A Distant Magic (23 page)

Be still and know that I am God.

Though the words were Christian, he knew they reflected the essence of all faiths. Christianity, Hinduism, the nature spirits of Africa—all of them flowed from one great source of truth and mystery. Stillness would always be a challenge for him. But if ever he needed to find peace, he now knew the path.

As the realization filled him, he felt the spirit being embrace him. The energy was distinctly female now, and in those arms he felt his grandmother, his mother, Ulindi, Adia—and most of all, Jean Macrae. Over the years he had lost the feminine aspect of his nature, and now it had been restored to him again.

He bowed his head, and wept.

By the time Nikolai had collected himself, the sea spirit had vanished and it was full dark. Creakily he rose to his feet, wondering if he could make his way over the steep hill without breaking his neck in the dark. He looked up and saw a glow of light above. Adia was coming for him.

She smiled when she reached him, her violet fire shining around her.
"You have done well, Captain. You are now initiated into the mysteries of the
ancestors. Come back with me now, for you are surely cold and hungry as well as
wiser."

"Do the great spirits come to everyone?"

"Each person has a different experience. Not everyone is set to watch the sea, but you are of that element, so this was the place for you to start." She handed him a water bottle and a piece of cheese before turning to lead the way back to the camp.

He took a grateful swallow of water, then a bite of the cheese. Her provisions kept him going until he reached the camp. It was a relief to rejoin the others and warm himself with hot soup.

With the initiation successfully ended, the priests were more relaxed than he'd seen them before. He learned supplies had been ferried across from Santola. The supplies had included small drums, and he discovered that his fingers had retained some of the skill he'd acquired with the Dahana.

At the end of the evening, in a small ritual, Adia presented him with a smaller version of the leather medicine bag he'd worn during the initiation. The original bag had been to protect him against the wrenching challenges of that ordeal. This one was to wear forever, a tangible sign of his African blood.

When he rolled into his blanket, exhausted but content, he tried for stillness. For just a moment, he felt the warmth he had experienced when the sea being had touched him.
Be still and know that I am God.

Since there was no news from Diabolo, Jean clamped down on her anxiety and continued her work. Occasionally she had a faint sense of his energy, but it was so elusive that she couldn't be sure she wasn't imagining it. Whenever she felt traces of him, she stopped what she was doing and sent power, just in case he needed it.

She had no idea if her efforts were of any use, but ironically, her concern was improving her ability to access and channel her magic. If she had to worry about him all the time, she'd end up a first-class mage.

A fortnight had passed when her door flew open and Nikolai swooped into her room, where she was sipping her morning tea. She jumped to her feet, barely remembering to put the cup aside.
"You're back!"

"Are you disappointed?" Laughing, he scooped her up and deposited her on the bed in a flurry of skirts, covering her body with his while he gave her a thorough, exuberant kiss.

Jean responded with delirious joy, intoxicated by his scent and warmth and strength. This kiss was a celebration, not driven by mindless lust or aching farewell.
"I shouldn't be doing this," she breathed before kissing him again.

"Probably not." He pulled out her hairpins and freed the thick red tresses. As he buried his face in them, he murmured,
"Your hair smells of lavender. Irresistible."

It would be easy, so easy, to flow with this joyous energy, but her inner voice was quite clear that this was not yet the time. She buried her fingers in the thick waves of his hair and studied his face. Dark and dangerous he would always be, but he was now centered in a way she hadn't seen before. Apparently he had found the lost pieces of his soul.
"The initiation was successful," she said, and it wasn't a question.

"Indeed. A most interesting experience, but not one I should care to repeat." He bent to lick her throat.

She shivered and allowed herself a few more heartbeats to enjoy his embrace before saying,
"Now we both get up and sit in chairs that are not within touching distance.
Today we need talk, not passion."

She thought he would disagree, but he didn't. He pushed himself to a sitting position.
"Regrettably, you're right." His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he studied her.
"I have a sense that we must keep our distance while our personal powers
develop. Does that make sense?"

"Actually, yes." She sat up and swung from the bed, her newly freed hair tumbling around her shoulders.
"If we were lovers, we would influence each other's energies. Sometimes that's a
good thing, but not for us. At least, not yet."

She crossed to the table to pour tea, then froze. Even though he was right behind her, she couldn't sense his energy. She felt as if she was alone in the room. Spinning around, she asked,
"Are you suppressing your energy in some way?"

