brandy in its large bubble-shaped glass. He was obviously expecting the story to be a long one.
It was. Over the next two hours, Emily recounted every detail, from their encounters at the Miwok camp to the duplicity of Mrs. Quincy to the battle in which she’d Sundered Captain Caul. She described their struggles with the bounty hunter, the strange arrival of the Sini Mira, and their ride in the Cockatrice. Then she stopped.
“And you know the rest.” She let out a long breath. Mirabilis nodded gravely.
“Quite an adventure for a timber-camp Witch,” he said. His eyes once again became distant with thought. There was a long silence.
“What did you say to Mr. Stanton, anyway?” Emily said finally.
“Eh?” Mirabilis’ eyes focused, and his face took on a look of extreme irritation. “What?”
“Why did you make him go away?”
“Well, for one thing, he was the victim of what sounds like an extremely nasty compulsion,” Mirabilis said. “Compulsions remain in the body and can reemerge—or be reactivated.”
“But he cleansed himself,” Emily said. “I saw him do it.”
“So you explained. It sounds like it was quite a display.” Mirabilis’ mouth twisted with distaste. “But no man can cleanse himself dependably, no matter what kind of magic he uses. There is an excellent Witch Doctor of my acquaintance in Philadelphia. I told Mr. Stanton he should visit the man immediately.”
“Couldn’t you help him?”
“Of course I could,” Mirabilis said, “but even I must choose my battles. And you, Miss Edwards, are the battle I choose. You have the Maelstroms and the Sini Mira after you. Keeping you safe from them will be more than work enough, without inviting a Warlock of questionable dependability into the mix.”
“Mr. Stanton has always been completely dependable,” Emily snapped, more sharply than she intended to. “He did a very good job. Without him, I wouldn’t have made it here.”
“I am sure Mr. Stanton did a very competent job,” Mirabilis said, as if he were speaking of a bank clerk or a gardener.
Emily narrowed her eyes. “You don’t like him much, do you?”
Mirabilis flashed her an abrupt, brilliant smile. “Why, Miss Edwards! Whatever gives you such a ridiculous idea? I treasure all my subordinates. Mr. Stanton is no exception.”
“Then why did you send him to Lost Pine?”
“Well, why not? What’s wrong with Lost Pine?”
“I heard you sent him there to get him out of the way. To humiliate him.” Emily didn’t mention that the words had been Caul’s.
“Humiliate him?” Mirabilis bellowed. “Young woman, are you humiliated to come from Lost Pine?”
“Of course not.” Emily lifted her chin. “It’s a good place, with good people.” She spoke with rising heat. “Good, ordinary people who help each other!”
“There you have it.” Mirabilis shrugged conclusively.
Emily wrinkled her nose, trying to figure out exactly what conclusion he’d offered her. Finally, she gave it up and spoke a bit more calmly, her cheeks pink with embarrassment.
“It’s just that it seems a shame that he can’t … be here. After all he did.”
“Mr. Stanton will be amply rewarded for his participation.” Mirabilis’ voice was velvety with condescension. “Gaining public recognition as the man who saved the life of a president could boost his power substantially. But he cannot harvest that power unless he seizes the opportunity and promotes himself. And he has the press at his feet to do it!” Mirabilis shook his head wonderingly. “He’s always had the most unfathomable distaste for the practice of propaganda.”
“But it’s not the truth, Mr. Hembry wasn’t an assassin!” Emily said. “And besides that, it’s … undignified.”
“Dignity is like morality,” Mirabilis barked. “Too much is as bad as too little. And as for truth … too much of that is even worse, as I hope you never have to find out.”
Emily pressed her lips shut, pressed herself back against the seat. She felt as if her knuckles had been rapped with a cane.
“Besides, by forcing Mr. Stanton to face the press, I kill two birds with one stone.” Mirabilis’ voice was gentler now. “He harvests the power he has earned, and his father is propitiated.”
“Propitiated?”
“Credomancers propitiate the powerful,” Mirabilis said. “And Senator Argus Stanton is a formidable politician. He has been in Washington for years and there’s no sign that the legislature of New York will ask him to come home anytime soon, no matter how many scandals he gets himself involved in. He must be propitiated so that he, in turn, can propitiate the powerful people above him.” Mirabilis frowned, shook his head. “Unfortunately, Mr. Stanton has never been willing