Fridays With the Wizards by Jessica Day George
“Of course she did,” Pogue said, and he went forward and clapped Ethan on the shoulder. “No one deserves a griffin more than you do!”
“I didn’t know what else to do,” Ethan said. “We went out to the stable, but the guards were so much better equipped than I was, and there was no sign of Arkwright. So I came here to check on the egg. I know I wasn’t supposed to leave my post, but then I thought, Arkwright might try to steal this egg; it was due to hatch any day now. So I came up here to guard it, and then they came.” He gestured to the griffins that had been with him in the tower. “I thought they were just here to help me stand guard, but then it hatched.”
“What will you name him?” Celie asked.
“Her,” Ethan corrected her. “She’s a she.” He gazed down at the griffin lovingly. “I’m going to call her String of Pearls,” he said, and stroked the feathers around her neck, which were marked with cream-colored spots that did indeed look like a necklace. “I’m afraid that’s more the style of the original griffin riders than names like Rufus and Juliet,” he said, sounding apologetic.
“Bran will certainly approve,” Celie said.
Ethan’s face fell. “But Crown Prince Rolf won’t,” he said in a hushed voice. “I know that the prince wants a griffin very badly.”
“And you also know that you can’t force them to bond with you,” Celie said. “I’ll tell Rolf myself. You’d better take String of Pearls down to the kitchens and get her more food.”
Ethan scrambled to his feet, holding String of Pearls tightly in his arms. The griffins all batted at him gently with their wings, carking their pleasure at the pairing. Ethan headed down the stairs, a river of gold and brown and cream bodies following after him. Last of all was Lady Griffin, who took the stairs at a stately pace.
“Your mother feeds her far too much cake,” Pogue said; then he froze.
“Your mother,” he repeated. “Your mother. The queen.”
“What’s wrong?” Celie said in alarm, clutching his elbow. “What’s happened?”
“Nothing,” Pogue said, starting to move again. “But something terrible’s going to happen when she finds out that you captured Arkwright and no one told her!”
Chapter
23
When she found out they’d caught Arkwright, Queen Celina was too happy to be angry. Or at least, to be angry for very long. And there was the excitement of the two new griffins that had hatched in the last day, and trying yet another counterspell on Arkwright’s still-sleeping victims, and what to do with Arkwright himself now that he’d been captured.
And that last proved to be the real problem. What do you do with a wizard who’s turned evil?
“You give him to the Wizards’ Council,” Bran said. “I sent for someone to remove him ages ago. He should be here any day now.” He rubbed his face. “He should be here. We can’t—aren’t supposed to—do anything else but wait for him.”
In the meantime, Bran put a sleeping spell on Arkwright before the stunning effect of the shockwand could wear off. He had to renew it twice by the time the two members of the Wizards’ Council arrived, but no one cared.
Because when Bran was mixing the ingredients for the sleeping spell, he had a sudden burst of inspiration. After he put Arkwright to sleep, he put the same sleeping spell on King Glower, the guards who had been struck down, and little Maisy.
“Bran, do you know what you’re doing?” Queen Celina asked anxiously.
“They’re already asleep,” Rolf pointed out. “You can’t make someone be more asleep. Can you?”
“Hush,” Bran told them.
He counted to ten, and then he used the counterspell on them.
King Glower snored once. So did one of the guards. Maisy rolled over and nearly fell off her cot. But they still couldn’t wake them up. Queen Celina, who had been gripping her husband’s hand tightly in both of her own, bowed her head and a tear slipped down her cheek.
“I know you’ll keep trying, Bran,” she said softly. “And so will I.”
“I’m not done yet,” Bran said with a touch of asperity.
Celie knew that it made him nervous to have people watch him do magic, but they couldn’t help themselves. Lilah and Queen Celina rarely left the king’s side. Ma’am Housekeeper and several of her girls had stopped by to check on Maisy, and of course Rolf and Lulath and Pogue had come to see Bran’s attempt to wake the sleeping victims.
