Their destination was the same coffee shop where he had lunch. Charity's pick. 'If it ain't broke, don't fix it.' Charity, once the novelty had worn off, was proving fond of revisiting old classics rather than continuing to try new ones.
"Gonna need lots of coffee," Dalliance said darkly.
"You're just grumpy 'cause we're gonna rake you over the coals."
"Are you?"
"Nah, I don't see that as my role. Though it would be nice to branch out . . . you need more friends."
"What?"
"You know, at this rate," Earnest said, "I'll be introducing you to my beautiful enchantress wife before you've even met said woman."
"Yeah, but—”
“This is the time to be meeting people, making connections."
"You sound like Effluvia."
"Ha! Well, they keep me around for my razor wit," Earnest said. "But we keep her around because she's normally right. So I can accept that. 'Meet people’.”
“Yeah, yeah. My new classes . . . teachers don't count, I'm guessing?"
"No."
"Now you're just being strict," Dalliance said, groaning performatively and casting [Prediction] as he opened the door.
Charity and Effluvia looked up from their conversation at the door chimed, Charity sitting hunched over, arms tightly folded, Effluvia leaning forward, elbows on the table indecorously, expression, or what he could see of it in the brief instant before her face cleared, intense. Circe, at the head of the table, seemed to be doing her best to clear a plate of scones by herself, though she hurriedly put all three of the scones in her hand back on the plate as the boys approached the table.
"I already ordered," said Effluvia briskly.
Dalliance glanced behind the bar, where the chalkboards, in a cramped hand, described scones and muffins of various kinds, as well as coffee. Steam rose from Effluvia's cup, where, predicably, an unnatural blue liquid was pretending to be coffee again.
"I wanted the apple pie," said Earnest, half seriously. "Did you get my order right?"
An unamused look later, and Earnest peeled off to head to the counter to amend his part of their order.
"I'm sorry," said Charity, looking at Dalliance. Her expression was troubled. "Effie says right now it's been pretty much you versus the world, and I've just been making it worse."
The cloud of lines of possible dialogue clamoring seemed, in that moment, almost offensive, and extra to purpose. Dalliance released the skill, allowing them to fade, and took his seat, rubbing the palms of his hands on his eyes, before letting his head fall between them to land with a gentle thunk on the tabletop. "It's been a lot. Thank you."
"We still need to know what to do next," said Effluvia.
Dalliance didn't move, allowing himself to focus for the moment on the feeling of the cool tabletop against rain-damp hair and his closed eyelids.
"Two pies coming up!" chattered Earnest, sliding in an extra chair near Circe's spot at the head of the table. "So. We decided if he's a murderer or not?"
"I didn't think he was a murderer," Charity said, defensive. "I just thought he could have asked Daddy for help before acting so . . . precipitously. That's negligence, not malice."
"Which would still count as murder," Circe said reasonably. "Not that it was. Murder."
"So much for being understanding," Dalliance complained, without raising his head.
". . . sorry," said Charity.
"He feels guilty already," Earnest said.
"I did have a better option," Dalliance said quietly. He'd talked to Topaz, in the night, having woken with a start from an unpleasant dream about Cadence, beneath the white sheet, sitting up, the sheet falling away. . . . It hadn't been all good, but it needed doing. "Not Lord Troubles, though. Topaz."
"Oh?" Circe was interested, though as usual it was only her tone that gave it away. "I should love to hear what she had to say about the matter."
Dalliance raised his head and looked at her directly. The time for self-pity was over. "Topaz has always told me that there was a price for power, and that sometimes the right thing to do is to be willing to pay it, if you need the power to protect yourself or those you love. But I got so used to thinking that it wasn’t an option, to bargain, that I didn't even think of it."
"She could have said," Earnest commented.
"She couldn't. She promised--sort of. Said she wouldn't steer me, that she wanted to be my friend, not someone who tells me what I should do at every point of my life and I grow to resent for it, even if that means sometimes I mess up, though she'll help if I ask for it. And I didn't ask for it. I didn't even think at the time, that it was a binding."
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"One second," said Effluvia, a hand touching his arm briefly, and the serving girl was there, and there were muffins, and two steaming apple pies, and coffee.
Dalliance poured himself a mug from the closest carafe. Blue.
"You were saying?"
"I could have asked her for advice, and I didn't even think to. I just . . . I basically told her what I was going to do, instead, and when she didn't judge me for it I guess that's what I was looking for and I just went from there."
Charity said slowly, "What could Topaz have helped you with that Daddy couldn't?"
"Dark magic," said Effluvia bluntly.
"To get your dad to back off and leave you alone?"
Dalliance felt his face go blank, and he stared at Charity in surprise.
"I think," said Earnest, "She was thinking 'an alternative to posting the letter', and you were thinking 'an alternative to murder'; though the two are pretty much the same thing?"
"I did ask about alternatives to the duel," Dalliance said, now feeling off-balance. "She said, quote: 'if nobody mounted up and came for him when he smothered Whimsy and cut off my fingers, nobody would bat an eyelash that he was asking his old comrades to make sure his son got a shot at glory on the wall.' End quote."
