“I did, sir, but not about my current assigned work. I don’t know when you’d rather talk about it.” Farran hesitated for a moment. “A private commission.”
“Go on.” Master Philemon moved to take a couple of the petits fours.
“It’s a continuation of what I’d already mentioned, that matter with Vega Beaumont. I gathered some background on her, but there’s not much before she began performing. She didn’t attend Schola, or any of the other Five Schools, but of course most people don’t. She has been building up her career, and she’s well respected, it seems like. But she’d been singing on the continent most of the last couple of years.”
“And you said she had a family request to find an object that might recently have been moved or come awake?”
“Exactly. I’ve a bit more in the way of specifics, but precious few details. And then I started wondering if I should continue. We talked yesterday, but when she left, she was frustrated. And there’s someone else, a man, who turned up, and she can’t tell if he’s focusing on her for this reason or for the others.”
“His name?” Master Philemon pulled out his small notebook.
“Thomas Vandermeer. American, she thinks, he gave her a card for the Hotel Cecil.” Farran shrugged. “I haven’t asked Vivian about him yet. I wasn’t sure it made sense.”
“She might also have ideas. What did she tell you about Mistress Beaumont?”
“Magistra Beaumont, I’m fairly sure. Even if that’s not documented, either.” Farran shrugged once. “Hearing her sing, it’s quite obvious.” He couldn’t quite repress a small sound.
“What do you think of her as a person? You’re getting quite deft at reading people, you know that. Your evaluation, please?”
“I like her. She’s like something that’s been touched and worn down a little, the touches of affection. A statue, a bit of bronze, worn smooth and shinier. Does that make sense? Or something where the handle’s shaped to fit the hand comfortably, that level of attention to detail.” Farran said it before he thought through the implications of saying it. But thiswas Master Philemon, and they’d long since established the habit of direct speech and honesty with this sort of evaluation.
“You like her. As a person.” There, that was just naming it.
“Yes, sir.” Farran wouldn’t deny it. “And I don’t think she has a lot of people to talk to about it, besides her family. I pushed her a little, about whether it was a matter for the Guard or the Penelopes or something of the kind. That’s when she got frustrated and left.”
“Huh.” Master Philemon leaned back, taking a minute to think through it. “All right. You have a point. And honestly, the Penelopes might have a lot of fun with the problem, the useful sort of fun. But you do not yet have an obligation to turn it over. What did you tell her?”
“Before that, I said I’d check with you about the legal aspects. I know the basics, but I’ve largely dealt with things where we know when they came from and who is supposed to have ownership. Or where the question is obvious if we don’t.”
“Like our silver.” Master Philemon nodded. “British law distinguishes between a treasure trove and other items, like a burial. Or an item that was dropped but not buried.”
“What’s the difference, sir?” Farran leaned forward, finally reaching for a pastry.
“Common law holds several factors. First, gold or silver in any form, it could be coin, plate, bullion, jewellery. Second, that it had been hidden deliberately and rediscovered. Third, that no person could prove they owned it. Fourth, the trove itself has to be more than half silver or gold. Less, and it’s a different law in play.”
Farran let out a small cough of a noise. “So a piece dropped, not buried, that’s not a treasure. Or, I suppose, left in some underground room and not retrieved?”
“Exactly. Now, as it’s magical, Albion’s Ministry would certainly like to know about it. And for certain classes of item,there are requirements about that. But I don’t think you know enough to be sure of that here? Did she share anything more than you told me about what it does?”
“Amplify. Or something of the kind. But how can you tell with an object from that long ago? Even if her family has more notes, hasn’t the, I don’t know, shape of magic changed rather a lot since then? As much or more than the vowel sounds have?”
It made Master Philemon laugh. “Well, yes. Yes and no. There have been many changes, and I can recommend a history for you, Roman and Anglo-Saxon artefacts, including some talismans and ritual pieces. If you wanted to do a bit of study on it, that would be a nice additional speciality for you to pick up. We’re seeing more treasure hoards turning up here and there as the metal detection is refined, and you’ve already got the expertise in classical art pieces.”
Farran nodded. “I’ll think about it, sir. But you think I should continue?”
“I think it comes down to whether you wish to continue. You think she is an interesting person. You do not perceive a sense of harm or discord. You have some relevant skills. Then there’s the question of this Vandermeer. I’d take sensible precautions, of course, but if you want to continue, I see no reason to stop now. With a conversation about what point bringing in the Guard might be necessary, so you are both clear about where that line is. You’re hardly the sort to go putting yourself in danger for the sake of adventure.”
Farran blinked, then snorted. “No, sir. Not my likely failing.” He took a breath. “I’ll see about talking with her more. You had questions about the spoon?” The spoon was both interesting and relevant. It was a bit of deft silver work with elaborate enamel on the back of the bowl. Master Philemon set into explaining the particular query he had, which was about whether there’d been a repair and how they might go aboutproving it one way or the other without risking damage to the item.
Chapter 15
MARCH 5TH AT ASTRALIS
In the end, Vega could not make it out to Astralis, the main family estate, on the Tuesday. Then, of course, she was working. After some back and forth via the journals, she arranged to go on Thursday once she was awake. The family did not particularly care about St David’s Day, though the Cousins in Wales certainly kept it. Tradition did matter, and leek soup was tasty.
But there was a fuss for March second, and the tending of the wells on the property. All the wells, because all their wells had healing properties. If they hadn’t when the family moved there, they did now. Also, that was just good sense, on a remote estate in the midst of Salisbury Plain and miles from any other settlement unless you went by portal.
When Vega came out of the portal— there’d been slightly less of a queue at Bedford Square than she’d expected— one of her younger cousins was there to meet her. Chara was in that liminal age. At sixteen she was old enough for tasks requiring some patience, but not yet ready for the larger world, not the way the Cousins aged.
