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Magnus Quinn had long ago learned not to interrupt his wife while she was working in her study, except under a few very specific circumstances. These were:
1. If it had been at least 6 hours since she had last consumed food, it was permissible to bring her a sandwich, leave it quietly within arm's reach, and then depart.
2. If Isaac or Jeannemary was grievously injured (including self-inflicted injuries, see: the tongue-piercing incident) it was not only permissible but required to inform her.
3. If he heard vigorous swearing and/or a loud crash, he could look in and check whether it had been an accidental book tower collapse, or a deliberate case of something being thrown aside with vehement force, and if the latter, he could optionally choose to take a chance on asking what was wrong.
This time, it was the latter, and he decided to take his chance. "Something wrong, dear?" he asked from the doorway, prepared to retreat if the answer was simply some vigorous sighing or more thrown objects.
Abigail looked up from the flimsy she had been reading. "It's this feedback from Reviewer #2. Their criticisms of my article about using spectral dialectics to analyze purported Lyctoral relics are ridiculous! It's like they haven't even read Quinus, or grasped the theoretical framework I'm working with. And they complained I didn't cite Zeta et al. (9987) which is not even remotely relevant to the subject at hand!"
Magnus knew his role here, which was to nod sympathetically. "Sounds like a lot of rubbish to me."
"Well, obviously!" Abigail fumed. "Zeta's position is absolutely inconsistent with the evidence obtained from spectral dialectics. Relies much too heavily on psychometry, when it ought to be obvious that psychometry is synchronic - delineated."
"I'm afraid you've lost me there," Magnus said, never one to fake understanding something his wife was talking about. It made her so happy to explain things well enough that he finally got the point that he was reluctant to rob her of the enjoyment.
Abigail stood and paced across the room to fetch the book she had thrown aside moments before. "Psychometry captures information from a specific period of time - the time that item was being handled," she said, leafing through its pages. "It's bounded at both ends. Zeta's very clear about that. She even compares it to a lithograph. You can examine one moment in great detail - but it tells you nothing about what came before that moment, or what came after it."
Magnus nodded. "All right - that seems like it would be useful, though, even if it can't give you the whole story."
"In certain cases, yes, it's very useful," she agreed. "But there's a big problem. Any alleged Lyctoral relics have passed through dozens, even hundreds or thousands of hands over millennia. The psychometric readings will be an absolute mess! It's more like a lithograph that is layered under a hundred other lithographs in that case. To think you can pinpoint a single piece of data out of all of that noise is supremely arrogant. Typically Sixth," she added with a sniff.
"Now, these reviewers are anonymous, aren't they?" Magnus said. "How do you know they're from the Sixth House?"
"Well, like I said, the arrogance, first of all. Second, all the artifacts they want to ding me for not looking at are held in the Library under lock and key, so it's not as if I could have consulted them anyway. And finally, of course, they expect me to cite a Sixth House scholar. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if Reviewer #2 was Juno Zeta herself," she added with a resigned chuckle.
"So they want you to take a peek at some artifacts that they have? Sounds like a valid excuse for a research trip to the Sixth," Magnus said with a smile.
"Well, I suppose that's true," Abigail said grudgingly. "And I can cite her book, if it is actually her, but only to say how wrong it is. I'm not going to change my theoretical approach."
"Of course, darling," Magnus said, giving her a kiss on the forehead and retreating back out of her study to safety.
***
As it turned out, getting permission from the Sixth House lawyers to examine possible Lyctoral relics was a long and tedious process involving many forms, official stamps, and blood samples. Abigail was used to such things, though, and as the heir of the Fifth house, she had rather more sway than the average graduate student. It only took six months to secure the necessary access permits.
The Sixth House always gave Magnus claustrophobia. There were no windows and everything felt maximized for efficiency in a way that made his skin itch. The "room" they were given was essentially a bunkbed with some accordion shutters around it. "Cosy," Abigail said lightly. "Well, it's not like we're going to be in our bunk very much anyway."
The artifacts she was here to examine were held in a special facility within the Library. A docent brought out the items one at a time, each in its custom-made container filled with helium to prevent oxidation, cushioned with perfectly-molded non-reactive foam, and tinted dark to filter out unnecessary light. Magnus could be in attendance as Abigail's cavalier, but he had to stand well back from the items. They could only be unlocked by an Archivist with sufficiently high clearance, and so naturally one had to be on hand for the examination. The woman who appeared to do so in this case was tall, with long dark hair dusted with grey, and a cheerful smile. "Archivist Zeta, at your service."
"Oh!" Abigail blinked, surprised. "Juno Zeta?"
