A Matter of Magic

  The wizards had finished the preliminaries, and were standing in a clump near the door. In the center of the ballroom floor, two overlapping triangles had been drawn by carefully spreading wet rowan-ash in straight lines, forming a six-pointed star. A small table had been placed just outside each point to hold the various items the wizards would need for their parts in the spellcasting.

  “We’ll begin as soon as the duchesse arrives and checks everything over,” Mairelon was saying as Kim entered. “It shouldn’t be—Kim! Has the Duchesse Delagardie come?”

  “Not yet,” Kim said. “They’ll bring her up as soon as she gets here, though. I got to go down to see Tom Correy; something’s happened.”

  Mairelon frowned. “You’re sure—no, of course you are. But. . . . Now?” He glanced at the windows, alight with the afternoon sun.

  Kim shrugged. “Tom’s got to find out I’m a girl sometime.”

  “All right. But take Hunch.”

  Kim nodded, swallowing a small lump of disappointment. She had, she realized, been hoping he would tell her to stay. Well, that was Mairelon for you. She hurried back toward the stairs, and nearly ran into Mrs. Lowe.

  “Kim! Really, you must not race about like that.”

  “Sorry,” Kim said, intent on getting past her.

  Mrs. Lowe grasped Kim’s arm and gave it a gentle shake. “Whatever is your hurry?”

  “I’m going out,” Kim said. “Excuse me, I have to go.”

  “Without your abigail?” Mrs. Lowe said, maintaining her grip on Kim’s arm.

  “It’s . . . wizard business; Mairelon knows all about it.” At least, he knew as much as she did. “And I’m taking Hunch.”

  Mrs. Lowe considered. “Hunch is no doubt very useful, in his way, but it is hardly proper for you to wander about the city in his company, even if it is on wizard business.” She sniffed. “I shall come with you myself.”

  “No! I mean, I don’t think—”

  “I was under the impression you were in a hurry,” Mrs. Lowe said. “Shall we go?”

  “It isn’t anywhere proper,” Kim said. “You won’t like it.”

  “I had already formed that conclusion,” Mrs. Lowe replied. “I may also add that I am neither blind, nor deaf, nor foolish, and if you think I am unaware that something is very wrong and has been for some time, you are very much mistaken.”

  Kim could only stare at her in consternation.

  “It is not my place to pry into matters which my nephew plainly does not wish to confide in me,” Mrs. Lowe went on. “I can, however, make sure that his ward does nothing disgraceful while he is otherwise occupied. And I intended to do so.”

  “It isn’t disgraceful. And I told you, he knows about it already.”

  “Richard,” said Mrs. Lowe austerely, “is frequently oblivious to the social niceties.” She paused. “Should you wish to continue this discussion, I suggest we do so in the carriage. That is, if you are in fact in so much of a hurry as you at first appeared.”

  “Oh, I am,” Kim muttered, and started down the stairs, wondering what Tom would make of this.

  23

  Matt was eloquent in his disapproval of Mrs. Lowe’s presence; fortunately, he expressed himself in terms utterly unintelligible to her. He was somewhat mollified when he realized that they were to travel in a bang-up gentry coach. Mrs. Lowe ignored him. Hunch, on seeing the oddly assorted group, blinked and began chewing on his mustache. Kim felt entirely in sympathy with him.

  As they drove off, they passed the Duchesse Delagardie pulling up in a landau. That means they’ll be starting the counterspell soon, Kim thought, and shivered. Such a complex spell would take considerable time to cast, but even so, everything would probably be finished by the time she returned. One way or another.

  Possibly because he was feeling the same anxiety as Kim regarding Mairelon’s welfare, Hunch not only took the most direct route to Tom’s but also drove the horses rather faster than was either wise or required. Matt was much impressed, and said so at some length until Kim advised him to stubble it. Somewhat sulkily, he did so.

  When they pulled up outside Tom’s shop at last, Kim descended and hurried inside without waiting for Mrs. Lowe or Matt. Tom was sorting through a pile of old clothes on one of the tables, but he looked up when he heard the door. His eyes widened in startlement, and he said, “ ’Morning, miss. Anything I can do for you?”

