Daughter of Magic - Wizard of Yurt - 5 (18 page)

But suppose, said a cold doubting voice in the back of my mind, a voice that remembered al the times over the years that my absolute convictions had been absolutely wrong, that the reason my best spels could now find no direct sign of evil about him was because there was nothing to find?

Wizardry could reveal nothing about the state of a mans soul, and might not reveal a demon who was carefuly hiding, but it should certainly indicate if someone was practicing black magic in my face. “Let me ask him something,” I said brusquely, striding over to where the other two sat.

“Ask me no more questions about wizardry,” said Cyrus in a meek tone, his eyes lowered. “I already told you I have left al that behind.”

“But,” I said, clenching my fists so I wouldn’t grab him by the throat and shake him, “you yourself may not be working magic, Cyrus, but you’ve sold your soul to the devil!” The bishop went very stiff but did not interrupt—maybe he was too shocked to do so. Or maybe he was preparing himself to spring on me if I showed signs of trying to murder Cyrus as I had threatened to murder him. “Admit it!” I said, just below a shout. “You’re working with a demon!”

Echoes ran up and down the aisles, then for a long moment there was silence in the church, while I wondered if the bishop would ever speak to me again. At this rate he might stil decide to go become an apprentice hermit, just so that in leaving the affairs of the world he would never have to see another wizard.

Cyrus lifted his head, looking not at me but at Joachim. “I have not despaired of my soul or abandoned it to the powers of darkness,” he said, quietly but very firmly. This sounded like prevarication to me. “I can swear on whatever saints’ relics you like, Holy Father.”

Joachim rose abruptly, not looking at me either. ‘That wil not be necessary. Forgive us, my son. I hope you realize that with a miracle this spectacular it is the duty of an officer of the Church to investigate it fuly. And I’m sure you realize that you must acknowledge this miracle with abject humility of soul. You may return now to your studies and devotions.” He started rapidly down the nave, scarlet vestments flying behind him, and I almost had to run to keep up.

But the bishop slowed and turned his deep-set eyes on me as we reached the door. “Weren’t you saying, Daimbert,” he said coldly, “that you needed to get home to Yurt tonight?”
IV

After leaving a message at the little castle for the twins and the Lady Maria, saying I hoped to see them in a day or two back in Yurt, I flew homeward through the twilight, trying to cheer myself up by reminding myself that at last I would be back with Antonia again. It didn’t work.

“It’s just not fair,” I said as though I was presenting someone a logical argument—perhaps Theodora? “Joachim forgave me for trying to kil him. Why should he now be furious with me for being maybe just the tiniest bit harsh with one of his seminary students, when al I was trying to do was protect his cathedral? You’d think he wanted to have a demonic acolyte developing a cult folowing right under his nose.

“Wel,” I continued, “I just don’t care! If Cyrus has sold his soul, that certainly doesn’t bother me. And since what he apparendy wants in return for his soul is to be thought a holy miracle-worker, then there should be no danger to anyone else. And why should a wizard care if some priests are misled? They’re confused most of the time anyway.” Whoever I was addressing had no good answers, except to point out that I seemed to be protesting quite a bit for someone who didn’t care at al. And I didn’t even want to raise the point that an experienced wizard, one whom the masters of the school trusted to be able to deal with a demon, could not find one in spite of being convinced that it was there.

The drawbridge was up when I reached Yurt, just as dusk was darkening at last into night I was pleased to be chalenged immediately as I flew over the wal, although the knight excused himself when he recognized me.

Antonia would have been asleep for some time, I thought, heading toward the kitchens, remembering that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast with Theodora. There I found Gwennie, disconsolately eating leftover strawberry shortcake straight out of the serving bowl. There was stil enough in it for at least four people.

The fires were banked for the night, and she ate by the flickering light of a single candle. I took the bowl from her and puled it toward me. “Did anything interesting happen in Caelrhon?” she asked with complete indifference.

I didn’t answer, my mouth ful of strawberries and whipped cream.

“It looks like the fine Lady Justinia is planning to stay al summer,” Gwennie said after a minute. At least, then, she and Paul had not eloped. “The stable boys tel me her elephant is eating like a dozen horses.

