His smile came back a little. “So, hospitable, then.”
“We take our hospitality, our xenia, most seriously. You know xenia, you’ll be fine. Here they come.” Two of her cousins were coming out, Zenobia and Halicarnassus. Two of the better duellists from their generation, and that was almost certainly not an accident.
Vega’s chin came up. She planted her feet, and as the two recognised her, she made a couple of gestures, indicating that she had things to say. “Halicarnassus, could you escort my guest, Farran, to one of the guest rooms, get a bath going, and ask someone to find him some clothes to change into? Zenobia, could you let Aunt Mera and whoever else she suggests know that we’ve some significant news? We’d like to presentit together to whoever she thinks should hear it initially once we’ve changed.”
Zenobia wrinkled her nose. “Rather.” She shrugged. “As you wish. Do you need me to send anything up?”
Vega shook her head. “I’ve got things in my room.” She certainly wasn’t letting anyone take the bag with the torc in it. “Farran, I’ll see you in a little, all right?” Then she continued, in the family’s private dialect. That was a jumble of Greek, Latin, Old English, and a good few dozen pointedly chosen references, and she expected Farran wouldn’t get most of it. She told Halicarnassus firmly that if he weren’t kind to Farran, she’d do something about it. He snorted, but half-bowed at her, acknowledging her point. Vega let them go off first, before veering off to the shortest route to her room. That involved turning into one of the side wings as soon as they got closer to the house.
An hour later, Vega was standing outside the observatory when Halicarnassus brought Farran to join her. Vega felt vastly better. She’d gone through three changes of bathwater before all the dust and grime was out of her hair. Now, though, she had a clean dress on, in a clear sky blue, and comfortable shoes. Someone had gone to some effort to find Farran clothing that fit well, or maybe they’d taken a charm to it. It was country clothing, of course, trousers and a tweed jacket. But the shirt was clean, the tie was the tawny brown of Owl House rather than grey, and made his eyes gleam a little more blue, perhaps.
“You look grand.” She turned to him, holding out a hand. The other had her bag at her side.
“You look decidedly better.” He’d recovered a bit, good, because he was smiling far more naturally. “Your family is very thorough. I’m not surprised, really, given how you go about things. Where are we?”
“The observatory. Not because we need the telescope right now, but because it’s one of the larger spaces with room for chairs. Also, it’s nicely imposing. Woodwork and leaded glass on the ground level and beautifully made shutters and so on.” Then someone opened the doors and gestured them inside.
Vega walked forward, and Farran matched her. She was certain he must have wanted to stare, but he didn’t. The main telescope, massive as it was, rose from the centre of the room. On this side of it, there were a dozen of the family elders: Aunt Mera and Aunt Helia at the centre of the semi-circle, Aunt Ancha and Uncle Thuban right next to Aunt Mera, and the others ranged out beside them.
“Aunts, Uncles, Cousins.” Vega made a fully formal curtsey, the sort she almost never used. She bent down low enough her back knee was a bare inch from the floor. It was perfect, of course. Her profession made her aware of her body and what it was doing, and she used that to her advantage. As she straightened, she saw Farran had bowed politely, keeping his eyes lowered, as he might over an older woman’s hand. “I am pleased to present Farran Michaels to you, as he has been a great help with the task I was asked to undertake. Farran, these are my aunts, uncles, and cousins. At the centre are Aunt Mera and Aunt Helia.”
She then worked her way through in order of seniority, keeping to the current argument about whether Aunt Melitta was senior to Aunt Iphigenia. It was a complicated matter, having to do with births some distance away from each other, the matter of time zones, and the imperfections of clocks in both locations. At the moment, however, Aunt Melitta was acknowledged as senior.
There was a silence, and then Farran spoke, his voice clear. She was certain he must be nervous. She could see hints of it. But only hints. “Kyries kai kyrioi, I am honoured to be a guestin your hall, and to have been able to lend my skills to Magistra Vega’s search.” It was polite, not only polite, but with exquisite attention to detail. He’d addressed the aunts first. He’d used the Greek. That avoided a number of tricky circumlocutions expected in English. And he’d leaned on the proper aspect of being someone she considered a guest-friend. Well, rather more than a guest-friend, but that was for later in the conversation or visit, or perhaps a future visit.
