A Distant Magic (24 page)

The watchman glanced at Jonathan Strong. "Poor sod looks half dead. An escaped slave, maybe. Don't know any surgeons round
'ere who'd be willing to look at him at this hour. The inn is full up, too." He took the shilling piece Jean offered.
"The streets aren't safe at this hour. You can spend the rest of the night back
in the hay room. It's warm and dry."

"Thank you." She gave him a shining smile. The watchman blinked, then lit a second lantern and led the way into the stables between a double row of dozing horses. The hay room was at the back. There were deep piles of hay, plus a stack of roughly woven horse blankets.
"If you don't get blood on 'em, you can use some of the horse blankets to make
up beds in the hay."

"Would it be possible for you to leave the lantern?" Jean gave him another shilling, then spread a blanket on the hay.

He took the money and hung the lantern on a wall hook. "Sleep well, mistress." Then he hesitated, studying Jonathan's battered body as Nikolai laid him on the improvised bed.
"Want me to bring a bucket of water to clean the lad up?"

"I'd be very grateful," Jean replied.

The watchman headed off for the water. Nikolai said, "What kind of
magic did you use to make the fellow so cooperative?"

"A very old kind of magic." She grinned. "The kind Eve was blamed
for in Eden."

He smiled a little. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Try to send Jonathan emotional warmth—the feeling that he is
cared for."

Silently Nikolai took one of the boy's hands while Jean examined his injuries more carefully. Even using her new magical techniques, she couldn't fix Jonathan's broken bones, nor the terrible damage to his eyes. He would be fortunate if he didn't lose his sight. But she was able to stabilize his flickering life. When the watchman brought a bucket of water and clean rags, she washed blood and dirt from his worst wounds and applied some crude bandages.

She finished by enveloping Jonathan in a cocoon of physical warmth to protect him from the chill of shock. The boy had come perilously close to dying of his misery. What kind of life had he had, being beaten regularly by a drunken brute? But there was hope for him. She sensed that if he survived this crisis, a happier, freer life lay ahead.

When she'd done all she could, she covered him with another blanket and settled back in the straw.
"He'll survive, I think, though his recovery will be long." She dragged her wrist over her tired eyes.
"How can one person be so cruel to another?"

"Men are not so very far removed from the beasts." Nikolai shifted so that he was lying next to her in the straw. After pulling a blanket over them, he tucked her against his side.
"Can you tell me more about our mission?"

"Better not to speak in front of Jonathan Strong. My mother said that people who seem unconscious can be affected by what is said in their presence," she said drowsily.

"So I must wait. No doubt the discipline of that will be good for me." Nikolai's arm tightened around her.
"Rest now, Jean. You've had a demanding day."

She relaxed against him, burying her face against his shoulder. He exhaled softly against her temple as he also relaxed into the embrace. She loved his scent, which made her think of desert winds and sunshine.

His warmth and strength brought her perilously close to weeping with gratitude. She and Nikolai had shared passion and conflict, but this was the first time she'd felt such kindness and simple caring. It was as if they had moved beyond lust to the trust and affection of a long-wed couple.

Not that passion was gone—she felt it simmering deep inside him, and she was alarmingly aware of how easily her own desire could be unleashed. All she need do was raise her face and kiss him, and their carefully constructed barriers would shatter.

But mages became very skilled at controlling their personal energy, and that included passion. With desire firmly locked away, she and Nikolai were free to comfort each other in an uncomplicated way.

The scent of hay reminded her of the barns of Dunrath. There had been nights when she and Robbie had rested in similar barns while following the damnable Stuart prince to war. It was hard to imagine two men more different than Robbie and Nikolai. Yet both fought for freedom.

And both made her feel safe.

Chapter
TWENTY-SIX

N
ikolai had learned to take catnaps during his years at sea, so he dozed through the rest of the night. His well-honed reflexes brought him awake whenever there was an unusual sound. He gave up sleeping when the livery stable began stirring with early-morning business. He was glad to see that Jonathan Strong was still breathing steadily. When they'd first found the lad, Nikolai had feared he wouldn't make it through the night. He wouldn't have survived if Jean didn't have some healing ability.

