Wrede, Patricia C - Mairelon 02 (11 page)

           
"I'm
Kim."

           
"I
am most pleased." Durmontov bowed again. "You are alone; may I return
you to your party, to amend my clumsiness?"

           
Kim
glanced over her shoulder, but there was no sign of Mairelon.
Well, Lady
Wendall and Renee D'Auber keep saying that wizards can do what they like. So I
will.
"Yes," she said, then added belatedly, "Thank
you."

           
Durmontov
offered her his arm, and she directed him down the hall to the box. Lady
Wendall looked mildly startled when they entered, and gave Kim a pointed look
of inquiry.

           
"Mairelon
saw somebody he wanted to talk to," Kim said. "Mr. Durmontov offered
to bring me back."

           
"Ah."
Lady Wendall's expression cleared. "Thank you, Mr. Durmontov. I'm sure my
son also appreciates your kindness to his ward. I am Lady Wendall."

           
"It
is more correctly Prince Durmontov," Durmontov said almost apologetically.
"Prince is not the most correct term, but it comes as close as your
English can."

           
A prince
?
Kim suppressed the urge to shake her head
in wonder as Lady Wendall went through the rest of the introductions,
extracting the prince's full name in the process.
A
prince, bowing to me.
Tom Correy would never believe it.

           
"You
are, then, Russian?" Renee said with considerable interest once the
courtesies had been attended to.

           
"Since
my birth, Mademoiselle," Durmontov replied. "I currently stay with
Countess Lieven, though next week I remove to the George."

           
"I
will look forward to seeing you at the
countess's
when
I call upon her Friday," Renee said.

           
"And
what brings you to
England
,
Prince Durmontov?" Lady Wendall asked.

           
The
prince's smile vanished. "Family business," he said shortly.

           
"Forgive
me if the question was indiscreet," Lady Wendall said, unperturbed.
"I find your country fascinating, but I fear I am not well acquainted with
your customs."

           
"In
your country, it is I who must comply with English customs," Durmontov
replied.

           
"Ah,
Kim, you made it back," Mairelon said from the entrance to the box.
"I had no luck, I'm afraid; he got away in the crowd. Did you get a good
look at his face?"

           
"No,"
Kim answered.

           
"Richard."
Lady Wendall's voice held just the faintest note of reproach. "Allow me to
present Prince Alexei Durmontov.
Prince, my son, Richard
Merrill."

           
"It
is a pleasure," the prince said, but his eyes were skeptical and faintly
wary.

           
Mairelon
did not appear to notice. "Durmontov, Durmontov. Now where have I . . .?
Oh, yes. You don't happen to know a Miss Letitia Tarnower, do you?"

           
"I
do not believe so," he replied, looking startled. "Why is it that you
ask?"

           
"I
expect you'll meet her fairly soon, then," Mairelon said. "That would
explain it nicely."

           
"Explain
what?" Lady Wendall said.

           
"Monsieur
Merrill is very often most provoking, particularly when it is a matter of
information," Renee informed the puzzled Russian prince. "Do not mind
him in the least."

           
"I
shall do my best to take your advice, Mademoiselle," Durmontov said.
"It would be less
difficult,
however, if I had
some small idea to what he refers."

           
"We
met Miss Tarnower at that tea party last week," Kim said to Lady Wendall,
feeling some explanation was called for. "She asked about Prince
Durmontov."

           
"Yes,
she put on a splendid show of hen-wittedness," Mairelon said. "Nobody
is that silly by accident. I wonder what, exactly, she has in mind?"

           
"It
is entirely unimportant," Renee said with somewhat more emphasis than was
strictly necessary. "And I very much regret it, but it is nearly time for
the second curtain."

           
"I
regret it also, Mademoiselle, and I look forward to our future meeting,"
Durmontov said, and took his leave.

           
There was
no time for more; the curtain rose almost as the prince left the box. It was
not until they were in the carriage on the way home that the conversation
resumed.

           
"
Did
anyone else interesting turn up in the interval?" Mairelon asked as they
rattled over the cobblestones toward Renee's townhouse.

           
"A
Russian prince is quite enough, I think," Renee said.

           
"But
was he the one who cast the scrying spell?"

