Page 17 of Brave Truth

Talking to Matthew felt comfortable now. A bit like talking to Hypatia and Cammie had been when he’d been getting to know them. Claudio wasn’t saying anything terribly private, but he’d seen Matthew in a bad spot, and evening that out a little felt good, somehow. Now Matthew nodded. “And eventually you said yes?”

“Mm-hmm. Right after VE Day, Gabe and a number of the other Penelopes were going into Germany in small groups. Not to fix things, but to figure out exactly how bad some of the magical bits were, what needed dealing with first. We did that until November. Gabe took me on as an apprentice before we left, and I’ve never regretted a minute of it.” Some people— Mother among them— had thought it was debasing himself to apprentice a second time as a grown man.

He glanced down at his wrists. “Well, sometimes the mud is a bit much, or I hate missing supper with someone I wanted to see. But the work? Never. I know it matters, and I’m good at it in a way that never gets boring.” That came out more like bragging than Claudio wanted.

Matthew hesitated, then said softly, “I’m glad you had that.” Then, a little more loudly. “You must be very busy. But you weren’t Tuesday?”

“No. We get time off, and we try to divide up the load. Though we’ve all got our own specialities. Supper with Orion and his wife and another friend and her husband tonight. Then I’m probably on my own Friday and Saturday, supper with Mother on Sunday.” He shrugged. “Sometimes time with other people, but it depends, you know how that goes. Or, um, are you still sorting out what you’re doing with your time, now you’re settled in here a bit?”

“A bit,” Matthew cleared his throat. “Maybe another drink sometime? When I’m a little more conversational. If you’re free?”

Claudio nodded. “Sure. You know where I’ll be on Tuesdays, at least. And if I’m not called out, I’d be glad to.” That more or less brought them back to Matthew’s office. Claudio glanced down at his watch. “I ought to get back. I’ve a meeting at four, and it’ll go better if I look at my notes first. See you Tuesday, then?”

“Tuesday,” Matthew seemed about to say something else, then someone came out of the door. He ended up just nodding. “Tuesday.” Then he turned and went back inside. Claudio waited for a moment, then turned around and took the fastest path back toward the Guard Hall and the Penelope offices tucked into the back of that complex.

Chapter 12

Later that afternoon

Matthew took his time finishing up for the day. He’d been startled when Warren— Claudio— had come by. People did not, in his experience, ask if he wanted to take a quick break. Never mind asking if he was all right. The thing was, on the surface, the explanation made sense. Matthew had been in a bad way. Claudio had seen it.

Matthew had thought at the time that Claudio had the kind of leadership that meant he noticed a problem and did something about it. Checking in after was actually part of that, in the decent sort of officers and the ones who had a minute to spare.

But he wasn’t at all sure what any of it meant. Claudio was a scion of Fox House, of the most extreme heights of Albion society. His family didn’t hold the land magic, but for all of that, they arguably had more power and influence. Anyone who could read the Gold Book that laid out the families or the newspapers could figure that out. And if Claudio had checked on what was public about Matthew, well, Matthew had checked about Claudio.

He found himself mulling over what he knew and what was gossip. Some of it he’d known, he must have, when he was younger. Claudio was the only child of Hesperidon Warren, who’d served as the Head of Albion’s Council for thirty something years. Now, his mother was Head, with Magister Smythe-Clive in between. That was a relatively recent change, in 1946.

She’d been Hesperidon Warren’s third wife, and the Gold Book made it clear the first two had been set aside due to a lack of children. Claudio had no siblings. His mother’s brother held one of the demesne estates now. There were a couple of cousins, but Matthew wasn’t sure if they were close.

Claudio hadn’t mentioned them either. Though, of course, it wasn’t necessarily true that people saw their cousins all that often, even in Albion. Matthew certainly didn’t. And with two exceptions, he didn’t much want to change that, either.

