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and he did. Sekou stayed in Marseilles and tutored
me for a year and a day. He said there were things he must teach me that would
be essential later."
    When he fell silent, Jean asked, "What did you learn? Are European
and African forms of magic different?"
    "In some ways they are like, in others unlike. The ancestors are very powerful in African magic." His voice gathered intensity.
"I learned so much, Miss Jean! Sekou guided me in an initiation where I walked on other worlds. Not physically, of course, but in my mind. Yet so clear, so vivid, that if I touched fire, I was burned. I learned from Sekou that some African shamans have special abilities to work with time and place that I've not heard of in European magic. I don't know if I have those abilities, but he taught me the techniques, and I practice daily. A lifetime would not be enough to learn it all." He caught himself.
"Forgive my enthusiasm. I have wanted to speak of this, but the others have not
been keen on hearing."
    "I'd like to learn more, if you have the time to tell me," Jean said, fascinated.
"My brother's wife is a scholar of magic, and she won't forgive me if I waste
such an opportunity to acquire more knowledge."
    "I will share willingly." His expression turned grim. "One reason I decided to study more was the need to wield magic to protect myself. There are those who see a black man in the streets and think him a slave for the stealing. Twice I have been attacked by gangs who wanted to capture and enslave me. Once I was able to fight my way free with my fists. The other time…" He shook his head.
"Without magic, I might now be working in the sugar plantations of the Indies.
But I do not like having blood on my hands."
    She winced at his flat recitation. "I've heard that happens in
England as well. It didn't occur to me that a man who is clearly a gentleman
like you would be at risk."
    "Black is black," he said drily. "The rest is mere clothing. I've
not told the others this, though perhaps Jemmy suspects that I have had trouble.
I don't want Lily to know that...that I had to kill a man to preserve my freedom."
    "I won't tell her." Jean's eyes narrowed. "If you
want absolution for killing to save yourself, you have mine, for what it's
worth."
    He exhaled softly. "I think that is what I wanted. Thank you, Miss Jean." He offered her his arm.
"Shall I escort you back to your chambers?"
    "Please do, Monsieur Fontaine." She took his arm. "And don't
forget the spool of thread for future travels!"

Chapter

SIX
    T hough Jean would have liked to spend more time learning about African magic from Moses, the following weeks were a flurry of sightseeing, picnics and balls, and preparing for the weddings. Annie was the ideal companion because she also wanted to see everything and was eager to visit any church or hike any hill. Lily and Breeda would join their excursions, and Moses and Jemmy came when they weren't working.
    Occasionally, as they enjoyed the mild, sunny days, Jean and Annie would speculate on what dreadful storms were battering the hills of Scotland. Jean had a tingly, magical feeling that she actually did know what the weather was like in Dunrath, but there was no way to be sure she was right. Maybe she just had a good imagination.
    The weddings, when they finally took place, were beautiful. Breeda had laughingly insisted on a separate ceremony, saying that she didn't want to be overshadowed by Lily on her own wedding day. She needn't have worried—she was beautiful, her bright hair blazing under a lace veil, and Jemmy gazed at her as if she were the only woman in the world. A glow of light surrounded them, their love made visible to those with the power to see it.
    That afternoon, Lily and Moses were joined in an equally moving ceremony. Jean wept unashamedly, as she had that morning. As she blotted her eyes, she had the ironic thought that both couples owed something to the despicable Lord Drayton. His wicked enthrallment had