St. Clair nodded. “Crude, but generally effective.”
“That includes you, St. Clair,” Laverham said, glaring.
Lady Granleigh drew in her breath at this breach of manners, which seemed to disturb her more than Dan’s pistols. St. Clair smiled, but said nothing.
“Much better,” Laverham went on. “Now, you, the highwayman. Is there somewhere in this pile to lock up this lot of lunatics while we search the rest of it?”
“Highwayman?” Freddy said with interest. “I say, Jon, you never told us anything about—” He broke off as one of Dan’s pistols swung in his direction.
“There are private rooms upstairs,” said Jonathan sullenly. “I think one of them has a lock.”
“The one on the end,” Freddy put in. “But it’s broken. The lock, I mean.”
“This is an outrage!” Lady Granleigh said, finding her voice. “Who is this person? Lord St. Clair—”
“I told you to be quiet,” Dan said. “Get over there with the others.”
“Better do as ’e says, mum,” Stuggs warned. “’E looks the sort as ’ud do you without blinkin’.”
Kim held her breath as Lady Granleigh, stiff with disapproval, moved away from the door at last. Now, if they would all stay busy at the other end of the room for a few minutes longer …
A shadow fell across the doorsill. Kim frowned and sank back into her uncomfortable half-crouch. Had Lady Granleigh brought a coachman, or had Ben awakened in spite of Lord St. Clair’s precautionary spell? Either way, she would be running into trouble. Not that she wasn’t in a proper mess already, of course, but Dan’s temper looked to be deteriorating rapidly, and she didn’t like to think what he might do if she didn’t get away on her first try. It would be better to wait for a more certain chance.
The motley company was slowly assembling in the corner, with occasional low-voiced grumbling that Dan pretended not to hear. Robert and Freddy between them supported the slowly recovering Marianne, while Jonathan stalked past and Lady Granleigh glowered impartially at everyone. For a moment or two, it looked as if Dan had gotten things under control at last; then Jasper said in a cross, too-loud voice, “But what is it the fellow wants?”
“The Sacred Dish!” Jonathan answered. He gave Dan and Jack a dark look. “But he shall not get it, however he tries.”
“The what?” said Jasper.
“The sacred dish,” Lady Granleigh said, giving her brother a sidelong glance full of meaning. “The platter that we gave to Mr. de Mare this morning.” She nodded in Mairelon’s direction.
“What?” several voices said at once. Lord St. Clair examined Mairelon with angry speculation, and both of Dan’s pistols swung to point at the magician. Kim cursed mentally and swiveled her head from side to side, trying to watch Dan and the door at the same time.
“I told you not to try any tricks with me, Merrill,” Dan said. “Where’s the platter? And this time, tell me the truth!”
The shadow on the doorsill shifted and withdrew, but Kim stayed where she was. With Dan so jumpy, she’d be shot before she was out the door if she made a run for it. She edged toward the front of the table with a vague idea of doing something, she wasn’t sure what, if Dan looked like shooting Mairelon.
“Merrill?” said William Stuggs, giving Mairelon a swift, sharp look. “Well, well.”
“What does that mean, ‘well, well’?” Jasper demanded, rounding on his servant.
Stuggs’s expression instantly resumed its usual appearance of placid stupidity. “Ain’t ’e the cove you was lookin’ for in London?”
“Answer me!” Dan said to Mairelon. “Where is the platter?”
“Which one?” Mairelon asked. “The one your man Stower left by my campfire, or the one Lady Granleigh was so anxious to get rid of? Or one of the other fakes Fenton seems to have been peddling?”
“The Saltash Platter, you buffoon!” Laverham shouted.
“Infidel! What have you done with the Sacred Dish?” Jonathan cried at the same moment.
“Fenton?” said Freddy, frowning. “I’ve got a footman by that name. What’s he got to do with Jon’s dish?”
Mairelon lifted his bound hands and scratched his ear. “I don’t have any better idea where the Saltash Platter is than you do, Laverham.”
“Do you expect me to believe that?”
“Why not?” Mairelon shrugged. “It’s true.”
