Page 5 of Harmonic Pleasure (Mysterious Arts #6)

“ N ow. Let’s see. Vivian, you’ve your drink?” Uncle Cadmus glanced around, patting his pocket. Vivian lifted her glass, which had a suitable after-dinner cordial in it.

Farran smiled. “Your glasses are on your head, Uncle Cadmus.” It was after supper on the Friday, and Uncle Cadmus had shooed the three of them up to his private office. It was comfortable for Farran. Here were the scent and the feel of home, of magic as it ought to be.

That was something he’d given a lot of thought to while he was living in rooms in Trellech, the way the magic of that city pressed more.

Thebes was out in the countryside, on its own.

It had been a magical home for a long time, centuries.

But it had a settled feel to it, well-worn, with all the rough edges and splinters long gone.

He’d spent the day happily tending to various minor chores around the house and grounds.

Most of it wasn’t at all urgent. He’d polished the woodwork in the main stairs.

Then he’d done a bit of cautious magical repair of a bit of the iron frame in the greenhouse with Uncle Cadmus doing the metalwork.

That afternoon, he’d helped Lena by hanging several hooks in the kitchen so she could reach pots and such more comfortably.

She was getting on in years enough that none of them liked the idea of her having to get up and down the stepstool to reach a pan.

Uncle Cadmus blinked, reached up, and then put them on his nose. “Well.” He settled on the sofa next to Vivian, leaving the other chair for Farran. “You wanted both our advice, you said.” He seemed exceedingly pleased by that. Both the desire for advice, and that Farran was including Vivian in it.

Not Aunt Vivian. He hadn’t been sure why, but in the end, he’d asked, several years ago, if she minded, and she’d shaken her head.

He’d got the sense, though he hadn’t pried, that she rather enjoyed having a relationship that wasn’t solidly defined by a familial term.

The rest of her life, outside of her professional realm, was defined by a vast network of relationships to other Cousins.

All those Cousins were descended from the Fatae before the Fatae left Albion.

Or at least, left for all intents and purposes, outside of some carefully negotiated locations and activities.

Of course, the other trick was that Vivian and Uncle Cadmus both seemed delighted with their situations.

But Vivian was only here at Thebes for a Friday to Sunday every fortnight or so, with longer stays a couple of times a year.

She had her own room. Of course Farran knew that.

But he also knew that mostly she stayed in these rooms with Uncle Cadmus.

It wasn’t an ordinary sort of marriage, or even the more scandalous sort of daring new woman.

Not that either Uncle Cadmus or Vivian would be inclined to the scandals of the Bright Young Things.

Uncle Cadmus was in his late fifties now, and Vivian was a decade older, though she looked about his age.

It didn’t bother Farran, as long as Uncle Cadmus was happy.

But it was terribly complicated to explain to anyone else.

The thing was, Vivian also had a long history of investigating and solving difficult problems. She was almost single-handedly responsible for Farran ending up at Ormulu under Master Philemon.

Farran hadn’t known that was even a possibility.

He’d worked every day to live up to the chance, and most days, he thought he was doing the thing right.

Now, though, Farran took a breath. “Please. Master Philemon talked to me yesterday.” He laid out the general proposal, months in London, able to come back occasionally but not frequently.

But also, he’d had time to read the details.

The range of the collections under consideration made him want to roll around in them, like a puppy and a small boy jumping endlessly into a pile of leaves.

He found his hands moving, as he explained that part, signing the enthusiasm he felt as he said the words.

Both Vivian and Cadmus followed that as easily as the speech, and it made Vivian chuckle at the end of it.

“So the question isn’t are you saying yes. It’s asking what you should know or think about that you haven’t come up with yet.” Vivian sounded delighted, and that puzzled Farran. She must have caught something in his expression, because she said, “Go on, please.”

“You seem pleased at the idea?” Now Farran glanced at his uncle. “Are you all right with it, Uncle? I’ll be able to help less here. And I’ll miss the spring.”

