A Matter of Magic (32 page)

“No, he’s just another of Laverham’s crew,” Mairelon said. “Unpleasant enough, but quite ordinary so far as his skills are concerned.”

“Still, that makes four of them,” Shoreham said. “Which is a bit much to expect one man, however competent, to handle alone.”

“Well, I could go along as far as the town,” Mr. Bramingham offered. “It’s not much out of my way, you know. I can’t stop there, though; my wife will be waiting to hear what’s happened.”

“And to spread it over as much of the county as she can reach,” Mairelon murmured. “I’m afraid St. Clair is going to be a social outcast no matter how the trial turns out.”

“I should think so,” Lady Granleigh sniffed. “His behavior to me, and to poor Marianne, has been simply unpardonable. If it hadn’t been for him, Marianne would not have run off as she did.”

Everyone looked at Lady Granleigh in patent disbelief, including Jasper. Lady Granleigh stared haughtily down her nose at the lot of them. “Pointing that pistol at poor Marianne clearly disordered her intellect. I am quite confident that, had you behaved as a gentleman ought, wiser counsels would have prevailed, and she would not have dashed off to be married in such a hole-in-the-corner fashion.”

“I congratulate you, Lady Granleigh,” Lord St. Clair said after a moment. “I have never before met anyone with so great a talent for seeing the world as she wishes it to be.”

Lady Granleigh stared through the space occupied by Lord St. Clair as if he were not there, then turned to her brother. “Come, Jasper, it is time we were going.”

“Time and past,” Kim muttered. Mairelon glanced sharply in her direction, but no one else seemed to hear.

“I’ll accompany you, my dear,” Lord Granleigh said in a tone that brooked no argument. “Bramingham’s right, we should be getting back.”

Lady Granleigh did not look at all pleased by this development (nor did Jasper), but they had no choice but to go along. Kim wondered whether Lord Granleigh would give them both a dressing-down in the carriage. She hoped so; the bracket-faced mort deserved a tongue-lashing
and then some for the way she’d been mucking about in everyone else’s affairs, and Jasper was no better.

“Now, then, Stuggs,” Lord Shoreham said when the Granleighs were safely out the door. “You’ll want someone besides Bramingham to help with the prisoners, I think. No sense in taking chances.”

“We’d be happy to help, sir,” Robert Choiniet volunteered. “That is, if you think we’d be useful.” He nudged Jonathan with his elbow.

“Happy?” Jonathan said bitterly. “Oh, yes, of course, certainly. The Sacred Dish is gone for good, the lodge is in ruins, and the Sons of the New Dawn will be a laughingstock. Naturally we’re happy.”

Mairelon looked at him. “I hardly think one broken window, a displaced hearthstone, and a couple of overturned chairs constitute being in ruins.”

“Yes, we’ve done more damage ourselves on a good night,” Robert agreed. “Do stop playacting, Jon.”

“Playacting? Playacting? You don’t seem to realize how serious this is! We
need
to consecrate the Sacred Dish before we can make any more progress in the Mysteries.”

Robert rolled his eyes and Mairelon hid a smile. Kim felt sorry for Jonathan. She knew what it was like to lose something she’d depended on having, even if she didn’t know anything about druids or magic. And after all, it wasn’t
his
fault he’d gotten hold of the Saltash Platter instead of some ordinary silver tray that no one else would have cared about. A thought occurred to her, and she said suddenly, “Why’d you pick the Saltash Platter for your Sacred Dish? I mean, would any old wicher cheat do, or does it have to be this particular one?”

“It was perfect,” Jonathan said sullenly. “It’s exactly the right dimensions, and the pattern has the proper balance of natural form and abstract design. It took me two years of hunting to find it, and it had to be stolen!”

“Well, if all you need is something that size and shape, can’t you use one of the fake platters? There’s enough of ’em around.”

Everyone looked at Kim, and she flushed. “It was just an idea.”

“And a very good one,” Mairelon said. “One of the false platters should suit you admirably, Aberford. Better than the real thing, in fact; you
won’t have to worry about your spells getting tangled up with the ones that are already in the Saltash Platter and exploding, or doing something equally unexpected.”

Jonathan, who had opened his mouth, closed it again, looking suddenly very thoughtful. The Earl of Shoreham’s lips twitched, and Renée D’Auber put up a hand to hide a smile. Andrew only looked bewildered, and St. Clair and the other prisoners studiously ignored the exchange.

