Page 10 of Harmonic Pleasure (Mysterious Arts #6)

V ega had had little time or desire to think about Monday’s appointment all week.

She’d looked at the map and notes that Farran had sent along, but most of her attention had gone to the demands of her art and magic.

She and Madam Helena had come to good terms— good for both of them— with a contract for a further six months, open to negotiations after that.

Better yet, the agreement included the option for her to arrange a night here or there to guest at other clubs or do an independent performance, if she wanted.

Not this month but perhaps coming into the spring.

It wasn’t the agreement itself that pleased her, though it pleased her. It was the degree of trust and mutual appreciation that the agreement showed. Madam Helena ran the Crystal Cave deliberately and well, but she also trusted that this was good for everyone.

People who heard Vega elsewhere would come to the club to hear more.

And it gave Vega a chance to try out some different sorts of music.

Room to spread her wings and experiment without the weight and assumptions of the regulars who knew what they wanted to hear.

That would be excellent for everyone. They’d also agreed she might expand her repertoire at the Cave for a set every couple of nights and see how people reacted.

The week’s singing had gone well, though one night she’d had an odd feeling.

Nothing she could pin down, certainly nothing she’d mention to Madam Helena.

But there had been a sense of being watched by someone in the crowd on Saturday night.

They’d been terribly busy, the sort of audience that kept moving from table to dance floor, upstairs to downstairs.

That alone had kept her on her toes, even before one of the older men had wanted to flatter her and praise her singing.

He’d been a delight to deal with, he knew how the game was played, and he’d been pleased when she added a favourite song of his as the encore to her last set.

But after, in her dressing room, Vega had come back to the odd feeling.

Being seen was one thing, being a performer was about being seen.

But this had been somehow different, and she had not been able to figure out who had been doing it.

That was the most disturbing part, given all her skills at observing a crowd.

Even with such a busy crowd, she should not have felt this uncertain about it.

She had not seen Farran again as a guest, but he’d mentioned in his note he might not be back this week.

No matter. The man had other things to do with his time, obviously, even if most of that wasn’t obvious to her.

A lot of talking to people, as well as whatever notes or research he might be doing.

That was, mind, something that intrigued her about the walk this afternoon.

Vega was, of course, used to men wanting to chat her up.

Women, too, not that she took offence at that.

Some just wanted a bit of the glamour and the show and the beauty to rub off on them, and that was fine.

Others wanted a bit more, but she knew how to fend that off.

Farran had done none of that, other than having a quite sincere appreciation of her art form.

In others, she’d have been suspicious that he was simply on his best behaviour.

Here, she wasn’t as certain. Certainly, the man had good manners.

But he was quiet, rather than flashy. He was confident.

No, wait, that wasn’t it. He was secure in himself and his skills, measured against others.

And he’d been willing to extend himself a little, for the asking, but while asking for the usual consulting fee.

Doing it gratis would have suggested one kind of imbalance, charging more than usual would have been another.

He had treated it as a straightforward agreement.

The more Vega thought about it as she was getting dressed for the day, the more she thought that might be entirely disarming to the sorts of people who spent vast sums at auction.

Once she got out of the cab, she found Farran waiting out in front of the Guildhall.

He was dressed as he had been the previous week.

Today, he wore a suit that was impeccably neutral for the circumstances.

Though this time, he wore a more vibrantly blue tie and pocket square that stood out against the grey, almost a kingfisher blue.

She wondered if he’d guessed about her background, but there was no reason to think that.

As she joined him, he offered her his hand. “Vega. I’m glad the weather’s not too unpleasant. Brisk.” It was in the mid-forties, but that was what a good wool coat and charms were for. “Did you have questions before we set out?”

Vega stepped to one side, letting people go by. “You wanted to start here for a reason? And then the rest of the route?”

“Well. It makes an efficient enough chain of several parts of London. The Guildhall has been here and thriving for hundreds of years, and more than that, a centre of activity. The Thames in a number of ways. And then there’s the Tower.

And the Roman wall, just beside it. It’s actually the wall I’m interested in particularly at the moment. ”

She tilted her head. “You have something beyond a walking tour in mind?”

Farran glanced away. She was fairly sure he was weighing how much to say and also how to say it. When he looked back, he said, “You asked about the process of perception. Listening, looking. For you, your ears are well-trained, obviously, it may come more easily.”

That made her snort with amusement. “My eyes are also trained, though not in the sense of looking at the details of art.” Stars were, after all, a rather different sort of thing. “But I get the idea. So you want to see what I sense, where we go. Without, mmm. Prejudging so much.”

“Exactly. I checked. We can go into the Great Hall if we’re quick about it.

Shall we?” He offered his arm, and she took it.

Farran led her into the Guildhall building, turning from the entrance down a hall, then left into a massive hall.

Vega knew, in a general sense, that the space existed, but it was much larger than she was used to, with great statue figures towering from pedestals, and livery badges hung on what seemed like every possible part of the upper walls.

“That is Gog - he has the flail. Magog has the shield and spear. You know the legend, I’m sure.” Farran’s voice was soft, respectful. Vega looked up, taking in the details of the carved wood, an eagle on Magog’s shield, with all its heraldic implications.

