Giles interviews assistants
A tidbit that takes place during the first chapter of Wards of the Roses, where Giles Lefton interviews assistants to help him.
It was time for the first interview. Ten in the morning, though Giles had been up for hours by then. "Giles, visitor." Vale was breezy. Giles nodded, from where he was sitting in his usual chair for conversation. He heard the steps on the wood floor, the slight click of leather soled shoes, then a "Afternoon, Lefton." It was the casual easy drawl of someone accustomed to deference, treating him as an equal. More or less. He'd known Douglas Byles, Anthony's elder brother, at school. Giles gestured. "Come sit." The chair across from him. He could see the shadow pass in front of the window. Trim enough man, it looked like, not too muscular, but it was hard to tell in the uniform. "I'm sure we'll suit nicely, but I was told you wanted a word." Lefton raised an eyebrow. "Not purely a formality. It is a complex puzzle. Plenty of fine people might find it not to their taste." He gestured, slightly. "I've a set of questions." He felt, more than anything, the other man straighten. "If you insist, old man." "Tell me a bit about yourself. Name. House. Family." He then added, after a tiny pause. "Appearance too, please." The things that if he could see, he could get out of their Guard profile. But it was more trouble than it was worth to get someone to transcribe it, or someone authorised to read it to him to visit. Edgarton had given him a precis, of course, at least for the first two candidates he had in mind, but what someone else thought you should know and what you wanted to know were always different creatures. He heard a distinct sniff, as if this were below his dignity. "If you insist." Then there was the launch into what was clearly a polished enough introduction, the sort made at parties. "Anthony Byles, of the Cumbria Byles." He didn't explain the family. "Second son of three, married a year. Fox House in school, of course. Five foot ten, blond hair, gray eyes. I keep fit." Giles nodded. "And what is your current assignment?" "Escort duty principally, visiting dignitaries. It's good to have someone who can find little things, or introduce them to the right sorts, keep the riffraff away." Byles was breezy again. "Nothing involving warding or related theory?" "Not at the moment, no. Not really my thing, that, though I've had the basics, of course." "Why do you think you were recommended for this?" "Oh, there's the family magics, and the Fox House magics, both useful, wouldn't you say?" Giles noted that he was entirely unspecific about how. "Mmm." He paused, long enough to give the impression of thinking. "May I ask what you did in the war?" "Officer, posted to headquarters. Communication and aide duties, depending on when we're talking about." "Not at the front, then." "No." Byles sounded a bit defensive, a tone Giles had learned to pick up quickly. "Never mind that, then. Bohort?" "Pavo, more, but I play Bohort on the Guard teams now and then." "What role?" "Puzzle or Distance." There was a definite note of pride. "Doing quite well, really, the last few matches. I don't suppose you keep up on the league?" Giles waved a hand. "A little here and there. I follow the Apprentice league fairly closely." Which had a much more detailed and evocative announcer than the Guard league, or the mixed league for adults. There was quiet then, and an increasing silence, Byles moving slightly in his chair. "A few more technical questions, then. What do you think about this project?" "Oh, it seems like an interesting lark. Appearing house, don't you know? That's not the kind of thing you see every day." He laughed at his own joke. "Do you have any theories about it?" "Oh, I'd assume some arcane ancient magic wore off. Isn't that the way in stories? Seeds of truth and all that. Hard to tell more without seeing the place properly, I'd think." "Are you up on your warding theory, then?" "Well enough." It was said smoothly. A little too smoothly. "What do you think of Wilfred Douglas, and his approach to household warding?" "Oh, quite dated, don't you think? Archaic. Family privilege, and all, but I've always rather preferred Grandmama's approach. The Forsythe technique, you know. Tidy little package of warding." Giles nodded, once. Mind, Forsythe was simple enough your average fifteen year old could breach it if they breathed on it right. "How do you see your role in this project?" "Well, I suppose..." Byles was mannered enough to pause. "I suppose you need someone to be your eyes for you. Well, actually, I'm not quite clear on what your role would be." Giles nodded, just once, letting Byles dig himself deeper. "And what would you contribute? Besides the eyes?" "Well, I've some expertise, I admit this is a bit out of my normal. But I'm sure I can pick it up quite quickly." There was a tone there, that either Giles wasn't that expert, or wasn't really needed. "Mmm." Very non-committal. "How did you prepare for our conversation?" "Oh, had a glance at the brief, did a little background reading. Interesting part of the country, of course, ties back to various monarchs, here and there." Giles nodded, then murmured "I think that's enough for now. Someone will be in touch. I do want to have a word with one or two others, first." *** It was early that afternoon when there was the next "Giles, your next visitor." He heard the footsteps stop on the wood of his room. "Oh, this is interesting. How you have it laid out. And your desk, facing that way. You don't look out the window, I'm sure?" It