Brave Truth (Liminal Mysteries #4)

Chapter 1

“Hetherington! Just the person I wanted to catch. The mandrake just came in, it’s in the jar in the storeroom.” Claudio was delighted he’d managed to spot her in their little break room. He’d been out and about all morning, and hadn’t been sure if she’d be around the offices this afternoon.

“How’d you manage that? It always takes a month for them to process it.” Hetherington pulled her hair back from her face with one hand and pushed her glasses up her nose with the other. “Do you have a spare hair grip, Potts?”

The woman beside her patted her skirt pocket, came out with one, and handed it over silently. Both of them were younger than Claudio, though a couple of years senior to him as Penelopes. He’d only finished his apprenticeship a year and five months ago. They’d been done for closer to four.

Now he shrugged, amiably, though he was privately pleased. “Ordered it a month ago, because I figured you’d run out about now.” Hetherington had been working on a series of projects related to amplification. It was a question of trade-offs.

Mandrake was still hard to come by in the wake of the Second World War, but sometimes a tiny bit of mandrake amplified other scarce materia enough to make the use more than worthwhile.

The research was, of course, in and amongst their active cases, and it depended heavily on if there was spare materia.

“Anyway. It’s there when you need it, I updated the inventory already, all that. ”

“Thanks, Warren. You’re a good egg.” She glanced at him.

“Kettle’s still hot, join us for a minute?

” She didn’t appear to consult Potts, but Potts grinned, patting the seat next to her.

Not that it required leaning over much. Their break room seated four if they were comfortable in each other’s spaces.

As a group, the Penelopes generally were, which was far out of step with a lot of the upper crust of Albion’s magical experts.

It had taken Claudio a good bit to get used to that part, honestly.

It had only changed because of working closely with his friend in the last year of the war.

The four of them had been up in each other’s space all the time, to manage it.

The last year and then six months after in Europe, in all sorts of odd and unpredictably dangerous spaces.

He made quick work of making himself a mug of tea, plain black, as they’d all long since got used to.

Claudio could use the boost at the moment.

He’d been up since six and on duty from seven, and it was now half-two and he had at least another two hours’ work.

Claudio glanced over his shoulder, checked that there was a dish out for the tea infuser, and then took a seat. “What’s up?”

“Three things. Doyle said there was something from yesterday’s meeting, but she didn’t have time to get into it, about the orris root?

” Hetherington ticked it off on her fingers.

“Second, were you on that thing with the Judson-Waits this morning? Is there an update? And third, do you have time this week or early next? I’ve got a bit of a puzzle I’d like your eye on. Not urgent but I’d like to wrap it up.”

That was about what he’d expected when he sat down, which was reassuring.

Also challenging on the second and third counts, but he’d figure it out.

Claudio nodded, rubbing his nose once and drawing the details back into active memory.

There had been a lot of other things on his mind since yesterday afternoon.

“Orris root has a long drying time— five years, for a number of the materia uses. We’re just starting to see an uptick in what’s available, post-war, but we got the projections yesterday.

” He knew they knew most of that, but the summary was handy.

“And you didn’t share them?” Potts cupped her hands around the mug.

“The meeting’s Tuesday afternoon, last thing in the Ministry workday.

I was out on call last night. That thing with the Wilton estate and that glass pane that keeps shattering.

Gabe wanted my eye on it and measurements after dark.

Then I’ve been on the go from seven this morning.

The fact we have a better projection starting no sooner than six months from now was not, I thought, so urgent it couldn’t wait for the usual update note on Friday.

” Then his mouth quirked up. “Though to be honest, I was going to go write up the meeting notes later this evening, assuming nothing else pulls me away.” He hoped not, he wanted his usual Wednesday supper plans, thank you.

Hetherington elbowed Potts amiably. “Give the man a break. He goes to the bloody meetings, after all. Spares the rest of us a good ninety minutes of solid tedium. No, you’re right, Warren, that isn’t urgent. But it is good news, eventually?”

