A Matter of Magic

by Patricia C. Wrede

  “Two hours,” Dan answered. “Long enough for me to retrieve the Saltash Platter and Bowl and be well on my way back to London. Providing, of course, that we don’t waste any more time. Into the carriage.”

  Kim blinked, realizing that this last command was directed at her. She felt no particular compulsion to follow Dan’s orders, though she could still sense his spell hovering around her. She stared at Dan for a moment, her mind whirling, and suddenly the pieces came together. Dan had adapted the Saltash spells into a control spell, but his spell still had the same flaws as the Saltash spells. It only worked once on any particular person. And over a week before, on their first night out of London, Mairelon had cast the Saltash truth spell on Kim to find out what her lay was. That was why Dan’s control couldn’t touch her!

  There were, however, two pistols still pointed at Mairelon, and he and Kim were outnumbered three to two, counting the phlegmatic coachman. It would clearly be much better to follow Dan’s directions for a while. As long as he thought his spell was working, he wouldn’t pay too much attention to Kim, and she might get a chance to pike off and get Hunch. Kim took a deep breath and climbed into the carriage.

  “You next, Mr. Merrill,” Dan said. “Sit there, next to Kim. Good.” Dan climbed in after Mairelon and settled onto the seat opposite him. He pointed his pistols at Mairelon, then called out the window, “Up on the box with Ben, Jack. Keep your pistols handy, but try not to let anyone see them. We don’t want to attract attention, remember.”

  Jack said something Kim could not hear, and Dan frowned. “Nonsense. Don’t dally, my dear; I haven’t time to waste.”

  There was a muffled curse, followed by an assortment of thumps as Jack climbed up to sit with the coachman. A moment later, the coach jerked and started off. “Not much of a driver, your man Ben,” Mairelon commented. “Did you bring him out of sentiment, or economy?”

  “Neither,” Dan said with unimpaired good humor. “He has talents other than driving that I thought I might find useful.”

  There was an undercurrent in Dan’s voice that made Kim shiver. She was all too conscious of the various unpleasant ways a man could find to survive in London’s rookeries; Jack Stower was the Archbishop of Canterbury compared to some. She knew nothing of the driver, but she knew enough of Dan to be sure that she didn’t want to learn. Anyone he spoke of in those tones was sure to be an ugly customer.

  Dan either did not see Kim’s quiver or attributed it to the motion of the carriage. Mairelon shot her a flickering glance, then returned his attention to Dan as if he had noticed nothing. A moment later, however, the carriage lurched as he was shifting his position, and he fell sideways against Kim’s shoulder.

  “Don’t fret,” he breathed into her ear, his lips barely moving. “Sorry, Kim,” he added in a louder tone as he straightened and resumed his seat.

  Kim forgot her worries long enough to glare at him. “Don’t fret” was probably his idea of a reassuring message, but he couldn’t have picked a more ridiculous thing to say if he’d thought about it since the day they met. Don’t fret, with Dan Laverham pointing a pistol at them, Jack Stower on the box with a gun of his own, a dead man in the woods behind them, and not the faintest hope of a way out of the mess that she could see? Don’t fret, when Dan was about to get his hands on the blasted platter that all the rogues and half the gentry for miles around were chasing after? Did he take her for a Bedlamite, or hadn’t it occurred to him that any reasonable person would fret himself to flinders in a situation like this?

  “I think you should stay firmly seated from now on,” Dan said to Mairelon. “It would be unfortunate, don’t you think, if you were to careen into me that way and my pistol were to go off.”

  “Unfortunate is certainly one word for it,” Mairelon agreed. “You know, as long as we have time for a chat, I was wondering whether you’d tell me a little more about that control spell of yours. It’s terribly interesting. Don’t you think it’s terribly interesting, Kim?”

  “A more tactless comment I have seldom heard,” Dan said.

  “What?” Mairelon blinked, then looked from Dan to Kim for a moment and back to Dan. “Oh, yes, I see what you mean. But even so—”

  There was a loud report from outside the window, and the coach jerked to a sudden and unceremonious halt. For a moment, Kim was convinced that Jack Stower had fired at something or someone; then she heard an all-too-familiar voice cry in ringing tones, “Stand and deliver! In the name of the Four Holy Things!”

