Chapter 20 #2
THERE was still work to be done, even when the threat of being sacrificed upon the altar of a rival’s ambition hung over one’s head.
Zacharias returned to his study at the end of the day determined to continue his work.
He thought he should make a start on a report to the Society of his audience with the Fairy King, though he felt hardly equal to the task.
He sat chewing on his quill, various anxieties tumbling tiredly about in his head.
He did not yet know what he ought to tell, and what he should withhold. Prunella had not known where Mak Genggang had gone, though she had promised to send a message. If only he could contrive to come to an understanding with Mak Genggang, perhaps—
He had not completed the thought when the window shattered. With an energy Zacharias had not known he still possessed, he vaulted across the room, snatching his staff out of the umbrella stand. But what came through the window was no monster or assassin. It was Mak Genggang.
She had returned to her ordinary size, but retained the bat-wings she had invented to enable her escape from the Society. She fluttered into the room and landed on the floor, folding her wings up behind her.
“Good day, ma’am,” said Zacharias, after a pause.
He could not decide whether to thank her for coming, or upbraid her for ruining his windows. The former would be more politic, of course, but the latter would be such a satisfaction to his feelings. Whether he intended courtesy or reproach, however, he was prevented from continuing by Mak Genggang.
“So much for the soft words of the foreign sorcerer!” she cried, trembling with passion.
“I will say nothing of ingratitude. It is the deception, the cowardly dishonesty in seeking to put a frail old woman off her guard, which is what I cannot endure. You will regret your mistake, however. You will find it is a fool who seeks to impose upon Mak Genggang!”
Zacharias was alarmed by the furious resentment in her voice.
“Mak Genggang—” he began, but she cut him off.
“Do the British think us children, to be daunted by shadows and smoke?” she said.
“We have sought only to live in peace, and you have sent an army into our country. Very well! If you wish us to believe you are ready to attack, we shall take you at your word. We may not be experts in war, but you have not heard, perhaps, of the venom of a woman’s curse.
Our enmity, once earned, survives even death. ”
In the same bitter voice, the matriarch began reciting a curse.
The language was unfamiliar, but the syllables dropping like poison from her lips were pregnant with a tremendous evil power.
The wood of Zacharias’s desk warped and turned black.
A noxious miasma rose from her person, and the floorboards shuddered beneath Zacharias’s feet.
“Ma’am, I beg that you will not be rash,” cried Zacharias. “I assure you, whatever offence has been perpetrated, I have no knowledge of it. I would be very anxious to remedy any wrong committed against your people.”
“You regret your perfidy now that you see the extent of my power, but you ought to have considered it before you betrayed Janda Baik!” snapped Mak Genggang.
“I beg you will believe I have no knowledge of this betrayal,” said Zacharias. “I have been quarrelling with my Government to stay out of the affairs of your island. My first wish is to prevent magical conflict, which would be so detrimental to both our nations.”
“Of course you deny your wickedness,” said Mak Genggang. “The British are all alike—cheats, traitors, villainous blackguards!”
She looked uncertain, however, and Zacharias sought to press his advantage.
“Did not I defend you from my colleagues when they wished to punish you after the Spring Ball? Was it not my apprentice who then freed you from your imprisonment?” he said.
“Till now I was not aware of anything that might endanger the accord between our nations. I would regret anything of the sort extremely.”
“Do you truly not know?” said Mak Genggang, eyeing him with misgiving.
“This evening an attack was mounted upon my women in Janda Baik. They looked to the east, and saw ranks of British soldiers, fearfully armed and ferocious. They looked to the west, and saw British ships lining the harbour, ready to fire broadsides upon their houses. The British demanded that my women surrender and leave the island peaceably, but I am proud to say they took the British representative captive and beat him for his impertinence.”
“Good God!” said Zacharias.
“Oh yes! The women of Janda Baik are not mild. Blood, and not milk, flows in our veins,” said Mak Genggang.
