It made both her aunt and uncle laugh, which at least suggested that whatever quality the quest had, it was not imminently dire. Though with the family’s sense of humour, it could be a trifle hard to tell. Uncle Thuban shook his head. “We’re honestly not sure what the proper word is. Quest, certainly, but the size and scope are harder. May I just explain, and then have you ask whatever questions you might have?”
Vega considered for only a moment, then nodded. It would certainly be more efficient. She wanted to rest her voice a little before talking more. And also have one or two of the little pastries. The kitchens had a genuine gift for them.
“Oh, yes.” Aunt Ancha was glancing around. Vega made a point of decorating wherever she landed, at least a little. This time, she’d chosen prints of London on the walls, generally covering the dingier spots in the paint. There was a glorious velvet sofa along the niche across from the door, her dressingroom, and a couple of footstools that served well enough for seating.
Vega gestured her aunt and uncle to the sofa. And of course, there were a few charms to personalise the place. The stars, spread across the ceiling, were shining just brightly enough to be visible right now. Vega, the star she was named for, hovered over where she sat when she was at the dressing table.
“Please, sit.” Uncle Thuban stood, not taking the indicated place. “You’ve worked hard this evening. May I take one of these?” Vega nodded. He sat and her aunt did the same, leaving Vega more comfortable but also more than a little puzzled. Aunt Ancha also took it on herself to distribute the drinks on the tray, passing around the plate with some sort of cheese and bread. Then, more confusing, they gave her time to eat and drink.
Only once she’d set down her glass did Uncle Thuban clear his throat again and start speaking. “In brief, we— the family— have become aware that there may be some artefact associated with Grandmother Alcyone come to light in London. Or if not actually to light, nearer to the surface or to people or some such thing. We are not sure of the shape of it, or the size. Other than it’s likely something designed to be carried by one person, perhaps the size of an urn or chalice or plate or something of the kind. Perhaps a piece of jewellery. Larger than a ring or pendant, however.”
“And you don’t know the material, either?” Vega found that vagueness odd. Both Aunt Ancha and Uncle Thuban shook their heads no in unison.
“Now, as you know, most of us can’t entirely tolerate the city for long. You, obviously, have found ways to manage. But we’re hoping you might as well... What’s the word?” Uncle Thuban at least was making the reason for asking her more clear. That was something.
“Notice if anything tugs or pulls, one way or another. If it’s the object we believe it is, that should be quite noticeable when you’re nearby. A hundred feet or two, in any direction. We suspect it’s buried, or at least that’s by far the most logical.” Aunt Ancha’s voice was crisp.
Vega could see a number of gaps in this information, enough to have an entire brass band march through. Massive drums and euphoniums and tubas and all. “What precisely does this thing do? And how old is it? How do you know anything about it?” She did, in fact, have a number of questions, and they would not wait.
Uncle Thuban spread his hands. “We’ve additional information for you to read, if you wish. Notes and references, and such. But in brief, we believe it was a gift from Grandmother Alcyone, intended to help stabilise a number of magical effects. Created in or for the Jupiter-Uranus conjunction early in Aries, in 588 or so.”
Vega knew her London history well enough for that, certainly. “Around the time that the Romans had absolutely left London, and before any of the later settlements.”
“Just so,” Aunt Ancha agreed. “We’re not sure how the effect works now. It may shift the magic around it, or make itself more attractive to get more range. We don’t believe it’s dangerous to handle, but it may be tricky to find.”
“And,” Uncle Thuban cleared his throat, “It’s not the sort of thing we want in hands that won’t use it well. It’s the sort of magic that can be twisted, more easily than we’d like.” He then spread his hands out. “There are some hints from the divinations that other people might be interested in it. Nothing direct, you know how it goes. Depending on what it actually does, it might interest a number of different parties.”
Vega frowned. “Is it dangerous?”
“How do you define danger?” Aunt Acha replied, her voice fairly steady. “No item from the Grandmothers is entirely safe, certainly not tame. Would it harm you if you found it? Likely not. Besides, you know how to handle it, where to bring it.”
“Better me than other people, then,” Vega agreed. That set of maths was entirely obvious.
Her uncle nodded and then moved into the practicalities. “You may draw on the resources of Alcyone’s line, whether that’s funds, introductions, whatever else we can offer, while working on this. Though we also expect you may have connections we don’t.” He gestured at the club, as an example, and that was true enough. “And if you are successful, it would be, mmm. Notable for whatever you wanted to do next. Not that we expect you to stop singing anytime soon.”
“Good.” Vega nodded at the last. “I’m glad everyone’s clear about that.”
“Oh, we might see if you could take on a larger role next November, if it’s at all possible to get free for the night. Or perhaps one of the summer rites. I’m sure that the other lines don’t have someone with your voice at the moment.” Aunt Ancha obviously had her eye on a spot of social and magical bragging, but it wasn’t as if Vega minded that in the right cause. Then her aunt focused on her, intently. “Will you?”
Vega had known what her answer would likely be as soon as they asked. It was possible to turn down this sort of request, but it had consequences. And besides, she was more than a little curious. “Yes. Unless I find something in those notes that makes it clear I’m not the right person for it.”
“Ah, we’d expect nothing less. You are as well-trained as any in the family, after all.” Aunt Ancha’s voice had the warm approval again.
That was another compliment, the sort that Vega felt she had not entirely earned, but she would not argue with it rightnow. “May I walk you out and help you find a cab? The doormen know how to find an excellent driver.”
“Oh, please don’t dress to be seen again.” Aunt Ancha stood, coming to kiss her cheek. “If you could show us back to where we can get our coats?”
“Easily done from here.” Vega said, accepting a kiss on the other cheek from Uncle Thuban. He removed a rather large folder of material from somewhere and left it on the footstool for her. She slid her feet into the slippers, lowered the warding, and then walked them out to the ground floor. She showed them the door for the coat girl and where to get a cab. Once they were properly gone, she retreated to her dressing room and refused to look at the folder. It would be better to do it in her own rooms once she’d had some sleep.
Chapter 3
JANUARY 19TH IN TRELLECH
Farran knocked on the door frame at half one, the two knocks that Master Philemon preferred. When his apprentice master looked up from the other side of the massive oak desk, Farran said, promptly, “Amrut said you wanted to see me, sir. Is now a good time?”
As always, everything on Master Philemon’s desk was in its proper place. A few papers out in front of him, a leather portfolio to one side, one photograph of his family and an intricately carved stone vase holding three silk flowers. Not real ones, of course. The chance of some pollen or dust affecting a piece of art was too high.
Farran had the usual twitch of wanting to make sure he was tidy. But he’d done that, in the mirror, before he knocked. His shirt was clean, his collar white, the suit impeccably fitted, his shoes polished. His hair was tidy, not sticking up anywhere, a hair longer than the non-magical man might wear it, but short enough to not attract too much comment outside of Trellech. He looked like any other man entering his later twenties, as he should. He looked, in a word, respectable and cultured, the sort who could be trusted with valuable art and artefacts.
