Page 32 of Brave Truth

Now there was Orion, being relentless, and all of that prowling energy was on Claudio’s side. That part, at least, felt wonderful. “Telling Isembard and Thesan. I’m curious about Alexander’s predecessor. I’m sorting out time to talk to Cyrus sometime soon, probably next week. He knew her. Better than anyone else who might talk to me, I think.”

“Oh, that’s an interesting question.” Cammie was swinging one foot now. “The patterns, person to person. How long did they overlap?”

“Cyrus Challenged in 1889. Hereswith Rowan died in 1897.” The rest of them should have been able to do that math easily enough, but Claudio always had that sort of thing handy in memory. “But Gabe thought she’d done some mentoring of him, and if so, that’s more direct time than I had thought? So I’m asking.”

“Best way to get information sometimes, asking.” Hypatia was teasing now, and he managed a smile at her. “All right. So you need to think about what sort of preparation you want and specifically what sort of materia might be needed for that. My stocks are at your disposal. I’m fairly sure we can talk Ibis round about some bits if they’re not essential for teaching. Though I suppose you know what’s in good supply off the top of your head, with your current line of meetings.”

He did, at that. Mind, Claudio wasn’t sure what sort of thing would be wanted or useful. There were a whole host of things that Gabe and Orion didn’t talk about when it came to their own Challenges, but Claudio was fairly sure that materia was not going to be the deciding factor for him. On the other hand, having something good for minor injuries on hand or memory or to deal with fatigue was never actually a bad idea. That reminded him, “I am glad Gabe’s set the standard of continuing as a Penelope. I put a lot of effort into the apprenticeship. I don’t want to give it up now I’m able to do a lot more.”

His tone— as he’d hoped— got Orion laughing, and then Cammie joined in, sharp and bright. Then her voice came, just as clear. “Are those all the bits you’re thinking about? Worrying over?”

It wasn’t, of course, but he didn’t know how to put it into words. They certainly didn’t have enough time left on their own to try to sort that now. People would reappear for drinks and supper at any time.

He had another sip of his own drink, then said, carefully. “It’d shape every one of my other relationships. I’m not worried about you three or Gabe. A little nervous about Thesan and Isembard, but not really? It’ll be fine. But other people. Penelopes. A few people in the Ministry.” Cammie’s chin came up, and he was sure now she was wondering about Matthew. He couldn’t say how he knew that. What he’d said would do for now, anyway.

“True.” Cammie’s voice was gentle now. “Choices do that. But you’ve got time to talk to people and let it settle without forcing it. See what people say as you work through the conversations.” Then she added, entirely cheerfully. “Mind, I’m curious about Hereswith Rowan now. What kind of person she was. Surely she was slightly better at answering questions than Alexander is. There might be hope for you yet.”

The way she put it made Claudio laugh and spread his free hand out. “Suppose. Yeah. I guess what I need right now is to keep making sure we’ve got time to talk it through. Not too many people. Though if you feel Duncan ought to know now, Cammie, that’s fine. He keeps things close.”

“Thanks.” She acknowledged it with a brief nod, then looked up. “Speaking of the handsome devil.” Her voice was pure, bright joy again. “Duncan, drink? How many stories did Kenna get out of you, and do I need to gird myself for three rounds of what was it, dragons, tomorrow?”

“Probably. Don’t know where the wee thing got her stubborn from, do we?” Duncan didn’t sound like it was a problem at all. Claudio finally felt he could sit down, letting other conversations wash over him while the others chatted. Orion was keeping a close eye on him, but that was fine. That was what they did for each other.

Chapter 22

Tuesday, May 9th

Matthew settled into his chair at the end of the table with a little uncertainty. He and Claudio had made plans for drinks last week. But right at the end of the meeting, one of the Guard apprentices had shown up. Claudio had taken off at something like a run. It had been urgent, whatever the problem was, and so involved that he hadn’t written a note to Matthew about it until Thursday morning. The note had also been notably vague, the sort of vagueness that Matthew understood immediately likely involved something in the Courts.

