Guardian - Stolen Magic Part 25

As she skipped up the steps of Falconer House, Meg called mentally to Simon. She was reasonably sure he was home, but she'd discovered that wishful thinking could affect her magical judgment.

Not this time, though. As Hardwick let her in, Simon came down the hall steps two at a time. "Meg! I didn't expect you home until tomorrow."

"I received an unexpected offer."

A few steps behind Meg, Duncan Macrae said, "I was coming into town by boat, and Meg was keen to get back to you as soon as possible."

Meg didn't bother to blush since it was true. She caught Simon's hands, needing to touch. She'd been worried about him, unnecessarily it seemed. "It's good to be back."

To her surprise, he bent into a thorough kiss. He's had unicorn problems again. That must be what she had sensed. The realization didn't interfere with enjoying the kiss.

A cleared throat interrupted them. "I'l just be going along now," Duncan said with amus.e.m.e.nt.

Still holding Meg's hands, Simon said, "Thanks for escorting Meg home. I don't want her to be alone as long as Drayton is on the prowl."

"I could say the same of you," Duncan said dryly, "but you wouldn't listen."

"We can't huddle together like sheep until this is over," Simon said reasonably.

"What a pity," Meg murmured as Duncan took his leave.

"You would make a very charming sheep," Simon a.s.sured her with a rare, teasing smile. "How are your students doing?"

"Very well. They're all determined to learn as much as possible so they won't be helpless again." She took Simon's arm and guided him into the sitting room off the front hall. "Jean has become their chief tutor, and she does it very well."

"Did any of them remember clues to Drayton's plans?"

"Alas, no." She tugged him down beside her on the sofa. "I'm starting to wonder how common wild magic is. There are the four of them, plus me and the London thrall, so perhaps there are many people around with unrecognized magical abilities."

"Many mundanes have at least a spark of power, and some rather more than that." He put his arm around her shoulders and tucked her close. "Generally the magic manifests as good intuition or the ability to sense other people's emotions, or other traits that aren't so odd as to be noteworthy. Much more unusual are large amounts of power-Guardian-level magic is very rare outside of the Families. The Brentford thralls have a lot of magic compared to most mundanes, but less than the average Guardian."

"Still, isn't it impressive that Drayton found so many?" She settled contentedly against him, very aware that under the still brocade of his coat was a warm, strong, male body. "Six captives, and of those I am well on my way to being a mage, and perhaps the last thrall will be also."

"Remember that these six represent a harvest over at least ten years. I think Drayton has a talent for spotting magical ability in others, or he couldn't have found even six people to enslave." Simon grimaced. "I'm finding that his talents are not unlike mine. Though his power isn't inherently as strong, his illegal enhancements have made him very good at tracking magical energy across distances. He found you that way, and probably his other victims as well. In the back of his mind, he is probably always scanning to locate undeveloped magical potential."

She sighed. "How did I have the misfortune to spend the longest time with him? And alone? I really envy the bond between the Brentford four. I . . . I would have liked to have a kindred spirit near me."

His arm tightened around her. "I'm sorry, Meg. I think he spent years looking for another like you, without success. He did better when he lowered his standards."

It was kind of Simon to use terms designed to make her feel special, but those ten years had been an eternity of pain and emptiness, until a unicorn had appeared to save her. The thought reminded her of what she had sensed when Simon kissed her. "You were almost overcome by the unicorn spell, weren't you? Did you lose your temper?"

He smiled wryly. "I wondered if you would notice. This morning Lord Sterling and I were studying the wards on Drayton House. Sterling thought the wards, which are truly formidable, might have components specially tailored to affect me and possibly you as well. Sure enough, when I was about a hundred paces away, the transformation spell flared up again. If I'd gone a few steps closer, I would have been transformed. Luckily the power of the spell faded when I moved away."

She bit her lip. "If this is true, you won't be able to enter Drayton House and rescue the last thrall."

"Not until I find a way to counter the transformation spell." He lifted her chin with his hand so their gazes met. "Meg, my warrior maiden, the same is true for you. Drayton knows the dimensions of your magic intimately. I would be shocked if he hasn't incorporated that knowledge into his wards. He has to know that you were involved in rescuing the Brentford thralls and that you want to free the girl in Drayton House as well. Please, promise me that you won't rashly try to break in. At the least, you would probably end up in thrall to Drayton again. Perhaps worse."

