Chapter 42

JULY 16TH IN TRELLECH

O n Tuesday morning, a messenger brought a note around mid-morning. Niobe was sorting the mail, tried to open it, and failed. “This one’s for you. And charmed, as well. Do you need the office?”

Vitus blinked at it and then recognised the handwriting. “I don’t think so? I don’t know?” He pressed his thumb against the wax seal and felt it give way when the magic identified him properly. Of course, she had a note or two from him to use as the anchor for that, enough.

The note from Thessaly was the sort of thing anyone could read without a hint of the overly personal. She was letting him know she’d resumed her apprenticeship. Of course, she still wasn’t making social calls. It also made it clear she’d be available to discuss the question of lapis lazuli illusions at some agreeable time. More to the point gave the hours she’d be at her apprentice mistress’s. It was not quite a formal engraved invitation, but it was the same sort of thing.

“Mind if I finish promptly at half-four today? I can do some more research tonight.” Vitus peered over the letter at Niobe.

“You were going to do more research tonight, whether or not you finished here early. Go on with you when it’s time. You’ll be in tomorrow?” Niobe leaned her elbows on the wood of the counter nearest the hall.

“In a little late - I’m meeting the landlord first thing to walk through and get the keys and get set on the warding. Magister Gordon says he’ll be able to do the workroom next week, he thought Wednesday.” He couldn’t move materials in there until then, but he could figure out the rest of the space. For the moment, he planned to continue living at home. But he’d arranged with the woman in the flats next door for lunches, and for a weekly cleaning.

He had been able to figure out, as soon as he’d talked to her, that she relied on the money, and every bit helped. He’d have a bed in the bedroom, in case he had a late night in Trellech for some reason, a meeting or lecture, but he liked seeing Mama and Papa regularly. And Lucas, when Lucas could get away for the evening.

At half-four, he was packed up and ready to go, and by quarter to five, he was outside Thessaly’s apprentice mistress, waiting on a bench nearby. Vitus didn’t actually have much of a plan from this point, though they could perhaps go find a bench somewhere out of the way. Or Thessaly could tell him when to come back, when her apprentice mistress was around to chaperone.

Five on the dot - as the Temple bells were chiming - Thessaly opened the door and came out. She was wearing mourning, of course, the sombre black, though her veil was pulled back over the back of her head. She glanced around, then before he could approach, caught sight of him and came in his direction. “Vitus. Have you been waiting long?”

“Just a few minutes. I thought catching you might be easier than passing a note back and forth. I would, of course, love your advice on the lapis lazuli question. Would you like to suggest a time, perhaps?”

She hesitated. He felt her fingers shift on her arm. “Perhaps a walk. We’re not far from the parkland.” Then she considered again. “Or if you don’t mind a bit more of a walk, the cemetery?”

The cemetery was a bit more out of the way, and her dress would also not attract any attention there. He suddenly realised that he knew where her aunt was buried, and she might not know he knew. “I know your aunt’s buried at your family estates. Are there others you visit here?”

Thessaly raised an eyebrow, then nodded once. “Shall we?” They set off walking south, curving through the Ministry quarter, to the southeast gate. There were benches just outside the cemetery. Thessaly kept going through, then following one of the twisting paths between tombstones and monuments until they were in one section not yet in use as a burial ground. There, she found a bench, settling onto it with grace. “We should be private enough here, don’t you think?”

Vitus was very curious how she knew to come just here, but he couldn’t figure out how to ask. Instead, he cleared his throat, nervous. “I hope you are doing all right? Is it difficult to be back at the apprenticeship?”

“Yes, and no? Though two days is not a lot of information to go on. Yesterday was exhausting. Today I was glad I was out of the house. Mama won’t notice when I come back, as long as it’s before supper, and Father’s out until at least then.” She added it as if it was information he had any right to, but he supposed she might not want him worrying about that.

“And a bit of fresh air is probably also good for you.” That was a truism, but it made her smile a little and incline her head.

“I do come here sometimes - my nanny is buried here. And I sometimes leave flowers for Magistra Ventry. Gods know not many other people will.”

Vitus blinked. “The Council Member, I assume?” She’d died a few years ago, what, 1883, and she had been widely regarded as a complete terror.

“Mmmhmm. Aunt Metaia didn’t exactly like her, but she respected her. Magistra Ventry didn’t have much family, and she lurked in corners like something out of a Gothic novel, but—” Thessaly’s shoulder twitched. “That doesn’t mean she should be forgotten.”

Vitus hesitated, then reached to rest his fingers on her wrist for a moment. She immediately turned her hand so he could hold it, making her own willingness obvious. “No.” He considered. “You know them in a different way than most people. The Council.” Then he coughed. “I’m sorry. If you’d rather not talk about it, just say so.”

