by CJ Brightley
Rosie picked up her tea with her left hand, since her right was trapped behind Dignified, and sipped nervously.
“I must say,” said Constant, the youngest, “I had expected rather better premises than this.” He looked round the shabby kitchen with haughty disapproval.
“Dignified is not overly concerned with appearances,” said Rosie, and her brother visibly swallowed a remark.
“Dignified has just informed me, in fact,” said Hope, “that the Clever Man’s Works will be moving across the river, to become part of the Master-Mage’s Research Institute, for which I have the honour to work. As part of that move, entirely new quarters will be constructed.” She had listened to Rosie’s parents, and decided to imitate the style in the hope that it would help her credibility with the other Rosewalls.
“Quarters?” said Punctual. “You live here?” He directed the question to Dignified. Rosie flinched.
“Mister Dignified often works unusual hours,” said Hope smoothly. “Demands of the job. It was simpler to provide quarters for him on site.”
Rosie shot her a look of thanks, which dropped off her face as if pushed over a cliff when Opportunity asked, “What about you, Industry? Do you work these ‘unusual hours’ too?”
“Sometimes,” she said, her voice squeaking.
“And when you do, how do you get home safely? Or do you…” she gazed around as if looking for rats, and expecting to find them… “stay here?”
A heavy silence ensued for about five heartbeats before Rosie broke.
“All right,” she said, squaring her chin. She had a good chin for squaring. “All right. I don’t flat with Hope. I live here at the lab. With Dignified.”
This announcement was succeeded by a silence of an entirely different texture.
“I see,” said Opportunity, finally.
“When you say live with…” began Constant.
“Yes,” said Rosie, speaking over him. She didn’t blush, Hope noted, but Constant did. They were a very pale-skinned family.
“Well,” said Punctual. “I… well.” He didn’t give the impression of a man who was often at a loss, and didn’t appear to relish this new experience.
“Do Mother and Father know?” asked Opportunity.
“I haven’t told them in so many words, no,” said Rosie.
“They did hint that the two of you were… involved,” said Punctual. “I didn’t think, however, that…”
“Have you considered the family’s reputation?” asked Opportunity abruptly.
“Not really,” said Rosie, in a tone that attempted to be carefree and very nearly pulled it off.
“Industry,” said Punctual, “we have to do business with people. They have to respect…”
“What possessed you to…” began Opportunity. Her brother rounded on her.
“Will you stop interrupting me?” he snapped. “Industry, we’re respectable people. If we lose that…”
“Really?” said Rosie. “What about your ‘club’?”
Punctual’s face went still.
“What would your business contacts say if they knew you went to a place like that?”
“Actually,” said Punctual, in a strangled voice, “many of them go there as well.”
“How lovely,” said Rosie. “Well, in that case, I think you have a… a Nine-cursed face lecturing me about respectability, Punctual of Rosewall. And frankly, since I’ve separated myself from the family fortunes and am making my own way in the world, my interest in your reputation has severely diminished. You’re wealthy enough, brother. It might even do you good to have less money, though I can’t see that happening, realistically. And you all have my portion to split as well, now.”
“This pacifist foolishness…” said Opportunity.
“Cowardly,” muttered Punctual. Rosie leapt up from her chair, to Dignified’s startlement. She put a hand on his shoulder.
“Cowardly? Hardly! It takes real courage to stand up to other people’s expectations and make a stand on a matter of principle, not that you would know. Dignified works for the Realmgold, you realise that? The Realmgold, who has the best military for six realms round in all directions. You think he hasn’t faced pressure to invent things for military applications? But he sticks with his principles. Look me in the face and tell me that you have one principle that you haven’t already sold.”
“Now see here…” said Punctual.
“Industry of Rosewall!” said Opportunity, in a voice of shock. Constant just watched, his eyes bulging.
“No,” said Rosie, putting her hands on her bony hips, and almost taking Dignified’s eye out with her right elbow. “Do you know what? This is my home. You don’t come in here and insult my, my, my man with your… Oh, just get out!”
“Industry…”
“Out!” she shouted. Constant’s jaw was hanging open, now. He closed it and pushed himself to his feet.
“Come on,” he said, “we’d better go.” He took his older sister’s arm, and she rose with as much dignity as she could manage.
“I shall be speaking with our lawyers,” she said.
“What about?” said Rosie. “I’m an adult. Nobody’s compelled me to do anything. I’ve handed over my holdings, you’ve had a financial gain, not a loss. I owe you nothing, Opportunity of Rosewall, and until you’re prepared to open your mind a little I don’t want to see you back here again. You either, Punctual.”
Constant almost said something, but closed his mouth on it. That, Hope thought, was a young man who knew when to keep a remark to himself and not draw attention. He showed potential.
The Rosewall siblings stalked out in what attempted to be good order, but failed rather badly.
“That’s it,” said Rosie. “I’m changing my name.”
“Rosie…” said Hope.
“Ask Briar how that’s done, will you?”
