Wood Nymph and the Cranky Saint- Wizard of Yurt - 2 Read Free Page A

royal family comes back.” The regent was juggling something heavy in his hand which I recognized as the royal seal of Yurt. “But it’s not my castle, and they’re not my wife and child,” he growled, turned on his heel, and stomped across the drawbridge into the castle.
    The staff and the Knights and ladies who were staying behind drifted back inside, but I didn’t feel like going in yet. The day had gone flat, and it would be at least three more days before we could expect a telephone cal, teling us that the royal party had arrived safely at the castle of the queen’s parents.
    My biggest wizardry accomplishment since coming to Yurt had been the instalation of magic telephones. They were not like the magic telephones common down in the great City, but then, very little of my magic seemed to be like anyone else’s. This was largely due to the fact that I often had to improvise to compensate for al the courses at the wizards’ school where I had not paid proper attention—in this case I had managed to avoid courses in the technical division completely—but I preferred to think it demonstrated my unique flair and creativity.
    In the meantime, I didn’t want to mope for three days, waiting for the telephone to ring, imagining the royal family attacked by bandits or dragons without their wizard there to protect them.
    “Joachim,” I said to the chaplain, who was also stil
    looking off across the green fields of Yurt, “let’s go sit in the king’s garden for a moment.”
    He gave a start, as though he had forgotten my presence, but answered calmly. “Al right, Daimbert.”
    We were the only people in the castle who used each other’s names, being Father and Wizard to everyone else. We didn’t always understand each other and I had long since despaired of giving him a proper sense of humor, but we had managed to become friends, at least most of the time, though traditionaly priests and wizards do not get along at al. For that matter, wizards don’t usualy get along with other wizards.
    We sat on the bench by the king’s yelow roses. The king had been up at dawn, pruning everything one last time before he left, so the only blooms on the bushes were the buds that were just opening.
    “Do you know what’s bothering Dominic?” I asked. “I’d expected he’d be delighted to have a chance to act as king of Yurt.”
    “I think that’s his problem precisely,” said the chaplain. “He loves the little prince—everyone must love him—but Dominic had been heir apparent to the kingdom his entire life, and now he isn t. Being named temporary regent must emphasize for him that the future he’d always thought he was preparing for wil never come to pass.” If Dominic was undergoing some sort of emotional crisis, I just hoped he didn’t bother me with it. “Wel, at least it’s not us,” I said cheerfuly. “What shal we do first while the king is gone? How about if I try to discover a spel to raise up armed men from dragons’ teeth?”
    Joachim stretched his long legs out in front of him and glanced at me from deep-set eyes. “I’m afraid we have no dragons’ teeth,” he said, perfectly serious. “But I have a task of my own. I received a message from the bishop yesterday, asking me to investigate
    the situation at a hermitage at the far eastern end of the kingdom.”
    This sounded deadly dul to me. One advantage of being a wizard rather than a priest was that the wizards’ school wasn’t always giving us the responsibility of carrying out uninteresting tasks.

    But something about this message had bothered Joachim. There was a faint note of concern in his voice that no one who did not know him as wel as I did would have noticed. “What’s the problem?”
    “I don’t understand why the bishop asked me,” he said, turning his huge dark eyes fuly on me. Even after two years, the effect was stil intimidating. “Why didn’t he just send one of the priests from the cathedral?”
    “Maybe because