Guardian - Stolen Magic Part 16

"The ball is tomorrow night!" Meg said, not feeling any more qualified to dance than she had before the lesson.

"Don't worry, I'l press Duncan and Simon into service when they're through talking. Simon is the best dancer in London. He could take a chair as a partner and make it look graceful." Gwynne settled back on the sofa. "Ready for that lecture on the oath?"

Meg was. If she was going to pledge her power to the service of others, she needed to understand what she was getting herself into.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

When they reached the privacy of the study, Duncan asked, "What the devil have you been up to, Simon? Your letters were entirely too discreet."

"Drayton is a dangerous rogue who l.u.s.ts after power, and I think he's plotting to take control of the British Guardians. Is that indiscreet enough?" Simon dropped into the chair behind his desk, glad to be able to reveal his worst fears to his best friend.

Duncan whistled softly. "You're sure of that? No one has tried such a thing since the mage wars. Is it even possible to dominate so many independent mages?"

"If a rogue controlled enough power, I think it would be possible, and everything Drayton has done has been to increase his power. He wouldn't have to dominate everyone-those who opposed him the most might meet with untimely ends. Others might find themselves favored. Guardians are human, after all, with all the weakness of our breed. A combination of threats and rewards would be very effective." Simon lifted the dagger that he used for cutting seals on letters, turning it idly in his hands. "I can't even imagine what kind of power Drayton would have if he'd murdered me and obtained the unicorn horn. It might be all he needs."

Duncan winced at the blunt statement. "What was it like to be a unicorn?"

Other Guardians wondered that, too, but only a close friend would dare ask. A shiver of wildness flickered over Simon's skin as he remembered the exhilaration of racing the wind. Of being free of all bonds and doubts. "There was a degree of liberty that was . . . not without a certain appeal," he said in his driest tone. "But overall, it was much less amusing than one would imagine."

Duncan nodded acceptance, able to draw his own conclusions about what was left unsaid. "I wonder if he will try to cast the transformation spell on another powerful mage, since he has failed with you."

Simon had also wondered about that. "Possibly, but it would be difficult. The spell is very complex and it would have to be constructed in advance. Then he would have to lure a very powerful mage into his trap. Since I was hunting him, I walked into the spell, but I think that other mages of unusual power will be very wary of entering s.p.a.ce controlled by Drayton."

"I certainly wouldn't go near his home," Duncan agreed. "By the way, you never mentioned how you regained your own form."

"Meg." Simon considered saying more, but didn't feel like getting into the highly personal areas of virginity and his sham marriage. "Her power is quite . . . extraordinary."

"I could feel magic burning in her." Duncan smiled. "Your lady is already a force to be reckoned with. When she is fully trained, she will be one of the great mages of our day. And she's a lovely, sweet la.s.s as well. I congratulate you on your marriage."

Simon was tempted to tell the whole complicated truth-that Meg was everything Duncan said, except that she was not his. But this was a matter too private to discuss even with a close friend. He settled for saying, "Thank you. Meeting her as I did was perhaps the greatest stroke of good fortune in my life." That, at least, was the truth.

"Drayton stole Meg's power and he tried to take your life to obtain unicorn magic. In what other ways has he sought power?"

"His father tried to find ways to store magic before he was stripped of his own power. Though the father was unsuccessful, the son might be trying the same thing. It would explain why Drayton is a member of the Royal Society. Meg suspects that Drayton might have others in thrall as he held her, though that is unproven." Simon's mouth twisted. "Of course, his rank in the royal government is another kind of power. My instinct says that he will strive to possess any power he thinks he can grasp."

"And the devil is still running around loose despite all his crimes." Duncan looked thunderous. "d.a.m.n the council for acquitting him of all charges! Are they blind? How dare they dismiss the testimony of you, your wife, and Lady Bethany!"

"Our law demands that conviction must be beyond doubt. Drayton was most plausible. Even you would have been half-convinced by his defense. All of his lies had a grain of truth, which made them convincing."

"Can we afford laws that let dangerous mages go free?"

Simon studied his dagger, imagining it stabbed into Drayton's heart. He set the weapon aside. "We Falconers have cause to be grateful that the accused always receives the benefit of the doubt, but the current stalemate is disturbing. My fear is that Drayton will do nothing overt until he is in a position to destroy our most powerful mages in one great strike. The rest he will dominate, intimidate, or keep in thrall."

