“Magic is just a story,” said Robin. “If magic exists then surely the fae do. Or did.”
“That’s not a logical progression,” said Edwin, veering into tutor territory again. “We have no more concrete proof of the fae’s historical existence than we do of—dragons.”
“Except the people looking for this contract don’t live only in books,” said Robin, irritated.
“Which is no guarantee that they’re not on a fool’s errand—” Edwin visibly relented. “It’s true that we do see a similar kind of origin myth arising in other cultures. The idea that magic was never ours, that every spell used to be the result of bargains struck between us and a race of magical creatures. The contractual nature of this particular rendition is very . . . English.” That small smile again. “It’s in Dufay’s poem. We hold the gifts of the dawn, from those now passed and gone.”
“That’s right. You were going to show me the rest of it.”
Edwin glanced at the books as if tempted to continue the tutorial. “We have more useful things to be doing. I don’t want to find out how much worse that curse of yours is going to get if we can’t remove it, and I can’t imagine you’re keen on it either.”
Robin swallowed and his mood soured as another squeeze of fear was wrung from him like lemon juice. Somewhere in the house a clock struck the half hour. “No.”
“Curses laid in the air that appear on the skin fall under a certain category of rune-magic,” said Edwin. Now it was his turn to show Robin a page of his book, though God only knew what he expected Robin to glean from it. “Though I still can’t find a single reference to foresight being induced. I think you should keep your head down about that. It doesn’t much matter if we tell the others about the curse, but true foresight is too rare. You’d have half the Magical Assembly on your doorstep as soon as we got back to town if there was a murmur it might be that.” A humourless smile. “And I don’t think any of Bel’s friends know how to murmur anything.”
Robin thought he was doing very well indeed dealing with a houseful of magicians at leisure. He shuddered at the idea of being dragged off by—political ones.
“I can keep my mouth shut,” he said.
“Leave this with me,” Edwin instructed, hefting the Tales.
Robin sighed and abandoned the most interesting book in the place to join a whole pile of very dull-looking ones. For a while longer he wandered both levels of the library and browsed in the unmagical style, pulling things from the shelves and enjoying the incomprehensible novelty of their titles. His stomach was beginning to rumble in real demand for lunch, and the sun through the window was making his legs itch with longing to be properly stretched. At a normal house party he’d have suggested a game of cricket, but perhaps magicians didn’t care for anything so mundane. Or perhaps they played with a ball that would dodge the bat and try to slam itself against your pads.
If there was no real sport to be played, then messing around in boats like Charlie had mentioned didn’t sound too bad, after a morning spent indoors. Even a bracing lake swim would be something.
His attention elsewhere, Robin fumbled the precarious row of books he’d idly drawn halfway out from the shelf, creating a pointless pattern of indented spines. Several of them fell to the floor and Robin hurried to pick them up.
“Wait, bring them over here,” Edwin said. “Did you damage the covers?”
Robin tried for an apologetic grimace as he carried the books to the table. The pages of one looked strangely jagged and uneven, and Robin’s stomach lurched in disproportionate panic, but he realised that in fact a much smaller book had been tucked into the large one and was now slipping free.
He pulled it clear. It was a thin bound pamphlet. The cover was purple.
His fingers released it as though burned, and he let it fall to the table. Then he realised that this action was the most revealing thing he could have done.
Robin looked up. Edwin didn’t look horrified, or embarrassed, or even faintly curious. Edwin’s expression held a wary nothingness. He studied Robin’s face and Robin saw the moment when he made a decision based on what he saw there.
He’d wondered if Edwin might try to bluff it out. Instead Edwin said carefully, “I’d forgotten I’d brought any of those here. You’d better hold on to it, in case someone else stumbles across it.”
“Yes, I imagine there’s practically a queue of people panting to get their hands on . . .” Robin flicked back to the frontispiece of the larger book and read aloud. “A Treatise on the Major Variants of Temporal Clauses in Thaumokinetics.”