PART FIVE - THE STRANGER

I

I was relieved to be heading home again. The queen seemed also to be glad to go, although the king, bidding the duchess an affectionate farewell, appeared to have enjoyed his visit thoroughly. I guessed that he had no idea the cousins were not highly fond of each other. But while the queen was merely happy to be leaving the duchess behind, I was eager to get back to the castle of Yurt and reassure myself nothing had happened in our absence. We had received no messages via the pigeons, and had not expected to, but if the castle had been swallowed by a giant hole in the earth they might not have had time to release the pigeons.

Packed in my saddlebags were the books I had found in the room of the old ducal wizard. I had quite brazenly stolen them, reassuring myself that it was not theft to take something no one wanted. They had clearly been undisturbed for thirty years, and if the duchess did indeed hire someone from the wizards' school, as she had threatened to do, he would probably throw them out immediately.

At dusk we came out of the woods and up the hill toward the castle. A chill wind mixed with a little sleet whipped about our ears, and our horses were eager for the stables. I looked up, expecting to see welcoming lights shining out, and instead saw only the castle's dark shape against the dark sky.

"The constable knew we were coming home today," said the queen in surprise.

"Everyone may just be sitting warm in the kitchen," said the king.

A chill had gone through me far colder than the sleet. I looked toward Joachim and saw that a similar fear had gripped him, for he had reached into his saddle bag and taken out his crucifix. He too, I thought, must have been feeling that elusive sense of evil in the castle, and he must have been worried about it in ways that he never told me.

"At least the drawbridge is down," said one of the knights. The king's optimism was not shared by the rest of our party.

For a brief moment we hesitated by the bridge, looking in through the gates toward the dark and silent courtyard. Then the king said cheerfully, "They'll light the lights as soon as they hear us. Just don't let your horses slip going in!" He led the way, the rest of us following single-file behind.

No one spoke as we crossed the bridge and then the courtyard toward the lightless stables, but our horses' hooves on the cobblestones and the bells on their bridles made a sound that should have awakened any sleeper. There was an abrupt clattering sound from the direction of the great hall, then to my intense relief I heard the constable's voice. "On!" he shouted, and all the magic lamps in the hall blazed into light.

More lights came on then around the castle, and the constable ran out to meet us, disheveled and embarrassed. "Forgive me, sire," he said, holding the king's stirrup while he dismounted. "I don't know what happened to me. I must have fallen asleep. I didn't mean for you to come home to a dark castle."

Everyone else was now talking and dismounting, and a stable boy started taking the horses. The others seemed to have dismissed whatever fears they had felt looking up at the lightless bulk of the castle against the twilight sky. But the chill I had felt then was still with me. I caught Joachim's eye and knew that he too was not completely satisfied.

The cook came rushing into the hall from the kitchens, highly flustered, at the same time as we came in from the courtyard. She spoke quickly to the constable and rushed out again. "We'll have a hot dish for you very quickly, my lords and ladies," said the constable apologetically. "The cook somehow had let the fire go out, but she'll have it going again in just a minute."

The hall fire too was quickly built up again. We all stood around it, warming ourselves after the ride, waiting for supper. While we waited, I wondered what could have happened to cast everyone in the castle into slumber, and what had wakened them again. Only a small part of the staff was there, as the rest--including Gwen and Jon--would not be back from their vacations before tomorrow, but it was certainly not natural for all of the staff present to have been overcome with sleep at the same time.

And had it merely been the sound of our horses that wakened them? I put my coat back on and slipped away, taking one of the magic lamps with me. As I went by the kitchens, I could hear loud clattering and the cook giving rapid orders, and could smell supper cooking, a smell so delightful after a long day's cold ride that I had to stop myself from going in for a sample bite.

Instead I went down the dank staircase behind the kitchens, forcing my unwilling feet forward and doing my best to ignore the plausible reasons that kept popping into my mind why it would be much better to wait until morning.

It was as I feared. The rusty iron door was still shut, but my magic locks were gone, and the debris with which I had blocked the small window in the door had all fallen to the ground.

I went back up the stairs much faster than I intended and crossed the courtyard to my own chambers. To my intense relief, the magic lock on my door was glowing softly, undisturbed. I went inside to be out of the wind while I found my composure again. If this lock too had been gone, I would have had to believe there was a demon loose in the castle.

But a new thought also struck me. Someone who knew very powerful magic had apparently been at work while we were gone. This person had his or her headquarters in the cellars, a place where spells were cast and books and herbs kept. When I locked the cellars with magic, he or she had had to break my locks to get back in.

