Is This Apocalypse Necessary? - Wizard of Yurt - 6 (11 page)

"You're awfully quiet, Daimbert," Elerius commented as we descended, the cool sea air fluttering our clothing and giving me a shiver. "Don't tell me that after all these years and all that we've done together you're still suspicious of me."

You got that one right, I thought, but I still didn't speak. Even a wizard shouldn't be able to hear another's thoughts unless that other person was trying to communicate mind-to-mind, but just in case I tried to stop thinking too. It didn't work—my brain kept churning.

"By the way," he added as though casually, "I heard that you visited the Master last week. And you didn't even stop by my office to visit! At this rate I'll start thinking you really don't like my company."

If he had hoped to surprise me by mentioning my dawn visit to the Master, I was ready for him. Either Whitey or Chin, angry at me for how I treated them, were likely to have mentioned something—if not to Elerius himself, then to someone else who then told him.

"The Master wanted to tell me himself that he thinks he's finally dying,"

I replied soberly. A partially true answer would be more convincing than a completely false one. "I expect that in the next few weeks he'll be summoning many more of his former pupils to let them know."

"So he told you that directly?" Elerius shot back, more sharply than I expected. "Curious, Daimbert, because those of us who work most closely with him have of course recognized that his current illness will surely be his last, but I do not believe that he has yet said as much to any other wizard."

Jealousy, I thought, almost smugly. The Master loved me more than he loved Elerius, and Elerius knew it. I imagined for a second how even more jealous he would become if he knew the Master wanted me to succeed him, but it was hard to be smug for more than a few seconds about events so sad— and so terrifying.

The waterfront approached rapidly beneath our feet, and the increase in noise, of shouts, the creaking of pulleys and rigging, the clatter of cargo shifting, and music from the taverns, gave me an excuse not to answer.

We reached a street of restaurants a short distance uphill from the harbor, where it was a little quieter. A few people glanced up, startled, as we came down from above to land near them, but then shrugged and continued about their business—flying wizards were after all a common sight here in the City.

"I've heard fine things about this restaurant," said Elerius, opening a door for me, his good cheer back in place. "It's not cheap—but don't worry, I'll pay. I know a little kingdom like Yurt can't afford very much for its Royal Wizard!"

I allowed him to act patronizing; I had to save my attention for something much worse. We ate lobster, sitting in an alcove under a low wooden ceiling that appeared to be made from the hull of a dismantled ship, looking out through the front windows toward the sea. Late afternoon sunlight flashed golden on the water and put a halo around the many islands that made the approach to the City docks so dangerous to those who didn't know it.

Afternoon moved into early evening as we finished lobsters, steamed clams, salad, and apple tart. The harbor itself, inside the breakwater, was calm, with only a few ships now moving: merchant ships rowing in at the slack of the tide, a pilot with a lantern standing at the prow, or small fishing boats preparing to go out for the night catch. Beyond the breakwater, however, white waves splashed high, and for a moment I saw the dolphins riding the swell. It was a curiously reassuring sight. No matter what Elerius did as Master of the school, seeking to bend all of organized wizardry, and eventually the kings, the cities, and even the churches of the Western Kingdoms to his bidding, he was unlikely to have much success against the ocean and the dolphins.

Elerius didn't mention Antonia once during dinner. Instead he regaled me with a complicated story of a young wizard who had run into all sorts of problems—even a demon—when he took up his first post after graduation, a story which was probably supposed to be funny. That young wizard was fortunate, I thought. No one was ever likely to expect
him
to become Master of the school and thwart Elerius.

"Let's go for a walk," Elerius said, wiping his lips. "That was an excellent dinner, but I could use the exercise." The waiter smiled as he accepted payment and didn't detain us while having someone try to make sure our money stayed money even in the next room. But then, though that was the kind of trick student wizards liked to pull, the masters of the school had always been scrupulously honest. And after all, I thought loftily, nodding to the waiter, I had an august white beard even if Elerius didn't.

