A Distant Magic (32 page)

Today the harbor was quiet. No trading ship was in port, and it was too early for the fishing boats to return. A captured Barbary corsair was being fitted into a sailing ship on the edge of the harbor, but the workers were at lunch. Behind her, she could hear the occasional shrieks of children at play, the cackles of chickens, the braying of donkeys. The sounds of paradise.

She sat on a weathered bench that overlooked the harbor, absorbing the peace and blazing heat. The summer sun reminded her of the Indies. Bruiser jumped up beside her, shaking the bench when he landed. He turned several times, then settled into a nap, his furry body pressed against her thigh.

Though she did not quite expect him, she was not surprised when Tano appeared and sat down on the side opposite the cat. She and Captain Gregorio's aide found it easy to talk. Both were well educated and had curious minds.

Both were lonely.

Tano pulled a piece of whalebone from his pocket and began to carve.
"What are you working on today?" she asked.

He showed her the nearly finished carving. "Isabelle. I saw her
shape in the bone and sought to free her."

"How lovely!" Adia said admiringly. Tano had captured the macaw's large head and playful expression. Every feather seemed to have been delicately etched into place.

He returned to his carving, meticulously deepening the lines around one wing.
"My son will be ready for initiation soon. There are several other boys in the
village who will also be ready."

"I will speak with the elders and we will choose a time." She and the other priests and priestesses had been teaching the young Africans. Though initiation could never be taken for granted, she didn't expect any of the Santolan youths to be at risk as Gregorio had been.

She had already led an initiation for several girls, and the results had been deeply satisfying. Like the boys, the girls had learned to walk between worlds. They had emerged stronger and more confident. Tano's daughter had been part of the group.

Tano rubbed his thumb over the curving bill. "Do you think our
travelers will ever return?"

"I don't know." Adia felt the tightness in her chest that occurred whenever she thought about the couple she had sent off into the unknown.
"I think it unlikely."

Tano nodded, sad but unsurprised. "The captain will not regret his
choice if he can make a difference. The young witch is cut of similar stone. But
what of you, lady? What will you do if they never return?"

"Stay here and make myself useful." She smiled mockingly. "Every
village needs maiden aunts."

"You need not be alone forever," he said quietly. "You are a
beautiful woman in the fullness of your life. Santola needs such women."

In his voice, she heard the unspoken offer. Tano would welcome her to his home and bed, and he was a wise, kind man. She would be lying if she said she had not noticed his interest, or wondered about what kind of mate he would be.
"I have a husband. I would not betray him."

"A husband who is only a child in this year." He blew a particle of bone from the carving.
"A husband you are unlikely ever to see again."

She touched the small pouch that hung under her tunic. Inside was the pathfinder stone that had once led her and Molly to Daniel.
"But he exists somewhere in time."

"My wife exists somewhere in time also. If I could go back five years, she would be alive." He stared down at the carving.
"But now she is gone, and she would not wish me to be alone forever. Would your
husband wish that for you?"

She thought of generous, loving Daniel. "He would not. Yet we have
not been apart for very long in real days. Not as long as we were separated by
the American war. He is still my husband in my heart, and my dearest hope is
that we will be reunited."

"How long will you hold to that hope?" He looked up from the carving, his dark eyes more intense than his words.

"I don't know." She and Daniel had been separated for two years in America, but she had known he was alive. This was different.
"At least a year. Likely longer. But...the day may come when I can hope no more."

"Tell me when that day arrives."

"I will."

He smiled and gave her the carved macaw. She ran her fingers over the polished bone. A loop was carved in the back so that the ornament could be hung on a cord and worn around the neck.
"You do beautiful work."

When she tried to hand the carving back, he gestured no. "It is
for you, because you soar unlike any other woman I have ever known."

She held his gaze for a long moment. "I shall cherish this always." She cradled the carving in her hand, the bone still warm from Tano's touch. She would hang it around her neck, outside the tunic, a sign of her connections to Santola.

