When the meal was over, Mairelon and Hunch began a low-voiced conversation on the other side of the fire. Kim quickly grew frustrated with her inability to hear what they were saying, and Hunch's occasional fierce glares made it quite clear that she had better not move any closer. Kim glared back at him, which accomplished nothing beyond providing her with some emotional satisfaction, then rose and wandered back to the wagon. She glanced at the rusty lock holding the rear doors, shook her head, and went on around to the steps.
Inside the wagon, she gave the chest a speculative look. She decided against it; Mairelon knew she could open it, and had undoubtedly taken precautions. More precautions, she amended, remembering the purple explosion that had thrown her across the wagon. Instead, she went to the rear of the van. She hadn't been able to investigate that area before, because Mairelon had been performing just outside, and she was curious about how the folding stage worked.
The curtain was heavier than its faded, threadbare appearance had led her to expect. She examined it more closely and found a series of lead weights sewn into the hem. Her surprise lasted only a moment. Mairelon wouldn't want a stray breeze to reveal the luxurious interior of his wagon while he was performing. Kim frowned, wondering why he hadn't put a folding panel behind the curtain for added security. She'd have to remember to ask him later; she was certain he had some good reason. She lifted one end of the curtain and peered behind it.
There was a foot-wide space between the curtain and the back wall. Kim slipped into it and let the curtain fall shut behind her. A little light filtered in around the edges, providing a gloomy reddish illumination. As she waited for her eyes to adjust, Kim ran her fingertips lightly across the rear wall. There was no break in the surface; this must be the floor of the stage, then. She crouched to study the base of the wall. Yes, there were hinges, carefully sunk into notches in the wood. They hardly showed at all, and when the stage was lowered, they would lie flush with the floor, providing no inconvenient lumps for a performer to trip over.
She completed her inspection and straightened, just as the sound of hoofbeats came clearly from just outside. Old habits took over; Kim froze, half crouched behind the curtain. She heard a shout and the muffled sounds of conversation, but she paid little attention. She was too busy reminding herself that she was doing nothing the nabbing culls could nick her for. She hadn't nicked anything for nearly two years, not since she'd been on her own. She had just managed to convince herself that it would be perfectly safe to go outside and see what was happening when steps sounded on the stairs and she heard the wagon's door open.
"--and you can take a look at it," Mairelon's voice said.
"Well, that's good news," an unfamiliar voice replied. "What's this Hunch says about you picking up another stray?"
Curiosity kept Kim motionless. "I would hardly call Kim a stray," Mairelon said. "And Heaven only knows what would have happened to her if I'd left her in the streets of London."
"Um. Still trying to make up for Jamie? No, no, I shouldn't have mentioned it. But you're certain she has nothing to do with the robbery?"
"Quite sure. Now, Edward, do you want to look at the bowl or not?"
"Yes, of course; let's have it."
Sundry clicks and thumps followed, the sounds of Mairelon unlocking the chest and throwing back the lid. Then light flashed brightly around the edges of the curtain, and the strange voice exclaimed, "My word!"
"Impressive, isn't it?" Mairelon replied. "Will you take it with you?"
"Not unless you want me to. The consensus is that it may help you find the rest of the pieces, but it may also make things more dangerous for you."
"How?" Mairelon asked sharply.
"Magic cuts in both directions. If you can use the bowl to find the platter and the spheres, they can be used to find the bowl. And you."
"Of course. But I thought you had more in mind than that."
"Marchmont thinks someone at the Ministry has been talking too freely," Mairelon's companion said reluctantly. "It may be deliberate."
"I see. And there's still the little matter of finding out which one of our colleagues at the Royal College planned the theft in the first place, isn't there?"
"You've no proof that anyone--"
"Don't be a fool, Shoreham! Someone arranged things very cleverly to make it look as if I were the one behind that theft. Someone very well informed. It was sheerest luck that I ran into you that night, or you'd be as sure I'm guilty as the rest of them."
