There was no use talking to any of them now. Maybe Renée D’Auber would have some advice; she was a lot more sensible than most toffs. Kim rolled her eyes and left.
When Kim and Mairelon arrived at Renée D’Auber’s townhouse, a formidably correct butler showed them up to the drawing room at once. There they found Mademoiselle D’Auber busy at a small writing table. Her auburn hair was braided close to her head, and there was a smudge of dust or ink on the point of her chin; she resembled neither an elegant lady of fashion nor a wizard of power and skill, though she was both. A stack of books stood on a side table next to her. A faint scent of incense lingered in the air; Mademoiselle D’Auber must have been spellcasting recently. As the butler announced them, she looked up and smiled.
“Monsieur Merrill! And Mademoiselle Kim. It is of all things good to see you.”
“And it is always good to see you, Renée,” Mairelon said with a warm smile.
“You are kind, but it is not often that you come so early,” Renée said, returning Mairelon’s smile. “Sit down, and tell me what it is that brings you.”
As she took a chair covered in wine-red silk, Kim watched her two companions with curiosity bordering on bafflement. Though she had known both Mairelon and Renée D’Auber for a year now, she could not begin to pretend that she understood their relationship. There seemed to be no element of romance between them, and she had observed them closely enough to stake her position as Mairelon’s ward that there was no physical intimacy, either. Yet there was an undeniable warmth and familiarity in their conversation that, if Mrs. Lowe were to be believed, was not fitting between an unattached man and a respectable young woman of quality. Maybe it was because they were both wizards, or perhaps it had something to do with the years Mairelon had spent gathering intelligence in France.
“Two things,” Mairelon said. “First, can you tell me anything about a group of French wizards called Les Griffonais? They apparently had something of a name in France before the Terror.”
Renée looked at him with considerable amusement. “And you expect that I will know something of them? The Terror was nearly thirty years ago, and me, I was not yet born.” She held up a hand to forestall Mairelon’s next comment and continued, “I do not say I have not heard of them, but I wish to know why you have this interest before I say any more. Otherwise you will not tell me anything, and I shall perish of the curiosity.”
“My father bought part of a library collection that once belonged to a Madame Marie de Cambriol. Lord Kerring down at the Royal College says she was one of the group.”
“And?”
Mairelon sighed. “And somebody seems a little too interested in Madame’s collection for my peace of mind.”
Mademoiselle D’Auber looked at him with disfavor. “You, my friend, are entirely English, which is a thing impossible to understand. And you are even more impossible to get answers from than other English persons. Kim! What is it that he means by this ‘too interested for his peace of mind’?”
“Some toff wizard broke into the house night before last,” Kim said. “He was looking for something in the library, and he had a spell with him that lit up all the books from the Cambriol mort’s collection.”
“We think he only wanted one of the books,” Mairelon said, “but Kim ran him off before he could take it.”
“You are sure?”
Mairelon shrugged. “Andrew had an inventory done when my father died; everything on the list is still there.”
Renée nodded. “Very good. Now I will tell you what I know, which is not much. I never met this Marie de Cambriol, but the Sieur Jacques de Cambriol was a friend of my father’s. His wife died very suddenly, a year or two after they emigrated, and when I was very little he used to come to dinner with my parents.”
“Was the Sieur de Cambriol a wizard?”
“No. I do not know what he was in France, before the Terror, but afterward he was a gambler. Papa spoke of him often, and tried to help when he could. He died nearly ten years ago, I think, in the debtors’ prison.”
“So they escaped the Terror and came to England—”
“No,” Renée corrected. “They left France before the Terror began, the Sieur Jacques and his wife and their friends.” She frowned. “The Sieur used to tell me the story, with much waving of hands. I am afraid I do not recollect the details at all clearly—it was not a daring escape, you see, but simply prudent. And the prudence, it did not at all interest me when I was a child.”
Mairelon straightened. “The de Cambriols and their friends left France before the Terror? That wouldn’t by any chance be the rest of the group of wizards?”
