The Magicians and Mrs. Quent (17 page)

The man would give him a leather tube. The tube would contain a letter at one end and a reservoir of ink at the other. Eldyn was not to look at the letter. He was to put the tube in a cloth sack with the nine nails he had bought and travel to Hayrick Cross that night, arriving precisely halfway through the umbral, no matter how long or short the night was. He was to wait by the well until the red-haired man from the blacksmith’s shop arrived. He was to tell the man he did not need the nails and to give him the sack. If anyone else arrived at the well, or if anyone else was with the red-haired man, or if anyone accosted him on the road there—especially an agent of the king or a servant of the Gray Conclave—he was to turn one end of the tube, which would release the ink, letting it spill into the other chamber and blotting out the message written on the paper.

Once this business was done, he was to go back to Invarel. He was to look for more advertisements in
The Fox
. If he saw one, he was to go to the address (remembering how to decipher it) and get another leather tube. If a week passed and he saw no advertisement, his work was done and his hundred regals earned. That was it. That was all he had to do. There was nothing else.

As he spoke, Westen had pressed Eldyn into the corner, blocking his escape with an arm braced against the wall.

“It is mischief you wish me to work,” Eldyn said, keeping his voice low. “And treason as well, I warrant. What messages could be passed back and forth in such an ungodly manner save those that seek to harm the Crown?”

“So you are a king’s man?”

“I am not a criminal.”

“And what deed, if it be just, can ever truly be called a crime? How can it be stealing to take something that was already stolen and give it back to its rightful owner?”

“You call it justice, robbing people on the road? I don’t care who you give the money to. I don’t care if you give it all away—which I am certain you do not. I still call it thievery.” He broke free of the highwayman. Except he had the feeling it was Westen who let him go, that if the taller man had wanted it, Eldyn would still be pinned in place.

“You will change your mind.”

Eldyn halted on the stairs, but he did not turn around.

“I know what your dear sister has spoken about you. And I’ve watched you. You are like me, Garritt, whether you know it or not. We both want to be something more than we are.”

No, he was wrong. They were nothing alike. Eldyn hurried up the stairs, into his rooms, and locked the door behind him.

T
HE BRIEF DAY was already half over when he awoke. Sunset was five hours away. He was glad. It would be a blessing to have this done with. Once his fate was decided, there would be nothing more to worry about.

He washed his face, ran a razor over his cheeks, and combed and tied back his hair. He polished his boots and brushed his coat, gently, so as not to cause more distress to the poor garment. Soon he would have a new coat. Not fine like this one had been once, but not threadbare either. A simple coat, and warm.

The door to Sashie’s little room was closed. He knocked. “Please come out, dearest,” he crooned, but he heard only a shuffling of steps. He sighed. She would forgive him soon.

And when will that be? The moment you tell her that you have assured her future working as a servant in the very inn where her happiness was ruined? Is that when you can expect her to forgive you?

There was nothing for it; he went downstairs.

He saw the innkeeper just heading into the back salon. Good, that would give him a private place to make his proposal. He gathered his will, then headed for the dining room to ask Mr. Walpert for his daughter’s hand.

His boot kicked something as he went, and he looked down. On the floor lay a hunk of half-eaten bread. Flies danced upon it in a merry feast. A moment ago he had been ravenous, but now his stomach clenched.

“Is there something you need, Mr. Garritt?”

He looked up. The innkeeper stood before him, smiling, a kindness in his rheumy eyes.

Eldyn took a breath. “I wanted to—”

Then Eldyn saw him, past the innkeeper’s shoulder, through the door into the public room. He leaned against the bar, regaling a group of coarse men and painted women with some tale of his exploits.

“Yes, Mr. Garritt?” The innkeeper cocked his head.

Eldyn swallowed. “I just wanted a cup of tea, that’s all.”

“But of course! Anything for our young Mr. Garritt. Sit yourself down, and I’ll bring it to you myself!”

