Page 27 of Claiming the Tower (Council Mysteries #1)

Once she came into the sitting room, Bess had added a log to the fire, there was tea in the pot, and Bess on the sofa.

Hereswith sat, took a cup of tea, and then said, not quite looking at Bess.

“Magistra Ventry sent me a note today. She did not quite come out and say it in so many words. But she implied that if I wished to make a Challenge for the Council, she would be of assistance.”

Bess blinked several times. “Why?”

“I wish I knew!” Here, with Bess, Hereswith could let all of her emotions show, including the ones she wouldn’t have shared with Marcus.

Some of them he wouldn’t understand, for one thing.

Others, he couldn’t do anything about. “I’m entirely turned around about it.

And there’s so much I don’t know about it that matters.

What the protocol is for it, what’s expected.

Both the, the visible parts. With everyone watching.

Then, whatever happens in the Challenge itself.

I’m certain I won’t know about that before— if— I do it. ”

“But you want to.” Bess had picked up on that slip of words, that entirely uncharacteristic slip.

Hereswith let out a slow breath, peering up over the rim of her teacup. “Tell me it’s a horrible idea.”

“It isn’t.” Bess lifted a finger, a sign she was thinking. “I won’t lie to you about something like that. Tell me more about what you think. Why you think it’s a horrible idea.”

The thing of it was, there wasn’t a logical reason.

People like her didn’t do things like this.

Which might be that people like her weren’t ambitious like that, or had better sense than to wander into a complex magic no one understood.

She did not know what Papa or her brothers would say.

And then there was the lurking sand under her feet, something not quite stable enough to be sure of.

She talked, laying it out, going in circles that spun in and out around the same half dozen points. Finally, she ran down to a stop.

Bess considered, took the teacup out of her hands, poured her more, added a lump of sugar, and then handed it back. “Your voice is going hoarse. Can’t have that, you’ll need it in good working order. You apprenticed in Incantation, yes?”

“Yes.” Hereswith wasn’t certain where Bess was going with this.

“And Magistra Ventry?”

“Incantation.” Hereswith knew that as well as any other list of notable figures.

The Council Members were easier than most, actually, since they had a public face and the papers laid it out at regular intervals.

“Theseus Harrington was a ritualist, though. Marcus was looking for more about his work.”

“It’s not a one-to-one replacement, though. Or at least that wasn’t my impression? It’s not as if one ritualist dies or retires, and there’s another.” Bess cocked her head. “And Incantation and Ritual are dancing partners, that’s what my mother said. The skills complement each other.”

“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.