A Bad Spell in Yurt

“Possibly,” I said, as noncommittally as I could.

“Therefore a woman may have to make her proposal as attractive as possible to woo a wizard,” she continued, swinging her foot down and standing up.

I watched her approaching, almost in panic.

“That’s why, Wizard, I need you to tell me what you like best.”

She was standing directly in front of me, hands on her hips. I tried to buy time by seeming to drink my brandy, but it was gone.

“If I can offer you something the king does not offer you, then maybe I can woo you away from your affection for his castle and household and persuade you to give up being the royal wizard of Yurt and instead become my own ducal wizard.”

In my relief at realizing that she was only offering me a position, not making an indecent proposal, at first I could only stammer. Then I caught her eye and realized she had been doing it deliberately.

“I am very happy as the royal wizard,” I said, searching desperately for the remains of my dignity. Someone like the old wizard, someone who actually seemed to personify mystery and darkness, would not have been teased like this! “I’m not interested in alternate- proposals.”

“But I’m quite serious, Wizard,” she said, with a smile that was merely friendly. “I know it might seem like a step down to leave a king for a duchess, but I can offer you whatever you have now, and even more-your own tower, assistants to help gather herbs, freedom to come and go as you please.”

For a brief moment I wondered what would happen if I left the king to become the duchess’s wizard. Yurt would need a new royal wizard, of course, and this time they might be lucky and get someone competent. I would never have to deal with whatever evil force was lurking in the cellars.

Of course, they might get someone even less capable, and even a competent wizard wouldn’t know about the empty north tower, about Dominic’s veiled warning, or about the king’s illness and recovery. The new wizard would resent anything that seemed like interference and certainly would not welcome hints from me.

Besides, Zahlfast would think I was running away. “I’m sorry, my lady,” I said, “but even though I haven’t taken an oath of loyalty to the king, I still feel that I am his man.”

She nodded a little ruefully. “I’d been afraid you’d say that. I’ve been thinking for some time my duchy needed a wizard-my father’s old wizard, whom I barely remember, was not I believe very highly qualified, but he had not been trained in the wizards’ school. I was therefore very eager to meet a young wizard from the school, but as soon as I met you I realized there can’t be many like you. Are there?”

She had, to my relief, gone back to her own chair. “Probably not,” I said, “although the teachers at the school would tell you that’s just as well.”

“Maybe I’ll advertise and see who answers,” she said thoughtfully. “But that was a wonderful giant! And was it deliberate that its second head looked just like Prince Dominic?”

I laughed and denied any such intention. After a few more minutes’ conversation, I felt able to rise and tell her how tired I was after a long day.

She took my hands affectionately. “Thank you for sharing a glass of brandy with me. Think about my offer, if you grow tired of the royal court.” Though not the queen, she certainly was an attractive woman. I wondered briefly what she would have done if I had taken what she seemed to be offering literally and had immediately begun to act on it.

“Thank you, and good evening, my lady,” I said gravely, then left her great chamber to return to my own room. As I went, I wondered if the queen had, at least in part, decided to marry the king to keep him from marrying the duchess.

Since the duchess’s castle really was smaller than the royal castle, and since it was already full of her own household, there had not been much room for the rest of us, after the king and queen and a handful of their closest companions had been lodged in a suite of rooms which apparently were always kept ready for them. As royal wizard, however, I had been given the dignity of a room of my own, the room the old ducal wizard had used thirty years earlier, which had apparently scarcely been used since then.

As I spiraled up the narrow tower stairs toward the room, ducking my head and wishing either for my predecessor’s or my own magic lights, I thought I might look at the ducal wizard’s old books for a minute before going to sleep. I had noticed a few books in the room before dinner and hoped that he might have written down some interesting spells that had never been known in the City.

As I came around the last turn, I was surprised to see the door of my room standing half open, and candle light flickering within. I pushed the door slowly open and faced the deep black eyes of the chaplain.

He put down the Bible he had been reading and stood up. “Close the door,” he said, as though this were his room, not mine.

I closed the door. “Look,” I said. “What I said this afternoon. I realize I didn’t make it clear enough”-this was an understatement! — ”that I didn’t think you were responsible for the king’s illness.” Most of the time this was even true. “I wish you’d given me a chance to explain. I really am sorry that I sounded as though I was accusing you.”

But he didn’t seem to be listening. “I don’t enjoy doing this,” he said, “but I have to. I’m afraid you’re forgetting your duties, and I have to remind you of them.”

“My duties?” I said in surprise. It would have seemed like a joke except that there was not even the hint of a smile on his face.

“Sit down,” he said. “I didn’t want to tell you this when we spoke this afternoon, but the bishop was very unhappy about the possible influence on me from a wizard my own age.”

I sat down obediently on my bed, as he had the chair.

“I told him what you had suggested to me in conversation, that the organization of the wizards’ school is patterned on the organization of the church, and that, like the church, organized wizardry hopes ultimately for the salvation of mankind.”

I knew I had never actually said this, but it was close enough to what I myself considered the goals of wizardry that I only nodded.

“That’s why I have to speak to you now. I had to take responsibility with the bishop for your soul.”

“I thought my soul was doing well,” I said in a small voice, over-awed by those burning eyes. I could not break my own glance away from them.

“If it were only playing with magic, I might not have to speak,” he continued, unhearing. “Even when you used magic not to help but to terrify, as you did both at the royal court and again here tonight, tact kept me from speaking. But now!” He leaned sharply forward, as though wanting to make sure he had my full attention, although he had had it since I came in the room.

“I will not accuse you of immorality. Only the saints and God can truly judge a man’s soul. But when you began to behave as though you have a licentious freedom, using casuistic reasoning to argue with yourself that a tradition against wizards’ marrying is not enough to stop a man who has never had to take an oath of chastity, then I realized that you were in danger of applying this casuistry to other areas, to-”

At this point I had to interrupt him. “Stop. Wait. You don’t understand.”

“I fear I understand all too well.”

“You don’t. The duchess and I had a small drink together.”

“And that was all?” he demanded.

“She told me that she admired my illusions so much that she wanted me to leave the royal court of Yurt and come be her ducal wizard. I turned her down.”

Joachim sat back in the chair as though deflated. “And that was all?”

“That was all.” I myself found the situation quite amusing. He must have sat in my room for close to an hour, waiting for my return, preparing both the accusations and the spiritual counsel he would give to me, and then he found out that, at least at the moment, I didn’t actually need any spiritual guidance. But a look at his face told me he didn’t find any amusement in the situation.

“Then I will apologize for disturbing you,” he said stiffly. “I hope you sleep well.” He rose and left the room, taking the candle with him.

I started to protest, then realized it was undoubtedly his candle, brought from his own room. I turned on my belt buckle to get enough light to find a candle of my own. I stared gloomily at the flame, once I had it lit, wondering how I was going to become friends again with the only person in Yurt who seemed to have the potential