Wrede, Patricia C - Mairelon 01 (9 page)

           
He asked
Kim a few more offhand questions, but his suspicions seemed to be laid to rest.
"That's all, I think," he said at last. He turned to the bowl and
raised a hand, then paused and looked at Kim. "Why
did
you decide
to leave
London
with us?
Curiosity again?"

           
Kim
swallowed. "Yes," she said, and the bowl flickered.

           
Mairelon
looked from her face to the bowl and lowered his hand. "There is more, I
think?"

           
"It ain't nothin' to do with you!"

           
The light
held steady, and Mairelon nodded. "Perhaps it is not, now. However, we
will be returning to
London
eventually, and I don't like the possibility of a nasty surprise waiting for
me."

           
"He
ain't waitin' for
you
," Kim muttered.

           
"Nevertheless,
I should like to know who 'he' is, and why you considered it so important to
remove yourself from his vicinity.
Particularly if the reason
is something that is likely to interest the constables."

           
"It
ain't the nabbing culls I'm worried on," Kim said, scowling. "It's
Laverham." She sighed. "I suppose now I got to tell you."

           
"Have
to. I would appreciate it. Who is Laverham?"

           
Kim took
a deep breath and began trying to explain her antipathy to Dan Laverham.
Mairelon waved her to silence after a few sentences.

           
"I'll
take your word for it that the man is unpleasant," the magician said.
"But what set you off?"

           
"He
was at Tom's shop, where I took those flash togs you asked me to get rid of. He
asked a lot of questions, and one of his men tried to follow me when I
left."

           
Mairelon
frowned. "He had you followed?
How far?"

           
"Half
a block in the wrong direction; I tipped him the double right off."

           
"And
you're sure it was you he was interested in?"

           
Kim
shrugged. "What else? Laverham's been aching to get his fambles on me
since before old Mother Tibb stuck her spoon in the wall."

           
"Who
is Mother Tibb?" Mairelon asked.

           
"She
raised me and some others," Kim said shortly. "She's dead." She
didn't want to talk about Mother Tibb. Even after two years, talking brought
back memories of the skinny old woman's terrified howls as the constables
hauled her off to prison, and of the hangman's steady tread and the sickening
thud as the trapdoors dropped away beneath the feet of his line of victims. Kim
preferred to remember the dubious safety and fleeting camaraderie of the
earlier years, when she thought of Mother Tibb at all.

           
"I'm
sorry," Mairelon said gently. He paused. "About Laverham--" He
made her describe her brief encounter in as much detail as she could remember.
At last he paused and said, "All right, I'll agree that he seems to have
been after you. But if anything else like that happens, or if you run into
Laverham or any of his men again, tell me."

           
Kim
nodded. Mairelon turned to the still-glowing silver bowl and moved both hands
in a swift, complicated gesture above it. The light gathered around the rim of
the bowl, as though something were sucking it upward. Then, with a faint
popping noise, the lamp flared into life and the glow of the bowl vanished.

           
Mairelon
smiled in satisfaction and began setting the wagon to rights. The extended lamp
hook folded neatly and invisibly back into the wall beside the door, the ashes
of the herbs were thrown outside, and the Saltash Bowl was wiped and wrapped in
velvet once more. Kim watched for a few minutes in silence before reminding
Mairelon that he had promised to explain to her what was really going on.

           
"So
I did. The story really starts about fifteen years ago, when old Lord Saltash
died. He left a rather large bequest to the Royal College of Wizards. You've
heard of the
Royal
College
,
I trust?"

           
"As much as anybody."

           
"Mmmm.
Well, Saltash fancied himself a magician, and
he'd collected a tremendous number of odds and ends of things that he thought
ought to be properly investigated. He dumped the lot on the College. Most of
them turned out to be quite worthless, but--"

           
"That's
why you called it the Saltash Bowl!" Kim said. "It was part of the
rum cull's collection!"

           
"Yes,
though I wouldn't call Saltash a rum cull. The bowl is only part of the
grouping; there's a silver platter that matches it, and four carved balls of
different sizes. Together, they're the key to a very interesting spell."

           
"Making
people tell the truth," Kim said, nodding.

           
"I
don't think you realize what that means," Mairelon said testily.
"It's easy enough to bind someone
not
to do things, but a spell to
force a person to
speak
, and to speak only the truth, without
interfering with the ability to answer intelligently--well, it's remarkable.
Most control spells are obvious; they make the people they're used on act like
sleepwalkers. But the Saltash group--"

           
"All right!"
Kim said hastily. "It's bang-up.
What next?"

