Page 32 of Elemental Truth (Mysterious Fields #3)

32

FEbrUARY 15TH IN TRELLECH

I t had been a frustrating fortnight, on every level except the professional. Vitus had seen Thessaly twice, but only once with any chance for conversation. The other had been at a distance at Lord Clovis Fortier’s funeral. Thessaly had been with the family, though this time, Emeline was right beside her.

Vitus had made his proper bow. After all, he’d been doing work for the estate, or for Lord Clovis— that point was actually murky. No one had turned him away, but it had been only the brief and expected expression of condolences. And the tossing of the bees into the grave. At least this time, Vitus was prepared for that. He was also still offended at the quality of the making, but he was also not in any position to comment on that to anyone who might improve it.

He’d heard nothing from the Fortiers after that. There had been only a brief note from Florent that any plans were on hold for the moment until Sigbert could make some decisions. Vitus had turned his attention to other projects. Now, the requests had tipped firmly in the direction of nightmares, even though the spring rains were approaching. He was almost out of good quality topaz, and much of his current stock of amethyst was not suited to pieces to be worn while sleeping. He still had plenty of obsidian, but of course working on that was an entirely different sort of challenge. It didn’t take the usual methods of inscription well.

Saturday, he’d set most of that problem aside. Thessaly had obligations with her parents, apparently. He’d spent the afternoon in the workroom on a few other pieces, before grabbing supper and going on to a lecture. This one was not electricity, or at least not directly. Instead, it was about various magical theories related to healing. On his way in, he’d seen Cyrus Smythe-Clive and his sister, but they were rather surrounded by people, and Vitus didn’t go over. He had sat near the front, content to listen to the discussion.

When the lecture ended, Vitus was modestly enlightened, but it was the sort of thing where he now needed to track down someone with more expertise and ask them questions. Perhaps Andie Smythe-Clive could recommend someone, in due course. But when he looked for them, they were near the doors, still with people around. It was as if others felt some of Cyrus’s magic might rub off on them, or some of his prestige.

What he did see, unexpectedly, was Dagobert Fortier. As he had at other times since last summer, he was waiting for the rest of the audience to clear out. It let him take his time and move slowly with the cane, an awkward process with the fixed seats of the lecture hall. Vitus came up to the end of the row and nodded. The other man looked faded, still, and still moved tenuously, as if afraid of a fall or some weakness.

“Vitus.” Dagobert glanced around. “Were you waiting for me?”

“I wanted to offer my condolences, again, on your brother’s death. I hope you and Laudine are well? And your son?”

“Ah.” Dagobert paused. “I appreciate that. And the fact you’ll acknowledge me in public.” That was not what Vitus had expected. He would have thought the other way around. “Would you be up for a drink? Not one of the clubs, the usual bar, near the portals?”

“As you like.” Vitus got the sense the request wasn’t just due to the distance, but for some other reason. He waited for Dagobert to make his way up the aisle, out the door, down the steps, and then they went along to the same bar as in the past. It wasn’t until they were seated, the drink orders taken and the privacy charms cast, that Dagobert spoke again. “Laudine is well. And both our sons. I appreciate you asking.”

“Would I be presuming if I said that it sounds like the last weeks have been harder than expected, in the circumstances?” Vitus said it cautiously, but the funeral had certainly been odd on several levels, all sorts of silences and distances visible.

“Oh, quite correct.” Dagobert rubbed his face. “I understand you were doing some work for my brother, though not what. I can’t tell you anything about that, except that I assume Florent will get some answer out of Sigbert eventually about whether to continue.”

“It must be a great deal to take on, and so suddenly. I hadn’t heard that Lord Clovis was ill.” That was not quite a lie. Vitus had known about the duel, about Thessaly’s guesses, but that was not an illness.

“The Healers are baffled. He’d had an injury, but he was mending from that. They’d actually seen him several times recently. And it is something of a shock. You have a brother, yes?”

“A younger brother,” Vitus said. “A different relationship.”

It made Dagobert nod. “You know how your brother must look up to you, in some way. Whatever other similarities or differences there might be, that age, the expectations of age and youth, whether real or comparative, they continue to hold weight.”

Vitus snorted, softly. “Oh, yes. Though Lucas and I are quite different in personality. He is endlessly patient with a horse, but never at a desk. I am the reverse. Not that I mind a horse, but well-mannered or on the other side of a sturdy pasture fence.”

Dagobert managed a slight smile at that. “And you are fond of him.” Before Vitus could respond, Dagobert said, carefully, “My brother and I had our differences. I miss him, but I miss what might have been more, at this point.”

“I’m sorry for that.” Vitus could say that honestly, earnestly, without any hint of subterfuge. “I’ve been very lucky with Lucas. Though he has had times when he’s thought me an idiot, and recently.” Then he took a breath and asked, “May I ask how Lord Sigbert is doing?”

“Ah. There are two things, one more general, and one more specific.” Dagobert didn’t pause, just went on. “There is some unpleasant gossip about the family. That there must be some curse, for there to be so many deaths within months. Childeric, Clovis, and some add Philip Landry and his mother onto that count. Certainly as connections of the family. Or there are mutterings about how Henut Landry was protecting the family, and since her death, she is not. That, at least, would be in line with some of the agreements I know about.”

Vitus nodded, unsure what else to say to that.

“That is one line of talk. The other, I gather, is that Thessaly is a common thread, and various people wonder how much is her influence. A curse, or something of the kind. Especially since so few have seen her at anything other than the funerals.”

