Wizard at Large Read Online Free PDF Page B

of some sort—and weren't really bars, but some sort of latticework, very ornate, very intricate. And the cage wasn't square, it was hexagonal!
    Who ever heard of a hexagonal cage?
    He glanced down. A pair of delicate-looking vases were squashed between his legs and the glass, looking for all the world as if they would shatter with his next breath.
    Nevertheless, he did breathe, mostly from astonishment. He wasn't in a cage; he was in some sort of display case!
    For a moment he was so bewildered that he was at a complete loss as to what to do next. He stared out beyond the case into the shadows and half-light. He was in a massive stone and timber hall filled with cabinets and shelving, cases and pedestals, all displaying various artifacts and art objects. The light was so poor that he could barely make any of it out. A scattering of windows that were small and set high on the walls allowed in what little light there was. Tapestries decorated the walls at various intervals, and a floor of stone flagging was covered with scattered squares of what appeared to be handwoven carpet.
    Abernathy scowled. Where in the name of all that was good and decent in the world was he? That confounded Questor Thews! He might still be in Sterling Silver for all he knew, locked away in some half-forgotten room of old art, except… He let the thought trail away unfinished. Except that he wasn't, he sensed. His scowl deepened. That muddleheaded wizard! What had he done?
    A door opened at one end of the room and closed softly. Abernathy squinted through the gloom. Someone was there, but he couldn't see who. He held his breath and listened. Whoever was there apparently didn't know about him yet. Whoever was there was strolling idly about the room, moving very slowly, stopping from time to time, looking things over. A visitor, Abernathy decided, come to look at the art. The footsteps grew closer, off to his leftnow. His display case sat rather far out from the wall, and he could not see clearly behind him without turning his head and shoulders. If he did that he was afraid he might break something in the case. He sighed. Well, maybe he should. After all, he couldn't just sit there indefinitely, could he?
    The footsteps passed behind him, slowed, came around, and stopped. He looked down. A small girl was looking up. She was very young, he decided, no more than maybe twelve, with a tiny body, a round face and curly honey-blond hair cut short. Her eyes were blue and there was a scattering of freckles on her nose. She was apparently trying to decide what he was. He held his breath momentarily, hoping that she might lose interest and go away. She didn't. He tried to stay perfectly still. Then he blinked in spite of his resolve, and she drew back in surprise.
    “Oh, you're alive!” she exclaimed. “You're a real puppy!”
    Abernathy sighed. This was turning out about the way he had expected it would—about the same as the rest of his day.
    The little girl had come forward again, eyes wide. “You poor thing! Locked in that case like that, no food or water or anything! Poor puppy! Who did this to you?”
    “An idiot who fancies himself a wizard,”Abernathy replied.
    Now her eyes
really
opened wide. “You can talk!” she whispered in a voice of conspiratorial elation. “Puppy, you can talk!”
    Abernathy frowned. “Would you mind not calling me
    ‘Puppy’?”
    “No! I mean, no, I wouldn't mind.”She edged closer. “What's your name, puppy? Uh, I'm sorry. What's your name?”
    “Abernathy.”
    “Mine's Elizabeth. Not Beth or Lizzy or Liz or Libby orLiza or Betty or anything else, just Elizabeth. I hate those cute abbreviations. Mothers and fathers just stick you with them without asking you what you think about it, and there they are, yours forever. They're not real names, just half-names. Elizabeth is a real name. Elizabeth was my great-aunt's name.”She paused. “How did you learn to talk?”
    Abernathy frowned some more. “I learned as