Page 13 of Enchanted Net
Aunt Metaia nodded. “Just so. Now, I believe it’s your life and your marriage, and you have as much right to know the financial details as anyone. More than me, for example. Your father has disagreed, but I was hoping he’d do the right thing once the arrangements were settled. Apparently not.” That was decidedly disapproving.
Thessaly looked down, uncertain what to say. Aunt Metaia reached out to touch her wrist and went on. “It explains why Harold was so pleased the Fortiers thought you the best choice, that they wouldn’t require a dowry. And you bring a great deal to the marriage. Strong magic, good health, excellent breeding, sparkling intelligence, but there are no direct intermarriages in your line and the Fortiers for generations.” Thessaly glanced up to catch her aunt smiling. “As to a settlement of your own, I have some thoughts, dearest. I’ll let you know more soon. Still in progress, right now, don’t ask.”
Thessaly said, mock-primly, “I would never. Besides, it’s rude.” Besides, she knew Aunt Metaia lived comfortably, but she had no expectation of any of that coming to her.
“And we can’t have that.” Aunt Metaia was teasing. “And they are treating you well? Besides the social tedium?”
That was a harder question to answer. “I told you last week about Childeric pressing me about the apprenticeship. Magistra North has been so kind, and so helpful. I know you arranged that. I want to learn as much as I can, even if I won’t use most of it where anyone can see. And I keep thinking about how you talk about needing more people to help with the illusions that keep people safe.”
“For one thing, who knows what the future holds.” It was one of her particular motifs. Aunt Metaia was known for shifting one way and the other. She made the most of the tools that came to her hand at the moment, for what she wanted to do. Now, a good half the time, that involved some sort of twist, because Illusion magic was excellent for both pranks and getting people to see something in a new way.
Thessaly nodded. “I am not yet old enough to be permitted the interesting things, though. I have to establish my reputation first.” She said it solemnly enough, but then she met Aunt Metaia’s eyes. “At least, that is how things go, yes?”
It made her aunt chuckle. “You must show you know the way things work before you can toy with it, yes. And I have heard the gossip about you being someone to watch to set fashion, rather than follow it.” Then she paused, sobering. “If you are sure you want to walk that path. It will, of necessity, be a narrow one, with everyone watching you to falter for some time to come.”
Thessaly shrugged.
Aunt Metaia said nothing for a long moment. Finally, carefully, she went on, “A betrothal is not the same thing as a wedding. If you changed your mind now, any time before you marry, I would support you. I want you to know that.”
Thessaly blinked, then she swallowed, unsure how to respond for a moment. Then, slowly, she put words together. “That means a great deal, Aunt. You’ve always been so kind, and so clear. It’s been such a gift. But I know how the property entailments lie, and of course there’s Hermia to think of. And I...” She let out a huff of breath. “Making a living as a consultant, a specialist, that is also a hard road. I know that much.”
“I suppose you saw enough of my younger years.” Aunt Metaia nodded. “Now that I am on the Council, everyone will leap for my touch on their magical projects.” She had specialised in long-standing illusion work, at least when it came to what she did for others. That kind of magic went into renovations and remaking rooms or buildings entirely, anchoring it in appropriate materials. Thessaly had much more of a visible gift for the more flexible, like clothing and costume. Like the costumes for St. George’s Day. “I suppose I cannot blame you for wanting comfort. Even when it comes with tedium.”
That made Thessaly smile a little. “And the agreements give me a fair bit of freedom, at least in private. My own workroom, time for duelling, all that. As long as I keep up the necessary obligations. I won’t be bored.”
“No. Though it is not, I hope I have demonstrated, necessary to marry to avoid boredom. I, for one, am rarely bored.” They’d more or less finished the tea sandwiches and baked goods. “Come in, will you? I wanted to show you a few things in the library.” Aunt Metaia rose, and they went in.
Thessaly had always loved this house. It was far less formal than home, certainly less than any space she’d seen at Arundel. Aunt Metaia had gone full heartedly for an eclectic collection, full of mediaeval ornaments and vibrant colours. Vines taken from an illuminated manuscript climbed along the entry wall, carvings with little individual faces peeped out of the woodwork, stained glass framed the tops of the window. The sofas and chairs had soft cushions, not itchy horsehair.
