Sorcerer to the Crown

by Zen Cho

  “The ability to move for the procedure was removed from the Charter of the Society after Cecil Hallett was killed,” said Zacharias. “But it seems it has been restored.”

  “That is what puzzles me,” said Damerell. “The Charter may only be amended by the Committee by leave of the Crown. How has Midsomer managed to hurry the Government along? Do you recall our application to keep a cat in the Society gardens, by way of preserving the levels of atmospheric magic? We submitted our proposal to the Government last year, and the kitten we identified for the purpose is now a tomcat with an evil temper. An excessively magical creature—it could pass for a Fellow if it were able to hold a pen.”

  “I knew it was Mr. Midsomer who has been trying to murder you!” said Prunella to Zacharias. “I suppose he is tired of failing, and is seeking to achieve his purpose by this means.”

  “Trying to murder you?” said Lady Wythe.

  Zacharias shot Prunella a furious glance. She subsided, looking contrite, but it was too late.

  “I am sorry, ma’am. I had hoped to keep this from you,” said Zacharias. “There have been certain attempts—magical attacks—”

  “Have there been more attacks?” said Prunella. “I declare Mr. Midsomer is a perfect nuisance! Were not the fire at the inn and that wicked puddle enough?”

  Zacharias had hoped to pass over the topic lightly, but Lady Wythe’s eyes had gone round with alarm, and he could not avoid answering without increasing her anxiety.

  “He would be a poor sort of assassin if he did not try again, since it is common knowledge that I am still alive,” said Zacharias irritably. “There has been nothing worth mentioning, however: an asp disguised as a sausage at my dinner; invisible obstacles magicked onto my staircase, in the hope that I may trip and break my neck. I assure you”—this to Lady Wythe—“there is no need for concern. Considering the extreme tension that has subsisted within the Society since my investiture, it was only a matter of time before something of the sort happened. I consider myself fortunate that my enemy has so far been easily dealt with.”

  “But is it truly Geoffrey Midsomer who has been conspiring against you?” said Lady Wythe. “He must be denounced to the Presiding Committee—put away in a gaol. I shall speak to Lord Burrow, and demand that he put a stop to these tricks—”

  “By speaking to his nephew?” said Zacharias. Lady Wythe fell silent.

  “Besides,” said Zacharias, into a depressed silence, “I do not know for certain that Midsomer is behind the attacks.”

  “It does not seem unreasonable to suspect Midsomer of having something to do with them, however,” said Damerell, examining his fingernails with a contemplative air. “Rollo and I will investigate his goings-on. It is clear an eye ought to be kept on the fellow, and Rollo has a remarkable nose for secrets, though you might not think it.”

  This generosity embarrassed Zacharias, and he spoke with rather more impatience than he intended in trying to disguise this. “I do not see that there is any need for you or Rollo to trouble yourselves with my affairs. It is absurd! As if I needed to employ a troop of intelligence agents on my behalf!”

  “On the contrary,” said Damerell coolly, “it is tradition. Every Sorcerer Royal who survived more than a few months in office achieved his longevity by the judicious employment of spies.”

  Chastened, Zacharias said, “I am conscious of your goodness, and I know you receive little enough reward for it. But then your kindness to me has always exceeded anything I could return.”

  “If you wish to thank me, you would oblige me by leaving off such talk,” said Damerell crossly. “You need not flatter yourself that I am helping you on your own account. How could I do less for the connection of an old friend?” He bowed to Lady Wythe.

  “It is not very civil of you to call Lady Wythe old,” said Prunella.

  “Oh, Damerell may take any liberties he desires, you know. He can never be uncivil,” said Lady Wythe. She tried to smile through her distress. “It is a great comfort to me that you and dear Robert are taking up Zacharias’s cause.”

  “We will do our best by him,” promised Damerell. “We shall be unflagging in our endeavours, despite ingratitude, mutterings, complaints. Never let it be said that Zacharias Wythe wanted friends in this world or any other.”

  • • •

  THERE was still work to be done, even when the threat of being sacrificed upon the altar of a rival’s ambition hung over one’s head. Zacharias returned to his study at the end of the day determined to continue his work. He thought he should make a start on a report to the Society of his audience with the Fairy King, though he felt hardly equal to the task. He sat chewing on his quill, various anxieties tumbling tiredly about in his head.

  He did not yet know what he ought to tell, and what he should withhold. Prunella had not known where Mak Genggang had gone, though she had promised to send a message. If only he could contrive to come to an understanding with Mak Genggang, perhaps—

  He had not completed the thought when the window shattered. With an energy Zacharias had not known he still possessed, he vaulted across the room, snatching his staff out of the umbrella stand. But what came through the window was no monster or assassin. It was Mak Genggang.

  She had returned to her ordinary size, but retained the bat-wings she had invented to enable her escape from the Society. She fluttered into the room and landed on the floor, folding her wings up behind her.

  “Good day, ma’am,” said Zacharias, after a pause.

  He could not decide whether to thank her for coming, or upbraid her for ruining his windows. The former would be more politic, of course, but the latter would be such a satisfaction to his feelings. Whether he intended courtesy or reproach, however, he was prevented from continuing by Mak Genggang.

