"The Marquis of Harsfeld was among them," she said with a significant look at Kim.
"Lord Franton?" Kim said. "He did tell me he was going to call, but I didn't think he meant right away."
"When he discovered that you were from home, he did not stay," Mrs. Lowe said. "I trust that he will have better fortune on his next visit."
Mairelon frowned. "Who else did we miss?" he said abruptly.
"Your French friend, Miss D'Auber," Mrs. Lowe replied. "She said that she wished to see how you did. I cannot think where she could have gotten the impression that you were unwell."
"She may have mistaken something I said last night," Mairelon said.
Mrs. Lowe nodded, satisfied. "I told her it must be some misunderstanding."
"Did she say anything else?" Kim asked, hoping to turn the subject before Mrs. Lowe accidentally precipitated a crisis.
"She mentioned that she overheard the Marquis of Harsfeld tell Lady Greythorne that you were even more charming in person than from afar," Mrs. Lowe said. "I am pleased that you managed to make such a good impression last night, though it would have been far better had you been here to receive him when he called today. Oh, and there has apparently been something of a rash of thefts and burglaries lately."
"Really?" Mairelon was suddenly all attention. "Did Renee say who, or when?"
"Someone stole a painting from Mr. Winton's library last week, and Lord Bancroft and his wife lost an urn that had been in the family for several generations, though it was only silver plate. That was Monday. And last night, someone broke in at the George."
"Someone tried to rob a hotel?" Kim said incredulously.
"It does seem a bit unusual," Mairelon said.
"It's a mug's game," Kim told him. "People who're putting up at hotels don't cart their silver along with them, and if they've got jewels, they're out wearing them at night. And there's the hotel staff, as well as everybody's servants, so there's at least three times as many people to avoid. Milling a gentry ken is a lot safer, and they're not exactly easy marks."
"Kim," Mrs. Lowe said reprovingly, "you really must be more careful about your language. Those . . . cant terms are simply not suitable in polite company."
"I wonder what the cracksman took," Mairelon said.
"Miss D'Auber didn't say," Mrs. Lowe replied stiffly, frowning at him.
"Pity. Kim, I'll want to see you in the library after lunch; we've a good deal of work to do if we're to have that illusion ready for your ball." And with an absent nod, Mairelon escaped up the stairs, leaving Kim with his aunt.
Kim had expected the rest of the day to be quiet, but she was quickly disabused of that notion. Mairelon had not been joking when he said they had a lot of work to do to prepare for the illusion spell, and most of the work was Kim's. Fortunately, Lady Wendall could take over some of Mairelon's part, but there were limits to what she could accomplish from the sidelines without letting it become obvious to everyone that it was she, and not her son, who was assisting Kim with her come-out illusion. The additional parts fell to Kim, and she burned candles late into the evening trying to memorize them all.
Promptly at eleven the next morning, she and Mairelon were at the Ministry of Wizardry once again. The Earl of Shoreham did not keep them waiting long. "I suppose you're here about those French wizards again," he said to Mairelon as they found seats in his office.
"Not directly," Mairelon said. "There have been developments."
"With you, there are always developments," Lord Shoreham said, amused.
"Someone seems to have developed themselves right into my magic, and me out of it," Mairelon said with an unsuccessful attempt at lightness.
"What? Richard, you don't seriously mean--" Lord Shoreham looked at Mairelon, and his amusement vanished, replaced by concern. "You'd better start at the beginning. What has this got to do with your French wizards?"
"If I knew that, I'd be considerably farther along than I am now," Mairelon said testily. "The beginning, so far as I know, was an inept burglar who tried to steal a book from my brother's library. Kim heard him in process, and interrupted before he got what he was after. The book was a livre de memoire written by a French wizard named Marie de Cambriol and rather grandiosely titled Le Livre de Sept Sorciers, and so far as I've been able to tell, there's no reason at all why anyone would want to get hold of it.
"Last week someone had another go at it while Kim and Mother and I were at the opera. He used a scrying spell to make certain we were away from home, and then put together a sort of summoning-cumlevitation to bring the book to him. He failed mainly because he didn't have sense enough to find out which side of the house the library was on before he cast his spell; according to my aunt, the book spent half an hour trying to batter through a wall when it could have nipped through one of the windows and been gone."