He glanced down at her as she slumbered against him. Tendrils of red hair had escaped their bindings and lay against her smooth, pale skin. She looked lovely and a little fragile. She must have used a great deal of power in her efforts to save Jonathan. As her father had said long ago, magic always had a price. At the least, fatigue.

He leaned forward to give her a butterfly kiss, too light to disturb the delicate balance of passion between them. Then he stood and brushed stalks of hay from his garments, thinking how satisfying it would be to find David Lisle, late of Barbados. He would dearly love to inflict on the lawyer the same kind of brutality that the man had visited on a youth who couldn't fight back.

But such vengeance would do nothing to fight the larger cause of slavery. Changing opinions and laws were required if there was to be real change. For now, he would go exploring and see if he could find Mincing Lane.

The streets that had been so empty now bustled with people heading to their work. Nikolai's unremarkable appearance did its job—no one looked twice at him. Well, a few women did, but they weren't criticizing his clothing. Even his dark coloring didn't attract attention—this part of the city seemed to be home to a diverse population.

Now to find the good surgeon Sharp.

Jean woke when Nikolai entered the hay room. "I've found Mincing Lane and Sharp's surgery," he announced.
"They're quite close. Everyone knows Sharp because of his free clinic. How is
Jonathan Strong doing?"

Suppressing a yawn, she leaned forward and checked the young man's pulse and breathing.
"He's a little stronger this morning, though his injuries are still grave. He
should be well enough to survive the trip to the surgeon's office."

As she rose and stretched, the night watchman entered the hay room with a tray.
"I thought the lad might need something soft to eat, if 'e's still alive," he said gruffly.

"He lives. You're very kind." Jean took the tray, which held a bowl of porridge as well as bread, a pot of tea, and a chunk of bread.
"Nikolai, do you have a coin?"

Nikolai was reaching for his purse when the watchman made a dismissive gesture.
"No need. The poor young devil needs a little kindness. 'Twas good of you to help him." Embarrassed at revealing softness, he pivoted and left.

"He's seeing Jonathan as a real person, not an object," Jean said softly.
"Minds are changed one at time."

Jonathan groaned and opened his eyes. Jean knelt beside him. "Mr.
Strong, we'll take you to a surgery soon, but first, here's something to eat."

The boy's bloodied gaze moved hopefully toward the bowl she held. After Nikolai helped him sit up, she patiently fed small spoonfuls of the porridge into the boy's bruised mouth. He ate like a man who hadn't had a good meal in far too long. Halfway through the bowl, he said,
"I can manage now, ma'am."

Jean gave him the bowl, then poured tea for the three of them. It was a mint mixture, pleasant and refreshing. She also divided the bread into three and they all ate. Jonathan was well enough to eat his share of the bread, though he winced when he bit into it. When they were all finished, Nikolai returned the tray, cups, and spoon to the kitchen of the inn.

He returned to the hay room and helped Jonathan stand. The boy cried out with agony even though Nikolai supported most of his weight.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Strong," he said. "The surgery is a bit of a walk. Would
you rather I carried you?"

"No," Jonathan panted, biting back his pain. "I walk on me own
feet."

And so he did, though with considerable help. Nikolai supported the youth with an arm around the waist while Jean walked on his other side, in case extra help was needed. The walk that had taken five minutes the night before now took closer to half an hour, but Jonathan staggered along with a determination that boded well for his survival.

When they reached Mincing Lane, they saw a short line of shabby people standing beside William Sharp's surgery. Nikolai halted.
"There is the surgery, Mr. Strong," he said. "Join the people waiting there and
you will be helped."

The youth blinked to clear his vision. "No one never called me Mr.
Strong before."

"They will now," Jean said fiercely. She took his bruised hand between hers and caught his gaze.
"You will heal, Mr. Strong, and find work here in London as a free man. But
remember the two Mr. Sharps. If ever you are in trouble in the future, let them
know. They will help you."