  “So much for the soft words of the foreign sorcerer!” she cried, trembling with passion. “I will say nothing of ingratitude. It is the deception, the cowardly dishonesty in seeking to put a frail old woman off her guard, which is what I cannot endure. You will regret your mistake, however. You will find it is a fool who seeks to impose upon Mak Genggang!”

  Zacharias was alarmed by the furious resentment in her voice.

  “Mak Genggang—” he began, but she cut him off.

  “Do the British think us children, to be daunted by shadows and smoke?” she said. “We have sought only to live in peace, and you have sent an army into our country. Very well! If you wish us to believe you are ready to attack, we shall take you at your word. We may not be experts in war, but you have not heard, perhaps, of the venom of a woman’s curse. Our enmity, once earned, survives even death.”

  In the same bitter voice, the matriarch began reciting a curse. The language was unfamiliar, but the syllables dropping like poison from her lips were pregnant with a tremendous evil power. The wood of Zacharias’s desk warped and turned black. A noxious miasma rose from her person, and the floorboards shuddered beneath Zacharias’s feet.

  “Ma’am, I beg that you will not be rash,” cried Zacharias. “I assure you, whatever offence has been perpetrated, I have no knowledge of it. I would be very anxious to remedy any wrong committed against your people.”

  “You regret your perfidy now that you see the extent of my power, but you ought to have considered it before you betrayed Janda Baik!” snapped Mak Genggang.

  “I beg you will believe I have no knowledge of this betrayal,” said Zacharias. “I have been quarrelling with my Government to stay out of the affairs of your island. My first wish is to prevent magical conflict, which would be so detrimental to both our nations.”

  “Of course you deny your wickedness,” said Mak Genggang. “The British are all alike—cheats, traitors, villainous blackguards!”

  She looked uncertain, however, and Zacharias sought to press his advantage.

  “Did not I defend you from my colleagues when they wish
ed to punish you after the Spring Ball? Was it not my apprentice who then freed you from your imprisonment?” he said. “Till now I was not aware of anything that might endanger the accord between our nations. I would regret anything of the sort extremely.”

  “Do you truly not know?” said Mak Genggang, eyeing him with misgiving. “This evening an attack was mounted upon my women in Janda Baik. They looked to the east, and saw ranks of British soldiers, fearfully armed and ferocious. They looked to the west, and saw British ships lining the harbour, ready to fire broadsides upon their houses. The British demanded that my women surrender and leave the island peaceably, but I am proud to say they took the British representative captive and beat him for his impertinence.”

  “Good God!” said Zacharias.

  “Oh yes! The women of Janda Baik are not mild. Blood, and not milk, flows in our veins,” said Mak Genggang. “My women were shot at for their noble response, but that did not deter them. They are not so poor-spirited! They barricaded themselves within their huts and cast spells for truth-telling and the finding of lost objects, until finally the guns were silenced, and they emerged to see the illusions dispelled—no ships, and scarcely any soldiers. My women have captured all ten men, and I believe your soldiers are being taught a salutary lesson. It was foolish of your King to have sent so few to take the witches of Janda Baik, but not nearly so foolish as seeking to overbear my women with trumpery illusions.”

  “Our sovereign is no magician,” said Zacharias slowly.

  Edgeworth must have found a thaumaturge to provide his knockdown spell. A thaumaturge who required assistance, perhaps; who desired the Government’s prompt attention to a minor matter—the mere adjustment of a provision in the Charter incorporating the Royal Society of Unnatural Philosophers.

  But Midsomer had miscalculated badly. He could not have dreamt that this play would result in British subjects being held hostage by a foreign power—a power admittedly small, but confoundedly magical, and now extremely angry. Why should Midsomer or Edgeworth have suspected that the witches of Janda Baik would see through Midsomer’s illusions? Neither had seen Mak Genggang amble out of Fairyland as though she were taking an evening stroll, nor felt the virulence of her curse.

  But what could have possessed Midsomer to do what was sure to vex the Fairy Court, given its sentiments towards Janda Baik’s lamiae? Zacharias no longer doubted that Midsomer knew of the block upon England’s magic: if his familiar had not told him, he must have discovered it himself during his sojourn in Fairyland, and he must be aware of the Court’s reason for withholding its magic.

  Still, Midsomer had shown himself willing enough to risk the good of the nation in pursuit of his own interest. He had already put at naught the Court’s prohibition on the summoning of familiars, though he knew Fairyland was likely to include the whole of England in its resentment of any offence. It was the Society’s opinion he cared for, for it was only the Society that could help him to the staff of the Sorcerer Royal.

  It would be an unattractive office by the time he came to fill it, but what cared Midsomer for that? Perhaps he believed he might do anything with such a convenient scapegoat as Zacharias to hand.

  “I think I know who your enemy is, who has made such trouble for you,” said Zacharias. “I will put a stop to his schemes directly—if you will have the goodness to do me a favour in return.”

  Mak Genggang bristled up. “You dare make demands, when your nation has acted so shamefully towards my people? If you think I will grovel to your sovereign, or permit Raja Ahmad to run roughshod over my women—!”

