by M. J. Putney
“Why not?” Cynthia demanded. “I have fewer qualms than you. If I had a chance to shoot Bonaparte in the heart, I’d take it.” She considered. “Though maybe it would be easier to push him off a cliff.”
“Mr. Stephens is right,” Allarde said slowly. “Napoleon is first consul of France, and it’s just a matter of time before he declares himself emperor. But he is surrounded by other skilled, ruthless generals. If Napoleon died, his successor might be even worse. Especially if it looked like Bonaparte had been murdered by the British. There would be a fury of vengeance by the French.”
“Exactly,” Mr. Stephens said. “Best for us will be if Napoleon stays in power, but he’s freed of his obsession with invading England.”
“It’s a good theory,” Jack said. “But how are we to change the mind of a tyrant?”
“We may have a way.” Miss Wheaton produced a folded piece of paper. “Two days ago, this message came through the mirror from Rebecca Weiss. As you know, she has powers that involve the mind.”
“Yes, she reads emotions really well, and sometimes thoughts,” Tory said. “Even without training and not realizing that magic existed, she knew what the Nazi commandant had planned for her family.”
“It’s an unusual kind of magic,” Miss Wheaton said thoughtfully. “Most mages have some ability to read feelings, but her talent goes far beyond that. She has discovered that she can literally change minds and emotions.”
The teacher opened the paper and read Rebecca’s terse account of how she had dissolved the enmity of an angry, bigoted classmate and how she had persuaded a desperate Nazi pilot to surrender without injuring himself or others.
When Miss Wheaton finished reading, Jack gave a low whistle. “That’s quite a talent. She’s developing fast. But it sounds as if she must be touching the person to make the change. How do we get that close to Napoleon? Are there any mirror portals near Paris?”
“There are several in France,” Tory replied. “I don’t know exactly where, but I should be able to find out.”
“Napoleon isn’t in Paris now,” Elspeth said unexpectedly. “Yesterday in my scrying, I saw that he’s visiting the Army of Boulogne. He travels to Boulogne regularly to review the troops and observe their drills and keep up their morale.”
Tory involuntarily glanced in the direction of France. “So he’s just there across the Channel, like a spider in his web! Even now he might be planning on invading with his whole fleet and army.”
Mr. Stephens frowned. “That would explain the way his mages have been pounding our wards. We’ve already been weakened. A concerted attack by French mages could bring down the wards and make an invasion much easier for them.”
“There may be some advantage to having Bonaparte relatively close, but that doesn’t make it any easier for Rebecca to get within touching distance,” Tory said.
“She could disguise herself as a maid,” Jack said rather dubiously.
“Perhaps, but parlor maids don’t come anywhere near lords and first consuls,” Miss Wheaton said. “If he’s staying in a military camp, the servants might all be male.”
“Maybe Tory could fly Rebecca in?” Jack sounded even more dubious.
Tory shook her head. “Trying to fly someone larger than me across a sprawling military camp without knowing exactly where to land has a great potential for disaster.”
“It might be possible to enter the camp with stealth stones,” Elspeth suggested. “You’re the best at stealth magic, Mr. Stephens. Could you create stealth stones strong enough to allow a couple of us to enter the French camp unnoticed?”
The teacher shook his head. “I don’t think it’s possible to create true invisibility. Illusion magic to make Irregulars look like French soldiers would be more effective.”
“You’re all overlooking the most obvious solution,” Cynthia said. “These are soldiers. Men. And men like touching attractive women. It wouldn’t take much illusion magic to make Rebecca and me look like ladies of the night who have been sent to entertain the first consul.”
Everyone stared at Cynthia. She smiled wickedly and leaned back in her chair as she used illusion magic to make herself look wild and wanton.
Jack swallowed hard. “Cinders, sometimes you terrify me.”
“Good,” she purred. “If we look like very expensive dolly mops, we should be able to get admitted to Napoleon’s private pavilion. The real question is whether Rebecca can get him to change his mind if we get her there.”
“We’ll have to ask Rebecca about that,” Tory said. “And she might not know since she’s still so new to magic. I agree that your plan could get us into Napoleon’s camp, Cynthia. But it might be much more difficult to get out. If we present ourselves as ladies of the night, he might want to bed at least one of us.” She shivered. “I find the thought of dying for my country more acceptable than seducing for it.”
Cynthia looked uncomfortable. “That part of my plan needs work.”
“I might be able to help with that,” Elspeth said. “A healing spell could be modified to put a person to sleep. If Rebecca could also plant a false memory in his mind, he’d wake up thinking he had an amazing night and not be suspicious.”
“Could you provide a demonstration?” Mr. Stephens asked.
Elspeth glanced around the circle. “Does anyone want to volunteer? I’m not entirely sure this will work, but I don’t think I’ll damage my victim.”
“So comforting,” Allarde said with an amused gleam in his eye. “Practice away, cousin. This is unlikely to be any worse than some of the tricks you played in the nursery when our families visited together.”
“I never did you any real harm then, either.” Elspeth rose and crossed the circle to where Allarde was sitting. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she caught his gaze and said throatily, “Monsieur! Milord!”
