Page 38 of Claiming the Tower
“You work well with him?” The question sounded idle on the surface, Magistra Ventry was reaching for her cup again. It was not remotely idle.
“Why do you ask, Magistra?” Hereswith decided it was time to parry that, politely. “There are a number of possible ways I might answer that.”
There was a substantial silence, the sort that challenged Hereswith to speak first. On the other hand, she had trained for exactly this sort of gap, and practised it, as assiduously as a duellist trained their footwork. It stretched on for two minutes— Hereswith was counting the faint ticks of the clock over the fireplace behind her. “You understand, of course, that the Council has public faces and private ones.”
“People generally do. Not just one face, of course.” Hereswith acknowledged the plural deliberately.
“Just so. I am curious about how you build alliances.” Magistra Ventry set her cup and saucer down, then leaned back in her chair. Now, she was bringing all that focus to bear on Hereswith. And she was doing it deliberately, as she had not done until this point in the conversation. It was obvious that she used it like a blade. Or a mirror, perhaps. A number of the minor references Hereswith had found had described a curious reflecting quality. She hadn’t had time to chase down whether that was a turn of phrase used once and borrowed ever since, or whether it had come from multiple sources and speakers independently.
At the moment, she didn’t care. All that intensity was right in front of her, and she had to rise to the challenge and respond as best she could. “The thing of it is, Magistra, that not all people are allies. When they are, they may not be the same sort of ally. People are not interchangeable, their causes are not, their priorities and preferences certainly are not.”
Before she could be prodded, Hereswith went on. “Marcus and I suit each other well as partners. There are tasks that must, in the Foreign Office, fall to him, because he is male and they respect that. There are tasks that must fall to me— morning calls and making the right show of fuss about decorations and floral arrangements and the fads of the moment. But there are tasks we divide as suits us. He has an eye for particular types of research. I do others. Most events have both of our work, in about equal measure, including discussing after. We hear different things, or the same thing put in different ways, and that is always informative.”
“Does he reliably give you credit where it is due?”
“As he can. Not in the Foreign Office, again. But within the Ministry, yes.” Hereswith considered how to say the next part. “I am limited, however, in what additional responsibility I might take on. I cannot rise further in the non-magical world than being his hostess, not in public. If I sought more influence in our Ministry, I would of necessity be forced to give up the public face. Until this year, I could not decide.”
“What changed then?”
“This war in the Crimea. And more than the war— the world will keep having wars, it is an inescapable fact of humanity, it seems. The way it has been handled, negotiated, and put in to play is abysmal. I am finding my patience is less, day by day, for badly made plans. Or, in some cases, an entire lack of a plan.” Hereswith met Magistra Ventry’s gaze. “Obviously, I do not expect that the Council is less full of human frailty. But it might at least be a different arena and one where I might act more directly to resolve the problems before me.”
Something in that was the right note. Magistra Ventry nodded sharply. “You may call me Blanch. If you do so in public, it will make certain things visible, and I will understand if you do not.”
“As you wish. Blanch. Please call me Hereswith.” That was an easy enough decision, given the points made so far.
Magistra Ventry— Blanch— hesitated, the sort of weighty hesitation that indicated a change in topic. “That was not the only reason, yes? What have your dreams been like recently?”
That was an absurdly intimate question, and yet Hereswith understood why it had been asked. “My waking dreams, I see something better. Seeing the world to come, the one we could have if we just knew how to reach for it.” Hereswith flicked her fingers. “I was at the Crystal Palace in London last month. There are empires there that rose and fell thousands of years ago. Fragments of the world. And there is, in that same space, looking forward to what is possible. Forming it out of what seems impossible.”
“And?” Just the one word, like a drumbeat.
“I keep thinking of Troy burning. Of Cassandra, doing her utmost to warn people of what would come, and cursed to be unheard. I do not think I bear that curse. People do, from time to time, listen to me.” She inclined her head to Blanch, as someone who did. “Are we on a road that leads to that end? Or could we find another one?”
“Ah.” Blanch shifted, just slightly, in her seat, no longer a statue but a human reacting to the question. “There are factions within the Council, of course. We do not see the same concerns, or prioritise them the same way.”
“The Council Members are human, yes. That is to be expected. But within your scope, there is a chance for action. For persuasion. For those individual perspectives to bring new ideas to solve emerging problems. Twenty others is a far more manageable number to debate with than hundreds or thousands across nations.”
It made Blanch laugh, a sudden sharp sound. “That is true, a true-spoke kenning of the world.”
Hereswith lowered her eyes for just a moment, acknowledging the praise.
“You have questions.” Blanch picked up her tea now.
“Many. Most of which I will not ask today, I have not yet earned the right.” That made the other woman’s eyebrows go up and brought Hereswith a brief smile. Hereswith went on, keeping her voice even. “I would like to understand more about the protocol of making a Challenge, and what preparations you advise. I looked at reports from the current papers and the last few Challenges, but they are not at all helpful.”
“They will go on about the clothing. You are no duellist. You need not dress like one. A gown you can move in, suitable to the formality of the occasion.” She flicked her fingers, the first unguarded gesture Hereswith had seen her make. “You know the colour symbology as well as I do, something that makes your point.”
Hereswith did not inquire why Magistra Ventry chose unrelieved black. That would certainly not be answered. A shift to first names did not reach that far. She nodded, however. “And should what I wear have additional charms and protections woven in, or sewn in?” Her usual dressmaker could probably arrange something of the kind, but it would be tricky to arrange.
Hereswith once again felt that direct gaze on her. “Whatever suits your skills. Bring your best self into the Challenge, whatever that looks like. I cannot tell you that. I barely know you.” There was a heartbeat before she added, “Yet. I hope we will become colleagues. We could use another woman of good sense among us.”
“And what does that mean to you? What obligation am I taking on by this? Whatever comes from this?” That last bit was a little uneven, too eager or uncertain.
“Oh, I will sponsor you without obligation or expectation, other than that you bring whatever skills you have to the work. You would do that anyway. It is not an onerous burden.” Blanch waved a hand, another of those theoretically unguarded movements. “You are a mistress of Incantation, if in a different line than I am. But you are of Horse House. I expect your loyalty, once gained, is not easily shaken. You will not shirk the work, or seek to turn it to your own primary gain. That is rather refreshing.” She then lifted one finger. “Perhaps most relevant, you are used to people who reach for ambition. It will not break you, not as it might break some.”
“Ah. No.” It wouldn’t. That was a thing Hereswith had seen enough of, that kind of squabbling over minute points, or grasping greed, or poisonous jealousy. She certainly had her own flaws, but rarely those. “What is the protocol, then?”
“We meet as a group tomorrow. If you wish, I will put in your name. There will be a formal note, acknowledging it and giving the time and place of the Challenge. You may invite those you wish to have present. That’s your family, ordinarily, perhaps a few close friends or an apprentice master or mistress. Your partner at the Ministry, Marcus Everett. Five to ten is the ordinary number, but more can be accommodated. The note will include how to make the arrangements.”
