Chapter 2
Edmund turned the corner into the Academy quad, not quite running, but certainly covering ground at his fastest loping walk.
He was not late, but he was certainly behind when he’d wanted to be here.
Uncle Alexander had said to expect him at four, and it was quarter to four now.
They had two hours to work and begin to settle things for the term.
Edmund wanted to make the most of the time.
As he turned into the quad, however, Edmund paused, because Uncle Alexander was deep in conversation with Uncle Giles.
Uncle Giles had his guide dog Cassia at his feet.
She was his second, now used to the routine of coming into the Academy.
Cassia was so much at ease at the moment that she was a comfortable lump of brown and black fur on the ground.
Edmund knew Uncle Giles would sort out who he was by magical signature, but there was no reason to be rude and plenty of reason to make it easier.
Once he got close enough that Uncle Alexander interrupted what he’d been saying, Edmund announced himself clearly, “Uncle Giles, it’s Edmund.
Uncle Alexander, sorry to keep you waiting.
Mister Balsdon caught me in the quad on my way over, with an idea for my essay this week. ”
“Starting early, isn’t he?” Uncle Giles snorted. “He has a reputation as a demanding tutor.”
“Thorough, Uncle Giles, is the word I prefer to use.” To be fair to the man, Mister Balsdon was likely the best tutor Edmund could have had of the three at Exeter.
Oh, he enjoyed conversations with the other two.
Mister Balsdon preferred the Romans over the Greeks, and Edmund’s interest was the other way around.
But he also had a reputation for kindness, for attention to students, and for being engaged in the larger world in a way Edmund appreciated.
Uncle Giles waved a hand, and Cassia rolled onto her stomach and then got to her feet.
“I’ll leave you to your plans. Kate’s off tonight, so I’m going home at a reasonable hour.
” His wife, as a Captain in Albion’s Guard, worked all sorts of odd times.
Uncle Giles had his fair share of meals at high table at Oriel during term, but he made a point of going home to Trellech for supper with Aunt Kate on the nights she was free.
Oxford was no longer the residence of unmarried dons, and people understood the variation.
“We have plenty to keep us busy. Have a grand evening, Giles.” Uncle Alexander certainly seemed to be in a buoyant mood.
Edmund murmured his goodbyes and then turned to Uncle Alexander. “Do you need me to bring anything up?”
“No, nothing for today. I’ll likely have at least a case next time. Show me our space, will you?” Uncle Alexander was absolutely in a mood, yes. Edmund made a slight bow, mostly for their mutual amusement, and then led the way toward the central stair, and into his workroom.
At the door, he whispered the chant that would let Uncle Alexander attune himself to the warding, and opened the door once that was done. He immediately moved down toward the desk, so Uncle Alexander had elbow room to explore the space and decide what he thought.
“Oh, this is particularly well designed. And that view.” Uncle Alexander nudged the door closed, locked it with a charm, and then opened a cabinet or two, considering the shelving.
He then nodded at the small shrine Edmund had set up on the shelves to the right of the desk.
“And your Mercury shrine. Suitable for your work here, of course.”
That was not large, but it had the essentials.
He had a larger one in his rooms, especially since his degree of devotion was not entirely common these days.
Here, there was a small bowl for offerings, an incense burner, and an oil lamp.
Behind them sat a small marble statuette of Mercury, in the Romano-British form.
There was a decorous cloak draped over his body, his hand holding a bag filled with goods.
A rooster lurked at his feet, the feathers mirroring the wings on Mercury’s ankles and hat.
Decorously suitable for a space others might see, unlike some of the perhaps excessively ithyphallic Mercuries Edmund had seen over the years.
That noted, Uncle Alexander prowled off to look in the ritual room.
“Nearly as nicely made as Ytene’s. Honestly, better than mine, it’s settled well with age, hasn’t it?
” Two heartbeats later, there was another, even more pleased hum.
“And you’ve done all the preparatory work and done it well. I am not surprised, but I am pleased.”
Edmund was grinning now, but he didn’t say anything.
“Do you know how you ended up with this one? I didn’t expect it this year.
” The thing was, they rarely changed the assignments for the better workrooms once someone settled into them.
