Page 40 of Elemental Truth (Mysterious Fields #3)

40

JUNE 7TH AT ARUNDEL

“ W hat can I do?” Vitus looked up from where he was squatting, peering at the floor. It had taken a week to prepare, but they were out in the mill, entirely legitimately this time. Or at least, as legitimately as possible given that Dagobert was dancing around the edges of oaths made previously. He had not been able to explicitly grant them permission to come to the mill, but he’d been able to say they had permission to go anywhere on the estate or the Fortier properties.

And no one had removed Vitus from the warding. If the Lady Chrodechildis were bothered by someone crossing the wards, well, that couldn’t be entirely helped.

Thessaly and Vitus had arrived with baskets full of equipment. Vitus hadn’t exactly been able to ask his fellows in the Four Metals for advice, but Thirza had turned up a day after their conversation with Hereswith Rowan and Owain Powell with half a dozen uncommon volumes, a set of working notes for investigating odd magical contraptions, and two dozen bits of relevant materia, all of which she put at his disposal for the duration. With instructions not to skimp on using the consumable parts. If she got nothing back but the books, that was fine.

He’d stared at her, but he hadn’t argued. He and Thessaly had stayed up late the next nights, working through what they could and should do. They knew the basic layout of the building. They had an idea of the structures, Vitus had been reading up on Faraday cages. Neither of them needed to understand exactly how all of it worked. But they did need to understand what it was intended to do, and how it might be permanently disabled. Vitus was increasingly sure it was disrupting something fundamental in the magic around Arundel and maybe far further afield.

Vitus took a breath. “Do you feel confident checking for resonances yourself? Via Appian’s methods, like we talked about? I think that suits better than Glock Minor.” Thessaly nodded. “The corners, then, and by each side of the door and windows. I’ll be staring at this mess of wire and coils and switches.”

The problem— well, one problem among many— was that they didn’t dare turn the thing on. Some of the connections were visible. He could at least make sense of the patterns there. But others weren’t. And if it used magical vitality as a key aspect, parts of it wouldn’t interact without that. But Vitus had pencils, plenty of paper. He could scribble as many notes as he needed.

He set to work making a sketch. Now was when he blessed Niobe’s initial training. She had argued, vehemently, that an essential skill of a talisman maker was as a draughtsman, able to make technical drawings with precision. She’d taught him, of course, with the aim of working at a tremendously small scale, for gems to fit on brooches and pendants and rings. But the techniques applied here. Vitus sat on the floor, carefully away from anything he might accidentally touch, and sketched, using his hand to measure proportion.

Thessaly began on the left side of the door, working her way clockwise. Vitus heard her quiet murmur of the resonance testing, a mix of incantations and low pitches. She paused here and there to make her own notes, to repeat a step to confirm something. She was as cautious and diligent as Vitus could hope for, and that part of this abysmal situation felt good. He could trust her as a partner. Thessaly had protected him by duelling when that was called for. When the work needed her steady hand and her clear voice, here they were. It didn’t jar him from his work, and he didn’t think he was disrupting her.

By the time she’d made it to the third window, Vitus had sketched everything he could without standing up. Now it was time to stare at the wall with the switches and see how the things leading into the box connected. Once he sketched, he considered the box itself. Logic suggested some way to open it. If they’d planned to use the device for long, they ought to have planned for needed replacements or evaluations. Any stone, any gem, any piece of materia could fracture or be damaged.

“When you’re done, I could use a hand.” Vitus kept his voice moderate.

“Five minutes. Maybe ten.” Thessaly’s response was clear. Vitus took that as a good reason to go take a break, and he went outside, to where they’d left the smaller basket with food and drink. They had a couple of flasks of lemonade, sandwiches, and a few smaller items, enough to sustain them if this took all day.

It was nearer fifteen minutes, but Thessaly came out to join him, setting her notes down. “I have measurements, but I can’t see anything out of the ordinary immediately. And the space is odd, magically. It feels like it’s been disrupted. Metamorphic rock. But I don’t feel any sense of threat. Or even, really, much sense of magical pressure. I’d have expected more of that, like a ritual workroom, and there isn’t.”

“If we’re theorising right, no one’s activated this since, well. April. At the latest.” Sigbert’s death. “Six weeks now. I want to look behind the panel, but I think we need four hands to release it and lower it without jarring anything. Which part would you rather do, unfastening it or lifting?”

Thessaly didn’t answer immediately, thinking about it. He passed her the lemonade, then half a sandwich. After she’d had a bit of both, she swallowed. “Unfastening, I think. You’ve height on me, and shoulder width, I think you should be able to hold it steady. If it lifts off cleanly, I can duck under your arm and give you space to move it.”

It made perfect sense. She’d dressed to move easily, too. Not her duelling gear, that would have been a bit obvious, but a walking skirt, cut to fall close to the body, with barely any bustle or padding. Vitus nodded once, and they went on in silence for another few minutes. She cleared her throat eventually. “Did you find anything you want to talk about yet?”

