She almost flushed as Master Thomas appeared in front of her. Gwen’s mother would have demanded to know if it was proper for a master to dance with his apprentice, but Gwen didn’t care. Besides, it wasn’t as if there were many female apprentices. Master Thomas danced with a dignity that showed his years, reminding Gwen that she didn’t even know how old he was, not really. He’d been in service to the Crown at least forty years, assuming that he’d served in the wars with France and Spain that had marked the end of the eighteenth century.
“A splendid ball,” he whispered to her, as he pulled her around the dance floor. “I hope you’re taking the time to see and be seen – and to listen?”
“Yes, sir,” Gwen said. It was hard not to flush – all she’d overheard was his conversation with Lord Mycroft and their mystery guest. She glanced around, but saw no sign of Lord Mycroft. It stood to reason he’d want to stay off the dance floor. Being so massive, he was a danger to shipping. “I think I’m enjoying myself.”
“I’m glad to know that you’re being a credit to your tutors,” Master Thomas agreed. He sounded perfectly sincere. “And I trust that you will make time to chat with some of the great and the good. They may be the ones deciding your future.”
They swapped partners before Gwen could think of a response. If Lord Blackburn and his Darwinists were right, magicians were superior to everyone else. And that meant that they should be giving orders, not taking them. But magic’s gifts were fickle and Gwen’s brother had shown no sign of magic, even though he had been tested extensively shortly after Gwen had come into her magic. In hindsight, it was clear that Master Thomas and the Royal College had known what Gwen had been long before they’d approached her. They’d almost certainly hoped that her brother shared the same magical talents.
But if Lord Blackburn was wrong, and magicians were just people with different talents, what did that mean? So much in the British Empire was decided by birth, not by merit. It took an exceptional man – a man like Lord Nelson – to rise from humble beginnings to achieve a legacy that would live on long after the man himself was dead. And a woman could rarely hope to be more than a daughter, a wife and a mother. Gwen had known that that was her fate until Master Thomas had offered her a chance to serve the crown. And if Gwen could do it, why couldn’t other women have the same chance?
The thoughts haunted her as the dance came to an end. She curtseyed to her partner and headed off towards Lombardi. The girl Gwen had taken him from had reached him again and was dragging him back onto the dance floor. Gwen smiled at his retreating back – they weren’t supposed to share any dance, but the first and the last – and changed course, heading towards the tables in the next room. They were groaning under the weight of the food, from whole roast chicken, pigs and cows, to a selection of dishes from all over the British Empire. She smelled a spicy scent from one of the curries and helped herself to a small portion, taking some bread and rice to cool it in her mouth. The normal rules of eating in public didn’t apply to balls, thankfully. A formal dinner was far more tedious.
She caught sight of Master Thomas sharing a dance with an elderly woman she didn’t recognise. Could she be his wife? He’d certainly never said anything about a wife, but then he’d said little about his past to her. As far as she knew, he slept in his own set of rooms at Cavendish Hall. Maybe they’d been sweethearts once, before he’d been called away to serve the Crown. Or perhaps she was wrong and he was dancing with her out of politeness. There was no way to know.
The sense of magic suddenly assailed her and she looked up. Above her head – above the entire ballroom – the chandeliers began to shatter. Glass showered down onto the heads of the dancers, forcing them to duck and cover their heads. Gwen reacted as quickly as she could, pulling her magic around her to shield everyone nearby, but it was far too late. People who had been happily dancing a moment ago were screaming as splinters of glass slashed into their faces and bodies, scattering blood over expensive clothes. Gwen started forward as something the size of a ball crashed down in the midst of the ballroom and bounced on the floor. It was a severed head, a head instantly recognisable to many of the dancers. Lord Fitzroy was clearly beyond recovery. Someone had beheaded him and then tossed his head into the midst of his family and friends…
The room dissolved into pandemonium.
Chapter Fifteen
Jack was almost disappointed in how easy it had been to sneak into the mansion.
He’d expected to have to fight his way into the building, even though he’d taken time to disguise himself as one of the servants Lord and Lady Fairweather had hired for the evening. They’d be asking some pretty tough questions of the hiring firm tomorrow, he knew, and some poor unfortunate was going to have to explain what had happened to his uniform. Jack had found him, Charmed him into going for a drink in the nearest pub and left him there, half-naked, with no memory of what had happened since he’d left his home. No one had questioned him when he’d walked in the servants’ entrance, probably assuming that someone else had already vetted him. He had half a mind to write a very stiff note to whoever was in charge of security after he’d done his business.
No one had tried to stop him as he slipped away from the lower floors – where the servants were being run ragged trying to keep up with the demands for food and drink – and headed up the stairs to the balcony. In his experience, a man who looked like he fitted in and had legitimate business was unlikely to be stopped – and besides, Jack had the ability to Charm anyone who caught him. Nothing blocked his path as he walked up the stairs and looked out over the crowd below. Picking out Master Thomas was easy. His former tutor was dancing with the Dowager of Tunis, the mother of the Duke of Tunis, the man who had claimed a city for the British Empire.
