A Distant Magic

by Mary Jo Putney

  He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Do you know where we are?"

  "It could be London," she said uncertainly. "But I haven't been in enough great cities to tell one from another."

  "If this is London, it's certainly dark."

  "I've heard that London is the most ill-lit city in Europe. The law says there should be lamps on main streets, but this feels like an alley." Her eyes were adjusting to the dark. "It looks lighter down there, so perhaps there is a larger street."

  They started walking in that direction. She asked, "Was your journey here like what you experienced during your initiation?"

  "Somewhat similar, though this was worse." He paused thoughtfully. "I wonder if traveling through time is a matter of being drawn into one of Adia's other worlds and reemerging here at the correct time?"

  Jean considered. "It's a good theory. I like having a way of imagining what we're doing. Step into a world that lies alongside the one we know, move to a different place, then step out in our world in a new time."

  "Let's hope that the travel becomes easier with practice, and that we have enough power to make the next trips on our own," he said pragmatically.

  "If not, Adia told me about the African community in the East End. In particular there is a priest, very old in her time, but he had lived in London for many years. She said we could go to him for help. He was a member of the circle that sent her to us."

  "It's good to know there is help nearby, but I hope we don't need it." His brow furrowed as they reached the end of the street. "The map in my head says we are where London should be. The bigger question is when are we?"

  Jean nodded wordlessly. This larger street had lanterns hanging outside a few of the houses, which helped a little. It didn't look any different from the London she knew. She frowned at the corners of the buildings that framed the alley. "There's always talk of requiring street name tablets on corners, but it doesn't seem to have happened yet."

  She drew closer to Nikolai. She hadn't realized how disorienting it would be not to know her location or even the date. Thank heaven there were two of them.

  Glancing to her left, she saw a ragged man staggering toward them. "Help me," he gasped before he collapsed on the filthy ground.

  Groaning, he tried to struggle to his feet, but collapsed again. Nikolai raced to the man's side, Jean a step behind. While Nikolai knelt next to the man, Jean created a small mage light on her palm, directing it downward to illuminate the dark-skinned face. "He's just a lad!" she exclaimed, thinking he couldn't be older than sixteen or seventeen.

  "An African boy, and he's been badly beaten," Nikolai said grimly. He pulled out a handkerchief and began to blot blood from the young man's eyes. When he was done, the boy's lids opened and he looked up with a dazed expression.

  "We'll help you," she said, sending warmth and reassurance. "Were you attacked by footpads?"

  The boy blinked blearily at her. "Master Lisle did this," he said through swollen lips. "Master beat Jonathan with pistol till barrel and stock broke."

  "Why?" she asked, horrified.

  "He be drunk," the boy mumbled. "Always hits me when he drunk. Said I was worthless and he shouldn't have spent the money to bring me here from Barbados. Not worth feeding me, he said. Kicked me and said I should go away. S-so I did."

  Nikolai swore. "Then you're not a runaway," he said, his voice more controlled than his expression. "Your name is Jonathan, you say?"

  "Jonathan Strong," the boy said, his voice despairing. "But Master kill me, sir. I be dead soon."

  "You will not!" Jean said, her mouth tight. She held his head between her hands and sent healing energy into him. Even more vital, she sent hope and a desire to live. As always, her magic was strongest when the need was greatest. She combined her desire to help with her practice at channeling power, and felt that her healing was improved. Pray God her ability was strong enough to help this poor lad.

  With a sigh, he closed his eyes and went limp in Nikolai's grasp. "I'm not a powerful healer like my mother, but I think I've stopped the worst of the bleeding." She sat back on her heels. "Adia told me about this young man. After his master, a lawyer named David Lisle, half killed him, Jonathan Strong managed to reach the clinic of a surgeon named William Sharp. Sharp is surgeon to the king, and he and his family are all musicians who travel around the country on a barge making music."

  Nikolai stared at her. "You are making this up."

  "No, really," Jean said. "As he waited by the clinic, he was noticed by the surgeon's brother, Granville Sharp. The brothers took him to St. Bart's hospital to heal."

