashes. I looked up and saw bolts of lightning dancing from turret to turret, hitting every tower in the castle and the spire on top of the chapel. I seemed to have created what must have been the worst thunderstorm in Yurt in a hundred years. My only hope was to make sure it was also the shortest. Setting my teeth grimly, I proceeded with the spel s against thunderstorms, and abruptly the sky was clear. Both the thunder and the clouds rol ed back, leaving a square mile of sunshine smiling down on the castle and the rose garden.

I checked my forehead to be sure I stil had my eyebrows. Startled faces were looking at me over the garden gate, but I turned without saying anything and crossed the bridge into the castle. Since I had not in fact actual y kil ed anyone with my lightning, it hardly seemed worth discussing the event at the moment.

As I crossed the courtyard, shivering in my wet clothes, I started toward my chambers to change, but decided instead to look for Joachim. I had been very rude to him and should probably show Christian tact by apologizing. He had been rude to me as wel , but he had had more cause.

I hadn't seen him in the rose garden, but I hadn't actual y gone into the garden. To save time, I probed with my mind to see where he might be in the castle. I couldn't find him.