He hesitated, holding his sack in one hand. It had been a long time since he’d stood in a ballroom, clad in fine clothes and sharing inconsequential patter with aristocrats. Something about the scene called to him, even though he knew the price – the price paid by London’s poor. It was tempting him, in a way, tempting him to walk away from his cause, head down the stairs and blend in with the crowd. But then he remembered the children who had been turned into prostitutes and felt sick. Behind the pretty clothes and bright painted smiles – the insincere smiles – there were rotten hearts that cared nothing for those who were trampled under their feet. And the ones who were too brainless to even realise what they were doing was worse. Some of them were mentally unsound because their families had been inbreeding for generations. Others were just too stupid to even realise that they were ignorant.
For a moment, he thought Master Thomas had caught his eye, but it passed without a shout of recognition. Jack was almost disappointed. He summoned his magic and lashed out, almost casually, at the glittering chandeliers. They started to shatter, falling down on the crowd below. Jack didn’t hesitate any longer; he picked up the head of Lord Fitzroy and threw it out into the empty air, giving it a little shove with his magic so it would reach Master Thomas. Magic was already shimmering into existence, more than Jack would have expected even Master Thomas to be able to produce. Maybe there were more aristocratic magicians at the ball than Jack had expected.
His former tutor was rising into the air, his dark eyes already hunting for the person he knew had to be watching the chaos from high above. Jack was struck, suddenly, by how old Master Thomas looked. It had only been five years, but he looked to have aged almost twenty. For someone who was in his eighties, Master Thomas was still going strong. Jack wondered just how long it would be before he passed away. He’d once respected Master Thomas – and he still did. If only the price hadn’t been so high…
“Up here,” he called. Master Thomas turned to look…and Jack reached out with his magic, seeking to disrupt the magic that was holding the elderly magician in the air. Gasps and screams rang through the hall as Master Thomas fell several feet, before he warded off Jack’s attack and threw a bolt of lightning towards his former pupil. Jack defle
cted it easily and abandoned the attempt to send his former master crashing to the floor. Instead, he called out to Master Thomas, knowing that his mocking words would anger his former teacher. Perhaps they would even anger him enough to make him forget prudence and common sense.
“Be seeing you, old man,” he called. A second bolt of lightning proved harder to deflect. Old, Master Thomas might be, but his magic was still running strong. “Long live the Revolution!”
He threw a fireball down towards the dancers and turned, fleeing through the door and down the stairs into the rear quarters. Master Thomas reached out with his magic, trying to grapple with him, but Jack managed to evade it with a small effort. He came out of the stairs, knowing that Master Thomas would be in hot pursuit, and almost flew through the kitchens below. Magic billowed out of him, sending pots, pans and great tureens of soup smashing to the floor. A handful of servants who got in his way were picked up and tossed across the room. Jack didn’t intend to harm them any more than necessary, but they were blocking his way. Besides, they had taken up service with the noble family rather than joining the fight to bring the establishment tumbling down.
A thunderous roar and a sensation of magic behind him announced that one of the walls had been shattered. Master Thomas flew through the hole he’d created, fire dancing over the palms of his hands. Jack ducked as a fireball flew over his head and slammed into a bowl of water, sending the water flying upwards as superheated steam. He gathered himself and used magic to hurl small objects at his former tutor, aiming them with his mind’s eye. Master Thomas had to drop down to the ground to avoid Jack’s spray of makeshift projectiles, before picking up a number of spice pots and hurling them back at Jack. One of them was glowing; Jack barely had time to pull his magic around him as a shield before it exploded. Master Thomas had definitely been practicing ever since their last meeting. Jack grinned, despite the seriousness of the situation. Who said you couldn’t teach an old dog new tricks?
Master Thomas cleared the remaining tables in one leap and came right at him. Jack raised his own defences and, for a long moment, their magic collided. Flares of magic shot out in all directions, smashing walls and bringing down the ceiling. Jack jumped back as a lump of stone almost crashed down on his head, silently grateful that he’d spent so much time honing all of his talents. Seeing and Sensing seemed less useful than the others, but in the hands of a Master they made him almost invincible. His lips twitched into a smile as the magic storm blew out of control. They didn’t make him invincible when he was facing another Master.
Jack jumped forward, feinted with a bolt of lightning…and then used his magic to hurl himself backwards. The magic storm evaporated as Jack smashed through two walls, including one that had been holding up part of the mansion. He doubted that the structural damage would be easy to fix; if he was lucky, most of Fairweather Mansion would come crashing down. Master Thomas hesitated – torn between giving chase and helping the people who were likely to be crushed if the mansion came tumbling down – and Jack took advantage of the moment. Grabbing at his magic, he threw himself into the air and out of sight. There was a final desperate struggle as Master Thomas tried to knock him out of the air, and then he was clear. Behind him, he saw Fairweather Mansion and the guests streaming out into the grounds. They’d be talking about this ball for years.
