Chapter 17 #2
Gabe just sat there— suspiciously still, actually, Claudio realised— for a good three minutes after they’d gone. Then, casually, he said, “You’ve been thinking about something, haven’t you?”
“I usually am,” Claudio did his best not to sound defensive about it.
Gabe didn’t deserve that. And besides, Claudio had in fact agreed— formally and ritually— that Gabe was not only permitted to prod him about such things but obligated to do so.
The fact Claudio was no longer an apprentice didn’t actually change that.
It just meant that Gabe had firmly established habits about Claudio being forthcoming when it was relevant.
He took a breath. “Been talking more to someone at the Ministry. Matthew Lawson, I mentioned him when he took the meetings over.”
“Admirably efficient was among your comments. Which is high praise from you,” Gabe leaned forward, considering Claudio— making it clear he was— then he shrugged. “I’ve got some notes to write up. You coming?”
“In a minute. I’ve got some things to write as well.
” Gabe went ahead inside. Claudio gave him a good couple of minutes, did one last check of the horses, and went up.
When he got back to their bedrolls, Gabe was sitting on his, scribbling away.
Claudio went to wash up and change, and came back to settle down to his own correspondence.
A note to Cammie, of course, about his ability to identify a weasel promptly and accurately.
One to Orion with his initial evaluation of the defensive qualities of a bastle house and sketches of the general layout.
One for Hypatia about a couple of the plants they’d seen up here, as well as a question about the local forest composition.
The journals made this kind of communication, a way to keep in touch, a delight. He couldn’t imagine what it had been like before the Great War and their invention. A trip like this would have not only been vastly more complex to coordinate, but intensely isolating.
The last obligation was to Alexander, who’d asked about someone a few years younger than Claudio.
He was fairly sure Alexander wasn’t actually interested in him as a candidate for the next Challenge, but Octavio Holland had a couple of interesting knacks.
And it also reminded him of something that had come up in reading yesterday about a bit of Council history he’d come across from the 1840s.
Writing up that bit of analysis didn’t take terribly long, and then Claudio could turn his attention to the note to Matthew.
It was a pleasure to write it out to someone who didn’t have any specific known interests in the topic.
And he liked the challenge of figuring out how to lay out the various pieces of it enough that Matthew could ask questions if he wanted.
Claudio found himself with a desire for it that felt different than writing to Orion or Hypatia or Cammie did.
He would need to spend some more time thinking about why.
Claudio wanted more of that, whatever it was, even if he couldn’t name what he wanted or even begin to figure out if it might be on offer.
He didn’t even know if he wanted anything that had names.
That was going to be a rather complex problem to sort out.
By the time he finished, Gabe had curled up under his blanket, reading, and Claudio did the same.
The book, it turned out, was not remotely a help.
He’d been reading a retelling of a bit of Geoffrey of Monmouth.
He was at the part about the young Merlin Ambrosius coming to explain why Vortigern kept building towers.
And, more helpfully, why they kept falling down.
The answer was the dragons. He’d been thinking about those since he’d done that bit with the water, weeks ago now.
He’d let the book settle when he suddenly sat bolt upright, cursing.
Not loudly, he had better manners than that, but Gabe woke immediately.
“Sorry, sorry.” Claudio got it out immediately. “A thought.”
“Mmm.” Gabe rolled onto his side to peer owlishly at Claudio. Then he laughed. “Alexander’s comment caught up with you?”
Claudio blinked several times, then he swore again.
“Damnation.” He ran his hand through his hair and firmly set the book aside.
“When did you talk about it?” Claudio couldn’t quite name it yet, even to Gabe.
That somehow, for some reason that of course he wouldn’t explain, Alexander obviously thought Claudio should contemplate challenging for the Council seat he was about to vacate.
“Wednesday, for the record. He said he’d prodded you sufficiently that the penny would drop sometime within the fortnight.
You may rightfully be smug that you’re ahead of schedule.
He’d been thinking about it since the experimentation with the water, though.
” Gabe pushed up on his elbow. “You don’t need to decide anything now.
And this certainly isn’t the place or time for that conversation. ”
“No.” Not remotely enough privacy, and there were a dozen tactical problems, starting and probably ending with Claudio’s own mother.
But in the middle, there were the questions of whether he was brave enough, what he even wanted, what Orion would say or think, what Gabe thought.
What it would mean for every other part of Claudio’s life.
Electra would, however, probably be delighted to be divorced.
She had never particularly enjoyed the Council obligations as events.
Though that presumed that Claudio would be successful, and he knew his history entirely too well to make that assumption.
He was competent, not arrogant. Arrogance ended badly.
He knew that too. Especially when it came to the Council.
Carefully, he set the book aside. “Later.” Claudio firmly put his head down.
He’d gone to sleep in far worse settings before, and he probably would again, the world being what it was.
He heard Gabe shift to curl up in his blankets and forced his own breath to slow and even out.
That worked as badly as forcing it always did, but once he began working through the various meditative exercises Isembard had taught him, he did eventually fall asleep.