Now, how to convince Jason he should have his own apartment ...?
Whatever I choose to be my excuse for being in the city, I shall make certain most of the business will take place at odd hours and as far from the townhouse as possible. It will then be only logical for me to lodge where the business is, rather than disrupt the household with my comings and goings. He knew that the help at the townhouse had complained to Cameron in the past when he had come and gone at odd or late hours-they could not all go to bed until the last of the "guests" were seen to, nor could they lock the place up until everyone who should be in residence was safely in his bed. If some aspect of Jason's business required him to be out late at night-
Then, all at once, he knew his answer. I have it! The shipping company in Oakland he just purchased! It had been part of a larger acquisition, but the relatively small company had proved to be unexpectedly key to much of his rail business up the coast into the great lumbering areas. There were bound to be problems with such a new purchase, problems that Paul could not only exaggerate, but even make worse by communicating ambiguous orders to those in charge. Cameron did not have an agent in Oakland; Paul could volunteer. Shipping companies kept late (or early) hours, for consignments must be on their way long before a "normal" business day began. And in addition, a daily crossing of the Bay would waste an intolerable number of working hours-if he could find a ferry that operated at such times!
This would be perfect. Beltaire had a home of his own across the Bay-placing him as far as possible from his rival Firemaster, and yet still remaining within the area. That home was probably where he did most of his Magickal Work, and being in Oakland would put Paul near enough to him to receive frequent personal instruction.
Beltaire has a private motor-launch, and I suspect he will be reasonable about my use of it if I want to visit the city after dark.
Yes. He smiled to himself as he put the final mental touches on his new plans. This was going to work out wonderfully well.
The last place that Rose expected to find du Mond was in the conservatory. She had taken to doing her reading there, soothed by the sound of the fountains and the twittering birds, but today, when she rounded a corner, there he was, sitting across from her favorite bench with a book in his hands. She doubted that he was reading it, since he didn't seem at all absorbed in it. He had never struck her as the kind of man who would find anything interesting about plants or small birds-
Except, perhaps, to find a way to do something unpleasant with them-
She shook the uncomfortable thought from her head. It was too late to turn around and leave; he had already seen her, as if he had been waiting for her, and was smiling that particularly false, bright smile at her, the one that made her feel as if she should check her hemline for an immodest display of ankle. She sighed, and continued to walk in his direction.
He stood up, and met her halfway. "I beg your pardon if I am intruding. I was not aware that you ever came here to read, Miss Hawkins," he said, before she could greet him. "And since I really should be getting back to my work, I shall leave you to the solitude you would obviously prefer and not inflict my company upon you."
Oh, drat. Did I make myself that obvious? Annoyed by her twinge of guilt, further annoyed by the fact that she had been patently impolite, she now felt moved to protest, even though she would rather have thanked him for being observant. "Oh, don't go on my account," she replied, doing her level best to cover her irritation. "Please. It is not as if you were practicing a trumpet, or something of the like. Surely two people can read quietly without annoying each other."
But he only laughed. "No, indeed, the only reason one could wish to come here would be to enjoy the illusion of summer and the quiet, and I will not spoil these things for you with my presence. I could wish you felt more comfortable with my company, but you do not, and I am not the kind of man to force myself upon you in any way."
The deuce you aren't! she thought rebelliously, feeling certain she had caught him in an outright lie, but he was continuing.
"I don't know what has put you off about me, and I do apologize. It may be that-that I am aware of many uncomfortable truths about our employer, and you are insensibly aware of this," he said earnestly, as if he actually meant every word of it. "Even hardened skeptics will admit that a woman's instincts are surer than a mere male's, and that a woman is far more sensitive to nuances. It could be that it is the burden that I carry that makes you uncomfortable in my presence, and not my presence itself."
She knew he was waiting for her to ask about the "uncomfortable secrets," and she was not about to oblige him. Instead, she bowed her head as if hiding a blush. "Most men of power have uncomfortable things about them," she murmured. "It is not my place to inquire about my employer, and still less to go hunting what may be nothing more than gossip."
But he took that slender rebuff as the invitation to confide! "I have recently learned some things that would make many people more than merely uncomfortable," he said, in a low, persuasive voice. "It is not gossip, I do assure you, but fact, and in his own handwriting."
Now I know you lie! Now that I have seen him I can understand why he cannot write anything for himself-those poor paws of his could never hold a pen!
But du Mond was hardly privy to all that Jason had revealed to her. He probably still thought that she believed she was translating obscure works for an eccentric invalid. Everything he told her was based on that assumption, and as a result, she was in a position to catch him in quite a few lies, if she cared to.
