Wrede, Patricia C - Mairelon 02 (18 page)

           
"What?
Richard, you don't seriously mean--" Lord Shoreham looked at Mairelon, and
his amusement vanished, replaced by concern. "You'd better start at the
beginning. What has this got to do with your French wizards?"

           
"If
I knew that, I'd be considerably farther along than I am now," Mairelon
said testily. "The beginning, so far as I know, was an inept burglar who
tried to steal a book from my brother's library. Kim heard him in process, and
interrupted before he got what he was after. The book was a
livre de memoire
written by a French wizard named Marie de Cambriol and rather grandiosely
titled
Le Livre de Sept Sorciers
, and so far as I've been able to tell,
there's no reason at all why anyone would want to get hold of it.

           
"Last
week someone had another go at it while Kim and Mother and I were at the opera.
He used a scrying spell to make certain we were away from home, and then put
together a sort of summoning-cumlevitation to bring the book to him. He failed
mainly because he didn't have sense enough to find out which side of the house
the library was on before he cast his spell; according to my aunt, the book
spent half an hour trying to batter through a wall when it could have nipped
through one of the windows and been gone."

           
"Amateur work, then?"
Shoreham said.

           
"Possibly.
There was a lot of power behind the spell,
but it was very badly balanced; it fell apart almost immediately when I tried
to analyze it. I'd guess self-taught, or foreign, or both."

           
"Ah."
Shoreham leaned back in his chair. "Go on."

           
"The
spell reminded Kim of an old . . . acquaintance of hers that lives up by the
Charterhouse, a Ma Yanger."

           
Shoreham
nodded. "One of the rookery witches. She's one of the canny ones--we have
reason to think she turns an occasional spell for some of the professional
thieves, but she's been careful enough that we haven't caught her at it. Most
of her trade is minor household-level magic--removing corns, easing aches, the
odd love spell. Some of it is the genuine article, but a good deal of it is
mere sham."

           
"From
what Kim and I found, she hasn't cast any spells for at least two months, and
she's not likely to be doing anything at all for a lot longer than that."
Mairelon nodded at Kim. "Tell him."

           
Startled,
Kim hesitated for a moment, and Shoreham gave her an encouraging look. She
swallowed and, trying not to feel as if she were betraying her old friends, she
explained what Tom had told her about wizards working for Mannering, and then described
what she had found at Ma Yanger's.

           
"Hmph,"
said Shoreham when she finished. "I'll have to get on to MacArdle; he's
supposed to be keeping up on the minor wizards, especially the ones around St.
Giles and
Smithfield
. If he
overlooked something like this, we shall have words. Continue."

           
"Two
nights ago, at Lady Greythorne's musicale, our mystery wizard tried his scrying
spell again," Mairelon said, and stopped.

           
"And
knowing you, you were ready for him," Shoreham said.

           
"Not
ready enough," Mairelon said. "I had a trace-and-analyze spell
infused in a splinter of kindling, all ready to go, and when I felt the scrying
spell, I invoked it. But--well, the scrying spell didn't just fracture and fall
apart this time; it sucked down my enchantment like quagmire sucking down a
horse. And not just the enchantment, either."

           
"I
see." Lord Shoreham looked seriously concerned. "I can't say I've
heard of anything like this before, but I'll put some people on it immediately.
In the meantime--"

           
"Kerring's
working at the enchantment end of things," Mairelon said. "I spoke to
him yesterday."

           
"Are
you sure that's enough?"

           
"I
don't exactly like the thought of everyone knowing that I can't so much as
light a fire without flint and tinder," Mairelon said testily.
"The fewer people who have the details, the better."

           
"As you wish."
But Shoreham continued to frown,
and after a moment he looked at Kim. "It's not really the thing to be
asking another wizard's apprentice this, but have you learned Gerard's Refuge
yet?"

           
"No,
she hasn't," Mairelon said before Kim could answer. He did not look at all
pleased, but Kim could not tell whether he was annoyed with Shoreham, or with
her, or with himself.

