A Matter of Magic

by Patricia C. Wrede

  “The Runners have criminals enough to deal with in London. What would one of them be doing in Essex?”

  “Quite possibly looking for you,” Lord Shoreham replied dryly. “I told you someone’s been talking too much.”

  “I’ll take the chance.”

  “Very well. I hope your luck holds, Richard. And don’t hesitate to call on me if something happens.”

  “You may be sure of it.”

  The wagon door opened, and Lord Shoreham’s footsteps sounded on the steps. Kim heard Mairelon moving about the wagon, then a soft thump as the lid of the chest closed. She held her breath, waiting for him to leave and wondering how she was going to sneak out unseen. But Mairelon did not leave. Kim was just beginning to wonder whether she would have to stay where she was all night when Mairelon spoke.

  “I think you had better come out now, Kim, and explain why you’ve been eavesdropping on my conversation.”

  7

  Kim swallowed hard and pushed the curtain aside. Mairelon was standing in the center of the wagon, watching her. His face was expressionless. Kim swallowed again and said nothing.

  “You do have some explanation, I trust?” Mairelon said.

  “I was just—it was an accident,” Kim said lamely.

  “I see. You just happened to hide behind the curtain at exactly the time Lord Shoreham was planning to arrive,” Mairelon said with a cool politeness that was worse than sarcasm and far worse than open anger.

  “Yes!” Kim said hotly. “You and Hunch didn’t have no use for me outside, so I came in here to look at that stage you got in back. Which you got to get back of the curtain to do.”

  “The timing was remarkably convenient.”

  “You never said when that Shoreham cove was comin’,” Kim said angrily. “So how would I of known when to hide? You ain’t told me nothin’, neither one of you.”

  “Why didn’t you come out?”

  “With the two of you talkin’ about me? And after that . . .” Kim squirmed. “It wouldn’t of looked right.”

  “Wouldn’t have,” Mairelon said, sounding as if his mind were on something else. “No, I suppose not.”

  “How did you know I was there?” Kim ventured. She had been half afraid Mairelon would throw her out at once, but it seemed she had been wrong. He wouldn’t be correcting the way she spoke if he’d made up his mind to get rid of her.

  “The end of the curtain was hanging oddly; I noticed it when I was showing Shoreham the bowl. Then I remembered seeing you come around this way and that you hadn’t come back. Simple, really.”

  “So why didn’t you say something right then?”

  Mairelon looked uncomfortable. “I had my reasons.”

  “You didn’t want the gentry cove to know I was there!” Kim said triumphantly.

  “Shoreham has a nasty temper at times. Besides, I prefer to deal with you myself.”

  “So what are you goin’ to do?”

  “I don’t know.” Mairelon studied her. Kim stared back, trying to gauge his temper. He looked tired, and Kim was suddenly sorry she had added to his worries, however inadvertently. She pushed the thought aside; she had worries of her own.

  “I suppose I shall have to bring you along,” Mairelon said at last.

  “To Ranton Hill?”

  “That far at least. Afterward—well, we’ll see how things go.”

  “What if I ain’t wishful to go?”

  Mairelon’s eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I said, what if I ain’t wishful to go with you?” Kim repeated. She chose her next words carefully, aware that she might be jeopardizing whatever fragile trust in her Mairelon still retained. “You told me you weren’t doing nothin’ the nabbing culls’d be . . . lookin’ out for. But it didn’t sound that way when you were talkin’ to the gentry cove.”

  “No, I suppose it didn’t,” Mairelon said, and some of the tension went out of his shoulders. He looked at Kim and shook his head. “I wish I knew whether you—” He stopped short and snapped his fingers. “Of course!”

  Kim stared in surprise as Mairelon turned and pulled open the wagon door. “Hunch! Do you have any rosemary in that cache of herbs you cart around all the time?”

  Hunch’s response was muffled, but a moment later Kim heard Mairelon say, “Thank you. Kim will be with me; don’t disturb us for an hour or so. I’m going to need to concentrate.”

  “Master Richard!” Hunch’s tone was horrified. “You ain’t going to . . . You wouldn’t never . . .”

