May 1817
The following morning, Childermass taught Segundus a new spell. The spell had no name; or, if it did, Childermass either didn't know it or didn't share it. It allowed them to take on the appearance of shadows so that they might go about their business unnoticed.
"Only if we are not observed by anyone with a keen eye," Childermass said with a half-smile.
Segundus was barely listening; he was quite taken up with delight at the thought of some new magic to perform. He whispered the incantation without any further ado, and a sense of magic settled over the room like a thin layer of dust. It clung to every surface, and he felt the need to move cautiously lest he disturb it. His vision blurred and his head swam, and he closed his eyes tight until he felt stable again.
When he opened his eyes once more, the world was changed. Gone were the vibrant colors of the paintings and the flowers outside; gone was the warm rich tone of the wood panelling. The world— or perhaps Segundus— had been dipped in shadow, and only grey in delicately varied hues remained.
"How marvellous," he said— or tried to. His voice sounded like the faintest whisper of wind.
Childermass smiled somewhat to the left of Segundus. "Ending the spell is simple. Whenever you're ready, will yourself to become solid again."
Segundus was not ready to end the spell. He tiptoed around the room, delighting in the new sensations that movement brought him. He felt as light on his feet as his old dancing-master could have wished, and far more nimble than he had ever been. It almost felt as if he were underwater, though without all the sluggishness often associated with that condition. Maybe the very air buoyed him, or maybe a thousand tiny threads of magic lifted him so he was on the verge of taking flight. He spun about and laughed. Childermass's eyes followed him approximately, and Segundus got an idea. He reached out a shadowy hand to touch Childermass's shoulder.
How curious! Though Segundus could plainly see his own shadow fall upon Childermass, there was no sensation of pressure, no indication that he might be touching something. He felt the faintest suggestion of warmth, but that was it. Mildly unsettled, Segundus willed himself back to solidity.
"A useful spell, to be sure," Childermass said as the colors returned. "But you must take care to stand where shadows fall naturally, else you'll be spotted. Shall we have breakfast?"
Segundus blinked at the abrupt topic shift. "I suppose we ought to," he said. "And we should see Vinculus and Brandon settled."
Childermass's expression darkened at the mention of Brandon. "I still do not like him."
"Do you want to send him away?" Segundus asked as he straightened his clothing. The hems of his sleeves were fraying again, he noticed. He made a mental note to turn them when he could spare the time.
Childermass paused in the act of adjusting his necktie. "No," he said reluctantly. "He did help us translate a spell yesterday, and without Pale's work. That's the fifth so far, you know."
Segundus did know; ever since the reformed Learned Society of York Magicians had translated the first word (a feat in which Segundus was proud to say he had a small part), he had followed the efforts at reading the King's Letters with great anticipation. "I suppose you shall have to tolerate him for the time being."
Childermass sighed. "Aye."
A few minutes later, they went down for breakfast, which was a quiet affair. Neither Vinculus nor Brandon were present; Childermass appeared half-relieved and half-agitated. Segundus, for his part, was too excited at the prospect of turning himself into a shadow once more to care much about their wayward companions.
For that was the plan, Childermass explained over toast and eggs. Maggie had not given them a location for Hastings more specific than near the church, so they would lurk nearby until the service was over and the congregation left.
"How very fortunate that today is Sunday," Segundus said. "What would you have done if it were any other day?"
Childermass shrugged. "Something else, I wager."
Segundus shot him a look that he hoped conveyed the depths of his exasperation, but Childermass didn't seem to notice.
They finished their breakfast shortly after and, once Childermass had ascertained that Vinculus was still safely in his room, made their way to the church at the edge of town. There could be no confusion about which church Hastings lived near, because Duffield only had the one. It was moderately-sized and well-built, with a small copse of trees on one side and a cemetery that stretched out behind it.
"What if he is not there?" Segundus asked as they approached. "What if he is sick or not the churchgoing type?"
"Then we shall have to arrange a meeting another way," said Childermass. "But let us worry about that when the need arises, and not before." He led Segundus into the copse of trees and checked his pocket-watch. "The sermon should be finished soon, by my estimation, unless the reverend is a man of many words." After glancing about to check that they were not being observed, Childermass muttered a spell.
