Page 29 of Harmonic Pleasure


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“No, not at all. In our line of work, people expect us to have various private projects, as well as the more visible ones. The work he is doing is well within Farran’s capabilities. This is an interesting way to use some skills that do not come up as often as all that. I am pleased we give such welcome service to you. And your family.” That was ambiguous in the extreme.

Vega nodded once, then said, “Farran, might you walk me out? I don’t need to take up more of your afternoon, of course, but perhaps we might talk again later this week?”

Farran nodded, but he said nothing until they were climbing the steps from the underground workroom up to the ground level. At the top— they weren’t in the way of the main door— Vega turned to him. “Do you think Vivian Porter might be in her office today?”

He didn’t seem to see anything odd about the query. Or if he did, he was an exceptional actor. There was no sign of it on his face. “It’s Tuesday, so likely, yes. Though I don’t know about her schedule. Eleanor Norton, her secretary, will be there, though.”

“Oh, you mentioned, didn’t you? Her brother’s a friend of yours.” Vega remembered that. Honestly, she’d been combing through their conversations in her memory for the last several days, trying to decide what she felt about most of it. “Thank you. What’s the easiest way there?”

“From the Scali bank, you want to follow the street north. Her house is on the edge of the parkland.” Farran gave her thespecifics as if he were used to doing that, clear and concise. He didn’t waste energy. That was something she’d noticed and liked already. And even more so since being down in the cave. He’d handled a situation with a number of possible dangers without either being careless or too cautious, and that was entirely too rare in her experience.

Now Vega nodded, then hesitated before leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek once. It was the sort of kiss someone like Vega gave routinely. It didn’t mean anything particular. He’d know that, as surely and calmly as he’d known how to appraise the ring. When she stepped back, he smiled at her, which wasn’t easy to interpret beyond Farran being just as pleasant as always. Then he turned, holding the door open for her. “Let me know when you’d be free to talk more. Or perhaps take a walk through another part of London?”

“Thursday, possibly. Let me double check my call times.” She’d pushed things a bit on Saturday, and they wanted to rehearse a new illusion bit on either Wednesday or Thursday. She’d check. Then Vega smiled and set off through the door, before she had to figure out what else to say. The walk up to the Scali bank was pleasant enough, at least. And they were not terribly busy, able to make the payment arrangements for both today’s consultation and to bring the payments to Farran current through Saturday.

From there, she followed the directions through increasingly quieter streets, to find herself before a pleasant house. It was detached, with a path to a small garden at the back, perhaps. Once she knocked, the door was opened by a middle-aged woman. “Good afternoon. May I help you?”

“Good afternoon.” There was no reason to be rude, and many reasons to be polite. “I was wondering if Mistress Porter might be available for a few minutes. My name is Vega Beaumont. I’m working on a project with Farran Michaels, and Iwanted her advice on an aspect of it.” The thing was, she’d have to explain, if this conversation happened, and she wasn’t sure how to do that. But she knew that being here, that needed doing.

“Oh, indeed. She’s finishing up with a client at the moment, but they should be done fairly soon. May I get you a cup of tea? Fifteen minutes, perhaps, until I can ask her if she has time this afternoon, if you don’t mind the wait. I’m her assistant, Eleanor Norton.”

Fifteen minutes was quite reasonable, really, given that Vega had just turned up. “Thank you, that would be fine. Whatever tea is handy, please don’t go to any bother. And Farran mentioned your name, and that he’s good friends with your brother?”

“Oh, goodness, yes. Do call me Eleanor. There’s a delicate green in the pot. I’ll just pour you a cup. Here, come through here.” Vega was shown into a small room, more private, and out of the way of whoever was in the office coming out. Eleanor disappeared into another room on the ground floor, coming back in a minute with a cup of green tea, and then leaving the door slightly ajar.

Vega at least had a book in her handbag, and she pulled it out, reading distractedly. Just about fifteen minutes later, there were sounds, muffled but audible, of someone being shown out, a door opening and closing. And then, after a minute, it opened again. Vega had finished her tea, and she looked up. “Mistress Porter will be glad to have a word.”

The office was a deep green, the green of a living and abundant garden. There were different shades, the way the gardens on the Cousin estates were, not the dull sameness of some too-cultivated spaces. Against that, there were flashes of colour. One shelf had a deep purple teapot and cups, though of a different design than her own. There were books bound in all sorts of colours along with small statues and ceramics.

