by John Booth
When they were up on the stage, the three were arranged along the back wall so they could be shown off to the guests. Lord Smee stood in front of them and clapped his hands to bring his the people in the room to silence. Smee intoned his words grandly in a voice that boomed.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the forty-third auction of magically talented people.”
“You have all been privileged to experience the power of the youngest and most powerful Spellbinder in the world today. I can tell you that she accomplished her binds against us with sheets ripped from the books in my library, using a goose feather from my farmyard as a pen and ink made from blackberries. Yet despite the paucity of her tools, she held us all in animal form for what certainly seemed like an eternity to me.”
There were muffled exclamations from the audience and some nervous laughter. Smee waited until the room was silent before he continued.
“Her sale will be the highlight of tonight’s events. Sadly, two of our lots are still missing. Therefore, we will not be auctioning lot’s one and two on your Program tonight. These were the least of the items on sale, but I do apologize for the inconvenience. As you know, the Brotherhood of Knights takes great pride in its reputation as a supplier of quality merchandise and I promise you this will not happen again.”
Smee smiled down at the audience. Tom noted that some seemed highly annoyed at the news and a few guests got up and started to leave. Smee continued to smile benignly as he waited for those leaving to exit the room and the remaining patrons to settle down once again.
“We will start the auction with Lot Three,” Smee said grandly and he went to a lectern at the side of the stage and picked up a wooden gavel.
“Lot three is a thirteen year old female. Not a virgin I might add, if that is of any interest to you. She was selected by our agents when she demonstrated the remarkable ability to transmit messages telepathically into people’s minds. She is capable of doing this over a limited range and only to people she has met. This should reassure those of you worried that she might be calling the authorities down upon us as I speak.”
There was a small ripple of nervous laughter across the hall, but most leaned forward to get a better look as though Alice was a work of art.
“Nevertheless, she is a fine specimen of aberrant magical ability that would be a powerful addition to any collection. Bring her forward, Frank.”
The man behind Alice pushed her towards the front of the stage. She stumbled and fell onto the boards. With her hands tied behind her back, she was unable to protect her face and fell hard. Frank grunted as he grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet.
“Give the ladies and gentlemen a demonstration of your power, Alice,” Smee urged. “Shout into their minds.”
“Shan’t.” Alice spat blood from a cut lip towards the audience.
“Give her a little encouragement, Frank,” Smee said mildly. The man took hold of Alice’s little finger and bent it back until it broke.
Alice screamed aloud, but she also screamed in every persons mind in the room. Tom winced, as her mental scream was much louder and more painful than the audible one.
“Enough.” Smee commanded and his servant let Alice’s finger go. She continued to sob in pain, but the mental sounds faded to nothing.
“I think that was an adequate demonstration. Now who will start the bidding at one hundred guineas?”
Each of the patrons carried a small booklet, which contained details of those being sold. There appeared to be a convention in the room that a patron would wave their booklet to indicate a bid.
Bidding rose quickly to nearly five thousand guineas, which Tom thought was an incredible amount of money. A top-class butler, for example, might earn fifty pounds in year if he was lucky.
A man sitting on the front row bought Alice. He was a highly distinctive individual with red hair and a bushy beard. Lord Smee swung the gavel down with a bang to indicate that the bidding was over.
“Sold to the gentlemen at the front,” Smee said with evident satisfaction. “To preserve the anonymity of our patrons I shall refer to you as Sir M.”
The man nodded his approval of Smee’s discretion.
“Our next item for sale is Lot Four. Lot Four is a male healer. He has been previously assessed as a Grade 3 but recent reports suggest he may well be a Grade 1.”
“However, the interest he may have for those of you interested in owning our young Class A is that the two appear to have formed a close bond. Getting a disobedient Spellbinder to do what you want is so much easier if you have someone they care about under your control. Punishing this one for her failures may well prove more effective than the alternate course of punishing her.”
“Several of you have asked that Lot Four and Five be combined into a single lot. This may well be in your interests, but it is not considered to be in the interests of the Brotherhood. Therefore, having given the matter considerable thought, I have decided to sell them separately.”
Tom was thrust forward to the front of the stage. Alice stood to one side in considerable pain from her broken finger.
“Get the boy to heal the girl,” someone suggested from the floor. Smee nodded to the man behind Tom, who undid his bonds.
Tom did not consider the option of not healing Alice. He went to her side and turned her gently so he could see her broken finger. It was bent sickeningly out of shape.
“This may hurt for a moment,” Tom told Alice in a whisper. He took her finger and bent it back into its proper shape before releasing his healing power, which also healed the cuts and bruises on her face. Alice gasped in pain and then sighed in relief as her finger healed.
“Now use your crop on him,” the same voice shouted.
Tom turned his head to see Smee’s riding crop coming down on his back. He gasped in pain as the crop hit him and the force of the blow forced him down to his knees.
“Enough” a voice shouted and Smee stopped as suddenly as he had started. Tom looked back to see Laura struggling futilely to get free of the man holding her, anguish written over her face.
