Page 5 of Elemental Truth (Mysterious Fields #3)

5

OCTOBER 17TH AT brYN GLAS

T he next two days passed in a flurry. After Vitus left, Thessaly had found it impossible to sleep. It wasn’t just the way she felt after looking at Aunt Metaia’s books. She kept being drawn to an anticipation of a future in which she and Vitus would explore more things that intrigued her. New ways of using her body and her magic. Most importantly, doing that with someone she actually cared for.

No, it was everything else. Thessaly had remembered that conversation with Magistra Hereswith and Cousin Owain, what felt like years ago, about how they didn’t know what Aunt Metaia had been working on. It wasn’t as if Thessaly were going out in public right now. It was no matter to anyone else if she was up into the wee hours, or sleeping until noon. Not other than Collins and the other household staff, and she left them notes making it clear sandwiches or something that would hold well on a tray were just fine.

Two days later, on Thursday afternoon, she was running her hands through her hair when Collins came in. “Reminding you, Mistress, that Council Member Powell intended to visit. In about an hour, if you want to wash up?”

Washing up was indeed probably a good idea. Her hair was tangling. She’d been into boxes in the storeroom, and was all over dust. Not that she expected to find anything current in them, but she had found some of the early records of Aunt Metaia’s investments, and set those aside for later. Thessaly put her head up; she’d been working on the floor. “Oh. Thank you!” She stretched, hearing a crack in her neck. “Bath, yes. And I’ll eat something while my hair’s drying.”

“I’ll just come back in half an hour then, to help you put it up. Shall I put out mourning dress or something else?”

Thessaly looked down at the gown she was wearing - worn linen, suitable for storerooms - then back up at Collins. “Something more sedate, but not mourning, I think. One of the medium blue ones?” That did not specify a great deal, given Aunt Metaia’s fondness for the colour. “And did I remember to tell you that Vitus will be by when he is done with his work?”

“You did remember that, Mistress. We were planning on supper at seven.”

“Thank you.” Thessaly divided what she had sorted into one empty box, covered both, and slid them out of the way by the shelves while Collins started the bath running. Five minutes later, she was undressed and in the bath. Twenty minutes later she felt clean and her hair was no longer powdered by dust. Terribly out of fashion these days, powdered hair. She was ready in good time to walk down to the portal with Emeline and meet Cousin Owain. She’d even had enough of a sandwich to hold her until supper. Collins and the other staff were being quite tolerant.

He was prompt, of course, and he nodded approvingly as Thessaly took the now-habitual precautions, showing him through into the library. Tea and biscuits were already waiting. Once they were settled, he looked her up and down. “I suppose I should begin with asking how you are feeling. Now, I have not heard scandal, so I assume you have not gone out like that.” Cousin Owain lifted his fingers. “I do not disapprove, but I’m curious about your decisions here. And I do have a particular question.”

“I am working privately on projects for my apprenticeship, at least until the new year.” Thessaly said. That had been a relief on several levels, actually, and it certainly reduced the need to leave the estate. “The way I put it recently was that going out in public in deepest mourning, pretending I miss Childeric, would be the worst sort of lie. An insult to people who are actually in mourning. Mama, for example. Cyrus Smythe-Clive.” She offered the second name deliberately.

Cousin Owain snorted softly. “I heard he spoke to you at the funeral. I hope that was all right?”

Thessaly nodded. “He was kind, I was as truthful as I could be in the circumstances, and— I don’t think I hurt his feelings too badly?” Thessaly considered. “When it’s been longer, November, perhaps, or early December, he offered an invitation to visit, and I’ll likely take him up on it.”

“Have you heard from your parents? About potential matches?” Cousin Owain turned his hand over. “It’s not a non sequitur.”

“Cyrus is now an eminent match, where a month ago, he absolutely wasn’t.” That was the sort of marriage market maths Thessaly had learned to do by the age of ten. “No, I haven’t heard from them since we were at Arundel for the announcement of Sigbert as Heir, four days ago. All Mother said then was that Father was having conversations. I suppose I should see her sometime in private.” Not that Thessaly much wanted to do that, and certainly not here, so it would mean sorting out something else. “Not unless Cyrus was utterly willing on the topic. I’ve no desire to try to fill Tanith’s shoes. For one, I’d fail immediately, and besides...” She swallowed. “I liked her too.”

