Wizard at Large (Landover, Band 3) - Softcover

Buch 3 von 6: Landover

Brooks, Terry

 
9780345362278: Wizard at Large (Landover, Band 3)
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0345362276 ISBN 13: 9780345362278
Verlag: Del Rey, 1989

Inhaltsangabe

Book Three of the Magic Kingdom of Landover Series

It all began when the half-able wizard Questor Thews announced that finally he could restore the Court Scribe Abernathy to human form. It was his spell that had turned Abernathy into a Wheaten Terrier—though with hands and able to talk.

All went well—until the wizard breathed the magic dust of his spell and suddenly sneezed. Then, where Abernathy had stood, there was only a bottle containing a particularly evil imp. It had been in the collection of Michael Ard Rhi, former King of Landover, now exiled to Earth. Abernathy must now be a part of that collection!

High Lord Ben Holiday set forth for Earth, taking his green but beautiful love, Willow, with him. Unfortunately, they were long in returning. And without the soil in which to root as a tree at times, Willow could not long survive.

That left it up to Questor Thews to save them. Grimly he set out to seek help, knowing himself to be incompetent. And to make things worse, the imp had escaped and sought the help of the evil witch Nightshade, now back from exile in Faerie. 

Questor's only idea seemed impossible, but . . .

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Terry Brooks has thrilled readers for decades with his powers of imagination and storytelling. He is the author of more than thirty books, most of which have been New York Times bestsellers. He lives with his wife, Judine, in the Pacific Northwest.

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Questor Thews is only a semi-competent wizard, but when High Lord Ben Holiday and his love Willow need use of his powers, he tries to comply. He tries, all right, but he doesn't have all that much faith in himself--not since he turned a terrier into an imp. Still, he'll do what he can....

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Ben Holiday sighed wearily and wished he were somewhere else besides where he was. He wished he were anywhere else.
 
He was in the garden room at Sterling Silver. The garden room was probably Ben Holiday’s favorite of all the many rooms at the castle. It was bright and airy. Flower boxes crisscrossed the tiled floor in dazzling swatches of color. Sunshine streamed through floor-length windows that ran the length of its southern wall, tiny motes of pollen dancing on the broad bands of light. The windows stood open and fragrant smells wafted in. The room looked out on the gardens proper, a maze of flower beds and bushes that spread their way downward to the lake on which the island castle rested, mixing and mingling their colors like paints run together on a rain-soaked canvas. The flowers bloomed year-round, reseeding themselves with commendable regularity. A horticulturist from Ben’s old world would have killed to study such treasures—species that grew only in the Kingdom of Landover and nowhere else.
 
Just at the moment, Ben would have killed to escape them.
 
“ … Great High Lord … ”
 
“ … Mighty High Lord … ”
 
The familiar calls of supplication grated on him like rough stones and reminded him anew of the cause of his disgruntlement. His eyes rolled skyward momentarily. Please! His gaze shifted furiously from flower box to flower bed and back again, as if somewhere among all those tiny petals the escape he so desperately sought might be found. It wasn’t, of course, and he sagged back further in his cushioned chair and contemplated the unfairness of it all. It wasn’t that he was trying to shirk his duty. It wasn’t as if he didn’t care about these things. But this was his refuge, for Pete’s sake! This was supposed to be his place for time away!
 
“ … and took all of our hard-earned berry stores.”
 
“And all of our ale kegs as well.”
 
“When all we did was to borrow a few laying hens, High Lord.”
 
“We would have replaced those that were lost, High Lord.”
 
“We intended to be fair.”
 
“We did.”
 
“You must see that our possessions are returned … ”
 
“Yes, you must … ”
 
They went on, barely pausing for breath.
 
