I shook the towel out with much more than necessary energy. This was the kind of story the young wizards liked to tell the new students when they first arrived. In any event, I was going to do my best to see that the good, pious chaplain did not leave again.
IV
The morning of the day of Christmas Eve dawned snowy, but by the time I had eaten my cruller and drunk my tea—both brought to my door satisfyingly hot by Gwen, who had a sprig of holly in her hair—the sun had come out, and the snow in the courtyard sparkled like diamonds. It seemed almost a shame when the stableboys came out with big brooms to sweep it aside.
The duchess, the two counts, and the old wizard were coming that evening. Preparations for Christmas had kept everyone busy enough that they seemed to have forgotten about the elusive stranger and to be satisfied with my statement that he had vanished magically in the late afternoon, and that while I still did not know where he had come from, I was fairly confident he was not coming back.
An enormous fir had been cut in the forest the day before and set up in the corner of the great hall overnight, while the snow dried from its branches. Now, under the queen's supervision, the servants hoisted it upright at the head of the hall. Boxes of ornaments were brought out, and the queen and the Lady Maria spent much of the morning running up and down stepladders hanging the decorations. There were glistening silver stars, angels made of of lace and velvet, colored balls that reflected the light, tiny wreaths made of straw, red velvet bows, and scores of tiny magic lights, made years ago by my predecessor. The king himself climbed on a ladder to help hang these deep in the branches of the tree, where they shone with a pure white gleam.
I brushed my best clothes and worked on the magic tricks I knew I would be called on to perform in the next few days. Since the old wizard was going to be there, with illusions much more solid and realistic than anything I could produce, I was going to have to find other ways to keep the royal party and their guests amused during the twelve days of Christmas.
I decided to try some transformations. I spent much of the day with Basic Metamorphosis and Elements of Transmogrification, actually realizing at last exactly where I had gone wrong with the frogs.
In the three weeks since the stranger's appearance and subsequent disappearance, I had been able to make no progress in determining who he was or where he had come from. I suspected everyone in the castle in turn, except for the king—even the boys being trained as knights in Yurt. I wished I dared tell Joachim my fears, but every time I decided that he was the presence of good that was keeping evil at bay, I found myself suspecting that the stranger might have been the manifestation of his own evil side.
I remembered when I had first come to Yurt I had wondered what I would be doing to fill my time away from the City. Somehow my days had become so busy that I had not even made any progress on the telephones, even though I had intermittently tried one or another new spell. At one point I had promised myself to complete them for the queen for a Christmas present, but that was impossible now.
In the late afternoon, we started looking out for our guests. The cook and the kitchen maids had been baking for days, and the smell of pies, cakes, crullers, and bread, mixed with the piny smell from the Christmas tree and the evergreen boughs hung throughout the castle, was almost overwhelming. I stood by the gate, looking out toward the sunset. The air was clear and still, and the sun was framed by the red and ice blue of winter.
The stable boys went out with lanterns and poles, which they pushed into the ground at intervals along the road up the hill, so that the lanterns could light our guests' final approach. At the bottom of the hill, they met a figure on foot.
I recognized the old wizard, even at a distance, and went down to meet him. In his tall white hat, leaning on his oaken staff, he was unmistakable. As I came closer, I could see that he had brought the calico cat, perched on his shoulder.
"Welcome, Master," I said, doing the full bow in spite of the thin layer of ice on the road under my knees. I gave the stable boys a stern sideways look, and they ran back up to the castle, doubtless eager to tell the rest of the staff about the meeting between the old and new wizards.
"Greetings, young whipper-snapper," he said in what was for him a cordial tone. "Getting too high and mighty in the castle to come see me much anymore, huh?"
"I've been busy all fall," I said. "I'm delighted to see you. We'll have plenty of time to talk while you're here." Although I did not mention it immediately, the principal topic on which I had to talk to him was the north tower. He would certainly find out very quickly that his magic locks were gone. Although he would have to admit, once I had told him about the stranger, that I had not been personally responsible, he would still certainly feel it had somehow been my fault for letting supernatural influences into the castle in the first place. He had told me unequivocally that there had been no supernatural powers in Yurt in his day, and although I didn't actually believe this, he might think it was true.
"I notice no one thought of sending a horse for me," he said, leaning on his staff going up the hill. "Just because I'm a wizard, no one remembers that I'm also an old man, and walking for miles in the winter is not easy."
I had already noticed that his white hair was windblown beneath his hat, in spite of the still air, and had concluded that he had flown most of the way, only setting down on the ground once he was within view of the castle. I decided not to mention this.
The constable and his wife met us at the bridge, with kind greetings to which the old wizard responded primarily with snorts, although I knew him well enough to see that he was actually extremely pleased to be remembered so fondly. "Let me show you the guest room we've prepared for you," said the constable, leading the way toward the rooms beyond the south tower.
"Perhaps I could have a word with you now, Master?" I said, hurrying beside him. It would be much better if I could tell him about the empty tower before rather than after he found out for himself.