Uncle Cadmus spread his hands out. “I know you love the spring here. And the summer and the autumn and the winter. But things are going smoothly. We can certainly hire in someone to help if there’re tasks to be done.

” That hadn’t been true even a few years ago, but it was better now.

He then peered over his glasses at Vivian. “You’re pleased, though.”

“I think Philemon is entirely correct, that it would be an excellent experience for you. But it might also have some— challenge is not quite the word. New experiences.”

“New experiences?” Farran was not as resistant to them as Uncle Cadmus was, but Uncle Cadmus was very much a creature of habit and custom.

To be fair to him, he’d gone out to Afghanistan when Farran had been tiny.

He’d had a terrifying experience there, but until that, he’d enjoyed much of it.

That certainly didn’t qualify as nothing new.

And honestly, Vivian was also something new.

Farran, and what he remembered of his parents, had made it seem like Uncle Cadmus would be a bachelor all his life.

“You know how Ormulu works, of course. You young men and women are in and out of each other’s offices and flats.

The lot of you go to gallery shows or the museum or performances together, you get a drink, all that.

You’re expected to. Forming close networks is part of how that kind of business flourishes.

Even as you move on, some staying at Ormulu, others going off to start their own shops or work in the museum or become private researchers or restorers. ”

“Or the Ministry. Amrut’s still not entirely sure whether he ought to follow in his father’s footsteps.

” Amrut’s father had been the Minister of Materia for some years, and Amrut’s older brothers were tending the same direction.

“Or Percy’s thinking about one of the London museums. And Edith’s thinking about London, too. ”

“Are they going to be jealous of you getting this bit of work?” That was the thing about Vivian, and the reason he’d brought it to both of them. She saw that sort of problem sooner than Farran did.

But in this case, he’d had a chance to ask, and so he could shake his head.

“Not for this particular work. It’s a lot of small pieces all over the catalogue, and both of them would rather specialise.

But it’s the sort of thing where maybe I could invite them up to see something, introduce them to the right people, if things fell out that way.

” Farran shrugged. When it was like that, he could manage the social dynamics well enough.

“There you go.” Vivian approved. That was encouraging. “But the other part is, when you’re in London, people will probably want to go out. There being a number of places to go out to in a large city. How many of the people you’ll be working with are magical?”

“A few. Mostly non-magical, though. It’s all the big auction houses in on aspects of the sale.

Quite a coup in a number of directions, enough to make everyone willing to cooperate.

My role is partly to confirm all the records, independently.

But of course, also to judge if anything needs to stay in the magical community, have special precautions. ”

“Let me know as soon as the final catalogue’s going to print. I’m certain the Carillons will be interested.” Vivian was pleased about that, as if it would get her points.

“Few books, I think. Or the books might be later. I can check on that.” Lord Carillon was well known for his interest in incunabula, though of course he’d looked at a number of things at auctions Farran had helped with.

“I am confident you can manage the professional side. And the social aspects of the work,” Vivian pressed. Uncle Cadmus did not, and he would not have, ever. It was not a thing Uncle Cadmus leaned on.

Farran sighed, and then he stood up, wanting to walk a little, pacing behind the chair he’d been sitting in. Vivian didn’t discourage him. Finally, he paused, hands on the back of the chair. “How do I do that? What will they expect me to do?”

“You’ve some idea of that,” Vivian said. “Start there, and I’ll help you fill in the gaps.”

Farran considered what he knew. “You know me. I like to stay home. A good book, something to mend or fix. Bringing it back to how it was best.” It was how he thought about Thebes, this house, and about the greenhouses and outbuildings and the garden.

It wasn’t perfection or newness he was reaching for with any of that, it was something more about the thing in use, tended well, able to do its work.

His work at Ormulu had something of the same feel.

Not always, of course. It was harder to identify the work of a painting of someone’s long-dead dog or horse or great-aunt.

Such paintings mattered, of course. They were art.

But the person for whom it had mattered most wasn’t there to interact with it anymore.