She closed her eyes, frustrated. "I wish you were wrong. But if we hadn't been very lucky, we could have ended up enthralled or dead."

"Exactly." His eyes narrowed. "You haven't yet promised not to attempt to free the thrall. I agree it must be done, but not until we have some chance of success. For now, we have none. Remember that she will not be injured-she is too valuable. We will rescue her later."

"You have my word." Ruthlessly she tamped down the compulsion she felt to go after the thrall. For some reason, this particular girl haunted her. "Though I desperately want to free her, I'm not a complete fool."

"You're not a fool at all-you're clever, brave, and willing to take risks for the sake of others. These are all admirable traits. They just need to be tempered with some caution."

She felt a flicker of bleakness behind his words. "Speaking of caution, you're going to return to Brentford Abbey for the forum, aren't you? Even though Drayton will be on his own ground and waiting for you. And you think I'm reckless!"

"When seasoned enforcers like me do such things, it's called a calculated risk, not recklessness," he said with a hint of humor. "I don't see that I have a choice, Meg. I've been scrying until the stone is tired, and it's clear that Drayton will make a major move during this forum. Whatever he does might be very hard to undo. Much better to prevent him from gaining more power and damaging innocent lives."

She took a deep breath. "I'l go with you. Together we are stronger."

"No!" Simon said forcefully. "You mustn't go near him, Meg. The earth power at Brentford will make Drayton stronger and you more vulnerable. If I need your magic, I can draw on it even with you here. We'l practice the technique before I go to the abbey."

"Very well." She felt shamefully glad to obey him in this. The mere thought of again coming face-to-face with Drayton chilled her. "But I will be at Lady Beth's house. Much closer if you need rescuing."

"Fair enough. We can both return there tomorrow. You can coordinate strategy with Jean and Lady Beth and Gwynne and Duncan."

"Can you take Duncan with you?" she asked. The Scot would surely be a powerful ally in enemy territory.

"For this, no. Duncan's magic is not best suited to this kind of mission. It will be more helpful to have him ready to call in a storm if necessary. He does a wicked whirlwind." Simon gave a half smile. "Besides, if I took him with me and he was injured, Gwynne would have my head. It's best I go alone."

She looked down at her hands, at the false wedding ring. No magical power was required to sense that dark clouds were gathering, and that the outcome was perilous. Even with other Guardians nearby and ready to lend power, Simon might not survive the confrontation with Drayton. Images raced through her mind of him collapsing, or turning into a unicorn and being slaughtered brutally. These were not true foreseeings, she thought, merely fears. If they were true-she didn't want to know. "Do you have anything special that you must do this afternoon, or are you free?"

"I have no essential tasks. What do you have in mind?"

She looked up into his marvelous blue eyes and tried not to think that a week from now, he might be gone forever. "Let's do something frivolous, as if we were two mundanes, perhaps real newlyweds. What are the greatest sights in London?"

A slow smile made him look even more handsome. "Taking visitors to see the lions is traditional. That means the Royal Menagerie in the Tower of London. Though you might not enjoy seeing animals caged."

"They have lions?" Her eyes rounded. "I've always wanted to see a real lion. If they are unhappy at being caged, perhaps I can make them feel better about their fate."

With a laugh, he stood, drawing her to her feet. "Very well, we shall go to see the lions, and for at least this afternoon forget about saving England from a rogue mage."

And she would memorize every carefree moment in case there were no more.

On a sunny summer day, the area between the Thames and the Tower of London was like a street fair, full of laughing visitors, vendors with carts and baskets, and a pair of performing acrobats. Meg scanned the crowd, then the vast, looming walls. "I thought this was a single tower, not a whole great castle."

Simon paid off the boatman and climbed the steps to join her. An elderly lady with a flat, shallow basket of flowers approached them. "A posy for the lady, my lord?"

"Excellent thought." He chose a nosegay of pink and white blossoms and presented it to Meg with a flourish. "For my lady's pleasure."

"Oh, Simon." She sniffed the blossoms, delighted, before tucking them into her bodice. "They're lovely. I 've never been given flowers before."

He looked startled. "I suppose you haven't. My poor warrior maiden! You need pampering. Would you like a piece of gingerbread?"

"Please!"

Simon bought two pieces from another vendor and presented the larger to Meg. The fragrant gingerbread was fresh and tasty, and better for being eaten out-of-doors. She couldn't remember ever being so lighthearted. Nor seeing Simon this playful, either. This was what she had wanted for this expedition-normal life among normal people.

