Is This Apocalypse Necessary? - Wizard of Yurt - 6 by C. Dale Brittain Page B
Authors: C. Dale Brittain
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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,
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,
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