  “Jonathan Aberford,” Kim said, feeling stunned. “That bufflehead!”

  “Oh, Lord, not again,” Mairelon said, rolling his eyes.

  Laverham’s eyebrows rose. “A holdup, in broad daylight? On a country road going from nowhere to nowhere else? It seems unlikely, on the face of it.”

  Jack Stower seemed to share Dan’s opinion. “You’re dicked in the nob,” they heard him shout. “Mr. Laverham’s in this coach!”

  “Stand and deliver!” Jonathan cried again. “Drop your weapons, or I fire!”

  “We’ve stood, we’ve stood,” Jack snarled. “Now what?”

  “An excellent question,” Mairelon murmured. “I wonder whether he’s thought of it?”

  “If this is some trick of yours—” Dan raised a pistol.

  “It’s not a trick,” Mairelon said. “It’s a druid. In a manner of speaking, that is. He’s harmless, I think, unless he happens to have taken the notion that highwaymen always shoot someone just to prove they’re serious.”

  Before Dan could respond, they heard a wordless yell, a horse’s shrill, frightened neigh, and the sounds of a scuffle outside. Dan leaned over and glanced out the window. When he returned his gaze to Mairelon, his expression had not changed, but there was an air of satisfaction about him. A moment later, Jack’s face appeared at the window. He was breathless, and there was a smear of mud across his left cheek.

  “We got the rum padder, Mr. Laverham,” Jack panted. “What d’you want us to do with him?”

  “Kill him,” Laverham said.

  “Right.” Jack smiled, showing crooked brown teeth. “Now?”

  Dan nodded, then, as Jack turned to go, he frowned and said, “No, wait. Are you”—he gestured at Mairelon with his pistol—“quite sure this person is a druid?”

  “Well, you can see that he’s not much of a highwayman,” Mairelon said in a reasonable tone. “It probably didn’t even occur to him to bring a spare pistol.”

  “It don’t matter,” Jack objected. “The cull tried to pop the lot of us!”

  “With only one pistol?” Dan said. “I think not. In any case, if this inept highwayman is a druid, he’ll know where to look for the platter once we get to the lodge. We’ll bring him along.”

  “But, Mr. Laverham—”

  “Don’t argue, my dear, just do it.” Dan studied Mairelon for a moment, then smiled unpleasantly. “You’ll have to be tied, of course,” he said to the magician. “I’m not fool enough to leave you free with the carriage as crowded as it’s going to be. Kim!”

  Kim jerked, startled by the unexpected command. “What?”

  “There’s a bit of rope under the seat.” Dan pointed with his left hand. “Get it and tie your companion’s hands. And see you do a good job of it. I won’t—”

  The carriage door swung open, and Jack Stower shoved the unfortunate Jonathan forward, so that he staggered against the step. “Where do you want him, Mr. Laverham?” Jack asked.

  “In a moment, Jack,” Dan replied. “Tie him, Kim.”

  Remembering suddenly that she was supposed to be under Dan’s spell of control, Kim bent and rummaged under the seat for the rope. She straightened and turned sideways to face Mairelon. “Hold out your hands,” she said in a flat voice.

  Mairelon did so, his gaze fixed on Kim’s face. Kim dropped her eyes, wondering whether Mairelon knew she was faking. Well, he’d figure it in another minute. She looped the rope around his wrists and pulled hard for Dan’s benefit, then fed the
ends through the complex pattern Mairelon had shown her on their first day out of London.

  When she finished, she looked up. Mairelon was still staring fixedly at her face, his expression unreadable. “There,” Kim said. “You won’t get out of that in no hurry.”

  “No?” Mairelon said. He looked down at last, and went still as he recognized the trick knot. He raised his head to look at Kim again and said very deliberately, “I see.”

  “Kim learned to tie knots down on the docks,” Dan said, misinterpreting Mairelon’s reaction. “Now, Jack, let’s have the druid highwayman.”

