A Distant Magic

by Mary Jo Putney

  Falconer knew it, too. When Nikolai and Jean were ushered into a handsome study, the earl looked up with a dangerous glint in his eye. "You used magic to persuade my butler to bring you up, Mr. Gregory, which is interesting. I trust you will make this worth my time."

  Jean had warned him that the earl was one of the sharpest men in England. It was hard to guess Falconer's age, though he must have been near fifty. He had fine lines around his eyes and mouth, but he was lean and fit. Nikolai thought the man was wearing a wig, then realized it was his natural blond hair accented with silver. He was every inch an aristocrat. "You will not regret this, Lord Falconer. Please allow me a moment to explain our unusual circumstances."

  "Proceed."

  "Jean Macrae and I have come through time to support the abolition movement," Nikolai said bluntly. "Jean doesn't want to know anything about her personal life, or about the deaths of family and friends. She said you would respect her wishes in this."

  "Jean?" Falconer's gaze moved to the black-clad figure holding Nikolai's arm. He was utterly still.

  "Indeed it's me, Simon." She pulled back the black veil to reveal her face. She looked pale and tense at this meeting. "As Nikolai said, I don't want to know of personal tragedies—I would rather think that all my family and friends are alive and well even if I can't reveal myself to them. And I don't want to hear that I'm dead, either!"

  "Most are indeed well, but I shall say no more. You have come through time, you say?" He studied her thoughtfully. If he was shocked, he concealed it well. "It must be true since you look barely out of the schoolroom. Tell me everything, starting with the identity of your companion." His eyes narrowed as he studied Nikolai. "He is no Guardian, but he is certainly a mage."

  "So I have discovered." Jean removed her bonnet and the trailing veil. "His true name is Nikolai Gregorio, and he has a most interesting background."

  "Then, we shall need refreshments to carry us through your story." The earl gave instructions to a servant, and they took seats around the fire. Jean told most of the story. Nikolai thought that there was an appealing symmetry in the fact that they were seeking the aid of a black African workingman and a pale English aristocrat. Falconer was everything that Jean had said—focused, intelligent, and radiating power.

  Jean ended by saying, "Are we chasing rainbows, Simon? Adia, our African priestess, says that a serious abolition movement will be founded in about twenty years. Has it any chance of success?"

  A line formed between Falconer's brows. "Slavery has been with us since the first tribal warrior defeated another and forced him to work. But society is changing. There are already people who think slavery is wrong, and more will come to agree. It's quite possible that the groundwork for a broad movement is being laid now." He frowned. "Though I do not approve of slavery, I must admit I haven't examined my investments with an eye as to whether any of them support the slave trade. I must do so."

  Jean had said that Falconer was one of the most progressive members of the House of Lords, so the fact that he hadn't thought much about slavery was significant. Would that all men were so willing to consider the subject when it was brought to their attention. "Society has many troubles that need addressing," Nikolai said. "Can abolition compete with issues that are closer to hand?"

  "Eventually. Inventions are being developed that will reduce the need for slave labor. Will it happen in our lifetimes?" Falconer shook his head. "That I cannot say."

  "There are really two issues," Jean said. "First we must stop the slave trade so people are no longer captured and shipped across the sea. Then those already in slavery must be freed."

  The earl nodded. "Ending the trade is a good beginning and it's more achievable than emancipation, but powerful forces will oppose you. The West Indies lobby is vastly wealthy, with connections to every corner of the ruling class. One of the largest plantations in Jamaica is owned by the Church of England."

  Nikolai's lips tightened. "Not very Christian behavior."

  "The good bishops would be shocked at such an accusation," the earl said cynically. "They do not see the blood and pain and misery of the slaves who produce their wealth. It's easy to ignore what you've never seen. They nod complacently and tell one another that the poor Africans are fortunate to enjoy the benefits of Christian living."

  Nikolai swore under his breath. Falconer's brows arched. "Such language in front of a lady."

