Read Online Is This Apocalypse Necessary? - Wizard of Yurt - 6 by C. Dale Brittain - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: C. Dale Brittain
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something eight hundred years old. Besides, he would have seen no need for such a ruse to work on my conscience—he thought I had already agreed to succeed him.
And if the spells looked familiar, I thought as I pulled the volume toward me again, it was because school spells had not been created in a vacuum. Many were in origin the spells the Master taught to the wizardry students because he himself had learned them as an apprentice, from a wizard who had in turn studied with Naurag.
But in here were spells that had never been taught, spells that were supposed to bind dragons. I found my place and kept on reading. These spells, if anyone was ever to use them again, were to be learned by me directly from Naurag.
III
I kept on reading long into the night, falling into bed only when my eyes began watering so badly I could no longer focus. A knock woke me what seemed only minutes later: not mysterious wizards this time, but my breakfast. "Leave it on the table," I mumbled, rolled away from the light, and went back to sleep.
When I woke several hours later, it was again to the sound of a knock. I pushed the hair out of my eyes, pulled on my dressing gown, and opened the door.
This time it was Gwennie. "I have come for your breakfast tray," she said stonily, not meeting my eyes.
"Um, I haven't quite finished yet," I said, retreating. I took a quick swallow of cold tea and bit into a regrettably stale cinnamon cruller.
"Maybe if you came back in a few minutes—"
She followed me inside. Now that I thought about it, it was curious that Gwennie should be running kitchen errands. Ever since she had become castle constable in her own right, her mother the cook had given up her plans to make Gwennie her own successor.
She slammed my door shut and showed no further interest in the tray.
"Were you listening yesterday?" she asked, low and intense.
It was clearly no use pretending ignorance. Her eyes were unnaturally bright, her fists clenched at her sides. "I'm sorry, Gwendolyn, I'm afraid I couldn't help it," I said from behind the inadequate shield of a teacup.
"My windows were open, and you and King Paul were right outside when—"
"Then let me explain something," she said in a voice of ice. "You in fact heard nothing at all. He did not speak. I did not answer. Is that clear?"
"Very much so," I said quickly, stopping myself just in time from adding, "My lady." At this point she would have considered it the gravest possible insult. "By the way," I ventured to add, "is the king around this morning? I had something I needed to ask him—on quite a different topic," I continued hastily, "than the topic which, of course, never came up in the first place."
"I understand he is still lying lazily in bed this morning," she responded loftily, already moving back toward my door. "Some plaintiffs have come to receive his judgment, and I have been forced to make them wait." And she was gone, without taking my tray.
I dipped the cruller into the rest of the tea and considered what I had learned last night. Paul had doubtless spent fruitless hours lying awake, alternately cursing Gwennie and himself, but I had actually discovered something. Spells to master dragons really might exist after all, and it was possible I could work them.
So far this was just an intellectual exercise, I told myself while washing and dressing. Even if I did somehow manage to master some rather small dragon, this didn't mean I was going to head the school. Such a piece of antiquarian knowledge certainly wouldn't give me the wisdom and authority the new Master would need, much less make me capable of stopping Elerius if all the other faculty wanted him—though I still rather liked my idea of having a dragon eat him.
Naurag and his 'purple companion' had eventually fled entirely from the Western Kingdoms, pursued by enemies about whom he made highly disparaging comments without ever saying explicitly why they were his enemies. They had traveled thousands of
And if the spells looked familiar, I thought as I pulled the volume toward me again, it was because school spells had not been created in a vacuum. Many were in origin the spells the Master taught to the wizardry students because he himself had learned them as an apprentice, from a wizard who had in turn studied with Naurag.
But in here were spells that had never been taught, spells that were supposed to bind dragons. I found my place and kept on reading. These spells, if anyone was ever to use them again, were to be learned by me directly from Naurag.
III
I kept on reading long into the night, falling into bed only when my eyes began watering so badly I could no longer focus. A knock woke me what seemed only minutes later: not mysterious wizards this time, but my breakfast. "Leave it on the table," I mumbled, rolled away from the light, and went back to sleep.
When I woke several hours later, it was again to the sound of a knock. I pushed the hair out of my eyes, pulled on my dressing gown, and opened the door.
This time it was Gwennie. "I have come for your breakfast tray," she said stonily, not meeting my eyes.
"Um, I haven't quite finished yet," I said, retreating. I took a quick swallow of cold tea and bit into a regrettably stale cinnamon cruller.
"Maybe if you came back in a few minutes—"
She followed me inside. Now that I thought about it, it was curious that Gwennie should be running kitchen errands. Ever since she had become castle constable in her own right, her mother the cook had given up her plans to make Gwennie her own successor.
She slammed my door shut and showed no further interest in the tray.
"Were you listening yesterday?" she asked, low and intense.
It was clearly no use pretending ignorance. Her eyes were unnaturally bright, her fists clenched at her sides. "I'm sorry, Gwendolyn, I'm afraid I couldn't help it," I said from behind the inadequate shield of a teacup.
"My windows were open, and you and King Paul were right outside when—"
"Then let me explain something," she said in a voice of ice. "You in fact heard nothing at all. He did not speak. I did not answer. Is that clear?"
"Very much so," I said quickly, stopping myself just in time from adding, "My lady." At this point she would have considered it the gravest possible insult. "By the way," I ventured to add, "is the king around this morning? I had something I needed to ask him—on quite a different topic," I continued hastily, "than the topic which, of course, never came up in the first place."
"I understand he is still lying lazily in bed this morning," she responded loftily, already moving back toward my door. "Some plaintiffs have come to receive his judgment, and I have been forced to make them wait." And she was gone, without taking my tray.
I dipped the cruller into the rest of the tea and considered what I had learned last night. Paul had doubtless spent fruitless hours lying awake, alternately cursing Gwennie and himself, but I had actually discovered something. Spells to master dragons really might exist after all, and it was possible I could work them.
So far this was just an intellectual exercise, I told myself while washing and dressing. Even if I did somehow manage to master some rather small dragon, this didn't mean I was going to head the school. Such a piece of antiquarian knowledge certainly wouldn't give me the wisdom and authority the new Master would need, much less make me capable of stopping Elerius if all the other faculty wanted him—though I still rather liked my idea of having a dragon eat him.
Naurag and his 'purple companion' had eventually fled entirely from the Western Kingdoms, pursued by enemies about whom he made highly disparaging comments without ever saying explicitly why they were his enemies. They had traveled thousands of
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