Chapter 31

THAT AFTERNOON

G riffin took a breath. Annice's question was an entirely reasonable one, from anyone, but even more so from her, if he and she were to have anything of the more personal sort. The problem was that Griffin still had no idea how to talk about this, even though he'd been rehearsing it in his head for a couple of days.

He glanced around, and it wasn't as if anything would save him from this particular conversation. He didn't exactly want saving, but he did want to do this kindly and smoothly, and he didn't know how to get through to that part. "Do you mind a little more light?" Asking the question let Griffin take a moment.

Annice blinked, then shrugged. Griffin twisted a little, calling out the charm that cast a light in the back of the fireplace. It was an intriguing bit of illusion work, linked to a stable talisman mounted in the fireback. It brought up a warm light, flickering just enough to be pleasant, and Annice blinked, then looked back at Griffin.

"I don't always want to bother with lighting the fire." He then let out a breath. "I am stalling on answering your question. It's not something I talk about that often, and most only with people who already know the context."

"I thought that normally there's only one Heir at a time?" Annice said, cautiously. "Is that a place to start?"

Griffin could start there, yes. "You're right, that normally there's only one. Lamont - that's Lamont Morgan. Lamont, as I mentioned when I came to Trellech for the day, is more or less my boss. Ordinarily, there are two or three potential Heirs, perhaps for a few years, and the Lord picks one. Only in our case, we've been potential for over a decade, and he hasn't picked. He won't discuss his reasons, just that he will in due course."

Annice tilted her head, looking more confused than upset. That was a reasonable start. "And you don't know why?" She leaned a little, so she could look more directly at Griffin. "What does it mean for you? If he picked you? Would you have to, I don't know, live somewhere different, or do something different, or - um. Is it even something you want?"

Griffin felt the breath escape him. "I want it very much." He couldn't keep looking at her at the end of that. Now he was staring at her knee, more or less. Then he felt her fingers touching his chin, and nudging it up. Griffin half-closed his eyes, then made himself look at her. She was looking straight back, deliberate and not ducking the complexity.

She left her fingers there, speaking carefully. "Tell me about that, then."

Griffin just let himself begin. He couldn't make his thoughts line up and be orderly. He knew that. "I love Trellech. I've always loved Trellech, from the time I knew where I lived. Before that, I just loved it without knowing, I suspect. Not just the visible gems, though those too, but the way the alleys twist, and the streets change, and how I can walk through and figure out when things were built and rebuilt, by the shapes of the building, the paving, all sorts of little cues. The way the scents change, as you walk through different parts of the crafting quarter, or the way the magic shifts, when you're nearer the Guard Hall or the Courts. How that's different than the far reaches of the Ministry quarter and their offices. The way the different clubs along Club Row decorate for holidays or special occasions. Which ones are restrained and which ones are pure delight, a chaos of colour and illusion work and charmlights."

He took a breath, and Annice let her hand drop loosely into her lap. Now she kept watching him. "And what does being Heir mean to you? Or Lord?"

"For me?" She nodded once. "It means knowing the city, and taking care of the city. Tending it, stewarding it. From what I understand, the way the land magics run here are different. We're not agricultural, beyond people's gardens, that's all outside the walls. We have a substantial cemetery, these days, and that needs tending, unique from other land. There was an incredible row about it, after the War, how to deal with some of the magical implications."

Annice blinked. "I'm not sure I want to ask."

"Oh, not, um, things that would be about moving graves. But some people, they're more remembered than others, people visit them more often. Some of that's ordinary - more recent burials, people who loved them. But strong personalities, people who had a sort of outsize influence, those sorts of people. It can affect the wards and protections, warp them. I don't know the details. I know it took about twenty specialists to work it out, and some of them still aren't talking to each other."

It made Annice snort, and she relaxed a bit. "And what does it mean for you as a person? Would you still live here? Would you have a lot of other duties?"

"It would mean more fussy social events. The Council rites, twice a year, of course. That's part of it, but other things, too. Being a presence in Trellech. Some amount of formal, I don't know, opening of new things, usually Lamont opens up the Guild mumming plays the first night. There's a procession for May Day. A lot of them I'd be at, anyway. Because it's my city, and I love her."

"That part you seem clear about." Annice tilted her head. "You said you'd ask me before doing anything. What would that mean for me?"

"As things are now? Entirely a private matter between us. As Heir, probably the same. Unlike all the landed titles, procreation is not a strongly implied obligation. It's not as if we're passing the land magic down the bloodline. There have been Lords here, though sometimes they get called Steward, who weren't married. At least once a confirmed bachelor, and no one inquired in any detail about his private living arrangements. Lamont is married. His wife only comes to the most formal things, usually." Griffin watched her reactions now, carefully. "It's why I had to tell you now. I couldn't get the words to start up right before. Not that I'm doing very well at the moment, anyway."

"You're answering my questions well enough." Annice said it thoughtfully. "And that's why you wanted me to come here."

"That's the thing." Griffin let out a huff of breath. "I can't move somewhere else. I mean, even if I were willing to do the daily portal trip for work, which would be trickier for me, I need to be living here. If Lamont chooses me."

"Why do you think he hasn't chosen anyone? And what are the others like? You must know them." Annice hesitated, then she set her fingers on his. "Still thinking about the locations."