Tory sensed a tingle of magic, and Allarde’s eyes widened. Then he slumped unconscious. Anticipating that, Elspeth caught him and tilted his torso back so he didn’t fall from the chair.
Tory blinked. “Should I be jealous?”
Elspeth laughed. “Not at all. Allarde, wake up now.”
He blinked, then straightened as awareness returned. “That was … interesting.”
“This could be very effective if a false memory or dream can be planted,” Elspeth said thoughtfully. “But so much rests on Rebecca, who has so little experience.”
“We don’t even know exactly what her powers are,” Miss Wheaton agreed. “Will she be willing to travel back in time? And does she have the temperament to do something this dangerous?”
“She promised she’d come if needed,” Tory said. “As for temperament, Rebecca let me jump her off a cliff. I didn’t learn till later that she’s afraid of heights, so I think she’ll have the nerve to enter an enemy camp. I don’t know if she can rearrange Bonaparte’s mind, but we need to find out if it’s possible.”
“Time to send a message and ask her to come back here,” Jack said. “Then we can find out what she can do.”
Tory frowned. “If I go forward, I can explain what we need and bring her back if she thinks she can help.”
Allarde shook his head. “You shouldn’t tire yourself out by making two trips close together when we’re on the verge of a dangerous mission. Nick can escort her here. He’s good with mirror travel, and he’d never allow her to travel here without him.”
That was true. Nick was the responsible sort, and he’d also seemed rather smitten by Rebecca. “I’ll write a note and send it through.” Tory glanced around at the faces of her friends. “Does anyone have any other suggestions we need to discuss? What will we do if this doesn’t work?”
“We’ll keep doing what we’ve been doing,” Mr. Stephens said with a sigh. “For as long as we’re able to keep doing it.”
And when the British mages failed—Napoleon and his army would come.
CHAPTER 25
Lackland, 1940
“You’ve been studying magic, math, and
biology all weekend,” Nick said with a grin as he stuck his head into Rebecca’s room. “You need a walk and some fresh air before it gets dark.”
Rebecca leaned back in her chair and stretched her arms. Nick had been so busy that she hadn’t seen much of him since the Shabbat Friday night. “You’re right. I’m knotted up like a pretzel and my brain is becoming numb.”
She stood and brushed back her dark hair, thinking it was probably snarled since she ran her fingers through it when she was solving difficult math problems. “Maybe your mother or Polly would like to join us?”
“Polly is off doing something with one of her friends, and Mum is correcting papers for school. It’s just you and me, kid.”
“You’ve watched too many American movies,” she said with a laugh. “I’ll be down in a couple of minutes.”
After he left her room, she combed her hair and tied it back with a ribbon. It was cold and sunny out, so she added a red scarf and knit hat to the dark gray coat she’d been given by Mrs. Rainford. They were of similar height, which was convenient since Rebecca had needed a whole new wardrobe.
Nick was waiting downstairs, bundled up as warmly as she was. “That coat really brings out your gray eyes,” he observed.
“Gray eyes aren’t very interesting,” she said, surprised. “Blue eyes are much prettier and come in lots of different shades.”
“I’m glad you think so.” Nick’s blue eyes sparked teasingly. When she blushed and looked away, he said, “I thought we could walk out to Lackland Abbey to check if there are any message stones.”
She nodded agreeably. “I like that walk along the cliffs. The wind is bracing.”
He laughed as he opened the door for her. “When we walked out to send the message about your developing talents, ‘bracing’ meant ‘be careful or you’ll be blown into the next county.’”
She laughed also. As she brushed by him on her way out, she was very aware of his lean strength. Nick played several sports, and it showed.
She found the contrast between Nick and Jack Rainford interesting. Despite the many decades between them, they were clearly related, with similar blond hair and blue eyes and regular features, but there were differences. Jack had broader shoulders, a teasing smile, and a more relaxed personality. By contrast, Nick was leaner and a bit taller, and he had a quick, intense energy.
She liked them both—but Nick intrigued her more.
As they turned onto the cliff path, Nick asked, “How is the magical training coming along?”
“Your mother is a good teacher and she’s giving me a solid grounding in the basics, but neither of us knows what to do with my particular talents,” Rebecca said. “The most useful lessons have been in blocking the emotions of people around me. I keep my mental shields up so usually I don’t feel others unless I want to.”
“That has to be essential for a talent like yours,” Nick observed. “What about reading thoughts? Do you hear them more clearly now when you try?”
“Thoughts are a lot harder. I can usually catch the gist of what someone is thinking, and occasionally I hear words or phrases. Most people’s minds are a jumble. Like trying to read alphabet soup.” She made a face. “I avoid listening for thoughts because I hate invading the privacy of others. I won’t even try unless it’s a situation where they’re not likely to be thinking of anything very personal.”
“Does that spare you from too much knowledge?”
“It works better with females than males. Males always seem to be thinking about sex,” she said with exasperation.
He stared at her, startled. “I do hope that you don’t try to read my thoughts!”
