"When did I ask you for snuff?"

"A moment ago."

"Ah! Ah. Good. Well, you need not trouble yourself. I do not need it now."

The gentleman with the thistle-down hair bowed.

Strange was conscious that his confusion shewed in his face. He remembered all the stern warnings he had read against letting members of this tricksy race suspect that they know more than oneself. So he covered up his perplexity with sarcastic looks. Then, remembering that it is generally considered even more perilous to appear superior and so make the fairy-spirit angry, he covered up his sarcasm with a smile. Finally he went back to looking puzzled.

He did not notice that the gentleman was at least as uncomfortable as himself.

"I have summoned you here," he said, "because I have long desired one of your race to aid me and instruct me in magic." He had rehea.r.s.ed this little p.r.o.nouncement several times and was pleased to find that it sounded both confident and dignified. Unfortunately he immediately spoilt the effect by adding anxiously, "Did I mention that before?"

The gentleman said nothing.

"My name is Jonathan Strange. Perhaps you have heard of me? I am at a most interesting point in my career. I believe it is no exaggeration to say that the entire future of English magic depends upon my actions in the coming months. Agree to help me and your name will be as famous as those of Col Tom Blue and Master Witcherley!"1 "Tut!" declared the gentleman in disgust. "Low persons!"

"Really?" said Strange. "I had no idea." He pressed on. "It was your . . ." He paused to find the right phrase. ". . . kind attentions kind attentions to the King of England that first brought you to my notice. Such power! Such inventiveness! English magic today lacks spirit! It lacks fire and energy! I cannot tell you how bored I am of the same dull spells to solve the same dull problems. The glimpse I had of your magic proved to me that it is quite different. You could surprize me. And I long to be surprized!" to the King of England that first brought you to my notice. Such power! Such inventiveness! English magic today lacks spirit! It lacks fire and energy! I cannot tell you how bored I am of the same dull spells to solve the same dull problems. The glimpse I had of your magic proved to me that it is quite different. You could surprize me. And I long to be surprized!"

The gentleman raised one perfect fairy eye-brow, as if he would not object in the least to surprizing Jonathan Strange.

Strange continued excitedly. "Oh! and I may as well tell you immediately that there is an old person in London called Norrell a magician of sorts who will be driven into fits of rage the moment he learns that you have allied yourself to me. He will do his best to thwart us but I dare say you and I will be more than a match for him."

The gentleman appeared to have stopped listening. He was glancing about the room, fixing his gaze first upon one object, then upon another.

"Is there something in the room which displeases you?" asked Strange. "I beg you will tell me if that is the case. I dare say your magical sensibilities are much finer than my own. But even in my case there are certain things which can disrupt my ability to do magic I believe it is so with all magicians. A salt-cellar, a rowan-tree, a fragment of the consecrated host these all make me feel decidedly unsettled. I do not say I cannot cannot do magic in their presence, but I always need to take them into account in my spells. If there is something here you dislike, you have only to say so and I shall be happy to remove it." do magic in their presence, but I always need to take them into account in my spells. If there is something here you dislike, you have only to say so and I shall be happy to remove it."

The gentleman stared at him a moment as if he had not the least idea what Strange was talking about. Then suddenly he ex- claimed, "My magical sensibilities, yes! How clever of you! My magical sensibilities are, as you suppose, quite tremendous! And just now they inform me that you have recently acquired an object of great power! A ring of disenchantment? An urn of visibility? Something of that nature? My congratulations! Shew me the object and I shall immediately instruct you as to its history and proper use!"

"Actually no," said Strange, surprized. "I have nothing of that sort."

The gentleman frowned. He looked hard, first at a chamber-pot half-hidden under the table, then at a mourning-ring that contained a miniature of an angel painted on ivory, and finally at a painted pottery jar that had once contained candied peaches and plums. "Perhaps you have come upon it by accident?" he asked. "Such objects can be very powerful even if the magician has no idea that they are present."

"I really do not think so," said Strange. "That jar, for instance, was purchased in Genoa from a confectioner's. And there were dozens in the shop, just the same. I cannot see why one would be magical and the others not."

"No, indeed," agreed the gentleman. "And really there does not seem to be any thing here apart from the usual objects. I mean," he added quickly, "the objects that I would expect to find in the apartments of a magician of your genius."

There was a short pause.

"You make no reply to my offer," said Strange. "You are undecided until you know more of me. That is just as it should be. In a day or two I will do myself the honour of soliciting your company again and we shall talk some more."

"It has been a most interesting conversation!" said the gentleman.

"The first of many, I hope," said Strange, politely, and bowed. The gentleman bowed in return.

