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The first summer following the restoration of magic to England was an uncommonly humid one, and few of the sweaty, complaining masses were as acutely and painfully aware of this fact as John Childermass.
He must have spent the better part of June writing increasingly bluntly worded letters to a number of aspiring magicians who had decided their first grand feat of magic was to be a more or less localised alteration of the weather. Naturally, very few of them had stopt to consider what local farmers and beekeepers would think of unexpected - and sometimes quite unstoppable! - snowstorms during what was meant to be one of the hottest months of the year. On one especially memorable occasion he and Vinculus had been forced to ride all the way down to Norwich just to inform a particularly ambitious young lady that her new ice palace - while certainly very impressive - was melting rapidly and had caused a flood in the village downhill.
It is fair to say that Childermass was not well pleased. The letters and other reprimands felt sometimes too close in his mind to the kind of work he used to do for Norrell, and were not at all suited to the new-old world they found themselves inhabiting. Besides, his head ached constantly and his eyes were watering. The season had never much agreed with him, and the current fashion among northern folk to sow weeds and flowers in an effort to claim a few ounces of this new wild magic for their own gardens did not help matters. Whether it worked or not Childermass could not tell, but even in his discomfort he found it difficult to begrudge them their little superstitions, for he himself had kept a good number of them over the years 1.
Nevertheless, when he and Vinculus arrived at the Old Starre Inn on the third Wednesday of July, Childermass sat himself down as far away from the open windows as he could. It was too early still for any members of the York Society to arrive, and the few remaining regular patrons were generally keeping to themselves in more or less secluded corner seats. It was quiet save for the occasional sound of hooves on cobble outside, and for the low bustle that tended to accompany a kitchen's preparation for the arrival of a large company of very hungry magicians. His own nose was quite clogged at this point, but Vinculus eagerly informed him that the roast pork smelled delicious and that baking was definitely occurring.
Vinculus had once again taken to parading about in nothing but his new coat and pantaloons in the summer heat. This was just as well, for the York Society's attempts to keep their book hidden from the rest of the country had lasted all but a week. Even now no one could really tell whether Childermass, who had soon established himself as Vinculus' keeper, had been particularly pleased or displeased by these proceedings.
Childermass spread the London paper he had purchased earlier out on the table before him, smoothing down the creased paper as well as he could. He gave Vinculus a small handful of coins and told him to amuse himself with what remained after he had fetched Childermass a small cup of honeyed wine.
"Within reason," he said when his companions eyes lit up, but Vinculus only winked at him and was on his merry way.
It did not take long before the customary irritable muttering of one John Collier was added to the inn's general ambience. Mr Collier was the Old Starre's proprietor; a stout little man who had taken a particular dislike to Vinculus. In turn, Vinculus had decided to find Collier's habit of following his every step in an attempt to catch him stealing endlessly amusing.
Childermass had grown quite used to their antics over the past handful of months, and did not trouble himself to pay them much mind. He merely sniffled quietly and turned over the pages of his paper until a familiar, albeit somewhat muffled voice made him look up.
"Ah- my apologies!"
Another early arrival, Mr Segundus had managed to get himself stuck in the inn's entrance with the sizeable basket of colourful flowers, twigs and other vegetation he was carrying. Childermass leaned back a little in his chair and folded his hands on the table before him. He observed mutely as Mr Collier momentarily abandoned his self-appointed position as Vinculus' guard to offer some assistance to Segundus 2 .
Soon enough their combined efforts saw Segundus inside quite safely, with only a handful of loose petals strewn across the floor.
"I'm much obliged to you," he told Collier, and was suddenly caught in a mercifully brief but rather violent fit of sneezes, which soon dissolved into a fit of coughs. Mr Collier watched with some dismay as more petals scattered, but seemed to know better than to pass comment and instead turned his attention back to Vinculus.
In the meantime Segundus shifted the basket's weight upon one of his hips and pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket to press it modestly to his mouth and nose. Once he had quite recovered himself he approached Childermass, who may have subtly reclined just a little bit further to minimise his proximity to so large an amount of freshly cut greenery.
"Good afternoon, Childermass. You two are early today," said Segundus. Upon closer inspection he looked considerably worse than Childermass felt. His eyes were swollen and glossy, and his nose had taken on a particularly bright shade of red that usually signified either a significant amount of drink or a serious case of the grippe. They were well aware of their shared affliction, and in fact had spent much of the prior two society meetings sitting beside one another in communal silent discomfort.
"Would you object if I were to join you?"
Childermass' gaze moved slowly from Segundus to the basket and back again before he finally gestured vaguely towards the chair opposite.
"By all means, sir. By all means."
Segundus gave him a tired little smile and had the grace to place his load upon the table as far away from either of them as he could. Rather than taking the offered seat just yet he pulled a rough green cloth from the basket and spread it between them, before laying it with a handful of tools and instruments. A delicate silvery knife and a small spool of wire were among them.
Childermass, who was observing Segundus with some interest, suddenly felt a cup pressed into his hand, which was then accompanied by the weight of Vinculus leaning upon his shoulder. A few crumbs of pastry rained own on Childermass as Vinculus took a noisy bite somewhere in the vicinity of his ear.
"What are you doing, little man?"
Segundus stopt in his proceedings and regarded them both for a moment.
"I have been working on something," he admitted at last, "an enchantment to provide relief for- Ah, for Childermass' and my current predicament."
