Once they’d caught up a little, Uncle Cadmus peered over his glasses at Farran. “We hadn’t entirely expected you this month. Not that you’re not always welcome.”
Farran shrugged slightly. “I wanted a break from London. It’s very— well. That’s the other part I wanted to talk about with you.” He’d been thinking about it all week, since that walk with Vega, the way the city had its own sounds and vibrations, and not just in the obvious sense. “Vivian, I had a consultation with someone, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”
“Oh, well, consultations. I might know a thing or two about that, yes.” She leaned back, not quite touching Uncle Cadmus, but more relaxed. “Begin at the beginning, please.”
The thing about Vivian was that she could be exceedingly intimidating when she chose to be. Farran had seen her do it once or twice, though never aimed directly at him. But somewhere along the line, he’d come to be more confident thatshe largely trusted his instincts. It wasn’t anything she’d ever actually said. But he knew it as solidly as he knew something in his hand was an eighteenth century snuff box or a turn of the century pipe.
“Albie— Dunwich, a bit older— took me out to the Crystal Cave. One of the singers, she ended up talking to me, later. She was about to get in her cab. When she found out I worked at Ormulu, she wondered about a consultation. I know how to do those, though honestly, I’d expected it would be something more like a piece of jewellery she wanted appraised. Or silver, or whatever.”
“The name?” Vivian asked it evenly, the way she had that made it hard to tell exactly how much weight she was putting on the answer.
“Vega Beaumont. She’s been singing there for a few months.” Farran considered. “Her note this week said she’s extending the run. She didn’t say how long. I made oath on the details, the second standard consultation oath. The part I can talk about is that she’s curious about something in London, and where the feel of it matters.”
“Ah.” Vivian considered, the sort of silence that meant she was probably wishing for her file cabinets and extensive notes. “What does she look like, please, before you get into the rest of it? And what does she sound like?”
Farran wrinkled his nose up, because he wasn’t sure how this was relevant. But this was Vivian, and she liked her questions answered. “Dark hair, long, not bobbed, striking against rather pale skin. Dramatic, not an English rose or peaches and cream. Pale blue eyes.” He thought about the rest of it. “Wiltshire, probably?” Then he added, “Though who knows how much vocal training she’s had? Plenty. Mezzo voice, with a gorgeous range, a lot of harmonics in it.” That was somethingMaster Philemon had trained him in, listening to that degree of detail.
Vivian snorted. “Such a help you’ve been trained to listen for it. Of Albion, though.”
“Mmhmm. And English, not Welsh or Scottish.” Both had their own underlying echo. He’d learned that, even if the lilt or the flow of the speech wasn’t as obvious. “Anyway, I was curious about what she’d pick up. We went to the Guildhall, and then walked down along the Thames, the Tower, and the Roman wall, near there. She found the Thames far too complicated.”
“Well.” Vivian sniffed. “But not the rest of it?”
“No, though the Guildhall wasn’t terribly busy. Well, with people. There’s so much art in there.” That was the sort of thing Farran loved, or a museum, until it got to be too much and he got a headache at the base of his skull. “She’d like me to consult further.”
“Do you want to?” Uncle Cadmus got a comment in before Vivian, and that made Farran blink at him.
“Yes. I think I do? It’s an interesting problem, but I’m not sure I can actually help,” Farran said. “I’m not sure I can’t yet, and I can’t figure out who I’d suggest who could.”
“Ah.” Vivian tutted, amused. “One of my sorts of problems, then.” She glanced at Uncle Cadmus. “What made you want to bring it to us, then?”
“Both of you.” Farran said. “Because I don’t know what I’m missing, I guess? It’s an unusual question. Erm.” He felt around the edges of the oath with his mind, testing each word as he said it. “Seeking an object.”
“Huh.” Uncle Cadmus cleared his throat. “I can see why you might like the challenge. What does Philemon say about it?”
“I’ve not talked to him directly, but by journal, he said that I’m quite able to take on this kind of side consultation if I wish. And that I have also been trained in how to decline or refer if Iwanted. But I don’t want.” If he’d said this to most people, even most of the other apprentices, they’d have immediately jumped to Vega herself being the reason.
And she was, but not in the way any of them would have teased. She was certainly an attractive woman, but Farran had actually seen a number of attractive and stunningly dressed women in his line of work. Absolutely, she was talented, far beyond his own ability to appreciate. It wasn’t just that she was brilliantly trained— he knew more than enough about music to know that— but it was her confidence, her presentation. Not that any of that mattered. She had asked him for his time as a professional, nothing more and nothing less.
But he’d also been able to show her something new, in the listening to the stone and the buildings and the river. Farran was curious about that, more than anything else. Most people, he thought, would either have ignored the idea, or would have backed away when it was first uncomfortable. Vega had done neither. She’d taken it seriously, and she’d been willing to explore the variation of it. Besides, the challenge of finding an unknown object was rather compelling. If he could actually make it work, there could be some significant professional possibilities down the road.
Vivian let the silence draw out. Then, she said, “What would you normally do about a potential client? The profile you’d want on them, that sort of thing. .”
“Normally, it’s someone who’s known. A financial overview, to make sure they can follow through on purchases. Legitimate provenance, if they’re selling. In this case it would just be the fee. That’s a different sort of risk. I’m out the time, if I’m wrong, but the fee should be well within her capacity.” Farran hesitated. “You think I should?”
“It is a good habit. And some additional background here might be a help with the actual question.” Vivian glanced atUncle Cadmus. “Though it is a good bit easier to investigate something if people don’t expect it.” That was, after all, how she’d come into their lives, investigating something. That had been Farran’s doing, and at the time he hadn’t known what he was doing. He had just known that there was a problem at Thebes, and it was worrying Uncle Cadmus, and it needed fixing. And his friend’s older sister worked for Vivian, and asking her was a thing he could do.
Now he flushed slightly. “Point. Where would you recommend I start?”
“Oh, there will be some profiles of her, I’m sure, if you check the Trellech Moon. Or the Trellech Library.” Not that he’d have time to do that this week, almost certainly. “I’ve copies of a few things downstairs. You can look at those. Eleanor can do the searches of the Moon, if you like, and you’re willing to cover her expenses. Not her time. We’re less busy with that sort of task right now.”
That was more than fair as an offer. Farran nodded. “I’ll write to her on Monday morning, if you’d let her know?” Then he stood. “I suppose I ought to go look at things, then. And Uncle, you wanted me to look at the greenhouses again?”
“Since you’re here, yes. Tomorrow morning, perhaps, when the light’s better? Go look at books, why don’t you? Or give Lena a hand with supper. You know she likes your company.”
“I like hers even more.” Farran stood and nodded. “Thank you, Vivian. And Uncle Cadmus.” He left them to it. He could hear Uncle Cadmus asking something too quietly for Farran to hear, as he closed the door behind him and went off down the hallway.
Chapter 11
