Epilogue

JUNE 22ND AT THE COUNCIL KEEP, WALES

G riffin was, on the whole, rather pleased with how the day was going. There was more than a bit of a crush, of course, with the several hundred people here. Even if some of them had drifted to the side rooms - or outdoors in the courtyard - during the formal presentations.

He was, of course, impeccably dressed, down to the talisman at his throat. Annice had presented it to him on his birthday, four days ago, a beautiful tie pin with his namesake griffin inscribed. The blue chalcedony glistened just below the knot of his deeper blue tie. Two smaller pieces, set as cufflinks, made up the matched set, and she was working on a fob for his pocket watch. All of them were gorgeous, but the thought and care - and the fact it was all Annice's work - made them a treasure. Best of all, they were things he could wear every day, if he wished. They'd suit the rhythms of daily life, not just special occasions.

This was definitely one of the latter. Everyone was dressed well, the women in all shades of summer frocks, the men in sharply fitted suits. There had been some back and forth about whether to bring the chair or manage with the forearm crutches.

Lamont had been clear - quietly, but firmly - that he would push the staff at the Council Keep into some suitable ramp if required. But most of the gathering would involve people standing around talking, and the chair wouldn't help with that. Everyone's arses, right at face height, even before the part where people would back up without looking where they were going. Lamont had left the decision to him.

In the end, Griffin had decided on the crutches. But he'd also let Lamont know that if there was more strain than he hoped, he might take the next day off or work at home. The court was in Solstice recess. It wasn't as if Lamont minded terribly. Whichever way it went, he should be sufficiently recovered for a day at the Midsummer Faire on the Saturday. He'd made arrangements for space in the Court tent, which meant he and Annice would have seating when they needed it without fighting with the crowds. If he weren't up for much walking, she could go and take in the faire and come back to him.

And she would come back to him. That was the thing he was still getting used to, though every time it hit him, it made him happier. They both had busy lives, full of unique skills. And yet, morning and evening, whatever else had happened, they had the quiet time together. Sometimes entirely without words, for long stretches, sometimes chatting about the day or who they'd talked to or what they'd done. Nothing confidential, of course, all either cases Griffin was assisting in or clients Niobe saw, but all the rest of it.

Seth had turned around a suitable table exceedingly promptly - he'd refused to tell Griffin how many places in line he'd jumped, though Golshan had reassured Griffin privately that it wasn't many hours of actual work. Most of the time had been spent waiting for stains and the wood polish to dry between applications. The last fortnight, he and Annice had begun having people over for supper once a week or so, and that was a tradition Griffin wanted to deepen.

Now, Griffin glanced over to make sure Annice was still in good company. Magdalena, Lamont's wife, had taken to her - especially when they got onto theories of stones and magic. They were talking with Rathna Edgarton, who was gesturing vigorously about something.

Lamont leaned over. "They're getting on splendidly, I think. Magdalena reminded me to arrange regular suppers out together. Good for the image, but it's rare she's the one encouraging me to get her out of her study."

Griffin grinned as they inched forward. "You've both been very generous with your time, but we've enjoyed the suppers so far tremendously, all three of them. And it's been a help, making the show of it." The gossip of the choice had mostly settled, thankfully, though Nestor was pointedly civil and only that.

Finally, they made it up to the head of the line. Griffin felt the shift in Lamont before anything else, as Lamont let the magic of their oaths and the Courts settle on him. It wasn't the same way as it was done when calling the truth magic, but it was a cousin. A recognition of their role and the land and people they tended. Griffin inhaled, doing the same. Lamont had talked him through it a fortnight ago, in one of the ritual rooms, until Griffin could do it smoothly, between two breaths.

Normally it would have been Griffin's role to carry their token - a bound book, recording notable events in Trellech of the year, the usual offering. But because of his need for the crutches, Lamont was carrying it. He handed it over with a slight bow to Hesperidon Warren, the current Head of the Council. Then Lamont was speaking, his Court voice, all velvet and bass. "May I present my Heir, Magister Griffin Pelson, Esquire, Senior Solicitor and Keeper of the Courts, Yew Chair Primus. He has a long history in the Courts. I am confident in his magic, his skills, and most of all, his love of Trellech and all she is."

Griffin had expected the first sentence, with the full title. He'd even expected the second. The third was a surprise. It was true, of course, Lamont wouldn't say something untrue, not here and now. That was what the Lord of Trellech's Justice brought with him, when acting with that robe of office so clearly in place.

Council Head Warren inclined his head. "It took you some time to decide." That had a barb to it, but then he went on smoothly. "Be welcome, Magister Pelson, as Heir to Trellech's Justice. We look forward to what you make of Lamont's choice." That was a suitably enigmatic approach. It covered waiting for Griffin to fall on his face - metaphorically or literally - or bring something interesting to the table.

