The Serpent's Shadow (40 page)

Along with the dolphins had come the merfolk of the open ocean, the neriads, the tritons, the hippocampuses, all of whom (whatever they had been in the past) were now creatures of pure spirit to be seen only by those who had the special sight to do so. They were as clear and seemingly solid to Peter as the dolphins; they were probably less so to Maya, since they weren't of her Element, but she saw them well enough as they played among the very physical dolphins. She was enchanted, and the look on her face, her wide and shining eyes, the smile on her generous lips made his heart sing. The neriads winked and tossed their hair at him flirtatiously, but he only smiled at them briefly and returned his gaze to Maya—who laughed with delight at the swimming coquettes.

They finally came back into the harbor as sunset turned the sky to a blaze of crimson, and all of London was silhouetted against the fiery clouds, with the great dome of St Paul's looming over all. It was a sight perfect enough to make even Peter, seasoned sailor that he was, catch his breath. And Maya, completely enraptured, clasped her hands at her breast and drank it all in.

We'll do this again,
he vowed to himself.
Often. And I'll take her out alone one day, perhaps up near Scotland, and introduce her to the Selkie—

Too soon they nipped in to the dock; too soon Andrew threw the mooring rope to one of the hands on the wharf, and put out the plank. Maya said good-bye to all of them, shaking their hands and thanking each of them individually, and with such charm and warmth that even old Andrew blushed and allowed that it had been a pleasure.

Then they were safely on the dock again, and the boat moved out into the river, heading for its home dock nearer Thames mouth than this.

“Well?” he asked her. “I hope you weren't too disappointed.”

“Disappointed!” She made a face at him. “If you think that, you must be the stupidest man who ever lived! It was wonderful!”

“Even when your hat blew off and we had to fish it out with a gaff?” he teased.

“Bother the old hat!” Her eyes shone and her cheeks glowed with pleasure. “This was worth a hundred hats! How can I ever thank you enough?”

He shrugged, and her eyes narrowed; she suddenly looked so impish that he wondered what she was thinking of.

Then, with no warning at all, she went on tiptoe and kissed him full on the mouth. And no little peck either—

“There!” she laughed. “Does that convince you?”

It took him a moment to catch his breath and his wits. “Ah—yes—” he managed.

“Good.” She took his arm firmly, and linked hers into it. “Now, Captain Peter, will you be so kind as to escort your lady home?”

My lady?
My
lady?
If the kiss had blown his wits to the four wits, her words blew them back. “I would consider it the highest honor in the world, lady mine,” he replied to her manifest delight, and together they set off in search of a cab as the blue dusk enclosed them in their own little world.

17

M
AYA drifted in through her front door in a kind of rosy fog, trailing her fingers along the wainscoting and humming to herself. The kiss with which she had thanked Peter—

—all right,
ambushing
Peter had produced the result she had hoped for. He had held her arm all the way to the ‘bus, held her hand
on
the 'bus (disregarding the arctic glares of two old ladies and the giggles of three nursemaids), and had kissed
her
right on her own doorstep! Not a little peck—and not, thank heavens, the kind of nasty, slobbering thing that Parkening had forced on her—

It was wonderful.
She had never put any credence in silly romantic novels, but nothing in her life had prepared her for that experience. No wonder even the poorest, most wretched girl of the slums could cling to her man and forget her surroundings for a moment.

She had invited him inside for a last cup of tea in her conservatory, but he had smilingly declined. “I have an appointment at the Exeter Club that will keep me well past midnight,” he had said, regret in his voice. “Much as I enjoy the peace of your haven.” But he had accepted an invitation to dinner tomorrow, which would be the first time he had ever accepted an invitation to a meal in her home.

Surely this was significant!

She laughed out loud, right there in the hallway, and twirled in place for the sheer pleasure of it. She couldn't possibly feel any more giddy than that kiss had made her!

