Page 72 of Brave Truth

“Did you ever give thought to what you and Father asked of Isembard, back in 1923? To go to a place he loved, a place he had shared for five years with his friend and chosen brother? To come back to it alone, except for all of those memories of a man he’d watched die? When he was still shattered from that? Did you think about what you were asking, telling him to take on teaching me and teaching Orion, side by side?”

He could see from her face, her shoulders, her entire stance, that she had never thought of it. He’d wondered if she might have sometime between then and now. Then, a second later, he saw what he hadn’t dared to hope for. That she saw the flaw. “Oh.” Her hand came up to her mouth. “No. Not then. Not later. I told him today that I’d been judging him at his worst. But it wasn’t quite that.”

“You asked him to look into a mirror made of pain, of loss, of absence, over and over again. And whether or not you meant to, you asked him to teach a pair, because that’s what Orion and I became. Not like Isembard and Perry, but like ourselves, and with that kind of trust and closeness. He did it, and I’m glad of it every day. Every hour, most of the time. He did it with all the skill he could bring to it, but more than skill, care. He never overstepped, claiming rights he didn’t have. But he didn’t have to. Ever.” Claudio met her eyes, held them, then said, “What does knowing that change for you, now?”

She was clever. More than that, she was as deft politically as anyone he knew. “To do better.” Mother was watching him as closely. “You’re asking what I will make of you, whether I have any idea what I’m asking of you, or what you could offer that I don’t see.” She flicked her fingers toward the door. “I am missing a great deal, obviously. And you have other things to offer than Gabe or Orion.”

“I hope so. No point in us all being the same.” Some fraction of him began to hope that this might actually work. More than that, that it might stick. That she’d follow through on it, make it clear. “Do you know me well enough, or can you learn, for me to be able to be what the Council and Albion need? Or at least not get in my way?”

There was a silence, but not a long one. Mother was quick when she wanted to be. And Claudio got that from her, more than from Father. “All right.” It was mediated, moderate. “Let us begin at the beginning. What do you need in place for tomorrow’s meeting, that way?”

Claudio cleared his throat and said politely, pitching his voice to carry properly. “Lady in whose hall we stand, may we see what you showed me of the tapestry?” The air shimmered with magic, but then there was a broad frame, tall enough to hold the tapestry, between Mother’s left side and the curve of the tower. “Thank you, my Lady.” Manners first. Then Claudio gestured at it. “Second in my Challenge, I was standing in Father’s office here. This was hanging before the fireplace. Have a look. I’ll make a few more notes than I did at the time.”

She studied it, and he noticed how she went at it. A quick review, getting the sense of it, but then she went back and looked at it point by point, starting from the west and Wales. Dinas Emrys, where they were, or at least where the Keep was. He was not entirely certain if this room, right now, was in the same place. Gabe had a far better sense of the harmonics of location than Claudio did. He’d have to ask, adding it to a long list of other fascinating but not yet urgent questions. He made a note of that one, on the running list in the back of his notebook, and then turned his attention to the tapestry.

They moved around each other without bother, that much of the rhythm of the work flowed smoothly. That was promising too, in a way that Claudio found reassuring, because he didn’t think Mother was noticing it directly. He found a number of spots he’d not noted down initially, creating a long list of considerations and little symbols on the fly for the quality of the colour, brightness or dullness or visible worn threads.

He wasn’t sure how much time they took. The light didn’t change, but he couldn’t rely on that. Or, he thought, his watch. He wrapped up his notes about the time she took a step back. “The spots that need tending.” Her hand shifted. “Mabyn’s metaphors are catching. Eventually.”

The way she put it, with a faint hint of exasperation and amusement, was new to him. “Yes.” Claudio considered. “You’ve been speaking about the water from the well, yes? The last few months?”

“What do you know of that?” She parried it quickly enough.

Claudio spread his hands. “Alexander, Gabe, and Orion asked me for my analysis of it. Without telling me what it was. I had some thoughts. Gabe touched on a couple of the points earlier today. I do not have all the details of the debate so far.”