  "Our job is to find this man Lisle and kill him?" Nikolai asked with a dangerous flash of teeth. "I would enjoy that."

  She shook her head. "I think our task is to deliver him to the Sharp brothers because later that will lead to important legal progress. I'll explain more later, but now we need to get Mr. Strong to shelter before this cold damp gives him a lung fever on top of his other injuries."

  "Maybe I can kill Lisle later." Nikolai carefully lifted the young man's limp body. "Where do we find William Sharp's free surgery?"

  "I'm not sure—it's somewhere in the East End, I think."

  "Where are we?"

  "I'll see if I can recognize any landmarks." She moved into the intersection and scanned the skyline. "I think we're close to the Tower of London, which means we're also close to the river."

  She tried to remember what Adia's document had said about this incident, then gave up and pulled out her copy of the papers. Using just enough mage light to read, she said, "William Sharp's clinic is near here, on Mincing Lane. We need to make sure Jonathan survives the night, then help him to the clinic in the morning. According to this, the assault happened in 1765."

  "Only a dozen years in the future. I find that oddly comforting." Several church tower clocks began chiming in ragged disharmony. "Two o'clock. Might there be a coaching inn nearby that would stay open all night?"

  "There are several major roads near, so we should be able to find an inn or perhaps a livery stable." Jean rose and brushed off her skirt. After tucking her documents back in her bag, she slung it over her shoulder. "Which way, Captain?"

  He thought a moment. "To the right." They set out down the street. Jonathan Strong was so thin that his weight didn't seem to slow Nikolai down at all.

  Two blocks west, they found a small coaching inn. They walked under the arch into the courtyard. The stables were to the left, with a bored man half asleep in front, keeping watch over the courtyard and inn from a wooden armchair. A lantern hanging above the stable door revealed that he had a tall flagon in one hand and a clay pipe in the other. "Here, I think," Jean said softly. "I'll do the talking."

  She approached the watchman, who immediately set down his flagon and rose to his feet, expression equal parts wary and curious. Jean looked up at him earnestly. "Sir, would there be a room we can hire for the rest of the night? My husband and I were looking for lodging when we found this poor boy beaten in the street. We couldn't just leave him, so I thought I could bind his wounds and in the morning we'll take him to a hospital." She let a coin show in her hand. "Unless you know a physician nearby who might see him tonight?"

  The watchman glanced at Jonathan Strong. "Poor sod looks half dead. An escaped slave, maybe. Don't know any surgeons round 'ere who'd be willing to look at him at this hour. The inn is full up, too." He took the shilling piece Jean offered. "The streets aren't safe at this hour. You can spend the rest of the night back in the hay room. It's warm and dry."

  "Thank you." She gave him a shining smile. The watchman blinked, then lit a second lantern and led the way into the stables between a double row of dozing horses. The hay room was at the back. There were deep piles of hay, plus a stack of roughly woven horse blankets. "If you don't get blood on 'em, you can use some of the horse blankets to make up beds in the hay."

  "Would it be possible for you to leave the lantern?" Jean gave him another shilling, then spread
a blanket on the hay.

  He took the money and hung the lantern on a wall hook. "Sleep well, mistress." Then he hesitated, studying Jonathan's battered body as Nikolai laid him on the improvised bed. "Want me to bring a bucket of water to clean the lad up?"

  "I'd be very grateful," Jean replied.

  The watchman headed off for the water. Nikolai said, "What kind of magic did you use to make the fellow so cooperative?"

  "A very old kind of magic." She grinned. "The kind Eve was blamed for in Eden."

  He smiled a little. "Is there anything I can do?"

  "Try to send Jonathan emotional warmth—the feeling that he is cared for."

  Silently Nikolai took one of the boy's hands while Jean examined his injuries more carefully. Even using her new magical techniques, she couldn't fix Jonathan's broken bones, nor the terrible damage to his eyes. He would be fortunate if he didn't lose his sight. But she was able to stabilize his flickering life. When the watchman brought a bucket of water and clean rags, she washed blood and dirt from his worst wounds and applied some crude bandages.