           
"How
is it that I would know that?" Renee demanded. "It is not a thing one
can tell by looking."

           
"The
Marquis of Harsfeld, Lord Franton, arrived after you left," Lady Wendall
said with some satisfaction. "He wished to be presented to Kim, and was
quite disappointed to find that she was not there."

           
"Harsfeld?
He must be nearly eighty," Mairelon
said, frowning. "What does he want with Kim?"

           
"No,
no, Richard, you're thinking of the fourth Marquis of Harsfeld," Lady
Wendall said. "He died last year; it is the
fifth
marquis who was
asking after Kim. He is quite a young gentleman--not much above twenty, I
think. He was the grandson of the previous marquis."

           
"Oh.
I expect that's all right, then," Mairelon said, but he continued to
frown.

           
Lady
Wendall looked at him, and turned the topic to the evening's performance. As
this involved much comparison with previous performances, and speculation as to
what certain different singers might have done in some of the roles, the
discussion lasted until they reached the house in
Grosvenor
Square
. Lady Wendall and Mairelon were arguing
amicably as they entered, only to be interrupted by a loud thump from upstairs.

           
"What
was that?" Mairelon said.

           
The
unmistakable sound of china shattering, followed by an inarticulate shout, was
the only reply.

           
"Maximillian!"
Lady Wendall cried, and flew up the
stairs.

           
Mairelon
and Kim exchanged glances and followed Lady Wendall, though somewhat less
rapidly. Halfway up the stairs, Kim unexpectedly felt the tingling pressure of
magic. Her eyes widened; whatever was going on up there, it wasn't just the
monkey. Mairelon must have felt it, too, for he started taking the stairs two
at a time and elbowed his way rapidly through the little crowd of servants that
had gathered in the upstairs hall, following his mother. He paused only once,
to speak briefly to Hunch. Kim, hampered by her skirts, followed as fast as she
could manage
,
only to bump into Mairelon from the rear
when he stopped dead in the library doorway. The magical pressure was stronger
here, and for a moment Kim thought that was what had brought Mairelon to a
halt. Then he moved aside, and she got a clear view of the library.

           
Shards of
white pottery littered the hearth, and one of the unlit candlesticks from the
mantel had fallen among them. The heat from the fire was in the process of
melting the candlewax, gluing everything firmly to the hearth rug. The table in
the center of the library had tipped over, strewing books and papers across the
floor. Harry, the footman, hovered uncertainly by the monkey cage. Inside the
cage, Maximillian swung from bar to bar in high agitation, chattering loud
reproaches. Kim's first thought was that their burglar had returned; then she
saw Mrs. Lowe.

           
She stood
in the far corner, her back to the bookshelves. Her expression was grimly
determined, and her hands were wrapped around the fireplace poker, brandishing
it as if it were a club. Behind her, one of the housemaids cowered in terror.
In front of them, at about chest
height,
hovered a
small book with a blue leather binding--Marie de Cambriol's
livre de
memoire.

           
Lady
Wendall had stopped two paces inside the library. "What on earth--"

           
The
monkey shrieked loudly, and the blue book hurled itself forward. Mrs. Lowe
whacked the book with her poker, and it dipped and retreated. An instant later,
it streaked toward the bookcase beside her. It hit with considerable force,
knocking several volumes to the floor. Apparently, this was not the first time
the book had performed this maneuver; two of the shelves were already empty,
and a third held only one book lying flat. The monkey shrieked again as the
book backed up and made a dive at Mrs. Lowe. She hit it with the poker once
more, square on.

           
"A
nice flush hit!" Mairelon said. "Have you ever thought of playing
cricket, Aunt?" Though his words were careless, Kim noticed that his hands
were already moving in the gestures of a spell.

           
"Richard,
your levity is singularly ill-timed," Mrs. Lowe said, keeping a wary eye
on the floating book. "You are supposed to be a magician; do something
about this ghost, if you please."

           
The
housemaid wailed. The book wobbled, then angled upward and flung itself at the
bookcases again. It hit the top shelf, which was still filled, and all of the
books jumped. Fortunately, this time none of them fell.