And this person, I reasoned, would have to be someone on the castle staff, the constable and his wife, the cook, the stable boy, or the kitchen maid, the only people who had been here when we arrived. But why would one of those five have put the others to sleep and pretended sleep himself or herself? I shook my head, realizing it could have been any other member of the staff, who would have perhaps come back "early" from vacation, entered the castle without any challenge, put the rest into a sleep that would make them forget he or she had been there, and left again. In this case, the sleep could have been intended to insure there were no witnesses to whatever the person was going to do--or people to hear the screeching of the iron door being opened.

I left the lights on in my chambers and hurried back to the hall, arriving just in time for a light supper of soup and omelet, served with some of the cook's excellent bread. Hungry and tired, we all ate without more than the briefest snatches of conversation. As the food was being served, I had briefly considered trying the spell that had turned the king's soup green before his recovery, but I did not have the heart to do so, fearing what it might show. Besides, I was almost too hungry to care.

But in the morning, after chapel service, I went to talk to Joachim. He looked surprised to see me. We had barely spoken two words since he had nearly accused me of seducing the duchess. But that all seemed distant and trivial now.

He was sitting in his room, drinking tea and eating a cinnamon cruller. Since the kitchen maid had only brought me a cake donut this morning, I was wildly envious, but I forced myself to overlook it. I had something more important on my mind.

"You and I both know," I said, "that someone has put an evil spell on Yurt. It doesn't seem possible that such a charming castle should be touched by evil, but it is. I don't know who has cast the spell, but you and I have to do something about it. I don't think it was you, and I hope you don't think it was me."

"I try not to accuse anyone of evil, even in my thoughts."

"Tell me: How soon after you came to Yurt did you begin to feel the presence of an evil mind?"

He put down his teacup carefully. "I have never felt an evil presence here."

I didn't say anything for a moment but met his grave and slightly puzzled eyes in silence. Maybe only someone trained in wizardry would be susceptible to that oblique sense of evil magic. Or maybe, surrounded as he was by the aura of the saints, nothing wicked could approach him.

"But you too were worried last night when we arrived and found everyone asleep."

"Of course I was. There have been odd magical forces in Yurt as long as I have been here. At first I thought it must have something to do with your predecessor, since I knew he and my own predecessor had not gotten along well. But when he left and you came the same disruptive magic forces were still there." He startled me by taking my arm in a sharp grip. "I decided you were not behind them--that was why I was willing to tell the bishop I would take the responsibility for your soul."

I eased my arm out of his fingers and did my best to smile. "It's ironic, isn't it. I feel something wrong in Yurt and assume it's part of the conflict between angels and demons. You feel the same thing and assume it's something to do with magic. But it's not just someone casting silly spells. There's an evil mind behind it."

"I try not to accuse anyone of evil," he said again.

I thought about this for a moment. "All right. I too don't want to think of anyone being absolutely evil. But I do think someone, deliberately or not, has involved the powers of darkness in his or her magic. Therefore, we--"

Joachim interrupted me, his intense black eyes blazing. "You speak much too lightly of 'someone being absolutely evil.' Don't you realize that, if you believe that, you are denying the power of redemption?"

"Well, I didn't really mean it in theological terms, so much as--"

But he was not listening to me. "All of us are God's creation. Therefore none of us can ever destroy the good within us, or not destroy it totally. We priests do our best to keep that spirit of good a living flame, but even those who are wicked and depraved in this life may still be redeemed in the next."

"But how about someone who gives his soul to the devil?"

As soon as I asked I wish I had not, because I didn't want to hear the answer.

Joachim's shoulders slumped slightly and he dropped his eyes. "Then that person is beyond the prayers of either mortals or the saints. He will still be redeemed when the devil himself is redeemed, but that will not be before the end of infinite time."

The bright sun on the ice and snow outside the chaplain's open window seemed dim for a moment, and the chill in my bones was not due to the air coming through that window.

If someone in the castle had made a pact with the devil, giving up his or her soul after death for advantages in this life, then that person's only chance was to trick or negotiate the devil into breaking the pact. His or her best hope was to have the negotiations done by someone else, someone who really understood the supernatural. The saints do not negotiate, which meant that a wizard, that is me, and not the chaplain who had already proved himself by healing the king, might have to deal with this.

All that any wizard in the City--or probably in the world--knew about dealing with the devil had been distilled into the Diplomatica Diabolica, which meant I was going to have to read it, even though every time I even looked at its spine I was struck with the same fear that had gripped me when I first bought it: that I might endanger my own soul by summoning a demon by mistake, when had I only intended to learn how to deal with one who was already there.

It was almost with a sense of light and ease that I thought again about the specific problem of who in Yurt might be practicing black magic. "I need your help," I told Joachim. "Someone's immortal soul may be in danger. I think that last night a sleeping spell had been put on the castle, though I don't know why. But if we can determine who did it, then we may be able to find out where the odd magic forces you mention are coming from."

"It cannot be your predecessor, because he's gone," said the chaplain thoughtfully, looking at his hands. "And I don't think it's you." He gave me one of his intense looks, then returned to his hands. "It must have been someone who was here in the castle while we were visiting the duchess." He clearly was not used to this way of reasoning, but I waited impatiently while he worked it through for himself.

