Page 56 of Enchanted Net
“Mmmhmm. Aunt Metaia didn’t exactly like her, but she respected her. Magistra Ventry didn’t have much family, and she lurked in corners like something out of a Gothic novel, but—” Thessaly’s shoulder twitched. “That doesn’t mean she should be forgotten.”
Vitus hesitated, then reached to rest his fingers on her wrist for a moment. She immediately turned her hand so he could hold it, making her own willingness obvious. “No.” He considered. “You know them in a different way than most people. The Council.” Then he coughed. “I’m sorry. If you’d rather not talk about it, just say so.”
There was a silence, Thessaly looking out across the grass. “Most people don’t ask. Don’t think to ask. I think most people forget the Council are people, before anything else. Whatever dances of power and magic and illumination and the land there are, we start as people. Aunt Metaia didn’t tell tales out of school, as the saying goes, but she talked about the other things that came up. Books, or a particular anniversary, or a meal together. She didn’t like all of them. I’m sure not all of them liked her, not as friends or even as allies. That’s different.” Thessaly added to him. “I mean, the number of the Council who are Fox House.”
“I do know the difference.” Vitus said, earnestly. “Some of the time, anyway.” He added a moment later. “We are friends, and I hope also allies. Both.”
Thessaly tilted her head. “Both.” she agreed. “And that’s more than I have with Childeric. On both counts, I rather think. He and I had an odd conversation on Friday. I’m still thinking about it.” Then, before Vitus could change the subject or even say anything at all, she went on. “I was thinking back to the challenges I know about. I remember Aunt Metaia’s, though I wasn’t there, but everyone talking about it. But I was only nine. The more recent ones...”
Vitus cleared his throat. “Pardon, you should probably know sooner than later, even though it’s not directly relevant. I’ve been commissioned to make a talisman for Theo Carrington for it. We’re still working through the parameters, but he’s agreed to my fee in principle.”
Her eyes flashed. He couldn’t tell if that was tears welling up or some other emotion. She looked away from him, out across the clipped grass again, and he couldn’t read her expression at all. Her hand stayed in his, though. Without turning back, she said, “Childeric announced that he is challenging without talking to me about it privately at all. Without thinking about the fact it might be a tender thing, that it’s Aunt Metaia’s seat. Was her seat.”
“Oh.” There wasn’t a great deal Vitus could say, except that he rather wanted to go punch Childeric. Only Vitus’s hands were part of the core of his profession. He wasn’t actually good at punching anyone. And while Childeric might not be the duellist Thessaly was, he’d had more training at it than Vitus had. Wrestling with Lucas in childhood only went so far toward an understanding of the martial arts. “Do, please, stop and tell me if I’m that dense, please? I work with rocks. I try to be more observant than they are.”
Something in that made her turn her head back, and then she was smiling, honestly smiling. “I don’t expect you’ll have that problem, no. For several reasons.” Thessaly shook her shoulders out. “Can I tell you anything that might help?”
“I wouldn’t ask you to, um. Divide your loyalties?” Vitus wasn’t entirely sure how to put this.
“The way I see it - this is more the Lytton side of the family than the Powell side, though honestly, it’s a tad hard to tell - it’s not a division. Childeric hasn’t asked me anything of the kind, and he’s had the opportunity. There are notes we were talking on Friday - he did actually come and call. He has all the available information that I might be a resource. I won’t tell you anything I wouldn’t tell him.” Then she wrinkled her nose. “Well. Probably. I’ll have to think about that more. But we’re not likely to get to any of that right now, in an overview.”
“As you think suitable and fair, then.” Vitus said, promptly. “Honestly, I’m interested in your analysis, seeing as you are a Powell and your aunt’s niece. You know things I don’t. Third, you’re of Fox House and trained in that sort of analysis several times over.”
That made her snort and almost smile again. Then she lifted her other hand, ticking off the people. “The ones I know about going back to 1880. Romulus Heath, Hestia Palgrave, Justus Livingstone, Quintessence Percival, Hesperidon Warren - he has Blanch Ventry’s seat - and then Eustace FitzAlan and Esme Garrison.”
“I’ve always heard FitzAlan with just his last name. Or the title. I suppose ‘Eustace’ explains it.” Vitus offered. “And they have a range of specialties. And does that make a difference in the challenge?”
