And she was patient enough to wait quietly while Vega made her proper greetings to Aeterna, the current treeguardian. She’d been there as long as Vega had been alive. Her conversation these days was mostly done in shifts of a branch and leaves, rather than words, but that was no reason to neglect an old friend. Then Vega turned back to smile at Chara.
“The aunts and uncles are in the conservatory, please.” Chara made a slight bob, the sort of gesture that Vega had not remotely earned, but which suggested that the seriousness of the visit had made an impression. “And I’m bid to ask if you would like a moment to wash up.”
“Oh, don’t fuss, please. And I’m fine, thank you for asking. Tell me, how are you getting along in your lessons? And did you want me to see if I can find any additional records for you when I get a chance? It might not be for a fortnight.” It rather depended on how the meeting went and whether she, or possibly she and Farran, could make any headway on the problem.
That, though, got a cheerful babble of music that Chara would like to hear, given the chance, and it was a delightfully eclectic list. Vega made a note to see if they could arrange for Chara and maybe a couple of the others that age to come out to London for a day or two. They could see a play, hear music, have the fun of peering at museums and deconstructing the errors on the labels later. All very traditional amusements for their family, and they were old enough to start figuring out who had a head for time in the city besides.
Chara led her deftly through the various buildings of the estate, from the barns and workshops and sheds. They went along past the proper observatory with the domed roof, around one edge, and toward the main manor. Then it was down the hall to the east and the dawn, and the glass-covered conservatory. It was large enough in every dimension to hold full-grown trees. There was a seat waiting, and she saw four people. Not her parents. She hadn’t expected them. They werenot senior enough, and after all, it was Aunt Ancha and Uncle Thuban who’d arranged for this problem. The other two waiting were Aunt Mera and Aunt Helia, both among the eldest of the Cousins in the line who were still active in the world.
Now it was Vega’s turn to make a bob to them, then a nod to Aunt Ancha and Uncle Thuban. “Thank you for the time, Aunts, Uncle. May I sit?”
“Please.” Aunt Mera gestured at the chair waiting, which also had a writing desk pulled up close enough for notes. “Chara, dear, thank you. Can you stay for tea or supper, Vega?”
“Tea, thank you. I need to be back in London by half-six at the latest.” This time of year, the family would be eating closer to six than ten, the times shifted with sunset. But she really did need a chance to gather herself before performing.
“If you’d tell the kitchens, Chara, thank you.” Aunt Mera nodded once, and Chara went off promptly.
As she left, Aunt Helia nodded approvingly. “She’s growing up nicely, I think.”
“You think that of all of our line,” Aunt Mera teased, amiably, another sign of adulthood, or taking Vega as a proper adult. “Now, you had questions, Vega. Begin there.” Adult, and presumed competent to launch into what was needed with no fuss, the clear clean lines of a well-drawn chart.
Vega took a breath, because that was a part of her training too. Know what you were doing before you opened your mouth. It sounded better that way. Being a singer left no room for false starts. “I have been considering the problem that Aunt Ancha and Uncle Thuban brought to me. But it is unyielding in several directions. I cannot see a way forward without confiding in someone with more expertise. Also, and this is the other reason for the visit, I am concerned that someone else may be seeking it.”
That certainly had their full attention, though of course she’d mentioned that much by note. Briskly enough, the sort of explanation that would be a working song with a strong beat, she moved through what she knew. Twined in was the much longer list of what she didn’t know. “There is nothing I can pin down about the man in question, beyond the fact he is obviously magical, or he’d not be at the Crystal Cave, and also likely American.”
“And we have fewer resources to inquire about an American. Certainly quickly.” Aunt Helia tutted softly, mostly under her breath, as she thought. “We might have someone make inquiries. Vivian owes us a favour or two of about this size.”
“We can certainly do that. If he is harmless, we should be able to determine that. If not, we may learn rather more. Once is chance, twice is worth noting, and three times makes a pattern.” Aunt Mera tapped a finger on the arm of her chair. “You do not like how he makes you feel.”
“No, aunt. Too smooth. Not slimy, that would be a more deliberate feeling. Like there is nothing to grip onto, everything slides away.” That got a brief digression between Uncle Thuban and Aunt Helia about the proximal causes of that sort of feeling, magically.