We strolled past the chandlers and outfitters, past the coops where the fishermen brought their catch, past noisy inns and disreputable boarding houses that catered to the sailors, past the moorings of cargo ships, fishing skiffs, and pleasure barges. The smells especially, the mixture of fish and salt, were vivid with memories of my childhood. I had known the harbor area well years ago, when my family wholesaled wool imported from the Far Islands, but it had been a very long time. The boy who had run through these streets, always more interested in peering up at distant magical lights, burning in the windows of the school, than in the shipping schedules that controlled when great loads of wool might arrive, had looked no further than becoming a wizardry student.

I thrust my hands into my pockets while we walked and found something hard, which startled me until I realized I was still carrying Paul's diamond ring. I glanced over at Elerius, but he seemed content to stroll in silence: apparently I was worth a lot if someone who considered himself so busy with the complicated affairs of the school had this much time to devote to me.

Sunsets were coming earlier these days, and the low sun sat surrounded by plumes of red and orange. But still we walked, away from the harbor now, and along the strands where the shipbreakers worked. The partially dismantled bodies of ships lay beached like dead whales, their sound timbers and hardware being salvaged, but at this time of day the workshops were quiet. It occurred to me that just as most wizardry functioned the same whoever might head the school, most of the activities of the City continued unaffected by whoever might be elected mayor.

I had almost persuaded myself that therefore it would not ultimately matter if Elerius took over, when at last he began to speak of Antonia.

"The school has never admitted women as wizardry students," he said suddenly, looking out toward the sunset. "But I see no reason why that tradition should be continued, and I think your daughter will be an excellent candidate for our first female pupil. When do you think she'll be ready to start her formal studies, Daimbert? Do you want to wait for a few years, or is she ready to begin now?"

He had caught me unprepared; I had expected open threats. "Why do you think the school's policy is suddenly going to change?" I inquired warily.

He turned then to look at me, eyebrows peaked over thoughtful hazel eyes. "Come now, Daimbert. You don't feign ignorance very well. As soon as the old Master dies— and you yourself just told me he finally realizes himself that he is dying—the wizards here at the school will need to elect a new head, and it will scarcely be a surprise to you that many have already told me that I will be their choice. The older wizards know that it is time to turn the reins of authority over to a new generation, and it is not boasting for me to say that I am generally regarded as the best of our generation. Welcoming women into the school—starting with Antonia—

will be one of my first official acts."

The last place I wanted my daughter was under Elerius's control. "She's much too young," I said hurriedly, not meeting his gaze. "She's only twelve. I was past twenty when I started my own magical studies."

Every time I looked back toward him it was to see his eyes fixed on me.

Maybe I should be flattered that he found me so fascinating. "Perhaps one of the mistakes of school training has lain in waiting so long to begin," he said slowly. "After all, if one is to study a foreign language one learns it most readily as a child. Should the Hidden Language of magic be any different? Even aside from Antonia—who learned spells more easily when she was five than do most second-year wizardry students—I could point to the days before the school, when would-be wizards often started their apprenticeships as boys."

"The last place for a twelve-year-old girl is all by herself in the middle of a group of unruly young men," I said firmly.

This wasn't what I had planned to argue with Elerius about, but it would do for now. And it was a point from which, I thought, nothing was going to sway me.

"Not by herself," he said, nodding slowly. The last burning rim of the sun lingered on the horizon, but very soon it would be dark, and the air was rapidly growing cold. "I propose giving her a study companion, another twelve-year-old who has also demonstrated an early flair for magic, who is far too serious-minded to be easily distracted from study, and whose abilities deserve to be trained and developed by the world's greatest teachers of wizardry."

"And where are you going to find another girl like this?" I asked suspiciously.

"Not a girl. A twelve-year-old boy. My son."

This was why he had brought me here, I told myself, thinking furiously.

This was why we had strolled for miles along the shore away from the school, to where we couldn't possibly be overheard, even with magic.

