She paused briefly to get her breath back and look around. Once again, she found herself staring in surprise. The wagon’s interior was paneled in dark wood, polished to a high gloss. Rows of cupboards ran down one side, topped by a shelf of smooth grey tile. A long chest was built into the other wall; from the neat roll of blankets at one end, Kim guessed that it doubled as a bed. Presumably the droopy man slept on the floor, or perhaps under the wagon, for she saw no sign of a second bed.
A small lamp, which Kim decided had to be pewter because it could not possibly be silver, hung near the door. Its light threw back rich highlights from the walls and cupboard doors. A wool carpet, deep red with strange designs in black and cream, covered the floor. Kim had never been anywhere half so elegant in her entire life; even the back room of Gentleman Jerry’s was nothing to it.
The faded curtain at the far end of the wagon swayed as Mairelon crossed his little stage. Kim came out of her daze as she realized that the curtain was all that separated her from discovery. She could hear the magician’s patter quite clearly. He would be able to hear her just as easily, should she be clumsy or careless.
Kim glanced around the wagon again, painfully aware of the need for haste. She had wasted nearly a whole verse in her musing. The cupboards were the most likely place to start. She stepped forward, like a cat stalking a particularly suspicious mouse, and opened the first door.
The cupboard was filled with dishes. Three mismatched plates and a shallow ceramic soup bowl occupied the lowest shelf; a row of china teacups hung from hooks on the bottom of the shelf above. The upper part of the cupboard contained a neat stack of copper pans, iron pots, and assorted lids. Kim took long enough to make sure there was nothing hidden in or behind any of them, then went on. Her hasty search revealed nothing of any interest in the remaining cupboards, and she turned to the long chest.
The lid did not respond to her careful tug. Closer inspection revealed a hidden lock. Kim hesitated. She had nearly three full verses of “Darlin’ Jenny” left, even if she allowed herself all of the last one as a safety margin. And the skinny toff would hardly be pleased if all she had to tell him was that Mairelon the Magician kept pots in his cupboards and his chest locked. Her lips tightened, and she reached into her pocket for the stiff bit of wire she always carried.
The lock was a good one, and the overhanging wood that concealed it made her work more difficult. Two more verses of “Darlin’ Jenny” went by while she twisted the wire back and forth, coaxing the tumblers into position. She was about to abandon her efforts when she heard a faint click and the lid of the chest popped up a quarter of an inch.
Kim straightened in relief and pocketed the wire. She took hold of the chest’s lid and lifted, forcing herself to move slowly in case the hinges squealed. Then she held it in position with one hand and bent over to peer inside.
Piles of brightly colored silks met her eyes. Beside them were slotted wooden boxes, a bundle of tiny Chinese lanterns, several mirrors, a glass tube with a painted paper cover, a top hat, and several decks of playing cards, all arranged neatly and precisely according to some order Kim could not fathom. A few she recognized as props from Mairelon’s first show; none of them looked at all like the bowl the gentry cove had gone on about. As she started to close the lid, she saw a swatch of black velvet sticking out from under a stack of neatly folded silk handkerchiefs. One last try, she thought, and brushed the silks aside.
Her hand closed on something hard and heavy, wrapped in velvet. Then there was a violent, soundless explosion and Kim was flung backward against the cupboards on the other side of the wagon. Through a haze of violet light, she saw the lid of the trunk slowly close itself. Purple spots danced before her eyes, then spread out to cover her entire field of vision. Her last coherent thought, as the purple deepened into black unconsciousness, was an angry curse directed at the toff waiting for her in the public house. Five pounds wasn’t anywhere near enough pay for snooping on a real magician.
2
Kim awoke all at once. She was propped against something hard, in a semi-sitting position, and she could feel cord around her wrists and ankles. She heard voices above her and forced herself to be still, feigning unconsciousness. This was not, apparently, expected; after a moment, she heard a worried voice say, “ ’Adn’t ’e oughter be waking?”
“He is awake,” said the voice of Mairelon the Magician. “He’s just pretending. Come on, child, you might as well admit it. You’ll have to open your eyes sooner or later.”