“Definitely promising. There’s still some wrangling over the division of who gets what.

There’s half a dozen healing potions that really like it as a fixative, and they’ve never been happy about the alternative options.

We want a fair bit if we can get our hands on it.

The Guard’s less grabby about this set, but the schools have a steady demand list in.

” He flicked his fingers. “Anyway, I’ll write it up so you can see the numbers in one place.

Don’t want to get one of them wrong without my notes. ”

“I am not sure, Warren,” Potts said, thoughtfully, “that you’re capable of getting that sort of thing wrong.

What did Gabe say?” The Penelopes, on average, went by last names.

It was generally considered more professional when they were out in the field.

Gabe was often an exception, though it was slightly easier now that his father was less likely to be directly overseeing cases they worked on from the Guard side.

Also, Gabe liked tweaking the noses of just about everyone in earshot by refusing to stand on the formality of his several positions in the world. Claudio enjoyed helping with that, honestly. Especially the way it particularly horrified Claudio’s own mother every time he did it in her hearing.

“He had a thought about resonances and whether it might be some locational effect. Or locational combined with chronological. That’s not my best skill set, but it’s definitely the sort of thing where another set of eyes and ears and working stones might turn something up.

” Claudio spread his hands out, palms up.

Potts snorted. “It’s a lot better than my chronological skills, and we all know it. Explains why it was you on tap, anyway.”

Claudio shrugged amiably. It was, in fact, a point of pride for him to be as competent at the chronological and locational magics as he could be.

“Nothing definitive, but we have a baseline for future tests, and he or someone else will get out there and take regular readings, see if there’s anything like a pattern.

Moon phase, weather, all of that. It’s curious though.

Just that one pane of glass cracking, always the same one, and it’s not on anything like a regular calendar cycle.

I’ve got a couple of ideas, but I need an hour or two with a decent library and no interruptions to put together a proposal. ”

Or a conversation with Thesan, speaking of why he took pride in said skills.

But it was January, thus her term-time. It would be at least Sunday before he could get a chance to consult properly.

Though it was just far enough into term that things had started to settle.

She might enjoy a puzzle that didn’t seem to have any particularly strong consequences for the world.

Or maybe one of her Time and Place students might have an idea, and this wasn’t the sort of thing that had to be kept secret for any reason.

“Mmm,” Potts shook her head. “Outside my usual scope. Give me alchemy, please. Or figuring out how to clear a lab, though we’ve had a lot less of that these days, and honestly, I’m not sorry about it.

” During the Blitz, a lot of the work of the Penelopes had been figuring out how to make alchemy labs that had been too close to a bomb safe enough to enter and clean.

All of the folks just a few years more established than Claudio could do that work in their sleep now, and nearly had, often enough.

Claudio had only apprenticed with Gabe after the war.

These days, that sort of explosive crisis was much less common as a problem.

Just the usual sort of unexpected accident or frailty catching up with someone, maybe every six months.

The more ordinary sort of work of the Penelopes was sorting out curious magical problems, in all their variety.

Hetherington nodded. “The Judson-Waits?”

“Political matter, as much as anything. That’s why Gabe and Doyle wanted me to go.” Claudio had a certain amount of political weight, mostly borrowed by association. His father had been Head of Albion’s Council for thirty-odd years until he died.

His mother was Head now, and had been for four years, long enough to stamp her own mark.

Orion, his best friend, had been on the Council a hair longer than Mother had been Head and was Lord of the Land for a fair bit of Sussex.

And then there was Gabe, a comet of political weight and power comprising his own Council seat, the fact he was Heir to his father’s land magic, and how he came from one of the most well-established Great Families in Albion.

Never mind his own ability to fling himself at problems needing a solution like the best aimed artillery shell.

Claudio was none of that, not on his own.

But he knew people— quite a lot of people, these days— and he knew how to talk down people who were being difficult.

