by Celia Lake
Rathna paused by the mirror in the entry hall, checking her image. Her dark hair was properly pinned back into a tidy bun. The forest green dress was not the brighter shade some part of her yearned for. But if it didn’t highlight her brown skin, it didn’t fight with it either, and it was a shade Morah Avigail thought was professional and appropriate.
She had another flash of wishing she looked in the mirror and saw something more like her mother’s bright dresses when she was at home, and set it aside. Those wishes had been happening more frequently, the past few months, for reasons she didn’t understand. She set it aside, as she always did. The time for that was in her room at night, alone, not any other time. Especially not when she was expected elsewhere.
She then trotted up the stairs. Morah Avigail would certainly send her down again, on at least one errand, so she'd learned it wasn't worth the bother of bringing up a fresh drink. She got it wrong at least one time out of three, and neither she nor Morah Avigail could abide the waste. At the main bedroom, she knocked, precisely, twice.
"Come, come." The voice inside was as clear as it had been when Rathna began her apprenticeship, but as Rathna opened the door, she was reminded again that the mind and voice were still sharp, but the flesh was not what it had been. Where Morah Avigail had. been hearty and hale until six months ago, she was faded now, into herself. She was wearing a too-pale green bed jacket that did not suit her. It had been made by one of the daughters-in-law, out of yarn sensibly thrifted from someone else's discarded sweater.
One should not complain about the kindnesses shown by others. Or so she'd been taught. Even if they had a very strange idea of colours that flattered.
"Morah Avigail." She preferred the term, for all it wasn't one she'd been familiar with before her apprenticeship. It meant teacher, and she'd much preferred that, once it was offered, to the formal Magistra or Mistress of Avigail’s rank.
Technically, being a full member of the Portal Keeper's Guild, Rathna didn't need to use either anymore. She wasn't supposed to, even. But while she would do the proper thing in public, pretend they were all equals, that she didn't need to defer, she'd known since she was eight that claiming equal rights would raise people's hackles.
Morah Avigail knew that lesson too, though for somewhat different reasons. It was why they'd gotten on so well from the start.
"Tsk. Come here, do, sit on the bed." The pale hand patted the bed. "You won't jostle me. I'm sure you're curious, aren't you?" Her voice had the light accent of her original Yiddish, more in the twists of the words than anything more.
Of course Rathna sat, carefully. “I noticed the letter."
Morah Avigail shifted, to pat her hand. "You have an assignment, if you will accept it. And I think you should." She lifted a hand, pointing with the pencil she'd been holding. "You will listen to it, and then you will fetch me a pot of tea. We will discuss it thoroughly, and you will agree with me."
Rathna laughed, she couldn't help it. "And I will be sent to do your bidding, as always."
"No." The word was sharp, this time. "It is time things change. I will not be here so much longer. You must learn to put your own feet on the road, not just carry along as we have."
Rathna wanted to argue. She also knew how futile it was. That didn't change the wanting. Instead, she took a breath, damping down the little flare of her magic that happened at such times. Another breath for good measure, and she nodded. "As you wish, morah."
"I am never going to break you of that, am I?" This time, Morah Avigail's voice was affectionate, and her hand reached to pat again.
"Not in private, no."
Someone else might have argued. The matrons in the orphanage of her late childhood would have suspected something was wrong, and she should be punished for her wrongness. Her teachers at Schola would have been largely unsure what to do with her but they would have left her alone. Morah Avigail, though, she laughed. "As you wish." She glanced at the letter, face down, on the bed tray. "The letter, morah?"
"There is a portal in Scotland causing some difficulty. Someone must go to see to it."
"A city?" She didn't mind cities. It was not the only reason she was in London, near the Spitalfields portals, but she liked the bustle. The people calling out, the markets she could walk through, the way you heard a dozen different languages walking down some streets near the docks, in a block or two. It wasn't quite like the memories of her childhood, but it was close enough to touch and be real, and remind her she hadn't made it all up in her head.
