On the taxi ride from the Professor's house they talked of magic. Mrs. Macready muttered, "I wish I could pull Ludovico out of my pocket. That man could give a lecture at the drop of a hat. This is more in his line."
However, she did her best. "The universe as witches know it is a union of energy, matter and idea. Everything has its own resonance. This is what witches with Witch's Sight can see. When symbols are brought together, as in a spell, they create a pattern of resonances. The interaction between this and the resonances of objects causes magical events to happen. You see, your physics is fine in dealing with the interactions of energy and matter, but it leaves out thought, thought as encapsulated in words and visual symbols.
"There is a basic vocabulary of words in spells. The words can also be represented by visual symbols. There really aren't all that many of them, about two hundred. They aren't English words, of course. Witches don't actually have to say them aloud; it is enough to think them clearly. You might think that two hundred symbols wouldn't get you very far in creating complex effects, but one of the wonderful things about magic spells is that a spell can be represented by a single symbol which can then, in turn, be incorporated into other spells. In this way you can create complex and powerful spells. Spells, of course, also need names and other ways to refer to specific objects."
"That's marvelous," said Denis a little dubiously. "But when you explain it, magic sounds like algebra. It's all so cut-and-dried. The mystery, the fantasy, seems to be gone from it."
"Well, I apologize on behalf of the universe, then," replied Mrs. Macready curtly. She knew Denis had a point though. Performing magic daily was mundane and practical, like putting the tea kettle on the stove in the morning. Was this a legacy of her education at Gladhearts? There she had so much rote knowledge jammed into her brain, so many exams to write, that she was forced into taking a practical view of magic.
Mrs. Macready recalled with sudden vividness the girl named Livia who was in her first year class at Gladhearts. Livia had the Sight to a strong degree. She told then twelve-year-old Mrs. Macready that she could see ghostly shimmering images around objects. Her family thought she was unusually sensitive to nature and landscape because she could sit for hours looking at a brook or a garden but what she saw was the ceaseless play of auras around living creatures and plants. Even more fascinating was the interaction between auras. She saw these as patterns of light, like three-dimensional ripples in space. She told Mrs. Macready that she could sometimes hear the patterns, almost like music. She discovered that saying words of magic was like plunging your hand into a pond and observing the ripples. Hearing her filled Mrs. Macready with a feeling of awe, and the awareness of mysterious powers in the universe. What had happened to Livia? With a pang of guilt Mrs. Macready realized that she had lost track of the girl in their later years at Gladhearts. Had she finished school at all? Like any child who was different from her peers she was the target of ridicule and shunned.
Perhaps Gladhearts was no different from other schools but in Mrs. Macready's mind it was especially guilty of fostering conformity. Mrs. Macready remembered that she and her closest friends were also considered outsiders or eccentrics and treated with suspicion by professors and students.
Mrs. Macready was set to continue. "Now, you've probably wondered where the energy for magical events comes from. After all, there has to be a source of energy for every action, magical or not. Magic harnesses energy that--."
"I believe I've heard enough theory for now," Denis remarked. "In my experience this sort of stuff is always followed by a set of problems requiring calculus."
Young people, Mrs. Macready thought. Would they ever amount to anything?
"But what was that Ludovico said about you dropping out of magic? I find that hard to believe."
"That's what I did. Shortly after the birth of Ian, Gerald asked me to be an ordinary housewife and a mother. It wasn't possible to practice magic regularly then. I happily gave it up and had no regrets. I wasn't being asked to give up magic entirely; I knew I would go back to it at the right time."
It was strange, she thought. You would think that these transitions in life would be more dramatic, that there would be more emotion expended on them, but for her that wasn't the case. She felt confident that it was a step in the right direction. Just as quietly and as surely, when Ian did not need to be watched over, she had decided it was time to return to a career in magic. There was only a little anxiety felt on both occasions but she was surprised how quickly she had settled in. The main problem, as she recalled, was having to buy a new wardrobe.
