“They’re spring flowers,” she said, as though she expected him to care. “They are a special gift from Harin, sent by the one he has chosen to bless.” She beamed at Simple Eddie, who sat at table next to Marta and across from Kyla.
Eddie blushed and looked uncomfortable, as well he might. They’d cleaned him up, Jerome was glad to see, but he was not happy to see the fool wearing a shirt and trousers taken from his wardrobe, not at all pleased to see that the clothes fit.
Losing patience, he said, “Could we start dinner, Mother? You can explain this mysterious blessing while we eat.”
“First we must thank the gods for their bounty.” With a sweep of her hand she indicated the food growing cold on the table. “Will you offer the prayer of gratitude?”
“No, Mother, I would be remiss were I to deprive you of that pleasure.”
She nodded, not hearing the sarcasm, and launched into a long, wandering prayer. He’d made a mistake. He should have done as she asked and muttered a few short lines. By the time his mother wound to a conclusion, the gravy had congealed around the cooling meat, and he was seething.
It required all his self-control to smile politely and serve the women guests and his mother before he filled his own plate and passed the platters to Simple Eddie, who could jolly well fend for himself or starve. His mother chattered the whole time he ate, and he did his best not to listen. The guests ate quietly, adding nothing more than polite phrases to his mother’s interminable conversation.
When at last the meal ended and the guests dispersed, Jerome realized he’d missed the reason for his mother’s changed attitude toward Simple Eddie. Her babble about Eddie’s being favored of Harin made no sense. He attributed it to her accursed fanaticism, but what had happened that made her so solicitous of Eddie he could not imagine. The women must have done something, cast some spell. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t change his plans to do away with the fool, though it would increase the risk. He’d have to convince his mother that he shared her regard for Eddie and would protect him from harm. And he’d have to plan the abduction with extra care to make certain his mother saw and heard nothing.
He was so absorbed in his scheming that when a voice said, “Master Esterville, I’d like a word with you,” he jumped, nearly dropping the lamp he carried.
The speaker was Kyla, and now he saw that she wore a blue gown with short sleeves and a skirt not puffed out by underskirts as current fashion demanded, but hanging straight to the floor in graceful folds.
She must have noticed his scrutiny. Smiling, she said, “As I told you, Marta and I are seamstresses. Needing clothes and not having our valises, we spent the afternoon making over some gowns of your mother’s. We do still need the things in our valises, though.”
He did recall seeing his mother wear some kind of blue dress, but it had looked nothing like the one Kyla wore. Furthermore, since dinner she had unbound her long brown hair to let it curl around her shoulders. He had thought her pretty before, but now he found her breathtakingly beautiful.
He bowed low to cover his momentary confusion, and when he straightened he said, “I can’t remove the valises from Councilor Hardwick’s office without arousing suspicion, but if you’ll give me a list of what you need, I’ll try to get it out of the valises and bring it to you. Was that what you wanted to ask me about?”
To his delight she shook her head. “I have something else I must discuss with you, if you can spare me the time.”
“Of course.” He bowed again. “I’d be happy to talk with you, Miss Kyla.”
Her smile lit her lovely face. She took his arm and guided him toward the stairs. “Good. Could we go where we won’t be disturbed? I noticed a parlor downstairs that seemed unused and private. Perhaps we could use it?”
Jerome let her lead him to a first floor room. When she headed into one of the closed-off rooms, he said, “This room is dusty and hot, not pleasant for a long conversation. No one will disturb us in the sitting room. My mother has gone to her shrines, and will retire when she finishes her devotions. As for your friends, I think they’ve gone to their rooms.”
But she said, “I don’t mind a little dust. I’d prefer to be certain we won’t be interrupted.”
He yielded, curious but also wary. The woman was dangerous, he reminded himself. He’d intended to test her powers, but in circumstances he could control. This unexpected opportunity, though, wasn’t to be passed up. Whatever the witch planned, he’d find a way to turn it to his advantage.
