“Gentlemen, let me remind you we are not here to be rude to one another,” Stewart cautioned. “We are here to get at the truth. You are uniquely situated to help us, Mr. Fell. Will you do so?”
Fell looked mollified. “I will help if I can.”
“Perhaps we can dispense with questions and get on with it.” Stewart’s glare quelled any incipient protest from the Provosts. “Mr. Fell, from your perspective—what happened?
“I’ll tell you what I thank happened,” Fell said. “Some of it I’ve known for some time, idle talk being what it is. Some of it I learned from conversations with Voysey while I was his captive at St. Hubert’s. Some of it I’ve taken the trouble to find out since Lambert rescued me and saved the wards. Most of it I learned from Bridgewater’s close embrace. While he was draining my strength, his concerns were evident to me.”
“What, ah, concerns were those?” Stewart looked as if he weren’t sure he wanted to know the answer to his question.
“For one thing, he wanted to save the world.” Fell smiled bitterly.
“In what sense?” asked Russell.
“In the literal sense. He intended to keep the world safe personally, once the British Empire controlled it—under his supervision, of course.”
“Really. How did he think he was going to accomplish that?” asked Stowe.
“Through me. In his view, I was ignoring the power of the wardenship. If I wasn’t using it, someone should. What I was wasting, he was welcome to. In his estimation, of course.”
“Ah, yes. The wardenship.” Porteous sounded pleased. “Modern theories wotwithstanding, we see before us the new warden of the west. I felicitate you, sir.”
Fell looked a trifle sheepish. “You are too kind. However, the events we are discussing took place before I accepted the wardenship. For reasons I won’t enlarge upon at this time, I wished to abstain from the wardenship. I might have reconsidered the matter if I had known how my reluctance played into the hands of Voysey and Bridgewater.”
“You hold them both equally responsible?” asked Stewart.
“I blame Bridgewater more, for he understood the wardenship, while Voysey honestly believed it to be a matter of folklore until Bridgewater persuaded him otherwise. Bridgewater wanted me to continue to abstain from the wardenship while he looked for ways to get at the power through me. That’s why Bridgewater invited me to be his houseguest when I attended his lecture in London.”
“Yet you declined that invitation,” said Stewart. “Did you have some reason to suspect Bridgewater’s interest in you?”
“I suspected nothing,” Fell replied. “I had work to do. Bridgewater was at least as interested in forging a connection to the power of Glasscastle’s wards as he was in exploiting the power he believed me to be ignoring. That is why Bridgewater permitted Voysey to incorporate the Egerton wand into the Agincourt device.”
“I understand why Voysey wished to incorporate the Egerton wand,” said Stowe, “but surely Bridgewater prized it himself? Why did he consent to let the wand be used in the Agincourt device?”
“The Egerton wand gave Bridgewater a link to the device. It was a significant source of power to Bridgewater, but he could reach the power he wielded without it. Once the wand was incorporated into the device, he could reach the power of Glasscastle. At least, he could reach as much of the power of Glasscastle as Voysey could access. It was a singularly ineffectual ultimate weapon, the Agincourt device. One reason was that Bridgewater was drawing power out of it only a bit more slowly than Voysey was putting power in.”
“Voysey accepted the wand and incorporated it into the device. Why?” asked Stewart.
“Power like Bridgewater’s wand? Voysey was sure that Glasscastle magic subordinated all others. The wand was a source of energy and no more, as far as Voysey knew.” After a moment, Fell added, “There was another reason Voysey wanted to use Bridgewater’s wand, a less pragmatic one. Voysey knew that Bridgewater envied him. Voysey enjoyed that. He wanted to keep Bridgewater involved, close at hand, always mindful of Voysey’s superiority.”
“Why did Bridgewater permit that?” Stowe asked. “If Bridgewater’s power was so great, why did he wait so long to attack the wards of Glasscastle?”
