Christopher Stasheff - Wizard in Rhyme 06 by Haunted Wizard

Author:Haunted Wizard
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Protect this building consecrate

That ministers of grace may mark

A place where crooked paths go straight.”

He walked around the church and the hut of a rectory attached to it, sifting powder and chanting rhymes. He had almost finished the circle when a voice beside him said, “That won’t do much good, you know.”

Inside his skin, Matt jumped a mile. Fortunately, the outside of his skin stayed right where it was and kept on chanting and moving its feet as he sprinkled powder.

“That charm, I mean,” Buckeye said. “There is no spell you can lay that can keep me from you, no warding circle I cannot cross, for you have bound me to you by the naming of magic.”

Matt closed the circle and wrapped up the packet of powder, tucking it back inside his pouch.

“You cannot keep me out.” The bauchan sounded miffed by Matt’s silence. “Not even ignoring me can fend me off, the more so as I know you hear.”

Finally Matt turned to him, grinning. “Who said I was laying the warding circle against you?”

“What… ?” Buckeye stared, taken aback. “But—But— what else has beset you?” Then anger gathered. “Does someone else wreak mischief upon you? Nay, tell me the name of that foul sprite!”

“Not on me,” Matt corrected. “I do occasionally take the side of someone else who’s being bullied, you know.”

“Someone else?” Buckeye stared. “When you yourself are not hurt in any way?” The concept was clearly foreign to him.

“Even when it doesn’t affect me at all.” Matt frowned, thinking that over. “No, that’s not true—I have the naive notion that anything that affects anybody else has some effect on me, too, no matter how small.”

“Outrageous!” Buckeye struggled with the concept, and lost. “What a positively outlandish notion!”

“Well, at least you realize it’s positive.” Matt pointed to the rectory. “There’s a good man inside there, a friar, and a fake druid has just popped up to plague him. He threw a fireball at Friar Gode this afternoon, and I’d like to make sure this Banalix can’t hurt him again in any way.”

“Banalix!” The bauchan’s face wrinkled in disgust. “A false druid indeed!”

“Oh?” Matt looked up with interest. “How do you know?”

“Och, I remember the true druids, mortal! Five hundred years ago and more, and they were the salt of the earth, the sap and the fruit and the branch of the forest, and the forest of them! They treated me with the reverence that was my due, as they treated all the spirits! But they are gone, alas, except for the few left in that isle off the western shore—gone, and only you milk-blooded folk in their place, who idolize the plow and try to deny the forest!”

“Well, fanning does provide more food, and thereby keeps more of us alive.” Matt spoke bravely, but he shivered inside at the thought of talking to a creature who was five hundred years old. He clung to the one fact that offered some promise. “You’ve heard of Banalix, then?”

“Of course! Would

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