Objects were easier, objects that could be used, because they still potentially had a use.

Some, of course, were stuck in a glass case, never properly breathing again, never out in the world in however small a form.

Now, as if prompted by the thought, he took a breath, then said, “It’ll involve going out.

Bars, clubs, something like that.” He felt awkward at those sometimes, but he could manage most of it.

“And probably a range of things to drink or take on offer.”

“Probably,” Vivian said, her voice entirely even. “I would like to make a gift to you of a suitable case of antidotes and such. All the common non-magical things, and a fair range for potions unless someone in those circles has a particularly clever alchemist I don’t know about. Yet.”

That made Farran snort. “Isn’t it part of your job to know about them?”

“There is always a first time someone does something questionable. That’s the problem with it.

That first time gets people hurt or killed.

And I do not wish that for you, for all sorts of reasons, not just Cadmus’s sake.

And I do not wish it for your friends. I do not want Philemon to have to deal with it.

Such things make him cranky. Though I’m sure he’ll have some cautions and stories for you.

You’re a sensible young man. Just keep your head.

Have your own cab fare home, know how to get back to the nearest portal, whatever that means for wherever you are.

” She considered. “Would you do a day’s training with someone I can recommend to help you avoid pickpockets and theft? ”

That was an entire line of difficulties Farran had not entirely considered.

It happened in Trellech from time to time, but nothing that was a serious threat.

He glanced at his uncle, but again, he knew what he was going to say.

“Certainly. Though Master Philemon made it clear my expenses cover cabs and such. But I’m sure he’d give me time for your recommendation. Thursdays are best right now.”

“That is because he is a man with experience of the world. All right, I’ll set something up and let you know.

” Vivian tapped her fingers. “That sorted, London is a city full of historical delights, along with the modern ones. You’ve been, you know it’s got a different feel magically.

It’s not Trellech, all magical, but the London demesne is unique, in terms of the land magic.

” She tapped a finger on the arm of her chair.

“You likely won’t need an introduction to the Keeper of London, but if you do, let me know.

I can arrange something with a little warning. ”

“I don’t expect to come to that kind of attention, no.

” The magical keeping of London’s land magic was a complex thing, from what Farran knew.

But it wasn’t likely to be relevant to what he was doing.

“And I assume he’s still quite busy, after the flooding on the seventh.

” That had been horrid, far too many deaths and destruction, including damage to one of the museums.

Vivian pursed her lips. “True. You’ve looked at those maps? Beyond what’s in the papers?”

Farran nodded. “Part of Master Philemon’s portfolio. It’s affecting some of the conservator availability.”

Vivian nodded, then shifted the subject back to gentler things.

“I think you’d enjoy spending an extended period there, long enough to get to know the place, to have a favourite route or pub or library or what have you.

You are young, you should have a good time, in whatever form that takes.

Just perhaps not all of them at home with a book. ”

It made Farran laugh. Then he shook his head. “If that’s the way I should go about things, I will. Uncle?”

“Vivian has far more useful experience here than I do. I’ll worry a bit, but that’s mine to deal with. And you’ll have your journal and can write about what you get up to, yes?” Uncle Cadmus spread his hands, cheerfully resigned.

Farran nodded. That made it much easier.

How Vivian had talked Uncle Cadmus into getting a journal, he wasn’t sure, but it made their physically distant relationship far easier to manage.

He gathered they wrote pages and pages back and forth most weeks, so Uncle Cadmus was well in the habit of checking.

“I promise I’ll be sensible. And I won’t be going for a week or three yet.

Now, though.” He cleared his throat. “Can I go down and help Lena with the dishes and whatever she needs for tomorrow? I’d like to have my hands busy. ”

“And she’ll be glad to see you. And have a chat when your hands aren’t busy with dishes.” That was the trick with signing. It made chatting while working harder.

Farran smiled. “Yes, Uncle.” Then he nodded once more and took himself out of the room, leaving the two of them talking quietly on the sofa.