           
"What
is it?" Kim asked, looking at Mairelon uncertainly.

           
Mairelon
remained silent. Shoreham glanced at him, then said, "It's a minor
protective spell, rather like the standard ward but less complex and easier to
cast. It doesn't last as long, and it isn't intended to absorb or block magic,
the way a ward does."

           
"Then
how can it protect anything?" Kim asked.

           
"It
deflects spells," Shoreham said. "Sort of shoves them to one side
where they can go off without doing any harm." He glanced at Mairelon
again,
then
looked back at her. "I think it would
be a good idea for you to learn it as soon as possible."

           
"Teach
it to her now," Mairelon said. "I should have thought of that
myself." He sat scowling at the front of Shoreham's desk while the earl
explained the spell and ran her through casting it several times. It was, as he
had promised quite simple--a single gesture and a word--and it did not take
long for her to master it.

           
When they
finished, Shoreham turned to Mairelon.
"Now, about those
French wizards.
I've done some checking since you were last here.
Les
Griffonais
were of considerable interest to the Ministry in the early years
of the French war, even though they had all left France well before the trouble
began, so there was more information lying around than I'd expected."

           
He pulled
a sheaf of papers toward him and read from the top of the first page,
"Monsieur Laszlo Karolyi, Hungarian--close friend of the current Vicomte
de Bragelonne. He helped the vicomte escape
France
during the Terror, in fact. Karolyi was apparently much in sympathy with the
aims of the
sans-culottes
, but thoroughly disgusted by the eventual
direction their revolution took. He returned to
Hungary
and has spent most of his time there for the last thirty years, though he has
visited
England
upon occasion--or rather, he has visited those of his French friends who sought
sanctuary from the Terror here."

           
"Lately?"

           
"No,
not since
Waterloo
," Lord
Shoreham said. He turned to the next page. "Madame Marie de
Cambriol--traveled in
Italy
and
Greece
after leaving
France
,
then came to
England
with her husband in 1799.
Died of a putrid fever some months
later.

           
"Monsieur
Henri d'Armand--also, apparently, inclined to travel after leaving
France
,
but not so successfully. He was on his way to
Milan
to attend the opening of an opera when his ship sank."

           
"What?"
Mairelon sat up. "D'Armand is dead?"

           
"And
has been for nearly thirty years," Shoreham said. "The accident
happened only a month or two after he left
France
.
Is that significant?"

           
"His
name was missing from Mannering's list," Mairelon said. "That may be
why."

           
"The
de Cambriol woman is also deceased," Shoreham pointed out, turning over
another page.
"If I may continue?
The Duchesse
Camille Delagardie--settled in
England
with her husband. She has a reputation as both a recluse and an eccentric,
though from what I can gather, it's founded mainly on a dislike of making the
rounds in Society. She has a small but devoted circle of friends, many of them
wizards. Before you ask, yes, she's still alive; I believe she and her husband
are somewhere in the North at the moment. They have a little place in
Hampstead, when they're in Town."

           
"Hampstead!"
Mairelon said. "Good lord.
That's not in Town."

           
"It
apparently does very well for them," Shoreham said. "The Comte Louis
du Franchard and the Comtesse Eustacie de Beauvoix--also settled in
England
,
but returned to
France
last month, possibly to repossess the estates that were confiscated from them
during the revolution. Unlike the duchesse and her husband, they socialized
rather freely during their twenty-some years here.

           
"And
finally, Mademoiselle Jeannette Lepain--also lived in England for a few years,
but in 1801 she married a Russian wizard-prince, one Ivan Durmontov, and
moved--"

           
"Ivan
Durmontov?
" Mairelon interrupted. "Now that is
interesting."

           
"So
I gather," Lord Shoreham said dryly. "You wouldn't, by chance, care
to enlighten me as to why?"

           
"There's
a Prince Alexei Durmontov in
London
for the Season," Mairelon said, and smiled. "I think perhaps I should
have a talk with him. It appears we may have some interests in common."