  “There are days, Hunch, when you remind me forcibly of my excessively estimable brother,” Mairelon said in a tone of mild irritation. “Is it her virtue or mine that you’re worrying about?”

  “You ain’t a-going to gammon me,” Hunch said severely. “What are you up to?”

  “I’m going to take that suggestion you made just before Shoreham arrived, if you must know. I trust you don’t expect me to do so outside the wagon, in full view of the road?”

  Hunch snorted but did not answer. A moment later, Mairelon pulled his head and shoulders back into the wagon and closed the door. His right hand held a small packet, presumably the herbs he had gotten from Hunch. Kim eyed him warily. “What’re you goin’ to do?”

  “Reassure myself,” Mairelon said absently. He set the packet down on the counter, then crossed to the chest and opened it. He muttered a word and made a quick gesture with his left hand, hidden from Kim by his body. Then he withdrew the velvet-swathed bundle that had been Kim’s downfall. He set it carefully on the counter and gently folded back the velvet.

  Kim’s eyes went wide as she stared at the heavy silver bowl nested in the ripples of black velvet. It was shallow and circular, like the soup bowls the gentry used, but more than twice as large. The rim was at least two inches wide and carved into intricate leaves, flowers, and vines. It shone softly in the lamplight.

  Kim looked at Mairelon. “Is that the silver bowl you and the gentry cove were on about?”

  “The Saltash Bowl. Yes.” The magician opened a cupboard and removed several small jars. He measured carefully as he added portions of their contents to the bowl, then mixed them with a long wooden rod. Kim noticed that he was careful not to touch any part of the silver with his hands as he worked.

  She started to ask another question, but thought better of interrupting him. She waited until he finished the mixing and laid aside the wooden rod. As he reached for Hunch’s packet, she said, “You ain’t explained nothin’ about what you’re doin’.”

  Mairelon paused in mid-reach and looked at her. “No, I haven’t, have I?” He hesitated, studying her, then sighed. “I suppose you have a right to know what to expect. Very well, then. One of the uses of the Saltash Bowl is to compel people to speak truthfully.”

  “And you’re goin’ to use it on me?” Kim asked cautiously. It was not a welcome thought. There were any number of things she would rather not be forced to discuss truthfully: the uses to which she had put her expertise in lock picking, for instance. On the other hand, this was an opportunity to observe real magic at close hand, and she wasn’t about to pass it up without a reason. Assuming, of course, that she had a choice.

  “Not exactly. The magic of the Saltash Bowl can be used only under very specific circumstances. More important, it can be used only when the entire set is together.”

  “That platter the gentry cove was talkin’ about?”

  “Among other things. I cannot, therefore, use the bowl to force you to be truthful. However, I believe I can cast a similar spell, using the bowl as a focus, which will let me know whether or not you are telling the truth.”

  “So if I don’t say nothin’, you can’t tell what’s true?” Kim said. Mairelon’s lips tightened, and she added hastily, “I’m just tryin’ to understand. You ain’t got no business knowin’ everything about me.”

  “A reasonable objection,” Mairelon said after a moment. “Very well. The spell is just an indicator. If you don’t say anything,
it won’t have anything to work with, so it won’t tell me anything.”

  Kim nodded. She understood the unspoken implication well enough. Mairelon would be able to tell a good deal by which questions she chose not to answer. “All right, then,” she said. “I’m ready. What do I have to do?”

  “Just stand there, for the time being.” Mairelon turned back to the silver bowl. He smoothed a wrinkle from the velvet on which it rested and laid a twist of straw beside it, not touching the silver. Then he opened Hunch’s packet and sniffed at it. He nodded in satisfaction, but to Kim’s surprise, he did not dump it into the bowl with the rest of the herbs. Instead, he set it down and reached for the lamp that hung beside the door. He adjusted the wick, then did something to the hook that held it. When he pulled on it, the lamp came away from the wall on a long flexible arm.

  Mairelon positioned the lamp to hang a hand’s breadth above the center of the silver bowl. Then he looked at Kim. “If you have any other questions, ask them now. From here on, any interruption could have . . . unpleasant consequences.”

