Page 5 of Unexpected Magic

More water to rinse. Then scrape the animal with the edge of a flattened stick to remove as much water as possible and finally, rub with a dry cloth.

She was on to the final wipe by the time the housekeeper emerged from the quarantine house, followed by the maids. The procession returned to the house, so they must be finished. That was good. In a few minutes, she would be able to take Lightning directly to her new lodgings, then bring Sapphire over.

She settled Lightning and checked again on Polly and Sapphire—they had both fallen asleep, the unicorn in the girl’s arms, the girl curled in the hay with her cheek against the unicorn’s neck.

Good. Delia still had work to do. The housekeeper and her workers had cleaned the building and filled the trough in the loose box with water, but they had not spread fresh hay nor had they fetched the feed the mare would need to produce good milk.

Delia found a handcart and loaded it with hay from the side of the stack, away from the front where the men had been working. Or lounging with a jug if the stable master wasn’t around to clip their ears and send them off to another task.

She was pulling the cart across the courtyard when a loud sound—a crack or a bang—drew her attention to the house. Up on the third floor, a window had suddenly disappeared. It was completely gone, frame and glass. And from the rectangular hole that remained, a stream of stars in rainbow colors cascaded down the side of the building, winking out before they reached the ground.

“Edgar!”

The frustrated shout was in Father’s voice. Did that mean Edgar was responsible for making the window vanish? And for the fall of stars?

Apparently so, for the next shout—more of a wail—was from Edgar. “I can’t help it! Father, I can’t help it!” Another shower of stars punctuated the complaint.

Behind Delia, the deep-toned bell in the stable tower sent out its solemn sound. She turned to look as the chimes repeated, each strike tripping over the echoes of the last. It was noon. In the course of one morning, Nettleford Manor had experienced a string of once-in-generation happenings. A dragon, a unicorn, and a magical awakening. Delia could only hope for no more surprises.

Chapter Three

Chester

Jasper was onescort duty. He was, in fact, the official mage in charge of a contingent of royal guardsmen, and his commission was to travel north to Cheshire, to a place called Nettleford Manor, investigate the rash of unexpected magical happenings centered on that place, and bring back to London a newborn unicorn and its attending maiden.

Hopefully, his duties would not require him to use his uncertain magical skills. It sounded as if Nettleford Manor had enough problems without that.

It was a swift trip. The horses had been trained to trot in enchanted hoof covers, an equine version of royal courier boots. Based on the seven-league boots of legend, both devices extended each pace to five times its natural length, careful experimentation having established that bones and muscles could not tolerate any greater extension.

Still, what would have been a four or five-day trip was accomplished between breakfast and dinner. Indeed, they spent almost as much time at the fourteen stops to change horses as they did on the road.

The trip back would be at normal, human pace, since such fast travel required special training, and they would be bringing with them a newborn foal and a young woman, presumably a non-magic user.

His Grace of Findlater had enchanted the hoof covers, and had also given Jasper a satchel magicked to access the contents of a table in the Findlater kitchens, where food and drink would be placed at regular intervals, and a purse with a similar spell on it to provide money.

“Your first task is to find out what is causing the flurry of incidents at Nettleford Manor, Jasper. Your second and more important task is to convey the unicorn and the lady safely to the queen in London,” the duke had said. All unicorns belonged to the queen. “I have assured the king that you are up to the task. Just don’t use any magic of which you are not certain, and all should be well.”

Jasper had not needed the reminder that his magic was frequently worse than useless, but at least the duke was trusting him with this task.

“Chester is in sight, sir,” said the captain of the guard, as if Jasper did not have eyes. There was the castle, still the administrative center of the county of Cheshire, though the Duke of Pontefract, its master, lived in a more modern townhouse just beyond the castle walls.

Given the hour, Jasper was unsure whether to go to the castle or straight to the townhouse. The castle was the more judicious choice, since he didn’t want the duke thinking he’d assumed a welcome in his grace’s private home. Besides, his guard would no doubt be given hospitality in the castle barracks, so Jasper ordered his cavalcade in that direction.

A man was waiting in the castle courtyard, and hurried up as soon as Jasper rode through the open gateway, saying, “Mr. Thornton?”

“I am he,” Jasper confirmed. “And this is Captain Harewood, who is in command of my guard.”

“I am Thomas Richworth, sir, and I have the honor to be secretary to His Grace the Duke of Chester. His grace hasinstructed me to welcome you and your party to Chester. You and Captain Harewood are invited to dinner, sir, and to stay the night at his grace’s residence. Lieutenant Miller,” here, he waved a hand to his uniformed companion, “will be glad to show your escort to their quarters.”

Grooms came up to take the horses. A couple of footmen picked up Jasper’s luggage from the back of the carriage, and took charge of the captain’s bag. They followed behind when Mr. Richworth conducted the two visitors out of a postern gate and across the road to a fine townhouse.

From the look of it, the dwelling had been built during the period of the Tudor kings. The dukedom was a creation of King Arthur the Second, after the successful conclusion of the succession war with his younger brother Henry, and the Duke of Chester’s coat of arms was carved above the doorway. The device of a lion rampant with a dead unicorn at its feet was quartered with a vicious looking storm cloud over a sheaf of corn on its side.

The final battle with the would-be usurper and his Scottish troops was fought in a corn field and won thanks to one of the king’s loyal followers, a weather mage who called a storm that harried the enemy all the way back to Scotland. The man was named Duke of Pontefract as a reward, and the title had been in his family ever since.

This centuries-old history went through Jasper’s mind as Mr. Richworth ushered them inside, past the doorman and toward a butler who bowed with stately grace and said, “If I might show you to your rooms, sirs, to freshen up. When you are ready, his grace will welcome you to his study for a drink before dinner.”

Jasper and the captain followed the butler up two flights of stairs and along a hall far too grand and well-furnished to ever be called a mere passage. He had become accustomed to such surroundings ever since his uncle had plucked him fromhis parents’ manor to the wealth and elegance of the royal and government circles that were the natural milieu of the Duke of Findlater.