Page 77 of Heir of Uncertain Magic

Merritt threw the stitched leather ball again, watching it sail through the air and land in a pile of orange and scarlet leaves. Owein bolted after it, the leaves bursting away from him as he dove for the ball, as though they and he were magnets with opposite poles. If there was one good thing about the chaocracy Merritt had been unable—and somewhat unwilling, given the potential for destruction—to repeat, it had made a nice, smooth playing field off the side of his house, one perfect for a very long game of catch.

Speaking of very long, his shoulder was beginning to ache.

Owein darted back toward him, ball clutched in his jaws, but slowed down halfway back, eyes darting toward the sea. Ears lifting, he dropped the ball. Curious, Merritt turned to see what had caught his eye. Shielding his face from the sun, he watched three men step out of a white boat. They all wore dark uniforms. Watchmen?

It’s all right,Merritt said, though he hadn’t meant to use communion. He held out a hand to Owein before walking toward the approaching men. This was probably an update on his claim of trespassing against Baillie; he’d gone to the watchmen at Portsmouth for that, same ones he’d alerted after Silas Hogwood attacked Hulda.

“You’ve news for me?” he asked when he was a few paces away. He didn’t recognize any faces, but that could just have been the sun in his eyes.

“Merritt Fernsby?” one of them asked. Apparently they didn’t recognize him, either. What was the point of this eccentric hair style if no one was going to bother recognizing him?

“Yes?” A peculiar feeling unwound in his gut.

Two of the three stepped forward, surrounding him. He didn’t notice the cord one of them held until the man slipped behind him, yanking his arms back.

Owein started to bark.

“You’re under arrest,” the first said very matter-of-factly.

Merritt strapped his mask on tightly and tried to maintain calm. Didn’t fight the knots forming over his wrists. “A man trespasses on my property, andI’mthe one in trouble? Do I need to review the laws in Portsmouth?”

“We’re from Boston,” one of the watchmen clarified, and that peculiar feeling rendered into dread.

Grinding his teeth, Merritt asked, “And what, pray tell, am I being arrested for?”

“Illegal use of magic, fraud, and conspiracy.”

One of the watchmen behind him pushed him toward the boat, but Merritt dug in his heels. “Come again? Conspiracy forwhat?”

“You can ask your jailer. Come.” The man motioned to his comrades.

Merritt shoved back against them. “I have the right to know! Conspiracy forwhat? Fraud forwhat?”

Owein continued yapping. Heavy footsteps sounded behind them.

The watchman frowned. “I’m just carrying out orders.”

Merritt growled. “Surely you know who sent them.”

“The constable?” the watchman asked incredulously. Then he shrugged. “Filed by the London Institute for the Keeping of Enchanted Rooms.”

Merritt’s muscles went slack, and the other watchmen successfully pushed him forward.Hulda’s in trouble.

“Whoa!” The first watchman shouted, holding up a hand and reaching for a pistol at his side. “Whoa! Stop right there!”

Merritt managed to wrench around enough to see Baptiste barreling toward them like a bull. Jerking from the hold of one of the Bostonians, Merritt turned to face Baptiste head on.

“Stop!” he shouted. “Baptiste,no. It’s not worth it.”

The chef slowed and growled like a bear. Trudged forward until he was five paces away, four—

“I’ll shoot!” the first watchman threatened.

“Where will you go?” Merritt pressed as Owein yipped at Baptiste’s heels. “Where will you go next if they arrest you, too?”

The Frenchman paused.

“It’s all right,” Merritt added as the wary watchmen dragged him toward the boat. “It’s a misunderstanding. It’ll be sorted out, you’ll see. Just wait for me. I’ll be back before sunset.”

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