Wrede, Patricia C - Mairelon 02 Read Online Free Page A

it this way and
that until the ink coated the bottom with shiny blackness.
                When he
was satisfied at last, he set the salver on the handkerchief once more. Holding
his left hand over it, he began speaking, too rapidly for Kim to follow. The
tingling sensation of a spell in process struck her with renewed force, and she
had to concentrate to keep control of the ward. Mindful of his instructions,
she tried to pay attention to Mairelon's spellcasting, but her Latin and Greek
were still rudimentary. She recognized perhaps one word in twenty, but even the
unintelligible phrases had the hard-edged feel that only came with magic. They
hung in the air around Mairelon's hand, building the invisible, dangerous
structure of the spell.
                Kim
suppressed a shiver. She did not want to distract Mairelon; even a small
mistake would send razor-edged words flying like shards of shattered glass. She
wondered whether she would ever be sure enough of her control to risk building
a spell around her own hand. It seemed unlikely, but a year ago the thought of
learning magic at all had seemed not merely unlikely, but impossible.
                Mairelon
finished speaking and, without moving his arm, folded his outstretched fingers
in toward his palm. The hovering spell slid past his hand onto the ink-covered
salver. "Now, we look," he said.
                Puzzled,
Kim stared at him; then she realized that he meant for her to look at the
salver. She lowered her gaze, and saw that a picture had formed on the surface
of the ink, like a reflection in a mirror or a puddle of water.
                A man
muffled in a scarf, top hat, and long cloak hurried along a narrow street. The
shop windows behind him were dark and shuttered, and the wind whipped his cloak
out behind him. "Well, well," Mairelon murmured. "It looks as if
you were right, Kim. Our housebreaker is a gentleman. Let's see. . . ."
                The
picture in the ink wobbled, then shifted so that the
man was hurrying directly toward them. His head was down, and one hand gripped
the brim of his hat; between that and the scarf, little of his face was
visible. Gold gleamed on his middle finger, and Kim leaned forward to look more
closely.
                "Blast!"
said Mairelon. "I wanted a look at his face. Perhaps if we try another
angle--"
                The image
wobbled and distorted, like a reflection in water when a pebble drops into it.
Kim got a brief impression of blue eyes and a damp wisp of hair plastered wetly
to a high forehead, and then the picture was gone. The shiny surface of the ink
reflected only a glimmer of light from Kim's candle.
                Mairelon
scowled at the salver, then reached for the ink-soaked
wool. As he lifted the cloth, the ink slid off like hot oil
running out of a pan, leaving the threads clean . "You can drop the
ward now, Kim," he said as he pocketed the scrap.
                Obediently,
Kim recited the closing phrase and blew out the candle. Hunch collected it and
the empty ink bottle and carried them off. Mairelon continued to frown at the
salver. "That was not nearly as useful as I'd hoped," he said.
"Perhaps I should have waited; we might have gotten a glimpse of his
rooms. But I was hoping to see his face, and I didn't want him to have a chance
to change his coat."
                "Well,
if you'd waited much longer, he wouldn't of had the
coat at all, I'll bet," Kim said.
                "Why
do you say that?"
                "Why
else would a toff be on Petticoat Lane at this time of night, unless he had something for the togs-men?"
                Mairelon
blinked. " Petticoat Lane ?
You're sure?"
                Kim
snorted. "I spent enough time there. He was just down from Flash Annie's,
by where Willie Bast used to lay up. It's a good job for him that it's a mucky
night out, or he'd be rid of