           
"Richard--"
Lord Shoreham began, and then sighed. "I'd much rather we found out a bit
more about him before you go stirring things up. I suppose there's no use
telling you to wait?"

           
"None whatever."

           
"Very
well, then, but for heaven's sake, be careful. If he
does
have anything
to do with this . . . this situation--"

           
"Then
I intend to find out what it is as soon as possible," Mairelon said, and
his tone was deadly serious.
"Anything else, Edward?
No? Then we'll be going. Let me know if you find out anything."

           
"Be
sure I will," Lord Shoreham said gravely.

           
As soon
as they returned to
Grosvenor Square
,
Mairelon sent Hunch off with a note requesting Prince Durmontov to call at his
earliest convenience. Hunch returned an hour later, while Kim and Mairelon were
still in the library rehashing Shoreham's comments. He reported that he had
left the note, but Prince Durmontov had not been at his lodgings to receive it.

           
"What?"
Mairelon said.

           
" 'E
ain't there," Hunch repeated. "The 'otel
staff said 'e was upset by the robbery and 'e went off to stay with some
friends in the country."

           
"Upset
by the--Good Lord, that's right! He did say he was moving to the George."
Mairelon studied Hunch. "He wasn't by chance one of the people who was
burgled?"

           
Hunch
nodded. "The 'ousemaid says 'is rooms were turned up a rare treat, but
'ooever it was didn't take nothin' valuable."

           
"That
doesn't make sense," Kim said.

           
"Neither
does anything else we've learned," Mairelon said. "Did they take
anything at all, Hunch?"

           
"Some
family 'eirloom, she said." Hunch shrugged. "That's why 'e was so cut
up about it."

           
"An
heirloom," Mairelon said.
"A book, perhaps?
That would certainly be convenient--a little
too
convenient, I think.
When is the prince returning to
London
?"

           
"Nobody
knows," Hunch said.

           
If not
for the expression on Mairelon's face, Kim would have been almost thankful to
have the visit to the prince put off for a few days. Between Mairelon, Lady
Wendall, and Mrs. Lowe, she was run nearly ragged learning her illusions, helping
to check and maintain the protective wards on the house, being fitted for her
come-out dress, memorizing what seemed like thousands of instructions for her
conduct at the ball, and practicing acceptable social behavior during morning
calls, teas, and other social outings.

           
The
attentive Lord Franton added to the number of things that had to be fit into
each day. He called several times, and held Kim to her promise to drive with
him in
Hyde Park
two days after the musicale. But though
his visits were certainly enjoyable while they lasted, Kim could not help
resenting them because of how much more hectic things always were afterward.

           
Except
when Mairelon drilled her in the spells for the illusion, she saw less and less
of her guardian as the ball neared. He spent most of his days at the
Royal
College
or at the Ministry of
Wizardry, closeted with Kerring or Shoreham. Whatever they discussed, it was
plain that they had made no progress regarding the spell that affected
Mairelon's magic. Each evening when he returned, he was quieter than he had
been the previous day. Lady Wendall developed a small vertical worry line
between her eyebrows that deepened whenever she looked in her son's direction.
Only Mrs. Lowe seemed unaware that anything was wrong.

           
The day
of the ball, Kim did not see Mairelon at all. She and Lady Wendall were busy
most of the morning with preparations for the illusion, drawing diagrams on the
ballroom floor with rosewater made in a mirrored bowl, and she spent the
afternoon being dressed. After having her hair fussed over, her gown examined
and reexamined for creases, and everything from her stockings to her hair
ribbon studied and commented on, Kim was nearly ready to scream. Fortunately,
the arrival of a charming posy tied up with peach-colored ribbons distracted
her well-meaning helpers in the nick of time.

           
"The very thing!"
Lady Wendell said. "Look at
the card, Kim, and see
who
it is from."