He looked surprised. "I'm not sure. Let me see…." His expression became abstracted. A moment later, subtle colors swirled around him and she once more felt the thrum of connection.
"Did that make a difference?"

"It certainly did." She sank into a chair, mind racing. "It's rare
for a person with power to be able to shut his energy down so completely that a
nearby mage can't tell that he's alive. As soon as I turned from you, it was as
if you didn't exist. Did you do that consciously?"

He frowned. "There was an incident early in my initiation where I
was attacked by a sword-wielding horseman. I believe that I instinctively pulled
in my energy, like a shell, as I tried to dodge. For a moment I thought I would
surely die, though I didn't. But my energy must have stayed drawn in until now
because I didn't think to open it up until you mentioned the subject. I must
learn to be more aware of what I'm doing."

She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Now I know why my
father seemed to betray you. In his later years, he developed cataracts, a
clouding of the eyes. His magical senses worked well so it usually didn't matter
that his vision was weak. But if you drew into yourself when captured by the
corsairs, he wouldn't have been able to locate you on an adjoining ship even if
he was looking right at you. He must have thought you were dead since he
couldn't find your live energy."

Nikolai looked as if he'd been kicked in the stomach. "And in the middle of a pitched battle with a close friend lying bleeding at his feet, he could not spend much time looking for a boy he believed dead." He closed his eyes and swore in low, heartfelt tones. Then he was silent for a long time before he opened bleak eyes.
"All my life I have taken pride in my ability to conceal myself when in
dangerous circumstances. It was my own bloody damn fault I was enslaved."

"There is no fault involved when a frantic child is trying to protect himself." Jean tried to imagine what he must be feeling.
"If my father had known you were alive, he might have died trying to save you.
Or he might not have been able to do anything, and would have lived with the
guilt of that till he died. We just don't know, Nikolai."

She moved to sit by him on the bed and took his hand. "And if you
hadn't become a slave yourself, you would not have developed the fury and the
compassion that have led to freeing so many other slaves."

His hand locked around hers. "You're saying my capture was for the
best?"

"Perhaps. We cannot know divine will." Her smile was wry. "I'm
trying to imagine what it would have been like if you'd reached Dunrath and been
raised as my brother. I do not think of you as a brother."

He laughed as his hand squeezed hers. "And I certainly do not regard you as a sister." He bent and gave her a light kiss, then crossed to the table where the teapot sat. He topped off her cup and handed it to her, then poured tea in the second cup.
"Were you expecting company?"

"I've kept a spare cup since you left, just in case."

Before he could reply, there was a shriek of avian bliss and Isabelle rode into the room, her claws clenched around the outside doorknob. Apparently the door had not latched shut behind Nikolai, and she used the beat of her powerful wings to swing it open. Once inside, she flew to her master, who quickly raised an arm for her to land on. The macaw rubbed his cheek excitedly with her beak, making cooing noises.

As he greeted the bird with equal enthusiasm, Jean asked, "What
was your initiation like? What strange places have you visited?"

"It is not the sort of thing one talks about." He scratched the macaw's throat, his expression thoughtful.
"Adia was right to warn me of the dangers. Your advice to seek my true self if I
became lost saved me from sinking into another world. Thank you, Jean Macrae."

"I'm glad my words helped. Now we can finally undertake our mission. I've been going mad with boredom," she said fervently.

"You and I are much alike in preferring action. It was the stillness that I found most difficult in my education." Isabelle hopped to his shoulder, so he reclaimed what was left of his tea.
"How have you been occupying yourself?"

"Mostly I've been copying the notes Adia and her London friends
assembled about the future and the abolitionists. I've tried several times to
scry about what we might need to do, but I saw nothing clear enough to be
useful."

"Have you devised exercises to improve your ability to use your
magic?"

From the glint in his eyes, she guessed that he'd decided that the faster she learned, the sooner he could bed her.
"Mostly I visualize clear, straight pathways with white light flowing easily from the center of my spirit to my will." She hesitated.
"Also, since I couldn't sense that you were alive, I worried about you. Several
times I thought that perhaps I felt a trace of your energy. When that happened,
I tried to send some of my own energy to help, and I think my concern helped
straighten the channels a bit."

