The Seekers of Fire (30 page)

Mister Podd was being overprotective of her, for it was not exactly aberrant to think of such Scientific devices. All the knowledge needed to make them was in the
Science
books themselves. The theory of a single pulley, a single lever, or a cogwheel was there, and it was not at all difficult to think of combining several of these together.

The Clerks' pulley system was not even Linden's own idea. An old and responsive builderwoman had once told her that they used similar devices to haul the lighter stones at construction sites. (Master Builders used other devices together with Ber-prepared rituals to haul the heavy ones.) And the well, Dimna's waterwell, had been similar, but of course Linden had not known about it when she had built the pulley system.

Yet, even the small-stone building devices were way too big and were available to specific Master Crafters and for big projects only. They came from Factories, and no Factory would make something like this for naught but hauling an old couple's shopping.

Besides, all that came from Factories came with the Bers' blessing. People who knew about these devices at all—and that would only be the Master Crafters who used them, their workers, and a few strange others like Linden—would think the devices Magical. There should be Magic in the devices, for how else would they work safely? Something could never work if relying on the rules of Science only—at least, something as big and important would not. And, of course, people feared the almost-aberration of motion. People would not tamper with motion.

But Linden would, and she also thought that big Scientific devices with no Magic
might
work, even though even the small ones were difficult to build at home. It would have been easier if the
Science
books gave materials in addition to the theory, or if the Factories did. As it were, Linden had used string, sports lifting weights, coat hangers, and empty food cans to build the pulleys. It had taken her many hours and blunted daggers to cut the coat hangers and puncture the cans, and to assemble everything together. It might even not have been possible to do it years ago, when the cans had been impossible to puncture.

Linden sighed inwardly. It was useless to complain about materials. The Factories would not have helped even before, when they were strong, let alone do anything these days. Besides, even if it should not be exactly aberrant to think of building Linden's chair, perhaps Mentor Maxim would have whipped her if she had told him about it.

Such ideas made people uneasy, suspicious. The old Mentor might have whipped her just in case—for if she thought that she could use Science for a chair that moved without a walking person's or a harnessed, Magiced animal's help, would she not think of a chair that moved entirely by itself or of something else aberrant and dangerous next? A mind that was not like the minds of the rest was a mind to beware. Even the Clerks' pulley system was a risk, which was why Mister Podd had not wanted her to do it.

Linden sighed again. She had, of course, not told old Maxim about the chair, and he would not have otherwise known, for he could not see her thoughts. And now, even if for some strange reason she wanted to, it was too late to tell old Maxim anything.

Old Maxim had given her a toy, once. She had become sick after Initiation and had stayed in bed for what to her four-year-old self had been a very long time. Maxim had come to see her, then, on the day of her first Confession, for she was too weak to be taken to the temple. He had looked at her and talked to her, and then he had come back with the dog. It had been her first moving toy; before that she had only had stuffed dogs and cats and lifeless dolls. It walked on its own tiny metal legs if she pushed it with her hand, and it was treasured by her parents, too, for moving toys were expensive and difficult to find. The Toy Factory had not been making many such for commoner children in those days.

Linden blinked fast, turning her head away, so that Rianor and Jenne would not notice. Old Maxim had been kind then. The dog had brightened the days of little Linden's sickness. And now, it was her fault that old Maxim was dead. Yes, he had been a Mentor. Yes, a few days ago he would not have been kind. Yet, did that make what had happened, what Linden had done, all right?

Linden hated Bers, for they did as they saw fit and took people's choices away. However, Linden had done as she saw fit, and because of her, and because of Rianor, old Maxim had been deprived of the choice whether to live.

Right now, she hated herself.

Jenelly

Day and evening 79 of the Fourth Quarter, Year of the Master 705

Desmond was not pacing as he would usually have, but still he had risen and was now standing still, his face pale. The blanket Jenne had tugged around his legs was now rumpled on the armchair. She went to straighten it, not quite meeting his eyes. At least Rianor had left Blake with Lettie, so he was not at Jenne's feet and pulling the blanket right now. Jenne wished that Lettie was here, herself, but no servants but Nan and Master Keitaro were allowed at Council. Neither were dogs.

