Is This Apocalypse Necessary? - Wizard of Yurt - 6 (45 page)

The queen had been staring off into space as though completely unaware of the proceedings around her, but Paul had given her no choice.

She rose and came forward, opened and closed her mouth experimentally a few times, and suddenly found that she could speak again.

"I swear to you that Hadwidis is the true-born daughter of our late king, my husband," she said, with a glare for Prince Walther, as though being Elerius's son was somehow all the boy's fault. "As his only child, she will take up a rule that is hers by heredity and right."

At King Paul's coronation, his mother had continued at this point, asking for the assent of the assembled nobles of the kingdom, but the queen showed no sign of wanting to participate further. Having sworn truly, she retreated, leaving Paul, a foreign king, to preside over her daughter's coronation.

He gave Hadwidis a reassuring smile, but she did not seem to notice, standing stiffly without meeting anyone's eyes. "Do you all agree that she should be your queen," he asked his audience, "to lead you in war, to lead you in peace, to lead you in wisdom and judgment?"

There must have been counts and dukes and powerful castellans among the men from the castle, but they all looked more like battle-weary warriors than rulers of authority, and they also all seemed somewhat in a daze at the pace that events in their kingdom were moving. But when the kings of the neighboring kingdoms began to murmur, "We agree," "We agree," they all enthusiastically joined in, if somewhat belatedly. Some were eyeing Prince Walther and whispering, still not clear why the boy they had always thought of as the heir was suddenly excluded. I wondered exactly what Hadwidis had told them to bring them here.

"Come forward, then, Hadwidis," Paul said in a loud voice, "and receive your crown!"

She came forward slowly, almost hesitantly, but her back was still straight and her chin firm as she went down on one knee before him.

"These are the duties of kingship—or, in your case, queenship," Paul continued, concentrating as though trying to recall the exact duties he had pledged himself to a dozen years earlier, "to rule with justice and dispose with mercy, to guide the powerful and aid the weak, to eschew evil counsel while hearkening to wisdom, to lead your country to honor and your people to God. Do you promise, Hadwidis, to do all these things?"

I had the feeling that the formal list of royal duties to which Paul had sworn had been much longer, and that he was either forgetful or condensing, but on the other hand he seemed to have covered all the key issues.

"I promise to fulfill all these duties faithfully," said Hadwidis, almost too quietly to hear.

Paul lifted the crown, then, and set it carefully on her head. It slipped rather rakishly down over one eye, but she quickly pushed it back up and settled it firmly on the tops of her ears. "Rise, then," he cried, "Queen Hadwidis!"

She got slowly to her feet, Paul's hand under one arm. Slowly she seated herself in her throne, and slowly lifted the sceptre of authority which Paul handed her. I had a feeling there was supposed to be a sword involved as well, but I didn't think the morning after a battle, when knights from both sides of the fighting were standing shoulder to shoulder, would have been the best time for anyone to start brandishing a naked blade.

With only slight prompting from Paul, Hadwidis said, "With the aid of God and the counsel of all my people, I swear that I shall guard you, lead you, and rule you justly. Come forward, then, my faithful followers, to renew your allegiance to the crown." They came forward, still rather stunned, to kneel at her feet and, holding up clasped hands, recite the long oath of allegiance. As each finished, she put her hands around his, drew him up, and kissed him formally on both cheeks.

I spotted Gwennie across the crowd. She was watching the king of Yurt suspiciously, and I could have sworn she was tapping her foot as he continued to hover at the new queen's elbow.

The swearing of oaths took a long time, and the sun mounted high in the sky above us before all the nobles over whom Hadwidis would rule had sworn their fidelity to her. Prince Walther came forward last of all to pledge himself to his sister.

She hugged him hard and patted his hair. Antonia was standing only a few paces back. As Walther stepped away from the throne, his eyes rimmed red, my daughter whispered, "Don't worry. Even if you're not a king you can be a wizard. Being a wizard is much better. I'm going to be one myself."

