Page 46 of Enchanted Net
Vitus considered. “I also intend to attend Philip Landry’s funeral.” She’d been the one to suggest the introduction. He’d thanked her for it already. “I know the circumstances are mysterious - I was just reading the paper about that. But I know them, through the Fortier connections, and Philip was kind to me. And I feel for his brother.”
“Ah.” Now Merryn tapped her fingertips together, a little fidget, unlike her. “No one’s seen any of the Fortiers outside their estates, I gather. Not since Solstice. And no one’s sure why. I won’t ask you to pass on information. I don’t move in those circles, but I know enough of the risks. And no one’s ever been sure what to make of the Landrys, though I agree Philip could be quite congenial in the right circumstance. Always that sense of distance, but congenial and willing to share in the ordinary line of things. If you notice anything unusual at the funeral you feel you can share, I’d like to know. There have been some odd orders for materia, as well, and we’re not sure why.”
Vitus considered this, the implications of the request. “You are one of the people keeping an eye on the Four Metals, then.” It was a secret society at root, a collaboration of people bound by mutual interest and creativity as much as any oath. Leadership, such as it was, rotated, but the way it did was mysterious. There was a rota of people who made sure materials were reordered for the workshops, tended to any requests for the building, and resolved the rare interpersonal problem.
But mostly, events of the Four Metals were self-selecting. People went to the ones that interested them and ignored the ones that didn’t. Vitus found it decidedly restful, more than the Stream, where everyone seemed to want to drag anyone nearby into their latest interest or idea. On the other hand, people had to keep things running, and that meant a few people coordinating.
Merryn snorted. “Guilty as charged. One of seven, as we usually do it, I have been this year. Keeping an eye on our more liminal members - people beginning or finishing apprenticeships - is one of my particular duties, though I’d have invited you along to supper, anyway. You’re reasonable to talk to, you don’t hoard your knowledge, and you’re not afraid to explore new ideas.” Then she considered. “I suppose that brings me to the second thing I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Yes?” Vitus straightened a little. He wasn’t entirely surprised by either Merryn or her actual role. He knew there were people doing those exact things. Knowing it was Merryn might lead him to ask her a few more questions in private at some point. She wasn’t competition for him, as he wasn’t for her, but she had an entirely different range of professional connections.
“There will be a new Council challenge, obviously. People are already considering it, as callous as that seems.” She let out a huff of breath. “I know of someone who might be looking for talisman work. I can’t say I entirely recommend him as a person. But as a client I think he’d be in a position to be of interest to you, and he’s good for the fee. The sort who believes in paying well for skilled magical work, which is always a good quality in a client.”
“Someone you know well?” Vitus asked, though that was a sort of sideways insult in there.
“Oh, someone you know. Same year at Schola as you, if I have the maths right. Theo Carrington.”
Vitus blinked. “Fox House, my year, yes.” He considered. “Rather skilled in Incantation, I think he finished his apprenticeship while I was away. Good family, not one that has reliably held a Council seat.” Then he tilted his head. “Did he proposition you at some point, then?”
Merryn let out an exasperated breath. “Last summer. I was doing some work on the warding on the family estate. He took no for an answer, and he doesn’t have wandering hands without asking, which is more than you can say for a number of men of that type. Not a problem you’d need to duck, and I don’t think he’d dare try with Niobe if he called round.”
“He already had a reputation for ardent pursuit of women at school. Though I will say, all the gossip I heard suggested that he takes a no in reasonably good grace. I didn’t hear comment that he didn’t. But I didn’t hear whatever complaining he did in the dorms, of course. He wouldn’t, to the likes of me.” Vitus nodded. “I’d be glad to talk to him and see what he wants, a consultation. Not tomorrow or Wednesday, and I’d rather wait until the end of the Faire. Or I’ll be at the Fortier booth Wednesday afternoon if that’s convenient for arranging a good time.” He’d be going from Philip Landry’s morning funeral to the Faire, pausing at the Stream to change clothing and leave his case to be picked up later.
Merryn pulled a notebook out and made a few notes. “That’s plenty to go on with. Correspondence to the Stream, or to your home? You don’t have a workshop yet, do you?”
“To Niobe’s, by preference, she’ll forward on anything if I won’t be in for a day or two.” Vitus rummaged and pulled out a card which had the details, his name on one side, her workshop address on the other.
