The Magician's Sons

Chapter 33

He could still see the brightness of fire in his vision every time he closed his eyes. Even though it was pitch black around him, he couldn't escape it. Part of Hugo's heart was thrilled, part of it was horrified.

Just minutes before, he had left the scene of flaming chaos and had slipped secretly out of The Pearl of Britannia. Now, he was hurrying through the shadows of a back alleyway.

He will be dead in minutes, he thought. The boy's clothes were drenched in brandy. He went up in flames like tinder. It is no more than he deserves, the insolent wretch! No one wins against me!

He thought back on the night with cruel hatred destroying his heart the way the fire was destroying Blair at that moment. Sitting at a table in the guild's meeting place, he and Blair had sat with cards in their hands.

"Now don't feel nervous," Hugo had laughed cheerfully, looking across at his opponent. "I will give you a fair chance since you are new to the game."

"Hugo, you simpleton! I did not say I was new to the game!" the young man had retorted in amusement. "I told you I did not play. That was an act of will, not an act of ignorance."

"Strange. Whatever could have possessed you to give the game up?" Hugo had asked. He had seen a haughty smile flicker on the youth's lips.

"Perhaps I was tired of turning lords into paupers," the youth had said with a taunting wink. It had set Hugo's teeth on edge, but he had given a wry smile anyway.

I will put this audacious youth in his place, he had thought behind clenched teeth. It is you who will owe me by the end of this game, Mr. Jameson.

He had been wrong. Try as he might, he had lost the game and a heap of money with it. He had been so appalled by the circumstances that he had challenged Blair to a second and then a third. Every time they played, Blair won, and Hugo's pockets came out emptier than before. At last, it had come to gambling money which they didn't have on their persons.

Hugo had finally lost all dignity. He had a few tricks up his sleeve. He wasn't a stranger to the art of deception or the crafting of lies. But as he had tactfully reached for a winning card stowed carefully away in his sleeves, Blair had given him a menacing glare.

"Don't try it, Hugo. That's filthy of you! I know the tricks of every card sharper in England. But I hardly expected your lordship to stoop to such despicable tricks! Play a real card from your hand!"

A vile word had burst from Hugo's lips as he had cried, "What are you accusing me of? I was merely reaching for my handkerchief!" And with that, he had pulled the white cloth out and had pretended to wipe the sweat from his brow.

"Ha! You may as well start sweating!" the young man had teased. "For I have won again!" He had started laughing in joyous victory as he scooped up his earnings and then shoved away from the table. "Did I not warn you in advance? You should not have pressed me to do it."

The boastful young man had walked away with Hugo's money, and from that moment on, a murderous hatred had built within the defeated man's heart. He had carefully sought his opportunity, and what better way to kill than to let the snap-dragon devour his enemy? He had crept, undetected, down to the basement. In the darkness, he had stealthily robbed Blair of everything in his pockets. Then he had set the young man alight.

By now, he's dead, Hugo imagined. He felt no remorse. But there was a feeling of fear which seized him now and then. What if someone discovered that it hadn't been an accident? What if one of the servants had seen him sneak down into the basement? What if they had seen him escaping? He shook the thoughts away with an effort. What was he thinking? This was ridiculous. There was no way for such misfortunes to befall him.