“You did not enter my thoughts in the smallest degree,” Emily said frostily. Tarnham gave a mellifluous, rippling laugh.
“Oh, so you’re one of those.” He sidled up to her, uncomfortably close. “The kind who take themselves seriously. Like the burlesque dancers who think they’re artistes. How cute.” He paused, waving a dramatic hand. “Well, never mind then. I won’t josh with you anymore. Though I must say, it’s too bad when a girl can’t have a sense of humor about herself.”
Tarnham showed her to Professor Mirabilis’ office—a spacious, book-lined room that smelled of leather and beeswax. There was a large stained-glass window directly behind the enormous desk, red-velvet draperies, and heavy carvings of black walnut. The ceiling was a trompe l’oeil of a sky at the precise moment of sunset.
Professor Mirabilis and Miss Pendennis were sitting together in leather chairs arranged before a large fireplace of black marble veined with gold. Miss Pendennis looked up as Emily came in, her face pursing sourly as she looked Emily up and down. Mirabilis rose, crossed the room, and took Emily’s hand in his. He smiled broadly.
“Good morning, Miss Edwards. I trust your rest was refreshing?”
“I slept well,” she said. She glared at Tarnham’s retreating back but said nothing. “I’m glad the attacks have stopped.”
“I promised you would be safe,” Mirabilis said. “As I told you, I have friends in high places.”
“None of them women, obviously.” Miss Pendennis eyed Emily’s gray dress with outrage. “Or else you wouldn’t have dared to send this … this … squink of a dress! What’s your game, Mirabilis? Humble her and keep her off balance? What exactly are you softening her up for?”
“Miss Pendennis, I won’t stand to be spoken to like that,” Mirabilis growled. The words made Emily cringe; his voice echoed in the same way Stanton’s had up at Cutter’s Rise, but it was filled with an entirely different kind of menace and threat.
“Wrathfulness,” Miss Pendennis said knowingly, discomfited not in the least. “It’s no use, Mirabilis, I know all the credomantic tricks. Anger will not disarm and bewilder me. And I won’t let you use it, or any other tactic, to control Miss Edwards.”
A look of grudging respect crept over Mirabilis’ face.
“Miss Pendennis, you really are something. I can honestly say I’ve never met your equal.”
“Flattery,” Miss Pendennis said. “Skip it.”
Mirabilis smiled to himself as he struck a dignified pose by the fireplace. “I have been thinking things over carefully,” he said. “And I have come to the conclusion that there is only one course of action.”
“Take the rock out of my hand?” Emily said.
“No,” Mirabilis said. “We must create a Precedent.”
“A what?” Emily looked at Miss Pendennis, but all the woman’s glaring attention was focused on Mirabilis.
“In credomancy,” Mirabilis continued, “power is built by setting Precedents. For example, you’ve heard of the defeat of the Spanish Armada?”
Emily stared at him. “What does the defeat of the Spanish Armada have to do with my hand?”
“Who is the greatest naval power in the world?”
“Britain?” Emily felt it was probably the answer he was fishing for. She was rewarded with a smile.
“Correct. Before the defeat of the Spanish Armada, were the British known for their naval power?”
“How should I know?”
“Well, they weren’t. And they wouldn’t have been if it hadn’t been for that one historic action.” Mirabilis made a conclusive gesture. “That is a Precedent. An action so decisive and unanswerable that it sends ripples outward throughout the rest of history, alters the fundamental fabric of reality. From that moment, the world believed that Britain was a great sea power, and so it became a great sea power.”
“Are you going to make Miss Edwards into a sea power?”
Mirabilis smiled frostily at Miss Pendennis’ impertinence, then looked back at Emily. There was a look on his face that reminded Emily of a salesman, waiting for just the right moment to bring up the matter of price.
“This is my proposal. With that stone, I will set the boldest Precedent ever,” Mirabilis said. “I have called a Grand Symposium for this evening. Credomancers, animancers, and, yes, sangrimancers will help decide on the disposition of the stone together.”
“You can’t be serious!” Miss Pendennis was on her feet. “You can’t trust sangrimancers!”
“It is by trusting them that I will make them trustworthy.”
“But they are depraved!”
“The worse we believe them to be, the worse they will become.”
“How much worse can they get? They murder people and steal their blood!”