Wizard at Work

by Vivian Vande Velde

  The wizard held a blue cloud in his left hand. He ran his right over the surface of the cloud, stretching it. But it didn't thin out; it became thicker even as it grew longer. The wizard moved his hand in the other direction, making the cloud taller.

  The prince stopped in midyawn to pay closer attention.

  The wizard pulled the cloud longer yet: left hand pushing upward, right hand off to the side. The cloud was as big as a whale—and the wizard kept working at it.

  "Ahm...," the prince said, and shifted his weight nervously.

  The wizard added curves, angles, a leg here, a spiked tail there.

  "A dragon," the prince finally said. "You're forming another dragon. Well, that makes sense. Why fight one when you can be fighting two?"

  "Shhh," the wizard said, adding extra detail to the scales.

  Maybe nobody had ever shushed the prince before. He ignored the wizard's request to be quiet and asked, "What's it going to do, fight the first one?"

  "It's only a cloud, an illusion."

  "Sounds like it'll be a lot of help."

  The wizard glanced up, thinking that maybe it wasn't too late to turn the prince into a toad. Instead, he explained, "Dragons are very territorial. I'll set this one up over there, to the west, and the one that has your princess will go over to investigate. Meanwhile, I'll transform myself into an eagle, fly to the top of the mountain, find the princess, then flash all of us back to the tower."

  "The horses, too," the prince reminded him. "Horses are expensive, you know. Don't forget them."

  The wizard thought, If I forget any of us, it won't be the horses. But he didn't say this; he only floated the dragon up to the distant mountain range where he wanted it.

  From above them came an enraged screech.

  Wizard and prince ducked as a large green dragon shot out of seemingly nowhere and took off in pursuit of the artificial dragon.

  The wizard stretched his arms, whispered a magic word, and felt feathers sprout. He leaped off the edge of the cliff, caught an updraft, and was halfway up the mountainside before he had to start beating his wings.

  The cave, which had been invisible from below, was easy to spot, and the wizard landed on the ledge that the dragon must use. He transformed back into a man before entering the cave—so as not to startle the princess, knowing princesses frequently were of a delicate constitution—and he walked inside.

  The princess was lying on a pile of pillows embroidered with gold thread and stuffed with gosling feathers. She had a big box of candies by her elbow and was just about to pop one into her mouth when she spotted the wizard. "Hello," she said, her hand stopped in midair. "What's this?"

  "I've come to rescue you."

  The princess pouted. "Father sent you, didn't he?"

  "No," the wizard explained, "actually it was the Prince of Talahandra."

  The princess tossed the candy into the air and caught it in her mouth. "Never heard of him."

  The wizard watched her chew. And chew. And chew. Then he watched her select another candy and pop that into her mouth. Usually rescues did not go like this. Finally he said, "Well?"

  "Well, what?"

  "Are you coming?"

  The princess asked, "Do you mean: Do I consent to be rescued?"

  "Yes."

  "No."

  "No?"

  "Yes."

  The wizard shook his head to sort this out. "What do you mean, no?"

  The princess picked up a golden plate and checked her reflection to make sure there was nothing caught between her teeth. She smiled at herself and patted her lovely blond hair. "I mean," she said, as though finally remembering him, "I'm perfectly happy here. The dragon is good to me. It fetches all the sweets I want and takes me for rides on its back, flying all over the countryside, and I've got even nicer things here than I do at home, where I have to share with my two ugly sisters." She gestured to the pile of dragon treasure upon which her pillows rested. "I imagine my father's promised to let my rescuer marry me, hasn't he? He's old-fashioned that way. Well, I do not choose to be rescued in the name of some fat old prince who's too lazy to come and rescue me himself." She studied the box of candies and selected another morsel. "Sorry," she mumbled, her mouth full.

  The wizard tapped his foot impatiently, knowing that if he just flashed on back home, the prince would eventually follow him there and never give him any rest. "Look," he said wearily, "the Prince of Talahandra is not fat or old. He's really very handsome, and quite rich."

