by M. J. Putney
Mrs. Rainford had opened the black curtains after Tory was in bed and the lights were off, so sunlight streamed in the window. She’d slept well into the morning.
She rose from her bed and padded over to the window. There was a fine view of the channel, and the village was just visible on the far right.
Tory gazed across the channel, glad that at least the eternal waves hadn’t changed. On a peaceful morning like this, it was hard to believe that armies with monster machines were tearing at each other in France and drawing ever nearer.
When she went into the corridor on her way to the bathroom, she heard Nick’s voice downstairs. Probably everyone was waiting for her to appear. She dressed and combed her hair out hastily, tying it back with a ribbon Mrs. Rainford had provided.
Then she headed downstairs. She liked the Rainford house. Though not grand, it was pleasant and welcoming, and there were comforts rare or unknown in Tory’s time.
She followed the voices to the kitchen, which seemed to be the center of family life. The night before, Mrs. Rainford had worn a long robe, but now she was in a dress that barely covered her knees. Her ankles were visible! The young blond girl at the kitchen table was similarly dressed. No wonder Nick had thought Tory’s ankle-length gown was nightwear.
Tory became the object of everyone’s attention as soon as she stepped into the room. Nick’s sister said doubtfully, “This is the sorceress?”
Tory didn’t know whether to be amused or exasperated. “I am merely a mage in training. ‘Sorcerer’ usually means someone who practices dark magic, which I most certainly do not.”
“Whatever she calls herself, she has power, Polly,” Nick said. “Tory, this is my skeptical little sister. Polly, meet Victoria Mansfield.”
As Polly acknowledged the introduction, Tory noticed that the girl had the glow of power. The long blond hair that flopped over her forehead and shoulders didn’t disguise her burning gaze. Nick and Mrs. Rainford watched their guest with matching intensity. Even the shaggy family dog under the kitchen table was watching Tory.
“Good morning.” Feeling like a mouse surrounded by cats, Tory bobbed a curtsy to her hostess. “Last night, you said you might be able to help me go home?”
“I hope so. I’ve studied the family journals as well as some old books that have come down with them.” Using a quilted mitt, Mrs. Rainford drew a plate from the oven and set it on the table opposite where Polly and Nick were sitting. “We can talk after you have breakfast. Be careful of the plate, it’s hot. I hope you like eggs and sausage.”
“It looks lovely, thank you.” Tory sat with enthusiasm. She hadn’t seen such a good breakfast since she was sent away from Fairmount Hall. “But please tell me now what you’ve found. I can eat and listen at the same time.”
Mrs. Rainford poured tea for Tory, then topped up everyone’s cups. “Very well. I teach English and Latin, and the Latin helps with the older books. Nick said you described a silver object that sounds like Merlin’s mirror.”
Tory glanced up from her eggs. “I’ve never heard of that, but I wasn’t a student in the Labyrinth for very long. What did the book have to say about the mirror?”
“The book that describes it is the oldest we have, but as Nick told you, the mirror was a portal for taking people through time and space. The chronicle translates as ‘Merlin, he did make seven magical mirrors and he scattered them through the realms that men might travel to all times and places,’ but that might be more poetry than fact.”
“I moved in time, but not in space,” Tory said thoughtfully. “How is the portal activated? I certainly didn’t cast any spells. I just ran toward it and touched the surface, wondering if I could hide behind it. The next thing I knew, I was sprawled on the floor of the tunnel in this time.”
“Apparently one needs a particular kind of magical talent to use one of the portals,” the teacher replied. “Also, there must be a powerful need to be someplace else. Apparently you have the talent, and you also had the need.”
Remembering her fear as the raiders chased her, Tory saw how she’d fulfilled the requirements. “Well, now I have a powerful need to go back. Do you think I can go home if I find the mirror again? It vanished after I’d passed through it.”
“I wish I had the answers,” Mrs. Rainford said with a sigh. “The chronicle suggests that the portal exists in another space and appears only when it’s summoned.”
