“What were your plans for the afternoon, Mistress?” They’d just come through the Trellech portal, and Rathna was considering that exact question. She stepped out of the way and Ferdinand kept pace with her, right at her side. They’d spent the last few hours working with the Schola portal, as one of the oldest of the active portals that was not in heavy daily use.
“I’d like you to have a chance with one of the portals here, preferably Caeruleus.” The Trellech portals, the seven public ones, all had colour names in Latin to distinguish them, a custom that had started well back before the Pact. Everywhere else - even the portal the banks used and the one the Guard used - there was only the one in a given place.
“Why Caeruleus, Mistress?” There was a cluster of people going through, rather noisily, and a cart. Rathna waited for the noise to clear a bit. “It’s that one, there, nearest on our left?”
“It is.” She smiled at him. “You studied last night, I gather? If we wait around until mid-evening tonight, we can probably arrange to have an hour or two. Say, half-eight?”
“Don’t you want to get home, Mistress?” Ferdinand leaned forward, a little worried.
“Rowena and Anthony are visiting with friends. Avigail’s off for a treat with her Uncle Gil - he’s doing a bit of research that mostly involves walking around a garden right now. And Gabe’s got to work late. They have a meeting this evening. We could have supper with him and Isobel, though, if you wanted company.”
“As you prefer, Mistress.” He hesitated for a moment. “I’m curious about the Trellech portals, of course. And working with Schola, this afternoon was—”
“It’s very old. One of the oldest. That one, the Council Keep, they’re the two most ancient. But they’re also the most heavily warded of the current active portals, of course.” No one wanted an imminent invasion at a school attended by the finest flower of the Great Families, and of course the Council Keep had to hold against all threats. “These are late 13th century. The Tower of London’s between them, and Dover, and Windsor. There’s an assignment for you. Write them all out in chronological order, as well as your observations about each. It’ll take you a bit to visit everything. I recommend a notebook with a page for each one.”
Ferdinand snorted, then blinked as it became clear she was serious. “Something you’ve done, Mistress?”
“Oh, yes. And recopied twice now. Better leave yourself two pages per portal. You’ll need two notebooks.” It was, in fact, one of her most used resources. He’d seen her current working copy several times today.
“Um. Yes.” He hesitated. “Could we perhaps stop by a stationer’s shop this afternoon, then?” Ferdinand was at least rather more adaptable than he had been.
Rathna beamed at him. “Excellent idea. Now, then a little research at the townhouse, then we can meet up with Gabe and Isobel, and make sure they’ve had a reasonable meal this evening.”
They were about to set off again, down toward Rathna’s preferred shop, when Ferdinand stopped dead. It took Rathna a moment to realise it, so she went a step further before she wheeled around. There was a man, perhaps ten years older, who looked remarkably like Ferdinand, his hand on Ferdinand’s shoulder. Ferdinand looked almost stuck in amber.
Then he swallowed. “Magistra Edgarton, my oldest brother, Maximilian Howard.” Rathna was sure he was making a particular point of etiquette - well, several. But as she was the woman in this equation, as well as of greater magical rank, it was not as obvious as it might have been in other situations. She had, in fact, studied the orders of precedence intensely for a bit, not that it had really helped. Gabe - or his mother - whispering in her ear at the events where it mattered continued to be far more useful.
Maximilian Howard was of an age to be fighting, and he was in nothing like a uniform. He wore a sharply tailored suit. Last year’s cut, but it still emphasised broad shoulders, a properly manly figure. Gabe had tried one on and promptly collapsed laughing. She remembered it and had to force herself not to smile at the memory. Instead, she extended her hand. “Master Howard.”
He took her hand, back of it up, and made the more continental brush of a kiss in the air above it, a slight bow over it. “Magistra, I have heard a great deal about you these last months.”
Rathna nodded. She could not say the same. Bar the basic outline of the family and a mention every fortnight or so, Ferdinand had barely mentioned his family outside his mother. Now she had to figure out how to finesse this. Did Ferdinand want a few minutes to speak to his brother? Or would he rather a rapid excuse for an escape? “I do hope you’ve been well? We have been very glad to be back on Albion’s soil again.”
That was a decided hit. For all he was a Howard, Maximilian was not up to his uncle’s standards in concealing his emotions. Rathna had found Lord Howard entirely intimidating for the level of control he exerted on himself, last time she’d seen him at the Winter Solstice offerings for the Council. “The family is quite glad Ferdinand is back. We were rather distressed when we found out the scope of the work.” Maximilian hesitated. “Perhaps we might step aside, Magistra? The park, just here?” There was one tucked away, just up past the Scali Bank.