They entered a small parlor as hot and stuffy as he’d predicted. He set the lamp on a table and brushed off the faded sofa cushions before allowing Kyla to sit on them. Already perspiring, he sat beside her. The lamplight leached color from the worn upholstery, obscuring what had once been a dainty floral pattern. The lamp’s flame enclosed them in a cocoon of light around which pressed a darkness that seemed composed of particles of heat. The effect heightened Jerome’s sense of isolation, made him feel locked in with this alluring and enigmatic woman.
She leaned toward him and placed her fingers lightly on his wrist. The tingling he always felt in her presence increased.
“Why did you want to see me? And why did it have to be in such privacy?”
Keeping her hand on his wrist, she said, “Jerome, you know that Marta and I look for people with whom we may share power. Few are receptive, and when we arrive in a new area it often takes many days or weeks before we find someone, whom we then have to train. It’s a slow process.”
She paused and favored him with her dazzling smile. He was puzzled; he hadn’t expected a lecture. She must be leading up to something important. He waited breathlessly for her to continue.
“At one time there were many people with the power throughout Arucadi, but they were called together into one place, an isolated valley in North Woods Province, and many perished there.” Her voice droned. While the lecture continued, her fingers massaged the underside of his wrist, sending tremors up his arm. “Those who survived remained in the valley, which they cut off from the rest of the land by means of their magical arts. Most of Arucadi continued by developing mechanical marvels to replace the magic.”
He nodded to show that he understood, though he found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on her words while her fingers encircled his wrist and her face was so close to his.
“The need that brought all the mages and sorcerers together in that small, secluded valley no longer exists,” she went on. “Marta and I are heirs of the mages of old. We have made it our mission to restore magic to the land. It is a task to which we expect to devote the rest of our lives. Even so, we cannot do it alone, but each one with whom we share power must help.”
He nodded again, feeling stupid, unable to respond with intelligent questions. The heat made it hard to breathe, and his wrist burned where her fingers touched it.
The tone of her voice changed, became crisper. “We have rarely been so fortunate as we have been here in Carey,” she said. “On our first night in town we found someone not only able to receive power, but extraordinarily gifted in that respect.”
So he hadn’t imagined it—that tingle of power, that inexplicable sense of something he did not understand but knew he wanted. He was gifted. Of course he was. Extraordinarily so, she said. And she was going to teach him to use that power. His mind reeled, intoxicated by the prospects opening before him.
“What can I do?” He got the words out in a hoarse whisper.
“You can protect us while we train him.”
“Him?” He stared at her in befuddlement.
“Ed Robbins,” she answered, her words splashing over him like icy water. “Ed has enormous talent but he doesn’t yet realize it. We’ll need to work with him for several weeks to—”
He jumped to his feet. “You’re telling me Simple Eddie has magic powers? You’re going to train him?”
A frown marred the smooth beauty of her face. “Yes, that’s what I said. I realize you have a low opinion
of Ed, and that’s why I felt I must talk to you in this way—to revise your view of his worth.”
He yanked a handkerchief from his shirt pocket and mopped his sweaty face. “Eddie, gifted? Woman, the man’s a simpleton. He’s the town fool. Everyone knows it. If you think he’s gifted, you’re a bigger fool than he is.” He stuffed the handkerchief back into his pocket and picked up the lamp. “I was ready to believe in you. I thought you really had some sort of power. I should have listened to Councilor Hardwick when he said you were charlatans. He was right.”
He stormed from the room, not caring that his departure left her in darkness. She’d humiliated him. Eddie, gifted! Hah! She’d deliberately led him on, made him think she was speaking of him, that she was attracted to him, that she was about to confer on him the gift of power that she claimed to possess. She must be laughing at what a fool she’d made of him.