They couldn’t threaten him with much. It made for a powerful place to negotiate from when it came to decisions about what the Penelopes would do or advise.

And in this case, that ‘advise’ was bearing a lot of weight, because it was unlikely the Guard and Courts would go against what Claudio had recommended.

Potts was too well brought up to turn her head and spit at the mention of politics, the way some people might have.

Well, not Penelopes, they were entirely too aware of what people could do with personal fluids if someone got their hands on some.

But that was an excellent grimace. “Better you than us, yeah. What should we know about it?”

“If you hear groans of anguish coming from Wiltshire, mmm. Probably tomorrow? Might be Friday. Anyway, if you do, you’ll know the Courts backed my recommendation.

What I found yesterday is that the letter they claimed gave them the right to the estate is both absolutely a forgery and also just stupidly phrased.

Mason’s doing the work to confirm it formally and write it up.

But she’s already told the Courts to go ahead. ”

Potts let out a low whistle. “Oh, that’ll be a fun teaching exercise with the apprentices when we get a chance.

Keep that one handy.” Claudio grinned back, because he’d intended to, yes.

Not least because it had taken half a dozen charm chains to be sure of it in the field.

He was still a trifle smug about how elegantly he’d sorted that out.

Well, not so much a field as a well-outfitted but criminally under-used library with a dozen antagonistic members of the family watching him.

The estate in question was one of the cadet lines of the Judsons, not the landed estate in the main line.

But it was a pretty piece of property with an excellent setup for a range of some materia that was in high demand at the moment and would be for years yet.

Claudio nodded. “Glad to. We’ll find time.” Then he said, “What’s the thing you wanted my eye on, and when’s good for you?” He reached into his inner jacket pocket to pull out his diary.

“You like to keep Friday evening open, right?” Potts considered. “And Wednesday.”

“And Saturday, this week, if I can manage it.” On Wednesdays he had supper with his son, Tiberius.

It was the one night Claudio’s mother was firmly occupied with the weekly Council meeting and out of the house for a predictable amount of time.

Claudio moved heaven and earth every month or two to avoid conflicts. Saturday was their irregular card game.

And Friday, he wanted to join Gabe and his extended family for supper.

He did that when he could, but he’d missed the last two.

Sunday was for supper with his mother. That one could be skipped, if necessary.

Claudio was clear about his priorities. “Right now, I’ve got two or three hours open on Thursday afternoon.

Ideally done by four. And Monday is somehow bafflingly unscheduled at the moment. ”

“Can’t do Thursday, actually. I forgot I’m on call. I can’t do Monday morning either. Monday, two to four, my workroom? Bring your stones; it’s a sympathetic magic problem. You have tricks I don’t know and would like to learn.” Hetherington leaned forward hopefully.

“I keep telling you that set comes from working with Hypatia closely for near enough two years. There’s no way to just make that happen.

” Hypatia was, mind, absolutely brilliant when it came to sympathetic magic applications.

“Can you send me round notes on it, so I can brush up?” He made a note in his diary to hold the time.

“Sure. Check your cubby here sometime after tomorrow afternoon.” Hetherington pulled out her own notebook, scribbling something down.

It upped the chances she’d remember it quite a lot, though he’d probably get the bullet point version with a straggling list of other notes.

He could work with that, though, and he expected it.

Hetherington’s watch chimed twice, and she frowned. “Ah. Right. I’m due over at the Courts, that deposition.”

“Grab your spare jacket,” Potts said, giving her an automatic look over. “You’ve got a smudge there.”

Hetherington peered down and cursed under her breath. “My spare’s at the cleaner’s.”

“Grab my spare then, just remember not to button it this time, all right? I don’t want to replace the buttons again.

” Hetherington was rather more buxom than Potts, though Claudio was now briefly distracted about how to put that in a purely qualitative sense.

He had no particular inclination toward the body type, so it was a more academic question than otherwise.

They both stood, nodding at him, and left him to his tea before he went back into the fray of his own work.