Page 21 of Unexpected Magic

Oh dear. When would she learn to think before speaking? Now Mr. Thornton would know that she was a hopeless country girl, without a scrap of sophistication.

And while she knew such an elegant gentleman would never look at the likes of her, and that she was committed to the unicorn and couldn’t respond even if he did show an interest, she still didn’t want him to condemn her as hopelessly rural and ignorant.

*

Miss Nettleford wasa darling—her manners and way of speaking so honest and natural. She was the complete antithesis of the Society beauties who hovered around Jasper whenever he attended a social event, particularly during the London Season.

Perhaps they, too, were nice girls under the artificial mannerisms they’d been trained to display. A potential husband could not know what a young lady’s real nature was until after the ring was on the bride’s finger and the vows were said.

Not that any of them showed more than an academic interest in saying such vows with him. Everyone in London Society knew he was a disappointment to the Duke of Findlater. Having the strongest gift for magic in his generation of the family had made him the heir presumptive. Failing to learn how to control that gift might lose it for him again. These facts were well known. No ambitious lady would join her destiny to his, and if any thought to do so, their mothers would soon dissuade them.

Mind you, his gift had been far more useful since he entered the orbit of the catalyst. Unfortunately, the greater reliability was the only effect. Whereas others noticed an increase in magic, he stayed the same, probably because he was as deeply flawed as the more pessimistic of his mentors had always insisted.

Perhaps the best he could hope was that, if he stayed close to Miss Nettleford, he would finally manage to release the pressure that continued to build within him—release it and not blow himself, the castle, and half the countryside to smithereens in the process.

He went from the meeting with Miss Nettleford to one with his Uncle Percy—a much less pleasant prospect. The catalyst and the castellan of the castle had entirely different effects on him.

Miss Nettleford made him feel calmer and more capable. He hadn’t missed the glances that hinted she admired him. He reminded himself that she had met very few mages—very few men, in fact—but it was still nice to be looked up to.

Every conversation with Uncle Percy, on the other hand, was a trial, and today was to be no exception.

“I do not see how your discerner can be so certain that this little copper box was the source of the problem,” he objected. “Perhaps it was just an object that fell into the stream that is the source of the water, and the emanations your discerner sensed came from the water.”

“Are you suggesting, my lord, that the water itself has somehow been hexed at its source, deep under the hills?” Jasper was doing his best to sound politely interested in Uncle Percy’s theory. Even as he spoke, he could tell he was failing the endeavor. The words came out with a sarcastic overtone that had Uncle Percy bristling.

“And why not? That is no less likely than a hex that magically appears in a well within a cellar that is guarded against both physical and magical intrusion.” Uncle Percy finished with a loud “Ha!” It was more an indignant puff of air than a word.

As for the theory that the copper box was just an innocent object and the water itself was the problem, Jasper contemplated mentioning the dampening effects of hundreds of yards of rock and soil. No magic could be sent through such a barrier.

He decided not to waste his breath. Uncle Percy did not stop to listen, in any case, but continued coming up with ever more fanciful explanations that, in sum, sought to negate every bit of evidence that the hex was the result of enemy action, and even that the hex existed at all.

Indeed, the man was so keen to discredit Jasper’s investigations that Jasper’s vague disquiet with his patron’s brother was fast coalescing into outright suspicion. But why would Lord Percival Thornton work with the French? It defied all reason.

Nonetheless, he was glad his magic was stable enough that he could send both the hexed copper box and his report on his investigation by translocation directly to the College of Mages without letting Uncle Percy or his staff know.

*

After he leftUncle Percy, Jasper headed for his study to set up the translocation spell. On his way, he was stopped repeatedly by people who wanted to know if the egg had hatched, and if so, what the creature was.

He changed his direction. “Tell those who are off duty that I will make an announcement in the great hall,” he said.

Odd. Uncle Percy had not asked about the egg. Could it be that he had inside knowledge? A scryer, perhaps? But no. The nuns with Sister Louise all had mage-gifts of one kind or another, and would have their own privacy and that of their charges well protected. It would not be one of the nuns. Perhaps a maid?

Or perhaps it was just that the man was totally self-centered. The nature of the egg’s occupant didn’t affect him, so therefore it didn’t interest him. Still, Jasper would mention his concerns to Sister Louise.

He allowed the crowd in the hall a few minutes to swell, as word spread that the egg had hatched and that Jasper knew what it was. Those who weren’t there after he was ready to speak would just have to learn the news from others.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, after the noise of speculating and excited conversation had risen to an almost unbearable level, “This morning I heard from Miss Nettleford that we have a new arrival. She is a little girl, as we suspected, and she is also…” he paused for dramatic effect, and then finished, “A sphinx.”

There were cheers from about a quarter of those gathered, and groans from the rest, and as Jasper left, money was changing hands. Jasper, who had placed a modest bet on the baby being a sphinx, was a few pounds richer himself, or would be when he collected on his debts.

At the moment, though, his focus was on reporting to the Duke of Findlater and to his mentor at the College of Mages. The hex bothered him more than he could easily say. Something in him that worked outside of—or perhaps ahead of—reason was convinced they had a traitor in their midst. Beyond that, he was certain that their troubles were not over yet.

In his report, he did not dwell on these nagging feelings, but stuck to the facts. The copper box with the hex on it could not have arrived in the well without being put there. It was found in the well. He had already reported on the search, what they’d found, what the discerner had seen—but he summarized those facts, too. Both the duke and the Lady Enchanter who was the College Dean read dozens of reports in a typical week, and it was courteous to assume they didn’t want spend their time reading older documents to get the whole picture.

The recommendations part of the report was harder than all the rest. Protect the catalyst. That was, in the briefest and starkest of terms, his mission.

In the end, he was satisfied with what he had written. He set the translocation spell and reached out with his mind for the destination location. Darkness. A hard wall. He reeled back, his head throbbing. Something—or someone—was blocking his spell.