Chapter 23 #3
With Mrs. Midsomer’s attention distracted, Zacharias was freed from the necessity of defending himself. He was putting his liberty to good use, and constructing another spell, when a freezing hand gripped his arm.
It was Lord Burrow. Upon his wet countenance was an expression composed in equal parts of fear, fury and plain discomfort.
“Damn it, Wythe, these are conditions calculated to bring on an inflammation of the lungs if there ever were such,” he shouted.
“Lady Frances will be in such a taking she will not be fit to live with. She has just nursed me through a fever, and found it so tedious she has strictly forbidden my contracting any further illness. Cannot you stop them?”
“That may be within my power,” said Zacharias.
“I have a notion I know what will calm Mrs. Midsomer’s fury.
Miss Gentleman will likely subdue her thunder-creature if Mrs. Midsomer can be persuaded to leave off trying to kill me.
Though I have Damerell to deal with as well, of course, since Rollo Threlfall has got himself involved. ”
Damerell was striding up and down the Cobb, chanting curses of such ancient, complex wickedness as to raise the hair of the assembled thaumaturges.
“Do what you can,” said Lord Burrow urgently. “I have organised the men in a chanting circle to drain that blasted mercreature of her power, but since this is her native environment, her power is replenished faster than we can draw it.”
“But stay!” said Zacharias thoughtfully. “The reason for all this disturbance is that Mrs. Midsomer has been so intemperate as to threaten my life. Does not that show a very creditable loyalty in my friends? I am not sure, after all, that it would be wise to prevail upon them to stop.”
Lord Burrow gave him an incredulous look, but with the advent of the thunder-monster the sea had been thrown into even greater tumult.
The sheets of rain falling unbroken from the sky seemed as though they would cause a second Flood.
The strivings of Mrs. Midsomer and the thunder-monster so infused the place with magic that every wave bore a crest of green foam, every magician was outlined in light and the opaque vault of the sky was a livid green, reflecting the unearthly glow of the battle below.
“Damn your impudence!” said Lord Burrow. “Do you mean to blackmail me at such a time as this?”
“You and Mr. Midsomer both,” said Zacharias.
Midsomer was huddled in a corner, watching his wife and familiar in terror. He looked up at the sound of his name.
“If Providence permits us to survive this calamity, it will behoove me to report an unlawful summoning to the Society,” said Zacharias. “I understand Mr. Midsomer proposes that the Hallett be undertaken. It could be done at the same meeting.”
“We will not survive,” said Midsomer, with a slight improvement in his spirits. “So the point is moot.”
“It strikes me that my report could cause some awkwardness for so well-known a family as the Midsomers,” continued Zacharias.
“My sister Polly would not like it, if that is what you mean,” said Lord Burrow.
“So you will keep quiet about this business of summoning a familiar—a froward familiar at that; you ought to have chosen a more peaceable creature, Geoffrey—you will keep quiet, will you, Wythe, and sort out this business, at a price?”
“I only desire your support at the next Society meeting,” said Zacharias. “I require no more than that you and Mr. Midsomer should vote as I vote, second any nomination I make, and shout down any proposal contrary to my wishes.”
Lord Burrow glowered at him. “And we are to lend our names to any harebrained policy arising from your proposals, I suppose?”
“If you think it right to do so. I hope you will, but my price is your support for the space of one meeting only,” said Zacharias. “For what I intend, a single meeting will suffice.”
A fisherman’s hut close to the shore burst into flames, despite the extreme wetness of the weather. Lord Burrow said:
“If you can stop them, you may have whatever you want, and be damned to you! The Hallett will be withdrawn, and we shall vote on whatever blockheaded reforms you desire.
“It is the sorcerer’s way to gain his point by main force, after all,” he added bitterly. “But you will have to perform your side of the bargain first!”
“It shall be done,” said Zacharias.
Damerell was about to put the finishing touches upon a convoluted curse implicating even the neighbours and casual acquaintances of Mrs. Midsomer’s descendants unto the seventh generation when Zacharias interrupted him.
“Come, man, pull yourself together,” said Zacharias. “There is no need for this. If you are concerned for Rollo there is a simpler way to put a period to the scene, and she will help you recover him, I am sure.”
Damerell stared at him, bemused at having been pulled so suddenly out of his incantation. “What?”
“I have begun the spell, but it requires more work, and I should be grateful for your assistance,” said Zacharias. “We must make it a watertight chantment, else it will be bound to fail—for she is not what anyone would call complaisant.”