Dark Mirror (22 page)

“I’m thinking of having the boat taken out of the water for … for the duration,” Mrs. Rainford said. “She won’t be getting much use, and the channel could be dangerous with a war going on just a few miles away.”

“Not when the weather is just getting warm!” Polly protested.

“I want to go sailing this weekend.” Nick glanced at Tory. “Do you sail? It’s wonderful. You could stay and learn to crew.”

She shook her head. “Tempting, but I’ll be gone by then.”

“Very well, I’ll delay taking the boat up,” Mrs. Rainford said. “We’ll see how thing go. But for now—fish and chips!”

As they headed to the chip shop, Tory asked, “What does money look like now?”

Nick produced some coins and dropped them in her palm. “Twelve pennies to a shilling, twenty shillings to a pound, and coins for the penny, ha’penny, thruppence, sixpence, and so forth. This one is a half crown, which is two and a half shillings.”

Tory poked through the coins. “Not that different from what I’m used to.”

“In other words, British money has always been illogical,” Polly said with a grin.

“Logical money would be boring.” When Tory tried to return the money to Nick, he waved it off.

“Keep that for souvenirs,” he said gruffly. “So you won’t forget us.”

As if she could forget this journey to another time! Tory put the coins away, glad she’d have something tangible to take away.

The chippy had a walk-up order window, a sign over the top that said
THE CODFATHER
, and half a dozen hopeful cats lounging about in front. Mrs. Rainford ordered four portions, which were served almost immediately. The fried cod and potatoes were wrapped in cones of newsprint, and tangy malt vinegar was sprinkled over them.

“Do you have fish and chips where you live?” Polly passed a cone to Tory.

“No. This smells lovely, though.” Tory bit into a piece of the crispy, deep-fried fish. “Wonderful!” She tried one of the golden wedges of potato and sighed blissfully. No wonder Nick hoped fish and chips wouldn’t be rationed.

“This is walking food,” Nick explained as they headed back to the high street, which ran up the hill. He tossed several flakes of fish to the cats. His mother, sister, and Tory all followed suit. No wonder the cats looked so sleek and well fed.

She would miss this time and these people, Tory realized. But this wasn’t her home. The Rainfords would defend England in their time, and she would do her best in hers.

She prayed that all of them would be successful.

CHAPTER 23

Lackland, the long road home

“Is this the place?” Nick asked, eyeing the chalk walls dubiously. “All these tunnels look the same.”

“I think so.” Tory had used intuition to guide her to the dead-end tunnel under the ruins of Lackland Abbey. Though she’d made a number of wrong turns, now that she’d reached this spot, she could feel powerful magic pulsing just out of sight.

It was Tuesday evening, and the Rainfords had escorted her to the abbey to say good-bye. Teaching magic required a lowering of shields on both sides, and in three days a powerful bond had been forged between Tory and her students.

They had worked so hard. She was proud of how they’d transformed their raw, untrained powers and were becoming competent mages. They would continue to improve now that Tory had laid a foundation of knowledge and mage discipline.

Tory wore her own clothing again, her shawl wrapped close to protect her from the bitter chill of her passage through time. Her stomach knotted as she contemplated what she was about to do. On her first passage, she hadn’t known what would happen. Now she did—and she was not looking forward to it.

Polly asked bluntly, “What if you end up in a different time than your own?”

“After I recover from that trip, I’ll try again. Since I’ll be even more desperate, the second passage will succeed.” Tory tried to keep her voice light, but she wasn’t entirely convincing. It was dangerous to use magic she didn’t understand, but she had no other choice. Mrs. Rainford had gone though all her old texts and found no hint of any other magical devices or spells that could move a person through time.

Tory turned to her friends. “I made gifts for you.” She pulled three coins from her pocket. “I charged each of these with a particular kind of magic. Polly, here’s a ha’penny. I like the image of Britannia that’s engraved on the back. Can you tell me what kind of magic it holds?”

