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Mr Segundus felt the loss of the books of magic quite keenly.
“That is not to say that I do not feel the loss of Mr Strange and Mr Norrell as well,” he hastened to tell Mr Honeyfoot, clutching at the seat as the carriage encountered a particularly rocky patch of road. “But think of all the knowledge that is now lost to us.”
“It’s a low blow indeed,” Mr Honeyfoot agreed, “considering the purpose we had for them.”
Mr Segundus thought dolefully of the empty library at Starecross Hall, and had the unpleasant notion that it seemed doomed to stay empty forever 1.
“How can one strive to open a school of magic with no books?” he sighed. “It seems to me, Mr Honeyfoot, that perhaps our dreams are best laid to rest.”
“Mr Segundus,” Mr Honeyfoot said, aghast. “This is quite unlike you, sir. To throw our dreams away for a minor setback, I do not know what has got into you.”
Mr Segundus pressed his lips together and stared out the carriage window. In truth Mr Segundus had been feeling out of sorts all morning and most of the last evening as well, ever since Childermass had broken the disturbing news of the books to the Society. While the gentlemen had drawn close to Vinculus - although not too close, given that the man had an obvious aversion to bathing or, at the very least, scented powder - Mr Segundus had, in fact, withdrawn from the company entirely to sequester himself in his own rooms for the remainder of the evening. There was a queer sort of pang sitting within his breast, one that felt strongly of disappointment and loss and dejection.
Mr Segundus had never been the type of man to give himself over to brooding, but he could not help feeling that perhaps he should pick up the art. Every attempt made to change their future, and the future of young magicians in England, had been met with abject failure; first they were stopped by Mr Norrell by way of Childermass, and now this. Mr Honeyfoot had described the newest event as a minor setback, but Mr Segundus could not help but see it as a sign that they should stop trying.
“Forgive me, sir,” Mr Segundus said, after a long time of watching the fields roll by. “I seem to be in a temper.”
“Good man,” Mr Honeyfoot said jovially, patting at his knee. “Chin up, old friend. We shall best this issue yet, and within a half year we will be teaching, just as we always wanted.”
Mr Segundus only nodded his head, but did not speak further.
-
Starecross Hall felt quite empty without Lady Pole. Mr Segundus has not quite realised how much space the lady took up whilst there, but after Sir Walter had bundled her up and trundled the both of them back to London, Starecross had felt too-large and vacant. His footsteps seemed all the louder in the empty rooms when it was only himself, Mr Honeyfoot, and the servants drifting about.
Perhaps, Mr Segundus thought to himself as he tore into a piece of bread, that also had to do with the magic surrounded her ladyship. Only after they had re-attached Lady Pole’s finger - Mr Segundus suppressed a shudder at the thought 2 - had Mr Segundus noticed the air growing less and less oppressive. There was, of course, still a feeling of magic about the place, but Mr Segundus had found that there was a feeling of magic about every place now. It had really and truly come back to England; the very earth around them shifted and quivered with it.
It was a different magic, however, from what had bound Lady Pole, and Mr Segundus could not help but note that he no longer felt vaguely trapped or in chains. Poor Lady Pole! Mr Segundus thought. Poor Stephen! If he himself were so affected, he could scarcely imagine how the pair lived within it all that time. Mr Segundus made a note to ask how Mr Honeyfoot fared, and if he had also noticed the change.
Mr Honeyfoot was, at that exact moment, holed up within his own rooms, attempting to write down what he could remember of basic spells. They had only a handful of books to begin with, but that handful had contained useful spells such as How to Binde an Object to Thee or How to Locate What Has Been Lost - Mr Honeyfoot would have found that one most useful, given his propensity for losing various items such as socks and stop-watches. Mr Segundus had already written his own list of spells that he might remember, and was now eating a meagre lunch and moping. Oh, he knew that neither the servants nor Mr Honeyfoot would call it such to his face, but Mr Segundus had always strived to be truthful to himself, and moping it was.
He was just contemplating whether or not to sneak another rind of cheese from the kitchens when he heard a horse whinny from outside. Starecross Hall had not had company since Sir Walter, so Mr Segundus was instantly on his feet and headed towards the door.
