by Celia Lake
“You said that they’d invited you to the temple.” Roland hadn’t been sure how to bring this up, but the bath itself had convinced him it was time. “I can do without you for a bit now. Especially if Mother whisks me away, as she will. Though I hope I won’t have to do without you for long.”
Elen swallowed. “I’d thought.” She stopped and tried again. “If you go to your home, your parents, I mean. You wouldn’t need me.”
“I wouldn’t need you, but I would still want you.” Roland was very sure of this. He glanced around, and ventured to take her hand, down on the seat, where people couldn’t see it.
She was quiet for a worryingly long time. While she was thinking, Roland focused on her, but he couldn’t help noticing that there were people moving back and forth in the garden, some of them in Guard uniform. They were out of pace with the rhythm of the place. Nurses hurried, but the patients usually moved slowly, and healers took the time they thought they needed. When she spoke again, though, he immediately thought of nothing else but what she wanted to say.
“Would you make me stop being a nurse? We talked about it, before, but your parents, surely they wouldn’t want me working.”
“Mother works. Father does too. But while Mother took something of a leave of absence when she was pregnant, from active work, she points out that this is why there are nannies, or governesses. Not that she doesn’t love me, but she does important work. And it’s meant Nanny’s had a safe and comfortable place to live, and that’s not a small thing either.”
Elen clearly hadn’t thought about it from that point of view. “Sharing what you have, then?”
“She likes being a nanny and taking care of people. You’ll like her, I’m quite sure, and she’ll approve of you. Mother likes - and is exceedingly good at - being a terrifying force of nature. The world probably needs both.”
As he’d hoped, it made Elen laugh, and squeeze his hand. “All right. I don’t know what they’ll want to do, where to assign me.”
“Not overseas.” He was pretty sure of that. “But possibly not here.”
“What about you? They could send you over.”
Roland shook his head. “I’ll have to figure it out, but I don’t think I’m fit. My magic is recovering, but I think I’ll always wonder when it might fail me. I’m pretty sure Father can help me find something where I can use my skills, but something more like recommending magical training. I might try teaching some of that, actually, if that’s an option. I think I’d like that.”
“Sending young men off to...” She stopped. “I mean, we both know what’s over there. How bad it is. How much worse it could get.”
Roland swallowed. “We do.” He squeezed her hand again. “And I don’t know how to solve that. But I imagine Father has some of the same thoughts. On the other hand, what if what I could teach could keep some of them alive?”
“There is that.” Elen’s voice faded out, and they sat in silence for a good minute or two before she said, “Something’s going on. You see, don’t you?”
“I do. The last few minutes.”
“Do we go and indulge our curiosity, do you think? Or would anyone tell us?”
“This is where being in your room all the time has not been terribly helpful. If you want me to have a gossip network, I have to talk to other people more often.” Elen was looking around, though, as if to see if there was someone she recognised. Then she pointed. “That’s Sister Almeda, being escorted by that Guard.”
“Not under arrest.” Roland spotted that at once. “Her hands are free, she’s walking beside him, I don’t think there’s a charm, either. But helping in an investigation, perhaps?” Then he frowned. “That nurse behind her?”
Elen said immediately. “That’s Sister Pomona. And my, she looks vindicated, doesn’t she?”
It was then that he spotted two figures, coming across the long walkway that ran perpendicular to where the Temple looked out on the gardens. “Ah. We’re about to get some answers. See there?”
His father was in mufti, the deep grey robes he favoured when not in uniform, with a flash of royal purple at the handkerchief and waistcoat. His military posture drew the eye despite that. Or it would, except that Roland’s mother was wearing a deep emerald green dress. It was nominally sedate, but none of her clothing managed that for long. The dress had a long skirt, that was billowing as they walked. The two were making a beeline directly for their bench.
“Mother promised not to use a location charm on me after I turned thirteen.”
His tone - admittedly a bit plaintive - made Elen snort with amusement. “She has some cause. Are we making them come to us?”
“I am still an invalid, ta.” Roland grinned. “Besides, this is by far the best bench in the place. Private, shaded, and quite properly the place for a conversation.”
Elen smiled a little, and shifted to settle herself a bit better. The facing bench was free, at least, and there was no one near them, either.
When his parents got within easy distance, Roland stood. “Mother, Father. Would you prefer the bench, or somewhere else?”
“Darling, as if we’d make you move.” His mother swooped in, kissed him on both cheeks, beamed at Elen, and said, “Elen, dear, so good to see you again. We have a great deal of news, as you may have noticed by the hive being kicked over.”
Roland’s father nodded smartly at him, and said “Good to see you about. Elen, good afternoon.” They both settled on the facing bench, and his mother rustled her skirts into place.
“The Guard are so helpfully bringing in everyone to have a chat about recent events, and the implications. Under proper questioning so there will be no wriggling out of it. That is what took us a couple of days to arrange, suitable evidence. Mind, Healer Rhoe was most helpful. You didn’t mention her brother had been at your ordeal, Elen, dear. He’s a member of the Council, and that made things vastly simpler.”