“I think it was,” Renée said after some thought. “But I am not positive, you understand.”
“Do you know who the others were?” Kim asked.
“Les Griffonais? Let me think. Madame de Cambriol, of course, and the Comte du Franchard and his wife, the Comtesse de Beauvoix. The duchesse Delagardie. The Hungarian, Monsieur László Karolyi. Monsieur Henri d’Armand. And Mademoiselle Jeannette Lepain, who as a child I thought was of all things most romantic because she married a Russian prince.”
“Do you know whether any of them are in England now?” Mairelon said.
“No, I do not know,” Renée said. “They were not, you understand, friends of mine; I do not think even Papa knew any of them except Sieur de Cambriol.”
“Well, at least now I have some names,” Mairelon said. “Thank you, Renée. I wonder whether Shoreham is still keeping track of the émigrés. I believe I’ll stop in and ask him tomorrow.”
“And your other reason for coming to visit me?” Mademoiselle D’Auber said. “You said there were two.”
“What? Oh, yes, well, that’s Kim’s, actually. Mother arrived this morning and says she’s not dressed properly; she thought you might be interested in helping out.”
“Mairelon,” Kim said, thoroughly exasperated.
“Yes, he is of all persons the most excessively trying,” Renée said, nodding. “Now you will tell me what it is he is trying to say.”
“He said it, but—Lady Wendall only wants me to dress better because she thinks Mairelon’s going to present me to Society. And he isn’t.”
Renée’s eyebrows rose expressively. “Not?”
“Kim doesn’t wish it,” Mairelon said shortly.
The eyebrows twitched, then rose even higher. “Indeed. Then how is it your so-estimable mother is of the idea that you will do so?”
“Gossip,” Mairelon said.
“It ain’t just gossip!” Kim said. “It’s what you said at that tea. Your mother believes it, and the way she’s going on, I’m like to be presented tomorrow whether I want it or not.”
“I’ll explain to Mother as soon as we get back,” Mairelon said. “She’ll understand. Though she would certainly enjoy managing it.”
“One moment,” Renée said, looking from one to the other. “I wish first to know why it is that Mademoiselle Kim does not wish to be presented.”
“I—” Kim swallowed hard. “Look, this ain’t—isn’t going to sound right, but I just don’t like it. Making up to a bunch of old cats just because they say who gets invited to a lot of boring teas and balls. . . . Doing the wizard stuff is hard enough. And I’m not good at watching what I say.” She gestured helplessly. “It just wouldn’t work.”
“But of course it would work!” Renée shook her head reprovingly. “You are a wizard. It is expected that you will be entirely original. And there are many advantages, you know.”
“Like what?” Kim said, half wanting to be convinced but not really believing it was possible.
“Monsieur Merrill’s mama is exceedingly well known; if it is she who introduces you to Society, you will be accepted by everyone. And it is often useful for a wizard to know a great many persons. Also, if you are not presented, there will always be persons who wonder why. Some will think that you cannot truly be a wizard.”
“I hadn’t thought of tha
t,” Mairelon said slowly, “but you’re right. They would.”
“Why?” Kim said. “That doesn’t make sense!”
Renée shrugged. “To them, it does. They cannot conceive that anyone would not wish to be presented. If you are not, they will say it is because you cannot be, and since a wizard can always be presented, you must not be one. It is very foolish.”
“Well . . .”
“There is also Monsieur Merrill to consider,” Renée went on. “A great many people thought he had stolen the Saltash Set, and now they do not think he is enough respectable even though the set is returned and milord Shoreham has arrested the real thieves.”
“That is ridiculous!” Mairelon said.
Renée waved his objection aside. “I say only what people think. And since you do not often go to balls or parties, a great many persons of no intellect whatever think that it is because you are not invited and not because, like Mademoiselle Kim, you do not find it interesting. It would have been altogether better if you had spent the Season in London last year, as we talked of then.”
