Chapter 18

JUNE 5TH IN TRELLECH

V itus found himself far too busy to do more than think of that meeting with Thessaly at the garden party in brief little snippets. Mama had several young women to introduce him to. Of course she had. They had been pleasant, and certainly the sort of woman he might aspire to as a wife. All three were daughters of men of the professional classes, a suitable match for Vitus. Two were the eldest daughters of different senior clerks in the Ministry, well used to helping a household and a family run smoothly. The other had been the only and much treasured daughter of a solicitor and his second wife.

None of them had any interest in talking about his work. Oh, they’d made the proper sort of pleasant comments, but they had asked no questions. They had offered no thoughts of their own about relevant aspects, or even their own interests and magical skills. It was hard to tell from five or ten minutes’ conversation constrained by the setting and the company, but Vitus had got the impression that none of them had aspirations beyond family life, some proper number of children, raised well, to continue on like their parents.

Vitus was not a radical, nor was he revolutionary in his ideas. But he had dreams beyond steady competence. He wanted to create talismans that made a difference in someone’s life, or ideally in multiple people’s lives. Keep the head of the household well and hale, and his entire family would prosper. Or hers, for that matter.

That had sent him on a long and promising chase through the literature in the next few days, both in the main library in Trellech and in Niobe’s own collection. He didn’t have answers for any of it, not yet. And if he came up with set pieces, talismans that could be reliably replicated, or only with minor changes for circumstance, they would need a tremendous amount of testing.

On the other hand, pieces that removed some of the exhaustive personalised work could be sold at a lower cost, especially if he could also source materials to match. Jet was not inexpensive, especially in larger pieces, but it was certainly less costly than many other gems. If he could get something that would suit in quartz or agate or something of the kind, even better. Those were abundant, and a talisman didn’t actually have to be a stunning piece visually.

Vitus had come up for air from that research on Thursday afternoon. It was just in time for Herrick Blades, who’d been a year ahead of him at Schola, to wander into Niobe’s shop and mention a lecture that evening. It was part of a series that had apparently been running for months, comparing non-magical innovations to magical ones, and seeing where they might connect or oppose each other. Herrick had off-handedly mentioned plans for supper after, saying Vitus was welcome to come along. They had a room at Bourne’s, the more the merrier.

If nothing else, it would be an excellent chance to see, be seen, and hopefully be interesting to potential future clients. Or perhaps, even to a potential patron. Vitus hadn’t needed Niobe’s nudge to agree. He was glad he kept a reasonably good suit for such evenings in her spare wardrobe, rather than needing to dash home via the portal and back.

When he turned up the steps into the Rosamunda Hall, the most esteemed of Trellech’s lecture halls, the place was only about half full. Not the best turnout, but it was getting on for solstice. Vitus also supposed that the audience for a discussion of sound recording was, in fact, perhaps a tad limited.

The lecture itself was interesting, talking about the limitations of non-magical sound recordings and the variety of methods they were made. Magic allowed for a much wider range of pitch and timbre. On the other hand, magical methods not only required a specialist to do the recording, but also to make any copies. The non-magical gramophone recordings were much simpler and less costly to reproduce. The discussion of the benefits and challenges once they reached the discussion and debate portion of the evening got quite lively, though everyone was, in fact, in favour of a wider range of recording options.

The organisers had left fifteen minutes at the end to share other related news. Some of the chatter was about attempts in the United States to do long-distance power transmission. Only the bare bones had come through the telegraph, but one man shared the news there had been a successful transmission in the United States, just two days previously. There had been a successful project in Germany, running between Miesbach and Munich a few years earlier. Vitus had heard something about it when he was there. He put his hand up once or twice, only to lower it when the conversation went elsewhere. After time was called, Herrick nudged him. “Coming?”

A small troupe of them - perhaps a dozen men and four women - went along down to Bourne’s. They were shown promptly into one of the gathering rooms, with trays of sandwiches and bottles of wine already out for refreshments. The group spread out, and once everyone had food and a seat or at least a bit of furniture to lean against, Herrick cleared his throat. “What were you wanting to say back there? Oh, yes. You chaps - and ladies - may not remember. Vitus Deschamps, talisman maker, year behind me at school, recently back from the Continent.”

Vitus managed a slightly awkward bow, given he was holding both a plate and a wineglass. He set first the glass down, then the plate on a side table. “Put me on the spot, Herrick.” He got the tone on the nose, teasing the right amount, because Herrick started grinning. Two men who’d been talking turned their attention to Vitus, and Vitus realised they were a couple of the extended Fortier associations. No one he knew well. They were just enough younger, in that odd gap between people who might have gone to school together but hadn’t known each other well. But they’d been in Fox, at least two of the three, so there wasn’t even that overlap.

