His dark eyes looked at me unseeing. Without a far-seeing attachment on his own telephone, he could not tell I was there until I spoke. The bishop, always dubious about magic, had doubtless considered it enough of a concession to institutionalized wizardry to allow the installation of even an ordinary magic telephone.

“Hello!” I said. “I haven’t heard from you in ages!” Although traditionally priests and wizards never get along, Joachim and I had been friends, at least most of the time, since I had first taken up the position of Royal Wizard of Yurt and found him Royal Chaplain there.

“I’m glad I was able to reach you, Daimbert. I need your help.” Joachim had never been strong on social chit-chat. “As you may have heard, we’re just starting construction here in Caelrhon on a new cathedral. But now something very odd is happening-something which may involve magic.”

I was flattered but surprised. Since Joachim had become dean of the cathedral, he had studiously acted as though wizardry had nothing to offer a priest. “What kind of problem is it?”

He hesitated. “I would just as soon not explain over the telephone, especially as I haven’t talked to the bishop yet. Is there any way you could come here?”

It must be serious, then. “I would, Joachim, but there’s one difficulty. Caelrhon’s not my kingdom. You need to talk to your own Royal Wizard. He would be furious to find another wizard interfering in his kingdom.”

I didn’t mention that long-ago incident, when I had been in Yurt only a year, when the king of Yurt had told the king of Caelrhon that if his wizard couldn’t install a magic telephone easily he could offer my services. I had innocently assumed that Sengrim, Caelrhon’s wizard, knew all about it, but he had come home to find me seated like an invader at his desk, his books scattered all over his study.