the new conditions. So, through this inherited variability, a species’ chances of enduring are improved.”
This idea was fascinating, but Ivy felt she was still missing something. “Yet why do such important variations arise in the first place? If they arise by chance, it seems they are as likely to have a negative effect upon the creature who gains them, or no effect at all. After all, it is just as probable that I will draw a card that doesn’t help my hand a bit.”
“Your mind is quick to seize upon the heart of a matter, Lady Quent,” he said with an approving nod. “A variation that curtails a creature’s ability to thrive and reach maturity has little chance of being passed on to its offspring. However, those variations that confer neither harm nor benefit can easily linger within a population. And if circumstances were to suddenly change”—he gave a shrug and smiled—“well, you never know when that card you had tucked in the corner of your hand suddenly trumps all others.”
Ivy felt a familiar, pleasant humming as her mind workedthrough these ideas. It was a curious but compelling notion that a creature might have heretofore unobserved features or abilities that remained hidden as they were passed from generation to generation, awaiting only the right event that would allow them to manifest themselves in some efficacious way.
By the window, Miss Mew began to lick at a paw, and at the same time another thought occurred to Ivy.
“What of those traits which can only be passed to some offspring?” she said. “Or more particularly, those traits that can only be passed to a male or female? I read once that tortoiseshell cats, like Miss Mew, are all girls.”
Dr. Lawrent smiled at the little cat, who had turned her head at the sound of her name. “Another interesting question, Lady Quent. As I said, the mechanism by which traits are inherited is particulate, and it seems that some of these particles can be passed only to female offspring, while others go only to males. But as for the reason … I fear I do not know. Perhaps my research will someday give us a better understanding.”
Ivy nodded, watching as Miss Mew resumed licking her paw, only it was not the color of cats that she was thinking of. Rather, it was magick. Only men could be magicians. And like Mr. Rafferdy, they were all of them thought to be descendants of one of the seven Old Houses.
Similarly, only women were ever witches, and it was a thing that seemed to run mother to daughter. The woman who bore Ivy—Merriel Addysen—was a descendant of Rowan Addysen, as were Halley Samonds and the first Mrs. Quent. And all of them had been witches. Did that mean magick and witchcraft were simply types of traits, like the color of fur? And if so, when and how had these traits arisen?
Before she could think of how to frame such a question, Dr. Lawrent rose from the chair. “We can speak again later, Lady Quent. For now, you should try to get some more rest.”
The afternoon light that filtered into the room had turned a deeper gold. The long day was at last drawing on. And now thattheir scientific discussion had come to an end, Ivy found her spirits dimming in kind.
“Dr. Lawrent.”
He paused by the door, his hand on the eagle-clawed knob.
Rather than look at him, she turned her head to gaze out the window at the waving branches of the ash tree. “It was a boy, was it not?”
The breath he drew was audible. “It was exceedingly small, Lady Quent. There had not been much time for it to form properly.”
“But it was a boy,” she said, now turning her head to look at him.
For a long moment he was motionless, then he nodded.
“I believe you are aware that I am a great-granddaughter of Rowan Addysen,” she said.
“Yes, so Sir Quent told me. Though I confess, I would only have had to look at you, and to be told your origins are from County Westmorain, to know it for a fact. The first Mrs. Quent shared a similar heritage, and
This idea was fascinating, but Ivy felt she was still missing something. “Yet why do such important variations arise in the first place? If they arise by chance, it seems they are as likely to have a negative effect upon the creature who gains them, or no effect at all. After all, it is just as probable that I will draw a card that doesn’t help my hand a bit.”
“Your mind is quick to seize upon the heart of a matter, Lady Quent,” he said with an approving nod. “A variation that curtails a creature’s ability to thrive and reach maturity has little chance of being passed on to its offspring. However, those variations that confer neither harm nor benefit can easily linger within a population. And if circumstances were to suddenly change”—he gave a shrug and smiled—“well, you never know when that card you had tucked in the corner of your hand suddenly trumps all others.”
Ivy felt a familiar, pleasant humming as her mind workedthrough these ideas. It was a curious but compelling notion that a creature might have heretofore unobserved features or abilities that remained hidden as they were passed from generation to generation, awaiting only the right event that would allow them to manifest themselves in some efficacious way.
By the window, Miss Mew began to lick at a paw, and at the same time another thought occurred to Ivy.
“What of those traits which can only be passed to some offspring?” she said. “Or more particularly, those traits that can only be passed to a male or female? I read once that tortoiseshell cats, like Miss Mew, are all girls.”
Dr. Lawrent smiled at the little cat, who had turned her head at the sound of her name. “Another interesting question, Lady Quent. As I said, the mechanism by which traits are inherited is particulate, and it seems that some of these particles can be passed only to female offspring, while others go only to males. But as for the reason … I fear I do not know. Perhaps my research will someday give us a better understanding.”
Ivy nodded, watching as Miss Mew resumed licking her paw, only it was not the color of cats that she was thinking of. Rather, it was magick. Only men could be magicians. And like Mr. Rafferdy, they were all of them thought to be descendants of one of the seven Old Houses.
Similarly, only women were ever witches, and it was a thing that seemed to run mother to daughter. The woman who bore Ivy—Merriel Addysen—was a descendant of Rowan Addysen, as were Halley Samonds and the first Mrs. Quent. And all of them had been witches. Did that mean magick and witchcraft were simply types of traits, like the color of fur? And if so, when and how had these traits arisen?
Before she could think of how to frame such a question, Dr. Lawrent rose from the chair. “We can speak again later, Lady Quent. For now, you should try to get some more rest.”
The afternoon light that filtered into the room had turned a deeper gold. The long day was at last drawing on. And now thattheir scientific discussion had come to an end, Ivy found her spirits dimming in kind.
“Dr. Lawrent.”
He paused by the door, his hand on the eagle-clawed knob.
Rather than look at him, she turned her head to gaze out the window at the waving branches of the ash tree. “It was a boy, was it not?”
The breath he drew was audible. “It was exceedingly small, Lady Quent. There had not been much time for it to form properly.”
“But it was a boy,” she said, now turning her head to look at him.
For a long moment he was motionless, then he nodded.
“I believe you are aware that I am a great-granddaughter of Rowan Addysen,” she said.
“Yes, so Sir Quent told me. Though I confess, I would only have had to look at you, and to be told your origins are from County Westmorain, to know it for a fact. The first Mrs. Quent shared a similar heritage, and
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