Chapter 38

APRIL 25TH

B y the next Monday, Annice was itching to get back to work. Griffin had come home Friday evening from his conversation with Lamont very thoughtful. It was, however, the sort of thoughtful that wasn't coming out in words, not yet. That's what he'd said, and that was also what Annice had already sorted out. It was like he was staring at the inside of his head, the way she did when she was contemplating carving something unusual. One couldn't rush the process.

She, on the other hand, was still thoroughly in the early stages of learning more about Niobe's craft. For one thing, it was something that took years of study, even if Annice had something of a head start when it came to the stonework. She'd never worked even with semi-precious stones other than jet or with anything like faceting. But she had done smoothing and polishing for the ammonites, and jet needed a delicacy that had set her up well for the current learning.

That morning, she had been handed a piece of blue chalcedony, accompanied by a lecture on its various uses. There was a piece of lore about Cicero, the Roman orator, wearing it. Niobe had settled in her chair, pulling a tray of stones between them. Some of them had been polished or even cut, others hadn't been. "It's a popular gift for solicitors and barristers, as well as senior Ministry staff. Anyone who makes their living speaking words. Ideally worn at the throat, a cameo or carved piece as a tiepin or a pendant, for example, or a faceted stone."

Annice looked down at the stones, then back up to Niobe. "And you're saying this would make a suitable gift for Griffin?"

"Just so. The stone comes and goes in fashion, and right now these pieces, none of them were terribly expensive by my standards."

Annice said, bemused, "You work in sapphire and emerald and ruby." She'd learned, her second week, the reason for all the protections on the shop. There were many stones that were stored there, even if the bulk of Niobe's uncut stock lived deep in the vaults of one of the Trellech banks, complete with a dragon to guard it.

Niobe waved a hand. "You've been doing good work. We can count this in provided supplies. Enough to make a talisman and a seal or engraved piece, if you like." Niobe smiled. "His name suggests some particular imagery."

"Griffins are a horribly difficult shape to get right," Annice said, promptly. "I've been trying to sketch decent ones for..." She stopped short suddenly, because she'd started just about when they got to Trellech, and she hadn't admitted it to anyone yet.

Niobe raised an eyebrow and then changed the subject. "I've books of art. You could do something like an illumination. There's an appeal to that. And there are charms for taking a sketch and giving you working lines on the stone. That's a tremendous help. Much more delicate than the physical transfer methods."

Annice nodded, then she looked up at Niobe. "Where do we start, then?" She was the one staying late at work that night, though it was raining, and she'd already told Griffin to meet her at home. As she was pulling on her raincoat and contemplating the umbrella, Niobe cleared her throat. "You could ask Griffin about a journal. If you're willing. There are the much less expensive options that just connect to one other person, or a small number. But I find it terribly helpful in my business, for correspondence with clients, as well as managing my life."

The magical journals were a wonder, but still terribly expensive. As much as an automobile, far more than Annice could spend. It would be terribly convenient - she'd feel much less guilty about Griffin taking her places or waiting on her. Some of that must have shown in her face, because Niobe said, "Ask him. He likely knows some of the less expensive options."

"Griffin seems to know everyone." Annice let out a breath. "I'll think about it. Tomorrow then? I'll try some more sketches tonight while he's busy."

Niobe nodded, and went back down the hall to the workshop and her own work, while Annice forged out into the rain. By the time she got home, she was soaked, and by the time she'd had a hot bath and changed, she'd almost forgotten about the journal question. Griffin had heated up steak and ale pies, and was settled at the kitchen table. He set aside the book he'd been reading as soon as Annice appeared. "Warmer?"

"Much. I appreciate these floors more every day." Even if she'd also put somewhat worn slippers on, it was more for the top of her feet than the bottom. She slipped into the chair on her side of the table, considering for a moment. "I had a thought today. And also Niobe suggested I ask you something."

Griffin looked up. "And you're not sure about either of them."

It would be annoying, but Annice was actually becoming rather comfortable with how Griffin got to the heart of the problem. It was relaxing to know he'd say what he saw with her as accurately as he could. "Yes." She considered her options and went for what was probably the shorter conversation. "She said I should ask you about getting a journal."

"I would be delighted to get you one as a gift," Griffin said, immediately. "They really are quite useful, and it would simplify things. Even just when you're upstairs working and you want to be on your own for a bit, I could let you know that supper's ready without shouting upstairs."