was a chatter, even, not too shrill, but constant. "Do have a seat. Analyst Peck, isn't it?" "Theodora Peck, yes." He could hear her settling down in the chair. "I have a few questions, so we can get a chance to chat. Let's start with your house, and family. Appearance too, if you don't mind." There was a small pause, then she answered, easily enough at first. "Only daughter, my parents were older when I was born. A second marriage for my father. They live in Kent. I was in Owl House in school." Giles managed to restrain a snort, he'd suspected it from her first paragraph of commentary. "I don't see why appearance matters. Honestly. Analyst's uniform, I prefer skirts to the other options. Surely it doesn't matter what colour my hair and eyes are." It did matter, ridiculously, to Giles. Having some sort of mental image to attach the voice to helped in differentiation, he found. It wasn't so to the people he'd talked to who had been blind from birth or childhood, but he was not of their clan. More to the point, how someone described themselves when asked told him a lot. He nodded, then said "What's your current assignment?" "Analyst, working in the Wards and Protections department, I have been there three years. Secure facilities, prisons and guard rooms, that sort of thing. I understand you have authority to request specifics, but I must have the proper permissions before I can provide additional details of my current work." It was clipped, precise, direct. "What did you do in the war?" "Not at liberty to discuss, sir." Again, very crisp. "Ah." There really wasn't much else to say. And that potentially covered quite a lot. "Do you play bohort?" "I'm intrigued by the statistical aspects of the game, but I do not play myself. I find it moves too slowly for my enjoyment. I do read a precis afterwards, for certain leagues." That was not an approach to the game he'd come across often, though he supposed he could see how it would appeal. "What do you think of Wilifred Douglas's approach to household warding?" "Wilifred, not Frederick?" Giles nodded. "I think he's missing the details he should have known about in Esterhazy's Third Digression, regarding the integration of warding energies into living spaces where the boundaries will need to allow sustained passage to the outside. But there is that interesting aspect of integrating the wards into an existing structure, such as stone or brickwork." She continued for nearly five minutes, he thought, a significant dissection of the work, and references to a number of other peer titles. There was no question about her knowing her field. Finally, he raised a hand, and murmured "That is plenty for now - you have given me a good idea of the range of your expertise." He heard the little sniff as she fell quiet, part pleasure at the compliment and annoyance at being cut off, if he read her correctly. But she didn't argue outright. "Tell me what you think of this project?" "It's impossible to tell without being on site, of course, but I believe it is an intriguing puzzle. I'm not one for much field work, mind you, other than when working on a specific assignment. Nothing so..." She paused. "Rustic, is the word perhaps. But I have a number of thoughts, theories, on the botanical aspect, and how to unravel it. Since I presume that burning it or poisoning the plants would not actually achieve our goals." Her tone suggested it would be much more efficient, however. He nodded. "They've resisted all of that, anyway." He tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. "And how do you see your role?" "I gather you've reasonable expertise in mathematics." He couldn't tell if the dubious tone in her voice was about his blindness or his maths, which was a more pleasant change than some reactions he'd gotten. "I hold the Caerleon research chair in applied mathematics, via the Academy." He kept his tone even. "How did you prepare for this conversation?" "I had a look at the brief." And then her voice turned amused, an emotion he hadn't expected. "And then I got distracted in a journal article, I'm afraid. And the brief didn't seem to have any of what I'd have found helpful." He'd been unsure about her until that point - she was clearly highly competent, but that didn't mean they'd work well together. This, though, amused him, and suggested it might work out. "Your role, then." "We have a fair bit of overlap, I suspect, in our skills. I presume you'd need assistance with the portions that require eyesight, and measurements and so on." She paused for a moment. "I won't do this if I am simply to be an assistant. My other work is too important." He nodded slightly. "I can manage a lot of things on my own, including calculations of substantial complexity. But a colleague to collaborate with, that is necessary. As well as, you say, the measurements." He considered, then asked "How would you approach the problem?" That earned him a good fifteen minutes of her thoughts on the topic, which were remarkably well developed for someone who said she'd only glanced at the brief. She had half a dozen articles to locate and review, an interesting approach to thorough testing of the space, and a number of good ideas. On the other hand, when he ventured a question or two, she was rigid in her opinions, unwilling to consider he might have a good reason for an alternate approach. When they wrapped up, Vale showed her out, and then poked his head in. "There's a third, Giles. Five this afternoon, I gather. Rather rude, to send someone round so late." "Edgarton hadn't been sure about asking her, I gather."