“I did,” Mairelon objected.
“You spent it with milord Shoreham, and not at the balls and parties,” Renée said. “It is not at all the same. But if Mademoiselle Kim is presented, you will have to go to balls, and people will see that you are quite enough respectable after all. Or at least, that you are not so un-respectable as they had thought.”
Kim stared at Mademoiselle D’Auber, speechless. This was an aspect of the matter that she had never considered. From the look on his face, neither had Mairelon, though she couldn’t tell whether his look of chagrin came from the realization that some of Society thought he was not “enough respectable,” or from the realization that if his ward were to come out properly, he, too, would be required to attend balls and parties. Knowing Mairelon, she suspected the latter.
“I do not think it will be nearly so boring as you fear,” Renée said to Kim, smiling. “Not with Monsieur Merrill’s mama in charge. And once you have been presented, it is done, and you may attend the balls or not, as it pleases you.”
“And if you do it, Aunt Agatha will turn positively purple,” Mairelon murmured, recovering quickly.
The silence that followed stretched on for what seemed forever. Finally, Kim sighed. “All right, then. I’ll try it. But I still think you all have windmills in your heads.”
“Of a certainty,” Mademoiselle D’Auber said. “How else is one to deal with Monsieur Merrill?”
8
After leaving Mademoiselle D’Auber’s, Mairelon ordered the coach to stop at the Horse Guards, where Lord Shoreham had his office. Unfortunately, Lord Shoreham was unable to give him any more information regarding the French wizards, though he promised to have his records checked for anything that Mairelon might find useful. They arrived home early in the afternoon, and Kim was immediately swept up by Lady Wendall.
“Is there anything in your wardrobe of which you are particularly fond?” she demanded of Kim almost as soon as Kim entered the house.
“I don’t think so,” Kim said, considerably startled.
“Good. Then I will have one of the footmen take all of it to the used clothing shops tomorrow,” Lady Wendall said. “Except of course for the outfit you have stored in the hatbox; that clearly has uses other than fashion to recommend it. Did you speak to Mademoiselle D’Auber about shopping tomorrow?”
“I forgot,” Kim said. “Mairelon had other things he wanted to talk about.”
“Richard always does. Well, I’ll send a note around this afternoon. I suggest you spend the time on your magical studies; tomorrow, you will be quite thoroughly occupied.”
Nothing loath, Kim escaped to the library, where she alternated between watching the monkey’s antics in its wicker cage and trying to puzzle out a few more of Mairelon’s assigned texts. Since all of them included occasional examples in foreign languages that were quite beyond Kim’s comprehension, she had a long list of questions ready for Mairelon by the time he came to check on her progress. Mairelon readily agreed to translate and explain the questionable bits, but his answers only frustrated Kim more.
“Don’t these coves know how to say anything straight out in English?” Kim demanded after Mairelon had finished explaining a particularly convoluted paragraph written in Greek, which boiled down to Don’t try this; it doesn’t work.
Mairelon laughed. “It wouldn’t sound nearly as impressive in plain English.”
“I thought the point was to tell wizards how to do magic,” Kim said crossly. “Not to sound impressive.”
“Wizards are at least as vain as anyone else,” Mairelon said. “Possibly more so.”
“Well, I don’t see why I have to learn all this foreign talk just so some cull who’s been dead since before I was born can sound flash when he says, ‘Wiggle all the fingers on your right hand.’ ”
“You’ll just have to trust me when I tell you it’s worth the effort,” Mairelon told her. “You could probably learn quite a few of the simple spells by rote, but it would be very difficult for you to get much beyond that.”
“Why? I have a good memory.”
“Yes, but magic isn’t just a matter of memory. It takes understanding, too. Here, I’ll show you.” Mairelon set the book aside and went over to his mother’s desk. After a moment of rummaging and a few more of scribbling, he returned with a sheet of paper bearing a peculiar diagram and four words.
