A Distant Magic

by Mary Jo Putney

  The rest of the day passed quickly as they traveled to Moses's family compound and settled in. The sprawling Fontaine household had multiple courtyards that contained fountains and gardens. Moses said it was modeled after the family compound in Zanzibar. Jean was entranced by the way inside and outside flowed together. Not like Scotland, where a house's main purpose was to keep the weather safely outside.

  Moses's parents greeted Jean as if she had personally saved their son's life instead of merely being his tutor. The Falconers were the true rescuers; if Meg and Simon ever came to Marseilles, they would be treated like royalty. In the meantime, the Fontaines lavished their gratitude on Jean.

  After a sumptuous dinner that combined the best of French cooking with some African dishes spiced differently from anything Jean had ever tasted, the elders tactfully withdrew so that Jean and her four friends could talk in private. The salon where they gathered had a balcony open to the mild night air. As Jean sipped excellent sherry, she thought she could become very fond of Mediterranean living.

  The weddings were still weeks away, but the three women discussed the details until Jemmy and Moses looked ready to flee. Taking pity on the men, Jean turned the topic to magic. "I see a shimmer of energy connecting you. Do you still feel as closely linked as when you were in England?"

  The four exchanged glances. "Yes, though it's different from when Lord Drayton had us enthralled," Lily said.

  "And God be thanked for that!" Breeda added.

  "We are always aware of one another's feeling and presence," Moses said, "but we've had no need to meld our powers."

  "So we've not killed anyone lately," Jemmy finished with acid humor.

  "I'm glad to hear that." Jean took another sip of sherry, knowing that wasn't a joke. "But you've become most adept at finishing one another's sentences."

  Moses shrugged. "We are part of one another, Miss Jean. Marriage is the logical next step." His warm gaze went to Lily.

  Breeda reached out to take Jemmy's hand. "We would wither if separated."

  Power made it possible for mates to join with special intensity. Jean had seen that among the Guardian families, most closely with her parents and now her brother and his wife. She had loved Robbie, and his death had left a hole in her heart that no other man had ever filled. Losing him had devastated her, so perhaps it was just as well that marriage to a Guardian wasn't in her future. If the closeness was greater than she'd known with him, loss would be beyond bearing.

  "Have you studied magic since coming here?" Though individually none of them but Moses had unusual power, when they worked together they were rather terrifying. "I've wondered, but, of course, it's not the sort of thing one can ask in a letter."

  "Several French Guardians worked with us, teaching shielding and control." Lily turned her glass goblet in her hand, her expression troubled. "Those lessons were welcome, but I haven't wanted to go further. My experiences with serious magic have not been pleasant. I enjoy helping others with my potions and lotions. That is enough."

  The others silently nodded. "We're not really Guardians, Miss Jean," Breeda said. "I hope Lord and Lady Falconer won't be too disappointed to hear how we haven't pursued our studies."

  Jean smiled ruefully. "I'm not much of a Guardian myself, so I'm in no position to chastise you. I sometimes think magic is more trouble than it's worth." Though it could be most useful when one was in trouble.

  Conversation drifted to other topics until Breeda rose, smothering a yawn. "I'm for bed now. Tomorrow we can show you more of the city, Miss Jean. Is there anything in particular you would like to see? The chapel of Notre Dame de la Garde is splendid, and it has the most magnificent views of the city."

  "I should love to see the chapel, and any other sights you deem worthy." Jean debated before adding, "It's very low of me, but I also wish to buy gifts for friends and family. There's no rush on that, though, since I'll be here for months."

  Lily chuckled. "Breeda and I will be happy to help you spend your money. One of the best places in the city is actually the Fontaine showroom. Though the family business is primarily importing, several years ago Moses thought to open an emporium to sell directly to the public. It has been a great success."

  "And you will get very special prices," Moses added.

  "I will pay the usual price," Jean said firmly. "I am already benefiting by your generosity."

  "We shall see," Lily said mischievously as she rose and said good night. Breeda and Jemmy followed her from the room, their hands linked.