I tried to find out, politely of course, how long she planned to stay in our best guest rooms, and she said she could not say until she had word from Xantium that things were safe there again.” I made myself recal the situation here in Yurt. If I was completely wrong about Cyrus—and even if I was right—I was stil responsible for defending both those who lived here and the lady who had been entrusted to my protection.

Gwennie sighed and played with her spoon. “Paul is teaching Justinia to ride a horse. Can you believe she’d never learned? She said at dinner today that she could captain a sailing ship, but what good wil that do her in Yurt?”

“None,” I said, scraping the bowl.

Gwennie looked at me properly at last and started to smile even through her glum mood. “You’re very hungry, Wizard,” she said, with the recognition of the obvious which any good castle constable had to have, “or else you’re depressed. Or both.”

I didn’t ask which of these explanations accounted for her sitting by herself, polishing off the leftovers after the cook and the kitchen maids had al retired. She found me some cold meat and salad from dinner.

“Could you contact that mage in Xantium?” she asked with more of her accustomed energy, sitting across the table from me again while I ate. “It seems a shame for the lady to have to wait without any word from home.”

I wasn’t fooled by her concern for Justinia’s peace of mind, but if was a good idea. “I don’t think there are any telephones in Xantium, Gwendolyn,” I said thoughtfuly. It was a different experience eating dinner at the kitchen table, in a room usualy ful of bustle and activity but now dark and quiet—and also different to have the dessert before the meat course. “Telephones work by western, not eastern magic.

But I can try to find out tomorrow how the merchants in the great City manage to get important messages through to their representatives there.” I rose and stretched. It seemed much more than two days since I had left. “Is Elerius stil in my chambers? And is Antonia stil in with you?”

“The wizard is stil in your chambers,” said Gwennie in a neutral voice. “But,” with more animation, “your niece is in the Princess Margareta’s room—did you see her down in Caelrhon, by the way? The princess decided she wanted the little girl with her after she’d broken that precious dol of hers, and Antonia stayed when she left.” I supposed wearily that a good wizard should protect those he served from their own foly as wel as from undead creatures. Maybe it would be a relief to worry about whether the princess whom everyone (except of course Paul himself) expected the king to marry stil liked playing with dols rather than about whether a demon was loose in Caelrhon with Theodora.

“I’m glad you’re back, Wizard,” said Gwennie with almost her usual good spirits as we left the kitchens together. “If you’d let me eat al the strawberries by myself I probably would have gotten sick—and a castle can’t function with a sick constable!”

Elerius finaly went home to his own kingdom in the morning, reassuring me that there were no more latent spels in the bones and no undead warriors within a three kingdom radius. ‘This was an unexpected but most enjoyable opportunity to meet your friends in Yurt,” he said before he left, stroking his black beard and fixing me with his tawny eyes. “It was an especial pleasure to meet your niece.” Did he put an extra emphasis on that last word? “What a charming little girl, and inteligent too. I am happy to do you a favor any time, Daimbert, so be sure to cal if any more problems arise. After al,” with a smile, “I may want your help someday.”

The twins, the Lady Maria, and Princess Margareta al returned to Yurt in the afternoon, accompanied by the knights Maria had taken with her, so Hildegarde ended up being escorted like a lady across the countryside after al, rather than getting to be a knight herself.

Celia closeted herself at once with the royal chaplain, but Hildegarde came to my chambers to see Antonia. “Have you been practicing your riding while I was gone?” she asked, swinging the girl up over her head until she shrieked with delight. “Is it time to start you on your swordplay?”

“Wil you mind too much if I don’t become a knight?” Antonia asked once she had her breath back, looking up at Hildegarde with a serious frown. “Because I’ve been thinking. Maybe I should be a wizard after al.”

When I entered my chambers the night before the rooms had nearly reeked with magic—as wel as being scattered with enthusiastic if strangely proportioned drawings of wizards. Although Elerius had said nothing about it, it was clear to me that he had been entertaining Antonia with flashy spels in my absence.

“That’s the way,” said Hildegarde approvingly. “If you’re going to learn magic, be a wizard. Don’t let anyone make you settle for being a witch.”