“But you think it has potency?” She took a step back, half of one, to give herself a little more space, then turned to look at the tapestry again.

“I think it’s worth exploring. There’s unevenness. What I think of that...” Claudio gestured with his hand, “Is that it’s about the land, but it’s also about the people. London, but the other places where there was some of the worst bombing. The places where the landscape changed.”

“Matthew is from London, yes?” Again, the question was quick.

“You know he is.” She’d have read the newspapers, and by now he was certain she’d had someone work up a profile on Matty besides. Also, his accent made it obvious, and they’d exchanged enough comments for that yesterday morning. “That might be a thing I’d like to talk about tomorrow.”

“Mmm.” Her mouth curled up. “So. How do you wish to do that? I give you the floor. What do you do with it?” Her tone was fascinating, as if she were honestly curious about the outcome, but not pressing for it.

“That is what I’d like. A bit of time for a beginning.” Claudio took a breath, steadying himself. “What would you like me to call you when we are in that mode?”

“Silvia.” Her answer was immediate. “When it’s Council work, at the least. I trust you to judge the proper thing. For all the arguments I’ve had with Gabe over the years, I appreciate his deftness there, and I’m confident you’ve the same scope.” That was a rather tidy compliment on both fronts, actually, and Claudio would enjoy passing it on.

“Silvia,” Claudio repeated it to reinforce it. And perhaps just a little to see if she held up when he pressed the point. She did. “The other thing I want, though not yet, is to look at the notes. The ones from the heads. In a few months, perhaps as many as six, once I’ve had a chance to get a feel for the records in the library.”

He could not have asked for this before. He’d never even have dreamed of it. But giving himself over to what was needed, surrendering to the necessary lightning and the destruction of what no longer served, something let him do what was needed.

It was not what she’d expected, but something in it wasn’t a surprise. “For what purpose?”

“The patterns.” Now, he was the one feeling for language. He had never needed to talk about this with Gabe or Isembard. They’d seen it. Orion relied on it. “The way they build in reaction to past events and personalities. I can see the ripples they make on the world, but I want— need, we need— to understand better where they come from. Which ones need attention, and which were flickers of a particular moment, not lasting.”

She was quiet for a good thirty seconds, but then she nodded. “You’ll be frustrated by the lack in some cases.” That had a definite tone of some bemusement.

“I have been told by more than one source that Father’s notes were abysmal, a lack of desire to commit to anything in text. I fully expect I’ll have to reconstruct from the public notes and various discussions with available parties.” Claudio was resigned to that work, though it would likely also be illuminating in worthwhile ways. “It will keep me busy. Out of trouble. Possibly even out of the gossip columns, once the current nonsense settles down.”

That last, or maybe the tone of his voice as he said it, determined but also refusing to be bothered, also apparently amused her. He was sure he was reading her accurately enough. It just was not an emotion he was used to seeing her show. “You seem to be handling things well so far.” Her hand turned over, palm up. “You are well informed about the gossip a little while ago, from some of our number? The specifics of who said what among your new colleagues?” She wouldn’t have said it if she thought he didn’t know. Claudio was sure of that.

“Oh, quite aware. And of how Gabe chose to handle it. I have my own thoughts on the matter. We’ll see how they deal with things tomorrow, shall we?” That ‘we’ made it clear it included her. He put a touch of emphasis on that.

“As you wish.” Mother— Silvia— took a breath. “How are you able to step into this so confidently? Beyond, obviously, information from multiple sources.”

“That certainly helps, and I’m grateful for it.” Claudio considered his words. “I have had a theory for some time. The Lady, on Sunday, said it was a good working one, so long as I did not force certain pieces to fit. I’d like to discuss it with you once I’ve settled in.” That would not surprise the people who knew, but he’d want to talk about how to have the discussion, and whether anyone else wanted or should be present for it.