Chapter 27

MARCH 28TH

G riffin spent the day restless. Oh, he got plenty of things done, most of the ones he'd hoped for. He'd even caught a nap for an hour. But there was something twitchy in him, and not just that he'd exerted himself more than he really ought to the day before. He managed enough time upright to wash up the dishes and put them away, and to make his own lunch.

But by the time Annice reappeared around four, he was definitely ready for more information. And to see more of her. He'd said it out loud, that morning, but the way she'd trusted him, to sleep comfortably, that was something he treasured. It didn't go into words easily, for all it was true. She didn't trust many people, he thought, and she had good reason for that.

Now, he waved a hand at the wards, letting her in, and unlatching the door at the same time. She was blinking at it, and he offered. "Afternoon. I've applied myself to particularly handy magical skills, as you can see." Then he saw how tired she looked and waved a hand. "Sit, please. Tea? Beer? I can get it. You've obviously been on your feet."

Annice didn't argue, not one bit, which was definitely a sign he was reading her accurately. "Beer. And, um. Would something to eat be a bother?"

"Of course not." Griffin considered his current options, both in food and in cooking, and said, "Soup and sandwiches? I have some I can heat."

"That's fine. Something warm sounds great. And the beer." She sat down, and he got her the beer first thing.

It took most of Griffin's focus to get the food put together. He got the sandwiches made while the soup started heating. He brought them over to the sofa one at a time, using the left crutch to make sure he kept his balance. She looked up. "Do you need a hand with the soup?"

"If you don't mind. Anything that can spill is a little trickier. The tray's clean, if you like." He went back to the kitchen, stirring the soup, to find her watching him.

"Do you not cook much?" Annice had her head tilted, as if she were trying to do maths and it wasn't working.

"More in my kitchen at home, though I'm not a terribly deft cook. But that's set up with counters I can use in the chair, and it's not far from the stove to the kitchen table. That sort of thing. Here, well." He shrugged. "More awkward. The actual cooking? I have a housekeeper, she leaves me things, I can manage an egg or some basic soup. But there are plenty of places for takeaway near me, and they're used to me, if I want something different. Or half the time I'm working late, and Charlus or one of the clerks will do a run for food. We can eat from the Guard refectory, though I admit their food is nourishing but not necessarily exciting."

"Feeding a lot of people, then." Annice seemed intrigued by that part.

"Feeding many people on irregular schedules, or who need to grab something fast. Stasis magic helps a lot, but also things that can just sit there and keep warm. Hearty stews and soups, pasties, that sort of thing." Griffin considered and then judged she'd be all right with a more personal question. "You enjoy cooking? Beyond what you need to do?"

She made a delightful grimace at the question, the way he'd deliberately asked it. She wasn't insulted, that was obvious, but she was also visibly baffled by it. "I cook because that's the way food happens." Then Annice paused. "All right. Maybe I do actually like some of it. Bread. Rolls. Yorkshire pudding. Baking things, mostly." Before he could ask anything else, she added on her own, "Sometimes it feels like the inverse of carving. Instead of removing things to show what's inside the stone, you're adding things to expand and make a new shape. I suppose that's silly."

"Not silly at all. Here, though, the soup's ready. Do you mind?" He backed up into the far end of the kitchen space. That let her grab the bowls he'd set out, then shifted to pour out the rest into something for storage and rinse the pot. Once they were settled again, he kept the conversation on simpler things until they were both done eating. A question here or there about what would make her feel more comfortable staying at the inn, what kinds of places might she want to know about. Explaining the options filled up the time nicely.

Finally, Annice swallowed and looked up. "I found something. Or my Aunt Sarah did." She gestured at the bag she'd brought in with her. "Should I clear the dishes and bring it out?"

"Absolutely. Let me grab my notes. That will help." While she took the dishes off and washed them quickly, he pulled out his notes. Tonight, he settled himself squarely on the sofa, with space for her and space on the table for the object. Once she came back, she glanced at him, then brought out the cardboard box, placing it on the table.

Griffin nodded. "When you're ready."

Annice swallowed, and he could see her hands shaking for just a moment. Then she lifted the lid, then removed the stone inside and slipped the box out of the way. "Is it - it has to be, right?"

"Here are the sketches." Griffin kept his voice deliberately relaxed, lower pitched and a hair slow. "There, yes. See, the angle on this one is different, the way it was supposed to move." He pulled out a copy of the map he'd been using, adding an angle to the map itself. "A triangle, getting a fair bit of the coastline. The parts where you look for jet, particularly, right? All along here."

Annice leaned over and peered at the map, then ran her finger along it. "Like that. A bit up the coast, but that's probably the way the lines run, right?"

"Exactly. If there were more points, he could have done something more nuanced. Three points, you get a triangle."

"Did it do us any good?" There was a sudden echo in her voice. He suspected she might be on the verge of tears. Part of Griffin - actually, a lot of Griffin - wanted to touch her, give her whatever human comfort he could. And for all she'd slept peacefully last night, he wasn't at all sure she'd accept it.

Instead, he took a breath. "Can you talk to me about it? Why you wonder?"

"We did all right. Not wonderfully. Not so much money we never had to think about what food we were buying. But we could buy the potions we needed at the apothecary, and shoes, things like that. Tools for the workshop. We had enough. A bit more than enough, almost to comfortable." She waved a hand down toward where the bridge ran, and the other side of the river. "My cousins, they're not like that. It's part of why I didn't want you to come today." Her breath hitched. "Besides the stairs. The stairs would be a lot. And things on the floors. Babies. Scrap wood. All sorts of things someone meant to do something with. It's chaos, and I don't think you like chaos. You wouldn't like that."