Then he surprised me by asking, "From what distance can a spell be cast?"

I should have thought of this myself. "I really don't know," I said, "but I don't think it's very far. I at any rate have never been able to cast a spell further than I could see." I stopped, thinking of my glass telephones, but decided not to confuse the issue by mentioning them. "Do you think it could be someone who lives down in the village?"

"Or even someone in our party."

I had been about to ask Joachim for his spiritual help against the constable, as the most likely of the people who had stayed in the castle, but now I was back to suspecting everyone in Yurt, perhaps everyone in the entire kingdom.

Then I remembered that the supernatural influence Zahlfast had first noted stopped at the moat. Someone in the castle itself must be casting the spells, as I had always assumed. This meant--

Joachim interrupted my thoughts. "Is it possible to cast a long-lasting spell, one that will continue to have effect when one is far away?" Apparently they taught them to ask sharp questions at the seminary.

"It depends on the spell," I said. "Some of the elementary spells, like illusions, will fade fairly shortly unless constantly renewed. But some of the complicated spells, like lamps or magic locks, should last indefinitely." I decided not to mention the broken locks on the cellar door.

"So someone who isn't even here any more, such as your predecessor, could have put an evil spell on Yurt that is still having an effect."

I shook my head. "It's possible, but not very likely, even if the person is a master in wizardry." It was going to be hard to explain that the long-lasting spells, although the most complicated, were when completed often the simplest and most static. A spell that could sicken the king and make the apparently ageless Lady Maria start to age seemed too involved to be maintained from any distance, in space or time.

"Let's assume," I said, "that the magic is being practiced by someone here in the castle, someone here now. I need your help because it isn't just ordinary magic, which I could deal with myself. Someone is acting with evil intent, or the king would not have come so close to dying, and he or she may have involved the supernatural, for the Lady Maria told me she had seen time run backwards."

"I didn't think magic could make time run backwards."

"It can't. Only the truly supernatural can do that. That's why I'm so terrified." I hadn't meant to tell him I was terrified, but he did not seem to mark the comment.

"Where had she seen this happen?" he asked.

"She won't tell me."

"Did you want me to try asking her?"

I contemplated the chaplain trying to pry the Lady Maria's secrets out of her with what he would consider tact. "No," I said, "it might frighten her to know that two of us realized she was involved in some sort of magic gone astray. It would be just as well for only me, the wizard, to ask her about it."

"Are you suggesting that she is practicing magic with evil intent?"

"No, but somebody must be doing so."

"We'll have to think about this systematically," said Joachim. I noticed he was not meeting my eyes and wondered if he was starting to suspect me of evil intent. "Of those who stayed in the castle while we were gone, certainly the constable is the strongest individual. I have never thought of him as other than good."

"Neither had I," I said, "but he stays so much in the background that I realize I don't know him very well."

"But what possible motive could he have for putting the others to sleep?"

I was about to explain my theory of the person involved in black magic needing to get back in the cellar when there was a sudden knock at the door. "Come in!" called Joachim.

I must have jumped six inches when the constable himself opened it and addressed the chaplain. "Excuse me," he said, "but there's someone to see you."

II

Joachim stood up and followed the constable out at once. I sat for a moment, looking at the backs of his books on his shelf, then, feeling it was not polite to stay here while he was gone, wandered out into the hallway.

I had just had an idea about the constable. He had the keys to every room in the castle, yet he had told me that only Dominic, who had duplicate keys for most rooms, had the key to the cellar. Did this mean that he really did have the cellar key, but had wanted to deny it, knowing all too well what was down there?

The challenge of trying to figure out what was happening in Yurt would have been highly enjoyable if I had not kept being overwhelmed with terror. I was glad to think that Joachim and I were probably friends again, at least for the moment; he might have some good ideas. By the time he came back, I had a theory to account for the north tower.

The old wizard, I reasoned, liked to consider himself a wizard of light and air, but at some point he had dabbled in black magic. The old chaplain had suspected something of this, and so had the constable. The wizard had repented and gotten out with his soul intact, but when he retired he left all the paraphernalia of black magic behind him, locked up in his tower. The constable, however, who had somehow learned how to break magic locks, had gone in, taken everything down to his own den of evil in the cellar, and swept out the tower room to leave no traces.

This was quite an appealing theory, other than the gaps of where the constable might have learned how to break locks and what, exactly, the "paraphernalia of black magic" might be. Having tried to avoid such things, I actually had no idea, except perhaps some books of evil spells.

Joachim came swiftly back up the hallway and went into his room without speaking to me. But since he left the door open, I went in too after a minute. He had his saddlebag on the bed and was tossing a few things into it.