Ben studied Fillip and Sot the way his gardener studied weeds in the flower beds. The G’home Gnomes rambled on unself-consciously and endlessly, and he thought about the vagaries of life that permitted misfortunes such as this to be visited on him. The G’home Gnomes were a pitiful bunch—small, ferretlike burrow people who begged, borrowed, and mostly stole everything with which they came in contact. They migrated periodically and, once settled, could not be dislodged. They were regarded in general as a blight upon the earth. On the other hand, they had proven unswervingly loyal to Ben. When he had purchased the Kingdom of Landover from Rosen’s Department Store Christmas Wishbook and come into the valley—almost two years ago now—Fillip and Sot, on behalf of all of the G’home Gnomes, had been the first to pledge their loyalty. They had aided him in his efforts to establish his kingship. They had helped him again when Meeks, the former Court Wizard, had slipped back into Landover and stolen his identity and his throne. They had been his friends when there were precious few friends to be had.
 
He sighed deeply. Well, he owed them something, certainly—but not this much. They were taking advantage of his friendship in a way that was totally unconscionable. They had traded on it to bring this latest complaint before him, deliberately circumventing the regular channels of a court administration he had worked hard to implement. They had brandished it like a fiery torch until he was hounded to this, his last sanctuary. It wouldn’t be so bad if they didn’t do this every single time there was a complaint of any sort—which was every five minutes, it sometimes seemed—but, of course, they did. They didn’t trust anyone else to be fair and impartial. They wanted their “Great High Lord” and their “Mighty High Lord” to hear them out.
 
And hear them out, and hear them out.…
 
“ … a fair disposition would be a return of all things stolen and a replacement of all things damaged,” said Fillip.
 
“A fair disposition would be for you to order to our service several dozen trolls for a reasonable period of time,” said Sot.
 
“Perhaps a week or two,” said Fillip.
 
“Perhaps a month,” said Sot.
 
It would also help matters if they didn’t bring most of their problems on themselves, Ben thought darkly. It was difficult to be either objective or sympathetic when he knew before the first word was out of their mouths that they were at least as guilty of causing the dilemma as whomever their latest complaint was to be lodged against.
 
Fillip and Sot rambled on. Their grimy faces twitched as they talked, their eyes squinting against the light, their fur wrinkled and worn. Their fingers curled and straightened as they gestured, and bits of dirt crumbled and broke away from beneath the nails where it was caked from digging. Their shabby clothes hung on them, leather and sackcloth, colorless save for a single incongruous red feather stuck in the headband of their caps. They were bits of wreckage that had somehow washed up on the shores of his life.
 
“Perhaps a tribute would help serve as recompense,” Fillip was saying.
 
“Perhaps a token gift of silver or gold,” Sot echoed.
 
Ben shook his head hopelessly. This was quite enough. He was about to cut them off when he was saved from the need to do so by the sudden, unexpected appearance of Questor Thews. His Court Wizard burst through the garden room doors as if catapulted by some giant sling, arms waving, white beard and long hair whipping about, gray robes with their colorful patches trailing after in what appeared to be a desperate effort to keep up with their wearer.
 
“I have done it, I have done it!” he proclaimed without any preliminaries. He was flushed with excitement, his owlish face made positively glowing by whatever it was that he had done. He seemed oblivious to the presence of the G’home Gnomes, who mercifully stopped their presentation in midsentence and simply stared at him open-mouthed.
 
“What is it that you have done?” Ben inquired mildly. He had learned to temper his enthusiasm where Questor was concerned, because it was often sadly misplaced. Questor accomplished on the average about one half of what he thought he had accomplished.
 
“The magic, High Lord! I have found the magic! Finally, I have found the means to … ” He stopped, hands gesturing emphatically. “No, wait a moment! The others must hear this, too. All of our friends must be present. I have taken the liberty of sending for them. It should only be a few, brief … This is such a glorious … Ah, ah, here they are now!”
 
Willow appeared in the open door, stunning as always, more beautiful than all the flowers about her, her slender form a whisper of white silk and trailing lace as she slipped into the sunlit room. Her pale green face glanced toward Ben, and she smiled that special, secret smile that she reserved only for him. A fairy creature, she seemed as ephemeral as the warmth of...

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Verlag
Del Rey
Erscheinungsdatum
1989
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0345362276
ISBN 13 
9780345362278
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
320
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Nicht verfügbar

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