She no longer felt alone.

Chapter
THIRTY-FOUR

O
ver a dozen people had gathered in the spacious room above the tailor's shop. Jean was not surprised that the English aristocrats were on one side and the Africans on the other. She and Nikolai were in between.

The Africans, except for Kofi, were clearly nervous in the presence of the Falconers, their children, and several other Guardians. Not that Jean blamed them—they had not fared well at the hands of wealthy, influential Britons. Many of them were part of the circle of elders that had sent Adia into the past.

Despite their wariness, they had power. Between the Africans and the Guardians, the room contained enough energy to set London ablaze.

It had taken over a fortnight to arrange this meeting and decide on a location. The tailor who owned the shop was a Quaker abolitionist, and his business was located in a busy commercial area. With entrances on both ends of the building, no one was likely to notice the unusual nature of the gathering.

Falconer strolled over to Nikolai and Jean. "Wilberforce has gone
to Bath to take the waters and improve his health. His recovery will be slow."

Jean nodded, unsurprised. "That's a pity, but the movement is
growing. Perhaps by the time he is well again, there will be more support for
his legislation."

"We will have had more time to counter the pro-slavery forces." Nikolai scanned the room, counting the number present.
"Everyone is here. Time to begin."

Jean said softly, "I hope this works. What we are going to try is without precedent, I think." She wished she could ask her sister-in-law, Gwynne, the Guardian scholar, about what this group was going to attempt. Gwynne would know if such a shield had ever been created before.

Tall and commanding, Nikolai moved behind a table set at one end of the room, facing a number of chairs. Usually the chamber was used for cutting fabric, so there were other tables stacked with rolls of fabric.
"Please find seats so that we may begin." Though he didn't speak loudly, years of giving orders on shipboard had produced a voice that carried easily.

When everyone was settled, he continued, "I am Nikolai Gregorio and this is Jean Macrae. We have all come here because of our mutual desire to see the end of slavery. Perhaps we should start with each of us saying who we are and why we are working for abolition. I will begin by saying I was born on Malta of mixed blood. I was raised mostly by my grandmother, a former slave who came of the Iske tribe of West Africa. As a boy, I was captured by Barbary pirates and spent years as a slave. My life since I escaped has been dedicated to combating slavery in any way I can." He nodded to the African side of the room.
"Kofi, will you tell us about yourself?"

Kofi rose, whipcord lean and fit despite his years. "First I want
to know why these white men are here. You trust them, but I would hear from
their own lips why they wish to fight with us when most whites prefer to feed
off the blood of slaves."

Simon started to rise, but Meg laid her hand on his arm and stood in his place.
"Once I was a girl known as Mad Meggie," she said quietly. "I was enslaved for ten years by an evil mage who stole my will, my identity, my mind, and my power. No one should ever have to endure such servitude. I wept with happiness the day I learned there were people fighting this great evil." She sat down, face calm.

Simon rose next. "Even if my wife had not been used so ill, I believe I would be here today because, quite simply, opposing slavery is the right thing to do. All Guardians are sworn to do their best for our fellow men and women. We are human and don't always know what is right, so in general, it is our practice not to interfere in society. But on this, there can be no argument. Slavery is
wrong,
and we share a moral obligation to end it as soon as possible."

Kofi nodded and briefly described his own background. His tall, striking daughter Mary Andrews spoke next.
"I was born free because of my father's courage, but as long as those of my
blood risk being enslaved, I pledge myself to this cause."

By the time everyone in the room had spoken, the atmosphere had relaxed. When the last Guardian had introduced herself, Nikolai said,
"You have all agreed to become wardens who will help to create and maintain a
protective shield against the pro-slavery forces. Jean Macrae is our expert on
shielding, so she will explain her proposal."

Jean took a deep breath, then rose and stood next to Nikolai. "For those of you who are unfamiliar with the energy beings created by group emotions and beliefs, they are like great dark clouds, or a flood of mud that flows and engulfs. The energy beings—spirits—are not really conscious like we are, but they have a primitive instinct that draws them to support similar energies, and to try to destroy opposing energies.

