A Matter of Magic by Patricia Wrede Page A

not to take full advantage of a warm, dry, safe place to rest. She grinned again at the thought of Hunch’s probable reaction, and let herself drop into sleep.

    The wagon door opened, and Kim came awake all at once. She gave an instant’s consideration to the possibility of pretending she was still asleep, in hopes of hearing something of interest, then rejected the idea. She’d do better to let them know she was awake, as a sort of expression of good faith. It wouldn’t calm Hunch’s suspicions, but at least it wouldn’t raise any more of them. She opened her eyes and sat up.
    Mairelon had just entered the wagon. He carried a large parcel under one arm and there was a worried crease across his forehead; aside from that, he looked like one of the grand swells Kim had occasionally seen going into the Drury Lane theater. He glanced from Hunch’s dour face to hers. Kim grinned and stretched.
    The worried crease vanished and the corners of Mairelon’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “Wise of you to have gotten some sleep, Kim.”
    “I thought so,” Kim said smugly.
    Hunch snorted and rose stiffly to his feet. He had been sitting beside the door, Kim saw, presumably to block any attempt she might make to leave. “You’re late,” he said to Mairelon.
    “Not as late as I might have been.” The remaining traces of amusement disappeared from Mairelon’s expression. “Are you ready to leave?”
    “Now?” Kim said, startled. She glanced involuntarily at the tiny window in the top of the wagon’s door. There was no sign of an approaching dawn.
    “Now.”
    Hunch looked at Mairelon suspiciously. “There’s three hours yet afore morning,” he pointed out.
    “Yes. And we should be at least two hours gone by then,” Mairelon replied.
    Hunch and Kim were both staring at him. “What ’ave you gone and done now?” Hunch demanded at last.
    Mairelon’s lips set in a grim line. Carefully, he put his parcel down on top of the cupboards. After a moment, he looked up. “I haven’t ‘goneand done’ anything,” he said. “Unfortunately, Andrew isn’t likely to believe that.”
    “You never went off to Grosvenor Square!” Hunch gasped.
    “Give me credit for some sense,” Mairelon replied. “No, I met my esteemed brother outside Renée D’Auber’s.”
    Kim’s eyes widened. Everyone in London, from the Prince of Wales to the poorest mud-lark, knew of Mademoiselle Renée D’Auber. She was the only child of a French wizard who had fled his country during the Terror and an English Countess who had been generally considered to have married beneath her. Mademoiselle D’Auber had kept a foot in both worlds. She was welcomed by all but the most stiff-necked members of the
haut ton.
She kept a select salon attended by magicians, bluestockings, and intelligentsia, and she was rumored to be a dab hand at spell casting herself. There were also whispers that she was personally familiar with some of the less savory elements of London society. The upper classes considered her wild and not altogether respectable; the lower shook their heads in fascinated wonder at the strange ways of foreigners and gentry, and pronounced her too clever by half.
    “You ’adn’t ought to ’ave gone there,” Hunch told Mairelon almost fiercely.
    “Where else was I supposed to get willow root, black alder, vervain, and rue at this hour?” Mairelon retorted irritably.
    “You ain’t a-going to ’ave a chance to use them ’erbs much if word gets out you’re in London.”
    “Renée wouldn’t give me away. And how was I supposed to know Andrew would be there? He never used to like Renée. He shouldn’t even be in town yet; the Season doesn’t start for at least a month!” Mairelon ran a hand through his hair in a distracted manner.
    Hunch opened his mouth, then closed it again. Kim thought he looked more worried and upset than angry, and she filed that away in her mind for later consideration. At last Hunch said, “I’ll be getting