A Distant Magic

by Mary Jo Putney

  Nikolai found his enemy in dark night on an endless red plain. The air was full of groans and cries of agony, as if all the universe's tormented souls resided here. As soon as he halted, his naked body began to fracture into grains of dust. Gasping, he collected himself as tightly as possible, struggling to stay whole.

  He realized that Jean had accompanied him as a gossamer, unbreakable thread of light. Through her, he was able to gather the glittering shield net around himself. Its power held mind and body together.

  Prepared, he turned slowly, scanning until he saw a dark funnel in the middle distance. It was Kondo in the form of a tornado as he prepared to channel all the dark energies of slavery to that crowded chamber in Westminster.

  Nikolai wished himself closer, and in the blink of an eye he was beside Kondo. The African priest spun into his human form and glared at Nikolai with eyes that glowed red. "You should not have followed me, fool, for in this world you are vulnerable."

  "As are you." Nikolai envisioned a great silver sword. It formed itself from the diamond-bright shield and fitted itself perfectly to his hand. A river of light poured through him and into the blade.

  He slashed at the dark energy, aiming not at Kondo, but at the swirling mass of pain that the priest had collected. His blow divided the mass into two parts. There was a great shriek from Kondo and the howling multitudes, but an instant later the cries of pain diminished.

  He was on the right track—dividing the energy reduced its power. He managed one more blow before Kondo retaliated with a mass of black, flaming material like burning tar. The flames spread over Nikolai's body, scorching his skin and etching away at the shield net. He cried out. The pain was indescribable.

  Once more Jean poured power into him, a sweet silver stream that neutralized the fire. He felt her and the original wardens of the shield net, and they drew from a vast horde of people who believed that slavery was wrong. Not only English, but Europeans and Americans and others in lands for which he had no name. With amazement, he realized that she was drawing from people in the future, a miracle that must have been possible because he and Kondo were in a place without time.

  No longer devastated by pain, he attacked the Demon once more. He wasn't restricted to the surface of the plain—using pure thought, he was able to reach higher and higher into the dark energy. He was unable to eliminate it, but splintering the power reduced its effectiveness. Chunks of dark, pulsating evil collapsed across the plain.

  All the while, Kondo clawed and cursed and snarled at him, but the shield was too strong—the priest could do no damage. Though every one of the priest's blows yanked at Jean, straining her to near breaking point, she never faltered. She was channeling half the light of the world into Nikolai's hands and sword.

  After a timeless eternity, he neutralized the last molten hell of Demon energy. He turned to face Kondo, at the same time allowing himself to drift to the surface of the plain. The shrieks of agony had diminished to a bare murmur in the background.

  Kondo was barely recognizable as human. His form was almost demonic, yet there was something tragic and human about him. Remembering that Kondo had also been enslaved and that captivity had warped the priest's whole life, Nikolai said with compassion, "You have pledged yourself to evil, Kondo. Turn away from that and live your life as a free and honorable man."

  "I am free," Kondo hissed. "Trent gave me papers."

  Nikolai's mouth twisted. "Do you think they would have protected you against a gang that wanted to sell you back to the Indies as a slave? A free African cannot safely walk the streets without a dozen friends at his back. You are not truly free as long as the law says that men can be held as slaves. The papers Trent gave you are worth nothing."

  "You lie!" Kondo's fury increased. "I am free and as good a man as he!"

  "As good or as bad," Nikolai agreed. He lowered his sword, feeling pity. "But he could sell you back into slavery or beat you bloody and no one would try to stop him. Except perhaps Granville Sharp, who fought to save black men simply because it was right. Can Trent say the same? Your captain used you as a weapon against his own sailors. He had children murdered because their crying annoyed him. Would he have allowed you freedom if it wasn't to his advantage? You are still a slave despite your precious papers, for you serve your master's wickedness."