Childermass' brows rose at this intriguing prospect. The society had not ventured far into the study or creation of magical artefacts during the past year. There had, of course, been the odd piece of enchanted fairy finery, but no English man or woman had produced anything much of significance as yet.
"Does it work?" he asked, absently slapping away Vinculus' hand as it reached for one of the tools. There was a huff near his ear, followed by another small hail of crumbs before Vinculus seemed to decide that the serving girls were more worthy of his attention than the two sniffling magicians, and saw himself off again. Even if it did not, in fact, work, the thought that Segundus found himself so vext by the season that he would dedicate his evenings to a task such as this was oddly charming. Besides, there was potential there.
Segundus gently shifted his weight from one foot to the other, before finally sitting himself down. He sneezed again, but just the once this time.
"Oh-! Excuse me! I am confident it will."
He picked up the spool of wire and carefully uncoiled a piece perhaps twice as long as his forearm, which was promptly clipped. "It just requires some preparation and - I regret go say - sizeable samples of the offending vegetation. In my experience not every person is affected equally by the same plants." He leaned towards the basket with a small grimace and pulled forth an assortment of pliant twigs and long stalks of grass, which he soon began to wind together with his length of wire. "I am much obliged to Mr Honeyfoot's daughters. Not only did they help me procure the materials, but they also gave me some most useful advice as to the construction."
"Is that so? How good of them," said Childermass, taking a long sip of his honeyed wine. He could remember taking the wine as a remedy for his seasonal affliction ever since he had been a boy, and though the relief it offered was marginal at best, he still found himself rather enjoying the taste of it.
Childermass watched a while as Segundus cut and split flower stems. It did not take long until he could see quite plainly what the enchanted artefact was going to be. It made some sense, he thought. How else would the afflicted person carry about such a large sample of wild flowers?
Childermass smiled, slow and somewhat crocked. "So the magic is, in essence, a plea to the flowers?"
Segundus almost laughed, but it became stuck in his throat, resulting in a cut-off little croak. He covered his mouth with the handkerchief again, and seemed to will away another coughing fit.
"Yes, quite. If you will," he said, his voice somewhat strained.
Childermass downed the last of his drink and set his cup aside before reaching for the half-finished wreath on the table between them.
"May I?"
Segundus gave permission with a small nod, as if he did not quite trust his voice to obey him, and handed Childermass the small silvery knife he had been using to split the stems. It seems there were some advantages to a life spent working with ones' hands. The wreath was growing quickly now as Childermass was adding perhaps a few more of the wild yellow roses than was strictly necessary for the spell. If his eyes were watering a little less, Childermass may even have quite enjoyed his task.
Segundus at least appeared grateful for the small respite. His breathing had become calmer now that he was not handling the plants directly, and he took the opportunity to unfold a small square of paper, every inch of which seemed to be covered in his small, neat handwriting. Some parts were crossed out almost viscously, others underlined with great enthusiasm and sprinkled modestly with exclamation points.
"It is, I take it, wholly your magic, sir?" asked Childermass when he was quite finished. The wreath was not the prettiest thing - stray twigs and pieces of wire were sticking out at all angles, and it was perhaps a little overtly stuffed with all manner of greenery. It looked for all the world as if someone had simply taken up a square of summer field and shaped it into a crown, but it would do.
Another nod from Segundus, though this one was considerably more enthusiastic than the first. His eyes lit up a little.
"Indeed, sir! And I shall be happy to explain the workings of it in some detail if you are interested!"Segundus almost seemed ready to begin a small lecture then and there when the wreath was pressed quite decisively into his hands. Near on thirty years in Norrell's employ had not been entirely uneducational, either. Few people knew quite as well how to cut short an unwanted speech as John Childermass.
"I would be pleased to, but for now I say you cast your spell, sir. Show me."
Segundus smiled.
The incantation was simple enough, and someone less attuned to such things as the two of them may have wondered if anything had happened at all. However, Childermass tasted honeysuckle and was suddenly pleased to be sitting down, for someone appeared to have stuffed his ears with large, fluffy clouds and he was feeling somewhat lightheaded as a consequence. The wreath was placed most unceremoniously atop Segundus' head.
The effect was immediate. It would take some time yet for the swelling to receded, but the glossy quality to Segundus' eyes dispersed within a handful of blinks. A moment later he breathed a large sigh of relief, and his smile widened into something truly joyous and boyish.
Against his own expectations, Childermass found himself grinning back.
"Very fetching, sir."
When the remainder of the Society finally arrived at the Old Starre Inn some hours later they found Segundus and Childermass occupying a table close to the windows. They appeared quite as they usually would have – Childermass’ smoked his pipe and listened attentively as Segundus was explaining about some new feat of magic or other –except both their heads were adorned with enormous matching crowns of wildflowers 3.
1 There were few northerners who did not.
2 Vinculus, never one to disappoint a man's expectation of him, took the opportunity to stuff two freshly baked pastries into his pantaloons. This much delighted a nearby serving girl, who watched him discover that they were perhaps a little hotter than he had anticipated.
3 This created quite a predicament for the magicians of York, for they had long ago learned not to question much of anything that Childermass did or did not do. In this particular instance, no-one let on that something at all out of the ordinary was happening for almost two hours, until Tom Levy finally asked how the magic was done.