Page 46 of Salt Magic, Skin Magic
“Thornby, she’s married. She’s alady. With morals. Why would you even think that?”
“She fancies you.”
“What? Of course she doesn’t. But the point is; should I do it? I said no, at first, but then I agreed to think about it.”
“A baby, eh? Can you do that?”
Thornby helped himself to ham and eggs and sat opposite. It looked as though John had eaten about half a plate of kedgeree before being distracted by Lady Dalton. Now he picked up his knife and fork again. He had nice hands, well-proportioned and capable-looking.
“I never have. I don’t do magic on people, usually, except for wards. I sometimes use the Voice on factory owners, but if anyone found out, I’d never work again, so I don’t do it very often. Ethical and family matters are for church mages, or political theurgists, not someone like me.”
“But, you could?” Thornby realised he was starving and hove to. Everything was done properly for once, thanks to the cook borrowed from the Howarths.
“I don’t know. I can’t make him love her. I told her so. Love charms never work. Not that that stops people like Rokeby charging through the nose for them. But it is possible to incite lust. And, perhaps, if I give her an extra strong fertility charm at the same time...” He put his knife and fork down without having eaten anything and sipped from what looked like a cold cup of coffee. “Then there’s the curse to consider. What if the magics react with each other? Mind you, the curse didn’t stop him having relations with her in the past—so I suppose that’s safe enough. I wouldn’t be charming him to do something completely against the grain.”
“Well, why not? She hasn’t had much else out of him, has she?”
“He could hurt her. He could hurt other people. You can’t focus lust—you have to put the right person in the right place, and hope it all goes to plan. Even most theurgists won’t touch this sort of thing. Let alone with a fairy curse complicating matters.”
“But you’re better than them.”
John laughed, mirthlessly. “Where did you get that idea? I’m really not. There’s a reason theurgy’s called the Royal Road. It’s far more powerful to raise a demon to do what you want. Once you’ve trapped it, there’s no more messing about with materials. It has to obey. And a demon can do almost anything—they can travel fantastically fast, create instant illusions, affect the weather—all kinds of things I can’t do.”
“Well, I don’t see it that way.”
“Forgive me, Thornby, but you don’t know anything about it.”
“But demons are demons, aren’t they? It’s not just a name? They’re evil. Aren’t they?”
“They’re vile. Hideous. They’ll trick you if they can. That’s why it takes so much power to call them up and make them serve.”
“There you are, then. You’re better than that. Your materials help you. They’re not out to get you. Are they?”
“No, but—” John frowned. “You’re missing the point.”
“I don’t think so. Would you rather have a friend who wanted to help or a powerful slave who’d kill you the first chance he got? I know which I’d prefer.”
John glared at him for a moment, and then blurted out, “But how can anyone befriendswith a glass eye or a bag of salt? I mean, really? How can I trust some random side effect? Sometimes I think I must be fooling myself! Magicians don’ttake advicefrom their materials. In fact, we’re told not to, because we’re meant to be in control. But for most men, it never comes up because they discard their basic materials. I’m a freak, Thornby, for always sweeping up my salt like a thrifty housewife. And my results are unexpected. I can’t replicate them. I mean, at the Crystal Palace, when those damned bats started hurling themselves at the glass—I used a shield charm at first, but I had the salt out and it— You know, I can’t believe I’m bothering you with all this. You don’t know the first thing about magic.”
His tone had run from annoyance through self-loathing to defeat. Thornby put down his knife and fork, a cold slither of despair running down his back. The food he’d just eaten sat in a lump in his stomach. If John was defeated, then he was stuck.
Then a spark of hope lit in him, because there was something he’d noticed about the way John talked about his abilities, and about the abilities of the demon-masters he called theurgists. In spite of all the marvellous things he could do, John needed confidence, and it was up to Thornby to provide it. Hadn’t most of Thornby’s upbringing been based on the premise that one day he’d lead men? To command, yes, but also to boost morale and do whatever else was necessary. He’d never bothered about it all before, but if there was one man in the world he cared about inspiring, it was John Blake, magician.
And at any minute someone could walk in and disturb them. The sun was well up now.
“John, I might not know about magic, but I can smell snobbery a mile off, and that’s what these theurgists are. Snobs.” John opened his mouth to protest and Thornby held up a finger. “Don’t interrupt. And the reason I know about snobs is because I used to be one, and I know they’ll stop at nothing to belittle anyone who isn’t like them.”
John said nothing, just stared at him across the table.
Thornby went on, urgently, “And while you’re at it, you can stop fussing about experiments and replication. It’s magic, isn’t it? It’s not science.”
“Yes, but—” John broke off, frowning. “Well, you’re right, it’s not science.”
“No, even though they’ve taught you to use it in a methodical way. I’m not denying it’s damned clever, all this stuff you’ve learned to do. But if you want to be friends with a bag of salt, I really don’t see why you shouldn’t.”
John was still staring at him, shaking his head a little. Not disagreeing, exactly, just trying to assess what he’d said. Thornby could almost hear his mind whirling. Then John gave him a baffled smile, and when he spoke there was hope in his voice, and wonder too. “I think you may have just turned three hundred years of magical theory on its head. I never, ever thought of it like that.”
A giddy lightness was beating in Thornby’s chest—a marvellous feeling of having cheated something awful and at the same time given John something he valued.
