Page 28 of Apt to be Suspicious
“If anyone ever had doubt that you’re Geoffrey’s son through and through.” Uncle Alexander smiled at it, then caught something in Edmund’s expression. “A question?”
Edmund nodded. “Something I’d like to talk through with you.” Edmund hesitated. “Just with you, if you’ve got a few minutes, rather than saving it for tomorrow.” Edmund would go home for the May Day rites after his five o’clock lecture on Medieval Arabic Philosophy. That would be a celebration and everyone together, with Ros home from Schola for it.
“I’ll put on the kettle, you tidy up.” Uncle Alexander gave him a decisive nod. “I have time tonight.” He went off, while Edmund went about tidying everything up. First, he removed the candle stubs. He’d replace them with fresh ones next time. The water would need to get poured out properly on the land. That was for later. It took him about five minutes, back and forth. When he put the last of the tables away, Uncle Alexander had the spiced tea steeping, and he was leaning back on the bench, looking remarkably relaxed.
Edmund took the desk chair, as usual, turning it as he had on Tuesday, and feeling a strong sense of déjà vu about that. Without being prodded, he cleared his throat. “I had a conversation on Tuesday I’ve been thinking about ever since.” He outlined the basics. Uncle Alexander knew both Uncle Giles and Aunt Cammie well.
“You’re right to put the young woman in touch.” Uncle Alexander considered. “And she’s not brought a note. What caught your attention? And what do you know about her?”
“Not yet. I’ll check after I see you to the portal.” Edmund said. Then he tackled the summary, which was the simple part. “Second year, reading maths, doing well but quiet about it. She hasn’t made a flashy show with any of the scholarship examinations, but what she said about her interests would mean that might be less her preference. Granddaughter to a vicar in Surrey, her mother keeps house for him. Her father’s an engineer.”
Uncle Alexander raised an eyebrow. “How much research did you do, then? I suppose the cryptography would be a particular line of maths. What is that?”
“Statistics for breaking cyphers, discrete maths to create them, is what I’ve been told.” Edmund said promptly. “Not really my field, but I’ve picked up a bit.” Then he said, “You know Papa made a point of telling me it’s worth knowing who’s at the Academy. She was two years ahead of me at Schola, Salmon, no overlap there. I knew most of it already. The family pieces are from the matriculation profile in the Moon.”
Edmund had in fact thought about inquiring with Major Manse. He was almost certain that Miss Stirling had been at Bletchley Park. A couple of her comments had that feel to them. Edmund knew about the place, and a fair bit of the effect of their efforts. He’d even been there a handful of times, with Major Manse. Asking about someone specific was an entirely different concern, however.
“What particularly caught your attention?” Of course, Uncle Alexander had caught that Edmund had not answered that part.
Edmund paused to pour the tea. “That thread of Naming magic. Something caught my attention. That was why I asked her up in the first place. The courtyard and JCR were busy. I could tell it was something she wasn’t entirely sure how to discuss. But as we talked, I don’t know. You know how Mama talks about that small whisper to pay attention. That’s not Naming magic for her, though.” Beyond that, not that he’d bring it up directly, he’d just found Miss Stirling intriguing, like there was a nuance in her he wanted to understand.
“No, but your mother has a gift for that sort of thing. Since long before either your father or I met her, I gather.” Uncle Alexander poured his own cup, then considered it. “You had a concern?”
“First, if it is an unfair advantage. Second, it seemed the sort of thing to tell you, as my apprentice master. And third, what to do next, other than pass along the letter. Since you’re right, they’ll want to know someone’s interested, whether or not there’s any direct reaction.”
“I am entirely glad that we seem to be raising a younger generation who understands which information to share and which to keep close,” Uncle Alexander said agreeably.
Edmund snorted. “Partly because our elders have made a lesson of how not to answer questions.” He could tease about that. Everyone who was close to Uncle Alexander teased him about it.
“As to your questions. Second, yes, I am glad you told me. It is useful information about your progress. That is the easy answer. On the third point, what do you wish to do?”
Edmund shrugged. “She’s observant. Clever, we knew that. Not just the maths, she also does the crossword regularly. Though that also goes with a cryptographical mind. If that’s the phrase I want.”
“It is a true naming of the thing, so it is now a phrase,” Uncle Alexander said. “Do you have a particular reason you’re thinking about the observation, or is that habit?”
That was at the heart of it. Edmund closed his eyes for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. When he opened them again, Uncle Alexander was absolutely focused on him. “There’s something odd going on here at Oxford. Nothing new from what I told you earlier, but still present. Nothing that’s about her directly. I’m almost certain of that. For one thing, the bits I’ve been hearing are all about men. But I had to wonder if perhaps she’d noticed something herself. I have no idea how to ask, though. It’s not as though we’re friends or run in the same circles.”
“And it is not as if you have the scope to do as your parents have done on occasion. Lay out a tidy and beautifully orchestrated trap for her attention. A custom crossword puzzle would be a trifle obvious.”
“Gods forbid anyone in the family be obvious,” Edmund agreed.
“See where any further conversations lead you, then. Trust your instincts. They’re quite sound and well-trained. Professionally speaking, as well as from the family.” Uncle Alexander flicked his fingers. “As to the ethics of the thing. Again, you have a range of tools at your disposal. Using what you gather from this strand of the Naming magics is no more and no less than reading someone’s body language. You know what it’s like. You spend twenty minutes talking to Ursula, and she has deduced your last three days, when you last ate, and which thing you were trying not to think about. She’s using other tools, not Naming. Is that ethical?”
“Ethical. Also terrifying. I am not certain I want to be terrifying. Or show my hand at being terrifying, at least.”
“Ah. That is a different problem, yes, and there are relevant skills. Apply to your mother and father for that over the long vacation, and Benton. I’m sure we can put our heads together and set up a range of situations where you can practise. The Midsummer Faire among them.” The Carillons did a lot of their more visible business then, since their horses were very much on display. It was true there’d be dozens of opportunities.
“As you say.” Edmund glanced at his cup and then saw Uncle Alexander was also nearly finished. “Thank you.”
“You may draw on what wisdom and experience I have whenever you need. Will you walk me down? Do you need a minute to clean up, or are you heading back to your rooms from here?”
“I’ve some studying to do. I was going to do it here. I’ll walk you down, though.” It took Uncle Alexander a few minutes to gather his own things, pack up the ritual robe he’d been using, and finish his commentary on several points Edmund should pay attention to in tomorrow’s lectures. Clearly, an extended debate on mediaeval Arabic philosophers was on the menu for the evening.
They’d made it down to the courtyard and halfway through the wait for the portal. Several of the people ahead of them had packages or boxes or something of the sort that was taking longer. Uncle Alexander made a point of not taking precedence in the queue. He only did so if there were in fact a timely need.
Besides, he said it did several useful things for him to be visibly amiable in this context. As they were chatting about one of Edmund’s recent essays, Edmund caught a movement and shifted, nodding and gesturing toward the figure who’d just come into the courtyard. Uncle Alexander kept on with the sentence as Miss Stirling came up warily.
“Miss Stirling.” Edmund nodded. “Good evening. This is my apprentice master, Magister Landry. We were just chatting about— well. Latin.” That last part had not been smooth. “Uncle Alexander, this is Miss Stirling.” He gave no further details.
