The Mislaid Magician (24 page)

Mr. Skelly glared, but he could hardly deny that he had such a thing, nor that he ought to have presented it straightaway. He fumbled through his pockets and handed the letter to James, who scanned it briefly and pronounced himself satisfied. James then made introductions all around. Mr. Skelly scowled throughout, though he ventured a curt nod in Mr. Wrexton’s direction.

As soon as the introductions were finished, Mr. Skelly looked pointedly at the carriage and said, “And what is it you are at? Daventer gave me to understand the matter was urgent; I’ve come a long distance, and I’ll not be put off.”

“The Wrextons are just leaving for Gloucestershire,” James said. “I’ll join you as soon as we’ve made our farewells.”

“Leaving?” Mr. Skelly contrived to sound as if he had been personally insulted. “The Royal College of Wizards is too high-and-mighty to be speaking with a mere Irish magician, then?”

“I’m not here as a representative of the Royal College,” Mr. Wrexton replied. “And I have urgent family matters to attend to. If you will excuse us—”

“Indeed not,” Mr. Skelly replied. “’Tis no more than I’d expect from a parcel of Englishmen. I’ve half a mind to post back to Ireland at once.”

By this time, Aunt Elizabeth was bristling visibly. I had been having the greatest of difficulties in keeping my own temper, but Mr. Skelly’s final words gave me the notion that he was
trying
to provoke us all, so as to have an excuse to leave. I could see from the way James’s eyes narrowed that the same thing must have occurred to him, too, for before Aunt Elizabeth could say anything untoward, he took Mr. Skelly’s arm.

“I’m sure you won’t wish to leave at once,” James said with sudden affability. “Not with the state the roads are in. Besides, it’s a pretty little puzzle that will no doubt interest you. Ah, Herr Schellen!”

Herr Schellen had emerged from the house to find out why James and I were delaying. James proceeded to introduce the reluctant Mr. Skelly, finishing with the provocative remark, “Herr Schellen has only recently ceased being a sheepdog.”

“A sheepdog?” Mr. Skelly said skeptically.

“Just so,” Mr. Wrexton replied. “It was quite a thorough transformation spell, which I believe to have been propagated through a network of ley lines from a local junction point. We have reason to believe that the spell is still active, as there has just been a report of a similar case in the southern counties. Until we are certain of the circumstances, I strongly advise you to avoid entering any stone circles while you are in England.”

The effect of this statement on Mr. Skelly was remarkable. “Ley network?” he said eagerly. “Then Daventer wasn’t exaggerating? You’ve actually found a workable ley network?”

“Two of them,” Herr Schellen put in unexpectedly. He has been very silent and gloomy since he was disenchanted. “Both artificial.”

“Artificial?”
Mr. Skelly said in patent disbelief.

“Not
in the street,” Aunt Elizabeth said firmly. “If you
must
discuss these matters now, let us do it inside, where we can talk in comfort and privacy.” She turned and marched into the house. Herr Magus Schellen looked at Mr. Wrexton, who nodded. The Herr Magus followed Aunt Elizabeth, and Mr. Wrexton waved the incredulous Mr. Skelly forward.

James and I remained out of doors for a hasty consultation, after which he set the coachman to walk the horses while I departed to see a tea tray prepared. I had no desire to emulate Mr. Skelly’s dreadful manners, and I was determined that he should be able to find no fault with our hospitality.

Having given the proper orders and overseen the beginning of the preparation, I went up to the parlor, where I found Mr. Skelly arguing with Mr. Wrexton and Herr Schellen over their theories regarding the ley lines. In the face of so much testimony, he could not deny that Herr Schellen had been turned into a sheepdog (though I think he would have liked to do so). He scoffed openly, however, at the notion that the spell was linked to and sustained by more than one ley line. He attributed Mr. Wrexton’s “mistake” in this regard to interference from the railway, and he was incredulous when we informed him that a second magician— you—had been turned into a dog in the same manner as Herr Schellen (by stepping into a stone circle). And he was flat-out disbelieving when we told him of the peculiar way the ley lines moved as the railway engine ran across them.

Finally, Mr. Wrexton reached his limit. “Very well, sir,” he said. “You have heard my observations in detail; there is no more that I can tell you. Go to Goosepool and see for yourself.”