“I gave you the Saltash Platter this morning,” Lady Granleigh insisted in her most superior manner. “How dare you suggest otherwise!”
“Oh, you gave me a platter, all right, but it was a forgery and you knew it,” Mairelon said. He gave her a charming smile that expanded to include the entire ring of surprised, confused, and skeptical faces. “By the by, how do you happen to know anything about the Saltash Platter, hmmm?”
“Never mind!” Dan said. “I don’t care about her, and I don’t believe you.” He raised his pistol and slowly and deliberately cocked it. “For the last time, where is the Saltash Platter?”
“I don’t have it,” Mairelon said.
“But of a certainty you do not,” said a new voice. Dan whirled, and everyone else’s head flicked toward the door. Kim bumped her head on a table leg, cursed, and turned to see Renée D’Auber standing in the doorway. Her auburn hair was dressed in ringlets and threaded with a peach-colored ribbon that exactly matched the delicate muslin of her walking dress, and she smiled brightly when she saw the faces turned toward her. “I have it.”
“Renée!” Mairelon said. “What are you doing here?” Then his face went blank as a stocky, sandy-haired man stepped into the doorway beside her, and he added in a thunderstruck tone, “Andrew?”
TWENTY-THREE
“Hello, Richard,” said the sandy-haired man. He sounded nervous and uncertain, which Kim thought was understandable under the circumstances, but his attention was fixed on Mairelon rather than on Dan or Jack Stower. “I, um, it’s been a while.”
“Well, well,” said St. Clair. “This is becoming quite the family gathering.”
Dan Laverham glared at St. Clair. Mairelon did not move; he seemed as oblivious to the crowd around him as the man he had called Andrew. Kim frowned, puzzled both by St. Clair’s comment and the unusual strength of Mairelon’s reaction. Then her head jerked and almost hit the underside of the table again as several fragments condensed into the memory of Mairelon’s voice saying in a flat tone, “The evidence was overwhelming. Even my brother Andrew believed it.”
“What are you doing here?” Mairelon said in the same tight voice Kim remembered.
“Trying to keep your head out of a noose,” Andrew replied. Now that Kim had remembered who he must be, she could see how much he resembled Mairelon in his middling height, neat build, and rounded face. Andrew glanced at Renée D’Auber and added, “At least, that was the original idea.”
“What do you mean by—”
“Then you do have the Saltash Platter?” St. Clair interrupted, looking fixedly at Mademoiselle D’Auber.
“Nonsense,” Lady Granleigh said. She made an urgent motion at her brother, but Jasper, who did not appear to have the slightest idea what she wanted of him, remained where he was.
“But, yes, I have it,” Renée D’Auber told Lord St. Clair. “Though I do not at all see why it is you who ask, when it is this person with the pistols who was so very curious before.”
“Where is it?” Dan demanded.
“Don’t tell him,” Freddy advised. “Fellow ain’t the thing at all, that’s my opinion.”
“For once, I agree with you, Freddy,” Robert murmured.
“Freddy!” Marianne had recovered enough to pull away from Robert and clutch at Freddy’s arm in protest. “Oh, be careful! That man might shoot you!”
“It would be a singular service to humanity if he did,” St. Clair said. “I have seldom met a more tiresome group, or one more foolish. Mademoiselle D’Auber—”
“Quiet!” Dan commanded. “Or I’ll shoot you,
Gregory! I’m tired of your interference.”
“You seemed in need of some assistance,” Lord St. Clair said with unruffled calm. “I was only trying to help.”
“I don’t want your help, you insufferable—”
“But you know each other!” Renée D’Auber said in tones of pleased surprise. “It is a thing remarkable, I think.”
Mairelon shook himself and tore his eyes away from the man in the doorway. “Yes, St. Clair, how do you come to know Laverham? And how long have you been, er, acquainted? At least five years, I think?”
“Oh, much longer than that,” St. Clair replied. “I expect you would be vastly interested in the details, but unfortunately I don’t intend to give them to you.”
“Perhaps Laverham can be persuaded?” Mairelon said.
