(A Charm of Magpies 1)The Magpie Lord (18 page)

They shot all five horses between them, Merrick, Crane and the stableman, and stood in the suddenly silent yard with the smell of cordite and gun cotton overlaying the stench of manure and blood, and the sound of gunshots and screaming still ringing in their ears.

“Go home, Varry,” said Crane finally. “I’d drink myself unconscious if I were you, but do as you see fit. Take a couple of days. We’ll find out more about this. I
will
find out, you have my word.”

“Don’t go near other horses for the moment,” Stephen added. “There’s a small chance of contagion.”

Varry looked round at him in horror. “You think
I
gave this to them?”

“No, no, not at all. I meant it might have got on your clothes
from
them,” Stephen said hastily. “It’s just a precaution. But in fact, I think all the staff should go home, right now. They should stay away from horses and stay away from Piper for, oh, two days at least, starting as soon as possible. Mr. Merrick, can you get the house cleared in the next ten minutes, do you think?”

Merrick glanced at Crane, said, “Sir,” and disappeared, pulling the devastated stableman with him.

“Why?” asked Crane.

Stephen turned on his heel and walked away from the stink of fear and death without speaking. Crane followed him, stride for stride, as Stephen marched out, over a stretch of unkempt lawn, ignoring the damp grass that quickly soaked his trouser legs, and up towards the lake.

“Why the horses?” said Stephen at last, as though Crane had only just spoken. “To stop us leaving. It’s, what, twelve miles to the railway station? Three hours’ walk. Plenty of time to catch us. Why make them suffer like that? To make us afraid. Why clear the house? Because they’re killers and they’re probably coming here, and I don’t want your servants in the way.”

Crane was nodding impatiently, having worked most of this out for himself. “And who, exactly, are
they
?”

The sky was blue above, promising another hot day. The light was the clear gold that came just after dawn. The long grass was sparkling with dew, the tall trees surrounding the house looked fresh rather than heavy, the lake glittered blue and silver in the morning sun, its rippling surface brushed by whispering willows, and Crane would have given everything he owned to be back in the darkest slums of London.

There was a sudden flurry as a flock of magpies erupted out of the trees on their left. Crane jumped, and cursed.

Stephen took a deep breath. “I don’t know who they are.”

“Does this feel like Miss Bell?”

“Not at all. This was pure warlockry. Cruelty for its own sake, and to animals, and she’s a hedge witch—a country practitioner. If she was behind that, I’ll resign my commission right now.”

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Crane said. “I have literally no idea who is trying to kill me.”

“I’m not sure anyone is.”

“They were last night!”

“Yes, but they
didn’t
,” Stephen said. “There was no third attack. But they were able to strike this morning, and they struck at the horses, not you. Let me think.” He pushed his hands through his hair, face alive with intense thought.

Crane kept pace with him, staring at the glittering lake, trying to persuade himself he couldn’t smell gunsmoke and blood.

Then he stopped dead.

Stephen took a few more paces, and looked around. “Crane? What is it?”

“Stephen,” said Crane thickly.

The practitioner was back at his side in two steps. “
What?
”

“I can’t move.”

Stephen’s face froze. “Can’t move at all? Try and take a step forward.”

“I
can’t
.”

“Take a step back.”

Crane took a step back and inhaled a deep, shuddering breath. “Christ. God.”

“Did that hurt?”

“No. I just didn’t think I could. What the devil…” He took a step forward, stopped in his tracks again. “What is this? I can’t seem to move at all if I’m going this way.”

Stephen’s hands were twitching and sketching in the air, flitting round Crane’s body. His mouth was set and grim.

“This is a binding. Someone has bound you within the limits of an area. Trapped you within your grounds.”

“Well, can you deal with it please?” said Crane impatiently.

“I don’t think so.”

“What?”

“I don’t have any idea how they did this.” Stephen slid his hands through the air around Crane’s shoulders. His pupils were wide and black. “I couldn’t do this. I can’t break it if I don’t know what it is or how it works.”

Crane took a deep breath, struggling for self-control. “Someone has poisoned my horses
and
trapped me in my own grounds?”

“Probably different people,” Stephen said. “Why bother with the horses if you could do a binding like this?”

“Why are they doing this at all?”

“I don’t know. I need to think.”

“You need to do something about this!”

“I’m
trying
,” Stephen snapped. “I’m sorry if I led you to believe I’m omnipotent, but I’m really not.”

“That’s becoming bloody obvious!” Crane snarled back, and swung away, getting himself under control. “Sorry,” he added abruptly. “That wasn’t fair. I’m—unnerved.”

“I know. So am I.”

Crane took a step back from the invisible barrier. There was a flutter of black and white as magpies landed around his feet.

“Bloody things.” He made a cursory kicking movement to scare them off. They shuffled back a few inches, unafraid.

Stephen was watching with a frown. “They’re surprisingly bold.”

The trees were heavy with magpies, and a single bird was right in front of Crane on the path, glaring up at him with jet-bead eyes. “The place is infested,” he said. “If you stand still, they gather like flies.”

“They do, don’t they,” Stephen said slowly. “When you arrived. In the gallery. Have they always flocked to you like that? Even when you were a boy?”

“I don’t really remember the behaviour of birds twenty years ago. Can we talk about the current problem?”

“Could you try to remember?”

“You want to talk about
magpies
? Now?”

“I’m starting to wonder if it’s all about magpies,” Stephen said. “Yes, now.”

Crane gave him an incredulous look, decided not to argue, and shut his eyes in an effort of memory. “I don’t know. The damn things used to flock round my father, all the time, but—that’s right, never me or Hector. Because of course if any creature came near enough for him to throw a stone at it, he did. So they learned to avoid boys, I suppose. Father got fairly angry about it, he had a pet magpie and he couldn’t understand why they flew away from us. I seem to remember it turned out to be my fault. There, does that explain everything?” he added, with some sarcasm.