“Want is not the word. A lot more questions than answers, but I have plenty of notes.” He then stretched, feeling it in his shoulders. “Shall we? Or are we sitting here and putting it off some more?”

That made her laugh, amused. “Let’s go ahead. Make the most of the strong light, for whatever you find.” Vitus nodded, twisting to close up the food basket. Then he pushed himself standing, before turning to offer her a hand up.

Once they were back inside, Vitus peered at the edges of the panel, holding up his light talisman to see better. “I think there are latches here and here.” He pointed. “Do you see those?”

Thessaly ducked under his arm, leaning in, then nodded, moving her fingers as if to undo the latches without touching them. “Both at the same time?” she asked.

“I don’t think that’s essential, but together as much you can seems a good idea.” It took a couple of tries, before they rearranged themselves better. Vitus stood behind Thessaly, his arms reaching over her shoulders, hands gripping the case. Her hands rested on the wood, just in front of where the latches were. He counted, and on three, she moved to flip the latches. He heard the shift just before he felt the weight of the cover, and he stepped back, holding it as steady as he could. Thessaly ducked under his arm, nimble as anything, to be at the side. Vitus pivoted, setting the cover down, leaning against the wall where no one would knock into it, and then looked at what it had revealed.

There were half a dozen switches, but as he’d thought, each had a small metal container of materia. Gemstones, mostly, though he wouldn’t lay bets that it was only gemstones. They’d likely been prepared in some way, or had other materia added. He could see, in fact, little bits of ash, as if some parts had burned up at some point. It didn’t appear to be some deliberate component, at least.

What he hadn’t expected was a ring, tucked into the corner of the box, a flash of copper and turquoise. Thessaly saw it a moment after he did, and she breathed out, “Philip’s?”

“I think so.” Vitus took a breath, not wanting to touch it. “We’ll— it shouldn’t stay here. It should go back to Alexander, surely. I’ve a case in my bag we can put it in.” And the silk to avoid touching it, too.

“That.” Thessaly sounded far more decisive than Vitus felt. “The rest of it?”

Now, looking again, he could see the precise connections between the various wires and tubes and other pieces. Thessaly silently handed him his sketchbook and pencil. Vitus set to work drawing a complete schematic, following it up with notes about each of the switches and what they held. Vitus had been at it long enough for his fingers to cramp and his shoulder to ache when he had to stop. “Don’t touch it, but can you have a look and see if you can identify anything? I don’t want to risk charms near it, focused on it.”

“Is there another part, somewhere?” Thessaly said, finally. “I feel like some of these imply a pairing with something else, don’t you? A mirroring?” Fundamentally, there were three unusual spaces in the room. The panel, the Faraday cage, and the ritual floor in the other half of the room. Both of them looked first at the one, then at the other. Thessaly cleared her throat. “You look at the cage more, you know what they’re supposed to look like. I’ll check the floor. Fortescue’s First and Second. I won’t try anything beyond that.” Those were basic identification charms, the sort that didn’t disrupt anything around them. Vitus nodded, and they both set to work.

Vitus finished first, largely because as far as he could tell, the Faraday cage was, in fact, a cage of metal and wire. Whatever magical elements were inside it must have been brought in, as pendants or talismans or something of the kind, or other objects. The only magical aspects were in the setting of the floor. He went back to their bags, bringing back a case and silk handkerchief and carefully easing the ring into the case for safe storage.

Thessaly took a lot longer, sitting on the ground and moving around to peer at the corners, the sides, and to test everything repeatedly. When she finally stood again, she shook her head. “I don’t understand it, but I have a lot of notes. Is there anything else we can reasonably look at?”

He moved to sit on the ground, in an open space. What he had in front of him were two sets of circuits, mirroring each other. One, he was almost certain, was the slate-floored space out in the open. Though it would take destroying the floor to check on the stones at each compass point, anchoring the magic. The second set, the Faraday cage, was more puzzling. Partly because Vitus didn’t think the thing worked. Not as designed.

He tapped the sketch, finally, well after Thessaly had sat down next to him. Without looking at her, he said, “This makes no sense, not as it is currently set up. And I’m assuming they don’t have talismanic pieces in there, just cut stones and other materia.”

“Why do you say that?” Thessaly said, leaning over to peer at his sketchbook. “Though you’re right, I didn’t see any signs of inscriptions. And there’s no hint of illusion work on the workings that I can spot without more invasive testing.”

“Well, for one thing, if they had another talismanic expert on tap, we’d likely know. No one with that kind of expertise has died in the last year. I’m almost certain they didn’t ask Florent, given how he reacted to some of our work. They didn’t ask Laudine, the way she’s worded things. Dagobert might have got some general information from her, but that wouldn’t create proper talismans. And, as you say, no signs of inscriptions.” Then he tapped the paper. “What did you get of the other materia, please?”

“Rowan,” Thessaly said promptly. “Quite a lot. And elder. The pieces in the two halves are from the same tree, both of them. And there’s dried berries, I think under the floor, they came up as little circular shapes. And several of the other stones, they’re specific to the Pact and the Fatae.” Then she flicked her fingers through the rest of her list. “Powdered stones, maybe. Wait.” Her voice cut off sharply.

