Is This Apocalypse Necessary? - Wizard of Yurt - 6 by C. Dale Brittain
Authors: C. Dale Brittain
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me through my own concerns that my liege lord was extremely nervous about something.
And the most likely explanation was that he had finally decided to get married. Ever since Paul had become king of Yurt, over ten years ago, there had been a steady parade of princesses and well-born ladies who just happened to be traveling through our part of the Western Kingdoms and stopped to visit the royal family. The existence of a handsome young king with emerald eyes and an excellent temper was bound to attract attention.
Some of the young ladies had stayed a few days, some a few weeks. Paul was friendly to all of them, gave balls in their honor, and waved cheerfully from the battlements as they rode away at last. His mother was equally friendly to all, but her own candidate for new queen of Yurt remained Princess Margareta of Caelrhon. Margareta had been selected as queen of choice when she was not much older than Antonia, and while waiting for Paul to make up his mind she had grown into an elegant and languorous young woman.
"It's silly to be this nervous," said Paul, wiping his hands on his trouser legs.
I didn't want to worry about my king's romantic life on top of everything else, but I reminded myself firmly that it was of primary importance to everybody else in Yurt. And since wizards, even incapable wizards like me, lived longer than anyone else, if I was going to stay holed up here forever it should also be important to me who would give birth to the king I would serve after Paul. "Your mother must have figured out by now that you're not interested in the Princess Margareta."
"It's not that," he said, stepping back and forth from one foot to the other. I saw him realize what he was doing and make himself stop. He clenched his fists and looked full at me for the first time. "Wizard, I'm going to marry Gwennie."
"Well, I guess that's wonderful, sire," I muttered, since some answer seemed called for. Inwardly I was much more stunned than I dared show.
It was one thing to think in the abstract about two young people who suited each other very well, another to imagine what the kings of the surrounding kingdoms—and for that matter the masters of the wizards'
school—would say if Gwennie actually became queen of Yurt. "I hope you'll be very happy together."
"She said she'd meet me here," he said, glancing from side to side. This time of the day my end of the courtyard was generally deserted. "So I'm going to ask her now." "Then I'll just step into my chambers and—" But he caught my arm. "Keep your window open. I'd really feel better if I knew you were right there."
I obediently tied the air cart to a ring outside my door and went inside, where I could look out and watch Paul fidget. Even with the window open I was fairly well screened by climbing roses. I had previously thought myself that he ought to marry Gwennie, but now that it came down to it all the reasons why it would be an incredible social gaffe rushed to my attention. And I could certainly appreciate why he was nervous about telling his mother.
There was a rapid click of heels, and Gwennie came around the corner.
Blonde like the king and exactly the same age, his childhood friend, his trusted assistant in everything to do with the functioning of the castle, Gwennie was the daughter of the castle cook and was castle constable in her own right. "Sorry I'm late, Paul, uh, sire," she said with a smile, pinning back stray tendrils of hair. "That messenger from Caelrhon brought a whole pile of tradesmen's bills this morning, and I'm sure some of them can't be right. For example, you didn't have a jeweler set a diamond into a ring last week, did you?"
"Um, well, actually, Gwennie, I did." There was a brief pause.
"Gwendolyn."
"You did?" She sounded surprised. "In that case, I won't send the jeweler the rather sharp message I've just been composing. But I wish you'd told me."
Paul seemed momentarily unable to continue. In many ways he was still the same
And the most likely explanation was that he had finally decided to get married. Ever since Paul had become king of Yurt, over ten years ago, there had been a steady parade of princesses and well-born ladies who just happened to be traveling through our part of the Western Kingdoms and stopped to visit the royal family. The existence of a handsome young king with emerald eyes and an excellent temper was bound to attract attention.
Some of the young ladies had stayed a few days, some a few weeks. Paul was friendly to all of them, gave balls in their honor, and waved cheerfully from the battlements as they rode away at last. His mother was equally friendly to all, but her own candidate for new queen of Yurt remained Princess Margareta of Caelrhon. Margareta had been selected as queen of choice when she was not much older than Antonia, and while waiting for Paul to make up his mind she had grown into an elegant and languorous young woman.
"It's silly to be this nervous," said Paul, wiping his hands on his trouser legs.
I didn't want to worry about my king's romantic life on top of everything else, but I reminded myself firmly that it was of primary importance to everybody else in Yurt. And since wizards, even incapable wizards like me, lived longer than anyone else, if I was going to stay holed up here forever it should also be important to me who would give birth to the king I would serve after Paul. "Your mother must have figured out by now that you're not interested in the Princess Margareta."
"It's not that," he said, stepping back and forth from one foot to the other. I saw him realize what he was doing and make himself stop. He clenched his fists and looked full at me for the first time. "Wizard, I'm going to marry Gwennie."
"Well, I guess that's wonderful, sire," I muttered, since some answer seemed called for. Inwardly I was much more stunned than I dared show.
It was one thing to think in the abstract about two young people who suited each other very well, another to imagine what the kings of the surrounding kingdoms—and for that matter the masters of the wizards'
school—would say if Gwennie actually became queen of Yurt. "I hope you'll be very happy together."
"She said she'd meet me here," he said, glancing from side to side. This time of the day my end of the courtyard was generally deserted. "So I'm going to ask her now." "Then I'll just step into my chambers and—" But he caught my arm. "Keep your window open. I'd really feel better if I knew you were right there."
I obediently tied the air cart to a ring outside my door and went inside, where I could look out and watch Paul fidget. Even with the window open I was fairly well screened by climbing roses. I had previously thought myself that he ought to marry Gwennie, but now that it came down to it all the reasons why it would be an incredible social gaffe rushed to my attention. And I could certainly appreciate why he was nervous about telling his mother.
There was a rapid click of heels, and Gwennie came around the corner.
Blonde like the king and exactly the same age, his childhood friend, his trusted assistant in everything to do with the functioning of the castle, Gwennie was the daughter of the castle cook and was castle constable in her own right. "Sorry I'm late, Paul, uh, sire," she said with a smile, pinning back stray tendrils of hair. "That messenger from Caelrhon brought a whole pile of tradesmen's bills this morning, and I'm sure some of them can't be right. For example, you didn't have a jeweler set a diamond into a ring last week, did you?"
"Um, well, actually, Gwennie, I did." There was a brief pause.
"Gwendolyn."
"You did?" She sounded surprised. "In that case, I won't send the jeweler the rather sharp message I've just been composing. But I wish you'd told me."
Paul seemed momentarily unable to continue. In many ways he was still the same
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