“You picked an unusual way to reduce stress, given that omnimancers often report high levels of it.”
“I’m sure they do. They’re overwhelmed with requests. But I’m in a town with one traffic light,” he said, thinking of Martinelli and breaking into an unmanufactured smile, “and with my assistant’s help, I can keep up with the requests here nicely.”
“How exactly is she helping you?”
He stepped into this minefield on high alert.
“We brew a lot of medicaments. She assists with chopping and other prep work. The poverty here means that people come to us because they can’t afford to take care of their problems some other way, so I’m asked to be a stand-in doctor, veterinarian and repairman—it’s rewarding,” he said quickly, to get past the what-Beatrix-was-doing part, and realized with a start that he’d just told the truth. He could do without the matchmaking, but otherwise, he did often enjoy the job.
“Obviously I’m not going to do this long-term,” he added, “but for now, it makes me happy.”
“Mm.” Radcliffe paused. “I understand that your assistant is the sister of Miss Lydia Harper, president of the Women’s League for the Prohibition of Magic.”
“So I’ve learned,” he said cautiously. “I chose not to hold it against her.”
“Do you want to prohibit magic?”
Peter laughed. “No. It’s a ridiculous proposition.” And also not what Lydia Harper was trying to do, as the magiocracy well knew.
Radcliffe sipped at his coffee. The silence stretched out.
“Look,” Peter said, aiming for exasperated, which was what he would be if he were doing exactly what he said he was, “why don’t you tell me what this is about. Am I not allowed to work for free in my home town with the help of a relation of Lydia Harper’s?”
Radcliffe set his cup down. “We want to ensure that the Army’s former top weapons researcher is not doing any weapons design on the side. For some other party.”
There it was. He looked the man in the eye.
“Then let me put your mind at ease: I’m not doing that, and I have absolutely zero desire to start. As Lt. Gen. Robert Mercer would no doubt explain if you asked him, I left the Army because the work depressed me.”
“That is what he told me you said, yes.”
“But you have concerns?”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Radcliffe gave him a bland smile and got to his feet. “Just a routine check. If anyone approaches you to ask about weapons, please get in contact with me.”
He held out a card. Peter took it, smiling blandly back. “If any foreign agents show up in Ellicott Mills, I’ll be shocked, but I’ll let you know right away.”
“It’s not just foreign agents we’re worried about, Omnimancer,” Radcliffe said, walking to the receiving-room door. “Domestic extremists are a threat as well. Discontented individuals. Organized agitators.”
Peter nodded, mind only half on what the FBI agent was saying. Morse never cast a spell. What was he doing out there?
“Agitators such as the Women’s League for the Prohibition of Magic,” Radcliffe said.
It took a second for this to sink in. Even then, he couldn’t believe what Radcliffe was implying. “What?” he said, staring at him.
“That league is full of radicals who want change. It’s a short journey from there to acts of violence.”
“Mr. Radcliffe, these are women?—”
“Never underestimate women,” Radcliffe said quietly.
“Yes, but these are women who are working through the system. I seriously doubt they’d blow anything up! I’d be a lot more worried about antigovernment types than anti-magic ones.”
“Anti-magic is antigovernment,” Radcliffe said. “Good day, Omnimancer.”
GoodGod.
Still, neither he nor Beatrix had been arrested—it could have been far worse. He followed Radcliffe into the hallway. There he realized why, perhaps, Morse hadn’t cast a single spell.
