Daughter of Magic - Wizard of Yurt - 5 (26 page)

“It looks like that was only a spel for magic-workers,” I started to say, trying to make it a joke.

But then I saw the rats. Hundreds of them, thousands of them, brown rats poured like a river down the middle of the street, their hairless tails arched over their backs. More came scampering out of celars and aleys to join the stream. Theodora joined me at the window and stared in amazement. I had not realized how thoroughly the city had been overrun with rodents until I now saw them al together.

“Wel,” I said when I could speak again. “It looks like Cyrus realy has done something about the rats.”

We bathed, dressed, and had breakfast to give ourselves time to calm down. “It wouldn’t have to be a demonic spel,” I said to Theodora as we went out two hours later. I leaned again on my predecessor’s silver-topped staff.

There was a narrow crevice at the center of the cobbled street where rainwater drained. The thin layer of mud on the bottom was marked with the prints of thousands of rat feet.

“The school doesn’t teach summoning anymore,” I continued, “in part because such spels are almost impossible to resist, even for a skiled wizard, and they don’t want the students practicing on each other.

I wouldn’t even recognize an eastern summoning spel, especialy one designed for rats, but it stil almost captured us.”

“Where did al the rats go?” asked Antonia with interest. She had cheered up quickly once the music of the piper had passed. “Wil they come back? Do you think our pet Cyrus was with them?”

“I thought Jen’s mother and I told you to let him go,” said Theodora reprovingly.

“Wel, he probably got out of his box anyway,” said Antonia, skipping ahead.

Everyone in the city seemed to be out in the streets, talking excitedly about the rats’ disappearance. I caught snatches of conversation as we headed toward the cathedral, and it appeared that, according to the bargemen, an enormous number of rats had appeared downstream from the city this morning, many drowned in the river, the rest looking confused but showing no sign of returning. Although quite a few people had heard the piping, no one had actualy seen the piper. That did not keep everyone from assuming it had been Cyrus.

“He tried to tel me he’d given up magic,” I told Theodora. “But it looks like his purportedly religious desire to put his past behind him is less important than his desire for acclaim—especialy with Joachim reasserting his spiritual authority.”

No one else seemed to have been lured by the magic. The question flashed through my mind whether it might be not Cyrus but Vlad who had come into Caelrhon with the magic to summon rats. But I could imagine no reason why that dark wizard would care about the city’s rodent population, and piping at dawn would be too dangerous for someone liable to disintegrate in daylight.

We found Joachim in the cathedral office. The acolyte outside the door at first feigned ignorance whether the bishop was even there, then claimed he wouldn’t want to see us—most of the cathedral attendants had looked at me dubiously ever since I burst in on him last month, and that was not even knowing that I had intended to kil him—but I pushed past.

The bishop sat without moving, staring at nothing in particular, and looked up in surprise when we were already halfway across the room. He rose then and came to meet us, his face gaunt and troubled, without even an attempt at a smile. Theodora knelt to kiss his ring, which made me wonder if Cyrus had left some sort of infection on it with his lips, and then of course Antonia had to as wel. Joachim rested his hand on her head a moment in blessing.

“Did you talk to him?” I asked, too worried not to be brusque, even though Theodora kicked me in admonishment. “Did you hear about the rats?” Joachim nodded his head fractionaly. “I am not so removed from the cares and concerns of the city as you appear to think, Daimbert,” he said, and just for a second humor glinted in his eyes. I might not be able to do much about black magic, I thought bitterly, but I seemed to be good at cheering up bishops. “Yes, Cyrus came and spoke to me—apparently, as I learned once he left, almost immediately after leading the rats out of town.”

“What did you tel him?” I demanded. “Did you tel him he can’t keep on preaching if he s going to encourage townspeople into al sorts of excesses, including worshipping him?” Joachim turned to Theodora, the faint humor again in his eyes. “Do you have the same problem with him?” he asked conversationaly. “Does he keep acting as though you couldn’t carry out your own responsibilities without his supervision?”

“But what did he say?” I cried impatiently.

Joachim opened a drawer with infuriating deliberation and gave Antonia some paper and colored chalk. She sat down happily to draw at the far side of the room. It looked as though she was drawing a crowd of rats folowing a man. The bishop, completely serious now, puled up chairs for Theodora and me.