“My mother's a witch,” said Antonia proudly.

Hildegarde started to say something and changed her mind. She looked at the girl thoughtfuly a moment, then shrugged and turned to me.

“I haven’t been able to talk Celia out of it,” she said quietly. “By evening yesterday she’d lost that possessed look she had earlier—you must have seen it—but she said that now that she had announced to the bishop her intention to become a nun she had to take her vows. I must admit that miracle of Cyrus’s staggered me too, Wizard; I’d been on the bucket brigade, and I saw those buildings consumed. But I tried to remind Celia that she’d always wanted to be a priest instead of a nun— suggested she disguise herself as a man and go to some other seminary, even got so desperate as to offer to go in disguise as an acolyte myself and then come home and teach her what I’d learned!—but nothing would budge her.”

“When does she plan to take her vows?” I asked uneasily, thinking of the duchess’s wrath.

“I think that’s what she’s discussing with the chaplain.” Hildegarde shook her head. “I’l send a pigeon-message to Mother and Father tomorrow—I’d just as soon not try to explain this to Mother over the telephone. But I believe the nunnery has some sort of novitiate period, during which women can change their minds. So it’s not hopeless yet. The real problem, Wizard, is that Celia is nearly as stubborn as I am.” During dinner that evening al the conversation was about the miraculous restoration of the high street of Caelrhon. Celia said virtualy nothing and only played with her food, but the Lady Maria was in her element. “It’s like something out of the old stories of the saints,” she said enthusiasticaly. “The holy man walks out of the wilderness into the city, and no one recognizes his power except the children, until at last a great miracle puts everyone in his debt and silences al doubters.”

“I saw it too,” said Princess Margareta. She seemed, at least for the moment, to have forgotten both Paul and Justinia and basked in her position as assistant bringer of wonder-stories. The chaplain expressed an interest in making an immediate pilgrimage to meet Cyrus, and several people said they would join him.

But I had other concerns. After dinner I drew the king aside. He had listened politely to Maria’s stories, but most of his attention was stil given to Justinia. They had gone riding that afternoon—he on his red roan stalion, she on an old white mare—leaving before I realized their plans. I did not like the idea of them roaming the countryside without a wizard’s protection against whatever magical enemies might be pursuing Justinia.

But I was supposed to serve King Paul, not order him around. “Could you do me a favor, sire,” I asked diffidently, “and take me along if you give the Lady Justinia any more riding lessons?”

“So you think I need a chaperone, Wizard?” he said with an amused smile. He glanced across the hal to where the Lady Justinia was talking to the queen. The eastern lady this evening was wearing an iridescent blue silk dress that matched her eyelids and left her shoulders bare. The Princess Margareta stood a short distance away, trying to appear uninterested in their conversation. “Did my mother put you up to this?” Paul added.

“Of course not!” I said in irritation. “It’s none of my business who my king decides to marry! But it is my responsibility to protect both you and her from black magic.”

“I thought you and that wizard friend of yours had cleared up that problem,” said Paul, stil looking amused. “Or should I ask you for the return of the Golden Yurt?” He laughed and slapped me on the back.

“You can tel whoever is worrying about me that I’m not planning to marry the Lady Justinia. Of course she’s an attractive woman, but I’m merely trying to keep her entertained during what must be for her a rather tedious stay in a foreign land.”

While I was relieved to hear this, it crossed my mind that the mage Kaz-alrhun, in sending Justinia to Yurt, may have had some such plan of his own. He was always calculating how to make events rebound to his advantage, and he may indeed have intended the king of Yurt to fal in love with the lady. In spite of his immense shrewdness, Kaz-alrhun had become convinced, due to a rather improbable series of events, that I was one of the Western Kingdoms’ greatest wizards, and it was possible that he hoped an aliance between his niece and my king would bind me to him.

Paul looked past me, smiled again, and ran a quick hand over his hair. I turned to see the Lady Justinia coming toward us. But she turned her almond-shaped eyes not toward the king but instead toward me.

“Come thou this eventide to my chambers, O Wizard,” she said in her melodious voice. She turned slightly as she spoke, addressing me over a naked shoulder. “ Twould seem the time is ripe for thee and me to hold conversation.”