Chapter 4 #2
The primary limit was that one of the better growers of the phlox was not terribly near a portal.
That meant whoever went to help with it needed to plan to be there for at least a couple of weeks.
Matthew nodded and let that line of thought drop before asking Isa Brown and Aldous Short, the Materia representatives, for their thoughts.
They fairly quickly agreed to do the legwork to figure out what might be a reasonable amount to plan for, wrapping up the discussion at the eight-minute mark.
“Hops.” Matthew glanced around the table again and saw Warren paying attention, but not looking to speak yet.
Captain Bullock, from the Guard, cleared her throat. “We’ve had some ongoing discussions about two new varieties, a little more amenable to magical brewing, but they’re not as fully tested yet as anyone would like. Warren has had a thought or two.”
Matthew turned his head and nodded. “Go on?”
“They’ve been developed in Kent.” Something in Matthew’s expression must have given something away.
“Ah, right, you’d have no reason to know this.
I apprenticed with Gabe Edgarton. I’m down at Veritas every week or two still, and of course both the Edgartons and the Thanets take a particular interest in the hops.
” Those were the two holders of the land magic in Kent.
Matthew knew that, of course. Some things hadn’t changed.
And hops was absolutely still a key crop there; beer mattered as much as food when it came to morale and people’s willingness to keep going on.
Warren continued evenly. “One variety from each, in this case, so there’s a certain amount of competition.
No one wants to rely on either production or whether they’ll be equivalent in the magical uses.
We spent last meeting arguing about how to go forward with that, since of course it affects crop planning for this season. ”
Matthew followed that, but had to set aside the implications of that apprenticeship for later.
And perhaps a chance to read a number of pieces in the newspaper archives at the library.
The Warrens were powerful in one sense, the Edgartons in another, and the two crossing was something entirely other.
“Do you have a proposal, then? Anyone, of course.”
Warren nodded. “I gathered this week that both would be glad to plant some experimental fields and fund the necessary testing. If, that is, they can get assurances that the two varieties will be treated fairly. Blind tests, something of the kind, and multiple independent testers.”
It got a broad laugh from Mistress Brown. “How on earth did you manage that, Warren? Last I heard, it was an utter impasse.”
“Set Ursula Fortier on the problem. She and Helios Thanet get along well, and he’s the one who’s taken point for their family on the agricultural side.
The Edgartons have been glad to go at it this way.
Their spirit of experimentation being rather strong, of course, as long as they aren’t going to put their tenants at a financial disadvantage in the process. ”
“Well, all right. If they can come to terms.” Mistress Brown clucked her tongue twice. “I’ll plan to call on both and lay out a contract, if we’re in agreement. I’ll send the terms round for approval by journal by Thursday.”
There were murmurs of agreement around the table. Matthew felt that had resolved rather sensibly all round, even if he hadn’t actually done anything to make it happen. He had, at least, had the sense not to interfere. Now he cleared his throat. “The saffron?”
This was, in fact, a grand brawl. Civilised, of course, but it was nearly as bad as Nuremberg.
Or to be specific, sorting out the way that those working on the Nuremberg trials had been inventing international criminal law as they went.
Fewer different languages in the mix, no need for barely tested simultaneous language translation equipment.
But absolutely fast-paced, citing a variety of research and expertise.
Matthew spent his time listening. The problem at hand was that saffron was in demand. It was used in everything from a number of healing potions to inks for enchantments to certain kinds of charmwork, plus of course the culinary uses.
The difficulty was that the Spanish saffron supply was unreliable, the same with Afghanistan.
Two of the committee wanted to agitate for Saffron Walden to receive incentives for growing it again, as they had in the 16th and 17th centuries.
Matthew felt that was a much larger project than anyone was admitting.
Also, that it was absolutely not the sort of thing he should encourage while he was sitting in.
Once he’d heard everyone out, he glanced around.
“To be honest, that seems like a project that needs much more detailed scoping. Land use, rights, whether the land is still as good for saffron as it was centuries ago. The climate’s changed twice over since then, as well as whatever else.
” They’d come through a little Ice Age, the changes from the year without a summer, and then warmed up again.
He held up a hand. “Might I suggest two or three of you agree to work to put together a concrete proposal for a fortnight from now? What would need to be determined, a gesture at the scope in terms of staffing and initial costs. Master Short, perhaps you might?” He’d been quiet through the meeting.
But as the senior from the Ministry of Materia, he was well placed to have the relevant data or know who to ask.
He nodded once, and Matthew glanced around.
Healers, Penelopes, the Guard, and teachers could all be presumed to be extremely busy.
“Mistress Manfield, perhaps you’d lend your administrative skills?
” She pursed her lips, but she was fairly visibly torn between the compliment to her abilities and the extra work. “Anyone else wish to volunteer?”
Professor Rowland pursed her lips, then said, amiably enough.
“I will. If we can be efficient about it. I can’t get away from school often, but I can write up notes, and one of my colleagues has extensive opinions about saffron.
I’ll consult.” She then nodded approvingly at Matthew.
“That’s that sorted. We have a little time left, don’t we? ”
“Yes, Professor.” Matthew had to smile. “Ten minutes on vervain, everyone?” Those ten minutes made it clear that the vervain— with its multitude of magical uses— was a perennial topic.
They did not actually make much progress on it.
This was more a matter of laying the groundwork for two or three other later debates.
But when they hit the end of the meeting, Matthew felt it had gone solidly well.
And, perhaps, that he might be up for agreeing to take it on for Hall.
He’d sleep on that, though. He waited for everyone else to filter out, tidying up the room out of habit, before going back up to his office to write up his notes and then down to the pub for a meal.