  Jean gave an unladylike snort. "Surely you know me better, Simon."

  His gaze softened. "Indeed. You've chosen a noble crusade, Jean. You and your…husband?" His glance touched Jean's wedding ring.

  "The ring is part of our masquerade," Nikolai said. "To make it easier for us to work together."

  The earl's lifted brow was eloquent. He didn't need to say a word to convey that the lady had her defenders, and anyone who injured Jean Macrae would be in serious trouble. It was just as well Jean hadn't mentioned that she had been kidnapped.

  Jean leaned forward, her expression intense. "Simon, you are close to the Guardian Council. Will they assist us in ending slavery?"

  Falconer shook his head. "You know that our policy is to interfere with the mundane world as little as possible. If the council gave your efforts official support, it would create great dissension."

  "How could anyone with Guardian sensitivity favor slavery?" she retorted.

  "You'd be surprised," he said drily. "Like the good bishops who run Jamaican plantations at long distance, most Guardians have not seen slavery close up. Many will think it is not our business to interfere. Had you thought much about slavery before you left for the Mediterranean?"

  "No," she admitted. "But we can educate people about how evil it is."

  "For every sad tale of slavery you produce, there will be ten West Indian planters saying how happy their slaves are. Some will start calling slaves 'assistant planters' because it sounds better. They will talk about how their 'assistant planters' receive food and clothing and shelter and medical care, making them more fortunate than the poor of our own cities. They will claim their slaves give thanks for having been removed from the heathen lands of Africa. And they will say that blacks are born to be slaves—it is their place in the natural order of things."

  "That's all rubbish!" Jean exclaimed.

  "Of course it is," Nikolai said. "But Falconer is right—such lies will be spoken in all seriousness. Countering the lies will require the efforts of many people. That is why a large-scale movement is needed. If you and I were the greatest mages in the world, we couldn't do enough to make a real difference." He glanced at the earl. "I am not very familiar with Guardian powers. Is it even possible to change the minds of large numbers of people through magic?"

  Falconer shook his head. "Not in any lasting way. Minds must be changed slowly, though logic is often led by the emotions. Make people gasp in horror at slavery and they are well on their way to opposing it. There was a dreadful case several years ago when the incompetent captain of a slave vessel called the Zong tossed more than a hundred sickly slaves overboard. Then the captain claimed them as an insurance loss, saying he'd had to drown almost half his cargo because he was short of water. That certainly created abolitionist feeling in many of the people who heard of the case.

  "In contrast, even the most powerful mage could do no more than create a temporary revulsion if he cast a spell over a group. Magic would barely touch the surface of people's minds, and the effect would not last long."

  "So the trick is to bring the genuine horrors to people's attention," Nikolai observed.

  "I thought there was a form of magic created by groups?" Jean asked.

  "Yes, but that is different. The energy is generated by the people themselves," Falconer explained. "Everyone has at least a touch of magic in his soul, and when beliefs are strongly held, the group creates a kind of spirit that reflects the essence of their beliefs. It is not a conscious energy, but it has power and its nature tends to attack those that oppose it. The pro-slavery forces have
created such a spirit. To counter that, many people must believe intensely that slavery is wrong and should be ended."

  Nikolai frowned. "I don't understand."

  "I'm not sure anyone does," Falconer said. "I was taught this many years ago, and since then I have seen such energy in action when large groups feel strongly about an issue. Sometimes that spirit is positive, as in a church group. Other times it is negative and destructive. The struggle between pro-and antislavery groups will take place on many levels. The most visible is the political, for only a parliamentary law can stop the slave trade. But the political will be echoed and energized by the opposing spirits. It is your job to win hearts, minds, and souls to your cause."

  Nikolai glanced at Jean. "Do you understand what he's talking about?"

  "Not really." She shrugged. "Perhaps the concept will make more sense later."

  Falconer looked amused. "If you come to understand the principles of group energy, pray explain them to me. I have only the vaguest grasp of such things."