He was quite astounded to find that it was Childermass climbing from his horse, clothed in his customary black overcoat and crowned with his customary sour face. Mr Segundus was instantly on guard.
“We have done nothing wrong at this time, sir,” Mr Segundus called, as soon as he had set foot outside the doors. Childermass only glanced up at him briefly. “You cannot try and stop us again from opening a school.”
“I can do whatever I want,” Childermass said. It consistently vexed Mr Segundus how insolent Childermass spoke to him, as though Mr Segundus were nothing more than a naughty child. “Seeing as I currently have no master. But I’m not here for that.”
The admission brought Mr Segundus up short, and any anger he had been holding fled quickly, only to be replaced by intense curiosity.
“If you are looking for Lady Pole, she has already left.”
“I know,” Childermass said, looking Mr Segundus’ way again. This time he held his gaze. Mr Segundus only raised his chin; he would not be cowed or intimidated, he told himself firmly, ignoring that the flare of heat in his belly was neither cowardice or intimidation. “I’m here for you, Mr Segundus.”
“Oh,” was all Mr Segundus could faintly say, for it felt that his brain had quite disconnected from the rest of him.
“And Mr Honeyfoot,” Childermass continued. “I have need of your expertise, as it would.”
Mr Segundus cleared his throat and pointedly did not look away from Childermass. Of course that it what he meant, Mr Segundus told himself. He had, for a brief second, let his thoughts run away with him, and it would not stand to do again. Of course Childermass needed him for his knowledge. There was nothing else Childermass could need him for.
“You have not helped us in the past, sir,” Mr Segundus said, as Childermass slinked closer. “Why should we help you now?”
“Because, sir,” Childermass said, with what Mr Segundus thought was a faint hint of mockery, “you are a far better man than I, and would not turn away someone in need.”
“And what is your need?”
Childermass came even closer, until there was only a foot between them. Mr Segundus did not flinch.
“Are you frightened of me, Mr Segundus?” Childermass asked, voice pitched low.
“You have threatened us in the past,” Mr Segundus countered, attempting to keep his voice cool. “I have every reason to be wary.”
Childermass took a long moment to answer, and he swept his eyes along the length of Mr Segundus’ body as though he were trying to sort him out. Mr Segundus fought the urge to shiver.
“That you have,” Childermass said eventually. “I’m hoping that we can put the past behind us and come to a mutually beneficial arrangement, if it pleases you.”
Mr Segundus very determinedly did not think about the things which pleased him.
“Come inside,” he said instead, and the offer obviously surprised Childermass. “We may discuss your arrangement over tea, sir.”
Childermass inclined his head, his hair falling directly into his face, before proceeding Mr Segundus into the Hall.
Mr Segundus took a moment - just a small second so as not to be missed - to collect himself, before following Childermass.
Anna the servant girl promptly brought tea and some sweet cakes when asked, and Mr Honeyfoot descended from his quarters with a cool greeting but a friendly clasp of arms for Childermass. Only once they had all settled into their chairs by the fire, teacups firmly clasped in all hands, did Childermass say what was on his mind.
“It seems to me,” he said, sweeping his glance around the great hall, “that you have a school in need of materials. I can’t see you teaching without having now’t to teach.”
“That is a problem,” Mr Honeyfoot agreed, while Mr Segundus tried not to let his sour turn of thoughts show on his face. Based on the searching glance that Childermass shot him, he was not as successful as he hoped. “But in these past few days we have already sent out notices to the surrounding towns that we are opening our doors, and have had a half dozen replies already come in for requests of apprenticeship.”
“Then I’ve come at the right time,” Childermass said, stretching his legs out.
Mr Segundus did not take note of how long they were 3; instead, he sipped at his tea and asked, “What are you suggesting, sir?”
“You’re in need of books for learning, and I’m in need of learning a book,” Childermass said.
“You believe we can help read Vinculus’ newest offering?” Mr Segundus asked, quick on the draw. Childermass smiled, although it always seemed less a smile and more a baring of teeth.
“I do indeed,” Childermass said. “The Society is a bumbling mess of idiots-”
“They are not,” Mr Honeyfoot lied faithfully.
“-and yourselves have, in the past, been most useful in regards to magic.” Here, Childermass looked directly at Mr Segundus and quirked an eyebrow. Mr Segundus took a very quick - and very hot - gulp of tea.