“It sounds as if summoning is done through need and magic. So if I return to the tunnel where I came through, I might be able to make the mirror appear again if I consciously will for that to happen.” Excited, Tory pushed the plate away and stood. “I might be home tonight!”
“No!” Polly exclaimed. “You must teach us how to use magic!”
As Tory blinked in surprise, Nick, who’d been silent until now, said, “We hoped you’d give us lessons before going back. All of us have some power, but we don’t know what to do with it.”
“Bad times are coming, and we need all the skills we can muster,” Mrs. Rainford said quietly. “Very bad indeed. I have nightmares of bombs falling and cities on fire.”
Her children stared at her. “You never told us that,” Nick said.
“I didn’t want to alarm you, but I need to persuade Tory to help us.” Mrs. Rainford smiled wryly. “I’ve had a strong feeling that a powerful person would come and would help in some way. I just didn’t expect a time traveler the age of my children.”
“I don’t know how to teach magic,” Tory said uncomfortably. “I just started to do magical things without intending them and got caught and sent to Lackland.”
“You know more than we do,” Nick said. “Surely you can offer some guidance!”
As Tory hesitated, Polly said scornfully, “She’s no mage. She just scrambled your wits because she’s pretty.”
“Yes, she’s pretty,” Nick retorted. “But she really did fly!”
Tory was glad they thought she was pretty, but it seemed like time for a demonstration. She concentrated until she felt the internal click, then gracefully rose a yard, which put her head near the ceiling. As Polly and her mother gasped, Horace came alive and leaped into the air to snap at Tory’s toes. “Sit!” she ordered.
The dog sat, tail wagging furiously. Tory glided down to the floor next to him. “Are you persuaded, skeptical Polly?”
The girl’s eyes were as round as saucers. “Can you teach me to do that?”
“You have to have the particular talent needed for floating, and it’s rare.” Tory gazed at Polly, letting her eyes drift out of focus. “I think your greatest strength will be weather working, which is a skill that runs in the Rainford family.”
“I’ve always loved watching the weather, especially storms,” Polly said bashfully. “Sometimes I … I feel the storms and winds. I can really be a weather mage?”
“You have the right kind of talent, and my guess is that you also have enough power.” Tory frowned. “Though I’m no teacher, I could explain basic techniques. A lot of it is practice. I can’t stay too long, though. I need to go home.”
“Today is Sunday, which is why none of us are in school,” Mrs. Rainford said. “Will you stay a week to get us started?”
Seeing Tory’s uncertainty, Nick said, “Maybe you could spend two or three days here, go home, and then come back later?”
Tory shuddered. “Going through the portal is beastly. Once I leave, I won’t be coming back.”
“Then stay longer now,” Polly said flatly.
“Three days,” Tory said. “No more. Unless you plan to hold me prisoner?”
“Of course not,” Mrs. Rainford said. “Three days should give us a good start. But you’d best finish your breakfast. We’re going to work you hard!” She set a plate of toast in the center of the table, then added a jar of marmalade.
As Tory finished her eggs, Polly said, “It’s time for the news.”
She reached across the kitchen table and turned a switch on the decorative wooden bo
x that sat against the wall. A male voice boomed from the box, “Newly selected prime minister Winston Churchill will be addressing the Labor Party conference in Bournemouth today.…” Polly turned a knob and the volume dropped.
“Good heavens!” Tory exclaimed. “Is this more of your science?”
Nick laughed. “Yes, it’s a wireless. It works from electricity and receives electromagnetic waves through the air.”
“And how is this not magic? Can you see or touch one of those waves?”
He started to reply, then stopped. “Not exactly, but I know they’re there, or the wireless wouldn’t work. Science has rules.”
She grinned. “It sounds a lot like magic to me. So does your electricity. And your flying machines. Magic.”
Mrs. Rainford laughed. “Most of us don’t really know how things work, just how to operate them. So yes, they could be magic.”
