Page 26 of Enchanted Net
“We’ll be in touch, perhaps, then. Or someone will be.” Louis was about to say something else, and that was when Vitus saw something he didn’t understand. He knew what it was, but he had no idea why. Louis’s face - and his body - had stiffened, the kind of thing that signalled he’d brushed up against an oath sworn on the Silence. He could see the fear there, the way Louis immediately went pale and stopped speaking. Most people took the hint immediately, thankfully. And of course, Vitus wouldn’t press further.
Now, he just nodded, giving the social courtesy that nothing had happened. “Of course. Perhaps I’ll see you at the Faire.” Then he glanced to check his pocket watch. “My, is that the time? I ought to get going. I’ve an early appointment in the morning.” He stood, adding, “Herrick, grand to catch up, and I’ll think about if I’ve come across anything about the dyes that might be relevant. Talk to you soon, I hope.” A few more farewells, and he was out the door, out of the club, and well on his way to Portal Square to get a portal home. It had given him a lot more to think about, most of which he was having no luck untangling.
Chapter19
JUNE 8TH AT ARUNDEL
Thessaly stumbled, trying to keep up with Childeric. They were supposed to be taking a sedate turn around the gardens before tea. Childeric was not making that easy. Especially since Thessaly was wearing the sort of frock one wore to have tea with the soon to be family by marriage. It had rather more frills and fripperies than she’d choose for outside exertion. “Childeric, please.”
She was feeling a bit out of sorts, overall. They’d been sent outside to take the air. Arundel itself seemed pleasant, the gardens coming into vivid and impeccably tended blooms. But being with Childeric was not remotely soothing, even in such surroundings. She kept having to guess what he was going to do next, and feeling one step behind. He stopped, wheeling around, at first looking annoyed, before it smoothed out - like ice melting - into something kinder. “You should have said something, Thess.”
She had. Or at least she thought she had by using words like ‘just a moment, please’ and ‘my shoes aren’t fit for this’. He’d brushed by that, five minutes ago or more like ten now, until they were at the far end of the gardens, about to loop around toward the duelling salle. “I’d appreciate slowing down a little. My slippers aren’t designed for these paths.” She was feeling every pebble under her feet, and that was not her favourite.
“Doesn’t that mean you’ll be on the path longer?” He had a point, and just to be annoying, he added one of his more charming grins. Thessaly couldn’t get Aunt Metaia’s comments, the quiet ones, out of her head, though. About how Thessaly theoretically had other choices. They were very theoretical, though, since the betrothal agreements had oaths behind them. If he could be charming all the time, it would be much easier, honestly.
“But I am less likely to slip. You’re wearing good solid shoes.” Then she took a breath. “More slowly, at least until we’re on the bigger paving stones. And look, you seem out of sorts. Is there anything I can help with?”
Childeric immediately shook his head, but he did offer his arm and set off walking more slowly, in keeping with the actual surroundings. “It’s a family matter.”
Thessaly bit her lip, trying to figure out how to say ‘but aren’t we going to be family’ in a way that wouldn’t immediately annoy him more. After trying out and discarding several options, she settled on a mild, “Oh, and there’s nothing there you can talk about?”
He glanced at her, then shrugged. “You know how it is, of course you know. All the family expectations, and people wanting to get the most out of something. And of course I want to do my best. Father was on at me about something earlier, that’s all.”
“You shine, when you’re at your peak.” Thessaly offered it as a compliment, and it was accurate enough. “I won’t pry, then. It’s just, well.” She let out a little huff of breath. “I worry that I’m missing something, you know? That will be a problem for later, because I didn’t notice it now.”
That made him laugh, suddenly entirely cheerful. “Oh, don’t worry about that at all. If there’s something to know, someone will tell you. Probably me.” Childeric granted her another of his entirely sunny smiles, the kind that every woman she knew wanted to have directed at her. “I promise.”
There really wasn’t a good argument to be made about that. Or rather, if she argued, she’d be saying straight out that she didn’t trust him, and that wouldn’t go anywhere useful or pleasant. “Thank you, then. Now, what have you been up to that you can talk about?”
