A Distant Magic (33 page)

Jean exhaled with relief. "We have succeeded. The Demon represents
the opinions of many powerful men, but I think we have countered its ability to
damage the abolition movement and its leaders. Does everyone feel their
connection to our shield net?"

After murmurs of assent, Jean closed the circle, then stretched her tight muscles. Lord, it was good to be able to call her magic easily in circumstances that weren't desperate! The sky outside was darkening. They had been working here for hours. But they had succeeded. Now she was anxious to return to their inn so she and Nikolai could replenish their strength with passion.

They had finished their work here. Where would the time spell take them next?

Adia woke with her head buzzing. The feeling was strange, as if she was in the middle of a dozen conversations but couldn't make out any of the words. She would have laid in bed longer, but Bruiser yawned and came to stand on her chest.

"Mrrwop?" he inquired.

It wasn't hard to decipher the question. "Yes, it's time
for breakfast."

Adia got up from her bed, washed, dressed, and descended to the kitchen. The cat was fed first, always, since Bruiser was not known for his patience.

It had taken Adia time to adjust to the quiet of the captain's villa after the busyness of her London home. Now she enjoyed being able to have a peaceful breakfast of tea and bread and honey. She took her tray up to the terrace so she could watch the caldera as she ate. The morning was a little overcast, but she thought it would clear later.

The buzzing in her head had faded into the background as she had cleaned up and prepared breakfast, but now that her mind was at rest, the buzzing became more obvious. Wondering what was going on, she closed her eyes and meditated on the buzzing. Which wasn't really a sound, more a low level of activity that was—magical?

She mentally captured a chunk of the buzzing to study more closely. To her surprise, the energy that composed it was familiar. It felt like…people she knew, startling as the thought was. She concentrated and picked up traces of the priest Kofi, then several of the other London elders. But they were all more than thirty years in the future, not in her time.

She investigated more, and was shocked to identify the signature energies of the captain and Jean Macrae. Were they connecting the time she was in now and the time she had left? They must be. She dived into the buzzing and realized that it was a mass of conflicting energy, part of it pro-slavery, part of it abolition. The pro-slavery part was like a bottomless pit, while the abolition energy was a lifeline in the darkness. The two energies seemed bound together.

The buzzing she felt was a binding constructed by her friends and other abolitionists with power, she realized. Was it some kind of spying device so they could learn the plans of the pro-slavery forces? But that seemed unnecessary—the West Indian lobby had plenty of money and even more boldness. There was no need for them to keep secrets, nor for the abolitionists to spy.

Perhaps the abolitionist energy was designed to counterbalance the pro-slavery forces? Jean and the captain must have joined with the council of elders to create a protective spirit. If she was right, they had successfully traveled into the future and were doing the job they intended. But why was she feeling this buzzing in 1753?

She frowned. No one really knew how time magic worked, but there was a theory that one of the other worlds that lay alongside of this one was a place with no time. To move from one time in her world to another time, one moved through the other world. Since there was no time there, one could enter and exit at any point. The bespelled beads were the gates to the other world.

If so, perhaps the energy buzzing in her head also went through the other world. Because she was connected to Jean and Kofi and the captain, she was also connected to the protective spirit they had created. Perhaps. It was as good a theory as any.

Firmly she told the buzzing to be quiet. It subsided into the depths of her mind, no longer distracting but still there. Perhaps someday she could find a way to use it.

Chapter
THIRTY-FIVE

N
ikolai and Jean spent another fortnight in London after forming the shield, but no other tasks seemed necessary, so they enjoyed life. They saw the lions in the Tower of London and visited the Ranelagh pleasure gardens and attended plays and exhibitions. Since their money was running low, they had to request funds from Falconer. Though accepting aid made Nikolai a little uncomfortable, he had to admit that Jean's Guardian connections were invaluable.

And they made love. Now that they had come together, it was hard to remember why it had been necessary to stay apart for so long. But the ancestors had known what they were doing. In the course of their travel, Nikolai and Jean had changed on deep levels, and now they were bonded as tightly as the Demon and the shield net.

The bond was not romantic love, or at least, not only that, even though Jean entranced him. More profoundly, this was the mating that the ancestors had wanted. Their complementary magical abilities had transformed them into a tool against slavery that had more power than either of them could muster alone.

Would the bond dissolve once their task was accomplished? Or would they not survive long enough to find out? He had a suspicion that the bond was so strong that if one of them died, the other would be unable to survive. It was not a thought he wanted to dwell on. Whatever the future held, Jean was the best companion he'd ever had, and the best mistress.

After their fortnight of relaxing, they packed their belongings and returned to the quiet churchyard where they had arrived in 1788.
"I liked 1788," Jean said with a wicked glance. "We learned so much. I wonder
where we'll go next."

"It's up to the ancestors. Now that we are beyond Adia's time, we're flying blind. Or rather, even more blind than before." He kissed the end of her elegant little nose, then clasped her hands with the next spell bead between their palms.
"I hope we can use the spell without extra help again."

"If not, at least help is near," Jean said pragmatically. Together, they invoked the familiar spell, ending it with a kiss.

