Modern Magick

Toil and Trouble: 12

Somehow, the Patels were ready for this. Indira had a very good, very stout shield charm up in no time, which absorbed the first wave of the indignant woman's hexery. Jay meanwhile threw a hex of his own in response, a neat, clever piece of magick which would have knocked her out on the spot if it had hit her. Sadly, she proved to have remarkable reflexes, too, and ducked.

Through all of this ruckus, Bill warbled on.

'Come on, Amelia,' said Jay, throwing another hex. 'You know the book isn't yours.'

She made no reply to this, choosing to focus all her attention on the next wave of dark curses.

Hm.

I plucked a sleep-bead from one of my emergency supplies pockets. No use expecting to get her to swallow it; not with hexes, reflexes and a Wand at her disposal. Instead I threw the bead up, blasted it with a shot of energy from my own spangly Wand, and watched in satisfaction as it sprayed the curse-happy woman in the most potent sleep potion our technicians are capable of brewing.

The woman uttered a word I shall not repeat here, cast me a look of utter hatred, and dropped like a stone.

'I need some of those,' said Jay.

Greensleeves was all my joy! sang Bill.

I went over to him at once and patted his pages. 'Bill.'

Greensleeves was my delight!

'Bill! Stop!'

Bill stopped. 'Miss Vesper?'

'The same. We are about to effect your rescue, and it would be preferable if you were a bit quieter. Early modern love songs might be delightful but they do attract more notice than would be desirable.'

'I cannot begin to express the extent of my gratitude,' said Bill. 'I shall consider myself under an obligation to you for the rest of my natural life.'

How long is a book's natural life? Probably much longer than mine. 'You don't like Ancestria Magicka, I take it?'

'If you are referring to these scoundrels who have wrested me from you, then your surmise is correct.'

They did not appear to have mistreated Bill, in fairness to them. He lay atop a particularly plush cushion, his spine perfectly supported. He had an entire table to himself, and they had let him go on singing to his heart's content (though that might have been because he would not oblige them so far as to shut up). He had not been damaged, as far as I could see.

I thought it interesting, and possibly significant, that the woman I had felled had apparently been studying John Wester's journal entries when we had come in. In all the excitement about Bill's unusual composition, we had rather overlooked the contents of his pages; what were they but the ramblings of a robber and a thief? But if Ancestria Magicka thought differently, then I wanted to know why. I busied myself snapping pictures of each of Bill's pages that bore writing (except for Zareen's section). These I sent through to Val. I sent a note with them: Decipher?

Then I scooped up Bill.

'It is good to be with you again,' said Bill, which was sweet of him.

'Sometime you'll have to tell me who Milady Greensleeves is,' I said.

During my hasty camera-session with Bill, Indira had busied herself with searching the outer garments of the sleeping woman. Jay snatched up the notebook she had left upon the table, and leafed speedily through it. He showed me something interesting: Amelia had made an ink sketch of the map at the back of Bill's pages, with annotations.