Now Bran closed his eyes for a moment and Celie could tell he was pretending that none of them were there. He opened his eyes and began again. He put the sleeping spell on King Glower, then Maisy, then the guards. Then he counted to ten and used the counterspell. King Glower was snoring in earnest now, and one of the guards muttered something and swiped at his cheek as though it itched.
“One more time,” Bran murmured.
He put the sleeping spell on them. He put the counterspell on them.
Maisy blinked her eyes. She saw Ma’am Housekeeper standing over her and squeaked. She tried to sit up, flailed a bit, and had to be held firmly down on the cot by her mistress.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m sorry,” the girl said, her voice hoarse from not having spoken in a while. “I—wait—” She seemed to realize where she was, and who else was there. “What’s happening?”
Ma’am Housekeeper bent her head to explain softly to the girl, but Celie didn’t bother to move closer so she could hear. Her father, the king, was groaning and stirring on his own cot. He finally sat up with the help of Queen Celina, who was crying openly.
“Now, now, none of that,” he croaked. “We must find this blackguard Arkwright; then we’ll have time for tears!”
Celie tried to stand near Bran and act grown-up, but then Lilah threw her arms around their father, sobbing.
“Daddy,” she blubbered. “Daddy!”
Celie gave in. She flung herself on the end of the cot, also crying, and barely noticed when Rolf and even Bran joined in. By the time they’d gotten themselves under control and everyone had wiped their eyes and noses and explained to the king and the guards and the chambermaid what had happened, they’d gathered an even larger audience.
“It seems we have come precisely on time,” said a voice from the doorway.
“I told you that we would,” said another voice.
They all looked up to find two strange wizards in traveling robes standing there, observing the room full of crying people with bright, inquisitive eyes.
“I see you finally deigned to come,” Bran said stiffly. Then he ruined his disdainful expression by having to take out a handkerchief and blow his nose loudly.
“Interesting,” said one of the wizards. “Are you ill, or are you moved by some type of emotion?” He took out a piece of paper and a pencil and waited to record Bran’s response.
“This is being of the new,” Lulath said in a low voice.
* * *
And he was right: the two new wizards were as different from Arkwright as could be. Both were barely taller than Celie and as round as egg yolks, with long gray beards. They were so alike in their size and mannerisms that it would be easy to mistake them for brothers, except that one was as pale as a fish and the other dark-skinned. They were grave and kind and everything Celie had always thought a wizard would be, except for one small thing.
They wanted nothing to do with Arkwright.
“He has hidden himself in plain sight of the Council for hundreds of years,” Wizard Roland said. He was the pale one. “This indicates a level of magical power that none of us can contemplate.”
“It may not be just his skill, but the type of magic he practices,” argued Wizard Bowen, his brown counterpart. “Or it might be both.”
“Precisely,” Wizard Roland said.
“That isn’t precise at all,” King Glower said, impatient. They were all anxious to be rid of Arkwright, and the air in the throne room was tense. It was two days after they’d arrived, and they were still refusing to even look at the Arkish wizard.
“But you are in the pink of health now,” Wizard Bowen said. “And the Castle is none the worse for wear. The Castle has contained him. We cannot.”
“How can you be sure?” Celie blurted out. “You haven’t tried!”
“Ah,” Wizard Bowen said, looking her over. “The girl who loves the Castle.”
“The girl the Castle loves,” Wizard Roland corrected him. “An interesting specimen.”
“I’m not a specimen,” Celie said hotly. Beside her, Rufus made a rumbling noise that would have warned off someone more familiar with griffins.
“And the griffin,” Wizard Roland said, marking the noise that Rufus made but not understanding what it meant. “Bonded. How strong of a bond?”
“My sister is not a specimen, as she said,” Bran informed them. “I asked for the Council to send someone to help me contain Arkwright! If you won’t do that . . .”
