Wrede, Patricia C - Mairelon 01 (13 page)

           
Hunch's
scowl lessened slightly during this speech, but his expression remained gloomy.
"All right, Master Richard. But you ain't staying 'ere, are you?"

           
"After
what I have heard, I have not the slightest intention of doing so,"
Mairelon said with evident sincerity.

           
Hunch
chewed more vigorously, and his frown returned. "You ain't going to do
nothing dreadful while I'm gone, are you?"

           
"That
depends to some extent on how long you take, doesn't it?" Mairelon said,
rising. "Come
along,
let's break it gently to the
landlord that his newest guests are leaving already. I doubt that he'll be
pleased."

           
The
innkeeper was not nearly as unhappy about their abrupt departure as Mairelon
had predicted, primarily because Mairelon informed him casually that he would,
of course, pay for the rooms he had bespoken even though he would not remain to
use them. He then hired a gig with which to drive to the next town and agreed
to pay for the stabling of the horses until they could be sent for. A large
purse changed hands; Kim had not known there was so much money in the wagon,
and she wondered what else she had missed.

           
Three
people were a tight fit in a gig, but they managed. Kim was almost grateful to
be squashed between Hunch and Mairelon; they hid her very effectively from view
on either side, and with her cap pulled low and her head tucked down she felt
that Jack Stower was unlikely to recognize her, even if he should suddenly
appear from around a corner.

           
Fortunately
for Kim's peace of mind, Jack was nowhere to be seen, and once they were out of
the village she relaxed a little. Mairelon was silent during the drive, staring
out over the fields and hedges with an absent expression that made her think he
was not really seeing any of them. Hunch chewed rhythmically on his mustache
and scowled at the horse, casting intermittent glances in Mairelon's direction
but saying nothing.

           
There was
no one in sight when they reached the woods where they had left the wagon, for
which Kim was grateful. She was tired of juggling roles; she did not want to
have to think about whether she was supposed to be pretending to be a Tiger or
a horse boy or a magician's assistant. She was tired of silent, empty spaces
and the strange sounds and smells of the woods. She wanted
London
,
and she realized that that, more than fear of what Jack Stower's presence might
mean, was her real reason for suggesting she should go back.

           
She was
still pondering this revelation as she stood beside Mairelon and watched Hunch
drive briskly off. "Good," Mairelon murmured. "If he keeps up
that pace, he'll be in
London
by
tomorrow morning." He looked down at Kim. "Don't just stand there,
come along. We have a great deal to do, and we had better get to it."

           
"I
thought we were goin' to wait for Hunch to get back before we did anything,"
Kim said, all her homesickness swept away by a sudden wave of foreboding.

           
"Whatever
gave you that idea?" Mairelon said in a tone of mild astonishment.
"If we don't do anything, St. Clair will have the platter by tomorrow
evening, and I can't have that. No, we're going to have a good meal and get a
few things ready and then have a good nap, so that we'll be wide awake to
burgle
Bramingham Place
at
two this morning."

           
He turned
and marched cheerfully toward the wagon, leaving Kim to stand staring after him
openmouthed. She muttered a curse and plunged after him, already more than half
resigned to the prospect. If Mairelon wanted to burgle
Bramingham
Place
, burgle it he would, with or without her
help. On the whole, she thought she would rather it be with, but she was not
going to give up without an argument. Spluttering objections that she expected
would be
useless,
she followed Mairelon into the
wagon.

           
Bramingham
Place
was an enormous, rambling house that seemed
to spread out in all directions. Mairelon, lurking with Kim behind an overgrown
topiary duck while they waited for the last lights inside to be put out,
explained in a whisper that building new wings had been a tradition in the
Bramingham family for two centuries, hence the erratic sprawl. Kim wondered
what they did with all the space. From the look of it, the house was larger
than the entire village of Ranton Hill, and that was without considering the
stables and gatehouse.

           
The last
of the windows went dark, and Mairelon started forward with an exclamation of
relief. Kim grabbed at his sleeve. "Give 'em time to fall asleep!"
she hissed.

           
"It's
all right; the library's at this end. They're far enough away that they won't
hear a thing," Mairelon whispered back. "You did say Bramingham was keeping
the Saltash Platter in the library?"

           
"That's
what he told the druid cove, but what if he was gammoning him?"

           
"We
won't know til we go find out, will we?" She could hear the smile in his
voice, though it was too dark to see it clearly. "Shall we?"

           
Kim
sighed. "How can you be so sure the library's at this end of the
house?"

           
Even in
the darkness she could see him stiffen. "I stayed with the Braminghams
once, some years back," Mairelon said in a voice devoid of expression.
"Just before the Saltash Set was stolen.
I remember the
visit . . . very well indeed."

           
"Oh."
Kim searched for something to say, without success. She shrugged. "All
right, then, let's bite the ken. But this is my lay, remember; don't go off on
your own, or you'll muck up the whole thing."

