The Fire Rose em-1

by Mercedes Lackey

  "I suppose it is because I expect you to be uncomfortable," he said, finally. "This situation you are in is-not a natural one. It is-"

  "No stranger than reading to a disembodied voice through a speaking-tube, Jason," she replied firmly. "Now, I take it that we are not going to attempt anything more strenuous than reading tonight? Otherwise I assume you would have said something when you called me here."

  "Probably not for the next fortnight, at least," he told her, rubbing the side of his head, where a dull and distant headache still resided. Along with the headache, he nursed a sense of self-righteousness. He had been very good about taking that damned tea of Pao's, and it did seem to him that he felt much more alert, but he missed some of the effects of his pain-killers already. He only hoped the headache would get better and not worse with time-or else he was going back to what he knew worked. "Conditions won't be quite right for at least that long. Did you find my journal?"

  She smiled at that; as always, the expression quite transformed her face, perhaps because she smiled so seldom. "Yes, I did, but I hesitated to say anything about it for fear that it had been your pet Salamander who had decided that I should have it, and not you." Her smile turned wry. "I did not want to have you annoyed at your pet when you are most likely to be irritable."

  Damn. I didn't think that irritation showed. Or-maybe she's just guessing. I would certainly have cause to feel irritable after last night. He glanced at his "pet Salamander," who only spun a little in the Elemental's version of a quiet chuckle. "He is quite capable of doing just that, I suspect, but no, it was my idea. Do let me know when you feel you understand everything in that book completely, and I will get the next volume out of storage." I do not think I will respond to that remark about being irritable. Unfortunately, it is too damnably accurate at the moment. He clumsily opened his special book to the next blank page, and sighed. "The one thing my disaster of yesterday did was to suggest another train of investigation, so if you are ready, perhaps you could begin with the book on the couch beside you. Read the whole thing, if you please."

  Taking that as the unsubtle hint it was meant to be, she picked up the volume and began to read aloud, as usual. And, as usual, he watched and listened, directing the Salamander to make notes occasionally. She was just a trifle distracted by this at first, but got used to it sooner than he would have expected.

  So did he, for that matter. She sat in a pool of bright light in the otherwise darkened study. He sat off to one side, behind his desk with a dimmer light upon it, the Salamander hovering at his right, and the huge book of notes propped up before him, effectively screening most of his face from her. By degrees, she began to relax, and began to demonstrate the fact; first by resting her head on her hand as she read, then at last by tucking her legs up beneath her in the pose he thought she found most easy. It was a pity she felt she had to truss herself up in that infernal suit and corsets, but at least she hadn't bound herself up too tightly to breathe.

  Once she relaxed, so did he. It was much easier on both of them for her to read in his study this way; he no longer had to strain to hear her clearly through the tube, and she did not have to read in a volume that strained her voice. She came to the end of the thin book and looked up in surprise as she realized where she was.

  "Oh, excuse me-" she began, and dropped her feet back to the floor with a blush.

  "Please, take whatever position you feel is less strained," he told her earnestly. "You read better when you are at ease. And I can certainly bear a few footmarks upon the furniture."

  "It is a terrible habit from my childhood, and one my father never insisted that I break," she confessed. "It is hardly ladylike."

  "I did not engage you for your deportment and posture, Rose," he reminded her. "I engaged you for your knowledge and your mind. I would not care if you read like a contortionist in a circus, with both of your feet placed on the back of your head!"

  She laughed, as he had hoped she would, and picked up the next book without prompting. She paid no more attention to him or to his terrible face than if he had been his old self-nor did she evidence any more fear of him.

  I believe that this is going to work out after all, he thought with utter astonishment. By George, she has surprised me again!

  It was just as well that the situation with Rose was going as well as it was, because within a week, Paul brought him a file on Golden Gate Shipping that was enough to fray his temper to the breaking point before he was through with it.

  "How did things deteriorate like this?" he exploded, as du Mond waited patiently for him to finish going through the papers. The secretary just shrugged.

  "It seems to have mostly blown up over the last week or so," the man said. "You've sent corrective instructions, but they seem to have bungled them. And quite frankly, it would never have gotten this way if you had an agent there. If you want my opinion-" he paused, waiting expectantly.

  "Go on," Cameron growled.

  "Well, I think the trouble is that the men over there are the kind that absolutely require someone watching them. Some people are that way; leave them alone for a moment, and they'll botch everything, but keep an eye on them and they do fine." He shrugged. "I can't explain it, but you must have seen cases like this before."