"Let us join in the singing of a hymn," said Joachim, "and pray to God for the new queen's safety and good governance." The trumpeters found a note, there was only minimal confusion over which hymn we would sing, and enough people there knew most of the first two verses that the singing added further dignity and beauty to the service.

When the singing and prayers were over, Hadwidis broke into a smile for the first time today, as though realizing that her coronation had gone smoothly and that she really was queen now. "My people! My friends from throughout the West!" she cried, arms upraised. "I thank you all for your support! I believe that at the end of a ceremony like this it is normal to celebrate with a great feast, but we mostly seem to have camp food available here, and I'm not sure what condition the castle kitchens are in."

There was an appreciative chuckle.

"However," more soberly, "I would like at this point to make two announcements, important enough that you all need to hear them. The first is very painful for me to tell you. As many of you may know, I was for years a nun. In making my oaths today to serve you as your queen, I have broken my oaths that I took in the cloister." There was a disconcerted murmur through the crowd; the departure of a princess for the nunnery had happened long enough ago that most people here had forgotten about it, even if they had been wondering all day about the sudden appearance of a new heiress.

"Therefore," said Hadwidis, "I shall take an additional oath now. I shall rule my kingdom because that is the will of the saints, but I shall take no husband. I shall live and die as virginal as I would have as a nun."

The murmur was louder now. Several of the great lords, who had been eyeing the pretty young queen with interest, looked deeply disappointed.

But I could see Gwennie's face, and she was beaming.

"My other announcement," said Hadwidis, pushing on without giving the whispering a chance to die down, "concerns someone who has assisted me enormously in the past weeks, from the time I left the nunnery until I arrived at this camp."

Embarrassed, I thought that I did not need any further recognition for what had not been particularly unusual actions.

"This person has both encouraged me with her words and guided me by her example, as I sought to find my true path."

Her
words and example? So Hadwidis didn't mean me after all. I felt unaccountably disappointed.

"Gwendolyn of Yurt, please come forward."

Gwennie, surprised as I was, stepped hesitantly out of the crowd, still wearing her travel-stained clothes.

Hadwidis took her firmly by the arm. No longer shy, her voice rang out.

"Gwennie befriended a confused and frightened girl who had left the nunnery but did not know yet where her duty lay. Her friendship made me realize the responsibilities from which I could not run, the joy that comes from doing what one must."

Gwennie shot her a quizzical look, as though thinking, "I did? Really?"

"I wish therefore to reward her, as best I can. I thought first to make her wealthy, but she is already wealthy, having brought home great treasures from the fabled East."

This was news to almost everybody. The jewels I had taken from the roc's nest, I thought. I wasn't quite sure at what point they had become Gwennie's, but I certainly wasn't going to object. Several of the younger lords who had been disappointed by Hadwidis's announcement that she would never marry started looking at Gwennie with new interest.

"Therefore I shall, as my first act as your new queen, perform an act that only a king or queen can perform. I grant to you, Gwennie, the status of nobility! Come forward, then, Countess Gwendolyn, and pledge your allegiance to the crown!"

Gwennie, looking dismayed, did not at first move. But King Paul's head came up sharply, and his green eyes took on an intensity I had not seen in them even as he prepared for battle.

I looked around for Hadwidis's mother, to see how she was taking this.

But she was not there. The chair in which she had sat was empty.

Now that I thought about it, it had been some time since I remembered seeing her, since before this kingdom's greatest lords began their oaths of allegiance. Feeling uneasy, I looked around, both with my eyes and with magic, without finding her.

Gwennie had been persuaded to come forward now, but was trying to explain to Hadwidis that, as much as she appreciated the offer, she could not become a countess of another kingdom while she was still royal constable of Yurt.

Where could the queen have gone? Did she, for example, know where Elerius was? As I started further magical probing, I was interrupted by Whitey and Chin hurrying up.

I had not seen these two student wizards all morning. Maybe they could help me search for the queen, I thought, but they didn't give me a chance to ask.

"Daimbert, Daimbert!" Chin panted. "We've just gotten a telephone call from the school!"

