“How does he make you feel? Like I said, he makes me feel like I’d want more of a solid background on him before any sort of business arrangement. He has the feeling of someone who’d pass off a fake, though there’s only so many times you can do that.”
“Do people actually try often?” Vega reached for his hand again, and Farran twisted his wrist slightly to make it easier, enjoying the warmth of her fingers.
“Often enough. Sometimes they don’t know. Someone a generation or two ago replaced a stone in a family piece with an excellent replica, for example, or a painting’s been duplicated. There are some ways to check, now, if you know. Ormulu hastalisman makers and a few others on retainer. If it’s a matter that might touch on legal issues, there are things the Penelopes can do. And there are a fair number of fairly easy tricks, if you know what to look for.” He looked down at his hands. “That’s part of what I’m good at. Realising something’s a bit off, even if I can’t pin down by myself what it is or how to prove it. One of the seniors at Ormulu, he can do it by looking at something. At least in the periods he’s expert in, he just says he knows if something’s a fake or a replica, he can’t ever explain why.”
“So what— I mean. It’s a help to know something’s wrong, but what happens then?” Vega asked. She was speaking softly, as if she were working her way through a particular thought while asking.
“Then we do more investigation. Or we hire someone to. Or the person skulks off with their object and we pass a message along to the other auction houses to keep an eye out.” Farran shrugged. “We’re not the courts, but we also put our own reputation behind what goes in our sales. We’ll get it wrong sometimes, but we try to do it as rarely as possible.”
Vega nodded slowly. “And Vandermeer feels that kind of wrong. Like he’s claiming one thing, and he’s being another. Too sharply dressed, like you said. Is that just because he’s American?”
“Here’s my question. Are there Cousins in America? There must be.”
“Some. But it’s different other places.” Vega frowned. “It’s not something I’m used to explaining. Give me a minute?”
“Of course.” Farran settled himself, shifting one foot so his toes didn’t fall asleep, and thinking through what else might be relevant.
After a good two minutes, she spoke again, carefully, feeling her way through it. “Here, we have the Pact. The Fatae aren’t entirely gone, but nearly so. All the interactions are either veryprivate, on our estates, or mediated by the Council and the Pact itself. Mostly it’s just the Cousins. And most people in Albion don’t even know about us, never mind the Fatae.”
She took a breath. “But in America, it’s more complicated. There are Fatae of those places, and they never agreed to the Pact. There are Fatae from Europe who came to the Americas at various points, and settled in, not bound by the Pact. And while people in the United States and Canada make the Pact, it’s sort of a, a holdover from being a British colony. So he might well know about Cousins. Or how to identify us. Me. Or how to find a particular object of interest. Is there any sign of whether he might work for a client, something like that?”
“Nothing that was obvious. That was part of what Vivian was trying to figure out. But if he were hired by, I don’t know, some railroad magnate or whoever has the money, we wouldn’t know that, unless we got lucky. Or even someone in the magical community. It’s not like people publicise that sort of thing. We might hear it through a contact with an American museum or collector or auction house. Often we do, but it’s not the kind of thing we can just ask about. Especially the Cousin part. Or the Fatae part, whichever applies.” Farran let out a sigh. “I think that fits the observed situation. That he’s looking for something specific, that he thinks you— we— are looking for the same thing, or something close enough. And if he follows us often enough, he might get a lead.”
Vega nodded. “He makes me feel...” She glanced off at the corner of the room. “A bit like a fox or a hart must feel, being hunted. Something predatory.”
“Foxes slip through the hounds often enough, I gather. In song and story, as well as in the flesh,” Farran offered. “I like that about them, as long as they’re not going after our chickens.” That made her smile and relax a little, he could tell through her fingers. “Do you feel safe enough? If you think he’s a danger,then that’s something to take to the Guard, at least to consult. And Vivian knows who to talk to there. Several people, actually, depending on the actual problem.”
There was a long pause. Farran liked that she took her time, that she didn’t rush, not about important questions. “I don’t know. He’s not done anything obviously dangerous. He just keeps turning up when he oughtn’t to. It’s a big city, so many people and different things going on. How is he doing that?”
“There’s a chance he’s following your magical signature a bit,” Farran said. “Having heard you sing at the club, that might be enough for a thaumaturgical enchantment. I can ask Vivian if there’s a simple enough way to block it. That’s where some of the old Fatae lore comes from. Turning your coat inside out, red thread, rowan, things like that. I don’t know which ones will work here, but she will. Or she’ll know who to ask.”
“Will that cause problems?” Vega said. “I don’t want her annoyed at me. Or the Guard or anything like that.”
“As I understand it, you have a right to go wander around London and look at the sights without someone following you. It won’t stop him if he spots you in person, either. But it will mean he can do rather less popping up.” He held up his finger. “This building is thoroughly warded, and your flats are too, I’m assuming. The ordinary protections that keep the non-magical from knocking on the door do a fair bit, if I have it right. I was talking over it with Maddie and Tony a month or two ago.” There, he’d slipped in the names comfortably.
“What do they do?” Vega asked it, a little distracted.
“Tony finds specific materia for people. You know the sort of thing, the yellow eggshell of a particular bird, a plant documented to have been picked at dawn on a certain day. Maddie’s a research assistant. They were up because she was looking at a few things in museum collections, and people give her a lot of bother on her own sometimes. Their older sister…”He tilted his head. “If you met Vivian at her office, you’ve met Eleanor.”
“Oh.” Vega considered that. “So you’re familiar with— I mean.” She swallowed. “Look, I think we’ve got back to where if I don’t leave, I’ll be late for the club. Or entirely too distracted.”
“Can’t have that.” Farran said promptly, taking his cue. “We’ll find another time for the conversation. Monday evening?”
“Monday, as soon as you’re done at the office,” Vega countered. “And here, perhaps? Well. Less fuss from my landlady, certainly. I could stay later than eight, too, when she’d want you out.”
“I’ll arrange something for supper. Let me know what you’d like tomorrow, or if there are things you don’t eat. I should be getting some biscuits from Lena Monday, too, we can share those.” He liked that idea immensely, and Lena wouldn’t be baking them until tomorrow, so he could ask her to decorate a few particularly nicely. Now Farran stood, helping her put her coat on, before offering a chaste kiss on her cheek. “Monday. Let me know if you need anything before then.”
“Monday.” Vega smiled at him, and then she turned, as if she wanted to say a lot more and wasn’t letting herself yet. Farran entirely understood that feeling.
Chapter 29
MARCH 19TH AT FARRAN’S ROOMS
“Evening!” Vega tried to keep the nerves out of her voice. “I brought you something. Belated birthday present.” She held up the gift, wrapped up, but still obviously book shaped. It was half-six, arranged so that Farran would have a chance to get back to his flat after his work and do whatever he felt needed doing.
“Come in.” Farran opened the door. He was dressed much less formally than she’d seen him previously, even for their walking adventures that included the caves. Now he was in shirtsleeves, a sweater vest with a geometric design over it, and trousers, just slippers on his feet. There was a fire in the fireplace, which made the sitting room warm, and he had flowers on the table, with two chairs handy. “Your coat?”
Vega let him take it and hang it up, as she took off her hat and placed it on the hook by the door. Then she turned back to him, and he reached out and took her hand, deliberately. It made her blush, even though they’d both agreed on this, it wasn’t as if she were surprising him. Not like she had last time. “Where do we— I mean?”