“Are you threatening us, Royal Wizard Bran?” Wizard Bowen just looked curious, and Celie wondered if they thought that Bran was also an interesting specimen.
Bran looked at them with his jaw clenched. “Do I need to?” He paced back and forth for a moment. “As the Royal Wizard of Sleyne, I’m authorized to take any measures I see fit to ensure the safety of the Castle, and the people therein. I tried to go through the proper channels, and I requested that a pair of wizards from the Council come to help me with Arkwright. It took you two weeks to make a three-day journey, and now that you’re here, you’re refusing to help!” Bran was pacing the floor again, snapping his robes out of his way with angry gestures.
“I don’t have the luxury of waiting another two weeks for more members of the Council to decide if they’ll come and if they’ll actually help once they arrive,” he continued. “And again, it shouldn’t have to be said that my twelve-year-old sister—a princess of Sleyne—and her griffin are not research specimens!
“In short, gentlemen, if you will not remove Arkwright from the Castle today, I will be forced to rescind your invitation to the Castle.” He stopped in front of them, glaring.
“Our methods are not always welcome,” Wizard Roland said comfortably.
“We have been unwelcome guests in many houses,” Wizard Bowen agreed.
“But those houses didn’t spit you out the chimney when the invitation was revoked,” Bran said coldly.
Celie tried very hard to continue looking like a princess of Sleyne and not cheer. It didn’t help that Rolf was standing next to her and grinning widely.
“You did not seem so theatric or demanding when you spent a term studying with us,” Wizard Bowen observed. “Is this the effect of your rank or the Castle itself?”
He took something out of his pocket and twisted it in his hands. It looked like one of the cloth measuring tapes that dressmakers used. He started toward Bran, as though eager to measure his height, then thought better of it and hid the tape away again. Celie didn’t blame him; Bran’s expression was forbidding, to say the least.
“He tried to destroy the Castle,” King Glower said heavily. “He tried to kill me, and my wife, and my children. He tried to kidnap my daughter’s griffin, to steal an egg on the verge of hatching. Bran has had to put him back to sleep twice already. He must be gone before he causes more mischief.” King Glower thumped on the arm of his throne for emphasis. “We can send you with a full complement of guards to help watch over him,” he added. “But he must be gone.”
The two round wizards exchanged looks. Then they looked around the throne room, deep in thought. Then they exchanged looks again.
“Well?” Bran demanded.
His harsh voice startled Arrow and String of Pearls, who both squawked. The two strange wizards instantly focused on the griffins, then exchanged another look before Wizard Roland (who seemed to do most of the speaking for the both of them) spoke.
“We will take Arkwright, and deliver him to the College in Sleyne City,” he announced. “But then you must let us return to study you all and the Castle and the griffins.”
Celie’s entire body went tense. They were going to come back and study the Castle and her family and their griffins? That sounded horrible.
“That is too broad,” Wizard Bowen said, frowning, and Celie started to relax. “We will study the relationship between the Castle, the royal family, and their griffins,” he corrected.
Celie felt herself go stiff with anxiety again. She looked to Bran, waiting for him to refuse, to tell these awful wizards to be on their way before the Castle tossed them out on their round bottoms, but Bran just stared at the wall behind the dais for a minute, then nodded.
“Fair enough,” he said. “You will take Arkwright to the Grand Master, and when you return, you may study us.”
Pleased, Wizards Roland and Bowen bustled off to collect their luggage and, presumably, Arkwright, while the court all stood and stared at Bran in stunned silence. Bran was looking at the wall again, but at long last he focused his eyes on King Glower, and then blinked around at the rest of the family and the court.
“What have you done?” King Glower said in a low voice, so that only those privileged to stand near the throne could hear.
“We need to get rid of Arkwright,” Bran said, sounding strained. “And Bowen and Roland are the two best researchers on the Council. They aren’t going to hurt anyone with their measurements and their questions, and at the end of it all, we might actually be able to understand why griffins bond with some people and not others, and how the Castle communicates.”
