Modern Magick

The Fifth Britain: 15

'That's ours?' I put in. 'The sixth Britain?'

Yes.

'What is the fourth like?'

Of the nine worlds, said Melmidoc patiently, three are no more, including the one we think of as the fourth. In two, magick has met a permanent death and cannot now be revived at all. Of the four remaining, two have succumbed to fear and irrationality and outlawed magick entirely. That leaves your world, where magick survives in a diminished and hidden capacity, and this one, the fifth Britain, where magick thrives and need never hide.

I thought briefly of Fenella Beaumont, and Ancestria Magicka. To build so powerful an organisation in a single year, she must have had an equally powerful motive. Was this it? Had she somehow discovered the fifth Britain, a vision of a world where people like us could practice our magicks openly, and with unabated power?

It was a seductive prospect, that I could not deny. But what did she now plan to do?

I hesitate to call a close to this instructive interlude, said Melmidoc, but was it strictly necessary to bring so large a party hither?

Startled, I looked down over the cliff. For a little while, I'd forgotten about the rest of Fenella's guests. They had made their way out of the transplanted castle by now and were milling about on the beach — staring around at everything, exclaiming and, in short, looking like a pack of excited tourists.

Which, I suppose, we all were.

'They pose a problem,' I said, and outlined the events of the past few hours — for Jay's benefit as well as Melmidoc's.

And you do not think they are here in good faith?

'In a spirit of happy exploration, with the best of intentions and no nefarious motives in mind? No.'

Then they will be disposed of, said Melmidoc mildly.

'Not chilling at all.' As I watched, Fenella took up a spot partway up the cliff and began, once again, to hold forth. From this height, I could not hear what she was saying, but it involved a fair amount of pointing and gesturing up to the top of the cliff, and over the water to the huddle of buildings clinging to the far shore. I could not see Rob or Val in the mass of people, or any of our folk. Wherever they had gone, it wasn't with Fenella.

'Let's go in,' said Jay, and the door of the spire creaked open a bit wider in invitation. 'I can see we're going to need a cunning plan.'

I stared hungrily over the island of Whitmore, spread before us like a birthday buffet. I had a fierce lust to explore its plethora of shining buildings, their architecture so intriguing a mixture of the familiar and the strange; another spire rose somewhere in the distance, so similar in style to Melmidoc's that it had to be related, and was that Drystan's? Another set of people wandered the narrow streets of the town, similar to and yet different from us in the same way as their homes and shops and offices. What must it be like, to grow up here, live here, work here right out in the open? As part of an organisation known to, and accepted by, every denizen of this world whether magickal or not? What feats were they capable of, that we had forgotten long ago?

But now was not the time, for we had a more pressing problem on our hands: Fenella. I'd have to trust that my opportunity to explore would come soon, if not today. 'What's become of Millie?' I asked as I preceded Jay into the Starstone Spire.

'She's dozing,' he answered, ushering Zareen and George inside. The Baron brought up the rear, uncharacteristically quiet. I wondered just how many questions were buzzing through his mind at that moment, and how many worries. He rewarded my look of enquiring concern with a smile and the barest trace of a wink.