“Not by you,” Dan snarled. He turned back to Renée. “Give me the platter.”
Behind Renée, Andrew made a gesture of protest, but he had enough sense not to say anything. Renée D’Auber tilted her head and considered Dan Laverham with an air that suggested something unsatisfactory about the object of her scrutiny. “It is not at all possible for me to give you the platter now,” she said at last, as if granting a great concession in answering at all.
“Renée,” Mairelon said warningly.
A muscle in Dan’s jaw jumped. “Don’t lie to me,” he said in a tone that made Kim shrink back from the edge of the table, just in case he turned in her direction.
“I tell the truth,” the Frenchwoman said, affronted. “And it is quite true that I cannot give you the platter now. I am not a fool, me, and I do not wish to lose it. So I do not carry it about with me, especially when there are housebreakers and highwaymen and persons with pistols everywhere. If you were not yourself without sense, you would have comprehended that and not bothered me with silly questions.”
Mairelon made a muffled, choking noise. Dan lowered his pistols slightly and studied Renée through narrowed eyes.
“She ain’t no dull mort,” Jack Stower offered. “I bet she done it like she says.”
“I have no doubt of it,” St. Clair said. “If, that is, she has done anything at all.”
“Ain’t no knowing,” Stuggs said with an air of deep gloom. “She’s French.”
“It’s easy enough to tell whether she’s lying,” Dan said. He walked over to the card table and set something heavy down just over Kim’s head. She flinched and backed away slowly, hoping he would not drop anything. If he bent over, he could hardly miss seeing her. At the rear of the table, she stopped and curled into a lumpy, motionless ball, waiting for Dan to move away again.
“What do you think you’re doing, Laverham?” St. Clair said sharply, and Kim had to suppress an urge to peer over the edge of the table to see what he was referring to.
“I’m going to find out which of them is telling the truth,” Dan answered. “If it’s Merrill, the Saltash Platter is in this building somewhere. That’s close enough for me to find, even with only two of the indicator balls to use as a base for the location spell.”
“Freddy!” Marianne said in a carrying whisper. “Is he going to cast a spell?”
“You know not what you do,” Jonathan said in his best master-druid voice. “Beware the consequences of defiling the hall of the Sons of the New Dawn!”
“Quiet,” said Dan. “I’ve had as much of your posturing as I can stomach. Jack, keep an eye on them.”
This last instruction seemed unnecessary to Kim, since, from the way his pistols had been waving about, Jack had been trying to watch everyone at once for some time. She could just see him out the side of the table and through the latticed back of a wooden chair, his jaw clenched and his eyes compressed to slits of grim concentration. Stuggs was creeping around the outside of the group toward him, craning his neck to get a look at Dan. Did the great looby think this was some kind of show, or was he fool enough to try a trick on a real magician in the middle of a spell? Then Dan began to speak diamond-sharp words Kim could not understand, and every other thought left her mind instantly.
She knew at once that something was wrong. Always before when she had heard magicians at work, the too-solid words had settled quickly into an orderly arrangement, full of dangerous corners and edges but as firm and stable as the words themselves. Dan’s words were floating free, jostling against each other like a market-day crowd, fighting the structure the magician sought to impose on them.
The magicians in the room were also quick to realize that Dan was in trouble. Renée D’Auber stepped backward into Andrew, her eyes widening, and brought up her left hand in a contorted gesture.
“Renée, don’t!” Mairelon cried. “You’ll only cut what’s left of the basic binding!”
“Break off, you fool!” St. Clair said to Dan at the same moment. “You’ll have the house down in another minute.”
“He can’t break off,” Jonathan said with bitter satisfaction. “If he does, he’ll lose what control he has. He’ll lose it soon, in any case. His obstinacy has doomed us all.”
Jasper Marston made a gobbling noise and collided with his sister as he tried to leap for the door. Marianne gave a ladylike shriek and fainted again. This time, Freddy caught her without mishap. Dan’s voice droned on. Robert stared at Jonathan and demanded, “What do you mean by that, Jon?”
“He has fallen afoul of the protections of the Sons of the New Dawn,” Jonathan answered. “I warned him not to meddle!”