And after he’d risked his future to bring her here, her and her sharp-tongued friend. He’d show them he was not to be trifled with. He couldn’t put them out on the street for the peacekeepers to pick up. Not when they’d won over his mother. They could implicate him in their escape from the guardhouse, and his mother—damn her disloyal soul—would confirm their story. He’d made it too plain that he did not share her devotion to the gods.
She’d given far more time to the gods than to him from the time his father abandoned them both. To Jerome it was a double abandonment, his mother’s far more hurtful than his father’s. His father had simply departed one day, leaving behind a wound quick and clean as a knife thrust. His mother, by spending more and more time in the attic, constructing ever more elaborate shrines, had developed a pattern of neglect that burned into his soul like slow drops of acid. He’d learned to count on no one but himself, to rely on his own resources, his own wit to achieve what he wanted. He’d become very good at it.
As he ascended to the second floor, he thought how he could amend his plan for getting rid of Simple Eddie to get rid of Kyla and Marta as well. He’d have to carry out the crimes separately. He’d get rid of Eddie first. Before he could kill the women, he had to find a way to bend them to his will and force them to give him the gift of magic that they were in such a hurry to bestow on Eddie.
He entered his room and locked the door behind him. He’d not been able to decipher any part of the book he’d taken from the valise, but he had another use for it. He intended to plant it where it would involve Abigail Dormer in the crime he planned. The woman was no particular enemy of his, but her smugness annoyed him, and her links to Eddie made her a convenient scapegoat. He’d use the book to forge a link between Abigail and the wonder workers that would incriminate them and make them even more dependent on his protection.
He opened the drawer where he’d hidden the book and lifted out the collars and vests. The book was gone!
He tossed the contents of the drawer onto the floor. No, he had not merely overlooked it. Maybe his memory of where he had placed it was faulty. He checked the other drawers. The book was nowhere in his dresser.
He searched the rest of the room, though with no hope of finding it. Those snooping women had been in here and discovered it. They had it, he had no doubt.
The witches thought they were so clever, with their sneaking, conniving ways. Well, they weren’t as clever as he, not by half. He’d show them. They wouldn’t defeat him. He’d need a day or two to make his preparations, no more than that. By week’s end he’d be ready to strike.
He’d humble them, get what he wanted, and then destroy them, especially the Kyla witch.
Councilor Hardwick glared at his wife across their formal dining table.
“You’re devoting entirely too much time and energy to these supposed wonder workers,” said his wife, undaunted by his wrathful expression. “You cannot afford to neglect your other duties.”
“Nellie, I have no duty as important as recovering those prisoners.” He hoped his icy tone would discourage her from continuing the discussion.
“Nonsense.” Her chins jiggled with each word. “You are attaching far more importance to those women than they deserve. You would have done well to have heeded Abigail Dormer’s advice. If instead of letting them leave the train, you’d sent them on to another town as she suggested, none of this would have happened.”
Hardwick regretted telling his wife about Abigail’s note. His rash boast to Nellie about how clever he had been and how much better his plan was than Abigail’s had backfired when the women escaped. Nellie was not likely to allow him to forget. The argument was killing his appetite; he stirred gravy into his mashed turnips until they were soupy, then shoved the unappetizing mess to one side. “Abigail doesn’t run this town; I do,” he said petulantly.
“You do at present, but Lawrence Slamm would like your position.” She slathered apple butter onto a thick slice of bread. “You’re playing into his hands with all this nonsense. He’ll use it against you, mark my words.”
She was right, but he wished she’d stop drumming it in. “It’s not only the two women,” he said. “It’s Simple Eddie. Homer Farley’ll have my hide if we don’t recapture him. Farley can cause me more problems than Slamm.”
“He’s a hothead. Slamm is more dangerous over the long haul.”
“Don’t underestimate Farley,” Hardwick snapped, annoyed at his wife’s insistence. “He told Abigail Dormer he’d close down her school because of what Eddie did to his girls, and by the gods, he’s carrying out the threat. From what I understand, he’s already persuaded quite a few parents to withdraw their girls, and the numbers are likely to grow. I’d say by week’s end Abigail won’t have enough students left to keep the school going. If Farley can do that to her, what do you think he can do to me if I don’t find Simple Eddie?”
