A Distant Magic (14 page)

His dark brows drew together. "Were any of my men killed in the
rebellion?"

She tried to see more, but the image of the ship faded away. "I'm
sorry, I can't see that much detail. But I don't think there were serious
casualties."

"That glass disk. It's magic?" He stared at it avidly.

"Not exactly. A scrying glass is more of a focusing device." She opened her hand to show him, but didn't offer to hand it over.
"The more it's used, the more it becomes attuned to the user's power. But it's
possible to scry in a glass of wine or a basin of water or any other reflective
surface."

The macaw bobbed forward, opening its beak to grasp the scrying glass. Jean hastily yanked the glass away and returned it to its pouch while Gregorio grinned and offered the bird more nuts.
"Take care, Jean Macrae. Isabelle likes shiny objects."

"I shall do my best to keep my distance from her." A thought struck her.
"Surely the galley slaves are all men. Where do the women of Santola come from?"

A husky woman's voice said from behind her, "We are all
whores, of course."

Jean turned to a tall, striking woman of mixed race with dark skin, glossy black hair, and almond-shaped eyes. Her expression was curious and not very friendly as she crossed the terrace to the arbor.

"Louise exaggerates," Gregorio said. "The women of Santola have
many backgrounds."

"But many of us were whores." Louise held out her arm and the macaw flew to her with another ear-piercing cry. It seemed even happier with her than the captain.
"Whoring is often enslavement by a pimp, though I suppose a lady like you wouldn't know." She managed to make
"lady" sound like an insult.

Clearly the beautiful Louise was trying to shock the visitor. Perhaps she was Gregorio's mistress and jealous of his showing interest in another female.

No. With a flash of knowledge, Jean realized that Louise wasn't the captain's woman, though they had probably been intimate in the past. Interesting.

Having traveled with the Jacobite army, where many of the other camp followers were prostitutes, Jean was not easily shocked.
"Since men won't be happy without women, rescuing prostitutes is a way to serve
two goals."

Not missing the byplay between the women, Gregorio said, "It has
worked well. No one here talks about the past unless they wish to."

Louise's expression softened. "Santola is the island of second chances. I shall see you at dinner, Nikolai." She sauntered across the terrace, her full hips swinging and the towering macaw grooming her glossy dark hair.

The captain stood. "Since Louise has taken charge of Queen
Isabelle, would you like to see more of the village, Jean Macrae?"

"I would that." Jean stood. "Why do you always call me Jean
Macrae?"

He considered. "Miss Macrae is too polite, and Jean is too
intimate."

"I've been in your mind. How much more intimate can two people
get?"

She realized what a foolish comment that was when he gave her a look that scorched to the marrow.
"Even a prim Scottish maiden should know that answer."

"Call me Jean," she said softly, "for I am not so prim as all
that."

He looked away, his face set, and she realized that he was as uncertain about the energy between them as she was.

As they entered the house, she asked herself if she wanted him for a lover. The passionate, physical side of her nature burned to join with him, to take that fierce energy inside herself, but she could see no good end to such an affair. He'd shape her soul in ways that would make it impossible to return home as the Jean Macrae she'd always been. What she'd experienced so far was an adventure, exciting, sometimes too much so, but not yet life changing.

Nikolai Gregorio's bed—that would be life changing. She'd rebuilt her broken soul once after the Rising. She didn't want to have to do that again.

She
would not
do it again.

Chapter
SIXTEEN

A
DIA
, N
EW
Y
ORK
C
ITY

The British had lost.
Adia still had had trouble believing that, but the news had raced all over New York. Some of the British soldiers were glad to know that soon they'd go home, others were embittered at the surrender to a ragtag collection of colonial rebels. If they had been given enough soldiers and weapons, they grumbled, Britain could have won.

But none of the British were as worried as the thousands of former slaves who had taken refuge in New York. Everyone was anxious about how they would be affected by the surrender. How long until the British-held city was turned over to the Americans? Would the triumphant rebels be in a vengeful mood?

"What will happen to us now?" Adia asked Daniel, her voice soft to keep from waking Molly. He had been patrolling outside the city for several weeks. Now that he had returned, she had a compulsive need to discuss their future again.

"We will not return to slavery," he said firmly. "Major Blaine says that Carleton, the British commander in chief, believes that the Americans' demand that all their property be returned does not include freed slaves since we are no longer property." Daniel grinned.
"I think that Carleton truly believes it would be dishonorable for Britain to go
back on its word to us—but he also enjoys irritating the Americans. Even General
Washington wants his escaped slaves returned. Carleton can refuse nobly in the
name of honor."

