“Part of the job is looking ahead,” Kim said crossly. “He should of known I was here.”
“Should have known,” Mairelon corrected. He leaned forward, and Kim saw an almost undetectable tension in his shoulders. “I don’t suppose you know where Mannering is at the moment?” he asked Lord Starnes in a casual tone.
Lord Starnes shook his head. “He’s gotten very . . . strange these last few weeks,” he said in a confidential tone. “Flies out at people for no reason, that sort of thing. And then a week and a half ago, he closed his office. I was afraid he’d got hold of the other books without me and gone off to France, but it turned out it was no such thing.”
“And how do you know that, if you haven’t seen Mannering in a week and a half?” Mairelon said.
“Oh, I’ve seen him. Twice. I just don’t know where he is.”
Mairelon and Kim looked at him in wordless expectation.
“He sent me a note,” Lord Starnes explained. “And then I went down to meet him at some warehouse off the docks. It was a dreadful place, worse than Hampstead. Took my valet half a day to get the smell of fish out of my coat.”
“You said you’d seen him twice,” Mairelon said, emptying the last of the brandy into Lord Starnes’s glass. “Was it the same warehouse both times?”
“No. The second one was even worse.” Starnes shuddered in remembrance. “Mannering didn’t look well, either. I think his brain is turning. He talked of sending a couple of footpads after that Russian fellow. What’s the point in that, when we’ve already got his copy of the book?”
“Footpads?” Mairelon said thoughtfully. “What a good thing for the prince that he’s out of town.”
“I’ve thought a couple of times that I’d be better off out of it,” Lord Starnes said. “But there’s Letitia . . .”
“Yes, well, I doubt that Miss Tarnower will look favorably on your suit if you end up in gaol.”
Lord Starnes’s eyes widened. “I hadn’t thought of that. But you know, you’re right.” He emptied his glass and gazed mournfully into the bottom.
Kim rolled her eyes. Mairelon gave her a stern look and said to Starnes, “You go home and think it over. If you have any more messages from this Mannering fellow, let me know and I’ll deal with him. But if you do any more breaking into houses or stealing books—or even merely trying to steal them—I’ll be down in Bow Street the next morning. Is that clear?”
Lord Starnes was initially disposed to argue, but between them, Kim and Mairelon got him out of the house at last, with the clear understanding that he was not to attempt any more amateur burglaries.
“Do you think he’ll remember in the morning?” Kim said as they watched Lord Starnes wobble off down the street.
“He’ll have the devil of a head after mixing gin and brandy, but he’s not so well to live that he’ll forget what happened.” Mairelon rubbed his forehead. “Neither am I, though I almost wish I were. The more we find out, the less sense any of it makes. If this keeps up, I’ll be ready for Bedlam by the end of the week.”
Kim swallowed hard as the memory of Ma Yanger rose unbidden in her mind. “Don’t joke about it.”
“What? No.” Mairelon sighed. “I’m too tired to think straight now; it’ll have to wait until morning. Don’t run off with one of your swains tomorrow until we’ve had a chance to talk.”
“I won’t,” Kim told his back as it retreated up the stairs.
20
Kim did not get to sleep for a long time; she had too much to think about. She was no more satisfied with Lord Starnes’s explanation than Mairelon had been—it left too many things unexplained. How could Mannering have so suddenly become a wizard? Who was the foreign wizard who had left those spells in English on Mannering’s desk? And if Mannering was working with a foreigner, which of them had ensorcelled Ma Yanger and Mairelon? And why had they bothered? There seemed to be no connection between the spells and the supposed fortune that Lord Starnes was so eager to obtain, though it was certainly plausible that Mannering would be more than a little interested in the money.
On top of Lord Starnes and Mannering, Kim was concerned about Mairelon. He was taking the loss of his magic even harder than she’d realized, if he’d started drinking nights in the library. But the most disturbing thing of all, to which she kept returning like a tongue probing a sore tooth, was the realization that she had fallen in love with her guardian.