Sickness flooded Eldyn, but only for a moment. Then he felt a strange sensation come over him. It was like the lifting of a weight, like the release of a vise’s pressure. He went to sit in a corner of the public room and soon was sipping his tea. He did not look at the bar.

Just as he finished his tea, he heard the sound of boots behind him. A leather purse landed with a
thud
on the table.

“You begin tonight,” said a low voice in his ear.

Eldyn reached out and took the purse. There was a soft laugh, then the sound of boots walking away. Eldyn weighed the purse in his hand. It was heavier than he’d imagined. He tucked it inside his coat, then rose and hurried to the door. He had just four hours to find Mr. Sarvinge and Mr. Grealing.

And after that, time to work.

CHAPTER NINE

T
HAT A CHANGE had come over Dashton Rafferdy was soon apparent to his intimate acquaintances. It was a fact noted at Lord Baydon’s city house over breakfast and expounded upon in Lady Marsdel’s parlor during evening conversations. The languid air about him had all but dissipated; mirrors no longer seemed to occupy him so fully; and some mornings he had been seen out and about the city no more than an hour after dawn. All agreed that he looked unusually well.

As the month since his return to town progressed, there was much speculation among his acquaintances as to what had so energized their usually languid Mr. Rafferdy. Lord Baydon suggested it was a suddenly realized interest in business, and he pressed Rafferdy to tell him what sort of propositions and futures he was considering.

That the young man’s thoughts were indeed consumed with future propositions, Lady Marsdel appeared convinced. She expressed concern that the dealings be equitable, resulting in no undue enrichment on the opposite side and no unwarranted impoverishment on Rafferdy’s own. Her niece, however, allayed her fears. Mrs. Baydon was certain Mr. Rafferdy’s new vitality stemmed from a meeting he had made recently and that it was a connection of the highest quality—one that could bring only great profit to both parties involved. When Lord Baydon asked who this respectable business partner was, Mrs. Baydon only smiled and deferred to Mr. Rafferdy, saying that such information was for him to divulge.

Rafferdy never denied nor confirmed these various suppositions. He was content to let the others divert themselves. For his part, he knew that any change that had come upon him had nothing to do with a matter of business, nor, despite all of Mrs. Baydon’s intimations, with the matter of Lord Everaud’s daughter.

Miss Everaud had written to him on several occasions since his return from Asterlane. He had responded to her twice to fulfill the obligation placed upon him by his father’s friendship with Lord Everaud, but that was all. As for business, Rafferdy neither had a head for such matters nor wished to develop one, as he often said, on the fear it might alter his hat size.

Besides, Rafferdy was not convinced he
had
changed. For how could one be changed by feeling
more
one’s self? And he saw no need to discover any particular reason for such an occurrence. If he felt like rising earlier, walking farther, and laughing more often than usual, it was only because it amused him to do so at the moment, and when it ceased to do so, no doubt he would return to his usual ways.

“It seems to me that people are too interested in seeking out causation,” Rafferdy announced one morning over breakfast at the Baydon house, after nearly a month of this sort of speculation.

“What do you mean?” Mrs. Baydon asked over toast.

Rafferdy stirred his coffee. “I mean that people seem determined to find the reason why things are as they are. What causes the stars to spin one way and not the other, why tall hats are fashionable and short hats are not, how there can be so many afflicted with poverty when the wealthy constantly want for novel ways to spend their fortunes. To me, it is all a great waste of effort that could better be spent looking in shops or going for a drive along the Promenade and noting how poorly dressed everyone is compared to oneself.”

Mr. Baydon lowered his broadsheet. “But it is to be expected, even desired, that people wonder about such things, Rafferdy,” he said with a scowl. “You speak of the movements of the stars, and here in
The Messenger
today is a story of a new celestial body that has been glimpsed for the very first time by means of ocular lenses. What sort of object it might be is unknown, but you can be assured that, now it has been discovered, men of science will seek to learn all that can be learned about it. They will not rest in their examinations until there is not the slightest whit of mystery left to it and it becomes like the most familiar old thing we have known forever.”