"Then, we must hope you are desperate again soon." He looked pleased by her admission that she'd been concerned for him.
"The waiting is over, my Scottish witch. Now we're ready to fly into the
future."

"Despite Adia's presence, it's still difficult to believe that travel through time is possible." Jean stopped, startled by a memory.
"So much has happened that I forgot a conversation I had with Moses in Marseilles. He said he'd undergone an initiation where he walked on other worlds. He also told me that some African shamans have special abilities to work with time and place." She smiled ruefully.
"It seemed so improbable that I made a note that we must talk further, and then
forgot about it."

"So you now have confirmation about traveling through time from another source. We have Adia, your friend Moses"—he extended his hand—"and
soon enough, we'll know for ourselves!"

She clasped it, grateful for the warmth and acceptance between them. They were not lovers, and perhaps they never would be. But today she felt sure that they were friends and comrades.
"May our actions be equal to our ideals!"

Book Three

FANNING THE
FLAMES

1753—Onward

Chapter
TWENTY-FIVE

T
onight was the night. The new moon meant bright stars and powerful energies afoot. The time had come to risk themselves to Adia's magic. Jean touched the bag slung over her shoulder with nervous fingers, hoping the carefully chosen contents would provide for them in whatever emergencies they might encounter.

She and Nikolai also wore money belts stuffed with coins and notes that would be accepted from their time to Adia's, and probably well beyond. If, God forbid, they were separated, they must be able to manage independently. The chance of separation was one more thing to worry about.

Though Jean almost vibrated with anticipation, she was also profoundly aware that she was leaving everything and everyone she'd ever known, probably forever. The knowledge was gut-wrenching. Nikolai's life had taken so many unexpected turns that he was skilled at adaptation, but she had lived among family and friends, secure in the heart of the Guardian community, for most of her life. She could hardly bear knowing that she might never see family and friends again.

Before she broke down entirely, she reminded herself that the Guardian community would surely exist in the future and would include Macraes. She would adapt as necessary, and if she died—it would save the effort of adaptation.

She tugged her cloak around her. Again at Adia's direction, the Santolan tailors had created garments that were neutral enough not to draw attention over the next several decades. The travelers should look unfashionable but not in a way anyone would particularly notice. Jean didn't mind, but looking dowdy pained Nikolai.

She remarked, "I didn't expect it to take more than a fortnight
for us to make the preparations to go, but at least we've been busy, not bored."

"My suntan had time to fade to normal." Nikolai donned his own cloak.
"The more unremarkable I look, the better."

"'Tis impossible for a braw lad like you to look unremarkable." Though Jean's usual speech was that of an educated English lady, she now spoke with a broader accent that identified her immediately as Scottish. Unless England changed greatly over the following decades, being Scottish would explain any oddness on her part.

Perhaps sensing they were about to depart, Isabelle flew anxiously to Nikolai's shoulder and dug in with her claws. He lifted her down and set her back on her perch with a last caress.
"Be happy with Louise and her family,
ma petite.
They will worship you as
you deserve."

He offered Jean his arm, and they headed out the door of his house. She was very conscious of the gold band on the third finger of her left hand. The wedding ring was part of their masquerade. The fraudulence of the ring bothered her more than the sinful fact of her traveling with Nikolai even though they were unwed.

They walked to the African gathering place in the abandoned village and found Adia and the other priests waiting. When they were all ready, Adia said in a deep voice,
"I call North." She conjured a violet fire on the north side of the space. "South." More fire.
"East. West." As she called each point, one of the priests went to stand in front of the fire she created. Adia herself took South.

When she finished, the six of them stood bracketed by fire. As the flames blazed upward, Adia said soberly,
"I have done all I can to prepare you. I hope and pray that it is enough. Do you
have any last questions?"

"Not unless you can tell if the bead spells will take us beyond the time you know," Nikolai replied.

"Or whether disaster will ensue if we meet anyone from this past," Jean added.
"And if the magic can bring us home again."

"You will learn all that before I do," the priestess said wryly.
"Much of your journey is a mystery. All we can do is trust that the magic of the
ancestors is true, because we are asking for miracles."

"Your arrival here was a miracle." As the critical moment neared, Jean found she was vibrating with excitement.
"Why shouldn't we find more?"

Nikolai clasped Jean's hands. The bespelled bracelet was wrapped around her right palm with the first bead pressed between them.
"I could not ask for a better partner in adventure," he said softly. "Shall we
be off?"

