I looked at the Merlin. He was indeed younger than I imagined such a position would command, a narrow faced fellow with eyes that were keen. Any the dissipation I had noticed before now gone. Had it been an act?’ A way to prepare the world for his ‘mistake’ to come?
However strategically he had planned the attack, or aided in its completion, the sorcerer could not have imagined anyone would cut through the layers of complexity of the attack, let alone two of the people who had been intended to be only pawns. He could not have counted on Nenetl and I upsetting his apple cart of corruption.
The thought made me smile.
The Merlin saw me looking at him and for a fraction of a second and we made eye contact.
In that moment I knew all my suspicions were real, all my suppositions accurate. What is more, I saw in his intelligent, amber eyes that he suddenly knew I knew.
What could I do? What should I do?
Was there immediate danger to my monarch? Could I count on the man’s own fear of discovery to keep him from making some further move or, now that his complex attack had failed would he try some desperate move to find a way to still destroy the treaty?
When presented with the choice of action verses inaction in my life I had always chosen action, so I decided the danger was such as to warrant talking with The Prince.
“Your Highness,” I said quietly and with a smile on my face as I stood. I intended to try and pull Edward aside in the guise of telling some ribald joke that was too delicate for the assembled guests (though that was a stretch considering Mini’s many off colour jests). “I am reminded of a story that might amuse you from my time in Crimea--”
My ruse failed miserably. I had acted too rashly, for The Merlin must have realized I was about to express my concerns to Edward and he panicked.
Chapter Twenty-Six
To the Depths
The sorcerer turned to stare at me with deliberate intensity and I saw something in his expression had changed. He knew with certainty that I had tumbled onto him and I guess it was too much for him to deal with now that the complex ruse of an assassination had failed. He apparently decided to be more direct and raised his hands as if he was about to cast a spell.
Nenetl sensed something was different with my abrupt change of temperament in requesting to talk to The Prince so her head came up from her plate. She saw me over Mini’s shoulder and her expression asked, “What is happening?”
I was not sure what to do whether I should sit down and laugh it all off, hoping for a better time later or press on.
The Merlin decided the affair for me, he pulled back his right hand in a casting gesture.
“Beware, The Merlin is a traitor!” I called.
Those at the table looked up startled at my statement with the ‘Rounder stepping forward toward The Prince’s side and the Iroquois bodyguard drawing his tomahawk but not as sure of what was happening so he focused on me.
Only Nenetl saw what I did, as the faint glow of energy began to balloon out of the Merlin’s right hand.
“Don’t do it,” I called to the sorcerer “Do not compound your treachery.” He stared at me with fury in his eyes on the verge of a horrible action.
In that moment I could see he made his decision, having weighed all that would follow by my knowing his guilt. There was no turning back for him now.
“The Merlin was the force behind the assassination,” I screamed as I started forward. “Protect the Prince!”
The traitor sent a bolt to power right at me. It was a dark green blast of necromantic energy but having foreknowledge I was able to dodge most of the force. The ethereal blast, though it passed me by inches still disturbed the very air enough that the searing cold energy slammed into my shoulder and sent me flying to the ground.
All this happened in an eye-blink leaving the others stunned, but the jaguar was up from her chair as I fell. Nenetl jumped on the table from which she launched herself directly at the Merlin.
The ‘Rounder meanwhile, throwing convention to the side, bodily pulled The Prince from the path a second the magickal blast.
The Merlin prepared to hurl another bolt but had to turn his attention from the Prince to deal with the charging jaguar. Nenetl charged down the table, a steak knife in her hand and went straight for the sorcerer. I made it to my feet and tried to get across the table but Nenetl was at the Merlin already. She took a full ethereal blast of cold fire from the traitor. The energy pulse sent her flying into me and the two of us went down.
At that next moment The Merlin turned toward The Prince but the Rounder had pulled his truncheon and when the sorcerer tried to attack the royal he was blocked by the knight’s enchanted weapon with the Merlinian energies canceling each other out with a blinding glare of light. The pulsing waves of power that streamed from their conflict pressed on each of us like a storm wind that knocked most off their feet and caused those seated to grasp their chairs to keep from toppling.
I tried to claw my way to my feet but Nenetl was on top of me and the force of the ethereal kept us pinned.
The Mohawk warrior who, until he was knocked from his feet by the ethereal blast was confused, realized exactly what was happening at last. Before the traitor could redouble his attack on The Prince, the Iroquois let fly with his tomahawk. The native weapon, its shaman-blessed blade immune to the magickal wards from the Merlin, whirled across the room and struck true. The edge lodged dead centre in the skull of the sorcerer.
There was a crackling sound and the Merlin dropped to the floor. Suddenly the pressure wave of the magickal conflict was over and we all in the room breathed easier.
“We got him, Nenetl. You can get off-“ I said as I started to push the jaguar off me and realized she was cold to the touch. “Nenetl?”
I sat up and she rolled limply off me. I gasped to see that there was a huge burnt spot on her left front side, smoking with cold, green vapour.
“No!” I hissed.
