A Scholar of Magics

by Caroline Stevermer

  “If it were just you and the ladies, I’d be delighted to oblige,” Polydore said. “As it is, I’m afraid I have no intention of unlocking the door for Mr. Fell. He’s far too elusive. Almost as elusive as Mr. Voysey, it seems.”

  Lambert tightened his grip on the bars. “Where is Voysey? Have they caught him?”

  “No, but they’ve found the Agincourt device. It looks as if Mr. Voysey may have turned it on himself to escape the consequences of his actions.”

  “Not likely,” Lambert scoffed.

  “Whatever he did, Mr. Voysey will be found. The hunt is most definitely up.” Polydore’s cheerfulness increased. “Scholar or stag, he’ll be brought to bay.”

  Fell came to Lambert’s side. “Look, Williams, I’m terribly sorry I haven’t kept to the schedule for your tutorials. I’ll make it up to you. I promise I can explain everything. But do please unlock the door.”

  “Apology accepted. Though it is a bit late. Please don’t excite yourself, Mr. Fell. I’m not the one you’ll have to explain things to,” Polydore said. “There’s going to be an inquiry back at Glasscastle. The authorities are very curious about your role in Mr. Voysey’s scheme.”

  Fell backed away from the door as if the bars had burned him. “You’re right to leave us just as you found us, Williams. Voysey kept us prisoners here. If he could have turned us into animals, he would have, same as everyone else you’ve found.”

  “You found your friend, then.” Lambert waved vaguely in the direction of the yearling fawn. “Is he all right?”

  “Yes, I think so.” Polydore looked pleased with himself. “He was helping me climb over the wall, you see. I’d just reached the top when they caught him. I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I had to go for help.”

  “What did Bridgewater say?” Polydore’s guilty expression made Lambert press the point. “Didn’t you go to Ludlow Castle to ask for help?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Polydore confessed. “I was in such a hurry. I just went to the nearest telegraph office instead. I sent a wire from Ludlow and Mr. Porteous and Mr. Stowe came by the next train. They put the Earl of Bridgewater in the picture, and after that, we had police reinforcements streaming in. Quite exciting.”

  “Can they change them all back?” Lambert asked. “Have you found Brailsford?”

  “Not yet. They won’t change anyone yet,” Polydore explained patiently. “Even if there weren’t doubts about whether Voysey is among them, they wouldn’t try. Technically, everyone is evidence. Dear old Herrick—I mean Cadwal—is just exhibit A until the inquiry concludes.”

  “You can’t leave them like that,” Lambert protested.

  “I can’t leave them locked up, no,” Polydore agreed. “That’s my assignment, springing them all. The Fellows of Glasscastle will make sure none of them stray. You’ll have to excuse me. I must get on with it.” He left them there and resumed his progress down the hall, singing and unlocking, with an ever-increasing flock of animals trailing behind him. Every creature in his train gave the badger a wide berth.

  “Hell,” said Lambert, leaning his forehead against the door in despair. “We’ll never get out of this place.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Jane had brought her illusion close to her side. “They’re going to let us out any minute. It won’t be long until they come to take Fell into custody.”

  Fell turned back to her, rigid with indignation. “I haven’t done anything. You know that.”

  “That’s exactly the point,” Jane said tartly. “You haven’t done anything. It shouldn’t be difficult to explain that to the authorities, should it? You could have taken action against Voysey at any time. He’s no match for a warden. But you chose inaction. Didn’t you?”

  “You’re going to tell them about my calculations?” Fell looked horrified at the prospect.

  “Oh, I should think you’ll be the one to tell them,” Jane replied. “How else will you be able to account for your time here? Let alone your neglect of the students you’re supposed to be helping.”

  “Are you that petty? Because I won’t leap in unprepared and accept the role of warden when I’m ordered to, you’ll refuse to speak in my defense?”

  From down the corridor came the sound of approaching policemen. Lambert called out to them through the grille.

  “Oh, I’ll defend you with my last breath,” Jane assured Fell. “Unfortunately, from what I’ve seen of Porteous and from what I’ve heard of Stowe, I can’t imagine that the great minds of Glasscastle will pay the slightest attention to what a weak and feeble woman thinks.”