"I still find it hard to believe," Denis said, shaking his head, "after all those years of schooling."
"People do crazy things for love, don't they?" Mrs. Macready laughed.
"I'm sure I wouldn't know," Denis grumbled.
"Oh, ho. Having problems with your love life, is that it?"
"I don't think this is a good time to talk about my love life."
"It's always a good time, Denis. Wouldn't you agree, Professor?"
"Umm, yes."
"Well, if you must know, I just came back from a weekend in the country visiting a very dear girl who I happen to be in love with. It was a total fiasco. Lydia, that's her name, treated me like a child, instead of as a, a—."
"Lover."
"Well, yes. She doesn't take me seriously at all. I would try to engage her in a conversation about meaningful things, like Socialism and the struggle for labor reform, but she kept going off on tangents, about frivolous things, like—."
"Like what?"
"Like aviation. Yes, you see, her father is acquainted with the French aviator Gaston Lamouroux and he dropped in during the weekend. Well, you can imagine he only had eyes for Lydia and she had no time for me after that. He monopolized every dance with her! Not that I can dance, but—."
"Denis, we could listen to you all afternoon but I'm afraid we've arrived at the Professor's hotel." Prof. Kirke thought he had better stay at a hotel for the night as his house was not really fit for habitation. That is, if it hadn't burned down.
"I'll have a crew of magicians sent from the Ministry to fix the mess," Mrs. Macready promised him.
"Young man," the Professor pronounced, stepping out of the taxi, "I strongly suggest to you that you not waste your life pursuing a romance that is not meant for you. Open your eyes. Perhaps you've been overlooking a love that's been near at hand for some time."
"Now what did he mean by that?" Denis asked himself.
To Mrs. Macready the Professor said, "I think I'll go down to Lincolnshire and spend some time in my house there until my neighbors calm down. They must be alarmed by all the ruckus they've been hearing the last couple of days. Not to mention the fire on the lawn."
"The wolves should realize, if they've been talking to the Brotherhood, that we'll be taking the rings to the Ministry so you won't be in danger any longer."
"I think it best that your people guard the rings or even destroy them. I never wanted to see them used again. I realize that this might fall in with what the White Witch was scheming but I cannot see a wiser course of action at present." The Professor waved farewell to them.
By the time Denis and Mrs. Macready stepped out of the cab the sidewalks were flooded with office workers leaving work. The street was lined with brown brick office buildings. They came to an unremarkable building with the name "South Island Import Export Company" painted on the glass of its front doors.
"We could go through one of the staff entrances, but I thought I would show you the public entrance," Mrs. Macready explained. Inside the tiny, drab lobby were some chairs, an ashtray on a metal pedestal, an umbrella stand, some neglected plants in pots, and a directory on the wall. They passed this without comment and waited for the elevator. "There really is a South Island Import Export Co." said Mrs. Macready. "We even have a warehouse in the dock lands."
Inside the elevator Mrs. Macready waved her hand over the row of well-worn metal buttons for the various floors. Joining the buttons for Basement, Main and Floors One through Eight was a button Denis hadn't observed before, labeled with an unknown symbol. This button seemed to glow as if there was a source of light behind it. He was not surprised when the witch pressed that button. The elevator seemed to drop for a long time.
"Why are you showing me this?" Denis asked. "Are you going to wipe out my memory again?"
"No, that wouldn't be practical. The human mind can take only so much memory manipulation. No, I think you've earned our confidence."
When the elevator doors opened they revealed a scene surreal in its contrast to the shabby office building above ground. They were at one end of an enormous hall, with ceilings high as a church nave, filled with light despite its underground location. Columns massive as tree trunks, cut from some dark green stone veined with white, ostensibly supported the ceiling. The ceiling was a dazzling white, decorated with gilded reliefs of plaster. As the centerpiece of the hall was a fountain with marble statues of mythological figures gamboling amidst the gentle plash of waters.
