The Haunted Wizard - Wiz in Rhym-6 Read Free

know that the Moors were invading Ibile until after we had arrived," Papa said truthfully. "Even then, I only went along on campaign to be with my son."
    "I am amazed to hear of a parent so dedicated," Gaheris said, with an acid glare at Drustan. He was lean and weasel-faced, with his father's long nose but a receding chin, and scarcely any lips at all. His eyes were small and constantly shifting.
    The king glared back. "I, too, am amazed, for it is usually I who must insist that my sons accompany me when we march to war!"
    Petronille rounded on him. "You should not force them, Drustan. Brion, yes, he has a fondness for battle, but Gaheris and John find it repugnant."
    "Not John!" Drustan beamed at his youngest, sitting at Mart's right hand at the foot of the table. "He rejoices in the weight of his armor and the lance in his hand, do you not, boy?" If Gaheris looked like a weasel, John looked like a pig. He wasn't terribly fat, only a little plump, but his nose was short and tilted sharply up, his eyes were small and close set, his forehead low under black hair worn, like his father's, at shoulder length. His only attractive feature was his beard, glossy black and silky, which had the double advantage of hiding his cheeks and chin. His doublet was already stained, though they were only on the second course.
    He forced a smile in response to his father's question. "You have taught me well, Father." Page 6
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    Resentment flared in Gaheris' and Brion's eyes.
    Before they could speak, the nobleman beside Gaheris exclaimed, "Ah, would I could have taken part in those battles!"
    Matt looked up at him in surprise; he spoke with the accent of southern Merovence. He was lean but muscular, perhaps in his thirties, and handsome in an angular way, with dark hair cut short.
    "You would, Orizhan," Gaheris said sourly. "You're almost as bad as Brion in that."
    "Yes, Sir Orizhan is a true knight," Brion snapped. Like Orizhan, he wore his brown hair short, but was even more muscular—in fact, built like a carnival strong man. He wore a dark brown doublet with green facings, and his face was both handsome and regal, his nose as straight as his father's but not as long, his hazel eyes large and long lashed, his face clean shaven, showing high cheekbones and a strong, cleft chin. Gaheris and John bristled at the implication that neither of them was truly worthy of knighthood. Alisande stepped in to defuse the situation. "But one would expect Sir Orizhan to yearn for battle, when his homeland is so close to peril."
    "Indeed, Majesty!" Sir Orizhan said fervently. "That ourprovince ofToulenge was spared the Moors’
    rule, I thank God!"
    "Then go to a church," Gaheris snapped, "and spare us your piety!" Again Alisande stepped in. "I hope time does not hang too heavily on your hands, Sir Orizhan, for your ward must be quite safe in Their Majesties' keeping."
    "I keep Rosamund close indeed," said Petronille, with a glare at her husband, a glare which he returned. Rosamund kept her gaze fixed on her trencher. She seemed cowed and apprehensive, a mousy little thing whose blond hair had lost its luster and whose eyes had dulled, but Matt; thought she might have proved quite a beauty if she'd had some spirit. She said not a word, and considering the company, Matt could sympathize. He just had to endure them for the evening, though—she had to live with them every day!
    Sir Orizhan pulled attention away from her before she could be forced to talk. "King Drustan has been kind enough to find employment for me, Your Majesty, so that the time does not hang too heavily on my hands."
    "You'd be better employed minding your own business," Gaheris snarled.
    "Instead, he minds yours," Brion shot back.
    King Drustan gave a shout of laughter. "Aye, Sir Orizhan minds all your businesses, my young bawcocks, and I daresay you embroil yourselves in far less trouble because of it."
    "It isn't