Read Online Mage Quest - Wizard of Yurt 3 by C. Dale Brittain - Free Book Online Page A

worried about him. She was hoping, I think, that he might have been in contact with us, although I don’t know why he would write us and not his own wife. But she did mention that she’d already talked to your queen. Diana guessed that at least some of you from the royal court would be planning to go look for Sir Hugo and she had no intention of being left behind.” He chuckled. “In spite of racing up to the royal castle through a snowstorm—and me on foot!—she stil couldn’t go along.” Ascelin leaned his back against a tree to pul his boots on. “Looks as though I need new soles,” he said to himself, then gave a quick smile. “I must be in the best condition of my life, keeping up on foot with five mounted men.
    “My lady Diana was very disappointed, as I’m sure you can guess,” he went on. “But Haimeric was right: we couldn’t have both gone and left the twins behind. You might have done better with her than with me, however—even if I am a better camp cook.”
    He fel silent for a moment, looking out across the stream. “She is a remarkable woman, Wizard. I wouldn’t tel this to anybody but you, but after al you did help bring us together. I miss her terribly—before this we’d never been separated for more than a day or two since we were first married.”
    I puled a few words of the Hidden Language together to create an ilusion, just a tiny ilusion, a dark-haired woman about a foot high wearing a leather tunic and wide gold bracelets. I liked to do at least a little magic every day. Wizardry is hard enough that I was always afraid of going rusty. It wasn’t very difficult to create ilusory images of people I knew, though I didn’t do it often.
    Ascelin saw what I was doing and caught his breath. “That’s Diana!”
    “Don’t try to touch it,” I said. “Your hand would go straight through her.”
    I had expected him to be pleased, but he turned his back sharply on me. I looked at his wide shoulders thoughtfuly. I didn’t even miss the queen that much. I shrugged, said the two words to end the ilusion, and stood up to stamp my heels down into my own boots.
    It was with neatly trimmed beards and clean—if badly creased—clothes that we rode up to the manor house. We had telephoned from the inn two days ago and were expected.
    Since I knew Joachim’s brother Arnulf was involved in commerce in some way, I had expected, without realy thinking about it, that his house would be something like the cramped urban house I myself had grown up in. Instead, it was a gracious, two-story edifice, built of stone the color of melow gold. Long wings encircled a courtyard and wide lawns led down to the river. A cherry orchard bloomed beyond the house. It was big enough that it probably could shelter nearly as many people as the royal castle of Yurt. Either built after the Black Wars, I thought, looking at the tal windows, or else built by someone who could afford very good protection.
    Liveried servants hurried to meet us as we clattered into the courtyard. A few guards loitered conspicuously near the house doors. I glanced at Joachim, wondering how it felt to be back in his childhood home after more than fifteen years away. But his face, often hard to read, now seemed to have no expression at al.
    The main door swung open and Arnulf, the lord of the manor, appeared, holding out both hands in greeting. “Joachim!” he cried. “This is delightful! I’m so glad you were able to come. And King Haimeric of Yurt, I prfesume? You honor us!”
    Joachim’s brother was a shock. He looked like the chaplain and yet not like the chaplain. He had the same hair, the same height, the same deep-set dark eyes over high cheekbones, even if he did not have the chaplain’s gauntness. But the effect was as if Joachim had been taken out of his own body and someone else put in his place.
    The chaplain tossed his reins to me and went to meet him. The brothers started to shake hands and embraced instead.
    “Wel, Joachim,