“But for an item you might have some, what’s the word, resonance for?” Farran asked it rhetorically, not expecting her to answer. She didn’t, not directly, but her eyes widened just slightly. That was enough to give him the direction to go next. “Perhaps we might arrange for a walk in an area of London, and I could talk through some examples. Along with, if you wished, my perception of the area in a magical sense. An hour or two’s time, that would be a consultation. The fee card, here, if you wish to consider the options and let me know.”
Those were kept in the holder at the edge of his desk. Farran passed one over. She took it, and then he waited. She read it twice, then nodded just the once. “Two hours of your time for a walk should give me an idea of how to proceed. And if you might help. When would be convenient? And where would you suggest?”
“I’d want to consider the specifics and propose a route, but perhaps from the Guildhall down to the Thames, then along toward the Tower of London. Several key locations in the city, each with their own history.” Farran thought through his diary. “You have obligations in the evenings every day but Monday and Tuesday. Would next Monday suit at two?” It would give them time to do their walking before the crowds of people finishing work thronged the streets in larger numbers.
“Certainly. I should meet you there?” Vega shifted in her seat.
“May I send along a letter to the Crystal Cave, addressed to you, with a map and some details? But yes, meet there. It’s about a mile and a half. I walked it last week, so whatevershoes you prefer for that. We won’t go mudlarking, of course, ourselves.”
Her mouth twitched slightly at the right corner. “No. I gather that’s a specialist skill.” Then she heard the bells tolling outside, five. “I’ve taken up plenty of your time. I’ll look forward to your note with the specifics and see you next Monday.”
Farran rose, offering his hand, shaking hers. He helped her on with her coat, then showed her out of the offices. He waited until he heard the lift descend before he went back to his office, closed the door, and settled down to make his own notes.
There was something about the entire situation that felt, well, much like an unknown artefact that needed exploring. It had that tremolo of magic inherent in it, the kind that had a subtle vibration to it, and that Farran was especially attentive to. And perhaps he’d ask Vivian by letter if she knew more details about Vega Beaumont.
Chapter 9
FEBRUARY 20TH IN LONDON
Vega had had little time or desire to think about Monday’s appointment all week. She’d looked at the map and notes that Farran had sent along, but most of her attention had gone to the demands of her art and magic. She and Madam Helena had come to good terms— good for both of them— with a contract for a further six months, open to negotiations after that. Better yet, the agreement included the option for her to arrange a night here or there to guest at other clubs or do an independent performance, if she wanted. Not this month but perhaps coming into the spring.
It wasn’t the agreement itself that pleased her, though it pleased her. It was the degree of trust and mutual appreciation that the agreement showed. Madam Helena ran the Crystal Cave deliberately and well, but she also trusted that this was good for everyone.
People who heard Vega elsewhere would come to the club to hear more. And it gave Vega a chance to try out some different sorts of music. Room to spread her wings and experiment without the weight and assumptions of the regulars who knewwhat they wanted to hear. That would be excellent for everyone. They’d also agreed she might expand her repertoire at the Cave for a set every couple of nights and see how people reacted.
The week’s singing had gone well, though one night she’d had an odd feeling. Nothing she could pin down, certainly nothing she’d mention to Madam Helena. But there had been a sense of being watched by someone in the crowd on Saturday night. They’d been terribly busy, the sort of audience that kept moving from table to dance floor, upstairs to downstairs. That alone had kept her on her toes, even before one of the older men had wanted to flatter her and praise her singing. He’d been a delight to deal with, he knew how the game was played, and he’d been pleased when she added a favourite song of his as the encore to her last set.
But after, in her dressing room, Vega had come back to the odd feeling. Being seen was one thing, being a performer was about being seen. But this had been somehow different, and she had not been able to figure out who had been doing it. That was the most disturbing part, given all her skills at observing a crowd. Even with such a busy crowd, she should not have felt this uncertain about it.
She had not seen Farran again as a guest, but he’d mentioned in his note he might not be back this week. No matter. The man had other things to do with his time, obviously, even if most of that wasn’t obvious to her. A lot of talking to people, as well as whatever notes or research he might be doing. That was, mind, something that intrigued her about the walk this afternoon.
Vega was, of course, used to men wanting to chat her up. Women, too, not that she took offence at that. Some just wanted a bit of the glamour and the show and the beauty to rub off on them, and that was fine. Others wanted a bit more, but she knew how to fend that off. Farran had done none of that, other thanhaving a quite sincere appreciation of her art form. In others, she’d have been suspicious that he was simply on his best behaviour.
Here, she wasn’t as certain. Certainly, the man had good manners. But he was quiet, rather than flashy. He was confident. No, wait, that wasn’t it. He was secure in himself and his skills, measured against others. And he’d been willing to extend himself a little, for the asking, but while asking for the usual consulting fee.
Doing it gratis would have suggested one kind of imbalance, charging more than usual would have been another. He had treated it as a straightforward agreement. The more Vega thought about it as she was getting dressed for the day, the more she thought that might be entirely disarming to the sorts of people who spent vast sums at auction.
Once she got out of the cab, she found Farran waiting out in front of the Guildhall. He was dressed as he had been the previous week. Today, he wore a suit that was impeccably neutral for the circumstances. Though this time, he wore a more vibrantly blue tie and pocket square that stood out against the grey, almost a kingfisher blue. She wondered if he’d guessed about her background, but there was no reason to think that.
As she joined him, he offered her his hand. “Vega. I’m glad the weather’s not too unpleasant. Brisk.” It was in the mid-forties, but that was what a good wool coat and charms were for. “Did you have questions before we set out?”
Vega stepped to one side, letting people go by. “You wanted to start here for a reason? And then the rest of the route?”
“Well. It makes an efficient enough chain of several parts of London. The Guildhall has been here and thriving for hundreds of years, and more than that, a centre of activity. The Thames in a number of ways. And then there’s the Tower. And theRoman wall, just beside it. It’s actually the wall I’m interested in particularly at the moment.”
She tilted her head. “You have something beyond a walking tour in mind?”
Farran glanced away. She was fairly sure he was weighing how much to say and also how to say it. When he looked back, he said, “You asked about the process of perception. Listening, looking. For you, your ears are well-trained, obviously, it may come more easily.”
That made her snort with amusement. “My eyes are also trained, though not in the sense of looking at the details of art.” Stars were, after all, a rather different sort of thing. “But I get the idea. So you want to see what I sense, where we go. Without, mmm. Prejudging so much.”
“Exactly. I checked. We can go into the Great Hall if we’re quick about it. Shall we?” He offered his arm, and she took it. Farran led her into the Guildhall building, turning from the entrance down a hall, then left into a massive hall. Vega knew, in a general sense, that the space existed, but it was much larger than she was used to, with great statue figures towering from pedestals, and livery badges hung on what seemed like every possible part of the upper walls.
“That is Gog - he has the flail. Magog has the shield and spear. You know the legend, I’m sure.” Farran’s voice was soft, respectful. Vega looked up, taking in the details of the carved wood, an eagle on Magog’s shield, with all its heraldic implications.
“That they were the giants Brutus fought when he came to found Albion.” It was not her family’s origin tale, but of course she knew it. It was one of the foundational myths of Albion. There were dozens of songs about it within the magical community, some of which she was quite willing to sing. “Why did you want me to see these?”
As she stood there, she could get a sense of them, though, something in the underlying harmony of the room. It was tricky, though. There were so many things going on here, it was a constant buzz. Rather like being out on the street in the middle of the day, with dozens of noises all wanting attention.