“Magic has rules, just as your science does.” Tory spread marmalade on a piece of toast and took a pleasurable bite. “I’ve told Polly something of her talents. You already know what you are, Mrs. Rainford. A foreteller.”
“I’ve thought that.” The older woman bit her lip. “I have feelings, but I’m so often wrong. I think there will be food rationing, so I put up many preserves last summer, and we’re planting a big vegetable garden now. While these things might be useful later, I can’t even tell if my husband is alive in France! I have two images of him in my mind. One of him coming home safely, the other—” She drew a shuddering breath and shook her head.
As her children flinched, Tory said, “That’s because the future is not absolute.” She tried to remember what Miss Wheaton had said. “The future is a map of possibilities, not a single straight road. Our personal paths are more easily altered than the great events that affect whole nations.”
“Like war?” When Tory nodded, Mrs. Rainford closed her eyes, her expression anguished. “Bombs will fall on London. The Houses of Parliament will burn.”
Tory shuddered at the image. “I don’t think seeing the future can change something so huge and dreadful.”
“Perhaps not. But the more clearly I can see, the better my chances of keeping my family safe,” Mrs. Rainford said with determination.
“What about me, Tory?” Nick asked. “Do I have power, or have I been fooling myself? You say Rainfords are often weather workers.”
Tory closed her eyes again, seeing Nick as a swirl of differently colored lights. “You have some weather magic, though not as much as Polly. You have other powers, but I’m not sure what they are. You have finding ability, and you’re very good at reading people, I think. Knowing what is in their minds and how to persuade them.”
“That’s true, but I don’t think of that as magic.” He scowled. “I was hoping for something that would make a difference.”
“Don’t take my words as gospel,” Tory warned. “I’m just looking at what is readily visible. When you start to develop your talents, you’ll discover for yourself what you can do.”
Mrs. Rainford looked thoughtful. “Since your time here is limited, I think that Nick and Polly will suddenly be too ill to go to school.”
“Will you also be ill?”
Mrs. Rainford made a face. “Since I’m a teacher, I don’t think I can be.”
“I’ll start by explaining general principles to all of you,” Tory said as she considered the best approach. “Since you must teach tomorrow, Mrs. Rainford, I’ll tutor you privately this evening. Tomorrow, I’ll tutor Polly and Nick during the day, then work with everyone in the evening. We’ll have more sessions on Tuesday. We’ll all need resting time mixed in—this is hard work.”
Nick laughed. “For years I secretly dreamed of working hard at magic, but I didn’t know where to start.”
Tory regarded her three students. She’d thought the Irregulars were enthusiastic learners, but they weren’t a patch on the Rainfords. “We start here and now. And don’t blame me if you’re exhausted by the end of the day!”
CHAPTER 22
For the next three hours, Tory explained principles, drilled her students on basic control exercises, and answered questions. About noon, Mrs. Rainford said, “We’re all starting to flag, so my teacher’s advice is that it’s time for a break. Let’s take a walk. You can see more of the village, Tory, and we can stop at the chippy for fish and chips.”
“We can all use fresh air,” Tory agreed as she got to her feet. “And I want to see what 1940 looks like in daylight.”
As she pulled on her shawl, Mrs. Rainford said, “Tory, I think you should borrow some of Polly’s clothing. You’re about the same size. If anyone wonders who you are, we can say you’re a friend of my goddaughter here for a visit. That’s vague enough.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Tory glanced at Nick. “I don’t want anyone to think I’m wearing my nightgown outside.”
Nick grinned. “That dress still looks like a nightgown to me.”
“Come along to my room and I’ll fix you up.” Polly bounced to her feet. “It will give me a chance to be the expert.”
“That’s only fair,” Tory agreed as she followed Polly upstairs.
The girl’s bedroom was also tucked under the eaves but neat as a pin. She opened the doors of her wardrobe and studied the contents. “Here’s a skirt, blouse, and cardigan that should suit. I’ll go out so you can change.”
Tory held up the indecently short blue skirt. “Don’t your knees ever get cold?”