Segundus could have sworn he felt a strong breeze smelling of lavender tug at his clothes and his hair, but the trees and grass around them seemed unaffected. When he looked back at Childermass, all that stood in his place was a dark shadow. Segundus eyed the shadow critically. "It is not a very bright day," he said. "We will have to position ourselves very carefully to avoid notice."
A sense of agreement (and mild impatience) radiated from the shadow.
Segundus wasted no more time before casting the spell. He grew dizzy, then light. Despite the solemnity of their mission, he could not help but grin (rather foolishly, he was sure) as the magic took hold. He turned to Childermass. Much to his surprise, he could see both the man and the shadow that disguised him. It was a curious sensation. Childermass appeared flat and insubstantial, like a watercolor portrait that had been painted through some artifice on a grey mist. Even so, Segundus could make out the rough edges of his features, which were arranged in a familiar half-smile. "Is this how shadows see each other?" Segundus asked— though once again, his voice was no louder than a whispering breeze.
Childermass seemed to get the gist of the question, though. His smile broadened. You have a very romantic view of shadows, sir. Childermass's mouth moved, but the words did not come from his lips; the rustling of leaves and the dappled light on the ground conveyed his message.
This effect was so strange that a hundred questions sprang to Segundus's mind. Was this the usual manner in which shadows communicated? Could he then communicate with shadows if only he knew the languages of leaves and sunlight? What did he look like in his veil of shadow (he did not want to appear vain, but he knew that he and Childermass perceived magic quite differently, despite their shared sensitivity)? But before he had a chance to ask any of these questions, the church-doors opened and the congregation spilled forth. Segundus positioned himself next to an oak tree near the doors, Childermass close by, and trained his ears on any scraps of conversation they might pick out.
Much of what he overheard was mundane; women asked one another about their families, and men asked one another about their businesses. There was talk of groceries and furniture, of fishing and harvesting, of whose daughter had fallen in love with whose son and whose nephew had jilted whose niece. It was, in short, talk of all the various articles and yarns with which people wove the irregular tapestries of their lives.
Segundus rather enjoyed listening to that sort of talk. It reminded him pleasantly of his time in the Honeyfoots' society, when Mr. and Mrs. Honeyfoot would gossip in the kindest manner with each other and with him, and their three daughters would sing together while the eldest played the pianoforte. It induced an odd feeling in him— a sort of pang in his chest. He rubbed absently at his ribs and wondered if the eggs he had eaten earlier had gone off.
Just when Segundus could sense Childermass's growing impatience, he caught sight of Ainsworth, dressed in a neat if well-worn suit, walking very close to a short, stocky man who gripped his old-fashioned hat in strong fingers. Childermass must have noticed the same pair, for he grew quietly intent. (In the back of his mind, Segundus wondered if his increased awareness of Childermass's emotional state was a side effect of the spell or a consequence of their increasingly intimate acquaintance.) They could not be certain the stocky man was Hastings, Segundus told himself to quiet the excitement that rose to his throat. He could be the third man Maggie mentioned, or someone unconnected to the Johannites entirely. Somehow, though, Segundus doubted it.
Ainsworth and the other man made their way down the lane that led to the church. Fortunately, they were nearly the last people to leave, so Segundus and Childermass did not have to wait long before the church-doors were shut and the crowd of church-goers' backs were turned. They slipped down the lane, silent as rippling shadow and dappled light.
They did not have far to go; the unknown man and Ainsworth paused outside one of the apartment buildings that lined the street. After a brief conversation which ended in Ainsworth growing visibly agitated and the other man's face setting in hard, angry lines, they parted. Ainsworth stormed off in the direction of Yew Tree Farm, and the man rubbed a hand over his face and through his dark hair and let himself inside.
With a jerk of the head, Childermass led Segundus some distance away from the apartment and into a narrow alley. There, one after the other, they dropped their disguises and made their way in a more mundane manner back to the home of Ainsworth's unknown companion.
Childermass rapped sharply upon the door, which opened a few moments later to reveal the unknown man. "Mr. Hastings?" Childermass asked.