  “Weak and feeble, my eye,” said Fell with disgust, as the authorities arrived to take him in charge.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” said Jane. To a passing police constable, she called, “Oh, sir, would you please ask someone from Glasscastle to come and break the spell on this chair? I’d be so grateful.”

  It took some time for Jane’s request to reach the right authority. Lambert stayed with her, despite his sense of disloyalty at letting Fell be taken back to Glasscastle without him. It seemed even more disloyal to leave Jane alone with her illusion. There was no sign of the Earl of Bridgewater, so at least Lambert was spared the difficult task of explaining why he’d gone off to St. Hubert’s all alone. At last Porteous arrived, wheezing slightly from the stairs. Even in his black frock coat, old-fashioned hat, and unmistakable sense of self-importance, he looked formidable.

  “Now where is this spell to be broken?” Porteous asked as he entered the cell. He saw Jane and her illusion. “Good gracious, there’s two of you. A duplicare spell gone awry, is it?”

  “Not that sell,” said Jane hastily. “Please let that one alone. I can manage it by myself. I need your help with Voysey’s spell, the one that keeps me in this chair.”

  “Ah.” Porteous was already running one broad palm across the back of the armchair. “Indeed you do require assistance.” After a moment’s investigation, he stood squarely before the armchair, lifted his hands, and intoned, “Audi me, audiuva me.” He took a triumphant step back as Jane rose. “Rather a complex bit of work.”

  Jane’s illusion sank down into the vacated chair with every appearance of relief.

  Jane drew a shaky breath and walked slowly across the room and back, testing her limbs. “Thank you,” she told Porteous. “That’s much better.”

  Porteous beamed. “Think nothing of it. Delighted to be of service. I suppose this is a practical demonstration of the relative merits of magic used in Glasscastle over magic as it is taught at Greenlaw, isn’t it?”

  Jane’s smile grew a little forced. “Just so. Now surely your skills will be needed elsewhere. There must be spells to be broken from one end of this place to the other.”

  “We’re letting as many of them stand as we can,” Porteous confided.

  “Even Robin?” Jane asked.

  “I’m afraid so. Evidence for the inquiry, you see. Transporting them to Glasscastle will be a challenge, but well worth the effort. When we remove the spells, we want the purest restoration possible. As it is Glasscastle magic, it will work best to remove it at Glasscastle.”

  Jane’s worry was clear. “Are you sure?”

  “That’s the conclusion the Provosts have reached,” said Porteous. “I have every confidence in them.”

  Lambert held the door for Porteous. Jane thanked Porteous again as she sent him on his way. Once he was finally out of earshot, she muttered something under her breath.

  “Sorry, what was that?” asked Lambert, smiling as he leaned close. “Didn’t quite catch it.”

  “Oh, I should think you could guess.” Jane looked up at him and Lambert saw that all the forced cheerfulness she’d mustered for Porteous was gone, along with the annoyance Porteous had provoked in her. She was completely grave as she gazed at him in silence, her fatigue unmistakable.

  Lambert looked back at her. He gave a start of surprise when she reached out and touched him, just the lightest brush of her palm against his
cheek. Her hand was very cold. Lambert looked at her inquiringly.

  “I couldn’t touch you before,” said Jane. “I’ve been wanting to.”

  Lambert felt as puzzled as he had when Jane had let him try the spindle over the map. Greatly daring, he took her hand in his to warm it. She let him, for a moment. Then Jane pulled away and turned all her attention to the armchair. “I promised myself a good look at this thing before we go.”

  “Want to borrow my penknife again?” Lambert offered, bewildered by her change of mood.

  “Yes, thanks.” Jane used the knife to tease a few threads of upholstery from the underside of the chair, but did no other damage before she returned it to Lambert.

  “Find anything interesting?” he asked.

  “I don’t know yet.” Jane ignored the illusion as she inspected the armchair minutely. “Strange that Porteous should be so sure everything is Glasscastle magic.”