The main options were, apparently, a talisman, half a dozen learned techniques that were not terribly common, or more rarely an inherent nature. And of course, him being American complicated things. Albion had societies, and one could often trace the ways people taught each other through those and through the Five Schools. America tended to little knots of compatriots, much smaller groups.
No one had any better answer or idea than to try a spot of investigation. That meant that after a couple of minutes of making sure of that, Aunt Mera nodded. “You said you were consulting someone.”
“Farran Michaels, of Ormulu. Apprenticing under Master Ettis, in the final years of his training. He is in London assisting with a large and varied auction being coordinated by several houses. Focusing on the magical items, of course, without drawing attention to them.”
Something in the name made Aunt Helia’s eyebrows go up, but Vega couldn’t figure out what. She considered bluffing her way through it, but that was exhausting and her aunts would win, anyway. They would certainly wait her out if needed. “May I ask if you know him, Aunt Helia?”
“Ormulu has an excellent reputation, of course. And Philemon’s apprentices are reliably competent. The name’s come up previously, nothing to concern you.”
That was, frankly, even worse than an enigmatic silence. And it certainly reminded Vega why she normally kept her visits to the estate to the celebrations. They had their own mysteries, both in the religious sense and in the casual use of the term. But usually they also had somewhat less in the way of comments with more layers than a bushel of onions. Also, Aunt Helia had not really given her much to respond to. Vega took a breath, let it out, and waited.
There was a substantial silence. The sort that in an orchestral score would have been some poor player who had only a handful of measures at the climax of the piece, and spent the rest of the time waiting to play. Vega had patience for that kind of silence, though, at least for the moment. They sat, fingers and bodies shifted just slightly. After a good three minutes, Aunt Mera sighed. “We’re aware of him. He does not know you’re a Cousin, though.” It wasn’t really a question, because Vega would have said that already.
“No. But he’s aware we exist?” Most people weren’t, ordinary humans. Privacy was a protection, and in the aftermath of the Pact, the Cousins had needed a lot of protection. When theFatae had retreated from the world, into magical spaces, away from humans, the Cousins had been the doorway. Some tales said they were too human to go where the Fatae themselves went. Other tales, and plenty of songs, told of how the Cousins had chosen to stay, to make and tend the doorways. The tree guardians were part of that, and the estates, and most of all the various work of the estates.
Aunt Helia nodded once. “We are asking you to take on a colossal task. If you decide to confide in him, that is your choice to make. But knowing that he is aware of us, that is necessary information. Now, you had questions?”
“Many, honestly. This isn’t remotely enough information to work with. London is a vast city. A magically noisy city, Farran showed me some of that, directly, when it came to buildings and artefacts. I certainly can’t wander around hoping to identify one item among thousands. Tens of thousands. And they’re everywhere, magically imbued objects, who knows how many just below the surface.” Vega let out a huff of a breath. “Well, fewer than there were a century ago, I suppose. They have dug more in the way of tunnels.”
It made Uncle Thuban chuckle at least, and now he leaned forward, tapping his fingertips together. “We have been doing some additional research. And—” He glanced at Aunt Mera who nodded once, “I suspect that this Farran Michaels either knows a relevant technique or two or can recommend someone who does. We have what we believe to be a sample of the same metal, or close enough, as that used for the item. Worked, and worked differently.”
Vega considered the options there. “Meteoric iron, then?” It was a logical choice for their line, who were not prone to blacksmithing beyond what was required to keep the estate running. Well, less than that, given that other than a meteor, none of them tolerated iron particularly well. Better than manyother Cousins, but that wasn’t saying much. But the protections that would make it easier to work would also have preserved it from rust more than the usual. “I can ask him, but having the sample would be a help, yes.” It would have been a help several weeks ago, but she supposed they’d had to do research as well. “And the rest of it?”
“We have narrowed down places it is perhaps more likely to be, but that’s not as helpful as you might wish. And we’re not certain of any of it. There is a reasonable chance it’s below ground, and coming to light because of new building or some changes of that kind. It is more likely to be associated with a place of both expansion and beginnings. Oh, and there’s a chance it was gilded.”
“Oh, like that’s not everywhere in London,” Vega said, before she thought better of being so outspoken. “Farran was showing me the statues in the Guildhall, and how they’ve been remade several times. The impact of the Great Fire, among them. The symbology is rather obvious, isn’t it?”