“Please, have a seat, Magistra Beaumont. How may I be of help to you?” The door was closed behind her, and Vega was in the moment where she had to move forward with whatever improvisation was called for. On the one hand, she was trained in improvisation as much as she was in incantation. On the other, this was a particular song she’d never quite done this way. And she noted the title, that Vivian Porter clearly had an inkling who and what she was, or at least the level of her competence.

“Thank you for the time, on no notice. I was in Trellech for some other business.” Vega considered her options. Electra’s line, Vivian’s line, they had their own particular magic and customs. Just as Alcyone’s line did. Most of the time, it wasn’t necessary for them to mesh and harmonise as precisely, but they knew enough of each other to avoid the most unfortunate dissonances. Probably. Then it came out of her, with no control. “Does Farran know? About you?”

It was embarrassing, that lack of control. The older woman smiled, then stood, going to a shelf and pulling out a small bound volume. “I think you might reasonably call me Vivian, Magistra Beaumont.”

“Vega, please.” Vega took a breath, then managed to focus on Vivian’s face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to blurt that out.”

“I suggested, some weeks back, that Farran might reasonably do some research about you. He has said nothing one way or the other about what he might have found.” Vivian lifted a finger. “The common names in your line— he knows the ones in Electra’s line, now. He has been at gatherings at our estates, along with his uncle. Farran is a thoughtful young man, with good manners, especially around the aunts.”

“Ah.” Vega had to smile at that. “I have found him polite, considerate, and quite skilled. Though I admit, I don’t know enough about his work to measure it. But he seems, am I right, to have a particular knack for materia?”

“He does. It got him into trouble, his first apprenticeship. Unbalancing the work. Philemon has done a wonderful job of building his confidence and trusting his intuition and sense of a piece. And then, of course, using that to back up his initial impressions with proper authoritative resources and testing. He has a good eye, aesthetically. He’s done some work with other Cousins.” She didn’t say who, but of course Vega didn’t expect confidences here. Not of the professional sort. Vivian leaned back, considering Vega. “Are you inquiring in a more general sense? I take an interest in his well-being.”

“His uncle, he mentioned. Farran speaks quite warmly of him.” Vega almost went on, but she wanted to see if there was any reaction to that.

“They’ve only had each other as family for some years. Well, and their housekeeper.” Vivian glanced toward the bookshelves, a few photographs there. “Are you interested on a personal level?”

Put like that, that bluntly, Vega could only nod. “A curiosity, at least. I— we did some exploration, Saturday. And it was, you must have an idea. A life which has many pleasures in it, my own skills. But it was an afternoon that was just enjoyable, on every level I can think of, except perhaps other people’s inability to pick up after themselves. I enjoyed talking to him, I enjoyed learning what he knew. I enjoyed being with him. And I keep coming back to that.”

It earned her a warmer smile, so perhaps being forthcoming had been a good choice. “For all Cadmus is something of a hermit, he and Farran are quite warm to those they welcome closer. Their residents. Me, for some years now. Others, on occasion.” Vivian tapped one finger on the desk in front of her. “If you are asking if you should tell Farran of your background, I cannot make that choice for you. I did not handle matters well when Cadmus learned it, though I had my reasons. I donot think Farran would take it poorly, shall we say? His work has given him an excellent framework for understanding that different families have their own customs and priorities. He would take lying to him directly badly, but he understands the art of not saying all the truth and he doesn’t begrudge it.”

That was extremely helpful information, and an even more useful way of putting it. “I appreciate that. I am— I am inclined to find a time to say something, when we have space and privacy enough. I don’t know when that will be.”

“Not a conversation for a nightclub, no, I expect.” There was a knock on the door, and Vivian looked up. “A moment. Yes, Eleanor?” The door opened, and Eleanor put her head into the room.

“Beg pardon, Vivian, but there’s a note about that matter. Marked with some urgency.” She waited, half in the door.

“Ah, I beg pardon, Vega, but I need to see to this. Come by and talk again, if you’d like. Or write in the journals, if you need a bit of advice. Or want to let me know something relevant?” Vega could interpret that. If Farran might turn up needing a shoulder or a bit of family.