The innkeeper’s son nodded. “Yes! His secretary is waiting to lead you to where the wizard stays. It’s not too far, but he does want you to come right away.”
For a moment, like a madness, he considered refusing. Here he stood in sodden clothes, shivering with cold, ravenously hungry yet queasy, desperate just to stretch out in bed. And yet, Franklin had been so confident that he would accept the invitation he had left his servant here to wait for him.
Meriwether had been eager just to catch a glimpse of the ancient, powerful man, hoping even that would give him something to brag of in his old age. How could he refuse actually meeting the legendary wizard? And at Franklin’s own request?
While his thoughts spun, the innkeeper’s son waved forward a well-dressed man—much less flamboyant than Franklin—and now Meriwether felt even dingier by comparison. The manservant clutched a hat with a modest crown and a sensible brim; he wore a somber black jacket and knee breeches, both of precise cut. He bowed slightly to Meriwether, and to his credit, managed to stifle any look of dismay or disdain. Straightening, he offered his hand. “My name is Albert Middleton, sir, and I have the honor to be Mr. Franklin’s secretary. The wizard has sent me with the hope I might procure your presence at his dinner table tonight.”
Meriwether bowed and then clasped the proffered hand. “It would be an honor.” He plucked at his disheveled suit. “But you must grant me the grace of a few minutes to change my attire.”
“Of course,” Middleton said. “We wouldn’t wish to put your health at risk by having you travel about town in soaked clothes. I shall wait.”
Meriwether ran up the narrow staircase to his room. He would just have to pretend to be fresh enough to listen to Franklin and memorize his witticisms.
After undressing, he was not surprised to find he was soaked to his smallclothes. Fortunately he had traveled with two other suits of clothes, one a buckskin shirt and pants, with matching rugged boots, fit to go clambering around the wilds near the Mississippi River, as he’d expected to do. The other, a respectable set of evening attire, much like the one Middleton wore.
He changed quickly into the suit, but picked up the overcoat he’d brought for more adventurous work. Though perhaps not as presentable, it would keep him warm in the freezing night outside, and the wizard had seen with his own eyes how Meriwether had ruined his more presentable overcoat.
Returning to the common room, he joined the manservant, who briskly led him through the darkened streets of St. Louis. “I’m afraid we must walk, sir,” Middleton said apologetically. “Mr. Franklin’s carriage…”
“Indeed, I was present when it…ah…became incapacitated.”
“Mr. Franklin has described how you helped rescue his horses, though one of them has not been returned to him yet. He suggests he might put the word out that the beast is infused with a magical spell that will kill anyone who has acquired it illegally.”
Meriwether hesitated, deciding how to phrase his question. “And…does it?”
The manservant shook his head. “I’m afraid not, sir, but people believe Mr. Franklin can do practically anything, and so he often makes use of their superstitions rather than his own powers of magic. Magic is not the working of miracles with no cost and no limit, despite what the public believes, and therefore he enjoys making fun of such fancies. His horses are a matched pair, and he would very much like the missing one returned to him.”
“I see.” The opening presented himself. Lewis asked, “Speaking of the cost of magic, I trust Mr. Franklin was undaunted by the use of force he hurled against the dragon? And that no mishap has come to him?”
“Oh, my master is very well indeed. He collapsed, as often happens when he expends so much magic at once, but it is nothing to worry about. After half an hour of recovery, he’s as well as may be. He was in the house and planning his dinner with you in no time. He sent me to you straightaway.”
“If it’s not an imposition…How did Mr. Franklin find me? Was it some sort of identification spell?”
The servant continued to stroll along at a brisk pace. “Oh, he sent several of us from the house to enquire at the plaza. It wasn’t difficult to learn you were the out-of-town gentleman staying at Chez Marie Bayard’s, and in turn I ran to your lodging. I’d only just arrived when you came into the common room yourself, sir.”
From these points of information, Meriwether decided that he must have been unconscious for more than an hour, unusually long considering he had suffered no direct injury. He also decided that, even though guided by his newfound friends, he must have walked to the inn slowly indeed, or perhaps by a very roundabout way.
They reached a very large house, and Meriwether paused to drink in the details. Other than its size, the house looked as raw and newly built as the others around it, but it was lit with a warm and dazzling glow that suggested every chandelier in the place must be lit. Meriwether realized it must be a wealthy house, or Franklin himself was paying the enormous expense for the candles. Just how rich was the most prominent wizard in the American territories?
As they approached, a liveried servant opened the door. He was as well dressed and as well mannered as any at Monticello. Another servant rushed forward to divest Meriwether of his coat as soon as he stepped through the door. “No hat, sir?”
Meriwether touched his head. “I lost it in the tussle with the dragon.” Alas, it was his only hat.
Several more men in livery bowed, and conducted him past exquisitely appointed drawing rooms to a dining room that he imagined rivaled anything in the richest houses in lost Europe. The dining table alone, set with numerous candelabra each blazing with multiple candles, could have seated fifty people without crowding.
Now, though, the table sat a single man dressed in bright green velvet. He filled a chair at the far end of the table, but the numerous candles shed enough light to clearly illuminate the neat, longish white hair and the wrinkled and smiling face of Ben Franklin, which Meriwether had seen so many times in woodcut and painting.
Stepping into the dining room, he bowed. “Mr. Franklin, it is a pleasure to meet the foremost wizard of our age.”
A chuckle answered him. “I’m sure it is. You did meet me before, Mr. Meriwether, even if we had no time for introductions, as we tried to keep my horses from becoming roasted—for which I thank you. Please come in. I’ve taken the liberty of having a place set for you up here, next to me.” He gestured to his right side, where there were indeed plates and silverware laid out. “Pardon my presumption, but when you get to be nearly a hundred, one no longer wishes to gaze across a vast expanse of table, let alone conduct a conversation by shouting.”
Meriwether hastened to the place prepared for him and sat down. True to legend, Franklin’s gaze was indeed filled with humor, but also acute as he peered through his spectacles.
Unfolding his napkin, and making minute adjustments to his silverware, more to disguise the fact that he was aware of being scrutinized than for any actual purpose, Meriwether said, “It is an honor to be invited to dinner with you, sir. I came to the Government House and joined the crowds there in hopes of catching a glimpse of you. I did not expect—”
Franklin interrupted him with a chuckle. “Neither did I expect to be attacked by a dragon. Life, young man, is a series of surprises, and those of us who survive have to learn to profit from and benefit from them.”
“Yes, sir,” Meriwether said, not sure what else to say.