"Later, young wizard, later," he said. "An old man gets tired after walking for miles, and I have to prepare for some really spectacular illusions over dessert. You probably haven't been able to equal anything of mine, have you?"
Since this didn't seem to call for an answer I didn't give one. Here, at the furthest point in the castle from the north tower, he would not accidentally notice the missing magic locks. Perhaps I could wait and tell him after dinner. My only fear was that he would slip out of his room to check them himself as soon as I was gone.
He turned on some of his own magic lamps in his room and closed the door behind him. As I was wondering whether I should leave him alone or knock in a few minutes, there was the sound of horses' hooves, jingling bridles, and voices calling from the gate. The rest of our guests had arrived.
The two counts and the duchess had apparently met on the road, and they all arrived together. For several minutes, there was a jumble of greetings, laughter, people running to and fro, and the constable taking the guests and their parties to the rooms prepared for them. The king and queen came out into the courtyard to welcome them. I stayed out of the way, wandering over to the north tower and its door locked only with a bolt, not with magic. I stayed there for half an hour while it grew darker and colder, but the old wizard never came.
After half an hour, I heard the brass choir start playing Christmas carols and knew that dinner would shortly be served. The secret of the tower was safe for now from the old wizard. I hurried to the great hall to be formally introduced to the counts.
One of the counts was fairly old, about the king's age, and his wife was a round and smiling middle-aged woman who looked as I had originally expected the queen to look. Their sons, they told me, were off adventuring in the eastern kingdoms and had not been able to come home for Christmas.
The other count was young, probably my age, and had come into his inheritance just last winter. He had beautiful alabaster skin, wavy chestnut hair (about the color mine would be if I hadn't dyed it gray), and
gold rings on every long finger. Looking at me imperiously from wide-spaced brown eyes, he had the look of mystery and authority I had always hoped I projected but knew I did not.
I did the full bow to him as I had already done to the old count and his wife and to the duchess. The latter had actually put on a dress in honor of Christmas Eve. It was a lovely dark wine color that suited her well, but it was also exactly the same shade as what the queen was wearing, even though the two dresses were styled very differently. I noticed the cousins looking at each other sideways with little flarings of the nostrils. The duchess looked at me, however, with a small and somewhat ironical smile, as though interested in seeing my reaction to the counts.
"So you have a new wizard," said the young count to the king in what I was pleased to note was a high and rather nasal voice. "I myself would never have one. I'd been hoping that when your old one retired you'd have the sense not to get another."
Since I had just finished bowing to him, and my predecessor was standing only ten feet away, this struck me as unusually rude, even for a member of the aristocracy, but he kept on talking about us as though we weren't there. "My father kept a wizard—or he said he was a wizard, someone I think my father had picked up at a carnival somewhere—but as soon as I inherited, I sent him packing right away, you can be sure."
"We've always been very happy with our wizards," said the king stiffly.
"Is there anything in particular you object to about wizards?" asked my predecessor with a calmness that he was having trouble maintaining.
"Everything about them is so, well, on the surface!" said the young count, waving his beautiful white hands. "Once you've seen an illusion or two, you have nothing left but vague talk about the powers of darkness and light, which someone like me sees through at once."
"I think you're underestimating real wizardry," continued my predecessor, with an evenness of tone I admired.
"You're the wizard who used to be here, aren't you? My father told me about your illusions over dessert, back when he used to visit the king. But really, when you go beyond illusions, what do you have?"
I turned him into a frog.
There was total, horrified silence in the great hall as everyone stopped breathing. The only sound was the crackling of the great logs in the fireplace. Where the young count had stood a minute ago, a large green bullfrog squatted on the flagstones, looking up at us with human eyes. The eyes seemed confused and rather alarmed.
The frog's wide, pale throat pumped with its breathing. It took one hop toward me, then paused to look around again.
The old wizard's cat broke the silence with a hiss. Immediately there was a babble of voices. The wizard took the cat firmly in his arms. "Hold on," I said cheerfully. "I'll have him turned back into a count in just a minute. I've been working on transformations all day, so this shouldn't give me any trouble. I chose a frog because frogs, who metamorphose naturally during their lifetimes, are very easy subjects for the magic of transformation."
No one seemed particularly interested in this insight into wizardry. They had all stepped backwards and were looking at me in trepidation.
But it did indeed take only a few seconds for me to return him to himself, once I had decided he had been a frog long enough to respect wizards more in the future. But as I said the words to restore him, I also added a few words to create an illusion of pale green color on his alabaster skin. It would fade shortly, but I thought it would be a healthy reminder of the powers of wizardry. If I had done this well in the transformation practical, there never would have been a question about Zahlfast passing me.
The count, restored, stared at me with eyes that seemed much more appropriate in a human's face than they had in a frog's, but he said nothing.
"Well," said the king in in his best jolly voice. "I can see the after-dinner entertainment has already begun, but shall we eat before we have any more? I know the cook has been busy today!"
