Page 38 of Elemental Truth (Mysterious Fields #3)

38

MAY 22ND AT brYN GLAS

“ Y ou could say no, even now.” Vitus glanced over at Thessaly, from where they were waiting by the fence. Emeline was further back, about ten feet, with a good view of people arriving from the portal. Thessaly had chosen green today, not her aunt’s favourite teal or peacock green, but a deeper emerald. Exactly the right shade to go with the stone Vitus had been working on, which meant he could not stop watching her and thinking about that.

Thessaly shook her head. “There are all sorts of reasons to have this conversation. And Aunt Metaia trusted Thirza, I know that.” She hesitated, reaching for a word. “This is too big for us to figure out by ourselves.”

“That does not necessarily mean you must trust my friends.” Vitus pointed out, as gently as he could manage. The fact she did, the way she had offered the invitation once she’d slept on it, had startled him.

The thing he was learning about Thessaly is that she picked her moment. Once she had a decision, she acted on it. Not precipitously or foolishly, but as a duellist, seeking the right response in the moment. For someone like Vitus, who could second-guess himself for hours or days or weeks, it was startling. Good for him, most likely, certainly an excellent complement to his tendencies. But startling. Before he could say anything more, the portal opened, and two figures came around to the fence.

Thessaly inclined her head. “Magistra Remerton, Magistra Penforth. Be welcome to Bryn Glas.” It was a nice nod to the formalities, including acknowledging that Merryn had earned her proper full mastery two months ago.

“Oh, please. Thirza and Merryn, please.” Thirza waved off the formality. “Thank you for being willing to host us.”

Thessaly ducked her chin. “You’re my first guests here other than Vitus, actually.” She laid her hand on the fence, shifting the warding, and then opened it. “Please, do come in. We’ve tea waiting in the library.”

“Thirza was telling me a little about the house and the care your aunt took with it.” Merryn came through the gate first, Thirza a little more slowly. Vitus gestured toward the house, leaving Thessaly to walk with Thirza. They began talking quietly, and Merryn was obviously giving them space for that. When they paused by the door to the house, for Thessaly to open the warding again, Merryn stepped to one side.

Once they were all in the library, though, Merryn turned around, delighted. “Oh, this is truly lovely. A place that’s alive. Thirza had mentioned the colours, but a grand effect.”

Thessaly ducked her chin. “I’m thinking of some adjustments upstairs, keeping the style but changing some of the colours. I’m not quite so fond of peacock green as Aunt Metaia was. I’d like a little more range. But I have no plans to change the library. Except perhaps finding some more places for shelves.” They were rather overflowing, with no space to add more books. “Please, do sit.” Merryn’s comments had done the trick, though, easing things into a more conversational mode. Thessaly and Vitus claimed the sofa, with easy chairs for their guests on either end, which made it easy for Vitus to pour tea and make sure everything was handy. In more ordinary custom, Thessaly would have done this, but Vitus had offered. It made a point about his comfort in the home, and it left Thessaly’s hands free.

Once everyone had tea, Thirza tilted her head, taking the lead. “I’m sure Vitus has mentioned, but Thursdays is when we often chat at the Four Metals. I hope he’s also mentioned that you’d be welcome to join us as a guest at some point.”

“He did.” Thessaly’s voice was clear and steady, but Vitus felt her take his hand an instant later, and he squeezed back. “I admit I’m finding the idea of talking with more people a trifle...” She shrugged. “Duelling is one thing. We all know how the interactions go there, and people are private about who they’re duelling with as a rule.”

“Ah. And we are rather a crowd of chaotic commentary at times.” Merryn nodded. “We’d be glad to see about finding some like-minded people for quieter settings. A private dining room. Or Thirza has a little room for entertaining.” Merryn added, sounding amused, “I have rooms in Trellech, but the sitting room is usually covered in books. And Vitus has room for what, four comfortably?”

Vitus nodded. “Which I would be glad to do, but it limits the invitations. Only four chairs in the place besides my workbench.”

“And we can’t possibly move that,” Thessaly agreed. She’d heard his comments on the precise way it was aligned and adjusted before. Then she took a deep breath. “Thank you for the offer. Let me consider what I’m comfortable with?” She went right on, her voice careful and precise. “Thirza, I know Aunt Metaia thought extremely well of you. And Merryn, your name turns up in some of her notes.”

“She was one of us, as I’m sure Vitus has mentioned by now.” Vitus caught the note of something so complicated in Thirza’s voice, and he suddenly wondered exactly how close Thirza had been to Metaia. “We do have some experience with complicated magical exploration and the risks. You needn’t tell us any details you’re not sure about, and honestly, we’d rather not know. But we can talk about the process of what needs to be handled by someone, and who that someone might best be.”

Merryn picked up, as if they’d practised this, and they probably had. “We gather you have some information that you think an appropriate authority needs to know. But that also has risks. One aspect of that is to place you both under oath, so that you cannot convey how to reconstruct whatever the problem is, either by direct action or by implication. It’s a trifle tricky, the wording, but I brought copies of several variations. The Scali can certainly advise on a ritual specialist suitable to the problem.”

