Page 2 of Elemental Truth (Mysterious Fields #3)

2

THAT AFTERNOON

T hessaly finally escaped from the gathering by the simple expedient of murmuring in five different ears - one of them Sigbert’s - that she’d like a little quiet time at the cemetery. He offered to escort her. She firmly declined, saying gently that she’d prefer to be on her own. It was enough to slip away, promising her parents she’d go to the portal from there. It was a risk, but bringing Emeline as companion and bodyguard had not been possible, and Thessaly was having to trust to her own skills and training to keep herself safe. That said, she did not particularly fear the kind of interference that might require duelling today. There were too many other people still around.

Why she was promising her parents anything was another question, but habits held, even though she was a grown woman, with property of her own. She was not, however, a married woman, and that still mattered more than it ought. Thessaly wondered, not for the first time, how Aunt Metaia had managed it, to hold on to her own independence without perpetual interference. She was clear now her aunt had done some of it simply by not telling her sister - Thessaly’s mother - at least half of what she was up to. Maybe only a tenth. She hadn’t told most of the rest of the family much, either, except perhaps Cousin Owain.

At any rate, Thessaly made it to the cemetery with no one following her. And that meant she spent some time staring at Childeric’s grave. Part of her wanted to dig down and reassure herself he was actually there, but she knew perfectly well that he was. She had seen him dead. She had sat vigil watching him for hours. She had seen him buried. There was no doubt.

Even if she’d already had a nightmare or two about it. Thessaly knew that was normal enough, or what passed for normal. She had been under great strain, wondering what Childeric would do, what he would threaten next. She’d begun to fear what the marriage would bring, even if she did everything as perfectly as anyone could wish. Now she was free, but it was taking her emotions a bit to catch up, and certainly her dreams were none too speedy about it.

More of them, at least, had been more a sort of lurking dread than anything specific to Childeric. The dread was easier to deal with. On the whole, it was less specific. It was frustrating, of course, nothing she could duel or even get a grip on. And the worst of it was, she couldn’t even let it go. After all, here she was, invited to an intimate gathering of the family. Not the most intimate, but invited. Not that most of them had actually been remotely informative about anything which would have encouraged Thessaly to consider further invitations in a more generous light.

And on the third hand, whatever Thessaly had thought of Childeric by the end, his family did appear to love him. His mother and brother certainly did. Both were looking deeply distraught when not actively engaged in conversation. Thessaly had been less sure how to read Lord Clovis. Losing his son and Heir must be a terrible blow. She suspected he was making use of potions to present the proper stoic mien to the world.

She had been standing there at the graveside for maybe five minutes at the outside when she heard a rustle of silk. Thessaly looked up, her hands in front of her. Fortunately, she was just as well trained in not letting her thoughts show on her body as any young woman of Fox House might wish to be. It was not, however, Lady Maylis. It wasn’t even Laudine, who Thessaly had wondered about. Instead, it was Henut Landry.

Her veil was now pulled back from her face. That made her look even more like a statue than she had inside. It was as if her mien had changed, subtly. She was at rest, in a particular way that Thessaly did not understand. Now she was taking small steps forward, the silk of her dress rustling. “Thessaly.” Her voice was like her expression, hers, but altered, lower in pitch, maybe.

Thessaly inclined her head. “Magistra Landry.” She would be polite. She was inclined to be polite anyway, but all of her sense of caution was prickling. Something about the woman was even more uncanny than it had seemed before, in a way that made her duelist’s senses very attentive indeed.

“I came to tend to Philip’s grave. Perhaps you will join me?” She nodded down toward the far end of the cemetery, not the favoured spots.

“Of course, if you would like.” Henut walked on. Thessaly fell into place beside her, then let her go first into the row with Philip’s tombstone. The older woman stopped in front of the memorial, unlike any other in this place, a square pillar covered in hieroglyphs and images. Henut produced a small bottle of water from within her skirts. She must have a good-sized pocket underneath. Setting it down for a moment, she pulled out a small incense holder and a cone of incense. The last pieces were a tiny loaf of bread, made of clay, and a pinch of actual bread, the size of the tip of Thessaly’s thumb.

Thessaly watched this, because while offerings were common enough, these were more elaborate than she had expected. Henut placed each in what was clearly its proper place on the memorial itself, a flat ledge that served as a table, then lit the incense. Once that was done, she straightened up. “It is our custom to bring food and drink to the tomb every day, day upon day. The incense is more a, how do you say it? It acts as a clock.”

“Oh.” Thessaly rather liked that idea, though going out to Aunt Metaia’s grave would be rather arduous. “That is not our custom, but I find it soothing to think about, in some way.” She glanced back toward Childeric’s. “That was not why I had come out here, though.”

“Of course not.” Henut inclined her own head again. “You are still coming to terms with the meaning of the death. And you have seen more than a young woman ought, in just a few months.”

“Yes.” Thessaly couldn’t argue with that. “I don’t know when I will be here again, but would it bother you if I came to pay my respects to Philip?” There was certainly nothing tying her to the family anymore, other than Childeric’s memory. She’d struggled with what to do with the betrothal ring and the other tangible gifts he’d given her. Custom was that those were hers to keep, and the ring was not a particular family heirloom. She’d dithered over it for the fortnight, and at this point, she was set on finding a suitable ocean cliff and hurling it in.

Now Henut turned to her, a slow and unnerving smile. “I would be grateful for it. We believe someone continues, so long as their name is remembered.” She stepped forward, her fingers brushing the carving on the stone. “This is his name in our language, the ancient one of our people. Here is his name in French and English.” She fairly obviously would not attempt to teach the first. “If, for any reason, I could not continue on my own, especially before Alexander returns from his travels, it would please me to know someone thought to care for Philip.”

