Chapter 41: Her Own Questions

Chapter 41: Her Own Questions

Celia knocked just as Silas sat down to breakfast.

He left the tray on the counter and opened the door. She stood in the corridor with her device in one hand, already looking past him at the supply list spread across his desk.

"Father wants your account of what happened with Gareth," she said.

"Good morning to you too," Silas said.

"Are you going to make this difficult?" Celia asked.

He stepped aside. "That depends on how much of my morning he wants."

Celia entered, and the familiar private reading appeared. Silas let his attention settle on the part he had been thinking about since her previous visit.

[Severance — A / Unique]

His temporary slot was empty, and the treatment had left him in better condition than during her last visit. He still had no hope of making Severance permanent before Greybank. Five days would at least let him begin learning it.

He would have to start small. Remembering what Celia could eventually do with it made that resolution rather difficult.

He chose to record it.

[Temporary Talent recorded: Severance]

[Assimilation: 0%]

[Duration: 7 days]

Celia was still looking from the supply list to the coat folded on his bed.

"You’re really going?" she asked.

"The academy appears attached to the idea," Silas said.

Celia frowned. "Are you well enough?"

"I’m preparing to go," Silas said. "The clearance comes before departure. Sit down if you’re staying."

Celia took the desk chair. He claimed the comfortable one and retrieved his breakfast tray from the counter with Remote Grasp. The tea had stopped steaming, but the bread was still soft.

She waited until he had taken a bite before holding out her device.

The message was brief. Edmund wanted a clear account of Gareth’s admissions, what had been disclosed at the hearing, and the settlement that followed. He also wanted the origin of Silas’s information.

Silas read that last part twice.

Of course you do.

"Send it to me," he said. "I’ll answer in writing."

"He asked me to get your answer," Celia said.

"And you’ll have it in a form you can pass along." Silas held out his device. "Send it."

Celia’s mouth tightened, but his device chimed a moment later.

Silas set down the bread and began typing. He kept to what had been said and agreed, removing an unnecessary observation about Gareth’s intelligence before sending the account back to her. There was no reason to give Edmund something petty to focus on.

Celia read it without speaking. Her thumb stopped near the bottom.

"You left out the source," Celia said.

"Yes," Silas replied.

"He’ll ask again." She lowered the device. "You know he will."

Silas reached for his bread. "The account is factual. You can send it exactly as it is."

Celia looked down again, checking. He let her. The written answer was considerably more restrained than the one he would have preferred to give.

"And what am I supposed to tell him about the missing part?" she asked.

"That I refused," Silas said.

For a moment, Celia only watched him. Then she sent the document and put her device facedown on the desk.

Silas reached for his tea. "Was there anything else?"

"Yes," Celia said. "I have questions too."

He had expected that. He was less pleased by the way she settled farther into his chair.

"Does Tristan know everything you disclosed?" she asked.

"I don’t know what Father has told him."

"Gareth’s actions concern him," Celia said.

"Then Father should probably tell his heir." Silas put the cup down. "I’m not keeping Tristan from reading the record."

"That wasn’t an accusation," Celia said.

Silas picked up his cup, letting the answer he had been about to give remain unspoken.

Celia exhaled through her nose. She was trying to remain composed, but her fingers had started worrying the corner of his supply list.

"Do you know anything else about the mine that affects us?" she asked.

There were several answers Silas could give to us, and none would improve his morning.

"I have given an account of what happened," he said. "If you’re asking me to guarantee that Gareth has never concealed anything else, find someone more trusting."

"I’m asking whether you’ve concealed anything else," Celia said.

Silas met her eyes. "I’m not discussing my source."

Celia held his gaze for another moment before looking away.

And how would I explain it to you?

He could imagine her listening, asking precise questions, bringing someone better qualified to assess his answers. That was about as far as he wanted to follow the thought.

Celia’s attention moved to the open book beneath the list.

"You’re reading that?" Celia asked.

"Trying to," Silas said. "Leave the marker where it is."

She drew the book closer. A slip of paper marked a section on simple mana circuits. Silas had written three questions beside the printed illustration, two of which he had crossed out after finding the answers elsewhere.

Celia touched the remaining one.

"Why are you trying to interrupt the connection here?" Celia asked.

"Because the diagram says the circuit is stable, and the next page says a break at the junction stops it." Silas set down his cup. "What makes the junction different from the rest of the line?"

"The join," Celia said.

"Yes, I can see that. I mean—"

Celia glanced at him, then at the notes again. "Are you asking about damaging the conductor or interrupting the mana passing through it?"

"The second," Silas said.

"Then why have you drawn your mark across the whole strip?" she asked.

Silas leaned forward.

Celia pulled a blank sheet from the edge of the desk and copied the two joined sections. Her drawing was quick and slightly crooked, but the contact between them was clearer than in the book.

"If you only care about this connection, start by understanding what crosses it," she said. "You’re treating the whole thing as one object."

"It is one working circuit," Silas said.

"Yes, but that’s the result." Celia moved her pencil back to the join. "Here, look."

She turned the page toward him. For several minutes, the conversation became unexpectedly easy. Silas asked where the distinction lay between the supplied flow and the link carrying it. Celia corrected one assumption, then paused over his next question long enough to check the printed explanation herself.

"That part depends on the construction," she admitted. "I haven’t used this model."

He liked that answer more than he would have liked a confident guess.

When Celia finally looked up, her eyes went from his notes to the books stacked beside the chair.

"You actually worked through the earlier section," Celia said.

"Twice," Silas told her. "The first time didn’t help much."

Celia looked down at the crossed-out questions. "I thought you’d skipped ahead."

Silas almost asked what she had expected. Her expression made the answer obvious enough to spare them both.

She rose a little later, taking her device but leaving the drawing. At the door, she stopped.

"Father won’t consider that finished," Celia said.

"I assumed he wouldn’t," Silas replied.

Celia gave him a dissatisfied look and left.

Silas waited until her footsteps had moved away before returning to the desk. His breakfast was cold. He ate the remaining bread anyway, studying the narrow junction she had drawn.

Then he called up Severance.

The unfamiliar response stirred with his mana, present but difficult to direct. He tried to steady it and felt an uncomfortable tightening behind his eyes. He let it subside, leaving the drawing untouched.

He needed something small to practice on, with a real connection he could examine.

Preferably something cheap.

He opened the equipment catalogue and found a beginner’s practice board with exposed contacts and a low-output indicator lamp.

Before placing the order, he checked the timer.

Six days and twenty-three hours remained.

For the first time that morning, he wished Celia had stayed longer.