Page 32 of Claiming the Tower
“Marcus is trained in Ritual. And yes, they do. The way of thinking. It counts for rather a lot when sorting out events with varying types of protocol, actually.” Hereswith had to admit that.
“What did Marcus say, since you’ve talked about it with him?” Bess’s voice was that gentle neutrality again.
“That he’ll be sorry to lose me as a partner. He can’t mean it.” Hereswith’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“I am thinking,” Bess said, gently, “That he has a far better estimation of your skills than most people. Better than mine, certainly. I’ve not seen you in as wide a range.” Her voice caught. “Yet, anyway.”
“Yes.” Hereswith glanced away, then looked back. “It would— would it change— I mean?”
“That’s a question, isn’t it? Whatever plans we might have. I’m sure being on the Council means an even more irregular schedule. If I am working for someone else, that might be a problem. Or—” Bess couldn’t meet her eyes now. “People might find out.”
“And cause problems, you mean?” This part, Hereswith could think through faster. At least, she already had most of the information, the public parts. “Maybe not. People are scared enough of the Council not to cause too much difficulty. Whatever happens in the Challenge, every single member is skilled at what they do. Opinionated. Not afraid of a little gossip, there are, there are shapes to how people talk and don’t talk.” She let out a huff of breath. “A number of them aren’t married, or are longtime widows or widowers or something like that. So it’s not as if the norm requires being paired up.”
“Oh.” Bess sounded startled.
Hereswith reached out to take her hand, carefully. There was an instant before Bess’s fingers curled into hers. “You think I should make the attempt? And you think that even if it— made us, sometime, impossible.” Bess nodded once.
“Well,” Hereswith cleared her throat. “I do not know how I’m going to ask Magistra Ventry about the topic, but I will add it to my list. I think the best way to go forward is to talk to Papa and my brothers. I want Papa’s blessing. And it’s not kind to surprise the rest of the family, since the Challenges are public. The gossip about them certainly is. Then I’ll talk to Magistra Ventry and see what she advises. Or whatever she’ll say about whatever questions there are like that. The schedule. I can ask about that because of Papa, even.”
“All right.” Bess took a deep breath and let it out. “If that’s how you want to go about things. I didn’t expect...”
“You’re my friend. Whatever else. If this is the sort of thing that precludes friendships with people outside the Council, I won’t have that.” She blew a wisp of hair out of her face. “Though that perhaps suggests why there are so few from Horse House.”
That, now, made Bess giggle. “There have been some. Should I work out brief profiles of the more recent ones? Would that be a help?”
“It would, actually. It might give me more of an idea of how to go forward sensibly. A horse well-harnessed.” Hereswith considered. “I’d like to lie down. Would you perhaps come read to me while I fall asleep?” She didn’t want to let Bess go off to bed yet. She certainly didn’t want to be entirely alone. “Whatever you think would be pleasant.”
“As you like.” Bess considered. “I found a collection of tales, tucked on your shelf. Something you might have read as a child? Myths, retold.”
“That would be wonderful.” Five minutes later, she was tucked into bed, letting the steady sound of Bess’s voice wash over her. The tale Bess settled on, curiously, was a piece of the Odyssey, about Telemachus visiting Menelaus and Helen, long years after the end of the war. It made Hereswith think not about the moment a great citadel fell, but what happened to the world that was left in its wake.
Chapter 22
July 9th at Verdant Court
Bess was doing her best to be entirely ordinary. She was in a corner of the sitting room, embroidery out, while Lucina and Clarissa— Hereswith’s sisters-in-law— had begun a desultory game of cards. Cribbage, in this case, which did not tell Bess nearly enough about their wits, memories, or other skills. Piquet would have been far more useful to observe on all counts.
Hereswith had given Bess a thorough overview while they were preparing this afternoon. She’d apologised for not doing it sooner, which was ridiculous given her other obligations on Saturday. Bess had waved the apologies away. There had been plenty else to do, making sure the dining room and sitting room were pleasant, along with making sure Hereswith’s father had company.
Bess had been included at the meal. As Hereswith pointed out, it made the numbers uneven, but that was no real bother. Her brothers had sat one on either side of their father, then their wives, then Hereswith and Bess, facing each other.
Lucina and Clarissa had spoken pleasantly enough to Hereswith, with a much briefer cordiality to Bess. Hereswith had made certain to explain who the names were; Lucina and Wulfred had three children. Clarissa and Oswig had two. Combined, they ranged in age from twenty-nine down to nineteen.
All out of school, the eldest three married, the younger two were still in their apprenticeships, and there were two small grandchildren. Hereswith certainly seemed fond of her nieces and nephews, asking after their particular interests or whether a specific toy might be welcome for one of the babies. Clarissa and Lucina were pleasant enough, though perhaps more concerned with what others of their social circle would think than what they themselves thought.
It was clear Hereswith was the sort of aunt who’d taken the younger relatives out to a treat and a bookshop regularly, each in turn, or sometimes to some performance suitable for children that their parents didn’t care much about. Bess approved of that, too. Not that she wanted children of her own, certainly not the getting of them. Besides, she was getting too old for that, even with magic to help.
But she enjoyed having a hand in making sure the next generation grew up knowing there were people who cared about them. She’d not got to do that much for her own cousins, but perhaps their children. Depending on her own circumstances, of course.
But when the meal had ended, Hereswith had stayed seated when the other women rose to withdraw to the sitting room. She’d said, simply, that there was a family matter she wished to discuss with her brothers. That had been five minutes ago. Now, both women were more visibly uncertain.
Bess considered them again. Both the other women were older, each perhaps five years younger than their respective husbands, which put them in their middle and early fifties. Lucina was a rather startling blonde, and Clarissa dark-haired, with a tint that suggested charm dye to avoid threads of grey. Both women dressed well, in rich fabrics, but with little ostentation. They were not wearing their best, Bess thought, but dresses two or three years old, suitable for a quiet family evening.
Or at least, they’d likely assumed the quiet. As Bess took another stitch, all three of them could hear voices rising. Male voices, pitched, not caring who heard. Bess could not hear Hereswith’s, though she didn’t know if that might be some quirk of the acoustics. Maybe a woman’s voice was different. On the other hand, she was certain if Hereswith wanted to be heard, she could be. She was a mistress of Incantation, and that included all the ordinary uses of the voice as well as the magical, at least to a certain level.
Then, like a wave breaking on the shore, they could hear words. “... can’t believe you’d suggest such a thing.” There was the sound of a door opening, hard enough to rattle something on the wall between the dining room and the sitting room, then loud footsteps in the hall. “Lucina, we’re leaving.” Wulfred, the older brother, stood in the door, his shoulders heaving, red in the face.
Behind him, there was a fainter sound, she thought Oswig. Then Hereswith’s voice cut across it, beautifully trained and used with purpose. “If you leave now, you’ll hear what I am going to do in gossip from other people. It will catch you up and snare you.”