"Yes? You did call last night, didn't you, to tell them we'd gotten Elerius out of his castle?"

"Yes, yes, but we didn't know then where he'd gone!"

I suddenly felt cold all the way down to my toes. "Where has he gone?"

"That call, Zahlfast said he thought it was the last call they'd be able to get out. Elerius has seized the wizards' school!"

"Now stay calm!" I ordered, completely panic-stricken. "Tell me exactly what happened!"

"Elerius has seized the school," Chin repeated dully. "The old Master wouldn't like this at all."

"But how?" I demanded wildly when the two student wizards just stared at me in mute despair. "Didn't anyone try to stop him? When did this happen? Why didn't you tell me before?"

I got it out of them at last. They had spoken last night with some of the teachers, who had been encouraged to hear that the rift in wizardry might soon be mended. Then this morning the jerry-rigged telephone here in the camp had rung with a message from Zahlfast.

"You knew he'd been sick," said Whitey. "Well, he was in the infirmary, separate from the rest of the wizards, and when they spoke to him mind-to-mind, to warn him what was happening, he just had enough time to get a call out on the infirmary phone."

"Elerius himself redid most of the school's protective spells over the last few years," provided Chin. "He said he would strengthen them against all enemies. He let us work on just one little part, as a class exercise, and those spells were impressive! Well, apparently he left some sort of magical back-door for himself, that he never told us about, because there was no warning he had arrived at the school until the teachers and students found the protective spells turning the other way around. From what Zahlfast said, all their own magic was disintegrating, and all their doors were locked. So they're all in the school with him, but they're trapped!"

Leaving me outside the school, with my only possible helpers a group of young wizards who had never learned the modern technical spells any better than I had. Elerius would grow to be as old as the Master had been before we worked out a way to break his defenses down.

"At least while he's in there he can't do anything," said Whitey more cheerfully. "He's as much a captive of his own spells as the teachers are."

Oh, he could do plenty, I thought. Starting with summoning a demon.

I went over in my mind the appearance of the Cranky Saint to Elerius and me, as much as my thoughts shied away from the memories. The saint had been angry because Elerius had been ready to break the promise he had made, for a forty-eight hour truce before he threatened to use a demon again, and because Saint Eusebius did not want a demon in the castle he intended Hadwidis to inherit. Well, the forty-eight hours had been up last night, and Hadwidis and the men who had pledged themselves to her were preparing to ride over to her castle and take charge, starting by assessing the damage from the Ifrit and from war. The saint might still be amenable to desperate prayers, but I couldn't count on it.

And in the meantime all the teachers and the school itself were hostage.

Shortly Elerius might be telephoning me himself, to order me to cooperate and the young wizards to surrender, or he would start killing the teachers one by one, beginning with Zahlfast.

Saint Eusebius had been right. One need not sell one's soul to the devil to damn it eternally.

The only thing to do was to get out of here before he started telephoning with his demands. "Get the other wizards," I said grimly. "We're going to the City, now."

"Yes, Master," they squeaked, impressed, and scurried off. I found Theodora to say good-bye, just a quick kiss because this time it really might be good-bye forever, and I couldn't stand it any more. Within ten minutes I was mounted on Naurag and soaring toward the City, the young wizards flying along in a ragged squadron behind. Several seemed intrigued at the idea of a living air cart, even in the middle of our desperate situation, and would have chatted with me about how I had tamed him if I had let them.

The only bright spot, I thought during the short flight, was that Elerius might think I still had the Ifrit under my control. While he wasted time trying to create spells against an enormously powerful being who had already returned to the eastern deserts, I might be able to think of something.

But my mind stayed discouragingly blank as the City's towers rose before us. I didn't see any way I could improvise a means to break down carefully forged technical spells; even in my student days, I had never properly understood them.

On the surface, everything looked normal. Scudding clouds came off the sea to sail high over the harbor and sailors' and merchants' quarters to catch themselves on the highest white spires of the school. Ships bent before the wind, and faint came the sounds of people and commerce.