He continued. 'They are-business arrangements with Chinese and men with connections to the East that are not only dubious, but may conceal truly illegal acts." He contrived to look very earnest, a trifle worried, and completely honest and open. "Miss Hawkins, I must admit that I have no evidence of the sort that one would take to an authority, but if I were you, I would think very seriously about my situation. These are the things that alarm me. Cameron has dealings with Chinese merchants of doubtful reputation. He has in his employ in his townhouse in the city a man of hardened mien who still has contacts in India and beyond. His townhouse itself stands dangerously near that terrible district known as the 'Barbary Coast.' And it is his habit to hire young women with few or no living relations; women who would not be missed if they suddenly were to vanish. And in addition I fear he is, in his illness, becoming extremely dependent upon opium and similar drugs. At the least, this impairs his judgment, and at the worst, it puts him in the power of those who supply such things. Remember what infamous activities this city is noted for, and please, be wary. Recall my promise to help you, if need be. I still have many worthy friends in the city, honest and honorable men you could trust without a second thought."
It was all she could do to keep from laughing out loud. Did he really, truly believe her to be so very gullible? Did he believe she would so easily forget how he had acted toward her when she first arrived? To hide her twitching lips, she looked away, as if profoundly embarrassed. "I shall," she said. It seemed to satisfy him, and he went on his way after an earnest glance of deep concern.
She sat down on her favorite bench with her book clasped in both hands, thinking the encounter through. Should I tell Jason about this conversation? In the light of day, all of her fears of last night seemed foolish, the childish nonsense of a woman terrified by imaginary burglars under the bed and the scratching of twigs upon the window. She had decided not to say anything at all to Cameron of the plots and machinations her imagination had ascribed to du Mond. Why bother? There was not the slightest scrap of evidence, and she wanted to impress Cameron with her sense. Such nonsense would only annoy him.
But it seemed that du Mond had an imagination that was just as active.
She sat so still that one of the little birds landed on the back of the bench beside her, preened itself carefully, and then flew off.
She could hardly imagine the staff of the townhouse being involved in white slavery-but she also recalled that
they did not at all care for du Mond, and the antipathy may have been mutual. It was always easy to ascribe a sinister purpose to someone you did not like-well, look at all the plots she had laid up on du Mond's doorstep last night!
She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to measure just how many of du Mond's accusations were true. There was no doubt that Jason did have dealings with less-than-savory merchants in town, Chinese and otherwise. He made no secret of that. He was a businessman, and one who cared very little about the morals of those he dealt with, although Rose found such an attitude reprehensible. So du Mond was right, in that much.
He was also correct in saying that Cameron was using far too much in the way of opiates. She had seen as much for herself, last night, in the number of pills he had planned to take before she intervened. Even Master Pao had known that he was in trouble so far as narcotics went-probably because he had relatives and informants all over China-town, which would be where Cameron got most of his opium and opium derivatives. And as for Cameron's propensity for hiring young women who would not be missed, she had only du Monds word on that....
But I am one such, and it is logical to think that there are others in his employ who could answer that description. There are far, far more men in San Francisco than women, even at this modern date, and those women who travel here are often those who seek their fortunes even as the men seek theirs, because they have no family ties to hold them, or family resources to fall back on.
She opened her eyes again, and licked her lips. It could be that du Mond was trying to frighten her into seeking his aid in escaping this place, for sinister reasons of his own. Then again, du Mond could simply wish her out of the house so that he alone had access to Cameron, and Cameron became totally dependent on him for his contact with the outside world.
She did not need to attribute sinister plans to him. His motive could be very, very simple, and that of any man hoping to preserve his position-drive her away so that circumstances returned to the way they had been before she arrived. He might even have sensed that he was about to be replaced in the Master's service as an Apprentice, but whether or not he did, he could hardly have missed the fact that he was not the only human in the house anymore!
So he sees me as an interloper and wants to be rid of me. A human and common enough motive! And nothing I need ascribe to sinister machinations. Who knows but what he may actually have those respectable 'friends" he claims he has, who would be willing to help me find other employment. Well, why not? If she were as ignorant of the real situation as du Mond supposed, and if she were to find a better position than this one, she would never bother going back, now, would she? It was in du Mond's purely mundane interest to help her find good employment elsewhere.
No, she was attributing far too much to him and to his intelligence. There was no point in telling Cameron about this-unless she could find a way to do so that would amuse him and lighten his spirits.
Poor man! He could certainly use all the help he could get in that regard, as in so many others.
She relaxed, and settled down to read her book, grateful that du Mond had not seen it closely, for it was Cameron's own journal-cum-Workbook of his first year as an Apprentice. She had found it on her bedside table this morning, brought there, no doubt, by a Salamander. She did not know if Cameron himself had sent it, or if that one extraordinarily intelligent Salamander had taken it upon himself to bring it to her, but in either case it was proving to be enlightening in many ways.