Of course, he had his own contacts in the Courts, and during his break on Monday he’d wandered that direction with a plausible excuse. By that point, the gossip had been easy to get. There’d been a situation of an abusive husband, a wife locked into an attic room after an argument, and an unpleasant bit of alchemy intended to hide evidence. There were about eight charges in progress as they figured out which ones were most applicable and as they got the truth magics in play.

All of which meant that Matthew couldn’t feel upset about Claudio charging off like that. He’d been doing something both important and pressing. Resenting that would not be good for anyone. Not Matthew and not Claudio. Besides, it wasn’t like Matthew didn’t have practice dealing with people having other necessary things to be doing.

But it meant that he was feeling a tad off kilter on the ninth, and he didn’t know what to say. Making a comment about it seemed wrong. He couldn’t say something like ‘Gather your last week was someone taking inspiration from gothic novels in entirely the wrong way?’ Acknowledging that he knew more than Claudio had said also seemed wrong. In the end, he’d just nodded, and then had gone full steam ahead into the meeting.

Partway through the agenda, Matthew considered his options. They’d been going round and round about planning for the next harvest. Of course, some of that was entirely an unknown right now. That was the trick with the harvest. And it wasn’t as if they could look at the harvest records for the past decade as reliable predictors of this year. There had been too many other variables— unsettled weather, bombs, who was available to do the actual agriculture, and who was available for specialised processing. But by now, most of that had settled out.

It was the problem of ossification, again, from yet another angle. The procedures said to look at the last five years, the last ten. Further back wasn’t worth doing, apparently, even though the records were there, carefully indexed and processed.

Matthew let them circle around proposals for a bit before clearing his throat. “Couldn’t we do a long-term survey. Twenty, thirty years? The data exists. Surely there’s someone who could do the collation and mark out— with an appropriate list for guidance— where techniques have advanced and there’s improved yield or efficacy? Setting that up might take a handful of hours.” Matthew suggested it, mostly to see what people said to it.

There was some debate around the table, people going back and forth. Three of them— predictably Brown and Short from the Ministry and Tess Manfred from the Courts— refused to consider taking on any additional work. Professor Rowland had plans for the summer in France. Healer Lovel was busy, though in his case, quite reasonably. From his left, Matthew heard a slow comment, “Seems to me what we need is a graduating Schola student who isn’t starting their apprenticeship until late summer. I’m sure I could get a couple of recommendations by next week. Probably sooner.”

Professor Rowland blinked at him and then started laughing. “Will you take bets on how fast?”

“Not from you, madam.” Claudio said, with a certain amount of mock deference.

“Who is it you know now?” Manfred spared Matthew having to ask about it.

“I’ll be seeing Hypatia Sisley on Thursday, assuming no crisis. But writing her brother— that would be Ibis Ward, for those without the family trees in their heads— is easy enough. I remember he mentioned he was looking for something for someone. I just don’t know if there’s still a need. We’d have to sort a salary and space to work, but I’m guessing that could be arranged. And there’s some similar work from the Penelope side if whoever it is wants to have more hours. We just can’t commit to the supervision of someone who’s not an apprentice.”

Matthew hesitated, then decided to leap. He knew there were some options for funding, or at least there should still be. “I can see about that. I’d want to consult about the details, but being in the office for questions, well, I’m reliable about that.” It got a little laugh from the rest of the table, and someone commented that was what the Ministry was good at.

“There. Worth asking about. I’ll send around the names.” Claudio looked rather pleased. Matthew was too. If it worked out, it’d be good for whoever did the work. It would be good for them, and the data would have an ongoing benefit.

The rest of the meeting was more routine, thankfully. When everyone else packed up, Matthew tilted his head. “Drink?”

“Gods, please.” Claudio sounded like he had never wanted anything more. “Somewhere where no one’s going to have just one more question for me, do I have a minute? You don’t count. Your questions are different and relaxing.”