Page 10 of Elemental Truth (Mysterious Fields #3)

10

LATE THAT EVENING

V itus wasn’t sure what to say. To be fair, there were so many things all tangled together. They were like chains for a pendant that had melded and divided and twisted so many times they couldn’t be separated again. He took his time; this was like making the first cut in a stone. Everything could go right or everything could go wrong, and there wasn’t much at all in between.

First, he took a breath. Then he turned to see her better. “You realise I’m going to hate him forever for that? There are probably other things to hate him for, but that one is particularly so. He didn’t need to terrify you. Not, eh, that terrifying people is necessarily ever needed.”

Thessaly was quiet, staring off at the fire, and Vitus didn’t want to rush her. He just sat, feeling her lean on his shoulder. Quietly, not looking at him, she said, “Do you mind awfully? That he’s going to be lurking there? In the back of my head, in the back of my life, out of the corner of my eye?”

“It’s not what I’d choose. But it’s certainly a lot better than him being right there physically, isn’t it?” Vitus did not bring up the idea that had popped into his head, Childeric as a restless ghost. That certainly was a quick road to nightmares, for both of them. “I’d rather think about going forward.”

That got a sharp inhale from Thessaly. “There’s another thing.” She swallowed. “Lady Maylis raised the question with me, last Sunday, of whether I’d consider transferring the marriage agreements to Sigbert. I didn’t want a fight with her, not then— it was the month of remembrance. They have some name for it I didn’t catch, a family term? I said I’d think about it.”

“Oh.” Vitus could feel himself shifting a bit, curling back, and she turned to him, her hand on his cheek.

“I don’t want to marry Sigbert. He’d probably be better than Childeric, but I don’t know by how much. More importantly, he’s not you. And besides, it wouldn’t just be transferring agreements. We’d need a whole new one. But Father’s going to push about it, I’m almost sure, and probably Mother. Or they’re going to push for me to marry Cyrus, and I won’t do that.”

“Why are they pushing you so much? Do you know?” Vitus had been puzzled by that all along, while knowing perfectly well that the Great Families were like that.

Thessaly let out an exasperated huff. “No. And no one will tell me outright. Cousin Owain probably would if he knew, but he doesn’t. Mother won’t. Father, well. We’re not speaking to each other, and I wouldn’t trust what he said if he did say something. Maybe Mother will tell me eventually, if only so I’ll do what she wants and stop balking.”

Vitus winced, and then moved to get his arm around her more firmly. “All right. So Cyrus is because, what. Now he’s eligible and powerful, in all the ways you ought to want?” Vitus felt like all the Foxes he knew were moving entirely too fast, like a cacophony of fireworks going off one after another. “Wait. Can we stop and go back, and you tell me what you think is going on? I feel like I’m missing half of it.”

Thessaly hesitated, then she said. “Kiss, first? To make it clear one thing I want?”

He nodded, and a moment later, she was wriggling into his lap. It was awkward. Both their cloaks got in the way, until he got his cloak free and curled around her, encompassing them both in the warmth. Then he cupped her cheek in one hand and kissed her, taking his time.

That was the plan, and it didn’t last more than a few seconds. She wriggled to curl around him better, her arms around his shoulders under the cloak, as if she were soaking everything in. When she finally pulled back, her head settled on his shoulder. Vitus liked that a great deal. Then she said, carefully. “Can you reach the bag of nuts near the top? I think I want to try something. Besides seeing if I can explain.”

Vitus had to make some odd contortions, but he managed to get a grip on the bag of nuts, handing them to Thessaly. She’d shifted to be sitting more comfortably, now on the folded blankets, her legs over his, sharing the warmth. “Why the— oh.” He swallowed. “Divination?”

“It’s very traditional.” Thessaly considered. “So. Father and Mother want to see me married off properly. By their standards, that means political choices, both more immediate— what happens in, I don’t know, the next couple of decades— and longer-term, joining families. Breeding up magic in a particular way. Father’s family tends to it, the Fortiers do too. The Powells don’t so much, they just aim at competence in its many forms.”

“One of those things is less like the others,” Vitus agreed. “Do you actually want any of that? It’s not like anything I know, not firsthand.” He paused. “Mama— and Papa— would like to see me settled down. It’s good for a craftsman, it looks a lot more steady. And I’m sure Mama would like little ones to dote on, and Lucas will be a fantastic uncle. Chaotic, but fantastic.”

