Page 115 of The Thief and the Traitor Bride

“Do you know much of them?” Nore asked. “I heard that the earliest Idistrans were from here.”

“You know the lore, then,” Locke said.

“And don’t make her repeat it,” Ola said from across the table. “Every time she tells a story, she finds some new way to make it depressing.”

Locke shot Ola a glare. “I don’t have to entertain you,” she muttered into her glass.

Either the Viper was more interested in this line of questioning or he was just accustomed to Locke and Ola. “The first Idistrans weren’t Idistrans at all,” he said. “They were actually from Lindan. Travelers, probably heading to the northern territories or northeast, caught in a stormy sea. Your scholar probably knows this—that’s why a lot of Auldlochan has roots in your language—maybe it doesn’t look that way when written, but certainly when spoken.”

“Oh,” Nore said, genuinely surprised. She glanced at Caspian, who was clearly turning something over. But Lindle magic didn’t create constructive objects, either—it was instructive, so anyone could do magic if they learned the calculations behind it.

She thought back to the artifact trade she and Terlo had read about that afternoon. Perhaps the artifact genuinely was from another system, and the folklore had been mixed up? But Celestine had seemed so certain otherwise…

“I’m sure our friend, Professor Augustine, will be very interested to know more about it,” Nore said, running her fingertip over the folded seam of her napkin. “They’ve not had much luck finding primary sources—I don’t suppose you have an archive? Writings, maybe, from the ancient inhabitants of the Isle?”

It was the High Lady and the commander who exchanged a look then, Nore noted—not one of fear or of worry. But of two people who inhabited the same space quite closely, perhaps two people searching for a lost article of clothing in their own home, who shared a life and a language and a context and might know where the other one had put something in the cellar.

How close are you? Nore thought—and beyond that: And if you are a match, why has Scaela not pushed for the alliance?

She wondered, too, how much of this was more visible now, in a small setting—and desperately, she wanted to see the High Lady and her commander in a ballroom to see what airs they put on in front of her court.

“Isn’t that Owndig fellow working on some sort of archive?” the Viper asked. “The Stratan?”

“Oh, gods,” Locke said, rubbing her eyes. “Bell.” She looked up at Ola. “Whatever you do, do not let me go into the southwest hall again until he leaves.”

“You could kick him out,” Garna said. “He is your guest, you know.”

Locke withered. “I promised Sela—”

“A Stratan friend,” Garna supplied, catching Nore’s confused look.

“—that he could help us figure out what is historically significant, and what needs to stay or go, or be protected or guarded or thrown into the sea.”

“We should not throw any of it into the sea,” the Viper said gently, as if he was comforting her. “It’s all historically significant to someone. Probably to many people who are not you, because most of us do not live in an ancient fortress full of priceless objects.”

“You do, in fact, live in an ancient fortress full of priceless objects,” Ola said to the Viper. Nore glanced at Caspian quick enough to see his lip twitch.

“Then you can keep them at your house,” Locke said, possibly to Ola, but also possibly to the Viper. She turned her attention back to Nore. “He’s using the hall as some sort of office/museum/archive while he works on his research—he’s taken over the entire hall and the adjoining rooms. I swear to you, he kept me for two hours last week to talk about a shoe. A shoe, Ol. I could not even talk about my own shoes for two hours, let alone one of someone dead, whom I’ve never heard of.”

“I thought it was a purse,” the Viper remarked.

Locke buried her face again in her hands. “An unidentifiable piece of leather. I was so late for lunch, I thought Luthos was going to send out a search party. Our dear Luthrite ambassador left me barbed notes for days about the perceived insult.”

“He sent Brit on a quest to Cleoc Strata to bring back a rock from his office,” the Viper added. “Supposedly, it was a very important rock. He needed to compare it to one of our rocks.”

“What kind of rock?” Caspian asked, sitting back farther in his chair. Nore raised an eyebrow, but Caspian knew more about artifacts than she did. If he thought the rock was important… She sighed, wishing they’d found some way to bring Terlo.

Though, perhaps it was better this way. The High Lady looked weary enough even thinking of scholars. Nore wondered how Terlo would fare if permitted to run through Locke’s halls unattended and unguarded. Perhaps they would be just as big a nuisance as Bell, though Nore doubted they would be so forward about wasting the High Lady’s time.

“A shiny one. Engraved, I think?” the Viper shook his head. “I think, if one wished, they could wear the rock as a necklace.”

Nore’s eyes locked on Caspian’s. A necklace was simply a linguistic slip away from a medallion.

“That all sounds… incredibly dull,” Nore said, nodding to acknowledge Locke’s apparent struggle, “but I’m sure our friend would find it enlightening. I don’t suppose we could bring them, maybe, to meet your Bell?”

“Please,” Locke said, still inside her hands. “He is not my Bell. I would like to send him back as soon as—”

“That would be a welcome relief,” the Viper said. “If your friend knows about artifacts, perhaps they can distract our scholar for an afternoon and leave the rest of us in peace.”