Coniston looked up at Merlin and Vivien.
“Young St. Jacques,” he said, in a not-too-friendly tone. “I trust you are not with that Merrihew who lured me to Southaw’s trap. Who now lies dead upon my upper slope. What is your business here?”
“Helping Susan,” said Merlin. “And you, sir.”
Coniston nodded slowly, accepting that. He climbed out of the grave, paused, and held his hand out to Susan. She took it, moving stiffly and wincing as she stepped up. She’d momentarily forgotten about the glancing wound to her leg, but now the pain was coming back with a vengeance, and the cuts on her hands stung.
Coniston frowned and she suddenly felt pins and needles in her hand, and the familiar magic came back, flowing from mountain to man to her. It was like being given pethidine the time she’d broken her wrist falling off Christie, her neighbor’s usually placid mare. She felt relief flowing through her veins, and the pain went away from bullet wound and cuts. But it was not only that. Her father was giving her some small part of the magic he’d taken back. A very minor part. She could sense how vast a pool of power lay within the mountain and the lake and the lands of Coniston’s domain, all focused on the man in front of her, like all the sky’s sunlight gathered to a lens to make one piercing ray.
“My daughter will go with you to bring the cauldron back to me,” said Coniston to Merlin and Vivien. He handed Susan to them as if changing partners in a dance, and they drew her in to stand close between them.
“I will?” asked Susan.
“I am the Keeper of the Copper Cauldron,” said Coniston. “After he entrapped me and took my magic, Southaw carried away the cauldron to his own demesne. It must be brought back and once more kept safe in the deep places. That seems to me fitting business for you booksellers.”
“Yes,” said Vivien. “It is.”
“Do you know exactly where the cauldron is?” asked Merlin. “Southaw seems to have extended his realm while Merrihew . . . we . . . were not doing our job.”
“Susan will find it,” said Coniston. “I have given her something of my strength. So you must not kill her, as you did one of my children long ago, in the years of ice, when the lake froze from end to end.”
“We did? I mean . . . no . . . we’ve stopped doing that. Anyway, Susan is . . .” Merlin was uncharacteristically tongue-tied. “Susan is special.”
“I tire of this mortal form,” said Coniston suddenly. “And I have spent too much of my strength. I must rest in the heart of the mountain, until the year’s end comes round again. I thank you, daughter, for freeing me.”
He leaned forward, kissed Susan very formally on top of the head, and stepped back into the grave. His feet sank into the gray shale as if it were quicksand.
“I have taken in the fragments of the Cauldron-Born. The knockers shall burn them in the lower fires, with the corpse of the Merrihew, the ashes to be strewn in the deepest chasms that extend beyond even my ken,” said Coniston. “And I have stopped the hearts of the mortal evildoers below, who were waiting for Southaw’s return.”
He began to sink more swiftly, raised his hands above his head, and the stones that had blown away began to shuffle back across the crest and rearrange themselves, rebuilding the platform and then the cairn.
Susan, Merlin, and Vivien backed away to make room, knocking over the headless body of Holly, which rolled a short distance before crumbling into nothing, leaving only the anorak, the clothes beneath, the boots, and the silver watchband. Vivien picked that up, held it close to her eye for a few seconds, and put it in her pocket.
“Very old and not made by Harshton and Hoole,” she said. “Which is something of a relief. One traitor is enough.”
“Merrihew probably was working on her own,” agreed Merlin. “Aided by Thurston being so damn lazy, of course. And others, unwittingly. Who would question Merrihew’s orders, after all? Is your leg okay, Susan? We need to get moving.”
“We do?” asked Susan plaintively.
“Yes,” said Merlin.
“Isn’t it all over now?” asked Susan.
“No,” said Merlin and Vivien together.
Susan sighed, sat down on a rock, and extended her leg. The knife was back in the ruler pocket, though she couldn’t remember putting it there. “I did need the knife, Vivien. But not the salt, I guess.”
“Oh, maybe for this,” said Merlin, taking a wax-paper packet out of his coat. “Someone left this behind at a campsite below—”
Susan grabbed the package and opened it in a single motion. A homemade roast beef and lettuce sandwich on perfect sourdough bread. She took a bite and chewed vigorously, swallowed, and looked at Vivien as she felt for the second packet of salt in her pocket.
“It does need salt! You’re amazing, Vivien.”
“I think I could have seen more clearly and saved us all a lot of bother,” replied Vivien sardonically, watching Susan open the sandwich and sprinkle on the salt. Her hands shook a little, but steadied.
“Let me look at your leg,” said Merlin, kneeling down in front of Susan.
“I think it’s okay,” mumbled Susan through a mouthful of bread and roast beef.
There was lots of blood on her boiler suit, and a huge tear where the bullet had ripped through, but it didn’t hurt anymore. She shivered as Merlin’s fingers probed the rip and then lightly touched the skin beneath. His silver hand felt slightly warmer than his right.
Susan choked a little and Merlin looked up.
“Did that hurt?” he asked anxiously. “I can’t see or feel a wound at all.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” coughed Susan. “Um, my father, when he gave me that bit of magic, I think he fixed it up.”
“Oh, right,” said Merlin, standing up. “We really need to get going, then. I thought I might have to carry you.”
“So what happens now?” asked Susan wistfully. “I had that minute of hoping we could be . . . normal. Normal-ish, in your case. Isn’t Holly . . . or Southaw, or whatever he actually is . . . finished?”
“No. He was only banished from here,” said Merlin. “He’s lost the physical form of Chief Superintendent Holly, and the charm that disguised him from those who might see him as he really is. But Southaw is a very powerful Old One, he commands many lesser entities, and he has the Copper Cauldron. He might still be able to command his gangsters as well, I don’t know. He might even be able to remake his mortal shape. There’s no telling what he can do, or what he wants to do, for that matter.”
“He said the whole point of seizing Father’s power was so he could get together criminals and creatures of the Old World to kill you booksellers.”
“What! We have to warn them!” exclaimed Merlin. He started down the path, and for the first time Susan fully took in that he and Vivien were not only in evening dress but had no shoes, their feet already bloodied from many small cuts and undoubtedly very cold. Susan’s feet even felt cold through her Docs, particularly as she wasn’t wearing winter socks.
“You haven’t got shoes!”
“We’re well aware of this,” said Vivien. “Come on.”
She started after Merlin, flapping her hands to clear a particularly thick waft of fog. Susan followed her.