“Oh, yes. Aunt Metaia wouldn’t talk about hers, of course, but what she did say is that she thinks it’s a puzzle that has a number of possible solutions. And part of the question you’re answering is how you go about that kind of puzzle, and part is what you’re willing to risk solving it. But it’s not an obvious, easy proportion, you understand? Sometimes people risk things they can’t afford. Sometimes they try to bluster through a solution instead of picking a route they could do more with.”
Vitus nodded slowly. “So while protective magics might be worthwhile, ones that granted clear sightedness or the ability to see the path forward might be even more valuable?”
“How not to waste your energy charging at stone walls, is what both Aunt Metaia and Magistra Hereswith said. The people who are actually clever don’t keep doing the same things over and over again when they don’t work.” Thessaly shrugged. “What do you know about those seven, then, and I can fill in the gaps?”
That made Vitus consider what he knew that might matter. Like anyone who’d put the time in, he could reel off their names and families and their Schola house and their known specialties. But that wasn’t enough, clearly. And yet, those were things someone like Vitus might know. He’d seen all of them, at the rites at various times, he’d spoken briefly and formally to a few. But he was having trouble making the patterns connect into anything useful. It all came out as opal or amber, amorphous rather than the precise crystal structures of something like diamond or corundum.
Chapter43
JULY 16TH IN TRELLECH’S CEMETERY
While Vitus took a moment to think, Thessaly had to do the same. Not about the recent Council challenges. She was fairly sure what she’d say, and most of it was at least nominally accessible from public sources. Instead, she was thinking about how different this conversation felt with Vitus, compared to Childeric a few days ago.
For one thing, it was an actual conversation, as opposed to a duel with a badly matched opponent. And the more she thought about it, the more frustrated she was by Childeric. Not just not telling her, not thinking to tell her, in advance. That was a whole other wound she’d come back to. But even when he’d shown up to call, he hadn’t thought to ask if she could be any help. He kept walling her out of anything that might let her take steps toward him.
She’d agreed to the marriage for all sorts of reasons, practical ones and being fairly sure she could build a life she liked with him, whatever he decided to do with himself. Now, she was questioning many parts of that. He’d sat through the negotiations, the same as she had. He’d signed the agreements three times over, ink and magic and oath. She’d thought that was about her becoming a Fortier, and instead she was finding herself stuck in some impossible in-between space that left her unsure where to find solid ground. In the middle of the river, balancing precariously on an unsteady rock, that was the metaphor she wanted.
Vitus cleared his throat. “I appreciate this. Being able to talk through it with someone other than Niobe. Are you comfortable before I start? I’m sorry I didn’t think to bring anything.”
“It is a cemetery,” Thessaly pointed out. “They discourage that sort of thing.” Then she glanced down at their hands. “I like this. How we’re sitting, how we’re talking. The spaces of it.” She couldn’t bring herself to come out and say it was the connection of it, the simple, decent humanity, but that, too. She hoped he understood.
“I do too.” He hesitated, as if he might have said something more. “Romulus Heath three years ago, Fox House and Alchemy, but also Illusion, yes?”
Thessaly nodded. “There has been a lot more fuss about keeping people out of magical spaces, the last decade or so. That’s part of what Aunt Metaia did, and Romulus Heath does it too. Good to not just have one person to rely on.” She shivered. She could feel it being obvious, because no one had talked about death as a particular problem, but of course it was. “Not likely in the current batch of candidates, though.”
“Wait, you know who else?” Vitus blinked at her, his fingers tightening on her hand. “Childeric. Theo Carrington, as I said.”
“Cyrus Smythe-Clive has put in his name. And Heliotrope Masterson.” When he blinked at her, uncertain, Thessaly said, “Incantation, and I gather she wasn’t a bad bohort player. Not a duellist, older than you, I don’t know that you overlapped. Fox, of course. I don’t know what her plans are, though. Maybe one or two more, but there’s still time.” She nudged his thumb with hers. “Go on.”
“Hestia Palgrave, Owl, to mix things up a little. She’s a warding specialist, and I suppose that goes with the illusion needs, doesn’t it? I gather her challenge was unusually short, actually. Quiet, I guess that’s how people describe it in some of the write ups later.”
