“I suppose that you have had practice making it sound sensible.” Mistress Hemworthy sounded dubious. “If people ask, what should I say?”
Griffin had a great deal of practice being sensible about it, but again, he was not going to have that argument today. It wouldn’t do any good. “That it’s a War injury, that it’s about my balance rather than whether my legs work. That’s usually what I say in brief. Most of us, I think, know some older relative who needs a cane for balance. Mine’s just a bit more so.”
There was another little sniff, but she let it drop, changing topics a bit abruptly. “The other part, of course, is you’re from Trellech. And the people here - the fishing folk, the crafters, the people who make up much of the town - they don’t know what to do about that. We pay our fees and taxes, of course, to Trellech. Some of our folk go to one of the Five Schools, though far more often Forvie than any of the others, for the fishing. A few went to Alethorpe. Our former apothecary, of course, and the current one. Frederick Matthewman, that was, poor man, but of course he wasn’t born here, just married in. John Whiting, he was born here, a respectable family.” That first name caught Griffin’s attention immediately, but he just nodded.
“That’s normal, of course, even expected. Even with the portals - and there’s some history, isn’t there, that there are two within a few miles, and a road between them?” Griffin asked.
It got a louder sound, not quite a chuckle, but definitely heading that direction. “Oh, the answer’s easy. Smugglers. I don’t recall which portal came first, but there are the two, and easy enough to pass goods from the one to the other, depending which direction is needed.”
“Ah.” That put an interesting complexion on it. “I’d thought most of that was earlier in time? Not contemporary.”
“I’m certainly not the sort of person who would know,” Mistress Hemworthy said. Though she was certainly the sort of person who would buy a thing that had been smuggled. Especially if it put a bit of luxury on her table or in her wardrobe. That wasn’t Griffin’s to investigate, and so long as no one rubbed his nose in it, he wouldn’t.
Griffin let the silence linger for a hair longer, just to see if it made her uncomfortable. She moved a little, the sort of tell that Griffin had learned to notice very early, helping behind the counter in the department store. Once he was sure of it, he cleared his throat. “Who would you recommend talking with, about finding someone who might be a help with matters in Trellech? We seem to have exhausted the jet carvers, but it may be there’s a crafter or someone who does pieces here and there, who might consult?”
That got him an extended discussion of the notable magical families in town. From what Mistress Hemworthy said, they tended to be larger clans. There would be multiple generations in the same line of work: grandparents, children, grandchildren, so it was more getting a sense for the family lines. There were a couple who might be promising, if he could get into a conversation with them in the first place.
After two cups of tea, they made their proper farewells. Fortunately, they weren’t too far up on the west side of the river and harbour. Getting back to their rented cottage did not take as long as Griffin was afraid of, though certainly longer than he’d wanted. There had been a number of stares in the process and comments that picked up after they went past.
Once they were back in the cottage, Charlus said, too-brightly, “I’ll put the kettle on, then?”
Griffin didn’t argue, settling into the half the sofa he’d claimed as his preferred spot and putting his feet up. The matter of the tea kept Charlus busy for several minutes, and he was busy writing in his journal while waiting for the kettle. When he brought the mugs over, Griffin looked up. “The conversation bothered you.” It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t supposed to be a question.
Charlus paused for a moment. “Yes. Does it bother you? I can’t tell.” Then he ran his free hand through his hair and sat down with a bit of an ungraceful thump. “And you don’t talk about it, usually. You didn’t to me until we were coming here.”
“Like I said, it’s mostly boring. To me, anyway. And I hope to other people, when they get over their own feelings about someone using either chair or crutches. It’s a tool, like the journals or a potion from the apothecary or dozens of other things.” Griffin considered the next part. “I know people talk. It’s not talk about the chair that bothers me, actually. It’s the other assumptions. That I must be slightly dim, or significantly dim. That I can’t handle my own needs, or my own shopping, or my own home. I have a housekeeper. But every single other senior member of the Court staff has at least a housekeeper at home. Half of us have rather more than that in the way of household staff, even since the War.” Griffin shrugged.
“And, sir? That’s not the only part.” The trouble with having intelligent and observant apprentices was that they noticed things.
Griffin grimaced. “It’s that people can’t see around their own snap judgements. That offends me on a professional level, more than a personal one. If we’re aiming at something like the truth, how can we do that if people are so hidebound they can’t see other ways of being in the world?”
“Related to, um, the larger questions with the Courts?” Charlus was feeling his way with this more. “Like you spoke about.”
“Just so. Lamont is a far-seeing man. He’s not remotely stupid. I’m quite aware that this particular task is very much a demonstration of my real skills. The methods I’d hoped to use aren’t working. We’re going to need to get creative. In ways that permit our success, of course, but we need to set aside our own assumptions.”
“Like about who we’re asking?” Charlus asked. “What have you thought so far, sir?”
“If it were just the jet working, Whitby obviously has people, but there are answers to that. We might even - with a sufficient fee - get Carey or Hudson to take on the commission. Or at least long enough to look over the work and make up a proposal and tell us what set of skills were needed. A skilled materia worker, a gem cutter used to other materials, they might well be able to do the actual fitting. I know several of those, but the initial consultations with them said they deferred to people who knew jet.”
“Only that’s also complicated, I suppose. And leaning on, um. National feeling, that’s not the right word, will not work.” Charlus was putting it together promptly, that was excellent.
“As Mistress Hemworthy said, Trellech is a long way away, both physically and emotionally. They don’t feel any real sense of loyalty there, necessarily. That won’t move them. And the, oh, the symbolic benefit of truth and the Courts probably won’t. They have other priorities.”
Charlus leaned forward now. “And that doesn’t bother you?”
“It is what it is. Seeing the truth of that matters. We’re not going to change people - hundreds of people we don’t know, actually thousands - by wishing them different. And honestly, a lot of their priorities are sensible. They care about a roof over their head, food on the table, a bit of heat in the winter, that the fishing boats come home safe. I can’t argue with that, and I’m not going to.”
Griffin looked up, and said, after a moment, “When I was little, my father’s shop was much smaller. Small enough he’d know who was having a hard week or month or year. He’d give them a break. A discount, or let them know when something was about to go on sale the next day. It taught me a lot about what people focus on, to get by, even though we were comfortable then.” More so later, but Charlus knew that part himself.
There was a long silence, then Charlus nodded. “Thank you, sir. That’s given me a lot to think about. Shall I go out and pick up something for supper and bring it back?”
“Please. Whatever looks best, and if they have some bread for the morning, that’d be lovely.” Griffin stretched, considered getting up, then reconsidered it. “And if I fall asleep where I’m sitting, wake me up when you get back, please.”
“Sir.” Charlus grinned and then got up. “Back in a few.” Griffin watched him go, glad of the chance to be alone with his thoughts for a little and sort things out more about their next steps.
Chapter12
MARCH 18TH
