But he was the Sorcerer Royal, and he had stood by when half the largest crop of familiars the kingdom had ever seen was thrown away on a magician with no family and no training—above all, a magician who was female.
“Yet would not the gift of the eggs make up for the lapse?” argued Sir Stephen. “Such a gift as the nation has not seen in centuries! The girl could be dealt with. She need not pose any difficulty. The thing is to make a clean breast of it, Zacharias.”
“The eggs would not be much of a gift without Miss Gentleman’s cooperation,” said Zacharias, rubbing his temples. “Miss Gentleman allowed me to examine them. They are bound by an enchantment that locks them in stasis—a spell of wholly unfamiliar working. She knows the secret of the counter-spell, and without it the eggs are no good to us.”
“Cannot she be made to reveal the secret?” said Sir Stephen. “You need not stare at me so. What are your fine scruples against the interests of the nation? You must certainly tell the Society, and surrender the eggs. It is your duty.”
“We disagree as to where my duty lies,” said Zacharias. Any relief he had felt about being able to discuss the problem had dissipated. His head was pounding, his breath came short, and the air was full of light and colour.
“Zacharias,” said Sir Stephen. His voice vibrated with frustration;it was clear he would like to raise it, but he strove to govern himself. “Listen to me, Zacharias: you think me unscrupulous, no doubt. You think I am ruthless; you pity the girl. You know there is truth in what I say, however. Every circumstance is conspiring to remove you from your office, and should that happen, who knows what might be the result? Recall your agreement”—he lowered his voice—“your pact with Leofric!”
“Miss Gentleman has trusted me,” said Zacharias with difficulty.
“She deceived you! She imposed upon you for her own purposes, and now you are burdened with a brazen nobody, who has no family, no resources—”
“And three familiars,” said Zacharias. “You know that if I were to surrender her to the Society, they would not be content with the four eggs. They would seek to wrest her familiars from her.”
He did not need to elaborate upon what the consequences of that would be. It had happened not infrequently in centuries past, when England still had sufficient sorcerers to quarrel with one another, that a sorcerer would have his familiars forcibly removed from him. The effects varied, but they were without exception horrific. Some former sorcerers ran mad. Some lost all their magic, which to many magicians seemed a worse fate. A few continued for days or even weeks as though nothing were amiss, until they died suddenly where they stood. Their corpses grew instantly withered and grey, and turned to dust at a touch.
“That would be very bad,” assented Sir Stephen reluctantly. “Still, I am sure you could persuade the Society to show restraint.”
“Why should it, for a female of no account?” said Zacharias. “You are quite right. Miss Gentleman has nothing—neither principles, nor connections, nor money—nothing but her magic and her absurd effrontery.” Zacharias half-smiled, though he had been vexed enough by that effrontery. “She has only my good will to rely upon, and I—I owe her my life. I could not betray her. I will abide by our compact.”
He had to stop, for the old agony began to tear at his bowels. He staggered to the bed and collapsed heavily upon it, nightmare shapes figuring in his blurred vision. Before him extended a long, grim night, for the worrying at his vitals would not permit sleep.
“Oh, Zacharias,” said Sir Stephen. His voice seemed to come from a great distance, weighted with sorrow and reproach. “When will you stop striking these ill bargains?”
Zacharias did not answer, and Sir Stephen said no more. His cool, insubstantial hand brushed Zacharias’s head, and its touch bestowed relief.
Sir Stephen drew a spell across his temples, filling his troubled head with cloud and shadow. Zacharias smelt rain. His vision cleared, and he saw the dark expanse of a night sky, soft and starless. Finally he slept, forgetting pain.
17
ROLLOTHRELFALLWAShaving an excellent day.
Rollo did often have excellent days. The youngest son of an indulgent father, he was never burdened by any graver responsibility than that of making up numbers at ambitious hostesses’ dinners, or deciding whether to purchase a likely piece of horseflesh. The unclouded skies of this particular day were rendered all the bluer by the reflection that if not for the nobility of his friends, he would at that very moment be at his aunt Georgiana’s, providing an account of the speech he had given at her friend’s school.
As he had not, after all, given the speech, he had been not been called upon to visit his aunt, for Aunt Georgiana’s affection for her nephew was as moderate as his fear of her was acute. Rollo had passed the previous evening at the Theurgist’s instead, winding up an excellent dinner with wine and pleasantries, and he had awoken in the morning to a throbbing head the approximate size of the Stone of Scone.
By noon, however, Rollo was out of bed, as lively as the day he wasborn, and swathed within a neckcloth whose points could not be faulted by the most exacting Pink of theton. He was in great good humour as he sallied forth to meet Damerell at the Theurgist’s, and his mood was only improved by the sight of Zacharias Wythe, sitting with Damerell at their accustomed table.
“Halloa! This is a piece of good luck!” said Rollo. “I had not thought to see you so soon, Zacharias. I must congratulate you upon your success. I had a letter from my aunt last week, and it seems you went down a treat. Mrs. Daubeney was excessively obliged—said the handsomest things about your speech.”
“I am happy to have given satisfaction,” said Zacharias. Mrs. Daubeney’s letter had clearly withheld more than it disclosed, he reflected.
“Not half so happy as I am,” Rollo assured him. “Of course it was nothing to a clever chap like you, giving a speech to a pack of ravening schoolgirls, but if I had had to do it I expect I would have jumped into the river before the week was out.”
“It will be a source of unending gratification to me, that I should have been instrumental in averting that fate,” said Zacharias gravely. He inspected his cup of coffee, apparently lost in thought. “However, it was not an unrewarding visit. I encountered a few interesting characters at the school.”
“Oh?” said Rollo. “I thought it was only girls.”
“Yes. But even girls may be characters, you know,” said Zacharias. “Still, I cannot say I enjoyed the experience. I nearly turned tail and fled when I mounted the stage before all those eyes. What is the Queen of Elfland to an assembly of schoolgirls? At least she is not given to giggling.”
Rollo shuddered. “Giggling!”
“Such devotion on my part, I think, merits some recompense.”
“It is beyond anything,” said Rollo fervently. “If there is any service I can render, Zacharias, you have only to say the word!”