           
"The
Royal
College
spent a good deal of time, here and there, trying to duplicate the spell on the
grouping. No one ever succeeded, and the Saltash group became a curiosity. And
then, four years ago, it was stolen."

           
Mairelon
paused. "It was stolen," he repeated, "
in
such a way that it appeared that I was the thief."

           
"You
were in the
Royal
College
?"
Kim asked.

           
Mairelon
blinked, as if he had expected some other response. Then he smiled slightly.
"Yes, I was. Under another name, you understand."

           
"Richard
Merrill?"

           
"You
are
a shrewd one. Yes, that is my name."

           
"But
you ain't the sharper who nicked the bowl."

           
"No.
If I hadn't been lucky enough to run into Edward, though, I'd have no way of
proving it. The evidence was overwhelming. Even my brother Andrew believed
it."

           
Kim
snorted. "He's a noodle, then."

           
Mairelon's
face lost its set look, and he laughed. "A surprisingly apt description,
I'm afraid."

           
"So
why didn't this Edward cove tell anybody that you ain't the one who lifted them
things?"

           
"Those things, Kim, not them things.
At the time, it
was . . . convenient to have an excuse for leaving the country quickly."

           
"How
do you mean?" Kim asked suspiciously.

           
"I
was spying on the French," Mairelon said baldly.

           
"Oh."

           
"And
there was my pride, too.
Hubris, the failing of the gods.
I wanted to recover the stolen items myself, you see. I thought I'd find out
who was behind the theft. Someone at the College was involved, I'm certain. I
asked Edward to let me try."

           
"And
that's how you got hold of that bowl?"

           
"It
took me a year to track it down after the war ended. It was in a little town in
Germany
,
property of the local Baron. He'd picked it up as a souvenir of
England
,
and he was incredibly stubborn about selling it."

           
Kim
thought back to the conversation she'd inadvertently overheard. "So now
you're going to Ranton Hill to find the platter part. What about the rest of
it?"

           
"I
can use each piece to help find the others, and it gets easier the more pieces
I have. With the bowl and the platter together, it won't be hard to locate the
four spheres."

           
"What
about--" Kim's question was interrupted by a peremptory knock at the door.
Mairelon lifted an eyebrow in amusement and went to open it.

           
Hunch
stood outside, his expression clearly disapproving. "You've 'ad your hour,
Master Richard," he said. "And I'd like to know where 'Is Lordship's
sending us off to this time."

           
"
Essex
,"
Mairelon said, and grinned.
"Ranton Hill, to be precise.
Did you have any other questions, Kim? Then, if you'll excuse us, we had better
go and figure out what route will get us there with a minimum of delay. We can
talk more in the morning."

           
For the
next five days, it rained. Torrential downpours alternated with misty drizzle
or bone-chilling showers that made even the best roads treacherous going. The
seldom-frequented lanes used by Mairelon's wagon became a sticky quagmire which
plastered the horses and mired the wagon wheels. Despite Mairelon's best
efforts, their progress slowed to a crawl.

           
None of
them rode; the wagon alone was nearly too heavy for the horses to tow along the
roads. Hunch and Mairelon took turns leading the horses, sliding and stumbling
through cold, oozy mud that sucked at their feet and weighted down their boots
in inch-thick layers. Even Kim sank ankle-deep unless she kept to the verge and
slid on the slippery wet mats of last year's grass instead.

           
By the
time they stopped to camp each night, they were all exhausted, but Mairelon
insisted that Kim continue her lessons no matter how tired she was. It was
easier to agree than argue, so Kim applied herself as best she could to arts
such as reading and legerdemain which could not be conveniently practiced while
marching through the rain. During the day, Mairelon continued her instruction
in what Kim privately called "flash talk." When her voice grew
hoarse, he let her stop and listen while he recited poetry or plays, or
rendered the same speech over and over in a variety of styles and accents.

           
They
slept in the wagon, though Hunch muttered balefully and chewed his mustache
over the arrangement. Kim was not really sure whether he was fretting over
Mairelon's morals or the spoons; by the end of the second day, she no longer
cared. Sleeping in a place that was even approximately dry was far more
important than Hunch's disapproval. Mairelon appeared as unaware of Hunch's
glares as he seemed unconscious of any impropriety, though Kim did not for a
minute believe that he was as oblivious as he looked.