The library was Thessaly’s favourite, even beyond the cosy little bedroom that was hers whenever she visited overnight. The walls were lined with bookshelves, there were three kinds of chairs in front of the fireplace as well as a plush rug, and every book seemed to hold wonders. Behind the shelves and on the walls that weren’t covered by books, there were scenes to match out of myth and legend. Those were full of magic with touches of illusion that meant they shifted slowly over the course of a day.
Aunt Metaia went over to her desk. One side was stacked high with books, which meant Aunt Metaia was deep in some project or another. The spins were turned away from the room, toward the corner. Aunt Metaia pulled a couple of titles from the other side of the desk, where three books had been waiting. “On loan. I tracked down copies last week. You’d been asking about that challenge with lapis lazuli.”
Thessaly nodded. “He hasn’t called, but I’m still interested in the problem. Lapis lazuli is nuanced, not straightforward. Not the shape, not the veining, not the shades of it.”
“I heard a little more about Deschamps.” Aunt Metaia waved a hand. “You know I’ve all sorts of connections. He seems to have been accurately forthcoming with you. Likely to finish his apprenticeship within the next few months, especially if he can establish his own clientele. Magistra Niobe has been vocally pleased with him, and putting him forward. And he has an excellent reputation for thoughtfulness. Not brashness.” Aunt Metaia considered. “In trade, as is his father, but you might reasonably dance with him once in an evening without a scandal.”
The way Aunt Metaia put that made Thessaly snort. “Mama was pointing out that now is about the proper time for me to consider where to be giving my patronage. I am delighted with my dressmaker, of course, and my shoemaker. I would consider a new milliner. Mine keeps needing to be dissuaded from entire birds. It might be the fashion, but the balance on one’s head is a problem. Besides, well.” Thessaly found the tiny bird eyes to be distracting, honestly, when faced with them. And while that wasn’t a problem when the hat was on her head, it was when she was waiting to put it on. “But you’re right. I could cultivate some connections. Would you recommend considering him in that vein?”
“See how he sets about his work, but you might consider a small commission over the summer. Even though the Fortiers have their own preferred talisman makers, you might want something as a token for your husband-to-be or someone else in his family. Having your own sources preserves the secret better.”
Thessaly nodded, then considered. “Aunt Metaia? You understand the dynamics of it, but you never married.” Now she’d got herself into this sentence, it was suddenly tangling around her.
“Oh, that.” There was a laugh. “There was some pressure to, of course, but I’d made a case for my own work. And there was no, hmm. Politically obvious match for me. No particular benefit to the family.”
“Didn’t you want, I don’t know?” Thessaly stalled again. She did, in fact, want children, in due course, and marriage was the way toward that. “Your own family?”
“I have you. And there’s Hermia.” Thessaly’s younger sister was reaching the age where Aunt Metaia could talk more in depth with her about magic and enchantment. “I like a baby or a toddler, but much better when they can go back to Nanny and their mother. Even you, dearest.” Aunt Metaia shrugged. “I enjoy being able to talk to people in depth. And children grow into that, but they don’t start there. I am quite content. Also, I rather suspect I’d not have ended up on the Council, or at least not when I did, if I’d had children. Given the timing.”
Council challenges were risky on every level, magical and physical. And emotional and mental, as well, from what Thessaly knew. Aunt Metaia had been not yet twenty-five when she made her challenge, decidedly on the young side. If she’d married as Thessaly would, she’d have been a year married, maybe the perfect age to be expecting or have had a baby within the last few months. The two things did not go together at all well, no.
Thessaly just nodded. “Thank you, aunt. Would you show me the books, perhaps? Or would you be able to show me Warrington’s Third? I still don’t quite have the knack for it. It comes out blotchy for me. Or did you have something you wanted to talk through?” Thessaly gestured slightly at the desk. “You have a lot of books out, I see.”
“That’s still in the early stage, not fit for talking about. As to the knack, there’s a trick there, the shape of your hands. We can certainly do that. Talk here, and then the workroom, and I’ll see you off in time for supper at home. How’s that?”
Thessaly went through the mental maths, well worn, about how much time she’d need to change into a suitable gown for supper at home. They ate on the late side, usually half eight. It would give her and her aunt an hour, plenty of time for a little experimentation.
Chapter10