“Bridgewater dared not approach the wards of Glasscastle until Voysey used the Egerton wand. Not until then was he able to draw power from Glasscastle, through Voysey and finally through the wand,” Fell said. “Even then, Bridgewater was careful. He was escorted through the gate during the confusion caused by the arrival of the animals from St. Hubert’s. I was under escort as well. It took Bridgewater hours to find a way to free me. In the end, he used main force to bring me with him to the garden.”
“Any Fellow of Glasscastle could have escorted him there,” said Russell. “Why did Bridgewater trouble to free you in particular? Because you are the warden of the west?”
Fell regarded Russell solemnly. “If I had accepted that responsibility, Bridgewater couldn’t have forced me to go with him. I was still resisting. Therefore Bridgewater planned to use me to reach the power I refused to touch myself, just as Voysey was the straw through which Bridgewater sucked at the power of Glasscastle.”
“Bridgewater brought the wards of Glasscastle down just before five o’clock,” said Porteous. “Their silence was our first warning of Bridgewater’s intent. If you knew he was conspiring with Voysey, why didn’t you warn us?”
“I didn’t know,” Fell said simply. “I was surprised to learn the plans for the Agincourt device specified the Egerton wand. Until then, I had assumed Voysey was working alone. The spell on the armchair at St. Hubert’s seemed a bit sophisticated to be Voysey’s handiwork, but I didn’t know the role Bridgewater played until he took me into the garden.”
“When he did so,” Stowe said, “when you believed you understood Bridgewater’s intent, did you believe you had reason to fear for your life?”
“On the contrary.” Fell chose his words with care. “I was afraid that my life would last too long. If I died before Bridgewater reached the power of the wardenship through me, the wardenship would pass to someone else. There’s no way of telling who. But I thought it would be better to shut the door Bridgewater had opened. To close the connection between us. Before it was too late. That’s why I asked Mr. Lambert for his help.”
“Did either Voysey or Bridgewater, at any time, threaten your life?” asked Russell.
“Oh, no. They each abducted me, but neither had any intention of killing me,” Fell replied.
“Are there any other charges you wish to bring against either defendant?” Stewart asked.
“Beyond the abductions?” Fell thought it over. “In a way, I am grateful to Voysey. He permitted me time to devote myself to my work undistracted. He could even be said to have contributed, however indirectly, to the reasoning process that made it possible for me to assume the wardenship. Bridgewater, on the other hand, used us all unscrupulously. To further his own ends, he stole every scrap of power that he could. He gutted Glasscastle. Had he not been transformed into a beast, I don’t doubt that he would have committed many more crimes.”
“So you wish Bridgewater to be punished more severely than Voysey?” asked Stewart.
“My wishes are not your concern. Your concern is the law. But please, don’t make the same mistake Voysey did. Don’t overestimate the power of Glasscastle. Fear Bridgewater. Use him fairly, punish him as the law requires. But fear him.”
The audience murmured among themselves. The Provosts received Fell’s speech in utter silence. They looked at one another, stirred uneasily in their chairs, and said absolutely nothing, even to each other. After a full minute in which the only sound was an amalgam of indecipherable whispers and speculation from the audience, Fell asked, “If there’s nothing more, may it please you to excuse me?”
“By all means,” said Stewart.
Fell left the dais and resumed his seat.
In his most ringing tones, Porteous asked, “Do
the defendants wish to address the Provosts at this time? If you have anything to say in your defense, please do so.”
Voysey spoke. “I cannot rise to my feet to address the Provosts as properly as I might wish, for these cobwebs prevent me. Forgive me, I beg you. My fellow defendant can rise to his feet, and very different feet they are, but he cannot address anyone at all. Forgive him, I beg you. You have my sworn testimony, so I won’t weary you with repetition. I will thank you for the testimony I have heard this morning. Until now, I had no idea of the true depth of Bridgewater’s duplicity. What I did, all that I did, was for the greater glory of our empire and the greater good of the university. That I was made a puppet to serve Bridgewater’s ends is bitter to me indeed, but I cannot deny it. Please believe me most sincerely repentant. If my deeds put Glasscastle in danger, I deserve to be punished. I only ask that whatever you do to me, you do to Bridgewater also. When I serve my sentence, my patience and remorse will be the greater, knowing that as I suffer, he suffers too, and with better reason.”