"Amateur work, then?" Shoreham said.
"Possibly. There was a lot of power behind the spell, but it was very badly balanced; it fell apart almost immediately when I tried to analyze it. I'd guess self-taught, or foreign, or both."
"Ah." Shoreham leaned back in his chair. "Go on."
"The spell reminded Kim of an old . . . acquaintance of hers that lives up by the Charterhouse, a Ma Yanger."
Shoreham nodded. "One of the rookery witches. She's one of the canny ones--we have reason to think she turns an occasional spell for some of the professional thieves, but she's been careful enough that we haven't caught her at it. Most of her trade is minor household-level magic--removing corns, easing aches, the odd love spell. Some of it is the genuine article, but a good deal of it is mere sham."
"From what Kim and I found, she hasn't cast any spells for at least two months, and she's not likely to be doing anything at all for a lot longer than that." Mairelon nodded at Kim. "Tell him."
Startled, Kim hesitated for a moment, and Shoreham gave her an encouraging look. She swallowed and, trying not to feel as if she were betraying her old friends, she explained what Tom had told her about wizards working for Mannering, and then described what she had found at Ma Yanger's.
"Hmph," said Shoreham when she finished. "I'll have to get on to MacArdle; he's supposed to be keeping up on the minor wizards, especially the ones around St. Giles and Smithfield. If he overlooked something like this, we shall have words. Continue."
"Two nights ago, at Lady Greythorne's musicale, our mystery wizard tried his scrying spell again," Mairelon said, and stopped.
"And knowing you, you were ready for him," Shoreham said.
"Not ready enough," Mairelon said. "I had a trace-and-analyze spell infused in a splinter of kindling, all ready to go, and when I felt the scrying spell, I invoked it. But--well, the scrying spell didn't just fracture and fall apart this time; it sucked down my enchantment like quagmire sucking down a horse. And not just the enchantment, either."
"I see." Lord Shoreham looked seriously concerned. "I can't say I've heard of anything like this before, but I'll put some people on it immediately. In the meantime--"
"Kerring's working at the enchantment end of things," Mairelon said. "I spoke to him yesterday."
"Are you sure that's enough?"
"I don't exactly like the thought of everyone knowing that I can't so much as light a fire without flint and tinder," Mairelon said testily. "The fewer people who have the details, the better."
"As you wish." But Shoreham continued to frown, and after a moment he looked at Kim. "It's not really the thing to be asking another wizard's apprentice this, but have you learned Gerard's Refuge yet?"
"No, she hasn't," Mairelon said before Kim could answer. He did not look at all pleased, but Kim could not tell whether he was annoyed with Shoreham, or with her, or with himself.
"What is it?" Kim asked, looking at Mairelon uncertainly.
Mairelon remained silent. Shoreham glanced at him, then said, "It's a minor protective spell, rather like the standard ward but less complex and easier to cast. It doesn't last as long, and it isn't int
ended to absorb or block magic, the way a ward does."
"Then how can it protect anything?" Kim asked.
"It deflects spells," Shoreham said. "Sort of shoves them to one side where they can go off without doing any harm." He glanced at Mairelon again, then looked back at her. "I think it would be a good idea for you to learn it as soon as possible."
"Teach it to her now," Mairelon said. "I should have thought of that myself." He sat scowling at the front of Shoreham's desk while the earl explained the spell and ran her through casting it several times. It was, as he had promised quite simple--a single gesture and a word--and it did not take long for her to master it.
When they finished, Shoreham turned to Mairelon. "Now, about those French wizards. I've done some checking since you were last here. Les Griffonais were of considerable interest to the Ministry in the early years of the French war, even though they had all left France well before the trouble began, so there was more information lying around than I'd expected."