“That I shall,” Mr. Skelly said. “And I’ll be pleased to show you where your error lies. Ley lines are tricky things; ’tis not surprising you were misled.”

Aunt Elizabeth snorted. Mr. Wrexton frowned. “I am leaving for the south,” he reminded Mr. Skelly. “Lady Schofield’s condition requires urgent attention.”

“Perhaps so,” Mr. Skelly said, “but you’ll be giving it the wrong sort of attention if you go on as you intend. Ley lines—”

“Are tricky things; you’ve said so several times,” Aunt Elizabeth said. “If you are such an expert—”

Fortunately, the tea tray arrived just at that moment. I say “fortunately” because Aunt Elizabeth was plainly preparing to give Mr. Skelly a dressing-down, and though I quite agreed that he deserved one, it seemed evident to me that it would not be of the least use.

The tea settled everyone wonderfully, though it did not settle the argument. At last Mr. Wrexton agreed to accompany Mr. Skelly to Goosepool to examine the Dancing Weans, provided they went that very day so that the Wrextons’ departure need be delayed no longer than absolutely necessary.

So the baggage was unloaded and the carriage brought round once more. Aunt Elizabeth elected to remain behind, as did Herr Schellen, so we were only four—James, Mr. Wrexton, Mr. Skelly, and I.

Mr. Skelly did not improve on closer acquaintance, though he at least sank no further in my estimation than he had already. He spent the drive questioning us all, over and over, regarding the details of what we had seen, sensed, and suspected. He was quite put out when it became clear that he could neither persuade nor bully any of us into altering our tales, and at last retreated into silent sulking, which was a great relief to us all.

The train and its steam engine were not in evidence during our trip. I was not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. On the one hand, I was quite pleased to be spared Mr. Skelly’s inevitable observations; on the other, I should have liked to have seen him discover that we had all been telling the exact truth regarding the effect of the engine’s passage on the ley lines.

We reached the lane near the stone circle at last, and climbed out of the carriage to cast the ley-line detecting spells. As Mr. Wrexton began his work, Mr. Skelly stopped him. “I see it’s the usual ley-detecting spell you’ve been casting,” he said. “I’ve a better notion than that, I think.”

“What notion would that be?” Mr. Wrexton said, sounding a trifle annoyed.

“The spell I use is a bit out of the common way,” Mr. Skelly said smugly. “It’s my own design.”

Mr. Wrexton hesitated, as if torn between his eternal thirst for magical knowledge and his desire to give the odious Mr. Skelly a thoroughgoing put-down. His thirst for knowledge won, but not, I think, without considerable struggle. “Do proceed,” he said after a moment, and Mr. Skelly did.

Like Mr. Wrexton, I watched Mr. Skelly’s spell casting very closely. It was not so very different from the usual ley-detecting spell; he used juniper springs instead of comfrey, and altered the order of “seeing” and “perceiving” in the incantation. Nor were the results so obviously superior to the usual spells as he had made it sound. I did think the edges of the ley lines were a little sharper and clearer than I had previously sensed, but it did not seem so great a difference as to justify the fuss.

As soon as the spell was active, Mr. Wrexton began a running commentary regarding the ley lines and the things he had noticed on our first visit, as much to keep Mr. Skelly from making any further inflammatory remarks as to inform him of our observations. The tactic served admirably, and we made our way across the intervening field without incident.

Mr. Skelly’s manner changed sharply as we neared the stone circle and began to sense the ley lines. He frowned slightly when Mr. Wrexton turned and began to walk around the outside of the stone circle, but said nothing. When they reached the first of the three ley lines, he took a small notebook from his pocket, along with an odd device that looked much like a compass attached to a slim silver chain with a bone-white plumb bob at the far end.

Holding the compass part over the center of the ley line, he made several adjustments to the chain, then waited while the plumb bob swung in lazy circles. He made several notations, then went on to the second ley line and repeated the process.

When he finished with the third ley line, he shook his head. “There’s naught unusual about these lines,” he informed us smugly. “That one is stronger by a quarter”—he waved at the first line, the one that crossed the railway—“but that’s not out of the common way. Now let’s see about this circle.”

