Home From The Sea: The Elemental Masters, Book Seven (15 page)

Mari woke early, and the first thing on her mind was to wonder just when—and how—the Selch would put in their appearance. She didn’t have to wait long.

It was a good thing she had gotten up before dawn and made herself tidy, for as the first rays of sun lanced into the eastern sky, they came out of the sea.

She saw them from the window—for what else could it be but the Selch—six great grey shapes rising up out of the surf, then rising taller, then approaching the Prothero cottage across the shore, striding solemnly up from the waterline. She came out to meet them, the wind off the sea pushing her skirts into her legs.

One she recognized: the grey-haired man she had confronted and bargained with yesterday, still frowning, not at all pleased. Beside him was another fellow, perhaps a little younger than her father. Not handsome, not unhandsome, but with an interesting face, an intelligent face, and eyes that seemed to see more than most. And just a hint of a smirk. She reckoned that he was secretly pleased about his chieftain’s comeuppance.

The other four, though… her age or just a year or two older, and they ranged from handsome to so breathtaking that Braith would have fainted to see them. She felt a little faint and had the odd experience of feeling her cheeks and ears flush, just looking at them. All four of them were dark-haired. All four of them wore the same sort of clothing as her da, somewhat to her surprise. The one who had come to argue with her last night had, and still was, dressed in a sort of woolen tunic and loose trousers and a sealskin cloak. But these four, and the one she supposed to be a teacher, were all in the sort of thing that would not be out of place in the streets of Clogwyn: plain trousers, linen shirt, waistcoat, and jacket. Like her da, they all had waterproof boots. But the hems of their trousers were all dark and damp, and they, too, wore sealskin cloaks. She remembered the tales; you could always tell that someone was Selch, even if they had hidden their sealskins, because the lower hems of their garments never would dry.

First was one who was merely handsome. His hair was a bit longer than the others and he had mischievous blue eyes. He had one thumb tucked in his waistband and his other hand held his sealskin over his shoulder almost negligently.

The second was taller, more muscular, with solemn dark eyes between grey and storm-cloud blue. He stood straight, with his hands clasped in front of him. He looked like the sort of fellow who would call her father “sir” no matter how often da told him “Call me Daffyd.”

The third… well, just to look at him, most girls would have come all over giggles. Black hair, not just “dark,” crowned his head in fleecy curls. His intense blue eyes seemed meant to smile,
and everything about him was perfect. A face and body that seemed created to be carved into statues and painted into paintings. Not too tall, not too short, not too muscular, and certainly not weak.

The fourth was shy and wouldn’t look directly at her, but to her mind had the look of a poet or a musician. He was thinner than the others, though by no means
skinny.
His face and dark, dark eyes had a sort of innocence about them. There certainly could not have been four young men more unalike than these.

“Trefor,” said the oldest Selch, gesturing abruptly at the first. He followed it with “Siarl. Rhodri. Mabon. And this would be Idwal, the teacher.”

The last Selch gravely nodded his head, slightly.

“So. Courted you demanded to be. Courted you shall be. I leave you to it.” Oh, he still sounded angry. Good. “Contrary wench that you are, don’t take too long about this.”

She raised her chin and looked the chief Selch in the eyes. “I’ll take as long as I take, sir,” she said coolly. “With or without your leave.”

The merry one—Trefor—hid his mouth with his hand, covering what was probably a laugh that had tried to burst out. Rhodri looked mildly amused; Siarl looked shocked. Mabon looked like he didn’t know how to react.

Idwal just raised an eyebrow at her and gave her a long and measuring gaze.

The chief reddened a little, but didn’t lose his temper this time. “Women and cats,” he said, in tones of dismissal. “I’ve business. You tend to yours.”

And with that, he stalked down to the sea, leaving her with the four young suitors and her new teacher.

“Well then,” she said, looking them over, trying to appear cool and confident, just as her father emerged, yawning and surprised, from the cottage behind her. “I suppose it’s best to begin at the beginning. I’m Mari.”

T
O
date, Sarah and Nan’s efforts at finding something useful to do had been no more successful than their attempts at teaching. This left both of them feeling more than a bit frustrated, so Memsa’b finally elected fill their idle hours with transcribing certain old, rare books she had on loan to her into typewritten manuscripts. Neither of them particularly enjoyed the work—you couldn’t type and actually
read
at the same time—but at least it felt like they were accomplishing something, and certainly the work was improving their typing skills.

It was with great relief, therefore, that they got a summons from Lord Alderscroft. Or not a summons precisely, more a carefully worded request, that if Memsa’b could spare them, he might have something he needed their observational abilities for.

Nan had scarcely finished reading the invitation aloud when Sarah had her hat and was looking for someone to hitch the pony to the little two-person trap for them.

It was now summer, and anyone with any means at all tried to be out of London in summer. The buildings and pavement trapped heat, and the heat generated, and trapped, some of the most
appalling odors… rendering the city something of a misery. Alderscroft, who in winter preferred to reside in his club, was no exception to this habit of escape. He had built an expensive and very Indian summer bungalow on the edge of the estate, right on the river. That made it easy for his friends and associates to come to him without disturbing or disrupting anything at the school. It was far enough away from the school—for the lands that had come with the manor were quite extensive—that all but the oldest and most adventuresome of the children found it too wearying to venture there. But the proximity and the means of a pony-cart made it possible for him to pay congenial visits to the school at will and vice versa. With the birds clinging to the back of the seat, the girls sent the pony at a brisk trot toward their goal.

The place was closed and locked up as soon as London became livable again, for most of the work of the Wizard of London was by necessity
in
London. Constructed as it was to the Indian model, the place would have been a frozen nightmare to live in during the winter, but in the summer it was heaven.