He pulled a sheaf of papers toward him and read from the top of the first page, "Monsieur Laszlo Karolyi, Hungarian--close friend of the current Vicomte de Bragelonne. He helped the vicomte escape France during the Terror, in fact. Karolyi was apparently much in sympathy with the aims of the sans-culottes, but thoroughly disgusted by the eventual direction their revolution took. He returned to Hungary and has spent most of his time there for the last thirty years, though he has visited England upon occasion--or rather, he has visited those of his French friends who sought sanctuary from the Terror here."
"Lately?"
"No, not since Waterloo," Lord Shoreham said. He turned to the next page. "Madame Marie de Cambriol--traveled in Italy and Greece after leaving France, then came to England with her husband in 1799. Died of a putrid fever some months later.
"Monsieur Henri d'Armand--also, apparently, inclined to travel after leaving France, but not so successfully. He was on his way to Milan to attend the opening of an opera when his ship sank."
"What?" Mairelon sat up. "D'Armand is dead?"
"And has been for nearly thirty years," Shoreham said. "The accident happened only a month or two after he left France. Is that significant?"
"His name was missing from Mannering's list," Mairelon said. "That may be why."
"The de Cambriol woman is also deceased," Shoreham pointed out, turning over another page. "If I may continue? The Duchesse Camille Delagardie--settled in England with her husband. She has a reputation as both a recluse and an eccentric, though from what I can gather, it's founded mainly on a dislike of making the rounds in Society. She has a small but devoted circle of friends, many of them wizards. Before you ask, yes, she's still alive; I believe she and her husband are somewhere in the North at the moment. They have a little place in Hampstead, when they're in Town."
"Hampstead!" Mairelon said. "Good lord. That's not in Town."
"It apparently does very well for them," Shoreham said. "The Comte Louis du Franchard and the Comtesse Eustacie de Beauvoix--also settled in England, but returned to France last month, possibly to repossess the estates that were confiscated from them during the revolution. Unlike the duchesse and her husband, they socialized rather freely during their twenty-some years here.
"And finally, Mademoiselle Jeannette Lepain--also lived in England for a few years, but in 1801 she married a Russian wizard-prince, one Ivan Durmontov, and moved--"
"Ivan Durmontov?" Mairelon interrupted. "Now that is interesting."
"So I gather," Lord Shoreham said dryly. "You wouldn't, by chance, care to enlighten me as to why?"
"There's a Prince Alexei Durmontov in London for the Season," Mairelon said, and smiled. "I think perhaps I should have a talk with him. It appears we may have some interests in common."
"Richard--" Lord Shoreham began, and then sighed. "I'd much rather we found out a bit more about him before you go stirring things up. I suppose there's no use telling you to wait?"
"None whatever."
"Very well, then, but for heaven's sake, be careful. If he does have anything to do with this . . . this situation--"
"Then I intend to find out what it is as soon as possible," Mairelon said, and his tone was deadly serious. "Anything else, Edward? No? Then we'll be going. Let me know if you find out anything."
"Be sure I will," Lord Shoreham said gravely.
17
As soon as they returned to Grosvenor Square, Mairelon sent Hunch off with a note requesting Prince Durmontov to call at his earliest convenience. Hunch returned an hour later, while Kim and Mairelon were still in the library rehashing Shoreham's comments. He reported that he had left the note, but Prince Durmontov had not been at his lodgings to receive it.
"What?" Mairelon said.
" 'E ain't there," Hunch repeated. "The 'otel staff said 'e was upset by the robbery and 'e went off to stay with some friends in the country."
"Upset by the--Good Lord, that's right! He did say he was moving to the George." Mairelon studied Hunch. "He wasn't by chance one of the people who was burgled?"
Hunch nodded. "The 'ousemaid says 'is rooms were turned up a rare treat, but 'ooever it was didn't take nothin' valuable."
"That doesn't make sense," Kim said.
"Neither does anything else we've learned," Mairelon said. "Did they take anything at all, Hunch?"
"Some family 'eirloom, she said." Hunch shrugged. "That's why 'e was so cut up about it."
"An heirloom," Mairelon said. "A book, perhaps? That would certainly be convenient--a little too convenient, I think. When is the prince returning to London?"
"Nobody knows," Hunch said.