When had it happened? She wasn’t quite sure. At their first meeting, she had feared his magic, but that had not lasted more than fifteen or twenty minutes. The often-exasperated fondness that had replaced the fear wasn’t love. Nor was the gratitude she felt because he had taken her out of the precarious street life that was all she had known until then, nor the also-often-exasperated respect that she had learned for him as a teacher, nor the equally exasperated friendship that surfaced when they were poking around some problem together. Exasperation, in fact, seemed to be a keynote of her feelings toward Mairelon. Was that how you fell in love with someone, then—by getting exasperated with him?
It had certainly worked with Mairelon, though to the best of her recollection he had never shown any feeling for her except a mild and absentminded affection. Maybe she should try to make him exasperated with her. Kim sighed. Attractive as the idea was, she doubted that it would help any, even if she could manage to do it. Mairelon was harder to annoy than anyone she’d ever known; it was one of the things that made him so exasperating. She smiled fondly, then caught herself. Rolling over, she punched her pillow hard in frustration.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Even if she could, by some miracle, get Mairelon to reciprocate her sentiments, what good would it be? For all his turns as a marketplace performer, Mairelon was a gentleman born, and she didn’t know how to be a toff’s wife. She didn’t know how to be anyone’s wife. She barely knew how to be a girl.
I used to be good at ignoring what I wanted, when I knew it was impossible. What happened? But she knew what had happened: she’d spent a year in Mairelon’s company, learning wizardry and having dreams come true that she hadn’t even known she’d had. And anyway, you couldn’t ignore anyone as exasperating as Mairelon.
She buried her head in the pillow. I am going to sleep. There is no point in thinking about this. I am going to sleep. Now.
Eventually, she did. But she did not sleep well, and when she went down to breakfast the following morning, Mrs. Lowe commented that she appeared to have been overdoing her social life.
“Yes, you do look a bit hagged,” Lady Wendall said. “Perhaps we should not go to Lady Sefton’s tonight, after all.”
Before Kim could answer, the door opened and Mairelon entered. He looked tired and drawn, and he winced a little at the light from the windows, but his expression was nonetheless more cheerful than she had seen it in several days. “Ah, good, you’re up, Kim,” he said. “Are you free of engagements this morning? I’d like you to join me on an errand or two.”
“Richard,” Mrs. Lowe said reprovingly, “we were just commenting that Kim has been doing too much. It would be much better for her to stay home and rest.”
“I don’t mind,” Kim said quickly. If she had to miss something, she’d rather it was a fashionable do at Lady Sefton’s than a few hours of Mairelon’s company.
“You’re sure?” An uncertain, anxious look crossed Mairelon’s face.
It was gone in a moment, so quickly that even Lady Wendall did not notice, but Kim frowned. This has to have something to do with his magic. “Of course I’m sure,” she said.
“That’s all right, then,” Mairelon said in a tone of mild relief that was altogether at odds with that brief expression of uncertainty. He picked up a plate and then hesitated, eyeing the eggs and sausage with evident doubt.
Mrs. Lowe frowned. “But, Richard—”
“I think it is a very good idea indeed,” Lady Wendall interrupted. She had been looking sharply from Mairelon to Kim, but now she gave Mrs. Lowe her full attention. “We
have been remiss in allowing Kim to fall behind in her magic lessons; and magic is, after all, a significant part of the good impression she has made. Of course she must go with Richard.” She glanced at Mairelon and added sweetly, “And I am sure you will tell me all about it when you return.”
“Oh, I doubt that there’ll be much to tell,” Mairelon said. “Errands are generally uneventful, you know.”
“Not yours, dear,” Lady Wendall replied.
Feeling considerably more cheerful herself, Kim applied herself to her breakfast. Mairelon did not eat much, so they finished at about the same time. “Don’t forget your sunshade this time, Kim,” Mrs. Lowe advised as they rose to leave.
Kim made a face, but made sure she had it with her as they left the house. Not listening to another one of Mrs. Lowe’s thundering scolds was worth the minor inconvenience of carrying a parasol, especially since she could always leave it in the carriage.
“Where are we going?” she asked Mairelon as he handed her into the coach.