Aunt Mera inclined her head once, accepting that as her proper due, then focused on Vega. “Explain, please.”
Vega reached into her bag and pulled out the torc, still wrapped in the handkerchief. She came forward, using the same sort of step she’d have used in one of the processionals, a ritual walk, slow and stately. Her head was up, her movements so even she could have balanced a book on top of her skull without a hint of a wobble. Vega came within two feet of Aunt Mera and Aunt Helia, then placed the torc on one hand while the other unfolded the silk. Presenting it with both hands, she bowed and waited.
Aunt Helia reached out a hand, her fingers hovering over it, but decidedly not touching it. “Where?”
“Underground, in an area that showed some signs of recent rubble. Perhaps from building or tunnelling nearby. About— how far down were we?”
“Quite deep, kyria.” Farran’s voice came from behind her, but then Aunt Helia crooked a finger at him and he came closer, a hair behind Vega’s right shoulder. “We began about seventy-five feet below the surface and climbed ten feet in inclination from there. Perhaps as much as fifteen.” He hesitated for just a second. “I don’t believe we could return easily. The space sealed itself as we left. It looked as if it might have been some devotional space, perhaps a temple, though we did not get a good look at the whole.”
“And you brought it here in some hurry.” Aunt Mera did not make it a question.
“We ran into Mister Vandermeer, after.” Vega flushed. “There was a problem there. It seemed best to come here as quickly as possible and ensure the piece was somewhere with substantial protection. We’ve not handled the piece directly beyond when I picked it up.” More than anything she wanted this thing out of her hands and into better keeping. She nodded at it, and Aunt Helia’s hands came up under Vega’s. Her aunt eased the torc into her own hands, then onto her lap, like a delicately held infant. Vega added, “I set the portal location myself, and Farran kindly blocked any line of sight.”
“Indeed.” Aunt Mera considered. “Vandermeer?”
“Yes, Aunt Mera. Mister Vandermeer found us when we were about to go wash up and prepare to come here.” She swallowed hard. “I tried a charm, to deflect his attention, and it went horribly awry.”
Farran, just behind her, went still. She hadn’t explained what she’d tried, they’d not had time or privacy for it. Now, Vega braced herself. “It’s one I’ve done often, there’s no reason it should—” Her voice caught. “Well, there is a reason.”
Aunt Mera inclined her head. “The artefact.”
“It amplifies.” It was incredibly foolish for her to have done any magic with it near her. Even if it had been wrapped up in silk and whatever other protections Farran had organised. “I should make a report to the Guard.” She didn’t want to think about what it might do here, in the heart of the family’s magics.
“What happened?” Aunt Helia’s voice was even, deliberately neutral.
Vega explained what she’d done, the casting of the charm, meant just to make him go the other way or have his eyes slide over her. How instead Vandermeer had been snared up in that particular song. “It looked like he might have been strippinghis clothes off, when we left. He certainly sounded— well, not himself. There was a constable coming, and a couple of bigger men.”
Aunt Helia pursed her lips. “He’s a man with obvious money?” Vega nodded once. “They’ll stick him in a cell and get a doctor to have a look at him. Nothing too miserable will happen to him right away, I suspect. Go take a minute, if you would, write to the Guard and to Vivian. That first, while we think about the rest of it.”
Vega knew an order when she heard it. She stood, taking herself off to one of the tables in the back corner and writing a brief note. Wording it was a bit tricky, but she sent one note to the Guard explaining there had been something odd, possibly needing their attention. She could give the location and the time and Vandermeer’s name.
The note to Vivian was much more detailed, including the fact Vega thought the artefact had messed with things. She made it clear Vivian could convey what she thought relevant to whomever else might need to know. That was entirely beyond her own personal remit. Vivian could be trusted.