Simon guided her to the main entrance to the Tower so she could look inside the grounds. "That large square building is the White Tower. It was built by William the Conqueror, but over time, more towers and barracks and other buildings were added. The Royal Mint is here, though they're running out of s.p.a.ce and may have to move."

"No wonder they keep the lions here! This must be the strongest prison in England." She eyed one of the famous ravens of the Tower, which was surprisingly large. It stalked toward her, greedy gaze fixed on the gingerbread. Mentally she said, I'll give you a piece, but only one. Then you must go away.

The beady eyes blinked, so she tossed a sizable piece of gingerbread. The raven leaped on it while several of his fellows zoomed in, but he succeeded in securing the tidbit. He must have received Meg's message, because he didn't pester her for more.

"The Tower walls are high and thick, but with people coming and going to see the menagerie and other curiosities, it's not particularly secure." Simon led her from the main gate to the separate menagerie entrance, which was closer to the river. After paying the sixpence for admission, he continued, "It wouldn 't surprise me if the crown jewels were stolen again."

Meg frowned as she took his arm to enter the menagerie. "They were stolen once, weren't they? Seventy years or so ago?"

Simon regarded her thoughtfully. "I'm always intrigued by what you know. Do you remember learning about the Tower?"

A day too warm for study, dust motes floating in the air in the summer sun. "I remember a history lesson on a hot day, but no more," she replied. "Not who was teaching or where I was."

"Was it some sort of school? Or a home?"

She tried to recall the image. "The lesson was in a . . . a sitting room, I think. Nice, but not grand like your house or Lady Bethany's. A little shabby, but pleasant."

"Not the home of a laborer." His brow furrowed. "One day it will all come rus.h.i.+ng back to you. And that will be soon, I think."

"I hope so." Sometimes it seemed as if her memories were only a heartbeat away, but frustratingly, she lacked the key to reach them.

Simon's gaze became unfocused. "Drayton is close. Very close."

Her fingers bit into his arm. "Might he be following us?"

"I believe he's at the Royal Mint," Simon said slowly. "His government work requires an occasional visit, so this is probably coincidence."

She inhaled slowly, trying to calm her hammering heart. "Does he know that we're here?"

"If I can sense him, he can probably sense us," Simon replied. "But there are a number of stone walls between the menagerie and the mint, and I doubt he would try anything on the spur of the moment. He has bigger plans in mind."

She hoped he was right. They entered the visitor yard, a semicircular structure with cages on each side. The openings were arched stone, with iron bars and a locked iron gate at the front of each cage. As they entered the near end of the semicircular walkway, she wrinkled her nose at the thick, acrid odor. "Interesting smells!"

"Since the lions are fed great slabs of meat every day, their odor is . . . distinctive."

A family group that was in front of the first cage moved away, allowing Meg her first view of a lion. She took one look, and fell in love with the splendidly maned male stretched out lazily in the cage. "He's beautiful!"

On the railing that kept visitors a safe distance from the cages was a bra.s.s plate that said "George." She moved to the railing and looked into the beast's great amber eyes. Cautiously she reached out to touch the lion's mind, gasping with delight as she tumbled into the essence of lion energy. The feeling was similar to her previous experience with feline energy, but a thousand times more intense. Raw, powerful, and utterly confident, lion energy made her want to throw back her head and roar.

"Magnificent, aren't they?" Simon murmured beside her. "Lions have always been identified with the British monarchs. Each new sovereign has a lion named after him or her. They all have their own personalities, too. Look at the lioness in the cage to the right."

Meg complied, then exclaimed with horror, "There's a little dog in that cage! Can the keeper get it out before it gets eaten?"

"As a puppy, that spaniel was tossed into the cage by some bravo who wanted to see blood. Instead, the lioness, Sophia, treated it like her own cub. She won't let the keepers take the spaniel away. They live very amiably together, as you can see. She gives the dog part of her daily meat ration."

Fascinated, Meg touched Sophia's mind. There was the same confident power as in the male, but softened. This was a less ferocious creature-unless anyone threatened her cubs, or her spaniel. "Sophia was raised in captivity, I think. She seems very comfortable with it."

"Yes, she was born here at the Tower. When she was a small cub, I had the opportunity to play with her and her brethren." Simon smiled reminiscently. "They were quite like your little Lucky, only bigger."

