Heart's Magic (4 page)

Except the challenge was
now less than two weeks away, and she had yet to meet with
him.

"The library," Harry said.
"There's not anything you can't find in the council library. It's
been so long since anyone issued a formal wizard's challenge, Sir
William's likely 'ad to look up 'ow to conduct one."

"Do wizards' challenges
differ from alchemists'?"

"Reckon they do. Wizards
don't go in much for throwin' fireballs or callin' down
lightning."

Elinor had to smile. "No,
we don't. We're more in the potion-brewing trade."

"You use wands
though."

"Not like you alchemists
do." Elinor thought a moment, then amended, "Or not entirely. You
conduct magic through them, correct?"

"That's right."

"So do we, but in the
stirring of potions. The wand conducts the magic into the potion.
And of course, it's a wooden wand, not metal."

"Could you do it, though?
With your wooden wand. Direct magic somewhere besides into
potions?"

"I don't know." The idea
took her a little aback. Wizards were the healers of the magicians'
councils, not the warriors. But even sorcery, with its well-earned
reputation for bloody justice, had its healing side. Perhaps
wizardry had its warrior side.

"Do you suppose I could?"
She gave Harry a doubtful look. She wasn't particularly warlike in
nature--but then she'd recently dared far more than she ever
dreamed she could. She would dare anything to protect the
innocent--and having Cranshaw at the head of the wizards' guild put
too many innocents at risk.

"Won't 'urt to try, will
it?"

The carriage swayed to a
halt, then lurched and bobbled as the coachman climbed down to open
the door. They'd arrived. Elinor rushed to descend first, to help
Harry with his injury.

The thought occurred to her
that if she won her challenge, she would no longer be Harry's
apprentice, but a proven master wizard. She wouldn't be required to
spend so much time with him. Not that she would yield to the
temptation Harry and his "yearning" represented, but better to
avoid it. One more reason for her to win.

Over the next week and a
half, Harry had plenty to keep himself busy while Elinor prepared
for her challenge. While he awaited the opportunity to kiss her
again. She hadn't exactly said she would, but she hadn't said she
wouldn't either. Just that it wasn't the right time. He agreed with
that. So he waited and found other things to do.

He watched the dissection
of the nail-legged machine. This machine didn't bother him
overmuch, until they cracked its shell and all its no-magic got
out. It made him short of breath, even though he was several paces
away. The magic got in as well and turned its shiny-bright insides
to rust-coated wreckage. That shell bothered him. If the machines
could shield themselves from magic... He needed to think on
that.

Harry also followed the
Briganti around on their search for any other machines that might
have got out through the wall, until they asked Grey to ban him
from coming along. There were signs of it--suspiciously weak places
in the wall of magic primarily, but so far their search bore no
fruit.

He rode out to Sir
William's country house and escorted the council head and his wife
back to London. That took up a good five days. The Stanwycks' house
wasn't so very far out into that disturbing countryside that he
couldn't manage it. All that green just wasn't natural.

Harry assisted Elinor with
her preparations. Once. He took her into the third-floor ballroom
of his house, used for all activities requiring space, except
dancing, to practice her wand work, to experiment and see whether a
wizard might be able to use a wand like an alchemist.

She could. Rather well, in
fact. But he banned himself from assisting her further, because he
kept touching her--to adjust her stance, of course. She'd touched
him, to see if she could sense the flow of magic into his wand and
out. She couldn't. But that had inspired him to put his arms around
her, with the excuse of showing her how to cast the magic. She'd
thrown her wand clear across the ballroom instead. He'd have turned
her round and kissed her into jelly next, if he hadn't excused
himself and left her to it.

It hadn't been a practice
session at all, but a flirting session on the verge of becoming a
kissing session and who knew what else, if he let it go on. Not
that she would have let him, but it would have been him breaking
his promise.

Not that he'd promised in
so many words, but he said he would do things her way till after
the challenge. He'd given his word.

Harry didn't break promises
and he didn't go back on his word. This promise might just break
him with the keeping of it, but she needed to be ready for this
challenge. He did not want to be the cause of her lying broken and
bleeding--or however wizard's challenges ended for the
loser.

He had hope. Not just for
the outcome of the challenge. There, he had nothing but confidence.
Elinor was hands-down a better wizard than Nigel Cranshaw ever
hoped to be. Harry also had hope for his chances of kissing her
again, and maybe more.

Because she'd kissed him
back. It had shocked her, maybe embarrassed her. He had his doubts
as to whether she'd been kissed before. Still, she'd liked the
kiss. He had no doubts about that. And since she liked it, he would
hang on to that hope and leave her alone to prepare for her
challenge. Then they would see where kisses could take
them.

The Great Hall of the
British Magician's Councilhouse in the heart of London echoed with
hundreds of voices, all but three of them male.

Off to one side, mostly
behind the crowd, Elinor Tavis bounced on her toes and observed
that every magician in the whole of Great Britain, including the
Irish, must have come to watch the challenge for magister of the
wizard's guild. Some of them had come from beyond Britain's
borders.

Dottore
Antonio Rosato, famous far beyond the borders of his native
Italy as a powerful wizard who was also a medical doctor, peered
into the crystal goblet holding her potion for the challenge. He
sniffed the pungent, eye-watering aroma. Reminiscent of
chrysanthemum and rotten cabbage, Elinor had thought when she made
it. Rosato smiled broadly and nodded. "
Bene.
It is very bad, so it is very
good for the challenge."

Dr. Rosato, who had come to
England to consult on other matters, had volunteered to act as her
second, because no other wizard would do it. Sir William couldn't.
As head of the Magician's Council, he would be presiding over the
challenge. The eleven remaining wizards in the British guild were
all Cranshaw's creatures.