The man's face took on an expression that reminded Segundus of a door slamming shut. "Aye," he said. "And I suppose you're the fellows what harassed my good friend in his place of work."
Childermass raised an eyebrow. "We asked him a few questions, after he agreed to be interviewed."
"He said you asked him if he was a Johannite!" said Hastings. "Hardly a harmless question."
"Yes, and he confessed to being one. We have it on very good authority that you are as well."
A look of doubt crossed Hastings's face. He did not invite them in, but neither did he slam the door in their face, which Segundus counted as a point in their favor.
"Mr. Hastings, I believe we have gotten off on the wrong foot," Segundus interjected. "As I am sure you are aware, I am Mr. Segundus and this is my colleague Mr. Childermass. We do not represent the militia or the law. We only want to talk to you about the Johannite rebellion."
"Oh, aye?" Hastings looked them up and down. "And what do you plan on doing with whatever information I might tell you?"
"Nothing," Segundus said. "We have no interest in reporting you to the authorities or seeing you punished." Childermass shot him a warning look, and he held his tongue. Even so, he thought it was rather unfair. He had not said anything amiss, had he?
"I'm sure you think you have good reasons for your rebellion," said Childermass. "As I told your friend, I am sympathetic to your cause. I too count myself a servant of the Raven King, and I admit I would not mind seeing him on the throne. But this is not the way to go about it, sir."
"Are you so sure I'm a Johannite?"
"I am," Childermass said. "My source is very reliable."
"Well then, I suppose you'd better say what you came here to say, and then we can both be about it."
"Very well. May we come in?"
Hastings folded his arms. "You may not."
"Alright, if you want to do this outside where anyone may hear us, on your own head be it. Rebellion is dangerous and foolish, but I expect you already know that."
"You expect right."
"More importantly, it's not the way to get what you want." Childermass leaned in close. Segundus expected Hastings to take a step back, but he held his ground. "Public opinion is not with you. People don't want a rebellion right now, so soon after the war."
"Then you have no cause for concern, sirs," said Hastings, giving them a mocking half-bow. "The rebellion will fizzle out with no harm done. All my effort will be for nought, and you may certainly feel very superior."
Childermass scoffed. "That's not what you believe will happen."
"No, it is not." Hastings sighed. "Think me foolish if you will, but I must believe in a better future, and I must do what I can to fight for it."
"You may not believe me, but I understand perfectly." Childermass glanced at Segundus. "My colleague can attest to the fact that I have made many hard decisions in the pursuit of a better future— for magic and for England. I don't believe your motivations to be foolish, only your actions."
To Segundus's surprise, Hastings grinned at that. "I appreciate a man who will speak his mind to me plainly. I know Ainsworth already did his best to talk you 'round to our cause, so I won't bother. I am sorry we aren't to be allies."
"I am sorry for it as well."
Childermass sounded as sincere as Segundus had ever heard, and he wondered how deeply the other magician's rebellious tendencies ran.
"Be that as it may," said Hastings, "I don't believe we have any more to say to each other. You won't join us, and we won't give up. I must ask that you leave us be, sirs. You will get no more information from me."
Childermass stood silently for a few moments, his face impassive. When he spoke, it was like a statue coming to life. "One more question. How do you know my sister?"
Hastings's face went blank. "Your sister?"
"She's a maid up at the hall."
"I can't say I've ever met Miss—" Hastings coughed. "Miss Childermass, is it? Or has she married?"
"Then how is it she knows where you live?"
"I was not aware she did." Hastings's face had a studied sort of blankness.
Childermass squinted at him as though he could divine the man's thoughts from the carefully guarded expression, but Hastings bore the scrutiny without moving a muscle. "We will speak again soon."
"If you say so. Good day, gentlemen." Hastings gave them a short nod, which Segundus returned, and shut the door firmly.
The sound of a lock turning came from the other side of the door, followed by several bolts sliding closed. "That did not go well at all," Segundus said as silence fell. "Why on Earth did you ask him about your sister?"
Childermass gestured for Segundus to follow him and set off down the lane toward the center of town. "A hunch. I thought it odd that Maggie should know his name and the general area of his residence, but not its exact location."
