Lord Glass. ‘Is this child a Magician of Hoad, or is this another wild-goose chase?’
‘How could he be a Magician of Hoad?’ asked Heriot’s mother. ‘The Magicians of Hoad are madmen … so empty ofthemselves that something else talks through them. That’s what we hear of Izachel, the King’s Magician.’
Lord Glass saw Heriot glance at her, and read something in his expression.
‘A good point!’ he agreed. ‘Izachel is a Magician, and like most Magicians … he gives mysterious and enlightening utterances … he reads the minds of other men and tells the King what he reads there … but at the same time he’s an idiot in almost every ordinary way, a prophetic doll. Of course, having said that, there are at least two exceptions in our history. The rational Magicians of Hoad. And great blessings they have been to the Kings for whom they worked. Now it is possible, just possible, that Heriot might be a rational Magician. After all, he’s one of your people, and you are like the Orts, the ones you call the Travellers. You are all descended directly from that ancient people, the Gethin, the ones who lived here hundreds of years ago … the ones waiting for us when we first landed here. Now I am a King’s man, and I have to follow all possibilities, no matter how remote. Feo – you have studied the Magicians of Hoad, including Izachel, for years. I need your opinion.’
Dr Feo sat Heriot in front of him, took his wrist, laid cool fingers on his pulse and began to question him about his vision. Had anything like this ever happened to him before? How did he feel afterwards? Did the figure of Cloud appear quite solid or could he see through it? He stared with large, melancholy, hazel eyes deep into Heriot’s own eyes, and then asked him to look into a crystal, to breathe some smoke from leaves, burned in a bowl, and then to watch a silver pendulum swing backwards and forwards.
When the pendulum stopped, Dr Feo turned to Lord Glass.
‘There are some characteristics,’ he said cautiously. ‘There’s certainly a discontinuity in the flow of his awareness … a jump of some kind, as if something else was pushing in on him. Andhe might not know it, but he watches the pendulum and me simultaneously. It’s worth pursuing.’
‘Well, I can’t read what you call awareness but I can read faces,’ said Lord Glass. ‘Jenny, Dr Feo is very excited at the prospect of working with your great-great-nephew.’
Dr Feo smiled politely, and looked at Heriot with a benevolent expression, in which there was a hint of something that was not at all benevolent.
‘What are you going to do about all this?’ cried Heriot’s mother.
Lord Glass gave her a smile that was all his own – sweet and yet without kindness.
‘We’re merely messengers, my dear,’ he said, ‘sent to convey Hoad’s interest …’ Lord Glass hesitated, ‘and Dr Feo has just told us your boy is worthy of the King’s interest. Apparently he is very promising.’
‘For what, my Lord?’ asked Heriot’s mother, the very question Heriot was secretly asking too.
‘Who can say, my dear? But do not take a sombre view of things.’ Lord Glass waved his hand, then, drawing off his gloves, he poured wine for himself and Dr Feo, from the family bottles displayed, along with goblets, on a long shelf, choosing to drink from the most elegant goblet. ‘Now be honest … er … Anna, is it? … May I call you Anna? … Ask yourself what there is for anyone with his apparent talents here. Country life is wholesome and charming in its way … but it is limited. Mind, I’m not criticising, but I believe he will come to be grateful to the chance that takes him to Diamond.’
‘Well,’ said Great-Great-Aunt Jen, ‘you still owe us some explanation, my Lord. Why take him? We’re not under obligation. We’re not at war.’
‘Come now, Jenny,’ Lord Glass said, holding his goblet up and looking at her over the top of it. ‘Think of El-El, orZazareel,
‘How could he be a Magician of Hoad?’ asked Heriot’s mother. ‘The Magicians of Hoad are madmen … so empty ofthemselves that something else talks through them. That’s what we hear of Izachel, the King’s Magician.’
Lord Glass saw Heriot glance at her, and read something in his expression.
‘A good point!’ he agreed. ‘Izachel is a Magician, and like most Magicians … he gives mysterious and enlightening utterances … he reads the minds of other men and tells the King what he reads there … but at the same time he’s an idiot in almost every ordinary way, a prophetic doll. Of course, having said that, there are at least two exceptions in our history. The rational Magicians of Hoad. And great blessings they have been to the Kings for whom they worked. Now it is possible, just possible, that Heriot might be a rational Magician. After all, he’s one of your people, and you are like the Orts, the ones you call the Travellers. You are all descended directly from that ancient people, the Gethin, the ones who lived here hundreds of years ago … the ones waiting for us when we first landed here. Now I am a King’s man, and I have to follow all possibilities, no matter how remote. Feo – you have studied the Magicians of Hoad, including Izachel, for years. I need your opinion.’
Dr Feo sat Heriot in front of him, took his wrist, laid cool fingers on his pulse and began to question him about his vision. Had anything like this ever happened to him before? How did he feel afterwards? Did the figure of Cloud appear quite solid or could he see through it? He stared with large, melancholy, hazel eyes deep into Heriot’s own eyes, and then asked him to look into a crystal, to breathe some smoke from leaves, burned in a bowl, and then to watch a silver pendulum swing backwards and forwards.
When the pendulum stopped, Dr Feo turned to Lord Glass.
‘There are some characteristics,’ he said cautiously. ‘There’s certainly a discontinuity in the flow of his awareness … a jump of some kind, as if something else was pushing in on him. Andhe might not know it, but he watches the pendulum and me simultaneously. It’s worth pursuing.’
‘Well, I can’t read what you call awareness but I can read faces,’ said Lord Glass. ‘Jenny, Dr Feo is very excited at the prospect of working with your great-great-nephew.’
Dr Feo smiled politely, and looked at Heriot with a benevolent expression, in which there was a hint of something that was not at all benevolent.
‘What are you going to do about all this?’ cried Heriot’s mother.
Lord Glass gave her a smile that was all his own – sweet and yet without kindness.
‘We’re merely messengers, my dear,’ he said, ‘sent to convey Hoad’s interest …’ Lord Glass hesitated, ‘and Dr Feo has just told us your boy is worthy of the King’s interest. Apparently he is very promising.’
‘For what, my Lord?’ asked Heriot’s mother, the very question Heriot was secretly asking too.
‘Who can say, my dear? But do not take a sombre view of things.’ Lord Glass waved his hand, then, drawing off his gloves, he poured wine for himself and Dr Feo, from the family bottles displayed, along with goblets, on a long shelf, choosing to drink from the most elegant goblet. ‘Now be honest … er … Anna, is it? … May I call you Anna? … Ask yourself what there is for anyone with his apparent talents here. Country life is wholesome and charming in its way … but it is limited. Mind, I’m not criticising, but I believe he will come to be grateful to the chance that takes him to Diamond.’
‘Well,’ said Great-Great-Aunt Jen, ‘you still owe us some explanation, my Lord. Why take him? We’re not under obligation. We’re not at war.’
‘Come now, Jenny,’ Lord Glass said, holding his goblet up and looking at her over the top of it. ‘Think of El-El, orZazareel,
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