Strong Mystery: Murder, Mystery and Magic Books 1-3 (Steampunk Magica) (23 page)

“See here Miss,” the silver-haired man’s horned moustaches
bobbed as he addressed her in a low voice. “I must ask you to open your shawl
please.” Owen could see the dismay warring with indecision on Mary’s face.
Caught, should she pull the gun that she held to keep control of Owen? Sliding
easily between the dismayed woman and the clerk, Owen faced those formidable
moustaches, carefully placing one of the royal portraits behind him.

“Is there a problem here?” He asked carefully. Grateful for the
intervention Mary gasped in feigned outrage.

“I am so glad you are here,” she said. “He asked me to open my
shawl!” Owen raised an eyebrow at this. The man’s face turned a bright purple.

“Is this true?” Owen said to the clerk. The man took in Owen’s
peasant garb and sputtered.

“Who the devils are you?” he said. Owen smiled and inclined his
head towards the portrait behind him.

“Who am I?” he repeated, gesturing again with his head. “Why I
am no one.” The store clerk turned a puzzled look up to the portrait of the
royal prince Erick. His eyes widened in surprise and snapped back to Owen’s
face.

“You—your Highness” he whispered. Owen quickly held up a finger
to his own mouth to quiet the man.

“I am incognito,” Owen explained in his own whisper. “Do play
along alright?” The man nodded dumbly. “Now what do you mean by asking my” here
Owen paused significantly while taking Mary’s free hand, “companion here about
her shawl?” The man looked at Mary in a new light and shook his head violently.

“Oh, nothing,” The man said hurriedly. “Nothing at all, My…”
Owen held his finger again to his lips silencing the man.

“Remember, what I asked,” Owen whispered. The older man’s head
bobbed up and down in agreement.

“Of course, uh, sir,” The man smiled sickly at Owen and Mary.
Owen gave him a broad smile back.

“That’s the spirit,” Owen said encouragingly. Turning his face
towards Mary he said, “I believe that you should call the others dear. It is
time we were heading back.” Mary nodded, playing along.

“Of course, um, dear.” She raised her voice and called out
across the shop, “Time to go! Now!” She repeated this in Mandarin. Like a
well-oiled machine the other women quickly and silently trooped out the front
door. The others doubtlessly had been cleaning out the store while the lone
clerk was preoccupied, Owen reflected wryly. Still he thought, that was no
business of his. The clerk watched helplessly as the others melted out the
doors, then he cleared his throat.

“Are they all…” He began ask as Owen cut him off verbally
again.

“My companions?” Owen finished for him with a smile. “Yes, yes
they are,” The old clerk looked scandalized. It would be well, Owen had
decided, to keep the clerk off balance until they were all away. He gave a slow
dip of his eyelid at the man.

“Incognito, remember,” he exhorted the old man in a good
natured manner. “Not a word to anyone, eh?” The store clerk brought himself up
stiffly and bowed the deep bow of an inferior to a superior.

“Of course, sir!” Owen nodded his approval at this. The man
beamed the first smile that he had seen from him. Owen turned to face Mary.

“Come Mary,” he said with a languid drawl, “let us take our
leave of this fine establishment.” With a shaky assent from Mary, the pair
sashayed out the doors and down the alleyway to where Mike and the others
waited, Mikes face a mask of concern. He frowned when both Owen and Mary burst
out laughing.

“What is so funny?” he asked. “It looked like he was going to
nick you both!” Mary shook her head at this, leaning into Owens shoulder, still
laughing.

“This man is amazing,” she said. “I thought that fat clerk had
me nailed to rights. Somehow, Owen here made him bark like a dog and be all
‘yes sir, no sir’” She looked at Owen “How did you do that?” Owen shrugged

. “I simply played on a chance resemblance I have to the royal
prince Erick,” he said. “A little suggestion and the clerk did the rest on his
own.” Mary looked at him quizzically.

“How close are you to the royal family?” she breathed.

“Oh, not close at all. Erick is my second cousin twice removed
or something like that.” He said carelessly. At the exclamations from the women
around him he protested defensively. “Well, it really isn’t close. I am
something like sixtieth in line for the throne. My brother’s son has a better
claim than I do.”

“Still,” Mike said, with eyes like black pebbles, “You do have
a claim.” Owen raise an eyebrow at the gang leader.

“And does it matter to you if I do?” he asked. “It is not as if
anyone is going to come looking for me, I assure you.” Mike turned from him and
looked around at the gathered gang members.

“Who made a nice nick at that last place?” he demanded of them.
“Raise your hand.” Everyone’s hand came up. Mike nodded.