           
"After
you," Mairelon murmured, bowing. Kim shook her head, only half
understanding, and slid through the night toward the house.

           
It was
not,
after all, much different from the jobs she had done so
long ago in
London
. The house was
bigger by far, but that was all. Mairelon pointed the way to a pair of long
French doors near the room they wanted. Kim reached for the bit of wire hidden
in her sleeve and opened the lock with a few deft twists of her wrist. They
slipped inside, and Mairelon closed the doors softly behind them.

           
They were
in a spacious sitting room. Kim could see the dim shapes of chairs and tiny tea
tables scattered all around, deeper shades of darkness in the dark. Mairelon
pointed toward a door in the opposite wall. Kim nodded and made a gesture which
she hoped he would correctly interpret as a warning to be careful. Then she
began picking her way across the room.

           
Three
nerve-racking minutes later they reached the door. It was locked, but the
mechanism was no more of a challenge than the one on the French doors had been.
Kim had it open in a few seconds. On the other side was a hallway, thickly
carpeted. Motioning Mairelon to keep to the center, Kim stepped cautiously into
the hall.

           
The
library was the second door on the left. It was unlocked, and Kim suppressed a
snort of derision. That was gentry for you: they'd lock up half the doors and
leave the rest wide open. They always picked the wrong half to lock, too. She
pushed the door slowly inward, listening for creaking hinges. The door made no
sound, and a moment later they were in the library with the door closed behind
them.

           
"Well
done!" Mairelon breathed in her ear, and she jumped. "You were
particularly quick with that last door."

           
"Don't
do
that," she whispered back. "I was quick because it wasn't
locked."

           
"Not
locked?" Mairelon paused, and she could almost hear him thinking.

           
"Not
locked," Kim repeated firmly. "And this ain't
no
time to chat. Find that thing you're lookin' for and let's get out of
here."

           
"We'll
never find it in the dark," Mairelon said.
"A
moment, please."
He muttered a word.

           
A ball of
cold, silver light the size of Kim's fist sprang into being just over
Mairelon's head, casting threatening, sharp-edged shadows all around. Kim
blinked, biting back a protest, and looked quickly about her. The library was a
long room with bookcase-lined walls; its center full of large chairs covered
with needlework in bright colors that the silver light bleached to bearable
pastels. A small table stood beside each chair on thin, fragile legs. Heavy
curtains of a dark crimson shut out the light from the windows; unlike those in
the sitting room, these came only to the bottom of the window. Below them,
short bookcases alternated with glass boxes set on legs. Kim stared,
then
realized that these must be the "display
cases" to which Henry Bramingham had referred.

           
Mairelon
crossed to the windows and walked rapidly along them. He stopped a third of the
way from the end and beckoned. "Here it is!" he whispered, and the
strange silver light made an exultant mask of his face.

           
The
Saltash Platter was a tray nearly two feet long, heavily ornamented around the
edge with the same pattern of fruits and flowers and vines Kim had seen on the
bowl in Mairelon's wagon. At either end a rope of vines twisted away from the
edge and then back again, forming a handle. The silver shone brilliantly in the
cold light, even through the glass of the display case. Kim looked at the case
more closely. The top was hinged in back, and there was an unobtrusive gold
lock at the front edge.

           
Kim
pulled out her wire and paused, remembering what had happened when she tried to
poke through Mairelon's chest. Of course, it wasn't the lock that had been
enchanted, but still . . . She frowned and tugged at the lid, testing the
strength of the lock.

           
It opened
easily, cutting short Mairelon's impatient query. They looked at each other
across the case, and Kim saw her own misgivings reflected in Mairelon's uneasy
expression. "Magic?" she whispered.

           
"Possibly,"
Mairelon said softly. The sharp shadows magnified his frown. "If it is,
touching the platter will set it off. Be quiet for a moment while I
check."

           
He
reached down, hands hovering just above the open case. The air grew heavy, and
Kim held her breath, waiting for an explosion.

           
A soft
crash sounded from the next room, and Mairelon jerked his hands away from the
display case. He and Kim froze, and in the silence heard a well-muffled thud
from the hall.

           
"We
better get out of here!" Kim said, and started down the long room toward
the door.

           
"Not
that way; there's no time," Mairelon said, grabbing her arm. He gestured,
and the light that hovered over his head shrank to a pinpoint; then he went
swiftly to the bookshelf along the nearest wall. "Boccaccio,
Boccaccio," he murmured.
"Where--ah!"

           
Kim
stared in astonishment as Mairelon reached out and tilted two books outward.
She heard a small click, and then the sound of someone fumbling at the library
door made her glance fearfully over her shoulder. The curtains were too short to
hide behind. Perhaps if she curled up in a chair, she would be overlooked, but
what about Mairelon? She turned back and almost forgot her fear in complete
amazement.

           
"Inside, quickly!"
Mairelon said. An entire
section of the bookcase had swung outward, revealing a narrow, cupboard-like
opening behind it. Kim pulled herself together and darted inside; Mairelon
squeezed in after her, pulling the bookshelf to behind him. The silver light
winked out.