"All right, all right. But I still wish you'd let me clear your name."
"And give whoever it is a reason to try again? No, thank you. Besides, as long as no one knows who is really responsible, there will still be those who believe I was behind it."
"I should think the word of the Earl of Shoreham will be enough to put an end to such gossip," Shoreham said stiffly.
Kim swallowed an exclamation and pressed herself against the rear wall of the wagon, wishing fervently that she had come out from behind the curtain as soon as Mairelon opened the wagon door. Robbery and intrigue were things she emphatically did not want to get mixed up in, particularly if there were Earls involved, too. The gentry were even more trouble than toffs.
Mairelon's laugh had little humor to it. "Nothing stops gossip, Edward; you ought to know that."
"If you would just--"
"Let it lie, Edward. What else do you have to tell me? I assume you didn't come all this way just to look at the Saltash Bowl and warn me that someone in the Ministry is too free with information."
"You're still determined to go through with this?"
"Would I be here, like this, if I weren't?"
"Oh, very well, then. We've finally traced the platter."
"And?" Mairelon's tone was eager.
"It's in the hands of one of those new druid cults."
"Druid cults?"
"There's been a sort of half-baked revival going on for the past year or two. It's all very fashionable--mistletoe and white robes under the new moon, with little golden sickles for everyone." Lord Shoreham snorted. "Quackery, all of it; no science at all. It's the sort of thing that gives magicians a bad name."
"Then why did it take you this long to find the platter?"
"This group has one or two members who dabble a bit in real magic."
"I see."
"They call themselves Sons of the New Dawn, I believe," Lord Shoreham went on. "They're located in Essex, near Suffolk, at a place called Ranton Hill."
"I'm familiar with the area. Edward, if I'm going to Essex, why in Heaven's name have you dragged me a day's trip in the opposite direction?" Mairelon demanded.
"To try and keep unwelcome attention centered in this area. The platter's been there for at least two years; there's no reason to hurry."
"Mmmm. It'll take me at least two days to get there now--"
"Three," Lord Shoreham said blandly. "I'd rather you went around London instead of through it."
"If you insist."
"Under the circumstances, I most certainly do."
"Very well. Tell me about these druids, then."
Kim heard a sound like a sigh of resignation, then Lord Shoreham's voice said, "There are only about ten members, mostly young men in it for a lark. The three most likely to have the platter are Frederick Meredith, Robert Choiniet, and Jonathan Aberford. I've brought a list of the others."
There was a rustling noise as the paper changed hands. "That will do, I think," Mairelon said with some satisfaction. "I'll leave in the morning."
Lord Shoreham cleared his throat. "Ah, there is one other thing. How well do you know the Viscount Granleigh?"
"I don't believe we've met."
"And St. Clair?"
"The Baron and I . . . have met. Where is this leading, Edward?"
Shoreham sighed. "I wanted to know whether you were likely to meet anyone who would recognize you."
"Then why didn't you just ask?" Mairelon's tone was infuriating in its innocence.
"Richard! The Runners are still looking for you in connection with the original robbery, you know."
"It's half the reason I left England. I take it Granleigh and St. Clair are likely to be in Essex?"
"Possibly. Charles Bramingham is married to St. Clair's sister, and his son is St. Clair's heir. His wife is a bosom bow of Amelia Granleigh, the Viscountess, and is addicted to house parties. It's not beyond the bounds of probability that you'll run into them."
"I know. I've stayed at Bramingham Place a time or two. Don't go ruffling your feathers about it, it was years ago, and they're not likely to remember me. What is their connection with the Ministry?"
There was a moment's silence, then Lord Shoreham said ruefully, "Richard, you are uncanny. How did you know?"
"There must be at least a hundred people in London who might have recognized me, including my dear brother Andrew. You didn't ask me about any of them."
"Andrew's in London? You didn't see him, did you?"