  “You’re the one that sent Matt to get me,” Kim said, half enjoying his bafflement, half fearing his reaction when he finally realized who she was.

  “I sent—” Tom stared at her and his jaw dropped. “Kim?”

  “Matt said you wanted to see me right away,” Kim said nervously. “And I didn’t think I’d pass for a boy in daylight, and I thought it was time I told you anyway, and—What was it you wanted?”

  “Kim.” Tom’s astonished expression slowly gave way to something very like horror. “I never knew. I wouldn’t of done it if—I mean, I thought—I—you—”

  “What’s the matter?” Kim said, frowning. “Why’d you want to see me?”

  “He didn’t,” said a deep voice from behind Tom. “I did.” The owner of the voice moved out of the shadows as he spoke. He was not much taller than Kim, but broad and square and as solidly built as the cargo-handlers on the London docks. His clothes, however, proclaimed him no dock worker; they were the neat and well-tailored wear of a respectable businessman who might be expected, on occasion, to deal with members of the ton. Though “respectable” was not the usual term employed to describe the sort of business Kim knew he engaged in.

  “Mannering!” she said in disgust, and looked at Tom reproachfully. She was more annoyed than frightened, even when a second man with the look of a bully hector about him joined Mannering. She was considerably nearer the door than they were, and the carriage was no more than two feet beyond that; if anything looked like trouble, she could pike off in a twinkling long before it came near.

  “I’m sorry, Kim,” Tom said. “But he—I wouldn’t of done it if I’d known you—I’m sorry.”

  Kim shook her head. Tom’s betrayal had surprised her, but only a little. Kim knew well enough the pressure that someone like Mannering could apply to compel cooperation, and the sort of loyalty that could stand up under such an assault was a rare commodity. Or at least, rare in the rookeries, tenements, and stews; she was quite sure that no threat could have persuaded Mairelon to bend to Mannering’s schemes.

  “Hold your tongue!” Mannering said to Tom. “Your young friend and I have business.”

  “Indeed?” said Mrs. Lowe from behind Kim. “Then I suggest you execute it so that we may be on our way. This is not the sort of establishment at which I wish to linger.”

  “What? Who’s this?” Mannering demanded.

  “I do not desire to be presented to this individual,” Mrs. Lowe informed Kim. “You will oblige me by not doing so.”

  Kim nodded and looked at Mannering. Swallowing seven or eight questions that she wanted to ask immediately, she settled for a cautious, “What is it you want?”

  “This is private business,” Mannering said with a significant look first at Tom, then at Mrs. Lowe.

  With evident reluctance, and a worried look at Kim, Tom vanished through the rear door. Mannering jerked his head at his henchman and said, “Watch him.”

  The henchman started to follow Tom out, then hesitated, eyeing Kim. Mannering scowled. “I said, watch the togs man,” he repeated. “I can deal with a couple of women myself.”

  The henchman nodded and left at last. Mannering looked pointedly at Mrs. Lowe. Mrs. Lowe, however, was unmoved. “I told you, this business is private,” Mannering said pointedly after a moment.

  “I am not in the least hard of hearing,” Mrs. Lowe replied. “However, if you think that I propose to leave my nephew’s ward alone with a person such as yourself, you are quite mistaken.”

  “Madam,” said Mannering in a threatening tone, “I am a wizard!”

 
“What has that to do with the matter?” Mrs. Lowe returned imperturbably. “The social niceties, as I have repeatedly pointed out, must be observed.” She paused. “You will not, I hope, pretend to offer either of us a mischief—not in broad daylight with two grooms and a coachman just outside.”

  Mannering looked from Kim to Mrs. Lowe, plainly off balance.

  “If you have something to say to me, you’d better say it,” Kim told him.

  “And you had best say it quickly,” Mrs. Lowe said. “Perhaps I should also mention that before I came in, I sent that singularly impenetrable young man—the one who brought your message—in search of a constable. While he did not impress me as being particularly reliable as a general matter, I think that in this instance he can be depended upon to fulfill his commission.”

  “You’re lying!”

  “Care to wager on it?” Kim said. Though it wasn’t likely to do much actual good; in this part of town, Matt could be hours finding anyone. “Pay or play; I got business elsewhere.”

