A Matter of Magic

by Patricia C. Wrede

  11

  Kim drew a shaky breath as she watched the coach pull away, all too conscious that only good luck had kept Jasper Marston from noticing her. She wanted to run away, to hide, and she wished suddenly and passionately that she were back in London, where she might have had some chance of doing so. With both Jack Stower and the skinny toff in Ranton Hill, it was beginning to look very much as if staying in London would have been safer than leaving.

  Freddy Meredith, who had also been watching the coach, chose this moment to turn and see Kim. “Hi, boy! Get someone out here to take this horse, will you?”

  Glad of the excuse, Kim nodded and went inside. The innkeeper was coming out of the kitchen into the hallway, carrying a tray. “And where the devil have you been, boy?” he asked when he saw Kim.

  “Man outside wants someone to take his horse,” Kim informed him, ignoring his question.

  The innkeeper rolled his eyes. “Quality! Well, I’ll see to it. Your master wants you, third door on the right at the top of the stairs. Take this along with you.”

  The stairs were narrow and steep, and Kim had some difficulty in climbing them without dumping everything off the tray the innkeeper had handed her. She made it to the top at last, and stood balancing the tray against the railing while she caught her breath. Then she counted doors and kicked at the third one.

  “Enter,” Mairelon’s voice called from inside the room.

  “I can’t,” Kim called back crossly. “You’ll have to open the door yourself.”

  She heard a scraping sound on the other side of the door, and then Mairelon opened it. “Kim! What are you doing with that?”

  “The buffer downstairs said you ordered it,” Kim replied.

  “And was too lazy to bring it up himself, hmm? Good Lord, you’re white as a winding-sheet! Sit down, sit down, before you fall over.” Mairelon took the tray from Kim’s suddenly shaking hands and set it on the small table beside the window. Kim sank into the nearest chair. She was cold and her legs felt like jelly; she was too stunned even to think, though a corner of her mind marveled distantly at the strength of her reaction.

  “Here,” Mairelon said, pressing a glass into her hand. “Drink this. Will you be all right alone for a moment? I’m going to get Hunch.”

  Kim nodded, and Mairelon left. She took a deep breath, and the feeling of being far away from everything began to lessen. She sipped at the glass Mairelon had handed her, and coughed as a fiery liquid ran unexpectedly down her throat.

  The door opened and Mairelon reentered the room. “Now, what’s given you the wind up? Did your friend from the Dog and Bull see you?”

  “I don’t think so,” Kim said. “But how did you know—”

  “He’s staying in the next room,” Mairelon said. “I could hardly help noticing his presence, and I thought there was something familiar about his voice. So I contrived to get a look at him as he left. If it wasn’t our skinny friend, what’s upset you?”

  “I ain’t sure,” Kim said. She was feeling more like herself, and her momentary weakness bothered her. “I ain’t never done nothin’ like that before, not even on my first crack lay.”

  “Really. And how long has it been since you did any housebreaking?” Mairelon asked.

  “Couple years. Since old Mother Tibb died, anyways. After what happened to her, I lost the taste for it, sort of.”

  “What happened to her?” Mairelon said very softly.

  “The nabbing culls got her. Most of the others, too. I was lucky I got away.” She took a tiny sip from the glass and closed her eyes. “They got transported, mostly, but Mother Tibb swung because she ran things for the lot of us.”

  “I see.”

  “I shouldn’t of gone to watch. It was stupid. And after that . . .”

  “After that, you didn’t feel as if you could go back to housebreaking.”

  Kim shrugged. “I never took to it much, not like some of the rest. Besides, it ain’t a good lay for a loner, and I couldn’t join up with one of the other gangs because—” She stopped short and shook her head. Why was she telling Mairelon all this?

  “Because they’d have discovered that you were a girl,” Mairelon finished quietly. He was looking at her with an odd expression that she didn’t have the energy to figure out. “Was it so important to you, staying a boy?”

  Kim nodded wearily. “You ain’t never seen the stews in St. Giles, or you wouldn’t need to ask. Mother Tibb kept me on a good three years longer than most, because I had a knack for locks, but that wouldn’t of lasted much longer. Anybody else would of packed me off as soon as they found out I wasn’t a boy.”

