“Tego, the lamps,” the professor said. “Quick, lad!”
The servant moved with a speed and agility that belied his limp, and Sarah felt a growing certainty in her assumptions about him. Magical beings could move at speeds that mere mortals couldn’t perceive. Very little limited them.
As each lamp was lit, the room beyond was revealed, and Julius drew in an audible breath.
“Oh, my,” Sarah murmured, equally awed by what she saw.
It was as if they’d stepped into a museum, not merely a private collector’s array of antiquities. Professor Seabolt had filled the room with beautifully crafted cases, all lined with shimmering gold and red velvet, displaying each piece of his collection in a unique and elegant setting. Even the lamps were set in such a way as to shower each piece of pottery or jewelry with the most attractive amount of light.
“I’ve never … dreamed,” Julius whispered, moving forward.
Professor Seabolt was clearly pleased by their reaction. He was beaming with pride. “It’s lovely, isn’t it?” he said. “I’ve been years collecting it all, though many were gifts from friends. I can’t think you’ll find so many unique pieces in all of England, or so well preserved.”
Julius wasn’t listening. He began to walk about the large chamber in a daze.
Professor Seabolt started to follow, but Sarah set a hand on his arm.
“I must speak with you privately,” she whispered. “It’s very important.”
She could feel Tego’s black eye staring at her from across the room, not missing a moment of her interaction with the professor.
“Miss Tamony, you shouldn’t have come,” Professor Seabolt said, his voice equally hushed. “I cannot speak with you, as I said in my note. I’m sorry you’ve traveled so far, but it’s impossible.”
“I understand that the Earl of Graymar has forbidden you or anyone involved with the Seymours to accept an interview with me, but I must speak with you, nonetheless,” she pressed. “The matter does not involve the Dewin Mawr or any magic mortals.”
Professor Seabolt’s eyes widened. “You know?” he murmured.
“About magic?” she asked. “Yes. And what’s more, though I doubt His Lordship told you, I’ve been to Glain Tarran and seen the ceremonial grounds.”
The professor took her arm and led her toward the door, farther away from Julius—who appeared to be completely ignorant of their presence—and Tego, who was still watching them.
“You saw the ceremonial grounds?” the professor repeated. “Lord Graymar granted you such a boon?” His voice was filled with disbelief.
“It’s rather a long tale,” she confessed, “and one which I would happily relate at another time. Suffice it to say that His Lordship was obliged to speak to me, and we—”
“Obliged to speak with you?” the professor repeated faintly. “Malachi?”
“Yes, he was, for he thought to convince me to give up my work, which of course I have no intention of doing, but we—”
Sarah stopped chattering and straightened. The warnings were whispering again. Tego could hear what they were saying, despite his distance. She turned her head and met his dark gaze and knew the moment he realized that she understood what he was. The single eye narrowed, and his lips parted to show the sharp, unpleasant teeth.
“Can we speak somewhere else, sir?” Sarah turned back to the professor. “It must be completely private, for I must show you something that’s happened. Something that has to do with magic.”
Professor Seabolt nodded, then looked questioningly at her brother, who had wandered even farther into the room.
“Julius,” she called. He didn’t look up from his contemplations. “The professor and I will go and have our interview now. I’ll come to fetch you when we’re done.”
Julius made a grunting sound. Tego began to limp toward the doors, clearly meaning to accompany the professor, but Sarah said, “Oh, would it be all right if Tego stayed here, in case Julius suddenly realizes we’ve gone?”
“An excellent notion,” Professor Seabolt said. “Tego, remain with Mr. Tamony and don’t bother him. If he should ask where we are, escort him to my study.”
Tego nodded obediently and said nothing. When the professor turned to lead Sarah from the room, the creature caught her eye, flashing a look of fury. Sarah returned a level gaze and slowly pushed her spectacles up. The single eye widened in surprise, and Sarah, pleased, followed Professor Seabolt out the door.
