Kim nodded wearily. “You ain’t never seen the stews in St. Giles, or you wouldn’t need to ask. Mother Tibb kept me on a good three years longer than most, because I had a knack for locks, but that wouldn’t of lasted much longer. Anybody else would of packed me off as soon as they found out I wasn’t a boy.”
Mairelon went still. “Drink your brandy,” he said, and his voice was harsh.
The brandy wasn’t so bad, now that Kim knew what to expect. It was a great deal better than the cheap gin she had sometimes bought in London. She sipped it slowly, and in a few minutes more her grim mood began to lift.
“I found out some things you ought to know,” Kim said to end the long silence.
“Wait until Hunch gets here,” Mairelon said. “No sense in going over everything twice.”
Fortunately, Hunch was not long in appearing. He snorted through his mustache when he saw Kim, which did more to make her feel herself again than even the brandy.
“Sit down and stop grumphing, Hunch,” Mairelon said. “I’ve taken separate rooms for tonight, but we can hardly talk through the wall, and Kim says she’s found out something of interest.”
“That’s as may be,” Hunch said darkly. “But she ’adn’t ought to be
’ere, and neither should you. Someone’s been asking questions down at the stable.”
“But it’s such an interesting place,” Mairelon said, waving in a general way at the walls of the inn. “Really, Hunch, you have no idea how fascinating this inn is.”
“Maybe not,” Hunch said “but I know when you’re at one o’ your queer starts, Master Richard. And you ’adn’t ought to, not this time. Someone’s looking for us.”
“Oh, really, Hunch, how can you be sure of that?”
“’Ow many people ’ave a yellow wagon with red wheels and a painting of a man in a top ’at on the back?” Hunch countered.
Mairelon frowned. “Someone’s asking questions about the wagon?”
Hunch nodded. “It’s us she’s looking for, right enough.”
“She?”
Kim though that Hunch was enjoying the effect his news was having, though his expression remained dour. “Aye. One of them grand ladies, they said. Offered a meg to anyone as ’ad news of it, and a shilling extra if she could be sure no one else ’ad the news afore ’er.”
“What a good thing we left the wagon in the woods,” Mairelon commented. He moved to the window and stared down at the stable.
“That ain’t all, neither,” Hunch said. “There was a cove nosing around, too, ’anging about in back of the inn and be’aving oddly. The ’ostler said ’is name was James Fenton.”
“Fenton?” Kim said. “There was a Mr. Fenton in the taproom for a while; he looked like a footman or somethin’. I think he works for that Meredith cove, the one who had that platter and lost it playin’ cards.”
“Does he,” Mairelon said thoughtfully. “I wonder. What was he doing here, do you know?”
“He came to meet a Mr. Aberford,” Kim said. “He wanted to sell him the news about Meredith’s losing the platter, only Aberford knew already.” Quickly she recounted the scene in the taproom. “When he took off, I followed him, and then—” She hesitated.
“And then?” Mairelon prompted.
“I think maybe I ought to go back to London,” Kim blurted, staring down at her hands to avoid seeing Mairelon’s or Hunch’s expressions. “I’m goin’ to be trouble for you if I stay.”
“I see,” Mairelon said after a moment of silence that to Kim seemed to go on forever. “Or rather, I don’t see. Why don’t you begin by telling us exactly what happened, and then perhaps I will.”
“It was Jack Stower,” Kim said. “He’s one of Laverham’s boys. I told you about Laverham.”
“I remember.”
“I swear I don’t know how he followed me from London, I swear I don’t. He didn’t see me, but if he’s pokin’ about, he’ll find out I’m here for sure, and—”
“Slow down and back up,” Mairelon said. “Where and when did you see Stower? In the hall? On the stairs?”
“Outside, talkin’ to that Meredith cove,” Kim answered. Reminded of the task she had originally been set, she outlined the scene she had witnessed in the innyard. “Bramingham said his uncle was comin’ down tomorrow, and he was goin’ to give the platter to him as soon as he got there,” she finished. “The Meredith cull got Aberford inside, and then the toff from the Dog and Bull turned up. He’s the Friday faced mort’s brother, name of Jasper Marston. They all drove off, and I came in.”
Mairelon was staring into space with a heavy frown, looking as though he had not heard a word Kim had said for several minutes at least. “Stower, Laverham, Fenton,” he murmured. “And a lady asking questions. A grand lady—Lady Granleigh, perhaps?”
“She acted grand enough,” Kim said doubtfully.
“And her brother is the unpleasant but not altogether bright gentleman who arranged for my wagon to be broken into, thus beginning our acquaintance. And he obviously knows considerably more than he has any right to. Someone is playing a very deep game, I wonder whether it’s him or her?”
“I don’t see as it matters,” Hunch said. “Ooever it is, we ’adn’t ought to stay ’ere tonight.”
“For once, Hunch, I believe you are right,” Mairelon said. Hunch’s jaw dropped. Mairelon did not notice; he was digging through the drawers in search of something. Not finding it, he went to the door of the room and opened it. “None of us will stay the night at the inn. Hi, landlord! Bring me up a pen and some paper.”
“I thought you said we weren’t stayin’,” Kim said, bewildered.
“We are not staying the night. There is no reason not to stay the afternoon; it’s a long drive to Swafflton, and the ladies will more than likely be shopping for hours. Besides—ah, thank you, landlord.”
The innkeeper had arrived, carrying a scruffy-looking quill, an inkpot, and a sheet of paper. Mairelon took them with a charming smile and shut the door in his face. “Besides, I don’t expect this to take long,” he finished, setting the implements on the table.
“What are you goin’ to do about Stower?” Kim asked as Mairelon made a face at the quill, dipped it in the inkpot, and began covering the paper with flowing, spidery letters.
“I am going to do nothing whatever, for the time being at least,” Mairelon answered. He wrote another three lines and set the quill aside. “No sand? Our landlord seems singularly unprepared for Quality clientele; can it be that he seldom has any?” He picked the page up by one corner and waved it through the air to dry the ink.
“I’d better go back to London, then,” Kim said.
“You will do no such thing. Hunch is the one who is going to London. He’ll be quite all right; this Laverham fellow isn’t looking for him.” He folded the note and handed it to Hunch, who scowled and chewed absently on one end of his mustache. “Hire a horse and change whenever you have to. I don’t want any more time wasted. Give this to Shoreham and tell him what we’ve found out so far. I’ve asked him to learn what he can about Laverham, Marston, Stower, and Fenton; stay til he has an answer to send. He’ll be quicker about it if he knows you’re waiting.”
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 casual
ly 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 horseboy 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.
TWELVE
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 was 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 pau
sed, 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.
Mairelon the Magician Page 11