I eased her over on her back and could see her eyes were half closed. Her pretty lips were pulled back in a pained grin.
“It is good we got him, Baronet Grey.” She said, “All are safe?”
“Yes, loyal jaguar,” Lord Chichua said in a whisper. “Thanks to you all are safe.”
Aunt Mini and Prince Edward came to stand by us as I cradled Nenetl’e head in my lap. “Take it easy, “ I said with as calm a voice as I could force. “We will get a healer.”
“No,” she said with quiet strength and supreme calm, “I have seen enough healers; I shall be speaking directly to Mictlantecuhtli soon of such things.”
“No,” I hissed before I could stop myself. Mictlantecuhtli was the Aztec god of the dead. I could see the spreading dark green iridescent wound crawling across her chest and side and I knew she was speaking truthfully. The underworld was pushing through into the land of the living via that magickal gash.
“You look a mess,” she said with a weak smile. “I thought you were a dandy?”
I could feel the life force leaving her and had a hard time not screaming. Instead I said, quietly, “I promise to dress up in jaguar finest when we visit Mexhico City.”
She attempted to shake her head but did not seem to have the strength. “You would look silly in a feathered cape; but I would have liked to see it.” The cold that came off her body was palpable.
“Don’t go,” I whispered. “We have so much to do together.”
“Yes,” she said. “Tomorrow would have been fun.”
Then the jaguar warrior who had become my friend and lover died in my arms.
I cried like a baby for a very long time.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Direction
The hand of Fate struck me like a fist with Nenetl’s death.
The days that followed were a blur to me.
I have vague memories of Mini pouring whiskey down my throat and I have a recollection of her putting me on the teleglass to talk to my friend Mike Ellenbogen in New York to try to cheer me u
p. It did little to that effect, but he did make me promise to come down to visit him.
All I could hear, it seemed, was Nenetl’s last words. All I could see was the light fading in her clear black-pupiled eyes.
There was an uproar about the very concept of a Merlin turning traitor to the point of attempting to assassinate a member of the Pendragon family. It was a scandal beyond a scandal.
A committee of Merlins came into town by magickal transport, each of them an eminent, ancient master of the lore who had never encountered anything like it before.
I was brought before them into a darkened chamber where certain symbols had been etched on the floors and walls in coloured chalk and braziers of red coals had marked out the four quarters of the compass. The room was heavy with incense.
“Do you swear under God and for the good of the realm to tell the truth,” the black robed head examiner asked? “ The entire truth of what you have seen and experienced in regards to the matter of Merlin Aldwyn?”
“I do, your lordship.” I said. “I hope to do my best to bring a light to all that transpired here.”
Prince Edward was in the chamber but I felt isolated and alone, as, I suppose, was the intent of such a formal hearing. This Magickal Court as a parallel law system to the normal jurist prudence of the realm going back to before the Magna Carta itself.
The tribunal of examiners questioned me for over an hour in the normal manner, and though I did my best to be coherent I am not sure at all that I was. Ultimately it wasn’t really necessary. After I had given them all the facts as I recalled them I was asked for my permission to be placed under a full reveal spell that made my own recollections unimportant.
I gave them that permission.
The spell allowed them to see as I saw the day of the kidnapping and the evening at the dining hall. This allowed them to experience all of it as it had happened. Such information, gained with the full permission of the subject, was admissible in court under Pendragon Law. I did all of this, of course, both because I am a royal subject of the Queen but also because there had to be justice for Nenetl.
The spelled testimony went on before the board of these mages for several hours and left me drained.
When there was a pause in the proceedings after my questioning I was escorted to a small side room to rest.
I sipped a cognac and slumped against a heavy leather chair feeling as if I had gone several rounds in the pugilistic ring. “None of this should be happening,” I whispered to my reflection in the snifter. “I should be having this drink with you, Nenetl.”
“A hard time, eh, Baronet?” Prince Edward said as he entered the room. I made to rise but he waved me to stay seated.
He was accompanied by three ‘Rounders. Security was exceptionally heavy since the two attempts on his life. A new team of ‘Rounders had come into town with the mages and now three were always with Edward.
“I’ve had more difficult days,” I said, “but the Merlins could match my old Colour-sergeant for intensity that is for sure.”
Though he was my monarch Edward had a way of making one feel comfortable in his presence. Plus now we shared the violence of the two attacks, while it was not like having been in the trenches of the Crimea there is something about having that sort of experience as a commonality that draws one into the sense of comradeship.
“They are off their feed because that red Indian fellow was able to penetrate their fellow’s wards with a throwing axe charmed by another system of magick; they like to think they are the only card game at the table.”
“I know that is not the case from my time in India and the Crimea,” I said. “New world magick is just as potent.” I saw no need to bring up that I had personally witnessed Caribbean magick abrogate the gates of death, proving it potent indeed.
“Aye,” The Prince said, “A reality that I must be aware of for the good of the Empire; which is why I wish to talk to a man like you; your breadth of knowledge.”
“How so, Your Highness?”