“Well,” Mr Honeyfoot said, mollified.
“And what will you offer us?” Mr Segundus asked, around a burnt tongue.
“My own knowledge,” Childermass said. “In my employ with Mr Norrell, I’d make a safe bet that I’ve read much more about magic than the entirety of the Society.”
“I’ve always felt it was best when a servant can read,” Mr Honeyfoot says approvingly. “Good show, Childermass.”
“And you retain that knowledge, sir?” Mr Segundus asked.
“Not all of it,” Childermass said. Even his admissions sounded cocksure and a hint dangerous. Mr Segundus took another - carefully, this time - sip of tea. “But enough for new magicians to learn. I could write out five spells right now, if I put my mind to it, and I know many more that you’ll find useful. I’ve no problem sitting down to write them out for you, and could easily send you a few each week until my knowledge is exhausted.”
“And Mr Norrell wouldn’t mind?” Mr Segundus asked. Given everything that he learned about the gentleman, he knew that Mr Norrell would indeed very much mind.
“Mr Norrell is indisposed right now, as you’re aware,” Childermass said mildly. “And even if he were not, Mr Norrell is not my master any longer. I am my own man.”
“Is Vinculus not with you?” Mr Segundus asked. “We should need to see his markings to be of any use to you.”
“Vinculus is also indisposed,” Childermass said, and rolled his eyes, “except of a very different sort. I expect to find him rolling around and attempting to seduce the barmaids in your nearest tavern, should I go to look. I do, however, have these-”
At that Childermass reached into a pocket and withdrew a handful of papers, which he thrust towards Mr Segundus. Mr Honeyfoot leaned forward to look at them as well, and when Mr Segundus sorted out the pile he saw that it was an exact replica of the markings on Vinculus’ skin.
“You should be lucky to have those,” Childermass noted grimly, “as they run everywhere on Vinculus’ body and it was my task to transcribe them.”
Mr Segundus grimaced at the word everywhere, given how Vinculus appeared and smelled from even a distance. “Yes, well,” he said, peering down at the papers. “Thank the Lord for small favours.”
“So, gentlemen,” Childermass said, after a long moment of Mr Honeyfoot and Mr Segundus staring down at the foreign writing, “have we come to an agreement?”
“I’d say we have indeed,” Mr Honeyfoot says, leaning back and taking another lemon cake.
Childermass did not look away from Mr Segundus. “Are we in agreement?” he asked, and it seemed to Mr Segundus that he were asking something completely different, although Mr Segundus was not quite sure what.
“We are,” Mr Segundus said. He did not look away from Childermass, either.
-
Mr Segundus awoke the next morning in a decidedly uplifted mood. Any remaining despondency that had flitted around in his head and heart seemed to have been chased away by Childermass’ visit the previous day - because, Mr Segundus told himself, there was now promise of an actual education to teach - and he trotted to breakfast with a spring in his step.
“Oh,” Mr Segundus cried, when he found that he was not alone in the room as he normally would be 4. Indeed, Childermass was already seated, with a plate piled high with sausages and eggs and rolls.
“It seems you’ve forgotten you have a guest,” Childermass said, a sardonic twist of a smile lingering on his lips. Mr Segundus hurriedly poured himself a freshly brewed cup of tea and reached for a roll.
“Indeed not,” Mr Segundus said. “I am merely not accustomed to dining with guests this early.”
Childermass lifted his own teacup in the air to that statement, and the pair fell silent as they each fell upon their food.
“Childermass,” Mr Segundus said, when he could stand the strained silence no longer, “have you given thought to the future of English magic, now that Mr Norrell and Mr Strange have vanished?”
“I’ve thought of little else but the future of English magic for a very long time, Mr Segundus,” Childermass said. “Although perhaps that is the influence of working under Mr Norrell for so long.”
“And where do you see English magic headed?” Mr Segundus asked.
Childermass took the time to spread a thick pat of butter over a piece of bread before he answered. “In the right direction,” he said eventually. “Societies are forming, and there’s now to be a school for the next generation-” Mr Segundus could not help but smile at the mention, “-and we have vague promise of the future, if we can decipher what Vinculus means.”
Mr Segundus fell silent again, and was shocked when after a moment Childermass asked, “And yourself?”
