“Don’t want to pretend my skills aren’t mine. That feels wrong to me. Lying, repeatedly, and every time, it chips away a bit more of me until there won’t be anything left.” Then she shrugged, looking down at an angle at the table. The fish and chips, the remains of them, would not react to what she said. “The only offers of marriage I’ve had the past decade are about being someone’s nursemaid, or taking on someone who can’t make good in anything else. Marrying someone who did their part, that’s one thing. Taking on all that burden, and then lying? No.”
When she managed to glance at him again, he’d done that thing with his head, cocked a little to the side, as if he were listening to something. Griffin gave it a moment, that caution that she could see now he’d named it. “If, when you were in Trellech, I introduced you to a couple of people who do similar kinds of work, carving stones, working with jewellery, would you be interested? You know some skills already, I’m fairly sure you could learn the others. There are some programs for training fees and such.”
She blinked. “Why would you even do that?” Then, suddenly, she stood. “Thank you for supper and thank you for helping today. I just realised something I have to do. Um. Later. Tomorrow. Something.” She heard him almost say something, the pitch of it before a word. Then she was rummaging for her cloak, not sure what she was doing, but sure she couldn’t keep being there.
Chapter25
MARCH 27TH
Griffin worried the next day. He hadn’t wanted to stop Annice, anything but. Even if he’d wanted to - distasteful as it was - he wasn’t able to fling himself in front of her or change her mind. Especially not after an exhausting day. For all those reasons, and a lot more, he’d let her go.
But it didn’t stop him from carefully going and leaving her a note. It said, in his more casual handwriting, that he’d be at the cottage all day, doing some research. And he’d be at the White Horse & Griffin for supper starting around half-five. He hoped that suggesting somewhere public might be a little of a help. They knew him there well enough now.
The only problem was, there was no sign of her. He nodded and chatted briefly with a few people who recognised him, startling every time the door opened. It wasn’t Annice, over and over again. Griffin had made it through his meal, just poking at the last few bits of a beef stew, when the door opened, closed, and then she was standing there. He saw her dress first, the way it draped and folded, the place on the hem it had been mended, before he looked up at her.
“Miss Matthewman.” He was careful. They were in public. “Good evening. Will you join me? Can I buy you something?”
Annice shook her head, just once. “I wanted to talk business with you. Would this evening be convenient?” He did not know how to read her tone. She was closed in and her voice had almost no intonation.
“Of course. Just let me pay up.” Griffin did that as quickly as he could, leaving the change on the table. He let Annice go first, waiting until they were outside on the street with no one too nearby to ask, “Where would you prefer?”
She looked him up and down, considering. “Yours.” It was closer, and he was grateful he had the forearm crutches rather than try to figure out getting the chair in the pub. When they got through the ghault, he unlocked the door, and then let her in.
“Is there something that would be a help right now? Tea? Beer? Calming potion?”
“Do you have one of those?” Her voice shivered on it.
“I do. If you’d trust one of my stock. Comes from my usual apothecary in Trellech, I go to Postlethwaite’s for most things these days. Not that that means much to you, I suppose. They’re properly certified. You can see the stamp and all. Moment, it’s in my room.” Without waiting for an answer, he went off to fetch it, bringing the whole case back in the satchel over his shoulder. He handed over the vial, letting her check it, and focused his own attention on his evening doses.
When he looked back up, she opened it, then swallowed it in one gulp. He could see the slight fading shimmer of her checking the charms on the bottle, so she was being reasonably sensible. Or, for some reason, even when she couldn’t talk to him, she still trusted him that far. Then she waited for it to take effect, and he saw the moment where whatever she’d been feeling settled out a bit. Not all the way, not dangerously calm, but enough she could act more deliberately. He gestured at the sofa or the chair. “Where you’d like.”
“What did you mean last night? About helping me. It’s got to come with strings, doesn’t it?” Annice’s voice was still pitched high, strained a little. Griffin was listening for every clue he could get and then some.
“No strings. No commitment on your part, other than having a look at our stones in the Court, but that’s a business transaction. The rest of it is...” Griffin turned his hand up. “Like I said, Lamont named something in me that’s true. And if you’ve got the same sort of problem, and I can help, that feels good. Or if I can help in some other way, but you’d need to tell me what’s actually helpful.”
She sat down with a thump that rocked the sofa. Griffin could feel it jarring a little through his hips. Then she winced. “Sorry. But you know the Courts. Not other things?”
“I know a number of experts, and how to get introductions to a fair number more. Crafters, some of them. Talisman makers. I don’t think I know a jeweller proper offhand, but I know someone who does, and who’d be glad to arrange an introduction. What you do with it at that point is up to you.”
She looked away from him, across the room. “You were right last night. That’s what hurt. That I could make something work for a little longer, here, but not forever. Sooner or later, if I live more than a couple of years, I’d have to figure something out. Unless the stones, the two we have, do something really big. Powerful magic. And I - they’re not that, are they?”
“I think - again, I’m not an expert here - they’re meant as a family magic. Keeping your family safe, as they’re defined by the makers. Not a big magic, but a long-term one. And it worked pretty well for a long time, from what you’ve said. Your family were happy, and safe. Your grandad and da were doing skilled work that kept everything together and then some. You own your house outright, right?”
“Yes.” Annice said. “And that’s an argument in the family. I’ve cousins who could use the space.”
Griffin nodded. “Look, what I’m offering is a chance to see what else you might like. I will not tell you what to do. But I have connections in Trellech, all sorts of people. I’m glad to put you up at the inn, or if you felt comfortable, my flat has a spare bedroom and another bath and loo upstairs. Nothing fancy, but private. And I’d not bother you up there.” He flicked his hand at the crutches where they were propped up.
Her mouth twitched. “And the stones? I was thinking, um. Maybe I could sell them.”
“We can find someone to ask. We will find someone, whatever else you want, if you’re willing. But I think they’re personal. Meant for this place. Though they’re lovely big pieces of jet, and I suppose that has some value, if you ground it down smooth again.” She flinched, maybe at the idea, and he went on hurriedly. “Learn more about them, then, before you decide. But it’s probably not a windfall. Not enough of one.”
“And you don’t mind, um. Putting me up. Introducing me?” Now her voice had the quaver in it. Annice leaned forward a little, her arms around her stomach a bit hunched over.
“I would be delighted to. And the money’s not a bother for me. I make a solid salary.” Griffin considered, then added, “Maybe this helps. I’ve thought a lot about what would happen, if I couldn’t continue in the Courts, even in an administrative role rather than a magical one. I’m still a trained solicitor, I still have other skills. I love what I do, but I also like knowing I have options. That I’m not hemmed in to just one thing. And that’s the bit I’d like to help you with. You could come back here, and keep going, but at least you’d know more about what else might or might not work.”
She was quiet for a long time, minutes. Griffin watched her carefully for the first minute, then leaned back, letting his eyes mostly close, summoning all the patience he could. He just waited. Then, almost in a whisper, she asked, “How do I know what to choose?”
This was something Griffin knew. The question of legacy came up a great deal in his work of the past five years. “What do you want for others? What do you want to preserve? Keep safe, make sure that thing continues, however you want to put it.” He began watching her again, mostly her hands where they lay in her lap, twisting her skirt once or twice.