“Aye, you’ve proved your point, right enough,” a Scottish voice remarked gruffly. Tom turned to the front to see that the speaker was the red headed man who had bought Alice.
“Who will offer ten thousand guineas?” Smee asked gleefully.
The bidding stopped at thirty five thousand guineas. Again, the winner was the red headed Scotsman. It was clear he intended to buy all three of them.
“And now we come to Lot Five. For the first time in history, a Class A has come up for auction. There are only six other Class A’s in the world, ladies and gentlemen. Your country could stand alongside the existing world superpowers, Britain and Hungary, if you succeed in buying this girl.”
“I will start the bidding at a quarter of a million pounds and I would point out that this is significantly below our reserve price.”
Laura looked shocked at the value put on her head. Tom nursed the wound on his back as he got to his feet and listened to Smee raising the price as the bidding proceeded briskly. When the price reached two million pounds, only three bidders remained.
These were a tall, dark, beautiful woman in her forties with a continental look about her, a man of Chinese or Japanese extraction with two guards flanking him and the red headed Scottish man, Sir M.
At three million pounds, the red headed man pulled out of the bidding leaving the race between the oriental man and the foreign looking woman.
At three and a half million pounds, the oriental man turned away in disgust and the woman smiled with pleasure at the knowledge of her victory. Laura had been sold to her for an unbelievably large amount of money. More money than Tom believed existed.
“So once again we bring a noteworthy Brotherhood auction to a close,” Lord Smee said as he wiped the sweat off his brow. Tom could see that even Smee was staggered by Laura’s final price.
The patrons started shuffling out of the room, leaving only the man know
n as Sir M and the woman who bought Laura still present. Smee walked over to the woman, taking and kissing her hand.
“You will pay in your usual manner, in gold?” he asked anxiously.
“I vill also be paying Lord McBride’s bill,” she replied. She had a strong Germanic accent, which led Tom to believe that the Hungarian Empire had bought Laura.
Smee looked shocked. “Lady Shultz, you must be aware it is against the rules for our patrons to operate as a cartel?”
“Vee did not,” the woman snapped. “But my clients have an interest in his plans. Vee expected to vin this auction and vee agreed to loan the Spellbinder to Lord McBride for the period of one month.”
“You might have bid higher on the boy, if the two of you had not colluded,” Smee said angrily. “It is obvious now that you let him win.”
“Do you really believe my clients need the boy to break a girl?” Lady Shultz asked incredulously. “Lord McBride needs qvick results so the boy vill be useful to him and vill preserve the girl from harm. My clients take a longer view and vill own the girl’s soul within a year. After that, she vill serve us faithfully for the rest of her life.”
Smee nodded reluctantly.
“Aye, well, I need to get my purchases out of here without being followed,” Lord McBride said. “There’s a few of your patrons who would be happy if yon lassie was to suffer a fatal accident on the way out, and I suspect some of them are arranging that accident right now.”
“I vill drive off first vith a decoy,” the woman told them. She turned to Smee. “Do you have an expendable member of your female staff?”
Smee hesitated as he considered. “Jane, one of my maids will do. She is about the same age and build. Will you send her back to us when you are done with her?”
“I asked for someone expendable. Once she knows vere I live, she vill have to die. Do you vish to choose some-von else?”
Smee stroked his chin. “No, Jane is the perfect choice. I’ll bring her to the front door.”
Tom fumed with impotent rage, but there was nothing he could do. His hands had been retied behind his back while the vile woman was talking. He thought about spitting in her face, but he had been brought up to act like a gentleman and could not bring himself to do it.
14. To the Rescue
Cam, Arnold and Daisy peered down at a map of London and its immediate environs. The map had been exquisitely rendered in many colors and small writing almost impossible to read in lamplight.
“There it is,” Arnold said in triumph as he thrust his stubby forefinger onto the map. “Crouch End.”
“But that can’t be more than five miles from here,” Cam argued, though not with that much conviction. They had spend almost an hour tracking down Crouch End, looking though compendiums and searching atlas’s of Britain and Ireland before discovering this local map that showed them where it was.
“How can we get there?” Daisy asked. “Can we hire a coach or a horse and cart?”
“What an absurd idea,” Cam said scornfully. “Where would we get a horse and cart at this time of night?”
“We might not be able to hire one, but we might be able to buy one,” Arnold suggested. He turned to Cam and held out his hand. “Give me all the money we have left.”
Cam moved back a step. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she believed that the person with the money controlled the team and she was not ready to hand over to Arnold. She looked to Daisy for support, who much to Cam’s annoyance nodded her head encouragingly. Girls were supposed to stick together. Cam reluctantly took out the roll of money and handed it to Arnold.
He counted it out on the table and raised an eyebrow at just how much Cam had managed to spend. She responded by sticking out an unladylike tongue at him.
“There should be more than enough,” Arnold said as he put the money into his wallet and put the wallet into his jacket pocket.
“Enough for what?” Cam asked.
“While you two were sticking your heads out of the cab window watching Saunders, I was observing the places we passed by. There’s a stable less than half a mile back down the road that had a sign up saying a horse and cart are for sale.”
