by Laure Eve
Rue had to search to answer his questions; it took her a full minute, on occasion. Almost as if she couldn’t see properly. The light was too dim, or their vision was blurred. It took them a long time to be able to see in a mind Jump the way they saw normally.
Her voice had a curious quality to it when she used the Talent. Dreamy and languorous. Seductive. He thought often about reaching in and kissing her when she was in this state, knew that he never would, and so felt safe in letting himself think of it.
He sighed. It had been three hours, almost. He should bring her back.
‘Zelle Vela,’ he said. ‘Find the hook now. I need you to find the hook.’
She was still for so long he thought she’d gone to sleep.
‘Can’t feel it,’ she said eventually.
‘You know what it feels like, reach for it.’
‘Can’t feel it.’
White watched her. ‘The hook, Zelle Vela,’ he said, keeping his voice soft. ‘You will remember what it feels like.’
‘Can’t find it.’ Her voice had lost some of its sleepiness. He thought he could hear nervousness.
‘It is thin,’ he said, as if reading from a textbook. If he showed any emotion at all, she would hear it and start to panic. ‘It vibrates with the frequency you have given it. It is familiar, it feels as if you are coming home. You will want to stay away from the feeling of home, but you must embrace it. There will be another time to explore, always another time. As you find the hook, you are overwhelmed with tiring sensations. It is time to come back now, and you are too tired to stay out there in the world.’
Rue stirred. She looked more crumpled and faded this time around, a good sign that she had thrown more of herself into the mind Jump. He noted it down to mention in his report later. Her eyes opened and she almost slid off the chair.
He wanted to put his arms around her. She seemed worn, and very tired.
‘It is time to rest, an hour at least,’ he said, standing up. She looked at him, muzzy.
‘Come,’ he said, more sharply than he’d intended. ‘I have another lesson in a moment.’
‘Who with? I thought you said you didn’t have one ’til the evening.’
‘It is the evening. Our lesson today has been three hours.’
Rue looked around stupidly. ‘Oh,’ she managed. ‘I’m getting longer. Is that good or bad?’
‘Neither,’ said White. He could have lied, but had taken Frith’s advice to heart. It appeared, miraculously, to be working.
‘Oh! I’m late,’ she squealed, as her eyes fastened on his wall clock. ‘Threya take me, and I’ve to change clothes.’
‘You should be resting.’
She ignored this and gathered up her bag and coat, giving him a glance he thought – hoped – was shy.
‘Don’t you want to know where I’m going?’ she said.
‘No,’ said White, though he did, and desperately.
‘I shall see you next week, then.’
She hurried out of his door, and he watched her go.
Rue ran across the gardens, banging the back gate closed and bursting into Red House.
‘You should hurry,’ said Lea, floating past. ‘Marches and Tulsent have already gone ahead.’
‘Don’t go without me?’ Rue pleaded, springing into her room.
At breakfast that morning, Lufe had led the way in suggesting that the group go out to the town together in the evening, in the spirit of friendship. They were to dine at a favourite tavern of his, and he would be paying. When Rue had protested at this exuberant display of generosity, Lea had laughed and told her it wouldn’t even make a dent in his weekly allowance.
Rue picked up the dress she had decided to wear. It was old-fashioned, she supposed, but it looked good on her. She pulled it on and checked her face in the mirror. Not bad. A little tired-looking, maybe.
Lea and Lufe were waiting for her in the corridor. Lea looked lovely, far too lovely for her own good, according to Lufe. He teased and taunted her mercilessly as they walked, but she would have none of it. Finally he went up ahead in a huff, to find a carriage.
‘He’s just annoyed because he thinks I’ll attract some rich man and go off with him,’ said Lea gleefully.
‘Why does he care?’ said Rue, though she could guess.
Lea gave her an impish look, but said no more.
They travelled to a less dainty and more raucous part of town than Rue had yet seen. Still respectable, but wild enough to have a good time, as Lufe put it. Lea was provoking some admiring stares, which she did nothing to dissuade. Rue fancied she caught a glance or two tossed her way, but she supposed she was like a robin next to a swan walking along beside Lea in her finery.