There was a silence, Thessaly looking out across the grass. “Most people don’t ask. Don’t think to ask. I think most people forget the Council are people, before anything else. Whatever dances of power and magic and illumination and the land there are, we start as people. Aunt Metaia didn’t tell tales out of school, as the saying goes, but she talked about the other things that came up. Books, or a particular anniversary, or a meal together. She didn’t like all of them. I’m sure not all of them liked her, not as friends or even as allies. That’s different.” Thessaly added to him. “I mean, the number of the Council who are Fox House.”

“I do know the difference.” Vitus said, earnestly. “Some of the time, anyway.” He added a moment later. “We are friends, and I hope also allies. Both.”

Thessaly tilted her head. “Both.” she agreed. “And that’s more than I have with Childeric. On both counts, I rather think. He and I had an odd conversation on Friday. I’m still thinking about it.” Then, before Vitus could change the subject or even say anything at all, she went on. “I was thinking back to the challenges I know about. I remember Aunt Metaia’s, though I wasn’t there, but everyone talking about it. But I was only nine. The more recent ones...”

Vitus cleared his throat. “Pardon, you should probably know sooner than later, even though it’s not directly relevant. I’ve been commissioned to make a talisman for Theo Carrington for it. We’re still working through the parameters, but he’s agreed to my fee in principle.”

Her eyes flashed. He couldn’t tell if that was tears welling up or some other emotion. She looked away from him, out across the clipped grass again, and he couldn’t read her expression at all. Her hand stayed in his, though. Without turning back, she said, “Childeric announced that he is challenging without talking to me about it privately at all. Without thinking about the fact it might be a tender thing, that it’s Aunt Metaia’s seat. Was her seat.”

“Oh.” There wasn’t a great deal Vitus could say, except that he rather wanted to go punch Childeric. Only Vitus’s hands were part of the core of his profession. He wasn’t actually good at punching anyone. And while Childeric might not be the duellist Thessaly was, he’d had more training at it than Vitus had. Wrestling with Lucas in childhood only went so far toward an understanding of the martial arts. “Do, please, stop and tell me if I’m that dense, please? I work with rocks. I try to be more observant than they are.”

Something in that made her turn her head back, and then she was smiling, honestly smiling. “I don’t expect you’ll have that problem, no. For several reasons.” Thessaly shook her shoulders out. “Can I tell you anything that might help?”

“I wouldn’t ask you to, um. Divide your loyalties?” Vitus wasn’t entirely sure how to put this.

“The way I see it - this is more the Lytton side of the family than the Powell side, though honestly, it’s a tad hard to tell - it’s not a division. Childeric hasn’t asked me anything of the kind, and he’s had the opportunity. There are notes we were talking on Friday - he did actually come and call. He has all the available information that I might be a resource. I won’t tell you anything I wouldn’t tell him.” Then she wrinkled her nose. “Well. Probably. I’ll have to think about that more. But we’re not likely to get to any of that right now, in an overview.”

“As you think suitable and fair, then.” Vitus said, promptly. “Honestly, I’m interested in your analysis, seeing as you are a Powell and your aunt’s niece. You know things I don’t. Third, you’re of Fox House and trained in that sort of analysis several times over.”

That made her snort and almost smile again. Then she lifted her other hand, ticking off the people. “The ones I know about going back to 1880. Romulus Heath, Hestia Palgrave, Justus Livingstone, Quintessence Percival, Hesperidon Warren - he has Blanch Ventry’s seat - and then Eustace FitzAlan and Esme Garrison.”

“I’ve always heard FitzAlan with just his last name. Or the title. I suppose ‘Eustace’ explains it.” Vitus offered. “And they have a range of specialties. And does that make a difference in the challenge?”

“Oh, yes. Aunt Metaia wouldn’t talk about hers, of course, but what she did say is that she thinks it’s a puzzle that has a number of possible solutions. And part of the question you’re answering is how you go about that kind of puzzle, and part is what you’re willing to risk solving it. But it’s not an obvious, easy proportion, you understand? Sometimes people risk things they can’t afford. Sometimes they try to bluster through a solution instead of picking a route they could do more with.”

Vitus nodded slowly. “So while protective magics might be worthwhile, ones that granted clear sightedness or the ability to see the path forward might be even more valuable?”

“How not to waste your energy charging at stone walls, is what both Aunt Metaia and Magistra Hereswith said. The people who are actually clever don’t keep doing the same things over and over again when they don’t work.” Thessaly shrugged. “What do you know about those seven, then, and I can fill in the gaps?”

That made Vitus consider what he knew that might matter. Like anyone who’d put the time in, he could reel off their names and families and their Schola house and their known specialties. But that wasn’t enough, clearly. And yet, those were things someone like Vitus might know. He’d seen all of them, at the rites at various times, he’d spoken briefly and formally to a few. But he was having trouble making the patterns connect into anything useful. It all came out as opal or amber, amorphous rather than the precise crystal structures of something like diamond or corundum.