“I am no scientist,” Rafferdy said. “And I would dread to live in a world devoid of even one whit of mystery. However, it seems to me that sometimes—or perhaps, I might venture, most of the time—occurrences have no cause at all. New stars appear and old ones vanish. Short hats become popular again. Things are as they are, and do as they please, for absolutely no reason at all.”

“Certainly
you
do as you please, Mr. Rafferdy,” Mrs. Baydon said with a laugh.

“No,” he answered her, “I do what pleases
me.
And others would do well to follow suit. I am sure people would be far gladder if they simply stopped searching for all the causes of their unhappiness.” He rose from his seat. “Now, speaking of causes, you’ve caused me to be late, for I meant to leave a quarter hour ago. I must be off.”

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” said Lord Baydon. He had joined them for breakfast that morning, though he had participated little in their discussions, as he claimed he seldom had any idea what young people were talking about. “Is it some matter of business?”

When Rafferdy said it was not, Mrs. Baydon said, “I can guess where he is off to. He is going to visit his new acquaintances. It turns out our Mr. Rafferdy has befriended three daughters of gentry.”

“How curious!” exclaimed Lord Baydon.

“To be sure,” Mrs. Baydon said. “I would have thought it quite out of character for the previous version of our friend. But the new Mr. Rafferdy shows evidence of a disinterested, even charitable nature.”

“How
curious
!” Lord Baydon said once again. “And how did he meet these young ladies?”

“They are the cousins of the lawyer who recently assisted my husband’s aunt. Their father, I gather, is an invalid, and Mr. Rafferdy has taken it upon himself to aid them in what small ways he can. It is said they are quite sweet and pretty, but the poor things are horribly disadvantaged, as you can imagine, living as they do in Gauldren’s Heights and having no society of any worth.”

Rafferdy was about to say that he found the society of Miss Lockwell worth a good deal more than that of anyone he had ever encountered in Lady Marsdel’s parlor. However, before he could do so, Mrs. Baydon became suddenly animated and clapped her hands together.

“Lady Marsdel is to have another party, on the eve of the next long night,” she said. “You should invite your new friend, Mr. Rafferdy. Not all three of them; that would never do. But the eldest one—I have gathered she presents herself well, for one of her class. You must tell her to come.”

“I will do no such thing,” he said, and was going to add that he would not inflict such suffering upon an enemy, let alone someone whom he admired. However, Mrs. Baydon spoke more quickly.

“But think of the benefit to her! Think of what connections she might make—connections far above any she could ever have hoped for. You would do her a great service, and by extension a service to her sisters.”

Mr. Baydon cleared his throat. “It seems this new compulsion to be charitable is catching.”

“You must bring her with you,” Mrs. Baydon said.

“I hardly know if I am coming myself,” Rafferdy said. “In fact, I rather imagine I won’t.”

“How unfortunate,” Lord Baydon said. “Mr. Bennick will be quite disappointed to miss you.” He tipped the sugar bowl into his coffee.

Rafferdy was not certain he had heard correctly. “I’m sorry, Lord Baydon, but did you say Mr. Bennick would miss me?”

“So I did!” Lord Baydon said, clearly happy to have something to speak about that was within his comprehension. “I encountered him the other day on Marmount Street. He inquired specifically about you, Mr. Rafferdy. He said he enjoyed meeting you and was looking forward to speaking with you again.”

Rafferdy found this puzzling. Why would Mr. Bennick ask about
him
? “We did not even truly meet,” he said aloud without meaning to.

“But of course you have met Mr. Bennick,” Lord Baydon said. “I know it for a fact, for I was there when it happened.”

This made no sense. Rafferdy was certain he had not been in the same room with Mr. Bennick and Lord Baydon at Lady Marsdel’s party. He said as much, and to his astonishment Lord Baydon laughed.