Desmond frowned at her with displeasure. "Do you have an idea what time it is? We have a Council to go to, and I have been waiting for you for five minutes. This is not Tremayne, Wife. Slacking and meandering is not acceptable here."

"But I ... But Tremayne ... Everyone is punctual in Tremayne, my lord."

He looked at her with that typical expression of his that said that, yet again, she had said something stupid. She knew—he did not even need to say the words—that he did not care about Tremayne at all, that what she had to pay attention to was his criticism of her personally. She should not instantly jump in defense of her House.

Her
former
House. Jenne's fingers tugged at her wristwatch, and she snapped them instantly back. Oh, no. Why was she forgetting herself so easily? Desmond so much hated this nervous gesture of hers. It was of no use explaining to him that she had been doing it since before she could remember, that it was not because it was a Qynnsent wristwatch that she now wore.

"I ..."

Her voice, already quiet and timid, trailed away into silence as Rianor and Linden followed her into Desmond's suite. No. Not that again. It was not just Desmond's suite. It was
their
suite; it was hers, too, now, for she was his wife and had changed not only a suite but a House because of that. She tried so hard to accept this place as her home. Why, in the name of the Master, was she not succeeding? Had it been the same for her Fredelbert-born mother thirty-five years ago, when she had joined Tremayne to marry the heir, now High Lord? Would it be the same for Jenne's brother Ludwig if he, too, married into another House? Or would Ludwig's arrangement be such that his wife became a Tremayne lady?

Jenne wished with all her heart that it would be the wife to join her brother's House. Otherwise, it was so hard; Jenne missed Father, Mother, Ludwig, and especially Winola, so much. Winola was lucky, at least. A man who married the future High Lady would have to leave his House and join Tremayne. Jenne resisted the urge to tug at her wristwatch again.
Oh, Tremayne.
She missed everyone and everything, even old lord Arnold and the servants, and she missed her pink-painted suite with purple curtains, her own desk, the corridor to Winola's study, and Tremayne's elevators.

It was somewhat egoistic, was it not, that she wanted the Qynnsent Council to be here and not in its room in the tower. True, her desire was such mostly because of Desmond's condition, but not only. She was not a good person. At least, she was not good enough. Desmond certainly thought so.

Desmond's suspicious glance was cast at Rianor now, as well as at Linde. Jenne shrank back towards the wall, away from that glance herself, simultaneously glad that her husband's attention was not presently directed at her and guilty for feeling like that.

Linde, the scrawny little thing that she was, so weak because of, perhaps, her own diets, dared look back at him. Linde had been barely able to walk, but walked nonetheless. Rianor had not noticed—did men ever notice such things?—but Jenne had and had at some point taken the girl's arm to support her. It had felt good to help, even though Master knew that Jenne was weak herself; days of cabbages had resulted in her barely being able to lift her arms and legs yesterday. Good that Desmond had not been at home ... Oh, no, what was she thinking? It was
not
good. Of course it was not good that he had not been at home yesterday. She loved him and wanted him close, was that not so? It was the right thing, loving and wanting your husband close. As well as supporting your spouse, and your spouse's House if you left yours, for this House was then your own.

Jenne dared step closer to Desmond again. At least she was not too lightheaded today. But of course she would not be, the pig! Pigs were those animals that ate too much, were they not? She had seen one in a picture book. It did look like her, with its fat, bloated torso. Yes, a pig. Jenne had admitted defeat and eaten a whole loaf of bread with butter and a whole cake yesterday. She so much wished that she should be able to not eat! She so much envied skinny people.

"Jenne asked us to come here for Council to spare you the pain of walking."