Penny clasped the copper coin, which was about an inch across. After several moments of frowning study, she exclaimed, “It’s for focus! Thank you! I need this.” She grinned. “Which is why you gave it to me, of course.”

“Nick, for you, a three-penny piece.” She handed him the twelve-sided coppery coin. “Can you feel what magic is in it?”

He closed his eyes. “Discernment? To help me cut to the heart of a matter?”

“Exactly. It should be useful sooner or later.” She turned to Mrs. Rainford. “For you, a shiny silver sixpence, except it’s not really for you.”

“A sixpence is considered lucky.” Mrs. Rainford closed her fingers around the coin. “Protection,” she breathed. “It’s for protection, and you made it for Joe.”

“I can’t guarantee that it will perform miracles,” Tory said shyly. “But I think the coin will help keep him safe. Give it to him when he finishes his pilot training.”

“Thank you.” Mrs. Rainford’s voice was choked as she hugged Tory. “Travel safely, my dear, and if you can’t return to your time, you’ll always be welcome here.”

“You could really help us with the Nazis,” Nick said. “And I’d take you sailing.”

“With two brothers, I’ve wanted a sister.” Polly shrugged as if her words didn’t matter. “If you change your mind and want to come back…”

“You’re making it hard to leave.” Tory tried to smile. She turned to the end of the corridor. “This is going to be a huge letdown if I can’t summon the mirror.”

She gazed at the chalk and let her emotions well up. She wanted,
needed,
her friends and family and home. Images of her life saturated her mind, along with her desperate desire to return. She stretched her hand out, palm up.
Home …

Power blazed with a soundless roar. As the Rainfords gasped, a tall, shining silver rectangle appeared in front of Tory. She saw herself reflected in its bright, flawless surface. She was small and dark-haired as always, yet her image was … commanding.

Reflected behind her were the Rainfords, their arms around one another. “Good-bye…” Tory’s voice wavered as she moved close enough to the mirror to touch the surface. Cool silver that burned with magic …

The mirror turned dark. Power sucked her into the abyss, ripping and repairing as she fell endlessly in a place where she could not scream.

Then she was wrenched back to normal space, falling hard to the ground of a lightless tunnel. As darkness descended, she heard a man shout. Damnation, she must have returned to exactly where she began!

*   *   *

“Tory, wake up! Please, wake up!”

The worried male voice was familiar. But surely it couldn’t be …

Tory’s eyes flickered open. Dear heaven, it really was Allarde bending over her! She had made it back to her own time. Hazily, she realized that he was kneeling on the tunnel floor and she lay across his lap as his arms supported her. His usual controlled expression had been replaced by vivid concern, and he seemed to have an angelic halo.

Not a halo—a mage light floating above him. Half-convinced she was dreaming, she whispered, “Allarde?”

“Thank God!” he exclaimed. “Are you all right?”

Though she was trembling and exhausted, Allarde’s arms were driving off the chill of the abyss. “I’m not hurt. Just … shaken. When is it?”

“Three days ago you vanished when the Labyrinth was raided. At first no one realized you’d gone missing.” Allarde glanced at the chalk walls surrounding them. “Did you manage to hide here in a tunnel? You seemed to come out of nowhere.”

Rather than answer, she asked, “How did you find me?”

“Tonight was the first session of the Irregulars since the raid. I’d been worried about you, so when the session ended, I decided to look around before going back to the school.” His brow furrowed. “I was drawn to this location without knowing why. Then you tumbled out of thin air. Did you develop some new invisibility spell?”

“Much more complicated than that.” The mere thought of explaining her adventures made Tory’s head ache. “I was traveling through time.”

“Pardon?” His gray eyes looked doubtful.

“As I said, it’s complicated. I’ll save my explanations for when the teachers are present so I won’t have to repeat myself.” A thought struck her. “Miss Wheaton and Mr. Stephens weren’t caught and discharged, were they?”