Segundus furrowed his brow. "How is that odd?"
"Why would she know where he lives, unless she knows him? And if she knows where he lives, why not tell me exactly? It's not impossible, but it's certainly odd that she would conceal their relationship from me."
"You are not suggesting anything untoward!" Segundus cried.
Childermass scoffed and fumbled in his pockets for his pipe. "Maggie always did like dangerous men. Did you notice how he stumbled over her name? We have different surnames, she and I. He was about to say Miss le Roy, I am sure of it."
"But he called her Miss Childermass instead, because…" Segundus trailed off. He forced himself to think like Childermass would— to unravel the mysteries of subtle motivations and secret agendas. If Childermass was correct, and Hastings knew Maggie's last name but called her by the wrong one on purpose— "because he did not want us to know that he knows her."
Childermass tapped the side of his nose and winked.
"Why, though?" Segundus asked. "Why would both he and your sister want to conceal their acquaintance from you?"
"I can think of a half-dozen reasons off the top of my head, but I expect we will need to speak with Maggie again to determine which one is correct. No time for that at the present, though. Housemaids work long, busy hours. She will have no time for us until later tonight."
"What are we to do in the meantime?" Segundus asked, and he flushed at the knowing look Childermass shot him.
"Regrettably, none of that, sir," said Childermass. "No, I think we ought to speak to the captain of the militia. Something is not adding up."
"How so?"
"It's all too convenient, don't you think? Ainsworth and Hastings both admitted to being Johannites. If Maggie is to be believed, it is common enough knowledge, and yet they are still free men. Either whoever's in charge of the militia knows about them and has chosen not to move against them…" Childermass broke off as they passed a small entourage of villagers. "Or Maggie knows more than she wants us to believe. I'd put money on the latter, but I can't rule out the former."
Segundus paused to consider that. "You do not think Maggie is involved?"
"I don't know what to think," said Childermass. "I hope our visit with whomever commands the militia will be elucidating in that regard." He glanced at Segundus. "It may be best if you do the questioning, if the commanding officer— whatever his title— is a gentleman."
Segundus nodded. He could do that, he was sure.
"And," Childermass continued, "it may be best if our interest seems… impersonal."
"Academic, you mean?" said Segundus.
"Aye. It may put him at ease if he believes we are only involved as a matter of professional curiosity."
"And if he is at ease, he may be more talkative."
Childermass smiled. "We will make a spy out of you yet, Mr. Segundus."
They walked in silence for a few minutes. The streets had been quiet earlier while everyone was at church, but a quiet bustle started up. The sun peeked out from behind a cloud, and Segundus squinted in the sudden brightness. "Where do you think we'll find the militia?"
"Where else?" Childermass replied. "The old militia barracks." He smoothed his hair back and retied it. That small action, more than anything else, betrayed how much importance Childermass placed on this interview. Segundus felt a thrill at this secret knowledge that would have been out of his grasp even a week ago.
"Why, John, I believe that's the tidiest I have ever seen you," he teased.
"Do not get used to it." Childermass glanced at him. "Now, we cannot be seen going into the barracks, or we will raise suspicion from the townsfolk. We will have to approach as shadows and drop the spell at the right time."
That seemed like a perfectly sensible plan to Segundus, so he followed Childermass into a convenient alleyway without complaint. He still felt a bit awkward about the interview with Hastings, but he did his best to shake it off. The joy of casting the spell again went a long way to lifting his spirits, and he was in good cheer as they made their way toward the barracks.
Duffield was a small enough town that very few of its structures could be accurately described as "out of the way." Fortunately, the barracks was one of those structures. Segundus's neck twisted and turned as he kept watch for any townsfolk that might be milling about, but he saw none. Either they avoided the area intentionally out of some ill will, or there were simply no other attractions nearby that might tempt their various interests. Segundus favored the second explanation; the lane to the barracks was long and not lovely. A tall, unkempt hedgerow ran along either side of the lane, and Segundus could see twisted trees in the distance. Once Childermass was sure they wouldn't be seen, he signalled Segundus and they dropped their disguises.