Thessaly nodded. “That’s one concern. I can’t help thinking of angles of attack. I don’t think there’s a particular danger from the people who know more than we do. But if someone found out about it and wanted to create such a thing again, anyone with more information might be at risk.”

“The oath will handle a fair bit of that, yes. And the forms I have include a modification that would, more than likely, send you unconscious if forced to press up against the oath, rather than other harm. Not that it’s not a risk; it’s rather a feature of certain kinds of penny-dreadful tales.” Merryn tutted at that. “It is not an unknown problem, at least.”

Thessaly nodded slowly. “I am, I admit I am out of my depth here. In duelling, of course, there are all sorts of standards and agreements. And equally, those go out the window if there is an actual fight or a need to defend oneself. And in my own line of magic, the methods for illusion work do go through the Guild.”

“Because the Guard and such have some need to be able to tell where they are placed, and how, for safety reasons,” Thirza said. “Metaia talked me through those at one point. I never got as good as she was at spotting one had been cast. And that’s part of your oaths as an apprentice, yes? To keep to those agreements.”

Thessaly nodded. “Made at our apprenticeship, renewed when we become journeymen or women, and yearly afterwards, to make sure we’re aware of any adjustments. There’s a summary each of us has to read and swear to.”

“Decidedly more formalised than our usual line of things,” Merryn said. “All right. The thing about experimentation is that you get a range of results. Some of them are, we hope, the ones you were looking for. But others will be all over the place. Sometimes it’s something you never want to repeat. Sometimes it wasn’t what you were intending at all, but it opens up an entire other line of investigation. That sequence we were talking about last month, Vitus, I ended up applying a sliver of it to a different kind of warding problem. Someone wanted to keep their young children from the poisonous plants in the garden. There are a host of standard solutions for that, but we’re fairly sure we’ve found another, and perhaps more stable.”

Vitus beamed. “Oh, grand. That’s a useful one. Making a circuit of it, then, so it’s self-sustaining?” Merryn nodded, and Vitus waved a hand. “We can get into that later.” He chose his next words carefully. “Part of the challenge here is that we aren’t entirely certain what was intended. And I don’t know that we’ll ever know. But we are wondering if part of it was to cover for, what’s the word...”

“Fragilities,” Thessaly said, decisively. “Or maybe it’s better put as a gap between Childeric’s actual magic and competence and where he and his family thought those things ought to be.”

“And there’s no way to find out more now?” Thirza leaned forward.

Thessaly spread her hands, slowly. “Laudine and Dagobert are bound by oaths. And he was excluded from matters after last summer. So yes, I expect he knows more than he’s told us, and I can gesture faintly at the shape of it. And it also doesn’t entirely matter. What does matter is whether it continues and what to do about it.”

“And it definitely had to do with the demesne estate?” Thirza said. Thessaly nodded once, silently. “I think your best course is to take it to Hereswith. And whoever else she chooses to talk about it with.” Thessaly’s chin came up, and Thirza asked, “You think not?”

“Aunt Metaia didn’t bring it to her.” This was true, and also it was a somewhat fragile point to argue from.

“Metaia didn’t have all the information you have, yes?” Thessaly had to shake her head at that. “And Metaia had her own approaches to investigation. Do you have a reason to distrust Hereswith? Or your cousin, for that matter?”

Thessaly shook her head. “No. They’ve both been very clear about their support and action. But I also know they’ve been terribly busy. Out of season busy.”

“The two things might, in fact, be related. I’m sure I couldn’t figure it out, but bringing it to them is all the more relevant.” Thirza leaned forward. “You have many skills, Thessaly. And you’ll have more, given time. But Hereswith has a different set, and more to the point, she can draw on the entire range of expertise of the Council, their various allies and experts, and she can speak directly to the Guard and Penelopes in confidence. Or whoever else she felt needed to know.”

“And I cannot.” Thessaly let out a puff of breath. “I’ll have to think about how to bring it to them. But I suppose you’re right. I just...” She glanced around the room, ending up looking at the fireplace. “I’m afraid they’re going to bury it, never talk about it again, that families will keep doing this, and people will get hurt again and again.”

“We are human and made of flaws. The Great Families especially, I expect. Though I don’t have as much direct experience as you have.” Thirza’s tone turned a little confiding and also sharper than Vitus had heard her before. “The Council might bury it. But they might well bury it after ensuring it cannot continue. And I am not sure you’ll get that far from anyone else.”

Thessaly shivered, and Vitus promptly moved to put his arm around her, deliberately. “I suppose. It will take me a few days to come round to the necessity. And there is not as much urgency as there might be. There’s about to be a new baby in the household, and I’m certain that will keep them too busy for any further plotting. Even if they were inclined. And I, I think I trust Laudine and Dagobert, in what they’ve said. And what they haven’t said.”

“Then take a couple of days if you need to.” Thirza glanced around, then took a deep breath. “May I ask if you think there’s anything about a curse?”

That brought up something Vitus and Thessaly had been discussing that morning. He cleared his throat. “Laudine sent around the notes on the estate’s standing enchantments and protections. Most of them are within the range I’d expect, of course. There were additional protections, using techniques not common in Albion that are noted but not detailed, done by Henut Landry.”