But she stopped in mid-twirl; Gupta needed to know that she would have a guest for dinner, so that he had plenty of time to prepare. Never mind how many times he had been here before; tomorrow night she wanted to impress him!

She paused in the dusk-filled hall and listened carefully; there was definitely someone moving about in the kitchen. She followed the sounds, to discover Gupta himself puttering about in the kitchen, putting freshly risen bread into the oven.

“Gupta!” she said as he straightened. He turned and saluted her, smiling slightly. “Master Scott will be taking dinner with us tomorrow night. Do you think you can accommodate a guest?”

Gupta met her eyes, and smiled broadly as she colored up.

“So, the Captain Sahib has at last begun courting you!” he said, as proudly as if he himself had been responsible for it. “Good! And after my meal, he will make the proposition!”

“Proposal!”
she corrected, laughing and blushing at the same time.
Although a less honorable man might well have made a proposition before this!
“Really, Gupta, you can't expect the poor man to propose marriage just on the strength of a single dinner!”

“Hah!” Gupta replied, looking supremely confident. “He is a bachelor, yes? He eats in his club, or out of stalls, terrible English food, boiled to tasteless, fried in pools of grease, covered under gravy that is full of lumps and grease
and
tasteless! He will eat a fine dinner, he will have a fine whiskey as the
punkah-
fan makes a breeze, and he will think about going home to his little, little room, which is hot and smells of boiled cabbage, and he will make the proposal. Besides,” Gupta added thoughtfully, “there are certain spices—”

“Which I very much doubt will be needed!” she said hastily. “Just have Gopal make us a good dinner, please, Gupta. I'm sure you are right about that—”

“Of course, mem sahib,” Gupta chuckled. “And there will be a dinner of the sort that Sahib Doctor your father gave to his important visitors. Besides, you would not care to think later that the proposal was due to spices.”

Nor to anything else except how well the two of us are in accord,
she reflected, as she thanked him smilingly and turned back to her office.

Although, as a whole, the girls of the street were not good at making and keeping appointments, they were anxious enough about the things that Maya could offer them that they were at least prepared to try.

As soon as the lamp in her office came on, she heard the bell ring. Gupta came from the kitchen to answer it, and her office door opened immediately.

“Well, Norrey!” she said in surprise as her “pet pickpocket” slipped in past Gupta and flopped wearily down into the chair. “What brings you here?”

Norrey was in a state of dress that most would likely consider to be “half naked.” She wore nothing but a thin camisole or corset cover over nothing at all in the way of underthings, a dingy pink petticoat showing a pair of bare ankles and feet in stained green satin slippers, and incongruously enough, her treasured hat. Maya frankly envied her as Norrey's chosen wardrobe looked very much cooler than Maya's.

“Cough,” Norrey said gloomily, and followed it by a demonstration, which unlike her performance when she had first come to Maya, sounded quite genuine. “Can't sleep, an' it's cruel ‘ard on a gurl what needs t'be quiet in ‘er work.”

“Let's have a look at you, then,” Maya said, making no comment on the “work.” She brought Norrey into the surgery and gave her a thorough going over, but she feared the worst.

And her fears were justified. “Norrey, you have tuberculosis,” she said flatly. “White lung.”

“Oh Gawd.” Norrey did not break out into tears, as Maya had half feared she would. She only seemed resigned. Evidently she had already come to that conclusion on her own. “Wot's t‘do, then? Nothin', I s‘pose.”

Maya hesitated. She had come to know Norrey over the past few months; she was better than her surroundings, and had a rude sense of honor. She had certainly been better than her word with Maya. Not only had she made it known on the street that anyone touching Maya, her servants or her house and office would be courting more trouble than
any
petty thief could withstand, she had brought Maya more than one little street waif for treatment who would otherwise not have come on his or her own.

“What would you do for a cure?” Maya asked cautiously. “Would you be willing to let me try something?”