It was skinny Linde's voice, and it was very calm and quiet. Jenne's would have trembled if Desmond had been looking at her the way he was looking at the girl now. Skinny Linde sounded as if she were accusing Desmond. She had not said, "
So stop looking at poor Jenne like that, you impossible man,
" but it was in her eyes, so beautiful eyes, the color of that pale-brown alcohol Jenne's High Lord father kept for special occasions. Jenne did not remember its name; she was so bad at names. She had no mind for remembering and thinking, Desmond said, even though she knew her etiquette rules perfectly and so knew that she
could
remember some things. Desmond was indeed unfair in that, but how to prove him wrong if her mind became twitchy and her tongue tied so often when he scowled at her?

She envied Linde now, for Desmond was scowling at
her,
but the girl looked so calm. Jenne was grateful to Linde, too, and guilty yet again. He was her husband, after all, so it was not right to let a girl scowl at him. She liked Linde, but a husband was forever—at least if not divorced—and, "
your spouse is your other half, to support forever in good times and bad,
" the wedding ritual said.

"Linde, please don't," Jenne whispered, but the words, unlike her body, were too thin and brittle.

Desmond ignored both women; he turned to Rianor.

"I am sorry that my wife has made you walk all the way here, High Lord. We indeed do need to go to the Council Room. I have already sent servants to remind everyone to gather there. Which was what my wife should have done, too, if she truly intended a change—sending servants or telling me to do it—not going herself to look for you only. Jenelly, the High Lord is not your messenger boy."

Jenne shrank yet again, but Desmond had already shifted his gaze towards Linde. "Forgive my bluntness, Rianor, but do you consider it proper for your new lady to attend Council? Should I speak freely before her?"

"I do, and you should. I want nothing less than your bluntness, either. I heard enough speech circumvention and veiled threats yesterday to last me a lifetime."

If Linde felt any awkwardness at that exchange, she did not show it, but Jenne's heart fluttered in her chest, and not only because she imagined herself in the girl's place.

Something was wrong and not normally wrong, like Desmond scowling at her or her kilograms refusing to melt. Something was much more wrong than that.

She wished she was not allowed to attend the Qynnsent Council, herself. She was not a High Ruler or a First Counselor. She did not have to, didn't
want
to, know what was happening just now.

Jenelly

Evening 79 of the Fourth Quarter, Year of the Master 705

The ride to the Council Room was, as always, a torture. She had been to four Qynnsent Councils only, but that was four Councils, four elevator rides, too many.

Master, had four quarters—a whole year—truly passed since she had married Desmond? Qynnsent, like Tremayne, held Councils once every quarter. Yes, four quarters had passed since the wedding ritual. It had been right before the last Day of the Master, and Desmond had been smiling as the kind Ber lord said the words that bound him and Jenne together. It must be a happy marriage that started right before the Day of the Master, a strong one. So the Ber lord had said. So Jenne knew.

Jenne had been so quick to marry Desmond, after less than sixty days of courtship. Winola had told her that she should not if she did not want to, that an alliance between Tremayne and Qynnsent was important but not as important as to give herself to a man she did not love, be it Qynnsent's First Counselor or High Lord. Of course, Rianor was five years younger than Jenne, which Jenne felt was too young. Old-fashioned as it might seem, she thought that the man should be older than the woman. Of course, Rianor had not been interested in her, either, and neither had Inni—lady Inese of Qynnsent, a third cousin of Rianor's and a second cousin of Desmond's—been interested in marrying Ludwig.

It might have been good, Inni marrying Ludwig, especially if it were Inni who agreed to change House upon the marriage. Inni and Ludwig were not High Rulers or heirs. Each of them was allowed to change House. In theory, Desmond could have changed House, too, even though it would have led to complications, for a First Counselor was too used to his or her own House and too essential to it. Besides, until the High Ruler had a child the First Counselor was the heir. Of course, even had Rianor had five children of his own, his First Counselor would have
never
abandoned Qynnsent.

And Jenne now was here with him, and Qynnsent was her House. Why was she, yet again, filling her mind with "
what-if
"-s? Master, Desmond was right, she did not have a good mind. She was Desmond's, and Desmond was hers—she should learn that!—even though he paid her no heed at all now, as she swallowed and tried to keep her food inside her stomach despite the elevator's motion.