           
"It
isn't a ghost," Lady Wendall said calmly. "It's a spell." She
picked a candle from the candlebox on the side table next to the door.
"Fiat
lux,"
she said, and the candle burst into flame. Kim blinked; she
hadn't realized that Mairelon's mother was a full-fledged wizard, not merely a
dabbler. Lady Wendall held the candle out to Mairelon. "If you'll assist
with the warding spell, dear . . ."

           
"Not
just yet, Mother," Mairelon replied. "I'd like to analyze this
first."

           
"Stop
it and
then
analyze it!" Mrs. Lowe gave Mairelon a withering look,
then
hastily returned her attention to the flying book. It
was now making short runs against the bookcase, and its edges looked rather
battered.

           
"But
it's much simpler to analyze a spell in process," Mairelon said.
"O
xenoi, tines
este
, pothen pleith' hugra
keleutha."

           
The book
paused in midflight, hovered for a moment, and then fell to the floor with a
thud. The suffocating sense of magic eased. Mairelon looked startled,
then
began muttering rapidly under his breath. Lady Wendall,
imperturbable once again, began pacing slowly around the room with the lighted
candle, reciting the familiar warding spell as she went.

           
Mrs. Lowe
hesitated, then lowered the poker and pulled the whimpering housemaid out of
Lady Wendall's way. Kim waited a moment longer, to be certain that she would
not accidentally disrupt the spells Mairelon and Lady Wendall were working, and
then began picking up the books and papers littering the floor. She kept away
from the blue volume that had apparently caused all the trouble. After a
moment, the footman joined her.

           
"There,"
Lady Wendall said, placing the lighted candle in a holder next to the
candlebox. "That should hold things for a little, I think."

           
"For a little?"
Mrs. Lowe's voice wavered,
then
steadied into indignation. "Do you mean that we
may expect a recurrence of this . . . this
event
?"

           
The
housemaid apparently did not find Lady Wendall's comment very reassuring
either; she shook off her paralysis at last and began having strong hysterics
instead. Kim rolled her eyes, set down the books she was carrying, and looked
around for a water jug or a vase of flowers. If the library had ever had any
such things, they had not survived the activities of the flying book.

           
Lady
Wendall moved swiftly to the housemaid's side and gave her a resounding slap.
The maid gasped and coughed, then began sniveling quietly. When she was sure
the girl was not going to begin screeching again, Lady Wendall turned to the
footman and said, "Thank you for looking after Maximillian, Harry. Why
don't you take Tess down to the kitchen and give her something to settle her
nerves?
And yourself as well, of course.
You've both
had a very trying evening, I'm sure."

           
"Thank
you, Mum," the footman mumbled, and ushered the housemaid out.

           
"He'll
be into the brandy for certain," Mrs. Lowe said sourly when the door had
closed behind them.

           
"That
is precisely what I intend," Lady Wendall said. "I think they deserve
it, and if it makes the rest of the servants wonder whether this is all the
result of some odd drunken revel, they will be less likely to give notice due
to fear of ghosts."

           
"Ghosts?
Not at all," Mairelon said, looking up
from his observation of the now-quiescent book. "
Good
heavens, this house has
had magicians and wizards in it for donkey's
years. No ghost would dare come near it."

           
"Well,
perhaps it would be a good idea if you explained that in the servants' hall
tomorrow morning, Richard," Lady Wendall said. "Otherwise we may end
up doing the cooking and floor-waxing for Kim's ball ourselves."

           
"Hmm?
No, I'll get Hunch to do that. He'll be much more
convincing.

           
"So
long as it
is
convincing, dearest," Lady Wendall said. "Are
you quite finished?
Because if you are, we had better set up
a ward around the house."

           
"I thought
you were going to do that after the cracksman piked off," Kim said to
Mairelon.

           
"Yes,
well, it slipped my mind," Mairelon said. "It wouldn't have helped
with this, anyway, not with as much power behind it as it had."

           
"You
will not forget this time," Lady Wendall said firmly. "Only think of
the difficulties another such disturbance would create! We are going to cast a
full ward; we shall do so as soon as possible; and we shall maintain it at
least until Kim's ball."

           
"A full ward?"
Mrs. Lowe looked inquiringly at
Lady Wendall.

