A Scholar of Magics by Caroline Stevermer

allay”
    A fter yet another boiled dinner in hall that evening, Lambert slowly climbed the staircase to the empty quarters he shared with Fell. Still no sign of his friend. The conversation between Voysey and Jane earlier in the day had given Lambert the chance to let Robert Brailsford know that there was something important he needed to tell him. The need to get Jane out of earshot had made it tricky, but her spirited
conversation with Voysey and Porteous lasted longer than their meal did. Eventually the three of them strolled far enough ahead that Lambert could mutter to Brailsford and pass him the plans with a brief explanation of where he’d found them.
    â€œGood gad, man. What was Fell doing with these?” Brailsford tucked the papers away hastily. “He washed his hands of the project long ago.”
    Lambert didn’t like the critical note in Brailsford’s voice. “I’d lay odds Fell doesn’t even know they were there. If it turns out he does know, I reckon he just doesn’t think they’re anything important. He’s never given two pins for the project anyway.”
    Brailsford shook his head in mock despair. “ Tuppence. The idiomatic phrase should be ‘He doesn’t care tuppence.’”
    Happy that Brailsford had let himself be distracted, Lambert continued to play dumb. “He doesn’t give two cents for it either.”
    Whatever Brailsford had in common with his sister, a sense of humor was not included. “I’ll tell Voysey as soon as Jane is safely out of the way. I don’t suppose you’d like to show her the glass at St. Joseph’s, would you?” Clearly, Brailsford thought it most unlikely that anyone would willingly choose to spend time with his sister.
    Lambert didn’t have to think it over. “I would.”
    â€œCapital.” Brailsford started to move toward Voysey, Porteous, and Jane, caught himself, and turned back to Lambert. “Would you really?”
    Lambert nodded.
    Brailsford frowned slightly. “That’s good. That’s fine.
Just—don’t take her too seriously. Jane was rather strange as a child. Fanciful. When it suits her purpose, she can be most—convincing.”
    Lambert had puzzled over that piece of advice for the rest of the afternoon and evening. Much of the afternoon he’d spent in Jane’s company, as Porteous showed them around some of the more restricted areas of Glasscastle. Jane had seemed a bit subdued, politely attentive to Porteous no matter what flights of architectural or philosophical fancy he took them on. Any talent she had for convincing people of things they ought not be convinced of remained hidden. Lambert could appreciate any brother’s urge to protect a sister, but the warning seemed intended to protect Lambert from Jane. Odd, that.
    There had been a moment that afternoon, although no more than a moment, when Jane’s courteous attention to Porteous had faltered. It occurred during Porteous’s lecture upon the architectural excellence of the Wearyall College chapel.
    â€œThere are complexities upon complexities all around us as we stand here,” Porteous told them. Back to the wall, he faced the entrance and his voice boomed beautifully around the empty space of the chapel. “Every element we see tells us something about the way the architect viewed the world. No, let me rephrase that. Not the stained glass windows. Those are a recent restoration and quite extraordinarily insipid at that. But I digress. The use of space here can hardly be understood by the untrained eye. It requires years of study to comprehend and to appreciate the place fully.”
    Lambert tried to catch Jane’s eye and failed utterly.
Meekly, he settled for a murmur of polite encouragement and Porteous surged onward.
    â€œThis is where the genius of Glasscastle has been made not merely visible but audible. To hear a fully sung service here at