  The princess looked interested, but still skeptical.

  The wizard added, "The prince is also very intelligent and resourceful, and he hired me rather than coming himself so that there would be less danger to you."

  "I don't know," the princess said. "I do enjoy the flying."

  "Besides," the wizard said smoothly, though he was making it up as he went along, "some of the most famous candy makers in the world are in the kingdom of Talahandra. Please," he urged. "The dragon will be back any moment."

  Slowly, reluctantly, the princess stood up, putting the box of candy under her arm. "Do you think I'll like this prince?" she asked.

  This time, the wizard could answer in all truthfulness. "Believe me, you were made for each other." Then, as she started stuffing diamond-encrusted combs and other trinkets into her pockets, the wizard added, "And I have a fine mirror that will make a perfect engagement present for the two of you."

  "Oh, thank you," she said, munching on a caramel.

  A week later, the wizard was lying half asleep on a hammock in the backyard of his tower home. The summer was almost half over. A few more weeks and his students would be back for the fall semester. He smiled, thinking that he had missed them, though he would never tell them so.

  Something large and heavy dropped onto his chest.

  "Hello, old friend," came the familiar and unwelcome voice of his magic mirror. "Getting lazy in your old age, I see."

  The wizard opened his eyes and saw Princess Gilbertina standing there, tapping her foot, her arms folded defiantly before her.

  "It didn't work out," she said. "The engagement is off, and I want you to take this piece of garbage off my hands."

  The wizard had had all the breath knocked out of him, so he couldn't point out that the garbage in question was, in fact, already out of her hands and sitting on his chest.

  He eased the heavy mirror to the side, off the edge of the hammock.

  "Easy, big fellow," the mirror grumbled.

  The wizard found he could breathe again. "What seems to be the problem?" he asked.

  "This stupid mirror of yours is a troublemaker."

  "No!" gasped the wizard, trying to sound surprised.

  "It put all sorts of crazy ideas into the head of the Prince of Talahandra. He was supposed to marry me, but all he does is hang around Farmer Seymour's barn, sighing and writing bad poetry over that milkmaid—who is not, I might add, all that great."

  "I see," said the wizard.

  "After all"—the princess fluffed her hair—"even this stupid mirror acknowledges that I'm the second most beautiful woman in the land, and the Prince of Talahandra is only the eighth most handsome man. The mirror told me so."

  "I'm sorry things didn't work out for you and the prince," the wizard said. "But I don't see why you're here."

  "I want to go home to my dragon."

  "Oh." The wizard looked at her pouting but determined face. "Ahm—"

  "And you're going to take me there."

  He started to open his mouth to protest, but she began speaking louder and faster and pointed her finger at him. "This is all your fault. You're the one who talked me into leaving, and you're the one who gave me this miserable mirror." She lifted her chin and spoke in a most regal tone. "I am ready for you to take me home now."

  It was, the wizard knew, the only way he'd ever get rid of her. He said the magic word that transported both of them to the dragon's cave. However, he put too much energy into his spell, and not only were
he and the princess transported, but also the hammock, the mirror, two nearby rosebushes, and his clothesline, on which he'd been airing out his winter underwear.

  One thing he did not bring was the pair of trees to which the hammock had been attached. The hammock dropped to the floor of the cave, carrying the wizard with it.

  "Thank you," said Princess Gilbertina.

  The green dragon, who had been sitting with his back to the cave entrance, whirled around at the sound of her voice and shrieked in surprise and dismay.

  "Yes," the princess said, "I'm back."

  The dragon closed his eyes, covered them with his claws, and backed away. "I'm not going to look at you!" he said. "You're not going to fool me again."

  The wizard picked himself up from the tangle of his hammock. He looked from the dragon to the princess. "I have the feeling I've missed something here."

