Tiberius stood to welcome his friend. It was nice to have him here, in his home. He wanted to give a proper tour – to see Pavus in all these familiar and beloved places. Although, some of those places were less proper than others. The baths. His bed. Maker, he didn’t even know if Enzo still felt— He’d been silent too long, beyond just having the air squeezed from his lungs. He laughed a beat too late.
“Well. They wouldn’t want me to mistake you for your father. I could have gone blind in the last fifteen minutes.” Tiberius handed the diary over, trying to imagine Grandfather as he lived in his memory, and not as the thing in the tower cell. Lukios would be furious: dissolute grandson and unsuitable lover – the only reason Tiberius hadn’t secured the family legacy decades ago – picking through the old man’s secrets.
It was a bittersweet sort of pleasure.
“Oh, don’t you worry. There’s loads.” Tiberius gestured toward the tower, collecting the wine bottle and his glass. He led the way down a winding path, past a water feature, and through the heavy doors. Not much had changed within since he’d been here with Tacitus some weeks ago.
Somewhat less dust, perhaps. He lifted his glass and balls of silver light flew from the top to the great chandelier above and sconces along the walls. Grandfather’s desk still dominated the room, mazes of bookshelves and stairs casting thick shadows and lending the tower interior a claustrophobic feel.
The rest of the coded journals were on the desk, five to a stack. Wax tablets, styluses, paper and charcoal all waited for their use. Enzo’s, mostly.
“What would be most useful? Correspondence? Speeches he gave before the Magisterium?” Tiberius browsed the shelves. There was more. Dry texts on genealogy that spared no one — House Umbra proper, client families, slave lines. Accounts of their outer holdings and how they were managed. Many grimoires on the finer points of umbramancy.
He came back to Enzo with his arms full of selected works, and found places to put it all down. Grandfather’s chair – he motioned Enzo to sit there and savored that for just a moment before lugging over another seat for himself.
“Explain it all to me like I’m stupid. Then maybe I’ll be able to help.”
“Well. They wouldn’t want me to mistake you for your father. I could have gone blind in the last fifteen minutes.” Tiberius handed the diary over, trying to imagine Grandfather as he lived in his memory, and not as the thing in the tower cell. Lukios would be furious: dissolute grandson and unsuitable lover – the only reason Tiberius hadn’t secured the family legacy decades ago – picking through the old man’s secrets.
It was a bittersweet sort of pleasure.
“Oh, don’t you worry. There’s loads.” Tiberius gestured toward the tower, collecting the wine bottle and his glass. He led the way down a winding path, past a water feature, and through the heavy doors. Not much had changed within since he’d been here with Tacitus some weeks ago.
Somewhat less dust, perhaps. He lifted his glass and balls of silver light flew from the top to the great chandelier above and sconces along the walls. Grandfather’s desk still dominated the room, mazes of bookshelves and stairs casting thick shadows and lending the tower interior a claustrophobic feel.
The rest of the coded journals were on the desk, five to a stack. Wax tablets, styluses, paper and charcoal all waited for their use. Enzo’s, mostly.
“What would be most useful? Correspondence? Speeches he gave before the Magisterium?” Tiberius browsed the shelves. There was more. Dry texts on genealogy that spared no one — House Umbra proper, client families, slave lines. Accounts of their outer holdings and how they were managed. Many grimoires on the finer points of umbramancy.
He came back to Enzo with his arms full of selected works, and found places to put it all down. Grandfather’s chair – he motioned Enzo to sit there and savored that for just a moment before lugging over another seat for himself.
“Explain it all to me like I’m stupid. Then maybe I’ll be able to help.”
05-25-2024, 05:36 PM