When the girls pulled up to the front of the house and beneath the airy shade of the portico, one of the servants was at the pony’s head so quickly it almost seemed that he had apported there. Sarah, who was driving, tossed him the reins, and the two girls were handed out of the trap by a second servant, and as the birds landed on their shoulders, they were conducted into the cool, breezy depths of the building.

As they knew, it was constructed like the capital letter H, with the center bar being very fat, the better to catch every breeze. In India, such a house would have been thatched. Here, it was roofed with clay tiles, whose red color contrasted pleasingly with the white walls. As much wall-space as possible was devoted to windows, overhung by the roof to keep the direct sun out. A wide, roof-shaded, slat-floored veranda encircled the house, with rattan furnishings, softened with cushions, arranged on it. It was always possible to find some part of the veranda that was out of the sun, no matter what time of day it was. All the windows were wide
open, with netting and gauze curtains keeping the insects out. Lord Alderscroft was not on the veranda in the front of the house, but as Nan had expected, the servant escorted them through the foyer, the sitting room, and the dining room that comprised the bar of the H, and out to the part of the veranda at the rear of the house, facing the river. There was Alderscroft, enjoying the cool breeze off the water, with a gin and tonic at one hand.

He rose to meet them. “Thank you for coming so quickly, my dear ladies,” he said, as the servant pulled out cushioned rattan seats for both of them and arranging a perch for each bird. “I would like to believe that your haste indicates your esteem for me—” he laughed a little, “but I fear it indicates the depth of your boredom.”

“My lord, I would never say that,” Sarah replied with a grin. “But we are certainly anxious to hear what it is you believe we can do for you.”

He waited until they were seated, with lemonades in their hands, before taking his own seat again. “I trust you ladies are familiar with the exploits of Conan Doyle’s famous detective?”

The manservant busied himself with filling the cups on the birds’ perches with water and cut fruit.

It was Nan’s turn to grin. “It would be more difficult to find someone at the Harton School who is not,” she pointed out. “Memsa’b’s investigations rely quite heavily on his methods, and she has drilled us in them extensively.”

Lord Alderscroft relaxed visibly. “Ah, well then, there is much that I will not need to explain. Good! Here is my difficulty. The Elementals have been telling us that there is a new, and potentially quite powerful, Water Master out in the hinterlands on the west coast of Wales. Normally this would not be a problem; I would simply send a Water Master out there, he would introduce himself, we would make sure that the new Master was getting appropriate training, explain matters insofar as how we do things these days, let him know that if he were to run into difficulties he only had to call on us, then leave him alone until he decided to join the White Lodge.”

Nan nodded; that was sensible. There was no point in exerting pressure on someone who was already feeling the pressure of learning his magic. It made more sense to—well, to introduce the Lodge as “good neighbors,” then tactfully withdraw. A bit like leaving a calling card. “I take it that there are unforeseen complications this time?”

Alderscroft sipped his gin-and-tonic, and frowned. “I
believe
, although I do not know for certain, that there are other… interests… involved. Elemental Elder spirits, perhaps, like your ‘little’ friend from when you were children.”

Nan blinked at that. She knew who Alderscroft was referring to, of course. The Puck. Robin Goodfellow; identified, rightly or wrongly, as a “fairy.” Whatever a “fairy” might be. Some Elemental creatures were just that, and some “fairies” were definitely Elemental creatures. But some defied that label, or, indeed, any label at all. The Puck was one of them. God? An echo of Sylvan Pan? Perhaps. He claimed to be the “oldest old thing in all of Britain.” For certain, though, he was extremely powerful, and if he was not a god, he certainly had godlike powers.

“I didn’t know there was more than one like him,” she said carefully, for she had learned from the Puck himself that it wasn’t wise to name something unless you were willing to call it to you, and it wasn’t wise to call it unless you really needed to.

“Oh, there are. There could be many; even I don’t know how many. They simply tend not to interest themselves in mere mortals very often. The only reason we know as much about the Wild Boy as we do is because he
does
favor mortals, and is inclined to mix himself up in their business.” Alderscroft finished his drink, and waved away the servant who made to refill it. “No, thank you, Dalton, that is enough for now. In matters like the one we are discussing, it is a good idea to keep a very clear head.”

“A lemonade instead, my lord?” the servant suggested. Nan recognized him now; one of Alderscroft’s very personal servants from his entourage at the club. Of course, they knew him for what he was—they themselves were Elemental mages, albeit minor ones.
Just as most of Memsa’b’s servants and teachers were themselves gifted psychically. “Or a lager and lime?”

“Excellent suggestion. Lemonade, with a little less sugar than the ladies are taking.” As the manservant nodded and took the empty glass, Alderscroft turned his attention back to the girls.

“So since there seems to be a greater power involved here, the Water Elementals are outright refusing to tell us
who
this new Master or potential Master is. This isn’t unprecedented. But normally it takes place somewhere that we already have a Master in place or nearby. We have nothing and no one in Wales.” He coughed a little with embarrassment. “Political situation, of course. Not as cursed difficult as Ireland, but…”

Both Nan and Sarah nodded. It was Sarah who ventured the next question. “I can see that, my lord, but I don’t quite understand how we figure into this.”

“Well, to begin with, you’re women. You’re sharp, you’re clever, you’re observant—and you’re women.” He cocked his head at them. “D’you see where I’m going?”

“People expect a girl to be negligible, unthreatening, curious as two cats, gossipy, and poking her nose into everything,” Nan said bluntly, with a feral smile on her face. “But still, we aren’t Elemental magicians. We can’t actually see the sorts of things they can, or even see the Elementals—”