  She finished by enveloping Jonathan in a cocoon of physical warmth to protect him from the chill of shock. The boy had come perilously close to dying of his misery. What kind of life had he had, being beaten regularly by a drunken brute? But there was hope for him. She sensed that if he survived this crisis, a happier, freer life lay ahead.

  When she'd done all she could, she covered him with another blanket and settled back in the straw. "He'll survive, I think, though his recovery will be long." She dragged her wrist over her tired eyes. "How can one person be so cruel to another?"

  "Men are not so very far removed from the beasts." Nikolai shifted so that he was lying next to her in the straw. After pulling a blanket over them, he tucked her against his side. "Can you tell me more about our mission?"

  "Better not to speak in front of Jonathan Strong. My mother said that people who seem unconscious can be affected by what is said in their presence," she said drowsily.

  "So I must wait. No doubt the discipline of that will be good for me." Nikolai's arm tightened around her. "Rest now, Jean. You've had a demanding day."

  She relaxed against him, burying her face against his shoulder. He exhaled softly against her temple as he also relaxed into the embrace. She loved his scent, which made her think of desert winds and sunshine.

  His warmth and strength brought her perilously close to weeping with gratitude. She and Nikolai had shared passion and conflict, but this was the first time she'd felt such kindness and simple caring. It was as if they had moved beyond lust to the trust and affection of a long-wed couple.

  Not that passion was gone—she felt it simmering deep inside him, and she was alarmingly aware of how easily her own desire could be unleashed. All she need do was raise her face and kiss him, and their carefully constructed barriers would shatter.

  But mages became very skilled at controlling their personal energy, and that included passion. With desire firmly locked away, she and Nikolai were free to comfort each other in an uncomplicated way.

  The scent of hay reminded her of the barns of Dunrath. There had been nights when she and Robbie had rested in similar barns while following the damnable Stuart prince to war. It was hard to imagine two men more different than Robbie and Nikolai. Yet both fought for freedom.

  And both made her feel safe.

  Chapter

  TWENTY-SIX

  Nikolai had learned to take catnaps during his years at sea, so he dozed through the rest of the night. His well-honed reflexes brought him awake whenever there was an unusual sound. He gave up sleeping when the livery stable began stirring with early-morning business. He was glad to see that Jonathan Strong was still breathing steadily. When they'd first found the lad, Nikolai had feared he wouldn't make it through the night. He wouldn't have survived if Jean didn't have some healing ability.

  He glanced down at her as she slumbered against him. Tendrils of red hair had escaped their bindings and lay against her smooth, pale skin. She looked lovely and a little fragile. She must have used a great deal of power in her efforts to save Jonathan. As her father had said long ago, magic always had a price. At the least, fatigue.

  He leaned forward to give her a butterfly kiss, too light to disturb the delicate balance of passion between them. Then he stood and brushed stalks of hay from his garments, thinking how satisfying it would be to find David Lisle, late of Barbados. He would dearly love to inflict on the lawyer the same kind of brutality that the man had visited on a youth who couldn't fight back.

  But such vengeance would do nothing to fight the larger cause of slavery. Changing opinions and laws were required if there was to be real change. For now, he would go exploring and see if he could find Mincing Lane.

  The streets that had been so empty now bustled with people heading to their work. Nikolai's unremarkable appearance did its job—no one looked twice at him. Well, a few women did, but they weren't criticizing his clothing. Even his dark coloring didn't attract attention—this part of the city seemed to be home to a diverse population.

  Now to find the good surgeon Sharp.

  Jean woke when Nikolai entered the hay room. "I've found Mincing Lane and Sharp's surgery," he announced. "They're quite close. Everyone knows Sharp because of his free clinic. How is Jonathan Strong doing?"

  Suppressing a yawn, she leaned forward and checked the young man's pulse and breathing. "He's a little stronger this morning, though his injuries are still grave. He should be well enough to survive the trip to the surgeon's office."

  As she rose and stretched, the night watchman entered the hay room with a tray. "I thought the lad might need something soft to eat, if 'e's still alive," he said gruffly.