  Unfortunately, he had, all too often. Why it was that men seemed to take the absence of the boss for the signal to laze about and make mistakes of carelessness, he had no idea. "So the point is, I need an agent in Oakland, quickly," he growled in irritation. "Unfortunately, I haven't anyone to spare-"

  Except that I have been trying to think of a way to get him out of the house so that Rose and I can Work without having to conceal it from him! I don't suppose-

  "I-I suppose I could go," du Mond said reluctantly, in an uncanny echo of his own thoughts. "Quite frankly, Jason, there is very little secretarial work for me lately. Your circle of acquaintances seems to have gotten the idea that they are not going to pry you out of your reclusive retreat-and as for business matters, you have always taken care of most of them yourself, and your agent in San Francisco can handle what I have been dealing with. I believe I can straighten out this little tangle in fairly short order, and keep a new one from appearing with a firm hand on the reins."

  Oh, this was almost too perfect to be believed! But why would du Mond, who Cameron knew was lazy by nature, want to take on something that would entail real work?

  "Quite frankly, Jason, this quiet house is driving me crazy," the man went on. "Since your accident, there has been nothing for an active man to do here, and no company unless I go down into Pacifica for it. And that prim little stick of a scholar of yours is hardly what I would call company. I think that may be why I've fallen back on my Magickal studies. Perhaps if I can get out among people again, I'll be less distracted by boredom, better able to settle down to my Magickal work as well."

  Not likely-but possible, I will grant that. And it gives me the excuse I have been searching for to get rid of the blackguard. Cynically, he would allow that du Mond's motivation for volunteering was probably the genuine one he had stated-he wanted out, back in a position where he had ready access to the city, the Barbary Coast, and the pleasures he was doing without. The presence of Rose Hawkins, who made no effort to conceal the fact that she did not like him, was probably salt in the wounds of his "deprivation."

  "You'll have to live in Oakland," Cameron pointed out. "Assuming you could even get a ferry at the hours you'll need to travel, you'd waste more time traveling to and from the townhouse than is reasonable. My agent should be able to find an apartment for you."

  "I should think I ought to take care of that." He squared his shoulders as if he was taking on a great burden. "And I should also think, from the state of things in these papers, that I had better start immediately. If you can have the train brought up for me, I can be ready to leave by tomorrow morning. I'll pack up enough for the next few months; I am afraid it will take that long to get everything set in order and convince these d
ullards that although their employer may not be present, he is watching them."

  Cameron nodded, and tried not to look too eager to be rid of the man. "I hate to do without you, but you are right in thinking that my agent can probably deal with most of the work." It won't hurt to remind him that the main reason I've kept him on was because he is my Apprentice. "I'll telegraph my agent and have arrangements made to store what you bring until you notify him that you've found accommodations." He decided to be generous, and not name an upper limit on du Mond's spending. Frankly, there weren't that many expensive lodgings in Oakland! "You could take a small house rather than an apartment, if you find one furnished. You might as well hire yourself a servant and a cook as well-no point in you ruining your health by catching bad meals on the waterfront. Maybe a horse so you won't need cabs, if you find a place with stabling nearby. Once you've made all your arrangements, send the bills to me."

  He didn't even want to name an upper limit; getting rid of du Mond was worth just about any price. In fact-if the man actually made a success of this, even a moderate success, there was no reason why he couldn't acquire another business somewhere and send him off with a promotion and a raise in the form of part-ownership of the firm! Much better than doing away with him-the Salamanders really didn't like to incinerate people, and he had a notion that Rose would hardly approve, though she didn't like the man either.

  Perhaps I could buy a small rail company or shipping concern in the Far East or India? Or Tahiti or the South Seas? Something far away and in a place guaranteed to indulge all of his worst vices, and with a climate that will encourage him to his natural laziness. Then, when the venture fails, I will have the excuse to cut him off without a ticket back.

  And if, against all probabilities, he succeeded, Cameron could reward him with full ownership, cutting him loose to work on his own. Why not? He could afford to be generous.

  "Right, then-as usual, you'll find the cash you'll need for immediate expenses in the safe on the train," he said briskly. "You might as well take my leather luggage and steamer trunks from the last ocean trip; I think they're in storage in the stable. I'll telegraph my San Francisco agent and authorize the rest of your expenses with him; he'll see to it that you have all the bona-fides you need to establish your authority with the Oakland firm. Can I expect you to be in the saddle by the day after tomorrow?"

  Du Mond smiled thinly. "I don't see why not. I can take a suite in a hotel until I find a permanent place but I don't really expect that to take more than a week. Put your mind at rest, Jason. The situation will be taken care of."

  "Oh?" he replied. "You sound very sure of yourself."

  Du Mond's smile widened until he looked very like the proverbial cat who stole the cream. "I am," he said softly. "In fact, I think you'll be surprised."

  Cameron could no longer raise his eyebrows, but he conveyed a certain skepticism in his voice. "Really?"

  "Really." Paul du Mond chuckled and rose to his feet. He stopped at the door for a parting shot. "I've decided to take this as a personal cause, something to be the stepping-stone to great success. I promise you," he continued, in a satisfied tone as he opened the door and left, "I intend to use this as the opportunity to show you just what I'm capable of."