“It’s not that short! At least I don’t trip over a long skirt.”
Before Polly could leave, Tory asked, “What is this strip of metal bits?”
“A zip. I suppose you didn’t have them.” Polly demonstrated how moving a metal tab opened or closed the skirt.
Tory pulled the tab up and down with delight. “This is certainly better than using pins and ties!” Setting the skirt on the bed, she asked, “What about undergarments? I suppose my stays will do, but my shift is too long for this skirt.”
“Stays?”
“Short stays are padded supports for the upper body,” Tory explained. “There are long stays that go over the hips, but I’m wearing a simple style that ends at the waist and laces up the front.”
Polly made a face. “Are stays the same as a corset?”
“Yes, though there are many styles. What do females wear now?”
“I’ll show you.” Polly opened a drawer in a small chest and took out several small folded garments. “You can have this new pair of knickers I’ve never worn. This is a clean vest for your top, and a slip to wear under the skirt and blouse.”
Tory examined the undergarments, thinking the vest and slip were like a shift that had been divided into two separate pieces. “The fabric is a very fine weave, and the stitches are tiny. Who does the sewing?”
“Stitching is done by a machine. The needle goes up and down very fast and locks with another thread from below.” Polly demonstrated with her fingers. “Mum has a sewing machine if you’d like to see it later.” She pulled another item from the drawer. “Women wear something called a brassiere. I don’t need one yet, but my mother bought me this for my thirteenth birthday. She said I could grow into it.”
Tory studied the brassiere, which had two shaped cups and a strap that hooked in the back. “This looks like a horse’s harness. The vest looks more comfortable.”
“Corsets don’t sound very nice, either. I suppose it’s what we’re used to.” Polly’s gaze went to Tory’s feet. “Your shoes don’t look like anything worn now. I think our feet are about the same size. Mine might be larger. Here, try this pair of school shoes I outgrew over last summer before I had a chance to wear them.”
“Oh, I like these!” Tory turned the shiny black leather shoes over in her hands. The heels were about an inch and a half high, and a thin, buckled strap ran over the instep. “They’ll make me taller, too.”
“Here are the socks to go with them.” Polly offered a pair of white knit socks. “That and a h
at should be everything you need.”
Tory surveyed the mound of garments. “I’ll call for help if needed.”
“Surely a mage can master underwear!” Polly said with a mischievous smile as she left the room.
Tory did manage, though she felt decidedly odd without the familiar support of her stays. She’d never worn a skirt this short, and the zip made the upper part fit closely around her hips. But she did like the shiny black shoes, which fit perfectly. The cardigan was a warm knit garment that buttoned over the white blouse. She liked that, too. She went back to Joe’s room and combed her hair before tying it back with the ribbon again.
“You look just like a regular girl,” Nick said when she came downstairs.
“I am a regular girl,” she retorted. “A regular girl who can do magic.” On mischievous impulse, she used the magic she’d learned in Allarde’s tutorial to float a navy blue beret from the coatrack to her hand. “May I borrow this hat, Polly?”
“It seems to want to be with you.” Smiling, Polly snapped her fingers at the dog. “Come along, Horace. Walkies!”
The shaggy dog, which had seemed nearly comatose under the kitchen table, surged to his feet and raced to the kitchen door, toenails scrabbling. Tory was equally eager to get outside after the long morning of work. The sunshine was pale, but spring flowers were blooming with color outside.
As the group headed down the hill, Tory said, “Still fishing boats in the harbor, I see.” The sight was comforting proof that life hadn’t changed entirely.
Nick said, “We have a boat and we go sailing whenever we can. At least, we used to.” His voice was wistful. Unspoken was the knowledge that his family might never be together like that again.
For distraction, Tory asked, “Do Mr. Rainford and Joe have magic?”
“I’m not sure,” Mrs. Rainford replied. “Tom has very good hunches. Intuition. Joe was always very good at games because he seemed to know what the other team would do before they did themselves.”
