It was a large, busy, noisy room, and the press of the crowd had been such that their curious interchange with the sibyl had gone unnoticed till now. At her cry heads turned in their direction, and conversations broke off in exclamations.
“I do not need my fortune told, thank you,” said Prunella hastily.
“What do I see?” cried the sibyl in a voice that to the unfortunate Prunella sounded like a foghorn. “I see the Grand Sorceress, her palms embroidered like a bride’s in mortal blood! I see the Keeper of the Seven Spirits, mistress of the four points of the realm. I see the past and future of English magic, converging in one. I see the Undersecretary of Wonder and the Queen of the Five Boroughs of Magic (the last merely an honorary title, of course). Hail to thee, Lady, who brings such visions with her—hail and well met!”
“Hail to thee, too, I am sure,” said Prunella.
“But you are talking nonsense!” said Mrs. Midsomer crossly. “What has she to do with my beloved?”
“She has nothing to do with your beloved,” retorted the sibyl. “No one cares for your beloved half as much as you do! This girl is a fine creature, for a mortal, and she will make their wicked Society so cross I am delighted to have seen her.”
“Oh, if that is all!” said Mrs. Midsomer, losing interest. “Then you may be quiet!” She walked off without a second look at any of them.
“Good gracious!” said Sophia. “What a very odd woman! As for that sibyl, well!” They looked at the sibyl, who had returned to her downtrodden pose, and looked like nothing more than an ordinary picture.“I do not know what Kendle will say! And to have subjected you, my dear, to such a diatribe! I could not make out a word of her speech, could you?”
“Not a word,” echoed Prunella. “She must have been driven mad by her long imprisonment. I pity her, do not you?”
“I think she is too impudent to be pitied,” said Sophia, who was still pink with vexation. “I declare I was never so put out! How I wish Kendle were something sensible, like a Member of Parliament. I have said as much to him, but he will not contemplate giving up magic for a moment.”
To Prunella’s relief, Sophia was so taken up with the sibyl’s incivility to her that she said nothing of the creature’s speech about Prunella. The sibyl had not spoken so very loudly, and the general hubbub had been such as almost to drown out her voice. Prunella could not trust that Sophia or Mrs. Midsomer would not pass on enough of the sibyl’s speech to betray her, however, even if they did not understand the whole. Prunella had hardly understood it herself, but it had all sounded decidedly magical, and was bound to cast suspicion on her.
Dared she conceal the incident from Zacharias? He would be excessively vexed to hear of it. But he might be able to explain the meaning of the sibyl’s speech. The Seven Spirits were the treasures, of course, including the four unhatched eggs, but who was the Grand Sorceress, and what were the four points of the realm? The Undersecretary of Wonder rather lacked elegance as a title, reflected Prunella, but the Queen of the Five Boroughs sounded well.
“Oh, what a bore!” exclaimed Sophia.
“What is it?” said Prunella.
The guests had gathered at the end of the room. She and Sophia were swept along with them, but there was nothing to see—only Mr. Midsomer standing at the centre of the crowd, looking about with an air of complacency.
“I believe he means to make a speech,” said Sophia. She pulled hermouth into a prettymoue. “I am sure these magicians are vastly clever, but do not you think, Prunella, that they do not know the first thing about a party? Fancy forgoing dancing for speeches!”
“Gentlemen, I am honoured by your presence here tonight,” said Midsomer in a carrying voice. “Honoured by your support of my endeavours to restore dignity to our profession. Too long have we been compelled to silence—but soon we shall speak with one voice, and our words will decide the destiny of English thaumaturgy.”
“There is Kendle!” whispered Sophia.
Mr. Kendle stood with a group of other magicians close to Midsomer. Their countenances were grave, but their eyes were fixed on Midsomer with a fierce, bright look that made Prunella uneasy.
Midsomer held up a scroll.
“I have here that for which you have waited,” he said. “Our amendment to the Charter of our honourable Society is approved. The Hallett procedure, which has so long been prohibited, has been restored. We have now a means by which the staff of the Sorcerer Royal may be removed from the unworthy. No longer need we abide by the dictates of a Committee that has acceded to the usurpation of our profession’s noblest office. No more are our hands tied!
“I have invited you here today as a sign of my gratitude—but also to remind you that our work has just begun. On Thursday I shall stand before the Society and propose a motion for the procedure to be undertaken to remove the pretender. I require your support, colleagues, for a vote that will alter the history of English magic!”
“Never fear, Midsomer, you have it!” and “Hear, hear!” cried his audience.
Midsomer swept a triumphant look over the crowd.
“Now, gentlemen, since you are of my mind,” he said, “I come to my third reason for arranging this gathering. I have long desired to take you into my confidence. I have hidden my secret only for fear that it might put our enemy on his guard. But now the time is ripe. Englishthaumaturgy is assembled against him. And you, sirs, the mainstay of English magic, merit nothing less than the truth. When I returned from Fairyland, I returned with a gift for England—a pearl beyond price, hidden till today. I returned with a familiar!”
The guests fell silent, as though in one stroke they had been deprived of their faculty of speech. But in a moment their voices rose again, the whole room talking excitedly at once.
“But then, sir,” cried one man, “you are a sorcerer!”
Midsomer inclined his head, as much as though the title were a royal one. “I have not claimed the title before this day, but I hope I am as worthy a sorcerer as ever sprung from English soil.”
He said no more, but he did not need to say anything else, to call up in his colleagues’ minds the man for whom he was such a natural replacement—a man who hadnotsprung from good English soil.
“I think we know, sir, who may be called upon to receive the staff when it is removed from he who so little deserves it.” It was Mr. Kendle who spoke, and Prunella lowered her eyes, in case he should notice her looking daggers at him.