“It’s enlightening. Because your father was posthumous. Of course.”

“What has that got to do with anything?”

Stephen pushed a hand through his hair. “Let me
think
.”

Crane called on reserves of patience he rarely bothered to tap, and stood, watching Stephen’s face as the younger man thought. It darkened and hardened as Crane watched.

Finally, Stephen looked up.

“I have a few questions,” he said, in what Crane had come to think of as his professional voice, very calm and even. “First. Since your return, have you had intimate relations with anyone up here?”

“Have I bedded anyone, you mean? Not in Lychdale.”

“Do you have any close living relations? Uncle, aunt, nephew, niece?”

“Only if Hector had other children. I’m not aware of any.”

“Can you think of any means by which someone might have got hold of your blood in reasonable quantity? Any serious cuts or wounds? Teeth drawn?”

“No.”

“Blood, bone and birdspit, and it’s not blood or birdspit,” said Stephen. “This is not good. Where’s your brother buried?”

“The mausoleum,” Crane said, not even bothering to comment on the non sequitur. “Round the other side of the grounds. Near the Rose Walk.”

“And was it always this cold in Piper?”

“I can’t say I remember it being so bad, no. I want you to explain this.”

“I will,” Stephen said. “But I don’t want to start till I have time to finish, and we have to hurry. The servants should be out by now, shouldn’t they?”

“With Merrick behind them, I expect so.”

“Can you get rid of him too?”

“I doubt it,” said Crane. “It’s been twenty years and he’s not left me in a sticky situation yet. Why do you want him gone? He may not be magic but I’d still back him against anyone I’ve yet met here.”

“I’m sure,” Stephen said. “But if someone threatened to do to Mr. Merrick what they just did to the horses, is there anything they couldn’t make you do?”

Crane’s face tightened. “Right. He’s not going to take it well, though.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Stephen said. “If we can get rid of everyone else, there will only be you and me to worry about.”

“That was exactly why I wanted you to come to Northamptonshire,” muttered Crane.

Stephen snorted, without much amusement, and led the way back. They trudged through the wet grass, dew flashing and sparkling in the sun, magpies fluttering around them.

Chapter Sixteen

The house had been emptied, except for Graham, who stood in the hall, having a raging argument with Merrick. Crane stalked over and spoke in low, cold, savage tones, his words making the old man go red and then white with outrage, until he turned and stormed out. Stephen was leaning against a panelled wall, eyes shut, breathing in a shallow, controlled way. It reminded Crane of his trance in the garden, a week ago, but then Stephen’s face had been preternaturally calm. Now he looked tense, almost afraid.

At last the three of them were alone in the house.

“Right,” Crane said to Merrick. “We’re in an unspecified form of extreme trouble. I’m apparently being kept here by magical means that Mr. Day can’t do anything about. I have no idea what’s going on, he thinks he does, he’s in charge.”

“Thank you,” Stephen said. “Mr. Merrick, there are at least three warlocks coming for Lord Crane, probably four. Bad shamans. What was that word?” he added to Crane.

“
Wugu.
”

“Shit,” said Merrick.

“Indeed. I am outnumbered and, frankly, outmatched. I need you to go and get me some help.”

Merrick scowled. “Where, sir?”

“London. Dr. Daniel Gold’s surgery, Devonshire Street, off Oxford Street. You want Mrs. Esther Gold, but you can talk to Dr. Gold if need be. If neither of them is there, tell his people to get Mr. Janossi. I need Esther up here urgently, with Saint and Janossi. And tell her it’s a sinkhole. Got it? Good. You’re going to have to get to the station somehow. Steal a horse. Even better, go to Nethercote and tell Miss Bell that there’s warlockry afoot, tell her to get you on the road to London. And listen, Mr. Merrick, don’t trust anyone else. Not the vicar, not the stationmaster, not my aunt, not anyone. Don’t let anyone touch you and try not to let them see you… I’m asking too much of you. This isn’t safe.”

Merrick’s eyes narrowed. “What d’you reckon’s going to happen, sir?”

“Someone may try to stop you. I don’t know who. I don’t know how hard they’ll try. They might be prepared to kill. I realise this is a lot to ask but I’m afraid we’re in a lot of trouble, and I don’t have any other way out of it.”

“What’re you going to be doing while I’m gone?”

“Trying to keep Lord Crane alive,” Stephen said. “My chances would be improved by reinforcements.”

Merrick looked at Crane, who shrugged. “You heard him.”

The manservant nodded briefly. “Right, then.”

“Be lucky,” said Crane. “And come back safe or I’ll pursue you to the tenth court of hell to shout at you.”

“You just watch your arse,” Merrick retorted. “And nobody else’s,
if
you can manage that. I’ll get some stuff and be off.
Tse hue
. Sir,” he added, with a nod to Stephen.

“
Tse hue
,” said Crane.

The two gripped hands for a second. Merrick turned and ran lightly up the stairs. Crane looked after him, lips compressed.

“Was that Chinese for goodbye?” Stephen asked.

“See you again,” Crane said. “Not goodbye. How much of that was true?”

“If I could have a wish granted, it would be to have Esther here right now. I have no idea if the enemy will be looking out for Mr. Merrick, but I’m absolutely sure his chances are a lot better away from you.”

Crane took a deep breath. “Presumably, that’s true of you too. I think you should go with him, Stephen.”

“No. That ring, the Magpie Lord’s, let’s get it.”

“No, we are going to talk about this. You didn’t come here to get killed—don’t just bloody brush me off,” he added angrily as Stephen shook his head.

“It’s pointless. They’ll need to kill me anyway, don’t you see? And we’re wasting time.”