“That they were the giants Brutus fought when he came to found Albion.” It was not her family’s origin tale, but of course she knew it.

It was one of the foundational myths of Albion.

There were dozens of songs about it within the magical community, some of which she was quite willing to sing. “Why did you want me to see these?”

As she stood there, she could get a sense of them, though, something in the underlying harmony of the room.

It was tricky, though. There were so many things going on here, it was a constant buzz.

Rather like being out on the street in the middle of the day, with dozens of noises all wanting attention.

“There are versions all over London. But there have been statues here since the Tudors. They’d be taken out for processions, nothing wrong with a good procession,” Farran considered. “How old do you think these are? Or did you look?”

“I didn’t.” She said that first, then thought about it, trying to get a sense of it from the sounds she heard underneath all the clutter of the everyday noise.

Not Tudor, certainly. That was newer. There was harpsichord in there, and definitely a hint of a fugue played on a great pipe organ.

Not her usual run of instruments, but certainly one she knew and knew about.

“The first—” She hesitated, almost saying the first half.

“First decade or two of the 18th century?”

“Oh, grand.” Farran seemed honestly delighted by it. “1709. May I ask why you said that?”

“Organ. An organ fugue. A bit of Bach, maybe, or someone of the kind.” She said it without guarding it.

Something in this conversation was rather like the conversations she had had all her life with aunts and uncles and her parents and cousins.

Somehow, this man she didn’t know made a space for her to learn and inquire, rather than be certain.

He nodded once. “Carved of wood. The previous round had been eaten away. All right, that’s very promising.

Shall we go? I think they need to let people in for whatever’s happening in here next.

” There were, in fact, several people lurking near the door, staff wanting to bring in refreshments.

As they slipped out the door, Farran gestured down toward the south and the river.

They talked little on the way, and Vega appreciated that.

The river was an entirely different cacophony.

There was noise and clamour in the magic, in her ears, and in her nose, the stink of the river.

Farran didn’t ask her to stop and focus on anything.

But when they got a bit of the way east, where they had more space around them, he said, “It’s a bit much for me, too.

But the Thames is the heart of the city.

Rivers know things different from what the land knows.

And the Thames gives up her treasures, regularly.

Do you think there’s a chance that what you’re looking for might be like that? ”

Vega had to stop walking to think about that, wrinkling her nose. “I can’t make out anything individual there at all. I’m fairly sure trying will give me a headache.”

“Not something to try without suitable supplies, then.” Farran said it, making it seem like a reasonable and practical objection.

“With your permission, I could put a note out that I’d be interested in hearing about anything unusual that comes up, that looks like an item.

Neither of us needs to sort through a list of, oh, rather a lot of awful stuff that ends up in the Thames. ”

“You’d do that?” Vega cleared her throat. “Yes, if you don’t mind. And if the fee’s not out of keeping with things so far.”

Farran spread his hands. “If, when we’re done here, you’d like to engage me for other work, I’m sure we can come to a sensible agreement.

It’s not a lot of time or energy, probably, it slips in with what I’m already doing.

” Then he shrugged, not pressing the point.

“Here, we don’t have time to go all through the Tower today.

I’m more interested in the walls and then the Roman wall.

There’s only a bit of it still visible.”

The Tower’s music was unyielding, even when they circled up along the north wall. There was terror there, and something that was about strict order, and she couldn’t make sense of it. The wall, though, that made slightly more sense. There was a definite split. “Some of that is older, yes?”

“The bottom - see the lines of red tile, running horizontal? That, I gather, is the Roman section. The upper portion is mediaeval. Can you hear the distinction?”

Given that cue, yes, she could. The upper portion, if she stood on her toes, had what she’d expect from the period.

Reeds vibrating, a drum, crumhorns and whatever other instruments fit.

The older section, though, that had echoes in it.

It wasn’t the sound of the music, exactly, though the music was less well formed here, like her mind couldn’t produce an equivalent near as smoothly.

Couldn’t translate it, perhaps that was the framework to use.

But she could hear the shift and also feel it.

“Yes.” Then she let out a little sound. “Pardon. That’s a bit much. ”

“We’ve done a lot today.” Farran considered. “I’d ask if you wanted to go to tea, but I’m thinking I should hail a cab and let you do whatever you find suitable after this sort of thing.”

“Perhaps later this week? If you’re free in the afternoon on the Saturday or Sunday?” Vega rubbed her temple; she did have a headache coming on after all.

Farran looked a little bemused. “I promised I’d see my uncle on Saturday. Well, Friday to Sunday. Monday next?”

“Monday next.” Vega cleared her throat. “I think I would like to see if you would consult further, and to tell you a little more of what I know. If you’d plan for that.”

“Oh!” Farran sounded more comfortable with that. “I’ll send a note around with the options, then, so you have time to think through whatever you’d like to do. And if you’d like to suggest somewhere else to meet, glad to consider it.”

Three minutes later, he’d tucked her into a cab. She looked back to find him waiting and watching until the cab turned the corner, still unsure what to make of the entire experience.