           
On the
sixth morning, Kim followed Hunch out of the wagon to find a steady, soaking
rain falling from an endless sheet of clouds the color of lead. With a snort of
disgust, she pulled the collar of her cloak tighter around her neck in a
hopeless effort to keep the water out. The cloak was Mairelon's, and much worn,
and she had had to tie it up with a length of rope at her waist to keep it from
dragging in the mud. It made a bulky, awkward garment and she was positive that
she would slip and end up covered in mud before the morning was over.

           
"Cheer
up," Mairelon said as he passed her, heading for the horses. "It will
stop before
noon
."

           
"Hah,"
Kim said. She took an injudicious look at the sky, which was still uniformly
leaden, and water dripped down her neck. "Ow!" she said, and glared
after Mairelon.
"If you're so knowin', why ain't you put
a stop to it afore now?"

           
"Haven't,"
Mairelon said absently. "Why
haven't
I put a stop to it before
now.
"

           
"All
right, why haven't you?" Kim said crossly.

           
"Because
weather magic is tricky, time-consuming, costly, and extremely
noticeable," Mairelon replied with commendable patience. "I can't
afford the time or the energy, and I certainly can't afford to be noticed. Not
until we've gotten our hands on the Saltash Platter, at least."

           
He
continued on and Kim scowled after him. "What's the good of traveling with
a wizard if you have to get wet in the rain like other people?" she
muttered.

           
Low as
her voice was, Hunch heard her. "
You'd ought
to
be glad you wasn't left in
London
!"

           
"Why?"
Kim demanded. "At least there I could keep dry. And I wouldn't have to
worry about no nabbing culls, either."

           
"Any."
Mairelon's voice came floating over the heads of the horses. "If the two
of you have finished exchanging pleasantries, it's time we left. Rear doors,
please; Hunch, take the right side, the wheel's sunk a little deeper there, I
think."

           
Kim and
Hunch took up positions on either side of the wagon. "Ready? Now,"
Mairelon called, and they pushed while he urged the horses forward. After a
brief struggle, the wagon rolled forward and they were on the move again.

           
To Kim's
disgust, the rain soon dwindled to a light drizzle. By
noon
it had stopped entirely, and Mairelon was wearing a
smug expression. Kim was more than a little inclined to snarl at him, but in
the past few days she had learned that snarling at Mairelon did little good. He
simply smiled and corrected her grammar.

           
They
stopped early that evening, for travel was still muddy and exhausting. Then,
too, they were less than an hour's travel from Ranton Hill, even with the mud,
and Mairelon had not yet decided whether he wanted the wagon to be much in
evidence when they arrived. With that in mind, he had chosen a campsite where a
small wood came down to meet one side of the road, so that the wagon could be
drawn in among the trees.

           
Hunch
built a large fire while Mairelon and Kim hauled pots and buckets of water from
an irrigation ditch on the other side of the road. When they arrived back at
the camp, they found that Hunch had already hung the dampest of the cloaks and
bedding around the fire, blocking most of the heat. Hunch accepted the buckets
with his most dour expression, and Kim and Mairelon retreated at once to the
far side of the wagon.

           
"What's
got into him?" Kim asked, settling herself onto the footboard at the front
of the wagon.

           
"Hunch
is merely expressing his desire to continue his own activities without
distraction from the two of us," Mairelon explained, leaning against the
wall next to Kim.

           
"Does
that mean he's goin' to start dinner soon?" Kim asked hopefully.

           
"Not
soon, I'm afraid. First he'll want to get as many things cleaned and thoroughly
dried as he can. Resign yourself to scorched bedclothes tonight."

           
Kim made
a scornful noise. "Hunch ain't got
no
sense.
Dinner's more important than blankets."

           
"Don't
try to convince him of that," Mairelon said, smiling. "You won't
succeed, and there's nothing to be gained from trying. Though perhaps I
shouldn't be the one to make that argument; it's my dignity Hunch is trying to
defend, you know."

           
"Ho!
Hunch, worryin' over your dignity?
After
he's been naggin' at you for two days for wearin' that cloak instead of the one
with the patches?"

           
"Yes,
well, Hunch gets these notions from time to time. Have you practiced that
handkerchief trick you were having trouble with?"

           
"I
ai--haven't had time," Kim said. "I can't do it at all on the move,
and we only just got here."

           
"Then
practice it now, before the light goes," Mairelon said, handing her a
handkerchief.

           
Kim
rolled her eyes and spread the handkerchief out on her lap. She flexed her cold
fingers several
times,
trying to limber them up a
little, then began carefully folding and rolling the linen square as Mairelon
had taught her. She was only half finished when Mairelon's head turned and she
heard him murmur, "Now, I wonder who that is?"