“Good,” he declared. “You can all go back to the factory. We
won’t need to be going out again if I am any judge of the take.” The young
women let out a collective groan at this. Mike made a motion with both his arms
as if shooing them all along.

“Go! Go!” he growled. “And go straight back mind you! No trying
any schemes or lollygagging!” Mike turned to Mary and Owen. “Not you two, I
want you with me. It’s time we met up with Mei and see how the young ones have
done.”

Chapter 7

Owen looked at Mary across the room
.
They were in the room where Owen had woken up captive. Mike, Owen still had a
difficult time thinking of that as his name, had added two rough wood-hewn
chairs to the factory room, otherwise it was the same. Filled with crates and
the ticking on the floor for a bed. Owen knew better than to complain. He’d
seen the cramped conditions that the girls slept in and figured that his status
as teacher gave him the luxury of a private room, however humble the
furnishings.

He had spent the earlier part of the evening under the watchful
eyes of Mike and Mei who had taken back her large pistol. He was constructing
wards around the room with his Focus cane. The wards, those semi-intelligent
guardians of the physical plane would, he hoped, contain any energies that Mary
or he might generated and not endanger others.

“Well Mary,” he said, sitting in one of the chairs. He motioned
for Mary to sit in the other, “Now that you’ve had your fun out and about are you
ready to get to serious work?” Mary sat in carefully in the other chair
frowning at his words.

“Stealing is bloody hard work,” she protested.

“Oh I know,” Owen replied seriously. “I have stolen a fair bit
in my day. Usually for far less honest reasons than what you took today. Tell
me though,” he cocked his head at her sideways, “why do you do it?”

“Why?” Mary looked at him agog. “Why?” She repeated with
raising heat in her voice. “Because there isn’t anyone will give the likes of
us a crust off their table, and I like to eat. Because it’s the only way to
make sure that the youngers get to eat as well. If you’ve ever been around
youngers then you know that they make an awful sound when they’re hungry.
Because the
Good People
,”
the scorn in her voice was unmistakable now, “decided that me and the rest of
us was trash to be thrown out and so they did. Being too cowardly to just
cleanly kill us as they is
Good
People
. Why did you steal?” She asked him savagely.

“Oh, because people I trusted told me that it was the only way
to save the lives of my fellow Britons.” Owen shrugged. “I stole for Queen and
country, for honor, and to be honest, because I could do so cleverly.” He
grinned broadly at her. “That last I must confess I only came to realize when I
saw how dishonest the other reasons where. And yes, I have also stolen when I
was hungry, believe it or not.” He gave her a look that seemed to pierce her
soul.

“But the reason I call this serious work is because from this
moment onwards you need never steal again, unless you wish to do so. You have
the power to make a different decision. That is what we truly shall do in this
room. We shall work for you to find your power.”

“Do you think that we can do that?” Mary asked in a whisper.

“The wise of many nations call those of us with a manifesting
talent for Magia
the blessed
.
Do you know why?”

“I can’t see anything so blessed about worrying if I’m going to
go up like a charcoal briquette like you say,” Mary replied sourly.

Owen cupped his hands before him and a pillar of fire suddenly
appeared in them. He looked at Mary through the flames.

“The flames cannot harm you if you decide that they cannot,” he
said calmly. “Do you want the flames to hurt you?” Mary instinctively shrank
back from the flames. Owens face had been transformed by the flames into
something from her childhood nightmares. She shook her head weakly in terror.

“No,” she gasped out. The demon mask that had become Owens face
snarled at her.

“I do not believe you,” the mask rasped. “Do you want the
flames to hurt you?”

“No!” she screamed, thrusting out her hands. Streamers of fire
shot from them, engulfing Owens pillar with an explosion of fiery sparks. Owen
went over backwards tumbling from his chair. He rolled to a standing position,
quickly patting out the flames that licked at his tunic sleeves and pants. He
was astonished at her raw power.

It had taken considerable energy and drawing on the powers of
the wards to manifest the piddling flame he had. Mary had not only manifested a
stronger flame, she had with no training projected it to overcome his own
force. Owen judged that only the damping effects of the wards had prevented him
from being seriously burned.
Horned
One, he thought in admiration, what a sorceress she might become
!

Mary had leapt up as she looked at her fingers. The flames
continued to run up and down them as if they had become living torches, refusing
to go out no matter how hard she shook them.

“Well,” Owen said to her dryly, “it appears that you have made
your decision.”

“Can you make them stop?” she pleaded franticly still shaking
her hands desperately.

