Page 41 of Claiming the Tower
“This is where Horse House shapes you. Both.” Papa considered. “Owls, we do not care so for that. We care for the words and the facts and the research, not the bloom of contentment.”
“You care very well for my contentment, Papa. You have been supportive of my desires. You have challenged me to build the skills I need to claim my wants. And it is because of you I can speak the various languages of diplomacy.” She wrinkled her nose. “Also Anglo-Saxon, which is not much use for that these days, but it makes a pleasant parlour trick at the occasional parties.”
Papa laughed. “So it does.” He seemed about to launch into one poem or another, and then waved a hand. “You know very well what I might quote, imagine it please. So, you wish Bess to flourish. Do you think that is here, in the months to come?” The name was deliberate this time.
“We’ve talked a little about it. What options she has. She has talked to an agency, but for the moment, she prefers to be here and not seek another place. I don’t know about after the Challenge. When we’ve talked about it, I think neither of us knows how to plan beyond that. If I succeed, then having someone who can be here with you is even more important, I suspect. Someone you enjoy and who we both trust. If I am not successful, well, it is still good for you to have company. And Hargrave is finding it useful to spend his time seeing to your comfort in other ways.”
“He’s a good man. And Bess is fine company. She does not fuss. If she chooses to find another employer, you are to get me someone who does not fuss. Someone intelligent and curious.”
“Yes, Papa.” It was easy enough to agree to, though Hereswith did not think companions with both those qualities were as numerous as they might be. On the other hand, Papa was quite right that that was what suited best.
There was silence again as Papa finished his brandy, taking his time with it. He set the glass down, a slight clunk against the wood, then cleared his throat. “And the Challenge?”
“Ask, Papa, please. You are the one who trained me to ask specific questions.”
He snorted, leaning back a little in his chair. “Are the preparations to your satisfaction? You have not told me all of it.”
“You would be bored by the dressmaker, Papa. And there are other things of that kind. Magistra Ventry— Blanch— has provided me with some advice, and that has been especially helpful from another woman. One who also does not duel with magic, not the way the word means.”
“You’re content with her advice?” Papa was probing now.
Hereswith considered. “I am certain she has a dozen reasons for suggesting I make the attempt. I believe she thinks I have a reasonable chance. She is—” She paused, considering how to lay out the ground. “Blanch Ventry has a sharpness of attention that I find reassuring. She has standards, and she feels I can meet them. While I am certain she has a number of her own plots, the ones I can see mostly involve having a competent colleague in the future.”
“And your current work?” Papa leaned forward now.
“You could have asked that weeks ago.” Hereswith pointed that out. “Why didn’t you?”
“I wondered what you’d say about it. You haven’t, so I am now asking.” He shrugged. “Indulge my curiosity.”
Hereswith contemplated. “I am not, by nature, an ambitious woman. That sort ends up in Fox House or marries into it. But I want there to be competence in the world, for affairs to be sensibly run. I am not naïve, I do not think that sense would prevent war or drought or famine or the hundreds of things people do to each other in hurt and greed and selfishness. But I like to think that somewhere, when it comes to the larger policies, the inducements and such, there is room for competence.” Now she looked away, across to the far corner of the room, a little out of focus. “I have gone as far with that in the Ministry as I am likely to. I do not have the influence or pull to advance, and I am a woman. I would never be in the room where the larger decisions happen.”
“You are also not made to be the power behind the throne, as some women are,” Papa said, tapping a finger on his desk.
“That has generally worked better for queens and mothers of kings. I am decidedly neither. Nor likely to be, not that the kingship aspect is relevant. That river of power is also closed to me. The Council, however, there’s at least a chance. I’m certain I will learn things that disappoint me there. They are people, they are human. Vivian and Nimue, it’s not as if I don’t know a fair bit of gossip about most of their flaws. And I have enough experience of the world to have a sense of what’s not said.”
“You are a quick learner, my dear. You always have been.” Papa nodded. “And you are right. There is no reason you should not make the attempt. Some risk, and that worries me, but you are a woman grown. And you have been a most thoughtful and diligent daughter.” He snorted, softly. “Your brothers suggested I try to forbid you. Even if I wanted to, which I don’t, I understand how that would not get me anywhere.” Then he stretched. “If you’d get Hargrave, my dear, I think I will go to bed early and leave you to your evening.”
Hereswith nodded, taking the close of the conversation as a given, and went off to let Hargrave know it was time for that routine. From there, she claimed a shawl and went off through the portal, following the instructions to find the gathering spot for the night.
Some of the White Horse would stay until dawn. She never did. She was not made for that particular kind of stamina. And besides, she had tasks tomorrow that could not be put aside. But she had a pleasant time with the food and drink. Hereswith did her share in the dancing, moving from place to place in the ever-changing patterns and feeling the magic stir under her feet. Perhaps one reason she liked the White Horse so much was that it felt like it did something solid. So much of the rest of her life was words that might or might not become seeds of something in the distant future.
Past midnight, she came back to the house and climbed up to her rooms. Bess was settled there, hair in a braid, reading on the sofa. “A good evening?”
“Yes, it was. You? Oh, and I had a lovely conversation with Papa. He has decided he will begin calling you Bess, so you be suitably amused in the morning.”
“I believe I can manage that.” Bess came in, closing the door behind her. “He enjoys having time with you just— there.” Her voice quavered on the last word. “I’m glad someone has that.”
“The gathering was good and challenging all at once?” Hereswith had suspected that would be the case. It had been made of people around Bess’s age in Horse, with different shapes to their lives that didn’t know what to do with Bess. “I’m sorry you don’t. And I’m sorry for all the people who don’t have that kind of fondness from their parents. Far too many people we both know. Right now, I’m glad he’s taken to you so well.” Hereswith came around to the other end of the sofa.
Bess set her book aside and slipped her fingers into Hereswith’s hand. “He’s very pleasant.”
“Much better than your previous.” Hereswith tugged Bess a little closer with her fingers. “Papa made a point of noticing that I’ve been smiling a lot more. In a way he likes and approves of.”
“Oh?”
“Then he changed the topic— or made it seem like he was. Papa made a point that you were quick on the uptake, and not likely to loom in the wrong ways.”
“Do you— are you worried he?” Bess cut off then.
