Charley hugged two of the children and introduced them to Magnus as her sister and brother. They pecked her with questions. Had she brought them anything to eat? Did she sell any totems?
“Where are your parents?” I said.
“Dead and gone, miss,” Charley replied. Magnus gave her two guineas. The children rejoiced, and I felt ill.
“And your master?” There was a banging noise. The man from my dream stepped out from the curtained private area. He bowed to us and hobbled over to the table, moving like an arthritic crab, all sideways-stepping and gnarled limbs. Easing into a seat before us, he spread a deck of cards on the table.
“Come in, dear lady and gents, an’?’ave a look upon your future. We are but ’umble folk, dear miss, an’ think—” Here Hargrove stopped and looked at us, his eyebrow raised. He recognized me. “Miss. How pleasant to make your acquaintance.” For one terrifying moment, I thought he’d mention the dream. “And your companions. How charming.” He nodded to the boys. Blackwood nodded back.
The magician changed upon the instant. He stretched and popped his joints into place, so that his legs straightened and his head settled right on his shoulders. “A thousand pardons, dear gentlefolk. I mistook you for easy marks that might be swayed by pity to donate a few coppers. How may I assist you?”
“We wanted to join His Lordship on a charity visit,” I said, glancing at Blackwood. “I know it’s not his usual day of the week.”
Hargrove took a glass bottle of something from his collection on the table, poured a little liquid into a tin cup, and handed it down to Charley. The smell was frightful.
“Drink your gin, that’s a good girl.” She took it with glee.
“You know, I’m not sure that’s appropriate for a growing child,” I said, watching her guzzle it.
“Well, I try to keep her in ale, but it’s an expensive habit.” He laid out three cards. They showed a woman with a wand, a man with a sword, and a grinning skeleton that capered down a road. This was unlike any game I had ever played. “I’m the magician Jenkins Hargrove, purveyor of the finest arcane artifacts and occult odds and ends. I read tarot, tell your fortune, traffic with spirits, and raise the dead, but only on a full or new moon, and never on church holidays.” He looked up, his dark eyes dancing. “You’re sorcerers, come down from your lofty perch to gawk at the little people. How refreshing.” He turned the cards facedown, and when he flipped them up again their pictures were different. They showed a boy and girl kissing, seven coins falling through the air, and a man with a cloak and a pointed hat making a toy soldier dance. Hargrove narrowed his eyes at me. “I’ve never seen a female sorcerer before,” he said.
“I’m not commended yet.”
“Mmm. Magic is a dangerous business, girl, especially for one so young and lovely as yourself.” He snapped his fingers, and a gold coin dropped out of thin air and into his hand. He bit it in two, spit one half onto the table, and waved his hand over the piece. It transformed into a bright golden beetle that opened its shell and beat its thin wings. I leaned in, stunned by the display.
“Real magic,” Hargrove said, waving his hand again and returning the beetle to half a gold piece, “is about pushing the limits of what can and cannot be imagined. But I expect you’re all still content with starting fires and making it rain.” He swept the cards back into the pack and slid it into his purple-orange-red coat.
“At least our magic is perfectly natural,” I muttered, stung by his rudeness.
“I won’t have the Order insulted,” Blackwood said. Magnus put on his glove and poked at the gold piece, mystified.
“Of course not,” Hargrove said, steepling his fingers. His nails were uncommonly long. “We mustn’t insult our faithful friend Lord Blackwood, must we, children?” Charley hugged the magician, making it clear where her loyalties lay. He grinned, his mouth full of surprisingly white teeth, and stroked her hair. “My Lord Blackwood, can you accept my apology?”
“Of course I forgive you,” Blackwood said, in a tone that indicated he wanted to get out of here and would say anything to make that happen.
“The Blackwood family is generous with its charity. Did you know that?” Hargrove said to me and Magnus. “Yes, I’ve been on the receiving end of their charity many times in my life.” It didn’t sound as nice as the words implied.
“We are always happy to help in any way we can,” Blackwood said, staring at the door like it was the closed gate of paradise. I’d never imagined he could look so unsettled. Honestly, I found it a little enjoyable.
“And you are so helpful, my lord. Especially seeing as I can only make so much money by way of charms and totems. Your Order, my young friends, is not generous with what it will allow magicians to do.”
“Why would the Order have any say in your affairs?” I said. Granted, I could understand why sorcerers would want to keep magicians under control.
“We must blame the accursed Howard Mickelmas, my dear girl. He’s the one who thought it such fun to rip a hole in time and space, to summon those evil Ancients from some far, distant world. He’s to blame, along with that witch, that Mary Willoughby. They ruined it for the rest of us.” He sighed. “Did you know that magicians flourished back in the Golden Age, when good Queen Elizabeth was alive? We were the most learned, the most ambitious. We were the future.” He took the half piece of gold off the table, gripped it tightly in his fist, and presented the piece whole and intact. When I touched it, it turned into a brown cockroach and leaped at me.
I cried out, and Hargrove stamped on the bug, squashing it into the floorboards. “That, my dear girl, is exactly what happened to my kind. We were stamped by the Order’s boot. But never fear, for a roach is impressively difficult to eradicate.” He removed his foot, and the unhurt insect dipped its antennae and scampered away. The children tried to catch it. “The Order only flattened us, didn’t kill us. Sorcerers are nothing if not compassionate.”
The feeling in the room had turned bad. Even Magnus looked uncomfortable.
“Perhaps we should go,” I said.
“Without your fortune told, my dear?” Hargrove took out his cards again and shuffled them. “Care to learn your future? Care to know the identity of your admirers?” He looked at Blackwood and Magnus. “Or do you have the names already?” He leaned back in his chair and rested his boots on the table.
Any desire I had to speak with this man, to learn how he’d crept into my dreams, had vanished. I couldn’t stand to be here another second. Blackwood placed a few coins on the table, and we walked quickly for the door.
“Return anytime, young miss. I’m sure we’d have much to talk about,” Hargrove called as we hurried down the steps and back to the carriage. The ward was a most welcome sight. Blackwood removed his hat and rubbed his eyes. Magnus stared at the floor, the muscles in his jaw working.
“What exactly were the terms of the royal pardon for magicians?” I asked.
“In exchange for their lives, they would take no apprentices and perform no public magic,” Blackwood replied. “When this generation of magicians dies, their magic will end in England forever. To break the pardon is to forfeit your life.”
“That’s cruel,” I said. “Mickelmas was only one man. Why punish the rest so harshly?”
“Because you cannot trust a magician’s work.”
“Why not?”
“Because they are evil.” Blackwood turned from me, the conversation ended.
“Thank you for escorting me,” I whispered, my voice dull.
We were silent all the way home.