  "Do you see what she's trying to do?" the dragon demanded, peeking out at the wizard from between clawed fingers. "I knew it was a mistake, but her golden hair was too much for me to resist, and she knows it." He shrugged self-consciously. "Dragons are pushovers for gold, you know."

  "Come, come," the princess said to the dragon. "Won't you give me one little smile?" She scratched him behind the ears.

  The dragon shook his head. "'Rescue me,' you said. 'Save me from dying of boredom,' you said. 'Take me flying, and you'll be my lifelong friend.' Ha! More like your servant. Well, I got tired of waiting on you, and telling you over and over how beautiful you are, and my back and wings got sore from carrying you around all day. Then I saw that wizard and that prince, and I knew what was going on, and it seemed like the perfect opportunity. I chased their fake dragon on purpose so they'd get you out of here."

  The princess pouted. "That's not very nice." She smiled. "But I forgive you." She tickled him under his chin. "Do you forgive me?"

  The huge dragon squirmed. "Yes. Now just get out of here."

  "Come on," she wheedled, "give me one little smile. One cute little dragon smile. Wizard, don't you think this is the cutest dragon you've ever seen?"

  The wizard didn't know how to answer, but luckily the mirror did. The mirror said, "Actually, he is. He's the number one, fairest-looking dragon in the land."

  The dragon's eyes popped open. "Really?"

  "I am never incorrect. And I certainly never lie."

  "What a charming mirror!" the dragon cried. "Isn't that a charming mirror? And gold, too. Whose is it?"

  "Mine," the princess purred.

  The dragon turned his large green eyes to her.

  She tipped her head demurely, so that all the dragon could see was her golden hair.

  The dragon smiled.

  The wizard picked up his hammock and whispered his magic word.

  Back in his own yard, he refastened the hammock ropes to the trees. Hopefully the princess would try to be easier to get along with, and the dragon would try to be more patient, and she and he and the mirror would be happy together.

  The wizard lay down with his face to the late-afternoon sun. And with luck the Prince of Talahandra wouldn't come looking for her but would marry the milkmaid on Farmer Seymour's farm.

  The wizard hummed to himself. If that happened, he had just the wedding present for them, something he had picked up on one of his journeys but for which he had never found a use: a single glass slipper....

  A Wizard and Ghost

  The wizard was in his garden, tying pieces of string around fragments of junk metal and then nailing the flapping contraptions onto wooden stakes. Mostly he used bits of rusted armor that he'd once accepted in trade from a down-on-his-luck knight too poor to pay for a good-fortune spell; but there were also a few burnt and badly dented pots, because cooking was not one of the wizard's strong points. He was hoping that the noise made by these scraps of metal rattling in the wind would be enough to frighten away the rabbits, who were particularly bold this year. They'd jumped over the little fence he'd built in May, and they'd gnawed the feet off the scarecrow he'd set up in June, and they'd made nests out of the snippets of his hair he'd scattered about in July. Here it was August, and though his principles inclined him against using magic to harm living creatures, there weren't many vegetables left, and he was getting tempted.

  He looked up from his hammering when a man came tromping through the vegetables. The stranger seemed not to notice at all that he was in a garden, so that he stepped on carrots, which might conceivably survive the trampling, and tomato plants, which probably would not.

  The wizard would have shouted to the man to watch where he put his feet, but he couldn't. His mother had always warned him that holding nails clenched between his teeth was dangerous, though most likely her chief worry had been that he would accidentally swallow one.

  "Halt!" the wizard tried to call out from around the nails.

  The stranger must have taken the garbled word as greeting, for he responded, "Hello right back to you!" and kept on walking toward him.

  The wizard spat the nails out into his hand, but by then the man was standing before him, asking, "Are you the wizard or the gardener?"

  "I used to be a gardener," the wizard snapped. "But it looks as though that isn't going to work out."

  Apparently sarcasm was beyond his visitor. "So you're not the wizard? I was told the wizard lived here. Do you know where the wizard does live?"

  "I am the wizard."

  The man looked annoyed. "Well, then, why didn't you say so? Do you like going around trying to confuse people?"