"Surely you don't think he can do that!" Duncan said, aghast.

"I think it's possible. Remember, when I confronted him, he had enhanced his natural abilities to the point where I was unable to take him down. He has lost Meg, which is a huge blow, but if he can place other latent mages in thrall, or if he finds a way to store magical power until he is ready to use it, there is no telling what he will do."

"You will not let Drayton go so far." It was a statement, not a question.

"No," Simon admitted. "I'm watching him. If I suspect he is about to strike, I will act. I'm tempted to act even before that, but the cost of that would be very high."

His friend frowned. "You and Drayton have been enjoined by the council to leave each other alone. If you act against their orders and without unmistakable evidence of criminal behavior, you will be condemned and stripped of your power."

"I know." Simon drew a deep breath. "I may have no choice."

Duncan swore again. "I hope to G.o.d matters don't come to that."

"So do I." Knowing Drayton's father had committed suicide after losing his power had made Simon wonder if he would want to go on living if he was no longer a mage. How could he bear losing the exhilaration of magic? He couldn't imagine. Didn't want to imagine.

But he would do what he must do. Honor demanded no less.

When Simon and Duncan had caught up with each other's news, they returned to the library. The ladies were laughing together, Meg's sleek dark hair contrasting with Gwynne's glorious sunset tresses.

Simon had been very fond of Gwynne since he met her as a shy but learned child bride in her first marriage. When she married Duncan and came into her enchantress power, he had been captivated by her shimmering charm. For that reason he had kept his distance, since even a casual, affectionate touch from Gwynne affected him too much.

Yet now it was Meg that drew and held his attention. She hadn't lost the quality of innocence created by her strange life at Castle Drayton, but every day he could see more strength as she became grounded in her magic.

He was beginning to suspect that her magic was wild, not Guardian. She was too fey, too much a child of earth and air. No, not a child: a woman. What would she become when she was fully grown into her power?

Observing Simon's intent gaze, Duncan said with a laugh, "I never thought I'd see you as a besotted husband. I'm glad to be proved wrong." His warm glance went to his wife. "Shall we leave the newlyweds to their privacy?"

"Not yet." Gwynne stood, looking purposeful. "Meg needs dance practice before the ball, and with two couples, we can make a decent job of it. As I recall, Jack Landon plays the harpsichord rather well. Would he be willing to accompany us?"

"I'm sure he will." Simon suffered an attack of conscience. "I'm sorry, Meg. I've been so busy I forgot you need lessons in dancing as well as magic."

"No need to apologize." Meg rose and crossed the room with a smile that started deep in her sea-mist eyes. He could drown in those eyes. . . .

She continued, "Gwynne gave me a dancing lesson with mind-touch and says that with some dancing practice, I'l be able to manage."

"I should have thought of that. It's a perfect method for teaching a specific skill like dancing." As he tucked Meg's hand in his elbow, he admired the pure line of her profile. Duncan had been right that she had a touch of enchantress in her. More than a touch. "Now let's find Jack Landon."

When located, in his office, the secretary said, "I'l be happy to play rather than do the household accounts." He stood with a grin. "As Simon knows, I took this job because of the excellent harpsichord. But I do ask that I be allowed a dance with my lovely mistress, if Lady Ballister will take a turn at playing."

Meg tried not to blush at Jack's compliment. Jean had warned her that such gallantries were routinely offered by gentlemen on social occasions, but Meg was not yet accustomed. The group trailed off to the music room, with Gwynne and Jack discussing what dances would be best for Meg.

"Start with 'Heart's Ease,' " Gwynne suggested. "It's very simple, a longways dance for just two couples. I'l call the steps, Meg. When I was the Countess of Brecon, I had to attend a vast number of b.a.l.l.s, so I know far too many dances."

She looked expectantly at Meg. As Jack Landon began to play and the first crystal pure notes from the harpsichord filled the room, Meg found herself moving to stand next to Gwynne. When she was in position, the men came to stand opposite. Ah, right, this was longways, when men and women lined up in two rows facing each other. Her foot tapped as the music called to her.

Simon bowed, then smiled with a warmth that almost made her fall over her own feet. "Dance with me, my lady?"

She dropped him a curtsey. "It will be my very great pleasure, my lord."

Gwynne called, "Meet and fall back once, then again."