Kim sighed and capitulated. She gave a hasty look around as she opened her eyes, in the faint hope of discovering a way out of her predicament. She was propped against the row of cupboards; one of the doors was open, presumably jarred free when she had been thrown against them. The cord that tied her looked regrettably sturdy, and the knots were unfamiliar tangles. After one glance, she abandoned any thought of slipping free while her captors’ attention was elsewhere.
“Quite so,” said Mairelon.
Kim looked up. Mairelon was standing next to the chest, on the opposite side of the wagon. He had removed his cloak and hat; without them, he seemed both shorter and younger than he had appeared on stage. His expression held none of the anger and annoyance Kim expected; instead, there was a gleam of something very like interest or amusement. She began to hope she would come around from this, after all.
Beside Mairelon stood the droopy man. He, too, had removed his hat, and his grey and black hair was plastered flat against his head. He alternated sour glares at Kim with nervous looks directed at Mairelon, and he was chewing continuously on one end of his mustache.
Kim looked back at Mairelon. “Proper knowin’ one, ain’t you?” she said in her best boyish tone.
“As far as you are concerned, not nearly so knowing as I would like to be,” Mairelon replied affably.
“You going to call the nabbing culls?”
“That depends on how much you are willing to tell me.”
“I got no reason to keep quiet,” Kim said frankly. If the toff who’d hired her had been more open, she might have felt some obligation to keep her mouth shut, but not even an out-and-outer would expect her to protect an employer who’d withheld crucial knowledge about a job. Especially when she hadn’t been too keen on it in the first place.
“Then perhaps you would explain just what you were doing in my wagon,” Mairelon said.
“Lookin’ about,” Kim said promptly.
The droopy man snorted through the damp ends of his mustache. “Stealing, more likely.”
“Quiet, Hunch,” Mairelon said. He looked from Kim to the open cupboard with a speculative gleam. “Just looking?”
“That’s right,” Kim said firmly. “Just lookin’ about.”
The magician’s eyes narrowed, and Kim wondered whether her reply had been too forceful for the boy she was pretending to be. It was too late to change it now, though.
“That accounts for the cupboards, I think,” Mairelon said after a moment. “How did you—”
“You don’t never believe ’im, do you?” the droopy man demanded.
“Hunch! Refrain from interrupting, if you please.”
“And let you get yourself in a mort o’ trouble from believing things you ’adn’t ought to?” Hunch said indignantly. “I won’t never!”
Mairelon gave his henchman an exasperated look. “Then you can go outside until I’m done.”
Hunch’s face took on a grim expression. “Nay.”
“It’s that or be silent.”
The two men’s eyes locked briefly; Hunch’s fell. “Aye, then, I’ll ’old my peace.”
“Good.” Mairelon turned back to Kim, who had been watching this exchange with great interest. “As I was saying, I think you’ve explained the cupboards. The chest is another matter. How did you open it?”
“Picked the lock.”
“I find that a little difficult to believe. It’s not a simple mechanism.”
“Didn’t have to be,”
Kim said, allowing herself to bristle at the implied reflection on her skill.
Mairelon raised an eyebrow. “Well, we’ll leave that for the moment. Just why were you, er, looking about in my wagon?”
“A gentry cove at the Dog and Bull said he’d pay five pounds to know what you had in here. Said he had a bet on it.”
“Did he.” Mairelon and Hunch exchanged glances.
“He thought he’d gammoned me proper,” Kim said. She took a perverse pleasure in betraying the toff who’d gotten her into this. “But if it was just a bet, why’d he let me talk him up to five pounds? And why was he so nattered over that wicher-bubber?”
“Wicher-bubber?” Mairelon said, looking startled, and not altogether pleased. “You mean a silver bowl?”
“That’s what I said. The toff wanted me to look for it.”
“Did he ask you to steal it?” Mairelon demanded, his expression tense.
“No, but I ain’t saying he wouldn’t of been right pleased if I’d a nicked it for him.”
“There!” Hunch said. “What was I telling you? ’E’s a thief.”