Adia smiled. "I don't care about Carleton's reasons as long as he doesn't abandon us." She poured their tea in the early-morning light. Many blacks lived in canvas-topped huts in the sections of Manhattan that had been burned by angry patriots when they lost the city, so she and Daniel were lucky to have this tiny, snug cottage.
"Already slave catchers are coming to New York to hunt down escaped slaves." She shivered.
"John Watson is just the sort of man to do that. Do you think he will send men
after us? I like this city, but how can we live here if we must constantly worry
about being captured and taken back to South Carolina?"

"Mr. Watson can't know that we are in New York." Daniel hesitated.
"Do not speak of it yet to anyone, but the major told me there is talk of
evacuating Loyalists and freed slaves to Nova Scotia. We would be given land to
farm."

"Nova Scotia?" She thought about it. "From what I know it's a
cold, hard land, but a long way from Charleston."

"We will be safe there, honey child." He gave her a warm, intimate smile, reminding her how they had celebrated his return the night before.
"After we are settled, it will be time to have another baby."

Though she yearned for another child, she had taken measures to prevent that during her years in New York. The war made life too uncertain to risk a second baby. But soon the time would come.
"We will have a boy," she said, feeling prophecy stir within her. "He will be
strong and handsome like you, and I will tell him tales of his father's bravery
against the Americans since you will be too modest to sing your own praises."

Daniel laughed and gave her a good-bye kiss, patting her backside as she left to walk to work. Almost as soon as she arrived in New York, Daniel's commander, Major Blaine, had hired Adia to be his housekeeper. The major was a tall, austere man whose rare smiles were surprisingly warm. He treated Adia with grave respect, sometimes talking to her about his wife and children in a way he couldn't with any of the men around him. He was particularly fond of Molly, who often accompanied her mother to the major's quarters. He had a daughter of similar age.

Was Major Blaine fond enough of Adia and her family to protect them against being enslaved again? Perhaps, but even if his intentions were good, he might not be in a position to help. It was time to start planning a way to escape to Canada.

Though Daniel had fought with a company of black former slaves, they were not members of the regular British Army, and his group would soon be disbanded. They could leave the city as soon as that happened, but perhaps they should wait to see if the British would keep their promises to the slaves who had fought for them. If they were evacuated on British ships, their journey would be much safer than if they fled on their own.

Bitterly Adia wondered how often she would have to leave home and friends and start all over again. She and Daniel had created a life here in New York. Not long after her arrival, they were formally married by a blind Methodist preacher who had escaped from slavery and brought much of his congregation with him. Though Adia had always felt that she and Daniel were husband and wife, she was proud that the world and the law now recognized their union.

Daniel had also explained why he had chosen the family name Adams.
"One of the rebel leaders is named John Adams, and they say he will not own slaves." He kissed the end of her nose.
"And it sounded good with Adia. Adia Adams."

She had laughed and agreed. Having a last name of their own choosing was a mark of freedom. Now they had a home and a bit of garden. Molly was a student at a small dame school and already reading well. If it was safe for them to stay in New York, Daniel could use his carpentry skills to find work and surely Adia would be able to find a place as a servant in some other household when Major Blaine left.

Instead, they would have to escape again to a cold, inhospitable land. Luckily, she had saved most of her wages, so they had a little money. As long as she and Daniel and Molly were together and free, they would be all right.

She was on a quiet street halfway to the major's house when a tall white man stepped out in front of her.
"You are Addie Watson?"

She halted, fear crimping her veins. "I know no one of that
name."

"They said you are handsome and well spoken," he said as a man grabbed her from behind.
"All of you runaways lie about your names. But I have been following you, Addie Watson. I know who you really are. Now you will be returned to your master, along with your pickanniny and your carpenter." He smiled chillingly.
"And a fine bounty I'll get for the lot of you."

She struggled frantically against the man who held her. He was tall, lean, black, and familiar. There was also something familiar about the white man's cold blue eyes. She gasped, recognizing the captain of the slave ship that had taken her to the Indies. He must have been very young then, for he was no more than in his forties now. His evil companion, Kondo, had not aged at all.
"Captain Trent! You swine!"

He looked interested. "Did I bring you to the New World? You should thank me for removing you from the savagery of Africa." He gestured to Kondo. Judging by his rich dress, the slave trade had been very good to the captain.
"Chain her and take her to the cell. Then we can go for the brat. With luck, the
carpenter will be there, too."