“The George,” Mairelon said as he settled into the seat opposite. “If Prince Alexei Durmontov is back, they’ll be the first to know where he’s putting up; he’ll have to let them know where to send his mail. And if the prince hasn’t returned, someone may have an idea where he’s gone. I don’t like the sound of those footpads Starnes was talking about last night.”
Kim frowned. Then, reluctantly but unable to resist asking, she said, “Why do you want me along for that?”
The coach began to move. Mairelon hesitated, then, with an evident reluctance more than equal to Kim’s, said, “I promised Shoreham I wouldn’t go anywhere without someone along who can handle protective spells.”
“What?” Kim stared. “You mean, that’s why you haven’t gone anywhere unless Shoreham or Kerring was around?”
“Shoreham’s worried about another attack,” Mairelon said. “I think he’s wrong; the only time the house-wards have even been tested was last night, and that turned out to be the congenial Lord Starnes. But that’s Shoreham for you.”
“And you’re counting me as a wizard?” Kim said, completely thunderstruck. She wasn’t nearly good enough for something like this; she could barely handle a standard warding spell!
“You’ve been doing the house-wards for a week and a half,” Mairelon said in a low voice. “And Shoreham taught you Gerard’s Refuge himself. Besides, I’m not anticipating any trouble.”
“That’s the problem,” Kim grumbled. “You never do.”
A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of Mairelon’s mouth. “Never? Surely I haven’t been that consistent.”
Kim laughed in spite of herself. “I bet Hunch would agree with me.”
“That’s taking unfair advantage,” Mairelon said.
“What’s unfair about it?” Kim demanded.
The coach drew up outside the George, relieving Mairelon of the need to answer. Inside, the concierge informed them that Prince Durmontov had returned to town late the previous evening. It was a very great pity that they had not arrived a few minutes earlier; he had just that morning been to the George to pick up his letters. No, he had not left very long ago. Where? Probably on some errand. The prince did not discuss his schedule with the staff. Yes, he had had several messages waiting; Mr. Merrill’s was undoubtedly among them. Well, he really wasn’t supposed to talk about the guests’ affairs, but since Mr. Merrill was so generous, and the prince was no longer really a guest . . . There had been a note from a lady—no direction, naturally, but quite clearly feminine in origin—and a number of invitations and cards, as well as two or three other personal notes, and a singularly odd missive delivered by a scruffy fellow with a sour disposition, not at all the sort that the George was accustomed to receiving. That one? Yes, now that Mr. Merrill mentioned it, it was after reading that note that the prince had left, and in a bit of a hurry. And he had asked for directions to Gray’s Inn, though that was clearly not his destination; no gentleman would—
“Mannering owns a bowsing ken by Gray’s Inn,” Kim interrupted. “And around there, anyone who saw a couple of wild rogues taking a gentry cove would be careful not to take notice.”
“We’ll try that, then,” Mairelon said. “Come on; if we hurry, we may catch up with him before they do.” He tossed the concierge another guinea as they departed. As the carriage rattled over the cobblestones, Mairelon said, “Have you practiced Gerard’s Refuge since Shoreham taught you?”
“A couple of times,” Kim said warily. “Do you think we’ll need it?”
“It’s possible,” Mairelon said. There was a new tension in his shoulders, and he leaned forward slightly in his seat as if urging the coach onward. “Mannering would be a fool to decoy a wizard without being prepared to deal with magic. And so far as we know, he’s not a fool.”
And we know how he deals with wizards. Kim shivered. No wonder Mairelon was in a hurry; the thought of another wizard falling prey to the same antimagic spell affecting him would make him wild.
“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to stay in the carriage?” Mairelon went on, giving her a sideways look.
“No,” Kim said firmly. “If anybody stays, it should be you. I’m just an apprentice; you’re a wizard, and if they think you can do magic, they’ll go for you first. And after the way we did the illusion at that ball, they have to think you can still do magic.”
“That’s true,” Mairelon said, sounding more cheerful. “I’d forgotten.”
Kim blinked. “Then you’ll stay here?”
