Ch. 152 The First Frost of the Season

Chapter 152: The First Frost of the Season

The first frost caught us arguing about a latch.

Garrick had discovered that the nursery chest could be opened.

Fortunately, he had not discovered how to keep the lid from descending again.

His grandfather had caught it.

Now three adults stood around the chest while its smallest admirer attempted to climb my leg.

“A higher fastening,” Helena said.

“He’ll grow,” Evelyn replied.

“Eventually,” I said.

My wife looked at our son.

He had reached my knee.

“Apparently he has begun.”

Lord Garrick examined the hinge.

“I’ll change this too.”

Outside the window, the lower garden shone white.

By breakfast, half the castle had found something that needed doing before winter.

Eleanor arrived with the granary figures beneath one arm and a broken roof tile beneath the other.

She put the tile on the council table.

Mary moved an inkpot.

“Must that be here?”

“It’s why I’m here.”

The tile had split almost neatly in half.

Eleanor pointed to a dark patch near its edge.

“Water gets into that, frost opens it. We can finish the western slope before the next proper rain if the timber arrives today.”

“Is it late?”

“It’s at the gate.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The wagon carrying it has lost a wheel.”

I looked toward the Castellan.

He inclined his head.

“The construction frames are available.”

Eleanor smiled.

It was a practical smile.

It usually involved something heavy leaving the ground.

We went to watch because I wanted to see how the new frames worked together.

At least, that was the reason I gave.

Evelyn came because she knew me.

The wagon stood just inside the gate, leaning at an angle its builder had probably not intended.

One wheel lay beside it.

The driver stood with his arms folded, staring at the broken axle as though disappointment might repair it.

Eleanor placed the golems on either side.

Then she made everyone else move.

“Lift.”

The wagon rose.

Slowly.

Both frames stopped at the same height.

The driver opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

I understood.

There was something satisfying about seeing a problem become someone else’s reasonable working weight.

They did not carry the wagon to the granary.

Eleanor had the timber unloaded onto a sound cart while the broken one remained supported.

The Castellan stood beside me.

“Can they always work together like that?” I asked.

“Within their instructions.”

“And if one begins to slip?”

“They stop. If the load can be lowered safely, they lower it.”

I watched a mason guide the final beam across.

“What about something larger?”

“Larger than a wagon?”

“A bridge beam. A roof truss.”

“Yes.”

Eleanor heard him.

She turned.

“After we’ve finished this roof.”

“I hadn’t said anything.”

“You were about to.”

Evelyn laughed.

The Castellan, whose face was not designed for smiling, somehow managed to look involved.

The cold had brought more people to the infirmary.

Old injuries.

Coughs.

A man who had insisted that his ladder was perfectly safe until the ladder offered a different opinion.

Evelyn stayed after our visit to the gate.

I went to the training yard.

Alistair had decided that my recent experience with gods did not excuse neglecting my feet.

He demonstrated this with a wooden sword.

Twice.

“Again,” he said.

I recovered my balance.

“Would you believe I’ve been busy?”

“Yes.”

He raised his sword.

That was apparently the end of the discussion.

By the time Evelyn joined us, my shoulder hurt and my pride had become manageable.

She watched Alistair disarm me.

Then looked at the wooden sword on the ground.

“Productive morning?”

“Very.”

Eliza entered the yard carrying a padded staff.

“We’re walking today.”

My wife glanced at me.

The shared shield.

We had managed the exchange on the landing at Tern Reach.

That had been a few steps, taken with unusual motivation.

Eliza intended to make it repeatable.

I picked up my sword and put it away.

Some lessons were difficult enough without carrying evidence of the previous one.

Aurelia joined us beneath the covered walk.

She wore a wool cloak Helena had found for her.

It was slightly too long.

She had refused to let anyone delay the morning by hemming it.

We formed the shield between two markers.

Evelyn shaped it.

I supplied most of the strength.

Then we walked.

At the fourth step, my wife took the weight.

The shield narrowed.

Eliza struck its side.

It held.

I felt Evelyn’s breathing change.

“Ready?” I asked.

“Yes.”

I took it back.

We reached the far marker.

No water.

No ruined tower.

No tide deciding how long we had.

Only eight steps and one blow.

I was absurdly pleased.

Aurelia nodded.

“Again. A little less slowly.”

Of course.

We stopped before either of us became too tired to notice our mistakes.

That was Aurelia’s decision.

Eliza accepted it without argument.

I looked at her.

She lifted one shoulder.

“I’d like you to remember the part that worked.”

Evelyn sat on the bench.

I joined her.

Aurelia lowered herself beside us and adjusted her cloak.

“Was it always like this?” I asked.

“Training?”

“Learning something useful, then discovering how many ways there are to do it badly.”

“Yes.”

“Comforting.”

“I thought you would appreciate honesty.”

My wife leaned against my shoulder.

“I appreciate sitting down.”

For a while, we all agreed with her.

Sabine’s reply arrived after the midday meal.

Mary brought it to the map room.

The Castellan was already there.

Aurelia came when we sent word, and Evelyn joined us after washing the infirmary scent from her hands.

Sabine had found the surviving office.

The title had changed.

The seal had not.

I looked at the small drawing copied beneath her letter.

A closed book between two upright branches.

One of the two remaining marks.

“Where?” I asked.