He looked up at me. "There's a sick boy in the village. They want me to pray for him."

I did not answer, feeling that "How nice," the all-purpose comment, was highly inappropriate.

"Fortunately, I don't think he's very sick, and the doctor is already with him." He threw his Bible in on top and strapped up the bag. "It's the brother of the little girl who was bitten by the viper."

"Dear God," I startled myself by saying.

"If I were the father, I wouldn't send for me," said Joachim with what would have been grim humor in anyone else. "But he did." He stood up, pulled on his jacket, and swung the saddlebag over his shoulder. I followed him as he strode down through the castle to the courtyard. The same man in brown that I had seen before was waiting on his horse. In a moment, the chaplain was mounted and the two rode away together.

I went out onto the drawbridge, although I was cold without a coat. The morning sun glittered on the icy snow. I watched until the two riders disappeared into the edge of the forest and felt very glad that I was not a priest.

I hurried back inside and went in search of the constable. I found him in the kitchen talking to the cook. "Is something wrong?" she said, seeing me over his shoulder. "I know Gwen says that you always like crullers, but I'd only made a few this morning. She should be back from her vacation this afternoon."

"It's not about the crullers," I said, although another time it would have been. I didn't even mention how stale the donut I had gotten had tasted. "I wanted to talk to the constable."

"All right," he said, turning to smile at me. "Well, we can order whatever we don't have," he said over his shoulder to the cook. "Just start making a list of what you'll need. We can talk more later." Turning back to me, he said, "Shall we go to my chambers?"

I had never actually been in the constable's chambers, and I immediately agreed, although if I had expected to see the paraphernalia of evil I was sadly disappointed. His chambers, in fact, looked a lot like mine, without the rows of books on magic. Instead he had big leather-bound manuscript books that I guessed were the castle accounts and inventories. There were rows of plants inside on the windowsills, and the furniture was all painted blue and white.

The constable's wife was mopping the stone floor, the outer door open, as we came up. "Oh, excuse me, sir," she said, putting the bucket outside. She ran to close the bedroom door, but not before I had caught a glimpse of a wide, turned-back bed, the white pillows and comforter fluffed out to air. "I'll just go over to the kitchen for a moment, if you want to talk in private," she said.

I realized the chief difficulty with my theory of the constable having sold his soul to the devil was the constable's wife. It appeared on the face of it much more likely that he had given himself to her, heart and soul, many years ago, and had been happy enough with the arrangement that he wanted nothing else, or at least nothing else that a demon could promise.

"It makes such a happy difference having the king well again," he said. "But part of that difference is that we on the staff are kept much busier! The king told me this morning that he wants to have a big party here for Christmas. The cook will have to start planning immediately, as it's only three weeks away, and we'll have to send in our order by the pigeons in a day or two if we need to order anything special from the City. He wants the duchess and both counts to come, which means we'll have to clean out all the spare rooms to have them ready. I can't remember when he last had so many people at Christmas!"

This was the difficulty with all my theories about anyone in the castle. Everyone always seemed so good-hearted and happy--except for Dominic--that it was impossible to suspect them of practicing black magic. I would have concluded I was imagining the whole thing, except that both Zahlfast and the chaplain, in their own way, had sensed it too.

"The king must be feeling very social," I said, "to be planning to have a large party here when he's barely gotten back from visiting the duchess." Privately I wondered what the queen thought of this plan. "But I wanted to ask you something." It was probably pointless to ask, but since I had interrupted him anyway I might as well. "Are you sure you don't have a key to the cellars?"

He looked surprised, as well he might, and took the heavy bunch of keys from his belt. "I'm quite sure I don't," he said, flipping through them. "Dominic took the key some years ago, when we decided just to lock the cellars up rather than trying to use them any more. They always were very damp. I'm not sure we ever had a duplicate key, because before then the door had always stood open." I certainly saw no key on his ring that matched the rusty iron one I had borrowed from Dominic. "Why do you ask?"

I had been afraid he would say that. "I'd been thinking it might be possible to dry the cellars out and use them for my own purposes," I improvised. "We wizards need rooms that won't be hurt if one of our experiments in fire and light goes a little astray. I understand the old wizard had the north tower, but that he didn't want the tower room used again, so I thought the cellars might be a possibility. I'd looked at them a little the other week, but I hated to bother Dominic for his key again, so I . . ."

The constable smiled knowingly. "I understand. You and Sir Dominic don't always see eye to eye, and you're almost afraid of him now. Don't be insulted!" seeing me about to interrupt. "It's not your fault. He's a hard man for anyone to get along with, as well I know."

I nodded, not wanting to say anything for fear I'd start laughing. It made a much better excuse for talking to the constable rather than Dominic about the cellar key than anything I could have invented. But this made me think again that I ought to suspect Dominic. Suspecting him of evil intent, however, seemed so easy that I was worried that my personal feelings might cloud my judgment.