Wouldn't like her, in that environment, if he saw her in that. She didn't say it out loud, but Griffin certainly heard it. Before he could think better of it, Griffin shifted, touching the top of her hand with his fingers. "And you feel different to them, and not different, all at the same time."

Annice didn't jerk her hand away. "Aye. Don't speak like them. Got teased for it, speaking proper. Because of Da being from elsewhere, and Mam being a teacher long enough." She shrugged with her other shoulder. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me." Griffin kept his voice as even as he could, but it was a struggle. When she looked at him again, she focused, blinked, then he added, "I work in the Courts. I've seen the worst of people, sometimes. And a lot of people who are in a mess, and couldn't see a way out, or where things kept going wrong."

It made her mouth twitch. She looked away, at the table, but she was talking again. That was good. "Not enough money to get to the next time there'll be fish or a bit of day labour or whatever. Never enough. Always a lot of mouths to feed, not enough rooms to sleep in, someone having a problem or an injury or a baby or a cough that won't go away. Even with magic. Magic helps, don't get me wrong, fewer of us die. But it doesn't make there be food on the table or coal in the cellar or anything like."

Griffin found himself watching her intently now, the way she was speaking, the way she moved. It hit him then that he wasn't just curious about her, interested in a life he hadn't lived. It was something far more personal and far more complicated than that. She blinked once, then turned to look him square on. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He bit his lip. "Do you want to know? I'll tell you the truth, you know that."

Annice almost drew back, but then she deliberately let out a breath, her hand and her body where they'd started. "I do know. Why?"

Griffin swallowed just the once. "I was thinking that, um." Words failed him, they never failed him, they weren't like his legs. Only now they were not there when he needed them. He tried again. "I like you. As a person. If I thought you'd permit it, I'd be asking to take you out, the way a man takes a woman out. We are working together, but you're a consultant. There are ways to ease that." Then he flushed. He could feel it. "Of course I'll tell you the truth. There's no other way to do this."

He expected her to push away, to stand up, to leave the room. She had a few days ago, when they'd touched on places just as sensitive. To Griffin's surprise - and he suspected also to hers - she stayed. Her fingers were trembling under his. "You can't mean that. I'm nothing like you."

"You're curious like I am. You care like I do. Like I want to, anyway. You see things - such glorious tiny things like a flashing bit of jet in a beach full of stones and dark black pebbles and coal. You pay attention. Why wouldn't I be interested in that?" Then, some imp of the perverse added. "I also promise I am not at all interested in a nursemaid. And I like to think I've proven I'm good at managing for myself, professionally and otherwise."

That last part helped, actually, because she actually smiled at it. "That part's true enough." Annice let out a long breath, and Griffin gave her the space for it. He could be patient. She was watching his face intently now, like she was studying something to carve, maybe. "What does that mean? Given, um."

"It doesn't affect the consulting arrangement. If you'd feel more comfortable having the formal arrangement with someone else, Charlus could take it over, or I could see about one of the clerks. Maybe Antimony." At her confusion, he added, "One of the Guards, she does a lot of work in inheritance cases. A friend, but she's made all the Guard oaths. You can rely on that."

"Huh." Annice let out a breath. "And if I don't? Don't want to make a change, I mean."

"Then I will show you a bit of Trellech. And show you the courtroom, and you can have a room at the inn that's on your own, as long as you like. And if you needed more time, I'd be glad to keep the room for a bit." He considered something. "My family's well off now, enough that if I couldn't work, I wouldn't have to worry about all the things my War pension wouldn't cover. But I make good money, I don't spend a lot, and I am comfortable. The sort of comfortable that doesn't fuss over what I spend on food, or paying my housekeeper well. Putting you up for a week isn't a bother. A month or two, even. Though I hope we'd figure out something else in there. The inns aren't terribly comfortable for a long period." He added after a moment, "Not as much privacy as I like."

That got her to blush charmingly, he thought. He might, in hindsight, have been having feelings for her for a bit now, actually. "Oh." Annice looked up. "And what does that mean?"

"It means, right now, I like this. Sitting close." Griffin considered, wanted a promise that she'd understand was real. "I will check with you, I promise, about doing new things, about if they're something you want. But I like your company, I would very much enjoy more of it, in ways we both desire. You. Just as you are, and all that you are, and being who you are and where you're from." He should, he realised, talk to her about Trellech, about being Heir, but that was a long conversation, and if she couldn't deal with Trellech, well. Maybe she should see the city first.

Now, she considered, then carefully twisted her hand in his. "And if I don't like something, I can outrun you. On feet, anyway." She glanced at the chair, where it stood in the corner. "Maybe not in the chair. It'd depend on the hill, aye?"

That got him chuckling. "Probably. But I'll only chase you as much as you wish. Tell me to stop, and I will. Do you want my oath on it?"

"No." Annice swallowed. "I mean. Thank you for offering. Um. Could you talk more about the stone? Me just sitting here, like we were doing?"

"Of course." Something more ordinary, if talking about an unusual talisman she'd only just discovered existed were ordinary. Griffin settled back into that, until half an hour later, Annice shifted against his side.

"You want to get home?" Griffin asked, carefully.

"I need to pack. I did some, but, um." She'd been on his sofa all night, and then out most of the day. Of course she'd want to put things to rights.

"Charlus is going to be here at nine, and I can have him come around to your shop and carry your bags. Or he'll have a cart, probably. We have to bring the trunk here back, and all. Tomorrow."

She leaned forward then, kissing him on the cheek and getting up before he could do anything in response other than smile. "Tomorrow." she agreed, gathering up the stone, its box and lid, and her bag. Annice hesitated by the door, waving once at him before she let herself out. He let her go with no further comment, but he watched through the angle of the window until she completely disappeared from sight.