  “I understand.” Every street waif in London had heard whispers of the fate that came to anyone foolish enough to interrupt a true wizard in the practice of his magic. Burning alive would be nothing to it. Kim might have her doubts about some of the things she’d heard, but she wasn’t about to test them now.

  Mairelon gave her a searching look, then nodded. He turned back to face the bowl and took a deep breath. The lamp above the bowl threw the magician’s shadow against the opposite wall, large and dark, and made a mask of his face. Kim shivered, then froze as Mairelon began to speak.

  The language was unfamiliar to Kim, but every word seemed to hang in the air, clear and sharp as broken crystal. She could almost feel their edges, and she was afraid to move and jostle their invisible presence. She understood, now, where the saying had come from, “deadly as a wizard’s words.” She wondered how there could be room in the wagon for the solid sounds Mairelon was speaking.

  The magician’s hands moved suddenly, sliding with exquisite precision into a gap in the growing lattice of invisible, razor-edged words. One hand seized the packet of herbs Hunch had provided; the other lifted the twisted straw on the opposite side of the bowl. The straw touched the lamp’s wick and burst into flame. Mairelon’s voice rose to a shout, and herbs and burning straw dropped together into the silver bowl.

  Smoke billowed out of the bowl, spreading a strong, sweet smell throughout the wagon. The lamp went out with the suddenness of a snuffed candle, and the silver bowl began to glow. Mairelon lowered his arms with a sigh and looked at Kim. “What is your name?” he said.

  Kim hesitated. “Jenny Stower,” she said deliberately.

  The glow of the silver bowl dimmed to an angry red point. “Your name?” Mairelon repeated. “And the truth, this time.”

  “Kim.”

  The bowl flashed into silver light once more. Kim stared at it, awed and frightened. “Where did you first hear of me, and from whom?” Mairelon asked.

  “At the Dog and Bull, the day afore I snuck into this wagon. A skinny toff offered to pay me if I’d find out what you had in here.” The bowl remained silver, and Kim relaxed a little.

  “What, exactly, did he tell you?”

  Kim repeated the story she had told Mairelon at their first meeting. The bowl glowed a steady silver throughout the tale. Mairelon nodded when she finished, and made her repeat her reasons for eavesdropping on his conversation with Shoreham. Kim did the best she could, but the bowl’s light faded slightly.

  Mairelon frowned. “And were those your only reasons?”

  Kim shifted uncomfortably. “Mostly.”

  “You’ll have to do better than that,” Mairelon said, watching her closely.

  “All right! I was curious.”

  The silver light brightened. Mairelon’s lips twitched. “Curious?”

  “Why not?” Kim said indignantly. “Anyone as meets you can see you’re a regular swell, and it queers me what your lay is. Bilking the culls in the markets ain’t work for a gentry cove, and you ain’t told me nothin’. I got reason for wonderin’.”

  Mairelon laughed. “I should have guessed. Well, I’ll explain as soon as we’re finished here. You’ve enough of the pieces to get us all into difficulty by accident if you aren’t told the rest.”

  He asked Kim a few more offhand questions, but his suspicions seemed to be laid to rest. “That’s all, I think,” he said at last. He turned to the bowl and raised a hand, then paused and looked at Kim. “Why did you decide to leave London with us? Curiosity again?”

  Kim swallowed. “Yes,” she said, and the bowl flickered.

  Mairelon looked from her face to the bowl and lowered his hand. “There is more, I think?”

  “It ain’t nothin’ to do with you!”

  The light held steady, and Mairelon nodded. “Perhaps it is not, now. However, we will be returning to London eventually, and I don’t like the possibility of a nasty surprise waiting for me.”

  “He ain’t waitin’ for you,” Kim muttered.

  “Nevertheless, I should like to know who ‘he’ is, and why you considered it so important to remove yourself from his vicinity. Particularly if the reason is something that is likely to interest the constables.”

  “It ain’t the nabbing culls I’m worried on,” Kim said, scowling. “It’s Laverham.” She sighed. “I suppose now I got to tell you.”

  “Have to. I would appreciate it. Who is Laverham?”

