Things get a little more difficult for Alecto.

If you like this you can support me on Patreon.

Parlour Predicaments

Trimaris, Memory

 

The last notes of the Bard King’s Farewell to Summer reverberated throughout the parlor. Octavian stood to the side of the fireplace, violin in hand, drawing out that rich chord. The sound kept going, getting softer and softer until even though Trimaris knew her brother was no longer playing, the hum of it stayed with her. It purred in her heart and her wet cheeks, it clung to the edges of the room; the velvet curtains, the plush carpet. As though even the song itself did not want to say goodbye.

“Bravo, Octavian.” Trimaris remembered herself in time to clap politely but her brother shook his head.

“Your smile is enough,” he murmured.

She rose and swept to the sideboard. The air in the parlor was cozy, especially with the wind battering against the glass on the other side of the curtains. Trimaris shivered as she encountered a stray strand of cold breeze. Glasses clinked as she poured brandy for the three of them. “Alecto,” she said, “wasn’t that lovely?”

“Indeed.” Her lover gave her a smile that lit up his whole face. Alecto sat to the side, having taken the armchair. The firelight jumped against his profile, crowning his head with a ring of molten gold. “I must say your brother is quite the musician.” To Trimaris’ delight he did not appear troubled or wracked by exhaustion, two expressions she saw more often than the one he was wearing now.

Octavian ducked his head and checked his bow strings. “I’m a composer,” he replied with a little heat. “When the opera house is finished—”

“Yes, yes.” Alecto waved his hand and sniffed in dismissal. “You’ll write the greatest scores to ever grace the stage; you’ve said as much before.”

“Gentlemen—”

“Oh, like you’ve never repeated yourself,” Octavian snapped.

“Gentlemen.” Trimaris stepped between them and firmly set down the tray with the brandy. The glasses tinkled. “We’ve all had a long day, yes? There’s nothing we can do about this storm so we may as well enjoy an evening in.”

As if to accentuate her argument the wind picked up. It howled against the Reach, banging doors farther down the hall. Despite that the parlor remained warm. Trimaris settled onto the sofa. She sipped her brandy. One glance over the top of her glass took in practically the whole room.

Evergreen wallpaper covered the parlor, making the high walls lean in closer. Polished mahogany trim threw back the firelight at the edge of her vision. Trimaris watched as Octavian flicked through a booklet of music scores. He hardly paused in his search and the pages passed under his hands in quick succession. With the music to distract him she turned her attention to Alecto.

Trimaris pursed her lips and suppressed a sigh. He hadn’t touched his brandy. Alecto had leaned his head back onto the chair. His cheeks looked hollowed and there was a paleness to his skin that neither firelight nor liquor could touch. A frown creased the corners of his mouth and furrowed his brow. He stared straight ahead but Trimaris knew he wasn’t seeing what was in front of him.

“Darling?”

“Hm?” Alecto rallied, pulling a quick, tight smile across his face just for her. “It’s nothing, I was just thinking.”

“About the city?”

He nodded.

Trimaris paused as Octavian brought the violin to his chin again and set the bow to the strings. Her mind was abuzz with questions but they would have to wait.

Gently, Octavian pulled soft, low notes into the air. He rocked slightly on his heels as he brought the sweet harmony from a delicate hum to a clear song. His eyes closed. Strands of scarlet hair came free of his queue as he leaned into the music, almost waltzing in place; just himself and the music. Closer than lovers.

Octavian’s suite grew until it filled the whole room. He coaxed his magic along the swell of notes, letting it roll and flow with his movements. Carmine light, just as familiar as the glow and crackle of the fireplace, rippled from his hands. The tiny golden suns of his magelights swirled and dipped into being like candle flames around his head. Whatever worried frenzy that usually accompanied a day spent directing builders at the opera house melted away. Tension drained out of his shoulders and he continued to play, happily lost in the exquisite dance of horsehair on string.

Trimaris glanced to the side and breathed a bit easier. As her brother’s magic flowed through the parlor it warmed everything it touched. It banished the cold breeze. It muted the rattling of the windows.

And it brought peace to Alecto’s face. He was still leaning back in his chair, brandy in hand, listening with closed eyes. He had so many cares to carry, so much work to do. But now, here in this place, the song allowed him to do nothing but listen, to forget everything that troubled him. His chest rose and fell easily, and Trimaris was certain that there, in the shadow cast by the fire, she detected a small smile.

When the song was over they both clapped and Octavian bowed. He set the violin down and excused himself to sit and take a rest.

“Still having trouble with those lift mechanisms?” Octavian asked Alecto after helping himself to the brandy.

“Mm.” Alecto frowned in answer.

Trimaris tried to wave the question away. “Please, let’s not talk about work—”

“What sort of trouble are you having?”

Alecto finished his drink and leaned on the arm of the chair, swirling the ice in his glass. It clinked softly. The reflection of the light from the fire obscured most of the blue in his tired eyes. “They can’t wind by themselves. I have to spare a mason or one of my Verandi workers to come and wind the clockwork every day. Otherwise the automatons just run down and then the lifts can’t function.”

“Just install an aetheric engine,” Octavian said, settling back into his seat. “Simple.”

“Not as simple as you’d think,” Alecto replied. He frowned, mouth pulling back into a grimace. “Logslette’s aetheric engine has been patented by the Citadel. I can’t use it…unless I pay.”

Octavian sipped his brandy, unconcerned. “So pay. The mage did the work and they ought to receive proper credit.” He shrugged.

“Credit at six hundred percent of what the normal cost of labor and materials would be?”

“Oh.”

Alecto stared sourly into the fire. “And it’s not just the lifts, either. I’m having the same problem with the lock divers and some of the furnace automations.”

“Would a mage’s focus do?” Trimaris asked.

“I’m not certain it would. I could configure a heart instead of or along with instruction scrolls in each automaton but a mage’s focus needs constant attention. Not nearly as constant, but still. I need to be able to leave them running for long periods at a time without needing maintenance. A boiler-powered system wouldn’t work either; I’d use up all the forest between here and the Empire.” The Baron sighed. “I’ll figure it out eventually,” he said, waving Trimaris’ concern away.

She leaned over and covered his free hand with hers. His skin was cold to the touch. “It will come in time. Now, what do you want to hear next?”

Alecto’s gentle smile warmed Trimaris from the inside out. He squeezed her fingers. “Something pleasant, I think.”

Bitter wind gusted and moaned against the manor. It shook the windows but could not get in. Inside the parlor the Baron and his lady listened to songs of spring and sun. Alecto’s hand reached and grasped Trimaris’. His smile did not fade or falter but he clasped her tightly all the same.

And Trimaris found that, despite the cheery music and the bracing heat of the fireplace, that there was an icy corner of worry inside her heart; a nagging concern that she could not dismiss.