“Grand. I’ll pass it along, give you my recommendation, and I hope he’s the sort of client you’re looking for. Do charge what you’re worth, please, he’ll expect it.” Then she stood. “I must get along, people to see, orders to make. I’m glad I caught you, dinner next week, if things settle down?”
Vitus stood, getting the door for her, and agreeing that would be excellent if the world cooperated. Merryn took herself off promptly, and Vitus decided that burying himself in the library and drafting a few ideas for talismanic work for a Council challenge would be the best use of his time and mind for the moment.
Chapter35
JUNE 25TH AT DINAS EMRYS
It felt strange and wrong to be here, and entirely different from just four days ago. Everything had changed, and nothing had changed. Oh, Dinas Emrys felt different. The solstice decorations had come down, all the flowers and charmlights and illusions. Thessaly and her family had been given time alone in the Great Hall, with Aunt Metaia’s coffin. The hall had been hung with sombre black hangings, not even the usual heraldry.
Council Head Rowan had made sure they’d had time on their own, a full half hour. It wasn’t useful to Thessaly. She’d stood in front of the coffin on her own, holding Hermia’s hand, for a good five minutes, but nothing that mattered was in her head. That was not her aunt, that was not the living, breathing, laughing, teasing woman she’d loved. Who’d loved her, who’d cared about her, who had fiercely been determined that Thessaly should have the best life possible.
It wasn’t the woman who’d loved colour and delighted in tricks and pranks, clever and elegant ones. It wasn’t the woman who’d made her own way, despite what her family wanted, and chosen her own sort of power. And it wasn’t the woman who’d wielded that power thoughtfully, not to make herself look good, but to accomplish what she thought mattered.
None of that was in the coffin. Just a shell, and the shell wasn’t the same. So Thessaly had stood there silently, her arm through her sister’s. She’d waited an appropriate amount of time, and then they’d moved off to one side, to let Mama have longer. Father had stood behind her, not interfering, but also not touching. Mama and Father had not quarrelled this morning, Thessaly thought, but yesterday had been full of undercurrents of tension and difficulty. Now, at least for the moment, they seemed to be a unified front.
Then they’d all been escorted off to a side room to wait while others arrived. The keep was quite large, and over the years it had been designed for a range of events, as well as whatever magics the Council tended to. One whole side of the downstairs was fitted out with parlours and waiting rooms with sofas and chairs. Mama had claimed the central chair, of course, with Father standing behind her. Thessaly and Hermia perched on the sofa. All of them were in deep black, even Hermia, who might have had an excuse given her age. Mama’s veil entirely obscured her face, Thessaly’s was more transparent, and Hermia was unveiled.
Thessaly had expected to see some of the Lyttons, her uncles and aunts and cousins, but they hadn’t arrived yet, apparently. It might have to do with why Father was unhappy. This was a funeral, but along with everything else it was, it put the focus on the Powell family, not on Father’s line.
There was a knock on the door, and cousin Owain appeared at Mama’s quiet “Yes?”
He came all the way in. “The Fortiers wondered if they might speak privately, before the service. Everyone is arriving. We will begin on time, fifteen minutes.”
Mama didn’t glance at Thessaly, she just nodded. “Please. Thessaly, you might sit under the window, with space to talk to Childeric.”
Thessaly obediently got up. She would not argue. Of course, she wasn’t at all sure what Childeric might say, though it was something that he was here, and that his family wished to speak quietly. By the time she was settled on the seat under the high window, there was another knock, and the Fortiers were shown in. They were in proper black, of course, though Lady Maylis was not veiled, and Lady Chrodechildis wasn’t either. They weren’t family, of course, so it was black dresses but not the other trappings. Childeric and Sigbert were behind their parents, and Childeric immediately came toward Thessaly. She didn’t see either Dagobert or Laudine Fortier, though.
She extended her hand, without rising, not entirely sure what else to do. He bent over it, taking her gloved fingers in his, kissing the air over the silk, then he met her eyes. “May I join you, Thessaly?”
Thessaly nodded once, before glancing over to see the Fortiers sitting near Mama and Papa. Sigbert joined Hermia on the sofa. The room was large enough she couldn’t hear what they were saying, and she expected Mama couldn’t hear whatever Childeric might share. Thessaly took a breath. She ought to say something, but she had no idea what words would make sense. She wanted to ask him why he hadn’t even written again, why they hadn’t called. Instead, he took her hand gently between his.