  Not yet ready to retire, Jean took her remaining sherry out to the balcony. Moses joined her. "Will you need a guide back to your chambers, Miss Jean?"

  She laughed. "I might. Maison Fontaine is the next thing to a labyrinth."

  "I shall escort you back when you're ready." He smiled, his teeth a white flash against his dark skin. "And provide you with a spool of thread so you can mark your way in the future."

  "I may take you up on that." She gazed out at the scattered lights of the city and the dark curve of the sea beyond. "It's beautiful here, but do you miss Africa?"

  He leaned on the railing, his dark face limned by moonlight. "Sometimes. I was only a child when we left Zanzibar, but twice I accompanied my father back for long visits. Though he took the family name Fontaine and lives as a French gentleman, he does not want us to forget our roots."

  "You won't. But if your children are born here, they will."

  He sighed. "I know. And they will be half European, caught between two worlds even more than I."

  "We are all outsiders in some way. Those who have magic stand apart from those who don't." She finished her sherry in one swallow. "Guardians with little power are apart from those who are great mages. And men and women seem to be entirely different breeds much of the time."

  He laughed. "You're right. My true home is in Lily, Jemmy, and Breeda. All of us outsiders, yet together whole."

  "It's something of a miracle that the flower of love and friendship has grown out of the despair of your experiences." Would she have been willing to endure the enslavement of her selfhood and will if the reward was a deep and lasting love like that which joined her friends? Probably not—the thought of losing her soul to an evil man like Drayton was too horrifying.

  "The others have put aside magic," Moses said hesitantly. "That has not been entirely true of me."

  She wasn't surprised by his admission. "You always seemed the most interested in the subject. What have you learned?"

  "I asked a ship captain who carries much merchandise for my father to find me an African shaman, and he did. Sekou stayed in Marseilles and tutored me for a year and a day. He said there were things he must teach me that would be essential later."

  When he fell silent, Jean asked, "What did you learn? Are European and African forms of magic different?"

  "In some ways they are like, in others unlike. The ancestors are very powerful in African magic." His voice gathered intensity. "I learned so much, Miss Jean! Sekou guided me in an initiation where I walked on other worlds. Not physically, of course, but in my mind. Yet so clear, so vivid, that if I touched fire, I was burned. I learned from Sekou that some African shamans have special abilities to work with time and place that I've not heard of in European magic. I don't know if I have those abilities, but he taught me the techniques, and I practice daily. A lifetime would not be enough to learn it all." He caught himself. "Forgive my enthusiasm. I have wanted to speak of this, but the others have not been keen on hearing."

  "I'd like to learn more, if you have the time to tell me," Jean said, fascinated. "My brother's wife is a scholar of magic, and she won't forgive me if I waste such an opportunity to acquire more knowledge."

  "I will share willingly." His expression turned grim. "One reason I decided to study more was the need to wield magic to protect myself. There are those who see a black man in the streets and think him a slave for the stealing. Twice I have been attacked by gangs who wanted to capture and enslave me
. Once I was able to fight my way free with my fists. The other time…" He shook his head. "Without magic, I might now be working in the sugar plantations of the Indies. But I do not like having blood on my hands."

  She winced at his flat recitation. "I've heard that happens in England as well. It didn't occur to me that a man who is clearly a gentleman like you would be at risk."

  "Black is black," he said drily. "The rest is mere clothing. I've not told the others this, though perhaps Jemmy suspects that I have had trouble. I don't want Lily to know that...that I had to kill a man to preserve my freedom."

  "I won't tell her." Jean's eyes narrowed. "If you want absolution for killing to save yourself, you have mine, for what it's worth."

  He exhaled softly. "I think that is what I wanted. Thank you, Miss Jean." He offered her his arm. "Shall I escort you back to your chambers?"

  "Please do, Monsieur Fontaine." She took his arm. "And don't forget the spool of thread for future travels!"

