The Mislaid Magician (23 page)

“It’s a trap for magicians!” I said.

“Very likely,” Mr. Wrexton said. “We should be able to confirm that much with a few tests. From out here,” he added when Aunt Elizabeth gave him a Look.

And we did. As a result, it was quite late when we arrived back at Wardhill Cottage, but we had learned considerably more than we had expected. Not only do three ley lines meet at the stone circle, they join there, just as Mr. Morris’s map describes and Mr. Wrexton’s theory says they should. That stone circle, at least, acts to contain and stabilize the junction, and it seems very likely that the same is true elsewhere.

Furthermore, someone has tapped into the power at the junction to create a trap that turns any trained wizard or magician—and
only
a trained wizard or magician—into a dog when they cross into the junction point (that is, the stone circle). Because three ley lines are concerned, Mr. Wrexton thinks it likely that Herr Schellen can only be disenchanted at the place where they meet—which is, of course, not possible, as any magician who crosses into the stone circle will instantly become a dog, just as Herr Schellen did.

And not just magicians and wizards who enter the Dancing Weans. According to Mr. Wrexton, the transformation spell does not have the proper confines and boundary limitations, and as a result he thinks it highly probable that it has leaked out into the entire ley line network. This means that any magician in England who enters a stone circle is very likely to turn into a dog.

As soon as we realized this, and remembered the request James made of Thomas, we realized we had to warn you. It took us some time to determine how, and by then it was far too late in the evening to try. We could, however, lay out the India ink and the little silver tray we needed for a scrying spell, and early this morning, Mr. Wrexton, Aunt Elizabeth, and I cast one. I had hoped that the children would decide to look in on us early, as well, but they did not, so we took turns watching the ink until Arthur and Eleanor finally cast their own spell to see what we were doing. With two wizards and a magician working together, it was not much trouble holding the spell so long, even over such a distance, especially since two of us (Aunt Elizabeth and I) are blood relatives of Arthur and Eleanor.

As soon as I was certain Arthur was watching, I pointed at the note, which we had written out in very large black letters. I waited long enough to see his eyes widen; he nodded vigorously and there was much rushing about the nursery for paper and quills. And so I trust you know Thomas’s danger now, and all is well.

There remains the puzzle of Haliwar Tower. If the ley line under Haliwar is part of the network (which seems unquestionable, since it runs straight from the Dancing Weans to Haliwar), and if there is a stone circle actually built into the walls of the tower, then I, at least, ought to have turned into a dog the moment I set foot in the place. We are not yet certain why this did not happen; however, I have my suspicions. You may recall that I wrote you that Haliwar seemed to have a dampening effect on magic, most especially on ley lines (at least, while I was inside, I could not sense them, though I certainly ought to have been able to do so).

I think, therefore, that there is some protective spell on the tower itself. If it is specifically a protection against the transformation spell, then the Webbs are not only wizards after all, but responsible for Herr Schellen’s transformation and goodness knows what else. Mr. Wrexton says it is too early to reach such a conclusion. I think he is only trying to prevent me from confronting the Webbs prematurely, which I
assure
you, Kate, I will not do. Anyone who can manipulate ley lines and cast spells that affect all of England must be approached with great caution. For one thing, I do not intend to go anywhere near the Webbs until I am sure that I will not turn into a dog, or, at least, that Mr. Wrexton and Aunt Elizabeth know how to reverse any such spell immediately.

Disenchanting Herr Schellen remains an interesting problem. I left Mr. Wrexton and Aunt Elizabeth discussing the possibility of creating a spell that could be performed by someone like James, who has
no
magical ability (such a pity—he is so good with theory. I have often thought that having no magic must be rather like being tone deaf; one can learn all the theory one likes, but when it comes to actually performing, one ends up sounding like Aunt Charlotte). A person without magical training would be perfectly safe within the stone circle, despite the ley lines and transformation spell, and so could perform the disenchantment. Despite Mr. Wrexton’s optimism, I cannot think it likely that someone of no magical ability whatever would be very good at casting a de-transformation spell, but it has occurred to me that an
untrained
magician might—

Please forgive the blot. The most astonishing thing has happened. I was sitting here, at the writing table, composing my letter to you, with Herr Schellen—the sheepdog—lying by the hearth on the other side of the room. With no warning, the sheepdog sat up and howled. I turned sharply (that was when I blotted the page) just in time to see his shape blur and expand from that of a dog to that of a stocky, bearded, extremely scruffy-looking man.