There were many reasons for that. Part of it had to do with the necessity of cleaning it out thoroughly for different magical uses.
“I didn’t either. Harris said the Dean made a point of it, and I heard a few tidbits in the Junior Common Room about it.” Uncle Alexander was not an Oxford man, but he’d certainly picked up a fair bit from Papa and Uncle Giles by now. “Here at the Academy, of course.”
“Your college’s JCR would not be talking about magical workrooms, no.” Uncle Alexander agreed. “It seems a room particularly well tuned to words. Was that Wilton, do you think? You were at his viva, I remember.”
“It would be unlike you to forget.” Uncle Alexander hadn’t been able to make it, but Edmund had taken detailed notes.
“The world has not yet presented me with an opportunity to ask probing questions of Dean Boyer. Also you are far more likely to get actual information out of her.” Uncle Alexander had all sorts of both leverage and lures that Edmund did not.
“But I think it’s either about the Naming work, or about the philology work.
Possibly both.” The Dean didn’t know precisely that Edmund was studying Naming, but he was sure she was keeping Uncle Alexander’s skills firmly in mind in the assignment.
“Hm.” Uncle Alexander put his head back out of the door. “Come along, then, let’s talk about that. Wash up. We can use the table. I’ve the tools we’ll want.”
“Coming.” Edmund gave the verbal acknowledgement that had been trained into him in London and went to wash up properly.
He left his gown on the hook on the wall and traded his jacket for a sleeveless over robe of black silk from the wardrobe.
Next, he scrubbed up his hands thoroughly with the soap he’d set out.
That was to Uncle Alexander’s specifications, from a purveyor he preferred in Trellech.
That done, Edmund came back to the workroom, closing the door behind him, bowing slightly, and waiting by the door.
Uncle Alexander waved him in. “I appreciate the attention to detail, but we needn’t bother too much with formality in private, mmm?”
“As you prefer.” Edmund considered, then decided that was more than enough to ask. “You seem in a particularly good mood?”
Uncle Alexander turned around, beaming. “Oh, yes. I am looking forward to this year with you. I was working through my plans last night. I believe you’ll approve.
We have made it through the more necessarily tedious parts, despite the limitations of war, your first year up at Oxford, my abominable schedule, several significant changes on the Council, and the fact your sister is somehow old enough to be apprenticing herself. ”
“Merry sent me a card on Friday.” Edmund said cheerfully.
Merry was apprenticing in Materia. Her joy was in the energetically sought after types, very much in Papa’s original line of work.
If he did the maths right, she was currently a third of the way across the Atlantic.
She was planning to do some investigation in Canada as part of an expedition exploring plants that grew in the colder climes and their magical uses.
She was delighted at the prospect of moose and excessively large bears, among other fauna. “Have you heard from Ros?”
“In three languages. You might do me a favour and pick up writing to her in Arabic. She could use a wider range of vocabulary, and I’m not able to get out there as often as I’d like for that.
” Edmund’s youngest sister showed signs of wanting to go into diplomacy in some form.
Ros vastly preferred modern languages compared to Edmund’s even-handed love of all of them, but especially the ancient ones no longer spoken.
She’d been making noises about wanting to learn Russian, if she could find someone to teach her.
“If you think mine’s good enough,” Edmund said, giving the expected answer here.
Predictably, Uncle Alexander switched into Arabic with no hint of a pause, in the dialect preferred by the region’s magical community.
The topic of the conversation was simple, checking in on Edmund’s college obligations, his tutorial schedule, and which evenings were best between the two of them for longer stretches of ritual work.
All the minutiae of making sure they’d have the time for all the things they wanted. Or at least, make a good effort at it.
Edmund knew Uncle Alexander would need to cancel here and there, often with little notice.
The Council and its needs came first. But that had happened less last year, and perhaps this year would be even better on that front.
Edmund answered, of course, but as the conversation went on, he recognised that Uncle Alexander was changing dialects— and modes within them.
Edmund kept matching the switches until they got around to discussing his current rooms, when he made one last shift.
Uncle Alexander broke out laughing. “You’ll do very well. Your sense of idiom is particularly solid.”
“I blame my Latin translation work over the long vac,” Edmund said cheerfully.