“And those, presumably, ceased at her death. So are the deaths among the Fortiers just due to those protections failing?”

“It would suggest a great deal of enmity directed at them that was not dealt with by the other warding. And the deaths, other than Childeric’s, were all on the estate proper. I would have expected elsewhere, if it were something done by someone outside the family, against the family.”

“Thessaly, you’re trained to be sensitive to this sort of thing. It’s common for duellists, I know.” Thirza spoke carefully. “What did you feel from the estate? A sense of some lurking danger, or something wrong on the estate? Did that feeling change at any particular point?”

“I have been going back through my notes. I was trained to keep them, you understand. Any social event I attended, even nominally informal ones. Who was there, what I wore, which topics were a focus. And then there are other notations, for the weather, how I felt overall.” Thessaly turned her palms up. “My notes say I was often tired after spending time with Childeric, and not so much after his death, even when I was on the estate for some time. I had more nightmares there, but not more than I would expect, under the circumstances. And in my stretching and other magical exercises, whenever I snuck them in during the day, I did not see changes which didn’t have some obvious cause.”

Thirza snorted. “I am impressed by your level of detail. May we, perhaps, prevail on you to join us to take notes for our experimentation, at some point? I think you might well have useful suggestions, but your record keeping would be invaluable. I suppose you do something similar for duels?”

“I do.” Thessaly shrugged. “It’s not something people talk about much. But others notice if you wear the same dress with the same group, or talk too much about one or two topics. And now, looking at the patterns.” She shook her head. “But I wouldn’t have felt something that was targeted at them, as specific individuals. Vitus was explaining to me about open and closed approaches to talismans. This would have been a closed one, maybe?”

“If so, it raises the question about whether Dagobert has been spared - and Laudine - or not, doesn’t it?” Thirza grimaced. “I’ll have to think about that one. I’ll let you know if I have any ideas of what to look at more closely. But I’d recommend sharing whatever you can about the observed patterns with Hereswith.” She considers. “It’s the problem of the scientist, really. You can observe something in the world, but you do not yet know how to study it. How do you deal with that in a duel, a new opponent?”

Thessaly leaned against Vitus a little more. “In the duelling salle? Try a few things, and see what the responses are. Reading the reactions as best you can, both the feel of the magic and what someone does. Though of course, there are a number of standard approaches, those are somewhat neutral. Not as telling. Then, once you have more information, you can form a strategy better. Quickly, of course.”

“Ah. Here, you can observe, and then plan your initial actions in advance, it sounds like. Your hypotheses to explore. Moving on promptly if one doesn’t seem to bear fruit, of course. Think about that, as you think of the next step.” Thirza spread her hands. “Now, though, may I look at the shelves, and perhaps show Merryn a few things? Or if you’d rather I not handle anything...” She let her voice trail off.

“Oh, no, please. I’ve moved some things upstairs, the ones I’m working through in more detail.” Also, Vitus knew, the more intimate private sorts of books, because those were currently on a shelf in the bedroom for mutual exploration in comfort. Thirza stood, pointing out a series of the details in the decoration to Merryn. They were talking not only about the design, but about the illusion and charmwork and magic that had gone into specific aspects. The green of the vines, for example, and the way the colours subtly shifted, or how to get that particularly vibrant sheen to the blue geometric decorations.

The shift to talking about the library brought a smooth enough transition. Once Merryn had been shown a good number of things, they could settle down into a more ordinary sort of conversation for Vitus on a Thursday. That involved batting around some different ideas. Thessaly didn’t have all the background, of course. But she made several thoughtful suggestions about particular choices. Twice she asked particularly relevant questions that gave Vitus half a dozen new ideas to explore. He considered it an evening well spent. They walked the two older women out to the portal later, and Thirza took a moment to speak to Thessaly privately. When she came back, Vitus slipped his arm around her waist. “All right?”

“She was very clear that Aunt Metaia would be very proud of me. Had always been. But that whatever I was doing, it was going in the right direction. Care and something generative. Broadening. Not narrowing.”

“There you are, then. And you enjoyed talking to both of them, yes?”

Thessaly stopped, bemused, turning to peer at him. “Are you worried I didn’t like your friends?”

“Erm. Yes?” Vitus felt himself blushing. “If it’s a bother, I’ll make sure you don’t feel obliged.”

“I enjoyed the conversation. I want to learn more if we do that again. I felt like a dunce several times. And I’m not sure how to, how to have that kind of friendship? Not really. Though I’m getting there, a little, with Cyrus and Andie.”

“But friendships with others in Fox House always has a calculation in it?” Vitus offered.

“Yes.” Thessaly nodded. “And I’m not sure what I’m missing here. Or if I’m not actually, I just think there should be six more layers.”

“Ah.” Vitus chuckled. “We are more properly igneous rock, I suspect, and Fox is sedimentary, at root, layers put down. Or perhaps metamorphic, the layers warped by a vast surge of incredible power. And pressure.”

“Oh, definitely that one,” Thessaly agreed. “All right. Come inside and tell me about metamorphic rock, so I understand the implications better.”