A Bad Spell in Yurt - Wizard of Yurt - 1 (8 page)

"The north tower?" I said ingenuously.

"Don't play the fool with me. I used to have my study in the north tower, as they must certainly have told you. The constable seemed to think you'd have your study there, too, but I straightened him out fast enough."

"They gave me a very nice set of chambers," I said cheerful y.

"When I left I locked the door and windows to the tower with both magic and iron."

I sat up straighter but managed to cover my surprise with a fit of coughing; tiny tendrils of smoke from the fire were whirling into the room, and I was sitting very close to the hearth. There had certainly been no magic lock on the tower door when I pul ed back the bolt, and al the windows had been unlocked.

"That sounds pretty secure, then," I said blandly, then fel to coughing again. The smoke real y was getting in my nose, and it had an unusual, almost spicy quality.

"
No
one shal go in that tower again while Yurt survives," the old wizard said grimly. "Did you notice that I even ordered them not to whitewash it? I don't want any young men on scaffolding peeping in the windows."

"I noticed that the tower wal s are dead black while the rest of the castle is white," I responded, wild with curiosity in spite of the headache the smoke was beginning to bring on. "But Master," I continued tentatively, "as long as I'm living in the castle, don't you think it might be better if I knew why you locked up your old study? That way, in case any--"

"NO!" he interrupted, leaving it quite impossible for me to ask again what he thought he had locked up. "I've taken care that no problems shal ever arise, for reasons of my own, and by methods of my own. Why should anyone else ask me about it?" He glared at me so fiercely that I retreated to the far side of the room, where I finished coughing as quietly as I could. The air was better further from the fire.

After a moment I caught my breath and looked at the table next to me. As wel as a constant cascade of ice-blue stars, it contained piles of leaves and roots, some in earthenware bowls, some loose on the table. There were also mortars and pestles, fire-blackened pots, and bits of stone rubbed into dust. In spite of his boast about being a wizard of light and air, I thought, the old wizard was not too proud to be a wizard of earth as wel .

Modern wizardry uses very few herbs and roots. We keep our magic technical, straightforward, capable of being attached to such simple substances as steel and glass and of being reduced to written spel s. But al wizards know, even those, like me, who tended to skip the lectures on the history of wizardry, that there is a natural affinity to magic in some growing things. In the days when books were few and apprenticeships long, young wizards learned how to recognize and gather plants with magical properties, even discover new ones. It occurred to me that, since I hadn't exactly been a huge success as a wizard taught from books, maybe I should give apprenticeship a try.

That is, of course, if the old wizard would be wil ing to teach me. So far everything I had said seemed to infuriate him. I looked across the room to where he sat rocking by his hearth. The room had darkened, but the fire's glow reddened his face. The rain's beat fel steadily on the oak leaves above the roof.

"Master," I began, and he whirled toward me abruptly, as though, deep in thought, he had almost forgotten my presence. "Master, I was glad to see that you had brought at least some of your apparatus from the castle to be able to continue your research into magic properties."

"What do you mean, at least some? I brought everything I had and swept out my study when I was done. If you're trying to find out by hints and insinuations what might be in my study, you must not have been listening to what I said. There is
nothing
left in my study, but for reasons of my own I want it locked while the kingdom remains! Can I make it any clearer than that?"

He stirred the fire vigorously, and the smoke found me again. The old wizard coughed a few times as wel . I realized I had almost been hoping he had left something in his study that had escaped, but now I just felt disappointed. It was likely only an old man's pride that had made him not want any other wizard to ever use the room where he had studied and done his research for so many years. If he had put a magic lock on the door, wel , even City-trained wizards like me didn't always get the spel s just right.

We sat and listened to the rain for several more minutes. Time seemed to stretch out endlessly in the dark room. I wasn't even hungry, even though it must have been long past dinner time. A smal calico cat appeared suddenly from behind a chair, startling me for a second into thinking it was a large rat, rubbed against me, then crossed the room to hop up on the old wizard's lap. He stroked it absently, staring into the fire.