  "He lives. You're very kind." Jean took the tray, which held a bowl of porridge as well as bread, a pot of tea, and a chunk of bread. "Nikolai, do you have a coin?"

  Nikolai was reaching for his purse when the watchman made a dismissive gesture. "No need. The poor young devil needs a little kindness. 'Twas good of you to help him." Embarrassed at revealing softness, he pivoted and left.

  "He's seeing Jonathan as a real person, not an object," Jean said softly. "Minds are changed one at time."

  Jonathan groaned and opened his eyes. Jean knelt beside him. "Mr. Strong, we'll take you to a surgery soon, but first, here's something to eat."

  The boy's bloodied gaze moved hopefully toward the bowl she held. After Nikolai helped him sit up, she patiently fed small spoonfuls of the porridge into the boy's bruised mouth. He ate like a man who hadn't had a good meal in far too long. Halfway through the bowl, he said, "I can manage now, ma'am."

  Jean gave him the bowl, then poured tea for the three of them. It was a mint mixture, pleasant and refreshing. She also divided the bread into three and they all ate. Jonathan was well enough to eat his share of the bread, though he winced when he bit into it. When they were all finished, Nikolai returned the tray, cups, and spoon to the kitchen of the inn.

  He returned to the hay room and helped Jonathan stand. The boy cried out with agony even though Nikolai supported most of his weight. "I'm sorry, Mr. Strong," he said. "The surgery is a bit of a walk. Would you rather I carried you?"

  "No," Jonathan panted, biting back his pain. "I walk on me own feet."

  And so he did, though with considerable help. Nikolai supported the youth with an arm around the waist while Jean walked on his other side, in case extra help was needed. The walk that had taken five minutes the night before now took closer to half an hour, but Jonathan staggered along with a determination that boded well for his survival.

  When they reached Mincing Lane, they saw a short line of shabby people standing beside William Sharp's surgery. Nikolai halted. "There is the surgery, Mr. Strong," he said. "Join the people waiting there and you will be helped."

  The youth blinked to clear his vision. "No one never called me Mr. Strong before."

  "They will now," Jean said fiercely. She took his
bruised hand between hers and caught his gaze. "You will heal, Mr. Strong, and find work here in London as a free man. But remember the two Mr. Sharps. If ever you are in trouble in the future, let them know. They will help you."

  "I'll remember, ma'am." He straightened, moving away from Nikolai's supporting arm. "Thank you for helping a black boy, sir, ma'am. Never would have thought it might happen."

  "You deserve the aid and respect we all owe each other." Jean said softly. "Go with God, Mr. Strong."

  He bobbed his head at the two of them, then turned and made his uncertain way down the street to join the line of people waiting at the surgery. Though everyone in the group must have been ill, none had been brutalized like Jonathan. Jean bit her lip as she watched his painful movements. "Let's find a quiet place where we can watch. I know what Adia said, but I want to see for myself that he's taken care of."

  "So do I. Let's buy some muffins from that peddler." The morning bread hadn't been much to start the day, so this would serve two purposes. Nikolai guided Jean to the peddler and bought them warm muffins scented with cinnamon. They lingered as they ate, concealed by the muffin man's stream of customers.

  Nikolai was swallowing the last bite of his muffin when two gentlemen emerged from the surgery. There was a clear resemblance between them, though the younger man had fiercer, sharper features. They were talking casually, but they stiffened when they saw Jonathan Strong, clearly shocked by his condition.

  They asked the youth questions. Though Nikolai and Jean were too far away to hear what was said, the two gentlemen seemed even more shocked by Jonathan's answers. The hawk-faced man took Strong's arm and helped him into the house while the other made an explanation to the other patients about needing to take care of this emergency first. No one who had seen Jonathan's condition argued the point.

  Jean gave a sigh of relief. "So far, it's exactly as Adia said, which gives me faith that other events will unfold as she said. The Sharps will bandage Jonathan up, then take him to Bart's hospital. He'll be there for months, but when he recovers, the Sharps will find him a job as a servant and he'll work there as a free man."