“Look, cully, if I was a sharper, would I be telling you straight out?” Kim said, exasperated. “All I said was, I’d keep an eye out for it, and that’s truth!”
“So all you agreed to do was come in, look around, and let him know whether you saw this bowl?” Mairelon said.
“That’s it,” Kim said. Hunch snorted, and she glared at him. “There wouldn’t be no harm done, after all; just lookin’ about. But he ought to of said somethin’ about you being a real magician with fancy locks and exploding chests.”
“What did this toff of yours look like?”
“A real swell. Top hat, and gloves better’n the ones Jamie sells, and a silk cravat.” Kim shook her head in wonder that was only partly simulated. “A top hat, at the Dog and Bull.”
“What color was his hair?”
“Muddy. Thin, too.”
“His hair or himself?”
“Both.”
Mairelon nodded, as if he had expected that answer. “And did he give you something to make it easier for you to get in here? And into my chest?”
“No, and I wouldn’t of took it if he’d offered. I ain’t no flat.”
“Then suppose you show me how you managed it,” Mairelon said.
Kim nodded, and the magician reached for the rope that bound her hands. Hunch made a strangling noise. Mairelon paused and looked at him with an expression of innocent inquiry.
“You’re never letting ’im go?” Hunch said, plainly appalled by the idea. “You got no idea what ’e’s up to!”
“I think the two of us can handle her.”
Hunch bit down hard on the right side of his mustache. “ ’Er?”
“Oh, you didn’t realize?” Mairelon said. He turned back to Kim while Hunch was still gaping mutely, and gave one of the loops of cord a sharp tug. The knot slid apart as though someone had greased the rope, leaving Kim’s hands free. She blinked, then darted a hand forward and yanked on the cord that held her ankles.
Nothing happened. “There’s a trick to it, of course,” Mairelon said blandly. “I’ll show you, if you like, when you’ve finished your own demonstration.”
Kim looked up in disbelief. Mairelon was smiling in what appeared to be genuine amusement. “You will?”
“Yes. When you’re finished,” he added pointedly. Hunch scowled ferociously at his master’s back, but did not dare voice any more criticism.
“All right, all right,” Kim said. She reached into her pocket, pulled out the bit of wire, and set to work. She was fairly sure by this time that the magician would not turn her over to the constables, but instead of reassuring her, the knowledge made her even more uneasy. Why did he hesitate?
She watched Mairelon surreptitiously as she wiggled the wire. He didn’t look particularly impressive, but he was no flat, that was certain. He was no ordinary street magician, either, not with the inside of his wagon done up like a gentry ken. Not to mention that thing in the chest that had blown Kim halfway across the room.
The memory slowed her fingers. True, she’d actually been poking around in the chest when the spell or whatever it was had gone off, but Mairelon could easily have changed it while she was unconscious. She had no desire to repeat the performance.
Hunch shifted impatiently. “She ain’t going to get it, not with just that bit o’ wire.”
“Give over,” Kim snarled, and twisted her wrist. Again she heard the faint click, and the lid of the chest rose fractionally. Kim lifted it open and looked triumphantly at Hunch.
“Impressive,” Mairelon said. He looked at Kim thoughtfully, and the gleam of interest was back. “I didn’t think anyone but old Schapp-Mussener himself could open that chest without the key.”
“It’s a knack,” Kim said modestly.
“It’s a talent, and a very impressive talent, too.” The gleam became more pronounced. “I don’t suppose—”
“Master Richard!” Hunch interrupted.
“Mmmm?”
“You ain’t a-going to do nothing dreadful now, are you?” Hunch said in a severe tone.
“No, no, of course not,” Mairelon said absently, still looking at Kim.
“Good,” Hunch said, much relieved.
“I was just going to ask our guest here—what is your name, by the way?”
“Kim.”
“Kim. I was just going to ask Kim here if she would like to come with us when we leave London.”
Hunch bit both ends of his mustache at once. “You ain’t never going to bring her along!”
“Why not?” Mairelon said in a reasonable tone. “It might be useful to have someone along who’s familiar with . . . things. A lot has happened in the past four years.”
“You want me to come with you, after I snuck in here and blew things around?” Kim said incredulously. “You’re bosky!”