"That's right, Lady Pent. I noticed on the roster that you were coming to do some research and thought I might take the opportunity to meet you in person at last." Magnus thought he detected a note of cheerful mischief in her voice, as though she was preparing to pull off some remarkable practical joke.
"Oh, well, the pleasure is all mine," Abigail stammered, a bit taken aback.
"And I hope you know that despite any minor professional disagreements, I've always respected you as a historian," Archivist Zeta said smoothly.
"Likewise, I'm sure," Abigail said, somewhat regaining her footing. Magnus watched her with a mingled sense of amusement and pride. It had to be strange, coming face to face with an academic rival and finding her so unexpectedly charming.
"Now, let's take a look at these artifacts, shall we? Of course as pre-sovereignty era items they're extremely rare, irreplaceable, so I can't allow you to touch them, but I don't think that should be needed for your, ah, techniques, should it?"
"No, simply observing them and being near them will be sufficient," Abigail replied briskly. "After all, it's not psychometry," she added, unable to resist a slight jab.
Archivist Zeta grinned in return. "Well, I should hope not, since evidently you would be unable to parse the distinct layers of absorption that an item inevitably accrues over millennia... But there's no shame in that, it does take considerable training and skill."
"As does spirit communication, and I'm afraid I have only had the time to master one necromantic art while also publishing nine books, seventy-two articles, and leading my House," Abigail said cheerfully, but in a way that Magnus knew meant she was avoiding being much more pointed - he thought of it as her 'what do I know, I'm only the leading expert in this field' tone. "So it will have to be sufficient."
"Well, let's start with this one," Archivist Zeta said, evidently suppressing a chuckle. She moved to one of the boxes and pressed her thumb to the lock to open it with her blood signature. The clasps opened with a faint hiss of escaping gas and she lifted the lid off, revealing a small blue orb, just about the size to fit in someone's hand. "This item is inscribed with the Archaic phrase 'keep calm and carry on'," the archivist said. "Although I can't let you touch it, I can say that it has a spongy, soft, resilient texture. Psychometric readings have detected a great deal of anger and frustration attached to this artifact, but the source of those emotions remains unclear. It's been dated to over 9000."
"Oh, loooovely," Abigail crooned, already steepling her fingers in intellectual excitement. "This will be fun!"
***
Several hours and one instance of blood sweat later, Abigail flopped into a chair and allowed Magnus to fuss over her. "That last fellow was troublesome, but I managed it in the end," she said, her voice hoarse from strain but still proud. She had invoked the spirits of every person who had held the odd little artifact in the past nine thousand years, delving further and further into the depths of ages past, until she finally reached a point beyond which she couldn't go. The last person to own the item that she could speak with had been a member of the then-embryonic Eighth House, and she was able to pry from them the knowledge that it had been left behind there by the Saint of Joy. She couldn't reach any further back, not because of the limitations of her skill, but because the previous holder was not a spirit, which confirmed the matter to her satisfaction. Even Archivist Zeta looked rather impressed by the achievement, Magnus thought.
"I can't wait to look at the next one," Abigail said, but Magnus shook his head.
"First you need a break, dear. These old trinkets have been waiting for thousands of years, they can wait another day if necessary."
"Oh, but I cannot wait to hear what you have to say about the ceramic mug that says 'I hate Mondays' and has a fascinating artistic representation of an unidentified pre-Resurrection orange creature on it," Archivist Zeta cajoled, but Magnus held firm, laying a protective pair of hands on Abigail's shoulders.
"Plenty of time for that tomorrow!"
Archivist Zeta gave a charming smile. "Well, in that case, I feel like it's only polite for me to invite you both to join me for dinner tonight. Perhaps after a few drinks we can go back to my room and compare more than just notes..."
Abigail arched her eyebrow. "That depends - is your room any bigger than the guest quarters?"
"Oh, there are a few perks to achieving Archivist rank," said Juno Zeta with a wink. "One of which is a room somewhat larger than the average piece of flimsy. It's quite big enough for three. I'd be pleased to show you."
Her curiosity piqued, Abigail shot Magnus a glance over her shoulder to gauge how he felt about this proposal. "What do you think, dear?"
"I wouldn't say no," he replied cheerfully. He knew his wife well enough to know she was definitely interested, and that made him interested in return. Long years of experience had proven that she had excellent taste.
"All right," Abigail said, turning back to the Archivist. "But I want to make it clear that none of this changes my academic opinions about the weaknesses of your theoretical approach."
"Oh, goodness no, I wouldn't expect it to!" Juno said brightly. "Just like it wouldn't affect my brutally honest reviews of your papers."
Abigail laughed, a more relaxed and open laugh than Magnus had heard from her in a while. "So Reviewer #2 was you! I knew it!"