  Fuzzy as the idea was, Nikolai's intuition said it would be important in the future. "Adia said that slavery would end when the mass of people reared up and cried 'Enough!' Perhaps that's what she meant."

  The earl nodded thoughtfully. "Her explanation is better than mine."

  "You said that the Guardian Council won't help us. Will you help, Simon?"

  "Of course. There will be other Guardians who will wish to aid your cause, starting with Meg." He rose from his chair. "I believe she is home. I will explain the situation and bring her to you."

  After the earl left, Nikolai said, "We have acquired a formidable ally."

  "I knew Simon would be on our side, but I'm disappointed that he thinks the council will not help." Jean rose and began circling the room restlessly. "I didn't really think they would, but I hoped I was wrong."

  "Falconer is in a position to influence others. Perhaps engaging his interest is part of our task. As he said, the groundwork must be laid today for change in the future."

  Jean looked thoughtful. "That's true—the notes that Adia wrote up concern mostly public events, but behind-the-scenes encounters like this matter, too."

  The Countess of Falconer was another surprise. Nikolai expected a woman as intimidatingly aristocratic as the earl. Instead, Lady Falconer was dark-haired and petite, with an otherworldly quality that was balanced by the warmth of her gaze. She and Jean fell into each other's arms. "Jean, you look so young! Simon says you've been having such adventures."

  Jean laughed as they ended their hug. "You sound envious, Meg."

  "Only a little." The countess turned to Nikolai. "You will take care of Jean?"

  He bowed. "If she will allow me to, ma'am."

  "Jean is not the most biddable of allies." Lady Falconer subsided on a sofa by the fireplace, gesturing for the others to be seated. "I have always believed slavery was wrong but never thought anything could be done about it. What do you want from us?"

  Her husband sat next to her, and Nikolai was startled to see the way the energy flared between them. The bond was palpable. So this was what a true marriage of mages looked like. The energy between him and Jean was strong, but nothing like this.

  Answering the countess, Jean said, "Two things. First, to speak against slavery when the subject arises. Say it is wrong and cruel and un-Christian. If you speak up for abolition, others will develop the courage to do the same. Second, we may need to use your household for aid and sanctuary as we travel through time." Her mouth twisted. "Though we haven't the vaguest notion of how far the magic will take us."

  "Simon and I shall be here for a good few years to come." Lady Falconer sounded quite certain of that, and since she was a mage, she might actually know.

  The earl said, "We shall need some kind of password that you can offer to the household staff if Meg and I are not here. We shall also speak of this to our children so they will know to offer aid if you appear. Do you need money for your expenses?"

  "Not now, but we may in the future," Jean said.

  "You have only to ask when you need it," he said gravely.

  "I'm so glad you're on our side!" She smiled at Simon, grateful that he was as generous and honorable now as when they'd been children together. "For a password, shall we use 'liberty'?"

  They agreed on that, then Nikolai and Jean prepared to leave. Falconer said, "It is probably best not to come here again unless necessary. You might run into someone you shouldn't meet, Jean."

  She nodded. After hugging both Falconers, she took Nikolai's arm and they left. As they stepped into the street, Nikolai tried to analyze the meeting to find hints of whether he and Jean—or Jean, at least—would survive and return to 1753. Falconer hadn't seemed very surprised to see Jean, which could mean that she had returned to her starting place and told him about the time travel. But he wasn't the kind of man who showed surprise easily, so there was no evidence there. Even if he was genuinely surprised to see her, it might have been because Jean decided not to tell Falconer about her journey through time, even if she did manage to return to her own time.

  The countess had seemed overjoyed to see Jean, which could indicate that she thought her friend had died after disappearing from Marseilles. But clearly the women were close friends. Maybe Lady Falconer had seen Jean in normal time the week before, and was merely happy to see her again.