The thought of these brutes touching Molly drove Adia wild.
Help me, Grandmother!
Calling on the magic she had never properly mastered, she tore herself away from Kondo before he could chain her. As she whipped away, violet fire blazed around her.

Run, child!
As shouts rose behind her, Adia bolted to the end of the block and turned into a much busier street. Many of the people here were black, and there was a good chance that they would help her escape if Trent came after her again. She risked a glance back, and saw Trent and Kondo staggering blindly where she'd left them. They didn't look burned. She sensed that the violet fire had confused rather than caused physical injury.

Thanking Grandmother, she ran the rest of the way to Major Blaine's lodging. She burst in as he emerged from his bedroom, ready for his breakfast.
"Adia!" he exclaimed. "Did someone try to rob you?"

She looked down at her disheveled clothes. "Worse—a slave
catcher tried to capture me so he could take me south, and he said he would also
go for Molly and Daniel. Does the law allow a slave catcher to steal me and my
family away?"

The major frowned. "With the city changing hands, the law is
uncertain. Force will rule."

That was what she feared. "Daniel said that the British Army
was arranging to evacuate former slaves and Loyalists to Nova Scotia. Can you
help us get on such a ship?"

"You and Daniel qualify, but the first ships won't leave for
Nova Scotia for weeks. We are still negotiating with the Americans about
procedures. They want the right to challenge every black man, woman, and child
in the city. There will be registrations and lists and certificates."

"Sir, we need help now!" She caught the major's gaze.
"Can you do anything for us?"

His gaze narrowed as he thought. "Though the Nova Scotia
transports aren't ready, there's a British naval vessel sailing for England on
the afternoon tide. I know the captain, and I believe I can obtain passage for
you and your family. Can you leave so quickly?"

"London?" Thinking of the cool evil in Trent's eyes, Adia said flatly,
"Yes."

"Then, go home for Molly and your husband. You will be able to take only what you can carry easily. I'll send two soldiers to guard you. When you're ready, come here. I'll arrange for you to be taken to the ship." His voice dropped.
"And may God watch over you."

Major Blaine was as good as his word. His men escorted her home by a route different from her usual walk. Daniel was horrified to learn of the attempt to capture Adia. Mouth tight, he began packing the small amount of luggage they could take. The two of them had become very good at leaving. Adia told a neighbor that they were going, and why, but not where. Then they left their snug home forever.

Eight hours later, they were sailing from New York harbor on the tide. Adia and Daniel stood on the rear of the ship, Daniel holding Molly as they watched the city diminish behind them. The child said wistfully,
"I didn't have time to say good-bye to my friends."

"I'm sorry, sweeting," Daniel said. "But there will be
new friends in England."

"Look!" Molly's sadness vanished, and she pointed toward the bow.
"Big fish jumping!"

"We'll go look at them." Daniel set her down on the deck and took her hand.

"I'll join you soon," Adia promised.

Her husband nodded, knowing she wanted to say her private good-bye to the city she loved, which had sheltered them so well. When Adia was alone, she leaned on the railing, blinking back tears. She couldn't say that she was sorry they wouldn't have to cultivate raw wilderness in Nova Scotia. She liked cities, and the idea of London drew her. She and Daniel were hard workers, and Major Blaine had given them twenty pounds to help them get started in England. The Adams family would survive, and Molly would have a better life.

Adia was about to go to join her family in fish watching when a young black sailor passed nearby. On impulse, she asked,
"You are a free man, sir?"

He paused, his warm gaze moving over her. "Aye, mistress.
You're bound for London?"

"I am." She gestured toward the bow. "With my husband and
daughter."

Looking disappointed that she was unavailable, he replied, "You
will like London. Many Africans live there."

She noticed that he wore a strand of beads around his neck, and guessed that it supported a medicine pouch. Lowering her voice, she said,
"Are there any African priests?"

He instinctively touched the pouch hidden beneath his shirt. "Aye, mistress." He studied her with narrowed eyes.
"You are a witch?"

"No. But I have some power, and would like to learn to use it."

"You will find priests and priestesses to guide you in London. Good luck to you and your family, mistress." He inclined his head, then returned to his work.

She turned back to the sea. The American coast was only a thin dark line. Deep, powerful feelings were stirring inside her, and for the first time, she felt that she was not fleeing from something, but running toward something better.
Will I find what I seek in London, Grandmother?

Aye, child. Freedom, teachers, destiny. You will find them all there.

Above all, destiny.