Rosato also had a
reputation as a ladies' man, which was perfectly understandable,
given that he was very nearly as beautiful as the extremely
handsome and recently wed magister of the conjurer's guild. The
dottore had black tousled curls, deep brown wickedly twinkling
eyes, and a seductive smile--on a mouth that wasn't quite as
perfect as Harry's. Why was Tonio Rosato so ignorable and Harry
Tomlinson so tempting?

The deep booming peal of
the Great Bell echoed through the hall and as its sound faded, so
too did the rumble of voices. Elinor shook off all distracting
thoughts. The Great Bell was traditionally rung once at the
beginning of a magister's challenge. It hadn't rung for that
purpose in some ninety years.

It also rang in emergencies
and its magic-enhanced boom had alerted all magicians within a
hundred miles just five weeks ago at the new moon in December,
during a ferocious battle against a horrific foe. At the end of
which Elinor had issued her challenge.

Now, as the last of the
echo died away, Sir William mounted the dais at the far end of the
great hall. "Let the contenders come forth," he called out in a
voice magnified by magic to reach every corner of the vast
chamber.

This was it. Do or
die--perhaps literally.

Elinor glanced at Harry who
as her magic-master had insisted on waiting here with her, instead
of taking his seat on the dais with the other magisters. Soon
enough to join them when she took her place, he'd said. He held her
glance long enough to become a gaze, his expression filled with
confidence and expectation of victory. Then he winked and backed
away through the crowd. At least one of them thought she could do
it.

She touched the ointment on
her wrists and hidden under her jaw line, checking her magical
protection. Wizards didn't usually wear their warding, preferring
to drink it instead, and she had done that too. But she wanted
every advantage she could get. She'd gone into battle against a
demon wearing a fearsome "war paint." She wanted war paint
now.

Unlike that other, this
ointment carried only her own magic, as was required in a
challenge, and had the added benefit of being colorless. Perhaps it
would surprise her opponent.

She patted the stiff
leather pouch at her waist holding her quiver of wands--ash,
cherry, pine, alder, and all the other woods. She hoped to provide
Cranshaw with another surprise there. Finally she smoothed her
hands over the bright green silk of her skirt. If she was going
into battle as a wizard, she would look the part, wearing wizard's
colors.

Elinor nodded at Dr.
Rosato, who nodded back and led the way down the aisle kept clear
of observers to the center of the hall. A skylight high overhead
admitted a shaft of thin watery light which fell on the square
table placed there, reflecting off the polished stone mosaic of the
tabletop. Harry had assigned a trio of alchemists with talent in
air-moving to push aside the January overcast long enough to
provide a few moments of sunlight.

Beyond the
dottore
, Elinor could see
Cranshaw's second, marching from the opposite direction. He was a
squat bulldog of a man named Dodd, bearing the goblet with
Cranshaw's potion. Cranshaw followed, tall and thin, his fair hair
carefully combed in a futile attempt to hide the growing baldness.
His scowl condensed into enraged menace when he saw her. Elinor
smoothed her expression into serene confidence, hoping it hid all
the turmoil and uncertainty churning inside her. Besides, the calm
expression seemed to enrage her opponent all the more.

The two seconds reached the
center table and turned, pacing side by side up the open center of
the room to the dais. The great hall was perfectly square, so they
had almost as far again to walk as they'd already come. Spectators
were confined by railings to two boxes on either side of that open
center before the dais and to the back half of the room behind the
table where Elinor and Cranshaw waited.

The Book of Wizardry, the
ancient tome that usually resided on a similar table in the center
of the council library with the Books of the other three magics,
lay on the table between them. To bear witness to the challenge?
Harry hadn't said anything about it when he told her what he'd
learned looking up magisters' challenges in the library.

Elinor wondered if it might
provide magic to the wizard clever enough to use it. After all, the
Book was so old, so imbued with magic, that it essentially
was
magic. She and
Cranshaw had been allowed to prepare for this challenge. It
wouldn't be cheating to siphon off a little of the Book's magic and
store it in--yes, the alder and yew wands, she decided.

Dodd and Rosato finally
reached the dais to present the goblets to Sir William and the
other three magisters. They all stood, and as the presiding wizard,
Sir William came forward to inspect the potions.

"I object!" Cranshaw's
voice hadn't been enhanced, but it rang through the chamber
nevertheless. "Sir William is godfather to the abomination that
dares to challenge the proper, God-ordained ordering of society and
those put in authority over her. He cannot be an impartial judge. I
demand--"

He paused, pasted on a
smile filled with humility so false it made Elinor queasy. Though
that could be all the magic she held. She needed to use it soon, or
let it go.

"I humbly request,"
Cranshaw said, not at all humbly, "that the head of council recuse
himself from presiding over this challenge."

Sir William glowered at the
gangly wizard. "If you were going to protest," he grumbled, "why
didn't you do it last week, or the week before, instead of dragging
us all here for this, and disrupting everything?" The magic carried
his grousing to every corner of the hall as well.

"'Cause he wants to put it
off." Harry folded his arms and scowled at Cranshaw too. "'E was
too much a coward to come out an' help when the Great Bell rang
last, an' 'e's too much a coward to face a real wizard's magic
now."

Harry somehow borrowed just
enough of Sir William's voice-enhancement to let his voice carry as
far as the two contenders and perhaps beyond. Elinor wasn't sure,
but she thought perhaps so, given the murmur that started up behind
them.

Cranshaw flushed, but
remained silent. Elinor supposed he could pretend he hadn't heard
the insult, since Harry hadn't addressed him directly.