  A man could go mad trying to deduce what would happen. Time travel was definitely a source of headaches. He wanted to think that Jean would survive and return home because that mattered more to her than to him—yet he couldn't just ask Falconer, because he agreed with Adia that the less said about this mission, the better. It was simpler to stay with things they knew. "You're happy to have seen friends, I think."

  She nodded. "It was a shock to see them aged a dozen years, for it brought the reality of time travel home as nothing else has. Yet I'd been afraid I would never see anyone I loved again. Now I can imagine that my brother and his wife will be joining Simon and Meg for dinner and I just missed them." Her smile was shining. "I feel less alone."

  She had never complained or shown her fears when he'd kidnapped her. He felt a wave of guilt for what he had put her through. Like him, like Adia, like countless thousands of Africans, she had been taken from the world she knew by violence. But if he had not done so, he would not have her for a friend and ally now. "I am only now fully realizing that I gave you the experience that makes it possible for you to sympathize so deeply with slaves. But it was a harsh gift."

  "Very." She gave him a wicked glance. "I forgive you the kidnapping. But I will not let you forget it."

  Jean dropped Nikolai's hands with frustration. "We will have to ask Kofi for help in activating the next bead spell. We can't do it with just the two of us."

  "We came close." Nikolai's face showed the same strain she felt. "I sensed the whirlwind trying to form, but there wasn't quite enough energy to bring the magic alive."

  Jean had felt the same. She studied the bead, which had become warm but was stubbornly intact. "We must learn how to work this magic without help. We can't be sure that we'll always land in London, or even England."

  They had been in London for a month, long enough for Nikolai to get a sense of the city and its people. Now they were both impatient to move on. She reminded herself that another day in this time period would not matter to their mission. But they did need to learn how to manage their own time magic. It would be hard to find other African priests outside of London, and there was a good chance that Guardian magic wouldn't be as effective.

  "I don't know what we would do without the information Adia collected for us," Nikolai observed. "It will be interesting if and when we move beyond her period into terra incognita."

  "'Interesting.' There's that that alarming word again." Jean looked around the room, double-checking that nothing had been left behind. "Onward to Kofi and our next adventure!"

  Chapter

  TWENTY-NINE

  Once more the vort
ex dragged them through time, flaying and dissecting body and soul before painful reassembly. Jean blacked out, hands still locked with Nikolai's to keep them together in the time tunnel.

  Her head cleared with a fresh breeze. She opened her eyes and found herself beside a road that ran between country fields. The day was pleasant, probably late spring or early summer. She was leaning against Nikolai, who looked as dazed as she. A pony cart stood beside them, the pony placidly nibbling at the lush grass growing on the verge.

  Nikolai wrapped an arm around her shoulders, though she wasn't sure who was supporting whom. "Jean, have your wits returned?"

  She exhaled roughly. "That wasn't quite as bad as the first time."

  "Practice improves."

  She looked at the bracelet and saw that the second bead had been consumed. "Do you know where we are?"

  He closed his eyes as he tried to locate them on his mental map. "I believe we're in England somewhere northeast of London."

  She studied their surroundings. "I think I traveled along this road once some years ago. It runs between London and Cambridge." She turned to the pony cart. WELSH'S LIVERY, HIGH STREET, WARE was painted on the side in faded letters. "One wouldn't rent a small cart like this for a trip of any length, so we must be in Hertfordshire. But what the devil are we doing here with a cart? Would the ancestors be able to provide us with transportation?"

  "If they can move us through time, a hired cart can't present much challenge." He grinned. "I would have been more impressed with a coach and four."

  "This is easier to handle. I suppose that since a cart is waiting, we should drive somewhere." A thought struck her. "Can you drive or ride?"

  He shrugged. "Not particularly well. I spent time on the salt caravans, so I'm rather good with camels, but there are few horses at sea."

  "I'm afraid your camel skills will be of little use here." She gathered her skirts with one hand and climbed into the cart. A covered basket was set behind the seat. She looked inside with interest. "The ancestors are even feeding us. Can you tell which way we should go?"