“Gott im Himmel!”
the man said.

“Good heavens!” I said. “Herr Schellen?” And then I shouted for James and Mr. Wrexton, and things became very busy.

As near as we can tell, Herr Schellen has been entirely disenchanted, though he is still more than a little dazed by his return to humanity. Mr. Wrexton can find no traces of the transformation spell; not the smallest link remains. He is a bit disgruntled by this, as it means there is also no trace of whatever caused this abrupt change, and he had been quite, quite certain that the spell could only be unraveled by some complicated counterenchantments cast within the stone circle where the original enchantment took place. (I believe he is also a touch disappointed that he will not be called upon to invent the countercharm.)

And so things seem to be looking up at last. I have every hope that within a day or two, when Herr Schellen has had time to rest and to recover his wits, we shall have a full explanation of many of the things that have been puzzling us. I fear, however, that I shall have to purchase a sheepdog for the children after all. It will not do to disappoint them when their scrying has come in so very useful after all, and really, what difference will one more dog make at Tangleford?

Your hopeful,

Cecy

(Enchanted by T.S.)

James and Cecy,

Send Wrexton at once. I will write to him under separate cover, but add your urging to mine, I beg you.

Kate seems unhurt, so far as I can ascertain under the circumstances, but as she has been transformed into a healthy female foxhound, I cannot say she is unscathed.

When the children received Cecy’s efficient and unusual message, Kate was with me, recasting the protection spell on the bounds. Arthur rode out to warn us, leaving the others to trail after his pony on foot. As their omniscience did not extend so far as our precise location on the route, they very sensibly went for the point at which the boundary passes closest to the Tingle Stone and its circle.

While they were waiting for us to arrive, Edward, as is his wont, climbed the nearest eminence. The first we saw of the children, as we rode toward them along the outside of the stone wall, was Edward waving cheerfully to us from atop the Tingle Stone.

The children shouted to warn us. Kate and I stopped at a safe distance. As Arthur and Eleanor and Drina delivered your message verbatim to me, Kate rode into the ring. I assume she meant to help Edward descend from the Tingle Stone by taking him up behind her in the saddle.

The trap did its work with terrible swiftness. Before I could shout a warning, Kate’s horse shied. Edward fell off the Tingle Stone and landed (unhurt, the jackanapes) beside a frightened foxhound bitch—Kate. I promise you, it was the worst moment of my life.

I could only watch from a distance while Edward coaxed Kate out of the ring. She growls at everyone else, including me, but has not bitten anyone. (Although back at the house, I confess I had a moment of wild surmise when she encountered Georgy, who screamed and burst into tears once she understood the true state of affairs.)

I have Kate safe in my workroom for now, and great damage she has already inflicted upon the place. She will be most unhappy when she sees what she did to the carpet there, not that she ever liked it above half.

Yours,

Thomas

Dear Thomas,

Of course we will send Mr. Wrexton as soon as possible. Poor Kate! He and James are at a meeting with a Mr. Pease about the railway, but I will show them your letter as soon as they return.

In haste,

Cecy

(in cipher)

My dear Thomas,

Cecelia gave me your news when Wrexton and I returned from meeting with Mr. Pease of the Stockton and Darlington line. I am sorrier than I can say. I blame myself, in part, as does Wrexton. If we had not had the notion of asking you to investigate the stone circle, this very likely would never have happened.

I will spare you a description of the breast-beating that ensued. Suffice it to say that Wrexton and I spent the greater part of yesterday evening—and several bottles of port—in considering what would be best to do. We settled it that Wrexton would come down to Skeynes immediately, while Cecelia, Herr Schellen, and I remain here to await our tardy ley line expert, who might have some useful contribution to make.

