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On Wednesday morning, Mira asked whether Evelyn had become my girlfriend.
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I was trying to turn yesterday's bread into something edible over the stove. The question arrived just as I flipped a slice, and it landed butter-side down on the floor.
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Mira looked at the bread. “Is that a no?”
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“It's a piece of toast.”
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“I know what toast is.”
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I picked it up and set it aside. Sir Flopsy occupied the chair opposite her, his repaired ear tucked beneath the blue hood of his cloak. The yellow paper flower Evelyn had sent home stood in the window beside Mira's drawings.
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“Evelyn and I went on a date,” I said. “We'd like to go on another. I haven't asked her what she'd like to call us.”
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“Why not?”
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“Because we only went yesterday.”
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Mira gave that some thought. “You can ask today.”
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“I could. But I don't want her to feel as though she has to answer a question just because I thought of it.”
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“Does she like you?”
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“I think so.”
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“Good.” Mira reached for her breakfast. “I like her too.”
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That was not news, but I was relieved she could say it without sounding frightened. I put another slice of bread on the stove and watched it this time.
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***
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At the academy, the exhibition boards had been removed from the main hall. Someone had left a length of blue ribbon caught on a display hook. I stood looking at the empty space longer than necessary before going to Halden's office.
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He had a stack of student exercises waiting for me. On top lay a note in his handwriting: Check the assumptions, not just the arithmetic.
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“I thought you said the report was finished,” I told him.
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“The report is finished. The students are not.”
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I sat at the smaller desk and began marking. The first exercise treated a defensive barrier as though its mana supply would remain constant after the caster lost concentration. By the fifth, I had written the same correction three times.
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Halden watched me cross out a line.
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“Your exhibition drew questions from the second-year instructors,” he said. “One wants a copy of the measurements for a seminar.”
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“Can we give them that?”
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“With the limitations included. Evelyn's name stays on it alongside yours.”
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“Of course.”
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“I wasn't asking whether you'd object. I'm telling you what the request said.”
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He handed me the slip. Both our names were there. It shouldn't have mattered as much as it did, but I'd grown used to seeing her title appear first and my work appear somewhere in the explanation afterward. Here, the request named us as collaborators before asking for the data.
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“Thank you,” I said.
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“Thank the results. And return to the exercises.”
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I put the slip where it wouldn't disappear beneath the grading pile.
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***
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My afternoon tutoring session was with Lina, who arrived carrying a notebook full of neatly copied formulas and one defensive diagram so crowded with annotations that the central circle had nearly disappeared.
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“I did the problem you gave me,” she said. “It doesn't work.”
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“Show me where.”
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She demonstrated the first sequence correctly. At the second, her barrier flickered, pulled too much mana, and vanished before I finished counting.
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“You're trying to correct every weakness at once,” I said.
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“Isn't that what defense is?”
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“Not when the correction makes the whole thing collapse. Choose the side that's taking the impact. Leave the rest alone for three breaths.”
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We repeated it until she could hold the barrier through a light test. The success was modest, but it was hers. She stared at the circle as if it had apologized.
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“Could Tomas come next time?” she asked. “He said he doesn't understand the same part.”
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“He has his own sessions.”
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“I know. He wants to compare our exercises. I thought it might save you time.”
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I considered the different levels of their work and whether either student would get less attention if I taught them together. Lina had only just begun learning how to stop overcorrecting. Tomas was working on maintaining a barrier while moving; I didn't want a shared exercise to replace what either of them needed.
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“We can try the last fifteen minutes of your next session,” I said. “Only if both of you agree. I'll keep the individual instruction separate.”
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“Would we pay extra?”
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“No. It's a trial, not a new fee. I'll check with Tomas before I put it on the timetable.”
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Lina nodded and made a note. I did the same in my ledger after she paid for today's lesson. If the shared exercise worked, I might give both students more practice without adding another hour. If it didn't, we'd return to separate sessions. I had no reason to call it an improvement before we'd tried it.
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***
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Miss Vale was waiting outside the archive when I arrived to return an exhibition reference book. She held a sealed envelope, its edges softened from being carried in her hand.
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“The paper specialist replied,” she said.
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I stopped reaching for the book slot.
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“Already?”
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“The inquiry went out last week. I received this at noon.”
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She led me to the worktable inside and opened the envelope in front of me. The letter was brief. The specialist could not identify the paper from our description and did not intend to guess. They could examine the original under angled light and compare its surface with known treated samples. If we brought it, they wanted the damaged edges protected and no further attempts to reveal the writing beforehand.