Then Strange released the gentleman from the spell of summoning and he promptly disappeared.

Strange's excitement was immense. He supposed he ought to sit down and make sober, scholarly notes of what he had seen, but it was difficult to keep from dancing, laughing and clapping his hands. He actually performed several figures of a country-dance, and if the carved wooden figure had not been attached by its feet to a wooden pillar he would certainly have made it his partner and whirled about the room with it.

When the dancing fit left him he was sorely tempted to write to Norrell. In fact he did sit down and begin a letter full of triumph and steeped in sarcasm. ("You will no doubt be delighted delighted to learn . . .") But then he thought better of it. "It will only provoke him to make my house disappear, or something. Ha! How furious he will be when I arrive back in England. I must publish the news immediately I return. I shall not wait for the next issue of to learn . . .") But then he thought better of it. "It will only provoke him to make my house disappear, or something. Ha! How furious he will be when I arrive back in England. I must publish the news immediately I return. I shall not wait for the next issue of The The Famulus Famulus. That would take much too long. Murray will complain but I cannot help that. The Times The Times would be best. I wonder what he meant by all that nonsense about rings of power and chamberpots? I suppose he was trying to account for my success in summoning him." would be best. I wonder what he meant by all that nonsense about rings of power and chamberpots? I suppose he was trying to account for my success in summoning him."

Upon the whole he could not have been more pleased with himself if he had conjured up John Uskgla.s.s himself and had half an hour of civil conversation with him. The only unsettling part of the business was the memory returning to him in sc.r.a.ps and fragments of the form his madness had taken this time. "I think I turned into Lascelles or Drawlight! How perfectly horrible!"

The next morning Stephen Black had business to conduct for Sir Walter. He paid a visit to a banker in Lombard-street; he spoke to a portrait-painter in Little-Britain; he delivered instructions to a woman in Fetter-lane about a gown for Lady Pole. His next appointment was at the office of an attorney. A soft, heavy snow was falling. All around him were the customary sounds of the City: the snorting and stamping of the horses, the rattle of the carriages, the cries of the street-vendors, the slamming of doors and the padding of feet through the snow.

He was standing at the corner of Fleet-street and Mitre-court. He had just taken out his pocket-watch (a present from the gentleman with the thistle-down hair), when every sound ceased as if it had been cut off with a knife. For a moment it seemed he must have been struck deaf. But almost before he could feel any alarm he looked round and realized that this was not the only peculiarity. The street was suddenly empty. There were no people, no cats, no dogs, no horses, no birds. Everyone was gone.

And the snow! That was the oddest thing of all. It hung, suspended in the air, in huge, soft white flakes, as big as sovereigns.

"Magic!" he thought in disgust.

He walked a little way down Mitre-court, looking in the windows of the shops. Lamps were still lit; goods were lying heaped or scattered over the counters silks, tobacco, sheet-music; fires were still burning in the hearths but their flames were frozen. He looked back and discovered that he had made a sort of tunnel through the three-dimensional lace-work of snow. It was, of all the strange things he had seen in his life, the strangest.

From out of nowhere a furious voice cried, "I thought myself quite safe from him! What tricks can he be using?" The gentleman with the thistle-down hair suddenly appeared immediately before Stephen, with blazing face and glittering eyes.

The shock was so great that for a moment Stephen feared he would drop down in a swoon. But he was well aware how highly the gentleman prized coolness and composure, so he hid his fright as best he could and gasped, "Safe from whom, sir?"

"Why, the magician, Stephen! The magician! I thought that he must have acquired some potent object that would reveal my presence to him. But I could not see any thing in his rooms and he swore that he had nothing of the sort. Just to be sure I have circled the globe in the past hour and examined every ring of power, every magical chalice and quern. But none of them are missing. They are all exactly where I thought they were."

From this rather incomplete explanation Stephen deduced that the magician must have succeeded in summoning and speaking to the gentle-man with the thistle-down hair. "But surely, sir," he said, "there was a time when you wished to aid the magicians and do magic with them and gain their grat.i.tude. That is how you came to rescue Lady Pole, is it not? Perhaps you will find you like it better than you think."

"Oh, perhaps! But I really do not think so. I tell you, Stephen, apart from the inconvenience of having him summon me when- ever he chuses, it was the dreariest half hour I have spent in many a long age. I have never heard any one talk so much! He is quite the most conceited person I have ever met. People like that who must be continually talking themselves and have no time to listen to any one else are quite disgusting to me."

"Oh, indeed, sir! It is most vexatious. And I dare say that, since you will be busy with the magician, we will have to put off making me King of England?"