"But are you sure you really want to try the cellars anyway?" said the constable. "We'd hoped you'd find the chambers we gave you satisfactory" (The old nurse doubtless found them delightful! I commented to myself), "but if you need something more we should at least be able to find you a room that's drier than the cellar. Could you wait, however, until after Christmas?"

The constable looked really troubled that he would be too busy to find me a good room for my experiments in light and fire during the next three weeks. Now I supposed I would have to find some such experiments to do. Remembering that I was keeping him from his work, I reassured him that January would be fine, and rose to my feet.

"Wait a minute, sir, if you don't mine," the constable said, and I sat down again. "There's something I wanted to ask you." He frowned and looked away. "When the king told me the people he wanted to invite for Christmas, he mentioned the duchess and the two counts, as I'd already said . . . But he also said he wanted to invite the old wizard."

"Yes?" I prompted when he fell silent.

"I wanted to ask if that was all right," the constable said, still not looking at me. "He lives very near here, down in the forest, and the king thought he would love coming up to the castle for Christmas, rather than spending it alone, that is, if you don't mind."

"Of course I won't mind."

The constable looked up then, smiling. "I'm sorry to bother you, then, but one hears rumors of how young and old royal wizards are always at odds, and even though I'd hinted to you when you first came that you might visit him, I knew you hadn't, so though I'd hoped that in your case . . ."

I interrupted before he could make his statement any more involved. "Actually, I have visited him two or three times. We've probably become as good friends as old and young wizards ever do."

The constable was positively beaming now. "Well! That's very good news. I hadn't wanted to pry into what you'd done, knowing that a wizard needs his privacy, but I'm delighted to hear that! Now, if you'll excuse me." He was whistling as he took down an account book while I went back out.

I paused in the center of the courtyard, trying to think whom I should suspect next of having a den of evil magic in the cellar, since it was so difficult to suspect the constable. The constable's wife, the cook, the stable boy, and the kitchen maid, the only other people who had been in the castle when we arrived to find it dark, seemed even less viable alternatives. I briefly considered but rejected the possibility that Dominic had put everyone to sleep from far away. I didn't know of any spell that would do such a thing from a distance, and could think of no reason why he would want to do so. Besides, I always kept coming back to the fact that Dominic was the one who had first warned me against the evil spell on the castle.

I shivered and was starting back toward my chambers when I was startled by seeing a tall, thin form standing motionless just inside the castle gates. "Joachim's back already," I thought in surprise. Then the man turned to look at me and I saw it was not the chaplain. It was someone I had never seen before.

He did not in fact look like Joachim at all, except that he too had enormous black eyes, in a face that was almost inhuman in its pallor and expressionlessness. He stared at me without blinking.

"Excuse me," I said, "can I help you? Have you just arrived?" For a moment I thought it might be a new member of the castle staff, signed on by the constable while the royal party was away, and arriving to take up his duties this morning.

But the stranger turned away again without speaking and, with long strides, started toward the south tower.

I went after him, but he had a large lead, and he disappeared around the tower's base. When I came up, there was no sign of him.

This, I thought, was very odd. There were several doors he could have gone into, so his disappearance was not very mysterious, but no stranger coming to a castle should flee before the Royal Wizard.

III

I went back to the constable's chambers and knocked. He was working on the accounts as his wife finished her mopping. Both looked surprised to see me again so soon.

"Did you hire a new member of the staff while we were gone?" I asked. "There's a stranger here, someone I've never seen before, and when I tried to talk to him he went across the courtyard and into a doorway."

"I certainly haven't hired anyone new," said the constable. "It must be a visitor. But I don't know why he wouldn't talk to you."

I had been concentrating so much on fears of black magic that I realized I had been overlooking something obvious: a thief sneaking into the castle. "Do you think it could be someone trying to steal something?"

"Let's hope not," said the constable, putting his account book back and jumping up. "We'd better find him."

We checked the doors leading off the corner of the courtyard behind the south tower. These were rooms that were rarely used, and only one of the doors was unlocked. The constable opened the others with his bunch of keys, to make sure the thief had not gone in and looked the door behind him, but all the rooms were empty.

"I'll get Dominic," I said. "He should be able to help us."

While the constable headed toward the main store rooms to see if they had been disturbed, I located Dominic in the great hall, talking to the king and queen. "Can you help the constable and me?" I asked. "I've just seen a stranger in the courtyard, and we're worried it might be a thief. He ran away when I spoke to him."

There were advantages of having someone large and burly beside you when looking for someone who might be dangerous. Dominic came at once, but I felt uneasy as I saw the queen putting on her shawl with a smile of excitement. I knew she loved hunting, but I didn't think she should be hunting this person.

Nevertheless, she came with us. We met the constable in the middle of the courtyard. "I haven't seen any sign of break-in or tampering with the locks," said the constable. "Maybe the wizard frightened him off."