“I’d like to meet him sometime, if we can,” Thessaly said, quietly.

“Mama would like to meet you. When we can arrange it, I don’t know, when you don’t need to be so obviously in mourning? There are enough other houses nearby. You can’t come to us without someone possibly seeing.” Vitus made himself keep going. “She knows what I want with you. Enough of it.”

Thessaly’s thumb brushed against his cheek, and he could feel himself flushing. “I will not ask you that now. That’s not kind. Let me finish explaining.” Her hand dropped down into his lap, against his thigh, and she continued. “There’s a certain kind of family, a group of them. The ones who hold the land magic, most of them, the ones in the Albion Inheritance and whatever other philanthropic society you want to name.” She went quiet for a second. “I’m clear that holding the land magic, it’s not just power, it’s also an obligation. But I think some of them forget that, sometimes. People get caught up in their own particular plots.”

“And then there are people angling for the Council, a different kind of power. Or I suppose the top positions in the Ministry, or the Courts, or the Temple of Healing, having authority and influence?” Vitus offered.

“Exactly. Or the most skilled crafters. You know a bit more about that one, but those, and honestly, everything we just said, that takes competence, too. Being made Heir should probably mean a bit of competence?” Thessaly hesitated. “The more I think about it, the more I don’t know about Childeric. He did all right in school, but no one was really going to fail him, not on an entire year’s work, were they? The professors at Schola are independent, but not that independent.”

“Not like apprentice mistresses and masters,” Vitus agreed. “Huh. And he completed his apprenticeship, but Incantation is different than some. More subjective.”

“Illusion, there’s a whole series of practical exercises you have to demonstrate, as well as some pieces you designed yourself. And you told me about yours, how you had to explain your projects and answer questions and have them examined. Alchemy’s much the same, I know that.” Thessaly shook her head. “Anyway. That’s one of the things I started thinking about this week. Why do the Fortiers want me to marry their son so badly? Some of that is practical; there’s not another woman of the right age, not already married or promised, who’s got demonstrated strength of magic and good breeding. They have money, they don’t need an infusion from a dowry. I suppose Cyrus’s sister will get more attention now, but Healing’s a long apprenticeship, and I don’t think her parents are bothering to play any of that game.”

“How many people are there who might look for you to marry them? Sigbert, now, but how many others?” Vitus honestly would have to do a lot of research to begin to figure it out, and not the kind he was any good at.

“Mmm. Four, five, maybe? No, Edward Helms got betrothed last month. I saw the notice. Four, that are roughly the right age and station. And when you add in Aunt Metaia’s money, I’m suddenly a much more attractive prospect. Even if I can’t transfer it to a husband, it could pass down to children.” She grimaced. “There are reasons Lady Maylis would ask about me for Sigbert. But I don’t know if she has other reasons.” She nudged his arm, changing the subject a tad. “The nuts?”

“How do you divine with them?”

“There’s one with horse chestnuts, where you put them side by side - if you’re a courting couple - and watch how they pop, if they move together or apart. If one hisses, there’s steam in between the two, and perhaps not the good way.” Thessaly ducked her chin. “I brought a couple up, if you want to try that. The others, we put them in a pan, and see the patterns when they pop and shatter apart. Those are hazelnuts, filberts. I don’t know which you call them?”

Vitus considered. “I’m curious about both. You have a pan, then? You seem to have packed thoroughly for tonight.”

“Let me get up, and I’ll get things out.” She kissed him on the nose before managing to wriggle out of the cloak. Once she was standing, Vitus took the chance to stretch and stand up himself. “You could put another log or two on the fire, if you want?” By the time he’d done that, she was holding a cast iron pan, and she had two spiky chestnuts in her hand. “Here, let me put this over the fire and let it heat up. And then we put those… there, that looks steady, on the metal.”

He noticed now that there was a large metal pan all under the fire. “You brought that up?”

“Other people did,” Thessaly said. “Our footman and stable man, they got it most of the way with a pony cart. But yes. It helps keep the land safer. And the wandering goats and ponies, after.” She set the cast iron pan so it balanced, then held out one of the chestnuts to him. “We put them down at the same time and see what happens. Maybe half an inch apart?”