“Where I do I see English magic?” Mr Segundus asked, and flushed slightly when Childermass rolled his eyes a little. “Well, sir, I do believe you’re correct in your assessment.” He paused, here, and gave thought to his next words. “I can feel it,” he said carefully. Childermass only raised his eyebrows, so Mr Segundus ploughed on. “After the mirrors broke,” he explained, “and magic was returned, I could feel it. I still can. English magic has to have a future, when it’s this thick around us.”
Childermass is watching him shrewdly, and Mr Segundus tried not to shift around under the attention. “And what do you feel, Mr Segundus?”
Mr Segundus has tried to explain it before, namely to Mr Honeyfoot, who only knew that magic had returned because of the flock of birds that had burst from his mirror when he had been shaving. He felt a bit foolish now, using the same imagery with Childermass, but he said it anyhow. “It’s lush,” he said. “It’s thick, and it flows around us in a constant stream like it can’t stop moving.” Mr Segundus reached a hand, as though he could catch the roll of magic in his own hands if he tried. “It feels wild.”
He dropped his hand when Childermass didn’t say anything.
“You surprise me, Mr Segundus,” Childermass said, although Mr Segundus found he did not look much surprised. “Not many men, or magicians, can feel magic in that way.”
“Can you?” Mr Segundus asked. Childermass nodded, briefly. “Then I believe that we are both blessed with astuteness.”
“I believe we are,” Childermass said. “Have you done any practical spells yet, since you’ve felt the magic?”
Mr Segundus shook his head in regret. “Only the once, with Lady Pole.”
Childermass nodded to himself, as though he reached some internal decision, then stood from the table and inclined his head towards the door. “If you’d come outside, sir.”
“For what?” Mr Segundus said, but he was already standing to follow Childermass. He led Mr Segundus outside and around the Hall, until they were at least thirty paces away from the manor and surrounded by thick nettles. Mr Segundus hurried after him, confused by what was happening, thrilled by the thought that they may be trying practical magic right at this moment, and still a bit hungry from leaving his breakfast behind.
“Sir,” he said, when Childermass stopped cold and Mr Segundus almost ran into him, “what are we doing out here?” He could barely contain himself, and so his voice came out in a tremor of excitement.
Childermass turned on the spot to face him. “Magic,” he said simply.
He closed his eyes and began to mutter, and around them Mr Segundus felt the air shift. If the magic surrounding Lady Pole was cloying and heavy, the magic that Childermass employed felt the exact opposite. Mr Segundus felt it like a bite, a snap, a breath of cool air rushing around them. Childermass stopped muttering and opened his eyes, and they were bright and mischievous. Mr Segundus took great care not to notice.
“Oh,” Mr Segundus said, when his eyes fell away from Childermass and towards the ground, then again, “oh.”
Gone were the briers and uneven, patchy grass. Instead, Mr Segundus found that they were in a field of flowers, bright reds and purples and blues that quite contrasted the bleary, familiar grass and roots.
“Oh,” Mr Segundus said for a third time. He could not even recognize half the flower species, and suspected they were from Faerie itself.
“Changing the earth,” Childermass said, sounding smug in his satisfaction. “That’s quite a piece of practical magic you can teach at your school, Mr Segundus.”
“Childermass,” Mr Segundus said. He was halfway through turning around to gaze at the now-luxuriant field. When he had turned all the way and was facing Childermass again, he couldn’t help but smile. “You’re a romantic, I see.”
“What,” Childermass said flatly.
Mr Segundus laughed wildly - he could not help himself, in the face of all the magic that surrounded them. “Flowers,” he said, “you have made flowers, Childermass. If I were a young lady I would be quite wooed.”
“I changed the properties of nature,” Childermass argued. “It’s not romantic.”
“Of course not,” Mr Segundus said, a tad indulgently. “Can I- could I try? Can I have the spell?”
Childermass eyed him warily for another moment, and when apparently satisfied that Mr Segundus would not say anything else about being a romantic, taught Mr Segundus the words to the spell.
Mr Segundus closed his eyes as he cast it, and felt the magic pull at him as he thought about what he wanted to form. When he opened his eyes again, there sat an apple at his feet, perfectly ripe for the plucking. He laughed wildly again and knelt down to yank it up, then presented it to Childermass.