“That boy should have been sent off long ago. As usual, it’s your own dilly-dallying that brought you to this pass.” She followed her apple-buttered bread with a second slice soaked in gravy, then picked up her napkin and swiped at her greasy chins.
“Abigail blocked my attempts to put Eddie into the workhouse, as you well know. She won’t be able to interfere this time. And he will be found. I have men combing the town for him. I even have Jerome leading a search party.”
“Jerome!” Nellie’s voice dripped scorn. “You trust that man entirely too much. Why, he might have hidden the women himself. He’s young and foolish, and you say they’re pretty.”
“Jerome’s too loyal to do such a thing,” he said heatedly. “He values his position with me.”
“Maybe.” She carved herself another generous slice of roast. “I hope you weren’t stupid enough to assign him his own house and neighborhood.”
He felt the heat rise in his face and busied himself buttering a piece of bread, which he laid aside uneaten. It was time to change the subject. “Have you talked to Genevieve today?” Mention of their daughter usually distracted her from other concerns.
“We had lunch together. She tells me again and again how good Matthew is, but she’ll never be happy without children.” Nellie put her napkin down beside her plate and frowned at Hardwick as though she held him responsible for Genevieve’s childlessness.
“She needs to learn patience,” he said. “She and Matthew have only been married four years. They’re young.” A sudden impulse led him to confess what he had meant never to tell her—it might appease her: “When the wonder workers first came, I asked them if they could, ah, help her. They said they couldn’t and refused to try. That was why I put them under guard.”
“Oh, Orville! I suppose we should try every possibility, but the wonder workers—really! You couldn’t have thought they’d have that kind of power.”
“No, but the reports from North Woods suggested they could do some unexplainable tricks. I had to ask, for Genevieve’s sake.”
“Of course you did! Poor child!” Tears welled in her eyes and coursed down her puffy cheeks. “Whatever will she do if she remains childless?”
“She ne
eds to find some hobby to take her mind off her troubles,” he said. “Is she still interested in learning one of those new typewriting machines?”
His wife wiped away her tears and sniffed loudly. “I see you haven’t talked with her in some time. She’s become adept at the machine. I told her you ought to get rid of that arrogant secretary of yours and hire her. She could write your reports and letters on that machine much faster, and you’d be amazed how neat they’d look.”
“I wouldn’t want my daughter working as a common hireling,” Hardwick thundered. “Clerking’s no work for a decent girl.”
“Well, she needs something to keep her from moping around the house all day thinking of nothing but her empty arms.” She raised a forkful of turnips toward her mouth, stopped with the fork poised in midair. “You say Abigail’s losing her school? Where will those girls go to continue their studies?”
He shrugged. “Their mothers will teach them at home, I suppose. They don’t need all that education anyway.”
His wife’s fork bobbed, spilling its cargo of turnips back onto her plate. “Genevieve could teach them,” she said excitedly. “She went all through Abigail’s school. And she’s studied a lot on her own.”
“Don’t be silly, woman. She doesn’t need the money. Matthew makes a good living.”
“That’s not the point.” Nellie’s large bosom jounced with enthusiasm. “She needs the challenge, and it’s respectable work. She could teach them in her home. The room they’d meant for a nursery would make a fine schoolroom.” She pushed her chair away from the table and heaved herself to her feet. “I’m going to go over and suggest it.”
“At this hour of the evening?”
But his wife’s wide back was already passing through the doorway. He wondered whether Genevieve and Matthew regretted buying a house so near that Nellie could inflict herself on them whenever she took the whim. Well, they could cope with her better than he could, and he’d have the house to himself for the rest of the evening.
Bringers of Magic (Arucadi Book 2) Page 9