Chapter Four #3
The ballroom was nearly empty; only a few mages remained, examining the room for any creatures that might be lurking. Of course, there were also a few guests who had not managed to escape. Bingley carried an older woman with a head wound to a chair.
Near the French doors, a woman’s body was so badly mangled that she surely must be dead.
The stout mage scrutinized her and then shook his head sadly at Darcy.
Two other forms lay unmoving on the other side of the room.
Darcy had done everything he could, but he still experienced the deaths as a failure of his duty as a paladin.
Elizabeth was ministering to a young woman with several gashes across her cheeks.
“Mr. Tomlinson is a healer,” she said, leading the woman to a tall young man who had emerged from one of the surrounding hallways.
Mr. Mayne was kneeling by a man with a livid red bite mark on his face.
Darcy was shocked to recognize their host, Sir William Lucas.
As Darcy was covering one of the bodies with the damaged curtains, Hurst peered around the edge of the ballroom door.
Deciding it was safe, the man strolled into the room as if enjoying a pleasant walk through a garden.
When he started issuing orders to his fellow mages, Darcy turned his back and determined to ignore the man.
When all of the victims had been tended, Darcy sought out Miss Elizabeth. Had anyone examined her for wounds? She was crouched in a corner of the room with her back to him. Had she been hurt? Was she bleeding? Darcy was by her side in three quick strides. “Are you wounded?” he inquired.
Elizabeth said nothing but shook her head. Oh. She stared at a small pile of ashes—the remains of a tengu—on the ballroom floor. “Miss Elizabeth?” he asked as he knelt beside her.
“I killed it,” she said half to herself.
“That was some impressive spell casting,” he agreed.
Her eyes were blazing as she met Darcy’s gaze. “I am not seeking compliments. I wish…I wish I had not killed it.”
“It would have killed someone—perhaps you—if you had not fought it.”
“I know,” she said, sad eyes fixed on the creature. “I know. But I wish it had not been necessary.”
Darcy snorted. “You might as well wish to possess a tiger as a pet.”
Her lips curved upward briefly. “I did want a pet tiger when I was a child.”
Of course she had.
“You did as any hunter would do when faced by a charging tiger,” he said gently.
“I would not wish to kill a tiger either,” she said. “They are only acting on instinct. Perhaps it is the same for goblins.”
More than a little baffled by her objection, Darcy said, “Tigers do not always attack people, but goblins always do—as soon as they appear.”
She met his gaze. “Do you ever wonder why? There is no animal on earth that will always attack the moment it discovers a person, and yet that is the behavior of every goblin that slips through a portal.”
Darcy shrugged. “I always supposed it is their nature.”
“Do you suppose they constantly fight in their world?” she wondered. “That would hardly be conducive to the continuation of the species.”
Darcy had never spent a minute wondering about goblins’ lives before they appeared on Earth.
But surely they lived like any animal: eating, sleeping, procreating.
Now that he considered it, the constant and immediate aggression was rather strange.
But would understanding the creatures’ behavior help to fight them?
“I wish there were another way to stop them…” Elizabeth gazed down again at the pile of ash. This is why women cannot be paladins. They are too tenderhearted. “Has anyone sought a way to prevent goblin attacks without killing the goblins?” she asked.
“I do not recall any research on that subject, but I assume mages have essayed other methods.”
“Darcy!” Bingley approached. “You are uninjured?”
Darcy stood up hastily. “Yes, and you?”
“Fine. Fine.”
Elizabeth had stood as well, but her countenance was alarmingly pale. She stumbled a little as if having trouble finding her balance. Darcy was at her side in the next instant, offering her his arm. “Were you injured?”
She shook her head as if to clear it. “Just a little passing dizziness. A slight case of magical depletion. I am not accustomed to using so much energy so quickly.”
Bingley and Darcy regarded her with alarm.
Magical depletion was not uncommon. The energy to power feats of magic came from the mage’s own body.
Using too much too quickly could cause shock.
Dizziness and fainting were the most common symptoms, but extreme cases of depletion could cause heart seizures, apoplexy, or even death.
Darcy hastened to pull over a chair and insisted that Miss Elizabeth sit while Bingley hurried off to collect some lemonade.
She regarded their activities with some bemusement but downed the whole glass of lemonade in a few swallows. “I thank you, gentlemen,” she said, setting the glass down on a nearby table. “But the situation is not dire. I merely felt lightheaded for a few moments. I am quite well now.”
Darcy frowned at her. “This is why the untrained should not use complex magic. You can easily hurt yourself.”
The young woman rolled her eyes. “I am not untrained—”
“But—”
She interrupted. “Are you claiming that you have never experienced magical depletion?”
Bingley snorted. “You should have seen Darcy at the Academy. Once he fainted right at the dean’s feet—during dinner!” Darcy glared at Bingley, who merely smirked.
A smile played around Miss Elizabeth’s lips, which were—Darcy could not help noticing—the perfect shade of pink. “At the Academy? So you would have been approximately the age I am now.” She shook her head in mock concern. “You can so easily hurt yourself that way.”
She was laughing at him! Darcy started to turn away in disgust, but Bingley interceded with a tug on his arm. “Er…Caroline found her way to a small parlor near the front of the house. She is uninjured.”
Darcy cursed himself. His first thought should have been for his fiancée, but his immediate concern had been for Miss Elizabeth. Caroline would be rightfully furious; there was no chance Hurst would keep it to himself.
“I will speak with her,” Darcy said and hurried from the room.
Caroline was all icy politeness when Darcy found her in the parlor. She gave one-word answers to his inquiries about her well-being and refused to be drawn into a discussion. Darcy escorted her back to the ballroom, where a small knot of mages was discussing the recurring goblin attacks.
“Two attacks at two separate balls. It is difficult to view this as coincidence,” Hurst said.
“I have never heard of two goblin attacks so close together in the same neighborhood,” Bingley agreed. “Although they were vastly different kinds of goblins.”
“Everything about this suggests that a nearby mage has been summoning goblins,” Darcy said.
“And sent them to attack balls?” Elizabeth asked “Toward what end? Many people dislike dancing, but surely nobody detests it that much!”
Darcy and Bingley chuckled, but Hurst gave her a black look.
“Their object could be anything,” Darcy observed. “Disrupting the balls may be an indirect result.”
Random goblins were dangerous, but they struck out indiscriminately. Summoned goblins had a purpose—which was never benign. That made them infinitely more perilous.
“Perhaps they were sent to attack a specific person at the balls?” Elizabeth mused.
Hurst frowned at her. “You were at both of them. Does anyone possess a reason to do you harm?”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “You attended both as well. As did Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, and any number of other people.”
Darcy shook his head. “There are too many possible targets.”
“Perhaps we should focus on who might be capable of doing such magic,” Bingley said slowly.
“There must be an investigation, but nobody here is equipped to perform it,” Darcy said. He turned to Bingley. “If I could use one of Netherfield’s messenger birds, I will send a note to the Convocation tomorrow and request an investigator at once.”
Bingley nodded. “Agreed. There is no time to waste.”