  Jack shoved Jonathan again, and it was more by luck than planning that this time Jonathan stumbled up the step and into the carriage. He was hatless, one of the capes on his coat was torn, and there was a reddened area on his left cheek that would make a splendid bruise in another day or so. His awkward progress was due to the sock he had used as a mask. At some point during his encounter with Dan’s men, the sock had slipped to one side, and the holes Jonathan had cut in it were now centered over his nose and right temple. Kim almost laughed aloud.

  “This is entirely unnecessary,” Jonathan said in a calm voice, but his hands shook as he raised them to pull the sock off his head. “I’m Jonathan. It was just a bet, and—” He stopped short as the sock came off and he saw the occupants of the coach.

  “I see you weren’t expecting us,” Dan said, pointing his pistols impartially at Jonathan and Mairelon. “Not that it matters. Tie him, too, Kim.”

  “What?” Jonathan stared as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. “You don’t mean it! Look, my name’s Aberford; if you stop at the next house, they’ll vouch for me. You don’t have to bring a magistrate into it.”

  “I don’t intend to,” Dan said. He lifted his pistol again for emphasis and added, “Just hold still while Kim works.”

  “What’s going on here?” Jonathan demanded, finally taking in Mairelon’s bound hands and rumpled appearance. “This is an outrage!”

  “No more so than a holdup in the middle of the morning,” Dan said. “You’re hardly in a position to criticize. Jack!”

  While Jonathan spluttered and Kim repeated her performance with another piece of rope, Dan held a brief conversation with Jack through the open carriage door. According to Jack, Jonathan had come galloping out of the trees, blazing away with his pistol. The frightened carriage horses had reared, tangling their harness and causing the coach to bounce to a halt. When Jonathan, with typical single-mindedness, had turned his back on the coachmen in his eagerness to open the carriage door, Jack had jumped him.

  “Not badly done,” Dan said. “However, we’ve wasted enough time here. Go help Ben with the horses.”

  “I ain’t no horse coddler,” Jack grumbled, but did as he was told, and in a few minutes the coach began to move again.

  21

  Now, Mr. Aberford,” Dan said, settling back against the rear wall of the coach, “tell me what you thought you were going to accomplish with your little masquerade. And please, don’t try to put me off with that tarradiddle about a bet. What were you really after?”

  “I had a bet,” Jonathan repeated doggedly. “With—with Robert Choiniet. He said I couldn’t pull it off without being recognized.”

  “He was right,” Mairelon murmured.

  “Quiet,” Dan said. “I’m afraid I don’t believe you, Mr. Aberford. I think you were after something else. The Saltash Platter, perhaps?”

  “The what?” Jonathan’s puzzlement was unfeigned. “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “You call it the Sacred Dish,” Mairelon put in.

  Jonathan jerked upright in his seat as if someone had stuck a pin in him, banging his head against the roof of the coach. “What do you know of the Sacred Dish?”

  “Not nearly as much as I’d like,” Mairelon said. “For instance, how did you and your druids get hold of it? And how does it happen that you don’t have the smallest notion what it really is?”

  “I told you to be quiet,” Dan said.

  “When Queen Dick rules,” Kim muttered, her annoyance with Mairelon momentarily getting the better of her fear of Dan. She was as curious as Mairelon about the druid’s behavior, but she knew enough to keep her mouth shut when someone had a pistol pointed at her.

  Dan gave her a piercing look, but just then the coach slowed and lurched through a sharp turn, distracting him. He leaned sideways and peered out the window. “It doesn’t matter now. We appear to be arriving.”

  “Not quite yet, but soon,” Mairelon said. “The lodge is around the back side of the hill.”

  “You aren’t—you can’t—what are you going to do?” Jonathan said.

  “Look for something I . . . mislaid a few years ago,” Dan answered. “And you are going to help.”

  Jonathan’s jaw tightened. “No. I won’t. I won’t let you desecrate our meeting place.”

  “Let? My dear boy, how do you propose to stop me?” Dan said, shifting his pistol just enough to call attention to its presence.

  “Yes, and what do you expect us to do?” Mairelon asked Jonathan in tones of great interest. “Or to put it another way, just what would ‘desecrate’ a place where you and your friends drink, dice, and wench until almost dawn?”