It was time for the first interview. Ten in the morning, though Giles had been up for hours by then. "Giles, visitor." Vale was breezy. Giles nodded, from where he was sitting in his usual chair for conversation. He heard the steps on the wood floor, the slight click of leather soled shoes, then a "Afternoon, Lefton." It was the casual easy drawl of someone accustomed to deference, treating him as an equal. More or less. He'd known Douglas Byles, Anthony's elder brother, at school. Giles gestured. "Come sit." The chair across from him. He could see the shadow pass in front of the window. Trim enough man, it looked like, not too muscular, but it was hard to tell in the uniform. "I'm sure we'll suit nicely, but I was told you wanted a word." Lefton raised an eyebrow. "Not purely a formality. It is a complex puzzle. Plenty of fine people might find it not to their taste." He gestured, slightly. "I've a set of questions." He felt, more than anything, the other man straighten. "If you insist, old man." "Tell me a bit about yourself. Name. House. Family." He then added, after a tiny pause. "Appearance too, please." The things that if he could see, he could get out of their Guard profile. But it was more trouble than it was worth to get someone to transcribe it, or someone authorised to read it to him to visit. Edgarton had given him a precis, of course, at least for the first two candidates he had in mind, but what someone else thought you should know and what you wanted to know were always different creatures. He heard a distinct sniff, as if this were below his dignity. "If you insist." Then there was the launch into what was clearly a polished enough introduction, the sort made at parties. "Anthony Byles, of the Cumbria Byles." He didn't explain the family. "Second son of three, married a year. Fox House in school, of course. Five foot ten, blond hair, gray eyes. I keep fit." Giles nodded. "And what is your current assignment?" "Escort duty principally, visiting dignitaries. It's good to have someone who can find little things, or introduce them to the right sorts, keep the riffraff away." Byles was breezy again. "Nothing involving warding or related theory?" "Not at the moment, no. Not really my thing, that, though I've had the basics, of course." "Why do you think you were recommended for this?" "Oh, there's the family magics, and the Fox House magics, both useful, wouldn't you say?" Giles noted that he was entirely unspecific about how. "Mmm." He paused, long enough to give the impression of thinking. "May I ask what you did in the war?" "Officer, posted to headquarters. Communication and aide duties, depending on when we're talking about." "Not at the front, then." "No." Byles sounded a bit defensive, a tone Giles had learned to pick up quickly. "Never mind that, then. Bohort?" "Pavo, more, but I play Bohort on the Guard teams now and then." "What role?" "Puzzle or Distance." There was a definite note of pride. "Doing quite well, really, the last few matches. I don't suppose you keep up on the league?" Giles waved a hand. "A little here and there. I follow the Apprentice league fairly closely." Which had a much more detailed and evocative announcer than the Guard league, or the mixed league for adults. There was quiet then, and an increasing silence, Byles moving slightly in his chair. "A few more technical questions, then. What do you think about this project?" "Oh, it seems like an interesting lark. Appearing house, don't you know? That's not the kind of thing you see every day." He laughed at his own joke. "Do you have any theories about it?" "Oh, I'd assume some arcane ancient magic wore off. Isn't that the way in stories? Seeds of truth and all that. Hard to tell more without seeing the place properly, I'd think." "Are you up on your warding theory, then?" "Well enough." It was said smoothly. A little too smoothly. "What do you think of Wilfred Douglas, and his approach to household warding?" "Oh, quite dated, don't you think? Archaic. Family privilege, and all, but I've always rather preferred Grandmama's approach. The Forsythe technique, you know. Tidy little package of warding." Giles nodded, once. Mind, Forsythe was simple enough your average fifteen year old could breach it if they breathed on it right. "How do you see your role in this project?" "Well, I suppose..." Byles was mannered enough to pause. "I suppose you need someone to be your eyes for you. Well, actually, I'm not quite clear on what your role would be." Giles nodded, just once, letting Byles dig himself deeper. "And what would you contribute? Besides the eyes?" "Well, I've some expertise, I admit this is a bit out of my normal. But I'm sure I can pick it up quite quickly." There was a tone there, that either Giles wasn't that expert, or wasn't really needed. "Mmm." Very non-committal. "How did you prepare for our conversation?" "Oh, had a glance at the brief, did a little background reading. Interesting part of the country, of course, ties back to various monarchs, here and there." Giles nodded, then murmured "I think that's enough for now. Someone will be in touch. I do want to have a word with one or two others, first." *** It was early that afternoon when there was the next "Giles, your next visitor." He heard the footsteps stop on the wood of his room. "Oh, this is interesting. How you have it laid out. And your desk, facing that way. You don't look out the window, I'm sure?" It was a chatter, even, not too shrill, but constant. "Do have a seat. Analyst