"Twice Nikolai and I have witnessed manifestations of what we call
the Slave Demon spirit. In each case, a prominent abolitionist was almost
killed. There are many people who share our beliefs, but the antislavery energy
is less focused. We must learn to concentrate the positive power so that
whenever the Demon threatens our movement, the shield will prevent it from
causing harm."

"Who were the men nearly killed?" a priestess asked.

"Thomas Clarkson and William Wilberforce," she replied. Gasps filled the room.

"How will the shield work?" The speaker was Lord Buckland, Falconer's son. In his mid-thirties, he was dark-haired, quietly intelligent, and had an air of latent danger.

"I will create a binding spell that joins the positive and
negative energies together. When the Demon energy manifests, the shield will
strengthen to balance it."

"Why not try to destroy the pro-slavery spirit?" a young African priest asked.

"It's much easier to shield from bad effects than to eliminate the dark energy altogether," Jean replied.
"I don't think the spirit
can
be destroyed when there are so many people supporting slavery. Their emotions are like a lake continually renewed by the rivers that flow into it. Believers will keep the Demon alive until the day comes when everyone agrees that slavery is wrong." Her remark produced wry laughter.

"You wish to protect all of Britain?" Mary Andrews asked. "That is
a huge task. Beyond our abilities, I think."

"My plan was to concentrate the shield in London. Parliament is here, and ultimately the members are the men who must be persuaded to change the law," Jean said.
"If our shield is effective, it will be easier for MPs to vote their consciences
because we will reduce their fear of opposing wealthy West Indian planters."

"The members will also be more inclined to listen to wives and mothers," Mary said thoughtfully.
"Many of the most passionate abolitionists are female."

"Perhaps because women know what it is to lack freedom." Jean and Mary shared a glance of understanding. Jean continued,
"If the London shield is effective, later we can think of shielding other cities, or shielding particularly valuable members of the abolitionist movement." She halted, thinking of Wilberforce.
"In fact, that's a very good idea. But London first. What we are going to
attempt is unprecedented. We should proceed a single step at a time."

"How will the shield be constructed?" The question came from the Falconers' daughter, Lady Bethany March, a young married woman. She had her father's blond hair and her mother's misleadingly otherworldly air.

"The freedom energy will be gathered and concentrated. Then a
binding spell will be invoked to link it to the Demon. The shield will be
maintained by the wardens who have committed to holding the energy. I think that
there must always be at least two people holding the energy so that if something
happens, such as one warden being struck by a carriage, the other will be able
to maintain the shield."

"It would be wise to also have a backup warden whose energy will be activated if both the frontline wardens fail." Falconer frowned thoughtfully.
"It will require some clever spell construction, but I'm sure it can be done." His son nodded agreement.

A young African priest asked, "How do we hold the energy?"

"It's simple, actually," Jean replied. "You imagine a line
of power running from you to the shield. Then you allow some of your power to
flow into the shield. Most of the time, very little power will be required, and
very little attention. Once the connection is established, it will continue to
flow while the warden goes about his or her usual duties. If the warden wishes
to do other spell work while warding, he will have less power available, but in
general, it shouldn't be a demanding task. This is a commitment that will surely
last for years, though. It is vital that a schedule be developed so that the
shield is never left unattended."

"There will be times when the energy draw is much greater," Nikolai said.
"When the pro-slavery forces rally to suppress legislation, for example."

"Usually we should have warning, but it's not impossible that there might be an unexpected draw on everyone who is connected to the shield." Jean turned her palms upward.
"I can't predict what will happen. Everyone here is a powerful adept who
believes in this cause. I think we will find solutions as needed. But if anyone
feels that this task is too much of a burden, feel free to leave now. There is
no shame in circumstances that make such a commitment impossible."

