Read Online Wood Nymph and the Cranky Saint- Wizard of Yurt - 2 by C. Dale Brittain, Brittain - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: C. Dale Brittain, Brittain
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himself?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “It would take a wizard, and one wizard should always be able to recognize another. But he certainly seemed fuly informed about them. Do you think the duchess already knew him?”
“It seems unlikely,” said the chaplain. “After al, he had to tel her his name.”
“I must say,” I answered slowly, “there seems to be a whole lot going on in this end of the kingdom that I don’t yet understand.” We had gotten a late start from the count’s castle. The sun was setting by the time we came up the hil to the royal castle. In the courtyard, the staff was just finishing a voleybal game.
“I think you should probably wait until morning to go see the old wizard,’ said Joachim.
“Of course,” I said, startled at the implication that I might not. I had no intention of going into a black
forest, ful of creatures composed of dead bones and magic life, to face a wizard who might be growing senile or might have sold his soul to the devil, or both.
But the next morning saw me flying down the hil from the castle and into the woods below. In daylight, what I might find at the wizard’s cottage seemed at least slightly less terrifying than it had the night before.
For a relatively brief distance, I was always happy to fly. The rush of air past my face was exhilarating now that I had become good enough that I no longer had to give constant attention to my spels, and I liked the chance to show the old wizard that, even though I had been trained in the school he scorned, I was stil perfectly competent. Not that he ever seemed fuly convinced ....
I folowed the brick road a few miles through the trees, gliding along five feet above it, turned off at a track marked by a little pile of white chalk, part of a giant protective pentagram the wizard had made for himself when he retired, and proceeded down his narrow green valey. As usual, an ilusory lady and unicorn waited by a little bridge. The lady raised her sky-blue eyes to me as I passed over. Beyond, the wizard had a voley of magic arrows ready to repel the unwary, but the spel was tripped by someone walking down the valey floor and no arrows bothered me today.
Usualy when I came to visit my predecessor, I found him sitting on a chair in front of his little green house, built under the spreading branches of an enormous oak. But today I saw no one and the door was closed. I dropped to the ground, remembering guiltily that it had been several months since I had last come to visit.
I thought again how strange it would be if someone who prided himself on being a wizard of light and air, who had even mocked me for the moon and stars on my belt buckle the first time I had met him, had descended into black magic.
The wizard’s calico cat emerged from the long grass and pounced at my socks, making me jump. I squared my shoulders and raised my fist to knock at the door, expecting the old wizard to cal for me to come in even before I had a chance to rap. Little happened in his valey of which he was unaware. But no voice caled.
I did knock then and had to wait several moments for an answer, even though I immediately heard a loud crash inside. But then the door opened and the old wizard glared out at me.
“It’s you,’ he said, as though highly disappointed. Where I had been steeling myseli to face someone deeply sunk in evil, I found only an irritable old man.
“Excuse me, Master,” I said. “I don’t want to interrupt your experiments, but I need your wisdom and advice.” He was not in fact my master, but I had always caled him that, feeling it was appropriate for his superior age and experience.
“No wonder, being trained at that school,” the old wizard snapped. He seemed unusualy brusque, even for him. I wondered briefly how the Cranky Saint would hold up against him in a contest of irritable natures.
“I won’t keep you very long.” I glanced around surreptitiously, wondering how I could bring up the topic of
“I don’t think so,” I said. “It would take a wizard, and one wizard should always be able to recognize another. But he certainly seemed fuly informed about them. Do you think the duchess already knew him?”
“It seems unlikely,” said the chaplain. “After al, he had to tel her his name.”
“I must say,” I answered slowly, “there seems to be a whole lot going on in this end of the kingdom that I don’t yet understand.” We had gotten a late start from the count’s castle. The sun was setting by the time we came up the hil to the royal castle. In the courtyard, the staff was just finishing a voleybal game.
“I think you should probably wait until morning to go see the old wizard,’ said Joachim.
“Of course,” I said, startled at the implication that I might not. I had no intention of going into a black
forest, ful of creatures composed of dead bones and magic life, to face a wizard who might be growing senile or might have sold his soul to the devil, or both.
But the next morning saw me flying down the hil from the castle and into the woods below. In daylight, what I might find at the wizard’s cottage seemed at least slightly less terrifying than it had the night before.
For a relatively brief distance, I was always happy to fly. The rush of air past my face was exhilarating now that I had become good enough that I no longer had to give constant attention to my spels, and I liked the chance to show the old wizard that, even though I had been trained in the school he scorned, I was stil perfectly competent. Not that he ever seemed fuly convinced ....
I folowed the brick road a few miles through the trees, gliding along five feet above it, turned off at a track marked by a little pile of white chalk, part of a giant protective pentagram the wizard had made for himself when he retired, and proceeded down his narrow green valey. As usual, an ilusory lady and unicorn waited by a little bridge. The lady raised her sky-blue eyes to me as I passed over. Beyond, the wizard had a voley of magic arrows ready to repel the unwary, but the spel was tripped by someone walking down the valey floor and no arrows bothered me today.
Usualy when I came to visit my predecessor, I found him sitting on a chair in front of his little green house, built under the spreading branches of an enormous oak. But today I saw no one and the door was closed. I dropped to the ground, remembering guiltily that it had been several months since I had last come to visit.
I thought again how strange it would be if someone who prided himself on being a wizard of light and air, who had even mocked me for the moon and stars on my belt buckle the first time I had met him, had descended into black magic.
The wizard’s calico cat emerged from the long grass and pounced at my socks, making me jump. I squared my shoulders and raised my fist to knock at the door, expecting the old wizard to cal for me to come in even before I had a chance to rap. Little happened in his valey of which he was unaware. But no voice caled.
I did knock then and had to wait several moments for an answer, even though I immediately heard a loud crash inside. But then the door opened and the old wizard glared out at me.
“It’s you,’ he said, as though highly disappointed. Where I had been steeling myseli to face someone deeply sunk in evil, I found only an irritable old man.
“Excuse me, Master,” I said. “I don’t want to interrupt your experiments, but I need your wisdom and advice.” He was not in fact my master, but I had always caled him that, feeling it was appropriate for his superior age and experience.
“No wonder, being trained at that school,” the old wizard snapped. He seemed unusualy brusque, even for him. I wondered briefly how the Cranky Saint would hold up against him in a contest of irritable natures.
“I won’t keep you very long.” I glanced around surreptitiously, wondering how I could bring up the topic of
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