“It was not at the party but years ago,” Lord Baydon said. “I suppose it’s to be expected you don’t remember. You were very small at the time. I was smaller myself, back then!” He laid a hand on the expanse of his waistcoat. “Mr. Bennick and Lord Marsdel were acquaintances. I’m not sure how they met—Mr. Bennick was a good deal younger than Lord Marsdel—but he used to come around to the house on the Promenade often. Your mother and father used to visit often at that time as well, and you with them. You would have met Mr. Bennick then. You must have made quite an impression on him for him to remember you all this time. It’s been many years since Mr. Bennick has made an appearance at my sister’s house.”

This news astonished Rafferdy. That Mr. Bennick would remember meeting him as a child seemed incomprehensible. Rather, it had to be their encounter in the parlor that Mr. Bennick was referring to.

“It’s settled then,” Mrs. Baydon said, a bit smugly. “You have no choice but to come, Mr. Rafferdy. And since you are coming, there can be no excuse for not bringing your new acquaintance with you.”

“I must be off” was all he said, and with that he called for his hat and coat, gave his thanks for breakfast, and was away.

Strange as Lord Baydon’s news had been, Rafferdy put it out of his head and directed his driver to proceed with haste through the city. The moon was at its full, and so it was a day for worship. The Baydons had the benefit of a clergyman who called at their parlor on Brightdays, and Rafferdy had the benefit of no piousness at all, but he knew that those folk who still observed such rituals did so in church.

From certain overheard remarks, Rafferdy knew his object this morning made just such a habit. He directed his driver to Gauldren’s Heights, then left the cabriolet to walk along Whitward Street. He stayed as far from the door as he might and still observe it and before long witnessed the expected departure. They went on foot, and their mother did not accompany them.

He followed them at a distance to a modest, even dour church a bit Uphill. Once they were inside, he located a ready boy such as could always be found on a street corner, gave him a message and a coin, and sent him scampering toward the Old City.

An hour later—and none too soon—Eldyn Garritt arrived in a hack cab, looking red-cheeked and flustered.

“What’s this all about?” he said after Rafferdy paid the cab. “I was in the midst of something when I got your message.”

“So it seems,” Rafferdy said, observing his friend’s rumpled and ill-adjusted attire and the shadows beneath his eyes.

Garritt’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade, and he adjusted his coat and shook out the cuffs. “I was up all night working on business.”

“So you mean to say that coins were exchanged?”

That his friend was so obviously not amused only delighted Rafferdy further. From what font sprang his friend’s inherent goodness, he did not know, but he doubted the nearby church contained a more pious or diffident soul than the one that dwelled in Eldyn Garritt’s breast. He often wondered why he and Garritt were friends at all. Though he supposed the good were always drawn to the wicked for wanting to save them, and the wicked in turn to the good—not in hopes of being saved or with desires of corrupting but rather like a moth in the dark, fascinated by a light it can never really know but might at least behold.

“I would hardly have expected to find
you
in this part of the city,” Garritt said with a frown. “Indeed, I would hardly expect to see you awake on a middle lumenal before the sun’s over the Citadel. And what could be so urgent that you felt the need to summon me halfway across Invarel on a moment’s notice?”

“If I am to run into her by chance while out for a stroll with a friend, there must be a friend in evidence,” Rafferdy said. “Otherwise the tale lacks a certain credibility, wouldn’t you agree?”

Before Garritt could voice an answer to this, the doors of the church opened and dispensed its congregation onto the street. Rafferdy took his friend’s elbow and nudged him into motion, so that the two were just approaching the soot-streaked portico of the church as Miss Lockwell and her sisters descended the steps.

Garritt just had time to murmur, “I should have known you’d devise yet another means of encountering her.” Then Lily had caught sight of them and was tugging on her eldest sister’s arm. Such was the look of astonishment and delight on Miss Lockwell’s face upon seeing them—an expression accompanied by a noticeable coloring of her cheeks, much to the benefit of her appearance—that Rafferdy felt immediately rewarded for the effort of coming here, and any qualms he might have suffered flew away like the pigeons that sprang from the cornices of the church into the morning sky.

A few more steps on either side brought both parties into close proximity. Expressions of pleasure at the good fortune of this
unlikely
but welcome meeting were exchanged, and a plan was quickly proposed by Lily that they should all walk together back Downhill.