The gentleman said something very fierce in his own language presumably a curse. "I believe you are right and that makes me angrier than all the rest put together!" He thought for a moment. "But then again, it may not be so bad as we fear. These English magicians are generally very stupid. They usually want the same things. The poor ones desire an unending supply of turnips or porridge; the rich ones want yet more riches, or power over the whole world; and the young ones want the love of some princess or queen. As soon as he asks for one of those things, I will grant it to him. It is sure to bring a world of trouble on his head. It always does. He will become distracted and then you and I can pursue our plan to make you King of England! Oh, Stephen! How glad I am that I came to you! I always hear better sense from you than from anyone else!" Upon the instant the gentleman's anger evaporated and he was full of delight. The sun actually appeared from behind a cloud and all the strange, suspended fall of snow glittered and blazed around them (though whether this was the gentleman's doing or no, Stephen could not tell).

He was about to point out that he had not actually suggested any thing, but in that instant the gentleman disappeared. All the people, horses, carriages, cats and dogs immediately reappeared, and Stephen walked straight into a fat woman in a purple pelisse.

Strange rose from his bed in excellent spirits. He had slept for eight hours without interruption. For the first time in weeks he had not got up in the middle of the night to do magic. As a reward to himself for his success in summoning the fairy, he decided that today should be a holiday. Shortly after ten o'clock, he presented himself at the palazzo palazzo where the Greysteels were staying and found the family at their breakfast. He accepted their invitation to sit down, ate some hot rolls, drank some coffee and told Miss Greysteel and Aunt Greysteel that he was entirely at their service. where the Greysteels were staying and found the family at their breakfast. He accepted their invitation to sit down, ate some hot rolls, drank some coffee and told Miss Greysteel and Aunt Greysteel that he was entirely at their service.

Aunt Greysteel was happy to give up her share of the favour to her niece. Miss Greysteel and Strange pa.s.sed the forenoon in reading books about magic together. These were books that he had lent to her or that she had bought upon his recommendation. They were Portishead's A Child's History of the Raven King A Child's History of the Raven King, Hickman's Life of Martin Pale Life of Martin Pale and Hether-Gray's and Hether-Gray's The Anatomy of a The Anatomy of a Minotaur Minotaur. Strange had read them when he first began to study magic and he was amused to discover how simple, almost innocent, they seemed to him now. It was the most agreeable thing in the world to read them to Miss Greysteel, and answer her questions, and listen to her opinions upon them eager, intelligent and, it seemed to him, slightly over-serious.

At one o'clock, after a light repast of cold meat, Aunt Greysteel declared that they had all sat still long enough and she proposed a walk. "I dare say, Mr Strange, that you will be glad of the fresh air. Scholars often neglect exercise."

"We are very sad fellows, madam," agreed Strange, cheerfully.

It was a fine day. They wandered through the narrow streets and alleys and chanced upon a happy succession of intriguing objects: a carving of a dog with a bone in its mouth; a shrine to a saint that none of them recognized; a set of windows whose curtains seemed at first to be made of heavy swags of the most exquisite lace, but which were found upon closer examination to be only spiders' webs vast, intermingling spiders' webs which permeated every part of the room inside. They had no guide to tell them about these things; there was no one standing near whom they could ask; and so they entertained themselves by making up their own explanations.

Just before twilight they entered a chilly, stony, little square with a well at its centre. It was a curiously blank and empty place. The ground was paved with ancient stones. The walls were pierced with surprizingly few windows. It was as if the houses had all been offended by something the square had done and had resolutely turned their backs and looked the other way. There was one tiny shop that appeared to sell nothing but Turkish Delight of an infinite number of varieties and colours. It was closed, but Miss Greysteel and Aunt Greysteel peered into the window and wondered aloud when it might open and whether they would be able to find their way back to it.

Strange walked about. He was thinking of nothing in particular. The air was very cold pleasantly so and overhead the first star of evening appeared. He became aware of a peculiar sc.r.a.ping sound behind him and he turned to see what was making it.

In the darkest corner of the little square something was standing a thing the like of which he had never seen before. It was black so black that it might have been composed of the surrounding darkness. Its head or top took the form of an old-fashioned sedan chair, such as one might occasionally see conveying a dowager about Bath. It had windows with black curtains pulled across. But beneath the windows it dwindled into the body and legs of a great black bird. It wore a tall black hat and carried a thin, black walking-stick. It had no eyes, yet Strange could tell it was looking at him. It was sc.r.a.ping the tip of the walking-stick across the paving stones with a horrible jerking motion.