He eyed the barracks in trepidation as they approached. The place was in a state of some disrepair, Segundus saw, though he supposed that standing empty and unused for several years would do that to a building. Part of the roof had caved in and was still being fixed, and the shutters needed a fresh coat of paint. The building was made of red brick, squat and rectangular. No particular efforts had been made toward its beauty; the waist-high hedge that formed a barrier around it seemed less decorative and more like a fortification. A few officers milled about the yard. They watched Segundus and Childermass with interest but didn't call out to them.
Segundus followed Childermass into the building. He wasn't sure what he had expected the inside of a militia barracks to look like, but it certainly hadn't been this. He found himself in a small front room, lit by sunlight from wide windows. Several armchairs were grouped around a low table to his left, and ahead of him, a wide hallway led deeper into the building. He could see officers in bright red uniforms bustling about their business up and down the hallway. A clerk sat at a solid-looking wooden desk just to the right of this hallway, and he looked up from his work when they arrived.
"Good day, gentlemen," he said. His eyes returned to the parchment before him, and his quill resumed scratching.
"Good day," Childermass said. Segundus echoed him a moment later. "We are here to see the commanding officer of this regiment."
The clerk didn't look away from his work. "Is he expecting you?"
"No," said Childermass. "But it is a matter of some urgency."
"Naturally," the clerk said. "But Captain Oakes has many matters of urgency to attend to."
A muscle jumped in Childermass's jaw. "May we make an appointment to see him at his earliest possible convenience?"
"Certainly," the clerk said. He pulled a diary toward him from the edge of the table and made a show of thumbing through it. "The earliest he is available is three days hence, at half-past ten."
"That is very agreeable to us, sir," Childermass said deferentially. Segundus glanced at him in concern, but his eyes were fixed on the clerk.
"Very good," the clerk said. "Who may I say the appointment is with?"
"Mr. Childermass and Mr. Segundus of the Learned Society of York Magicians," Childermass said.
Before the clerk could finish writing their names, an officer emerged from the hallway, hat tucked under one arm and captain's sash slightly askew. "Did I hear correctly, Adams? There are magicians here?"
The clerk looked between the three men standing before him. "Yes, sir," he said cautiously. He indicated the two magicians. "Mr. Childermass and Mr. Segundus."
"What-ho, what-ho!" the officer cried. He shook Childermass's and Segundus's hands in turn. "I am Captain Oakes. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my good sirs. Are you here to see me? Please, come with me directly!"
"But sir," Adams protested. "You have a meeting with—"
"Oh, put him off, Adams! He's a dreadful bore, and he can get on fine without me anyway." The captain ushered Segundus and Childermass forward. "This way, sirs, into my office! It is just on the left."
Segundus blinked at Oakes's over-exuberance but allowed himself to be chivvied into the captain's office. It was pleasant enough, he supposed; it had a great deal of natural light but very little in the way of personal touches. A shelf on the left held several dry-looking books of military history and accounts of bygone wars. Oakes sat down on one side of the sturdy oak desk and motioned for Segundus and Childermass to sit opposite him.
As Segundus sat, he took the opportunity to study Oakes more carefully. He looked young for a captain, his face unlined by worries or cares. His brown eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, and his hair sprung from his head in wild blonde curls that had only seen a token effort of taming. He reminded Segundus of Jonathan Strange when they had first met, before Strange had gone to the Peninsula and then to Waterloo and had come home a changed man.
"So, sirs," said Oakes, rubbing his hands together with glee. "You are magicians! I must confess that I have a great fascination with magic. Are you practical or theoretical magicians?"
"Practical," Childermass said, and Segundus couldn't help but smile a little giddily. "Though Mr. Segundus here is a most respectable scholar. He has published several excellent articles on the theories of magic and is working on a biography of Jonathan Strange." (This was news to Segundus.)
"You said you were from the Learned Society of York Magicians?" asked Oakes. He received two quick nods. "Have you had the opportunity to study the King's Letters?"
"Ah," said Childermass with a half-smile. "You certainly have been keeping up with current events in the field of magic. I flatter myself, sir, that I am among the men who have had the greatest opportunity to read the King's Book." Childermass leaned forward in his chair, his gaze intent on Oakes's wide eyes. "We are not only practical magicians, you see. We are magio-historians, and we're interested in the state of England after the Raven King's return."