  Chapter

  SIX

  Though Jean would have liked to spend more time learning about African magic from Moses, the following weeks were a flurry of sightseeing, picnics and balls, and preparing for the weddings. Annie was the ideal companion because she also wanted to see everything and was eager to visit any church or hike any hill. Lily and Breeda would join their excursions, and Moses and Jemmy came when they weren't working.

  Occasionally, as they enjoyed the mild, sunny days, Jean and Annie would speculate on what dreadful storms were battering the hills of Scotland. Jean had a tingly, magical feeling that she actually did know what the weather was like in Dunrath, but there was no way to be sure she was right. Maybe she just had a good imagination.

  The weddings, when they finally took place, were beautiful. Breeda had laughingly insisted on a separate ceremony, saying that she didn't want to be overshadowed by Lily on her own wedding day. She needn't have worried—she was beautiful, her bright hair blazing under a lace veil, and Jemmy gazed at her as if she were the only woman in the world. A glow of light surrounded them, their love made visible to those with the power to see it.

  That afternoon, Lily and Moses were joined in an equally moving ceremony. Jean wept unashamedly, as she had that morning. As she blotted her eyes, she had the ironic thought that both couples owed something to the despicable Lord Drayton. His wicked enthrallment had brought four strangers together and created deep, lasting bonds. These marriages had been forged in fire.

  After the lavish wedding feast presided over by Moses's beaming parents, the newlyweds traveled to a private estate in the country for a fortnight's honeymoon. There each couple would have the privacy to explore their new relationship, but they also had the company of their dearest friends.

  The Fontaine household was very quiet the next day as everyone recovered from the festivities, but Jean woke on Monday full of energy and determination. As she sipped her morning chocolate in bed, Annie entered the room, already dressed. "I look forward to another peaceful day, Miss Jean."

  "One day of quiet was enough. It's time I visited the Fontaine emporium. I haven't done a lick of shopping yet, and I have dozens of people to buy presents for." Invigorated by the prospect, Jean finished her hot chocolate. "Will you join me?"

  "Not today, miss. I need to mend clothes and write letters home." Annie moved to the wardrobe that held Jean's clothing and began to look for garments in need of work. "I'll go there another day, if you tell me there are pretty things I can afford."

  "Very well." Jean rose and rescued her favorite green calico gown from Annie's growing collection. "This can wait for mending. The tie that's broken isn't visible."

  Annie sniffed but allowed it, and soon Jean was sharing a carriage to the waterfront with Monsieur Fontaine, Moses's father. A large man with a powerful presence, he was a gray-haired version of his son. In the previous weeks, as Jean had questioned Moses about African magic in odd moments, she'd learned that his father and mother both had some power. With that dual inheritance, Moses had surpassed both parents in his abilities.

  As Monsieur Fontaine helped Jean from the carriage, he said, "You will have a peaceful time this morning. Most days the showroom is open to the public, but on Mondays only other merchants and very special private customers are allowed in." His African accent was heavy, but his French was fluent, and he spoke some English as well. As he ushered her into the building, he added, "And you are a very special customer."

  The showroom was part of the sprawling stone Fontaine warehouse that covered a whole block on the Marseilles waterfront. The working part of the warehouse faced the harbor. On the street that ran past the back, a modest but attractive entrance had been created. Lemon trees in tubs flanked the doorway, and a small brass plaque said simply FONTAINE. Lily had said that on busy days, the street was jammed with the carriages of those who came to find rare and special goods.

  Inside, Jean surveyed her surroundings with interest. The large room was divided into cubicles, each containing one type of merchandise. On a public day, each area would contain a salesman to help and guard, but today the emporium was almost empty. "The windows you put up by the ceiling light the space very well."

  "And make thievery more difficult than lower windows. Moses suggested putting the clerestories in when we decided to open the public showroom." Monsieur Fontaine took a wicker basket from a stack by the door and gave it to her to carry her selections. "Though we specialize in African goods, there is much that comes from other lands as well. Choose whatever interests you, then we can discuss the prices."

