We scrambled down a steep incline, leading our horses, and I paused at the bottom, looking ahead down the valley. Usually at this point a shower of arrows began to fly across the path. But today there were no arrows, and some quick magic probing found no sign that they had ever been there. This made things easier, because it meant we neither had to crawl under the arrows’ flight nor fly over them ourselves, but I felt suddenly uneasy. If the old wizard was no longer doing the spells to maintain his defenses-especially since the arrows were also one of his best magic tricks-to what was he giving his attention?
But then I reminded myself that the strange magical creatures in the kingdom had been Evrard’s all along. I relaxed and decided this was just one more instance of the old wizard letting everything go.
Evrard, who did not realize there ever had been arrows here, strolled casually on in front of me, leading his mare. The grassy track led us around a few more turns and then out into the clearing where stood the enormous oak which sheltered the old wizard’s house. We dropped our horses’ reins and walked slowly forward. I tried to decide if the ominous appearance the rather innocuous little green house seemed to have acquired in the last few days was only my imagination.
I jumped as the door swung open with a crash. The old wizard came out as though catapulted and slammed it behind him. Even at a distance of twenty yards, I could see he was breathing hard.
But he tried to appear casual. He looked shortly toward Evrard, then gave me his customary scowl. “So I see young wizards are multiplying as fast as the great horned rabbits,” he said. “And they’re still as happily convinced, I’d say from this one’s fancy jacket, that they can control the powers of darkness.”
Evrard stepped forward and went into the full formal bow. “Greetings, Master. I am the duchess’s new wizard.”
The old wizard lifted shaggy eyebrows at me over Evrard’s head. “What does the duchess want a wizard for? I’d have thought your example would have taught her that young wizards these days don’t know any magic. But then the old duke’s wizard, back over thirty years ago, was so incompetent that maybe she’s thinking nothing could be worse.”
Normally I would have been interested in his tacit admission that even a wizard trained under the old apprenticeship system could be incompetent. But I was distracted by wondering if the wizard had simply rushed out of his house to keep us from seeing whatever he might have inside, or whether something in there had physically thrown him out.
Evrard was still in the full bow, his arms outstretched. “Well, greetings, Wizard,” the old wizard said to him grudgingly. “I doubt you’ll like Yurt.”
“But I think I’ll like Yurt very much,” said Evrard with a cheerful smile, standing up again. “It’s a charming little kingdom.”
The old wizard snorted. “Somebody used to the vain pleasures of the City won’t be satisfied with country charm. Tell the duchess I warned her she won’t have her fancy young wizard for very long.”
“Oh, no,” said Evrard seriously. “I’m planning to stay with the duchess for years and years.”
“Maybe she’ll learn a lesson at last, then.”
Evrard was either working hard to maintain the old wizard’s good temper, or else he was too good — natured to take offense easily.
“But as for you, young whipper-snapper,” said the old wizard with a glare for me, “I’d like to know what you think you’re playing at! First you came around here casting spells to reveal the super natural, as though after all this time you thought I might be practicing black magic, and then I find out you’re doing something similar yourself!”
I took a deep breath. “What are you talking about?”
“That creature made of sticks,” he said brusquely. “Thought I wouldn’t find out, did you? What happened, somebody made the horned rabbits under your nose, and you got so jealous of your position as Royal Wizard of Yurt that you decided you’d try something of your own, eh?”
Evrard, I noticed, was wandering off in the direction of the old wizard’s cottage with an air of not hearing our conversation.
“At least you made it with plain magic,” continued my predecessor, almost grudgingly. “Nothing demonic about it, which may be why it was a pretty pathetic excuse for a magic creature.”
“No, I didn’t make it,” I said loftily, stopping myself just in time from saying that Evrard had. “I know all about it, of course. But how did you find out?”
The old wizard glanced in Evrard’s direction and snorted. But he didn’t say what he seemed to have guessed. “I found it, of course. When you told me there were magical creatures roaming through the kingdom, and that you didn’t know what to do about them, I figured there ought to be at least one wizard here in Yurt acting responsibly. I spotted the duchess and that giant chasing the horned rabbits-where did she find him, by the way? — so I decided to let them have their fun. I did improve the spells a little, though, to give them more of a challenge.” He gave a malicious chuckle.
“But you brought the man-like creature back here with you,” I said. Could Evrard’s stick-creature have been what threw him out the door?
“What was left of it,” said the old wizard. “It had dropped most of its sticks by the time it got here.”
Then it was not Evrard’s creature inside the house. That meant-
“So you decided to make a few improvements,” I said with a glare to match his own. I pulled my eyebrows down into a frown that I knew would have been more impressive if they had been as shaggy as his. “When I came here today,” I continued sternly, not giving him a chance to deny it, “I had not expected to find a wizard from whom age and isolation had taken his reason. But now I learn you’ve been giving old bones the form of life! You know only renegade wizards try to create life. As Royal Wizard, I demand that you dismantle the thing you’re making!”
The old wizard was, for a few seconds, too taken aback to answer. I had never talked to him like this before-or, for that matter, to any older wizard. Then he bent over sharply, making creaking sounds. For a second I was afraid I had sent him into a fit. But then I realized he was laughing.
“It isn’t funny,” I said, trying to preserve at least some of my dignity.
The old wizard straightened up, wiping spit from his mouth and still chuckling. “You’re certainly amusing, young wizard, trying to act as wise as though you were four times your age and actually knew some magic, and trying to face me down in my own valley.”
“You have to tell me what you’re doing,” I said, refusing to be distracted. “I’m responsible for the over sight of any wizardry practiced in this kingdom. It’s horribly complex magic. I would think a wizard of light and air had better things to do with his time than mutter long spells over dead bones.”
