“That bottle must be to the ceiling by now.” Pap smiled, a pleased look on his face. “I feel the power working on it.”
No, you feel the power going into the stone in my hand, Emily thought, for she, too, felt the tingling of power, threading around her hand like streams of warm water. But she didn’t want to give Stanton the satisfaction of hearing her say it. She let go of Pap’s hand and stood up from the table abruptly, moving to the other side of the room and crossing her arms.
The moment she did, the bottle rocked, lifting into the air with a zipping whoosh and coming to a twisting dangle in midair.
“There certainly seems to be a distance correlation,” Stanton said. His fingers looked as if they itched to write down the finding. Having neither paper nor pen, he shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at Emily.
“I take it you are convinced?” Stanton said. “So, as long as you stay well away from your pap, avoid handling any of his magical objects, and allow him to do all the charm work—including deliveries, for you won’t be able to touch anything magical that he produces—well, then I suppose you’ll be fine.”
“So what?” Emily was seized by a sudden defiance. “There’s plenty of things I can do that don’t have anything to do with magic. Gathering herbs, making poultices …” She picked up the poultice that Stanton had laid aside and threw it at him. Obviously he was expecting something of the sort, for he caught it easily.
“All things that any woman can do,” Stanton said, as he replaced the cloth over his eye. “They are not magic.”
“People pay us for the things they can’t do, Em,” Pap said soberly. “They pay us for the charms and potions. The herbs they take because they’re our neighbors.”
Emily sank into her chair, her thumb caressing her palm.
“The stone in your hand is exceptionally valuable.” Stanton spoke slowly, as if trying to impress something important on a willful child. “It is my duty and responsibility to escort you to a place of research where the stone can be removed and preserved for study. You want the stone removed, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” Emily said.
“And there is no organization better suited to help accomplish that goal than the Mirabilis Institute of the Credomantic Arts.” Stanton paused thoughtfully. “You know, the Institute is extremely well funded. I’m sure it would pay awfully well to secure such a rare and unique specimen.”
Emily narrowed her eyes at him. “How much?”
“A hundred dollars. That’ll more than defray Pap’s cost of losing you while you travel to San Francisco.” Stanton frowned at one of Pap’s scruffy cats as it leapt onto his lap; he removed the offending animal and made a great show of brushing his trousers. “And let’s say another hundred at the end, for your return to Lost Pine.”
Two hundred dollars! Emily bit the inside of her lip to keep from blurting out her astonishment. It was a vast sum. Two hundred dollars was more cash-money than they’d ever made for anything …
“The trip won’t take more than a week, maybe two,” Stanton continued. “I can assure you, there will be no greater claim upon your time than is strictly necessary.”
“What do you think?” Emily murmured to Pap.
“I don’t like the thought of you going so far from home,” Pap murmured back, “but I’ll manage. And I don’t know what else we can do.”
“Well?” Stanton removed the poultice from his eye. The swelling had gone down substantially. She could still do something right, at least. “All your expenses will be paid, of course. And I should be surprised if you didn’t find yourself—however briefly—the toast of the San Francisco magical community. I would think that might appeal to a girl of your station.”
Emily opened her mouth, about to use some words that were even more appropriate to the station in which Dreadnought Stanton imagined her, when someone rushed in the front door. It was one of the boys from the timber camp, a young jobber named Nate.
“Miss Emily! Thank goodness you’re here. You have to hurry! There’s trouble in town. It’s Mr. Hansen. He’s … Miss Emily, hurry!”
“He says he’s done with it!” young Nate said, as he and Emily raced down Moody Ridge toward Lost Pine. “He says he’s done with it all! Damn the tracks, damn the lumber, damn it