Page 29 of Brave Truth

“Mother will throw a fit about that, along with everything else.” Claudio said it, even as he knew he’d never ask that of her. Or want it for himself, either. Everything around his mother had sharp edges, in ways he knew how to handle under ordinary circumstances, but making a Challenge was anything but ordinary. Even given the family history. “Though— how long have we been in here? I ought to think about getting along. I might manage to get supper and get upstairs before she comes home.”

“Go, go.” Gabe craned his neck. There was, in fact, a clock on the wall nearer him. “Happy May Day. I’ll catch up with you on Tuesday or Wednesday. Write if you need an imminent rescue from your mother or any other such thing.”

Claudio snorted. “Let’s hope not.” He levered himself out of the water. That had in fact been a great help. Then he went off to dry off and dress in the small dressing room off the baths. Fifteen minutes later, he came out of the house to find Rathna and Rowena arriving. They’d clearly had a long day of it, so he didn’t linger, bar wishing them both a happy May Day and heading back to Auctoritas. There, he learned Tiberius was out at a party and that Mother was planning to go out. He brought his kit upstairs, then came back down to arrange a tray. And to look in the library for something to read when he’d made a start on the necessary reports.

He was in the library, deciding which book to bring upstairs, when his mother came in, looking a little rushed. “Claudio. Are you coming to the gathering at the Hancocks? I didn’t think you were home.”

“Only got in a few minutes ago. I’ve reports to write up, and I’ve been up since five. Not good company, I’m afraid.” The courtesies were automatic, of course, and they also gave him a little space to find his footing.

“Ah, pity. It’s likely to be a bore.“ That was not exactly encouraging him to volunteer, of course. She took a step toward the passage to her own rooms on the far side of the courtyard, then turned back. “We’ll have a Challenge sometime this summer. Landry’s retiring.”

Claudio shifted, keeping the weight on his front foot, the duellist’s pose to give him more room to move if he needed. He was rattled enough by all the other things he wasn’t going to say that what came out was, “I know.”

“You do?” His mother arched an eyebrow. “How, may I ask? I didn’t until Wednesday.”

Mother— and Father— had at least trained him in covering this kind of mistake, though more through sheer self-preservation on his part than anything deliberate on theirs. He shrugged, the sort of casual gesture needed here. “Gabe mentioned it this week. Not public then? Not that I’ve had a chance to see anyone else.”

“The Council knows, he told everyone in the meeting after discussing it with me.” She said nothing one way or another about what Orion had said, which was interesting. “I’d like to have supper with the likely candidates as they announce their intentions. It might affect our usual day.”

“Of course.” Claudio spread his hands slightly. “I hope tonight isn’t too tedious, then.” He plucked a book off the shelf more or less at random. He was at least standing by the history section. Then said, “I really do need to get upstairs. Have a good evening.”

It was more than a trifle rude of him, but retreat was definitely the best strategy at the moment, before he said other things that would be a bad idea.

Chapter 20

Monday, May 1st

Getting up in time for a dawn procession was a break in Matthew’s routine, but it was a pleasant enough one, at least. He’d turned on the lamp in the sitting room for a few minutes as he got ready. He'd found he enjoyed the play of colours as much at dawn as he did at night, though they had a different quality to them.

He put on the right sort of suit for the day. This was one that would go well enough from Trellech to London without making either his father or uncle feel uncomfortable about things. He’d thought about something more decorative, but he didn’t care for any of the sleeveless robes he’d worn when he was younger, and Mum would disapprove.

He joined up with the procession as it wound up through the streets, with Griffin Pelson, Lord of Trellech’s Justice, propelling himself along steadily in his wheelchair. Someone had mounted a massive pole with dozens of ribbons flowing off it like flags on the back. It must have taken magic to make sure the whole thing neither overbalanced nor caught on the buildings as everyone sang their way up into the Temple of Healing gardens.

It was the first time he’d been at May Day here in eleven years, and Matthew had forgotten how good it felt. He was with people he understood on a fundamental level, but at the same time, no one was pressing him to do anything in particular.

He’d already arranged a bank transfer for the more practical amount that would be some help for the various charitable goals, but he dropped coins in the donation bucket too. Feeling them slip through his fingers and the sound as they fell on top of other people’s offerings mattered in a way he didn’t have words for. It felt like it was feeding hope and the promise that the future might be better than the present.

Matthew could take a deep breath for the first time in ages. The magic was bubbling up all around him, everywhere he looked. Sometimes entirely literally. There were plenty of people with soap bubble charms, creating globes that shimmered in the all colours of the rainbow.

The music was splendid, a mix of winds and drums and just the right amount of horn. Everywhere he looked, people were happy. There were sparkles of magical fireworks and illusion work. All the dancing light, none of the risk, and none of the explosions that would alarm every veteran with combat experience.

From there, it was a matter of circulating a little, nodding at people he knew, or had gone to school with, or who knew him. Everyone like that was older, of course, the ones he hadn’t seen. Plenty of the people near his age had children who were surprisingly well-grown.

He caught a glance of Cammie Gates. No, she was Gates-Clark, now. He’d looked it up. She had a toddler balanced on her hip. She waved, but there was a crowd between them, and neither of them put in the effort to get across it. Besides, the dancing started up, and then Matthew was swept into the line.

He’d thought about doing the walk out to the Severn for the offerings to the river, or even to the Wye. But his parents expected him, and that was a long enough walk that he’d not have time. Not at procession speed, anyway. Maybe next year he’d find an excuse to go to London later. Eventually, he had to leave the Temple of Healing and turn up for his reserved slot at Portal Square through to the London portal. He picked up a bouquet on the way for Mum. Southwark wasn’t terribly busy today, of course, just people going back and forth for the holiday rather than the usual commercial traffic.

Matthew looped through the streets, now mostly used to the missing buildings and the shops that weren’t there, and worse, knowing the people who weren’t. He didn’t like that feeling, but flinching every time he turned a corner wasn’t much good either. He came along the street, lifting the gate slightly so it wouldn’t creak, then coming in through the door. “Mum, Dad? Happy May.”

His mother bustled out of the kitchen, beaming at him. “Oh, you remembered the flowers. Aren’t these just lovely? I will say you get better ones in Trellech than here. Now, which vase, I wonder.” She chattered along without Matthew needing to say anything.

He shrugged out of his coat, leaving it on the hook before following her into the kitchen. Mum dropped them into a vase, her fingers flicking to arrange them in a way she found pleasing. He’d picked them with an eye to genial conversation. That was, after all, one of the standard bouquets the flower shops in Trellech sold on this sort of day.

A minute later, Mum shooed him out into the back garden. Table set for six, which meant there was some unnamed guest coming. Mum hadn’t mentioned it, but Matthew could count, and his aunt and uncle were already there, chatting with Dad.

“Dad.” His father was looking more relaxed than some days, though still very much on his dignity. He’d been in railroad management for the last fifteen years. That was important but also made Matthew a little wary these days, though not for any reason to do with Dad. “Aunt Rose, Uncle Cliff. Good to see you,” Hearty was the right tone, he figured.

“Just on time, lad. How was Trellech?” Dad at least let him get a comment or three in, not that Matthew said anything particularly demanding. The May Day celebrations had been grand. He had a sentence about the gardens and one about the illusions.