CHAPTER 58

A DECISION DEFERRED

On the morning of the day when Na-Barno Eagle (the self-styled Great Wizard of the South) was due to have his long-awaited and much-advertised contest with his arch-rival Anderson (the likewise self-styled Great Wizard of the North) Lucy woke late with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She lay with her eyes closed, listening to the sound of the showmen all around her getting their attractions ready for the holiday crowds, and tried to think why she should be feeling such a strong urge to run. She had certainly been feeling too happy and secure travelling with the Pyefinches, and having overheard them the night before last she was more than suspicious about their motives for being so kind and accommodating. Rose in particular seemed able to fire the most innocent-seeming yet pointed questions at her when she was off her guard, and Charlie definitely kept an eye on her, even when he thought she wasn’t noticing. But it was more than that: something of what had passed between her and Georgiana on the previous night stayed with her. Although she knew Georgiana was a sharp and calculating girl and had been wary of her, all it had taken was a tearful appearance of vulnerability and the disconcerting warmth and closeness of her body to make Lucy open up so perilously. It was almost as if Georgiana had feigned weakness to pierce her well-placed defences.

And once that thought had occurred to her, she knew it was so: Georgiana was good at reading people and using what she read to manipulate them. Lucy had seen her do that in the mind-reading show, and she had seen her do it around the camp.

The sickness in her stomach was partly disgust at herself for being needy enough to respond to Georgiana’s pretended weakness. She had wanted Georgiana to be something she was not just because she, Lucy, was alone; that the Georgiana sobbing so artlessly in her arms might be a fellow Glint had been enough to make her betray herself. Softness and warmth had undone her.

She opened her eyes and looked at the ceiling.

She was done with softness. She had no need of warmth.

And the only thing that stopped her leaving immediately was the matter of the heart-stone in Georgiana’s possession.

She did not quite want to believe that Charlie had given it to Georgiana. The girl had looked to her left as she had said it, fluttering her eyes in a way that made Lucy think it was a lie. But she wanted to know how she had got it, and why she had lied. So Lucy ignored the voice telling her to run, and run right there and then, and instead remained at the fair for one more fateful night. Her innate curiosity, and something she couldn’t quite put her finger on about the specific stone in Georgiana’s possession, overrode her natural caution. If she ran now, she reasoned, she would never know what it was. If she stayed just one more night, she might be able to put her finger on it–indeed, by the time she had washed her face and gone to find the Pyefinches she had decided to do more than that. She had decided that since Georgiana had no need of the heart-stone ring, and since it was only the third that Lucy had ever seen, she would steal it before she left.

If one heart-stone was good, two would be better, and she would be insured against the frightening possibility that one day she might lose her own.

She rose quickly and rolled her blanket around a small bag of food she had been storing up for this very moment, and then walked out into the pre-dawn and hid them both behind the water butt on the side of the wagon in case she needed to make a fast getaway.

So as the day broke and she hunkered down next to Charlie at the camp-fire and asked for an egg with her bacon, Lucy had already determined to turn thief again, though by the time the day ended, the fruits and object of her larcenous impulse would turn out to be much darker and more perilous than she could possibly have imagined.

The day passed quickly as all fair days did, and she was so busy selling baskets of peppermint rock that she had little chance to do anything but take the money, smile at the customers and shuttle back and forth to Rose Pyefinch for new supplies each time she sold out. Rose thrust a piece of bacon sandwiched between two pieces of crusty bread into her hand at one stage and told her to sit down and take ten minutes’ break, but Lucy smiled it off and said she was much happier eating as she went. Rose watched her dart back into the crowd with the basket crooked in one elbow, the other hand holding the sandwich as she bit chunks out of it, then turned to Charlie who had just come in the other side of the tent, looking for his and his father’s lunch.

“She’s got something on her mind,” said Rose, nodding after Lucy.

“Nothing fresh there then,” said Charlie with a smile. “I think she’s just got that sort of mind.”

“No,” said Rose. “She’s itchy about something new.”

“Think she knows she’s being asked after?” he said.

“Maybe,” she said. “She’s got keen ears as well as sharp eyes.”