"It is a fascinating topic, to be sure," said Oakes. "But why come here? I don't see what information I can give you."
Childermass sat back in his seat with a satisfied air. "I suppose that remains to be seen, Captain," he said. "My colleague and I have a few questions we hoped you might answer."
Having judged that Captain Oakes was sufficiently gentlemanly to respond well to his manners, Segundus jumped in. "Would you not agree, Captain, that the Johannites have been a significant influence in Northern England these past few years?"
"Certainly," Oakes said. "That is, after all, why I am here." He frowned. "But what interest have you in the Johannites? Surely the misfortunes of some craftsmen are beneath the notice of magicians such as yourselves."
For the first time, Childermass's pleasant demeanor dropped. He drew in a sharp breath, but Segundus pressed his heel into the toe of Childermass's boot and forestalled whatever reproach he had been about to give.
"In the study of magical history, nothing is beneath our notice," Segundus said to smooth the moment over.
Childermass quickly regained his composure. "Indeed. So, Captain Oakes, that is the information you can give us. Tell us about the rumors of Johannite activity that have been circulating in this town."
Oakes's fair brow furrowed in contemplation. "What will you do with this information, should I give it to you?"
Childermass shrugged at that. "Nothing, most likely. Magic is fashionable now, but history, even magical history, never has been. There's little interest in such dull topics. I doubt more than three or four other historians shall ever see our notes."
"Well, it's hardly a secret," Oakes said, seemingly to himself. "And after all, this is not a time of war and you are not my enemies. There is little enough harm in it, to be sure."
"No harm at all, sir," Segundus reassured him. "If it would ease your mind, you will go unnamed in any notes we make." He turned the full force of his most charming smile— the one that got him extra rolls of bread, another week to make rent, a quiet tip from a bookseller as to where he might find what he was looking for. Oakes— polite, bumbling Oakes— had no chance.
The captain nodded several times, and his lined brow smoothed. "It does ease my mind, sir, quite a bit. Well, then." He took a deep breath as though fortifying himself. "What do you want to know?"
"These sorts of things have leaders, I understand," said Segundus. "After all, they must be organized. Do you know the names of the ringleaders?"
Oakes looked faintly troubled. "Indeed I do not, sir, though not for lack of trying. I have had my ear to the ground, as it were, but I have not been able to determine anything about the leaders." He coughed. "Nor, I am sad to say, has my informant."
"Your informant?" Segundus repeated. He shared a glance with Childermass and knew they were on the same page. Who was Oakes's informant, and did Maggie know about him?
Oakes smiled, clearly pleased with himself. "I cannot reveal her name, of course, but she has been invaluable in tracking the movements of the Johannites and reporting to me on their plans."
The pronoun startled Segundus. Oakes's informant couldn't possibly be Maggie, could it? "How wonderful for you to have an ally in your task," he said. "I will not do you or her the disservice of asking her name, but would you be so kind as to tell us what sort of information she has been able to discover?"
Oakes glanced between the two magicians. "Are you sure that is relevant to your study?" he said with a small frown.
"Oh, yes, very!" said Segundus. "Only so we can estimate how many Johannites there may be, or perhaps determine their goals." He smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "Nothing to connect to you or your informant, of course. Strictly facts that may one day be part of history."
Oakes relaxed slightly. "Well, there are not very many Johannites, no more than five or six, I should think. As for their goals, well." He shrugged one shoulder. "They do not seem to have any, to be honest. My informant assures me that they are pretenders at best and dissatisfied drunkards at worst. They have no interest in burning any buildings or causing any destruction. Not much of a rebellion, is it? But there you are."
"They do not… want anything?" Segundus said. He and Childermass shared another glance. "How can they be Johannites if they have no demands, no plans to burn anything?"
"Well, I suppose because that is just what they call themselves." Oakes did not appear overly troubled by the prospect of rebels without a cause.
"How unusual! Your informant certainly seems well-connected. How lucky you are to have such insight."
"Oh, yes!" Oakes beamed. "She has found out such wonderful information."