  Mairelon went still. “Drink your brandy,” he said, and his voice was harsh.

  The brandy wasn’t so bad, now that Kim knew what to expect. It was a great deal better than the cheap gin she had sometimes bought in London. She sipped it slowly, and in a few minutes more her grim mood began to lift.

  “I found out some things you ought to know,” Kim said to end the long silence.

  “Wait until Hunch gets here,” Mairelon said. “No sense in going over everything twice.”

  Fortunately, Hunch was not long in appearing. He snorted through his mustache when he saw Kim, which did more to make her feel herself again than even the brandy.

  “Sit down and stop grumphing, Hunch,” Mairelon said. “I’ve taken separate rooms for tonight, but we can hardly talk through the wall, and Kim says she’s found out something of interest.”

  “That’s as may be,” Hunch said darkly. “But she ’adn’t ought to be ’ere, and neither should you. Someone’s been asking questions down at the stable.”

  “But it’s such an interesting place,” Mairelon said, waving in a general way at the walls of the inn. “Really, Hunch, you have no idea how fascinating this inn is.”

  “Maybe not,” Hunch said, “but I know when you’re at one o’ your queer starts, Master Richard. And you ’adn’t ought to, not this time. Someone’s looking for us.”

  “Oh, really, Hunch, how can you be sure of that?”

  “ ’Ow many people ’ave a yellow wagon with red wheels and a painting of a man in a top ’at on the back?” Hunch countered.

  Mairelon frowned. “Someone’s asking questions about the wagon?”

  Hunch nodded. “It’s us she’s looking for, right enough.”

  “She?”

  Kim though that Hunch was enjoying the effect his news was having, though his expression remained dour. “Aye. One of them grand ladies, they said. Offered a meg to anyone as ’ad news of it, and a shilling extra if she could be sure no one else ’ad the news afore ’er.”

  “What a good thing we left the wagon in the woods,” Mairelon commented. He moved to the window and stared down at the stable.

  “That ain’t all, neither,” Hunch said. “There was a cove nosing around, too, ’anging about in back of the inn and be’aving oddly. The ’ostler said ’is name was James Fenton.”

  “Fenton?” Kim said. “There was a Mr. Fenton in the taproom for a while; he looked like a footman or somethin’. I think he works for that Meredith cove, the one who had that platter and lost it playin’ cards.”

  “Does he,” Mairelon said thoughtfully. “I wonder. What was he doing here, do you know?”

  “He came to meet a Mr. Aberford,” Kim said. “He wanted to sell him the news about Meredith’s losing the platter, only Aberford knew already.” Quickly she recounted the scene in the taproom. “When he took off, I followed him, and then—” She hesitated.

  “And then?” Mairelon prompted.

  “I think maybe I ought to go back to London,” Kim blurted, staring down at her hands to avoid seeing Mairelon’s or Hunch’s expressions. “I’m goin’ to be trouble for you if I stay.”

  “I see,” Mairelon said after a moment of silence that to Kim seemed to go on forever. “Or rather, I don’t see. Why don’t you begin by telling us exactly what happened, and then perhaps I will.”

  “It was Ja
ck Stower,” Kim said. “He’s one of Laverham’s boys. I told you about Laverham.”

  “I remember.”

  “I swear I don’t know how he followed me from London, I swear I don’t. He didn’t see me, but if he’s pokin’ about, he’ll find out I’m here for sure, and—”

  “Slow down and back up,” Mairelon said. “Where and when did you see Stower? In the hall? On the stairs?”

  “Outside, talkin’ to that Meredith cove,” Kim answered. Reminded of the task she had originally been set, she outlined the scene she had witnessed in the innyard. “Bramingham said his uncle was comin’ down tomorrow, and he was goin’ to give the platter to him as soon as he got there,” she finished. “The Meredith cull got Aberford inside, and then the toff from the Dog and Bull turned up. He’s the Friday-faced mort’s brother, name of Jasper Marston. They all drove off, and I came in.”

  Mairelon was staring into space with a heavy frown, looking as though he had not heard a word Kim had said for several minutes at least. “Stower, Laverham, Fenton,” he murmured. “And a lady asking questions. A grand lady—Lady Granleigh, perhaps?”

