Jameson Wilkes (sherrinford) wrote in lightning_war, @ 2008-10-25 07:46:00 |
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Current mood: | frustrated |
Wednesday morning, 16 September 1942, at St Mungo's Hospital in Londinium...
“Good morning, Mr Diggory,” said Jameson Wilkes as he opened the door and let Isaac Diggory in. The tea was ready this time, and there were scones with clotted cream; he did not expect the meeting to be short. “I’ve done a preliminary review of the material I have at my disposal, and Dr van Rensselaer and I have reviewed the relevant natal data. One of our local hunters, Miss Lili Naszvadi, has also been making a study of the case, and has asked to consult with me. We’d like to discuss our findings with you.” He indicated the woman sitting at the other chair across from his desk. She was blond, dressed in leathers in dusty shades of brown and blue, and she nodded to Isaac.
Wilkes was not entirely happy to be working with Lili Naszvadi, but she was at least not one of the Ziteks, who seemed to leave a swath of destruction behind them; she was Ilóna Király’s lover, he’d gathered, and she was probably competent. But there was something about her that bothered him, something a little too familiar and dangerous.
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Naszvadi,” Isaac told her. It was the same woman who had been in the room when Zabini had worked on Bilius; she had apparently been in the ward playing with the children. Bilius had even mentioned her in passing that morning. He took the remaining chair opposite Wilkes. “My ward mentioned that he enjoyed your card tricks,” he told Lili, and then said to Wilkes: “He is quite well, comparatively, this morning, for which I am very grateful to all the staff here.”
“Alessio is amazing,” said Wilkes, shaking his head. “We’re lucky to have him here.”
“You are,” said Lili Naszvadi, with a sidewise smile. She had written Alessio Zabini off for years, thinking him in no way the equal of Stepán Zitek, Michel Rosenthal or Halász Sharolt; apparently, that had been a mistake. “I enjoy playing with the children,” she told Isaac. “Your son—I mean your ward—has been badly mistreated, but I’m sure you know that. His father was a real piece of work, and he might have been one even without the vengeful ghost, but there’s still some hope for the boy. He needs you, but you know that too, I’m sure. He also needs strong women in his life. Anyhow, do you happen to know, or can you find out, where Erasmus Weasley is buried? A simple salt and burn won’t fix this. But it might make things easier.” It was a place to start. She needed one.
Lili wondered if she was getting soft. Bilius was developing exactly the sort of attitude that would make him her lawful prey, and he was a desperately unhappy child who might have been happier to be shown the way out of this world. There was no-one who would have protected him against it and if she thought about it more than enough of her own had been killed. But he was also very much a victim of exactly the sort of thing she hated. Every now and again she felt the need to take some sort of stand and this was apparently one of those times. It wasn’t always enough just to have the freedom she craved and demanded. Sometimes she needed to set someone else free.
Isaac shook his head. “We don’t know very much about him,” he said, frustrated by the lack of information about the man who had apparently started all this, at least on their side of it. “That might be deliberate on his part, even. I’ve looked through my…Marcus Weasley’s papers to an extent, but there’s nothing obvious there about Erasmus and in any case it’s also difficult to separate fact from fiction. Or delusion.”
“Well,” Wilkes began, “we can start with the obvious places, like the local churchyards near the estates where your family has lived, and Lady Malfoy will be doing some research…”
Lili nodded. “And I have other sources,” she said, with more confidence than she actually felt. “I’ll check with them.”
“I’ll provide anything of Marcus’s that seems remotely useful,” Isaac said. “It might be that someone with expertise can make more sense of it.” He nodded at Lili and cleared his throat. “But if a salt and burn can’t fix this—and I can easily believe it—do you have any idea what else there is to be done?”
Lili started to answer him, but Wilkes jumped in before she could speak, typical man that he was.
“It’s difficult to say,” said Wilkes. “We need to know which of the ghosts want vengeance, and which ones want justice. In general, it’s always wise to do the just thing, but vengeance never ends well.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t like this idea—”
“As well you should not,” Lili grumbled, but Wilkes ignored her. They had discussed it before Isaac arrived and Lili had cursed him out for it. Still, there was something about the composites that Laurens had drawn which seemed appealing, even compelling. As if it was just and right and even inevitable—so why not protect it with a contract, instead of allowing the feuding ancestors to peck and tear at it like vultures?