"As a matter of fact, I did. Briefly. It needn't concern you."
"Nothing in this affair--"
"You're avoiding the subject, Edward. What's so special about Bramingham and the Granleighs?"
Lord Shoreham sighed again. "Stephen Granleigh is involved with the Ministry in a number of ways. Of necessity, he's familiar with the history of the Saltash Bowl. Has decided opinions on the subject, too."
"I see. And St. Clair?"
"Was elected to the College in your place."
"He must have been delighted." Mairelon's voice was utterly devoid of expression. "I must remember to congratulate him if I see him."
"Richard! Don't take foolish risks."
"Foolish? Never."
"I ought to take the bowl, after all, and let someone else recover the platter."
"You can have it if you like, but it won't keep me out of Essex."
"I was afraid of that. Richard, if the Runners catch you with the Saltash Bowl--"
"The Runners have criminals enough to deal with in London. What would one of them be doing in Essex?"
"Quite possibly looking for you," Lord Shoreham replied dryly. "I told you someone's been talking too much."
"I'll take the chance."
"Very well. I hope your luck holds, Richard. And don't hesitate to call on me if something happens."
"You may be sure of it."
The wagon door opened, and Lord Shoreham's footsteps sounded on the steps. Kim heard Mairelon moving about the wagon, then a soft thump as the lid of the chest closed. She held her breath, waiting for him to leave and wondering how she was going to sneak out unseen. But Mairelon did not leave. Kim was just beginning to wonder whether she would have to stay where she was all night when Mairelon spoke.
"I think you had better come out now, Kim, and explain why you've been eavesdropping on my conversation."
7
Kim swallowed hard and pushed the curtain aside. Mairelon was standing in the center of the wagon, watching her. His face was expressionless. Kim swallowed again and said nothing.
"You do have some explanation, I trust?" Mairelon said.
"I was just--it was an accident," Kim said lamely.
"I see. You just happened to hide behind the curtain at exactly the time Lord Shoreham was planning to arrive," Mairelon said with a cool politeness that was worse than sarcasm and far worse than open anger.
"Yes!" Kim said hotly. "You and Hunch didn't have no use for me outside, so I came in here to look at that stage you got in back. Which you got to get back of the curtain to do."
"The timing was remarkably convenient."
"You never said when that Shoreham cove was comin'," Kim said angrily. "So how would I of known when to hide? You ain't told me nothin', neither one of you."
"Why didn't you come out?"
"With the two of you talkin' about me? And after that . . ." Kim squirmed. "It wouldn't of looked right."
"Wouldn't have," Mairelon said, sounding as if his mind were on something else. "No, I suppose not."
"How did you know I was there?" Kim ventured. She had been half afraid Mairelon would throw her out at once, but it seemed she had been wrong. He wouldn't be correcting the way she spoke if he'd made up his mind to get rid of her.
"The end of the curtain was hanging oddly; I noticed it when I was showing Shoreham the bowl. Then I remembered seeing you come around this way and that you hadn't come back. Simple, really."
"So why didn't you say something right then?"
Mairelon looked uncomfortable. "I had my reasons."
"You didn't want the gentry cove to know I was there!" Kim said triumphantly.
"Shoreham has a nasty temper at times. Besides, I prefer to deal with you myself."
"So what are you goin' to do?"
"I don't know." Mairelon studied her. Kim stared back, trying to gauge his temper. He looked tired, and Kim was suddenly sorry she had added to his worries, however inadvertently. She pushed the thought aside; she had worries of her own.
"I suppose I shall have to bring you along," Mairelon said at last.
"To Ranton Hill?"
"That far at least. Afterward--well, we'll see how things go."
"What if I ain't wishful to go?"
Mairelon's eyes narrowed. "I beg your pardon?"
"I said, what if I ain't wishful to go with you?" Kim repeated. She chose her next words carefully, aware that she might be jeopardizing whatever fragile trust in her Mairelon still retained. "You told me you weren't doing nothin' the nabbing culls'd be . . . lookin' out for. But it didn't sound that way when you were talkin' to the gentry cove."