           
Cracking
a ken with a real magician certainly had advantages, Kim thought to herself as
she wriggled into a more comfortable position. That book-achoo spell was one
she'd have to be sure to learn. She felt Mairelon fumble at the wall and
thought he was trying to latch the bookshelf in place. Then he breathed a nearly
soundless sigh, and with a soft scraping a small panel slid aside, giving them
a thin slot above a row of books through which to view the room they had just
quitted with such haste.

           
Someone
was moving slowly among the chairs, carrying a small dark-lantern that was
three-quarters shuttered. The lantern beam swung toward them, and Kim wondered
whether the bearer had heard Mairelon lower the panel. She heard a
snort,
and the contemptuous whisper "Mice!" and
then the dark blob went on toward the display cases. The figure raised the
dark-lantern and bent forward to peer through the glass, and for a moment his
face was visible. Kim stiffened and stifled a gasp; it was Jack Stower again.

           
Mairelon
put a warning hand on her shoulder. Angrily she shook it off. She wasn't such a
flat as to make a noise that might reveal their presence, no matter how
startled she was. Frowning, she watched Stower work his way slowly up the row
of display cases toward the one that held the Saltash Platter.

           
Without
warning, the library door swung wide. A pool of flickering amber light spilled
through it, and an irritated masculine voice said, "Stuggs? Is that you?
Confound it, where is the man?"

           
Jack
Stower whirled, clutching his lantern, just as Jasper Marston, wearing a black
and crimson brocade dressing gown and carrying a branch of candlesticks,
strolled through the door.
"Stuggs?"
Marston
said again, and then he saw Jack.

           
The two
men stood staring at each other for a long moment; then a slow, deep voice from
the hallway broke the stunned silence.
"Right 'ere,
gov'nor."
An enormous figure loomed into view behind Marston.
Stower cursed. He whirled and jerked the curtains from the nearest window
aside, then yanked at the latch. The window did not budge.

           
Marston,
shaking himself free of his paralysis at last, started forward (none too
rapidly, Kim noted with scorn), brandishing the candlesticks like a weapon.
"He's trying to steal the platter!" he cried. "Stop him,
Stuggs!"

           
The
figure in the hallway ran forward. He was unusually fast on his feet for a big
man, but he had too much distance to cover and there were too many obstacles in
the way. Stower, after one terrified look backward, hurled his dark-lantern
through the stubborn window, snatched up the fallen curtains to keep from being
slashed by the fragments of glass and broken window slats, and scrambled out,
tipping over the nearest display case in his hurry.

           
Stuggs
lunged after the fleeing Stower and grabbed his feet as the rest of him
disappeared out the window. Kim heard a muffled howl of rage and fear, and
Stower kicked backward. Stuggs lost his balance and crashed into another
display case, his fingers still locked around one of Jack's boots, while the
last of Jack Stower vanished.

           
Jasper
picked his way across the broken glass to the window and squinted out it. Kim
could hear distant noises; it sounded as if the commotion had roused the
household, and somewhere a dog had begun to bark. Jasper did not seem aware of
it. He turned and frowned at Stuggs. "He's gone! Why couldn't you hold
him?"

           
" 'Is
bootlace broke," Stuggs said mildly. "I
got to 'and it to you, gov'nor, you 'ad it right about that there bowl being
valuable. But you ought to 'ave told me there was other coves after it besides
us."

           
"This
is the platter, not the bowl, you idiot," Jasper Marston said. "But I
suppose I should thank you for reminding me what we came for." He left the
window and went straight to the display case containing the platter. He set the
candlesticks down on the nearest table and beckoned to Stuggs. "Come here
and open the lock, hurry, before someone else gets here."

           
As Kim
had done, Stuggs tested the lid and made the same discovery. "It ain't
locked."

           
"Not
locked? That fellow we chased off must have opened it! We arrived just in time.
Give it to me."

           
"No!"
a familiar voice said in dramatic tones from the smashed window. Kim's eyes
widened. What was the head of the druid group doing at
Bramingham
Place
?

           
"What--"
Marston turned his head and froze in mid-sentence.

           
Framed in
the shattered glass and dangling splinters of the window were a man's head and
shoulders. The man's eyes gleamed from the openings of a black mask, and a dark
high-crowned hat covered his hair. His form was hidden beneath a driving cloak
with several short capes, but the tone and timbre of his voice were
unmistakable. "You are too late to further defile the Sacred Dish! Bring
it to me, at once!"

           
Kim bit
her lip to keep from laughing aloud. She should have guessed that Jonathan
Aberford would be after the platter, the same as everyone else. This was
becoming altogether too much like a
Drury Lane
comedy. Mairelon seemed to think so, too; she could feel him shaking in silent
amusement. She hoped they would both be able to control themselves. It wouldn't
be funny at all if they were caught.