“The owner is unlikely to be up this late at night,” Cam pointed out.
“Money opens many doors, Camilla,” Arnold said smugly. “I bought a horse for my father, so I understand the parlance and will cut us a deal.”
“Let’s do it then,” Daisy suggested.
When they opened the front door, the chill of the evening hit them like a sledgehammer. There were signs of frost on the grass. Daisy shivered and shut the door.
“We are ill equipped to go out on such a night,” Arnold said. “Let’s see if Mr. Saunders has anything in the house we can wear.”
“I don’t think we should rob him,” Cam argued. “I am a spy for her Majesty, not a common thief.”
“You have his letters in your pocket,” Daisy pointed out, “Isn’t that theft?”
“He has likely killed two young people to provide the bodies for his decoys,” Arnold said, “And he kidnapped Tom and Laura. I for one have no compunctions at all about robbing him blind.”
Even Cam saw the logic of that and raised no further protest.
When they delved into the cloakroom, they were astonished. There were enough coats in it to clothe an army. The coats covered every type of occupation, fashion and social status and came complete with assorted mufflers, hats and caps.
“These clothes must be used for spying,” Cam said excitedly and somewhat enviously. “If you wear the right coat and hat, most people will look no further to reach a conclusion as to who and what you are.”
“The important thing is that he will never miss three coats from this lot,” Arnold said happily. “I for one am taking this heavy great coat, woolen muffler and flat cap. I advise you two to take the thickest coat you can find that fit you.”
“We will need two extra coats,” Daisy told them.
Cam and Arnold froze for a second at this unexpected news.
“For Tom and Laura?” Cam dared to ask. There was real hope in her voice.
“Not yet,” Daisy replied to her considerable disappointment. “I told you we would find help along the way.”
“We can’t go traipsing down the lanes carrying extra coats,” Cam pointed out, “People will become suspicious.”
“Which is why you should wait here for us,” Arnold said. “You need to gather together maps, food, and drink for the journey, and at least one lantern filled with oil. Those things won’t come with the cart and we will need them all.”
“And blankets,” Daisy told her. “Perhaps with a bed warmer wrapped in them so it keeps them warm.”
“That lot going missing is bound to alert Saunders,” Cam pointed out. “And what if he comes back before you two?”
“Then you will have to improvise.” Daisy smiled warmly at Cam. “You have always been good at that.”
Cam glowered, but said nothing in reply. Daisy was right again and at that moment, Cam hated her for it. She watched Arnold and Daisy set off down the road and then closed the door against the cold.
Daisy and Arnold reached the stable within half an hour. They walked fast to compensate for the cold. Luckily, both wore gloves because there was a biting wind.
“What would we have done if we hadn’t got into Saunders’ house?” Daisy wondered aloud. “Anybody out on a night like this without proper clothes is going to freeze to death.”
The sign Arnold had seen earlier was unreadable in the moonlight. He ignored it and went to the house next to the barn.
“You can’t just bang on people’s doors at this time of night,” Daisy complained. Arnold ignored her and created a fearsome racket on the stout oak door with his fist.
They saw a candle moving through the gaps in the doorframe and a female voice shouted out to them.
“Be off with you. It is too late for visitors.”
“I wish to buy your horse and cart,�
�� Arnold shouted back.
“Go away, whoever you are. This is no time to conduct business.”
Another voice joined in from deeper in the house. They could barely make it out at first.
“What do they want?” a man called.
“To buy your horse and cart, Father. I’ve told them to be off.”
“You silly child. Open the door at once. Where are your manners, girl?”
They heard bolts being drawn and the door swung open a crack. A candle lantern with a young girl’s face above it appeared in the gap.
“Father says you are to come straight in,” she told them in a voice that suggested she was not at all happy relaying that news.
“Thank you most kindly,” Arnold replied and stepped through the door. The girl and lantern disappeared into the interior of the house as soon as he moved. Daisy followed behind.
“Shut the door,” the girl complained. “You’re letting out the warmth.”
Daisy swung the door shut and looked around. To describe the house as a hovel would be unfair to a hovel. There was no carpet on the floorboards and the girl rested her lantern on what appeared to be a broken crate. She was several years younger than the two of them, perhaps only fourteen. She wore clothing for bed, a tattered cap and nightshirt that was too tight in the chest, as if she had recently outgrown it. Her feet were bare and judging from the way she shivered, she was feeling the cold.
Her father appeared from out of the darkness. He was a heavily muscled man in middle-age. The man stuffed his nightshirt into his trousers and tried to fasten the buttons of his flies as he walked. He wore heavy leather boots that showed the signs of many years of wear.
“Good day to you, young sir…, and to you Miss,” he added as he noticed Daisy. “I am afraid you have caught us already prepared for the night.”
“I am Arnold Thompson and this is my ward Daisy,” Arnold said grandly. “I saw your sign offering a horse and cart for sale earlier in the evening, but other duties prevented me from getting here earlier. I take it that you are prepared to bargain with me?”