He supposed he ought to feel afraid. He supposed that he ought perhaps to do some magic to try and fend it off. Spells of dispersal, spells of dismissal, spells of protection flowed through his brain but he somehow failed to catch hold of any of them. Although the thing reeked of evil and malevolence, he had a strong sense that it was no danger to himself or any one else just at present. It seemed more like a sign of evil-yet-to-come.

He was just beginning to wonder how the Greysteels bore with this sudden appearance of horror in their midst when something shifted in his brain; the thing was no longer there. In its place stood the stout form of Dr Greysteel Dr Greysteel in black clothes, Dr Greysteel with a walking-stick in his hand.

"Well?" called out Dr Greysteel.

"I . . . I beg your pardon!" Strange called back. "Did you speak? I was thinking of . . . of something else."

"I asked you if you intended to dine with us tonight!"

Strange stared at him.

"What is the matter? Are you sick?" asked Dr Greysteel. He looked rather probingly at Strange as if he saw something in the magician's face or manner he did not like.

"I am perfectly well, I a.s.sure you," said Strange. "And I will dine with you gladly. I should like nothing better. Only I have promised Lord Byron that I will play billiards with him at four."

"We should find a gondola to take us back," said Dr Greysteel. "I believe Louisa is more tired than she admits to." (He meant Aunt Greysteel.) "Where do you meet his lordship? Where shall we tell the fellow to take you?"

"Thank you," said Strange, "but I shall walk. Your sister was right. I am in need of fresh air and exercise."

Miss Greysteel was a little disappointed to find that Strange was not to return with them. The two ladies and the magician took a somewhat prolonged leave of each other and reminded each other several times that they were all to meet again in a few hours, until Dr Greysteel began to lose patience with them all.

The Greysteels walked off in the direction of the Rio Rio. Strange followed at a distance. Despite his cheerful a.s.surances to Dr Greysteel, he was feeling badly shaken. He tried to persuade himself that the apparition had been nothing more than a trick of the light, but it would not do. He was obliged to admit to himself that what it most resembled was a return of the old lady's madness.

"It is really most aggravating! The effects of the tincture seemed to have worn off entirely! Well, pray G.o.d, I do not need to drink any more of it. If this fairy refuses to serve me, I shall simply have to find another way of summoning someone else."

He emerged from the alley into the clearer light of the Rio Rio and saw that the Greysteels had found a gondola and that someone a gentleman was helping Miss Greysteel into it. He thought at first that it was a stranger, but then he saw that this person had a head of shining thistle-down hair. He hurried to meet him. and saw that the Greysteels had found a gondola and that someone a gentleman was helping Miss Greysteel into it. He thought at first that it was a stranger, but then he saw that this person had a head of shining thistle-down hair. He hurried to meet him.

"What a beautiful young woman!" said the gentleman, as the gondola pulled away from the quayside. His eyes sparkled with brilliance. "And she dances most delightfully, I expect?"

"Dances?" said Strange. "I do not know. We were supposed to attend a ball together in Genoa, but she had the toothach and we did not go. I am surprized to see you. I had not expected that you would come until I summoned you again."

"Ah, but I have been thinking about your proposal that we do magic together! And I now perceive it to be an excellent plan!"

"I am pleased to hear it," said Strange, suppressing a smile. "But tell me something. I have been trying to summon you for weeks. Why did you not come before?"

"Oh! That is easily explained!" declared the gentleman, and he began a long story about a cousin of his who was very wicked and very jealous of all his talents and virtues; who hated all English magicians; and who had somehow contrived to distort Strange's magic so that the gentleman had not known of the summons until last night. It was an exceedingly complicated tale and Strange did not believe a word of it. But he thought it prudent to look as if he did and so he bowed his acceptance.

"And to shew you how sensible I am of the honour you do me," finished up the gentleman, "I will bring you any thing you desire."

"Any thing?" repeated Strange, with a sharp look. "And this offer is if I understand correctly in the nature of a binding agreement. You cannot deny me something once I have named it?"

"Nor would I wish to!"

"And I can ask for riches, dominion over all the world? That sort of thing?"

"Exactly!" said the gentleman with a delighted air. He raised his hands to begin.

"Well, I do not want any of those things. What I chiefly want is information. Who was the last English magician you dealt with?"

A moment's pause.

"Oh, you do not want to hear about that!" declared the gentleman. "I a.s.sure you it is very dull. Now, come! There must be something you desire above all else? A kingdom of your own? A beautiful companion? Princess Pauline Borghese is a most delight- ful woman and I can have her here in the twinkling of an eye!"