Thessaly nodded. “If I have the chance, then. I cannot make oath or promise on it. I...” She turned, gesturing behind her. “I don’t know what the future holds.”

Henut’s eyes narrowed. She looked around, and then there was a shift of magic. It was the sort of enchantment that would take most people a proper ritual and an hour’s time, and Henut drew the threads of it to her in an instant. “An effective privacy charm.” Once she’d given the explanation, she went on, “I would not wish you brought closer here. For all Sigbert is in many ways the better brother, that does not mean good. Do you understand?” Her eyes flicked back toward the house. “Last evening’s rite and today’s announcement continue the family, but they are further steps down a particular road. One that would not be kind to you, certainly.”

That was a message that had more layers than Thessaly could sort out in a moment. She swallowed, looking back through the cemetery, then at Henut. “I would be grateful for whatever you might tell me. I do not know what I could possibly offer in exchange.”

“I like your friend, the one gifted at talismans. He is honest, he is whole-hearted, his magic bubbles up like the water at an oasis, to be treasured and stewarded.” She obviously meant Vitus. There was no one else in Thessaly’s life who fit that description. “I wish him well, and I wish you well. Perhaps together?” Before Thessaly could react to that, Henut went on. “There is a great deal wrong in the house and the estate. There has been for some months, if not years. Since Vauquelin’s death.”

He had died five years ago, and Thessaly had known him far more by reputation. A strict patriarch of the family, he’d been known as a match for his wife, Lady Chrodechildis. Lord Vauquelin had been a gifted ritualist. She knew that too, people still talked about some of the rituals he’d led, workings to enhance the magic in the heart of Trellech, or the rituals that stabilised part of the land magic here. He had drawn on tremendous power. He’d terrified a number of people, but he’d most visibly used it for the common good.

Thessaly hesitated, trying to decide how to play this duel she found herself in. Or rather, she had to decide whether to trust she was right, that Henut was somehow on her side of that duel against the Fortier family. The older woman did not rush her, she barely moved an eyelid. Finally, Thessaly said, “They have not treated me well.” Then she added, in all honesty, “Laudine has been kinder and certainly more informative.”

“I wish Laudine well,” Henut said, evenly. “And her husband, who I suppose has sufficient correction for his past choices. Dagobert is listening more to his wife now. That is wise of him.” She considered, weighing something. “I have always thought a husband and wife should improve each other. That has not been the case for Maylis and Clovis, alas.” There was a note there that Thessaly could only read as a decision made, a line of action committed to, in some unseen duel. Certainly, Thessaly had no desire to face her there, she was entirely overmatched.

It was also startlingly informative, and Thessaly had not expected that. She nodded, first murmuring a thank you.

Henut let that settle, before she said, quietly, “What would you like to do with yourself, now you will not marry Childeric?”

“Take a bit of time before making any decisions.” That was easy enough to say. “If I have my way, and I hope to. I am still exploring Aunt Metaia’s home, her library. I must finish my apprenticeship. Once I’m done, I might at that point consider other work. I hadn’t thought to tend in the direction she had, ensuring spaces are protected, ignored by those without magic. But now I find it intriguing.”

Henut nodded. “That would be a good use of your skills, yes, and the way you think.” Thessaly felt her eyes widen at the compliment implied there. “I wish you well in it. If I can be a help, please let me know. I do not think an introduction from me would be of benefit. But if I can advise on the practical aspects of dealing with clients, I would be glad to do so. Though I am sure Vitus has learned much of it already.”

That mention made Thessaly blush. “I suspect so, yes.” Then she swallowed. “I beg your pardon, but I think most of the others have left. I should probably go to the portal before anyone thinks to come talk to me.”

“An entirely sensible tactical decision.” Henut nodded at the incense, half burned down, to indicate she would remain. “My best wishes.”

“And mine, to you.” It felt flat, somehow, but it would have to do. Thessaly turned, making her way out of the cemetery. She turned along the road toward the portal, without going back near the house. When she got almost to the fence, though, she found Laudine and Dagobert, and their son Garin. Dagobert was sitting, his hands folded on the cane. “Laudine, Dagobert. Hello, Garin.” She offered him a slight smile.

“We wondered if we’d missed you. Garin wanted to see you, just for a moment, and we wondered,” Laudine nodded at Dagobert, “If you might at some point wish to visit us in Essex. I remember I’d offered to talk about managing an estate with you, what seems like a long time ago.”

Thessaly remembered the conversation as well. “It’s kind of you to think of me, especially today.” She hesitated. “Not just at the moment, if you don’t mind? I still feel rather shaken by everything, and being on my own at Bryn Glas is restorative.”

Laudine offered a slight snort. “Oh, I understand that. We’ll be returning to Essex tomorrow, thankfully. There is no rush. We will be glad to have you whenever you do wish to be more in company. And I think Garin would like to learn a little more duelling from you, if you might be willing. The salle needs some tending there, but we are thinking to have that done in the next month or three. Master Bolton, senior, is considering when he’ll be available for the work.”

“He is much in demand, and with good reason.” Now Thessaly was wondering if he’d agreed before or after Childeric’s death, and how to weigh that information. She glanced down at Garin, who was watching her silently. “I would be glad to spend a little more time, Garin, showing you what I know. When I’m properly dressed for it, not like last time.”

“There. In due course, that will give us all something to look forward to. We won’t keep you, of course. You must be tired from the day.” Laudine smiled.

Dagobert nodded. “And we must go back into the fray ourselves, I think. Have a good evening.” He pushed himself up on the cane, Garin offering his shoulder on the other side, which seemed a remarkably direct bit of help. Thessaly smiled at them, added “Good evening” for good measure, and turned for the portal. She had a great deal to think about, especially with what Magistra Landry had implied about the family.