Page 49 of The Magpie Lord
“Enough. I’m sorry, it’s all I can do given I have nothing to work with, but it doesn’t matter anyway. I’m here, and I’m not leaving you, and anyone who comes after you will have to get past me first. Yes?”
Crane gave him a long look that broke into a reluctant smile. “Thanks.”
“Anyway, it’s perfectly likely the perpetrator of tonight’s attack is not going to be in a position to act,” Stephen added. “With any luck, they’re still on fire. I’m just being cautious.”
“I approve,” said Crane. “And tomorrow we run away?”
“Tactical retreat.” Stephen shrugged off his jacket, and wrapped it back round his shoulders against the chill.
Crane twisted to lie on his side. “I suppose it would be distracting and unprofessional to suggest you join me over here?”
“Yes.”
“It’s going to be a bloody long night, then. Can I get up?”
“No. If you break those wards I’ll choke you myself. They were hard enough to set up the first time.”
“Because there’s no power in this house. Isn’t there some other way for you to get power?”
“Like what?”
“Magic wands. Magic rings. The Holy Grail.”
“You have that here?”
“If I do, someone probably carved a magpie on it. Does it exist?”
“You wildly overestimate the extent of my knowledge,” Stephen said. “As to magic wands and whatnot, there are...artefacts that act as focal points for etheric flow, but I don’t have any to hand, and there’s hardly any flow to focus.” He frowned. “Unless—I don’t suppose you have any of the Magpie Lord’s things?”
“Such as?”
“I don’t know. The ring in the picture?”
“Oh, probably,” Crane said. “There’s a pile of ancient jewellery in a room at the end of the Long Gallery, or at least there was. Do you want to go and look, at all?” he added, with a touch of amusement, as Stephen sat bolt upright.
“Yes. Yes, but tomorrow. Or I could— No. Stay in the wards. We’ll look first thing tomorrow. If I find something to call on here, it’ll be a different story altogether.”
“And what if not?”
“We run. As planned.”
“Mmm. Could you strip someone?”
“What? No!”
“I meant with permission—”
“No,” Stephen said again. “Sourcing from people is...it’s the definition of a warlock. It’s wrong.”
“Surely in an emergency—?”
Stephen gestured for silence. “Look. You told me that you and Merrick were starving early on, in China. Really starving?”
“Yes.”
“So hungry that you might have been prepared to do desperate things?”
Crane tipped his head back, contemplating the canopy of the four-poster. “So hungry that I did them. Your point?”