It was not raining; the weather was not unpleasant. Rathna glanced at Ferdinand, and he was impressively unreadable. At least now she had plenty of experience with that sort of expression from him, and could tell he was not happy with this, but was not disagreeing. “Of course. Shall we?” She kept her voice brisk and cheerful, then pivoted on her heel to lead the way, letting the men fall in behind her like trailing ducklings. Ferdinand would likely find it amusing. She suspected his brother would be peeved. All to the good.
Once in the park, Rathna glanced around before moving to claim a seat on the stonework surrounding a small fountain. Water was not her best affinity when it came to magic. She did far better with stone, but she could still amuse herself with ideas about accidental splashes if the conversation got dire. Ferdinand stood, evenly balanced between both feet, while his brother sat, twisting uncomfortably to face her. “You understand, Magistra, that the family has some concerns. We had hoped to arrange a supper in the next week or two, but seeing you today, well.”
Ah. There were a number of reasons they might have concerns, some far more legitimate than others. “I do hope your mother is well? We were hoping to make arrangements for Ferdinand to visit her, now that we’re back and settled again. Necessary obligations have taken much of the last few weeks.”
It put Maximilian off balance, as she’d hoped. He looked up at Ferdinand, then back at Rathna. “Beg pardon?”
“Of course, he wishes to see that she has whatever comforts are available, including a lack of worry about him. And as a mother myself, I entirely understand and approve of the impulse. Don’t you think it’s far better to have some fondness and care than a lack?” She made it sound utterly conversational, while she knew perfectly likely that he would consider fondness a particular sort of weakness, never to be admitted to.
Maximilian coughed. “Magistra.” He considered. “The family did come across some information about your family that was a bit of a concern. We did not realise until you and Ferdinand were already overseas.”
Ah, indeed. They had been slacking, then. In any decently competent investigative family, they’d have had a precis of her, down to commentary from her teachers at Schola, a month in at the latest. Though perhaps her own family set an exceptionally high bar on the investigative skills front. Which meant she got to decide how to play this.
If she’d had her choice of anything in all the world, it would have been to have this conversation when Gabe and Alysoun, at the very least, were able to enjoy the show. Richard would smile, perhaps in the wrong place, but he’d do it for all the right reasons. Alas, such gifts were not on offer today. Instead, she settled back, not glancing at Ferdinand. If he didn’t know what he was going to get from her by now, he really hadn’t been paying any attention.
“How curious, the different customs of families. Surely, if you’d had any concerns, much earlier in the apprenticeship would have been a far better time to address them. Before we made the binding oaths, for example.” There was nothing this man could do to her that would harm her. A social snub, perhaps, but it wasn’t as if the Howards, any of them, had been inclined to be close personal friends. Ferdinand was entirely of age, his apprenticeship was signed over. He could call it off if he wished, but she was sure now he wouldn’t. He had the portal magic bubbling inside him, and there was only one real way to keep that going. Then she tilted her head, the precise tilt she’d practised for months early in her marriage. “May I ask what concerned you?”
Maximilian coughed. “There is no history of your people in Albion.”
“Well, of course not. Both my mother and father were born in Calcutta.” She gave a string of Bengali that was, in fact, their particular heritage. It sounded deeply impressive, even though what was given was a list of names and occupations - mostly stone and gem cutters. Respectable craftsmen, in terms of caste, but not nearly the rank the Howards would want. Of course, since it was in Bengali, she was quite sure it was entirely opaque to him. Though to be honest, she had her suspicions that ancestral tendency to stone work was part of how she’d come by her particular magical gifts.
And then, to top it off, she added, “And then, of course, I apprenticed with Magistra Avigail Levy, of a long-standing family with deep ties to the Portal Keeper’s Guild.” This one she could do the names all properly in Hebrew. She’d practised it. Likely even more opaque to him. By the time she was done, it was as if she’d dropped the entire catalogue of begets and begats from the Mabinogion on his head. Or perhaps all the ships from the Iliad, name by name adding weight upon weight.
Then she smiled. She’d learned that from Alysoun. It made people unsure what to do with you, and it worked nearly as well for Rathna as it did for Alysoun or Charlotte, Gabe’s sister. It was not a gift that depended on fair skin, like so many. And she waited. That one she’d learned from Richard. Pauses unsettled people. Not rushing to fill a pause wrong-footed them surprisingly often.
