Read The Haunted Wizard - Wiz in Rhym-6 for Free Online
Authors: Christopher Stasheff
her shoulders.
"Enter!"
Lady Dulcet opened the door and stepped in, her face drawn and pale. "Your pardon, Majesty, but Sir Orizhan is come from town with urgent news…"
Alisande whirled to snatch up her robe and slip her arms through the sleeves. "Bid him enter!" Lady Dulcet stepped aside with an air of relief. Sir Orizhan entered, stiffly erect, face taut with strain. He fell to one knee. "My liege!"
"I am, and great is the loyalty of one who remembers such when he has sojourned nearly ten years in a foreign court," Alisande assured him. "Whatever your news, speak it straight out, no matter how grim!" Sir Orizhan braced himself even more. "It regards Prince Gaheris." Alisande stiffened "What of him?"
"There … there was a brawl in a tavern," Sir Orizhan told her. "The prince sought to defend the honor of a maiden, and… in the melee…"
Page 19
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Alisande started out of her chair. "How badly is he hurt?"
"The worst, Majesty. He… he is…"
"Not dead!"
"I fear so, Your Majesty." Sir Orizhan bowed his head as though waiting for the headsman's axe. Alisande sank back in her chair with a moan. She started to bow her head into her hand, then caught herself, unwilling to show such a sign of weakness even to her closest lady-in-waiting. Matt rested a hand on her shoulder. "I think we should take a few minutes in private, to consider the news."
"Indeed!" Alisande said. "I thank you, Sir Orizhan. Please leave us now." The knight rose and started to back away, then hesitated. "I must tell Their Majesties of Bretanglia."
"You must not." Alisande sat straight again. "I shall tell them—yet I must have a few minutes to consider the way of it. Leave us."
"Thank you, Your Majesty." For a moment Sir Orizhan's emotional armor cracked enough to show great relief, and Matt was sure he would be even more loyal to Alisande in the future. The knight backed out, closing the door behind him.
Alisande folded in on herself, letting her head sink into her hands with a groan.
"Yes." Matt rested both hands on her shoulders, trying to ignore his sudden queasiness. "What a mess! I could almost feel sorry for Gaheris "
"I, too, had he not brewed such a coil for us by his passing." Alisande straightened, slamming one fist on the table-top. "Why could he not have stayed within the castle for his amusements!"
"Because his idea of fan was the kind of thing you'd start a war to prevent," Matt said grimly.
"Start a war indeed! We shall be most fortunate if his parents do not declare war on Merovence on the instant!" Alisande stood up slowly, shoulders bearing up bravely against the invisible mantle of authority with its huge weight of responsibility. "Let us face them now." In only her robe and slippers, she went out into the hall and turned toward the chambers reserved for guests of state. Three steps down the hall and they could hear the muted voices shouting at one another, though they couldn't understand the words.
"Even at bedtime they quarrel?" Alisande stared.
"Of course," Matt said. "Why waste a perfectly good chance for a fight?" But as they said it, a Bretanglian sergeant came panting around the corner with half a dozen troopers following. Ignoring his fellow soldiers who guarded their monarchs' portal, he pounded his fist on the door. The arguing inside cut off abruptly.
Page 20
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"Oh, no!" Alisande moaned.
"Maybe it's better if we aren't the ones to tell them the news, anyway," Matt consoled her. The door opened and the sergeant hurried in.
"One." Matt counted seconds, holding up fingers. "Two… three… four…" A scream tore through the door and wrenched at their heartstrings, but the roar that followed it should have shattered the panel. The sergeant stumbled out backward, pressing one hand to his cheek and the other to his forehead, then fell unconscious. Petronille
"Enter!"
Lady Dulcet opened the door and stepped in, her face drawn and pale. "Your pardon, Majesty, but Sir Orizhan is come from town with urgent news…"
Alisande whirled to snatch up her robe and slip her arms through the sleeves. "Bid him enter!" Lady Dulcet stepped aside with an air of relief. Sir Orizhan entered, stiffly erect, face taut with strain. He fell to one knee. "My liege!"
"I am, and great is the loyalty of one who remembers such when he has sojourned nearly ten years in a foreign court," Alisande assured him. "Whatever your news, speak it straight out, no matter how grim!" Sir Orizhan braced himself even more. "It regards Prince Gaheris." Alisande stiffened "What of him?"
"There … there was a brawl in a tavern," Sir Orizhan told her. "The prince sought to defend the honor of a maiden, and… in the melee…"
Page 19
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Alisande started out of her chair. "How badly is he hurt?"
"The worst, Majesty. He… he is…"
"Not dead!"
"I fear so, Your Majesty." Sir Orizhan bowed his head as though waiting for the headsman's axe. Alisande sank back in her chair with a moan. She started to bow her head into her hand, then caught herself, unwilling to show such a sign of weakness even to her closest lady-in-waiting. Matt rested a hand on her shoulder. "I think we should take a few minutes in private, to consider the news."
"Indeed!" Alisande said. "I thank you, Sir Orizhan. Please leave us now." The knight rose and started to back away, then hesitated. "I must tell Their Majesties of Bretanglia."
"You must not." Alisande sat straight again. "I shall tell them—yet I must have a few minutes to consider the way of it. Leave us."
"Thank you, Your Majesty." For a moment Sir Orizhan's emotional armor cracked enough to show great relief, and Matt was sure he would be even more loyal to Alisande in the future. The knight backed out, closing the door behind him.
Alisande folded in on herself, letting her head sink into her hands with a groan.
"Yes." Matt rested both hands on her shoulders, trying to ignore his sudden queasiness. "What a mess! I could almost feel sorry for Gaheris "
"I, too, had he not brewed such a coil for us by his passing." Alisande straightened, slamming one fist on the table-top. "Why could he not have stayed within the castle for his amusements!"
"Because his idea of fan was the kind of thing you'd start a war to prevent," Matt said grimly.
"Start a war indeed! We shall be most fortunate if his parents do not declare war on Merovence on the instant!" Alisande stood up slowly, shoulders bearing up bravely against the invisible mantle of authority with its huge weight of responsibility. "Let us face them now." In only her robe and slippers, she went out into the hall and turned toward the chambers reserved for guests of state. Three steps down the hall and they could hear the muted voices shouting at one another, though they couldn't understand the words.
"Even at bedtime they quarrel?" Alisande stared.
"Of course," Matt said. "Why waste a perfectly good chance for a fight?" But as they said it, a Bretanglian sergeant came panting around the corner with half a dozen troopers following. Ignoring his fellow soldiers who guarded their monarchs' portal, he pounded his fist on the door. The arguing inside cut off abruptly.
Page 20
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"Oh, no!" Alisande moaned.
"Maybe it's better if we aren't the ones to tell them the news, anyway," Matt consoled her. The door opened and the sergeant hurried in.
"One." Matt counted seconds, holding up fingers. "Two… three… four…" A scream tore through the door and wrenched at their heartstrings, but the roar that followed it should have shattered the panel. The sergeant stumbled out backward, pressing one hand to his cheek and the other to his forehead, then fell unconscious. Petronille
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