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“Does it say where?” I asked.
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“An office in the old instrument quarter. Next Thursday, if we accept the appointment.”
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“That means taking the letter out of the apartment.”
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“Yes. We would need to bring it to the archive for a condition record first.”
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Miss Vale folded the reply. “I would accompany you. We can document its condition before it leaves and again when it returns. I will not permit anyone to scrape a corner off merely because they are curious.”
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“Is the examination expensive?”
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“The initial inspection has a fee. I asked Halden whether the archive could cover it as a consultation on preservation methods. He said he'd review the request.”
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It was an answer, not a promise. I appreciated that she hadn't dressed it up.
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“Can I speak to Evelyn before we decide?”
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“I expected you would. There is time.”
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I returned the reference book and left the archive with the proposed appointment written on a scrap of paper. For once, the investigation had a date attached to it, even if that date might end with someone telling us what they couldn't know.
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***
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I found Evelyn near the west stairwell, reading a notice about next month's practical assessments. She looked up before I reached her.
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“Adrian.”
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“Do you have a minute?”
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“Yes.” She folded the notice back against the wall. “Is Mira all right?”
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“She is. Miss Vale heard from the specialist.”
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I told her what the letter said, including the fee and the fact that the original would need to leave our apartment. Evelyn listened without interrupting.
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“We should go together,” she said. “If Miss Vale is willing.”
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“She is. We haven't agreed to anything yet.”
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“Good. I'd like to see the condition record before we take it anywhere.”
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“I thought you might.”
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A group of students came down the stairs, and we stepped into an empty alcove to let them pass. I was about to ask about her schedule when Evelyn spoke again.
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“How was Mira this morning?”
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“She asked whether you were my girlfriend.”
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Evelyn's eyes widened slightly. “What did you say?”
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“That we went on a date and wanted another one. I said I hadn't asked you what you wanted to call us.”
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She glanced toward the corridor. “That's fair.”
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“I didn't want to put words in your mouth. Or give her an answer we haven't agreed on.”
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“Thank you.” She looked back at me. “For what it's worth, I don't regret yesterday.”
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“Neither do I.”
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“I'd rather we keep seeing each other than decide on a name because Mira asked for one.”
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“That sounds good to me.”
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Her smile came slowly, but she didn't look away. “Then ask me again when you find somewhere that doesn't serve an argument about enchanted tea.”
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“I've been warned away from reports. Finding a place without research is becoming difficult.”
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“You may ask Marcus for suggestions. I won't count that as a report.”
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I laughed. When she took my hand, it was only for a moment; footsteps were approaching, and we were still in an academy corridor. She squeezed my fingers before letting go.
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***
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Mira was helping Mrs. Fenwick sort buttons by color when I collected her. She announced that Sir Flopsy had been promoted to inspector because he'd found a blue button under the table. Mrs. Fenwick informed me that the inspector had also attempted to eat a red one.
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On the walk home, Mira asked whether I'd spoken to Evelyn.
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“I did.”
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“And?”
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“We'd like to keep spending time together.”
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“That's what you said yesterday.”
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“It was still true today.”
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She swung our joined hands. “Can she come for supper sometime?”
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“I can invite her. Not tonight, because I haven't bought enough for three.”
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“Four,” Mira corrected, lifting Sir Flopsy.
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“He doesn't eat.”
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“He likes sitting at the table.”
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“Then four places, three portions.”
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Mira accepted the compromise. She asked whether Evelyn might like the soup we'd made last time, and I said we could ask her rather than decide for her.
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***
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At home I put the specialist's proposed appointment beside the budget rather than inside it. The consultation might cost money we didn't have, and I wouldn't count on the archive paying until Halden approved it. I could ask for the fee in writing before we agreed to the visit.
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Mira sat at the table drawing a house. She gave it three windows, then added a fourth, very small one near the roof.
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“Who's that for?” I asked.
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“Sir Flopsy. He needs to see outside.”
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I washed the vegetables for supper while she colored the roof. After a while she said, “You don't have to tell me everything about you and Mommy.”
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I turned off the tap.
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“Where did that come from?”
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“Mrs. Fenwick said grown-ups can have private things. Like letters.”
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“She's right. But if you're worried about something that affects you, you can ask me.”
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Mira pressed her pencil harder against the page. “I don't want you to stop telling me when you'll come back.”
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“I won't stop doing that.”
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She nodded and returned to the drawing. I stayed beside her until she asked me to sharpen the blue pencil. Then I checked the time and began cutting the vegetables before the water boiled away.