“No, everyone escaped the raid. Elspeth said you led the raiders away from her group. That must have been just before you vanished.” He smiled. “You’re a heroine.”

That sounded nice, though Tory hadn’t felt very heroic at the time. She sighed. Lovely though her current position was, she couldn’t stay here. She tried to get to her feet but almost fell from dizziness.

Allarde caught her. “You’re in no condition to walk.” He scooped her up in his arms and headed back along the tunnel, his mage light gliding in front them.

After an initial squeak of surprise, Tory relaxed with her head against his shoulder. His scent, his warmth, his energy—being held by him felt like coming home.

An alarming and alluring home. The austere beauty of his profile entranced her, and his right arm under her thighs gave her shivers in places she’d never thought about. A good thing she wasn’t wearing that indecently short skirt of Polly’s!

But she was puzzled. “I’m grateful for your care. It … it goes beyond what one expects from one comrade to another.”

“You are more than just a comrade to me, Tory,” he said softly.

“Then what am I?” she asked, her voice equally soft.

“I’m … not sure,” he said, not looking at her.

They were approaching the main hall, and she had only moments left for this unexpected intimacy. She didn’t want it to end, but she didn’t know how to prolong it. “You had best put me down. Carrying me in might give people the wrong impression.”

Gently he set her on her feet, keeping an arm around her while she got her bearings. “The impression wouldn’t be wrong.” He cupped a hand around her face, his touch so light that it was absurd for her heart to accelerate. “Merely … impossible.”

“Why impossible?” she whispered.

“In other times and places, I could behave differently.” He dropped his hand, his eyes deeply sad. “Not now. Not here.”

He seemed to be saying that he admired her but felt he could not act on that. She wanted to protest, to make him say more, but something her sister once said echoed in her mind.
“When seeking a mate, you may meet men who could be right under different circumstances, but they won’t do now for any number of good reasons. It is best to smile a gracious farewell and tuck that brief memory in your heart.”

Tory hadn’t really understood then. Now she did. Their circumstances here in Lackland changed too many things. At a guess, Allarde could not take a mageling wife if he wanted to keep his title and inheritance. Since there could be no good end for them, he refused even to make a beginning. He was wise, damn him.

Throat tight, she said, “I hope that most of the Irregulars have gone home. I couldn’t face a large audience.”

She walked the last steps into the hall. The remaining people were the ones who usually stayed late: Miss Wheaton and Mr. Stephens, who always left last. The prefects, with Jack Rainford’s sister, Rachel, staying with him. If those two stood next to Nick and Polly, no one would doubt a blood relationship.

Off to one side was Elspeth. And—blast!—Lady Cynthia.

Allarde raised his voice. “The lost has returned!”

“Tory!” Her name chorused as chairs scraped and people swooped toward her.

“I was so worried!” Elspeth reached her first and grabbed her in a fierce hug.

Jack arrived a moment later and hugged them both. “You look like death,” he exclaimed, “but even so, it’s good to have you back.”

When Tory emerged for air, Miss Wheaton clasped her hands. “Thank heaven you’re all right! When I returned here after the raid, I could feel that very powerful magic had taken place and it involved you, but I didn’t know what it was.”

Cynthia, who was hanging back, said, “I guessed that Tory was hiding somewhere. I was hoping she wouldn’t return so I’d have the room to myself.”

Ignoring Cynthia, Tory asked, “Has anyone here heard of Merlin’s mirror?”

Mr. Stephens sucked in his breath. “That’s a legend.”

“Actually, it’s not.” Tory hesitated. “Should I tell you and Miss Wheaton what happened privately?”

The teachers conferred silently with a glance before Miss Wheaton replied, “Everyone wants to know, so you might as well tell us all at once.”

Tory folded down onto one of the worn sofas. It was harder than furniture of the future. “As I was trying to escape the raiders, I discovered a magical artifact that took me to the year 1940, and now home again. I was told it’s called Merlin’s mirror.”