I tried again. "Master, in spite of my degree from the wizards' school, which seemed to impress them up at the castle, I'm real y not a very good wizard."

"You didn't need to tel me that."

"But I want to learn! If I came here regularly, could you teach me about the magic of air and herbs?"

He glared at me so fixedly that I was sure he would refuse. The cat in his lap, unconcerned, gave a wide pink yawn and settled itself more comfortably. But then the old wizard's shoulders seemed to relax a little. He rocked in silence for a moment while I held my breath, then answered at last. "Maybe. Just maybe. After the last time, I'd determined I'd never teach anyone again."

This must be the time that Dominic and the Lady Maria had tried to learn magic, I thought, but did not dare speak.

"But I don't think you're as stupid as you seem at first." This was apparently a compliment. "I'l have to consider it. I haven't had an apprentice for many years, maybe for a century."

If he was trying to pretend an old man's forgetfulness, he wasn't fooling me; I was sure he knew exactly who his last apprentice had been and when he had taught him.

"No one wanted to be an apprentice anymore after that wizards' school started." This thought roused him into a new glare. "But the old magic cannot be forgotten. You young whippersnappers are going to need it when your 'modern' magic gets into trouble. I'l think about it for a while."

I was delighted but dared not show it. This was virtual y a promise. During his "while," as he thought about it, I could teach myself a lot of the magic I was supposed to know already if I spent every evening with my books. Then if I started coming down here regularly, maybe I could actual y become a competent wizard. I imagined myself going back to the City for a visit and showing off al my new skil s.

He interrupted my imaginings with almost a shout. "But would you then go back and tel everything I taught you to that chaplain friend of yours?"

This had never occurred to me as a possibility. "No, of course not! Why should I do that? He doesn't even real y approve of magic."

"But you said he was your friend," said the wizard with a grunt.

"Just because he's the most intel igent person my age in the castle. It's nice to have someone to talk to over wine in the evening."

"And you like your wine, don't you?" If I wasn't careful, he was going to rescind his offer to think for a while about teaching me the old herbal magic.

"He seems to think even ordinary magic is black magic. I might have a glass of wine with him, but I certainly wouldn't tel him anything I'd learned."

This seemed to irritate the old wizard, but I realized it was not something I had said but something I reminded him of. "His predecessor was just the same. Accusing honest wizards of pacts with the devil. As though I didn't know better than to deal rashly in black magic!"

In spite of what I had told the chaplain, wizards do in fact talk among themselves of "black magic." There is no evil in magic itself, only in the intention of those who practice it, but in the few cases (
very
few, I hope) where a wizard has summoned a demon to add supernatural ability to his evil intentions, we refer to him as practicing black magic.

It is of course always difficult to draw the line. No one at the wizards' school would cal it black magic to summon a demon (and a very smal one at that) to demonstrate to the class what to do if you meet one, but I hardly found it appropriate to discuss this with the old wizard any more than I had with the chaplain.

"Interfering old busy-body! Frustrated old maid!" The old wizard sank back in his chair with a snort. He was apparently referring to the old chaplain.

I tried to think of something to say to change the subject and decided silence was best. Besides, my head was starting to ache fiercely. There are magic spel s to minimize pain, and I decided to try one, very delicately and surreptitiously, hoping that he wouldn't notice.

But I couldn't help wonder why the old chaplain had thought the wizard had been practicing black magic, and in what he had tried to interfere.

The old wizard went back to rocking, the cat asleep in his lap. What seemed like several hours passed. The fire kept on burning steadily, though he added no more wood. If he noticed that the smoke from his hearth had given his guest a headache, and that the guest had had the poor taste to practice magic in his face, he didn't deign to mention it.

I roused from a reverie to notice the rain had stopped. My head felt fine. I stood up from next to the table where I had been sitting, stiff in al my joints. Horizontal rays from the sun came through the narrow window, lighting up the piles of herbs and making the swirls of light and il usion seem rather insignificant.

