Page 43 of Brave Truth

The other man stuck his hand out a second later. “Gil Oxley, architectural magic specialist. What Mags isn’t saying is that Gabe Edgarton is our more or less adopted nephew, and we’re here by way of support.”

Matty fumbled for the chair nearest him and managed to shake the offered hands entirely reflexively. He sat down before he fell down, at least. “Pardon?”

“Told you.” Oxley elbowed Torham. “Have a bit of the cider, yes?” He then added, entirely conversationally. “Mags and I have been together since he fished me out of the depths of despair in the Temple of Healing after I lost half a leg in 1884. Richard Edgarton...” He waited a second for Matty to nod that he placed the name correctly, Gabe Edgarton’s father, Lord of the land, magistrate, long-time Captain of the Guard. “Richard was Mags’ favourite apprentice. You’ve not met Gabe properly yet, but I understand that’s on the schedule for this week?”

Matty nodded hesitantly. Torham went on with a brief rumble, a burr of somewhere northern still quite pleasant in his voice. “We’ve had the pleasure of getting to know Claudio because of Gabe. Claudio and his friends. And we felt it might go a little easier for you if you knew we were about.” He lifted a finger. “Kept things entirely private while I was working. You know how it is. People would have kept their sons from apprenticing with me. Wrong-headed six ways round. I’ve never had eyes for another man since Gil and I picked up, and certainly not for youngsters in my care. More know now, but mostly just the ones who won’t have trouble with it.”

“So, not regulars here, but known.” Matty suspected there was a similar pub that at least looked the other way for the Guard. Not least because the Guard had horrible schedules, unlike the steady predictability of a Ministry clientele, and that’d make a difference to how the place ran.

“Wait, was Claudio talking about you?” He swallowed hard. “He said a week ago that five years ago was the first time he’d met men who’d been there for each other for decades. That he hadn’t known it was possible before that.” His hand twitched. “Not something I’ve much experience with, either.”

It got a broad chuckle out of Torham. “The five years make me sure that we’re who he meant, yes. Besides watching him sort through it at the time. Exquisitely politely, actually. And it only took him a couple of hours to get entirely comfortable with how to talk with us. Mind, it helps that he’s a ferocious duellist and he can keep up with Gil on charms theory. Sorted himself out much faster than the average for someone for whom it’s a new concept.” He waited a beat, then added, “Mind, you’re just as sharp, aren’t you? Good thing, too. You’ll need it to match him.”

Matty let out a huff of breath, and finally could apply himself to the food and a little of the beer. That was a compliment, yes, on both sides, but it was also one that was measured and affectionate about Claudio, both. The way people talked when they knew who and what they were talking about.

The other men didn’t rush him at all, though Oxley leaned over and murmured something about remembering to ask about a particular paper later. It had to do with mortars. Matty had read it, but a month and a half ago, and more recent events had definitely knocked the details out of his head for the moment.

When he’d had about a quarter of his food, he looked up again. “May I ask, um? What sort of support did you have in mind to offer?” It was an awkward question.

“For one thing, people who know the people you’re meeting. Sometimes a different perspective is handy. Or someone where you can ask the awkward questions about what name they like, or what’s touchy. Maybe in due course what you get as a present for Richard and Alysoun and Gabe. Who have all the things they might need, most all of what they want, but who will sweep down like magpies if you find them a book they didn’t know existed yet.” Oxley shrugged. “Don’t know what you need yet, I suspect. But we’ll help you sort it out. Between the two of us— and the Edgartons— we know a vast swath of who’s who in the upper and middling reaches of Albion society. And where their tender spots are.”

Matty tilted his head. “You weren’t Boar House, were you, sir?” That was to Oxley, not to Torham, but both men snorted in unison.

“He’s Boar. I’m Bear.” Oxley gestured with his thumb. “But we’ve rubbed off on each other a fair bit. You’re Boar, I know that. So think of some of this as being a friendly translation service from Fox to Boar. Including how to decide what you ought to be charging at and how to do it most usefully. Do you duel? That was one of the questions at hand. Mags can still hold his own in a fair way, though he’s not as quick on his feet as he used to be.”

“Very out of practice, sir,” Matty was honest. “The war, and then five years in Germany with no chance at it, and the people who might have offered weren’t the sort I’d want to duel with.”

“Sensible of you, from all I’ve heard. And that’s included both Gabe’s commentary on his work there, and several other people’s. If you’re interested in getting back in trim, glad to help come up with a training programme. If you’d rather not, that's entirely understandable. Duelling is not actually a requirement for Claudio’s fondness. Neither Hypatia nor Cammie do. Bohort, though?”