"I'd like to have a lion cub," she said mischievously as they moved along the curving yard.

"Cats like Lucky, yes. Lion cubs, no. They grow very quickly." Simon's eyes glinted. "Though perhaps we do need a lion. The lion and the unicorn are both part of the royal arms, after all."

Glad he could joke about the unicorn spell, she said a mental h.e.l.lo to each of the cats as they moved slowly by. A tiger eyed the cl.u.s.ter of visitors in front of him as if he sought the most tasty possible dinner. His energy was more tense and solitary than the lions. "Does the menagerie have animals other than great cats?"

"Creatures that don't eat meat, like the elephant and the giraffes, are in another yard. Jackals and hyenas have their own area. There are some splendid birds, too. Eagles and owls and more."

"I want to see them all!"

Taking their time, they moved around the semicircle, admiring each creature in turn. The leopards were cool and quick, the catamounts frisky, and the black Barbary panther looked bored.

They were turning from the panther when magic scorched through the area. Simon swore, "What the devil . . . ?"

With clangs and squealing hinges, the cage doors sprang open. Suddenly alert, the panther pushed at the door of his cage, then leaped onto the railing only an arm's length from Meg. As Simon pulled her back, a woman screamed.

Pandemonium broke loose among the visitors. A man shouted, "Run!" as a lion roared. The deep, terrifying sound was picked up by the other great cats, and blood-chilling roars reverberated from the stone walls, echoing and magnifying.

Seeing that the panther was about to jump into the walkway, Meg reached out mentally. Go back to your nice safe cage, sweeting, before men come to hurt you. Lithe and deadly, the panther swung its head around and glared at her. It had . . . very long teeth.

Burying her fear, Meg tried again. I am on your side, my beautiful panther. I don't want to see you hurt. There is nothing for you here.

After a long, tense moment, the panther pivoted gracefully on the narrow railing and leaped back into his cage, his sleek body s.h.i.+mmering sensuously.

The other visitors were stampeding to the right, which was the nearest exit from the curving row of cages. Children were s.n.a.t.c.hed up by parents, and a bottleneck of frantic people formed at the exit. An old man fell and disappeared in the press.

"I'l try to clear these people out," Simon snapped. "Can you persuade the other cats to return to their cages?"

"I think so. I'm sure they won't hurt me." Fairly sure.

He squeezed her hand. "Be careful, Meg!"

On his way toward the bottleneck, Simon detoured to help a youth who had tripped and fallen. As a tiger approached with low, stalking movements, the young man stared in horror at his approaching doom.

Meg felt Simon use magic to calm the tiger as he took the boy's arm and pulled him to his feet. "Come along now, but don't run. Running excites hunters." Sweating, the young man obeyed as he headed to the exit, slowly. Simon held the tiger's gaze until it abruptly swung around and returned to its cage.

A low growl behind her turned Meg's attention to the great, restless cats. Shouting in the distance meant that the soldiers who guarded the Tower were coming with guns. She wouldn't allow any of these splendid beasts to be slaughtered!

Sophia was out of her cage and pacing. Meg touched the lioness's mind and urged her to return to the safety of her cage. Your little dog needs you, Your Majesty. One of the other cats might mistake him for a meal.

Sophia immediately returned to her cage, placing herself between the spaniel and the open door. Something had to be done about the doors.

All of the other visitors had vanished around the curving walkway, leaving Meg alone, so she hitched up her skirts like a tomboy and swung over the railing. Moving along the row of cages, she latched each one shut after its inhabitant returned. The latches were less secure than locking the doors with a key, but they would do until the keepers appeared.

Most of the animals were confused and uneasy at the unexpected opening of the cages, and they returned to their familiar dens gratefully. The exception was a young lion named Frederick who growled at Meg when she touched his mind. She stood absolutely still and tried again. Truly you are a king. Don't let some stupid two-footer shoot you so he can brag that he killed the king of beasts.

He turned and slunk into his cage like an angry boy being sent to bed without his supper. Frederick was the last of the escaped cats. As she latched his cage, she had time to wonder how the locks had been opened. There had been magic, some kind of spell. . . .

The spell had to have come from Drayton, and he must have done it to create chaos and distraction. Suddenly cold with fear, she spun on her heel, but it was already too late. Drayton stood an arm's length away.