There was silence, and then the king let his breath out in a whoosh.
“Very well,” King Glower said. “That seems to be a fair trade, and I’m sure it wouldn’t do any harm to learn more about the Castle.”
“Who could possibly know more than we do?” Lilah said, looking dissatisfied. “We live here—we’ve even been to the Tomb of the Builder! Celie’s the first person to actually map the Castle’s rooms!” She rustled her skirts around. “I’m still mad that I sat there like an idiot, holding Father’s hand during all the excitement,” she muttered.
“You were being the safest,” Lulath said, trying to soothe her. “And of a comfort to your father.”
“Who was asleep and didn’t even know I was there,” Lilah said.
Celie looked at the tips of her slippers where they peeped out from under her gown and scowled. She appreciated the praise, but it also reminded her of how much work she had to do. Her atlas, which she had so proudly delivered to her family only a few months ago, and which the royal scribes had worked to copy and bind, were useless now. She’d been working to update them once the Castle had been made whole, but now she had to go back and remove the secret passageways.
“Do you know what I think?” Rolf asked, then continued before anyone could ask him what he thought. “I think it’s going to be a lot easier to learn things about the Castle now. Arkwright admitted that he had destroyed any books written about the Castle. I think he must have put a spell on some of the old Royal Wizards, to keep them from studying the Castle too closely. I bet Roland and Bowen will be able to discover all sorts of new things, and when they write them down, their writing won’t disappear!”
Now Celie felt even worse. What was she good for? Just to be studied by some odd ducks of wizards? Her atlas was outdated, and soon she wouldn’t be the only person who knew the ins and outs of the Castle anymore.
“I’m going to see Pogue,” she muttered.
She tried not to be curious about what her family would say after she left, and walked out of the throne room with as much dignity as she could muster. She nodded regally to the two guards who opened the doors for her, and the two who stood at the open doors of the main hall; then she hopped on Rufus’s back and let him carry her up and over the ou
Chapter
24
Tall stacks of carefully hewn wood were arranged under the roof. The figurehead had been brought out of the throne room, polished and oiled, and given pride of place at the front of the construction. Other tools that had been found in the storage room had been laid out on a table where they could also be cleaned and polished.
Celie guided Rufus down to land lightly on the turf just outside the big roofed structure.
Pogue stood nearby with the shipbuilder. Master Cathan, a famous Grathian sailor and shipwright, had arrived just the day before. They had another table, spread with plans, and were checking off lists of things that were ready to be loaded onto wagons. Celie felt a panicky flutter in her gut: her new wardrobe would be ready by the end of the week, and the ship probably would be as well, and then it was off to Grath!
“Of the wagons, we will have the need of ten,” the shipbuilder was saying. It seemed that Lulath’s odd way of speaking Sleynth was common to all Grathians, and not merely some quirk of the prince’s.
“We can have as many as we need, of course,” Pogue replied as Celie and Rufus approached the table. “And as many men as are needed to keep things secure. Guards, too.”
“This is being, of the things I am doing this life, the strangest of them,” the shipbuilder confessed, studying the plans again. “Ships are, in the usual, being built where the sea can be looked upon, not two countries from that sea!”
He picked up an old rusty tool that was at hand and used it as a paperweight for the lists. Glancing around, he saw Celie and quickly stood straight, then bowed.
“Your young Highness! To what is this the pleasure?”
Pogue looked up and smiled. “Oh, hey, Celie! Everything all right?”
The shipbuilder looked impressed at this casual greeting. Celie had heard that at first he hadn’t wanted to work with Pogue, who was simultaneously a knight and a commoner, and whose actual place at court was as some sort of non-magical assistant to the Royal Wizard. But Pogue had quickly won the man over with his cleverness and his willingness to learn.