"Or when you're going to be working late," Annice agreed. "I. I shouldn't let you get one for me."

"Look, how about I get in touch with them, and see if there are any that - for whatever reason - are a little less dear? They do now make some by special order, and sometimes people change their minds, or something is a little imperfect in the art of the book. If you're using it with a cover, like I do, that barely matters."

"Of course you know the people who make them." Annice sighed. "Are you going to invite them to dinner?"

"In this case, no. Mostly because they're as busy as we are, and they've a new baby. But we might go round the shop together. I'll write and see when might be convenient. And we might see them on May Day, depending on the crowds."

Annice wanted to come back to May Day, but the way Griffin had answered that made her think of something else. "You know many people in Trellech. But I'm not clear on, erm. Friends? Friendships."

There was a silence, long enough that Annice looked up cautiously. Griffin was sitting, palms flat on the wood. Then he took a breath, deliberate. "I have a few. But mostly they have their own lives, their own places. Or their schedules are chaos. Antimony, for example."

"Who has both a varying schedule and a family. Though mostly grown up now, yes?" Annice had picked up that much, among the various other comments.

"Like that. And people's houses, they have stairs and all. I don't mind dealing with the canes, but it's awkward to have to ask and check, or figure out the best way to get across town. Or whatever. It's solvable, it's just…" He shrugged. "Tedious."

"So, if we set things up to invite people here, a little more often. If we got a table, something we could move out of the way, we could have people over."

Griffin swallowed. "We." Then he nodded. "If you'd like that."

"I thought maybe a circular table. And it could live in the nook with your bookshelves and the chairs, most of the time. You usually use your canes going there. And then two more chairs, match the ones in the kitchen, and two people could come over." She'd been nervous about suggesting it, but Griffin was smiling slowly.

"I like that. You're better with shapes than I am. I kept trying to make something rectangular and big enough fit, but circular would work better. And on wheels, so you could move it on your own? That's the other problem."

"That's a thing we could ask Seth about, right? Either circular or something that folds up. Um, those ones that have a flap or two that comes out. One of those, with everything folded up, it could go right behind the sofa and not take up much space unless we wanted a table." Now that she was thinking about it properly, she could think of several options. Even for the chairs, which were admittedly complicated to have out of the way. And she could see why he hadn't considered that sort of solution when it was just him. But she could fold and unfold a table easily.

"I'll write to Seth and get him round to do some measurements. And I enjoy giving him business, anyway, for all he's got a lot more steady work these days." Griffin looked very pleased, three ways round.

"And then maybe have him and his wife and Golshan round as the first guests? Since Golshan brings his own chair?" Annice was pressing a little now, but she was doing it for good reason. It made Griffin laugh and just nod, so it was just the right amount, then.

That topic dealt with, Annice poked at one of the bits of steak in her pie, chewing and swallowing before she asked, carefully, "While we're talking about people, what's my part, for May Day? We didn't do anything in Whitby, in public, beyond the ordinary things. The not magical ones, I mean."

"Here, well, the magic's the thing. There's a procession from the Courts and Guard Hall up north, through the streets, through the market, to the front of the Temple of Healing, then through into the gardens. There's music and dancing - well, dancing for other people. I need to be there for the whole thing. Nestor and his wife, Harriet and her family, the other senior staff will all be there. A fair number of the judges process. Many of them like a good procession. You needn't, if you'd rather not. Or we could plan for you to meet up with someone who has less of the pomp and bother. Niobe maybe, or someone she knows." Now he leaned an elbow on the table, and Annice suspected he was working through lists of potential people in his head.

"Are there other things to know about for the summer?" She hesitated. "And, um. I've never asked. When's your birthday? Or have you had one already since I met you?"

"Not yet!" Griffin said it cheerfully. "June thirteenth. I'd be delighted to spend it with you, in whatever form appeals."

Annice blinked. "Mine's June twenty-eighth. All right." Mentally, now, of course, she was wondering if Niobe had known. And whether there was in fact enough time she could finish at least one of the chalcedony pieces as a gift. She could always do something out of jet. She could go back to Whitby and find something to carve, and she'd probably do that too. But the chalcedony kept haunting her. The milky blue had a compelling quality to it, entirely like a ghost made of solid stone.