  “This is more important,” Mannering said, still eyeing Mrs. Lowe doubtfully.

  Frowning slightly, Kim glanced at Mrs. Lowe herself. Mairelon’s aunt stood in front of the grimy windows of Tom’s shop, looking enormously proper, entirely sure of herself, and totally out of place. Kim blinked, then suppressed a grin. Mannering’s dealt with gentry before, but I’ll wager he’s never dealt with one who didn’t want to borrow money—and for sure he’s never had to face a respectable lady before. No wonder he’s nattered. Anything that made Mannering uncomfortable was a good notion as far as Kim was concerned; she looked back at Mannering and said, “What’s so important? That de Cambriol book?”

  “You’ve got it,” Mannering said, leaning forward. His eyes glittered, and he seemed to have suddenly forgotten Mrs. Lowe’s presence entirely. “My clerk said you showed it to him. I’ll pay a round sum for it.”

  “How much?” Kim said, hoping Mrs. Lowe would have sense enough to keep her comments and opinions, whatever they were, to herself. If she could get him talking . . .

  Mannering stepped forward. “How does fifty pounds sound?” he said in a voice just above a whisper.

  Kim’s eyebrows flew up. Fifty pounds was an undreamed-of fortune, by the standards of her old life. Coming from a usurer accustomed to dealing with the gentry, however, it was nothing short of an insult. “I ain’t no gull,” she said scornfully. “Mairelon gives me more than that for pin-money. Make a serious offer, or I’m leaving.”

  “I’m serious.” Mannering stepped forward again, and Kim felt a twinge of fear. “Oh, I’m very serious. You have no idea how serious I am. Give me that book!”

  “I think not,” Mrs. Lowe put in calmly. “Kim, am I correct in guessing that this . . . person is responsible for that outrageous disruption in the library two weeks ago?”

  Kim turned a little to answer, and took the opportunity to put a little more space between herself and Mannering. She was still well out of his reach, but a little caution never hurt anybody. “He was behind it,” she told Mrs. Lowe.

  Mrs. Lowe’s head moved a fraction of an inch, shifting her attention to Mannering. Mannering fell back a step. Mrs. Lowe continued to study him for a moment; finally, she said in tones of icy reproof, “I take leave to tell you, sir, that you are unprincipled, presumptuous, and criminally self-serving; moreover, I must assume from your behavior that you lack both manners and wit into the bargain.”

  Mannering stared at Mrs. Lowe as if he could not believe his ears. Kim wondered whether he had ever before had his character so thoroughly cut up in quite such a formal and cold-blooded manner; somehow, she doubted it. “Wit?” he said in a strangled voice. “You think I lack wit?”

  “It is the obvious conclusion,” Mrs. Lowe said. “For even if one sets aside the illegal aspects of pilfering a book from my nephew’s library, a more poorly conceived and badly executed endeavor than your attempt would be difficult to imagine. Nor has my opinion of your civility or intelligence been improved by your actions since our arrival today.”

  “I am a genius!” Mannering’s eyes widened in passion and he raised a beefy fist for emphasis.

  Mrs. Lowe was unimpressed. “I have seen no sign of it.”

  “I am a wizard!”

  “So is my nephew,” Mrs. Lowe said. “And while I do not by any means consider him unintelligent, he is certainly no genius.”

  “Ah, but he was born a wizard,” Mannering said. “I made myself a wizard! No one else has ever done that.”

  “Indeed?” Mrs. Lowe said in tones of polite disbelief.

  Mannering flung his arms out and gave an unintelligible roar. Magic exploded into the shop with such force that Kim’s skin stung. The pile of clothes in front of her shivered and rose into the air. It hovered for a moment, then began to spin. Tattered shirts, worn breeches, several mufflers, and a jacket with a hole in the left elbow went flying in all directions. Kim dodged one of the shirts and two mufflers, keeping her eyes on Mannering all the while. She hadn’t really believed, until this minute, that Mannering could be a wizard.

  As suddenly as it had begun, the spell stopped. The flying clothes plowed into walls with the last of their momentum and slid down into limp heaps. “There, you see?” Mannering said.