Peck, isn't it?" "Theodora Peck, yes." He could hear her settling down in the chair. "I have a few questions, so we can get a chance to chat. Let's start with your house, and family. Appearance too, if you don't mind." There was a small pause, then she answered, easily enough at first. "Only daughter, my parents were older when I was born. A second marriage for my father. They live in Kent. I was in Owl House in school." Giles managed to restrain a snort, he'd suspected it from her first paragraph of commentary. "I don't see why appearance matters. Honestly. Analyst's uniform, I prefer skirts to the other options. Surely it doesn't matter what colour my hair and eyes are." It did matter, ridiculously, to Giles. Having some sort of mental image to attach the voice to helped in differentiation, he found. It wasn't so to the people he'd talked to who had been blind from birth or childhood, but he was not of their clan. More to the point, how someone described themselves when asked told him a lot. He nodded, then said "What's your current assignment?" "Analyst, working in the Wards and Protections department, I have been there three years. Secure facilities, prisons and guard rooms, that sort of thing. I understand you have authority to request specifics, but I must have the proper permissions before I can provide additional details of my current work." It was clipped, precise, direct. "What did you do in the war?" "Not at liberty to discuss, sir." Again, very crisp. "Ah." There really wasn't much else to say. And that potentially covered quite a lot. "Do you play bohort?" "I'm intrigued by the statistical aspects of the game, but I do not play myself. I find it moves too slowly for my enjoyment. I do read a precis afterwards, for certain leagues." That was not an approach to the game he'd come across often, though he supposed he could see how it would appeal. "What do you think of Wilifred Douglas's approach to household warding?" "Wilifred, not Frederick?" Giles nodded. "I think he's missing the details he should have known about in Esterhazy's Third Digression, regarding the integration of warding energies into living spaces where the boundaries will need to allow sustained passage to the outside. But there is that interesting aspect of integrating the wards into an existing structure, such as stone or brickwork." She continued for nearly five minutes, he thought, a significant dissection of the work, and references to a number of other peer titles. There was no question about her knowing her field. Finally, he raised a hand, and murmured "That is plenty for now - you have given me a good idea of the range of your expertise." He heard the little sniff as she fell quiet, part pleasure at the compliment and annoyance at being cut off, if he read her correctly. But she didn't argue outright. "Tell me what you think of this project?" "It's impossible to tell without being on site, of course, but I believe it is an intriguing puzzle. I'm not one for much field work, mind you, other than when working on a specific assignment. Nothing so..." She paused. "Rustic, is the word perhaps. But I have a number of thoughts, theories, on the botanical aspect, and how to unravel it. Since I presume that burning it or poisoning the plants would not actually achieve our goals." Her tone suggested it would be much more efficient, however. He nodded. "They've resisted all of that, anyway." He tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. "And how do you see your role?" "I gather you've reasonable expertise in mathematics." He couldn't tell if the dubious tone in her voice was about his blindness or his maths, which was a more pleasant change than some reactions he'd gotten. "I hold the Caerleon research chair in applied mathematics, via the Academy." He kept his tone even. "How did you prepare for this conversation?" "I had a look at the brief." And then her voice turned amused, an emotion he hadn't expected. "And then I got distracted in a journal article, I'm afraid. And the brief didn't seem to have any of what I'd have found helpful." He'd been unsure about her until that point - she was clearly highly competent, but that didn't mean they'd work well together. This, though, amused him, and suggested it might work out. "Your role, then." "We have a fair bit of overlap, I suspect, in our skills. I presume you'd need assistance with the portions that require eyesight, and measurements and so on." She paused for a moment. "I won't do this if I am simply to be an assistant. My other work is too important." He nodded slightly. "I can manage a lot of things on my own, including calculations of substantial complexity. But a colleague to collaborate with, that is necessary. As well as, you say, the measurements." He considered, then asked "How would you approach the problem?" That earned him a good fifteen minutes of her thoughts on the topic, which were remarkably well developed for someone who said she'd only glanced at the brief. She had half a dozen articles to locate and review, an interesting approach to thorough testing of the space, and a number of good ideas. On the other hand, when he ventured a question or two, she was rigid in her opinions, unwilling to consider he might have a good reason for an alternate approach. When they wrapped up, Vale showed her out, and then poked his head in. "There's a third, Giles. Five this afternoon, I gather. Rather rude, to send someone round so late." "Edgarton hadn't been sure about asking her, I gather."
Extras