Not so much as a creak of wooden flooring broke the silence that followed. The audience was subdued. The Provosts were impassive. Kiowa Bob’s Indian chieftains could have done no better, Lambert reflected.
Little by little, the silence faded, eaten away by the small noises any large group of people makes. Someone coughed. Someone whispered. Someone’s chair squeaked as it moved slightly on the waxed wooden floor. Whispers became murmurs. Murmurs became soft conversation. At last the beadle rapped for order.
After a long bout of their own murmuring, the Provosts confined the rest of the proceedings to questions concerning the precise nature of the laws Voysey and Bridgewater had broken. Three legal experts were called and questioned about an assortment of crimes. The experts were in agreement. Voysey and Bridgewater could both be charged with subverting a government weapons project and with abduction. Bridgewater had also attacked the wards of the university with intent most malicious. Ample grounds existed to bring the defendants to trial.
At the conclusion of the expert testimony, the Provosts conferred briefly. Their impassivity and the measured dignity of their nods and murmurs reminded Lambert more forcibly than ever of Indian chieftains. All they lacked was a pipe of peace.
Stowe nodded to the beadle, who rapped for attention. Stowe spoke. “This inquiry is now adjourned.”
Stewart added, “The public will be informed of our verdict at the earliest opportunity. Meanwhile, all onlookers are free to go”
Since it was already lunchtime, this decision was welcomed by everyone. Lambert was surprised that Fell cheerfully joined him and the Brailsfords to eat lobster salad and drink champagne. Amy and Robert had prevailed upon Jane to extend her stay with them for a few more days, and all three were in a merry mood. It was a festive meal. At the end of it, Amy presented Lambert with a fine gold watch chain adorned with an all-too-familiar ivory fob.
“Mrs. Brailsford, I can’t accept this.” Lambert looked up from the ivory spindle to protest. “It was your grandmother’s. A family heirloom. And the chain is much too fine—”
“Do shut up, Lambert,” Jane advised. “Say thank you first, and accept it graciously. But then keep quiet.”
Lambert obeyed her to the letter.
Delighted by his capitulation, Amy took his hands in hers. “We’re so grateful to you for all you did for us. You rescued Robert and you saved Glasscastle and you risked your life riding along to protect Jane when she was off with the motor car.”
“I rescued Robert,” Fell pointed out sotto voce, just as Jane protested, “He was not protecting me.”
Amy turned Lambert’s hands over and inspected his palms with an air of rapturous pleasure. “Oh, how nice. I see you’re still going to take a long journey over water. You will marry well and have—” She took a closer look at his right hand and seemed to be counting under her breath. “Yes, seven children.”
Lambert put Jane’s advice to use again. He thanked Amy politely, extricated himself from her grip, and kept quiet.
Robert took pity on Lambert and changed the subject. “With the Agincourt Project concluded, you don’t yet know what you’ll be doing next. Whatever your immediate plans, I assume you wish to return to Wyoming soon.”
“I wasn’t planning on it,” Lambert said noncommittally.
“So Jane was right.” Robert looked surprised. “She told me why you couldn’t return. I don’t mind admitting I found it difficult to believe her.”
Lambert looked from Robert to Jane. The disappointment he felt surprised him. He’d never have taken Jane for a tattletale. Though why shouldn’t she share the joke of Lambert’s past with her brother? She couldn’t know how deeply it embarrassed him, although he wouldn’t have thought it beyond her to guess.
Jane spoke while Lambert was still hunting for words to hide his hurt surprise. “Robin says he found it difficult to believe me. What he means is, he accused me of making the whole thing up. As if I would,” she added airily.
“Jane! Did you have the audacity to tell him the same story you told me, about Minnie and the Bandit Ramerrez?” Amy turned from Jane to regard her husband with affectionate reproach. “Robert, you must stop working so hard. If you took time away from your duties now and then to keep up with cultural matters, you might have recognized that farrago of nonsense Jane told you.”