But Claudio had talked about friends. And he’d mentioned Professor Isembard Fortier and Professor Thesan Wain with obvious warmth, along with Gabriel Edgarton. Matthew could more or less understand their former teachers, but Edgarton was also baffling, also on the Council, and also a Penelope. Matthew was not sure how to make any sense of that. He was certain he didn’t have the proper context.

Though there was the idea of another drink. Claudio had even suggested it. Maybe that would make things more clear. Maybe it’d just be a drink with someone who had an interesting professional life and obviously enjoyed talking about at least some of it. He hadn’t seemed put off by Matthew being quieter.

Matthew couldn’t deny that he wanted more of that company. He didn’t even know what percentage of it might be a schoolboy crush and what might be the kindness on Tuesday. Or the fact that Claudio Warren was, in fact, showing every sign of being a decent, interesting man.

Matthew pulled on his coat, nodding at a few people as he walked out of the building. Instead of angling for Urania’s Apples, however, he found himself retracing the way they’d gone to the bakery. Not for the bakery, of course. They were long since closed. Matthew found himself standing in front of the shop window that Claudio had noticed.

It was still open, actually— the sign said it was open until half six. The green paint on the window and door seemed welcoming, too, a blueish green. The hours were a little unusual, but he supposed that if they wanted to sell to people with office jobs, being open outside of those hours made some sense. And they apparently opened later in the day, not until noon. Aelfdane’s Art and Antiques, the name seemed clear enough. The initial A of each word was picked out in an ornate style with twists and curls. A little touch of unnecessary but welcome beauty.

The lamp in the window was still there, a glimmering combination of coloured glass. The Schola house colours, actually, in more or less equal portions, all jewel tones, though the turquoise of Seal House was on the darker side. He rather liked the deep red for Boar, not the brighter, sharp red some people used. The range of shades made him think of Claudio’s cuffs, how the scattering of droplets of a rainbow of shades had somehow been appealing. Like a field of wildflowers, something so undeniably alive and present that it couldn’t be ignored.

Matthew had not felt like that in a long time. He looked at the sign one more time, put his hand on the door, and went in. A bell rang over his head, but there was no one immediately visible at the counter. The inside was an absolute kaleidoscope; so many things to look at that Matthew felt overwhelmed.

The light was clear. It was the best quality charmlight, with the golden glow that made many things look good. Over there was a sofa, an ornate Victorian thing, but now recovered in plush blue velvet. A chair in the corner had a closer weave on the fabric, but was of a wheat-gold. Paintings hung on the walls, of a dozen different periods, though avoiding all of the rather tedious subjects like lonely horses and lap dogs.

There were landscapes, picturesque ruins, and a series of more modern ones where the figures were gestures rather than detailed. A tall bookshelf on the far wall had a selection of books, and other lamps with coloured shades were scattered around.

Some were leather. He couldn’t do that. It was one of the images that had stuck with him out of the endless records. No. But he saw a couple of other glass ones, patterned with flowers or dragonflies or a bird of some sort. As Matthew looked around, a figure came out of the back hallway, looking inquisitively at the door. “Good evening. Have a look around, of course. If there’s anything you’re particularly looking for, do let me know.”

Matthew glanced from one side to the other, considering whether he could retreat. It seemed rude, though. And now he was here. He was curious, if entirely drowning in choice. “I, um.” He cleared his throat. “This is your shop?”

“I have that pleasure.” The other man’s voice was deeply cheerful. “I’m Aelfdane. Is there a specific kind of item you’re seeking? A gift for someone, perhaps, or something for home? A bit of art?”

“I, I.” Matthew stammered this time. “Pardon.” He tried again. “I was abroad until a couple of months ago. I have a flat, but it’s— it’s rather beige. Or white. Sometimes grey. A bit is brick.” Well, that certainly sounded awful. And entirely like he had no idea how to have a conversation of any sort and shouldn’t be let out on his own.

“Ah, that would be a problem.” Aelfdane came further forward, to lean on the counter near the door. Now he was closer, Matthew could see he was drenched in colour. He was maybe in his later forties, but it was hard to be certain.