           
"Lord
Franton sent it," Kim said after studying it for a moment. She set the
card aside, trying not to feel disappointed and wondering why she did.

           
A second
box arrived a few moments later, though it was far too small to hold flowers.
"Now, what is this?" Lady Wendall said, frowning slightly.

           
Kim
lifted the lid. Inside, on a small pillow covered in white velvet,
lay
a gold sunburst the size of her thumbnail, hung on a
delicate chain. It looked a little like the first spell she had ever cast, a
small explosion of light re-created in metal, and she was not really surprised
to find the card with the single word "Mairelon" scrawled across it.

           
"Ah,"
said Lady Wendall, peering over Kim's shoulder. "I'd been wondering--I'm
very glad he remembered."

           
So am
I
, Kim thought, feeling suddenly much more cheerful.

           
When all
the fussing and fixing-up was done at last, they went down to await their
guests. This, too, was a longer and more complicated process than Kim had
expected. She and Lady Wendall and Mairelon stood at the head of the stairs
receiving the company for over an hour and a half, and the flow of arrivals was
so steady that there was no time to pass even a few remarks among themselves.
Renee D'Auber came early, and Lord Kerring and his lady wife soon after, but
most of the other guests were not well-known to Kim. It was a relief to spy the
occasional truly familiar face; even Letitia Tarnower, who had somehow managed
to be included in the party from Kirkover House, was almost a welcome sight.
For the rest, Kim's part was no more than to smile and curtsey as Lady Wendall
presented her to those guests whom she had not previously met. This gave her
far too much time to think about the upcoming illusion. By the time the stream
of incoming guests began to thin, she had worked herself into a fair case of
jitters.

           
The
Marquis of Harsfeld was among the last to arrive. He smiled politely as he
greeted Lady Wendall, but his eyes strayed to Kim's hands, and his smile warmed
noticeably when he saw his flowers attached to her wrist. "I had not dared
to hope you would accept my tribute," he said softly when he reached Kim.

           
"I'm--It
was--Thank you," Kim said, and passed him on to Mairelon.

           
"I
notice that Durmontov hasn't shown up yet," Mairelon commented when the
marquis had passed out of hearing.

           
"Renee
D'Auber tells me that he does not return to Town until sometime next
week," Lady Wendall said, and Mairelon frowned. Lady Wendall turned to
Kim. "Ten minutes
more,
and we shall go in. We
really cannot delay the dancing any longer than that."

           
Kim
swallowed. Ten minutes, and she would have to perform a spell before several
hundred members of the
ton
, with most of whom she had barely a nodding
acquaintance. If it were just for Mairelon and Lady Wendall and Renee D'Auber,
and maybe Lord Kerring and Lord Shore-ham, it wouldn't be so nerve-wracking.

           
"The
last few minutes before the show are always the worst," Mairelon said, as
if he knew exactly what she was thinking. "You'll do very well." Kim
smiled at him gratefully,
then
belatedly connected his
remark with the performances he had once given in the Hungerford Market. Maybe
he
did
know exactly what she had been thinking. The thought that even
Mairelon had been nervous before his shows made her feel a little better.
Still, it seemed as if far less than ten minutes had gone by when Lady Wendall
signaled to Mairelon to take Kim in to the ballroom.

           
As they
entered, the hum of conversation sank to a mere murmur and heads turned to look
at them. Kim shivered slightly; she was more used to avoiding attention than
accepting it. Almost involuntarily, her free hand rose, seeking reassurance,
and touched the gold sunburst that Mairelon had given her.

           
Mairelon
led her to the center of the floor. She hardly heard his introduction; she was
suddenly, frantically certain that she did not remember a single word of the
illusion spell.
Brevis lux, nox . . . nox . . . What comes after
nox
?
And then Mairelon drew his arm away and stepped
back, and she stood isolated under the eyes of more toffs than she had ever
thought to see, let alone draw the attention of.

           
She took
a deep breath, and her self-consciousness receded. Fixing her eyes on a candle
sconce on the far wall, she raised her arms and--in a clear, steady
voice--began the invocation.

