“But I am thinking of you and your women,” said Prunella earnestly. “For you must know that our King still has any number of ships and guns and soldiers, and he is probably quite wicked enough to use them if you vex him.”
“Miss Gentleman!” sputtered Lord Burrow.
But however treasonous it might be to malign one’s own sovereign to the representative of a foreign power, it seemed to have the desired effect.
“Perhaps you are right,” said Mak Genggang begrudgingly. “We shall see. I will ask my women to intercede with the spirits on Britain’s behalf, and perhaps they will permit magic to enter your realm again.”
“We should be very much obliged if you would,” said Zacharias.
“You must not expect immediate results, however,” said Mak Genggang. “My women have been in a continual twitter since the attack. You might not think it, but lamiae are the most high-strung creatures in the world! But I will tell them they have nothing to fear from the foreigners. The Sorcerer Royal himself has extended his protection to them, and the Sorcerer Royal can be trusted. Is not that so?”
The bold black eyes met Zacharias’s, and in them he read a threat that rendered their gaze rather more frightening than the baby’s.
“I certainly hope so,” he said.
•••
ZACHARIAS’Scolleagues had not followed all of the conversation, and after Mak Genggang departed through the window she broke, it was necessary for him to explain that he had (he hoped) remedied the problem of the decline in Britain’s magic, without employing a single spell.
The thaumaturges were inclined to think he ought simply to have put the foreign witch under lock and key until her followers had promised to remove the block on England’s magic.
“After all, there is nothing to say she will keep her word,” said Kendle. “Like as not she will not. No foreigner ever does.” He gave Zacharias a look pregnant with meaning.
“I do not know that I credit this cock-and-bull story of vampiresses bribing the Fairy Court to deprive Britain of magic,” said another thaumaturge. “I have taken the measure of our atmospheric magic myself this past fortnight, and it is on the rise for the first time in years—each week higher than the last.”
“Indeed,” said Zacharias. “That brings me to another announcement I wished to make today.”
“Another announcement!” said Lord Burrow: he had begun to think of his dinner.
“I think I can promise it will be my last,” said Zacharias.
“I beg you will be quick about it,” said Lord Burrow. “If it is about those scholarships, we shall take the notion under consideration, so you need not belabour the point.”
“I hope you will,” said Zacharias. “I believe it is a scheme that can only benefit the nation. I hope my successor will agree, but as I am resigning, it would be overstepping my place to say any more.”
The room went still. Damerell looked up, alert as a hound that had caught the scent.
“You are not allowed to resign, man,” cried Lord Burrow.
“I think you will find that I am,” said Zacharias composedly. “But I am conscious of the importance of avoiding any gap in succession, and I have already considered who should take the staff after me. I believe the staff will concur, for Miss Gentleman is the best-equipped of any magician living to adapt to the peculiar demands of the position.”
For a moment a fragile silence reigned over the Hall—a quiet composed of pure astonishment. It was broken by a deep, bubbling, delighted laugh, issuing from Damerell’s corner of the room.
“I have never been so happy to have risen before noon,” said Damerell.
Prunella stared at Zacharias as though she had never seen him before. But no one took any notice of her, for everyone else was having his say.
The general feeling was that Zacharias had lost his mind, and was almost as much to be pitied as censured.
“You have perhaps been working too hard, Wythe,” said Lord Burrow. “Perhaps you should take a sabbatical. A holiday will set you up.”
“It is not such a bad idea,” said Cullip, who looked in better spirits than he had since Zacharias had left him shivering upon the Cobb. “Since the Sorcerer Royal proposes to forswear the staff, we should put his successor to the vote. Mr. Geoffrey Midsomer—”
“Has withdrawn himself from candidacy,” said Zacharias, fixing his gaze upon Midsomer, who squirmed. “Besides, you forget, Mr. Cullip, that magic is not a democracy.”
With this he picked up the staff and, pitching low, threw it to Prunella.
She caught it, looking as startled as any of the men around her.
