“Certainly.” Claire leaned back, then paused to snag some of the food from Daedalus’s plate. They were obviously comfortable with each other. He guessed probably not romantically involved, but Vitus wasn’t sure, and besides, that was not the question of the moment.
“A while back, I’d have to check my notes at home, but at the end of May, the beginning of June?” He considered. No, he’d seen Thessaly on the first of June at the Temple of Healing garden party. The conversation had been just before. “End of May. I overheard a conversation at the Stream— Salmon House club.” He added the last for Claire’s benefit.
“I know people there. I’ve been inside, even. Very yellow, and those curtains! The paisley is an insult to the eyes.” Claire took it in good humour at least. “And?”
“Four people, all a bit older than me, were doing work on a project. I don’t think they’ve published yet. I was keeping an eye out, but I can check. Olivia and Oscar Hemmings, they’re twins, and, um.” He fumbled for the other two names. “Marius Collins and Aline Holder. A mix of skills, Holder does enchantments, I’ve talked to her a few more times since. They were working on a device to detect poisons in the water from industrial processes, the kind of thing that damages the land. Terribly useful, if they can get it to work reliably.”
The inhale of breath around their circle of chairs made it clear everyone else had figured that out as well. “And?” Philemon was leaning forward, listening intently.
“Their trials had been going smoothly,” Vitus said. “But they’d just come back from a day of readings, and they’d had problems. They’d already tested in Sheffield, where there were plenty of factories, in London, on Schola island, so they had data from a range of points.”
“And ranges of magic, quite.” Thirza was frowning.
“Anyway, I’d have to check where they’d been working.” Vitus knew, he remembered, but he didn’t want to say it out loud, not without thinking through the consequences. Not without talking to Thessaly about it, either. She might have a number of more thoughts. They’d been out near Arundel, that was the thing. “Anyway, their readings were all over the place. I thought at the time it might be something about the geology, but could a Faraday cage or something like it have caused the same sort of effect?”
“What do you remember about what they said?” Claire was looking entirely thoughtful.
“They said they went haywire. I wondered if it could be a portal opening nearby right as they were testing, but I don’t know.”
“I suppose it could be something like that,” Claire said. “It would be a subsidiary effect, something in a chain. You make the cage around the thing you’re protecting, after all, and if they were out on open ground, it couldn’t be a cage. But if someone were exploring the concept and were doing things outside the cage to test the effects in the cage? I suppose. Especially if it’s magic and not electricity. Electricity wants to find a ground, fundamentally, even if what it chooses is dangerous. Magic will pool and wander and do any number of other things instead.”
Vitus nodded. “Should I see about getting in touch with them? The Hemmings, in particular, that kind of problem solving is a lot of what they do, informally or more formally.”
“If it’s not a bother.” Thirza was the eldest of them, most senior, though she and Merryn had been sharing some of the organisational responsibility between them. “I’m curious now. And it’s possible the Hemmings or someone they know might have ideas for our project. I’m not opposed to bringing a couple more people in, or at least sharing. Whatever applications we want to take away from it will be individual in our respective fields. We don’t need to hoard the understanding.”
Vitus considered that. “You think that the individual quality we bring, as crafters, as specialists, makes a monopoly on the basic idea foolish?”
“Just so,” Thirza said, pleased. “And after all, the Four Metals want to share how to do more things. And that goes well enough with Salmon House, I would think.”
“Does Seal hoard information?” Vitus said, cheerfully, knowing her own house.
“Seal likes our secrets, but we share the ones that it makes sense to share. And this isn’t a secret, it’s practices we haven’t worked out yet.” She shrugged. “Vitus, if you’d be willing, gathering more information would be a help. And we cancertainly run to treating them to a meal somewhere for a discussion, if that’s a lure.”
“I’ll ask. And check my notes.” Vitus said. “It might be a little, what with, well.” All Hallows or whatever other obligations people might have, it was one of those fortnights when people were busy or recovering from the strain of it.
“Oh, that’s fine. Sometime in November would do, I think, quite nicely.” Thirza nodded. “Claire, can we go back to what you were saying about linking engines together?”
That conversation was also of interest to their work, but was much less unsettling to Vitus. He mostly let the others talk, asking a question here or there. By the time they wrapped up, he’d eaten all of his supper. And he had several pages of notes and further references to explore. Mostly, he was still thinking about whether there was anything at Arundel that was acting like a Faraday cage.
9
OCTOBER 31ST ON A WELSH MOUNTAINSIDE
They had been sitting up on the side of a mountain for perhaps thirty minutes. She’d been set up here since she got back from the Powell estate, around four that afternoon. Emeline had gone down to meet Vitus at the portal, and to walk back up with him.
Thessaly had curled up with the stone to her back. Something, despite the cold and chill, had been utterly reassuring. Out here, there were just the elements. Rock and scrubby brush did for earth. There was a bonfire in front of her, for fire. A few of the hollows she could see held little bits of water from the most recent rain. And there was absolutely a good stiff breeze for air. Being here, with all of that, together, helped much more than she’d expected.
And she’d needed the help. She wasn’t far from Bryn Glas, though it depended on how she counted the distance. Horizontally, only about three quarters of a mile. Climbing added rather a lot of effort, especially as Thessaly had dressed for warmth. She had on long silk stockings, two layers of ritual robes, and the most encompassing cloak in the house. That had been Aunt Metaia’s, kept for occasions like this. It had pockets, and down in the bottom, Thessaly had found a handkerchief -clean - and a note that Thessaly herself had passed to her two years ago.
She hadn’t stopped crying since.
Vitus and Emeline had come up the path. Emeline had looked unsure what to do, and Vitus had just sat down, offered his shoulder, and hadn’t asked. At least Thessaly had managed to get things set up before completely losing any grip on herself. They were sitting on multiple layers of folded wool blankets, charmed to stay warm through the night. The bonfire was going well; she’d started it right at sunset. And there were half a dozen protective charms around the bit of ground they’d claimed for this.
There likely wasn’t too much to be worried about. The local wildlife would either avoid people or could be kept out, at least if she remembered to do the goat-repelling charms, which she had. They weren’t so much goat-repelling as encouraging the goats to be attracted elsewhere, and those had been set yesterday and wouldn’t wear off for another four days. Maybe five. The mountain ponies would avoid a fire, being more sensible, and the badger sett she knew about was lower on the mountain.
And while the lore held with all sorts of wandering spirits - the tailless black sow, or the white lady without a head - they would stay well away from the fire. That was why this vigil required commitment. Being at home was one thing, being by the bonfire was another, both safe enough as long as everyone stayed put. Travelling from one to the other, however, that could be a problem.
Now, Thessaly sniffled, and rummaged for that handkerchief, since it was easier to get at than the ones she’d put in her bag. “Sorry.”