“What? No, of course not. With any luck—”
The carriage stopped abruptly, and they heard Hunch swearing from the coachman’s perch. Mairelon opened the door and sprang out without waiting for the steps to be let down. “Cast the Refuge,” he said over his shoulder, and ran forward.
Cursing her skirts, Kim struggled out of the carriage and looked around. Hunch was still occupied with the reins, though a groom had jumped down from the back of the coach and was running to take the horses’ heads. Mairelon was halfway down a narrow, refuse-choked alley leading directly away from the carriage door. At the far end, two solidly built men with their faces wrapped in mufflers were dragging a third man toward a waiting cart. True to Kim’s prediction, the few people in the vicinity were paying no attention whatever to the attack in progress; they seemed far more interested in the presence of a gentleman’s coach-and-four in such an unlikely location.
Kim started forward, clutching her sunshade like a club. Then she heard the sharp-edged words of a spell coming from the far end of the alley, and hastily cast the refuge spell that Shoreham had taught her. An instant later, an enormous gout of flame exploded around the combatants, roaring from wall to wall as high as the second row of bricked-up windows, and she felt a magical pressure against her shield. Over the roaring of the flames came a loud, high-pitched whine that hurt the ears even as far back as Kim was standing.
The cart horse shied and bolted, taking the cart with it and leaving the attackers nowhere to take their victim. The attackers themselves lost interest in their erstwhile prey and ran hell-for-leather down the alley toward Kim. One of them slammed full tilt into Mairelon, and both men went down. The other villain continued toward Kim, oblivious to his companion’s misfortune.
With great presence of mind, Kim stepped to one side and, as the runner passed her, thrust her sunshade between his feet. He fell headlong, and the force of his movement snapped the shaft of the sunshade in two. Before he could scramble to his feet once more, Kim sat down hard on his upper back, driving the breath out of his body. For the next moment or two, all the bully-boy could do was gasp for air, and by the time he at last managed to refill his lungs, Hunch had come up with them.
“You can get up now,” Hunch told her. “I’ll ’andle ’im if ’e tries anything.”
Kim bounced once, just to make sure the fellow wasn’t up to anything, and stood up.
“Get him into the carriage,” Mairelon’s voice said. Kim looked o
ver her shoulder to find him standing behind her, half-supporting Prince Durmontov. The prince looked rather dazed, but seemed largely unharmed; Mairelon’s coat sleeve was torn, his cravat had come half-undone, and he was liberally streaked with mud, but he, too, did not appear to be injured. “The other man got away, and I think there was a driver in that cart; there’s no sense hanging around here until their reinforcements arrive.”
The flames and the whining noise had stopped some time during Kim’s encounter with the man she had captured. Glancing around, she was unsurprised to find the street deserted. Nobody wanted trouble with wizards.
Hunch nodded at Mairelon and hauled their prisoner to his feet. The man’s muffler had come undone, and Kim blinked at him in surprise. “Jack Stower!”
“Well, well,” Mairelon said. “This is going to be interesting. Into the carriage, Kim, Hunch.”
Hunch pushed Jack forward without comment, but when they reached the coach, he frowned. “You ain’t a-going to take this ’ere cove in there with you, are you?” he said.
“How else are we going to ask him anything?” Mairelon said. “He won’t make any more trouble—not with three wizards keeping an eye on him.”
Glowering, but unable to object publicly to this outrageous statement without giving Mairelon’s incapacity away, Hunch did as he was told. A little nervously, Kim took the seat in the far corner from Jack; Mairelon helped the prince in opposite her, and slid in beside her himself. As the coach started off, he said, “Now, Mr. Stower, kindly explain your part in this little contretemps.”
“I ain’t sayin’ nothing,” Jack said sullenly.
“Very well,” said Mairelon affably. “We’ll just let Shoreham get it out of you. We’re on our way to the Ministry now; I just thought it would save a little time if you talked to us first.”
Prince Durmontov raised his head. “Ministry?” he said hazily. “What Ministry?”
“The Ministry of Wizardry,” Mairelon said. “It’s not far, and we’ll take you back to the George after. Or wherever you prefer. You look rather done up.”
A Matter of Magic Page 45