Meg moved forward and back, her feet moving lightly with no conscious effort on her part. The movements seemed familiar and natural as she followed Gwynne's commands.

"Now a two-handed turn. Since you must be able to converse and dance at the same time," Gwynne said after a few minutes had pa.s.sed, "I'l ask how you feel about your dancing, Meg. You appear most accomplished."

Turning with Simon's strong, warm hands in her clasp, Meg replied, "It's rather like donning new clothing. The shadow dances in my mind and I are coming together. Becoming one."

"Dancing is the most intimate two people can be in public," Simon murmured as he released her fingers with flattering regret. "It is flirtation, courtship, and promise as well as simple pleasure."

Dancing was also, she realized, a surrogate for making love. That was why heat purred through her veins as she and Simon crossed and turned, their bodies moving in harmony with the music and each other. Her lesson had included the knowledge that holding each other's gaze was important and now she did it as naturally as she breathed.

Though they had talked and kissed and rode together, through dance she found another kind of communication, one that was as potent as sharing magic. Even when Gwynne called a dance that Meg hadn't been taught, it was easy to follow Simon.

She also realized how much tension usually bound him, because now that was gone. He wasn't worrying about Drayton or other criminals; he was simply a dancer enjoying himself. This was a kind of magic available to everyone, mage and mundane alike, and the pleasure of it sparkled through her like bubbles.

"Time for the ultimate test, Meg," Gwynne announced as they finished the fourth dance. "The minuet."

Meg's feet suddenly became clumsy. "That's said to be very difficult."

"You've managed the other dances perfectly, and you can do the minuet as well. It was the last of the dances I taught you through mind-touch. Jack, are you ready?"

The delicate notes of a minuet began to play. Meg stiffened, then forced herself not to think of her feet as she did the lead-in figure. Simon turned her three-quarters of the way around, then they separated and crossed the s.p.a.ce diagonally. As they met again, she realized that her feet were behaving with remarkable grace and cleverness.

In fact, as she skipped sideways, she realized that her movements were exactly the same as Gwynne's. Laughing, she said, "We had best not dance side by side at the ball, or the other guests might notice that I am a mere copycat of you."

"You will develop your own style soon enough," Gwynne replied. "You're doing beautifully. A credit to your teacher."

Though Duncan was a good dancer, surprisingly light on his feet, it was Simon who made Meg giddy whenever their hands touched. "How sad that I never danced before," she said breathlessly after they finished the second dance, which was more complicated than the first. "I was missing so much!"

"Both you and Gwynne deserve great credit," Simon said. "You're a superb rider, and that's also a skill that requires strength and movement and grace. But you could never have become a good dancer so quickly without Gwynne's lesson."

"I've never had a student learn so quickly." Gwynne ended her minuet by holding Duncan's hand as they bowed their respects to an invisible audience. The movement was echoed exactly by Meg.

As they caught their breaths, Jack Landon rose from the harpsichord. "Now it is my turn." He bowed to Meg. "My lady, will you honor me with this dance?"

"It will be my pleasure, sir." As Gwynne sat down at the harpsichord and struck up a country dance tune, Meg discovered that the secretary was also a fine dancer, but he wasn't Simon. Neither was Duncan when he took a turn dancing with her. But she definitely enjoyed dancing.

When Gwynne declared the session over and Simon rang for refreshments, Meg said, "Thank you all. Now that I've seen four fine dancers perform, I'm even more aware of what a disaster it would have been if I'd gone to the ball without any preparation! I would have disgraced you, Simon."

"Never," he said, his gaze holding hers. "Every man there will envy me my bride. Except perhaps Duncan. You will be a great success, my dear."

To her surprise, she realized that she believed him. Perhaps he had cast a spell to inspire confidence on her.

She was even ready to face Lord Drayton. This time, she would be ready for him.

Sarah shook her head when she looked at the pathetic crumbs of bread, cheese, and pickled onions scattered across the worktable. "I can't believe the way that you and your friends eat! A mouse would starve on the leftovers. A good thing that we've been able to hire a maid and there's a cook shop round the corner."

David laughed and kissed his wife on the end of her nose. "Inventing is hungry work, my love. Your reminding us to eat is almost as important as your mathematical calculations. Almost, but not quite. There 's not another wife in the kingdom who can match all the things you do so well."

She blushed adorably. "And there is surely not another husband would appreciate the mathematics as much as the food."

