A Bad Spell in Yurt - Wizard of Yurt - 1 (16 page)

I looked around for Joachim. Although we had remained cordial since the king's recovery, we had somehow never shared a bottle of wine in the evening again. If I had owed him something of an apology before, I was afraid I owed him one even more now. But he had already gone.

I glanced across the hal toward Dominic. He was standing next to the fire, talking to one of the knights with great laughs and many hand gestures, on a completely different topic. I had original y been hoping to talk to him this evening, but now I decided it would be better to wait until the next day.

The next morning, when the sun was melting the light layer of snow, I went to find Dominic. I had decided I had to be systematic, and even though I didn't like the thought of talking to him just now, he had what I needed.

It seemed fairly clear that a spel had been put on Yurt. It was the spel that had nearly kil ed the king, and while the chaplain had broken its hold on him in particular, the spel was stil there. I could stil not sense the evil touch except obliquely, when least expecting it, but I was now armed with Zahlfast's magic formula for detecting the supernatural.

So far, I had found high concentrations of supernatural influence in my own chambers, the chapel, and the chaplain's room. I didn't like this at al until I decided that the spel was just detecting a saintly presence from the chaplain, who had after al spent a number of evenings during the summer in my chambers.

But no wonder, I thought, Zahlfast had wanted to visit me. When he received a letter reeking of the supernatural, and knowing there was already something odd happening in Yurt, he must have wondered if I had plunged into black magic. I was irritated enough with him for this lack of trust that I had not written him again.

The two other places I had found the supernatural influence strongest were up in the north tower, in the old wizard's now empty and windswept chambers, and in the dank passage that led down to the rusty door of the cel ars.

I found Dominic in the stables, checking on one of the geldings that had come back slightly lame from hunting. He was whistling as he and the stable boy lifted the animal's foot, which today seemed much better. But the whistling stopped as he saw me.

"Greetings, sir," I said with enough good humor for both of us. "I have a favor to ask you, about my mission here in Yurt."

He pul ed his mouth into a tight line, then nodded. "We can talk in the courtyard," he said curtly and walked out, leaving me to fol ow behind. Neither one of us said anything about dragons.

"I thought the chaplain accomplished your mission for you," said Dominic, when we were standing in the center of the courtyard, wel away from any windows. "The evil spel on the king's been broken." The implication seemed strong that now that my single mission had been taken care of, especial y as it was done by someone else, it was almost superfluous for Yurt to have a wizard.

"But it's not gone," I said.

He had been glancing around, not meeting my eyes, but at this he turned toward me with a look that could either have been hatred or fear. "What do you mean, it's not gone?"

"Whoever or whatever put the spel on the king," I said, "made the spel strong enough that it remained in Yurt even when the king was miraculously freed from its influence. I haven't been able to determine yet who might have cast it, but I think I may be able to tel , if I can determine where it's strongest."

"And how are you going to do that?" he demanded.

"We wizards can detect the presence of the supernatural," I said with dignity. "Any evil spel wil have been cast with evil intent, and possibly even demonic influence. We wizards can tel where demons have been."

"And where do you think they might have been?" His tone was enough to make the straightforward question an insult.

"I was wondering if they had been down in the cel ars."

This clearly surprised him. The sour expression disappeared for a minute. "Why the cel ars?"

"I have no idea. It's the only part of the castle I haven't been able to get into. The constable told me the cel ars are damp and haven't been used for many years. I'd asked him for a key, but he said you had the only one."

"That's true," said Dominic in a puzzled voice. Although I didn't tel him, I had already tried to open the locked door using the same spel I had used on the bolt on the north tower, but a complicated lock had proved impervious to my magic, as a simple bolt had not.

Dominic took the heavy bunch of keys from his belt and flipped through them until he came to one stained with rust. "Here's the key. You'd better take a can of oil, as I doubt it's been opened in years." He paused then and glared at me again. "I hope you weren't planning to ask me for the key to the north tower, because I don't have it. When your predecessor retired, he bolted the doors and put magic locks on that he said even another wizard couldn't break."

