The Great Game (Royal Sorceress) (33 page)

Sir Charles nodded. “Understood,” he said. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Gwen hid a smile – very few men in London would have been happy letting a girl walk first into danger – as she strode over to the guardhouse, pasting a confident expression on her face. The guard looked confused, then startled, as she held up her card rather than passing it to him. That
always
meant trouble.

“Lady Gwen and Sir Charles, here to see Mr. Howell,” she said. Legally, she could have informed the guard that Howell was under arrest, but he might well be more loyal to his master than the law. “You will take us to him at once.”

The guard hesitated. “I will have to call the house and...”

Gwen cut him off. “This is a matter of vital importance to the Royal Sorcerers Corps,” she said, sharply. “You will take us to your master at once.”

She prepared Charm, ready to force the guard to surrender, but he gave way before that was required. He led them up the path towards the house, glancing around nervously as if he expected someone or something to leap out of the bushes at any moment. Gwen puzzled over it – Howell didn’t seem the type to keep dangerous animals on the grounds, even if they had been large enough for such creatures – before realising that Howell had to be a dangerous master when crossed. The guard had to know that they had no appointment.

Inside, they were met by the butler. “You will take us to Howell, at once,” Gwen said, flatly. The guard who’d escorted them so far made his escape while the butler was preparing his rebuttal. “We need to speak with him.”

The butler was clearly made of sterner stuff than the guard. “Do you have a warrant?”

Gwen scowled at his tone. “I have blanket permission to raid houses if I suspect that unregistered magicians are operating within,” she said, tartly. “Now, take us to Howell or I will place you under arrest for obstructing me.”

The butler bowed – so deeply that it was clearly meant to be insulting – and turned, leading them towards Howell’s sickroom. Gwen found herself wondering if Howell would pretend to be sick again, before pushing the thought aside and concentrating on her surroundings. The other servants seemed to be nowhere in evidence.

She frowned as the butler opened a different door. “Lady Gwen and Sir Charles, sir,” he said, announcing them. “They have no warrant.”

Gwen stepped past him and into the room. Howell was sitting in a comfortable armchair at the far end of the room, a humourless smile playing over his lips. He wore a suit instead of a nightshirt, somehow looking far more dangerous. In the light from the gas lamps, he seemed far more dangerous than Gwen had realised. There was something almost serpentine about his appearance.

“Well,” he said. “
This
is a surprise.”

“Mr. Howell,” Gwen said, flatly. She’d memorised the whole routine at Lestrade’s insistence. “You are under arrest on suspicion of practising magic without a licence or registration papers. It is my duty to warn you that you do not have to say anything at this time, but anything you do say may be taken down and used against you in a court of law. I must also test you for magic now...”

Howell lifted a finger. A second later, the side wall exploded inwards, throwing chunks of debris towards Gwen and Sir Charles. Gwen shielded herself automatically as she sensed two sources of magic coming through where the wall had been, both illegal magicians. Magic crackled through the air, picking up more debris and slamming it towards Gwen. Both magicians were Movers, she realised. If there were any others, she couldn’t sense them.

She pulled her own magic around her, then reached out towards the lead magician. He was strong, but untrained; it was easy to slam enough magic into his shield to send him staggering backwards. The other seemed to be more determined; Gwen had barely a second’s warning before he picked her up with his magic, shield and all, and threw her into the far wall. She winced as her shield slammed into the wall, then drew on her magic, directing a beam of raw energy towards the Mover. There was a brilliant shimmer of light as magic crackled over his shield. She couldn’t help noticing that he looked surprised... didn’t he know who he was fighting?

Gwen yanked herself forward and slammed her magic into his, sending him staggering backwards. He had more raw power than she’d realised, but he hadn’t quite grasped what it meant to fight a Master Magician. Gwen borrowed Sir James’s idea, reshaped her magic and poked into his protective bubble. He let out a yelp and jumped backwards, barely avoiding the beam of magic she threw at him.

“Sit down and surrender,” she ordered, pushing as much Charm into her voice as she could. “Give up!”