The brass players had stopped playing to stare down from their greenery-hung balcony, but they quickly resumed as we all went toward the tables. Several extra tables had had to be set up, all glittering with the best silver and crystal.
As we jostled and found our places, I discovered the chaplain at my elbow. "Are you sure this wanton meddling with God's creation does not endanger your soul?" he said into my ear.
I laughed and shook my head. I personally thought the young count's soul might be improved by a wholesome lesson in humility, but decided not to mention this. I was suddenly very hungry.
V
I noticed at dinner that no one talked to me as freely as they normally did, not even the Lady Maria, who was, as usual, seated at my right hand, though one advantage of having guests was that Dominic had been positioned at a different table. Being freed from having to provide entertaining conversation gave me more attention to pay to one of the cook's finest efforts. By the time the mince pie was brought in, I was so full that I found I could only take two pieces.
When everyone was down to about half a piece of pie, from which they periodically extracted a raisin or a flaky piece of crust to munch with a sip of tea, the king said, "Well, Wizard! " to my predecessor. "Are you going to provide us some entertainments like you used to?" I noticed that the servants who had been taking empty dishes down to the kitchen had all returned to the seats at their table.
The wizard nodded, giving a rather smug smile. "I think I might be able to provide something to while away a few minutes."
He rose, leaving the calico cat sitting on his chair with its tail wrapped tidily around its paws. From his pocket the wizard took a dozen gold rings and arranged them carefully in front of the fire.
I realized what he was doing. Complicated illusions might take up to an hour or more to create, but it was possible to perform most of the spell, stopping short of the end, and then tie that spell to an object, where it would last a day or so. An unfinished spell would start to fade after that time, but if one did one's illusions fairly soon, one would have the advantage of being able to perform something highly spectacular with only a few words of the Hidden Language. The object to which the unfinished spell was attached could be almost anything, but the wizard's rings certainly added a nice touch. I never did illusions that way myself, except for once for a class exercise, always being too impatient.
The old wizard picked up the first ring, held it toward the company, and said a few quick words. Immediately a light green sapling sprang up from the flagstone floor. It grew and grew, reaching branches now covered with pale pink blossoms toward the ceiling. For a second there was even a whiff of rose petals. I determined to ask him to teach me how to do that at the next possible opportunity; they had never taught us how to do illusory scents in the City.
Now the blossoms were changing, becoming long green leaves, as the tree was gently buffeted by a summer breeze, and for a second the hall was filled not with the smell of evergreen but with the scent of new-mown hay. Then the leaves darkened, became crimson and blood-red, and fell in silent showers, accompanied by a dark, woodsy smell of wood and earth. But the branches were not bare, for now white stars glistened in their branches. As the smell of the Christmas tree again returned, the stars cascaded to the earth, and the whole tree quietly dissolved.
The company had been watching silently, except for a few murmurs of "Oooh," or "Ohh," from the ladies. But now loud applause burst out. I glanced toward the young count and saw that even he was applauding with great assiduousness. I was glad I was not going to try to match illusions with the old wizard.
He acknowledged the applause with only a bob of the head, but I could tell he was highly gratified. He positioned his next two rings, said the words to finish the spell, and stepped back.
This time two winged horses appeared, lifesize and alabaster white—whiter than the young count's skin had ever been, even before I tinted it green. Flapping their enormous, feathered wings, they rose in absolute stillness, hovered over our heads for a moment while striking at ea
ch other with their hooves, then, side-by-side, soared the length of the hall and back again, to land lightly by the fire and dissolve in a shower of sparks.
Then the wizard changed the mood, making his next illusion a clown. It looked at first like a person, wearing baggy multi-colored clothing, its face painted different colors. But then it began to dance, kicking enormous feet high into the air, and as it danced its neck suddenly grew to six feet long and shrank back again, its shoulders sprouted first wings and then rose bushes, and an extra two legs grew from its hips and danced harder than ever. The eyes winked hugely, the wide mouth leered and grinned. The whole party was weak with laughter when the clown did a final bow and disappeared with a pop.
The old wizard kept us entertained for close to an hour. Some of his illusions were beautiful, some funny, and all finer than anything I had seen produced in the City. For his final one, he started with a small Christmas tree, which grew toward the ceiling and was suddenly transformed into a giant red Father Noel, who smiled and bowed to us all before dissolving away.
As the thunderous applause died down, the wizard returned to his place, doing a fairly good job of hiding his pleasure. "Any more of that pie left?" he said. "Illusions are hungry work."
People stood up then, stretching and talking. There were still nearly two hours until midnight service in the chapel. I wondered if the old wizard might take advantage of the interval to go check the north tower. But he seemed content, after a final piece of pie, to sit down in a rocking chair which the queen brought out for him, and doze by the fire with the cat on his lap and a small smile on his face. He must have risen before dawn, I thought, to start preparing those illusions and have them attached to the rings before he started for the castle.
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