A Distant Magic

by Mary Jo Putney

  She stopped speaking. People glanced at one another, but no one moved. Feeling encouraged, Jean said, "Now it is time to build the shield." She had already designed her binding spell, and it could be invoked with a few words when they were ready. "We need to do this in a circle, holding hands."

  She came around the desk and extended her hand to Kofi. He stared at her hand as if it was a snake before warily taking it. "Alternate black and white," she added. "Our powers are a little different, so we need to weave them together."

  "What about those of us who are both?" Mary Andrews asked ironically.

  "Use your intuition about whose hands to take," Jean said promptly. "The goal is to balance the energies."

  Rather awkwardly, they joined hands, the long room making the shape more oval than circular. No matter. "First I will seal the circle." Jean closed her eyes and spoke the words that joined them.

  "That's it?" one of the priestesses said incredulously. "No herbs, no ritual?"

  Jean laughed. "Guardian magic is mostly very simple. Now each person should send a pulse of energy into the circle so it will flow around and back to you."

  Immediately she began to feel individual notes, from Kofi's deep, earthy gong to the light, fluting ring of the youngest Guardian girl. Together, they made a matchless chorus. When all the notes were in harmony, she said, "Now we collect and focus the positive abolition energies. Nikolai will guide this."

  "It's rather like picking berries," he said conversationally. "Berries of light. Close your eyes, and we shall harvest them."

  Jean knew that he had developed this ability as a result of his initiation. When she closed her eyes, she felt him swoop the spirits of her and the others up onto a magical flying carpet that soared above nighttime London. Here and there lights flickered, some sharp and star bright, others like faint embers. As Nikolai touched each bright spark, it was incorporated into a larger fabric, a glittering net of light.

  Within the net, Jean could feel individual minds. Some were workingmen, staunch Britons who cherished their own liberty and felt everyone deserved the same. Some were deeply religious people who believed it was a sin to own another human who was made in God's image. And there were the Africans, many of them former slaves, who had struggled to regain their liberty and would fight to retain it.

  The newly created net was a gossamer but resilient web that floated both through and above the fabric of the city. When the last spark had been incorporated, Nikolai said, "As others come to believe in abolition, their energies will automatically be incorporated into this shield. Now that it has been constructed, little energy will be required for maintainence unless it is challenged by the Demon. When that happens, those of us who are wardens of the shield will be tapped for more energy."

  "What if more power is demanded than we can spare?" someone asked.

  "You can control the amount you give, or cut yourself off from the net entirely. But if too many people cut the connection when the net is being challenged, the net will fail, so leaving should not be done lightly."

  "How does this shield control the Demon spirit?" a man asked.

  "This is the hard part," Nikolai said. "Jean?"

  "Earlier I created a spell that will bind our net to the pro-slavery spirit. You will probably feel a jolt when that happens." She hesitated. "I've never done anything quite like this before. Please...be prepared."

  She waited until she felt assent, then invoked her spell. As she saturated the net with binding energy, Nikolai brought the Demon into focus. The entity was smaller than their net, and much more dense. Within it, Jean sensed flashes of greed, anger, cruelty, and lust for power, all of them darting about like minnows in a murky sea. These were the primal components of slave owning—a nasty brew that made her want to bathe in scalding water.

  She moved her charged net so that it lay parallel to the dark cloud, then supplied the last words that completed the binding spell. Instantly the two energy beings fused together, the net like a pale spiderweb that covered the surface of the dark cloud.

  After an instant that resonated with shock, the Demon bucked like a spooked horse trying frantically to rid itself of its rider. Its shock blasted through the circle and she heard a man cry out. "Hold tight!" Jean snapped, terrified that someone would break the circle and they would all be subjected to blasts of wild, destructive energy.

  "Hold, hold, hold…" Falconer repeated the words calmly. She felt the deep strength of his power, joined a moment later by Kofi and Meg and other senior priests. Gradually the shock faded. The Demon settled down as a horse becomes accustomed to its saddle. It hadn't the awareness to realize that it had been bridled as well.

  Jean exhaled with relief. "We have succeeded. The Demon represents the opinions of many powerful men, but I think we have countered its ability to damage the abolition movement and its leaders. Does everyone feel their connection to our shield net?"

  After murmurs of assent, Jean closed the circle, then stretched her tight muscles. Lord, it was good to be able to call her magic easily in circumstances that weren't desperate! The sky outside was darkening. They had been working here for hours. But they had succeeded. Now she was anxious to return to their inn so she and Nikolai could replenish their strength with passion.

  They had finished their work here. Where would the time spell take them next?

  Adia woke with her head buzzing. The feeling was strange, as if she was in the middle of a dozen conversations but couldn't make out any of the words. She would have laid in bed longer, but Bruiser yawned and came to stand on her chest.

  "Mrrwop?" he inquired.

  It wasn't hard to decipher the question. "Yes, it's time for breakfast."

  Adia got up from her bed, washed, dressed, and descended to the kitchen. The cat was fed first, always, since Bruiser was not known for his patience.