"There he is!" I said. At the far end of the courtyard, near the kitchens, the tall thin form appeared for a moment and then disappeared again into a doorway. We all ran that direction, but when we arrived he again was gone.

"He can't have gone far," said Dominic. "We'll have him in a minute."

But he was wrong. All morning we pursued the stranger, and all morning he eluded us. Sometimes we thought he was gone and sat down to rest, only to see him again, striding across the far end of the courtyard, or standing on the parapet far above us, or looking out a window with his enormous black eyes. Dominic recruited the rest of the knights, and as the servants came back to the castle some of them as well joined in the pursuit.

I was glad the others saw him too, or I would have begun to worry that I was losing my mind.

"Are you sure you aren't playing one of your tricks on us, Wizard?" a knight asked in one of the pauses in which we thought we had lost him. We were sitting in a row on a bench in the courtyard, panting in spite of the cold air. The queen was the only one who still looked eager for the chase.

"I'm certainly not responsible," I said. "And I don't think there are any other wizards near here who might try something like this." But I did consider the possibility that this person might only be an illusion.

A few minutes later, the queen spotted a dark head peering down at us from the parapet. I probed quickly with my mind to see if this person was indeed real, furious at whoever might have pulled such a trick.

A wizard can normally only meet directly the mind and thoughts of another wizard, one who is willing for such contact, even though the Lady Maria had once been able to hear my thoughts. But one should still be able to find and recognize another mind, to tell at least if it is the mind of a man or a woman, reality or illusion.

I found the stranger's mind and almost fell over backwards with the impact. This was no illusion. The man's mind was looking for my own, ready to meet it, and his was totally evil. The distant, oblique touch of evil I had been feeling for months was no longer distant; it was here.

The rest ran after him, but I broke my mind away from that contact and sank back on the bench. Where had he come from? Why had he appeared in the castle now? What did he want with us?

I heard a step immediately next to me and whirled around. But it was not the stranger, only Gwen and Jon, coming toward me hand-in-hand.

"We wanted to tell you first, sir," said Gwen. "We've gotten engaged!"

It took me several moments to recover my composure enough to be able to say, "Congratulations!" without fearing it would sound like the gaspings of a fish. I decided it would be tasteless to ask if Jon had resorted to the long-threatened love potion or if he had won her with his own unaided charms; I assumed the latter.

"I know you may be a little surprised, after a few things I'd said," said Gwen with a smile up at Jon. "But when all of you left for the duchess's castle, Jon asked if I wanted to spend my vacation with him, visiting his mother, and I said I would. We worked everything out pretty quickly, then! Now, we'll have to tell the constable and get his permission to stay on once we're married. We'll want the chaplain to marry us in the castle chapel, of course."

"Of course," I said inanely.

"I just wanted to say something," Jon interjected. "A couple of times, sir, I was jealous of your attentions toward Gwen. I know it sounds silly, and I'm really embarrassed about it now, so I just wanted to apologize."

"That's quite all right," I said, feeling even more inane and watching the courtyard beyond them for a tall thin, form.

"Well, I'm glad you don't hold it against me," said Jon with a grin. "I told my mother all about our glass telephones. I told her I'd let her know as soon as we had them working!"

"Yes, indeed," I said, standing up. I thought I saw a flicker of motion and wanted to investigate.

"We won't keep you, sir," said Gwen. "And I'll still be bringing you your breakfast in the morning."

"In that case," I said in my gravest voice, "I want you to know that the girl who brought me breakfast this morning brought me a stale donut. And the tea was cold."

This sent both Gwen and Jon into gales of laughter, and they went off, still holding hands, while I started walking as quietly as possible down the courtyard.

Here there were outside staircases leading up to some of the ladies' chambers. The angle of the sun was such that I was dazzled, looking up toward the chamber windows, shading my eyes and blinking. But between two blinks, I thought I saw the door of the Lady Maria's chamber opening and closing.

I ran up the stairs two at a time, rapped on the door, and opened it without waiting for an answer.

She was sitting by the window, sewing something lacy and pink. It appeared to be something a man shouldn't see, so I carefully kept my eyes from it.

She was, quite naturally, very startled. "What is it? What's happening?"

"Did someone just come in here?"

"No! Of course not," she said, staring at me with wide blue eyes.

I did not believe her. But I saw no one there now, and I couldn't call her a liar to her face. "Excuse me, then," I said and backed out the door.

I scanned the courtyard from the landing but saw nothing. I refused to believe that the Lady Maria was acting from evil intent. I had touched her mind when we were experimenting with the telephones, even if very briefly, and I thought I should be able to tell if she had embraced the powers of darkness. But how did she know the stranger, and why was she lying?