  Kim took a deep breath and began trying to explain her antipathy to Dan Laverham. Mairelon waved her to silence after a few sentences.

  “I’ll take your word for it that the man is unpleasant,” the magician said. “But what set you off?”

  “He was at Tom’s shop, where I took those flash togs you asked me to get rid of. He asked a lot of questions, and one of his men tried to follow me when I left.”

  Mairelon frowned. “He had you followed? How far?”

  “Half a block in the wrong direction; I tipped him the double right off.”

  “And you’re sure it was you he was interested in?”

  Kim shrugged. “What else? Laverham’s been aching to get his fambles on me since before old Mother Tibb stuck her spoon in the wall.”

  “Who is Mother Tibb?” Mairelon asked.

  “She raised me and some others,” Kim said shortly. “She’s dead.” She didn’t want to talk about Mother Tibb. Even after two years, talking brought back memories of the skinny old woman’s terrified howls as the constables hauled her off to prison, and of the hangman’s steady tread and the sickening thud as the trapdoors dropped away beneath the feet of his line of victims. Kim preferred to remember the dubious safety and fleeting camaraderie of the earlier years, when she thought of Mother Tibb at all.

  “I’m sorry,” Mairelon said gently. He paused. “About Laverham—” He made her describe her brief encounter in as much detail as she could remember. At last he paused and said, “All right, I’ll agree that he seems to have been after you. But if anything else like that happens, or if you run into Laverham or any of his men again, tell me.”

  Kim nodded. Mairelon turned to the still-glowing silver bowl and moved both hands in a swift, complicated gesture above it. The light gathered around the rim of the bowl, as though something were sucking it upward. Then, with a faint popping noise, the lamp flared into life and the glow of the bowl vanished.

  Mairelon smiled in satisfaction and began setting the wagon to rights. The extended lamp hook folded neatly and invisibly back into the wall beside the door, the ashes of the herbs were thrown outside, and the Saltash Bowl was wiped and wrapped in velvet once more. Kim watched for a few minutes in silence before reminding Mairelon that he had promised to explain to her what was really going on.

  “So I did. The story really starts about fifteen years ago, when old Lord Saltash died. He left a rather large bequest to the Royal College of Wizards. You’ve heard of the Royal College, I tr
ust?”

  “As much as anybody.”

  “Mmmm. Well, Saltash fancied himself a magician, and he’d collected a tremendous number of odds and ends of things that he thought ought to be properly investigated. He dumped the lot on the College. Most of them turned out to be quite worthless, but—”

  “That’s why you called it the Saltash Bowl!” Kim said. “It was part of the rum cull’s collection!”

  “Yes, though I wouldn’t call Saltash a rum cull. The bowl is only part of the grouping; there’s a silver platter that matches it, and four carved balls of different sizes. Together, they’re the key to a very interesting spell.”

  “Making people tell the truth,” Kim said, nodding.

  “I don’t think you realize what that means,” Mairelon said testily. “It’s easy enough to bind someone not to do things, but a spell to force a person to speak, and to speak only the truth, without interfering with the ability to answer intelligently—well, it’s remarkable. Most control spells are obvious; they make the people they’re used on act like sleepwalkers. But the Saltash group—”

  “All right!” Kim said hastily. “It’s bang-up. What next?”

  “The Royal College spent a good deal of time, here and there, trying to duplicate the spell on the grouping. No one ever succeeded, and the Saltash group became a curiosity. And then, four years ago, it was stolen.”

  Mairelon paused. “It was stolen,” he repeated, “in such a way that it appeared that I was the thief.”

  “You were in the Royal College?” Kim asked.

  Mairelon blinked, as if he had expected some other response. Then he smiled slightly. “Yes, I was. Under another name, you understand.”

  “Richard Merrill?”

  “You are a shrewd one. Yes, that is my name.”

  “But you ain’t the sharper who nicked the bowl.”

  “No. If I hadn’t been lucky enough to run into Edward, though, I’d have no way of proving it. The evidence was overwhelming. Even my brother Andrew believed it.”

  Kim snorted. “He’s a noodle, then.”