Strange opened his mouth to speak and then stopt a moment. "Pauline Borghese, you say? I saw a picture of her in Paris."2 Then, recollecting himself, he continued, "But I am not interested in that just at present. Tell me about magic. How would I go about turning myself into a bear? Or a fox? What are the names of the three magical rivers that flow through the Kingdom of Agrace? Then, recollecting himself, he continued, "But I am not interested in that just at present. Tell me about magic. How would I go about turning myself into a bear? Or a fox? What are the names of the three magical rivers that flow through the Kingdom of Agrace?3 Ralph Stokesey thought that these rivers influenced events in England; is that true? There is mention in Ralph Stokesey thought that these rivers influenced events in England; is that true? There is mention in The Language The Language of Birds of Birds of a group of spells that are cast by manipulating colours; what can you tell me about that? What do the stones in the Doncaster Squares represent?" of a group of spells that are cast by manipulating colours; what can you tell me about that? What do the stones in the Doncaster Squares represent?"

The gentleman threw up his hands in mock surprize. "So many questions!" He laughed; it was clearly meant to be a merry, carefree laugh, but it sounded a little forced.

"Well then, tell me the answer to one of them. Any one you like."

The gentleman only smiled pleasantly.

Strange stared at him in undisguised vexation. Apparently the offer did not extend to knowledge, only objects. "And if I wanted to give myself a present, I would go and buy something!" thought Strange. "If I wanted to see Pauline Borghese, I would simply go to her and introduce myself. I do not need magic for that! How in the world do I . . ." A thought struck him. Out loud he said, "Bring me something that you gained from your last dealings with an English magician!"

"What?" said the gentleman, startled. "No, you do not want that! It is worthless, utterly worthless! Think again!"

Clearly he was much perturbed by Strange's request though Strange could not tell why he should be. "Perhaps," he thought, "the magician gave him something valuable and he is loath to give it up. No matter. Once I have seen what it is, and learnt what I can from it I shall give it back to him. That ought to persuade him of my good intentions."

He smiled politely: "A binding agreement, I think you said? I shall expect it whatever it is later this evening!"

At eight o'clock he dined with the Greysteels in their gloomy dining-hall.

Miss Greysteel asked him about Lord Byron.

"Oh!" said Strange. "He does not intend to return to England. He can write poems anywhere. Whereas in my own case, English magic was shaped by England just as England herself was shaped by magic. The two go together. You cannot separate them."

"You mean," said Miss Greysteel, frowning a little, "that English minds and history and so forth were shaped by magic. You are speaking metaphorically."

"No, I was speaking quite literally. This city, for example, was built in the common way . . ."

"Oh!" interrupted Dr Greysteel, laughing. "How like a magician that sounds! The slight edge of contempt when he speaks of things being done in the common way!"

"I do not think that I intended any disrespect. I a.s.sure you I have the greatest regard for things done in the common way. No, my point was merely that the boundaries of England its very shape was determined by magic."

Dr Greysteel sniffed. "I am not sure of this. Give me an example."

"Very well. There once was a very fine town stood on the coast of Yorkshire whose citizens began to wonder why it was that their King, John Uskgla.s.s, should require taxes from them. Surely, they argued, so great a magician could conjure up all the gold he wanted from the air. Now there is no harm in wondering, but these foolish people did not stop there. They refused to pay and began to plot with the King's enemies. A man is best advised to consider carefully before he quarrels with a magician and still more with a king. But when these two characters are combined in one person, Why! then the peril is multiplied a hundred times. First a wind came out of the north and blew through the town. As the wind touched the beasts of the town they grew old and died cows, pigs, fowls and sheep even the cats and dogs. As the wind touched the town itself houses became ruins before the very eyes of the unhappy householders. Tools broke, pots shattered, wood warped and split, brick and stone crumbled into dust. Stone images in the church wore away as if with extreme age, until, it was said, every face of every statue appeared to be screaming. The wind whipped up the sea into strange, menacing shapes. The townspeople, very wisely, began to run from the town and when they reached the higher ground they looked back and were just in time to see the remains of the town slip slowly under the cold, grey waves."

Dr Greysteel smiled. "Let the government be who they may Whigs, Tories, emperors or magicians they take it very ill when people do not pay their taxes. And shall you include these tales in your next book?"

"Oh, certainly. I am not one of those miserly authors who measure out their words to the last quarter ounce. I have very liberal ideas of authorship. Anyone who cares to pay Mr Murray their guinea will find that I have thrown the doors of my ware-house wide open and that all my learning is up for sale. My readers may stroll about and chuse at their leisure."