“I did tel Cyrus that it was inappropriate for a seminary student to be preaching so regularly,” he said quietly, “especialy in a cathedral city where the faithful never lack access to God’s word. But when he pleaded with me it was hard to resist him. It was, after al, his prayers that miraculously restored the burned street.”

“I already told you what I think of that ‘miracle,’ “ I said grumpily.

“And he did help return the townsmen to the voice of their consciences last evening, when that man tried to turn them against the Romneys.”

“That wasn’t Cyrus, Joachim. The Romneys were saved by you—and the Lady Maria.”

“I could not sleep last night,” the bishop continued slowly, “so I slipped out of the palace in the darkest hour and went toward the Romney camp. I am not sure why I went—perhaps to apologize again or to be sure those old people suffered no serious hurt. But it did not matter. They had left.”

“Al the caravans?” I asked, and he nodded. I could see the Romneys’ point; I would have left too.

“Sometimes I have thought,” Joachim went on, “that God sent the Romneys to Caelrhon for a purpose, so that I might be able to win them for Christianity. But now what must they think of a faith in whose name a man would threaten to murder them without cause?”

“But did Cyrus say anything about the rats?” I asked, not wanting to get into questions of God’s hidden purpose and also not wanting to bring up the point that I myself had once threatened to murder the bishop, equaly without cause.

“He said nothing,” Joachim replied shordy.

“Wel, I stil think he’s deceiving you with a pious facade. That was very powerful magic to summon those rats—it almost trapped Theodora and me too.” I paused a moment but then went on, because whatever else I had always tried to be honest with Joachim. “It wouldn’t have to be a demon this time. In fact, I keep being convinced that he brought me undead warriors to Yurt, but that wasn’t black magic either. But if he won’t admit to wizardry of any kind he’s concealing a lot from you.”

‘Then I shal speak to him again, Daimbert. You know my concern has always been whether he was truly working miracles or practicing renegade magic in the guise of miracles. A summoning spel is scarcely the work of the saints.”

Theodora had been listening to us in silence. Now she said, “It sounds to me as though he’s confused popular approval with real goodness. He won the friendship of tlie children by mending their toys and pets, and he received the keys of the city from the mayor for restoring the burned buildings. What wil he want for cleansing Caelrhon of rats?”
Ill

The old king of Yurt, Paul’s father, had spent much of his time sitting on the throne in the great hal, dispensing justice, talking to other members of the court, or reading rose growers’ catalogues. Paul, on the other hand, only used his throne on the most formal occasions.

So my heart sank when he sent for me upon my return to Yurt and I found him seated there, resting his chin on his fists. This could be it, I thought, squaring my shoulders, my dismissal from Yurt for having a family contrary to al the traditions of wizardry. Wel, I had always told Theodora I would happily do magic tricks on street corners if I could do so with her. I might now be emulating the man who had first taught me ilusions.

But King Paul did not speak at once of dismissal. He appeared uneasy and kept crossing and uncrossing booted legs. The warm air of a summer evening washed dirough the room’s tal windows. “So Theodora is safely home now?” he asked vaguely, giving me a quick glance and looking away again.

“That’s right,” I said cautiously, waiting for what was coming next.

“Why didn’t you ever tel me about her, Wizard?” he demanded almost accusingly.

“Wel, I must apologize,” I said stiffly. “I realize now I should have told you at once, but I met her the summer of your coronation, and you wil recal a lot happened that summer.” Paul gave a quick grin. “Only adventure you’ve ever let me go on,” he remarked. “But why not tel me about the httle girl?” he continued, looking uneasy again. “You didn’t need to pretend she was your niece!”

“As I say, I know now I was wrong,” I said, standing with my arms straight down my sides and heels togedier. “Organized wizardry does not want wizards to be fathers, and out of cowardice, I’m afraid to admit, I decided to say nothing. Once I had begun the deception, it was difficult to end.”

Paul had stared off toward the other end of the empty room as I started speaking, but he now turned back and grinned again. “So I’m not the only person in the castle who has others planning for him if and whom he’s going to marry, with or without his consent!”

It slowly dawned on me that Paul had been asking me about Theodora not as a prelude to requesting my resignation but to avoid talking about what was realy on his mind.