  "Captain Trent is my friend!" Kondo howled with anguish. But in his face was the stark knowledge that Nikolai spoke truth: Trent was evil, and he would have betrayed Kondo in an instant if there was benefit to him.

  "Evil is a poor friend." Weary beyond measure, Nikolai allowed the sword to vanish. Then he reached across time and space to touch Jean so he could follow her silver strength home.

  The last thing he saw was Kondo's despairing rage as he howled his fury into the black sky. May God have mercy on the man's wounded, twisted soul.

  Jean shadowed Nikolai, shielding him with one part of her power while searching for more support with the other. Bethany and Mary were solidly with her, as were the other experienced wardens.

  To her shock, she found that she was also able to reach beyond previous borders to people in times and places strange to her. Even Adia was there, contributing strength from fifty years in the past. The strain of channeling came near to ripping Jean's mind apart, but she was able to send Nikolai the support he needed as he shattered the power of the Slave Demon.

  She'd moved her chair next to Nikolai's, needing to hold his hand as he traveled to unimaginably far places. Beyond her own strain, she was dimly aware of the debate taking place below. The arguments were similar to what she'd heard before, but the balance had shifted. More and more people were coming over as the Demon faded.

  Mary snorted. "That hypocrite was pro-slavery for years! Now that he sees which way the tide is running, he is supporting abolition."

  "A hypocrite to be sure," Bethany said pragmatically, "but for now, he's our hypocrite, and that's what counts."

  A new speaker's voice filled the chamber, and this time it was familiar. Jean opened her eyes and looked down to see a raging, red-faced Captain Trent declaiming on how slavery was the foundation of Britain's wealth, and anyone who disagreed was a wicked traitor, by God! His voice was frenzied, as if by sheer fury he could swing votes to his side.

  Jean was turning her attention back to Nikolai when sudden shouts filled the chamber. Startled, she looked over the railing to see that Trent had collapsed. Fellow MPs clustered around him. One was Lord Buckland, who checked for a pulse in Trent's chest and throat. He shook his head and stood. In a compassionate voice that filled the chamber, he said, "The honorable member from Liverpool has passed on."

  Another clear voice—surely not Wilberforce?—said, "God has struck him dead for his wicked beliefs!"

  There was a shaken intake of breath from the chamber. "Oh, well done!" Bethany said softly.

  A gruff voice said, "Perhaps we should adjourn this session."

  "The time for delay is over," Buckland replied in a steely tone. "We have all spoken our beliefs. Perhaps if there had been fewer delays, the honorable member from Liverpool would yet draw breath. Put the bill to the vote now, I say!"

  A murmur of agreement followed. There was a brief pause while Trent's body was moved from the chamber.

  Jean's attention returned to Nikolai when his hand tightened on hers. She spun in her chair, shocked to see that his dark hair had grayed at the temples. "Nikolai?"

  He opened his eyes wearily. "I don't want to return to that world, ever."

  "No need. I think you have carried the day. The voting is about to begin." As they moved closer to the railing, she said, "Captain Trent died on the floor a few minutes ago in the middle of a pro-slavery speech."

  Nikolai was silent for a long moment. "At the end, I challenged Kondo about Trent, telling him that his former master would willingly sell him back into slavery if he had a good reason. I think I must have touched on a secret fear. Perhaps Kondo lashed out at Trent, and that caused the failure of the
man's heart. Certainly the energy he was building could have stopped abolitionist hearts if he had used it as he intended."

  Though John Donne had said that each life lost diminished everyone, Jean couldn't work up too much regret for Trent. "What happened to Kondo?"

  "I don't know. He was devastated by his defeat and my challenge to his fears. I don't know if he is alive or dead." Nikolai looked abstracted for a few moments. "I just don't know. But he is no longer a danger."

  A mighty roar rose in the chamber below. Bethany and Mary rose and hugged each other, weeping. "The bill has passed," Mary said brokenly.

  "And by a huge margin as men moved to the winning side," Bethany exclaimed. "The people of Britain spoke, and Parliament has listened!"