Everywhere, there was to be seen the familiar Tree of Symbols, whether embroidered on silk banners that hung from the columns; incised in stone; or inlaid in gold. It showed ten circles connected by short lines. On some of the more elaborate diagrams the names of the ten circles were given. Denis couldn't help noticing that the tree was displeasingly asymmetric, as if there was a section missing.
"They are certainly keen on that tree," marveled Denis. "I saw them on the ties of those men back at the Underground station, I mean the men working for your Bureau."
"It's the diagram that Ludovico and I talked about," said Mrs. Macready. "We call it the Tree of Symbols, or Lavoisier's Tree, after the discoverer. The circles represent the Major Symbols, sometimes called the Higher Symbols. When I was a student the textbooks would associate the Higher Symbols with things like virtues—you know, Loyalty, Compassion, Faith, Courage, and so forth. They even tried pretending that the Symbols were like luminous beings available to help us in our need."
"They personified the abstract."
"And there have always been scholars who had obscure theories of how the Symbols were related to one another, and deeper meanings behind them--."
"But you don't think much of that?"
"It's the sort of nonsense that gives magic a bad name. When I was in school and I was surrounded by people who believed in the Ministry version of things, or at least acted as if they did, it was easy enough to go along."
"Then what do the symbols really mean?"
"You remember I mentioned the symbols or words that are used in spells? That make up the magical vocabulary? Well, they naturally form clusters that have similarities with one another and are interrelated, so each of these clusters belongs with one of the Higher Symbols. The Higher Symbols have no direct use in magic. To me, the Symbols and the Tree are just a way of organizing our magical knowledge. They depict the way the universe works. As to their deeper meaning, if they have one, I'm sure I don't know, and no one else does either."
On this floor were wide reception counters and security desks. Denis realized that amongst themselves, witches and wizards dressed in robes, much like those of the Brotherhood of the Enlightened, but the Ministry employees did not wear a uniform color or style. A security guard waved his wand desultorily over Mrs. Macready and motioned for them to continue through.
"You magical folk are certainly keen on secret societies."
"Yes, and on the Continent that is how nations have traditionally been governed. The chief political leaders are initiated into secret societies where they meet the leading wizards of the nation. Between them they work out all the key policies. Parliaments, congresses, cabinets—those are only so much window dressing."
At the end of the hall was a bank of elevators with gleaming brass machinery and clear glass shafts. The height of the entrance hall was such that the elevators could be seen stopping at other floors and discharging their occupants.
"So what do you think?" Mrs. Macready asked.
"It's all very magnificent. It reminds me of the palace of some Renaissance pope, one of those corrupt ones who amassed a fortune and knew how to spend it."
"Yes. It always reminds me how much the Ministry has to lose if its power is undermined."
"You're thinking of the Brotherhood of the Enlightened?"
"Yes, they would be delighted to have the rings as proof of the Ministry's deceptions and cover-ups. I'm sure they've supported Ludovico's work in the past and helped shelter him from the Ministry."
Mrs. Macready wondered how the Brotherhood had found Prof. Kirke's house. Had Dunleavy told them? How did they join up with the wolves? She couldn't see an answer.
Mrs. Macready left Denis in the waiting area and descended to her office.
Back in Dunleavy's office Mrs. Macready handed the porcelain box over to her superior. He handled it with painstaking care, opening it more slowly than he needed to, as if he were savoring a moment of triumph. Mrs. Macready was watching him closely. He had a certain avaricious gleam in his eye, the way that an alcoholic stares at a shot of whiskey. Dunleavy perhaps noticed the attention he was drawing from Mrs. Macready and quickly snapped the lid shut. "Very fine work, Mrs. Macready, very fine."
"You'll be taking it to the Deputy Minister's office?"
"Yes, certainly. All in due time." Dunleavy opened a drawer of his desk, placed the box in and locked the drawer.
Mrs. Macready did not find this last sentence very reassuring.