It was my turn to be surprised. "But I don't need to go up in the north tower," I said blandly, neglecting to mention that I had already been there twice.

Dominic said something under his breath. When I asked him to repeat it, he denied having said anything, but it had sounded to me like, "Maybe you should."

With the key and a can of oil, I went down the narrow stairs behind the kitchen to the cel ar door. It was iron and blotched with damp and rust. There was a smal opening at eye level, too smal for anything much larger than a cat to have climbed through, and a dank odor came out into the stairwel . Even with the oil and energetic turning, it took me almost five minutes to get the lock to open. Clearly no one had been in the cel ars in years.

The door swung open with a protesting screech. I had tied a magic globe to my wrist with a piece of string. Its light bobbed eerily along the wal s as I stepped inside.

It seemed to be nothing but abandoned storage cel ars, damp because they had been dug too close to the castle wel . The smal rooms opening off the hal were littered with the unidentifiable remains of what might once have been stored there. Several of the rooms smel ed as though used by cats or rats or both.

But permeating these innocuous dark stone rooms was an almost overwhelming sense of evil. I stopped and listened. I heard a very faint pattering noise, which could have been dripping water, could have been rats, and could have been nothing.

I tried to think clearly and calmly to combat the irrational fear that threatened to overwhelm me. Dominic had known there was an evil spel on the king, I told myself, forcing my feet to proceed down the passage. He didn't just think the king was sick, but thought magic must be implicated. Therefore, he knew more than he had told me about how that spel was cast.

I paused and listened again. There was no sound other than my own breathing. Even though Dominic knew something about the spel , I continued my reasoning, he stil wanted it overcome. Therefore, he himself had not been responsible. I returned to a thought I had had long ago, that he was sheltering someone, most likely the queen. Could she have tried to put an evil spel on the king, which Dominic then wanted to overcome, even though he loved her too much to accuse her?

But Dominic might not know as much as he thought. He clearly believed, with the old wizard, that the north tower was stil locked, and had had no inkling of the evil now settled in the cel ars.

I forced my feet to start moving again, although at this point I was starting to feel what could only be a terminal il ness, caused by black magic, sweeping through my body. This of course is the weakness of being a wizard; we are much more accessible to magic influences than ordinary people. Water splashed onto my socks with the next step; I had been fol owing the passage slightly downhil , and the floor had gone from being damp to being flooded.

I murmured the spel that should have lifted me six inches above the water, to continue down the passage suspended in air. Nothing happened at al .

At this point, rationality lost. I turned and ran back toward daylight, the magic globe bouncing madly at the end of the string. At the door, I hesitated. I could not hear anything behind me, but I didn't want whatever was in there coming out. I made myself gather up some of the debris from the first storeroom and stuffed it into the smal opening in the iron door. I held it in place with the best magic lock I could manage.

With the sight of daylight before me, I was able to control my heartbeat enough to wait one more minute. I cal ed, "Kitty, kitty, kitty," not wanting to leave any cat trapped in the cel ars. But when no cat appeared, I slammed the door, turned the iron key, and put an additional magic lock on the latch as wel .

Back out in the narrow staircase, leaning against the stone wal , I slowly stopped feeling as though I were about to die. But in a minute even the staircase seemed oppressive, so I hurried back up the stairs. The smel of bread baking came to me from the kitchen like a benediction.

I didn't want to return to my chambers right away but instead went to the great hal , tel ing myself I needed to return the key to Dominic but real y in search of human company. The king and queen, along with several of the ladies, were seated around the fire, talking animately.

"Wizard!" cal ed the king when he saw me. "We've just been making plans. How would you like to go visit the duchess?"

After a second in which I couldn't imagine what he was talking about, I remembered the lady Maria once tel ing me that Yurt had, besides the king's own castle, the castles of two counts and a duchess.