  Jean's gaze met Nikolai's. Their long journey had ended. He leaned across the space separating them and kissed her. "We did it, little witch," he whispered. "We, and countless others."

  She wrapped her arms around him, shaking with reaction. They had won.

  Now what?

  Chapter

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  For the next few weeks, Jean mentally held her breath. She was shocked when the rock-ribbed conservatives of the House of Lords passed the abolition bill. Conservative they still were, but the times and some minds had changed.

  Finally, amazingly, King George signed the bill into law. "It is done!" she said jubilantly when Lord Buckland's note reached them in the inn where they were staying. "I feared that the king would never sign. Not when his son Clarence has been one of slavery's most enthusiastic advocates."

  Nikolai grinned from his chair on the other side of the fire. He looked most distinguished with silvered temples. "I said we needn't worry. There are men who will go to their graves believing slavery is right and proper, and probably that includes the royal family, but the evil spirit created by their thinking has broken into splinters. No longer can a decent Englishman support slavery with a clear conscience. For all his weaknesses, your King George is a decent man who tries to do the right thing."

  "Now that the slave trade will end on the first of May, the next step is emancipation of those still held in bondage."

  Nikolai's expression sobered. "That will come. Not as soon as we might hope, but it will come. Like a genie that has been released from its bottle, freedom will not be crushed again. Not only will slaves become free, but poor men and women in this country will demand justice and better treatment for themselves and their children. The world as we know it has irrevocably changed, and for the better."

  She thought about his words. The society she had grown up in was far more rigid than this of year 1807. Not so much at her home in Scotland, where a crofter knew himself the equal of his laird, but certainly in England. The classes of society were locked in their places. Since she had occupied a position near the top and life had been comfortable, she hadn't really questioned her society, but that was no longer possible. "You like this brave new world, don't you?"

  "I do. Lady Bethany tells me that there is growing support for electoral reform so that more men will have the vote."

  Jean's eyes gleamed. "What about women getting the vote?"

  He laughed. "You are even more radical than I, my little witch. I think that will also come in time."

  "Do you want to stay here?"

  He hesitated. "Though I like this year, our original plan was to complete our mission if possible, then return home."

  "I don't know if we can," she said bleakly. "I asked Mary Owens if any London elders can do time magic. She said that only one man had the special talent, and he died not long after the bespelled bracelets were made." Jean fingered the small, remaining beads of the bracelet. "No one else in London's African community has the ability, and it doesn't seem to be a talent possessed by Guardians."

  Nikolai became very still. "No one?"

  "So Mary says." Jean sighed. "This is indeed an interesting time, full of new ideas. But my family and friends are over fifty years in the past. I feel I must at least try to return to them. I will understand if you don't wish to make the attempt."

  He leaned forward and clasped her hands. "I wondered if the end of our mission would be the end of our closeness, yet we are now closer than ever. You are my family, Jean, and where you go, I will go."

  She caught her breath. "You will?" She had hardly allowed herself to hope he would want to return. "If we try and fail and stay here, I promise that I won't complain. But I must try."

  "I've been thinking." She pulled the bracelet from her wrist. "Though all the large beads have been consumed, the small beads absorbed some of the same energy. If we do the ritual and think very hard about where we want to go, perhaps we will return to Santola. But it could be dangerous to try."

  He took the bracelet and studied it, frowning. "The time magic is weak, but it might work if I can open a portal to another world where the magic is stronger. As you say, it would be dangerous, but there is some chance of success."

  "Then you'll come with me?" she asked, still not quite believing.

  "On one condition."

  She watched him a little warily. "And that is...?"

  He lifted her left hand and kissed the gold band on her third finger. "We make this wedding ring real. We are already so closely bound that it almost seems unnecessary. Almost, but not quite." He smiled at her. "Marry me, Jean Macrae, and I will have my revenge on your father, who surely would have wished you to wed a good Guardian."

