A Bad Spell in Yurt - Wizard of Yurt - 1 by C. Dale Brittain Page A
Authors: C. Dale Brittain
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night, not two) and had stayed because I decided to, not because the old wizard had used his magic herbal smoke to put me to sleep.
The harvest was over now, although the turnips stil lay in the ground, waiting the first real frost. For two weeks I had stood out in the fields with the harvesters, wearing a wide-brimmed hat against the sun and doubtless looking much more like a farmer than a wizard. I had kept my eye open for thunderstorms or the hailstorms that could destroy the ripe grain, but for the most part the weather had stayed clear, and the weather spel s I had assiduously reviewed were only needed once. With my harvest responsibilities over, I had gone back to the old wizard's house under the giant oak.
Yesterday he had begun to teach me herbal magic. I smiled rueful y at myself, arriving yesterday morning, doubtless very like the Lady Maria expecting the first-grammar of the Hidden Language to be a tidy list of useful spel s. I had expected a quick listing of different herbs and their properties. Instead he had begun teaching me to know the herbs, as wel as I already knew the Language, to recognize the possible properties in each and to determine how to combine them and how to find the words that would reveal their potency.
It was only twenty-four hours ago that I had naively said, "You mean that you have to do something with magic herbs? Anyone can't just pick them and use them?" The old wizard had snorted and looked at me as though he were going to send me back to the castle at once, but he hadn't.
The exhilaration had come just before I left, while the old wizard was slicing me some coarse bread and vegetables for breakfast. I stood next to the table where he had different herbs laid out, trying to picture what each might do, while the calico cat rubbed against my ankles.
"You didn't tel me you had a stick-fast weed," I said.
"I don't," he said from the other table without turning around.
"This one," I said, holding it out until he did look back over his shoulder.
"That isn't anything," he said, returning to the vegetables. "It got into my basket with a lot of other herbs."
This, I decided, was a test. "But look!" I said. I squeezed the sap from the stem onto my palm, said two words, and reached down to pat the cat. When I stood up, it was firmly attached to my hand.
The cat didn't like being suspended from my open palm. It yowled and extended its claws. I said two more words, and it was free. It dropped the short distance to the floor, gave a short hiss, and disappeared under the old wizard's chair.
Then I realized it hadn't been a test. The old wizard stared at me, the knife forgotten in his hand, without speaking. After a long minute, as though he had final y won the struggle to avoid praising me, he said, "Stick-fast weed," and grunted.
He put the bread and vegetables on a plate and handed it to me without another word. But I knew. I had discovered an herbal property he had not known. While I ate, I kept tossing little crumbs toward the cat until it emerged. Then I scooped it up and settled it on my lap, where in a minute it settled down to purr to show we were friends again.
"Maybe I'l be able to teach you some real magic after al ," said the old wizard as I saddled my mare. "Even if you did get some fancy notions at that City school." The excitement lasted al the ride back through the woods, even though the exhaustion of staying up al night hit me as soon as I left the wizard's val ey. I had even learned a simple spel that even someone not trained in magic could say, to detect magic potions in food. I couldn't wait to tel Gwen.
I wondered again, as the castle came in sight, what had happened during the day last month I had passed in a trance in the wizard's house. Yesterday, as I ducked under the vol ey of magic arrows to reach him, I had been wondering if he had used the time as an opportunity to come back up to the castle without my knowledge. But if so, no one had seen him, and he had said
The harvest was over now, although the turnips stil lay in the ground, waiting the first real frost. For two weeks I had stood out in the fields with the harvesters, wearing a wide-brimmed hat against the sun and doubtless looking much more like a farmer than a wizard. I had kept my eye open for thunderstorms or the hailstorms that could destroy the ripe grain, but for the most part the weather had stayed clear, and the weather spel s I had assiduously reviewed were only needed once. With my harvest responsibilities over, I had gone back to the old wizard's house under the giant oak.
Yesterday he had begun to teach me herbal magic. I smiled rueful y at myself, arriving yesterday morning, doubtless very like the Lady Maria expecting the first-grammar of the Hidden Language to be a tidy list of useful spel s. I had expected a quick listing of different herbs and their properties. Instead he had begun teaching me to know the herbs, as wel as I already knew the Language, to recognize the possible properties in each and to determine how to combine them and how to find the words that would reveal their potency.
It was only twenty-four hours ago that I had naively said, "You mean that you have to do something with magic herbs? Anyone can't just pick them and use them?" The old wizard had snorted and looked at me as though he were going to send me back to the castle at once, but he hadn't.
The exhilaration had come just before I left, while the old wizard was slicing me some coarse bread and vegetables for breakfast. I stood next to the table where he had different herbs laid out, trying to picture what each might do, while the calico cat rubbed against my ankles.
"You didn't tel me you had a stick-fast weed," I said.
"I don't," he said from the other table without turning around.
"This one," I said, holding it out until he did look back over his shoulder.
"That isn't anything," he said, returning to the vegetables. "It got into my basket with a lot of other herbs."
This, I decided, was a test. "But look!" I said. I squeezed the sap from the stem onto my palm, said two words, and reached down to pat the cat. When I stood up, it was firmly attached to my hand.
The cat didn't like being suspended from my open palm. It yowled and extended its claws. I said two more words, and it was free. It dropped the short distance to the floor, gave a short hiss, and disappeared under the old wizard's chair.
Then I realized it hadn't been a test. The old wizard stared at me, the knife forgotten in his hand, without speaking. After a long minute, as though he had final y won the struggle to avoid praising me, he said, "Stick-fast weed," and grunted.
He put the bread and vegetables on a plate and handed it to me without another word. But I knew. I had discovered an herbal property he had not known. While I ate, I kept tossing little crumbs toward the cat until it emerged. Then I scooped it up and settled it on my lap, where in a minute it settled down to purr to show we were friends again.
"Maybe I'l be able to teach you some real magic after al ," said the old wizard as I saddled my mare. "Even if you did get some fancy notions at that City school." The excitement lasted al the ride back through the woods, even though the exhaustion of staying up al night hit me as soon as I left the wizard's val ey. I had even learned a simple spel that even someone not trained in magic could say, to detect magic potions in food. I couldn't wait to tel Gwen.
I wondered again, as the castle came in sight, what had happened during the day last month I had passed in a trance in the wizard's house. Yesterday, as I ducked under the vol ey of magic arrows to reach him, I had been wondering if he had used the time as an opportunity to come back up to the castle without my knowledge. But if so, no one had seen him, and he had said
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