Segundus smiled encouragingly. "Such as?"
Oakes opened his mouth as though to speak, then paused. "Well. I— that is to say, she has found that— ahem. I believe I have told you most of the information she has told me, sirs. It seemed like much more as she relayed it to me, but there you have it." Segundus would have suspected some deception on Oakes's part, but the captain looked so genuinely puzzled that he could not help but believe he was sincere. "Yes, that is the bulk of it. There are few Johannites, with very little structure, and no real goals." He nodded decisively. "I do hope that is helpful to you, gentlemen!"
Segundus was about to press him further, but Childermass interrupted.
"Of course, sir," Childermass said. "Most helpful. We cannot thank you enough. Now, we have monopolized your time for long enough. I'm sure you have many more important things to attend to." He stood and paused. "Before we leave you to your business, may I pay you a compliment?"
Oakes tilted his head in puzzlement and nodded.
"We have been about the town for a few days, and we have noticed how very professional your soldiers are," said Childermass. "They seem to keep to themselves, and none of the townsfolk have uttered a single word of complaint at their conduct. It must be a dreadful bore to be stationed in such a small, dull town, and worse-trained soldiers would no doubt be raising all manner of havoc. I must compliment you, sir, for ensuring that your men cause no disturbances, and indeed let the town alone as much as they are able."
"Oh— I… why, yes," Oakes stuttered. "Yes, I am fortunate to be in command of some of the finest fellows in the British Army."
Childermass looked at him, saying nothing. A heavy layer of expectancy settled over the room. Segundus was familiar with the sensation, though he hadn't had such a look directed at him in over a decade.
Oakes seemed as unable to resist as Segundus had been. He wavered, clearly unsure of what he ought to do with such an expectation laid upon him. "I shall commend my men," he said after a moment. "And encourage them to maintain— or even increase— their decorum, since you have complimented it so highly."
Childermass smiled at that. "I am obliged to you, sir. We shall not take up any more of your time. Good day."
"Good day," Segundus echoed. He followed Childermass out, feeling as though something important had happened, some clue had revealed itself, though he could not begin to guess at what it might be. This feeling persisted as they made their way along the edge of town to a safe distance from the barracks, where they dropped their disguises, and it persisted as they strolled back through town to the Bridge Inn for an early luncheon.
"You are very quiet," Childermass remarked over baked trout and pickled vegetables.
"Yes, I suppose I am," said Segundus. He picked at his food. "I was just thinking about Oakes."
"So was I." Childermass stabbed viciously at a slice of pickled onion. "Things are not adding up."
"I was thinking the same."
"Tell me your thoughts, if you would be so good."
Segundus spoke slowly, trying to fit the puzzle pieces together in his mind. "Both Maggie and Captain Oakes seemed to believe that the Johannites were harmless and powerless."
"Aye, or they wanted us to believe they believed that."
"Quite so. On the other hand, Mr. Ainsworth and Mr. Hastings were both very clear with their goals. They want change, and they are not afraid of rebellion." Segundus paused, frowning at his vegetables. "Could Maggie be the captain's informant?"
"I thought the same." Childermass paused and sighed. "We are being lied to, either by Maggie or by Oakes, or possibly both. I do not believe the captain has a deceptive bone in his body, which means he is being lied to as well. Maggie is a given. We must speak to her as soon as possible."
"Are you sure we should invite her here again?" Segundus asked. She hadn't said much the last time they spoke with her, and he doubted she would be any more forthcoming now.
"Nay," said Childermass. "I want to catch her off-guard. We will go to the manor house tonight."
"Will the family not think it odd if we ask to see one of their housemaids?" said Segundus doubtfully.
Childermass rolled his eyes. "We will not be going in through the front door. We will use the servants' entrance. If all goes well, the family will never know we've called."
Thus agreed, they finished their luncheon and sought out Brandon and Vinculus, who had taken the private parlor again. There, the three magicians labored for hours to decipher a word or a spell. The work was frustrating, though it was the sort of frustration that Segundus enjoyed: the putting-together of a puzzle one could not see, but knew the shape of through study and contemplation. Even this happy work, however, could not dispel his unease for the evening ahead.