  It had taken Adia time to adjust to the quiet of the captain's villa after the busyness of her London home. Now she enjoyed being able to have a peaceful breakfast of tea and bread and honey. She took her tray up to the terrace so she could watch the caldera as she ate. The morning was a little overcast, but she thought it would clear later.

  The buzzing in her head had faded into the background as she had cleaned up and prepared breakfast, but now that her mind was at rest, the buzzing became more obvious. Wondering what was going on, she closed her eyes and meditated on the buzzing. Which wasn't really a sound, more a low level of activity that was—magical?

  She mentally captured a chunk of the buzzing to study more closely. To her surprise, the energy that composed it was familiar. It felt like…people she knew, startling as the thought was. She concentrated and picked up traces of the priest Kofi, then several of the other London elders. But they were all more than thirty years in the future, not in her time.

  She investigated more, and was shocked to identify the signature energies of the captain and Jean Macrae. Were they connecting the time she was in now and the time she had left? They must be. She dived into the buzzing and realized that it was a mass of conflicting energy, part of it pro-slavery, part of it abolition. The pro-slavery part was like a bottomless pit, while the abolition energy was a lifeline in the darkness. The two energies seemed bound together.

  The buzzing she felt was a binding constructed by her friends and other abolitionists with power, she realized. Was it some kind of spying device so they could learn the plans of the pro-slavery forces? But that seemed unnecessary—the West Indian lobby had plenty of money and even more boldness. There was no need for them to keep secrets, nor for the abolitionists to spy.

  Perhaps the abolitionist energy was designed to counterbalance the pro-slavery forces? Jean and the captain must have joined with the council of elders to create a protective spirit. If she was right, they had successfully traveled into the future and were doing the job they intended. But why was she feeling this buzzing in 1753?

  She frowned. No one really knew how time magic worked, but there was a theory that one
of the other worlds that lay alongside of this one was a place with no time. To move from one time in her world to another time, one moved through the other world. Since there was no time there, one could enter and exit at any point. The bespelled beads were the gates to the other world.

  If so, perhaps the energy buzzing in her head also went through the other world. Because she was connected to Jean and Kofi and the captain, she was also connected to the protective spirit they had created. Perhaps. It was as good a theory as any.

  Firmly she told the buzzing to be quiet. It subsided into the depths of her mind, no longer distracting but still there. Perhaps someday she could find a way to use it.

  Chapter

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Nikolai and Jean spent another fortnight in London after forming the shield, but no other tasks seemed necessary, so they enjoyed life. They saw the lions in the Tower of London and visited the Ranelagh pleasure gardens and attended plays and exhibitions. Since their money was running low, they had to request funds from Falconer. Though accepting aid made Nikolai a little uncomfortable, he had to admit that Jean's Guardian connections were invaluable.

  And they made love. Now that they had come together, it was hard to remember why it had been necessary to stay apart for so long. But the ancestors had known what they were doing. In the course of their travel, Nikolai and Jean had changed on deep levels, and now they were bonded as tightly as the Demon and the shield net.

  The bond was not romantic love, or at least, not only that, even though Jean entranced him. More profoundly, this was the mating that the ancestors had wanted. Their complementary magical abilities had transformed them into a tool against slavery that had more power than either of them could muster alone.

  Would the bond dissolve once their task was accomplished? Or would they not survive long enough to find out? He had a suspicion that the bond was so strong that if one of them died, the other would be unable to survive. It was not a thought he wanted to dwell on. Whatever the future held, Jean was the best companion he'd ever had, and the best mistress.

  After their fortnight of relaxing, they packed their belongings and returned to the quiet churchyard where they had arrived in 1788. "I liked 1788," Jean said with a wicked glance. "We learned so much. I wonder where we'll go next."

  "It's up to the ancestors. Now that we are beyond Adia's time, we're flying blind. Or rather, even more blind than before." He kissed the end of her elegant little nose, then clasped her hands with the next spell bead between their palms. "I hope we can use the spell without extra help again."

  "If not, at least help is near," Jean said pragmatically. Together, they invoked the familiar spell, ending it with a kiss.

  He braced himself for the trip through time as they summoned the magic. He felt an odd, rolling sensation rather like a ship wallowing in the trough of a wave. The bead held between their palms dissolved in a flash of heat. It was the first time he'd felt that—always before, the disappearance was overwhelmed by far greater sensations as they were chopped and churned and dragged through time.

  Wondering if the magic had failed, he opened his eyes and looked around. An alley again—the ancestors were very fond of them. Jean released his hands. "We appear to have gone somewhere, but the passage was much too easy. I wonder if we didn't move through time at all." She glanced up. "We must have moved somewhat—it's early afternoon now."

  "We're still in London, though in a different place." He studied the walls and the ground. "This appears to be a higher class of alley than we're used to. Maybe we just moved across the city?"

  Jean walked to the end of the alley and looked out. "The clothing doesn't seem very different except in some details. It looks as if we're in a fashionable neighborhood. Perhaps Mayfair—this street looks vaguely familiar."

  "Shall we go exploring?"

  "First I want to check the shield net." Jean's eyes drifted out of focus. "It's alive and well. I recognize the energy of some of the people who were there when we created it, so I don't think we've gone far."