"I'll remember, ma'am." He straightened, moving away from Nikolai's supporting arm.
"Thank you for helping a black boy, sir, ma'am. Never would have thought it
might happen."

"You deserve the aid and respect we all owe each other." Jean said softly.
"Go with God, Mr. Strong."

He bobbed his head at the two of them, then turned and made his uncertain way down the street to join the line of people waiting at the surgery. Though everyone in the group must have been ill, none had been brutalized like Jonathan. Jean bit her lip as she watched his painful movements.
"Let's find a quiet place where we can watch. I know what Adia said, but I want
to see for myself that he's taken care of."

"So do I. Let's buy some muffins from that peddler." The morning bread hadn't been much to start the day, so this would serve two purposes. Nikolai guided Jean to the peddler and bought them warm muffins scented with cinnamon. They lingered as they ate, concealed by the muffin man's stream of customers.

Nikolai was swallowing the last bite of his muffin when two gentlemen emerged from the surgery. There was a clear resemblance between them, though the younger man had fiercer, sharper features. They were talking casually, but they stiffened when they saw Jonathan Strong, clearly shocked by his condition.

They asked the youth questions. Though Nikolai and Jean were too far away to hear what was said, the two gentlemen seemed even more shocked by Jonathan's answers. The hawk-faced man took Strong's arm and helped him into the house while the other made an explanation to the other patients about needing to take care of this emergency first. No one who had seen Jonathan's condition argued the point.

Jean gave a sigh of relief. "So far, it's exactly as Adia said,
which gives me faith that other events will unfold as she said. The Sharps will
bandage Jonathan up, then take him to Bart's hospital. He'll be there for
months, but when he recovers, the Sharps will find him a job as a servant and
he'll work there as a free man."

Nikolai frowned. "I'm glad for Jonathan, but how will that affect
the future of slavery?"

"In two years or so, David Lisle will see Jonathan working," she said tersely.
"Since he'll be healthy then, Lisle will realize that his former slave
represents money, and he'll secretly sell him to another West Indies planter."

Nikolai swore. "Are you sure I can't kill Lisle now?"

"Alas, no. Lisle will send two slave catchers to capture his
'property.' While Mr. Strong is in jail waiting to be shipped to his purchaser,
he'll get a message to Granville Sharp. Mr. Sharp will be so outraged that he
will take the matter to the lord mayor of London. Lisle can't afford to go to
court, and Mr. Strong will be freed. When Mr. Sharp's eyes are opened to the
evils of slavery, he will fight it for the rest of his life. Currently, the
status of slaves in England is unclear, but Sharp will step in to defend other
men in situations similar to that of Jonathan Strong. Eventually, because of
Sharp's work, a court will produce a ruling that essentially says that any slave
is free in England."

Nikolai exhaled roughly. "That will indeed be a major step
forward. I suppose it's worth letting Lisle live."

"I shall hope that he receives justice in the next life if not in this one." Her brows knit together in puzzlement.
"I wonder how Jonathan Strong would have found his way to the surgery without
our help?"

Nikolai shook his head, as uncertain as she was. "Perhaps someone else would have helped him. Or maybe he managed on his own. Or perhaps we
had
to be here to help. The last seems most likely, since he might have died without
your healing."

"Part of me wants to understand how this time-travel business works. And part of me is afraid to know more." She swallowed her last bit of muffin.
"Now that Mr. Strong is in good hands, what shall we do? Are we ready to attempt
the next bespelled bead?"

He considered. "Despite my usual impatience, I'd like to spend a
little time here. I've never been in England before, so I need to develop a
better sense of the country. Also, learning about this time period should make
it easier for us to adjust when we move further into the future."

"That's a good idea. We can find a nice respectable inn, perhaps in the city or Westminster." She sighed.
"I wonder if any of my family is in London. Heavens, Duncan's children must be
almost grown by now!"

He gave her a sharp glance. "It wouldn't be wise to visit them."