Unfortunately, the ley line expert arrived a few moments ago, just as Wrexton was preparing to set out. I say “unfortunately” both because of his temperament, which is poor, and because even after being fully informed of the current situation, he insists that Wrexton, and no one else, take him out to the stone circle at Goosepool to examine this “supposed net of ley lines.” As he may be our best hope of understanding (and reversing) the ley spell, Wrexton and I thought it best to delay his departure for another day.

You see, Herr Schellen was unexpectedly disenchanted last Saturday morning, shortly after Cecelia sent her inkpot message to Skeynes. Wrexton has been unable to determine the reason for this sudden change of condition, though he is positive that no ley linkages remain. Herr Schellen is therefore in no danger of reverting to being a sheepdog as abruptly as he ceased being one. Wrexton suspects that it may have something to do with our recent visit to the stone circle and the various tests we ran, but he is very nearly as out of his depth as I where ley lines are concerned and so cannot be sure. I believe he hopes that Skelly can confirm his theory, or offer one that is more sound.

In the meantime, I have some rather suggestive information from Mr. Pease to look into. He says that several years ago, when the Stockton and Darlington was having difficulty winning Parliament’s approval, Mr. Webb approached him and offered to see to it that the bill was approved, in return for a sizable share in the railway. As Webb had neither the acquaintance nor the means to influence Parliament, Pease and Stephenson wrote him off as one more of the many cranks who seemed drawn to the project, and rejected his proposal.

When the accidents and breakdowns on the railway began, Mr. Pease had Webb discreetly investigated. He could find no evidence that Webb was involved—but he and his investigators had, at that time, no reason to pay any special attention to ley lines. The first to do so was Herr Schellen. When Mr. Pease heard that he was to survey the proposed route between Manchester and Liverpool, he quietly hired him to look into the layout of the Stockton and Darlington as well, with particular emphasis on the changes to the original route. It seems unlikely to be mere coincidence that Herr Schellen was promptly turned into a sheepdog.

Mr. Pease had no further revelations regarding the Webbs, but he has referred me to a Mr. Thornton in Leeds. As for Herr Schellen, he has provided no certain insight into the question of who was responsible for his transformation. He seems well-suited to his profession, which is to say that he is far more aware of, and informative about, rock formations and land grades than people. Circumstances point more and more to the Webbs as the culprits.

The horses have been brought round, so I will close with the promise that, one way or another, I shall see the Wrextons on their way to you tomorrow. I trust that this expedition to Goosepool will provide them with the information they need to break this transformation spell once and for all.

Yours,

James

Dearest Kate,

I am enchanting this letter so that either you or Thomas can read it, just in case. I thought you would want to know everything that has happened as soon as possible.

After Thomas’s dreadful news arrived, we all spent an agitated night. Aunt Elizabeth and I occupied ourselves in assisting with packing up the Wrextons’ things for their hurried departure, though I think Walker and Aunt Elizabeth’s maid would have been better pleased had we retired to the parlor with a bottle of port, as the gentlemen did. But that would not have
done,
even so very far from London, and we both felt a strong need for some useful occupation. So the maids had to put up with us.

Alas, for our good intentions! The Wrextons were in the very act of stepping into the carriage to depart for Skeynes when a tall, lanky man with curly brown hair rode up and demanded—there is no other word for it—to know the way to Wardhill Cottage.

“This is Wardhill Cottage, sir,” James replied.

“Which of you is this Tarleton fellow, then?” the man said.

“I’m James Tarleton,” James told him. “I am sure you will enlighten us as to your own name and business in good time.”

“My name is Skelly. I’m to understand you’ll be having a puzzle for me,” the brown-haired man said.

“Ah, Mr. Daventer’s ley line expert,” James said, far more politely than Mr. Skelly deserved. “No doubt you’ve merely forgotten to present the letter he will have given you.”