“Oh. I came across...” Her voice cut off suddenly, then she cleared her throat. “I honestly don’t know if I can help. I don’t know any of the, I don’t know. Complicated magical bits.”
“Do you use magic at all for the carving you do?” Griffin kept his voice even.
Annice looked at him, without blinking, for a long moment. “The one you bought, the rose. That’s one of mine. Magic makes it easier to do the delicate bits. Shape the petals so they won’t shatter. Jet’s fragile, oddly fragile. And some things like lines for the carving, that won’t stay once you release the charm, Grandad taught me those. Some things to make cleaning up and managing the workshop better.”
“You made that?” Griffin let himself smile warmly. He hadn’t been at all sure. He wasn’t trained in art, but he’d thought there was something particular about that, the way she’d handled the piece. “My mother will like it all the more for that, then. She enjoys knowing the history of a thing, where it came from, who made it. And it’s lovely. A proper rose, both delicate and persistent.”
Annice ducked her chin and looked away. “If you say so.”
Griffin repressed his desire to talk over it, to fill the silence. Instead, he took a couple of steadying breaths. “Look, perhaps I might let you get back to your afternoon now. Would you think about something, though? We’d be glad to bring someone to consult in Trellech, even if that’s looking at the stones, figuring out what our next steps might include. We’d pay for your time, of course, and also your expenses. The Ministry preferred inn isn’t luxurious, but it’s clean and comfortable. With the portals here, you might only need to be gone overnight.”
That was too much. He could see it immediately. He went on. “Now I’ll get out of your hair. If you could let me out and get the gate. Or I can ask Charlus to come back.”
“No. That.” She stood, her hand twisting in the fold of her apron for a moment. “Some time to think, thank you. I’ll send a note. If you’ll be - um.” Suddenly she shifted, peering at him. “You’re not going back?”
“Not just yet. I might still learn something useful. And I brought reference material with me. I can read that as easily here as at home. Pop into a couple of the other jet shops, ask questions in general. I’ve only been responsible for the inheritance courts for about five years. And senior for only a year. Before that, it was other things, so while I know the more recent material, I haven’t read through all the archives yet.” Now he was blithering on. That wasn’t likely to help. But it seemed to have settled her, to know he would not disappear through the portal in a puff of magic.
“Oh. A day or two, then. Probably.” Annice took a couple of steps, and then went on more deliberately ahead of him to get the door. Griffin took a moment to put the desk back where it folded away, along one side of the chair, and followed her out. He remembered at the last minute - when she was getting the gate - that there was one other detail.
“Are you sure you don’t need to wait for Charlus?” Annice asked it a bit nervously.
“Oh, I can manage. Here, though, I can’t forget this.” If he had, he would have had to push himself back up the hill and call plaintively from outside her door to pay her. That didn’t appeal at all for about six reasons, especially the part that had him imitating a lost kitten. “Your hand?” He pulled out the coins from his inner jacket pocket, dropping them neatly in her palm. “Thank you for your time.”
Then he pushed himself along, out to the street. When he glanced back, she was standing at the gate. Her thumb was running over them in the practised gesture of someone who relied on coin in hand for their living, and could count them by touch and weight as easy as sight. Then Griffin had to keep moving or it would be even more awkward. He was moving down the hill, focusing on making sure he didn’t end up going too fast for comfort.
Chapter14
LATER THAT AFTERNOON
Annice hadn’t been able to settle down after she let Griffin out. Her mind wouldn’t settle, her hands wouldn’t settle. In the end, she went back upstairs, working her way through all the cupboards she could think of that might have something in them that might matter.
When she was done, she had four boxes. The one she knew about, with the talismanic stone in it, two other empty boxes of the same size, and a box with a pile of papers and notes in it. She brought those down to the kitchen. There was more table space than the workshop. Annice was staring at them when she heard a knock on the door frame. “You at home?”
“Ruth.” Annice pushed back from the table, half standing. “Come in?”
Ruth waved her into her chair. “I’ll put the kettle on. Mam sent me round to ask if you’re coming to Sunday supper. Or, I guess. Warn you if you were planning not.”
Annice laughed, a little hollow. “Sure. Anything I can bring?”
“Nah. She’s a bit worried, y’ken?” Ruth shrugged, as if unsure how to put any of what anyone felt into a suitable dish.
Annice figured that meant there was going to be Yorkshire pudding to go with whatever meat, so offering to bring bread wouldn’t be much use, and bread was what Annice usually brought. She wasn’t usually bad at making bread, though the rest of her cooking was good plain fare. But Aunt Sarah wouldn’t want one more person in her kitchen getting in the way. Hauling anything else down and across the bridge wasn’t great, even with magic to keep it warm. “Sure.”
“What’s all this, then?” Ruth turned to get the kettle going, then gestured at the papers as she pulled the other chair out.
“There was a man here.” Annice tried to remember what she’d said. “Um. A client. Sort of. He bought one of my pieces.” And she still didn’t entirely know what she felt about that. She’d made it for buying, that was the point of it, but he was going to give it to his mam, and. She pulled her thoughts back. “Let me try again.”
“Best, yeah. That didn’t make no sense.” Ruth leaned back a little, watching her.
“There’s a man. He works in Trellech for the courts. He’s been asking jet carvers for help, something in the courtroom? I don’t understand all of it, though I could maybe do some of what he’s needing. Maybe.” Annice took a breath, and then it came spilling out. “He said he’d pay for me to go down to Trellech and have a look. My time, a room, food, all that, everything.”
“And you’re thinking of saying yes? That’s the way bad things go in novels. Serials. You know that. Girl goes off, girl disappears, someone else has a mystery t’solve.” Ruth had a point, but it wasn’t like that. At least Annice was pretty sure it wasn’t like that. She didn’t know how to explain why. She couldn’t explain it to herself, after all.
“Told him I had to think about it, I mean. But it’d be a fair bit of coin. And I could use that. And I don’t know. He’s not finding much help anywhere else.”
Ruth shrugged. “Should fix their own things, shouldn’t they? What does Trellech do for us? Portal Keeper, sure, they’re decent folks. Don’t mind paying the portal fee, even. Healers, there’s a point in Healers, when we see one. Trellech? Nah.”
Annice didn’t have an argument for that. Though she supposed someone had to keep track of where people were, so there were portals and Healers. And there were trials for things, even if she didn’t know most of it. Maybe she should pick up the subscription to the Trellech Moon again, even if the morning edition didn’t get to Whitby addresses until the evening post. She shrugged. “Anyway.” She swallowed. “He makes me feel odd. Not bad. Just. Odd.”