If not for the expression on Mairelon's face, Kim would have been almost thankful to have the visit to the prince put off for a few days. Between Mairelon, Lady Wendall, and Mrs. Lowe, she was run nearly ragged learning her illusions, helping to check and maintain the protective wards on the house, being fitted for her come-out dress, memorizing what seemed like thousands of instructions for her conduct at the ball, and practicing acceptable social behavior during morning calls, teas, and other social outings.
The attentive Lord Franton added to the number of things that had to be fit into each day. He called several times, and held Kim to her promise to drive with him in Hyde Park two days after the musicale. But though his visits were certainly enjoyable while they lasted, Kim could not help resenting them because of how much more hectic things always were afterward.
Except when Mairelon drilled her in the spells for the illusion, she saw less and less of her guardian as the ball neared. He spent most of his days at the Royal College or at the Ministry of Wizardry, closeted with Kerring or Shoreham. Whatever they discussed, it was plain that they had made no progress regarding the spell that affected Mairelon's magic. Each evening when he returned, he was quieter than he had been the previous day. Lady Wendall developed a small vertical worry line between her eyebrows that deepened whenever she looked in her son's direction. Only Mrs. Lowe seemed unaware that anything was wrong.
The day of the ball, Kim did not see Mairelon at all. She and Lady Wendall were busy most of the morning with preparations for the illusion, drawing diagrams on the ballroom floor with rosewater made in a mirrored bowl, and she spent the afternoon being dressed. After having her hair fussed over, her gown examined and reexamined for creases, and everything from her stockings to her hair ribbon studied and commented on, Kim was nearly ready to scream. Fortunately, the arrival of a charming posy tied up with peach-colored ribbons distracted her well-meaning helpers in the nick of time.
"The very thing!" Lady Wendell said. "Look at the card, Kim, and see who it is from."
"Lord Franton sent it," Kim said after studying it for a moment. She set the card aside, trying not to feel disappointed and wondering why she did.
A second box arrived a few moments later, though it was far too small to hold flowers. "Now, what is this?" Lady Wendall said, frowning slightly.
Kim lifted the lid. Inside, on a small pill
ow covered in white velvet, lay a gold sunburst the size of her thumbnail, hung on a delicate chain. It looked a little like the first spell she had ever cast, a small explosion of light re-created in metal, and she was not really surprised to find the card with the single word "Mairelon" scrawled across it.
"Ah," said Lady Wendall, peering over Kim's shoulder. "I'd been wondering--I'm very glad he remembered."
So am I, Kim thought, feeling suddenly much more cheerful.
When all the fussing and fixing-up was done at last, they went down to await their guests. This, too, was a longer and more complicated process than Kim had expected. She and Lady Wendall and Mairelon stood at the head of the stairs receiving the company for over an hour and a half, and the flow of arrivals was so steady that there was no time to pass even a few remarks among themselves. Renee D'Auber came early, and Lord Kerring and his lady wife soon after, but most of the other guests were not well-known to Kim. It was a relief to spy the occasional truly familiar face; even Letitia Tarnower, who had somehow managed to be included in the party from Kirkover House, was almost a welcome sight. For the rest, Kim's part was no more than to smile and curtsey as Lady Wendall presented her to those guests whom she had not previously met. This gave her far too much time to think about the upcoming illusion. By the time the stream of incoming guests began to thin, she had worked herself into a fair case of jitters.
The Marquis of Harsfeld was among the last to arrive. He smiled politely as he greeted Lady Wendall, but his eyes strayed to Kim's hands, and his smile warmed noticeably when he saw his flowers attached to her wrist. "I had not dared to hope you would accept my tribute," he said softly when he reached Kim.
"I'm--It was--Thank you," Kim said, and passed him on to Mairelon.
"I notice that Durmontov hasn't shown up yet," Mairelon commented when the marquis had passed out of hearing.
"Renee D'Auber tells me that he does not return to Town until sometime next week," Lady Wendall said, and Mairelon frowned. Lady Wendall turned to Kim. "Ten minutes more, and we shall go in. We really cannot delay the dancing any longer than that."
Wrede, Patricia C - Mairelon 02 Page 16