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unfamiliar handwriting. The stationery was ordinary enough, and there
was no seal, only a formless blob of sealing wax holding the flap
shut.
She opened it, separating the wax from the paper, and pulled out the
single folded sheet, covered with neat, evenly spaced lines of
precise handwriting.
Dear Doctor Witherspoon, it began. I believe that I have made and
torn up a full dozen letters in attempting to couch what I would like
to tell you in vague or indirect terms. Such an attempt is folly; I
will be direct. When we met in your surgery today, we both recognized
each other for what we were, and I do not believe that you will deny
this. You and I are alike, for we are both magicians.
That last sentence arrested her eyes, and she had to read it over
three times before she truly understood it, in all its bald
simplicity. She put one hand to the arm of her chair to steady
herself, feeling as if the earth trembled, or at least, should have
trembled. For a moment, the letter lay in her lap as she collected
her wits.
Then she picked it back up and began again at that extraordinary
sentence. Yes; you and I recognized each other . . . for we are both
magicians. Sorcerers, if you would rather. I am what is known as an
Elemental Master; my mastery, such as it is, holds over the arcane
creatures of water. I was trained and schooled, long and hard, to
attain my Mastery, and there are others with whom I associate and
sometimes work, Masters of other Elements, of creatures and magic
that few Englishmen realize even exist side by side with their cozy
bed sitters, their railways, and their cream teas.
This brings me to my confession. I was sent by others of my kind to
discover what it was that had made such unexpected stirrings in the
occult world, stirrings that none of them recognized or could
effectively trace. Because of what and who I am, because I can travel
streets in London where they would be set upon in moments, they asked
me to find the source of this strange and unfamiliar magic. For this,
I apologize; I was sent as a spy to find you and there is no polite
way to confess this. For my defense, I can only offer that the Unseen
World holds many perils, as I believe you know, and my fellows dare
not let something they cannot recognize remain uninvestigated.
The bald, bold words reassured her, oddly enough. There was no doubt
who the letter was from now. She did not even need to turn the page
over to see the signature. And she agreed with him; in his position,
she would have done the same.
Oh, yes. I would, indeed. If only I were able to sense the possible
peril in the first place. . . . He had investigated, and finding her
harmless, had honorably confessed the reason he had invaded her
domain. What was more, had she been a man, he would probably have
phrased his apology exactly the same way. She felt a tingle of
pleasure, and her mouth curved in a slight smile. Here, at last, was
a man and an Englishman willing to admit that her strength, wit, and
intelligence were equal to his in all ways-and matter-of-factly made
no effort to shield her from "unpleasantness," assuming that she
would deal with unpleasantness in her own time and method.
Now, please forgive me if I presume, or if I have misjudged-but
although I saw your defenses were strong, as strong as any that a
Master could produce, I felt they were-there is no kind way to put
this either-untutored.
Her cheeks heated, but she could not be honest with herself if she
didn't agree with him. She knew her protections were clumsy, cobbled
together.
If this is the case, I do not know why you have had no schooling,
although I can hazard some guesses. Neither do I care why this is so,
to be honest, for that is none of my business unless you choose to
make it so. I may be very wrong, and if I am, I can only humbly beg
your forgiveness. If I am not wrong, I may have a solution for you.
You have every right to ignore this-more right to tell me to go to
Hades with my presumptions! If you choose to see me, you may also
choose to tell me what you will of your past-or not. Your secrets may
remain your secrets.
If she chose to see him? Her eyes raced across the lines of neat
script avidly, suddenly impatient to find the meat of the matter.
If you wish, I venture to offer my services, to tutor you in the
basic schooling that all of the Elemental Masters receive. For the
knowledge particular to your own Element-Earth, if I am not mistaken-
I can and will pass you to one far more qualified than I when you
have achieved the basics. But I can give you what you need to make
sense of what may, at the moment, be of confusion to you. I offer
this because if you have erected defenses, you must have enemies. In
my own self-interest and that of my colleagues, I feel I must see to
it that you can meet those enemies and defeat them, before they
become a peril to the rest of us.
Her heart beat faster and she felt light-headed with relief. Was this
not what she had prayed for? Was this not what her mother, what
Hanuman himself had told her she must find?
If you are not utterly insulted by this letter, if you wish to accept
my offer, you have but to reply to this address. I will come to your
office at any day and hour you specify, or you may send to make an
appointment at any other venue you choose. This is not an offer made
out of pity or contempt, Doctor Witherspoon. You have not become what
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