“I always dreamed of magic,” Mr Segundus said 5. “When I was a young lad, I thought I could speak to birds and make fruit bloom whenever I wanted it. And look,” he shook the apple a bit, “it has come true.”
“I don’t see you talking to any birds,” Childermass said, but he still took the apple and took a large bite of it. Juice ran down his chin, and he wiped it with the back of his hand.
“I must write the spell down,” Mr Segundus said suddenly, and dashed away, quite forgetting that he was leaving Childermass standing alone amidst a field of flowers and old dreams.
-
Mr Honeyfoot was excited at the new magic when he awoke, and most of the morning was spent between the two of them casting the spell to shape the earth into something new. By mid-afternoon the kitchen staff had acquired apples, pears, and gooseberries, and something from Childermass that he declared was called a banana which Mr Segundus found tasted delightful. Mr Honeyfoot also took great delight in causing another burst of flowers, but Mr Segundus had always known that he was a romantic at heart, given the way he spoke about Ms Wilde from church.
By tea-time the gentlemen had exhausted themselves, and so retired to the drawing room. Childermass was invited to join them; he had planned to ride out that day, he told them, but it was nearing dark and he still had not saddled his horse.
“You may as well stay another night,” said Mr Honeyfoot, who had completely warmed to him. Mr Segundus found that he himself also had cast aside many reservations he had towards Childermass; it was not the man who had changed, Mr Segundus thought, watching at Childermass frowned with a sour face at the tea, then at the bouquet of flowers Anna had placed on the windowsill. It was that Mr Segundus found that he had misjudged Childermass as being only one thing - a thug of Mr Norrell, not to be fully trusted - when in fact he was multi-faceted. Mr Segundus was a little ashamed of himself that he had not thought it in the past; he always tried to be open-minded about people and experiences, even if he did not fully understand it.
In truth, Mr Segundus thought on reflection, it may have been easiest for him to cast Childermass in the role of a villain than to think of Childermass as anything else.
The talk turned to the Raven King’s book, and Mr Segundus jumped up to fetch the papers. Poring over the papers provided no initial insights - not that Mr Segundus thought it would, but on a day filled with magic such as this there was a small hope that lived in the back of his mind - and eventually Mr Honeyfoot brought out the brandy and they each indulged in a glass.
It was, all in all, a very soothing evening, despite - or perhaps because of - Childermass’ occasional sharp comments.
Mr Honeyfoot was the first to retire, and soon thereafter Childermass drained his glass and set it on the mantle.
“I’ll leave first thing in the morning,” Childermass said. It was the brandy and the time of night that had Mr Segundus wishing there was a note of regret in his tone.
“I am glad, sir,” Mr Segundus started, “that we were able to come to a satisfactory agreement.”
“As am I, sir,” Childermass said back, and there was a long moment wherein Childermass and Mr Segundus simply stared at one another.
Mr Segundus was unsure of what to do. He did not want to break the moment, as he could now admit to himself, but he also did not want to make a fool of himself. He knew, through trial and folly of youth, that not all were amenable to men with his character, and Mr Segundus had no wish to break the tremulous truce that he and Childermass have achieved.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Childermass said after a long moment, and he inclined his head before turning to go.
“Childermass,” Mr Segundus called, and Childermass paused. Mr Segundus found himself floundering, unsure of what to say. “I shall walk you to your rooms,” Mr Segundus said, then cringed. Childermass obviously knew where his room was, since Starecross Hall was not overly large, and the gesture seemed as though something a gentleman might do for a lady.
Still, Childermass didn’t hesitate before inclining his head again, this time in acquiescence, and so they set off. Was Childermass walking closer than he normally would? Mr Segundus wondered. Was the brush of fingertips against the back of his hand merely an accident?
“Thank you,” Childermass said when they approached his door, and Mr Segundus forgot himself for a brief moment to step forward and press a light kiss against Childermass’ stubbled jaw.
He instantly pinked and stepped back, shocked at his own audacity.
“Mr Segundus,” Childermass said lowly. Mr Segundus wretchedly did not want him to continue, certain that everything was ruined. “Perhaps we should have this conversation in my room.”