“What to?” asked Dignified.
“Rosie Printer,” she said. “You said you wanted me to be your family. Well, I want you to be my family.”
An unaccustomed grin spread across Dignified’s face.
“Does that mean you two are going to get oathbound?”
“Why not? I was only holding off to defy my family, and now that I don’t care what they think… What do you need for a legal oathbond?”
“Two adult witnesses, and a person of standing to conduct the ceremony,” said Hope. She had helped Briar study for her law exams a time or two, and remembered quizzing her on this question.
“Does a mage count as a person of standing?”
“You want me to…?”
“Will you?”
“Um, Rosie, perhaps you should think this through a little…”
“Hope,” she said, “I am not going to leave Dignified, nor he me. We have a bond. I’d like it to be official.”
“All right,” said Hope. “But does it have to be right this instant?”
“Can gnomes be legal witnesses?” said Rosie.
“That’s not what I mean. I’m meeting Patient at the ferry wharf in…” she checked the watch hanging from her belt. “Ten minutes ago.”
“Oh,” said Rosie. “All right, then. Tomorrow. But I’m not going to have changed my mind by then.”
“All right,” said Hope. “Tomorrow. I’ll bring Patient round, and he and Mill can be witnesses, if you want. Expect me around mid-morning.”
“Thank you,” said Rosie.
As Hope let herself out of the lab, she heard Rosie say behind her, “That means we can have illicit relations one more time, Dignified. Perhaps two.”
21
An Oathbond and a Hearing
In the interests of speed, Hope took the airhorse, which brought a frown from Patient when she pulled up.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said. “Hop on. We’re late.”
“What delayed you?” asked Patient, as they hurried into Lily’s.
“Rosewall family drama,” she said. “I’ll tell you all about it later.�
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Lily was highly concerned about her latest incident, the more so since it didn’t seem to be linked to the curse, and even more concerned about Hope’s news of her parents’ history.
“We’re going to have to do some more work on that,” she said. “Did your healers clear you to do trancework? Did you ask them?”
“Yes, they said it’s fine,” she replied. “They think they’ve found all the damage, and started the repairs, and now it’s just a matter of time and taking care of myself. What?”
This last was to Patient. “I didn’t say anything,” he said.
“You didn’t have to, I felt it. Is this about the airhorse?”
“Well, yes. They did say to avoid situations which could cause further head trauma.”
“I am not going to give up the airhorse.”
“Hope…”
“We’ll discuss it later, all right?”
“All right,” he said, and subsided, but she could feel his tension even though they weren’t touching.
Lily spent the rest of the session having her travel back to her childhood and look at her interactions with her parents, and theirs with each other, through more informed eyes. Patient went along, and contributed his support, but not as confidently as he had earlier.
When she was out of trance and they were finishing up, Hope said, “Lily, I’d like to ask you about two friends of mine, though. They’re… moving rather quickly, and I’ve been asked today to act as celebrant at their oathbond tomorrow.”
“What?” said Patient.
“Rosie and Dignified. Tell you later,” she said.
“I’m afraid I can’t offer advice to people who aren’t in the room with me,” said Lily. “But I can tell you that your responsibility as celebrant is to ensure that they’re of age and not acting under compulsion. That’s it.”
“But my responsibility as their friend is more than that.”
“That’s true. I’ll have to advise you to follow your own heart on that, reflecting, of course, that if you refuse to perform the ceremony, you may lose access as a voice of reason for them, and they’ll just ask someone else.”
Rather against her better judgement, then, Hope, with Patient, fetched up at the lab mid-morning on Fourday.
She found Rosie and Dignified waiting for them in the kitchen, in good clothes, at least, along with Mill. A thought struck her. “Uh, Mill,” she said, “before we start… do gnomes have adulthood rites?”
“Of course we do,” he said.
“And do you remember the date of yours?”
“Yes.”
“Good. There’s a form we have to fill in.” She had picked up a copy of the Registration of Oathbond form from a Gryphon Clerks office on the way.
Rosie and Dignified read through the form together. It certified that parties named thereunder had exchanged oaths on the date specified before a celebrant who was of standing in the community as defined overleaf, in the presence of witnesses, and that everyone was of legal age and not hindered by prior oaths. There were spaces for names, dates of birth, dates of adulthood rite, signatures, thumbprints and, if applicable, seals of the couple, the celebrant and the witnesses. Hope had already checked the list of persons of standing, and full mages qualified.
It noted at the bottom the minimum content of oaths to be exchanged for a legal oathbond, and Rosie tapped her finger on that paragraph. “All right,” she said, “we’ll have that.”
“Rosie,” said Hope, “don’t you want your oathbond ceremony to be a big event?”
“No,” said Rosie. She was picking up Dignified’s habit of short, literal answers.
“I mean, most people want everyone they know around them, and a big celebration…”
“You know Dignified would hate that. Besides, I just count myself lucky to be oathbound at all, and to someone who respects me for my abilities. My love, are you satisfied with this form of the oath?”