“No,” Owen replied evenly. “But you can. First of all stop that
silly hand waving. The flame isn’t really hurting you is it?” Mary stopped
waving her hands and held them before her. She watched the flames in a sort of
horror as they wicked up her fingers.

“No,” she said amazedly, “they aren’t hurting me at all.”

“Good,” Owen nodded at this as if this was completely normal.
The fact was that he had never even heard tell of a talent as strong as hers.
He judged that once it was fully realized, she would be able to call such fire
that it could immolate them both, wards or no. He saw no need to tell her that
however.

“Now,” he continued, “I want you to focus on your belly as I
had you do last night, and breathe from there.”

“Do I need to close my eyes?” Mary asked.

“No,” Owen said. “Please leave them open. I want you to realize
that there is no difference between what you do inside your mind and outside
it. Now, are you right handed or left handed?”

“Ah, I use both of my hands for different stuff,” she said
forlornly. “Do you mean which do I use for the most things? I guess that would
be my right hand.” The flames on the fingers of her left hand suddenly went
out.

“Oh,” she exclaimed as she continued to look at her hands.

“Yes,” Owen said. “That is very good. Now I want you to breathe
from that point in your belly again, and feel yourself centered there. Your
breath is the means to fuel your will, your will is the means by which the
elements like fire manifest in the world though you. Do you understand?”

“Ah, not really,” Mary confessed. Owen suppressed a sigh. Well
theory would have to come later, he decided.

“That is all right,” he said instead. “Just breathe from your
center.”

His Magia trained senses perceived the pooling of energies
within the center of her aura. Damnation, he thought, auras were another thing
he would have to educate her on. He could not assume that she knew anything.
Perhaps he should ask her what she did know. Was that the right thing to do? He
had not a clue, he was no teacher! Still, he did know Magia and sorcery in
particular. When the energies had pooled enough in her center to be effective,
he spoke to her again.

“Very good Mary,” he said to her. “Now let the energy from your
center reach up and move the flames from your little finger to your index
finger.”

“Which one is that?” she asked in confusion.

“Your
pointing
finger,” he said exasperatedly.

The flame on her index finger grew higher. Mary let out a
little sound of wonder. Under Owens careful guidance gradually all the flame
went out save the one on her first finger that now towered above her head.

“That is very good Mary,” Owen repeated. “Now, look at me,” he
ordered. Mary did. “Now do you master the flame or does the flame master you?”

“I master the flame!” She shouted in exultation.

Owen bowed to her. “Very well. If you would, please dismiss
it.”

The flame went out abruptly, leaving Mary swaying triumphantly.
She smiled at him even as Owen was afraid that she might collapse. He pointed
behind her.

“Please sit down,” he ordered. Mary fell into the rough wood
chair, looking up at him perplexedly.

“Why do I feel as if I’ve just run the length of the city?” She
asked.

“Because your body has used as much energy as if you had,” Owen
explained. “Manifesting any elemental energy is a tiring business. Still, did
you feel the fire respond to your will?”

Mary nodded. “Yes! It was as if suddenly I knew it and it knew
what I wanted.” She bit her lower lip. “Does that sound daft?” Owen smiled

“Not at all. You have just taken your first step into a much
broader world.” He sat down again across from her. “Running is not a bad
example,” he continued. “Now that you know how to run, it is simply a matter of
the hard work of flexing the muscles, so to speak, until it becomes second
nature.”

“How do I do that?” she asked, eagerly leaning forward in her
chair. Owen’s smile tightened at this.

“By getting up, centering and calling fire again,” he said
shortly. Mary groaned.

“Oh, please not!” she protested. “I don’t think I can stand.”

“Yes you can,” Owen said implacably. “You had better at any
rate. Who is the master, you or the fire?” Mary shuffled to her feet, a look of
stubborn determination on her face.

“I am,” she said in a steely voice.

“Good for you,” Owen approved. “Now show me,” he said
challengingly.

He kept her at drill until both of them were covered in sweat
and exhausted. Giving her a series of exercises to practice, with the extorted
promise to work with them daily, he finally bid her go to her own bed. He
watched her as the double doors closed behind her.

She was a first rate student, he thought. Her talent deserved
better, she deserved better, than his clumsy hands. Owen shook his head again
at the strangeness of fortune. If Mr. Victor had not surprised him with that
Earth blast, he wouldn’t be here now aiding Mary.

That he had only gotten to her before her talent caused
tragedy, he was certain. He sighed. Now he must remain until he was satisfied
that she was in control. Then there was the matter of the settling with Mr.
Victor and his grotesque lackey. Still, he missed Jinhao and wondered how she was
fairing with her sister.