“A town called Merrowden,” Mary said. “Three days inland from Caerwyn’s southern road.”

“Who holds it?”

“Lady Senra Voss. Keeper of the Quiet Register.”

Aurelia’s hand stopped on the back of a chair.

I looked at her.

She was staring at the seal.

“Do you know the title?”

“The older one.”

The Castellan turned the copied attestation toward her.

She read it.

Then sat.

I waited.

At last, she said, “They kept testimony.”

“About the convocation?”

“About many things. Disputes between temples. Claims of miracles. Accusations against those who spoke in a god’s name.”

Evelyn drew her chair closer.

“What did they testify against you?”

Aurelia looked down at the page.

“That I had spoken beyond my station.”

The words were quiet.

I found myself looking at her throat.

She noticed.

“No,” she said. “It was not simply that they wanted me silent.”

“What did they want?”

“To decide when my answer could be heard.”

Mary read the rest of Sabine’s letter.

There was no invitation.

No demand.

Only information gathered from people who knew the office as it existed now.

The register received petitions.

Some were answered.

Others remained pending for years.

Lady Senra had inherited the position from her uncle.

She was known for refusing visitors who arrived without an appointment.

Melody, who had come in halfway through the reading, folded her arms.

“That sounds promising.”

“It sounds familiar,” Evelyn said.

I looked at Aurelia.

“Do you want us to write?”

She considered it.

Then nodded.

“Yes.”

“To ask for a meeting?”

“And for the record of my confinement held under that seal.”

Mary reached for a clean page.

Aurelia stopped her gently.

“I would like to write that part myself.”

We left her at the table with Mary.

I went with Evelyn to the lower garden.

The frost had vanished from the paths, leaving the shaded earth dark and wet.

Our children’s pear trees stood among the bare beds.

A gardener was spreading mulch around their roots.

He looked up when we approached.

“Cold came early.”

“Will they be all right?” Evelyn asked.

“Yes, my lady. They’re settled in.”

We watched him work for a while.

Then my wife said, “She looked different.”

“Aurelia?”

“When she asked for the pen.”

I thought about the room at Orselle.

The questions she had brought.

The way she had stood before Nereth even while frightened.

“Yes.”

Evelyn slipped her hand into mine.

“I’m glad she has somewhere to come back to.”

The granary roof was not finished by evening.

It was, however, covered well enough that Eleanor expected the grain to remain dry if the weather changed overnight.

I accepted this as good news.

She accepted it as the point at which everyone should stop climbing ladders.

The construction frames carried the last unused timber beneath shelter.

The Castellan watched them settle into place.

“Will you begin another?” I asked.

“When the materials and stored power allow.”

“Eleanor will ask.”

“She has.”

“How many?”

“She requested two.”

I looked toward her.

She was speaking to the foreman.

“Will she get them?”

“In time.”

I thought about the wagon.

The roof.

The number of backs that would hurt less that night.

“In time,” I agreed.

At supper, Aurelia told us the letter was finished.

Mary had prepared the formal covering note.

Sabine would receive a copy and arrange its delivery.

“What did you say?” I asked.

Aurelia set down her cup.

“That I know the office’s seal was affixed to the instrument that confines me. That I wish to examine the testimony entered under it.”

“And?”

“That I expect to be permitted to answer.”

Evelyn smiled slightly.

Aurelia looked at her.

“Too much?”

“No.”

I reached for the bread.

For once, I had nothing to add.

After supper, Garrick’s grandfather brought the altered nursery chest upstairs.

The lid no longer fell freely.

The fastening sat well out of our son’s reach.

Garrick examined it from the blanket.

Then crawled to his grandfather’s boot and attempted to climb that instead.

Lord Garrick looked down.

“I see the difficulty was never really the furniture.”

Carol had found the repaired fish.

One seam had needed attention after considerable affection.

She held it by the tail and offered it to Aurelia.

Aurelia accepted.

Our daughter immediately wanted it back.

The exchange occupied them both for several minutes.

Later, Evelyn brought out the letter we had begun for the twins.

She added the frost.

The standing.

The fact that their grandfather had repaired a chest only to become the next thing climbed.

Then she passed me the pen.

I looked at the page for a while.

“What?” she asked.

“I’m trying to decide how much they’ll understand.”

“When they read it?”

I nodded.

She leaned against me.

“We don’t know when that will be.”

On the blanket, Garrick pulled himself upright against the newly secured chest.

Carol watched him.

Aurelia sat nearby, ready if he lost his balance.

I wrote about that.

The room.

The people in it.

The fact that, for the first time, Aurelia had a bedroom down the corridor.

Evelyn read over my shoulder.

Then kissed my cheek.

Before bed, I passed the map room.

The letter to Merrowden lay sealed on Mary’s desk.

Beside it stood the little box holding the bronze join from Tern Reach.

One thing finished.

Another waiting.

I stood there long enough to notice that I was not reaching for the seal.

Then I went upstairs.

At the end of the corridor, Aurelia’s door stood open.

She was trying to fold the wool cloak without letting it trail across the floor.

“Would you like help?”

“Yes,” she said. “This appears to have been made for someone with considerably longer arms.”

I took the other end.

Together, we folded it neatly enough to fit upon the chest.

“Good night,” she said.

“Good night.”

Tomorrow, the letter would leave.

Tonight, there was a cloak to put away.