  “She acted grand enough,” Kim said doubtfully.

  “And her brother is the unpleasant but not altogether bright gentleman who arranged for my wagon to be broken into, thus beginning our acquaintance. And he obviously knows considerably more than he has any right to. Someone is playing a very deep game. I wonder whether it’s him or her?”

  “I don’t see as it matters,” Hunch said. “’Ooever it is, we ’adn’t ought to stay ’ere tonight.”

  “For once, Hunch, I believe you are right,” Mairelon said. Hunch’s jaw dropped. Mairelon did not notice; he was digging through the drawers in search of something. Not finding it, he went to the door of the room and opened it. “None of us will stay the night at the inn. Hi, landlord! Bring me up a pen and some paper.”

  “I thought you said we weren’t stayin’,” Kim said, bewildered.

  “We are not staying the night. There is no reason not to stay the afternoon; it’s a long drive to Swafflton, and the ladies will more than likely be shopping for hours. Besides—ah, thank you, landlord.”

  The innkeeper had arrived, carrying a scruffy-looking quill, an inkpot, and a sheet of paper. Mairelon took them with a charming smile and shut the door in his face. “Besides, I don’t expect this to take long,” he finished, setting the implements on the table.

  “What are you goin’ to do about Stower?” Kim asked as Mairelon made a face at the quill, dipped it in the inkpot, and began covering the paper with flowing, spidery letters.

  “I am going to do nothing whatever, for the time being at least,” Mairelon answered. He wrote another three lines and set the quill aside. “No sand? Our landlord seems singularly unprepared for Quality clientele; can it be that he seldom has any?” He picked the page up by one corner and waved it through the air to dry the ink.

  “I’d better go back to London, then,” Kim said.

  “You will do no such thing. Hunch is the one who is going to London. He’ll be quite all right; this Laverham fellow isn’t looking for him.” He folded the note and handed it to Hunch, who scowled and chewed absently on one end of his mustache. “Hire a horse and change whenever you have to. I don’t want any more time wasted. Give this to Shoreham and tell him what we’ve found out so far. I’ve asked him to learn what he can about Laverham, Marston, Stower, and Fenton; stay til he has an answer to send. He’ll be quicker about it if he knows you’re waiting.”

  Hunch’s scowl lessened slightly during this speech, but his expression remained gloomy. “All right, Master Richard. But you ain’t staying ’ere, are you?”

  “After what I have heard, I have not the slightest intention of doing so,” Mairelon said with evident sincerity.

  Hunch chewed more vigorously, and his frown returned. “You ain’t going to do nothing dreadful while I’m gone, are you?”

  “That depends to some extent on how long you take, doesn’t it?” Mairelon said, rising. “Come along, let’s break it gently to the landlord that his newest guests are leaving already. I doubt that he’ll be pleased.”

  The innkeeper was not nearly as unhappy about their abrupt departure as Mairelon had predicted, primarily because Mairelon informed him casually that he would, of course, pay for the rooms he had bespoken even though he would not remain to use them. He then hired a gig with which to drive to the next town and agreed to pay for the stabling of the horses until they could be sent for. A large purse changed hands; Kim had not known there was so much money in the wagon, and she wondered what else she had missed.

  Three people were a tight fit in a gig, but they managed. Kim was almost grateful to be squashed between Hunch and Mairelon; they hid her very effectively from view on either side, and with her cap pulled low and her head tucked down she felt that Jack Stower was unlikely to recognize her, even if he should suddenly appear from around a corner.

  Fortunately for Kim’s peace of mind, Jack was nowhere to be seen, and once they were out of the village she relaxed a little. Mairelon was silent during the drive, staring out over the fields and hedges with an absent expression that made her think he was not really seeing any of them. Hunch chewed rhythmically on his mustache and scowled at the horse, casting intermittent glances in Mairelon’s direction but saying nothing.

  There was no one in sight when they reached the woods where they had left the wagon, for which Kim was grateful. She was tired of juggling roles; she did not want to have to think about whether she was supposed to be pretending to be a Tiger or a horse boy or a magician’s assistant. She was tired of silent, empty spaces and the strange sounds and smells of the woods. She wanted London, and she realized that that, more than fear of what Jack Stower’s presence might mean, was her real reason for suggesting she should go back.