"No," This time, Morah Avigail sounded sorry. "Quite remote. The western coast, the countryside."
"That's quite a new portal." Rathna had not particularly studied it, why would she have? But she knew the map as well as any of them did.
"A few years. It has been temperamental for several months, and now it has failed."
"Failed." It came out a bit flat. That was an interesting challenge, but it promised a tediously long trip.
"Failed. You'll have to take the train, I'm afraid."
Rathna permitted herself to make a face at that, grimacing. She hated trains. They were loud and noisy and dirty and metal. Metals were not her strong suit, she did much better with stone and with trees and earth. Worse, trains involved rather a lot of people who would probably not be kind to her. "What kind of portal?"
"Stone. Now, you go away and make me tea, and bring me the proper books when you come back, and we will talk these things through.
Rathna stood, brushing out her skirts, and went. Again, she knew it there was no point in arguing. Morah Avigail had never punished her, she had been a kind and patient mistress in the arts of keeping a portal humming happily along. Her disappointment was a far harsher thing to bear, and it only took a look and perhaps half a sigh. That did not make things easier, just simpler to manage.
Making the tea properly was as soothing as it always was. There were the little rituals of tea leaves, and water, and setting the tray just so. She had fetched the books they'd need to go on the other half of the tray, unbalancing it a bit, and she'd let Sarah know they'd likely be wanting supper upstairs together. By the time she returned, Morah Avigail was dozing, and Rathna set the tray down as silently as she could, before settling into the easy chair by the window with one of the books, about the most recent additions to the portal tree.
Half an hour later, there was a slight cough from the bed. "Tea, please."
The pot had kept itself properly warm. For all Morah Avigail was cautious with her money, she didn't skimp on the tools they used all the time, and that definitely included the tea pot. Their work paid respectably, enough to keep Sarah and have enough food on their table and proper clothes and the various needs for their work that weren't provided by the Ministry, as well as an extensive private library.
But Morah Avigail took her charity seriously. And of course she wanted to make sure she could help her grown children when one of them had a bad spell. That meant that things were used to the edge of their usefulness, and perhaps a bit further. They’d had three weeks of tepid tea, before Rathna had convinced Morah Avigail that they really should replace the teapot now.
Rathna set the tea cup up, and the plate of biscuits, and then put herself firmly on the bed, facing her teacher. "I will go. As you said." Morah Avigail laughed, and Rathna was quite glad to do anything that brought that light to her more times. Every amusement mattered more. "How long do you think I'll need to be there?"
It wasn't just that she disliked the countryside. Or was baffled by it, that might be a better way to put it. But she didn't want to be away if Morah Avigail took a turn for the worse. She knew she'd be shouldered out by Morah Avigail's proper family, she couldn't argue with that. But she wanted to be there to be shouldered aside.
"A month or more, I suspect. And I am fairly sure that is rather less time than I have left. You worry, my dear, rather openly. My condition for accepting, to that nice and somewhat uncertain man from the Ministry, was that there be a quick
way to get you home if needed. They are making proper arrangements."
Rathna had never been able to hide either her worry or her relief, and she didn't bother to try to hide the latter now. "Thank you." She didn't say more, she didn't need to. They both knew, for all they rarely talked about it.
"What have they told you about what happened to it? What do we know?"
Morah Avigail snorted. "The report is there. Read it out to me, and we will begin our proper plan." The systematic approach to reviewing the nature of the portal, how it had rooted, whether there were gaps or breaks in the energy, if something nearby had disturbed it, all of their methods. Then, before Rathna could read, Morah Avigail coughed. "You will have company in the work. One of the Penelopes from the Guard. The Ministry man said it was Gabrielle Edgarton. I don't know more than that, yet."
Rathna nodded once. She didn't like the idea much, someone fussing and jostling her, but she was not the one being consulted here. If the Ministry were being like this, it must be important to someone with power. She picked up the report, and began to read.
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