She blushed, wishing she hadn’t said that. Though it was true. “I never try to read you or anyone else in your family. That would be really wrong.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “It’s an alarming power that you have, but it will be amazing when you become a psychiatrist. Have you had occasion to adjust anyone else’s emotions?”
“There’s a girl at school whose father was killed in the merchant marine,” Rebecca admitted. “She was so horribly upset that she couldn’t function.”
“I know who you mean. Did you take her pain away?” Nick asked with interest.
“I haven’t the right to do that. Pain is needful when you’ve just lost someone you love.” Rebecca hesitated, wondering how to describe what she’d done. “Instead, I … I put some distance between her and the pain. It’s hard to explain. She still mourns, as she should. But she’s no longer crippled by her loss. She’s in better shape to support her mother and younger brothers.”
“That was well done, Rebecca,” Nick said warmly. “How are you and Sylvia Crandall getting along?”
Rebecca laughed. “Would you believe that we’ve become friends? She and Andy and I have lunch together every day. Sylvia is very clever, and she has a droll sense of humor now that she isn’t miserable all the time.”
“Well done indeed!” Nick said, impressed. “You should start keeping case notes like a proper physician.”
“I do,” she said shyly. “With initials, not names, of course. With both my parents doctors, I know the importance of observation and records.”
“You are going to make a phenomenal doctor.”
“I hope so.” Rebecca stopped to say hello to a cow in the field they were passing. A dark brown creature, the cow had broad white stripes painted on her sides so cars wouldn’t hit her if she escaped during blackout hours. It was a strange world where painting cows made sense.
They reached the abbey grounds and had to pick their way through stones that had been thrown about when a Nazi bomber released part of its load overhead. The entrance to the Labyrinth was concealed behind a ruined wall.
When they reached it, Nick touched a faint bluish patch on the edge, and the stone slab silently moved aside, revealing steps leading down into darkness. Rebecca felt a shiver of awe for the ancient magic that moved those stones. She’d been raised to believe in science, and sometimes it was still hard to believe in magic. But not when the evidence was right in front of her eyes.
Nick cupped his left hand and a glow of light appeared on his palm. “How are you coming with your mage lights?”
She mimicked his cupping gesture and imagined a glow of light in her hand. An unsteady spark appeared, flickering unevenly. She concentrated and it stabilized but was much smaller than Nick’s. “I don’t think I have much talent in this area.”
“You’re still new with it all,” he said as he led the way into the passage. When he closed the door by touching another blue patch, the mage lights looked much brighter. “But it’s true that every mage has a different collection of abilities. Strong in some areas, weak in others.”
“Your strongest ability is as a finder, isn’t it?”
“Yes, and sometimes it’s handy. Not as impressive as flying or weather work, though.” He started down the stairs. “I wish it was possible to go to Lackland Abbey in the past and study seriously with the Irregulars. Any one of them knows more than I do about magic.”
They followed the winding route that led to the chamber that held Merlin’s Mirror. Each time Rebecca came here, she was more aware of the great, ancient power of the portal. She suspected it was a gauge of how her magic awareness was growing.
“A message stone.” Nick tossed his mage light in the air to hover above them, then scooped up the paper-wrapped rock.
“What does it say?”
Nick unwrapped the paper and scanned the message. His face became very still. “You were right about going to 1804.”
He handed the message to Rebecca and she scanned it eagerly. Written in a lovely clear script, it read:
Rebecca—
Please come. Your developing talent may be exactly what we need. Let me know if you want me to travel to your time and escort you back.
Tory
She swallowed hard. She hadn’t truly expected this to happen. “I guess I’d better send a message and
ask Tory to come for me. Do you have a pencil?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said gruffly. “I’ll take you. Tory has to know that, but she’s such a bloody lady that she doesn’t want to make assumptions.”
“Are you angry with her?” Rebecca asked with surprise. Nick almost never swore. “I thought you were friends.”
“We are. But I hate that they’re dragging you into their problems.” His mouth tightened. “Their bloody missions are always dangerous.”
Her jaw dropped. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you the one who dragged Tory and the others into Nazi-occupied France? And in the process, saved me and my family, not to mention your sister? I hardly think you’re in a position to complain when they ask for help!”
“Of course I’m not!” He began pacing tensely around the chamber. “But this time, you’re the one endangered. I don’t mind risking my life, but not yours.”
She didn’t know whether to laugh, sigh at his romantic protectiveness, or just roll her eyes. She settled for saying, “Nicholas, I truly appreciate your caring. But I have faced danger before. All of us do just by living in a war zone. I owe your Irregulars a debt so vast that my life would not be too high a payment.”
“You are too damned rational!” he said tightly.
She intercepted his pacing and laid a hand on his wrist. “Nick…”
He spun to face her, his eyes burning. Then he locked his arms around her and kissed her with all his repressed emotions. A neighborhood boy had kissed her in the garden once. She hadn’t been impressed.
This was blazingly different. She’d done her best to block Nick’s emotions, but now the floodgates burst. He wanted her in ways beyond words, and as her arms went around him, she realized she wanted him just as much. The surging emotions were both his and hers, and their power overwhelmed sense and reason.