“Yes,” said Dignified.
“Right,” said Rosie. “Now, I’m the younger, so I speak first, right?”
“That’s the tradition.”
“Dignified Printer, I give oath of lifebond to you.”
“I receive your oath of lifebond. Rosie Printer, I give oath of lifebond to you.”
“I receive your oath of lifebond.” They smiled, and Hope felt the bond take between them.
“Well, that’s created an oathbond,” she said. “Even though he didn’t call you by your legal name.”
“Says right there that one or both parties may change their legal name in the course of the ceremony,” said Rosie triumphantly. “Where’s a pen and an ink-pad?”
Everyone filled in their details, signed and thumbprinted. Since none of them had personal seals, that was the whole procedure.
“Well,” said Hope, “that was quick. I hope the oathbond lasts a great deal longer.”
“Don’t worry about that,” said Rosie, smiling up at Dignified. “I bought lunch. Shall we?”
And so the minimal ceremony concluded with a mixed box of dumplings from Leaf’s.
Afterwards, Hope and Patient walked back to the flat. Walking was good for her, and he insisted that they do so, even though it was a long way for him to go on his bad leg.
“Patient,” she said. “About the airhorse.”
“Yes?”
“I… you’re right. I probably shouldn’t use it as often. But I don’t want to give it up entirely.”
He considered for a few heartbeats. “So, under what circumstances will you use it?”
“If I have to go to or from the lab at night. Though that won’t apply much longer. The lab, the whole works, is moving across the river next to the Institute, did I tell you?”
“Yes, you did.”
“And the ferries don’t run at night, so if I get caught late I’ll have to use the Institute’s bunkrooms. Gizmo had some built, for that purpose.” Patient nodded.
“So,” he said, “if we were oathbound… if you were living with me in Redbridge…”
“I’ll take the ferry,” she said. “It’s going to stop at the far side as well now that the Institute is being built up. Those winding roads between Redbridge and Illene…”
“You have no idea how much of a relief that is to me,” he said.
“Oh, I have quite a good sense of it, actually. Why?”
“What?”
“Why are you so worried about the airhorse, in particular?”
He walked alongside her, silent, for a while.
“I never told you how my parents died, did I?” he said at last.
“No, I don’t think you did.”
“You asked me, in one of your letters, but I never answered. It was a carriage accident.”
“Oh.”
“Horses spooked.”
Hope opened her mouth to mention that airhorses didn’t spook, realised that this was beside the point, and closed it again. “I’m sorry to hear it. That must have been a shock.”
“It was.”
“How old were you?”
“Twenty-two.”
“It’s been a few years, then.”
“It has. Still very vivid in my mind, though.”
“I’m sure. Well. Now I understand better.”
“It’s not just because of that, though, Hope,” he said. “You know that if you fell off the airhorse — and your coordination isn’t as good as it was — you could easily injure your head again.”
“Yes. All right. I’ll use it as little as I can.”
“That’s a loss for you, isn’t it,” he said. They were arm in arm, and could sense each other’s emotions clearly.
“It is. I love the feeling of freedom on the airhorse, the speed and the wind whipping past.”
“My falcon.”
“What?”
“That’s how I think of you. A falcon. Beautiful and free. I didn’t want to say anything about the airhorse because, well, it would be like putting jesses on you, but…”
“Thank you.” She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
On the Oneday morning, Hope collected Dignified (in a cab; the sensory stimulus of riding the airhorse would be too much for him) and took him to the room at the university that she and the mathematicians were using. Keeping up with his explanations stretched everyone’s abilities, even the advanced mathematicians’, but it also boosted them into an even greater level of excitement and innovation. By the end of the shift-round, she no longer understood much of what they were talking about.
“We’ll have to get them to come back down to earth and explain things to the magical theorists,” she said to the Master-Mage, who came in on Threeday afternoon to see how everything was going. “Who, in turn, will need to explain things to the mages.”
“I thought you could get started with the theorists next shift-round,” said the old man. “How long do you think you need?”
“If I can get one or two mathematicians, the more comprehensible ones, to help me? Next shift-round and the one after should be enough for a good start.”
“Good. I’ll schedule your senior mage hearing for the shift-round after that, then.”
“That soon?”
“By then the theorists will have had the chance to see you in action, and I’m hoping they’ll swing the vote.”
“That sounds like you don’t think the Council are enthusiastic about promoting me.”
“You are very young for the honour, Hope. I certainly believe you deserve it, but it isn’t up to me.”
“You’re a lot more energetic this shift-round,” said Patient the next Threeday evening. Hope snuggled close and sighed contentedly.
“I’ve been talking to people who mostly speak my language, about things I understand well,” she said. “It’s exciting.”
“My clever mage,” he said, stroking her hair.
“I’m nervous about the outcome of the hearing, though,” she said. “I really want to be a senior mage.”
“Why is it so important to you?”