Vitus followed her movements, matching them, both of them setting the nuts at the same time. Then Thessaly considered and said, by way of framing the other question. “Tell to us, oh nuts of divination, what we should know about what the Fortiers seek.” She stepped back. “It will take a bit. Ten minutes, maybe a bit longer, for the filberts. Longer for the chestnuts.”

That meant there was plenty of time for him to slip his arm around her. She didn’t seem to want to sit down again. “Can I ask, then, what you want from the future? If you could choose anything?”

She let out a huff of breath. “I don’t know some of it. I want to have time, space? Both. To figure out what Aunt Metaia was working on, and then to figure out how to do something that matters. Cousin Owain pointed that out. Just using my magic to make things pretty was fine, but there are other things I could do. He offered to let me take on some of what Aunt Metaia was doing, illusions for Silence-kept places, things that need to be hidden. There’s someone who could train me on the Council. And...” She glanced up at him. “I like how I feel with you. I don’t hate Sigbert, but I don’t trust he’ll stay kind, and I certainly don’t much want to deal with his parents. Dagobert and Laudine are much more, I don’t know, willing to say things that involve important information.”

Vitus snorted at that. “Not the highest bar, from what you’ve said. I’m glad you like being with me.” He couldn’t quite bring himself to ask whether that meant going against her parents, with all the layered expectations. “And living here?”

“I want that. Seeing people when I want to see them, but maybe not the whole Great Families social mess. If I could just see them only when I wanted to, it’d be much better. And maybe I wouldn’t want most of the time. Even if I were inclined to Cyrus, it’d involve a lot of social events.”

“Is it that you don’t like them, or that Childeric ruined them for you, or something else?” Vitus had different experiences of them, since he had to see them as business, as much as anything else, and that changed the landscape.

“Both. I like them when I can talk to interesting people. And I do like a beautiful gown, now and again. But all the fussing about it, about having the perfect gown for this moment of fashion, of people judging my choices? That, I’m not so fond of.” She waved a hand. “We were going to be talking about the wedding gown a fortnight ago, and obviously no one’s said anything about that. But it had to be the height of fashion and not too out of step.” Then she looked at him. “What do you want?”

“You.” It came out of him before he could stop himself. “If that’s possible. And then to make talismans. Ones that help people, that make a thing better. I’d not mind doing more work for people with power and influence, but I don’t think I’d want to be them.” He looked off down the valley, to where he knew the house was. “Your inheritance— I’d like knowing we weren’t relying on my income, especially getting started. But I like the idea of you having your own. Building your own things. You choosing to include me. If you did, that’s a powerful sort of magic.”

“You’re not like most people I know, Vitus.” She stood on her toes to kiss his cheek again, then leaned against him. They stood in silence for what must have been quite a while, because suddenly, the filberts started to pop. They scattered across the pan, a few pieces flinging themselves out and into the fire. When they’d settled, Thessaly leaned down and blinked. “Does that look like a lightning bolt to you? And then— that’s all charred there. How did it get charred?”

It was hard to tell on a cast iron pan, but Vitus could see the change in the texture. “So, if we take that seriously, that’s them seeking something that’s like lightning. Which we already knew about, a fair bit. And something that’s burning? Dangerous? Destructive?”

“I don’t like the sounds of that. And it’s not very helpful about what either of us do about it.”

Thessaly grimaced. He could see her in the firelight. “That wasn’t in the question, really. And divination is a complicated art at the best of times.” Before she could go on, they heard the chestnuts popping loudly enough it startled something away from the fire, down the hill. It might have been a hare, but it sounded larger, like a goat or a pony. Vitus hoped for something like that, and not something more dangerous.

When they both got a look, the two chestnuts had rolled together, the heat keeping them dancing slightly on the stone, never quite settling. Thessaly nudged him with her shoulder. “I like that. The way they are. The way we can be?”

“Me as well.” Vitus considered. “We’ve got a fair bit of the night to keep. Let’s pull out the food, have some of it, and settle down. I’d like to hear some stories about your aunt, if you’re willing. And I can tell you more about my grandmother.”

Vitus had a lot to think about, and perhaps it was time to step sideways, backwards, to something a bit easier. Honest grief, rather than future mystery, that was a way to put it. Tomorrow would come in due course.