“That’s right,” said Dominic and turned abruptly away, leaving me wondering what was really bothering the regent.
The next morning, I dug out the massive old books of spells that had once belonged to the wizard employed by the duchess’s father. I had had them some time without ever looking at them and had almost forgotten about them, but meeting Evrard reminded me.
If there was no demon-assisted wizard in Yurt bringing dead bones back to life with supernatural power, then maybe it was possible, with unaided wizardry, to create new animals and give them the semblance of life if not life itself. I knew they had taught us nothing of the sort in school. But the night before, in reading through the books I had brought with me to Yurt, I had a found a brief mention in the first volume of
The old ducal wizard, one of the last to be trained by the apprentice system, had retired thirty years earlier, even before Diana inherited the duchy, and when he went he left a lot of his books behind. I had found these books and unabashedly stolen them on a visit to the duchess’s castle a year and a half ago. Now I turned to them in the hope of finding something that the clean, printed pages of my books of modern magic did not cover.
The ink had faded, and the spells were written down in no particular order, sometimes interspersed with what appeared to be chess puzzles or laundry lists. But the magic was fascinating. For two days I did little besides eat and work my way, page by page, through the volumes.
Much of it was herbal magic, and rather ineffective herbal magic at that. I had learned enough of the magic of growing things from my predecessor during the last two years, during the interludes in which we were fairly friendly, at least to recognize spells that were unlikely to work. The spell to summon a swarm of honeybees looked as though it had promise, as did the spell to help heal a cow with a sore udder, but I did not have much faith in the spells which purported to be able to turn the moon black or put a burning cross on the forehead of a previously unsuspected murderer.
In the third volume I found a mention of the wood nymph. What started as a rather dry, scientific description of her attributes quickly disintegrated into a personal account. I smiled as I deciphered the cramped and faded handwriting. It seemed the old ducal wizard had thoroughly enjoyed himself. I remembered my predecessor’s softening at the mention of the wood nymph and thought that she had certainly cut a romantic swath through the wizards of the kingdom of Yurt a generation ago. I wondered if the look she had given me when we met presaged a similar set of plans for me-an intriguing possibility …
My thoughts were interrupted at this point by a knock at my door, and Joachim came in. He threw himself into a chair and came as close as he ever did to scowling. “Look at this.”
“This” was a tiny square of paper. A quick glance showed that it was finally a message from the bishop-if you could call it a message. “Continue investigations. Gain more information. Pray for guidance.”
I scowled myself. “So what does the bishop expect you to do?”
“I wish I knew.” Joachim stopped, as though remembering that he probably ought not to be grumbling about the bishop to a wizard, and passed a hand over his eyes. “I’m sorry to bother you with this,” he said and stood up to go. “I don’t want to interrupt your research.”
“Sit back down,” I said. “I’m glad to take a break from reading.”
I watched him make a deliberate effort to stop worrying about the bishop. “So have you found anything useful so far?” he asked.
“Some of these books that used to belong to the old ducal wizard should help. I think I’ve figured out at last how to talk to a wood nymph. But I’d like to wait until it’s clear whether the saint’s relics and the old hermit will stay or go before I try to move her.”
Joachim nodded slowly without answering.
“I already told you there’s no indication that my predecessor is practicing black magic. I think, however, it might be possible with the old magic to make a horned rabbit that would move as though it were alive, even though it wasn’t. I didn’t see any immediate sign of the old wizard making anything, but he could have hidden all sorts of bones under the rubbish. It would mean he had lost his mind, rather than his soul-I guess that could be an improvement.”
“Of course it would,” said Joachim, surprised there could be any question.
“I’m a little worried about him. The condition of his house is appalling. But he may just have been concentrating so hard on the spells to create great horned rabbits-
“Are you sure you don’t want me to go talk to him?” Joachim asked with a long look from his deep-set eyes.
“No, no,” I said hastily. “I should have the spells worked out soon, and then I’ll visit him again. By the way,” I went on, “has the saint appeared to you again with any clearer indication of what he wants?”
“No, he hasn’t,” he said, looking somewhere beyond my head.
“And I presume you can’t summon a vision?”
“The bishop’s right,” said Joachim bleakly, standing up and opening my door. “I’d better pray for guidance.”
I shook my head as the door closed, glad again I was not a priest. My own inclination would have been to leave the hermit and the toe in the Holy Grove with the apprentices, perhaps finding some way to get the entrepreneurs off the cliff-top, but as nearly as I could tell Saint Eusebius had told three different sets of people three different things: he had told the hermit he wanted to stay where he was, the distant priests that he wanted to move to their church, and Joachim that he wanted to leave but not necessarily go there.
I shrugged and returned to the old ducal wizard’s rather racy personal account of how one might deal with a wood nymph, but it had no more practical information than I had already been able to glean. I leaned back, stretching my stiff shoulder muscles. So far I had found nothing that might in any way apply to great horned rabbits, much less creatures with semi-human footprints, and I had only one volume left to go.
If Joachim had been waiting with eagerness and trepidation for his message from the bishop, I had been waiting to hear from the duchess. Someone as good at hunting as she had always been ought to have been able to capture one of the horned rabbits by now-especially if they were starting to multiply. And I would like a chance to talk more to Evrard, to find out if he knew any spells that might be useful. I wondered again, more uneasily, about Nimrod.
If I didn’t hear from them soon, I’d create a magical excuse and go back to that end of the kingdom anyway. Perhaps I could make it rain moles.
V
It was late in the afternoon, and dinner would be served shortly. I closed my books and went into the courtyard and out across the drawbridge to get some fresh air. If the old ducal wizard’s last volume was not informative on strange magic creatures, I might have to swallow my pride and telephone the wizards’ school.
A light breeze blew around my ears. The sky above was scaled with high, faint clouds. I thought somewhat wryly that, for someone who had spent all his life in the great City before becoming Royal Wizard of Yurt, I had certainly learned quickly how to find reassurance and repose in nature.
As I looked down toward the woods at the bottom of the castle’s hill, a little group of horses and riders emerged. For two seconds I thought it might be the king and queen, back already, but then I realized it was the duchess.
She was accompanied by half a dozen mounted men, one of whom had bright red hair. Striding by her stirrup was a tall blond man in a green cloak. Nimrod appeared to have no trouble keeping up with the horses.
Evrard spotted me and waved. The riders kicked their horses for the last climb up the hill. “Well, here we are!” Diana said cheerfully, including both me and Nimrod in her smile.
I wasn’t sure what evil I expected from the tall huntsman, but so far he and the duchess seemed to be getting on very well. She no longer appeared flustered as she had when she first met him, but instead her usual confident self.