  Jonathan turned a dull red and did not answer. The coach bumped to a stop and Dan reached through the window and unlatched the door. “Out,” he said. Mairelon shrugged and climbed out, steadying himself awkwardly with his bound hands. Jonathan sat back, looking stubborn.

  Dan sighed. “Don’t be foolish, dear boy. If you stay here, you have no hope of keeping me from doing whatever outrageous things you think I am planning. And I assure you that if you decide to be obstinate, I shall make it a point to think of something particularly outrageous.”

  Jonathan hesitated, then gave in. Wearing a ferocious scowl, he crawled out of the coach. Kim started to follow, but Dan put out an arm and blocked her. “After me,” he said. “And from now on, you are to do nothing and say nothing unless I tell you. Do you understand?”

  “I understand,” Kim said sullenly.

  “Good. Now, after me.”

  When Kim came blinking out into the light, she saw Jack Stower holding his pistol on Jonathan Aberford while Dan kept Mairelon covered. She glanced longingly at the woods, but she did not try to run. There was no cover close by, and Dan wouldn’t so much as pause to consider before shooting her. Even the unexpected failure of his control spell wouldn’t slow him down. She’d stand a better chance of nicking the Queen’s garters at high noon on the steps of Buckingham Palace than she would of getting away now. Reluctantly she joined the others.

  “Ben, you wait for us here,” Dan commanded. “The rest of you will come inside and help look for the platter. You first, Mr. Merrill.”

  Mairelon walked over to the door of the lodge. “It’s locked.”

  “It shouldn’t be. We never—” Jonathan stopped short and pressed his lips together, as if he were afraid he was giving vital secrets away to an enemy.

  “No matter,” Dan said. He waved his free hand in a sweeping invitation. “Kim! Open the door.”

  Even more reluctantly than before, Kim walked forward and pulled her bit of wire out of her pocket. As she knelt in front of the lodge door, Mairelon gave her an encouraging wink. She did not dare respond, for Dan was watching her, but her hands did not shake at all as she inserted the wire in the keyhole and began wiggling it against the tumblers.

  The lock was nothing special, but Kim took her time with it. After her experience with Mairelon’s magic trunk, she was not inclined to take chances, particularly since this lodge also belonged to a bunch of frog-makers. Then, too, she didn’t much want to flaunt her skill in front of Dan. It’d only give him another reason for wanting to get his dabbers on her.

  “Losing your touch, dear boy?” Dan said. “I hope not.”

  The threat below the words was plain. Kim gave her wrist a final turn, wondering as she did whether Dan had f
orgotten that she was supposed to be acting under his command or whether he just enjoyed threatening people. “It’s open,” she said, rising.

  “Good. Mr. Merrill?” Dan nodded toward the door. Mairelon gave him an ironic bow, shoved the door open, and went in. Jack followed, at Dan’s direction, then Jonathan and Kim. Dan himself came last.

  The interior of the lodge was dark and smelled of smoke and old wine. “Who’s pulled the shutters to?” Jonathan demanded. “Blast it, can’t anyone do anything right?”

  “I fail to see—” Dan began, when a voice from the far corner of the room interrupted him in mid-sentence.

  “Jon? That you? Well, of course it is. Nobody else would be so put about by a little thing like shutters. It’s all right, Marianne, it’s only Jon.”

  “Freddy!” said an agonized female voice in a piercing whisper. “Sshhh!”

  “But it’s only Jon,” the first voice said, and a shadowy male figure rose from behind a clump of high-backed wing chairs. He stepped forward, peering through the gloom, then stopped short and said with considerable indignation, “I say, Jon, who are all these people you’ve brought along? Not the thing, old boy, not at all the thing. This lodge is supposed to be private, y’know.”

  “Meredith! I might have guessed,” Jonathan said in tones of loathing. “What are you doing here?”

  “Might ask you the same thing,” Freddy pointed out. “I ain’t the one who came barging through a locked door with a country fair’s worth of people.”

  “That door isn’t supposed to be locked! The Sons of the New Dawn should be free to come and go as they please; we agreed on that at the very beginning!”

  “This is all very interesting,” Dan said in a bored voice, “but I do have a few things to do here, and time presses. If you—and your no doubt charming companion—will just join the others here, Mr. Meredith, we can begin.”