"I ought to visit my liege vassals more often," said the king.

"The king and I met at the duchess's castle," the queen told me, smiling at him.

"I would be very interested in visiting the duchess," I said. If Zahlfast was right (and I hoped he was, rather than believed he was), the king should now be safe from whatever black magic was lurking in the cel ars. But no one else was safe. Until a supposedly ful y-qualified wizard, me, could find a way to overcome that spel , it might be better if we al went visiting.

I

The duchess's castle was closer than the city where we had gone to the harvest carnival, being only one long day's ride away. Therefore we didn't need the tents, and the pack horses were less burdened as we started out early on a frosty but sunny morning.

The king's party was also much smal er, as most of the servants were not accompanying us.

I had talked to the queen about this. "Don't you think it would be better if we brought everyone along?"

But she laughed. "The duchess won't have nearly enough room for al of us. Her castle is smal er than the royal castle, and she has her own staff, of course. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were getting too attached to that saucy girl who brings you breakfast!"

It was bad enough being hopelessly in love with the queen without having her tease me about Gwen. I tried the constable instead.

"Don't you think it might be better, while the king is gone, to send the servants away?"

He looked at me in amazement, as wel he might, because the arrangement of the household staff was certainly not part of a royal wizard's duties. For a minute I could see that he was about to resent my interference, but then he remembered that it was, after al , me.

"Usual y when the royal household is away, I give most of the staff their vacation," he said. "Some go to visit their families, although some of course st PART FIVE - THE STRANGER

I

I was relieved to be heading home again. The queen seemed also to be glad to go, although the king, bidding the duchess an affectionate farewel , appeared to have enjoyed his visit thoroughly. I guessed that he had no idea the cousins were not highly fond of each other. But while the queen was merely happy to be leaving the duchess behind, I was eager to get back to the castle of Yurt and reassure myself nothing had happened in our absence. We had received no messages via the pigeons, and had not expected to, but if the castle had been swal owed by a giant hole in the earth they might not have had time to release the pigeons.

Packed in my saddlebags were the books I had found in the room of the old ducal wizard. I had quite brazenly stolen them, reassuring myself that it was not theft to take something no one wanted. They had clearly been undisturbed for thirty years, and if the duchess did indeed hire someone from the wizards' school, as she had threatened to do, he would probably throw them out immediately.

At dusk we came out of the woods and up the hil toward the castle. A chil wind mixed with a little sleet whipped about our ears, and our horses were eager for the stables. I looked up, expecting to see welcoming lights shining out, and instead saw only the castle's dark shape against the dark sky.

"The constable knew we were coming home today," said the queen in surprise.

"Everyone may just be sitting warm in the kitchen," said the king.

A chil had gone through me far colder than the sleet. I looked toward Joachim and saw that a similar fear had gripped him, for he had reached into his saddle bag and taken out his crucifix. He too, I thought, must have been feeling that elusive sense of evil in the castle, and he must have been worried about it in ways that he never told me.

"At least the drawbridge is down," said one of the knights. The king's optimism was not shared by the rest of our party.

For a brief moment we hesitated by the bridge, looking in through the gates toward the dark and silent courtyard. Then the king said cheerful y, "They'l light the lights as soon as they hear us. Just don't let your horses slip going in!" He led the way, the rest of us fol owing single-file behind.

No one spoke as we crossed the bridge and then the courtyard toward the lightless stables, but our horses' hooves on the cobblestones and the bel s on their bridles made a sound that should have awakened any sleeper. There was an abrupt clattering sound from the direction of the great hal , then to my intense relief I heard the constable's voice. "On!" he shouted, and al the magic lamps in the hal blazed into light.

More lights came on then around the castle, and the constable ran out to meet us, disheveled and embarrassed. "Forgive me, sire," he said, holding the king's stirrup while he dismounted. "I don't know what happened to me. I must have fal en asleep. I didn't mean for you to come home to a dark castle."