"I know." She pivoted, taking Nikolai with her. "But it's hard not
to think about them. Let's walk along the river a bit. The shipping is the
reason the city was built here, and as a sailor you should find it interesting."

She was right, he would. Maybe studying the port would take his mind off David Lisle. He allowed himself to relax as they strolled down to the waterfront, then along the river. They had traveled safely through time, and successfully accomplished their first task. Not only had they saved Jonathan Strong's life and liberty, but they had helped to form a link in the chain of freedom. Not a bad day's work at all.

Nikolai had seen his share of ports. London was both the same and different. Despite being on a river well inland, it was one of the busiest ports he'd ever seen. Great ocean ships loaded and unloaded alongside compact coastal vessels. Small boats darted up and down the Thames, carrying passengers and merchandise.

He enjoyed the familiar sights and sounds. He was also intrigued by the light, which was cooler and more blue than the blaze of the Mediterranean.

They were heading west and had passed London Bridge when a young naval officer approached them.
"You have the look of a sailor," the officer said in a suspiciously hearty voice.
"Are you one?"

Bemused, Nikolai said, "Why do you ask?"

Jean's grip on his arm tightened warningly. "He's a foreigner, Lieutenant," she said to the officer.
"Maltese."

The lieutenant glanced at her wedding ring. "But you are British, madam, I hear Scotland in your voice. A foreigner married to a Briton is eligible for the press." He turned to Nikolai.
"Do you have a Protection?"

He frowned. "What the devil is a Protection?"

That was the wrong question. "Since you have no Protection, sir, I am impressing you into the king's navy." The officer gestured and two heavyset men behind him moved forward. They looked like dockyard scum, and they wore dark blue bands on their right arms.

"What are you talking about?" Nikolai snapped.

Jean interposed herself between him and the officer. "You're
making a mistake, sir. This man is not my husband, so the British navy has no
right to impress him."

"All the wives say that," the lieutenant sneered. "He's mine to take, and it's up to him to prove otherwise. If he objects, he can appeal to the Maltese consul for help. Now come along." The officer's men closed in around Nikolai.

He wasn't afraid of the men, but it might be bad form to knock them unconscious with magic. He was wondering what to do when Jean quietly offered a handful of gold to the officer.
"You are supposed to take only experienced sailors. Mr. Gregory is neither a
common nor an able seaman, nor is he British. Seek elsewhere."

The lieutenant glanced down and evaluated the amount of the bribe.
"If he isn't a sailor, you're right, ma'am, he is not eligible for impressment. Sorry to have disturbed you." He pocketed the money, then collected his men and moved away.

Nikolai asked incredulously, "They were going to take me by force
and make me work as a sailor? I thought there was no slavery in England!"

"Except for sailors who are needed by the Royal Navy," she said drily.
"The press-gangs are only supposed to take qualified seamen, but they are not
always careful. A Protection is a document that says you can't be pressed.
Generally men with money have them, but heaven help them if a press-gang sweeps
them up when they don't have that Protection on them."

"So you bribed him for my freedom?"

"It seemed the simplest solution," she said candidly.

He swore in several different languages, including Malti, which he saved for special anger. Before he ran out of phrases, a ruckus erupted halfway down the block. A woman began beating a man over the head with a mop.
"You'll not take my man, you devils!" she shrieked "'E's the support of
me and my children and his old mum!"

Her victim, one of the lieutenant's bullies, raised his arm to block her blows but kept a firm grip on his struggling captive.
"The king needs 'im more. You can starve for all 'is majesty cares."

As the lieutenant tried to intervene, a dozen more people joined the fight. Half were women wielding brooms and frying pans, while the others were workingmen. The mop woman's husband had been rescued from his captors when a dozen more men with blue armbands arrived. The newcomers had three prisoners in their midst and several weeping women behind them.

A full-scale riot exploded, civilians against the press-gang. Men, women, and children poured out of buildings and shops and began fighting the gangers. Jean took a firm grip on Nikolai's arm.
"Time for us to leave."