Modern Magick

The Fifth Britain: 3

There are definitely people I'm fonder of than Katalin Pataki. It isn't just that she happens to belong to the enemy. She also has a lamentable way of making me feel just a touch inferior. She's about a foot taller than me, with the long, sleek look of a supermodel. Why should that make me feel deficient? Well, it shouldn't. Apart from the practical advantage of being able to reach the top shelves in the cupboard without fetching a step, there is no real superiority to being taller.

Such is the folly of womankind.

Mind you, I say that but I'd noticed Jay eyeing the bulky figure of George Mercer as he came in, and his face registered the same kind of scowling irritation with which I beheld Katalin Pataki. So I'll amend that.

Such is the folly of humankind.

Anyway, Katalin waltzed up to our table with her slinky supermodel stride and stood looking down at Jay and me. She said nothing.

'Yes?' I said after a while.

She still said nothing, and I realised it wasn't me she was surveying so much as Jay. And Jay was meeting that stare with no sign of discomfort.

Well. Jay may not be half muscle, like Mercer, but he's got all that black windswept hair and those cheekbones, and with that black leather jacket he always wears there's a touch of the roguish about him. I began to wonder whether Ancestria Magicka's pursuit of him (by way of Katalin) was about more than just his juicy Waymastery skills.

'How can we help you?' said Jay, and to my irritation that prompted a half-smile and, at last, a response.

I refuse to admit that the looming-over-us-without-speaking thing was in any way intimidating.

'What are you doing on Saturday night?' she said.

Oh, please. If she must ask Jay on a date, did she have to do it right in front of my nose? As though I didn't even exist! The cheek.

To my secret relief, Jay did not have the flattered look of a man delighted to accept. His eyes narrowed, and he said with scepticism: 'What would you like us to be doing on Saturday night?' I liked the us in that sentence.

Katalin produced cards. Not business cards but lovely invitation cards on thick creamy paper. There was even a flash of gold gilding as she presented them to us — one each.

I examined mine in silence.

Ancestria Magicka's Summer Ball, it said, amid the usual flourishings and faff. Ashdown Castle, Saturday 13th of May.

If I wanted to be picky I might note that referring to the 13th of May as summer was a touch optimistic. This is Britain, after all. But that aside: what?

'Why?' said Jay, perfectly expressing my own feelings in that one syllable.

'You'll see,' she said mysteriously, and walked away.

Hm.

I exchanged a raised-eyebrow look with Jay. 'Apparently they're ready to stop hiding their HQ,' I noted.

Jay had laid his invitation on the table and sat frowning at it. 'Big event,' he said. 'And if they're inviting the enemy then they're up to something.'

'Declaration of war?'

'Maybe not quite that, but something of the kind. Taking their place on the game board, so to speak.'

I tucked my card away in my handbag. 'We'll go.'

'Definitely.'

I watched as Katalin made her way over to George and Zareen's table and repeated the procedure, though this time she only produced a card for Zareen. As a member of Ancestria Magicka, I supposed, George needed no separate invitation.