For an instant she was tempted to flee, to break the circle and return to the world she knew. But her certainty that she was destined to follow this path steadied her nerves. She glanced around the circle of priests.
"I hope to see you all again, but if not, thank you, Adia, and all of Santola.
You have helped me find meaning in my life."

She raised her gaze to meet Nikolai's. "Now!"

They both poured their power into the charmed bead. Their energy was joined by that of Adia, Omar, Nayo, and Enam. Each priest added his individual note to the rainbow of swirling power. Three men, three women, male and female balanced, the energy filling mind and body.

The enchanted bead that would take them to the first critical event dissolved in a flash of heat that scorched Jean's palm. The world turned violet, the same shade as the fire that blazed before them. Pure energy engulfed them in a vortex of magic and destiny that drew them down and down.

With all her passion and determination, Jean hurled herself into the vortex—and she took Nikolai with her.

As Jean and Gregorio vanished, Adia fell to her knees, near fainting. She had burned so much of her power that she could barely manage to close the magical circle the priests had created. When she had done that, Nayo walked to her side and laid hands on Adia's shoulders, sending energy.
"You have done all you can," the other woman said softly. "Now it is up to them,
the ancestors, and the gods."

With Omar's help, Adia managed to get to her feet. "Slavery
has been with us since mankind first emerged from the sea. Is it even possible
to end it?"

"It is possible," Nayo said. "But for now—let us eat and restore
our energy."

Adia smiled as the four of them left the gathering place. Great issues mattered, but so did dinner.

Jean felt as if she was being torn apart, fiber by fiber. The only reality was Nikolai's hands, his fingers locked around hers.

For a horrible moment she thought they would be wrenched apart and lose each other in the vortex. Then her body solidified and she became whole, though she fell gasping to her knees in the process.

Nikolai managed to keep his feet and his grip. "Gods!" he swore.
"I much prefer travel by ship, even through a tempest!"

"Or on a runaway horse." With his help, she got shakily to her feet. It was night, and they were in a city. She smelled the stench of too many people living too close together, sensed walls confining the narrow, empty street even before her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The sky was cloudy and the air dankly cold. She shivered and pulled her cloak tight. With no lights anywhere, the darkness was deep and intimidating.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Do you know where we
are?"

"It could be London," she said uncertainly. "But I haven't been in
enough great cities to tell one from another."

"If this is London, it's certainly dark."

"I've heard that London is the most ill-lit city in Europe. The law says there should be lamps on main streets, but this feels like an alley." Her eyes were adjusting to the dark.
"It looks lighter down there, so perhaps there is a larger street."

They started walking in that direction. She asked, "Was your
journey here like what you experienced during your initiation?"

"Somewhat similar, though this was worse." He paused thoughtfully.
"I wonder if traveling through time is a matter of being drawn into one of
Adia's other worlds and reemerging here at the correct time?"

Jean considered. "It's a good theory. I like having a way of
imagining what we're doing. Step into a world that lies alongside the one we
know, move to a different place, then step out in our world in a new time."

"Let's hope that the travel becomes easier with practice, and that we have enough power to make the next trips on our own," he said pragmatically.

"If not, Adia told me about the African community in the East End.
In particular there is a priest, very old in her time, but he had lived in
London for many years. She said we could go to him for help. He was a member of
the circle that sent her to us."

"It's good to know there is help nearby, but I hope we don't need it." His brow furrowed as they reached the end of the street.
"The map in my head says we are where London should be. The bigger question is
when
are we?"

Jean nodded wordlessly. This larger street had lanterns hanging outside a few of the houses, which helped a little. It didn't look any different from the London she knew. She frowned at the corners of the buildings that framed the alley.
"There's always talk of requiring street name tablets on corners, but it doesn't
seem to have happened yet."

She drew closer to Nikolai. She hadn't realized how disorienting it would be not to know her location or even the date. Thank heaven there were two of them.

Glancing to her left, she saw a ragged man staggering toward them.
"Help me," he gasped before he collapsed on the filthy ground.

Groaning, he tried to struggle to his feet, but collapsed again. Nikolai raced to the man's side, Jean a step behind. While Nikolai knelt next to the man, Jean created a small mage light on her palm, directing it downward to illuminate the dark-skinned face.
"He's just a lad!" she exclaimed, thinking he couldn't be older than sixteen or seventeen.