Norrey looked at her with disbelief mixed with a little—just a little—hope. “Wotcha mean?” she asked. “There ain't no cure.”

“What if there were?” Maya replied. “What would you do?”

Norrey laughed, bitterly. “Well, if there wuz t‘be be some kinder mir'cle, an' if summun wuz t‘give th' loiks'a‘me a mir'cle, well, reckon I'd let y' do whatever.”

“Remember that,” Maya said, “because this may hurt a lot.” And before Norrey could move, Maya caught up both her hands in an unbreakable grip.

This would be the first time she had ever tried to heal a disease. She had strengthened people who were failing, she had even encouraged surgical incisions to close faster, but she had never tried to drive out a disease before.

This was the safest possible place to try. There were no observers, no doctors to wonder at what had happened if she succeeded or what she was doing while she tried, and she was behind strong shields.

Norrey tried to pull her hands away, her eyes widening. Maya stared into Norrey's eyes and willed her to be still.

The girl froze, then relaxed, and stopped resisting; her mouth relaxed, and her eyelids drooped, although her eyes did not quite close. In fact, she seemed to have been hypnotized, though how could that be?

Never mind.
If she could strike that cad Parkening down with her mind, perhaps she could hypnotize as well.

She reached deeply into the earth beneath her for that magic which was hers alone in all of London, so far as she knew; the action was second nature to her now. The power flowed into her, sweet and golden as honey, stronger now than it had ever been before—as if the power itself wanted her to heal this child.

She poured out the power into Norrey, flooding the darkness in the girl's lungs with light. The disease was like a pernicious growth, a dark and creeping vine that choked out everything it encountered, stealing the breath and life for itself.

The darkness resisted, but she sensed its roots were not deep, and she pushed harder against it with the golden light, not burning it out, but uprooting and withering it before it could take root again. Little by little, it gave ground, retreating, shrinking in on itself. Relentlessly, she pursued it, and as it retreated, leaving raw and damaged flesh in its wake, she laid down a honey-glow balm that healed the lungs before they could scar.

Now it tried a different tactic: to wall itself off inside a stony cocoon, making her think she had defeated it. If she left now, it would emerge again later, the next time that conditions were favorable—and given the risky life that Norrey lived, conditions were almost always favorable. Maya knew this trick of old. This dormant state was the condition that sanitariums attempted to induce, since they could not cure—

But it always came back again.

Not this time.
Ruthlessly she followed it into its hiding place, breaking the walls apart and continuing to uproot and wither. This was hurting Norrey. The girl gasped; her hands clenched tightly on Maya‘s, and tears streamed down her smudged cheeks. But it couldn't be helped. Better this than the slow and agonizing death by suffocation that awaited her.

With immense satisfaction, Maya inspected her work and found not a trace, not the least lingering taint of the disease. There was some damage, that was inevitable—but Norrey was cured, and having been cured, would not suffer from the White Plague again.

Maya drew a deep breath of her own, and dropped Norrey's hands.

Dazed, the girl slowly came back to herself, reaching up and scrubbing away her tears with the back of one hand. “Wotcher do?” she demanded hoarsely. “ ‘urt! Bloody 'ell! Tha didn' ‘alf 'urt! Felt loik y‘lit a fire in me chest, it did!”

“Breathe,” Maya ordered. “Take a deep breath.”

Automatically, Norrey obeyed, pausing for an instant at the point where her coughing fits usually began, then continuing to fill her now-clean lungs. The more breath she took in, the wider her eyes grew, until they looked as big as a pair of prize bronze dahlias.

“It‘s—gawn!” she gasped. “Bloody 'ell! It's gawn! ‘Ow the 'ell didjer do it?”

Maya decided to risk the truth. “If I told you it was magic, would you believe me?”

The admission didn't seem to trouble the girl in the least. “Blimey! Dunno ‘ow it cud be ought else.” She gave Maya a long hard stare. “ 'Ow long y‘bin doin' this?”