  The wizard refrained from pointing out that some people are easier to confuse than others. He sighed and simply said, "Just watch your feet, and tell me why you're here."

  The man looked down at his feet. If he noticed that he was ankle deep in a baby lettuce, he didn't say so. He said, "My master, Duke Snell, has sent me to fetch you to his castle in Northrup."

  "I don't know Duke Snell," the wizard said, though he knew where Northrup was, in the furthermost reach of the realm. He already wasn't impressed—neither with the manner of the invitation, nor with the messenger, who was still looking at his feet, evidently taking the wizard's comment to watch his feet as a continuing order. Either Duke Snell employed people who were not strong on thinking ability, or he gave capricious orders that he expected to be followed exactly. Neither instance spoke well of the man.

  The duke's messenger assured the wizard, "But the duke knows you. Or of you, at any rate. There's a problem at the castle, and he needs you to fix it."

  "Really?" The wizard was beginning to lose patience. "And what makes him think I will?"

  Still staring at his feet, perhaps concerned that a spell was about to affect them and apparently unaware of the wizard's growing indignation, the messenger explained, "The king is coming for a visit next week, and Duke Snell wants to make sure the castle is safe."

  This wasn't exactly an answer to the wizard's question, but the wizard did know the king, who was not the kind of man to give frivolous orders or surround himself with people who didn't know how to think. The wizard didn't want anything bad to happen to him. So he asked, "What kind of problem does Duke Snell have?"

  "The castle is being haunted."

  The wizard hadn't had much experience with hauntings, for there are many more reports of ghosts than actual ghosts. In fact, he suspected there was probably some more ordinary explanation for whatever the duke thought was happening. Still, he found his curiosity prickled, and he asked, "Who's the castle being haunted by?"

  "A ghost."

  The wizard sighed. "Who has died recently?"

  "That's just the problem," the man said. "Or one of them: Nobody has. Well, I mean, I suppose some body some where in the whole wide world has died in recent weeks, but none of the people from the castle. Will you come?"

  The wizard sighed again. It probably wasn't a real ghost—ghosts are actually quite rare. And there were things he needed to do around here before his students returned from their summer holiday, but he w
as intrigued. That, and he wanted to keep the king safe. "All right," he said.

  "Good," the man told him. "Can I stop watching my feet now?"

  The wizard resisted the temptation to see how long this could last and said, "Yes."

  Though the wizard had been to the region of Northrup, he hadn't ever been to Duke Snell's castle, so he couldn't transport himself directly there. He had the duke's messenger name off nearby landmarks and recognized Standish Wood as a place he had visited. So he saved himself three days of traveling on Farmer Seymour's ill-natured horse by using his transportation spell to get to the town of Frisbane, which sat between where Standish Wood ended and the great northern plains started. He also saved himself the company of the duke's man, claiming—though it wasn't true—that his spell only worked on himself.

  In Frisbane he cast the spell to make himself look more wizardly, then he hired a boat. This took half a day to get him east a fraction of the distance he had traveled instantly by spell. It was late afternoon before the boatman announced, "The duke's castle."

  The castle sat on an island in the river. The wizard saw the way was blocked by two water gates, one before and one beyond the castle, and there was a guard at each gate, and a mechanism to raise and lower the gates.

  The nearer guard approached and motioned them to come in toward the shore. He was bearing a tally sheet and a bored expression. As though he'd proclaimed this a thousand times a day, the guard called to them: "One-silver-penny toll for traveling through the moat area." A silver penny was enough to buy a good sanding and painting for this boat, which it could probably use, and some nice soft seat cushions—which it definitely needed.

  "I'm not traveling through the moat area," the boatman said. "I simply need to row up to the castle mooring area to drop off this gentleman here."

  The guard made a check mark on his tally sheet. "Two-silver-penny toll for lingering in the moat area," he said.

  The wizard leaned forward and explained, "Duke Snell asked me to come."