           
Kim
looked up. Through the screen of trees she saw a coach-and-four making its
slow, soggy way up the lane; the heads of two postillions were clearly visible
above the coach's roof. Kim blinked in surprise. What was a bang-up turnout
like that doing on a quiet farm lane? And where was it heading?

           
"Exactly
what I would like to know," Mairelon said, and Kim realized that she had
spoken aloud. Kim glanced at him and saw that he was frowning slightly.
"And we're not going to find out sitting here."

           
Without
waiting for Kim to respond, Mairelon pushed himself away from the wagon, pulled
his shapeless, still-damp hat farther down on his head, and started briskly off
into the trees in the same direction that the coach was traveling. Kim blinked,
then dropped the handkerchief and scrambled after him.

           
The coach
passed them a few minutes later. Screened by the small trees and untrimmed
scrub along the edge of the woods, Mairelon and Kim studied it. Kim could hear
loud female laughter from the carriage windows, but the curtains were drawn and
she could not see who was inside. The driver and postillions were wrapped in
driving cloaks against the damp, and their faces were impassive.

           
"Blast!"
Mairelon said softly as the carriage lurched on by. "Can you keep up with
it, Kim?"

           
"I
don't know about that coach, but I can keep up with you right enough," Kim
answered. "But shouldn't we go back and tell Hunch where we're
goin'?"

           
"If
we do that, we'll lose it," Mairelon said, ducking under a low-hanging
branch. "You're right, though; Hunch should know. Why don't you--"

           
"I
ain't goin' back now," Kim interrupted in as firm a tone as she could
manage while trying to follow Mairelon's erratic path among the trees.

           
"All
right," Mairelon said to her surprise. "But when Hunch finds
out--look, they're turning off!"

           
The coach
was indeed easing its way off of the lane and into the woods. From where Kim
stood, it looked almost as if the coach were trying to force its way through
the trees, but when she and Mairelon reached the spot a moment later, they
found another lane leading into the woods.

           
"That
driver is good," Mairelon commented, eyeing the trail. "This is
hardly more than a deer path."

           
"You
goin' to stand there jawing or get on after that coach?" Kim asked
pointedly. "It's gettin' dark."

           
"So
it is," Mairelon said. "Come along."

           
The trail
wound through the trees almost as erratically as Mairelon had, and the curves
hid the coach from sight. Fortunately the imprint of the wheels in the soft
ground was easy to follow, and they made better time now that they did not have
to worry about being seen. Even so, walking became more difficult as the light
faded. Kim was about to suggest that they turn back before they lost their way
completely when Mairelon stopped.

           
"Look
there!" he said in a low voice, pointing.

           
Kim, who
had been concentrating on following the coach tracks through the deepening
gloom, looked up. Light danced among the trees. "Some
cull's
lit a fire on the hill, looks like."

           
"It
does indeed," Mairelon said. "And I'll lay you odds
that's
where our coach is headed."

           
"Doesn't
look like it to me," Kim said, though without a great deal of conviction.
The trail they followed did not, at the moment, appear to head in the direction
of the bonfire, but that did not mean it would not shift its bearing on the far
side of the next bend.

           
"Let's
find out, shall we?" Mairelon said with his most charming smile, and,
turning, he headed for the bonfire.

           
After a
moment's hesitation, Kim followed. Sticking with Mairelon was certainly safer
than trying to continue after the coach alone and in the dark, and she was
decidedly uninterested in going back to the camp and explaining all this to
Hunch without Mairelon's support. Besides, she was at least as curious about
the bonfire as she was about the coach and Mairelon's interest in it.

           
The fire
was farther away than it looked; it took ten minutes of brisk walking to reach
the foot of the short, steep hill with the fire on top. Kim was a little
surprised at the way the hill poked up out of the flat ground, but she supposed
that things were different in the country than in
London
.
The hill was bare of trees except for a single large trunk at the top, clearly
visible in the firelight, and the grassy slope had been recently scythed.

           
Several
young men stood around the fire in the positions of people waiting for
something and rather bored with doing so. One was staring down the far side of
the hill; three others squatted over a game of dice, while two more watched and
contributed unrequested advice; another drank surreptitiously from a pocket
flask. Their voices carried clearly to the edge of the forest.

           
"Meredith's
late again," the man with the flask commented.

           
"So's
Robert," one of the others said. "Maybe they've got better things to
do on a cold, damp night like this."

           
"What,
in the country?" said the man next to him.

           
"No
main," said one of the dicers. "Throw again."

           
"It's
Robert's turn to bring the girls," a fifth man spoke up. "He'll
probably come along with them."