Hunch started to nod agreement, then caught himself and glared at Kim. “You can’t do it, Master Richard! She’s a thief!”
“I ain’t!”
“Stop it, both of you.” Mairelon’s voice was firm. He looked at Hunch. “I don’t think Kim is a thief, though it’s plain that she’s had some of the training. Not that it matters.”
“It do too matter! What are you going to do with ’er?”
“She could help with the act,” Mairelon said. “She seems a handy sort of person.”
Hunch snorted. “Ain’t that what you said about that Frog ’oo sherried off with ten guineas and your best coat?”
“Yes, well, he was a little too handy. I think Kim will do much better.”
“At what?”
“She could make a very useful assistant eventually. Provided, of course, that she would be willing to come along?” Mairelon looked questioningly at Kim.
“You ain’t gammoning me?” Kim said suspiciously.
“No.”
The single word was more convincing than Mairelon’s speeches had been, but Kim still hesitated. What did he expect to get out of hauling her along with him? From the luxurious interior of the wagon, it was plain that Mairelon could afford the company of the best of the fashionable impures, if what he wanted was a doxy. He had no reason to pick a grubby imitation boy out of the market instead. And he wasn’t the sort who preferred boys; Kim had learned long ago to spot and avoid them. So what did he want?
“You ain’t unfastened me yet,” she pointed out at last.
“An oversight.” Mairelon bent and tugged at the cord that fastened Kim’s ankles. Again the rope slid apart, and Mairelon straightened with a flourish. “Now, what do you say?”
“You’d really show me how to do that?” Kim asked, her mind whirling. If she could learn a few of Mairelon’s tricks, she might be able to get steady work at one of the Covent Garden theaters—real work, the sort that required more than a low-cut dress and a willingness to do whatever might be asked. She could earn enough to eat regular and sleep warm without looki
ng over her shoulder for watchmen or constables or Bow Street Runners; she could stop being afraid of Dan Laverham and his like, she could—she forced herself to cut that train of thought short, before the hope grew too strong, and waited for Mairelon’s answer.
“That and quite a bit more,” Mairelon said. “How else could you be any help in the act?”
“She don’t look like she’ll be much ’elp anyways,” Hunch muttered. “Nobody’s a-going to pay to watch a grimy little thief.”
“Call me that once more, cully, and—”
“Enough.” Mairelon’s voice was quiet, but Kim found herself swallowing her words faster than she ever had for Mother Tibb’s angry screeching. “Stop provoking her, Hunch.”
“If you can’t see what’s under your nose—”
“Oh, she doesn’t look like much now, but I think you’ll be surprised at how well she cleans up.”
“I ain’t said I’m coming with you yet!” Kim said crossly.
“And you haven’t said you’re not, either,” Mairelon replied. “Come, now; make your decision. I have things to do if you aren’t.”
“Huh.” Kim was unimpressed. “I ain’t wishful to get into no trouble with the nabbing culls. What’s your lay?”
Mairelon smiled. “I’m a traveling magician. I play the markets and fairs.”
“Give over! I told you, I ain’t no flat. Folks that can do real magic don’t waste time flashing tricks at the markets. And you ain’t got yourself no wagon done up like a gentry ken that way, neither.”
“That’s my affair. I’ll give you my word that we’re doing nothing illegal; if you’ve other questions, you’ll have to wait for answers. After all, we don’t know you very well yet.”
“No, nor want to,” Hunch said under his breath.
Kim frowned at him automatically, but her mind was busy elsewhere. She’d never get a chance like this again, she was certain. Risking Mairelon’s unknown objectives was a small price to pay for the promise of a few days’ worth of regular meals and a safe place to sleep, even without the promise of tutoring. Add in the possibility of learning something that would free her from the perilous hand-to-mouth world of the London slums and Mairelon’s proposal was well-nigh irresistible, especially since she’d probably never find out what the magician was really doing or what was so important about that bowl if she didn’t go along. And if she didn’t like it, she could always tip them the double and come back to London. She’d be no worse off than she was now.
A Matter of Magic Page 2