“You might have tried warning him you had a protective spell up, you young idiot!” Mairelon said acidly as, with two swift motions, he undid the special knot Kim had used and stripped the binding cords from his wrists. “What did you use? Quick now!”
Jonathan mumbled something, and Kim stopped listening. No matter what he said, no matter what Mairelon thought he could do, there wasn’t time. She could hear the note of desperation in Dan’s voice; she could feel his words twisting like oiled eels. The very air inside the lodge was beginning to shine with reflections from the invisible, impossible crystal words, and with every syllable Dan spoke, the glow grew stronger. He had to be stopped now, before he put so much power into his distorted spell that it really would destroy them all when he finally lost control of it.
Kim took a deep breath, swallowed hard, and stood up with a surge, pushing the heavy wooden card table up and forward with all her strength. Cards and markers slid off and scattered across the floor; the pistol Dan had set on top of them followed with a metallic scraping noise. The table hit Dan hard, knocking him sideways. He staggered briefly, then regained his feet, but his concentration had been shattered and the spell broke free.
There was a brilliant flare of light, and sharp-edged words flew in all directions. Mairelon, Renée D’Auber, and Lord St. Clair flung their arms up in identical gestures of repudiation and simultaneously shouted the same unintelligible phrase. Kim ducked behind the upturned table as the unseen words bounced back toward her. Something hit the floor with a metallic ping, and something else with a clear ringing noise. Dan cried out and fell heavily against the table. Kim heard a peculiar muffled noise that sounded like Jack Stower’s voice; then the remnants of the spell swirled and settled around her like dust. They lay in shimmering silver drifts on the wooden floor for a long moment before they melted into nothing.
“Well done,” St. Clair’s voice said to someone.
“Thank you,” Renée D’Auber responded.
“Kim!” Mairelon called. He sounded very close; an instant later, he appeared, bending anxiously over the end of the table. “Kim?”
“I ain’t hurt,” Kim assured him. “Is that spell done with?”
“For the most part,” Mairelon answered.
Judging this to be as near a “yes” as she was likely to get from him, Kim climbed cautiously to her feet and looked around. Freddy, his arms locked around the unconscious Marianne, was trading icy stares with Lady Granleigh and Jasper Marston. Jonathan alternated between baleful muttering and attempts to untie his hands wi
th his teeth. Meanwhile, Jasper’s man, Stuggs, had a firm and very professional-looking armlock on Jack Stower. Stower’s pistols had vanished, and his clothes were even more rumpled and disreputable than usual. Kim was sorry she had missed seeing their encounter. Robert Choiniet and Mairelon’s brother, Andrew, were standing over Dan Laverham, who looked and smelled somewhat singed but seemed otherwise unhurt. Renée D’Auber stood next to the door, her face composed, her eyes bright and alert; on the opposite side of the room, Lord St. Clair watched the others with a cold, speculative expression.
“’Ere, now,” Stuggs said to Jack, who was struggling in vain. “None o’ that.”
“Get your hands off me!” Dan said to Robert and Andrew. They had considerately helped him to his feet and then neglected to let go of his arms.
“And give you a chance to grab one of those pistols again, or start some more magic?” Robert said. “Not likely.”
“Someone should find those guns and get them out of the way,” Andrew added.
“Did you say something about brandy a bit ago, Jon?” Freddy asked. “Like to get some for Marianne.”
“Get me out of this first,” Jonathan said crossly, holding out his hands and the tangle he had made of Kim’s knots.
Mairelon was studying Kim with an abstracted air, as if she were wearing her coat inside out and he couldn’t puzzle out why she should do such a thing. “Now what?” Kim asked him in a low voice. “We ain’t much better off than when we started.”
“Aren’t,” Mairelon said without thinking. He blinked. “Aren’t we?”
“Well, Dan don’t—doesn’t have his guns any more,” Kim admitted. “That’s something. But we still haven’t found that platter. The real one, I mean. And we ain’t—aren’t going to with this lot of Bedlamites muddling everything up proper.”
Mairelon the Magician Page 21