Chapter 3

APRIL 8TH AT THE DESCHAMPS FAMILY HOME

“V itus, dear boy. You do look well. Come, let me get a good look at you.” Vitus had just stepped into the parlour, finally able to see his parents and brother for the first time in a year and a half. Well, his parents, at least. Lucas was nowhere to be found.

“Mama.” He stepped forward, taking the hands she held out to him, and bending to kiss her cheek. She also looked very well. When he left, she’d been slowly recovering from a lingering cough, the kind everyone had worried about. Now, her eyes were bright, there were roses in her cheeks, her hair had a good shine to it, and he hadn’t heard her cough yet. “You look wonderful, and also it’s excellent to see you.” He then took a step back, pivoting and holding out his hand to his father. “Papa, the same. I am very glad to be home.”

“Grand, boy, grand.” They were informal tonight, just the family. Vitus was wearing much the same sort of thing as his father, dinner jackets, though Vitus’s needed a bit of tending. “I thought we’d go in for supper before asking you about your travel, but I hope the journey went well, even with the delay?”

Vitus had begun in Calais before six that morning. He’d shepherded two trunks of his own and two smaller ones full of quite heavy materia onto the ferry, then the train. That had been better than dealing with an exhausting wait for customs at the portals in Paris. The ferry and train had taken a full eight hours. Then he’d had to guard them through an unexpectedly long wait for the portal in London.

“There was some unusual delay at Bedford Square. I ended up going across to Southwark, and the deliveries had priority.” He’d had two hours there, though at least at a table with tea and a place for the trunks. His parents had been out for a call when he’d finally got home. Odd to call it that, after so long away.

Before he could get lost in his thoughts, the door opened. It didn’t quite bang against the wall. Vitus was wrapped in an enthusiastic hug, the breath almost knocked out of him. He didn’t quite lose his balance; he had, in fact, expected this. Lucas was not at all moderate in his emotions, and the entire family had no idea where that came from. Also, he’d picked up at least a bit more height and a noticeable amount more muscle while Vitus had been away.

“Pax, pax.” He thumped his brother on the shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere now. I didn’t know if you’d be home.”

“We’ve a lot to catch up on. My last letter might have missed you? I’m on leave for a fortnight yet, not sure about my next orders after that yet. There’s a chance I might make Cavalry Master in due course.” Lucas took a step back, eyes gleaming. “Did you bring me anything?”

“Lucas!” Their mother pitched it to carry. “Is that really the first thing you say?”

“Pardon, Mama. It’s so very good to see you, Vitus. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you. Did you find anything I might like?” Vitus looked utterly unrepentant.

Vitus reached up to ruffle his hair. Elder brothers could take certain liberties. “I missed you too. And yes, I have some books for you.” He’d spent hours haunting used book stores, stretching the funds he had as far as they could go, looking for things Lucas might like. He’d struck on a trove of cavalry books in a mix of languages, but of course, the illustrations carried a fair bit, and Lucas had a knack for reading languages. Or at least he did if they had anything to do with horses.

Their father cleared his throat. “My dear, may I have the honour?” He offered Mama his arm and there was the little procession from the parlour to the dining room. Once everyone was seated, Papa raised his glass. “Welcome home, Vitus. Do, please, tell us about your travels. We’ve read your letters over and over, but they rather hint at stories instead of telling all the details.”

Vitus beamed. He waited just a moment, nodding at the housemaid who brought the food around. “Thank you, Jane.” He then settled in. Vitus had given this some thought, and not just today. He’d known his parents had made a number of sacrifices. They’d not only saved to fund his travel, but for his apprenticeship in the first place. And again for keeping Lucas in sufficient horseflesh for a cavalry officer, as well as his other necessary accoutrements. He would gladly tell them as much as they wanted to hear about his travel.

Now, Vitus laid out what he’d learned, months each with four different talisman makers. He’d gone from Paris to Vienna to Florence to Geneva. He spun out two or three tales from each place, the joy of learning about a new city and what made it itself. That kept them going through each new course to the sweets when Vitus wrapped up the last of his stories.