I went slowly down the outside stairs, shivering again; I never had gotten my coat. Maria might perhaps be trying to shield somebody. She had told me she had "requested" certain magic favors, and I presumed she had requested them from someone in the castle. It would be that person, then, who had enlisted the stranger's help in practicing black magic. I still had no idea who the stranger was, but I was suddenly convinced I knew who had wanted to cast the evil spell on the castle.

It had to be the queen. Ever since I had met her and had fallen in love with her, I had refused to harbor any suspicions against her, but there was no rational reason why I shouldn't. The Lady Maria, even if she guessed that her beloved niece was mixing dark supernatural powers with her magic spells, would never allow anyone else to suspect her. There still seemed to be no easy explanation why the queen had married the king, unless she hoped in a few years to be a widowed queen, able to rule Yurt as she wished, never again having to fear being married off to someone she detested.

There was a cry of, "There he is!" from the far side of the castle, and the group of pursuers shot into view. The queen was in the lead, her skirts and shawl billowing. Her long black hair had come unpinned and was flying out behind her. Dominic, the constable, and a group of knights ran close beside her. In another context, I would have found it hilarious.

I didn't see the stranger, although they had. He must have gotten by me, if indeed I had seen him here by the Lady Maria's door, and had not imagined it while dazzled by the sun. He clearly was able to make himself invisible if he wished, and he did not have my problem of invisibility stopping at the knees. He was certainly finding the chase hilarious.

It was well past time for it to stop. I saw him then, walking quickly but unconcernedly along the parapets. I set my teeth and began preparing a paralysis spell.

A paralysis spell is complicated, and I had only ever cast one successfully once, over a year ago, when I had frozen another young wizard in the middle of the classroom. Then it had worked spectacularly well, even though the instructor had spoken to me very firmly after class. I put the words of the Hidden Language together as rapidly as I could and cast it toward the stranger's retreating back.

This time the spell did not work at all. The stranger kept on walking, just as unconcernedly, and then either slipped into a doorway or made himself invisible again. I ran down into the courtyard to intercept the others.

They were all panting, even the queen, and quite willing to stop. "This person is a wizard," I said, even though I did not think of him as a wizard in the sense that I was one, or Zahlfast was, or the old Master in the city or my predecessor down in the forest. But it was too complicated at the moment to explain that this was someone able to walk through my best spells--and probably responsible for breaking my magic locks. "He's deliberately making us chase him, to tease us, because he knows he can always disappear when we get close."

"But can't you stop him with magic?" said the constable.

"His magic is nearly as strong as mine," I said. This was a wild understatement, but Dominic was glowering at me as though it were all my fault. "I'm trying to stop him, but it may take me a while. At the moment, I don't think he's doing any damage to the castle. But we don't want him to escape before I've had a chance to capture him and find out who he is and why he's come here."

I turned to Dominic. "Let me have the cellar key. If I catch him, I'll lock him down there. Meanwhile, rather than amusing him by running around the courtyard any longer, let's stop until I've found a way to break down his magic defenses. But put a guard on the gate, to be sure he doesn't sneak back out."

Privately, I was rather hoping he would sneak back out. If he made himself invisible, he would have no trouble slipping past guards at the gate, unless they put the drawbridge up, which I didn't think they would do. I had never seen the bridge raised since coming to Yurt, and the rest of the castle servants weren't all back yet. And even then, this stranger who was impervious to a paralysis spell, which had taken the instructor five minutes to break the last time I used it, would have no trouble flying over the walls.

The pursuers all agreed readily. Dominic handed me the rusty cellar key without comment. Even the queen had had enough of this fruitless chase. But as she stood next to me, her bosom rising and falling with her rapid breaths, I again found it impossible to suspect her. If she had married the king in the hopes of being a widow soon, why had she nursed him so tenderly when he was ill and been so grateful when he was healed?

The others went in search of lunch, but I got a coat from my chambers and sat down on a bench in the courtyard, where I could watch the gate. Dominic put two knights there to guard it as well. I wished the chaplain would come back soon.

Several times during the afternoon I caught a glimpse of the stranger. New attempts at casting a paralysis spell on him had no more effect than had the first attempt. I did however miss with one of my efforts and catch one of the stable boys. He froze, as unmoving as wood, in the middle of the courtyard, and it took me ten minutes and a quick trip to my books to break the spell and free him. Fortunately, we were around the corner from the guards at the gate, and when motion suddenly returned to him he just shook his head, looked at me as though embarrassed to have gone into a sudden revery in my presence, and hurried back to the stables.

At one point in the afternoon I became so desperate that I decided to try to telephone Zahlfast. I got down one of my glass telephones, added a few spells that I hoped might make it work this time, and spoke the number of the school telephone. But it worked no better than it had for Maria and me. I could see a young wizard answering it, but he could neither hear nor see me, and a moment he hung up with a gesture of irritation.