           
At the
end of the first five lines, Mairelon's voice joined hers as if he were
supporting and assisting in the spell. This was the trickiest part, for it was
Lady Wendall who was really performing the magic. As the primary spell caster,
Kim had to merge the two enchantments into one--a difficult task indeed when
she not only could not hear Lady Wendall's voice, but also had Mairelon's to
distract her.

           
Somehow,
she managed it all--keeping the timing right, reciting her own part, and
building the images in her own mind as she spoke. She knew, as she said the
final
phrase, that
it was going to work, and with a
triumphant sense of satisfaction she brought her hands down and together in the
gesture that set the spell in motion.

           
All of
the candles went out. The guests gasped, then hushed again as a glowing cloud
of white smoke erupted from the bare floor in front of Kim, where she had knelt
all morning with the rosewater. From the center of the smoke, a voice called,
"Come one, come all! Prepare to be amazed and astonished by the one, the
only--Mairelon the Magician!"

           
With the
last words, the smoke dissipated. Where it had been
rose
the image of a wooden stage, and in the middle of the stage stood Mairelon as
Kim had first seen him, in a black opera cape and top hat, wearing a small,
neat mustache. He raised a silver-headed walking stick, and a grubby, dark-haired
boy in a ragged jacket jumped out of the darkness onto the stage beside him.
The two images held the pose for a long moment while a murmur of surprise rose
from the watchers, and then the real Mairelon and Kim stepped forward and took
their places beside the images of their former selves. The candles flickered
into flame once more, and the illusion faded, leaving only the true Mairelon
and Kim in their formal finery.

           
A
scattering of applause broke out. Light-headed with relief and triumph, Kim
grinned at Mairelon. Mairelon smiled back at her, bowed, and stepped forward to
take her hand as the musicians began the opening dance.

           
Other
couples fell in behind them after the first few bars. Kim let the music lead
her feet without paying much conscious attention; after the successful
spellcasting, a mere misstep held no terrors for her. Indeed, she felt as if
she
could not
put a foot wrong this night.

           
At the
end of the first dance, Mairelon relinquished her to a throng of intrigued
gallants and retired to the sidelines. Kim had more than half expected that the
illusion, with its reminder of her too-humble origins, would put a damper on
her social prospects; instead, it seemed to have significantly increased the
number of gentlemen taking an interest in her. Mindful of Lady Wendall's--and
Mrs. Lowe's--strictures, she was careful not to agree to more than two dances
with any of them, but there were so many that she was on her feet for most of
the evening. Several times, she caught sight of Mairelon watching her as she
danced, but he did not return to claim a second dance for himself.

           
Lord
Franton presented himself promptly for his first dance, and though he did not
press her for another immediately afterward, he seemed always to be nearby when
she finished a turn with some other partner. He would make light conversation
for a moment or two, and then yield his place to the next gentleman. After a
while, Kim began wondering when he would claim his second dance, and whether
his attentions would be as assiduous once he had had it.

           
The dance
the marquis chose at last revealed that he was no mean strategist--it was the
supper dance, and since Kim had not previously engaged with anyone to take her
down to supper, Lord Franton naturally claimed that privilege when the dance
ended.

           
"Now,
that is the outside of enough!" said one of the other gentlemen, arriving
just too late to put forward his own claim. "It's taking unfair advantage,
that's what it is. You'd be justly served, Harry, if my friends were to call
upon you in the morning."

           
"You've
no one but yourself to blame," the marquis said, grinning unrepentantly.
"If you hadn't been so determined to cut me out for the galliard earlier,
you might have secured this last dance yourself."

           
"If
you weren't given to underhanded tactics, I wouldn't have needed to," the
other retorted.

           
Lord
Franton only laughed and swept Kim off on his arm.

           
As they
made their way in to dinner, Lord Franton said, "I don't believe I've told
you how impressed I was by your introductory illusion."