“Also out of practice, but perhaps a tad less?” Matty offered it warily. “I suspect not at their standard. I follow the apprentice league matches, though, and current strategy and all that. Claudio and I have talked about it often.” He ventured a bit more of his food, and again there was that remarkably restful quiet.

When he looked up again, the two men were leaning slightly toward each other, a visible sort of comfort that was well-worn and easy. Matty suddenly wanted that, wanted to know that was coming. Not yet, it took time to find those patterns and places. He was old and battered enough to know that. But maybe he could look forward to it. “So, what should I know to help Claudio this week? Given that he’s ...” He wasn’t sure how to put the next bit.

“About to stir up an entire wasp’s nest with his mother?” Torham snorted. “Gabe, for the record, continues to think that Silvia Warren could be, is able to be, might rise to being brilliant. If she can get her head out of her arse.” That bluntness, clearly not his usual mode, made Matty blink. “But it’ll likely be difficult for a bit. Both Orion and Gabe have made it clear Claudio can stay with them if it makes sense. And Claudio’s more than adept enough to get himself out of the house if she decides to be difficult. She’s an alchemist, and they’re not really as good on the fly without advance preparation on the order of days to weeks, compared to a duellist or a bohort player. Or especially a Penelope.”

“Which rather seems, from what I’ve heard so far, to involve both of the former and a dozen other things combined.” Matty worked his way through what he wanted to know most. First. There were a lot of things crowding into his head, but he had the skills to make an orderly list, even if he didn’t have his notebook out and handy. “I think, if you don’t mind, it would be a help to start with who I’m likely to meet this week and what their particular preferences are.” Then, more shyly. “And maybe what you know about Claudio that he wouldn’t mind you telling, but might not think to mention? We’ve not had a lot of time to talk, all things considered.”

“That’s a fine start. Let’s see. Chronologically?” Oxley asked it more or less rhetorically. When Torham nodded, he launched into a well organised summary of everyone. It started with the two of them, then Lord and Lady Edgarton, then down through the immediate family and associates. That included not only Penelope Doyle but also two of the quite senior Penelopes, now at least nominally retired, Agnes Witt and Elizabeth Mason, apparently both Gabe’s aunts by adoption.

The entire discussion took them a good hour to get through. It was long enough for Matty to get through his food and Torham to disappear long enough for refills on the drinks. It also had the remarkable effect of keeping Matty from being terribly nervous about Claudio, by sheer volume of the distractingly interesting information on offer.

Chapter 29

That evening at Auctoritas

Claudio reviewed his plans one last time. If worst came to worst, he was confident he could make it either to the portal or to his rooms without Mother’s interference. Then again, most people did not have their rooms firmly warded against family members they lived with.

Cammie had made a horrified face at him when she’d realised he considered it an ordinary sort of decision. Orion, on the other hand, had consulted on it when Claudio had moved back. Along with Isembard, of course. It would have been ridiculous not to consult one of Albion’s foremost experts, especially when he’d been eager to help.

It did, however, mean that choosing where to do this conversation was tricky. The timing had been somewhat forced upon him. He was also aware that other people did not schedule conversations with their mothers— or their fathers— with the precision of a well-run military campaign. He, however, did. Claudio needed to tell Mother three things before tomorrow night. Tonight was the only night she was free for an hour when he was. Ergo, tonight it was.

Her supper plans, at least, were with Mabyn. He’d learned that much in advance. Claudio had, in fact, dropped a word to Cyrus about his choice in timing. He trusted that the man would figure out what to say about it and at least have warning if Mother turned up in a snit. But now here it was, half-five.

He’d had just enough time to come home and wash up after the afternoon’s meeting and then worry about how this would go before Mother came home from her afternoon. Tiberius was staying for supper at his apprenticeship, and had been warned to come in the private entrance to the stairs up to his rooms, just in case.

Claudio had also taken a memory potion because he was going to want to be able to recall this perfectly for a number of people at some point in the near future. He could feel the bright sharpness, just as much as he could still taste the bite of the mint and rosemary. Though he had a query about the vervain in this batch, actually, for both Matty and Hypatia.

Now he heard the door, the soft chime, and then she came in from the hall, setting her bag down on the drawing-room sofa. “Claudio, darling. You had something specific?” As always, she was impeccably dressed, not too modish, but with an eye to the style of the season. This dress was of a deep purple silk, by which he diagnosed she had been on some bit of Council business, but not making a point of it. That would have been the more royal purple, brighter and with a bit more red to the shade.