Griffin extracted his right hand from the crutch, offering it for a handshake. "Most fruitful of solstices to you, Council Head. I look forward to getting to know many of the people here better." Then it was time for them to move on down the line. The next few weren't terribly difficult - Philomena Gordon, Frederica Hastings, and Owain Powell were all entirely cordial, with no hidden implications.

After that came Cyrus Smythe-Clive, who beamed. "Glad to see you made the choice I, for one, was hoping, Lamont. A pleasure to welcome you formally, Griffin. Rhoe is looking forward to some time to chat with you and Annice as soon as your duties allow."

Beside him, Mabyn Teague also smiled. She and Cyrus had taken up with each other as partners within the last six months, at least in any public form. They'd been all the gossip after winter solstice. She leaned a little closer to Griffin. "We'd be glad to have you both to supper, when we can find a time. And Lamont, you and Magdalena, as well."

"I would be pleased, and I suspect we can get Magda out of her library for that." Again, they couldn't hold up the line further, but it left Griffin more relaxed. Next down, Alexander Landry made a formal greeting and then had a question about something Griffin had written up the previous year, hoping for a further discussion.

Not everyone was so welcoming. Both Livia and Garin Fortier were cordial, but only that. Not that they had a reputation for warmth, but Griffin couldn't decide if it was him, the crutches, or something else. Working down the line, most of the reactions were not worth fussing about. Two glanced at the crutches, considered saying something, and then chose not to. It wasn't until Silvia Warren - Hesperidon's wife, and only a year and change on the Council herself - that there was anything more definite.

"I gather you often use a chair?" She'd made a cursory nod at the formality.

"For ease, yes. It lets me do more in my day. But it's not so pleasant for a gathering like this." Griffin did rather want to get to the part where he could sit down. They'd been in line for a good while before their own presentation. But he also knew better than to be rude. "I think of it rather like magic, picking the tool for the moment. There's a skill in knowing which will serve best, task to task." Then he paused, the exact right amount, from all his Incantation training, to indicate that he was unflustered and that he found other topics more interesting. "I'm delighted to get to know many here a little better."

At that point, Lamont nodded. "We won't keep you, Council Member. There are many more waiting their turn. Later, perhaps?" With that, he gestured Griffin away, and they could retreat to the women and the waiting chair that Annice had been guarding for Griffin's use. He sank down in it, suppressing a grunt of relief.

"Drink, love?" Annice bent down, a hand on his shoulder. "A bit of quiet?"

"Yes, to the drink, if you can get someone's attention. Wine or the punch cup, either is fine. And no, I'd love to know what you were talking about." He took a breath or two, steadying himself, while Lamont kissed his wife's cheek, whispering a couple of things in her ear. Rathna didn't look offended by any of it, just patient.

"Oh, working stones, and the implications for some of what I'm doing with Niobe. Rathna keeps saying it's not her speciality, but she knows a great deal. I've got a list of references to read. Can we go haunt the bookshops at some point?" Annice straightened up cheerfully.

Rathna chuckled. "I know the most about the stones I need for my work - mostly alignment and flow, of course." She was a Portal Keeper, tending Albion's portals. "But my husband has never met a bit of knowledge he didn't want to pick up. If you put him and Annice together, they'll be going for days, I'm sure." She then weighed something. "I gather you got a bit more grief for the crutches than he gets for his cane."

"Your husband also has a reputation as a duellist. I suspect it makes people cautious about giving too much offence." Griffin said, amiably. "It was—" He caught Lamont paying attention. "Full report once we're done and back in the office, sir, but it was on average about a third better than I was afraid of. A good measure to work with."

"Ah, well. We'll see about directing the interesting people this way." He lifted a hand, and one of the serving staff appeared promptly, allowing Lamont to put in an order for several drinks. "And I expect a proper accounting of anyone who gives trouble."

Griffin spread his hands once he'd rearranged the crutches to stay put. "You've made your expectations clear, sir." His tone made it obvious he was teasing a little. "Now, though, we can begin with the drinks and - oh, there's Rhoe." He could see her coming across. Her arm was through her husband's, the two of them gliding through the crowd like the great ocean liners of his line of work. It reminded him to add to Annice, "Cyrus and Mabyn would like to have us for supper, so we should compare diaries after this week."

Annice perched on the arm of the chair, apparently deciding that was more pleasant than the other options. Certainly more pleasant for him. He could get his arm around her waist comfortably. "As you like." Then Rhoe and Hugh were arriving, and there were introductions all round, before Rhoe asked about a particular case related to medical care that had been decided a fortnight ago. Lamont and Griffin hadn't been part of the formal handling, that had been Harriet's duty. But they'd both sat in on the Court. It was the sort of thing likely to set precedent about old injuries - from the War, in this case - aggravated by unsafe environments in a workshop. Not the most pleasant of topics, but important.

And that was, in fact, what Griffin was here for, as much as any offerings for the land and the people.

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