Mr Segundus dared not even breathe. Instead, he mutely followed Childermass into the spare bedroom and watched as Childermass closed the door behind them.
Childermass’ eyes raked Mr Segundus up and down, and then he said, “If I've the wrong idea-”
Mr Segundus stepped forward and crashed their lips together, reaching out to grasp at Childermass’ collar in an attempt to pull him closer. Childermass obliged, and then changed the tides; he pressed his entire body against Mr Segundus’ until the only thing that separated them was their clothing, and tilted his head so that he may have better access to slip his tongue into Mr Segundus’ mouth.
Mr Segundus felt as though he were on fire. This did not feel like the mild fumblings or rolls in the hay that Mr Segundus remembered from his youth. Childermass was long, and lean, and his kisses rubbed Mr Segundus’ smooth cheeks raw. Mr Segundus could feel his hard length even through their layers, pressed insistently against his hip, and he felt a thrill knowing that Childermass felt the same from him.
“You wear entirely too many clothes,” Childermass all but growled, and Mr Segundus the words down to his very bones.
“I could say the same, sir,” Mr Segundus gasped.
"Bugger your manners," Childermass said, but he caught Mr Segundus' lips in another frenzied kiss, so Mr Segundus was certain he did not actually mind.
Childermass began to nudge them towards the bed, his hands a steady pressure on Me Segundus' hips, and Mr Segundus gladly let himself be led, unwilling to detach his mouth from Childermass'. Only when his knees hit the curve of the bed did Mr Segundus tear himself away, and that was so he could insistently tug at Childermass' collar until it loosened enough to show the pale column of his throat.
Childermass stepped back with a cocked eyebrow, then began to shed his clothing, first his waistcoat, then his breeches, stripping until he was in only his smallclothes. Mr Segundus sat back and let himself notice.
Childermass was rangy, with a dark trail of hair that started around his stomach and led lower; Mr Segundus felt his mouth dry at the thought of where it ended. His arms and calves were strong, and his chest thin but wiry, as opposed to Mr Segundus’ own frailer form. All-in-all Childermass looked quite dangerous.
He stepped forward until he was flush against Mr Segundus once more, then began to pull Mr Segundus' own clothing off. Mr Segundus let himself be manhandled in this manner, entirely too flustered to have any objections. Childermass' hands felt like a brand upon his skin as later after layer was peeled away, until Childermass was running his hands up and down the bare skin of Mr Segundus' sides.
"Oh," Mr Segundus breathed. Childermass stepped forward and laid his lips on Mr Segundus' neck, and Mr Segundus felt a thrumming under his skin, a crackle and burst that rivaled any magic he could perform.
Mr Segundus, in that moment, felt that he would best be served to be very bold, and so he slipped a trembling hand down Childermass' side and into his smallclothes, wherein he grasped Childermass' prick with a gentle grip. Childermass grunted, a small uhuh breathed into Mr Segundus' neck, and Mr Segundus took that as encouragement in his ministrations.
It had been quite a while since Mr Segundus had been with another man, but he remembered enough to draw his hand out and spit into it, before pushing Childermass' smallclothes down far enough that he could take him in hand again, firmly sliding up and down until he found a rhythm. Childermass, for his part, had buried his head into the crook of Mr Segundus' neck, although his fingers twitched and skittered across Mr Segundus' waist when he seemed particularly overcome.
It did not seem long before Childermass tensed and then groaned, low and long, as he shot into Mr Segundus' hand. He looked quite undone when he drew his head back - his hair was sticking to his flushed face, and his mouth was open and panting. Mr Segundus felt a thrill of pride that he had managed to pull Childermass apart so.
"A gentleman should give warning before release," he teased, still feeling bold.
Childermass grinned wolfishly, looking much more like himself. "I've never been a gentleman, sir," he said, then he slid down to his knees and withdrew Mr Segundus' prick from his smallclothes before Mr Segundus could make so much as a noise.
Mr Segundus could not contain the loud moan that he emitted at the feeling of Childermass' mouth on him. This was certainly an act Mr Segundus had never done before, and he could scarcely contain himself at the image of Childermass' dark head bowed below him, nor the sensation of the wet heat of his mouth. Mr Segundus felt that it was scarcely a few moment before he was urgently stuttering, "I am- Childermass, I-"
Childermass did not withdraw, and Mr Segundus' choked moan was quite loud in the small room. He felt very much as though he was shaking apart. When Childermass drew off him, wiping at his lips with the back of his hand, Mr Segundus let himself fall back against the bed. He watched in a daze as Childermass divested himself of his smallclothes and climbed under the covers.
