Midsomer stepped back, his lip curling.
“I should call you out for that if you were an Englishman,” he said. “But I would not lower myself by fighting the likes of you. I have given you fair warning. If you will not give up the staff, you will have to bear the consequence of your obstinacy.”
“I do not make out your meaning, sir,” said Zacharias, his voice dangerously quiet. “I beg you will explain yourself.”
Midsomer met his eye, unblushing. He said:
“Recall that Cecil Hallett was asked to surrender the staff, and refused.”
The hairs rose on the back of Zacharias’s neck. Every thaumaturge knew of the manner of Cecil Hallett’s demise. It had been such a death as was not easily forgot.
“That procedure was outlawed by the Charter,” he said.
“The Charter can be amended,” said Midsomer. “Good day to you, sir. I would think upon what I have said if I were you.”
•••
ZACHARIASmounted the stairs to Mak Genggang’s room in considerable agitation of spirits. He was so distrait that he would not have noticed the servant girl hurrying down in the opposite direction if she did not brush against him in her haste.
He was almost at the door to Mak Genggang’s room when he recalled that the Society employed no female servants.
He caught up with Prunella outside the building. She was walking briskly towards the gate, a basket tucked under her arm, for all the world as though she were going to market to buy a fish.
Prunella was in cheerful spirits, though she had slept little the night before. A minor enchantment had sufficed to lead her to the room where Mak Genggang had been imprisoned within the Society. Though the Committee had hedged the room about with wards to prevent the witch’s getting out, no one had thought to institute any measure to prevent others from getting in.
They had stayed up half the night talking, and very profitable the conversation had been too. Even after Mak Genggang had nodded off, halfway through a rambling story about a weretiger of her acquaintance, Prunella had been too excited to sleep. She had paced the room, making great plans, till dawn’s pale light shone through the window.
They had agreed they would make their escape once it was light: “Else I shall be bumping into things, and like as not be eaten by an owl,” said Mak Genggang. Prunella could not help feeling they had contrived it very neatly, till she saw Zacharias on the stairs.
There was just a chance they might still get away, she thought, for it was clear his attention was elsewhere. When she heard determined footsteps behind her, Prunella quickened her pace.
“If your hope is that I will forget having seen you provided you only walk fast enough, I am afraid you will be disappointed,” said Mr. Wythe. Amusement and irritation mingled in his voice in equal measure. “Surely you do not think to escape me so easily?”
Prunella resigned herself to discovery. Still, Mr. Wythe need not know everything yet.
“You have an unfair advantage; being such a wretched long creature, you need only take one stride to my two,” she retorted, tuggingthe gingham cloth over the top of her basket. Unfortunately its inmate possessed less discretion.
“He is right, you know,” piped a tiny voice. “We ought to have disguised you with a spell. I cannot conceive why I did not think of it before. My wits must still be in disorder from last night’s hullaballoo.”
Zacharias’s eyes widened. Before Prunella could stop him, he pulled away the cloth, revealing what she had hid inside the basket.
The basket itself was a product of magic. It had originally been Mak Genggang’s shawl, and had been transformed because Prunella thought a basket looked servant-like. Nestled within it was Mak Genggang, exactly as she had always been, save that she was no larger than a mouse—a cat could have eaten her, if it was so foolish as to try. She sat cross-legged with her palms braced against the bottom of the basket.
“Good day, Sorcerer,” she said. “It is a fine house your magicians have, but far too cold. You ought to waste less magic on warding poor old females, and spend more on warming your feet. Mine are as cold as the sultan’s heart!”
“What are you doing?” gasped Zacharias.
“She is hiding,” said Prunella crossly. “You know we talked about the importance of discretion, Mak Genggang!” She turned down the cloth. “You need not stare at me. It is shocking that the Society should have been so disrespectful as to imprison Mak Genggang for a misunderstanding, when that silly turbanned creature was not even hurt.”
“I can see that it seems disproportionate,” said Zacharias, striving to keep his calm. “But you cannot simply smuggle out a prisoner of the Society!”
“Oh, but I have,” said Prunella. “It was the easiest thing in the world, and it needed to be done, you know, for Mak Genggang could not escape herself. I have never seen such an extravagance of magic, and all to prevent her flight! Now I have seen the Society’s profligacy, I am hardly surprised the nation suffers from a lack of magical resource. I only wonder that we haveanymagic left.”
“Are you truly unaware of the extreme delicacy of the situation?” said Zacharias. “The Society was all for meting out immediate punishment. It was all I could do to persuade my colleagues to wait for a formal investigation. They have been uncommonly patient, according to their lights, but any wrong movement now may cause an explosion. You must return her.”
“I certainly shall not!”
“I should like to see her do it!” said Mak Genggang beneath the cloth.
