A Bad Spell in Yurt

She had thick golden hair that made the Lady Maria’s seem thin and lifeless, and it rolled in rich waves down her back and ten feet out behind her. She was wearing a dress of brilliant sky blue, and when she lifted her head and looked toward me, her eyes were the same color. And most marvelous of all, an alabaster-white unicorn was kneeling beside her, with his muzzle in her lap.

I dropped the reins and approached slowly, not daring to take my eyes from her. She lowered her gaze again but did not speak. “Um, hello,” I said. Gently she lifted the unicorn’s muzzle from her lap, rose to her feet, and began to walk away, her arm around the creature’s neck. Her hair floated in a weightless cloud behind her.

“Wait,” I told myself sharply, resisting the initial impulse to run after her. I put my hand over my eyes, said two magic words, and looked again. She was gone.

I recovered my horse and started forward again. As we crossed the bridge, I told the mare, “If that’s a typical sample of his illusions, the old wizard must really have impressed the castle over dessert.” The mare seemed uninterested, but I took a deep breath and wondered how abjectly it would be appropriate to address the wizard.

The grassy valley continued to follow the stream. Within a hundred yards it turned and descended a steep hill, where the water foamed white. I was easing the mare’s steps down the hillside when I heard a twanging noise. The sound was repeated, and then again.

I looked forward. Flying across the width of the valley in front of us, one after the other, was a series of golden arrows. I finished getting the mare off the hill, dropped the reins to let her graze, and walked a little closer. I probed them gently with my mind. Unlike the lady with the unicorn, these arrows were real.

No one was shooting them, however. They were being propelled by magic. Our scrambling on the hillside must have triggered a magic trap.

I thought about this for several minutes, waiting to see if the supply of arrows would become exhausted. When the steady twanging of an invisible bow and the whirr of each arrow continued, I decided that the arrows must be circling around somehow and coming back. The mare grazed unconcernedly.

I carefully put in place what I hoped was a protective spell against arrows, a variation of the spell that had kept me dry in the rain but needing twice as much concentration. Leaving the mare behind, I went slowly forward, going down on my hands and knees to crawl under the flight of the arrows. Ten yards further down the valley, I heard the twanging cease.

I stood up, brushing the grass off my velvet trousers, and looked back. The valley was quiet and peaceful. For a moment I hesitated, wondering if I should go back for my mare, and then decided she would be fine where she was; she was unlikely to go retreat back up the steep hill, and if she came forward she would be following me. If I went back, I was afraid I would set off the arrows again.

The valley took another twist and suddenly widened into a clearing. On the far side, half tucked under the drooping branches of an enormous oak, was a small green house, and sitting in front of the door was an old man with a white beard down to his knees.

I came three-quarters of the way across the clearing and then did the full bow, ending with my head down and my arms widespread.

“Welcome, Wizard,” said a rasping voice.

“Greetings, Master,” I answered.

I surprised myself by calling him Master. At the wizards’ school, the only wizard who had that title was the oldest wizard of all, the one in whose castle the school was held, who was reputed to have been in the City since the City was founded.

He accepted the title. “So you weren’t taken in by the Lady and weren’t frightened by my Arrows,” he said. His voice was rough, as though he had not used it for weeks. “I know who you are. You’re the new Royal Wizard of Yurt, and probably think you’re pretty fancy.”

I rose and came toward him. “I have come to seek the guidance of my predecessor.”

“You aren’t going to find much help from me if you’re after what I think you are. I can tell from your clothes- and especially that ostentatious belt buckle-that you fancy yourself to have authority over the powers of darkness.” I guiltily turned off the glow of the moon and stars. “I may not have studied in the City, but I am a wizard of air and light.”

I sat down at his feet, determined not to be insulted.

“Or is that pullover supposed to be a Father Noel costume?”

I was mortified. I had of course taken the tattered white fur off the collar as soon as I bought the pullover and had hoped all suggestions of someone fat and jolly were long gone. But I was going to have to be polite to this crotchety old wizard who clearly knew ten times as much magic as I did. I took a deep breath. “I’ve greatly admired your magic lamps in the castle.”

“Of course you have. I’ll bet you couldn’t make anything that nice.”

“I made some very nice magic lamps for the chapel stair!” I said, stung into a reply.

“And the chaplain didn’t tell you to mind your own business?” he said, apparently surprised.

“The chaplain and I are friends,” I said stiffly, then wondered why I was defending him when one of the reasons I had come was to find out if my predecessor had ever thought the chaplain was turning toward evil.

“Young whipper-snapper,” pronounced the old wizard, which was probably his opinion of me as well.

There was a pause while I tried to find something diplomatic to say. “Do they miss me up at the castle?” the old wizard said suddenly.

“They always speak well of you,” I said with my best effort at Christian tact. “They’ve told me many times how much they admired your work and your illusions. The Lady down in the valley is certainly the finest example I’ve ever seen, even in the City.”

I probably shouldn’t have mentioned the City, because it made him snort. “Illusions!” he said. “Things were different when King Haimeric’s grandfather was king. Then a Royal Wizard had real responsibilities. The harvest spells were just the start of it.”

“Harvest spells!” I said in panic. I knew I didn’t know anything that could be considered a harvest spell. In an urban setting, we learned urban spells.

“And now they don’t even want harvest spells any more,” continued the old wizard, paying no attention to me. “They say that hybrid seed is more effective. The closest I’ve come for years is the weather spells when they’re cutting the wheat.”

This was a relief. Weather spells I could probably manage. I had even gone to the lectures. I tried a different approach. “Have you ever taught anyone how to fly?”

“Fly? You mean someone who isn’t a wizard? Who wants to learn magic now?”

“The king mentioned it,” I said, but I was struck by the suggestion that someone else had apparently wanted to learn magic.

“Well, he never mentioned it to me. And with good reason. He knew what I’d say. Haimeric’s not half the man his grandfather was, or his father either. Never marrying all those years, and then marrying late. If he expected an heir, he’s certainly disappointed. But I must say, I don’t think he married in the hope of having a baby. I think he married because he was just besotted.”

I tried to return the topic to the question of who in the castle, besides me, might know magic. “So some of the others had asked you to teach them magic?”

“Well, Dominic and Maria did,” he said shortly. After a somewhat long pause, he added, “Never got anywhere with it.”

“Prince Dominic and the Lady Maria?” Somehow I would not have expected it.

“There was talk of them making a match four years ago,” continued the old wizard, in a more pleasant tone. “Maria’s the queen’s aunt, you know.”

I nodded, waiting for him to go on.

“When the king got married four years ago, the queen brought her old maiden aunt to live with her-probably thought she needed a change. And then Dominic’s only a few years younger than she is. He’s been heir presumptive for years; the king’s younger brother, at least, had the sense to get married when he was young. But he’s gone now too, and Dominic’s not half the man his father was.”

Apparently I had reached Yurt in a decadent time.

“But she was too flighty for someone that phlegmatic. If the queen was waiting for a match, I think she gave