Childermass raised an eyebrow at him, and Mr Segundus realised that he was preparing for bed. "Yes, let me-" he said, trying to cast about for his clothing.
Childermass sighed, sounding quite aggrieved, and yanked on the covers until there was room enough for Mr Segundus to slip beneath them.
This felt quite more intimate than the preceding events. "I suppose I can slip out in the early morning," Mr Segundus said, and climbed into the bed before he could change his mind. He had not shared a bed with another since he was naught but a child, but Childermass' heavy arm slung across his waist felt like a comforting anchor.
It did not take long for sleep to overtake Mr Segundus.
-
Mr Honeyfoot was awake by the time Childermass’ horse was saddled and ready to go, and so he joined Mr Segundus in sending Childermass off.
“This has been well met, sir,” Mr Honeyfoot said in delight, clutching at the three new spells that Childermass had written out that very morning.
“Indeed,” Mr Segundus said. He was not sure where to look - he had slipped out before the sun had risen while Childermass was still asleep, and of course they had both been the essence of propriety the entire morning. Still, Mr Segundus found he wished he was not quite ready for Childermass to quit their company.
“I’ll send more spells as I think of them,” Childermass said, mounting his horse. “And you’ll send any progress on the Raven King’s book 6.”
“Of course, sir,” Mr Segundus said, nodding. He looked up the find that Childermass had caught his gaze, and a slight smile rested in the corners of his eyes. Mr Segundus could not help but smile back.
“I’ll write, then,” Childermass said again, except it sounded like it was specifically a promise for Mr Segundus.
“Yes,” Mr Segundus said, pinking up a bit. “So shall I- we. We shall also- write.”
Childermass’ lips quirked, as though he were mocking Mr Segundus, and Mr Segundus could not in good conscience say he minded at all.
“Gentlemen,” Childermass said, and at that he rode off.
“This is quite exciting,” Mr Honeyfoot said, throwing an arm around Mr Segundus’ shoulders. “To think of how bereft we were only a few days ago! This is quite an advantage.”
“Quite,” said Mr Segundus, watching as Childermass grew smaller and smaller down the road, until he disappeared. “Quite exciting, indeed.”
[1] Many centuries later Starecross Hall would come to host the largest and most extensive library of magic in England.
[2] A shudder of both revulsion and, although he would never admit it aloud, unadulterated joy. This was the first spell that Mr Segundus had cast that had worked, and he could not help but remember the fierce pride that he had felt when it worked.
[3] Mr Segundus, as a man of a certain character, was extremely good at not taking notice of things. He took no notice of how the local blacksmith’s muscles flexed as he pounded out a new horseshoe, nor of how the newest manservants thighs flexed as he strode about the Hall. In regards to Childermass, Mr Segundus had never, in the past, taken notice of how long and slim Childermass’ fingers were as they absently twirled quills or cards, nor how well his overcoat accentuated his wiry chest and waist. Mr Segundus took no notice of any such thing.
[4] Mr Honeyfoot habitually slept in until long after the sun rose, claiming that he was a restless sleeper and needed the extra hours. Mr Segundus, having shared a corridor with Mr Honeyfoot for the past year, knew only that his loud snores rang uninterrupted from his room all night long, but did not say so for fear of shaming Mr Honeyfoot with the knowledge.
[5] Mr Segundus was fully aware that he and Childermass were not close enough acquaintances for sharing boyhood dreams, but at the time he did not particularly care. Hours later he would look back on that moment in mortification, knowing that he had overstepped the bounds of propriety. Hours after that he would find that all propriety had flown right out the window.
[6] There have been found, to date, a half dozen letters between Mr Segundus and Childermass, all of them exceedingly dry and concise, except one which was written in a hasty hand which stated “I quite look forward to it, sir”. While there is no date or time given upon the correspondence, it is known that Childermass continued to work closely with Mr’s Honeyfoot and Segundus for a great many years, and had, in fact, visited Starecross Hall repeatedly0.