She stopped speaking. People glanced at one another, but no one moved. Feeling encouraged, Jean said,
"Now it is time to build the shield." She had already designed her binding spell, and it could be invoked with a few words when they were ready.
"We need to do this in a circle, holding hands."

She came around the desk and extended her hand to Kofi. He stared at her hand as if it was a snake before warily taking it.
"Alternate black and white," she added. "Our powers are a little different, so
we need to weave them together."

"What about those of us who are both?" Mary Andrews asked ironically.

"Use your intuition about whose hands to take," Jean said promptly.
"The goal is to balance the energies."

Rather awkwardly, they joined hands, the long room making the shape more oval than circular. No matter.
"First I will seal the circle." Jean closed her eyes and spoke the words that joined them.

"That's it?" one of the priestesses said incredulously. "No
herbs, no ritual?"

Jean laughed. "Guardian magic is mostly very simple. Now each
person should send a pulse of energy into the circle so it will flow around and
back to you."

Immediately she began to feel individual notes, from Kofi's deep, earthy gong to the light, fluting ring of the youngest Guardian girl. Together, they made a matchless chorus. When all the notes were in harmony, she said,
"Now we collect and focus the positive abolition energies. Nikolai will guide
this."

"It's rather like picking berries," he said conversationally.
"Berries of light. Close your eyes, and we shall harvest them."

Jean knew that he had developed this ability as a result of his initiation. When she closed her eyes, she felt him swoop the spirits of her and the others up onto a magical flying carpet that soared above nighttime London. Here and there lights flickered, some sharp and star bright, others like faint embers. As Nikolai touched each bright spark, it was incorporated into a larger fabric, a glittering net of light.

Within the net, Jean could feel individual minds. Some were workingmen, staunch Britons who cherished their own liberty and felt everyone deserved the same. Some were deeply religious people who believed it was a sin to own another human who was made in God's image. And there were the Africans, many of them former slaves, who had struggled to regain their liberty and would fight to retain it.

The newly created net was a gossamer but resilient web that floated both through and above the fabric of the city. When the last spark had been incorporated, Nikolai said,
"As others come to believe in abolition, their energies will automatically be
incorporated into this shield. Now that it has been constructed, little energy
will be required for maintainence unless it is challenged by the Demon. When
that happens, those of us who are wardens of the shield will be tapped for more
energy."

"What if more power is demanded than we can spare?" someone asked.

"You can control the amount you give, or cut yourself off from the
net entirely. But if too many people cut the connection when the net is being
challenged, the net will fail, so leaving should not be done lightly."

"How does this shield control the Demon spirit?" a man asked.

"This is the hard part," Nikolai said. "Jean?"

"Earlier I created a spell that will bind our net to the pro-slavery spirit. You will probably feel a jolt when that happens." She hesitated.
"I've never done anything quite like this before. Please...be prepared."

She waited until she felt assent, then invoked her spell. As she saturated the net with binding energy, Nikolai brought the Demon into focus. The entity was smaller than their net, and much more dense. Within it, Jean sensed flashes of greed, anger, cruelty, and lust for power, all of them darting about like minnows in a murky sea. These were the primal components of slave owning—a nasty brew that made her want to bathe in scalding water.

She moved her charged net so that it lay parallel to the dark cloud, then supplied the last words that completed the binding spell. Instantly the two energy beings fused together, the net like a pale spiderweb that covered the surface of the dark cloud.

After an instant that resonated with shock, the Demon bucked like a spooked horse trying frantically to rid itself of its rider. Its shock blasted through the circle and she heard a man cry out.
"Hold tight!" Jean snapped, terrified that someone would break the circle and they would all be subjected to blasts of wild, destructive energy.

"Hold, hold, hold…" Falconer repeated the words calmly. She felt the deep strength of his power, joined a moment later by Kofi and Meg and other senior priests. Gradually the shock faded. The Demon settled down as a horse becomes accustomed to its saddle. It hadn't the awareness to realize that it had been bridled as well.