“Ah.” Vitus looked down. “And what do you think?”

“There’s pressure on Sigbert to marry, and promptly. Maman is resolute about it, and there are not so many women she approves of. A matter of breeding, potential, having the proper sort of upbringing.” Dagobert shrugged. “I have been happy in my marriage, with those considerations. Sigbert is young. There are younger women than Thessaly, if he were willing to wait a few years. But as Lord, that is complicated.”

“Even though presumably he could name you as Heir.” Vitus offered it cautiously.

“That is on the agenda, yes. It’s me or a cousin, and Bradamante has been more distant.” Dagobert did not explain that statement, baffling though it was. “And Sigbert is sensible, if under a great deal of pressure and expectation.” Dagobert considered. “In that odd space, and you appreciate this more directly than I do, I suspect. A grown man, able in all ways of making his own decisions. And yet, a young man, who does not have as much experience of the world as he wishes. Certainly one who needs to make some decisions far more quickly than he’d prefer.”

Vitus nodded. “I have sympathy. Setting up my own workshop has had dozens of challenges of that kind. I suspect that’s far simpler than the land magics. Especially when Sigbert— pardon, Lord Sigbert— might have expected years, decades, to learn what he’d need.”

“Just so. And like all ancient families, we have a great many traditions.” Dagobert shrugged. At that point, their drinks were ready, and they paused for that service before continuing once the waiter was gone.

Vitus weighed his options, then said, “I couldn’t help noting some things at the funeral. Would you indulge a question or two? You needn’t answer anything private, of course. I wouldn’t expect that.”

“Now I am curious what you have questions about.” Dagobert took a sip of his drink, then nodded. “Go ahead.”

“The first was about the bees. A custom of some substantial standing, I gather? Back to the Merovingians?” Vitus offered the information Thessaly had told him.

“Yes. Gold for the men in the family, silver for the women, copper for anyone else. They’re rather a bother to have made, and especially in a rush.” Dagobert shrugged. “Why do you ask?”

“You might, in having more made up, look for a different crafter. They’re rather poorly formed and, pardon, I don’t know how much of the process you understand?”

“They are made in moulds, connected by thin rods of metal, and then those are broken off and sanded.” Dagobert replied promptly enough, looking engaged in a way he hadn’t so far. “You have a better idea?”

“Yes, and no. I agree the mould is likely the best choice, certainly in quantity. But the two I’ve handled, neither filled properly. It makes the shape lop-sided, incomplete. More care in the process, remelting any that did not form properly, that would be, er. More fit?”

“The gold and silver have been better, I think.” Dagobert considered. “I will mention it. I suspect Florent could suggest someone able to make the necessary changes.”

“Quite likely. He may not have noticed, of course, seeing as he’d be counted among the family.” Vitus considered. “I got the impression you get along well enough with him?”

“So long as I am treating Laudine well, yes, he finds me pleasant. He seems mild, but he can be quite fierce when it comes to his daughters. As a man should be, I suppose. You had another question?”

Vitus nodded. “I spotted that Lord Sigbert was wearing a ring, one I hadn’t noted before.” That neatly dodged the question of how long any of the family had been wearing it. One might not notice something. “The inlay, a gold band with what looked like turquoise and something else?” The thing of it was that once Thessaly had mentioned it, Vitus had wanted a look. And it had indeed matched the description he’d been given by Magistra Landry, what seemed like decades ago. It wasn’t anything Vitus could confirm, not without a proper examination, but it was not a terribly common mode of rings among the landed families.

“My brother had taken to wearing it. A family piece, I gathered.” Vitus did note that didn’t specify whose family. “Not one I’m familiar with. I’m afraid you’d need to ask Sigbert if you wanted to see it. And I would not suggest that anytime soon.”

“I’m sure he has a great deal to tend to. No, this is trivial in comparison to everything else, but of course I do notice rings and such. A professional obsession, I suppose.”

Dagobert snorted again. “And may I ask, are you concerned about a curse, or do you carry talismans against such things routinely?”

That was a fascinating theoretical question, actually. “A bit of both. I do wear some of my own work, of course.” He pulled back one of his sleeves a hair, to show the cuff link. “That’s a fairly ordinary sort of protection piece, against the minor calamities of a day. I am less likely to trip on a step, risk having something dropped on my head from an upper story of a house, be nearly run over by a carriage. All handy on a day in a busy city. Less likely to be pickpocketed or otherwise taken advantage of, on a less physical level.”

“Ah, that does seem practical, yes. And I assume other pieces, more private.” Dagobert nodded. “I am certainly wearing half a dozen.”

“Just so. Nothing on me specific to curses, but I also have a theory, not properly tested, of course, about whether some curses are situational. Something that might be neutral or even welcome to one person being a harm to someone else, where it depends on perspective.”

“Huh.” Dagobert looked startled at that. “I should get home, actually, I hadn’t realised the time.” It wasn’t a smooth transition at all. “My regards to your family.”

Vitus blinked several times, and then nodded. “Of course.” He considered. “I’ll pay the tab if you need to go.” Dagobert disappeared as promptly as he could. Vitus sat in silence for several minutes, nursing the rest of his drink. It only occurred to him at the end of the glass that Dagobert hadn’t mentioned anything about why he’d come out for that particular lecture, one focused on healing rather than alchemy or even electricity, on a Saturday night.