“For the good of the Empire,” Edward continued, “ I have had to exercise royal prerogative and the Council of Merlins has removed the memory of that event from the Marines and the Mohawk warrior.” He leaned in a little close and his voice dropped to barely a whisper.
“I have already spoken to Lady Camden,” Edward said, “ and the Ambassador and his wife and they have agreed to being discreet. I know I can rely on their discretion. I will ask you, Baronet Grey that for the sake of the stability of the Empire you never speak of this affair as well.”
“I am honoured to be trusted, your highness,” I said. “You have my most solemn word.”
“Good,” The Prince said. “I was certain that was the case; but I have something else to ask you.”
“How ever I may serve, My Lord,” I said. It felt good to be able to say those words, but they made me remember Nenetl and her devotion to her own Emperor. The thought of her again was like a knife strike, yet I straightened my back and soldiered on.
“Your service has been exemplary,” Edward said, “and I would ask you to continue it in the higher service of the Realm but in a more quiet fashion.”
“How so?”
“As you have seen there are forces that would work against the realm’s peace; this attack to halt the treaty is only the latest of a number of incidents that deserve investigation. I would ask that you undertake such investigations, hidden by your idyll civilian life. The cover of such a life will give you freedom to explore, to hear things that more obviously official agents might not.”
Here was a call to purpose that I had craved for so long, that I had admired so much in Nenetl. Yet is seemed hollow now that I did not have that warrior to share the adventure with. None-the –less I nodded to my monarch.
“I live to serve, your highness.”
“Good man,” he said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “An agent of mine will contact you at some point; you will know him by showing you a mate to this-“ he slipped off a distinctive signet ring and handed it to me. “We, our mother and all the realm thank you.” Then he lowered his head. “And I know how hard the loss of that brave jaguar was, baronet. Grieve. Remember her with pride and know that she did not die in vain; she will long be remembered and we honour her. I have spoken to Lord Chichua about doing so formally.”
I was a little stunned by his genuine feeling for Nenetl, and it touched me deeply. I swallowed and nodded.
“I am your man, highness, in any way I can be. And on behalf of her, I thank you.”
“Good fellow,” he said. “Let us return to the tribunal and finish this then I think a good brandy and a smoke are in order; unfortunately I am off tonight to head to Toronto then back to London.”
The tribunal’s second session involved ritual exhortation to honesty, removal of all spells pertaining to the recall of the incident and a call for silence regarding the proceedings of the court. I accepted their call to silence and reaffirmed my loyalty to the Crown, then was formally thanked for my cooperation and dismissed.
When I exited the chamber Aunt Mini was waiting for me.
“You look like you need yourself some crude drink, nephew.”
“I’ve had the strong woman, Auntie,” I said darkly, “ and it didn’t help.”
“Nephew, you gotta come out of this,” Mini said. “That little rip-snorter of a gal wouldn’t want ya to just waste away.”
“I’m not, Mini,” I said, thinking of the offer from The Prince to actively find a way to serve the Empire again. Yet it felt empty with out Nenetl to share it with. It was amazing that knowing her in for less than a month could colour the world so very much.
“I plan to honour Nenetl by exactly not making a waste of myself, Mini. Anything but.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Arrival and Farwell
My pulse quickened as the wakening island of Manhattan came into sight further down the Hudson. Our pre-dawn dirigible flight from Montreal to the airship port on Governors Is
land, New York had been uneventful, but upon arrival I knew things would become interesting when I saw my old friend, Mad Mike.
“I suppose you ain’t comin’ with me to that there Hammerstein’s Opera place when we land, eh, Athelstan?” My Aunt Minerva said, knowing in advance that Der Nibelungren bored me.
“I plan to knock up Mike Ellenbogen first,” I said.
“Mad Mike from Cairo will be good for you, nephew.” Aunt Mini said. She was dressed in a fine new Paris designed gown she had purchased in Montreal but the former Miss Minerva Strump was as American as the city we were approaching. The bonnet had an outrageous peacock plum that seemed almost as tall as she was.
“Same Mad Mike,” I said with a laugh. I touched the Eye of Horus amulet I wore that Mike had given me, remembering some of our escapades in Egypt three years before.
My aunt and I were among the two-dozen passengers at the great airship Pride of Prussia’s observation window, watching the bustling city and busy harbour ahead. With a population over a million and a half it ranked as the nation’s largest port, with piers, factories and even working farms on it.
We passed over the gun emplacements of Fort Tryon at the northern tip of the island, fortified still from when the city was made the capital of the new republic during their civil war when the southern states had burned Washington- an idea they stole from we Albions in 1814.
But beyond all its commerce and prestige, beyond all its Astor high society and its striving immigrants, it was an open secret that New York City was also the vice capital of the United States. And Mad Mike was little part of that, running ‘Mike and Spike’s Sphinx Saloon’ on the west side of Manhattan at 23rd Street.
Our airship cruised slowly down the Hudson, over the river traffic and with a clear view of the bustling metropolis that truly rivaled London. The density of the population increased as we went down island from Washington Heights near rural development to the very urban lower island.
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