  “That is precisely the sort of display I was referring to earlier,” Mrs. Lowe said. “You would have made a more favorable impression had you chosen to reduce the mess in this room, rather than to increase it.”

  “How did you make yourself a wizard?” Kim put in quickly, before Mannering took a notion to blow the whole shop up just to prove his genius to Mrs. Lowe.

  “You’d like to know that, wouldn’t you?” Mannering said. “You and your toff friends don’t want anyone doing real magic but you. That’s why you won’t give me the book, isn’t it?”

  Kim blinked, startled by this leap of logic. “We haven’t agreed on a price yet,” she pointed out cautiously.

  “Hang the price! I want the book. Now.”

  “What, you think I’m a flat?” Kim shook her head and snorted. “I don’t cart it around with me everywhere I go. What do you want it for, anyways?”

  Mannering smiled. In a calm, too-reasonable voice, he said, “Why, to make it hold on steady-like.”

  “To make what hold on?”

  “The spell.” Mannering rocked forward on the balls of his feet. “It keeps wobbling,” he said in a confidential tone. “And it takes more magic to straighten it out every time. I have to keep finding new magic to keep it from collapsing. If I had the right book, I wouldn’t have to work so hard to keep them in line.”

  A chill ran up Kim’s spine; she wasn’t quite sure what Mannering was getting at, but she was positive that she wasn’t going to like it one bit once she figured it out. And she didn’t like his erratic behavior. Still, his mercurial changes of mood had kept him talking so far; if he continued, she might find out something useful. “Keep who in line?”

  “My wizards,” Mannering said. “Some of them used to be your friends. You used to like Wags, didn’t you? And Bright Bess, I know you got on with her. You don’t want them to end up like that Yanger woman, do you?”

  The image of Ma’s slack-jawed, drooling face rose in Kim’s mind. Kim’s stomach tightened. “What did you do to Ma Yanger?”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Mannering said, still in the same much-too-reasonable voice. “Not really. She could even have had her magic back, if she’d been willing to go along like the rest of them. Some of her magic, anyway. It was your toff friends who destroyed her, and now you’re going to do the same to the others.”

  “Gammon!” Kim said. “I ain’t doing nothing.”

  “I believe that in this instance, doing nothing is indubitably the wisest course,” Mrs. Lowe commented. “I must deplore your manner of expression, however, no matter how appropriate it may be under these circumstances.”

  Mannering turned on her in sudden fury. “Interfering harpy! If you were a wizard
, I’d do you like Yanger!”

  “So you were behind it!” Kim said.

  “No, I told you, it was your toff friends,” Mannering said, abruptly reasonable once more. “They unbalanced the spell, and. . . .” He shrugged.

  Kim frowned. “You still aren’t making sense.” She was beginning to think he never would. One thing at a time. “What has this got to do with the de Cambriol book?”

  “It has the rest of the spell in it,” Mannering said. “It has to, or they wouldn’t be trying so hard to keep me from getting it.” He rocked back on his heels. “The comte’s book only had a few words, and the Russian’s was no help at all.”

  “The rest of the spell that lets wizards share their power?” Kim guessed.

  “You know it!” Mannering rocked forward, eyes glittering feverishly. “You’ve read the de Cambriol book, haven’t you?”

  “I’ve heard talk,” Kim said cautiously. “Is that how you made yourself a wizard—by getting somebody to share his power with you?”

  “Of course. He didn’t know I wouldn’t have to give it back as long as I kept the spell going.”

  “Kept it going?” Kim stared, then shook her head, remembering what Mairelon had told her. “You gudgeon! That spell was never meant to last more than a day or two!”

  In the doorway, Mrs. Lowe pursed her lips and gave Kim a reproving glance, but said nothing.

  “That’s what they want you to think,” Mannering said, and smiled slyly. “I’ve kept it up for months now. It just takes adding another wizard’s power now and then, to keep up the level of magic in the spell.”

  “You cast the whole spell again every couple of weeks?” Kim said, thinking of the elaborate preparations in the ballroom at Grosvenor Square.

  “No, of course not!” Mannering said. “Just the last bit, that links a wizard in with the main spell. I thought of that myself,” he added with pride. “And I don’t even have to do that very often, because the spell absorbs the magic whenever someone attacks me.”