The old wizard had started to turn away. Now he shot me a sharp, sideways glance from under his eyebrows. “And what do you know of complex spells and dead bones?” he asked.
“Look,” I said, speaking to the old wizard directly, mind to mind, which I had never dared do before. I probed for magic, as I had down in the valley by the Holy Grove. And here, as there, were magic forces channeled by a powerful spell. “Don’t deny it now!”
I felt rather than heard reluctant assent. But then the wizard turned his own mind toward me, and I staggered back, my own spell disintegrating.
Anyone else’s mind is always profoundly strange when met directly, even the mind of a friend. The old wizard’s mind revealed both powers beyond what I had expected, as much as I had always respected his abilities, and a strange twist I could not identify but which terrified me.
Back in my own body, I stared at him. What had I felt there? Was it depravity, insanity, or just the strangeness of the old magic? His eyes held mine for five seconds, then he started to laugh again.
I tried to slow my heartbeat with calm breaths. “So you can’t deny it,” I said, speaking aloud. “You still haven’t told me why.”
Before the old wizard could answer, I heard a thin, sharp squeak. It sounded almost inhuman, but as I spun around I realized it was Evrard.
He had opened the green door of the wizard’s house a crack and was staring within. A second squeak was forced from him as he took a backward step, and the door slowly began to swing open.
The old wizard leaped forward with a cry. He threw his body against the door and threw a powerful binding spell around the entire house. The door slammed shut again.
But not before I had had a glimpse of the creature inside. It was a creature out of nightmare. It was six feet tall and had arms and legs, but other than burning eyes it had no face. The eyes stared at me as though in comprehension. This was no botched student project. It looked as though it might once have been human.
Evrard clung to me, his head twisted to stare at the house. His face had gone dead white under the freckles. The old wizard, his dirty beard whipping around him, glared at us with eyes of fire. A whirlwind swirled around him and his whole house.
“Get out,” said the old wizard, his voice magically amplified to carry over the roar of the wind. “Get out if you value your lives.”
Evrard tugged at my shirt in evident agreement.
“But we can’t!” I shouted. “Master, we have to help you!”
“With your weak school spells? Go, and go now!”
I took a step back. The whirlwind seemed to be diminishing in power. The binding spell, I could tell, held firm.
It might have been my terrified imagination, but the old wizard seemed to be growing, as tall as his house, taller, until his head disappeared among the branches of the oak that leaned over the roof. Staring fascinated, I let Evrard pull me slowly away. Whatever might be beyond the door, the wizard clearly had the powers to deal with it.
Evrard turned and bolted, and I was right behind him. Our normally placid mares had retreated back up the valley, tangling their reins until forced to stop.
They rolled their eyes and bared their teeth as we approached. Evrard, who I had not expected to know much about horses, spoke to them softly and reassuringly, giving them confident shoves on their sweating flanks as he freed the reins.
Behind us, the sound of the whirlwind stopped. I looked back to see a bent, white-haired figure, restored to his normal size, calmly open his green door and disappear within.
I hesitated with one foot in the stirrup. “We have to go back and help him.”
“Didn’t you hear him? He doesn’t want our help!” Exasperation mixed with fear in Evrard’s voice. “Don’t try to show off again.”
I had not been showing off, but otherwise he was right. He kicked his horse into a rapid trot. I swung up into the saddle and hurried to catch him. “How did you know how to calm the horses?” I asked. “Is it some new spell?”
“My father ran a livery stable in the City-didn’t you know?”
After we crossed the bridge-no sign of the lady and her unicorn this time-we had to dismount to lead our horses under the low branches beyond. Evrard’s light blue eyes were still nearly round. “What was that in the cottage?”
I shook my head. “You saw it better than I did.” I did not say that to me it looked like a dead human body, resurrected by a renegade wizard who had lost control of his own magic, then given living eyes.
“It looked almost human to me,” said Evrard. “You should have warned me the old wizard knew such powerful magic.”
I doubted I would ever know that much magic, even if I lived as long as the old wizard had. “I’d had no idea anyone could work spells like that without the aid of the supernatural.”
Unexpectedly, Evrard smiled. “After you’d warned me so care fully not to antagonize him, you certainly seemed to be trying to do so yourself!”
I decided I should feel relieved he could still smile after what he had just seen, but my immediate thought was that he was taking all this far too casually. “Evrard, I hope you realize you started this. He only decided to try to make that creature after he’d found yours.”
“Come on, Daimbert, don’t start talking like a schoolteacher! I’m sure you wanted to impress your king two years ago, just as I’m trying to impress the duchess.”
He was right; I was starting to sound like a schoolteacher. I tried to make my next comment sound like one student giving a friendly warning to another. “Sorry about that. But I should tell you some thing. The duchess’s father, the old duke, once kept a wizard. Nearly every one, as far as I can tell, considered him fairly incompetent. Yet it was in this fairly incompetent wizard’s books that I first discovered the spell I think the old wizard is using.”
Evrard shrugged and smiled. “Well, I can use it too, even if I can’t make anything that impressive. I bet your predecessor’s never had problems like horns falling off!”
Not fifteen minutes ago he had been clinging to me in terror. I was irritated enough with his good humor that I let my mare fall behind, so conversation would be impossible. Wizardry students always played tricks on each other, and wizards outside the school normally did not get along at all, but I had been hoping for better relations with the duchess’s wizard.
As we came out of the woods half an hour later and started up the hill toward the castle, I glanced surreptitiously over the wall into the little cemetery where kings of Yurt and servants-and chaplains and wizards-of Yurt had been buried for generations. But I saw no sign that anyone had been digging there among the quiet graves.