  CHAPTER

  TWELVE

  Rose pulled a wayward strand of hair behind her ear and took a tighter grip on her piece of soft chalk. She had never much favored the rather risque costume for women espoused by Amanda Bloomer, but she had asked Jason for permission to order one on the chance that she might need it, and it was proving invaluable today. It might be immodest and not at all modish, but she could never have drawn these chalk diagrams on the slate floor of Jason's workroom if she had been wearing any kind of skirt. She would have found it difficult to get down on her hands and knees, and the voluminous skirts and dragging hems would have been in danger of erasing much of her work.

  I do wish I could do this drawing unsupervised, however. I feel like a hoyden. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she noted that Jason was not looking at her, but at the last piece of the design she had finished. At least all that he said was, "how very practical." She consoled herself with the undoubted fact that she was no more exposed than if she had been wearing a modern bathing-costume. And certainly Jason had seen far more female flesh exposed on the stage in this city, Good heavens, the minuscule dresses worn by the corps de ballet at the Opera covered less than this! And those were prim compared to the tiny costumes espoused by the dancers in music-halls.

  Besides, there was more at stake here than her modesty.

  My knees, for instance. How they ache! Her knees felt bruised and sore, and her back and shoulders were stiff and painful. She had been at this task for hours now, and felt a strong kinship with those poor creatures forced to scrub floors for a living.

  Jason himself stood to one side, coatless, and supervised the drawing, the overall diagram in one hand. She had a copy of the same diagram with her and had it lying open beside her bundle of colored chalks, but it helped to have someone outside it to see that she hadn't somehow overlooked something. They had laid out each portion with rulers, compasses, a carpenter's chalk-lines, and string; she had worked from the inside out, circling around the center of the room like a planet in its orbit around the sun. This Working Room of Jason's was a curious place; the walls featured inset panels of slate of the same kind as the floor, in case he might need to contrive a Work that required diagrams to be made on the walls as well as the floor. There were no windows, none at all. The room itself was not large, not as large as it seemed, since it contained no furniture of any kind. Between the panels of slate on the walls were ship's lamps, the kind that magnified the light coming from them, so that when they were all lit the room was as bright as possible. At the moment, every one of them was alight, making it easy to see if there were any mistakes in the diagram. Rose was drawing the diagram, rather than Jason, for three reasons. He had trouble bending; his joints had been oddly warped by his transformation, and a half hour of drawing on the floor left him in agony. Drawing such diagrams was rightfully the work of the Apprentice, anyway, so that the Master could supervise the construction of the whole. She was the Apprentice, and when he had proposed this Work, she had taken it for granted that she would be the one doing the drawing, and had said as much. And last of all, she'd had a suspicion, which a quick test had proved, that the transformation had rendered Jason partially color-blind. Subtle colors-the pale colors of the chalks, for instance-all looked very much alike to him. It was only when hues were saturated that he could tell them apart. Taking them into strong sunlight helped, but he had not thought to do that before she pointed his deficiency out to him. She had further confounded him by proving to him that although he could, with concentration, tell the chalks themselves apart most of the time, he literally could not tell a chalked line of green from one of blue in even the strongest artificial light-and it was not possible to take the finished diagram out into the sun.

  "That may have been what went wrong the last time," she had pointed out. "If you cannot tell blue from green, or green from yellow, and you did not remember to label them, you would have been drawing symbols in the wrong colors for their Quarters. You could have gotten the whole diagram so hopelessly mixed that nothing would have sorted it out."

  "I don't know if that would have made a difference or not," he had said hesitantly. "The old Masters only had white chalk available for the most part, so that was what they used."

  "I suspect that plain white chalk would not make a difference, but it would seem to me that the wrong color would," she had told him firmly. "Several of your sources are very firm about the importance of color to the Elementals. It is difficult enough for a Firemaster to gain the attention of Water Elementals long enough to convince them to leave his Work alone-only think how less likely that is if he uses the wrong color! The last time you attempted a Work, you got absolutely nothing for your pains, and that might well have been becaus
e you offended all the Elementals except your own."

  He had nodded, reluctantly. And that was why she was on her hands and knees chalking out the four Quarters of his diagram in the right colors-pale red for Fire and the South, blue for Air and the East, green for Water and the West, and yellow for Earth and the North. If anything went wrong tonight, it would not be because the diagrams had been mismanaged!

  And from now on, if he decides he must work alone, I suspect he will take care to use plain white chalk.

  Oh, but her knees and her back hurt! If this was the lot of the average Apprentice, she had some sympathy with du Mond now for his alleged laziness. This was not something she would care to endure, night after night.

  She was taking particular care with this diagram because there was not a great deal else she could control in this project. This was to be a Work that Jason himself had attempted only twice in the past, both times when he was working under the supervision of his own Master, both times for purposes less urgent than this one. It was common enough that every Magician of any sort knew it, or a variation on it, but the particulars were such that few ever attempted it.