“Oh, I was curious about this work in America. I had someone go on at me, at some length, about the Miesbach-Munich transmission, back in, erm. 1883, I believe. Maybe 1884. Long enough ago the details were a little fuzzy once he’d had a few drinks.” That got a laugh. Everyone here knew that sort of conversation. “A somewhat longer distance, maybe, didn’t whoever it was say, what, fourteen miles?”

“How long was the other?” One woman leaned forward, looking interested. “And why did it stop?”

“Thirty-something, I think.” Vitus spread his hands out. “And it was a steam engine, if I remember right. Hard to keep it up all the time, I guess.” He wrinkled his nose. “Things will go wrong with them, especially in constant use.”

That got a murmur of sighs, because yes, they all knew enough about the sometimes explosive foibles of steam engines. “Do you know anything more about the details, the voltage, or anything?” That was one of the men Vitus didn’t know, leaning forward with his elbows perched on his knees.

“Not really my field, obviously. Other than that I have an interest in electron.” Half the faces cracked into broader grins, the others looked baffled. “Amber. One of the original names for it, and where the word for electricity comes from.”

“That gives us somewhere to start. Or will all the discussion be in German, do you think?” One of the Fortier connections piped up at that, and his friend elbowed him.

“The library gets some of the German papers. I don’t know how long they keep them. Though I’m sure it was reported in London, if not here.” Vitus wriggled his hand. “I mean, that’s another illustration of non-magical and magical. We don’t all hear the same information, and we don’t all know what to do with it, do we? If it doesn’t fit into our world, how we do things, it doesn’t stick.”

That got the group off on a cheerful round of increasingly loud debate about how to handle that. Of course, people had magical specialities, and of course those could take a tremendous amount of time. It left little space for other things, especially for those apprenticing. Vitus managed to sit down, as other people got up to pace, and eat his sandwich while listening.

Two of the women were ardently arguing for the need for broader education. Or, at the very least, that someone should start an evening school that covered things relevant to the magical community, a more formalised and structured version of the current lectures. Both of them lit up at the idea, and others began encouraging it. Someone pulled out a notebook to scribble down ideas and names.

Herrick bumped Vitus’s shoulder with his hip as the conversation shifted around. “Not going to volunteer for it?”

“I’m glad to come to the lectures if I can, but adding one more thing right now? I’ve got plenty I’m trying to manage. Once I’ve got my own business established, maybe I’ll have space for anything else in my head.”

That got a laugh from Herrick, and he pulled over a chair to chat more about what he was up to. Most of it wasn’t entirely relevant to Vitus and his immediate future either, but Herrick was doing some interesting research around some of the synthetic dyes and whether they had any use for magical applications or not. They were wrapping that up when the gathering started breaking up.

Vitus looked up to find the two Fortier connections standing, apparently waiting to get a word in edgewise. “Pardon, Deschamps.” The one on the left, who was brown-haired, waved a hand. “Louis Montague, if you’ve misplaced the name. Look, are you perhaps free and going to be at the Council rites or the Faire, after? Some of your ideas are interesting. There’s someone who might want a word.”

His companion - blonde, more wiry, also perhaps a little more cautious - elbowed him suddenly.

Vitus did his best to ignore that. Their business was their business, after all. And it wasn’t like his answer was private. “Both, most likely, though I’m not sure which days at the Faire yet, other than that the Fortiers offered me an afternoon at their display booth on the Wednesday.” It ran for over a week, and not only could he not tolerate the crowds every day, he naturally had other work. But Mama had wanted to see the flower show. And Lucas had wanted to get free for some of the pavo matches and the horse sales. Vitus would happily go with either of them.

“We’ll be in touch, perhaps, then. Or someone will be.” Louis was about to say something else, and that was when Vitus saw something he didn’t understand. He knew what it was, but he had no idea why. Louis’s face - and his body - had stiffened, the kind of thing that signalled he’d brushed up against an oath sworn on the Silence. He could see the fear there, the way Louis immediately went pale and stopped speaking. Most people took the hint immediately, thankfully. And of course, Vitus wouldn’t press further.

Now, he just nodded, giving the social courtesy that nothing had happened. “Of course. Perhaps I’ll see you at the Faire.” Then he glanced to check his pocket watch. “My, is that the time? I ought to get going. I’ve an early appointment in the morning.” He stood, adding, “Herrick, grand to catch up, and I’ll think about if I’ve come across anything about the dyes that might be relevant. Talk to you soon, I hope.” A few more farewells, and he was out the door, out of the club, and well on his way to Portal Square to get a portal home. It had given him a lot more to think about, most of which he was having no luck untangling.