The man was whistling softly to himself, evidently, something had put him in a very good humor. Well, since I permit it, he can command the Salamanders to hitch up the horses to take him in the carriage as far as Pacifica; perhaps that is the reason. It makes him feel like a Master.
But if the Salamanders thought du Mond might be a hazard to him, he did not want du Mond to know of his weakness. I can handle him when I am fit—but I do not want him to think he has the upper hand because I am incapacitated.
The man paused on the landing, then tried the door to the suite. Finding it unlocked, he ventured inside, naturally. "Jason?" he called. "Is something wrong? The door is unlocked."
"What is that?" Cameron growled loudly, knowing that his voice would carry down the hall. "Paul, go to bed. I'm going over my books, what can you possibly want now?"
"Nothing—well, except to tell you that you really ought to have the Inn at Pacifica send some hampers up here. They have a new cook, a man from New Orleans, that does wonders with fowl." That was so trivial an excuse to bother Cameron that he at once suspected that du Mond sensed something was wrong and was trying to snoop.
"Fine. Start an account down there, and see to it," he replied, trying to sound as irritated as possible. "And if you won't go to bed, go find something useful to do."
"He's sniffing the air, trying to detect incense or burning herbs," the Salamander said calmly. "He must suspect that you attempted a Working without him."
Now how had the fool gotten so clever and observant, suddenly? And why couldn't he have done so when cleverness would have done Cameron some good?
Well, he won't find anything. The Working tonight required balsam and pine gum. He won't detect anything that a good fire in the fireplace wouldn't put out, His lips twisted in satisfaction.
"I'm trying to concentrate, du Mond, and I would prefer you weren't interrupting me. If you have anything else, keep it until tomorrow," he called, allowing his irritation to show in his voice.
"All right, Jason." Finally the footsteps receded and continued up the stairs.
"He's muttering something under his breath about opium, and he seems to think it is serious," the Salamander reported, evidently getting the information from one of the others of his kind that was keeping watch over the Apprentice. Interesting. So they were keeping a guard of their own on him. That meant they did consider him a hazard.
He must think I'm dosing myself too much.... He suffered a momentary pang of guilt, for that was exactly what Rose and Master Pao had said. If even du Mond was of that opinion, then he must have allowed pride to take him too near the edge again.
Oh, damn them all, every one of them! He was perfectly capable of assessing his own needs! He didn't need them to tell him what to do!
"Now he's talking to himself." That was a habit du Mond never had broken, despite the fact that it posed a danger of being overheard by Sylphs or Salamanders. "It's about Rose. He does not like her. And yet he would like to have her to himself. He has plans for her that do not sound as if she would like them."
Cameron was well aware of what du Mond got up to when he visited the city, and his irritation turned to anger. "I can well imagine," he muttered. The man could have been the internal reflection of Cameron's exterior; he was a beast in spirit as Cameron was in body.
That cad. I should have had him horsewhipped out of here when I first found out about his hobby. I thought it didn't matter, after all, many Masters had little peccadilloes when they were Apprentices that they outgrew once they learned discipline. But he's not simply flawed, he's warped. He's another like that charlatan, Crowley. He's a malicious, filthy-minded, self-indulgent blackguard, and he thinks he has the right to besmirch any woman he comes across with his foul paws! And now he thinks he can take advantage of Rose because I am confined to these four walls!
Once again, his anger rose until his vision was red-tinged, filling him with such rage that if du Mond had been in the same room, he would have found the strength to rise from his bed and rip his throat out. Fortunately at the moment he did not have the physical resources to do anything.
He forced himself to simply be still until his anger wore itself out. Logic asserted itself. He dares do nothing under my roof or on my grounds, and Rose will not leave either without my watchful eyes on her She is safe enough from him. But it is a good reason to be rid of him. The only question is—how to accomplish that without his realizing I have done so and seeking revenge?
The easiest way would be to simply kill the man. The idea had its merits. No one cared about Paul du Mond; no one would miss him if he simply vanished.
Except for certain parties in the city for whom he performs his vile services, who will find someone else of similar disposition within a fortnight.
Still, murdering him did carry some risks. Not in his mundane circles, of course; he need only say he had dismissed his secretary for embezzlement and that the man had taken ship for the South Pacific in disgrace. No one would make any further inquiries, for men did frequently take passage to the Islands to lose a bad reputation.
No, murdering du Mond would attract attention only in Magickal circles. One did not go about incinerating one's Apprentices; he would probably be called to account for it before an assembly of Firemasters. If that happened before he managed to change himself back, his altered state would become public knowledge, and some of his deadlier rivals would know of his plight.
No. Much as I would like to, I cannot afford to kill him. Yet.
That left another option—find some place to Put him that was out of the way. That would require a great deal of thought, more than he had put into it until now.
But until now, if I had come across a Working that required four hands rather than two, I would have needed him after all. Now, I no longer do. Now I can afford to think about getting rid of him.
Perhaps the Hawkins girl's impetuous offer was not such a bad thing after all.
She certainly can't be any worse as an assistant than du Mond.
He curled up a bit more and pondered the problem. If he worked hard at it, he could probably manufacture a situation that would require du Mond's presence in the city for some time. Perhaps that would be best.
I can always incinerate him after I have my proper form back. All I have to do is reveal the nature of his recreations and most of the Masters would second my action. Simon Beltaire would not, of course, but he would not second anything I did, even if it was to offer him the wealth of the Indies. Although few, if any, of the Masters would find those recreations in and of themselves reprehensible, since du Mond had up until now confined himself to women of the lowest class and intelligence, they would find his indulgence in them to be foolish and an indication of a fatally flawed personality, one that could never muster the will to properly command the Salamanders.
They already had a perfect example of how such a flawed personality could be detrimental to every Magician. Crowley had been one such—and look what he was doing now! The man was a perambulating disaster wherever he went; he couldn't touch something without destroying or fouling it. And as for his blatant publicity-seeking—he was doing more to discredit the entire world of Magick than the Spanish Inquisition.
His former Master must be spinning in his grave.
Still, he did serve a kind of purpose. Eliphas Levi had said as much in Cameron's first Assembly, when Crowley had been formally cast out and stripped of as much of his power as the Magicians of his Element had deemed he actually possessed. "He does us all a favor, in his twisted way," the old Master had said. "He gathers to him all those fools who believe that the path to power can be found through drugs and selfindulgence rather than study and self-discipline. Thus, he relieves us of the task of having to test and discard them. And in addition, he causes the common folk of the world to believe that all Magicians must be charlatans—which is just as well, for it enables us to do our work in relative peace and quiet!"