Both magicians seemed to hesitate, before shaking off the effect. Gwen cursed inwardly and scooped up several pieces of debris, infusing them with magic before hurling them at the two magicians. Their bubbles wavered alarmingly as the debris exploded, shaking their confidence as well as their magic. And then they returned to the attack.

A blast of light struck Gwen’s bubble; a Blazer had entered the fight. Gwen looked up, saw a man wearing a servant’s uniform and drew on her magic, picking him up and hurling him into the wall. A Blazer had no protective bubble to shield him; he struck the wall hard enough to crack his skull. Gwen grinned, knowing that she’d regret it afterwards, and looked up at the two Movers. If they’d had the same skill and experience as Merlin, she would have been dead by now. But as it was, they seemed to want to retreat.

“Give up,” she said, again. “I promise you both a fair hearing...”

They hit her together, slamming their power into her bubble. Gwen felt it buckling and stepped to one side, barely noticing that Sir Charles was fighting two other servants, both of whom seemed to be carrying clubs rather than firearms. One of the Movers leapt forward, trying to grab hold of her magic; she reached out with her own, tangled the two magic fields together and slammed him into the wall. There was a fearsome crash as parts of the roof started to cave in. The Mover turned, his magic flickering in and out of existence, and she drove a beam of energy through his skull. His entire body caught fire; Gwen heard, or thought she heard, a scream before he crumbled to the floor.

She turned to face the other Mover, who picked up and threw a grand piano at her with the force of his magic. Gwen winced, realised that she couldn’t hope to block it and jumped upwards, using her magic to fly over the piano as it hurtled underneath her. A moment later, she threw her own magic into direct conflict with his, pushing against his protective bubble. His face was twisted with effort as he tightened his defences, keeping her out. Gwen pushed down, smiling inwardly at the expression on his face. From his point of view, the foolish female was actually strengthening his shield.

Gwen met his eyes, then nodded downwards as she sent magic crawling through the floorboards. Her infusing talent was nowhere near as developed as a pure Infuser, but it hardly mattered. The blast was uncontrolled, yet confined within the Mover’s protective bubble. It collapsed a second after its creator was blown to bits. Gwen staggered backwards as the backlash struck her, then shrugged it off. There was no time to collapse herself.

Sir Charles had knocked down two servants and was battling three more. He seemed to be enjoying himself, although Gwen was sure that three-to-one were bad odds. She lashed out with her magic and slammed two of them back out the doorway and into the corridor, then turned to find Howell. He had crept away during the fighting... cursing, Gwen ran after him and saw the blackmailer heading out of a side door. No doubt he thought he could be over the wall and away before the fighting came to an end. She reached out, caught him with her magic and pulled him back inside.

“Sit down,” she ordered, as she slammed him into the armchair. Changing wasn’t her forte either, but it was easy enough to reshape the chair to produce makeshift handcuffs. Howell struggled against them, glaring up at her; thankfully, he wasn’t strong enough to break the wood. Gwen would have had to do something less pleasant to keep him still if he had been. “And be quiet.”

Sir Charles finished knocking down the servant and looked over at her. “Jesus Christ,” he said, as his gaze moved from Gwen to the half-destroyed house. “Is this what it’s always like for you?”

Gwen winced inwardly, wondering if he would decide that he no longer wanted anything to do with her. The house had seemed solid until Howell’s Movers and Gwen had fought at point-blank range; now, it seemed on the verge of collapse. One of Gwen’s tutors had spoken about supporting walls and pillars that helped keep the roof up; the fight might well have knocked one or more of them out of position. And a solid wall was so badly damaged that a large wardrobe had been knocked down, revealing another hidden safe beyond. It looked large enough to allow someone to step inside without feeling cramped.

“Sometimes,” she said. Apart from the practice skirmish with Merlin, she hadn’t fought a battle of such violence since Master Thomas had died. One Mover would have been easy to kill. “Can you check the bodies?”

“You’ll regret this,” Howell informed her. “Do you know how many friends I have in high places?”

“I have a vague idea how many people you have blackmailed,” Gwen said, tiredly. “Did we kill all of your horde of magicians or are there others out there?”

Howell merely smirked. “Even you must realise that you have overstepped yourself,” he said. “And you” – he looked up at Sir Charles – “are not untouchable either.”