He hadn’t asked her about her apprenticeship, not since he’d turned up at Magistra North’s a few weeks ago. No, it was more than a month ago, now. Time had slipped by. Childeric considered for a moment as they walked, the kind of pause that Thessaly expected was him sorting through what he could share. Not whether she’d be interested, he didn’t weight that highly in his decisions. Besides, she was interested in many things. “Oh, the usual. A spot of duelling, a spot of gaming. There was this excellent horse race last week, I’ll come back to that. But I had a chat with a chap, oh, last week sometime, about an interesting Incantation application.”
“I’d love to hear about it.” Thessaly made her reply immediate and warm, squeezing his arm slightly with his hand. “Please. Go on?”
It got him started on a long spiel about a particular approach. He did the thing he often did, of simultaneously explaining things she knew very well in unnecessary detail and then brushing over the parts she didn’t. Here, he covered things she’d had in class at Schola - which he must have known, he’d taken the same class. And then he entirely breezed through the newer implications, a couple of articles she hadn’t read.
“What was the title of that one again? I’d love to look it up?” She got that in during a brief break in his words.
“Oh, hmm. Something like ‘The Words and Values’. I can look it up, I suppose, if you remind me after tea. I have notes somewhere.” That phrase would not help at all. It was a common enough term to turn up in the literature. And he’d just referred to the person he’d been talking to as Maz, and she was pretty sure that was a nickname. She made a mental note to ask him after tea, yes.
By this point, they’d come down along the long edge of the gardens, and the salle rose into view as they crested the slight hill. She could see Garin, Childeric’s young cousin - Dagobert and Laudine’s son - out playing with a hoop and stick. It was one of the more popular of the magical children’s games. It helped a child learn to apply charms to guide the hoop and improve their precision and grasp of magic.
She leaned a little into Childeric. “It must be hard, Garin being on his own. You and Sigbert had each other to play with, and Garin doesn’t have anyone.”
“No, it’s nearly as many years to the Mortimer cousins. They’re still babies.” Childeric paused, half-turning to her. “Do you think about children very much, in the specific, then?”
It was rather an odd question. She and Childeric were certainly committed by their agreements to doing their best to have some. Thessaly decidedly understood that was part of the general expectation of being a married woman, though, of course, not every married woman did. And there were people like Aunt Metaia, who’d ignored that whole line of things. Here and now, she nodded. “Of course I’ve thought about it some. And Hermia’s enough younger I’ve, I don’t know, seen her grow up, when I was old enough to pay attention. And she’s six years younger. That’s enough of a gap we didn’t play together much, not like if we were closer.”
Not that Thessaly hadn’t - didn’t - enjoy time with her sister, but with that sort of difference in the ages, one or the other of them generally had to adapt to the other. Hermia had not gone to Schola. The Ministry had offered her a place at Alethorpe, and their parents had turned it down flat. Alethorpe was for girls and boys who needed to work for their living, who needed to become experts in magical crafts. Not for a Lytton and not for a Powell, they’d been unified on that point.
Instead, Hermia was studying at a small day school run by an intimidating older spinster in Trellech, learning a variety of skills suitable for a woman of good breeding. It included a bit of magic, of course. There were many and varied charms for enhancement and hostessing. But she was also learning also how to make conversation in a range of circumstances, play the pianoforte and the harp, and do suitable delicate painting of appropriate subjects. Mostly, that apparently involved still lives of rosebuds. No suggestive drooping petals were allowed.
It had, on one hand, created a bit more of a gap than Thessaly had wanted. She’d so much looked forward to sharing Hermia’s stories of Schola. On the other hand, Hermia seemed happy enough, and she certainly read enough books on her own to float in knowledge for decades to come.
Childeric nodded once. “I’m glad you’re. How does one put this, considering the situation we will find ourselves in?” He waved a hand. “I’ve not had much to do with Garin. And of course, there will be a nursemaid and nanny and tutors. You won’t need to raise a finger about any of the tedious parts.”
“As you say.” Something in her tone hit him wrong, and she could see that. She leaned to kiss his cheek. “If you’d rather go off and do whatever you’ve been thinking about, I could meet you back up at the house in, I don’t know, half an hour?”
“If I come back without you, someone will be annoyed. Probably Grand-mère.” Childeric considered. “Where are you going to be?”