Cousin Owain nodded. “And I can scarcely press you to marry without hypocrisy.” He leaned back. “I was getting more of his measure yesterday, our regular meeting. And it brought up other topics. That was why I wanted to call.”

“Oh?” There were probably a limited number of topics that might be relevant to Thessaly herself.

“The first matter is - you gave Childeric a favour, didn’t you? Not that I saw it, but people noticed.”

“Yes?” Thessaly said. “It held no enchantment. Tolerably competent embroidery.” Something emboldened her enough to add, “A match for the betrothal ring he gave me. Symbols chosen with a particular point, but without investing more effort than the visible show. He did not invest magic in me, I did not in him.” Even leaving aside what she’d felt by the point she’d realised she needed to offer some theoretically personal token for his Challenge.

“He did not have it on him when we found him.” Cousin Owain’s voice was softer, deliberate.

“I do not know what he did with it between when I gave it to him and, well.” Thessaly’s chin came up. “But if it helps, I will swear under the truth-telling charms that it was simply embroidery. And everyone knows embroidery is not one of my particular gifts, nor charmwork in that mode.”

Cousin Owain snorted. “And some of us know you have gifts you don’t show.” Then he waved a hand. “I had to ask, I will report the answer back. You may hear some gossip about it. If it is bothersome, let me know and I will see about making suitable comments in the right ears.”

“I appreciate that.” Thessaly did, too. “You had other things to discuss?”

“Largely, what you have been doing with yourself, and what you wish to be doing with yourself. Your plans, such as they are.” He shrugged, and while it was reassuring that someone in her family was taking an interest, she knew he was doing it at least partly for reasons of his own. And the Council’s. That didn’t actually change her answer, though.

“I have been looking, the past few days, for anything more about what Aunt Metaia was working on. I haven’t found it yet, but I’ve only got through about a quarter of the possible places. Whatever it was, it wasn’t anywhere entirely obvious, like her desk or the current files in her study.”

“It’s a house with a surprising number of bookshelves,” Cousin Owain agreed. “And more upstairs, yes?”

“More in the sitting room upstairs, the study, a row outside her workroom, tucked against the wall, and there’s an entire room for storage above the carriage house.” Thessaly gestured back toward the boxes in the corner. “I plan to look in the sitting room more systematically tomorrow.”

Cousin Owain nodded slowly, considering. Thessaly waited him out. This was a kind of duelling strategy she knew well. She would not waste her energy. She’d let him make a move and be ready to respond. He took a biscuit, a bit more tea, then spoke, his voice quiet and even. “The question is how much you wish to involve yourself. You have, other than Metaia, no reason to do so, not in whatever Council business this might be.”

“And yet, I am involved. Because of Aunt Metaia. Because this is my home now. And even without the issues of the protections, you and every other person on the Council have far too much keeping you busy to go through books and boxes.” Thessaly’s chin came up. “Not that I’d permit a number of people access, of course.”

Cousin Owain snorted at that, amused. “I yield, I yield.” He put both hands up in the universal gesture among duellists of surrender of the field. “And no, you should permit no one access. There’s also the question of who.”

Something in how he said it made Thessaly look at him sharply. “You’re exceedingly busy right now, aren’t you? And that’s not just Aunt Metaia, and Cyrus being new to the Council. It’s other things as well.”

Cousin Owain went slightly pale, but then he nodded once. “A number of problems with the land magic have become visible over the summer, more the last month or so. Individually, none of them are particularly significant, but taken together, they’re quite worrisome. Training someone new in is always time consuming. And Hereswith wishes to do more of that directly, this time, which means finding other people to take on tasks she normally does. Me among them.”

“She trusts you,” Thessaly said, slowly. “Is that transitive trust, because of Aunt Metaia, or something else?”

“You are sharp.” Cousin Owain was approving, if also a bit bemused now. “Both. Metaia and Hereswith were far closer– friends, not just colleagues. And Hereswith leans quite a lot on Oscar for anything requiring good sense and proportionate reaction. But my own preferences for Sympathetic magic make certain kinds of interconnections easier to work with. I’m taking more of that on, looking for links between the places that have problems. Much of it is rather tedious.”

“And so you are both busy, and with things that you do not have as much familiarity with?” Thessaly asked, to confirm her understanding.

“Just so. And others on the Council as well. Thus, if we have hopes of finding anything, we must rely on you. What we were talking about in the meeting was what we did and didn’t know about it. And I talked to Hereswith, this morning, about what she and I suspect, but didn’t bring up.”

