And not one of them mentioned the lack of the promised Puck.
And at the moment when they were all milling about “backstage,” waiting for Mem’sab to announce the play, Nan felt a tug on her tunic and turned to find herself staring into those strange, merry green eyes again. This time the boy was wearing a fantastic garment that was a match for those Titania and Oberon were wearing, a rough sleeveless tunic of green stuff and goatskin trousers, with a trail of vine leaves wound carelessly through his tousled red hair.
“How now, pretty maiden, did you doubt me?” he said slyly. “Nay, answer me not, I can scarce blame you. All’s well! Now, mind your cue!”
With a little shove, he sent her in the direction of her entrance mark, and as she stepped out into the mellow light of lanterns and candles, she forgot everything except her lines and how she wanted to say them.
Now, Nan was not exactly an expert when it came to plays. The most she had ever seen was a few snatches of this or that—a Punch and Judy show, a bit of something as she snuck into a music hall, and the one Shakespeare play Mem’sab had taken them all to in London.
But the moment they all got “onstage,” it was clear there was real magic involved. All of them seemed, and sounded, older and a great deal more practiced. Not so much so that it would have been alarming but—certainly—as if they were all well into their teens, rather than being children still. Everything looked convincing, even the papier-mâché donkey’s head. Lines were spoken clearly, with conviction, and the right inflection. Nan and Sarah even made people laugh in all the right places.
And as for Puck—well, he quite stole the show. From the moment he set foot on “stage” it was clear that the play was, in the end, about him.
Yet no one seemed to be in the least put out that he took the play over. Not even Tommy. And perhaps that was the most magical thing of all.
Lovers human and faerie quarreled and reconciled; the rustics put on their silly play with a great deal of shouting and bumbling about. Puck made mischief, then made all right again. The stage lights somehow put out far more illumination than they should have, and the twinkling little fairy lights looked genuinely magical. In fact, there seemed to be a kind of golden, magical haze over it all.
It ended all too soon, with the cast being applauded wildly by an audience on its feet, and all of them—except Puck—carried back bodily by the servants to be treated to a late-evening treat of cakes and ices and tea.
Somewhere, between the folly and the manor, he had vanished again. And no one said a word about his going.
Oh, they remembered him, all right, but no one seemed to find it at all strange that he wasn’t here, sharing in the triumphal treat, basking in the admiration of the servants. As Nan devoured lemon ice and cake with the single-minded hunger of someone who did not eat nearly enough dinner, she found herself in awe of that—
Because it was one thing to work a bit of magic on a couple of people. But Puck had worked a very subtle magic on a great many people; he’d done it flawlessly and invisibly, and in such a way that, as she listened, she realized he had somehow managed to implant in everyone’s mind that the boy who had played Puck was always somewhere on the premises, but in a place other than where the person talking about him was him or herself at that moment.
Out of sheer curiosity, she finally asked Tommy as she got another helping of lemon ice, “Hoy, seen that lad Robin?”
“Went to change out of his costume,” Tommy said around a mouthful of cake. “Said the leaves itched.”
Nan listened with astonishment to the talk going on. No one doubted that it had been him at all those rehearsals, rather than Mem’sab reading his part; memory had been altered, clearly, in everyone except Mem’sab and Nan and Sarah. There were even stories about how he had done this or that in rehearsal! And later that evening, as the servants cheerfully collected costumes and the children prepared for bed, she asked one of the maids where Robin had gone, and was not greatly surprised to hear that, allegedly, his parents had come to collect him at some point while the rest were finishing off the treats.
“Taking the last train back to London,” the maid said cheerfully. “I suppose, a big boy like that, he’s used to staying up late—but it is a pity he couldn’t stay. Still! Your Mem’sab said she didn’t like inviting them to stay without permission of the Master, and that’s only right and proper, since he don’t know them.”
And that seemed to be that.
***
Mem’sab made it a point to come say good night to every child, every night. Sometimes Nan was already asleep by the time Mem’sab got to them, but not tonight. As their mentor entered their little room, Nan was sitting up in bed hugging her knees, Sarah was beside her, and even both birds were still awake and waiting.
Mem’sab held up a hand, forestalling the volley of questions Nan wanted to fire off before they could be launched.
“No, he, didn’t give me any message for you. Yes, that was his ‘glamorie’ at work, and no, I have never seen anything quite like that in my life.” She shook her head. “It was quite amazing. I stood there and watched as peoples’ memories changed, and I could not for a moment tell you how it was done. All I can think is that this is how his kind have protected themselves over the centuries.”
“I thought you said it was wrong to meddle with peoples’ thoughts,” Sarah said, her eyes narrowed.
Mem’sab pursed her lips, and sat down on the bed beside them. “I still think it is wrong—but it would be a greater wrong, and very dangerous for Robin, to have left their memories alone.” She grimaced. “Even I have meddled, now and again. Sometimes you have to balance wrong against wrong and choose the one that does the least harm.” She patted Sarah’s hand, as Sarah looked very troubled. “It’s a hard lesson that you learn, growing up, that you can’t always answer ‘yes’ or ’no,‘ that something is entirely right or entirely wrong. Most of the time the answer is somewhere in the middle.”
“You think we’ll see ‘im again, Mem’sab?” Nan asked softly, hoping that the answer was going to be “yes.”
“I don’t know,” came the reply.
And with that unsatisfying answer, she had to be content. That—and their own, unchanged memories.
10
DAVID Alderscroft had no intention of having any more to do with the Harton School or Frederick Harton. While the man did have a high level of native intelligence, and while he did not have the advantages of a public school education and had clearly worked hard to rise above his plebian origins, he was still, when it came down to the matter, common. He was certainly not in David’s social set. While David considered himself to be free of snobbery, he also regarded himself as a practical man, and practically speaking there was nothing that a man like Frederick Harton and one such as himself could possibly have as mutual interests.
Nevertheless, he decided that it behooved him to do some investigation of the man. After all, frauds abounded in psychical circles, and it was wise to make sure that Harton was not of that ilk. The man’s insinuations that someone among the Elemental Mages of London could be ultimately responsible for the attacks on his charges had been subtle, but exceedingly unwelcome, especially since such insinuations implied that David did not know enough about the Elemental Mages around him to be able to completely refute such a charge. And since when was he supposed to be responsible for the actions of all the Elemental Mages in this part of the world anyway? Wasn’t that like implying that Frederick Harton was equally responsible for the actions of all the psychical Talents in the city?