“I doubt that there will be any fuss over ownership of one of the duplicates, either,” Mairelon added.

“I think I can guarantee that no official questions will be asked,” Shoreham put in. “Provided there is no fuss made at this end, of course. I should warn you, though, that I can’t do a thing about gossip.” He glanced in the direction of the door, where Lady Granleigh and her party had long since vanished.

“Gossip won’t do anything but increase our membership,” Robert commented. “We might even get a couple of fellows who’ll pay their subscription fees. That would please Austen no end.”

“Yes, wouldn’t it?” Jonathan said, failing to sound anything like as offhanded as he plainly wanted to. “Very well, we’ll do it.”

“Good. I have two at my wagon; you can come by this evening and pick one up,” Mairelon said. “It’s just down the road, on the left-hand side as you head toward the village.”

“This evening? But I thought—”

“I have a few things still to do here,” Mairelon interrupted, “and it won’t be convenient for you to wait. Trust me.”

“Yes, and your mother was in an awful taking when I left, Jon,” Robert put in. “God knows what she’s like by now. She’ll have half the county out hunting for you if you don’t get home soon, depend on it.”

“Oh, very well,” Jonathan said ungraciously. He swirled his cloak unnecessarily and stalked to the door of the lodge. “I shall wait upon you this evening,” he told Mairelon in portentous tones, and left.

“Silly young chub,” Mairelon said, but not loudly enough to be heard outside.

Andrew frowned. “Wait a minute. Didn’t somebody say his horse ran off? How is he planning to get home, wherever home is?”

“Oh, Jon never plans anything,” Robert said in a resigned tone. “Except ceremonies. He’ll probably take my horse. I think I had better come along with you and Bramingham, after all, Mr. Stuggs. I can stop in the village for as long as you need help with that lot, and then borrow a horse to get home on.”

Stuggs nodded and handed him a pistol. “Right, then. Move along, now, you lot.”

“I think I’d best go with them, at least as far as the coach,” the Earl of Shoreham said to Mairelon as St. Clair, Jack Stower, and Dan Laverham started toward the door, flanked by Robert and Mr. Bramingham. “Two of them are wizards, after all, and it wouldn’t do for them to take advantage, so to speak.”

“You always were a cautious one,” Mairelon told him. “Shall I come and help?”

“No, no, you’ve done enough already,” Shoreham replied quickly. “And it’ll only take a moment. You stay here.” He followed Bramingham, who was bringing up the end of Stuggs’s little procession, out the door.

Mairelon gazed after him with an abstracted air. “Now, do you suppose he was being subtle, tactful, or merely cowardly?” he asked the window Laverham had broken.

“ ’E’s a-doing of ’is job,” Hunch said. “Which you ought to ’ave been, too, instead of breaking into ’ouses and things while I was gone.”

“That
was
my job,” Mairelon pointed out. “Or part of doing it, anyway, which comes to the same thing.”

“You might ’ave got shot,” Hunch said doggedly.

“Yes, well, I didn’t, so there’s no need to go on about it, especially since the main reason you’re so nattered about it is that you missed out on the fun.”

“Nattered about it?” said Andrew in a puzzled tone.

“It’s one of Kim’s expressions,” Mairelon said. “Very descriptive.” He paused, looking at Andrew, and Hunch closed his mouth on whatever further comment he had been about to make. “It’s good to see you again, Andrew,” Mairelon said after what seemed a very long time.

“It’s good to see you, too, Richard,” Andrew answered in a low voice. “For a while I . . . wasn’t sure I was going to.”

“What? You haven’t been listening to Hunch, have you? That business on the Peninsula wasn’t anything like as serious as he claims.”

“I can see that Hunch and I are going to have to have a long talk,” Andrew said with a crooked smile. “But that wasn’t what I meant.”

“Yes, well, actually I know that, but it doesn’t matter,” Mairelon said quickly.

“It matters to me,” Andrew persisted. He took a deep breath and went on, “I misjudged you very badly five years ago, and I want to tell you that I know it now, and I’m sorry.”

Renée D’Auber gave a small nod of satisfaction, and a slow grin began to spread across Hunch’s face. Kim felt like cheering, but she didn’t dare. She was almost afraid to breathe, for fear someone would notice, and remember she was there, and make her leave.

“All right,” Mairelon said gently, his eyes on Andrew’s face. “You’ve told me. Apology accepted. Can we leave it at that?”

“You mean I—you’ll—that’s all?”

