“I’d been hoping for someone to be loudly unpleasant to,” said Jack. “And a harmless old woman, no less. Time to put some tarnish back on my reputation.”
“I want to talk to her,” said Maud.
“Maud. Do you need reminding of the fact that she tried to kill you?”
“Don’t let her do it again, please,” said Maud, and actually reached out her hand as Mrs. Vaughn approached, a determined portrait of greeting from a young girl to a respected old woman.
Jack took a half step around until he could keep an eye on George over the top of their heads. At least both Maud and Mrs. Vaughn were barely scraping his collarbone in height. They had not considered it likely that the men of George’s conspiracy would trust Mrs. Vaughn to carry the contract pieces for them.
They might, Maud had stubbornly said. It’d be a good misdirection of their own. Of course she wanted to keep Mrs. Vaughn in sight too.
“Well, Miss Blyth?” said Mrs. Vaughn. “Hoping to convince me onto the other team at the final stretch?”
“Yes,” said Maud.
Mrs. Vaughn gave a warm, creaking laugh that seemed to catch at her ribs. “I see. What brilliant story will you try to sell me?”
“One you’ve heard before,” said Maud steadily. “Your whole life, in fact. Men have decided over and over again that you can’t or shouldn’t wield power, or should be forced to wield it in secret. Your father, your brothers, your husband. Are you going to let a horrible, self-important man like George Bastoke do it again? Because he will. You know he will.”
That was a story. Half from the woman herself, and half from the tale that Mrs. Navenby’s ghost had given them. Seraphina Vaughn’s eyes flashed to hear it.
But she calmed herself at once and cast a glance over at George. “I have his word. Trite, but it means something to men like him.”
“He killed his own cousin trying to steal her magic,” said Maud. “His word is useless.”
Perhaps it might have moved her, given another hour and all of Maud’s powers of persuasion. But Mrs. Vaughn put a gloved hand to her side, grimaced, and then reached out with her other hand towards Maud’s face.
Maud flinched. Jack put his hand at her back.
Mrs. Vaughn smiled like the cool decision of a falcon and patted Maud’s cheek.
“What are you and your doomed friends offering me? Nothing. You’re no better than any of those men, or Beth and Enid and Flora. You want to deny me this as well. I haven’t much life left to me, Miss Blyth, and I will have the power I deserve before I die. Right out in the open.”
George was bending his head to listen to Richard Prest. Movement stirred nearby. It was—yes, it was Morris, striding up to the group of politicians. George’s magical thug was better dressed than Jack had seen him before, but he didn’t wear the finery with any kind of comfort. George drew aside at once to speak to him.
Jack tilted his body to watch closely, heart rising into his throat. He saw George’s hand move, in a single sharp motion, to his pocket. Saw George relax, recover his poise, and then speak intensely to Morris.
An answer. And the enemy were on their guard. Time to move fast.
“No use arguing with a lost cause, Maud,” Jack said shortly. “Come on.”
He drew them away from Mrs. Vaughn, walking to the edge of the terrace and finding a sight line down to Alan. Maud’s silence brimmed with excitement as she kept her eye on George and Morris. Jack waited until Alan looked in their direction and then cradlespoke the symbol they’d come up with for George, disguising it in an adjustment of Maud’s hand on his arm.
Alan turned away at once. So did Jack, steering Maud in a loop so that they’d end up close to George again, ready to leap in and contribute to the distracting chaos when the man collapsed.
Morris nodded and strode away again. Jack let him go and watched George.
“Come on,” Maud said beneath her breath.
Together they stood and watched the shifting group near the balustrade. This would still take time. Time for Alan to find and signal Edwin, and then remove himself prudently from the scene. Time for Edwin, whatever he looked like, to make his way towards George. A pity that Morris wasn’t still there; Edwin could have taken them both down at once.
George cradled a spell with fluid grace.
Jack tensed his hand around his stick and softened his knees, ready to shove Maud behind himself, but George did not attack. Nor did he collapse in sleep.
George floated calmly into the air until he hovered above everyone’s heads, a dark and confident shape against the lights and the sky.
28
It was a levitation spell. There must have been an amplification spell tacked on, too, because when George spoke, his voice was loud enough to be easily heard over the noise. He gave a brief speech of welcome, including a heaping of praise for his dear aunt and uncle, the Earl and Countess of Cheetham, who had produced such a wonderful array of spectacle.
“But I think we can do more,” George added. “This is a remarkable evening in more ways than one, and we have a very great achievement of the Assembly’s to unveil for you. An achievement that deserves a particularly special stage for its unveiling. We have this wonderful lake here, after all. It’d be a pity to waste it. In fact, I invite you all to come and stand upon it.”
Admiring murmurs began to rise from the people closest to the balustrade. Jack frowned and got himself and Maud a bit closer.
“What is it?” said Maud, who couldn’t see. The question was being echoed all around them.
“They’re freezing the lake,” said Jack.
At least eight magicians—Coopers, no doubt—stood at various points around the lake, working the same spell in practiced unison. White mist rose curling into the air, and white arrows spread out across the lake’s surface from where each man stood. Each arrow of ice met its fellows and formed a solid, unbroken sheet. At the further edge of the lake, the ice was doing something more complicated: a raised stage, giving the whole thing the air of a theatre. Which of course it was.
“To allay any fears the ladies may have: we’ll keep the air warm enough, and it’s quite safe to walk on without slipping,” said George. “You have my word.” And he sank back to earth, looking satisfied.
It was a spectacularly George thing to do. It wasn’t enough for him to piggyback on someone else’s triumph of hospitality: he had to make one for himself. And it was a pointed display of the level of magic that at present could be produced only by a group.
As invited, the mass of finely dressed magicians began an excited exodus down from the terrace and the grassy slope and around to the sides of the lake, where two gorgeous bridges of densely braided ice now led out onto the frozen surface. Jack and Maud were in the tail end of the crowd. Jack had lost sight of the others. He kept a steady pace, Maud right at his side.
This was the window for Edwin and Violet, surely. George had said his piece. For the time being, nobody’s eyes were upon him.
Where most of the crowd was heading towards the bridge, Jack and Maud turned with unspoken accord and broke away from them. Instead they took the path of white stones that led back to the sea grotto, directly beneath where they’d been standing.