  Laughing, she went into his arms. "I always knew I wouldn't marry a Guardian, but I lacked the imagination to guess that I would marry a pirate."

  They married quietly in the ballroom of Falconer House in front of an audience of British Guardians, African priests, and those who were both. Petite and serene, Meg was Jean's matron of honor, and Buckland stood up with Nikolai.

  Over the wedding breakfast, Jean said to Simon, "You're going to live forever, aren't you?"

  He laughed. "No, but the unicorn magic I acquired all those years ago has kept Meg and me healthy for more years than most people have." His gaze went unerringly to his wife. "When we leave, it will be together, and not so very long in the future. But first we will help you on your way home."

  Jean and Nikolai both drank lightly—one didn't walk between worlds with wits scrambled. After a long round of hugs and good-byes, it was time for the ritual.

  She slung the travel bag she'd carried for half a century over her left shoulder and clasped her new husband's hands. The mass of small remaining beads were trapped between their palms. "We'll have to have another ceremony in the past, since the date 1807 on our wedding lines will look rather odd."

  He laughed, his dark eyes warm. "I'll marry you in any year, Jean Macrae. Now let us venture into the abyss once more."

  Everyone present joined the circle. Jean centered herself and closed her eyes, feeling the energies swirling around them. Surely the wardens of the shield net would lend them enough power to send them home. The wardens, and the ancestors.

  The ritual began, and the world dissolved around her. The feeling was both like and unlike other time passages. No longer able to see Nikolai, she clung to his hands as the only anchor in a world of mists. The small beads burned away, scorching her palm.

  "Steady," he said hoarsely, his hands gripping with numbing force. "I see a path that may take us home."

  On other trips through time, she had not really been aware of anything but the tumult of the vortex. Now she recognized that they were traveling through a world she didn't know. The journey went on and on, carrying them through strange and painful places. Nikolai's clasp never faltered. After an endless time, light became visible through the mists. Her pulse—did she have a pulse here?—began to quicken. "Is that Santola?"

  "I hope so," he said grimly. "This is the only gateway that I've seen, so I think we must take it."

  With a last devastating wrench, they were swept through the portal and onto a carpeted floor. The world spun dizzily and Jean almost fell. Somethin
g huge and dark like a bat swooped down at her, and she gave a suffocated cry as she ducked away.

  But Nikolai was laughing. "Isabelle!" The great blue macaw settled on his shoulder and crowed ecstatically as she rubbed her fierce beak on Nikolai's face.

  Jean shook her head to clear it. Isabelle? And this looked like the office in Nikolai's villa. Merciful heaven, they had done it!

  "Welcome home, travelers," a woman's rich voice said.

  Jean spun around and saw Adia watching them. "Adia!" She threw herself into the other woman's arms, laughing and crying. "Our mission was successful! The slave trade was abolished in 1807, and full emancipation will soon follow."

  "What wonderful news!" Radiant with happiness, Adia settled down in her chair. "Tell me everything."

  They did, interrupting each other as they talked about the different eras they had seen and how the abolition movement had grown from a wild idea to an irresistible force.

  Adia listened intently, one hand stroking the great orange cat that sprawled on her lap. Jean ended by saying, "And a book that you wrote about your life became a bestseller. But it won't be published for another thirty-five years." She grinned. "I didn't realize that you were an African princess."

  "I'm not, but Louise said that it would sell better." Adia looked down at the cat. Voice taut, she asked, "Are there any time magic beads left?"

  Jean's excitement stilled as she realized what that meant for Adia. Softly she said, "No. I'm sorry. All the large beads had been used on our mission, and we needed all of the small ones to make our way back here."

  After a long silence, Adia said, "Santola is a good place. I have made friends here." She looked up, her face a mask of control. "I shall make myself useful."

  Her courage was heartbreaking. Nikolai said, "Perhaps we can find an African priest who works time magic in this era."

  "I will have died of old age by then," Adia said drily. "The talent is very rare."