  "You must promise to give yourself a profit," she said firmly. "The Fontaine family is large and needs to make money."

  He smiled. "I promise that I will charge you more than the cost, but not full price. We owe you too much."

  "Lord and Lady Falconer rescued your son, not me."

  "But they are not here." His voice softened. "Moses has told me what it meant for four battered souls to come under your protection. He said that you and Lady Bethany Fox were their sanctuary. You made them human again."

  There was truth to that, though Jean was still embarrassed to be the recipient of such gratitude. "It's the most rewarding work I've ever done."

  He inclined his head. "I shall be in the offices if you need me. The doors are locked to the public, so you will not be disturbed." He turned and headed for the emporium offices.

  Jean decided to start with a quick swing around the showroom to get an idea of what was available before she began shopping in earnest. Her resolve was continually tested as she found treasure after treasure. There were textiles, beads, and brasswork from Africa, silks and porcelain and lacquerwork from China, spices from the East, jewels from India, and much more. She would be able to buy a lifetime's worth of gifts here. Peeling off her gloves so she could feel the textures, she moved through the labyrinth of display rooms.

  In the far-left corner she found an alcove devoted to buttons. Since two women were there, she started to withdraw. The taller woman made a beckoning motion with her hand. "M'selle, if you visited a modiste, would you be willing to buy such buttons?"

  On her palm lay several buttons of different materials. One was carved green jade, another red cinnabar, others enameled with Chinese designs. "These are wonderful!" Jean replied. "I would certainly be interested if I were your customer."

  The woman indicated the signs showing price and origin, which sat neatly beside each dish of buttons. "My sister says they are too dear."

  Jean saw the prices and blinked. "Dear indeed, but very attractive. They would add distinction to any gown."

  "We have an atelier in Paris," the shorter sister explained. "We come here every year to find rare goods, but our customers are of the middling sort, not wealthy. I do not wish to sink a fortune into Asian buttons." The words were clearly aimed at her sister.

  "Perhaps you could buy a sampling of different styles and your customers can order more if they wish?" Jean suggested. "With the understanding tha
t the set might not be precisely like your sample, but would be the same material and general look. If you talked to Monsieur Fontaine, I'm sure he'd be happy to supply buttons on that basis."

  The taller woman looked thoughtful. "That should work. Thank you, m'selle."

  As the sisters debated which samples to select, Jean headed to the first quadrant of the showroom to begin serious shopping. The Parisiennes seemed to think that she was French, which pleased her. The weeks in Marseilles had improved her accent.

  In a room filled with shining brasswork from Africa and Asia, she chose a large Chinese teapot with engraved patterns as a gift for her sister-in-law. For Lady Bethany, her honorary grandmother and friend, she picked a lovely ivory carving of a rhinoceros. Lady Beth had said once that the rhinoceros was the African version of a unicorn, and she had a fondness for unicorns.

  After the sisters left with their bulging baskets, Jean had the showroom to herself. She filled one basket, set it by the door into the offices, and began to fill another basket. She was examining the area that displayed African beadwork when a man entered the showroom from the warehouse side.

  Forgetting her manners, she stared in frank appreciation at one of the handsomest men she'd ever seen. The newcomer was dressed with expensive European elegance, but his strong features and dark coloring surely came from some more exotic land. Lean and a little above average height, he moved like a man who walked in dangerous places. And wherever he walked, women would notice.

  The newcomer was so compelling that it took Jean several moments to realize that he was followed by a servant, or perhaps a slave, a black African who carried a basket for his master. The elegant gentleman examined several lengths of fabric before placing two in the basket, then moving to the next area.

  Since he was coming toward her, Jean returned her attention to the bead necklaces she had been examining. They were so lovely and varied that she wanted to buy them all. Not all women would enjoy jewelry of such barbaric splendor, but Meg, the Countess of Falconer, would love this broad collar of brilliant red beads and tiny shells, while this delicate necklace of silver links and sparkling gemstones would be perfect for Duncan's small daughter.