Page 20 of Enchanted Net
“Anyone else like that?” Vitus asked.
“I’ve heard a couple of other stories, but other fields, mostly. But Allen was supposed to be very gifted. He’d been working with Theseus on and off from the time he started Schola. Poor man’s been rather upset about it. Allen’s his sister’s son. Allen, too, of course, but at least he can focus on the gem cutting.”
Vitus nodded slowly. “And the Guard and such?”
“There’s more of them. I think the numbers show more. Was that also your impression?”
“Going through the lists, yes. I asked the library to pull the annuals going back ten years for alchemy, protective magics, and incantation. I know you’ve got the talisman makers and gem cutters both.” Vitus spread his hands. “Is that why you were worried about me?”
“Yes, and no? I didn’t see any signs of anything being wrong with you. Feel any signs, more so, really, given our work. Very tactile, our profession.” Niobe let out a puff of breath. “But I didn’t want to say anything. People get suggestible. And I wondered if it were something in Albion, if something would change while you were away. But you seem to have done well with the travel, but also done well now you’re home and settled in.”
Vitus nodded. “There’s a difference out there, of course. The Pact’s not in play. But in my work? I can feel some of the variations of location. Austria has that lovely ley to work with, Magister Lenz’s workshop, outside Leipzig. And then Vienna felt entirely different, of course.”
Niobe chuckled. “It does.” She leaned back. “There’s been a little conversation among masters of the guilds, but nothing conclusive. It seems to be less of a concern more recently, the last couple of years, but it’s terribly hard to tell. In some cases we’re sure of, it only seems to become relevant once people get into more advanced work, more that draws directly on their skill and vitality, both.”
“And that leaves gaps in apprenticeships, doesn’t it? Not only, um. Individual ones.”
“Some people rely on the apprentice fees. And some people, honestly, do their best work when they’re teaching. And we need a certain number of new folks - especially Healers and the Guard and so on - but apothecaries and whatnot, too.”
Vitus frowned. “I didn’t check the numbers for that. Or the people who might reasonably have gone to Alethorpe or straight into apprenticeship.”
“I won’t ask you to do that. For one thing, I can do that myself, or we can get someone to do it, more likely. I don’t think anyone actually looked at that, in terms of the specifics. At least not that I’ve heard about. But I’d not mind your notes on the annuals when you read them, to pass along.”
“Of course.” Vitus let out a puff of breath. “You were worried it might be me, too? Whatever it is?”
“I was. I’m a little less worried now. Sunlight dispels ghosts. Isn’t that what they say?” She leaned over, patted the top of his hand. “Right. Why don’t you set up the signet you wanted to work on? I think I have an idea for how to do what you want with the different depths without a risk of fouling it.”
Vitus offered a little smile. “I’d like that.” It was a lovely bit of topaz, and he didn’t want to spoil it or have to cut it down further.
Chapter15
MAY 25TH AT BRYN GLAS
“It’s still not right.” Thessaly didn’t turn around. They were in Aunt Metaia’s workroom. She knew right where her aunt was. Thessaly could feel her, ten feet back, across the room, and about three feet to the left. Thessaly was trying - and failing - to get a proper complex illusion to take. She’d somehow made the time to make and apply the gesso, the bulk of it earlier last Saturday, so it had time to dry.
Now, it was refusing to behave. Oh, not the gesso, precisely. Thessaly was fully willing to accept that certain materia had opinions about how, when, whether, and in what circumstances it was best used. The recipe Aunt Metaia preferred - and thus the one Thessaly also preferred - involved rabbit skin glue, marble dust, titanium white. And at least seven drops of honey from Aunt Metaia’s beehives. That was not the problem, not exactly.
Getting the illusion to hold was the problem. She’d tried twice, and she couldn’t make it work. The images fluttered there for a moment and then faded, like a rose wilting out of season and before the eyes.
“No. Talk me through it, then.” Aunt Metaia sounded amused rather than annoyed, and that was enough to get Thessaly to turn around and look. Aunt Metaia was wearing another of her favourite aesthetic gowns - there was no one in the house besides the staff and the two of them. This was a rich green with gold-embroidered ribbon adding subtle touches over a paler green undergown. Thessaly was wearing one of the ones Aunt Metaia had gifted her for times like these. She had five in the wardrobe upstairs.
Mama wouldn’t let her out of her bedroom in one at home, even just to the portal. Mama had extremely precise ideas about how one dressed and moved and acted in public, and no degree of informality was permitted within those standards. Her clothing was armour and protection. Thessaly knew that, even if she yearned for something different, and a fight on a different field. This gown was a muted lavender over a darker purple, and it made Thessaly think of fields of the flower, something soothing.
Now she took a breath, turning to face her aunt. “It’s not flowing properly. It is not the materia. I am confident it was mixed and applied properly. Not only by my skill, but you checked it. One of us might miss something, but both is unlikely.”
Her aunt snorted, but nodded her agreement. Thessaly went on. “It is not the current weather, it is an ordinary enough sort of day. Neither too dry nor too utterly damp.” Both could affect the humidity of the room, and thus the finest nuances of the casting, but they were of Albion. They were used to dealing with humidity in a range from damp to soggy to utterly waterlogged on a regular basis. She’d have far more trouble in a desert. Thessaly considered. “Me, I suppose.” It was the factor she couldn’t bring into line.
“Talk to me about that, then. How do you feel today?” Aunt Metaia took a couple of steps forward.
“Unsettled.” It was the first thing that came to mind, and Thessaly could and would say it here, rather than guarding her tongue. If she couldn’t trust Aunt Metaia, here, at home, there wasn’t anyone she could trust.
“Your apprenticeship? Your engagement? Things at home?” Aunt Metaia considered. “Come sit. We’ll have tea before we try again. Tea often helps.” One hand on Thessaly’s waist guided her out toward the library, and Aunt Metaia summoned a tea cart. Five minutes later, there was tea steeping and a plate of Welsh cakes to nibble on.
It had given Thessaly time to figure out some words that might describe what she felt. “It’s nothing specific. But I was out for supper at Arundel last night, and I am still getting used to how they do things. Not the manners. My manners are fine.” At the moment, she was leaning an elbow on the table, which was decidedly not permitted anywhere else.
“I’m sure they have their particular ways. Do they explain much to you?” Aunt Metaia reached for her own teacup. “Or are you expected to work it out from first principles and etiquette guides on your own?”
It made Thessaly almost choke on her tea, and she set her cup down pointedly. “The latter. With occasional raised eyebrows when I misstep. I am getting fairly good at the eyebrows. They are all expressive with them. I wonder if it’s hereditary.”