“I don’t like this idea,” Wilkes repeated. “But the composite for a betrothal between Kathleen and Lucius shows significant promise as a method of solving some of these problems. Not because that would be just, and not because it would satisfy a thirst for vengeance, but because it would mean that neither side could completely destroy the other without destroying itself as well. The children like one another already and as it stands, they’re likely to suffer on account of it. A betrothal contract would protect them and their friendship and it might just make Weasley feel justice was done…”
Isaac frowned deeply. “A betrothal…?” he repeated. “I am assuming that you do not mean one entirely freely chosen by two intelligent adults some years down the track.” He found the idea of arranged marriage utterly abhorrent. What right did anyone have to choose, for a child, with whom they would live, with whom they would bear or sire children? How could one take this very basic and important adult choice from his or her child? And how could one ever be sure that people who liked each other at eleven would suit ten years later?
“Is that ever what men mean when they speak of women’s betrothals?” Lili asked pointedly. “If people wanted marriage to be freely chosen, they wouldn’t make contracts and laws to bind each other, or invoke the gods to do it for them.”
Wilkes fixed her with an exasperated look. “Your biases are well known, Miss Naszvadi.” He was suddenly overcome with great sympathy for Ilóna Király, who was always so flustered when asked about Lili. Marriage might be good for Király, but Lili would never give her that, would she? He’d never seen an accurate chart for Király, who claimed not to know her own nativity, but all of the ones that Laurens had tried to produce by rectification had suggested only the very most tenuous ties to the world of the living, a life on the very edge. He never pried, and Király resisted his attempts at friendship, but he knew she was a refugee, and that in itself suggested a rough, lonely life.
Wilkes forcibly derailed this train of thought; he wasn’t here to ponder Király’s problems, and the Lovegood boy’s were more than enough of a puzzle to keep him occupied. “I don’t suggest this lightly,” he told Isaac. “Can you read these charts? I think it is quite likely they would choose this on their own. Impossible to predict, of course. But likely, very likely.”
Isaac looked at Lili thoughtfully. “Kathleen is eleven,” he said. “But I haven’t yet heard her speak much more flatteringly of marriage.”
“Smart girl,” said Lili under her breath, resolving to visit Kathleen in the future as well.
Isaac looked at the charts cautiously for some minutes. “I am no expert of course, nothing of the kind,” he demurred. “But it looks quite possible they’d choose something for themselves. Why not let them then? And if they choose otherwise, find some other method of avoiding having the families destroy each other.” He crossed his arms. “I assume there is some urgency, Dr Wilkes, if you’re even bringing this up now, but you will have to be very convincing for me to even so much as consider this.”
Wilkes frowned. “The problem is that we don’t really have seven to ten years to wait to unite the families, Mr Diggory. Lady Malfoy’s intended was stricken last night, and while we didn’t come nearly as close to losing him, I wonder what else is in store. The aspects have gone void of course—I can’t blame the curse activity on the transits any more. Something woke up.”
“And I’ll put it back to sleep permanently, given half a chance,” said Lili flatly. There was a murderous gleam in her eyes that Wilkes did not at all like, even though he was wholly in sympathy with the idea of laying any and all malevolent ghosts to rest. She enjoyed it, for one thing; and for another, he suspected her of having decided that Justine Malfoy had been in the right about everything, even though Lady Malfoy herself was far less certain of it.
Wilkes nodded. “I don’t doubt that you can. But I’m not sure that will solve the problem either, Miss Naszvadi. Final death and disposition of the caster doesn’t always put an end to curses like this. You of all people should know that. If other forces have been drawn in—”
“I can deal with that,” said Lili sourly.
“I would much prefer,” Isaac said heavily, and sighed, and continued: “I would much prefer to stand against whatever this is myself, than take Kat’s adulthood away from her.”
Wilkes frowned, his brow deeply furrowed. “I’m not sure I understand what you are saying. It would be a choice made for her, but as much as I myself dislike the idea, I do not think it would invalidate her entire adulthood,” he said. “Nor do I doubt your bravery and willingness to take the blow for your wards. But the unfortunate facts are that whatever this is has little to no interest in you. It appears to be more interested in the Zabinis than it is in you, which I do not yet understand; there were no Zabinis in Britannia at the time that this began.”
“It wouldn’t invalidate her entire adulthood,” Isaac said. “But this is a rather central part of it, is it not? The ability to choose where she lives, who she lives with, whose children she bears. Or does not bear. I am assuming that this is all part of this, Dr Wilkes. That you are not talking about a marriage in name only.”
“If she even wants to live with a man and bear children,” said Lili before Wilkes could reply.
Wilkes sighed. “You’re both ignoring the possibility that if the children were contracted, it would buy us time to find another way to put an end to this,” he said. “I don’t like the idea of betrothing eleven-year-olds any more than you do, Mr Diggory, but something needs to be done in the very near future before anyone else nearly dies. Or actually does. It’s possible that if we contracted the children now, and one or more of the angry spirits behind this were mollified…we’d be able to figure out a better way to put an end to it before they’re old enough to marry.” He shrugged. “We should talk to Lady Malfoy.”