All right, I thought. Zahlfast had told me that they didn't want the young wizards asking for help with every little problem anyway. I would have to solve this one myself.

I realized that, by refusing to chase the stranger, I was giving him the opportunity to talk at leisure to the Lady Maria or anyone else he wished, but I was fairly sure he would able to do whatever he wanted anyway, even with me close at his heels.

Several times, when he had not shown himself for twenty minutes or more, I hoped that he had gone, slipped back to wherever he had come from. But when, with trepidation, I tried probing for him, he was always there, a mind so evil that I was always shaken even when expecting it. He seemed deliberately to be mocking me. My spells did not have any effect on him, but his very presence nearly paralyzed me.

And then, very suddenly, he was gone. I did not see him, and I did not feel him. I probed delicately, then boldly, and found only the same oblique evil touch that I had long felt in the castle. Not knowing whether to be jubilant or wary at this abrupt departure, I looked up and saw Joachim crossing the bridge into the castle.

I ran to meet him, looking with some apprehension up into his face.

He was actually smiling. "The little boy is fine," he said as I helped him dismount. "I do not think he was ever dangerously ill. The doctor's draught had, I believe, already put him well toward recovery, and the village priest's prayers had assisted him long before I even arrived."

"That's wonderful," I said. It sounded inadequate, even in my own ears, but at least it was better than, "How nice," or, "Congratulations!"

"It looks like I'm even in time for supper," said Joachim, still smiling. "I don't know about you, but I'm in the mood for one of our cook's excellent dinners after the overspiced food we were served at the duchess's castle."

I carried his saddlebag up to his room for him, then left him to change and wash for supper while I returned to my chambers to do the same. At first I only felt an intense relief that he was back and the stranger gone. But while I was drying my face, I began to wonder how the two events were related. Perhaps his saintly presence was enough to drive away someone embroiled with evil, in which case I never wanted him to leave the castle again, no matter who might be sick in the village.

But perhaps in some way he was the stranger. This was such a terrifying thought that I froze with my face in the towel. I had never known of such a thing directly, but one heard stories and rumors. When he left, as the good, pious chaplain, perhaps he left behind his twin, evil, self, who then was able to run wild through the castle until the good self returned and the two were again united.

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 whippersnapper," 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 grey), 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 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."

She looked toward him dreamily, even though he appeared at the moment to be telling an especially hilarious joke to the duchess. I was quite sure she would never call me charming and gallant.

"That's a wonderfully charming story," I said. This seemed to put a final end to the theory that she had put an evil spell on the king, and I was delighted to see the theory go.

"What are you two laughing about over there?" called the king. "Come here, my dear. The countess says she has some very interesting news you would like to hear, some gossip from the City."

The queen gave me a quick smile and sprang up, and in a moment she and the old count's wife were talking with their heads together. I guessed that the interesting news was about the new winter fashions, since the countess drew out a newspaper folded open to a page of sketches.

I sat back, my feet stretched in front of me, and did my best, in a spirit of Christmas-time charity, not to suspect Joachim of almost having killed the king. It seemed ironic that the queen and the chaplain, the two people in Yurt whom I liked the most, were the two people to whom my thoughts kept returning whenever I wondered who might have become involved with renegade magic.

Just before midnight, we all started up the narrow stairs to the chapel. I was worried that the old wizard would take the opportunity of being alone to slip off to the north tower, but to my surprise--and I think almost everyone else's--he said he would join us at service. "I've been wanting to see these lamps you told me about, young whippersnapper," he said affectionately.

For Christmas Eve, even the chapel was decorated with evergreen boughs, and some of the candles on the altar were red and green as well as white. Everyone in the castle was there, crowded together companionably on the benches. The chaplain's vestments were brand new, brought up from the City on the pack train with all the constable's orders just a few days ago. He read us the Christmas story, which while we all knew well was always worth hearing again, before proceeding to the service itself.

The only way I could suspect him was to assume that he had done something truly evil, such as dealing with a demon, but that he had then just as truly repented, because otherwise his prayers would not have healed the king. But if he was truly repentant, he could have nothing to do with the stranger, and his presence could not be related to the sense of evil I still sometimes felt. I was left being forced to think that the stranger was someone totally foreign to the castle, who had come here to practice black magic--perhaps in our cellars--for his own purposes, but this was a very unsatisfactory explanation. The queen had come to Yurt, the king had grown ill, the old chaplain had died, and the present chaplain had arrived, all within a year, and there had to be some connection.

"Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!" we all told each other as we separated after service. The stars were bright and incredibly distant in a black and icy sky. I watched as the old wizard, his face holding the same determinedly skeptical expression it had had throughout the service, went toward his room. He showed no sign of going to inspect the north tower. "Sweet dreams of presents!" somebody called, and there was a general laugh as the guests retired to their chambers and the castle party to theirs.

Part Six

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