Page 43 of Apt to be Suspicious
Edmund did not fight it now. He obligingly took the packet and found a powder inside it. He poured the tea, poured a cup for Uncle Alexander, and then dumped the contents of the packet into his own cup. The charms on the cups at least handled the problem of the tea being too hot to drink. Then he took a taste, which was like sunlight, or rain after a drought, and blinked. “What is this?”
“You are fortunate in having friendly alchemists who like a challenge and who are familiar with the family’s magical nature,” Uncle Alexander said, amused. “I’d already asked them to make something up that would be easier to take if you had supper in hall or out somewhere. Looks like a headache packet. Best taken in a hot non-alcoholic liquid, but if what you have is water or alcohol, it will still work. Some chance of hiccoughs in either case, apparently. They’re working on that. You will persist in stretching your limits, I thought it best to have something on hand.”
That made Edmund smile a little as well as relax a hair. “Sir.” He swallowed perhaps half the tea before he tried to find somewhere to begin. “I was using naming magic for a fair bit on Tuesday, sir. A complicated conversation, trying to hear how to navigate through it, and which parts the person was being truthful about. Someone walked me home. I had a good meal and a restorative. I slept well that night. I did not get as much done yesterday as I wanted.” Only about half the list of what he’d intended.
He swallowed a bit more of the tea, feeling the restorative sink in, before he added, “Two lectures today, and working on a paper in between.” This morning had been on the history of Greek and Latin as languages. He had half a dozen things he wanted to read as soon as he got a chance, but the week’s paper for his tutorial had to come first.
“Mmm.” Uncle Alexander had an entire library of non-committal noises, and this was about the middle of them. “Explain what you were doing.”
Edmund laid it out as coherently as he could. He began, of course, with a summary of what he and Pen had noticed, then went on to the conversation in the punt. After draining most of the rest of his tea, he touched on the conversation they’d had in his rooms.
Now, it felt more like the pull of the confessional. Or at least the way he’d heard about that, since the Carillons did not keep such traditions. He elided some of the more personal details. But in the circumstances he made it clear that he’d discussed learning Naming, the implications, and the two pieces of family history.
When he finished, Uncle Alexander poured him another cup from the pot before saying anything. Then, slowly, he said, “We have not discussed outright the lonely road you’ve chosen. We ought to at some point. Not tonight. Your rooms some evening, perhaps. Or over the long vac. You think well of Pen Stirling, then?”
“Yes, Uncle Alexander.” He swallowed, then eyed his cup and took a sip before going on.Honestly, he was curious what Uncle Alexander did with the information. “When I talked to Ursula and Anthony about it, Ursula wondered if perhaps Pen had found me attractive despite not wanting to, and now she’s contemplating her assumptions.” He ducked his chin, feeling absurdly young and uncertain. “Ursula asked what I thought of Pen. I said she’s clever in ways I am, and ways I’m not, and—” He looked up, now decidedly feeling out of his depth. “I can’t tell you why I trust her with this, but I find her company, erm. Trustworthy. Solid, like that.”
It made Uncle Alexander chuckle. “I am not the one in your family to come to for personal relationship advice. Apply to your parents. Or Ursula, for that matter. Giles and Kate or whoever else suits. But I will say that I trusted your father well before I figured out why I did. It was entirely annoying. If you need someone to talk to about that, and I have time in my day, you may do so.”
Edmund had to smile at that, not least because he’d known from Uncle Alexander’s comment about Berlioz that he certainly had opinions. But it brought him back to the larger question. “We’re not entirely sure what to do next. Major Manse was doing some additional investigation for me, but of course he’s busy. And Mama already did the obvious bits.”
“You believe there’s something magically questionable going on.” Uncle Alexander glanced toward the door. “I have seen my own evidence of that. I can ask Gabe to have a look quietly, if you like. Or Claudio.” The Penelopes, Albion’s investigators of complicated magic, kept their own particular records and also were well-suited to this sort of problem. Though none of the current set had a direct connection to the Academy. Aunt Cammie might be a help there.
“If they think it's worth their time?” Edmund said after a moment. “It feels like smoke and mirrors.”
“You spent nearly two years immersed in all the ways smoke and mirrors are used and misused. Your instincts are better than many people, certainly most others your age without the same sort of background.” Then he raised an eyebrow. “Miss Stirling?”
Edmund coughed. “Major Manse confirmed my guess there on Tuesday. That was the easy reply, it turned out. Bletchley Park, from the time she left school until the spring of ‘46.”
“Well.” Uncle Alexander leaned back, tapping his fingertips together. “As you say, clever in ways you are and ways you are not. One more point in favour of your skills in evaluating people if you sorted that out yourself before the confirmation. I assume she didn’t say.”
“No, not at all. Other than the interest in cryptography, and— I don’t know. I was there as a visitor a few times. I had the feel of the space she wasn’t talking about.” Edmund shaped his hands to enclose a globe, then shook them out, a little frustrated.
“Right. What do you know about this Cecily Styles, then? I will look at Lizzie’s notes when I get back, with your permission.” Mama would have them all tidily arranged, Edmund knew that.
He laid out what they knew, what he’d noticed, and added a couple of comments he hadn’t passed along to Mama yet. “The men she’s been associated with— photographs in the papers from notable events— are all non-magical, well-off families. Second sons, third sons. Not the heirs, mostly, but that might be just who’s up right now.”
“Or that she didn’t want to attract that kind of attention from others or the relevant families.” Uncle Alexander frowned. “Do you have a photo or anything here?”
Edmund had tucked one into the back of his journal for safekeeping, taken from the paper after the party. He rummaged for it. “Does she look familiar to you?”
“I’ve not seen her. As you say, notable for someone with competent magic. There’s something about the stance, though. I might need to ask Isembard. He’s got a finer eye for that. Are there other photos in Lizzie’s files?”
Edmund nodded. “Yes, sir. Not many, but enough for that. Thank you, Uncle Alexander. What should I do going forward?”
“Get some actual rest, please. I’d like a little time to look into this and talk to Gabe. I think you’re right that there’s nothing the Guard can do without more information. But we should be able to better define what information would be needed.”
Uncle Alexander looked at him now, straight on, before continuing. “You’re an adult. You are a man of good sense, with a care for the world around you. I will not forbid you to investigate this. But do so with continuing good sense, please. Let your magic replenish a bit. Come back to Ytene for the afternoon, Saturday or Sunday. Punt on the river with no magical enhancements. Sleep in— never mind, you won’t do that. You are your father’s son that way. I do not understand the desire to see dawn when it’s not actually necessary.”
“Just for that, I’m tempted to come back home overnight on Saturday so I can go on about the New Forest at dawn at you. When you finally turn up for breakfast, hours later,” Edmund said. Now, he felt rather a lot better, enough to tease like that.
“You are a menace. In an entirely different way than Ursula is a menace.” It was absolutely affectionate, though. “All right. Let me run you through spotting that bit of listening magic. Then we’ll wander through the halls and take the long way to the portal and see whether we find any others.”
The actual trick of it was not terribly hard— it was, in fact, similar enough to following a thread in conversation and hearing how truthful it was. This was more like realising something was lurking just out of sight or hearing range. As they went back around to the upstairs door of the library, through it, and back down, Uncle Alexander found two other hints of the same thing. He left those in place. Edmund knew well enough what to do with that, which was to be careful where he talked to Pen again. Or at least about what they discussed.
This time, Uncle Alexander asked to skip ahead in the queue, after Edmund promised to follow instructions. He thought he would in fact go home on Saturday night.
Chapter 28