Elen blinked. “I didn’t know.” Her voice was a little shaky. “She didn’t say. Actually, I don’t think she said anything other than his first name.”
“Rhoe is apparently her chosen name, something particular about her healer oath, no one explained it, so, no, I suppose that wouldn’t help. And she is married, and that always confuses things unless you’ve memorised the Golden Book backwards and forwards.”
Roland’s father leaned forward, to add sotto voce to Elen. “Which she has, don’t let her suggest otherwise.” Roland was delighted by that, how they were so comfortably including her in the interplay.
“So here we are, I said we’d come find you, I could be vastly more efficient about it than anyone else, blood of my blood.”
“I thought we’d agreed you’d not use a finding charm again.” Roland squeezed Elen’s hand, for reassurance, but he had to admit that bantering with his mother was deeply reassuring in a way he hadn’t wanted to admit he needed. She had never been the most maternally inclined person in his life. Nanny beat her by spades with both hands behind her back. But Roland had always been utterly confident his mother was entirely on his side except for those few months of horrible silence.
“I restrained myself until just now. Granted, that’s because you were rather out of my quite excellent range until I got back in the country.”
“You admitted an imperfection! What’s the current score, Father?”
His father snorted. “Seventy-seven you, three thousand, two hundred and three to my lovely wife.” He then cleared his throat. “You will both need to come and give your statements, but we have a few minutes, they wanted everyone else under control.”
“Do you know what’s up?” Roland leaned forward, now very much hoping there would be answers.
It was his mother who answered. “Embezzlement, absolutely, and the sort that will have him up in the Justice Courts promptly.”
“Cole?” Roland wasn’t exactly surprised.
Melusina shook her head. “Not Cole, as it turns out. Or at least, not Ozymandius Cole. It turns out he’s
a man named Oscar Cole, a failed businessman born here, living in Africa. The real healer took ill on his way back to Albion, and this Oscar took his place. And then thought he saw a good thing going. Not much work, lots of money, if he did things right.”
She waved a hand, her tone shifting to somethign that wasn’t approval, but that had some appreciation of the bravado required for the scheme. “He knew enough about the potions trade to know what was cheap to make and what wasn’t, and he listened to what the junior healers suggested for options. You, darling, and a dozen others. All from well-off families, he was very careful in his choices.”
Roland let out a low whistle. “And you figured that out this fast?”
“Some of it will take longer, to go before the courts. But the Archiater did finally insist on a small private ordeal this morning, and the man thoroughly choked on the cup he was given. Once he could talk again, he was forthcoming enough, though we’ll need to see it’s all documented. And figure out how he suborned Sister Almeda and several others.” She waved a hand. “That may need a titch of restructuring the pensions for nurses. I gather she was trying to put a bit aside for her old age.”
Roland glanced at Elen, who was speechless, blinking at his mother. He squeezed her hand, reassuringly. “Is the real Cole all right? Or I suppose there’s been no time to find out.”
His father nodded. “We’ve messages going through the portals to find out, but it will be a week or two at least. They’ll want you for the trial, both of you.”
He cleared his throat. “That leads to the other necessary conversation, for when this is all dealt with. You had said, Elen, that you thought that might be a reasonable point in Roland’s recovery. Does it seem likely he could come back to one of our homes - we thought Wryford, Roland, but if you have another preference, we can fit that up.”
Roland said, carefully. “We were just working around to talking through some of that, when you came over. Elen is quite clear she would like to continue her nursing work, but we’re not sure yet what the options are. And I’d like to talk to you, Father, about my own options. I would prefer, and I think it might also be necessary, to find me a posting here in Albion.”
His father met his eyes, then nodded once. “I will give it some thought, and see what might be a good solution. You were quite persuasive at the meeting, about what would be practical, and what wouldn’t be. If you were up for more of that, I haven’t seen someone speak to it as clearly.”
Roland said, “Mostly, I thought of what Mother would say, toned it down, and left out most of the academic footnotes. Knowing your own line as well as I do, sir.”
“As I say, I haven’t heard someone speak to it quite as clearly.” His father was laughing now, teasing his mother, who looked deeply amused.
She let them have their fun before cutting in. “Elen, I hope at the very least you might come and visit us to get Roland settled in properly. Wryford is our largest country home in terms of land, plenty of excellent walks, a river. If you ride, we have - well, these days, a somewhat diminished stable - but a few good horses too old for the War effort.”
Roland held his breath, not wanting to shatter whatever Elen might say. She squeezed his hand again, taking a breath, letting it out, before she answered. “If my assignments permit, I would very much like that, Melusina. I’m afraid my wardrobe might not be up to anything complicated, though.”
“We’re quite used to the demands of uniform about the place, but I’m sure we can also see about making sure you have something comfortable, too.” Melusina eyed her thoughtfully. “I have a few old frocks that might suit you quite well, actually. Especially as we’re getting into summer. You’ll like the gardens, I’m certain. And whatever you need for your devotions, we’d be glad to provide.”
Something about the offer for her devotions shifted things, Roland could feel it before he saw it, a rush of something like that flickering light from the baths.