When they reached the tavern, it was noisy, smoky and packed. Lufe being Lufe had ordered a table in a private booth near the back, and Rue was glad of it. The dividing curtains kept out the worst of the noise.
She slid in next to Marches, who was already sat with a blinking Tulsent beside him. They both looked really young, here. She supposed they all did.
‘I’m starving,’ announced Lea, as she slid into the booth. ‘Let’s order everything they have.’
And so the evening went. Rue had never been out to dinner before, unless you counted the spring and harvest dances at the village, and really then it was more a case of wolfing down what food you could find on the ramshackle tables laid out in the square in between dances. This was different. You were sat, eating, drinking, talking. Close together like conspirators. You could feel that people looked at your closed-off booth as they passed, perhaps in envy or curiosity. It felt nice, and strange. It was easy to get on with people when food kept coming, and wine kept flowing.
Rue started to enjoy herself.
‘The midwinter ball is soon, and I must have a dress for it, for I still haven’t found one quite right,’ said Lea, in between mouthfuls of hot chicken drenched in lemon oil.
‘What’s that, then?’ Rue asked, swilling her mouth out with wine. She had chosen spiced beef baked with soft, fat apricots, and her tongue was on fire.
‘Only the biggest event of the year,’ said Marches. ‘I shall be in peacock blue.’
‘You’re to be a fat, blue peacock for the night?’ said Lufe, feigning polite interest. ‘That’s quite a statement, March. Will you manage it?’
Marches tossed him an oath so explicit that Rue snorted wine through her nose.
‘S’a yearly tradition at the university to mark the culmin-ation of the midwinter festival,’ said Tulsent. His words were slurred. The poor boy probably hadn’t drunk more than a glassful of alcohol at a time before this. Rue looked at Lea, and they both started giggling.
‘Yes, and it’s bloody important in fanning the flames of your social calendar, if you understand my meaning,’ said Marches. ‘All the students worth knowing will be there, as well as important government people, scouting for potentials. It’s just about the only bloody time the bloody Talented get to mix with other people.’
‘You say bloody a lot when you’re drunk,’ observed Lea.
‘Shut up.’
‘Do you have a dress for it?’ said Lea to Rue.
‘I don’t know.’
‘I’ll check your wardrobe. If not you’ll have to hurry out and get a suitable one. They all go this time of year – the seamstresses will be booked up so you’ll have to pick up a ready-made. I can’t wear ready-made, it never sits right on me, but you have that kind of figure that anything looks good on, so you’ll be all right. We’ll go shopping tomorrow. I’ll take you to the best ready-made shops or you’ll never find anything decent.’
‘Good god, girl,’ roared Lufe, thumping the table. ‘You talk enough for all of us!’
‘I’m not sure what you meant by social calendar,’ said Tulsent to Marches, whose mouth split into a wide, evil smile.
‘He means you need to pick out anyone you might want to bed, Tulsent,’ said Lufe.
‘Oh.’ Tulsent blushed.
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br /> ‘Hush,’ said Lea. ‘Don’t scare the poor boy.’
‘I’m not scared,’ Tulsent insisted, still scarlet.
‘Oh really,’ said Marches. ‘You may act the harlot, Lea, but your good family name would never allow casual dalliance. I bet a hand up your skirt is as far as you’ve got.’
Lea laughed in outrage. ‘You pompous cock,’ she screamed.
‘And you,’ Marches pointed at Lufe. ‘You, syer. I would reckon that you’ve had half the maids in your house.’
Lufe only smiled lazily.
‘As for me; it’s been a while, I’ll admit. But there was a young lady of my acquaintance who did enjoy a game or two in the back bedrooms while our parents held parlour parties.’
‘What complete lies,’ said Lea. ‘If a girl has laid a hand on you other than to deliver a slap, I’d be astonished.’
‘I do enjoy a slap,’ mused Marches.