“I knew you were one of our sympathetics,” Professor Seabolt said as soon as they’d reached his study and he’d shut the doors behind them. “I knew it immediately upon reading your work. Malachi would hear none of it, but I told him that surely you were.” He began to remove the dusty apron he wore.
“I’m not surprised that His Lordship was immune to your words,” Sarah said as he hung the garment on a mirrored clothing tree. “He is a very stubborn man, which I know firsthand.”
“And your brother?” he asked, waving her farther in. “Is he one of our sympathetics, as well?”
“No,” Sarah replied. “None of my family is. In fact, quite the opposite. They believe all the stories I write are nothing more than lovely fairy tales.”
“Now there’s a pity,” said the professor, looking about the messy room, trying to decide where best to seat his guest. “I’m a great admirer of your father’s work. I’ve always thought he might be one of us. I shall be attending his lecture at the Antiquities Society, of course.”
Professor Seabolt’s study showed the first signs of disorganization that she’d seen since entering the residence. It looked very much like the sort of study a scholarly man would have: Papers sat everywhere in piles and were scattered about his large desk; books were left lying all about, some half-open. A fireplace, currently glowing with a small fire, put warmth into the room. Sarah couldn’t help but think of the Earl of Graymar’s magnificent study by comparison. But that was rather unfair. It was unlikely that anyone else, anywhere, possessed such a private retreat as that.
“I wish you might be able to say the same of the lecture I was to give,” Sarah said, moving along a cabinet where many small, interesting objects lay. With tentative care she touched the top of a unique stone box, rapidly pulling her hand away when it emitted a growling sound.
“I did argue about that in particular when the earl visited this morning,” the professor said as he cleared a chair near the room’s fireplace of its mountain of books, “but he was most insistent. I hope you’ll believe me when I say that I was deeply disappointed to have to cancel the lecture. Deeply disappointed.” Dusting the seat with his hand, he said more cheerfully, “Please be seated, Miss Tamony. Shall I call for tea? I should have thought of it sooner, but I—”
“No, thank you, Professor,” she said, settling herself into the chair and putting her purse upon her lap. “The fault is mine for coming upon you without warning. But I had to see you, as I said. And I shouldn’t wish to serve your staff any further surprises.” She chose her next words with care. “Tego seems to be especially vigilant about watching over you.”
“Oh, Tego’s something of a nuisance,” the professor said with a wave of his hand, clearing the chair beside her for his own use. “He’s not been with me long. Only a few weeks, in fact. But he’s very much underfoot, trying to lend me aid. He’s really an intelligent lad, despite his appearance.”
“Professor,” Sarah said delicately, fingering her purse, “you do realize that he possesses magic, do you not?”
Professor Seabolt’s eyebrows rose as he took his chair and looked at her. “You divined that, did you?” he said admiringly. “You must be very sensitive to the presence of magic, as I have so often wished I were. But some sympathetics are, while others of us are not so blessed.” He sighed. “Malachi told me that you possess no magic yourself, for I did wonder if it was possible. Now I understand how it is that he was so sure, as you were in company with him at Glain Tarran. You must tell me all about your visit there,” he sa
id with renewed enthusiasm.
“I shall be glad to do so,” Sarah said. “But, before we speak of it, or of what I’ve come to discuss with you, tell me what Tego is. Do you feel safe having him in your employ?”
“Oh yes, indeed,” he assured her at once. “Do you ask the question because he’s a crossbreed? Rest assured, Miss Tamony, for there’s seldom any harm in the creatures, bless them. I have several in my employ, though none will show themselves so boldly as Tego. They’re often shunned by magic mortals, you know,” he said more soberly, “and need a secure haven where they’ll be safe. Tego has more human blood than most, and could have survived in the world of men as a common laborer or low-ranking servant, so long as he wasn’t often seen. Or he might have become a circus freak, as some of his kind have done.”
“But what is he? Apart from his human blood?”
“Goblin, I should think,” the professor replied. “I never ask when they come to me for safety. It seems so intrusive.” He leaned a bit nearer and said more confidentially, “Magic beings can be so sensitive, you know. We mere mortals must be careful not to overset them.”