There was not a great deal that was personal in this journal, and what there was did not tell her a great deal. She formed a vague notion of an extremely intelligent child, quite a lone wolf, who spent no time in the company of children his own age. Well, he was hardly alone in that respect; most highly intelligent children were isolated by their very intelligence.
I was, for instance. She had been shunned by other girls her age for being a "bookworm," which hardly mattered, since she had never found their games of much interest. I had more entertainment out of re-enacting the beheading of Mary Queen of Scots with my dolls than of playing at "house." And when I dressed them, I made miniature costumes of various historical periods rather than the latest fashions!
Cameron had actually begun his work as a formal Apprentice at the age of thirteen, and even at that young age his penmanship had been impeccable. The one thing that this book had that others she had read had lacked was the reason behind every exercise that young Jason had been assigned. Evidently his own Master had been very meticulous about outlining the rhyme and reason behind the most trivial of Magickal exercises, and Jason had been just as meticulous about writing them down. The result of this was a very thorough education in the Magick of Fire, indeed, of Magick in general, and the equivalent of having a Master at her elbow to explain everything.
Now a great many things she had read in other books began to make sense-including the Ordeals. All of them were designed to ensure that the prospective Master could control his Elementals under any and all circumstances, so that even when the Master lay unconscious or near death, the Elementals would not revolt and break the coercions and restrictions binding them. Here the young Jason had noted something very interesting. 'It would be better to make friends of the Salamanders than to force them,' he had written in his unchildlike hand. 'This is how my Master conducts himself these days although he learned by the Old School; I believe his only friends are Salamanders, actually.'
She smiled wryly at that. Like Master, like Apprentice. I do believe that Jason's only friends are Salamanders.
What would happen if an Elemental did revolt? She turned a page, and found that young Jason had asked the same question. 'Dreadful things happen until the Elemental's anger is spent. If an Undine turns against her Master, rivers rise, springs appear where they are not wanted, waters burst dams unexpectedly. If a Sylph, terrible storms, esp tornadoes. If a Gnome, earthquakes, sinkholes, and cave-ins, and if a Salamander, fires everywhere that rage quite out of control, and sometimes volcanoes. My Master says that the Great Fire of London was because of angry Salamanders breaking free from an unkind Master. This is why he says it is better to make friends, tho it takes longer.'
She shivered. Was this the answer to the fabled destruction of Atlantis? Was this why Pompeii was buried? What of the Johnstown Flood, the eruption of Mount Pelee only three years ago that destroyed two cities, or that mysterious earthquake that changed the course of the Mississippi some fifty years ago? Could a Salamander have caused the Chicago Fire her father had talked about so much?
Then she chided herself for seeing a supernatural cause behind every one of the world's woes. Oh, surely some disasters are purely human or natural in origin. I shall be suspecting a renegade Elemental behind everything, if I am not careful! And what Elemental could have caused the Irish Famine, pray-a Potato Elemental?
Still, it was fascinating to think that there were some otherwise inexplicable disasters that had causes. Now the ancient Greek habit of propitiating Nature Spirits whenever building or changing something began to sound like a sound and reasonable idea!
She continued to delve into the book, as the afternoon slipped away, lost to the world around her and to any thoughts other than those of Magick.
Cameron was as nervous as any boy alone with a female for the first time. He had ordered the Salamanders to clear off the couch in his study and place the best lamp in the house on the table beside it. There was a carafe of fresh water and a glass on the table, and a pile of books awaited Rose's perusal. She had appeared promptly when he called up for her, but she had not dressed as she usually did when reading-that is, casually. She'd donned a soft cashmere suit in a warm brown shade, and was as carefully and properly groomed as any prim female secretary. Although she did not seem ill-at-ease, she was not lounging on the couch as was her wont when reading in her room.
0f course she is not! She is not in her room, thinking she is unobserved. This is her public face, and she is not likely to show me her private asp
ect.
But he could not help thinking that she was so stiff because she was afraid of him-that despite her brave words, she could not help looking at him and thinking of him as a monster. How could she simply accept him? It was impossible, of course. It would take someone with more experience in Magick than she to accept something like him with equanimity.
"You're certain that you're quite comfortable?" he asked nervously.
"Absolutely," she replied, and raised one eyebrow. "Why do you keep asking?"
He was not about to tell her that it was because he had watched her in his mirror and knew that her posture was not one of ease and comfort! If she ever deduced that, he hoped she would be ladylike enough to pretend that she hadn't.
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