He was still chuckling as he came down to land on a rooftop. Tired, too shaky to stand, he found himself clutching a chimney for dear life. Once he’d jumped from rooftop to rooftop and waved at chimneysweeps as they’d stared at him. Now…now there was no time for such fun and games. He reached into his pocket and found the sandwiches he’d prepared earlier. They tasted odd, but he didn’t care. Without food, he would slip away into darkness on the rooftop. They’d be searching the city for him at first light.
Jack smiled as he pulled himself back to his feet and headed back towards the Rookery. No one – not even the King – would be able to hide what had happened at Fairweather Mansion. The entire city would know that someone had walked into the building, deposited the head of Lord Fitzroy on the ballroom floor, and escaped, despite the presence of the Royal Sorcerer. And then they would no longer feel safe in their own homes.
Grinning, he set off for his own room. He needed sleep, desperately. Tomorrow was going to be a very busy day.
***
Gwen hadn’t believed it when Master Thomas had confronted the intruder and been stymied. The brief tussle in the air had almost killed her tutor. She’d pushed people aside as she’d run through the corridors, following the sounds of explosions and objects crashing to the ground. And, despite her speed, she’d found herself watching helplessly as the intruder hurled himself into the air and vanished into the dark night.
Master Thomas was looking a little pale as she ran to him. The entire building was creaking alarmingly. Gwen knew little about building and architecture – it had never been considered very feminine, and besides she’d never been interested – but none of the noises sounded very good. It sounded as if the beams high over her head were breaking up, one by one. The magic had dispersed, but the effects remained. And if she had been able to wreck a dining room during her tussle with Cannock and his friends, what damage might have been wrought by two Masters struggling for supremacy? The entire building might have been damaged beyond repair.
“Get everyone out,” Master Thomas grunted. It took all of Gwen’s strength to hold him upright. Doctor Norwell had lectured her on emergency treatments for magicians who had pushed themselves too far, but his lectures had been long on theory and short on any actual detail. Sugar was supposed to be good, as was tea, coffee and a handful of other things. “Get everyone out, now!”
Gwen looked up. The Butler was standing at the doorway, looking in with disbelieving eyes. He’d probably never seen such chaos outside a battlefield. Gwen barked orders at him and he nodded, relieved to have clear instructions. He could get everyone out of the building and worry about the rest later. Once he had gone, Gwen put Master Thomas down and skimmed through the kitchen. It was easy enough to locate a pot of tea and pour sugar into it until it would be almost painfully sweet. She carried it back to Master Thomas and pressed it against his lips.
Another rumble shook the building and she glanced up, nervously. She knew how much she could lift with her magic, but she had no idea if she could hold the roof up long enough to escape. The sound of falling masonry echoed in the distance, followed rapidly by shattering glass. She could hear screams as the servants and party guests started to panic, heading for the exits. At least the ballroom was close to the front entrance, well away from the worst of the damage. Maybe they’d have time to get out before the building came down on their heads.
Master Thomas was sipping the tea gratefully. “My thanks, Gwendolyn,” he said, through halting lips. It was a chilling reminder of his age. His opponent might have been less skilled – although that was doubtful – but he was almost certainly younger. “You would have made a good nurse.”
Gwen’s lips twitched, just as the ground shook as something heavy came smashing down, somewhere in the distance. “I have to get you out of here,” she said. It took most of her magic to lift him up, even though she’d lifted heavier things with less effort. She was puzzled until she realised that Master Thomas’s magic was interfering with her own. He was trying to levitate himself up and out of the building, even though his magic reserves had clearly been drained by the confrontation. “Master...”
He relaxed. Gwen managed to hold him in the air and float him over to the exit the rogue magician had made when he’d departed the building. It was just in time; behind her, the roof started to cave in. Flames flashed up from where the cooking fires had spread out of control, threatening to burn down the entire mansion. Outside, the servants had gathered on the lawn; Gwen was able to convince two footmen to help carry Master Thomas away from the fire. He seemed to have lost all of his strength once the rogue magician had vanished into the darkness.
/> A hand fell on her shoulder and she looked up, startled. Lombardi was looking down at her, his pale face torn and worried. He might once have been attracted to her – or believed that she was attracted to him – but what he’d seen had destroyed it. Gwen was vastly more powerful – and capable – than he could ever hope to be...and few men would accept such a disparity of power between himself and his wife. She hadn’t been attracted to him at all, yet losing the thought that he might have been attracted to her hurt – and she didn’t understand why. Perhaps she should have spent more time with her mother, socialising with her gaggle of chattering friends, but it wouldn’t have been long before she gave into the temptation to incinerate a few of the particularly mindless ones. Some of her mother’s friends didn’t have the brains God had given squirrels.
“It’s going to be fine,” Gwen said. She couldn’t collapse, not now, or all the people who had whispered that female magicians couldn’t handle the pressure would be proved right. It wasn’t easy to pull herself to her feet, but somehow she managed it. “How many people are injured?”
Lombardi hesitated. “At least fifty guests were struck by flying glass,” he said, finally. “A few more were hit by falling stones as part of the building collapsed. I don’t think that anyone was actually killed, but...”
The Royal Sorceress Page 14