  “Well, it would be, wouldn’t it? If Voysey created it?”

  “I suppose so. Still, it was excellent advance planning on Voysey’s part to catch me off guard at the Feathers.” Jane tilted the chair until her illusion left it indignantly, then she overturned it and studied the underside. “Neat work.”

  “Just as well it was Glasscastle magic, or Porteous might not have been able to free you so easily.”

  “It was easy, wasn’t it?” Jane said, absently.

  Suspicion sent a chill down Lambert’s spine. “You don’t think he helped to set the spell up? That Porteous knew how to break the spell because he helped create it?”

  “No.” Jane pushed the chair upright again but she took care to seat herself in the chair Fell had used. “But I do think someone helped Voysey. Someone powerful.”

  To Lambert, she looked smaller than usual, and extremely tired. He didn’t like it. “I think we should get out of here. Find somewhere that the water is safe to drink, the food is safe to eat, and the furniture doesn’t have quite such a grip.”

  “Good idea.” Jane rose, looked back at the armchair thoughtfully, and started for the door. Her illusion trailed along a pace behind. “I could just do with a cup of tea.”

  Lambert stifled a groan at the thought. “Your motor car is outside if you feel up to driving. At least, when I got here it was outside. If it’s still there, no one can stop us using it.” He felt confident about making that statement. Anyone who did try to stop them would have one cross American to reckon with.

  “I can drive. If I can rely on you to manage the crank for me to start her up?”

  “Of course.” Lambert held the door for both Jane and her illusion. “What about your double? Hadn’t you better do something about it before anyone takes fright or decides to see a doctor about his eyes?”

  “She might prove useful,” said Jane. “I’m going to need a chaperon, after all. Anyway, at this point, it will take more strength to end the illusion than to continue it. Best to wait until we’re safe somewhere and the driving is finished before I make up my mind. I’ve grown rather fond of her.”

  “Strange to say, so have I,” said Lambert. “She’s very restful company.”

  Jane’s illusion looked pleased.

  It was blue twilight by the time Jane settled herself behind the wheel of the Minotaur. The illusion was with her, a faint sapping of her concentration that went almost unnoticed in the wide variety of Jane’s more physical discomforts. She was hungry and thirsty and dirty and tired and sore, she’d come close to making a fool of herself with Lambert, and worst of all, her clothes were a disgrace. No question about it. Informal travel did not agree with her. Perhaps it was a bad idea, a motor car of her own. Perhaps she should avoid all travel in the future. Perhaps she should find her way back to Greenlaw and stay there, term in and term out. Travel was simply not worth the filth and fatigue.

  Lambert was rummaging in the wicker chests stowed in the back. Just as Jane was about to ask what on earth he thought he was doing, he returned.

  “Split it with you?” Lambert was holding out the last of the stem ginger cake, darkly sticky in the paper wrapping.

  “Oh! Yes, please.” Glad she’d managed to restrain the urge to carp, Jane seized her half and ate it greedily. Heedless of the breach of etiquette, she even licked her fingers afterward. It put heart into her, but she dearly wished for a decent cup of tea to accompany it. “That was delicious. Thank you.”

  “As good as I thought it would taste,” said Lambert, and went to light the lamps fore and aft. He cranked industriously until the motor caught, and slid in beside her. “And I thought of it a lot.”

  “I thought of soap and hot water,” Jane confessed.

  There wasn’t enough light left to see it clearly, but from the smile in his voice, Jane could tell Lambert’s mouth had crooked up at the corner. “I could use a dose of that too. Let’s go find some.”

  Jane felt uncomfortably exposed, driving without hat, veil, goggles or gloves, but she didn’t want to waste another moment searching for her things. Even with acetylene lamps ablaze, and half the scholars of Glasscastle on hand to counter the misdirection spell on the place, Jane found it difficult to thread her way between the trees to the gate.

  Only when the Minotaur was purring along the road to Ludlow did Jane dare to relax her grip on the wheel and drive more naturally. “Comus Nymet. Thank goodness we’ve seen the last of that place.”

  “Have we?” Lambert sounded skeptical.