He braced himself for the trip through time as they summoned the magic. He felt an odd, rolling sensation rather like a ship wallowing in the trough of a wave. The bead held between their palms dissolved in a flash of heat. It was the first time he'd felt that—always before, the disappearance was overwhelmed by far greater sensations as they were chopped and churned and dragged through time.

Wondering if the magic had failed, he opened his eyes and looked around. An alley again—the ancestors were very fond of them. Jean released his hands.
"We appear to have gone somewhere, but the passage was much too easy. I wonder if we didn't move through time at all." She glanced up.
"We must have moved somewhat—it's early afternoon now."

"We're still in London, though in a different place." He studied the walls and the ground.
"This appears to be a higher class of alley than we're used to. Maybe we just
moved across the city?"

Jean walked to the end of the alley and looked out. "The clothing
doesn't seem very different except in some details. It looks as if we're in a
fashionable neighborhood. Perhaps Mayfair—this street looks vaguely familiar."

"Shall we go exploring?"

"First I want to check the shield net." Jean's eyes drifted out of focus.
"It's alive and well. I recognize the energy of some of the people who were
there when we created it, so I don't think we've gone far."

Knowing he should have thought to do that himself, he turned his attention to the protective net, looking at the energy rather than individuals.
"The Demon is much stronger than before, but the shield net has the strength to
balance."

"Perhaps the public in general is more concerned with slavery, so that would feed both spirits," Jean suggested.

"You're probably right. There is a vast amount of energy involved here. There are also other group energies that are large and strong in the background. I don't recognize them." He studied the bound pro-and antislavery energies more deeply.
"Our shield energy has actually become relatively stronger, but the pro-slavery
energy is still denser and more focused."

"I wonder why we're here," Jean mused.

"Given the efficiency of the ancestors, we'll find out soon enough." He offered Jean his arm.
"Time to be off?"

She took his arm and they moved into the street. Two blocks walking and Jean said,
"Definitely Mayfair. The streets now have nameplates on the corner buildings."

"A nice improvement." Nikolai was about to say more when a carriage pulled to a halt beside them.

The door opened and an elegantly dressed man stepped out. It was Lord Buckland, Falconer's son, looking not much older than when they'd met him in 1788.
"Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Gregory," he said casually. "Will you allow me to offer you a
ride?"

"It would be our pleasure," Jean said as Nikolai handed her into the carriage and they took the rear-facing seat.

Once they were all inside and the vehicle was moving again, Buckland's casual expression was replaced by enthusiastic welcome.
"It's good to see you again! I had a vague feeling that I should tell the
coachman to take this route, but I didn't know why. Apparently it was to find
you."

"Are you a seer, Lord Buckland?" Jean asked.

He shook his head. "I have the family abilities, but that doesn't
include seeing the future. I think I must have sensed that you were coming
because of our connection through the shield net. Though I wasn't consciously
aware, it seems to have been enough to influence my choice of route."

"Speaking of which," Nikolai said, thinking that if he was going to stay in this time, he'd like to know the name of Buckland's tailor,
"when are we? And do you know why we've been brought here?"

"1791," Buckland said promptly. "As to why—today the House of
Commons will probably vote on Wilberforce's bill to end the slave trade."

"Really?" Excitement blazed through Nikolai. "Is it likely to
pass?"

"I'm not sure," Buckland replied slowly. "Much has changed
in the last three years. Antislavery sentiment has become a fever among the
general public."

"Good!" Jean exclaimed. "If Parliament won't agree, it's time for
new MPs."

"MPs can be changed, but not the House of Lords." The other man frowned.
"Today's outcome is very uncertain, and the political winds are shifting. If the
bill doesn't pass today, it may not have another chance for a very long time."

"Why not?" Nikolai asked, feeling uneasy.

Buckland restlessly fingered the leather portfolio beside him.
"There is revolution in France, a popular uprising for freedom similar to the
American Revolution. At first progressive Britons were optimistic that the
nation would become more fair and democratic, but the French Revolution is
turning sour. The best Guardian seers believe that the country will fall into
civil war. With France chaotic, the forces of conservatism are on the upswing in
Britain. No one wants to see civil society break down here."

"Understandable," Jean agreed. "Chaos benefits only the violent.
But such fears can't be good for abolition."

Buckland nodded. "To make matters worse, the slaves have revolted
in the West Indian island of Dominica. Pro-slavery forces in Britain are arguing
that ending the trade would be disastrous and create still more turbulence that
would endanger every European in the Indies."

Nikolai's brows arched. "Surely that's unnecessarily
alarmist."

Buckland's mouth twisted. "When people are afraid, reason
doesn't stand a chance. It's remarkable how many people have come to support
abolition even though they have no direct experience with slavery. But
revolution in France and the fear of it in Britain are very close and alarming.
Avoiding major changes begins looking like the safest thing to do."

"Which is why if the abolition vote fails today, it may be years before it is seriously considered again," Jean said flatly.

"Exactly. Even if the bill does pass, it would also have to be
approved by the House of Lords and the king, and they may well refuse. But
success today in the House of Commons would be a powerful step in the right
direction."