“Oddly, it kept making me wish for home. Here, and Trellech, and London. Not that the Seine isn’t glorious, or the Duomo in Florence, the different squares and features. But I am glad to be back.” He added to Mama, “And I have gifts for everyone. Some lace and ribbons for you, Mama, and books for Papa and Lucas, of course.” Also, some handsomely carved pipes, but he’d set those in the smoking room for later. They all kept such things just to the one room, because of the influence on the materia, and particularly on Vitus’s work and Mama’s jewellery.

It felt good to be at home, in a household that had changed remarkably little while he’d been gone. There was his bedroom upstairs for private space, along with Lucas’s and his parents’, of course. Papa had his office and the smoking room and Mama had the parlour. They came together in the library and the dining room, one for quiet and the other for congenial conversation. Each piece did its part, it was like setting a gem in a way he’d not consciously realised before this trip.

“Aren’t you thoughtful, dear boy. Now that you’re back, when does Magistra Niobe expect you?” Mama inclined her head and shifted slightly so that Jane could tidily clear away the other plates and set out the cheese.

“Tomorrow morning, Mama. She thought it best - and I agree - to figure out our strategy and then set to on Monday.” Vitus was nearly done, formally, with his apprenticeship. It was, as always, the ‘nearly’ that mattered here. He still had to produce at least one notable piece, solid journeyman work.

It didn’t need to be a master’s piece, not yet. That could come in a few years. Though if he managed it now, that would be a useful coup indeed. However, creating something both innovative and visibly effective, the sort of effective that could be discussed at a guild meeting, was not easy to arrange. It was far more likely he’d make something competent but not yet adding to the larger art of talisman making.

He and Niobe had talked about options in their letters back and forth. But the actual pieces he made would depend on the intersection of the gemstones and minerals he’d brought back for her and on what requests her workshop received. And, unspoken, whether any of the patrons involved would be willing to have him do the work rather than her.

Magistra Niobe Hall was not that much older than Vitus was - thirteen years. But she was in fact a prodigy who’d earned her mastery by the age of twenty-six, the age Vitus was now. He wouldn’t equal that, but he had hopes of it before he turned thirty. She had been willing to take him on for a lower fee than she could have commanded, and she’d treated him more than generously. And then she’d arranged the visits of his last year, calling on several old favours and trading at least one for the future. He owed her more than he could say, and he wanted to do her proud.

“Well, then.” Mama folded her hands. “And you’ll be staying here, then? I told Jane and Cook to expect so.”

“If it’s not a bother for the moment.” Rooms in Trellech would be vastly more convenient. But it was also more expensive. He’d be watching every coin or hint of one, at least until he could start getting commissions in his own right. Past that, in fact, because he’d have to pay for his materia in advance, and minerals and gems of talisman quality didn’t come cheap. What he’d brought back should be a big help, of course, but at least two-thirds of those were intended for Niobe. “I don’t expect I’ll be out late, at least for a little while to come.”

“That is considerate of you. Perhaps tomorrow evening we might talk through the social calendar, and see which events we should attend?” And which they should subtly note that Vitus was now home for. “You missed quite the affair at Arundel. Did our letter about that at the equinox reach you?”

“No, I can’t say it did. But I was moving about a fair bit the last week or two.” Vitus inclined his head. “The pleasant sort of affair or the scandalous sort?”

“Oh, entirely proper. You know I wouldn’t gossip if it were the other.” Not about the Fortiers, certainly. His family, the Deschamps, were more or less a client family to the Fortiers. Not by location, not anymore. Papa’s father had moved the family from Sussex to Somerset in the previous generation, when Grandmama had inherited this house. It stood in a pleasant but undistinguished magical village. It was well-positioned for access to both Trellech, via the portal, and to non-magical England, via the railway. Vitus smiled and inclined his head to acknowledge the reality of the situation.