“My women were shot at for their noble response, but that did not deter them. They are not so poor-spirited! They barricaded themselves within their huts and cast spells for truth-telling and the finding of lost objects, until finally the guns were silenced, and they emerged to see the illusions dispelled—no ships, and scarcely any soldiers. My women have captured all ten men, and I believe your soldiers are being taught a salutary lesson. It was foolish of your King to have sent so few to take the witches of Janda Baik, but not nearly so foolish as seeking to overbear my women with trumpery illusions.”
“Our sovereign is no magician,” said Zacharias slowly.
Edgeworth must have found a thaumaturge to provide his knockdown spell. A thaumaturge who required assistance, perhaps; who desired the Government’s prompt attention to a minor matter—the mere adjustment of a provision in the Charter incorporating the Royal Society of Unnatural Philosophers.
But Midsomer had miscalculated badly. He could not have dreamt that this play would result in British subjects being held hostage by a foreign power—a power admittedly small, but confoundedly magical, and now extremely angry.
Why should Midsomer or Edgeworth have suspected that the witches of Janda Baik would see through Midsomer’s illusions?
Neither had seen Mak Genggang amble out of Fairyland as though she were taking an evening stroll, nor felt the virulence of her curse.
But what could have possessed Midsomer to do what was sure to vex the Fairy Court, given its sentiments towards Janda Baik’s lamiae?
Zacharias no longer doubted that Midsomer knew of the block upon England’s magic: if his familiar had not told him, he must have discovered it himself during his sojourn in Fairyland, and he must be aware of the Court’s reason for withholding its magic.
Still, Midsomer had shown himself willing enough to risk the good of the nation in pursuit of his own interest. He had already put at naught the Court’s prohibition on the summoning of familiars, though he knew Fairyland was likely to include the whole of England in its resentment of any offence.
It was the Society’s opinion he cared for, for it was only the Society that could help him to the staff of the Sorcerer Royal.
It would be an unattractive office by the time he came to fill it, but what cared Midsomer for that? Perhaps he believed he might do anything with such a convenient scapegoat as Zacharias to hand.
“I think I know who your enemy is, who has made such trouble for you,” said Zacharias. “I will put a stop to his schemes directly—if you will have the goodness to do me a favour in return.”
Mak Genggang bristled up. “You dare make demands, when your nation has acted so shamefully towards my people? If you think I will grovel to your sovereign, or permit Raja Ahmad to run roughshod over my women—!”
“I think you know, ma’am, that your people have not been altogether just to us,” said Zacharias.
“I am sure I do not know what you mean,” said Mak Genggang. The lie was so transparent Zacharias almost laughed.
“Why did not you tell me our magic had been stopped at your countrywomen’s request?
” he said. “If I had known it before, I could have advised you on how best to make your case to our King. Your enemy might never have had the opportunity to ingratiate himself with our Government—might never have been granted the licence to attack your island.”
Mak Genggang glared. Zacharias answered this with an unflinching gaze, though he was by no means as calm as he hoped he looked.
To his relief, after a moment Mak Genggang said pettishly:
“It is hardly to the purpose to lament your ignorance now! I did not know anything of it myself till my women told me of the attack. It was only then that they confessed they had been inciting the spirits against the British. They feared they had overreached themselves—that their ploy was discovered, and instead of agreeing to their demands, the English King had responded by this attack. They were reassured when I told them that it was Raja Ahmad’s wicked influence that had moved the British to act against them.
But perhaps I spoke amiss. Perhaps, indeed, the attack was in revenge for my women’s dealings with the spirits? ”
Her dark eyes gleamed with suspicion.
“Perhaps,” said Zacharias. When Mak Genggang looked outraged, he added:
“I do not know for sure. But you must see that your lamiae’s scheme would scarcely have increased my Government’s good will towards you.
I cannot make out why they did not tell you earlier, so that you could convey the message to us.
How could they hope to blackmail Britain if Britain knew nothing of their threat? ”
“Of course they did not tell me,” said Mak Genggang. “I should never have permitted it if I had known what they planned. Such a small nation as ours cannot afford to offend others, and nothing would be likelier to bring the wrath of the British down upon our heads than stopping their magic.”
“Did they tell no one, then?”
Mak Genggang eyed Zacharias, as if she were wondering how much he knew, and considering how much she could tell him. Finally she said: