Page 39 of Boy of Chaotic Making

In Britain, that meant the third floor.

Picking up her skirts, Hulda climbed two flights, her trusty black bag a weight on her right shoulder. Fortunately,Griffithswas written on the door, assuring her she had the right place. After smoothing her skirt and adjusting her glasses, she knocked firmly.

A bass “Come” responded.

She pushed the door open. The office within was cluttered, stacks of books, journals, and papers on nearly every available surface. Three sets of ink vials and four assorted pens occupied a modest desk. Three simple chairs lined the wall directly to her right, though two of them also sported teetering stacks of paper, as did some of the floor, which was carpeted scarlet. Scents of wood polish and ink hung heavily in the air, and the morning sun hit the window in just such a way that made everything look slightly yellow. Not in a putrid way, but in an old-book sort of way.

Professor Griffiths himself looked to be in his early fifties, with a well-trimmed beard speckled gray. He still had a full head of hair, also speckled gray, though it had gone nearly white over his temples. He wore dark, round spectacles and a broad-shouldered tweed jacket, giving him the refined look of an academic.

It took a beat for him to finish his sentence and glance up. He blinked a few times.

“I apologize for being early, Professor Griffiths,” Hulda said, remaining in the doorway. “My name is Hulda Larkin. I’m here on recommendation of Lady Briar Feodora of Leiningen.”

Shehadsent a telegram.

“Right, yes.” He stood abruptly, removed his glasses, and looked her up and down. She envied the ability—the second one, that was. He only needed his glasses for reading. Hulda, unfortunately, was cursed to keep hers perched upon her nose regardless of activity.

“You’re American,” he added.

“I hail from Boston, yes.”

“Excellent.” He stepped around the desk. “You’ve come all the way here for training?”

“I ... am here on business.”

“Of course.” Professor Griffiths gestured to a door on the far side of the room that led into another, smaller office, somewhat less cluttered but not without its stacks of books and newspapers. A table that could seat six sat within, as well as four chairs matching those from the first room. Hulda followed him inside.

“Please, sit.” He indicated the closest chair, and Hulda obliged. He didn’t take his eyes off her as he took his seat, though he managed to slip his glasses into a front pocket. “A recommendation from Lady Briar is quite the recommendation.”

She nodded. “Indeed. I happen to be staying at Cyprus Hall, as is she. The meeting was fortunate.”

“Ah! Very good. The Leiningens are good folk. How are Prince Friedrich and Lady Helen?”

“They appear to be in good health.”

He nodded. “And if I may be so bold, how are you acquainted with them?”

Knowing she was unable to relate the details of the situation, she merely offered up a separate but distantly related fact. “I’m the director of the Boston Institute for the Keeping of Enchanted Rooms. I’vecome across the pond to speak with my London counterparts, and Lady Helen was gracious enough to offer me a room.”

“You don’t say!” Professor Griffiths beamed, and Hulda couldn’t help but be charmed by the reaction. “What an accomplishment, and from one so young.”

She barely held back a snort. “I have not been called young in some time.”

“My dear, when you get to be my age,everyoneis young. Now.” He pulled out his glasses, slipped them on, and grabbed a piece of paper from a random stack. A pencil appeared from within another pocket. “You’re an augurist. I know it’s in bad taste, but might I ask your concentration? It will help me understand what we’re working with.”

“I am. And only eight percent, I’m afraid.”

“Eight is rather good, for today.” He jotted it down. “I myself am twelve, and only because of a few carefully selected marriages once upon a time.”

That gave Hulda pause. “Might I make further inquiries?”

He stabbed the paper with punctuation before glancing up. “Ah yes, it’s rude to bring up things of interest without explaining them, isn’t it? Especially to a woman in your line of work.” He grinned. Removed his glasses. “My bloodline is purely English, save for a bit of Swedish influence in the 1600s. My uncle was a baron. At this point, there’s no special title reserved for my father, nor for me, but we do descend from a noble line. You know how the English are with their nobility.”

“Indeed.” It was the very reason Owein had been summoned, to keep magic in the blood of Queen Victoria’s kin.

“What spells have you manifested?” he asked.

It felt strange to so openly talk about her limited gifts, but Hulda forced herself to relax. She’d get nowhere otherwise. “Divination only.”

---