“And yet, it’s the sort of challenge where facing up to it lets us get on to the next thing,” Farran said. “I’d rather be able to meet them to share some success in the project, shall we say? But I defer to you about what that means for the timing. Your family, you know how to judge that.”
Vega tilted her head. “The thing I am trying to understand about you is that you’re not. What’s the word I want here? Competitive. Aggressive. About that sort of thing. You don’t need to be best at it.”
“The thing about my line of work— the art history, not the magic— is that there are lots of specialists out there. I can’tknow everything. I’m not even an expert appraiser in more than a tiny sliver of it. Well. Still a journeyman, but I am assured the mastery will come in due course. To do what I’m learning to do well, I need to let other people be experts. Some of whom I want to work with, and some I don’t. But insisting I know best, when I don’t, that’s how to fail. Not listening to my intuition about that, that’s a way to fail.”
“And that was part of the problem, your first apprenticeship,” Vega said, more quietly. “You mentioned a little of it.”
“It made me feel like everything I did was wrong. And when I tried to shove away what I was feeling, everything got even worse. I felt miserable, but I also felt trapped. The trapped of some animal in a snare, deciding whether gnawing its leg off would be a reasonable choice. I didn’t tell Uncle Cadmus about it because, because he had enough troubles. My parents didn’t set up my inheritance sensibly. Most all of it was locked away until I was of age. Almost all our money that we could spare had gone to the apprentice fees. I didn’t think I had options.”
“And then, what?” Vega leaned forward, squeezing his hands. “And your parents?”
“My parents.” Farran swallowed, turning his head to look away from Vega to the portrait. “That was taken the beginning of that summer. Mama and Papa and me. Uncle Cadmus was living at Thebes, so were they. Uncle Cadmus was younger by three years. They were travelling, and Mama took ill, and something happened, and they both died.” He couldn’t quite look back. “No one really explained, maybe because there wasn’t any actual explanation. Just, they were gone. There was a funeral.”
“And you were how old?” He felt her squeeze his hand, longer this time.
“Eleven. At tutoring school. Uncle Cadmus came and told me, and brought me home for the funeral and, and.” Farran shrugged. “He was wonderful. Uncle Cadmus has always been wonderful. He didn’t really know how to be a parent, not like that? He didn’t try, and that mattered. Uncle Cadmus just figured he’d be the best uncle he could be. There was a lot of trying to sort out the money, and then I got into Schola, and Uncle Cadmus kept most of his worrying from me. But then, things started going wrong. That’s a long explanation, not really for today? It involves a different Cousin, a different line, and it’s sorted now. Vivian sorted it. But I went and asked her for help, because I knew Tony and his sister Eleanor.”
“And that turned out well.” Vega hesitated before saying the next bit. “I’m sorry I don’t get to meet your parents. I suspect I’d have liked them. But I hope I can meet your uncle sometime soon.”
“I’m sure Vivian will help make that easier. Uncle Cadmus doesn’t do terribly well with change, sometimes? Certain kinds of changes, like the occasional new resident, he’s used to those. But I like Vivian, and she cares for him, and that goes a long way. I know Uncle Cadmus just wants me to be happy, so it’ll be mostly about making it clear that you do.”
“Well.” Vega nodded. “All right.” She tugged his hand. “Look at me, can you?” It took a moment and another breath, but Farran turned to look at her. She met his eyes, deliberately, before looking at him more softly, more comfortably. “I also care about you. I suspect rather a lot, given a tiny bit more time. I gather that’s sometimes a challenge for people who’ve had a fair bit of loss.”
Farran shivered, before he could hide it or do anything else. Then he nodded. “I had a hard time with friends. Tony understood. His parents died when he was a little older, but he understands. And now I get on with the other apprenticesat Ormulu, but it took a little to figure that out.” His shoulder twitched. “The War sort of helped, horrible as that is. Lots of people losing people. They still say stupid things. The bits that smart and sting. But not as often. And they understand better when they’ve done it, even if they don’t understand why it hurt.”
“Huh.” Vega twisted to take his other hand now, bringing them both together, next to each other. “To continue listing things I like about you, I like that you understand that people do things for a range of reasons. You don’t take that personally when it’s not. While not, I assume, wanting to keep on with the hurting bits.”
“Less of the hurting, yeah.” Farran let out a slow breath. “My life is really pretty good, honestly. I don’t, I don’t dwell on the harder parts. I don’t think it’s good for me.”
“All right, then. Shall we move onto some other topic?” Vega asked. “A different sort of challenge. What we do next.”
“Yeah.” Farran paused. “Can I have a moment? Go wash my face? You should have more of a sandwich. You need food for thought.” It was mostly an excuse to give himself a little time. Vega nodded, let go of his hands, and deliberately picked up another half sandwich as Farran stood up to make his way to the loo.
Chapter 33
A LITTLE LATER
Vega let Farran take the time he needed. For one thing, that was kind, and Vega wanted to be continually kind to Farran for all the obvious reasons and the usual ones, and then some. He was someone who didn’t take kindness for granted, not from most people. It made her want to give him something different. Reliably different.
Also, she was still starving, and the sandwich was excellent. Salmon paste, with what must be hothouse cucumbers, thinly sliced. By the time Farran reappeared, his face a little red, as if he had indeed washed it, she was done with that, and considering if she wanted another half of the remaining sandwich. Instead of deciding, she looked up, then patted the sofa next to her. “Do you want half?”
“Oh. I suppose. If you’ve had enough.” The thing about asking him was that it gave a bit of a new setting for what they were doing. Enough of a change that he wouldn’t feel like he had to continue sharing the most delicate parts.
“And then we ought to talk about our next steps.” That, of course, was the other part of it. The thing about improvising wasthat moving from what had been laid out into something new, but doing it in a way that didn’t feel jarring. “Vandermeer? Have you heard anything further from Vivian?”
“There seem to be two things to try,” Farran said, pulling himself back together. “One is to find a direction for our own exploration, and hope he doesn’t turn up. Vivian sent along the potions, enough for one outing, at least. Maybe two. ‘A swallow’ is curiously imprecise as a measurement.”
Vega snorted. “Yes. And it depends so much on the bottle.” She nodded then. “Do you have ideas about that? Given that ‘wander around London’ has some logistical challenges?”
“I was wondering if you’ve had any inclinations. A draw to something, even something like a dream.” Farran asked it carefully, rather gently.
Vega was about to deny anything of the kind, but then she stopped. “Now you say it. No details.” She hesitated. “The last two nights, a sense of a space. No windows, dirt floors, nothing like a modern building. Maybe underground.”
“And we’d been thinking it might be underground. That would explain why it might be more recently disturbed.” Farran nodded. “Anything else?”
“There’s an awful lot of underground, though, isn’t there?” Vega said it, just thinking about the maps she’d seen.
“So.” Farran spoke slowly. “Vivian knows someone who could get us into some of the subway tunnels. I’m wondering if that might be some use. There are quite a few just north of the river, and a station that’s no longer in service. They use those tunnels for storage, that sort of thing.”