Sarah nodded with a sigh of resignation. “Very true, sir. The Earl of Graymar appears to be a perfect example. And I must say, it’s terribly distressing to see how everyone he speaks with is ready to do his bidding. What have any of you to fear by meeting with me? He cannot harm you.”
The professor paled. “It is not for that reason that I agreed to do what he asked of me regarding you, Miss Tamony. It was a matter of respect and friendship. Lord Graymar and all of his family, most especially his father, who was my very dear friend, have been exceedingly good to me these many years. Almost all of those artifacts that your brother is currently viewing were given to me by the Seymours as tokens of thanks. They have always trusted me, as well, you see, to help keep them safe. If you’re a sympathetic, then surely you understand this.”
“Lord Graymar doesn’t believe me to be one,” she said unhappily, “though I promise you I don’t mean to bring the least harm or trouble upon any of the magic mortals beneath his care. If he would only help rather than hinder me, that task would be far easier. I’m tempted to risk going to Mervaille to speak with him, save that I’m quite sure it would avail me nothing.”
Professor Seabolt shook his head, causing the hairs on the side of his head to wave back and forth. “You could not go to Mervaille without Lord Graymar taking you inside the gates himself. No mere mortal, not even a sympathetic, is allowed on the grounds without his express permission. There is a powerful magic that protects the estate.”
“Indeed?” said Sarah, much intrigued by this. The temptation to try became an entirely more enticing prospect. “I did not know. How interesting.” She gave herself a mental shake. “But we really must speak of what I’ve brought to show you. My brother will be coming to look for me soon, no doubt, and I should like to have your advice on what’s occurred.”
“What is it, my dear?”
Sarah opened the bag on her lap and pulled out her battered journal.
“I had this with me when I was at Glain Tarran,” she told him, deftly untying and opening the book. “I take it with me while doing research to jot down notes, just as I was doing in the ceremonial grounds when the earl came upon me.”
“He came upon you there?” the professor asked, much surprised by this. “I must have misunderstood earlier, for I assumed the earl showed you the grounds himself. Do you mean to say you didn’t have his permission first?”
“Certainly not,” she said, pushing up her spectacles to peer at him. “He wouldn’t answer any of my letters, so I had to sneak onto the estate in the dead of night to see whether rumors of the existence of such grounds were true. And they were, of course, but you already know that. His Lordship came upon me just as I was jotting down notes, and—”
He put a staying hand on her arm and gazed at her, wide-eyed. “But you couldn’t have,” he said faintly. “Not without Malachi’s permission. I grant you might have been able to cross the boundaries—foolish lads from the village are always making the attempt in order to boast of their bravery—but you could never have seen the ceremonial grounds without the Dewin Mawr’s express knowledge and permission. No one can.”
“I most certainly did,” Sarah said with a measure of affront.
“But you couldn’t have,” he said more insistently. “The grounds are kept hidden from mere mortals by magic. That’s why there are only rumors of them. No one, save magic mortals, has ever seen the ancient places on Glain Tarran.”
“Places?” Sarah was instantly diverted. “You mean to say there are more? I should love to hear of them.”
The professor looked deeply troubled. “Perhaps later,” he murmured. “I must speak with Malachi of the matter again. What have you come to show me, Miss Tamony?”
With a pang of disappointment Sarah returned her attention to the journal on her lap. “Well, as I was saying, I wrote a description of the ceremonial grounds in my journal. It’s brief, which I’m sure you’ll understand, as the earl quite distracted me upon his arrival. What you are going to see below the entry is what I found there this morning. I did not write it, and no one else has access to this journal. My belief—and my sense—is that it appeared through some kind of magic.”
Turning the book upon her lap, she pointed to the page in question. Just beneath the notes she’d made that windy night at Glain Tarran was a series of symbols—or letters; Sarah wasn’t quite sure—written in a script much larger than Sarah’s, created by an ink or dye that put her in mind of a red-orange sunset.