  Knowing he should have thought to do that himself, he turned his attention to the protective net, looking at the energy rather than individuals. "The Demon is much stronger than before, but the shield net has the strength to balance."

  "Perhaps the public in general is more concerned with slavery, so that would feed both spirits," Jean suggested.

  "You're probably right. There is a vast amount of energy involved here. There are also other group energies that are large and strong in the background. I don't recognize them." He studied the bound pro-and antislavery energies more deeply. "Our shield energy has actually become relatively stronger, but the pro-slavery energy is still denser and more focused."

  "I wonder why we're here," Jean mused.

  "Given the efficiency of the ancestors, we'll find out soon enough." He offered Jean his arm. "Time to be off?"

  She took his arm and they moved into the street. Two blocks walking and Jean said, "Definitely Mayfair. The streets now have nameplates on the corner buildings."

  "A nice improvement." Nikolai was about to say more when a carriage pulled to a halt beside them.

  The door opened and an elegantly dressed man stepped out. It was Lord Buckland, Falconer's son, looking not much older than when they'd met him in 1788. "Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Gregory," he said casually. "Will you allow me to offer you a ride?"

  "It would be our pleasure," Jean said as Nikolai handed her into the carriage and they took the rear-facing seat.

  Once they were all inside and the vehicle was moving again, Buckland's casual expression was replaced by enthusiastic welcome. "It's good to see you again! I had a vague feeling that I should tell the coachman to take this route, but I didn't know why. Apparently it was to find you."

  "Are you a seer, Lord Buckland?" Jean asked.

  He shook his head. "I have the family abilities, but that doesn't include seeing the future. I think I must have sensed that you were coming because of our connection through the shield net. Though I wasn't consciously aware, it seems to have been enough to influence my choice of route."

  "Speaking of which," Nikolai said, thinking that if he was going to stay in this time, he'd like to know the name of Buckland's tailor, "when are we? And do you know why we've been brought here?"

  "1791," Buckland said promptly. "As to why—today the House of Commons will probably vote on Wilberforce's bill to end the slave trade."

  "Really?" Excitement blazed through Nikolai. "Is it likely to pass?"

  "I'm not sure," Buckland replied slowly. "Much has changed in the last three years. Antislavery sentiment has become a fever among the general public."

  "Good!" Jean exclaimed. "If Parliament won't agree, it's time for new MPs."

  "MPs can be changed, but not the House of Lords." The other man frowned. "Today's outcome is very uncertain, and the political winds are shifting. If the bill doesn't pass today, it may not have another chance for a very long time."

  "Why not?" Nikolai asked, feeling uneasy.

  Buckland restlessly fingered the leather portfolio beside him. "There is revolution in France, a popular uprising for freedom similar to the American Revolution. At first progressive Britons were optimistic that the nation would become more fair and democratic, but the French Revolution is turning sour. The best Guardian seers believe that the country will fall into civil war. With France chaotic, the forces of conservatism are on the upswing in Britain. No one wants to see civil society break down here."

  "Understandable," Jean agreed. "Chaos benefits only the violent. But such fears can't be good for abolition."

  Buckland nodded. "To make matters worse, the slaves have revolted in the West Indian island of Dominica. Pro-slavery forces in Britain are arguing that ending the trade would be disastrous and create still more turbulence that would endanger every European in the Indies."

  Nikolai's brows arched. "Surely that's unnecessarily alarmist."

  Buckland's mouth twisted. "When people are
afraid, reason doesn't stand a chance. It's remarkable how many people have come to support abolition even though they have no direct experience with slavery. But revolution in France and the fear of it in Britain are very close and alarming. Avoiding major changes begins looking like the safest thing to do."

  "Which is why if the abolition vote fails today, it may be years before it is seriously considered again," Jean said flatly.

  "Exactly. Even if the bill does pass, it would also have to be approved by the House of Lords and the king, and they may well refuse. But success today in the House of Commons would be a powerful step in the right direction."

  Nikolai closed his eyes and spread his attention through the energies generated by the teeming population of London. "I feel the fear and the conservatism you described, and already they are influencing how people look at slavery. But there is a chance of success today, I think, if our shield net can hold the Demon at bay."

  Buckland's expression turned thoughtful. "That might explain why you've been brought here. We've maintained the shield net without a problem, and no prominent abolitionists have died. But none of us works with the shield as well as you two, perhaps because you created it. The pro-slavery forces have been adept at delays, continually demanding more evidence, more hearings, saying there wasn't enough information. It's taken three years to finally get to the point of a vote. Maybe you've arrived to tip the balance in our favor by your power over the shield net."

  Nikolai exchanged a glance with Jean, and saw that she was as uncertain as he. "We can try, of course. By the way, where are we going?"

  "Parliament. I know of a nice, private balcony where you can watch the proceedings without danger of being seen." Buckland sighed. "The odds are not good, but the fact that you are here gives me a little hope."

  The carriage rumbled to a halt outside the Palace of Westminster, home of Parliament. Jean pulled the veil of her bonnet over her face. "Lead on, my lord."