‘What about you, my country dear?’ said Lea to Rue, who up until now had been laughing hard at the turn of conversation. She swallowed her wine and pressed her lips together. Let them think what they wanted.
‘I’ll bet she’s had thirteen farmer’s lads, all together,’ announced Marches, to gales of laughter.
‘D’you speak from experience?’ retorted Rue with a raised eyebrow.
‘Give us a number, then.’
‘Less than a million and more than nothing.’
‘Definitely more than nothing. At least one I know of, anyway,’ said Lufe.
‘What’s this? Say it!’ Marches demanded.
‘What? What do you know?’ said Rue, puzzled.
‘I said I know of one of your conquests, at least,’ Lufe repeated, a strange smile on his face. It took her a moment to realise that it seemed painted on, like smiles did when they came from anger.
‘Lufe, hush up,’ said Lea.
‘What’s going on?’ said Rue.
‘I know what he’s talking about,’ said Tulsent suddenly.
‘Tulsent, hush!’
Rue looked around the table. They all knew what he was talking about, except her.
‘Tell me right now,’ she said, growing angry. ‘For I’ve not been with anyone here, and even if I had, I’d want to know how you think you might know about it. So you tell me.’
‘There’s nothing to tell,’ said Lea impatiently. ‘They’re just playing with you.’
‘I wouldn’t have guessed you liked them older,’ said Lufe, and hissed when Lea punched him on the shoulder.
The table descended into silence, and the noise of the tavern crowded back in. Rue looked at them all, again and again, but none would meet her eye. Lufe started whispering in Lea’s ear, and she started giggling. Marches decided to lecture Tulsent on the merits of gambling. Rue was left to finish her dinner by herself.
The evening wore on, but with Rue on the outside of it. If it had been a joke, as Lea had said, it was an unfathomable one. But it seemed too serious for that. The atmosphere was of a step too far – something said that shouldn’t have been. And not one of them would look at her properly again, not even Lea. They were tight as clam shells, and no amount of prying would shake them open.
So Rue became angry, and bored with their game, and when they reached Red House, and the rest of them had to plunge Tulsent into a cold bath to revive him from his semi-recumbent drunken state, Rue left them to it, and went to her room, alone and hurting.
CHAPTER 21
ANGLE TAR
Rue
Rue was lonely.
Since their falling out, the other Talented had been giving her an extremely wide berth, which irritated her no end, but also wounded her. Lea stuck to Lufe’s table in the mornings at breakfast, and Rue was left to sit by herself, as Freya did, ostracised and alone. She was still bewildered about what had happened that night, but as none of them were keen to talk to her about it, and she would never bend for them because she would bend for no one, they seemed stuck in this for evermore; and her bewilderment had turned to hurt anger.
Frith had become important to Rue, because she had no one else to talk to. When he dropped in on Red House of an evening, which was infrequently, he would bring them all presents of gingered chocolate and quiz them about their day. He would chat to her, and laugh with her.
So when he had mentioned the midwinter ball, she’d nearly fallen over with excitement, thrilling to hear his tumble of anecdotes from last year, and the year before. Women outdoing each other with more and more elaborate hair. Thirty-seven different meat dishes. Stone fountains that ran with champagne instead of water.
The ball was so important that they had a tutor, Dam Joya, come in to Red House to talk to the Talented about it as a group. First she addressed the boys, giving them outlines on what kind of shirts they could and could not wear; which dances they were allowed to ask partners for and which they could only partake in if they were married or of a particular social class; which drinks were safe and which were for hardened constitutions only. Then she turned to the girls. Rue sat astonished as she listened.
You could not wear pearls if you were under a certain age. Any shade of red was declared too womanly, white too young, and dresses in the latest fashion were the only possible choice. You could not dance with a man unless he requested it, and you could not take a drink unless he gave you one. She wanted to ask if you were even allowed to talk but the tutor was a stern, stiff-backed old crock and provoking her was tiresome rather than fun. The others in the group were either not listening or looking bored.
