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 each 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.
The rest of the royal party and the guests stood or sat near the fire, chatting while the servants cleared the tables. The king was talking to the two counts and the duchess with great animation, but I noticed the queen sitting by herself, near the base of the Christmas tree. I took a chair and went to sit next to her.
She looked up at me with a smile. “I hope you realize we are very happy with you as Royal Wizard,” she said, “even if you don’t do illusions like your predecessor!”
I personally thought that my dragon and giant had been at least as impressive in their own way, even though they had lacked the visual solidity of the old wizard’s productions, especially since I had created them entirely on the spot. But I looked into the emerald eyes and knew that this comment had been meant to be reassuring.
“I’m very happy being at Yurt, so I’m glad you think that,” I said. We were far enough from the rest of the party, and everybody else was talking loudly enough, that our conversation was highly private. I had drunk quite a bit of wine with dinner. “You know, ” I said, “I’m very much in love with you.”
This confession was met with a pleased laugh. She clearly did not believe a word of it, but she did take and squeeze my hand. “When you turned the count into a frog,” she said, “he really was a frog, wasn’t he? That wasn’t just an illusion.”
“No, he really was a frog. If I hadn’t changed him back, or another wizard changed him back, he would have stayed a frog for the rest of his life. Of course, inside, he would still be himself. He just wouldn’t be able to talk or make insulting comments about wizards.”
She laughed again. “You are a fine wizard, but it’s probably just as well you changed him back.”
“Could I ask you something, my lady?” I said. I actually wanted to ask if she could ever love me too, but I was fairly sure I already knew the answer to that. “I’m afraid it’s a fairly personal question.”
“Well, what is it?”
“I want to know why you decided to marry the king.”
If it hadn’t been for the wine, I would have been quite shocked at my boldness. She did not seem shocked, however, but looked fondly toward him, as he talked to his subjects in front of the fire.
“Was it to keep him from marrying the duchess?”
She turned back toward me, laughing again. “Oh dear, is it that obvious? No, I don’t think he was ever in danger of marrying her, so that wasn’t the reason. I just fell in love with him.”
I did not reply. This answer seemed quite inadequate.
But she had drunk quite a bit of wine at dinner as well. “You know I’m my parents’ only child,” she said at last. I nodded, waiting for her to continue. “They were of course eager to see me married. And of course, like parents everywhere, they wanted me to marry well, marry at least a castellan like my father, but preferably a count or duke.”
I thought I could guess what was coming.
“They kept on introducing me to young men from throughout the western kingdoms. Maybe my Aunt Maria was the worst. She always tried to make the young men seem romantic, charming, wonderful, to the point that I already despised them before I met them. I actually enjoyed being introduced to lots of young men, because there were all sorts of opportunities for dances, for hunting parties, for buying new clothes, but I couldn’t imagine actually marrying any of them. They were all, frankly, silly, vain, or shallow-or all three.
“We’d exhausted several kingdoms already before we came to Yurt. The last man they tried was the young count of Yurt.” She nodded in his direction. The green had by now worn off his skin.
“He wasn’t count yet, as his father was still alive four years ago, when my parents tried to persuade me to marry him. But his personality was already-shall we say-fully developed.” She went into a series of giggles at this point that made several people look in our direction.
After a moment she regained her composure. “I told my parents I was going to become a nun, that I would enter the Nunnery of Yurt and spend the rest of my live in prayer and pious devotions. They were horrified, of course, and as I look back I’m quite horrified myself at my determination. I almost managed to do it.”
“I have trouble seeing you as a nun, my lady.”
“So do I, now. But I told them they had one final chance, to introduce me to a young man I would like before I took my vows of chastity. We were on our way to meet somebody, I don’t even remember who, now, when we stopped at the duchess’s castle-her mother and my mother were second cousins.
“As it turned out, the royal family of Yurt was visiting the duchess at the same time. I think my father had some idea of making a match between Prince Dominic and me, which would certainly have been more advantageous than whoever, in the next kingdom over, he had originally chosen for his final effort-Dominic is, after all, royal heir to Yurt.
“But my father reckoned without the king! He fell in love with me, and since nobody at all was trying to persuade me that he was young and gallant and charming, I fell in love with him! He actually is more gallant and charming than anyone I’ve ever met.”