“Those are familiars’ eggs,” he said.
Prunella was so intent that she did not even look up.
“And they are just about to hatch,” she said.
•••
PRUNELLAhad confided in Mak Genggang regarding her treasures the night before, though she had had to overcome a lingering hesitation to do it. To possess such a treasure was very tiresome, reflected Prunella, for it made one distrust everyone—and she could not rid herself of the recollection of Mrs. Daubeney’s faithlessness.
But Mak Genggang was a foreigner, and would soon return to her own country; she had helped unlock Prunella’s singing orb, and asked for nothing in return; and there was no one else who could give Prunella the counsel she needed. She would give Mak Genggang an egg for her services, and for her discretion: that should be reward enough, if all Prunella had heard of the value of familiars’ eggs was true.
In the event, the reward proved unnecessary.
“So you have inherited spirits from your father!” exclaimed Mak Genggang when all was explained. “Poor child! That is unfortunate. However, all is not lost. They are locked within these stones, you say? We must hope none of them have secreted themselves within your person: spirits are wicked, ingenious creatures and always select just the parts where they may best torment you. How far are we from the sea? I should fling them upon the waves if I were you, and hope that was the last I saw of them.”
“But I do not want to throw them away,” protested Prunella. “I want to hatch them and make use of them. That is what English thaumaturges do, you know, when they have the good luck to come upon a familiar’s egg, and they are much admired for it.”
“So I have heard, but you ought not to pattern yourself after such reprobates,” said Mak Genggang, frowning. “Do not you know it is a sin so to employ djinns and spirits? We ought only to depend upon the graciousness of God, in magic as in life.”
Prunella was alarmed. She could all too easily envision being compelled by Mak Genggang to dispose of her familiars’ eggs for her own moral and spiritual good.
“But surely God created the spirits and djinns,” suggested Prunella, “and it is no more wicked to use their services than it is to ride horses or eat meat. And you know, dear Mak Genggang, we cannot trust to a steady supply of magic, as you do in your country.”
“Very right too. It is a just punishment for your officious interference in other people’s affairs.”
“But in consequence we are restrained from doing a great deal of good for want of magic,” argued Prunella. “I may not be able to do all I desire to rescue you, for instance.”
This point could not but hold some weight with Mak Genggang, imprisoned as she was by the Society. Despite her pious objection it transpired that she was not unfamiliar with the intricacies of such sacrilegious dependence upon spirits, for after further argument she declared:
“If you insist, it is better that I teach you than that you should blunder along and be devoured for your pains. The employment of familiars is all very well for infidels, I suppose, and you are a godless creature enough, Prunella.”
Prunella acceded to this description of herself cheerfully: “I had no one to teach me better, you see.”
“So you have found someone to teach you worse!” said Mak Genggang. “Well, you are a pretty, insinuating child, and you will come to a bad end, no doubt.”
But she spoke with grudging approval. Mak Genggang might decry Prunella’s ways all she liked, but the same disregard of orderand authority which Prunella possessed animated Mak Genggang’s own heart. Even if she thought the appearance of reproof due to her age and status, she rather relished a measure of lawlessness.
“I warned Abdullah in just the same way when he came to me with hisbajang. He did not listen, of course, and what was the consequence? He vanished, never to be seen again, and his wife was left to provide for seven children!” said Mak Genggang. “Salima remarried soon enough, and I expect she likes her new husband better, since he does not beat her. But it was a bad lookout for Abdullah. At least you are better equipped to manage your spirits than any man could be.”
“Am I?” said Prunella, pleased. “But why is that?”
“Why, all the greatest magic comes down to blood,” said Mak Genggang. “And who knows blood better than a woman?”
•••
WHATMak Genggang told Prunella had solidified her resolve to wake the familiars. She could not afford to wait, and let Zacharias continue another month exposed to attack by every fireplace and puddle he encountered. Such constant disruption could only interfere with her plans—and what would become of her if one of those attacks should succeed?
But Prunella found she did not like to contemplate the possibility of Zacharias’s being injured, or worse. He could take care of himself, of course; he was Sorcerer Royal, after all. But it was clear she needed magic. London was too dangerous to do without. With such an unassailable ground for tasting the intoxicating power of the treasures again, Prunella saw no reason to put off her trial.
Emboldened by the consciousness of doing not only what was right, but what was necessary, she met Zacharias’s shocked gaze with composure.
“I am sorry to have woken you,” she said. “There is no need for concern, however. Everything is proceeding just as it ought.”
“Proceeding just as it ought—!” cried Zacharias. “Did not that school teach you the dangers of hatching a familiar from the egg?”
It was possible to acquire a familiar by different means: one could inherit a familiar upon the death of its previous master; one could persuade an inhabitant of Fairyland to settle in the mortal world; or one could seek to command the loyalty of a familiar from the egg.
The last method was the most perilous. Familiars hatched from the egg with the intellects of an infant, and no recollection of their past selves. They must be hatched with great care, in the presence of warding spells and other measures of restraint, as might be required by the moods of the familiar once it was hatched.