He took a deep breath, planted his boots on the throne’s footrest, and faced me squarely. “How would you like to be Celia s spiritual sponsor?”

“Her what?!”

“I knew you’d react like this,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s why I agreed to talk to you myself I tried to tel her that wizards have never had much respect for the Church, but she insisted she wanted you. I wish you would at least consider it. It would mean a lot to her.”

“Excuse me, sire, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Celia comes of age in two weeks,” said Paul gravely. “She has told her parents that on her birthday she wil ride over to the Nunnery of Yurt and make her maiden vocation. The chaplain and I have checked into the requirements for her. They won’t, of course, let her take her final vows until after a year as a novice, but there’s a ceremony when she enters, and she needs a sponsor. Preferably a man, the abbess told me, someone of mature authority. Prince Ascelin won’t do it because he’s stil not reconciled to his daughter becoming a nun. I offered, of course, but Celia said she would rather have you.”

“But if she’s going to be a nun, Paul, she doesn’t want a wizard! Especialy me. The abbess won’t want me either. I don’t know what Celia told you, and she hasn’t talked to me herself for weeks, but. . .”

“She told me you’d raise these objections. But listen, Wizard. This is very hard on Celia. First she decided to become a priest, but no one would take her seriously— not her parents, not her own sister, and not even the bishop. Then she met that miracle-worker over in Caelrhon—Cyrus, isn’t that his name? Studying with him was the first thing I think she felt she’d ever done that she chose for herself, rather than having others choose it for her. Then somehow that didn’t work out. I’m stil not sure what happened, but at some point while trying to learn from him she decided to give up her plan for an active spiritual career and become a nun instead.”

She had run straight into a spel of madness, but I wasn’t going to mention that now.

“Then she found out—excuse me, Wizard—that you weren’t always as pure as a priest yourself, which only confirmed her desire to retreat from anything worldly, in spite of increased opposition from her parents. So you see,” he finished somewhat shamefacedly, “that she considers it a suitable act of forgiveness and penitence to begin her life in the cloister with you beside her.” It sounded to me as though King Paul was going out of his way not to say anything judgmental about my conduct. Of course, it was rather irritating that people here in the castle seemed to be trying to demonstrate how broad-minded they were by overlooking sometiing which, in fact, had not happened for years.

But if I was not dismissed then I should be able to stay on in Yurt, I thought with a flood of relief that surprised me by its intensity. Perhaps the Golden Yurt award realy did mean that Paul respected me and my service to the kingdom, no matter what. But I had to concentrate on Celia. “So what does a spiritual sponsor do?” Paul turned his emerald eyes fuly on me. “Then you’l do it? This is wonderful, Wizard.” He jumped down from the throne and clapped me on the shoulder. “I knew you’d agree if I explained it al to you. I’l go tel Celia. She’l be delighted.”

As he hurried out I found myself wondering which would be harder to explain to Zahlfast at the wizards’ school: that I had a daughter or that I had agreed to sponsor a novice nun.

“You realize,” commented Joachim, “that you’re probably the only wizard in the western kingdoms who worries about seminary students.” His face in the glass telephone looked unworried, even amused. I wished I felt the same.

“But what is Cyrus doing?” I demanded again. It had been two weeks since I returned to Yurt, and I had heard nothing from Caelrhon beyond a few pigeon-messages from Theodora, saying little more than that she and Antonia were fine and sent their love. I had tried again to get help from Zahlfast, but he had said even more frostily than before that if there was indeed a renegade eastern wizard holed up in Caelrhon’s seminary, then the wizard of Caelrhon and I would just have to keep an eye on him.

“Cyrus is attending seminary classes,” said Joachim, “studying, praying, the same as any other student.”

“I hope you’ve made him give up those meetings of his where people come and revere him.” I knew as I spoke that the bishop would think this one more example of my not trusting him to carry out his own duties, but I had to know. “The Lady Maria’s returned to Yurt now, but she won’t say anything about him—just tels me my mind isn’t pure enough to understand true holiness.” Maria had come back looking pleased with herself but was surprisingly untalkative, except to say that the Princess Margareta had decided to stay on in Caelrhon for a few weeks. The princess, finding her own royal castle, Yurt, and the city al filed with ennui or embarrassment for one reason or another, seemed to have decided that, overal, the city offered the most possibilities.