The professor bent his head to look at it and then, after a moment of silence, uttered an odd, almost frightened sound.
“Do you understand what the words mean, sir?” Sarah asked. “I speak Latin, French, and Italian and cannot make it out in the least. It doesn’t appear to be any language that I’ve yet come across in my travels, and I have been exposed to many. The closest approximation I can find is the language found here, on this little amulet that I wear.”
Sarah pulled the Donballa out from beneath the neckline of her dress and showed it to the professor. If it was possible, he went a shade paler. His hands shook slightly as he examined the small, shining gold ball.
“God’s mercy,” he whispered. “The Donballa. But how is this possible?” He looked up at her. “How do you come to have it?”
“It was a gift from a sorceress in Aberdeen,” Sarah replied. “Sorsha is her name. Perhaps you know her?”
Silent, he nodded.
“His Lordship was surprised, as well,” Sarah told him. “But he very kindly repaired it for me, and made it look new again. Is it not beautiful?”
“Repaired it?” Professor Seabolt seemed unable to either understand or believe what she was saying. “Malachi? Did he?”
“Professor Seabolt, are you feeling unwell?” Sarah asked with concern, looking at him more closely. “You’re terribly pale. Shall I ring for that tea? Or something a bit stronger?”
“No, I’m fine,” he assured her, though both his voice and hands shook so that Sarah wasn’t convinced. “It’s all just so … difficult to believe. So surprising. And Malachi said nothing of this to me.”
“I suppose he wouldn’t think it necessary,” Sarah said. “His only object was to keep you from speaking with me, and knowing of the Donballa wouldn’t have made a difference. But do you not agree, Professor, that the writing on the Donballa and the writing here are rather similar? The shapes of the characters—I believe one is even exactly alike.”
“It’s the ancient tongue,” the professor said hoarsely. “I have seen it many times.” He looked up at her. “It was their language before they were cast to earth. The ones who were exiled.”
A memory drifted into Sarah’s thoughts. A memory of a low voice speaking close beside her, of the warmth of his body as they gazed at the Donballa on the palm of his hand.
The symbols are from the language spoken only by
magic mortals in the ancient days. Your brother would not have recognized them …
“Can you read it, sir? I can’t imagine why the words appeared in my journal, for surely whoever wrote them would know that I can’t decipher the meaning.”
“I’m sorry to say that I cannot,” Professor Seabolt admitted. “It’s not possible for mere mortals to understand the symbols, no matter how devotedly they might study them. And there are few among magic mortals who have been gifted with the knowledge. But I believe this message must be vitally important, Miss Tamony, regardless of where it has appeared. The Earl of Graymar must see it at once. He’ll be able to decipher and understand it. Will you trust me with your journal for a little while so that I can take it to him?”
“My journal?” Sarah said with dismay, instinctively gathering the book up and holding it close. “I couldn’t possibly take the risk, Professor. I don’t mean to suggest you’d not take every care with it, but surely you understand that it contains the most valuable information—all of the notes I’ve made during my research. I should be lost if anything happened to it, and, to be perfectly honest, Lord Graymar would likely think it a very good thing if it should somehow be misplaced.”
“Oh no, my dear,” the professor countered. “You can’t think that a man of Lord Graymar’s rank and birth would do such a thing. A nobleman, Miss Tamony. A gentleman.”
“A magic mortal who is also the Dewin Mawr,” she replied. “Yes, I do think it. He’s vowed to stop me from writing my book, and the loss of my journal would make that a fait accompli. Can I not be the one to take it to him?”
“Miss Tamony,” Professor Seabolt said reasonably, “I spoke with Malachi just this morning, and I can assure you that it’s very unlikely he’ll allow you entrance to Mervaille. If only for the sake of not giving you further interesting information for your book. It is an extraordinary place.”
“I’ve already seen Glain Tarran,” she said, “and can’t possibly be more deeply impressed.”
Professor Seabolt gazed at her with ill-concealed impatience.
Touch of Desire Page 13