“You didn’t discuss that possibility before,” Isaac said rather coldly. “And if it is only a possibility rather than a certainty, then all of these issues are still perfectly valid problems with the whole thing.” He sighed. “Certainly we should talk to Lady Malfoy,” he added. He pondered her romantic history, it wasn’t the history of someone who was likely to favour an arranged marriage. Unless she sought to make up for her own reputation with her son’s life. He hoped not. “And, I should add, to Kat herself.”
Wilkes rubbed his forehead. Lili was getting under his skin and it was making him rather stupid. Diggory had considerable pride, and Wilkes understood exactly why Diggory found it offensive; he wouldn’t have liked it for Dorian or his daughters either. “You should definitely talk to Kat about it. I think you should know something though. Faerie geasa don’t take any notice of human law or morality, and even though Lady Malfoy is quite a moral woman who would balk at some of the other things that might be asked of her…there is no telling what the other alternatives the ancestors might find acceptable could be. No telling at all what it would take to mollify them long enough for us to lay those ghosts directly.”
Lili snorted. “I hear,” she said in a queer tone, “that this might have all been avoided if Dracaena Malfoy had agreed to eat Marcus Weasley’s heart several weeks ago.” She had a vicious little smile on her face.
“Where did you hear that?” Wilkes demanded.
Lili shrugged. “I have sources. I wonder if she’d do it now? Obviously it’s no longer edible as meat by now, but we could burn it, and she could eat the ashes, baked into a pie or something like that. Or one of the other Weasleys might do; are there any adult males left at all?” A willing sacrifice would put an end to almost any curse. She did not, however, want to sacrifice Bilius. It was soft of her—and he was very near to becoming exactly the sort of man she would cheerfully have dispatched without a second thought—but he was not yet that man.
“Miss Naszvadi, that’s disgusting,” said Wilkes with feeling. “I will not be a party to any sort of human sacrifice. The ashes are a possibility. It would be good to know what the probable consequences for the children are if she does it, though.” He sighed. “What’s the likelihood that any of these curses are written down?”
“A bard might know that,” said Lili. “The Gentry dislike to write things like that down.”
“I am probably the most likely,” Isaac told Lili. “Marcus was my cousin on my mother’s side. I have no brothers nor sisters either. Marcus had two sisters.” He grimaced, admitting to himself that it was probably more likely that he would allow Kat to be betrothed than allow his own heart to be eaten. “After that, Bill is the eldest. But I do not think that allowing someone to be sacrificed is a better solution. The ashes, well. I wish my erstwhile cousin had a better fate, but he didn’t, and there’s evidence that to the extent he had a choice, he chose it.”
Lili nodded. “Well, we can find out if that matters. Or if Lady Malfoy would consider it. Would you do it, I wonder? That would impress me.”
“To be honest, I doubt it,” Isaac said, wondering who this woman was. Impressing her would likely involve considerable trouble, and while he was somewhat tempted, he knew she would have to be impressed with his rational parenting in the end, or not be impressed at all. “But a sacrifice of any person, well…I hardly think we can even seriously discuss it unless the moment is critical. I understand what you are saying about faerie geasa though, doctor. What kind of time do you think we have to determine what, if anything, we can do that is acceptable both to the ghosts and to us?”
“Are we seriously discussing appeasing the ghost of Erasmus Weasley? Just get Lady Malfoy to burn the man’s heart and consume the ashes to start! Let Lady Justine have her win, she deserves it!” said Lili fiercely.
Wilkes glared at her. “We don’t yet know if that will work, but we can try it,” he said. “At the same time…what makes you think you know so much about what anyone deserves? You weren’t around at the time, were you?”
Lili looked uncomfortable. “No, of course not,” she said, though it was an absolute lie. Naszvadi Lili had not yet been born, but she had been here, on the earth; she belonged to the ninth and the tenth spheres, Malkuth and Yesod—Gamaliel and Nehemoth—but that was not her choice. She had had other Incarnations. And she was not sure, for Incarnation always blurred her memories, that she had not known Justine.
“And perhaps there was a reason Lady Malfoy refused to do that, above and beyond the fact that it’s a disgusting idea,” said Wilkes. “What do you think the consequences would be for the man’s descendants if she did that?” He sighed. “We need time,” he told Isaac. “I don’t know how much we have. I wish we did. I’m going to ask Laurens to run some electional charts to determine when trouble is likeliest next, but I think we should both write to Lady Malfoy and that you should see her today, if you can, Mr Diggory.”
Isaac nodded. His business would have trouble sparing him, but spare him it would have to. “I can go there,” he said. “I only wish I could go up to the school and see Kathleen as well.” And, he thought to himself, the boy too.
bydegrees, wind_frolicker and sherrinford