No Place for Magic Read Free Page B

The prince hadn't been pleased that I'd preferred to be in the swamp rather than with him. Because I wouldn't marry Jorge, his father, King Beltran, had led his army into war against Greater Greensward. With Eadric's help, I'd used my magic to end the war, but Jorge still wasn't satisfied. When my father held the tournament for my sixteenth birthday, the prince had shown up disguised as one of the contestants and had done his best to kill Eadric. Fortunately, a health and safety spell had foiled his plan, and Jorge had been thrown into my father's dungeon.
    Of course, the dungeon wasn't quite like it used to be. My mother had had it cleaned out when she married my father and had used it for storage since then. The guards had scrambled to get a cell ready for a prisoner, finally settling on one with a tiny window. The cell had been used to house old furniture in need of repair and was cluttered, but dry and relatively clean. Rather than make him wait while they emptied it completely, they'd left a few pieces behind. A cracked washtub, a rickety table, and my old bed with the broken leg weren't much, but they were more than most prisoners had.
    We'd never intended to keep him there for long because custom decreed that the prince be released as soon as his ransom was paid. Although my father sent word to King Beltran that his son was in our dungeon, the old king was too stingy to send his ransom. Two months later the prince was still in the cell, gaining weight from Cook's good food and taunting the ghosts who dared stop in.
    Although Father and Eadric both looked upset, I almost welcomed the news that Jorge had escaped. I'd been avoiding the dungeon for as long as he was in residence, and I missed my forays down there to visit my ghostly friends. Unfortunately, I knew that if Jorge were loose, he'd be up to no good as soon as he got the chance.
    While my parents stayed to talk to the newlyweds, Grandmother and I went to the dungeon. Eadric and my grandfather insisted on going, too, which was just as well, because some of the shyer ghosts wouldn't talk to anyone except another ghost. We found the dungeon just as the guard had described. The door was locked from the outside, the straw mattress rumpled but unoccupied. While Eadric checked under the bed and in the washtub to make sure that Jorge wasn't hiding, I looked around for magical clues. Like most other things, magic leaves a kind of residue for those who know how to find it. Holding my hand out to feel for the energy, I wasn't surprised to find that magic had been used there in the very recent past.
    "I found someone to talk to us," said my grandfather, floating back through the door.
    Two ghosts followed him into the cell, making the space unbearably cold. I shivered and moved closer to Eadric's warmth while my grandmother pulled her wrap tight around her shoulders. I recognized both of the ghosts as acquaintances of my grandfather's to whom he had introduced me before. One was Hubert, the ghost of an elderly servant who had been thrown into the oubliette to die. He still wore the ghostly chain around his neck, less tarnished than the real one that had been buried along with his bones after the skeletons in the dungeon helped us. His companion was Sir Jarvis, a gentleman of the court from some century past whose noble bearing offset Hubert's aged stoop. The difference in their status would have kept them apart when they were alive, but as ghosts they had become the closest of friends.
    "Do I know you?" Hubert said, peering up at me through his straggly hair.
    "Of course you do, old man," said Sir Jarvis, patting Hubert's arm. "It's King Aldrid's granddaughter, Princess Emma. You met her a few months back, don't you remember?"
    "No!" snapped Hubert. "Never met her before. Nor any of these other people. Although I'd like to meet this one," he said, winking at my white-haired grandmother.
    My grandfather's outline seemed to grow until his head looked like it was about to touch