“Are you going to tell me any specifics, or just gesture mysteriously?” Thessaly said, her voice just as even as his had been a few moments ago. “I assume you have other things to do with the evening. I have some plans of my own.”

His eyebrow went up, but then he shifted to take a small notebook out of his inside jacket pocket, flipping it open. “Metaia mentioned that she was curious about something back in the spring. Neither of us could remember exactly when, but Bess pinned it down last week to the first week of April.”

“After I was betrothed to Childeric, but before— before anything else.” Thessaly thought back. “I was rather caught up in all the social obligations. People kept wanting us to come for supper.”

“Did you notice anything around that time that might have suggested a concern?” Cousin Owain leaned to take another biscuit.

“I knew she was worried. And as I said, she talked to me about it directly, on the solstice, as we were getting ready.” Thessaly had thought through this dozens of times before now. “Do you know why she changed her will when she did?”

Cousin Owain coughed. “Oh, well. You were her primary heir from the time you finished Schola, for what it’s worth, though she rearranged some pieces. And she was already considering how to pass the house to you. As I said at the reading of the will, she argued for the right to name her successor ten years ago. Knowing you would go to Schola.”

Thessaly swallowed. “I do love it. I was hating how someone would do something ordinary with it, take down all the wallpaper and the colours.” She gestured at the patterns visible around the bookshelves. “I find it cheerful.”

Cousin Owain nodded. “You should have as much cheerful as you wish. It is your home.” He cleared his throat. “I was closer with Metaia than I think most of the family realised. There were certainly things she didn’t tell Sioned.”

Thessaly’s chin came up sharply, because there was something in his tone. “You don’t trust Mother, do you?”

There was a silence, then Cousin Owain’s voice was delicate like a rapier. “You don’t either.”

“No. Not now.” Thessaly would not attempt to lie. That was certainly the wrong way, here. She would twist and fall and lose all hope of balance. She carefully reached for her tea, took a sip, and then put the cup down. “And Aunt Metaia didn’t.”

“Also no. Not about a number of things.” Cousin Owain paused for a moment. “It was not. How do I say this? It was not for any large reason. She trusted Sioned to be a good mother. Though I think Metaia had some doubts, the last month or two. But instead, it was a question of priorities. Family status, the proper breeding of the next generation, rather than happiness or a contribution to the greater whole of Albion.”

Thessaly looked up at that. “The Council.”

“The Council, but also many other roles. The Ministry, the Courts, the Guard and Penelopes, all the specialists who add their knowledge and skill to the world, coming up with new ways to improve things.” Cousin Owain spread his hands. “I am curious what you will come up with, given the opportunity. On that point, as you are going through Metaia’s notes, you might consider expanding your illusion work to some of what she was doing, protecting spaces. Romulus Heath is handling it for the moment, but we could use another person able to take on some of that. It’s an ongoing process, maintaining them and creating new illusions. He would be glad to train you on that side of it once your apprenticeship is complete.”

It was not something Thessaly had spoken of, other than briefly with Magistra Landry. “You don’t think I should marry some appropriate scion and devote myself to producing children, do you?”

“If you wish to marry, and especially if you choose someone who makes you happy, and children follow, then I wish you whatever blessings in that realm you care for. But you are a clever young woman. You are magically skilled. It would be a shame for your talents to be limited to whatever the current fad is in party decoration or costume. Not that those things aren’t lovely, but other skills are needed too.”

She considered watching him for a moment. “The Council, you look as if everything is under control, and instead, you’re all scrambling a bit, when no one’s looking, aren’t you?”

Cousin Owain laughed ruefully. “Yes. And the more so right now. When Cyrus settles into things, perhaps a little less. The changes, a new person, that always takes a little to understand, and this one more than most.” He let out a breath. “Now, I should leave you to your papers and go home. I have an evening free for the first time in what seems like months, and I have a book I want to read.”

Thessaly did not mention she expected another caller. She stood. “I’ll walk you out, of course. Perhaps I might come and call sometime soon? I had a bit of embroidery to show Aunt Tegwen, one of the patterns she was curious about.”

“We would like that quite a lot.” They walked out to the fence and the portal with little further conversation. When he left, Thessaly retreated into the warding, with perhaps half an hour before Vitus was likely to appear. At the earliest.