Those on the Wall would have striven to save you from death, because on the Wall, you are one of them. Soldiers save one another from death. It’s what they do. You were in graver danger on Cadence's farm than ever upon the Wall, front lines or no. They did not act then; they would not have acted now. She'd had a point.
Silence attended the table. Charity glanced at his hand for a moment, then looked away. "I'm sorry," she said again. "She's right, of course she is."
"Then what didn't you ask her about?" asked Circe, impatient as a kid at a sweets shop.
"I could have bargained with her about the outcome of the duel. She said she'd have taken the color from my eyes, so I'd look more like Da, which might be good for challenging the inheritance if I wanted to, later, and would have muddied the waters a little at the duel, and then in exchange have called a . . . stirge?"
"Scary mosquito," said Effluvia, gesturing for him to continue.
"To drink his blood, and leave him weak on the day of the duel."
"That would be cheating," said Charity. "Besides, it'd be a shame: you have nice eyes."
Dalliance blinked, at that.
"Illegal, for a few reasons," agreed Effluvia. "Though I imagine quite effective."
"But you didn't," said Earnest. "But you did ask for alternatives. And that means it wasn't murder."
"Or even illegal," commented Effluvia. "For a variety of reasons, all to do with heredity, revealing the bastardry of someone's ancestry, though sometimes gauche, is quite legal to do. It would be horrible strategy on the part of the houses for it to be otherwise."
Dalliance nodded, sipping his painfully hot beverage and intentionally not thinking about his parentage, or the looming spectre of his upcoming appointment.
"Do you think it helped?"
Dalliance looked up.
"Will it change anything on the Wall?" asked Earnest. "What’s to stop them from doing it again, this time for the memory of their 'dearly departed'?"
"We'll think of something," said Charity.
Effluvia nodded. "Do you want to know," she asked, "why my house has the name Early?"
Dalliance had never thought about it, and wasn't sure why it was relevant, but was vaguely interested. "Sure."
"My house was founded by an Archmage. Not founded after he had achieved his star, but before. He took the name 'Early' when, as an imperial scholar, he stayed up all night so as to intercept the king's courier going out to the kitchens to ask for his breakfast."
"The king?" Charity mouthed.
Dalliance felt the same sensation. They were talking about something so old it was almost holy by itself, back when there were still kings. Which of the four? he wondered, had it been among the fraternity who traded crowns to secure the future of their people, and in return, had inherited one another’s claims on the imperium without fighting, and held humanity together through its darkest hour?
When he sent for his breakfast, the courier was given a note to include with it—the solution to a problem long since forgotten. But if the other solutions were wrong, the timely solution was right, and being presented first, was implemented and saved the kingdom. And so we are 'Early.' Because it is better to strike early than to risk striking never."
Dalliance nodded.
"From the sound of it," she continued, "you have forgotten some of the most crucial lessons Mister Best tried to teach us. We invest before we must, so that we can do what we must, when we must."
"To think," Earnest said, "that I was going to be the [Philosopher]."
"This time, you're not going to forget your thousand alternatives," Effluvia said, her voice authoritative. "For one, we’re going to my library the night before, and we’re going to pick you out a good defensive spell. Something where you don’t die."
"And then you’re going to talk to your [Captain]. And I’m going to ask Daddy what he can do," Charity said.
Dalliance could only stare in wonder, from friendly face to friendly face. He'd never expected this--to be cared for. Protected. Like family.
"What about the body?"
Confused, Effluvia and Charity glanced up the table to Circe, whose scones were being protectively hoarded on the side opposite Earnest, and being thus engrossed wasn't even looking towards the rest of them at the table.
"What about the body?" asked Effluvia eventually.
"I didn't take it," said Dalliance.
"It's missing?" This from Charity, who looked horrified.
"I forgot to mention," Dalliance said.
"But it wasn't you." Effluvia looked him in the eye for long seconds. "You know who took it."
"Yes. But it isn't my secret to give."
Which was true. He had thought about it. Telling Effluvia that there was a necromancer, and telling her where there was a necromancer, would not fall under the protection of their agreement. She would hide her source, and then go after the necromancer. That was not, under any circumstance, the sort of outcome he wanted.
Effluvia was kneading her temples. "I thought this was going to be simpler."
"There, there," said Earnest, still in fine spirits, and halfway through his apple pie.
Charity looked a little green.
"There's definitely going to be an investigation," Effluvia said, voice more dour, now. "There isn't a way around it. The question of what happened to the body is a really important question!"
"What am I missing?" asked Earnest.
"A body can be taken for enchanting parts, for necromancy, or it could be gone because he never died, or to hide evidence of how he died . . . and these are all really big issues, because let's walk through the progression. One, it could be to remove evidence, which means there was foul play, so we need to figure out the player. Two, it could be for parts, whether enchantment or necromancy, and in that case we have a rogue mage, and possibly even a revivified Cadence walking around who could still sign agreements in his name, and contest any division of his property! Same problem if he's alive and feigned death."
"Hard to fake being decapitated," said Circe brightly.
Effluvia looked faintly pained.
"Any of these possibilities is enough to give rise to renewed investigation. It's not an if at this point, it's a when. But investigations take months, and if it wasn't you that took it . . . perhaps they won't come for you at all.""
"And if they do?"
She shook her head slowly. "I have no idea."
Does Dalliance still need new friends?