"You don't have to decide now. Just. Knowing you know, that's a thing I can't bend around." Griffin paused, just feeling her touch. "I think he's looking for something specific. And all three of us, we have virtues - in terms of the role - and challenges. Harriet is very adept, but a little more by distance than by feeling, if you see the distinction? She holds the Apple Chair. That's the court of equity, larger questions that we need some sort of answer to as a community. But she has young children at home, and she doesn't care much for the social fuss. I get on much better with her than with Nestor."

"You seem to get on with many people," Annice said, and then her fingers curled through his. "What's different about Nestor?"

"The three of us have different roles - it's part of why I got shifted to the Yew chair some years ago. Nestor's in the Civil courts, Fir Primus. He's got two secondaries under him. Harriet and I each just have the one, because there are three actual courtrooms. And there's someone over the Criminal Courts. We're not limited just to cases involving our courtrooms, mind, just that we're responsible for specific things."

Griffin was stalling again, and he knew Annice realised that. "He thinks about profit and business and contracts. All transactional, and there are some ways in which - done well - that's fair. And there are some ways it's desperately unfair. It's sometimes, too often, about who has more power in setting the terms, and who can get them enforced. We have precautions about that, in how we handle things, but they're not perfect."

Annice snorted. "You really don't like him, is what you're saying."

"No." It made Griffin smile. "About as much as your two senior jet workers dislike each other. Though I try to be more like Cliff when I can."

That got a laugh from her, a full-throated one. "Fair. So why hasn't Lamont named you?"

"There's been a lot of worry about whether I'm competent. Because I need the chair or the crutches, because it's visible. The thing is, we've had, oh, half a dozen cases in my time in the Courts, of people who should have retired earlier than they did. It is possible that my condition will change. Though it's been stable for most of a decade, since I got care that helped more. And as I've pointed out, several times, ageing comes for us all." Griffin swallowed. "Your hand, may I?"

Annice blinked, but then she nodded, and Griffin shifted a little to get a touch closer to her and take her hand in both of his more comfortably. Then he went on. "I keep doing my best, over and over again, and it keeps not changing anything. Except I'd have done my best anyway. People deserve that. People who are tangled up by grief, especially."

She squeezed his fingers, suddenly, and then she was moving faster than he could make sense of. A moment later, she was pressed against his thigh, her other hand coming up to cup his cheek, and she was kissing him. Tentatively, at first, and with both his hands holding her other one, he couldn't get an arm around her properly. Neither of them were balanced well. They almost bumped noses. Absolutely none of it mattered. When she pulled back, she was blinking, and her eyes were shining. Not quite crying, but he'd seen that on so many people, enough to spot it in an instant. "I should have asked..." Now she was the one looking down.

Griffin freed one of his hands, moving it to touch her leg. "Was I not enthusiastic enough for you?" He was grinning now, with the way she'd gone after what she wanted. This was what she was like when she let her desire actually show rather than shoving it away into politeness. "We could do that a bit more. Practice. Skills do benefit from it."

Now she was giggling, and he felt he'd done something wonderful there. "How, um. What's comfortable for you? That's the part I should have asked. If there's something to avoid."

"Oh, if you want to sit on my lap, in any particular fashion, you won't hurt me. My legs, it's not, um. Fragility. It's the way they don't always do what I tell them." Then he paused. "It's been a while for me. I've never been inclined to the more casual sort of fling. I work entirely too much to meet people most of the time, and - well. The chair doesn't help, really."

"But here we are, we met because of your work, and the chair doesn't bother me. I might have more questions in a bit. About what it's..." Her voice faded. "And is this casual?"

"If you need it to be casual, we can take it as you wish." His voice caught on the last part of that. "But I would, if I could, prefer to see it as what we're learning together, doing together, about seeing if we could have something lasting. No promises now, not yet, but open to the idea that we might, if everything goes well."

"And if it doesn't, you've shown me a city you love." Annice nodded once, decisively. "I, um. Haven't been with anyone for a while. No one who was both magical and fine with my skills, and then there was Grandad and Nan needing someone handy most of the time."

"Well. Then we will just have to see what happens when we've some incentive to brush up." Griffin considered. "A bit more, then, and then I'll take you to the inn, so you can have some time on your own tonight. How's that."

"I— yes." Her voice shifted, and now she was considering. "You meant it about your lap?"

Griffin nodded once, and a moment later she was rearranging herself, sitting sideways across his legs, which put her in a much better position. He got a hand solidly round her back, to help support her. She had one hand on his shoulder, and then she was leaning in to kiss him again. It was better this time. They weren't struggling for balance or breath the same way. He let her take the lead, and she explored the way she touched jewellery, delicately at first, then with more certainty.

When they both had to come up for air, she was much more relaxed. Then she squeezed his shoulder. "Strong, through here. Like you worked on one of the fishing boats, all in the shoulders."

"It is how I get about," Griffin agreed. Then his stomach rumbled, and hers, and he laughed. "That's a cue to get you to the inn, I think. Shall we?"

"And tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow I have people to introduce you to. And we can sort out a bit more of ourselves after. Saturday, there's the theatre."

"Saturday." She said it like it was a gift, when she was the one giving to him. "Things to look forward to." Then she carefully wriggled off his lap, and waited for him to sort himself out, without fussing over him, or insisting on offering him a hand up.