Read The Haunted Wizard - Wiz in Rhym-6 for Free Online Page B
Authors: Christopher Stasheff
livery was just as gloomy. It didn't help their image that they were nosing around under the tavern's window.
"What do you think to find, milord?" Sergeant Brock asked, but there was no respect in his tone.
"I was hoping for soft ground and a footprint," Matt told him. Page 22
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The sergeant gave a mirthless laugh. "In a back alley in the roughest section of your town?"
"He is correct, I fear," Sir Orizhan said. "You will find only hard-packed earth with a light coating of garbage."
"Gotta remember to tell the queen about a public health program …" Then Matt grinned "Whattaya know! Cheese rinds and horse dung work just as well as the soft dirt in a garden bed." He pointed. The other men stared down at the footprint in the garbage.
Sergeant Brock frowned, doing some pointing of his own, farther away from the wall, sweeping his finger in a broad arc. "There are more footprints there, many more. What makes you think this one was made by the foot of our runaway?"
"Because those are all going to left and right," Matt said. "This is the only one going away from the wall. Besides, it's cutting into the others and over them, which means it's much newer."
"Good enough," Sir Orizhan said, frowning, "but I see only two prints going away; then they join the others. How shall you follow them?"
Matt took a vial of powdered chalk from his pocket, tapped a few grains into the footprint, then set the bottom of the vial on top of them chanting, "Marking powder carbonate, With this footprint resonate! On rocky road or bog path sodden, Show me where this foot has trodden!" Sergeant Brock frowned. "You use wizard's words among common ones, but what good will they do?"
"There!" Matt pointed.
The others looked and saw a trail of tracks gleaming brighter than the rest, reflecting moonbeams as though they, too, had been dusted with chalk.
Matt put the vial back into his wallet. "Let's go!" He set off through the moonlit night, imagining sinister presences looking over his shoulder and watching him from the shadows— at least, he hoped he was imagining.
They came to a patch of shadow, and Sir Orizhan stared. "The footprints glow without light!"
"It's a useful spell." Matt glanced at Sergeant Brock. The man's face was set and grim—maybe his response to fear of the supernatural; Matt had seen people react to his spells in a host of different ways. The footprints came out of the shadow and gleamed in the moonlight again, and the knight and sergeant relaxed a little. Matt blessed the silver crescent and wished it could stay up a little longer, but it was a young moon early in the month, and had to be in bed at a decent time. If it stayed with him another hour, he'd be lucky. Of course, Sergeant Brock was holding a torch to guide them after that. Mart's spine prickled as he remembered that the man he was tracking wasn't the only footpad in this part of town. "Y'know, men, we may be dressed for rough work, but our clothes are much better quality than most of the garments people wear around here."
"What of it?" Sir Orizhan asked, frowning.
Page 23
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"He means that our garments show us to have money," the sergeant explained. "Do you track a murderer, yet fear simple footpads, Lord Wizard?"
"Good clothing might be enough to put a small gang with clubs and daggers on our trail," Matt told him.
"You are a knight as well as a wizard," Sir Orizhan said softly. "You should have no need to concern yourself over peasants."
"Don't underestimate the poor, Sir Knight," Matt answered. "They can be tougher than you think, especially if they travel in packs—and they could slow us down a lot." Sergeant Brock looked pleasantly surprised—he was a peasant himself, and not used to having knights view his kind with anything but contempt.
Matt rested a hand on his sword just in case.
Sir Orizhan
"What do you think to find, milord?" Sergeant Brock asked, but there was no respect in his tone.
"I was hoping for soft ground and a footprint," Matt told him. Page 22
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
The sergeant gave a mirthless laugh. "In a back alley in the roughest section of your town?"
"He is correct, I fear," Sir Orizhan said. "You will find only hard-packed earth with a light coating of garbage."
"Gotta remember to tell the queen about a public health program …" Then Matt grinned "Whattaya know! Cheese rinds and horse dung work just as well as the soft dirt in a garden bed." He pointed. The other men stared down at the footprint in the garbage.
Sergeant Brock frowned, doing some pointing of his own, farther away from the wall, sweeping his finger in a broad arc. "There are more footprints there, many more. What makes you think this one was made by the foot of our runaway?"
"Because those are all going to left and right," Matt said. "This is the only one going away from the wall. Besides, it's cutting into the others and over them, which means it's much newer."
"Good enough," Sir Orizhan said, frowning, "but I see only two prints going away; then they join the others. How shall you follow them?"
Matt took a vial of powdered chalk from his pocket, tapped a few grains into the footprint, then set the bottom of the vial on top of them chanting, "Marking powder carbonate, With this footprint resonate! On rocky road or bog path sodden, Show me where this foot has trodden!" Sergeant Brock frowned. "You use wizard's words among common ones, but what good will they do?"
"There!" Matt pointed.
The others looked and saw a trail of tracks gleaming brighter than the rest, reflecting moonbeams as though they, too, had been dusted with chalk.
Matt put the vial back into his wallet. "Let's go!" He set off through the moonlit night, imagining sinister presences looking over his shoulder and watching him from the shadows— at least, he hoped he was imagining.
They came to a patch of shadow, and Sir Orizhan stared. "The footprints glow without light!"
"It's a useful spell." Matt glanced at Sergeant Brock. The man's face was set and grim—maybe his response to fear of the supernatural; Matt had seen people react to his spells in a host of different ways. The footprints came out of the shadow and gleamed in the moonlight again, and the knight and sergeant relaxed a little. Matt blessed the silver crescent and wished it could stay up a little longer, but it was a young moon early in the month, and had to be in bed at a decent time. If it stayed with him another hour, he'd be lucky. Of course, Sergeant Brock was holding a torch to guide them after that. Mart's spine prickled as he remembered that the man he was tracking wasn't the only footpad in this part of town. "Y'know, men, we may be dressed for rough work, but our clothes are much better quality than most of the garments people wear around here."
"What of it?" Sir Orizhan asked, frowning.
Page 23
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"He means that our garments show us to have money," the sergeant explained. "Do you track a murderer, yet fear simple footpads, Lord Wizard?"
"Good clothing might be enough to put a small gang with clubs and daggers on our trail," Matt told him.
"You are a knight as well as a wizard," Sir Orizhan said softly. "You should have no need to concern yourself over peasants."
"Don't underestimate the poor, Sir Knight," Matt answered. "They can be tougher than you think, especially if they travel in packs—and they could slow us down a lot." Sergeant Brock looked pleasantly surprised—he was a peasant himself, and not used to having knights view his kind with anything but contempt.
Matt rested a hand on his sword just in case.
Sir Orizhan
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