  “If I have anything to say about it, we have. Beastly place.” Jane took a turn with such care she had to downshift to compensate for her loss of speed. Despite the relief she felt at being free of the crooked house in the crooked wood, she knew she was losing her strength rapidly. “I wish we’d seen the last of Ludlow too, but I don’t think I can drive much farther.”

  “Ludlow will be fine.” Lambert’s calm was reassuring. “I’d like to have a word with Bridgewater if he’s back at the castle there. Thank him for his help.”

  Jane took a firm line. “If you go, you go without me. I’m much too filthy to meet anyone at the moment. One look at me, and his lordship’s servants would send for the police.”

  “You may have a point there. We’ll have to find rooms somewhere, then.”

  “I refuse to stay at the Feathers again. It will have to be the Angel for me. Where would you like me to put you down?” Jane asked Lambert.

  “Nowhere.” Lambert’s voice was calm but firm. “I’ll find another pub after we get you settled at the Angel.”

  There were some points Jane was never too tired to argue and propriety was one of them. “It will be far better if I arrive alone.”

  “It would be, but you aren’t alone, are you? As long as you have your double to attract attention, who’s going to notice me?”

  Jane had been almost unconscious of her illusion, who was now driving the Minotaur with her, coinciding in every detail but for the fact that Jane was windblown and dusty and the illusion wasn’t. “You have a point. I’ll have to keep her with me exactly and stay in the shadows myself.”

  “Good idea,” Lambert was calmer than ever. “I’ll do the talking. If the place passes muster, I’ll even help bring up your luggage. But you’re staying nowhere unless I get a good look at the armchairs first.”

  As good as his word, Lambert inspected the room he booked for Jane, supervised the arrival of her luggage, and left to see to the safe disposition of the Minotaur before heading to his own rest.

  By the time she and her illusion were alone in her room, Jane was so tired that fifty enchanted armchairs could not have kept her awake. She performed a sketchy toilet and retired. Never had a mattress felt so comfortable, nor an eiderdown so soft.

  13

  “He with his bare wand can unthread thy joints,

  And crumble all thy sinews.”

  It was late morning, bright, breezy, and cool, when Lambert returned to the Angel Inn, the second-best hostelry in Ludlow. Lambert had chosen to spend the night in plainer surroundings, opt
ing to hire a room, tiny but spotless, over another pub. Breakfast at the pub had been wonderful. Portions were substantial. Everything that was supposed to be hot and crisp had been hot and crisp. Everything that was supposed to be steaming and strong had been steaming and strong. Everything that didn’t come with butter came with cream.

  After his meal, Lambert felt qualified to face fresh perils, including Bridgewater’s staff. His call at Ludlow Castle was fruitless, however. His lordship was not at home, the butler informed Lambert. Lambert wrote a note of thanks and left it for the butler to deliver. Probably just as well. Lambert didn’t like to leave Jane to her own devices for too long.

  When Lambert joined her, Jane was supervising the rearrangement of her luggage in the back of the vehicle. Her illusion was on hand, though it was careful to stay quite still and keep in the deepest shade. Lambert was glad to see that yesterday’s exhausted girl with the cold hands was gone. After a good rest, Jane looked her usual self again, brisk and bright. She was sporting her full motoring regalia, tinted goggles and all.

  Lambert greeted her as she tipped the groom who had been helping with the luggage. “You look wonderful, Miss Brailsford.”

  “Thank you. In fact, I do feel a bit full of wonder.” Jane paused to admire the morning. “Sometimes on days like this, I feel I could move mountains, or at least rearrange them in a more becoming pattern.”

  “I take that as proof that you slept well and had a good breakfast.” Lambert moved to the front of the vehicle, preparing to do his duty at the crank. “All settled up and ready to go back home?”

  “All settled up,” agreed Jane. She walked into the shade and let her illusion walk out with her, discreetly coinciding in every detail as she climbed into the driver’s seat. “Ready to go back to Glasscastle.”

  Lambert cranked until the motor turned over and then took the passenger seat. “Not your home, Glasscastle. I understand. Where is home for you?”