There was a silence. Ferdinand had learned many things in the months they’d been working together, including how to let those silences sit. It took a good thirty seconds before Maximilian cleared his throat. “No one was claiming you aren’t properly of the Guild, Magistra. I hope I have not given any offence?”
She shrugged, just the once. What she wanted here was to make it clear that while he could make his own situation decidedly worse, in several ways, none of it would trouble her. “I do like to be clear about the standards I uphold. Ferdinand has been exceedingly helpful. I gather there’s some conversation about a formal commendation for war services being contemplated.”
Rathna hadn’t mentioned that to Ferdinand, yet, and she saw him straighten, just a hair more formal. They’d bloody well earned one, even if the portal design didn’t have direct military applications. And if - when, the bombing raids were making that all but certain - one of the established portals went down, they’d need every bit of those skills here in Albion too.
“Oh.” There. She’d entirely discomfited Maximilian. That was excellent.
She took the smallest amount of pity. “Ferdinand is doing exceedingly well with his apprenticeship. We have a long one, of course, and for excellent reason. Just like the Healers or the Guard, there’s far too much risk if any shortcuts are taken. I do not expect we will be going abroad again. Though it’s quite likely we’ll be travelling a fair bit in Albion in the coming weeks, depending on what is needed. Not much time for social calls, but there is a war on.”
Maximilian hesitated. “Well, yes. Ferdinand, you do look surprisingly well. We were quite worried about conditions wherever it was you were.”
Ferdinand inclined his head. “I could not be specific, of course. Magistra Edgarton was very clear about how important it was not to share information, besides the oaths about what could be shared in the journals. Isn’t the phrase that’s going around ‘Be like Dad, Keep Mum’?” His voice had an edge to it now, Rathna could hear it like shouting. It was an entirely different register than Ferdinand preferred, a statement of complicated preference and loyalty she was sure his brother would not entirely uncypher.
“Pardon?” Then Maximilian cleared his throat. “Should I perhaps let Father know we spoke, and mention that you’ll write? I am sure Mother would be pleased to see you. Father can best arrange it, of course.” There, he was fleeing the field.
“We’d both appreciate that. I do hope we’ll see you and the family at some point. Depending on our obligations, of course.” Rathna did not stand as Maximilian did, just offered her hand one more time. He gave it a quick pat and bow, and then murmured further excuses. So sorry, an urgent purple rhinoceros to see to. Or whatever nonsense fit in that space. She didn’t much care what it was.
She waited until he was well and truly out of the garden, then gestured at the bench. “Have a seat. We’ll wait a bit for him to be well gone. Are you all right?”
Ferdinand had learned to deal with the fact she would ask questions like that, rather than assuming that all she would get was a polite demurral and a stiff upper lip. He’d also learned that she expected some sort of answer. He did take a couple of breaths first, this time. “That did not go at all as he’d played it out in his head, Mistress.”
“No, it did not. Delightful, wasn’t it? I assume it won’t cause you too many problems?”
Ferdinand considered that, playing through it in his head, most likely. “You were very polite, really. And I’m now quite sure you had thoroughly investigated the family before we first spoke.”
“Well, yes. I wanted a good idea what I was getting into. Shoddy of them, though. If they were going to throw a fit, they should have done so months ago. Months and months.”
“They have never much known what to do with me.” Those months ago, it would have been apologetic, a recognition that he did not measure up to whatever proper standard they chose. Now Ferdinand shrugged. “I find I don’t care much. As you said, the apprenticeship agreement is settled, there isn’t much they can do. I have a stipend. Thanks to your hospitality, and that of Lord Richard and Lady Alysoun, I have a most comfortable set of rooms in which to make my home. I learn more from you every day. And I suppose we do have a liminal position in society, in several ways.” He smiled, a little hesitantly, at the pun, making it clear it was deliberate.
“We do.” She let her praise show in the warmth of her voice. “Thank you for giving me my head. I do wish Gabe, or particularly Alysoun, had been here. She’d have liked the show a great deal. She’s the one who taught me most of it, one way or another.” She considered. “If I have any blessing to give you, it is that if and when you marry, that you are every bit as fortunate in your in-laws as I have been in mine.”
There was a flash of a smile on his face, and then he flushed. “I wish so too, Mistress. But they also have a great deal to feel fortunate in, I think. Perhaps you might write and let them know there will be a story later tonight for everyone to enjoy.”
“That is a fine idea. Let me write that, then we will go find you a notebook or two, and then go see about the rest of the day’s plans.”
Ferdinand nodded, folding his hands in his lap while she wrote the note in her journal. She added a note to Gabe for good measure, and prepared to brave the streets again.