"No, I suppose it didn't," Mairelon said, and some of the tension went out of his shoulders. He looked at Kim and shook his head. "I wish I knew whether you--" He stopped short and snapped his fingers. "Of course!"
Kim stared in surprise as Mairelon turned and pulled open the wagon door. "Hunch! Do you have any rosemary in that cache of herbs you cart around all the time?"
Hunch's response was muffled, but a moment later Kim heard Mairelon say, "Thank you. Kim will be with me; don't disturb us for an hour or so. I'm going to need to concentrate."
"Master Richard!" Hunch's tone was horrified. "You ain't going to . . . You wouldn't never . . ."
"There are days, Hunch, when you remind me forcibly of my excessively estimable brother," Mairelon said in a tone of mild irritation. "Is it her virtue or mine that you're worrying about?"
"You ain't a-going to gammon me," Hunch said severely. "What are you up to?"
"I'm going to take that suggestion you made just before Shoreham arrived, if you must know. I trust you don't expect me to do so outside the wagon, in full view of the road?"
Hunch snorted but did not answer. A moment later, Mairelon pulled his head and shoulders back into the wagon and closed the door. His right hand held a small packet, presumably the herbs he had gotten from Hunch. Kim eyed him warily. "What're you goin' to do?"
"Reassure myself," Mairelon said absently. He set the packet down on the counter, then crossed to the chest and opened it. He muttered a word and made a quick gesture with his left hand, hidden from Kim by his body. Then he withdrew the velvet-swathed bundle that had been Kim's downfall. He set it carefully on the counter and gently folded back the velvet.
Kim's eyes went wide as she stared at the heavy silver bowl nested in the ripples of black velvet. It was shallow and circular, like the soup bowls the gentry used, but more than twice as large. The rim was at least two inches wide and carved into intricate leaves, flowers, and vines. It shone softly in the lamplight.
Kim looked at Mairelon. "Is that the silver bowl you and the gentry cove were on about?"
"The Saltash Bowl. Yes." The magician opened a cupboard and removed several small jars. He measured carefully as he added portions of their contents to the bowl, then mixed them with a long wooden rod. Kim noticed that he was careful not to touch any part of the silver with his hands as he worked.
She star
ted to ask another question, but thought better of interrupting him. She waited until he finished the mixing and laid aside the wooden rod. As he reached for Hunch's packet, she said, "You ain't explained nothin' about what you're doin'."
Mairelon paused in mid-reach and looked at her. "No, I haven't, have I?" He hesitated, studying her, then sighed. "I suppose you have a right to know what to expect. Very well, then. One of the uses of the Saltash Bowl is to compel people to speak truthfully."
"And you're goin' to use it on me?" Kim asked cautiously. It was not a welcome thought. There were any number of things she would rather not be forced to discuss truthfully: the uses to which she had put her expertise in lock picking, for instance. On the other hand, this was an opportunity to observe real magic at close hand, and she wasn't about to pass it up without a reason. Assuming, of course, that she had a choice.
"Not exactly. The magic of the Saltash Bowl can be used only under very specific circumstances. More important, it can be used only when the entire set is together."
"That platter the gentry cove was talkin' about?"
"Among other things. I cannot, therefore, use the bowl to force you to be truthful. However, I believe I can cast a similar spell, using the bowl as a focus, which will let me know whether or not you are telling the truth."
"So if I don't say nothin', you can't tell what's true?" Kim said. Mairelon's lips tightened, and she added hastily, "I'm just tryin' to understand. You ain't got no business knowin' everything about me."
"A reasonable objection," Mairelon said after a moment. "Very well. The spell is just an indicator. If you don't say anything, it won't have anything to work with, so it won't tell me anything."
Wrede, Patricia C - Mairelon 01 Page 6