“I’ve been threatened by experts,” Sir Charles said, as he checked the bodies one by one. “You’re nothing to an Emir who has been known to have his cooks hauled off and beheaded for having the nerve to undercook his meals. And you really
don’t
want to know what he did to his wife when he discovered that she was having an affair with his chief huntsman.”

He looked over at Gwen. “The magicians are dead,” he said, shortly. “I killed one of the servants, but the others are still alive.”

“Find something to tie them up,” Gwen ordered. “Then go check the rest of the house; if there are any other servants, they’re under arrest too. But be careful.”

There was a faint snicker from Howell as soon as Sir Charles had left the room. “You should be more careful, my dear,” he sneered. “Don’t you know what I can do?”

Gwen shrugged. “The entire world knows what sort of child I was,” she said. If they hadn’t known, Colonel Sebastian’s
hints
would have pointed them in the right direction. “And you had at least three illegal magicians in this house, working for you. Hiring an illegal magician is, in itself, illegal.”

She smiled, tiredly. “Speaking of which...”

Howell cringed away as she reached for him and touched his forehead, keeping her mental shields firmly in place. She felt a mental attack as soon as she made physical contact – and sensed magic, bubbling just under Howell’s skin. Even without the attack, she would have had the proof she needed. She was right. Howell
was
an unregistered Talker.

“I saw your feelings for him,” Howell said, as she broke contact. “Do you know that he’s a bastard son?”

Gwen winced. Howell was a better mind-reader than she’d realised. But then, he had had about as much practice as Irene and fewer scruples.

“I know the truth of his origins,” she said, softly. “And you know what? I don’t care.”

She gathered herself as she stared down at him. “Tell me,” she said, forcing Charm into her words. “Why did you go to visit Sir Travis?”

Howell glared at her, his lips firmly pressed closed.

“You
will
answer,” Gwen said, strengthening the Charm. “Why did you go to Sir Travis’s house?”

His lips opened, then he managed to close them. Gwen was impressed, despite herself; few people could resist such strong Charm. But she needed answers.

“You
will
answer,” she repeated, then changed tack. “Did you go there intending to tell him about Lady Elizabeth’s previous relationship?”

“Yes,” Howell said, then clamped his mouth shut again. The simpler question had worked its way through his defences.

Gwen smiled, coldly. “And you found out from reading the maid’s mind that he had debts to pay?”

“Yes,” Howell said. He spoke on, although she couldn’t tell if the Charm was finally breaking him down or if he was trying to overwhelm her with words. “He refused to take my money and ordered me to leave. So I did.”

Blood dripped down from his mouth as he changed the subject. “I know your mother’s greatest secret,” he said, tauntingly. “If you don’t let me go, the secret will come out and she will be
disgraced
.”

Gwen glared at him, but he hadn’t finished.

“I know many secrets,” he leered. He sounded almost dazed. “I know things about your previous Master that would make you blush. Or about some of the men you rely on in Cavendish Hall. Why do you
think
I was able to hire so many magicians for so long?”

“Master Thomas is dead,” Gwen said, coldly. What did Howell know? She wasn’t sure that
she
wanted to know. “And I know too many of his secrets.”

“There are ones that no one dared write down,” Howell informed her. “I know them.”

“Later,” Gwen said, as she pushed more Charm into her voice. “Do you know who murdered Sir Travis?”

“No,” Howell admitted.

Gwen winced as the trickle of blood from his mouth dripped onto the carpet. “Do you know who might have a motive to murder Sir Travis?”

Howell actually giggled. “The owner of the Golden Turk?”

His giggling grew nastier. “Always rumours about that place,” he added. “Some of them were even confirmed. My, oh my, how easy it is for someone to compromise themselves when they get too close to the east. They take it up the rear end, they do.”

Gwen had a nasty feeling that she knew what that meant; she certainly didn’t want to enquire further. “Do you know anything about Hiram Pasha?”

“Typical shifty Turk,” Howell said. The daze in his voice was growing stronger. “Undercuts his enemies by drawing funds from Turkey, the nasty bugger. He can undersell them all and put them out of business, then start jacking up prices. Should be laws against it. Probably are, but no one cares if you have the leverage and I do...”