Vitus held still, silent, not jostling her. It took her a good minute, one finger marking her place on the list, before she pulled a small notebook out of the bag and peered at it. “I’d have to look in more detail. But some of these. they’re the same things on some of Aunt Metaia’s notes were focusing on. I thought they were about her investments, though, the ships coming and going.”

“And that might give you a way to learn more about what it was supposed to do. Or the rest of her notes?” Thessaly nodded, and Vitus went on. “So, posit a device to …” The brunt of it hit Vitus, and he grunted. “Something to go around the Pact. To step sideways from what the Pact dictates. Make a space where it didn’t bind. The thing doesn’t work, I don’t know if it could work. But this doesn’t.” He gestured feebly. “Like a portal, but it made a room instead of a door, maybe?”

“It doesn’t work. But trying is, is it treason? I don’t know that I’ve ever heard of anything like it.” Thessaly was gnawing on the problem. “And if Aunt Metaia was getting glimpses of it, it explains why she was so careful. It is exactly a Council problem.” Thessaly then looked up. “Lady Chrodechildis mentioned something, you remember when I was at that awful supper where everyone else seemed in disgrace? That she thought the Pact too limiting. They couldn’t have found a way around that, could they? With this? It doesn’t look, well. Enough.”

“Honestly, it really needs the Penelopes. But that, again, is the Council’s problem.” Vitus felt he was in that liminal state where staring at it would just make things worse. “Help me put things back together?”

They repeated the dance with the cover and the latches in reverse, which took a little longer. Vitus’s shoulders were beginning to ache by the time he heard both latches snap closed, then he finally stepped to the side. “Let’s go— go.”

“Home,” Thessaly said. “Do you think of Bryn Glas as home, then?” Her voice was suddenly hopeful in a way Vitus hadn’t expected. It was a pure illuminated joy, the way the sun caught amber or citrine and everything glowed gold.

“I do. Let’s.” They packed everything up, each doing one more scan of the room to make sure they hadn’t left anything behind. Then they went out, pulling the door closed behind them. They were perhaps a third of the way back when they met up with Garin, who was in one of the side gardens. No one seemed to be with him, not a nanny or governess or tutor, certainly not his parents.

Thessaly nodded. “Garin. Good afternoon. How are you doing? We’ve permission to be here.” She didn’t explain, of course she didn’t.

Garin looked her up and down. “Were you over by the river? Father said it’s not safe there. People get hurt.”

Vitus did not know what to say to that. Thessaly took a moment. “We were careful. Do you know about people getting hurt there?”

“I kept dreaming about it. For a bit. Not so much recently? But Isembard’s in the nursery, he wakes me up in the middle of the night.” Garin shoved his hands in his pockets, which was certainly not the sort of thing a nanny would approve of.

Thessaly grinned. “Ah, but having a younger brother, or sister, I have a sister, gets better. The crying is a lot, though. I hated that. I bet you’re old enough you could have your own room with a charm, so the crying didn’t wake you. It’s the sort of thing people sometimes forget would be a help. You ask your nanny or, um. The housekeeper?”

Vitus nodded. Garin looked at them, rather dubiously, but then he shrugged. “I can ask. Will you come back sometime and show me more duelling? In the salle here?”

Vitus heard Thessaly inhale. “Maybe. I can’t make too many promises right now, and I don’t want to break one to you. But if I can, I’ll sort it out with your parents. All right?”

It got her a considering solemn nod, then Garin said, “I’d walk you to the portal. That’s polite, isn’t it? But Nanny said I was supposed to stay on this side of the gardens.”

“Then that’s what you should do,” Vitus agreed. “Were you bored?” Garin shrugged, very much put upon. Vitus considered. “What you could do, if you wanted, is get a list from the gardeners or the housekeeper of the plants that are out here, and one of the guides for identifying them, and work through. It’s a good time of year for it, things flowering properly. You could even start making sketches. If you want to go into alchemy like your father, it’s good to know the materia. Thessaly and I both do, for the magic we do.”

“If you say so.” Garin said it with a grand dubiousness, which was about what Vitus expected at his age. “It’s better than playing with a hoop, though. Or tin soldiers. And Maman would like it if I asked about a good book, I think, or Father.”

“There you go. And if they get a few minutes, it would give you a chance to come out in the garden and talk about something together. I think they’d like that.” Thessaly gestured. “We ought to get on. Have a good afternoon.”

Garin stood at attention— Vitus looked back at the garden gate, the path that cut across the back of the house— until they were out of sight. “He’s a very serious child.”

“I think he understood that something has been very wrong, but he has no idea what it was or is. And it’s not our place to tell him. For one thing, we don’t actually have answers yet.” Thessaly paused. “I’ll write to Laudine, though, and mention keeping him in informative books.”

That was what they could do at the moment. Vitus offered Thessaly his arm, escorting her to the portal and then back to Bryn Glas. Which, yes, had somehow shifted to being home inside his head, all without him noticing.