‘This is completely pointless. Can I be excused? I’ve been taught this stuff since I was three,’ drawled Lufe.
‘Well, I haven’t,’ Rue retorted. ‘I want to listen.’
‘That’s because you’re a country nothing.’
‘Silence, Mussyer Troft,’ snapped the tutor. Lufe shot her a rebellious glare, but said nothing else. ‘To continue. Only unmarried women of courtable age can agree to a request for the Stinging Dance, the Barter Fanning or Rabblers. Only married women can dance, with their husbands, the Lifelong Ribbon and Tea Cupping. And anyone, within reason, can dance the Mixer together. Within reason being that – unless he is related to you by blood – you absolutely do not dance with a married man. Ever. And now we will learn the steps to the set dances. Up you get.’
There was a collective groan.
The night of the ball eventually came, and not fast enough.
Lea had suddenly decided, in the spirit of the evening and because she couldn’t possibly have a boy as her chaperone, to be friendly with Rue again. Rue wanted to snub her but couldn’t summon the energy because excitement kept washing it away; and most of her anger was at the boys. Especially Lufe. She’d decided to ignore his jibe about ‘liking them older’. There was no sense to it, none at all. The only older man she even knew here was White, and that notion was simply ridiculous. So she’d had a dream about him, once; but so what? It meant nothing. Lea seemed anxious to be her friend again, so Rue left it alone.
They dressed together, chattering and laughing. Lea exclaimed when Rue pulled out her dress, as Rue had known she would, but laughed when she saw it on and said that it suited her very well.
The ball itself was in the university’s main reception halls, reserved for occasions such as this. None of the students had been given carriages, unless they lived far away, but fortunately Red House was quite close, and it took them only fifteen minutes to get there, or it would have if Lea hadn’t insisted on walking at a decorously slow pace. Her reasoning had been that she didn’t want to arrive looking flushed. Rue privately thought that men quite liked a flushed-looking girl – it denoted passion, and all that came with that. But Lea would have declared her coarse if she’d said such a thing out loud, so she kept it to herself. She didn’t want them to fall out again.
When they arrived, they joined a stream of people making their way slowly indoors. Music and light spilled out into the dark, frosty evening. Everywhere was laughing, sparkling chatte
r. Rue grinned.
‘So are you pursuing anyone this evening?’ said Lea, pulling Rue’s linked arm closer to her.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ said Rue, putting on a haughty voice, and was glad to see it made Lea giggle.
‘Just watch out,’ she said. ‘Some of the boys have the morals of a dog.’
As they entered, Rue allowed herself to think about it a little more. She didn’t really know anyone, apart from the Talented group, and she wasn’t the slightest bit interested in any of them. But there would be plenty of others there tonight to look at, and maybe dance with. She hoped she didn’t muck up the steps and embarrass herself.
The halls were grand indeed. Ceiling-to-floor heavy curtains, chandeliers of intricate silver as far as she could see. Each set of double doors was open and pinned back, so you could see through into the next room. The crowd was swelling. Everyone was in their finest. Sparkling jewellery flashed on the women. Complicated lace collars and heavy velvet adorned the men. It was beautiful, and Rue stood for some time, watching everything with her mouth open before she dared enter.
Lea, predictably, scampered away from Rue as soon as they had passed through the entrance hall, presumably to find Lufe and giggle at him uncontrollably. Rue was a little annoyed about finding herself in a sea of strangers with no one familiar to anchor herself to. Where was Frith?
She stood for a moment, uncertain. There was a great rippling world of people before her, and not one of them had given her a second glance. Should she wander slowly around the room with an arch air, and let people know she was the sort of interesting girl who preferred her own company? Would that make them stay away from her? Neither did she want to appear eager or too pleasing – that was not the kind of impression people should have of her at all.
Rue set out, determined to find Frith. As she searched for him, she found her gaze locking with so many strangers by accident, that by the time she’d looked down in apology and back up to search again, an entire group of people had been missed out. If only they wouldn’t all move about so much.