Page 63 of Brave Truth

Isembard watched— Matty could see out of the corner of his eye— and then turned toward Thesan. She whispered something, and Isembard said, loud enough for their little circle to hear, “There is a man who knows himself and is comfortable with who he is. I’m tremendously proud of him. Told him so before we came through the portal.” Then he added, just as firmly, “Thank you, Matty.”

Matty flushed, ducked his chin, and kept watching. Fortunately, everyone else was focused on the front of the room now. Claudio greeted his mother formally, a slight kiss over the top of her hand when she presented it. That contrasted thoroughly with the fierce hug Orion gave him, and the slightly less aggressive one he got from Gabe a moment later. At about that point, Matty saw Alexander slip out of a side hallway and come across to join them. He was obviously the person meant for the last open chair in their set.

As the Challengers greeted each other, there were the usual little gestures of people feeling each other out. Claudio and Boethius Watts seemed quite amiable— that was forearm clasps, manly but friendly. He exchanged handshakes with the others.

As Matty finally sat down, Alexander said, apparently for the information of at least one or two other people, “Prosper Harelton over there. And that is Ellen Hazel, and that is Roger Helms.” Schola, Dunwich, and apprenticeship, by background. Ellen apparently did things with logistics, which Matty obviously respected. Roger did something in the grocery business, the sort of work that meant managing multiple stores and chains of produce.

The others were all wearing less ordinary clothes. Boethius and Prosper were both in variations of duelling outfits, showy and flashy. Boethius wore black and silver, and Prosper had on shades of red and gold. Ellen had on a cloak, despite it being August, and Roger had on a tweed suit where the fit suggested he didn’t wear it that often. The five of them waited until the Council Members had themselves in proper order.

Matty cleared his throat and asked, “Tiberius, if there’s a moment, Claudio mentioned that you’d helped with an idea for the talisman he has?”

The young man blinked, as if startled to be addressed, and then relaxed a little. Rathna leaned over to say something quietly, and then Tiberius began to lay out the basics. He’d had the idea of something to be a container for what his father wanted to do. The end result had been a piece of amethyst. It wasn’t faceted or set the way most talismans were, meant to be worn as a pendant or ring. Instead, it was something for the pocket, a rounded indentation for the finger. That conversation took up the couple of minutes needed before the formal beginning.

Silvia Warren spoke clearly as things got started, her words projected with a charm so they were easy to hear with no apparent strain in her voice. She explained they would draw lots for the order, then they would go upstairs, and what would be would be. There were refreshments in the hall, plenty of space if someone needed a moment alone. They expected things would take at least an hour, more likely several, possibly more than that. By preference, everyone would wait until a successful Challenger emerged, but if it took a longer time than expected, they might adjust that. There would be announcements as needed.

On the one hand, it seemed entirely ordinary, like any gathering with a specific goal. But of course, this was anything but ordinary. Now, though, the only way to find out what happened was to wait.

The five Challengers drew lots— Claudio was third— and within five minutes, they had disappeared through the double doors at the front of the great hall. Matty watched them go, Claudio still moving with that easy sway. Then he folded his hands, took a breath, and did his best to keep track of what other people were saying.

Chapter 41

That evening at Dinas Emrys

It was the first time in his life Claudio had been up these stairs, and he was paying attention to every facet of it. The way the light fell, the sound of feet on the steps, the feel of the stone as his hand brushed it. The entire place was full of magic, little of it active, but waiting. It was like a lake. Though not, interestingly enough, like the water from the pool underneath. That was in a different but complementary key, if he were putting it in musical terms.

He could feel a lot more than he’d expected. Last night with Matty had done everything he’d hoped for, and then some. Whatever old habits he’d had had cracked away, like a snake shedding its skin. He felt like all his magic was right at his fingertips, that anything was possible. The way Matty had put it, that essential optimism that had never quite been crushed or dimmed.

The whole thing was quite businesslike. They climbed up the tower to the last row of stairs, with the Council Members who were sponsoring Challengers lining up beside them. There was enough room for that, at least, from the last landing up to the door, a neutral wooden brown. Mother was at the head, of course, and she turned to them. “Someone will be waiting here, in case you need any assistance when you come out. Good fortune to you all.”

She stepped to one side, and Ellen, the first by lot, went up with Maisie. It had made sense Maisie was sponsoring her, as the Council Member also from Dunwich, the first in far too long. Ellen disappeared into the door, which turned a darker brown as Claudio watched. He blinked at it, glancing sideways at Gabe, and got the brief twitch of Gabe’s mouth that meant Claudio had indeed seen a thing.