“This is a spell,” he said, thrusting the paper into her hand. “You ought to be able to handle it at your level. You cast it by drawing this diagram, starting with this”—he pointed—“and ending with these. As you draw each of these points, you say one of these words, in order.”
“How do I say them?” Kim said, staring at the unfamiliar jumble of consonants and vowels.
Mairelon obligingly pronounced each word in turn. “Now cast it.”
Kim gave him a startled look, then lowered her eyes to study the paper. The drawing was of a circle quartered by two double-headed arrows, the heads of which protruded on all four sides. Draw the circle first, then the cross, and then the arrowheads, and say one word at each arrowhead. Fine. She took the pen and ink Mairelon handed her, and bent to her task.
As she spoke the first word, she felt a faint tingling. It strengthened a trifle with each additional command, and when she looked up, she thought she saw a faint greenish haze around several of the bookcases, and a brief shower of green sparkles near Mairelon’s coat. The effect faded almost at once. Mairelon nodded in approval.
“Not bad. But look here. The circle represents magic; the four arrows are four directions. Epistamai is Greek for ‘to know,’ videre is Latin for ‘to see,’ l’herah is Hebrew for ‘to show,’ and revelare is Latin again, meaning ‘to reveal.’ Put it all together, and you have a spell that lets a magician find out what things around him have been enchanted.”
“You can tell that most of the time just by touching them,” Kim objected.
“You can’t go around touching everything you suspect of being magical,” Mairelon said. “Quite apart from the attention you’d attract, it’s not always wise.”
“Trap spells, you mean.”
“Among other things. Now, cast it again.”
Frowning slightly, Kim did so. This time, two of the bookcases glowed a steady green, the third button on Mairelon’s coat was a shower of green sparks, and one of the candlesticks was briefly surrounded by a faint green mist.
The effect took longer to fade, too. A greenish haze still remained around his button when he finally said, “It was clearer that time, wasn’t it?”
Kim gave him a startled look. “Couldn’t you tell?”
“It’s not a general spell to show everyone what’s enchanted. It’s only supposed to show you.”
“Oh. Yes, everything was brighter.”
“That’s the difference between knowing a spell by rote and actually understanding what you are saying.”
“But—”
Kim paused, frowning. Then she dipped the pen once more and began to draw the figure. “To know,” she said as she completed the first arrow. “To see. To show. To reveal . . . Ow!” An instant too late, she flung a hand over her eyes to shut out the blinding light that flared from the bookcases and the searing flashes from Mairelon’s button.
“And that is why you can’t just learn spells in English in the first place,” Mairelon said in a tone of smug satisfaction.
“You might of warned me!” Kim said, keeping her eyes closed.
“Some things take better if you aren’t told about them first,” Mairelon said. “Besides, I wanted to see whether you’d think of it on your own.”
“You still could of warned me.” Cautiously, Kim opened her eyes. Green spots still danced in front of them, but the light had weakened to a bearable level.
“If it’s any comfort, you’re doing rather well. I didn’t think of trying a spell in English until my third year of formal study, and I was fool enough to pick a translation spell to try it on. For the next week, everything I said or wrote came out in a garble of French, Spanish, Italian, Russian, and some outlandish tongue I didn’t even recognize. I couldn’t explain to anyone what had happened, and with everything I said coming out in a muddle, I couldn’t use magic to correct matters.”
“What did you do?”
Mairelon grimaced. “There wasn’t much of anything I could do. Fortunately, Mother knows a bit of the Art herself, and when I came in sounding like all the workmen at the Tower of Babel rolled into one, she could tell there was magic involved. She sent for my tutor, and of course once he did the spell properly, he understood me. He told the family, which settled things down considerably. There was nothing to be done about me, though, except wait for the enchantment to wear off. I had to make do with sign language for a week.”
“Are you trying to say that if I’d waited until next year to try that, it would have been even worse than it was?” Kim demanded.
A Matter of Magic Page 33