“I said I found it difficult to believe,” Robert protested. To Lambert, he explained, “Jane claims you dare not return to Wyoming, where there is a large reward for your capture, as you are secretly the Bandit Ramerrez and wanted by the forces of law and order.”
“Hold on, there—” Lambert began, pushing his chair back from the table.
“Indeed?” Fell regarded Lambert with keen interest. “You have never mentioned this to me.”
“Oh, Robin.” Jane frowned at her brother. “I thought you were listening to me. I said it is believed that Lambert is the Bandit Ramerrez. There’s a difference.”
“It’s all hogwash,” Lambert declared.
“It’s all from The Girl of the Golden West,” said Amy, patting Robert’s hand. “Come with me when I go to Covent Garden and perhaps you won’t take things so literally next time Jane chooses to amuse herself at your expense.”
“The Girl of the Golden West?” Fell repeated the words wistfully.
“Puccini wrote it,” Amy told him. “You might consider going to the opera once in a while yourself.”
Lambert relaxed back into his seat and looked at Jane. “You never let on you’d seen that once.”
For a moment, Jane regarded him so gravely that she reminded Lambert of the exhausted girl he had known at St. Hubert’s. “There are a lot of things I never let on about,” she stated. Then Jane beamed at him and her gravity melted into mischief. “I just couldn’t resist the chance to try Robin’s patience. You wouldn’t think it to look at him, but he can sometimes be endearingly gullible.”
Lambert realized he was gaping at Jane stupidly when she frowned a little and asked, “Do you feel all right? You haven’t eaten something that disagreed with you, have you?”
“No, no.” Hastily, Lambert said, “I just—I just figured something out, that’s all.”
Jane blinked. “I see.” It was all too clear she didn’t see.
Lambert did his best to reassure her. “You can go back to teasing your brother. I’m fine.”
Jane turned her attention back to Robert and Lambert let out a deep sigh of relief. That smile of Jane’s had knocked him for a loop. It made Lambert understand something he should have figured out a long time ago. There was something more than friendship in his feelings for Jane, and whatever that something was, Jane felt it too. In that moment of mischief, something had passed between them, as tangible as static electricity, as true and sweet as a chord of music. Whatever it was, it frightened Lambert half to death.
After lunch, the Brailsfords went back to the Tegean Theater to await the Provosts’ verdict. At Fell’s request, Lam
bert stayed behind while Fell slowly smoked a cheroot.
“There’s something I want to ask you about.” Fell looked uncomfortable.
“What is it?” Lambert was wary, remembering the personal turn the conversation had taken the last time Fell had used those words. He was still reeling from his fresh knowledge about Jane. This wasn’t a particularly good time to be cross-examined.
Fell cleared his throat and tugged at his mustache. “I wonder if you’d be interested in joining me on a long journey over water?”
“Huh?” Lambert stared at his friend. “I mean, I beg your pardon?”
“I am the warden of the west,” Fell said. “If the historical accounts are reliable, wardens are able to travel over water without the least distress. Quite a change from what magicians experience, I gather. I’m eager to put it to the test. I’ve always wanted to see a bit of the world. More than this particular corner of it, green and pleasant though it is. As I am warden of the west, it seems appropriate that I investigate the west. The golden west.”
“You want to go out West?” Lambert tried to picture Fell’s response to his first look at Wyoming. He tried to picture Wyoming’s response to its first look at Fell. The effort to keep a straight face all but staggered him.
“I want to sail to North America. Once I’m there, I’d like to travel. By train, not motor car,” Fell added as an afterthought. “Will you accompany me?”
Lambert hesitated. He knew he had to leave Glasscastle soon. He hadn’t thought beyond that. In his days with Kiowa Bob’s show, touring from London to Paris to Germany, he’d promised himself he’d see the rest of the world on his own before he returned to the United States. Constantinople, St. Petersburg, Normandy—none of those places seemed very likely now. But was he ready to head for home so soon? He struggled for an answer but none came.
“It’s all right.” Fell seemed to sense his indecision. “Think it over.”
“Thinking won’t help,” Lambert admitted. “I can’t go back. Not yet.”
A Scholar of Magics Page 34