Three minutes later, Mother gestured for Prosper to come up. He went with a bit of a swagger, or maybe it was an eagerness. Claudio didn’t dislike him. That was the wrong word for it. But he found Prosper entirely unpredictable, in ways that now took Claudio a lot of energy and attention to manage. That was the downside of being a Penelope: being constantly aware of what might suddenly change state without warning.

The door shifted in colour to a bright yellow. Salmon yellow, that one made sense, at least. Laodamia was sponsoring him— there was a family connection, via Prosper’s mother— but she looked relieved to have delivered him correctly without mishap.

“Good luck.” The comment came from behind Claudio, but gentle enough he didn’t startle. Boethius knew better.

“And to you.” Claudio turned around, nodding amiably and offering his hand for another firm grip, forearm to forearm. He wished Boethius well. It wasn’t anyone’s fault that Boethius was unlikely to succeed. At least if Claudio were right about what would happen on the other side of the door. He nodded at Nonus Powell, as if he’d never heard about any of the gossip Nonus had been participating in. He ought to say something else, he knew that, but he was entirely aware of exactly how many people were listening to him, with ears and with magic.

Fortunately, no one tried to press for conversation, and after three minutes, Mother motioned to Gabe, who let Claudio go up first. At the top of the steps, Claudio glanced back. Mother looked entirely neutral, and Gabe was smiling. The only thing Gabe said was, “Enjoy.” Just the one word, the little smile that made it clear it would be an active and dynamically changing enjoyment. Claudio nodded, made a slight bow towards his mother, and then turned.

The door turned not a Fox purple, as he might have expected, but a rich, vibrant green, the living plant world in all its potency. He heard some shift of movement behind him and ignored it, opening the door. There was another noise, one he couldn’t interpret. He thought that was Mother from the pitch, as if she’d seen something she hadn’t remotely dreamed. But then he was inside, and everything was different. Not what he’d expected, certainly.

The room was like dozens of rooms he’d been in over the years, any of the many game rooms. Wood panelling lined the walls, darkened with age and layers of smoke. Once the door closed behind him, there was no visible exit. There was a round table, cards ready to be dealt out, and five seats, all lined in oxblood leather. As Claudio drifted closer to the table, shadowy forms took shape at four of the chairs, and a voice came from somewhere at the table. “We’ll deal you in.” That wasn’t a question. “Five-Card Draw.”

Poker, then. Not his favourite variation, nor the preferred one in his social circles in Albion. His usual game with Boethius and Orion played an Albion variant known as Magog. But he’d played Five-Card Draw plenty of times at Camp 020 and at various encounters with American soldiers. “Of course.” At least it would give him a chance to get a measure of what was going on. He pulled out the empty chair, then asked. “The stakes?” He had not, actually, packed his wallet for this outing. He had not expected to need it.

The shadow to his left pushed a small pile of polished stones toward him. He could see the other piles now, each a different colour of quartz. He had amethyst; there was rose quartz and citrine, smoky and tiger’s eye. Each had been shaped into small domes, flat on the bottom, curved on the top. Claudio slipped his hand into his pocket to touch the larger, rounded shape of the talisman there. Then there were cards dealt out, and the game began.

The first round or two, he was getting a sense of the play. These men— could include women, actually— played well. Intelligently. They made their bets in keeping with their hands, not foolishly but taking a slight risk here or there. Claudio held his own, and at the end of the round, he’d lost one of his tokens, but only the one.

It escalated, of course. Claudio kept playing to match the rest of them, but as they played more, he got a better sense of when he could best take a risk. He won a round, then a second, though not by much. Enough to take back a fair number of his own tokens, but not all. Then the play got faster and furious, moving like lightning around the table, as much a challenge that way as a duel.

He lost a few more of his smooth amethysts, and he wasn’t sure what that meant, in the larger schema of the world. Claudio let himself flow with it, that peculiar state where everything mattered and he wasn’t holding onto any of it, just trusting his trained instinct. He played to match the others at the table, not to the limits of his skills.

“Fold.” The last hand went down with a smack on the table, and Claudio was startled to discover that he’d won the pot. The betting had gone on and on, and he’d won back all his tokens, though not all on the table. He nodded slightly, then stood.

“Thanks for the game. That way?” He nodded once at the door— had there been a door there before?— and when none of them offered more than a nod, he pushed back from the table. He took one of the amethysts with him, but just the one, leaving the rest on the table, along with the rest of his winnings.