"An African boy, and he's been badly beaten," Nikolai said grimly. He pulled out a handkerchief and began to blot blood from the young man's eyes. When he was done, the boy's lids opened and he looked up with a dazed expression.

"We'll help you," she said, sending warmth and reassurance.
"Were you attacked by footpads?"

The boy blinked blearily at her. "Master Lisle did this," he said through swollen lips.
"Master beat Jonathan with pistol till barrel and stock broke."

"Why?" she asked, horrified.

"He be drunk," the boy mumbled. "Always hits me when he drunk.
Said I was worthless and he shouldn't have spent the money to bring me here from
Barbados. Not worth feeding me, he said. Kicked me and said I should go away.
S-so I did."

Nikolai swore. "Then you're not a runaway," he said, his voice more controlled than his expression.
"Your name is Jonathan, you say?"

"Jonathan Strong," the boy said, his voice despairing. "But Master
kill me, sir. I be dead soon."

"You will not!" Jean said, her mouth tight. She held his head between her hands and sent healing energy into him. Even more vital, she sent hope and a desire to live. As always, her magic was strongest when the need was greatest. She combined her desire to help with her practice at channeling power, and felt that her healing was improved. Pray God her ability was strong enough to help this poor lad.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes and went limp in Nikolai's grasp.
"I'm not a powerful healer like my mother, but I think I've stopped the worst of the bleeding." She sat back on her heels.
"Adia told me about this young man. After his master, a lawyer named David
Lisle, half killed him, Jonathan Strong managed to reach the clinic of a surgeon
named William Sharp. Sharp is surgeon to the king, and he and his family are all
musicians who travel around the country on a barge making music."

Nikolai stared at her. "You are making this up."

"No, really," Jean said. "As he waited by the clinic, he was
noticed by the surgeon's brother, Granville Sharp. The brothers took him to St.
Bart's hospital to heal."

"Our job is to find this man Lisle and kill him?" Nikolai asked with a dangerous flash of teeth.
"I would enjoy that."

She shook her head. "I think our task is to deliver him to the
Sharp brothers because later that will lead to important legal progress. I'll
explain more later, but now we need to get Mr. Strong to shelter before this
cold damp gives him a lung fever on top of his other injuries."

"Maybe I can kill Lisle later." Nikolai carefully lifted the young man's limp body.
"Where do we find William Sharp's free surgery?"

"I'm not sure—it's somewhere in the East End, I think."

"Where are we?"

"I'll see if I can recognize any landmarks." She moved into the intersection and scanned the skyline.
"I think we're close to the Tower of London, which means we're also close to the
river."

She tried to remember what Adia's document had said about this incident, then gave up and pulled out her copy of the papers. Using just enough mage light to read, she said,
"William Sharp's clinic is near here, on Mincing Lane. We need to make sure
Jonathan survives the night, then help him to the clinic in the morning.
According to this, the assault happened in 1765."

"Only a dozen years in the future. I find that oddly comforting." Several church tower clocks began chiming in ragged disharmony.
"Two o'clock. Might there be a coaching inn nearby that would stay open all
night?"

"There are several major roads near, so we should be able to find an inn or perhaps a livery stable." Jean rose and brushed off her skirt. After tucking her documents back in her bag, she slung it over her shoulder.
"Which way, Captain?"

He thought a moment. "To the right." They set out down the street. Jonathan Strong was so thin that his weight didn't seem to slow Nikolai down at all.

Two blocks west, they found a small coaching inn. They walked under the arch into the courtyard. The stables were to the left, with a bored man half asleep in front, keeping watch over the courtyard and inn from a wooden armchair. A lantern hanging above the stable door revealed that he had a tall flagon in one hand and a clay pipe in the other.
"Here, I think," Jean said softly. "I'll do the talking."

She approached the watchman, who immediately set down his flagon and rose to his feet, expression equal parts wary and curious. Jean looked up at him earnestly.
"Sir, would there be a room we can hire for the rest of the night? My husband and I were looking for lodging when we found this poor boy beaten in the street. We couldn't just leave him, so I thought I could bind his wounds and in the morning we'll take him to a hospital." She let a coin show in her hand.
"Unless you know a physician nearby who might see him tonight?"