Chapter 7 #2
The idea was compelling. Water flowed; it went everywhere.
It filled in cracks and restored in ways nothing else could.
Claudio had a nagging thought, one that wasn’t perhaps entirely his, that might be about sitting where he was, in an ancient castle dedicated to magic.
There were glimpses in his mind, flashes like they were out of the corner of his eye, of parched land soaking up the rain.
Just enough to restore and bring new growth, not so much that it flooded or washed the good soil away.
He might have to talk it out with Ursula at some point.
Gabe and Orion went at the land magic a little differently.
Ursula actually got her hands dirty with the agriculture these days.
In the end, Gabe and Orion went off to clean and tidy upstairs, something they hadn’t specified.
Since that was up in the Council spaces, Claudio couldn’t offer to help.
It left Claudio settled at the table, waiting for Orion to come down so they could go to tea.
Alexander stayed seated across from him.
There was silence for a good minute before Alexander leaned back.
“While you’re here.” It had a casual tone to it, but Claudio could tell immediately that the next sentences were anything but casual.
Alexander was a master of many languages, but he always had a reason for what he said. Usually more than one reason.
“Yes?” Claudio did his best to match the tone.
“I’ll tell Gabe and Orion later this week.
After Wednesday’s meeting, if we get a minute.
” The regular Council meeting. “Are you all right knowing something before that?” That, now, was an interesting question, but it was one he’d already sorted with both of them.
Alexander lifted a finger. “It will impact them, but it’s not about them directly. ”
“Sure,” Claudio met Alexander’s eyes then. “Since you seem to want to tell me, there’s a reason.”
“Mmm.” Alexander flicked a finger. “I’m thinking it’s time for me to consider retirement. I’m not going to tell Silvia yet. Gabe, Orion, Paul. I’ll mention it to Cyrus and Mabyn when I see them for supper next weekend.”
Claudio’s mind was whirring. “That’s the end of an era. Sir.” Alexander didn’t normally stand on formality, not when they were in working mode. But he was, in fact, the most senior member of Albion’s Council and had been since Cyrus had retired. He’d been one of the Council since 1897.
Alexander was the last of them to have joined the Council in the nineteenth century, rather than the twentieth.
The next now was Lettice Fowler, in 1915.
Then Lucas Holder in 1924, and Mother and Ivor Harris in 1925.
Mother, at least, showed no signs of slowing down anytime soon.
Not that, for that matter, Alexander had slowed much.
Claudio realised he ought to say something further. “You’ve more than earned it. And things are in a decent place for it, perhaps.”
“Mmm, yes. Would you think about who from your generation you might suggest as a candidate? You know many of them better than I do, and perhaps in a more useful way.” Alexander said it entirely calmly, but it just made Claudio’s mind race further.
Alexander knew as much about the theory that Claudio and Gabe had wrangled through five years ago as anyone did. The idea that each seat had an imprint or an archetype, a sort of person who might particularly fit.
They’d named Alexander’s seat as the Tower, the lightning bolt strike that toppled great stone buildings, the destruction that followed.
But it was also the chance to rebuild. Alexander had honestly been made for this.
His entire approach to the world fit with it.
He was, as he said, Set’s child, in the terms the Egyptian side of his family used.
He talked about Set as the eternal antagonist who challenged not out of selfishness or hatred, but because it was the necessary thing and the road to something better.
Set was essential, if often chaotic, balance to the orderly progression of Heru, or his parents, Aset and Wesir.
Filling that seat properly would take a particular sort of person.
Claudio had known multiple holders of almost every seat.
But Alexander’s predecessor Hereswith Rowan had died a decade before Claudio’s birth.
He’d known her only from Father’s dismissive commentary about how she was soft, too yielding.
Claudio knew that had to be wrong, to be missing essential details, but not how.
Now Claudio leaned back, not quite looking across the table. “Of course.” He knew that must be the answer. More to the point, he knew he’d be gnawing on it like a dog with a bone for weeks now. “Tell me when you’ve told Gabe and Orion, so I can talk to them about it?”
“As soon as I have.” That part was surprisingly gentle. Then Alexander shrugged once. “This was a good show. I don’t get as much chance to see your work directly, not outside the duelling salle. You’ve got a grand touch with it. Taking the whole into account, not the fragments.”
Claudio glanced up at that last. “It’s always made sense to me, especially for the Penelope work. Pulling the disparate pieces together.”
“Here, it definitely needed someone with more alchemy. We could have got consultants in, maybe.” Alexander flicked his fingers.
“But this is delicate politically, as you also pointed out. Not that we won’t consider moving forward with it, but well-framed proposals and protections and all that.
It’ll take months of wrangling. I’ll get to miss that part except for as much as I’d actually enjoy. ”
“Which is, in fact, some of it. Though you might enjoy talking with Cyrus and Mabyn about it more.” That got Claudio a sharp, fierce grin, and he knew he’d said the right thing.
Claudio went on, “I’ll have a look at some references when I get a chance.
And ask some questions— the sort that can’t be traced back.
Maybe on Tuesday. We’ve got the regular materia meeting.
There’s not much on anatase that I recall, but someone might know something else. ”
“Entirely reasonable. We certainly trust your discretion.” At about that point, Gabe and Orion came back, and it was time for them all to pack up and go their separate ways.
Orion, thankfully, had three other distracting topics for them to talk about before they settled down for tea with both Hypatia and Orion’s younger brother Achilles.