A red winged lizard with hands. No wonder the young guard’s eyes were so round. “Go on to the cathedral,” I told Joachim. “Keep everyone calm. I’ll deal with this.” I might not be Royal Wizard of Yurt anymore, but when it came to magical apparitions I was still in command.
The construction site swarmed with activity as the guard and I pushed our way through. No one else seemed aware of the winged lizard. Cartloads of cut stone were arriving, drawn by oxen, and workmen unloaded and stacked them, easily levering the stones up and down ramps. The new tower’s light-colored stonework was almost white against an azure sky. There was nothing ominous here in daylight. But it did not need very complex spells to realize that the whole city was permeated with magic.
“It was on the docks by the river,” the young guard panted as we hurried through the narrow streets. “The dean led the climb up the tower last night, so I ran for him at once. I didn’t tell anyone else except my captain.”
“Good thinking,” I said. “We don’t want panic.”
But the docks were no more ominous than the construction site. We wove between stacks of cargo crates, coming into the city or ready to leave. I probed for magic and found very little. The aura that lingered seemed wild and unfocused, nothing like the tightly-constructed spells used for illusions-but then I had never expected any of this to be illusion.
An older guardsman joined us, lifting his eyebrows at me. “So the mayor’s sent for a wizard,” he commented.
I didn’t have time to correct him. “What happened to the winged lizard?” I probably would have called it a small dragon myself, but “lizard” did not sound as horrible.
He shook his head. “It’s gone. It disappeared with a pop, right into the air. I tried thrusting with my sword into the space where it might be, but I didn’t hit anything.” He paused. “Just before it disappeared, I had the impression it was picking up some of the cargo crates …”
“A sword won’t find it,” I said grimly. “It’s going to take magic. Stay on guard here in case it returns, and tell the dean at once if it does. I’ll search the rest of the city for it.”
As I hurried away from the river, I asked myself if a winged red lizard, the size of a hound, could have been what they all saw on the cathedral last night. But I rejected this idea-Joachim would certainly know the difference. But why should terrifying magical creatures suddenly be appearing in Caelrhon?
I turned a corner and thought I saw Prince Vincent.
After a startled second I realized the lord coming toward me could not be Vincent himself. He was slightly taller and quite a bit heavier, as well as several years older. He had the same burnished copper hair, the same wide-spaced eyes and firm jaw, but not the same easy and confident way of walking.
I gave all my suspicions free rein and stepped into his path. “Excuse me, let me introduce myself. I am Daimbert, the Royal Wizard of Yurt. You’re the heir to Caelrhon, Prince Lucas if I recall correctly. We met several years ago; I don’t know if you remember.”
His reaction did nothing to lessen my suspicions. He gripped his sword and his eyes narrowed. “And what are you doing in my kingdom?” he demanded.
I took a step backwards as he thrust his face toward mine. “The monster,” I babbled. “The dean of the cathedral asked me to come. I heard that your own Royal Wizard had an unfortunate accident, so-”
“We dismissed him even before his accident,” said Lucas, glowering. “We have no more use for magic-workers in Caelrhon.”
“But- But why not?”
“You keep it so discreet you think we won’t notice,” said Lucas coldly. “But after my experiences, my eyes were opened. We know you wizards are plotting to throw off the ‘service’ you claim to practice. ‘Establishing peace throughout the western kingdoms,’ you like to call it, but I know better. And now I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that you’re hoping to influence the election of the next bishop. If you really are here at the invitation of the cathedral-something I intend to find out! — then all I can say is that the bishop should know better.”
Shocked at his open vehemence, I didn’t reply but made him the formal half-bow and hurried away. None of this made any sense. Even though Sengrim, Caelrhon’s wizard, had always treated me rudely, I could not imagine what he could have done to get himself dismissed with harsh feeling that would persist even after his death.
As I walked I kept probing with magic but found no sign of either an enormous bat-winged monster or a giant lizard with hands. Regretfully, I had to conclude that neither of the princes of Caelrhon could be responsible if they no longer even employed a wizard. I reached the gates of the city and went out into the field where the Romneys had been camped a week ago. The new grass, growing rapidly, had nearly covered the marks left by their caravans.
For a moment I hesitated, then rose into the air for the flight back to the kingdom of Yurt. If someone had brought monsters here and then taken them away again, he must have some where to imprison them. There was one place I knew where it might-maybe-be possible to do so, and the quickest way to find out was to look.
I scrupulously went nowhere near the royal castle of Yurt, instead heading for the magical valley at the other end of the kingdom. Prince Vincent could now persuade the court all he wanted, I told myself, that aristocrats would be better off without their wizards; it no longer mattered to me.
In the valley was concentrated a pocket of forces left over from the creation of the earth, as well as the home of a wood nymph and the shrine to Yurt’s own Cranky Saint, a place where spells always worked especially well. Here it might be possible for a master wizard to find the power to bind even a monster from hell.
The saint’s shrine had been served by an old hermit when I first came to Yurt, but a much younger man, ascetic, earnest, and with a shaved skull, now lived at the hermitage. I thought gloomily that this was one more example of everyone around me growing older.
I approached cautiously, but the little green valley dreamed peacefully in the sun. I slowly flew its length above the sparkling river, seeing no monsters and noting with some detachment that I was capable to being back in the kingdom, within thirty miles of the queen, without disturbing the emotional scab that had formed over my bitterness and pain.
The valley was so permeated with magic that it was hard to find specific spells, but after half an hour I was fairly sure no one had used its powers to conceal the cathedral’s monster. It was afternoon when I arrived, hot and tired, back in Caelrhon, feeling intense frustration at not being able to find a monster that dozens of people had seen.
Ox carts laden with cut stone were coming toward the city gates. The oxen plodded slowly, their wagons creaking and the loads appearing to rock dangerously. Walking beside the oxen or sitting on the loads were the drivers, lazily flicking long whips, more to remind the oxen of their duties than to hurry them on.
But on one of the loads of stone rode a ragged magician.
My discouragement fell away, and I stepped casually to the edge of the road. “Greetings, Magician,” I said as he drew even.
Although from the nature of the magic that had been going on in the city I had expected a fully-qualified wizard, I felt I had solved the mystery at last. The unkempt beard and filthy clothes could conceal unusual abilities. After all, some magicians specialized to the extent that, in one small area of magic, they might be better than most wizards.
He gave an abrupt start. “Greetings, Wizard,” he managed to say, though his voice came out an indistinct mumble. Squinty eyes stared at me from under scraggling brows. Between his eyebrows and beard, his face was almost completely obscured.