Griffin was just glowing. "And you'll permit me to plan something you'll enjoy, for the occasion, then? Though, erm." He swallowed, and she found the way he was suddenly cautious about plans that far ahead endearing now. "That's also the Midsummer Faire. You'd enjoy it, I think. I'd need to plan out a bit of how to handle it. It's something that needs the crutches, rather than the chair, unless I barely want to move all day. But we can plan for that."

"Livestock shows, and um, matches?"

"Livestock shows - honestly, I rather like watching the sheep? They're delightfully fluffy and soothing, somehow. Pavo and bohort matches, both, a horse show, a pulling contest. And then all sorts of halls and tents with plants and crafters, others with performances. Dancing and a concert or two every evening, too, and quite a lot of good food and drink. I can get my hands on one of the pamphlets. They have maps and lists of what's going on when."

Annice took a breath and nodded. "Let's make plans for that, then." It was one more step in admitting what she couldn't quite put into words, and what Griffin was carefully not asking her yet. "Um. Something Niobe said today got me thinking. We were talking about the range of properties of stones, the way some of them are fairly consistent, and others vary. I was wondering how you thought about that with the people you work with. Especially Nestor and Harriet."

"Huh." Griffin rubbed his nose. "That's an interesting question." He took a breath. "Lamont - look, I think I'm right when I say he currently favours me, but he didn't actually say it right out. It's complicated, and it's hard to find words for. Even me." He looked rather forlorn at that, and Annice reached over to pat his hand. Griffin went on. "I think maybe he likes me best to talk to, but that's not the thing he should be deciding on."

"If he's got to work closely with you, it's certainly relevant," Annice pointed out. "Can't have someone elbow to elbow in the workshop where you can't stand each other. It'll foul everything up. That's the way people get hurt. And you can't force it. It's a difference between being workmanlike and friendly."

Griffin shook his head, but then he picked up her question. "I like to think I'm adaptable. A range of experiences and skills, and - well. Many people who need a chair or some help, we get good at solving problems, thinking through in advance what the options are, and getting creative."

"Like going to the Faire," Annice said, because he'd just done that. Even if he hadn't spelled out all the pieces he was already thinking about so they could have a good time going together. "Did Nestor fight in the War?" She hadn't thought about it. Of course, she'd never actually seen the man.

"Not at the front. He's enough older he wasn't called up until they expanded the age range in 1918." Griffin looked up suddenly and ducked his chin. "About the same age as your Da, I'd guess."

"Already knew I didn't like him," Annice said, promptly, before she could think better of it. It wasn't exactly that she wanted other people to have gone to War like Da, but it turned out she thought less of people who'd got out of it. "And Harriet's more like your age?"

"I'm forty-five this year, she's, um." Griffin counted off on his fingers. "Just turned forty-three. And people rarely retire from the courts until their seventies."

"And you were all named when? How old?" Annice could feel a shape coming in the carving, but she couldn't see it clearly yet.

"1913. I was 31. Harriet was 29 or so. And Horace was nearer 40. Nestor wasn't named until 1919, after Horace died."

"So, adult and established, but not terribly old." Annice frowned. "And Nestor's, um. Not very flexible. Granite. Something unyielding. Not very ornamental."

That, how she'd put it, got Griffin to relax. His shoulders had been climbing up to his ears. "He's not required to be ornamental. And to give him due credit, he is very good at his work. It's no small thing to keep three courtrooms running smoothly. The scheduling alone gives most people nightmares."

Annice nodded. "And you're more specialised. Did you do something else before that?"

"Before the War, I spent more time in the criminal court. Oak, that one is. And I dabble." Griffin leaned back a little. "So you're thinking, figure out more about what each of us does best, and what that means for the Courts. I mean, I'd considered that. Just as trees, not as stones. Maybe stones would show something up. Do you have that book you borrowed from Niobe still, about some of the lore?"

"I do. Bed or sofa?" Annice pushed back her chair, going to clear both their finished plates and wash up.

"I'll have my bath and meet you in bed. How's that? And we can read for a bit. Both of us."

"I'll be upstairs for a few, then. Take as long as you need. Half an hour?"

"About that." He pulled back his chair to turn and go off to the bathing room, but he stopped by the sink as she started the water running. "Talking it out's a great help. And thank you for bearing with me not being ready for it for a couple of days."

She bent over to kiss his forehead. "Takes time to find what's in the stone."