His mother went on, with barely a pause. “It was a betrothal, absolutely no detail spared. Childeric will marry Thessaly Lytton-Powell. She looked terribly well. There were pieces in the Trellech Moon about her ensembles afterwards. A fine eye for colour and for tradition, both, though more than one commentary I have seen noted that she is rather on the sharper edge of the season’s fashions. It was quite the event, a ball in an outside pavilion for the betrothal itself. There were many events before and after, through to the Monday. Your father and I were honoured to be invited for quite a few of those. Such a performance on the Saturday, with illusionists and singers and aerialists.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Mama. And I hope you found it enjoyable.” His father’s chin moved just a fraction, which meant Papa had found it professionally profitable, then. Good. That was a relief. Papa had not found himself with a particularly viable sort of magical talent, but with an excellent head for records and numbers. But he was enough of Albion he had not found it comfortable to make his place among the non-magical, as Lucas had in the Army. Instead, he was a man of business who handled matters for a number of families, providing confidential advice and assistance. It was, however, a line of work that depended far too much on reputation and current fashion for comfort and security.

And that was true even more with the Fortiers than with some. Not that Vitus was up on the latest gossip there. It wasn’t the sort of thing Mama or Papa would write about, nor anything Lucas would track as directly. But the Fortiers were known for sharp dealings - enough that people recognised the name well into the Continent. Vitus would need to find someone who could fill in the news sooner rather than later. Possibly Mama in private, in a few days.

“Perhaps we might withdraw?” Papa suggested it offhandedly. “Will you wait for us, my dear?”

“I am a trifle tired. I think I will retire.” She stood and all three men rose politely. Mama came around, kissing Vitus on his cheek, then Lucas, then going around to Papa. “I shall read, though. Tomorrow, dear boys.”

That left the three of them to retreat to the smoking room. Vitus presented the pipes, with a brief explanation of the artists who’d carved them, as well as the pipe tobacco he’d brought back. His father raised an eyebrow, and Vitus said, half-laughing, “I worked it off over several Saturdays helping him do inventory. It was quite informative, actually.”

From there, they settled into a comfortable conversation about matters in the neighbourhood and among the closer family acquaintances. Vitus had not missed as much as he’d feared. Mama’s letters, in particular, had been informatively thorough. When Papa also retired - nominally because he had an early meeting, and really because he wanted to talk to Mama - Vitus stood. “Come up to my room, would you?”

Lucas followed him, dropping into the chair by the bed immediately after Vitus closed the door. Vitus brought the warding up, instinctively and automatically. “How is Mama, really?”

“Much better, honestly. She tires easily, still, but the rest is vastly improved. Magistra Niobe sent around a stone. Mama sleeps with it.”

Vitus blinked. He had not known, and it was one more kindness he owed Niobe for. Of course she’d think of that sort of thing, and of course Mama must have stopped in to the workshop in Trellech more than once. Vitus had certainly given her plenty of reason, little tidbits of news and stories that weren’t about what he was learning that Mama would have enjoyed sharing. “I hadn’t known.”

“It shows.” Lucas shrugged. “I’m glad you’re back. I’m hoping to stay posted here. Cavalry Master’s an excellent post, decent pay, and I’d be able to come see you. Supper weekly, probably. But I worry. Papa does too, even if he won’t say anything about it.”

“I’ll talk to Niobe about it. And maybe see if there’s a Healer who might have other ideas.” Whatever plagued Mama, at least it didn’t seem to be progressing. It wasn’t consumption. The Healers had checked for that, more than once. Colds and catarrh just lingered, on and on, and had in some form since Vitus could remember, though they ebbed and flowed, better and worse. Then he sat on the bed, toeing his shoes off. “All right. Books first or gossip?”

“Books. Then gossip. I won’t be reading them right away. Those?” Lucas had caught sight of the stack on the table. “Are those all for me?”

“Don’t even ask me how many used bookstores I went through. Or how many times I made ridiculous equine noises when my language skills failed me.” He was better now, but he’d started his book searches early, long before he’d gained much functional fluency in any of the relevant languages. “Thumb through, and then we’ll chat.” It was indeed good to be home, and to have things be as he expected.