"Many can cook but few can calculate." He set an empty crock and the used tankards on a tray. He would carry it back to the house himself. Mustn't allow Sarah to work too hard. She laughed at his fretting over her, but she enjoyed it, too.

Sarah gazed around the workshop, which was lit by slanting rays of late-afternoon sun. "Someday we will look back at these days as our golden age. I'm so happy it's almost frightening. And don't talk about silk and lace. Such would be a pleasure to own, but what more do we need than what we have now?"

He set down the tray and considered. "I'l be happy when my lathe is finished, but you're right. We have each other, good friends, my work is going well." He laid a gentle hand over her belly, feeling the subtle swell of pregnancy. "Your work is going even better, for you are creating a miracle." Superst.i.tion touched him. "Shall we say a prayer of thanksgiving? I don't want the Heavenly Father to think we are taking our blessings for granted."

Sarah smiled. "Shall you begin the prayer, or shall I?"

Before David could answer, the door to the workshop opened. It was locked only at night, and David was used to his craftsmen friends wandering in to look over his shoulder and make comments both raucous and helpful. But the man standing in the doorway, the light behind him, was no mechanic. For a moment the elegant clothing made David think it was Lord Falconer.

The next moment he realized that the newcomer was a stranger, though surely another n.o.bleman. His long face bore the lines of authority and his magnificent wig and embroidered garments wouldn't have looked out of place at court. He strolled across the shop. "You are Mr. David White?"

"Indeed I am, sir. And this is Mrs. White. How may I serve you?"

"I am Drayton." The gentleman gave the briefest of nods to Sarah before he paused to study the lathe that was under construction. "You wrote a letter expressing interest in attending my forum on technology and natural philosophy."

David's eyes widened. "Yes, my lord! I wrote your secretary, but I never dreamed that you would call on me in person."

Drayton studied him with cool interest. "Your description of your work interested me, so I made inquiries. I'm told that you are at work designing a new steam engine that will revolutionize industry in Britain."

"I . . . I would never make such claims, my lord," David stammered. "Much work remains to be done. Though I believe the principles are sound, turning principle into reliable practice is a hit-or-miss matter that takes much time."

"You are modest, Mr. White, but all my sources of information indicate that you are well on your way to achieving great success." An odd smile flickered over his lips. "That is why I wished to call on you in person, to make my own judgment. You have the ability to change the world. If you are successful, men will talk of the White steam engine for centuries to come."

Profoundly embarra.s.sed by the compliment, David changed the subject. "Does this mean you will allow me to attend your forum?"

"More than that." Drayton's gaze moved from the lathe to the remains of the trial steam engine. He seemed to be drinking in the workshop, almost like a hound scenting the wind. "I insist that you attend as my guest and that you give a presentation on your work."

The thought was equally flattering and alarming. "It may be too soon to discuss my work in public, Lord Drayton."

"If you fear that your work will be stolen, I can help you with the patent office. But I must insist that you speak about at least the general outlines of your work. The best mechanical minds in the country will be present and the potential of sparking new ideas is immense."

David glanced at Sarah. She looked like he felt-both impressed and nervous. "My wife would be the best to give an overview of my work. She is an uncommon mathematician and without her I would be no more than a blacksmith banging on metal."

"Indeed?" Lord Drayton turned the full force of his attention on Sarah, his expression faintly surprised. "Then I hope she accompanies you to the forum. She will find much to interest her. Nonetheless, you may wish to give the speech yourself, since a female lecturer would be so distracting that her words would go unappreciated."

"He's right, love," Sarah said in her soft voice. "I have no desire to stand up and speak before critical strangers, but I would like to attend and listen with you."

"Well enough. The two of you can prepare the presentation together, but you will present it alone, Mr. White. Will you have a working model?"

David didn't recall agreeing to speak, but he supposed that men like Lord Drayton a.s.sumed agreement. "I may have a model by then, my lord, but I make no promises."

"Would more hands make the work go faster? I should be happy to underwrite the cost."

Startled, David considered that briefly. "Thank you, my lord, but the work requires experienced hands. I have an a.s.sistant now. Training another in the time available would take more work than it's worth."

"You know your own business best." Drayton frowned. "The kind of work you do is expensive and for a long time there will be no money coming in. If you are in need of a patron, I should be delighted to stand you in that stead."