Elerius stood with the sea air stirring his beard, waiting for my reaction to a secret that even the Master, who thought he knew about all of us, had never uncovered.

And I thought I understood why he had told me that secret. The gesture would, he believed, guarantee to me that he would not spread the story of Antonia's parentage if she did come to the school, as well as tying the two of us together in a bond of fatherhood.

I had no intention of being tied to him by any bond. "What's the boy's name?" I asked as if casually.

"Prince Walther."

It took me a second. But then I spun around to stare at him through the dusk. "
Prince
Walther? Prince of what? Where did you find a princess?"

"Prince of my kingdom, of course," he said, not at all embarrassed, "and heir to the throne. He will be a king as well as a very good wizard—the first kingly wizard, I believe, the West has ever had. And I didn't 'find a princess,' as you rather coarsely put it. His mother is the queen."

For one second I felt a surge of jealousy; the queen of Yurt had never been the slightest bit interested in
me
. Yet Elerius had somehow lured the queen he served out of the royal bedchamber and into his, even while his king was still alive. No wonder his queen had been happy to have him acting as regent while their son was still a boy! Elerius and young Walther would rule the City and the wealthiest of the Western Kingdoms as father and son, and neither wizards or nobles would stand in their way.

Out of several things I might have said I chose, "Does the boy know you're his father?"

For second there was a crack in his confidence. "Well, no, not yet. We could not tell him when he was very young, of course, for no child could be trusted with a secret like that. And now— Well, he's at a delicate stage, at the threshhold of manhood, having lost the king he'd always thought of as his father not long ago— The queen and I shall find a suitable time to tell him in a few years. But in the meantime I am teaching him a little magic; he has quite a flair for it!"

"So you're waiting until he's eighteen," I said, mostly to myself, "until he's been crowned king, so that neither he nor anyone else can raise embarrassing questions about his hereditary right to succeed until it's too late."

Elerius didn't answer, although I couldn't tell if this was because he felt uneasy about misleading his own son about something this important or because he didn't deign to share any more of his plans for the young prince with me.

"Why did you risk telling me this?" I burst out. "Aren't you afraid that even if I don't tell the nobility of your kingdom I'll tell all the wizards at the school? They are shortly supposed to be electing you Master, yet you've broken the oldest traditions of institutionalized magic by a liaison with a woman!"

"I'm telling you this because I trust you, Daimbert, and I know no surer way to show it. I keep no secrets from you because I trust that you will keep none from me, once we are established as co-rulers of the Western Kingdoms."

This whole evening had taken on a nightmare tone. Maybe the seafood had been tainted and I was hallucinating. It sounded as though Elerius had just said that, rather than ruling jointly with his son, he wanted to rule jointly with me. The sky above us was still pale, but the broken shapes of hulls and spars had dissolved into formless shadow.

"Me," I said slowly at last. "You want me as your co-ruler." First the Master had thought I was capable of leading organized magic, and now Elerius. I wondered wildly if they had somehow confused me with some other wizard, much more skillful, also named Daimbert. "You're twice as good as I could ever be, and yet you want to share your authority with me?"

"You've spent the last twenty years thinking you had to oppose me,"

said Elerius, a smile in his voice. "And somehow, I've never known how, you've always been successful. Won't it be a relief to give up the struggle?

Instead you can work beside me, making sure that I always keep wizardry's moral principles in mind if that is your concern, rather than having to fight me in secret. You notice that I am not just offering you a position of some authority under me, but rather suggesting that we ask the school's wizards to make the position of Master a joint one. You and I will train our children to be even better wizards than we are, and when they grow a little older and marry each other—"

"Marry!"

He chuckled at my shock. "Don't you think by that time someone besides you will have been able to overcome the old notion that wizards are married only to magic? And I know you still think of Antonia as a little girl, but she's going to be a lovely young woman, and it's not too early to start planning. She'd be a charming queen. You don't think I'm going to be fussy just because she lacks royal blood!"