Almost sunset, I thought, suddenly ravenously hungry. The old wizard was looking up at me, a half smile on his dry lips. The cat was no longer on his lap.

Then I realized what was wrong. The sunlight was coming from the wrong direction. Even a city boy like me knows that the sun rises and sets on opposite sides of the sky. I wasn't seeing the sunset but the sunrise. I had passed al night in the old wizard's house without even realizing it.

"I'd better get back to the castle," I said, hoping I'd be able to make it back in time for breakfast. "I was very glad to be able to meet you, and I'm sorry if I overstayed my welcome."

"You think you passed the night here, don't you," said the old wizard with a chuckle. "In fact, you spent
two.
Maybe your friend the chaplain wil be worried about you."

Two nights! Whatever magic powder he had put on his fire must be powerful indeed. "Goodbye, Master," I said and rushed out the door. My mare, cropping grass contentedly, seemed no worse for having spent two nights under the wizard's tree. I saddled her without looking back. As I led her out into the grassy clearing and mounted, the calico cat came bounding after us, dropped down to lurk behind a clump of grass, and lashed its tail. "Goodbye, cat," I said gravely and rode as quickly as the mare would go back up the val ey.

At first I was worried that I would have upset them at the castle by being gone for so long, but then I decided it was probably time anyway that I started seeming mysterious in my movements. I was more concerned about the old wizard's motives, and what I might find when I got back. Was he just showing off his power to me again, or had he had some reason for keeping me away from the castle?

IV

The queen was coming home.

I looked at myself critical y in the mirror. In the month I had been at the castle, my beard had grown out enough that I didn't think the clothing department manager at the emporium would laugh at it any more, but it was no longer uniformly grey. The roots were definitely chestnut brown. I would have to touch it up before the queen arrived.

Being gone for two days without explanation had, as I had hoped, actual y made me seem rather powerful and mysterious. Even the chaplain had had the tact not to ask me directly where I had been, but he did raise his eyebrows at me most markedly at dinner.

Now, two weeks after my visit to the old wizard, I wondered as I got out my bottle of grey dye if it was too soon to ask him to start teaching me his form of magic. In the last few days, I had started trying to teach the king how to fly, and I had new respect for the teaching process. So far, in spite of the king's hopes to impress the queen with his new ability when she arrived, he had managed to lift himself from a chair about one inch for about one second. I, on the other hand, had become much better at flying than I had ever been. It hardly even bothered me anymore.

As I rubbed the dye into my beard, which stung, I absently wondered if the Lady Maria had to do this every day. In al the meals sitting next to her, I had yet to see a grey hair or root.

There was a sharp knock on my door. "Just a minute!" I cal ed, finished rubbing in the dye, rinsed it out, and went to answer the door with my chin in a towel.

It was Dominic. He always seemed to be crouching to fit into my chambers, even though there was plenty of headroom. "Please have a seat," I said brusquely and retreated into my inner chamber to finish drying my beard, trying to retain some of my dignity.

When I emerged again a few minutes later, I was amazed to see that he had taken my copy of the
Diplomatica Diabolica
down from the shelf. It was stil closed, but he was holding it in his huge hands and staring at it.

I whisked it away from him and returned it to its place. "Don't you know how dangerous it is for those not trained in wizardry to look at magic's spel s?" I said, trying to hide my fear behind anger.

He dropped his head in almost comical embarrassment at being found out. The old wizard, I thought, must have caught him doing something similar, and that was why he had been so reluctant to want to teach his form of magic to anyone else.

"Have you stil not learned your lesson, Prince Dominic?" I said very gravely. "You first tried to interfere with the forces of magic four years ago, and in spite of the warning you received then you have begun again."

This speech had a much better effect than I had hoped. Dominic, who was shorter than I when sitting down, looked up with what seemed genuine terror in his eyes.

"If you value the kingdom of Yurt," I continued, seizing the advantage while I had it, even though I wasn't sure why I did, "or even your own life, you won't try to interfere in magic processes again."