“Really, Andrew, were you expecting me to demand satisfaction?” Mairelon said in the mildly exasperated tone he used with Hunch and Kim. “A pretty thing that would be; you are my brother, after all, not to mention that dueling’s illegal. Or did you think I’d throw a fit of temper? I could turn you into a frog for a few minutes, if it would make you feel better, but I’d really rather not. It’s the devil of a nuisance to measure out all the ingredients for the powder, and I can never remember the proper endings for the verbs.”

Andrew laughed. “I—well, thank you, Richard. Will you be coming home now?”

The words were a question, but his tone made it clear that he expected Mairelon to answer yes. Kim’s heart lurched as she realized just how inevitable that yes was, and how much it would mean. The Mairelon she knew was an act, a trick to fool the Runners, and the trick was no longer necessary. He would become Richard Merrill again, and go back to a gentry life she could hardly imagine. She tried to be glad, but all she could think was that there would be no place in that life for her. She wrapped her arms around herself and hugged hard. At least she had the five pounds Jasper Marston had paid her, and the clothes Mairelon had
bought. Maybe Mairelon or Shoreham would give her a few guineas more for her help with Laverham. It was as much as she had wanted when she got into this; she couldn’t help it if her wants had changed somehow since then.

“Home,” Mairelon said, rolling the word as if he were checking its taste. “Not just yet, I think. Until the word gets out, I prefer to lie low. We’ll stay here for a few days, then start back to London. Is the old stable still there?”

“In London?” Andrew asked, bewildered.

“No, in Kent. The one we used to climb on the roof of, when we were boys.”

“Oh. Yes, it’s there. Why?”

“It would be a good place to leave my wagon. I’ll send Hunch down with it once I’m settled in London.”

“And not before,” Hunch put in darkly. “You ain’t fobbing me off with no tale this time, Master Richard.”

“You’re going to stay in London for the Season, then?” Andrew said with an uncertain look in Hunch’s direction.

“It is an excellent plan,” Renée D’Auber said. “You will be the nine days’ wonder, and it will be entirely plain to everyone that you had nothing to do with the robbery.”

“I expect I’ll have more to do than attend social events,” Mairelon said with a hint of sarcasm. “Shoreham is bound to want me for all sorts of things. Which reminds me, there was one other thing I wanted to attend to. Kim!”

Kim jumped and nearly fell off her footstool. “What?” Her throat felt scratchy, and she experienced a sudden desire to run. She knew what he was going to say, and she didn’t want to hear it.

“Why did you tip that table over on Laverham when he was in the middle of that spell a few minutes ago?” Mairelon asked.

“The
table
?” Kim said blankly. The question was so completely different from what she had expected that she couldn’t quite grasp it.

“Yes, the table.” Mairelon looked at her sternly. “I’ve told you more than once that interrupting a wizard is dangerous, and if you claim you forgot, I won’t believe you. So why did you interrupt Laverham?”

“Because his spell was queer as Dick’s hatband anyway,” Kim said. “You know that.”

“Yes,
I
knew it,” Mairelon said. “But how did
you
know?”

“It was the words,” Kim said. She frowned, trying to think how best to describe what she had sensed when Laverham’s spell began to go wrong.

“You speak the Latin, then?” Renée D’Auber said, raising her eyebrows in polite incredulity. “Or the Greek, perhaps?”

“I ain’t got no need to speak it,” Kim snapped, wondering why they were staring at her like that. “Laverham’s words weren’t . . . They weren’t lined up neat and proper like they should of been.”

“Should
have
,” Mairelon murmured. “And I did warn you, Kim, about reverting under stress.”

“Do not be hard with her,” Renée reproved him. “It is not at all wonderful that she should have the difficulties after all that has happened.”

“No, the wonderful part was the bit about the words,” Mairelon said. “Kim, do you mean that you can feel when someone is casting a spell?”

“I don’t know about that, but I can tell when somebody says some of them—of
those
shiny, sharp words you use for spells,” Kim replied carefully.

“You mean like
apheteon
? Or perhaps—” Mairelon rattled off a long, bumpy sentence and raised his eyebrows at Kim.

“No,” Kim said, happy to be sure of something. “Those sound right, but they don’t have no edges. They’re just nonsense.”

“And these?” He said a short phrase that crackled and glittered.

Kim flinched and nodded. Mairelon stared at her. “My Lord,” he said in a low voice. “No wonder you weren’t hurt when the spell shattered.”