“Then maybe we should bundle her before she takes fright and does a runner,” he said.

“We can bundle her any time we like,” said Rose. “That’s not the problem. It’s how we keep the package safe once it’s bundled. Lose the package and no one wins.”

“I thought Pa had that in hand,” said Charlie.

“I do,” said his father, ducking his head under the flap in the tent. “Where’s my sandwich?”

“You got it in hand?” said Rose. “Since when?”

“Since Hobb told me of the tattooed man asking questions in the shadows. I sent word up and down the water,” he replied. “Well, word’s come back. We have friends going east and west after the fair.”

“Maybe that’s it then,” said Rose, looking at Charlie. “Maybe it is soon.”

“She’ll fight like a hellcat,” said Charlie. “I ain’t looking forward to it.”

“Don’t worry about that,” said Rose, tapping her herb bag. “I’ll give her something for it before we do it. She won’t know a thing until they’ve got her miles from here.”

Lucy, while unaware of this conversation, was not so caught up in selling peppermint that she closed her eyes and ears to the other business of the fair: this particular one had a different undercurrent to the others, and it all flowed one way, pulling the talk and the fair-goers towards Huffam’s big top, for it was there that the great “Battle of the Wizards” was due to take place at dusk. It was to be the great finale to the day’s revels, and from the number of people who flowed into the fair grounds, it was clear that the weeks of advertising and playbills which had been distributed ahead of the fair advertising the “magical duel” had done their work well.

She heard people talking excitedly about it, some who remembered Na-Barno’s earlier tours through the area taking his side, others excited by what they had seen or heard of Anderson. Even the clench-faced citizens of the nearby town seemed to loosen up and become a little brighter-eyed at the forthcoming contest, especially as the day progressed and the sales at the beer tents began to have an effect on the general level of cheeriness.

The one strange thing which she noticed at the centre of the fairground was an ancient apple tree heavy with tawny russets glowing gold in the sunlight. What was strange was that each time she passed the tree, the apples were still on it: given it was a fair day and crowds were milling, she would have thought there were enough enterprising young boys to have stripped the thing by midday. Only when she finally got very close did she understand: there were two enormous mastiffs chained to the tree, growling if anyone came too near.

She did not have a chance to talk to Georgiana who was busy selling tickets to the battle. She had come up with the novel scheme of giving away ribbons as well as tickets, all of a yellow colour. She herself was bedecked with them, twined in her ringlets, worn round her neck as a choker, and covering her dress so thickly that it appeared to be made entirely out of yellow bows.

“These ribbons and bows are favours, such as in olden times a fair lady might have worn for her gallant knight!” she cried. “Wear them to show which party you support in the coming contest! And when we win I shall kiss each and every one who wears the yellow!”

She was bright-eyed and at her most beautiful, and Lucy saw young men lining up to buy the tickets and ribbons in droves, and even their female companions, who Lucy would have thought might resent this, were themselves charmed and happy to bedeck themselves in the yellow favours.

By the time the sun had sunk behind the long palisade of willows, which marched across the landscape in company with the distant canal, the crowd pressing to get into Huffam’s big top was so large that an announcement had to be made that due to the excessive interest in the duel, the show would be enacted twice, and only after a tally had been taken from each audience as to who had done better would the announcement be made as to which of the two magicians would henceforth be allowed to style themselves as “Great Wizard of North and South”.

“Two shows?” said Lucy to Georgiana, who was hurrying past as the announcement was made.

“I know,” said Georgiana, leaning in to whisper excitedly in her ear. “Two shows is twice the money. Father is beside himself with pleasure.”

And she skipped off to tempt a group of farm boys who were eyeing her slyly from the shadows.

“Twice the money to be lost and all,” said Charlie from behind Lucy.

“What do you mean?” she said.

“It’s the bet,” he said. “Na-Barno or Anderson, whoever wins the duel, they get to keep the takings. Loser gets nothing and agrees not to call himself wizard of anything. Dad’s shutting up the stall early, special-like. It’ll be a corker! You coming to watch?”

“I don’t know,” said Lucy, knowing she would and that it would be the very last time she saw him or Georgiana again.