His mother cheerfully waved her hand and carried blithely on. “I’ll be in and out, and Arthur, though we’ll see about a few amusements. The portals make that convenient, at least. Such a relief after a long day of convincing other people not to be idiots to be able to go home and see people one actually likes.”
“Oh. That. Thank you.” She let out a breath. “That makes a difference, I’m sure you realise.”
“You are not terribly subtle, dear, but you are charmingly earnest. Don’t change that, please, on our account.” That was praise from his mother, actually. She liked people to be thoroughly who they were, she found it much more intriguing than the various masks so many people preferred. “That is settled, then. Let us know when you can get free, we’ll make sure you can get to us easily.”
Elen looked a little overwhelmed, and Roland cleared his throat. “So, we have a plan, for now? Where should we go, to make our report?”
“They should be just about ready. Do you need anything from your room, or your bag, Elen?”
Elen stood up, and bobbed. “Let me run and fetch my knitting. It’s very soothing.”
As she walked away, his mother watched her. “I wasn’t sure what to think when your father explained the situation, Roland. But she is certainly clever and fierce enough for me to approve of. And she knows things I have no idea about, which is delightful.”
Roland shook his head. “Mother, you are entirely predictable. And that is grand, thank you. Just what I needed. Now, what should I know that they might ask about?”
That occupied them until it was time to go into the Temple and find the room where the Guard had set up their truth enchantments and oaths.
Epilogue
Monday, March 6th, 1916, a country house in Herefordshire
“Love, how are things?”
Elen turned away from the window. She’d been standing there, looking out at the gardens, watching the residents go about their various tasks and amusements. “Roland, you’re back early! I didn’t see you come up from the portal.”
Roland leaned against the doorway to her office, looking amused at something. “I took the train back, and McGowin picked me up from there, he was doing a run for supplies.” He brushed his hands off, a little fastidiously. “I’m a bit all over dust, do you mind?”
Elen snorted. “Never.” She turned and held out her arms. “How did things go?” She found herself picked up and spun in a circle, until her cap was about to fly off.
Roland set her back on her feet, and grinned broadly at her. “Everything I wanted, and then some. Father’s delighted, and he asks can you get away to Trellech for supper in the next couple of days? Tomorrow by preference.”
Elen considered. It had been a long slow haul for her to get the rehabilitation hospital set up, but things were now proceeding smoothly. She could certainly be gone for an evening, without anything falling apart. “Overnight, or just supper?”
“Overnight, if we can manage it, the town house.”
“Right. I’ll see about packing a bag. I can do tomorrow?” She looked up to see Roland arching his eyebrow at her. “I mean, asking for a bag to be packed.” She was still utterly unused to the idea that someone else’s job involved doing things like that for her, as well as seeing to any number of tasks.
Roland had been clear when she took this on that it would involve letting other people do things that other people could do. She needed to focus on the things she knew and did best. He wasn’t wrong, she knew that. But having other people see to all the cooking and cleaning and tidying and making sure there was food in the pantry still felt decidedly queer. On the other hand, Roland had been backed up by everyone else in this odd little plot of theirs.
Elen took Roland’s hand, and tugged him back to the window. “See there? Bartholomew is doing quite well with his illusion work. And there, see Doris with the water? She’s got it flowing smoothly and properly.” She felt Roland shift to kiss her hair, then settle his arms around her waist loosely.
“Did Gareth get a chance to try the new roun
d of exercises?” he asked. “I know he was worried about that, and you weren’t sure how far to push.”
“Oh, that.” Elen laughed. “Lionel set it up as a challenge, and Gareth rose to it gloriously. He got all three sets today, smooth as can be. Mind, it’s repeating it that does the most good, but now he’s done it, I think he’ll settle to it.”
“That’s part of what they were so pleased about, this round.” Roland had been in London, coordinating training for those with magical talent posted to particular units. Perhaps more importantly, he was also coordinating what happened to those who had been injured in ways that damaged their magic. Some came to the house here, some went elsewhere. Usually the Temple, to recover physically, but the magical recovery was proving a significant and rewarding professional challenge. For all she wished it weren’t necessary at all.
His parents had acquired the house not long before the War. How one acquired a country house, Elen wasn’t sure, or why they’d needed another one, since she was fairly sure they’d had at least three already.
In this case, however, it had two points in its favour for this particular project. First, it was in Herefordshire, near enough to Trellech that someone could make the journey by carriage or even automobile, if they couldn’t tolerate the portal or train. Not entirely conveniently, but none of this war was convenient.
More usefully, the Gospatricks had been in the process of restoring it after some years of benign neglect when the War began, and had promptly halted the work. Most of the structural repairs had been done, but little of the decorative work, and it had been surprisingly easy to fit it to host a number of recovering soldiers. And more than a few nurses and others who had been injured during the War. They were one of the few places outside the Temple who would accept both men and women.
It was pleasantly situated on rather extensive lands, with plenty of wildlife to observe, and formal gardens for those who wanted something a little less adventurous. A third point in its favour had turned out to be the history. Built in the 15th century, it had the usual odd amalgamation of additions and architecture, and quite a variety of garden spaces. It gave those inclined to visual arts plenty to draw and paint.