“No!” Mr. Wrexton said as Mr. Skelly started forward. “You can’t cross that circle. You’re a wizard; that transformation spell is still active. Check for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

“Ah, yes, the transformation spell.” Mr. Skelly muttered under his breath, and I sensed magic intensifying around him, though I did not recognize the spell he was casting. “That should take care of the matter,” he said after a moment, and before anyone could stop him, he stepped briskly into the stone circle.

You can certainly guess what happened next. Despite his precautions, the transformation spell struck with great force. An instant later, a bewildered terrier stumbled out from between the stones.

“Now,
that
is interesting,” Mr. Wrexton murmured.

“What is?” James demanded.

“That spell. Come here, sir!” Mr. Wrexton said, snapping his fingers at the terrier.

Whether out of bewilderment or embarrassment, the terrier came. “James, would you do me the favor of retrieving Mr. Skelly’s notebook and ley compass?” Mr. Wrexton asked without looking up. “He dropped them inside the circle, and I’ve no wish to make the same mistake he did.”

“My pleasure,” James replied.

With the compass safely in hand, Mr. Wrexton repeated Mr. Skelly’s measurements, comparing each with the notation Mr. Skelly had made moments before. “I thought so,” he said with satisfaction when he finished.

“Thought what?” I said.

Mr. Wrexton hesitated. “There is one thing more I’d like to do before I answer your question, and I can’t do it here. Please oblige me by waiting until we reach Wardhill Cottage.”

Naturally, we agreed, though I was positively afire with curiosity during the whole drive back. When we reached the cottage, Mr. Wrexton disappeared into the workroom at the back, leaving us to explain Mr. Skelly’s disappearance and the presence of the terrier to Aunt Elizabeth and Herr Schellen.

Aunt Elizabeth nodded as we finished, then looked down at the terrier. “Let that be a lesson to you, sir!” she said sternly. “In future, mend your manners.”

“Hah!” came from inside the workroom, and a moment later Mr. Wrexton threw open the door. He was smiling broadly, and in one hand he held a large bowl of ink. “All’s well; Lady Schofield is herself again.”

“Michael!” Aunt Elizabeth said. “What do you mean?”

“See for yourself,” he said, extending the bowl of ink with great care.

We all crowded around as he refreshed the scrying spell, then saw you, Kate, sitting in the library at Skeynes, surrounded by the children. As we watched, Thomas came in with a strip of sticking plaster across his knuckles, looking somewhat rumpled but insufferably pleased with himself.

“How is this possible?” Aunt Elizabeth said as the scene faded. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Mr. Wrexton said with some regret. “Except, that is, observe the behavior of the ley lines when our Irish visitor allowed himself to be transformed. There was a distinct surge in the southernmost of the three just as the spell hit him, and afterward it was measurably drained. And the spell affecting him had resonances that were identical, insofar as I could determine without more precise measuring tools, to the one that we studied on Herr Magus Schellen. That’s not impossible, but you’ll allow that it is vastly unlikely.”

“You thought it was the
same
spell?” Aunt Elizabeth frowned. “But what—”

“And Herr Schellen was disenchanted at the same time that Kate was transformed!” I said. “So it’s been the same spell on
all
of them, just jumping from wizard to wizard!”

“I thought it might be,” Mr. Wrexton admitted. “But I didn’t wish to raise hopes until I was certain.”

We assured him of our understanding, then retired to the parlor for a suitable celebration of your disenchantment (which was more difficult for the gentlemen than you might expect, as James claimed that the occasion was worthy of French brandy, but there was none to be had so far north at short notice). It fell to Aunt Elizabeth and me to make more sensible plans while James and Mr. Wrexton considered which of the readily available vintages would make the most suitable substitute. We decided that it would be best for Mr. Wrexton and Aunt Elizabeth to travel south tomorrow, as planned, so that they can convey a personal warning to the Royal College of Wizards on their way to Skeynes. When they arrive, which should be on the heels of this letter (if indeed they are not already there), Mr. Wrexton will examine both you and the stone circle to make certain that there are no lingering spell tendrils that might make future trouble. He expects not, as there were none on Herr Magus Schellen, but he wishes to make absolutely sure.

The terrier and the Herr Magus remain with us in Darlington—the terrier, because (as has already been demonstrated with the sheepdog) it would be as much as his life is worth to take him too far from the vicinity of the circle where he was enchanted; the Herr Magus because his surveying equipment is still missing, and much as he has come to dislike the north of England (for good reason!), he will not depart until he has recovered it.