  She was still pondering this revelation as she stood beside Mairelon and watched Hunch drive briskly off. “Good,” Mairelon murmured. “If he keeps up that pace, he’ll be in London by tomorrow morning.” He looked down at Kim. “Don’t just stand there, come along. We have a great deal to do, and we had better get to it.”

  “I thought we were goin’ to wait for Hunch to get back before we did anything,” Kim said, all her homesickness swept away by a sudden wave of foreboding.

  “Whatever gave you that idea?” Mairelon said in a tone of mild astonishment. “If we don’t do anything, St. Clair will have the platter by tomorrow evening, and I can’t have that. No, we’re going to have a good meal and get a few things ready and then have a good nap, so that we’ll be wide awake to burgle Bramingham Place at two this morning.”

  He turned and marched cheerfully toward the wagon, leaving Kim to stand staring after him openmouthed. She muttered a curse and plunged after him, already more than half resigned to the prospect. If Mairelon wanted to burgle Bramingham Place, burgle it he would, with or without her help. On the whole, she thought she would rather it be with, but she was not going to give up without an argument. Spluttering objections that she expected would be useless, she followed Mairelon into the wagon.

  12

  Bramingham Place was an enormous, rambling house that seemed to spread out in all directions. Mairelon, lurking with Kim behind an overgrown topiary duck while they waited for the last lights inside to be put out, explained in a whisper that building new wings had been a tradition in the Bramingham family for two centuries, hence the erratic sprawl. Kim wondered what they did with all the space. From the look of it, the house was larger than the entire village of Ranton Hill, and that was without considering the stables and gatehouse.

  The last of the windows went dark, and Mairelon started forward with an exclamation of relief. Kim grabbed at his sleeve. “Give ’em time to fall asleep!” she hissed.

  “It’s all right; the library’s at this end. They’re far enough away that they won’t hear a thing,” Mairelon whispered back. “You did say Bramingham was keeping the Saltash Platter in the libra
ry?”

  “That’s what he told the druid cove, but what if he was gammoning him?”

  “We won’t know til we go find out, will we?” She could hear the smile in his voice, though it was too dark to see it clearly. “Shall we?”

  Kim sighed. “How can you be so sure the library’s at this end of the house?”

  Even in the darkness she could see him stiffen. “I stayed with the Braminghams once, some years back,” Mairelon said in a voice devoid of expression. “Just before the Saltash Set was stolen. I remember the visit . . . very well indeed.”

  “Oh.” Kim searched for something to say, without success. She shrugged. “All right, then, let’s bite the ken. But this is my lay, remember; don’t go off on your own, or you’ll muck up the whole thing.”

  “After you,” Mairelon murmured, bowing. Kim shook her head, only half understanding, and slid through the night toward the house.

  It was not, after all, much different from the jobs she had done so long ago in London. The house was bigger by far, but that was all. Mairelon pointed the way to a pair of long French doors near the room they wanted. Kim reached for the bit of wire hidden in her sleeve and opened the lock with a few deft twists of her wrist. They slipped inside, and Mairelon closed the doors softly behind them.

  They were in a spacious sitting room. Kim could see the dim shapes of chairs and tiny tea tables scattered all around, deeper shades of darkness in the dark. Mairelon pointed toward a door in the opposite wall. Kim nodded and made a gesture which she hoped he would correctly interpret as a warning to be careful. Then she began picking her way across the room.

  Three nerve-racking minutes later they reached the door. It was locked, but the mechanism was no more of a challenge than the one on the French doors had been. Kim had it open in a few seconds. On the other side was a hallway, thickly carpeted. Motioning Mairelon to keep to the center, Kim stepped cautiously into the hall.

  The library was the second door on the left. It was unlocked, and Kim suppressed a snort of derision. That was gentry for you: they’d lock up half the doors and leave the rest wide open. They always picked the wrong half to lock, too. She pushed the door slowly inward, listening for creaking hinges. The door made no sound, and a moment later they were in the library with the door closed behind them.