  “I think you know, ma’am, that your people have not been altogether just to us,” said Zacharias.

  “I am sure I do not know what you mean,” said Mak Genggang. The lie was so transparent Zacharias almost laughed.

  “Why did not you tell me our magic had been stopped at your countrywomen’s request?” he said. “If I had known it before, I could have advised you on how best to make your case to our King. Your enemy might never have had the opportunity to ingratiate himself with our Government—might never have been granted the licence to attack your island.”

  Mak Genggang glared. Zacharias answered this with an unflinching gaze, though he was by no means as calm as he hoped he looked.

  To his relief, after a moment Mak Genggang said pettishly:

  “It is hardly to the purpose to lament your ignorance now! I did not know anything of it myself till my women told me of the attack. It was only then that they confessed they had been inciting the spirits against the British. They feared they had overreached themselves—that their ploy was discovered, and instead of agreeing to their demands, the English King had responded by this attack. They were reassured when I told them that it was Raja Ahmad’s wicked influence that had moved the British to act against them. But perhaps I spoke amiss. Perhaps, indeed, the attack was in revenge for my women’s dealings with the spirits?”

  Her dark eyes gleamed with suspicion.

  “Perhaps,” said Zacharias. When Mak Genggang looked outraged, he added:

  “I do not know for sure. But you must see that your lamiae’s scheme would scarcely have increased my Government’s good will towards you. I cannot make out why they did not tell you earlier, so that you could convey the message to us. How could they hope to blackmail Britain if Britain knew nothing of their threat?”

  “Of course they did not tell me,” said Mak Genggang. “I should never have permitted it if I had known what they planned. Such a small nation as ours cannot afford to offend others, and nothing would be likelier to bring the wrath of the British down upon our heads than stopping their magic.”

  “Did they tell no one, then?”

  Mak Genggang eyed Zacharias, as if she were wondering how much he knew, and considering how much she could tell him. Finally she said:

  “It seems there was an acquaintance of theirs in the spirit world, who planned to remove to Britain. She was going to live with a great magician, who had many powerful acquaintances. She promised he would convey the message to the King. That was my women’s mistake, of course. They should have known better than to put any stock in an English magician’s word.”

  “It is necessary to choose the right English magician for the purpose,” said Zacharias ruefully. “I wish I had known of this sooner.”

  “Oh, I do not deny my vampiresses have mishandled the affair,” said Mak Genggang. “They feared I should tell them to go to their relations if they confessed to any. Absurd creatures! As if I did not know one might disagree with one’s relations, and wish to live apart from them! They are my women, however. I am bound to defend them, however stupid they are. Any offence to them must be furiously resented!”

  Mak Genggang was well on the way to working herself back up into a passion. Zacharias saw he must intervene if he were to avoid another curse.

  “I am not proud of my nation’s conduct towards yours, if your account is true,” he said. “But I am bound to defend it, as you are bound to defend yours. If the block placed upon our magic could be removed, I might see my way to helping your people, and perhaps we would not need to quarrel. For my veins do not contain milk either, Mak Genggang, and we have still sufficient magic in England for my staff to draw upon.”

  The matriarch was angry, but she was a leader as well as a witch, and she understood power. Zacharias saw a grudging esteem in her eyes.

  “My women would happily persuade their cousins to let the British have their magic, if they could be sure they would not be injured by it,” said Mak Genggang. She rose and went to the window, the wings unfurling from her back. “But if, in a week’s time, the erring magician has not been found and punished, and assurances of our security given, I shall return. My army will not be an illusion, and it will not be easily overcome. We may be mere women, but the dead walk with us. We will give you a week, Mr. Wythe.”

  “I doubt I w
ill have so much time,” said Zacharias grimly.

  • • •

  I have left you no very comfortable office, I find,” said Sir Stephen.

  He had just appeared by the fireplace, but it was likely he had been present throughout Zacharias’s conversation with Mak Genggang, and had heard the whole.

  “At least I begin to trace my troubles to a singular source,” said Zacharias.

  “Yes, that sandy-haired Midsomer lad!” said Sir Stephen. “Who would have thought he was capable of such enterprise? It shows how little there is in blood. If his father ever held two thoughts together in his head at the same time, it was the most he ever did.”

  “Midsomer is much more beforehand than me,” said Zacharias, with a sigh.

  “If you devoted all your time to plotting divers villainies, I am sure you should soon outpace him,” said Sir Stephen. “It is continuing to attend to your duties as Sorcerer Royal that hobbles you. Well, it is never pleasant to play the informer, but it seems to me there is nothing to be done but to report Midsomer to the Presiding Committee. It was one thing when you could only accuse him of seeking to get rid of you one way or another—that I can see Midsomer’s friends and relations would happily ignore—but if he is interfering in foreign affairs, that is something the Society will have to take seriously, no matter how many uncles he has.”

  Zacharias had already considered this course, and dismissed it. “At the moment I have no proof of my allegations. Mak Genggang would hardly be deemed a credible witness by the Society. And by making this new accusation, I would implicate others. John Edgeworth must have been involved in this attack on Janda Baik, and he is not easily accused.”