Farran shrugged slightly. They’d agreed on terms, of course, at the beginning. But he didn’t entirely want money getting in the way. “We can discuss later. It’s not much, and I kept an account. And see, the line’s got longer, no need to wait in it.” The line was indeed longer, partly because of some rather larger family group, or perhaps multiple families. Children kept spilling out of line like the tentacles of some giant ocean creature, then getting pulled back.
Vega glanced over, winced, and said, “Well, all right. Where are we going first? Do you have an idea?”
“I also have a guidebook,” Farran said cheerfully. “Last year’s, but there’s not been a new one yet, I think. This was inone of the bookstores, the used shelves, when I went by this week.”
“Do you also like a bookstore, then? I enjoy browsing, when I’ve an hour to spare. Or more than an hour, depending on the size of the shop.” That topic occupied them for a good few minutes, until they had crossed over to wander by the Traitor’s Gate, from the inside of the walls. There, in a patch of quiet, with no one too near them, Vega paused to stare at the gate and ask, “What is our plan today?”
“Wander the Tower, admire the architecture, talk about the history, see the jewels, and see if a certain person appears. If we want to see the chapel, we should request a tour from the warder on duty before 2pm,” Farran said promptly. He knew that part of it, at least. Then he cleared his throat. “And maybe tea, after? Somewhere quieter?”
“I’d like that.” Vega said it immediately, then she looked away. Conveniently, there was rather a lot to look at, Farran thought. Most of it was stone walls, of course, but exceedingly historical stone walls. “Did your friends get home safely?”
“Yes, thank you. And they very much enjoyed the club. Maddie, especially.” She’d enthused about it in the cab back to their hotel, in fact.
“Oh.” Vega considered, now with space before she spoke. “You looked happy dancing with her.”
Farran had been about to step back onto the path, and he turned. “Did you think?” He cut off, then tried again. “It’s not like that, with her. Probably not a topic for right here, but it’s— it’s not like that.”
“You said you’d known her brother for ages. Since school.” Vega then closed her mouth. “Not for here, no.” Farran nodded, because of course any details of Schola might get into topics that shouldn’t be overheard by the non-magical. “All right. Which of these towers do we look at first?”
“We’ve a ticket for the jewel room in…” Farran paused to peer at his watch. “An hour. Do you prefer ghosts, chapels, arms and armour, or the White Tower?”
“I’d be interested in seeing the oldest to the newer, if that made sense?” Vega shrugged. “If it’s a bother, though.”
“No, no, that’s probably a sensible way to do it. With an intermission for the jewels.” He took a moment to open the guidebook to the proper page. “The White Tower is the oldest part, built by William the Conqueror in 1078.” He went along talking about the inner ward, pointing out the various towers as they walked through.
“Wasn’t there a Lion Tower?” Vega asked, sounding more relaxed.
“With lions,” Farran said. “That was more or less where the ticket booth is. A menagerie, though. I read a book— I don’t have it in London— that talked about the menagerie. Lions, gifts from some foreign king. And a polar bear. They used to take it down to fish in the Thames on a rope.”
Vega stopped walking. “I don’t think that would have done anyone much good, do you? If the bear had other ideas.”
“Probably not,” Farran agreed. “There was, oh. An elephant. There are drawings of it, I’ve seen a print. There were superstitions, of course. They’d name one of the lions after the king. The lore was that if the lion died, the king would follow. There’s raven lore, of course.”
“That one, I’ve heard,” Vega said. “Do you think there’s truth in it? That if the ravens leave the tower, England will fall?”
Farran walked on for a few steps, because putting what he thought into words was delicate. “I think that people have believed that one for a long time, and that gives a thing strength. Also, it’s certainly harder for ravens to leave if they have their wings clipped. I’m a bit more curious about some of theassociations with Bran, whether his head is buried nearby, all of that.”
Vega stopped again, tilting her head and looking at him. “You think the time passing matters that much?” Then she shook her head and smiled. “Later topic. What’s over here?”
“That was, let’s see. Mint Street, for a long time. Imagine all the coins that anyone used, being minted all in one place. It’s not a big bit of land, considering. Though it’s also interesting that way. Technically, part of it is in London, and part in Middlesex.” Farran made a note to figure out more about that what meant for the demesne estates, especially since the Pact. It was an interesting problem of magical identity.
“Is there art around somewhere? I mean, art that you’d know about?” Vega asked it suddenly.
“Not much on display, other than the armoury and the jewels. Here. The White Tower?” There were more people around, so as they went in, Farran focused on talking a little about the architecture. It was not remotely his speciality, but of course knowing about the buildings where art was mattered sometimes.
Besides, he had always rather been interested in the buildings themselves, what it meant about the people who made them or lived in them or fought against them. He had Thebes to thank for that, really. And Schola’s keep itself. Here, the guidebook had been usefully informative. “Did you know that it’s not actually a square? Each wall is a different length, and three of the four corners aren’t right angles. But you can’t tell by just looking.”
“Huh.” Vega peered at the White Tower suspiciously. “I don’t suppose we know why?” That was not something Farran had found, and he admitted he wasn’t sure.
They took their turns walking around and admiring the vaulting where there was vaulting, and the somewhat austerechapel. “It feels...” Vega pursed her lips. “Has it been a chapel the whole time?”
That made Farran muffle a laugh until they got back into the main area of the tower. “No, actually. It wasn’t complete when William died, and then they built other spaces. It was storage for records for quite a long time, apparently. A different kind of temple, at least I like to think so, to storing the history of the place. Now, though, I believe it’s a chapel in regular use again. I rather liked it. There’s something about the plain stone. But if you want to compare, there’s St Peter ad Vincula.”
Vega turned and peered at him. “Is there something odd about that one too? Like you showed me before?”
“Also a royal peculiar. But it was built for the people who lived and worked here, not as a royal chapel? Originally twelve hundreds, I think. I’ll look at the guide when we get outside.”
When they got outside, however, they both were turning to move toward the church at the northwest of the inner ward, when Vega elbowed Farran. Diagonally across the parade ground, up near the far end of the Waterloo barracks, she nodded with her chin, and Farran saw a recognisable figure.