Nikolai closed his eyes and spread his attention through the energies generated by the teeming population of London.
"I feel the fear and the conservatism you described, and already they are
influencing how people look at slavery. But there is a chance of success today,
I think, if our shield net can hold the Demon at bay."

Buckland's expression turned thoughtful. "That might
explain why you've been brought here. We've maintained the shield net without a
problem, and no prominent abolitionists have died. But none of us works with the
shield as well as you two, perhaps because you created it. The pro-slavery
forces have been adept at delays, continually demanding more evidence, more
hearings, saying there wasn't enough information. It's taken three years to
finally get to the point of a vote. Maybe you've arrived to tip the balance in
our favor by your power over the shield net."

Nikolai exchanged a glance with Jean, and saw that she was as uncertain as he.
"We can try, of course. By the way, where are we going?"

"Parliament. I know of a nice, private balcony where you can watch the proceedings without danger of being seen." Buckland sighed.
"The odds are not good, but the fact that you are here gives me a little hope."

The carriage rumbled to a halt outside the Palace of Westminster, home of Parliament. Jean pulled the veil of her bonnet over her face.
"Lead on, my lord."

As they entered the looming building, Buckland said, "This is the
second day of debate, and the vote should take place toward the end of the
session. You will hear some of the most amazing arguments from the pro-slavery
people. One member claimed abolition would destroy our Canadian fisheries
because it's the Indies slaves who are fed the worst fish."

"What?" Nikolai said incredulously.

"Don't expect it to make sense." Buckland led them through the palace and up to the gallery level, stopping outside a section of blank wall. He made a gesture that flared with magic and a door appeared. As he ushered Jean and Nikolai in, he said,
"I masked this room yesterday in case it was needed today. Which was an odd
thing for me to do, now that I think of it. The shield net must have been
prodding me."

"Whenever the ancestors are involved, strange things happen," Nikolai observed.

The room was like a theater box seat next to the large public gallery on one side of the chamber where the House of Commons met. The galleries on both sides were packed, but their little box had half a dozen chairs and a good view down into the chamber. Because of the masking, no one seemed to notice them.

"I must go—I'm an MP myself." Buckland pulled a handful of papers from his document case.
"If you become bored, you might want to look at this. It's a summary of the
slavery accounts given in nearly two thousand pages of hearing notes. We wanted
a document short enough that even the dullest MP could find the time to read it.
I shall see you later. Good luck. Perhaps you can turn the tide."

He left just as the session below was called to order. Jean said quietly,
"Simon must still be alive or Buckland would be sitting in the House of Lords
rather than Commons. I'm glad to know that."

So was Nikolai. Even in his seventies, Falconer had been a formidable mage, and they might need his power before this day was done.

As Buckland had said, the speeches were interesting. Wilberforce spoke, saying in his calm, rich voice that ending the slave trade could only help the West Indies plantations because slaves would be treated more gently and productivity would increase. A flamboyant man in a dragoon's uniform leaped up, waving a hand with only three fingers as he claimed that the Africans themselves had no objections to the slave trade.

When the next speaker rose, Jean clutched Nikolai's arm.
"It's Captain Trent, from Liverpool!"

Sure enough, Trent was here, several pounds fatter and several years more unctuous. In a booming voice he declared,
"You have all heard of the slave revolt in Dominica, one of the fairest of our
Indies sugar islands. That revolt, sirs, is a direct result of the abolition
movement! Unpatriotic fools have stirred the passions of the heathen Africans,
and now the wealth and health of Britain herself are threatened!"

As Trent ranted, Nikolai felt the pro-slavery energy intensifying. He also felt a familiar dark energy.
"Trent's priest, Kondo, is nearby and active," he said tersely. "I am
going to find him."

"Be careful," Jean said. "He's surely working to increase the
Demon energy."

So she felt it, too. He touched her shoulder. "I will be all
right."

He left their private box and paused outside, turning his locater skills to finding Kondo. He had felt the priest's energy very clearly at Wilberforce's house. Now it was just a matter of identifying his individual energy amidst the signatures of the hundreds of other people in the palace. Kondo was so distinctive that tracing him didn't take long. Especially since his energy was braided into a flood of Demon power.

Nikolai followed the trail up a flight of stairs and down long corridors, finding that the energy strengthened as he moved closer to the source. This area of the building was almost empty since there was a controversial bill being debated.

The energy track led to a latched door. Nikolai used one angry burst of power to open it. He had become quite adept at using his power as a tool, or a weapon.

The door opened to a small, comfortably furnished office. Behind the desk was Kondo, his eyes closed and his clothing that of an English gentleman. Demon energy pulsed around him as sluggish black light, coursing through the building to the House of Commons. There it would strengthen the pro-slavery forces and weaken the abolitionists.

Guessing that Kondo had chosen the office at random because he needed a quiet place to work, Nikolai stepped inside. The African's eyes opened and filled with recognition.
"You," he said in a guttural, heavily accented voice. "The English slave. I knew
we would meet again. You shall not stop me this time."