           
"To keep this from happening again."
Lady
Wendall's wave encompassed the entire library. "All this excitement is
very bad for Maximillian."

           
"I
should think that that monkey would be the least of your worries!" Mrs.
Lowe said. "If that was some sort of spell, I want to know who was
responsible." She looked suspiciously from Mairelon to Lady Wendall to
Kim.

           
"I'd
like to know that myself," Mairelon said. Bending, he picked up the blue
book that had caused all the commotion. Mrs. Lowe flinched. Apparently
oblivious, Mairelon went on, "It was another puzzle-spell, stuck together
out of pieces that didn't quite fit. A bit of summoning here, a bit of
levitation there, a few other odds and ends, and a really awkward binding holding
it together like a piece of string. It couldn't have lasted much longer, even
if we hadn't arrived when we did."

           
"That
book didn't look to me as if it were getting tired," Mrs. Lowe said.
"And it had been bashing itself against the wall for a good half hour."

           
"Half an hour?"
Mairelon blinked at his
aunt. "Oh, come, you can't have been holding it off with the poker that
long."

           
"I
didn't say I had," Mrs. Lowe replied dryly. "It's only been about
five minutes since that extremely foolish girl panicked and ended up in the
corner. Your precious heroic footman was no use whatever, and something had to
be done. I trust it will not be necessary again."

           
Lady
Wendall tilted her head to one side and looked at Mrs. Lowe. "If you were
not belaboring it with the poker for half an hour, what
were
you doing,
Agatha?"

           
"Writing
a letter to Lady Percy in my room," Mrs. Lowe replied. "The noise in
the library disturbed me, so I rang for a footman--who took an amazingly long
time to arrive--and sent him to put a stop to it. He proved unable to do so,
but did not think to report back to me when he discovered the cause of the
disturbance. When the noise did not subside after ten minutes, I came down to
see for myself what was going on. By then, half the household had gathered, and
while I was considering what was best to be done, the book made a more than
usually erratic swoop and that silly girl panicked. I make it approximately
half an hour from the time I first noticed the noise to your arrival."

           
Mairelon
looked down at the book in his hand with a thoughtful expression. "This
gets more interesting all the time."

           
"Why's
that?" Kim demanded. She could see that neither Lady Wendall nor Mrs. Lowe
was going to ask, and she knew that if no one asked, Mairelon wouldn't think to
explain.

           
"For
one thing, it means I was mistaken about the scrying spell at the opera,"
Mairelon said. "The caster wasn't looking to see whether we were there; he
was looking to make sure we
weren't
here."

           
"Very
clever of him," Lady Wendall murmured encouragingly.

           
"Furthermore,
the spell on that book was an incredible mishmash. Holding it together for even
a few minutes would take a lot of power," Mairelon went on. "To hold
it together for half an hour--well, there are only two or three wizards in
England
who could manage it. That I know of."

           
"Then
one may presume this wizard is no one you know of," Lady Wendall said.

           
"More
than that," Mairelon said. "I think he's someone I
couldn't
know of. I think he's either largely self-taught, or foreign.
Very
foreign."

           
Kim
thought instantly of the handsome Russian prince at the opera, and she could
see the same thing occur to Lady Wendall. "Why?" she said again.

           
"Because
I've found very little trace of any traditional spell structures in any of the
spells he's cast so far," Mairelon said, waving the blue book for
emphasis. "That scrying spell this evening, for instance--no one who's had
a proper magical education would bother reinventing something like that, not
when every apprentice learns the standard scrying spell by the end of the
second year. So our mystery wizard hasn't had the kind of magical education
magicians get in
England
,
which means he's either self-taught or foreign."

           
"If
it's a he," Kim said. Something was niggling at the back of her brain,
something important that she couldn't quite get hold of.

           
"That
fellow who tried to burgle the library last week was a man," Mairelon
pointed out.

           
"He
was a toff," Kim objected. "You said this wizard had to be
self-taught; toffs get training.
At least, more training than
this."
She looked around at the library.

           
"An
excellent point," Lady Wendall said. "Though very few gentlemen
practice, any more than they read Catullus in the original once they have left
school."