Broken Shadow

by Jaine Fenn

  “Precisely. Now, they don’t have tech. They’re forbidden to use any sort of sophisticated machinery, or to put anything which isn’t grown naturally inside their bodies and all sorts of other daft rules. Tech is the work of the Last, according to them.”

  “But that wasn’t always how it was?”

  “Indeed so. When humans first came here… “ He half closed his eyes, then opened them again. Dej was having trouble seeing him clearly now; night was falling outside, and these abandoned shadowkin houses didn’t light up like the tents had. “I did tell you we’re not from here, didn’t I?”

  “Not sure you did, no. Depends what you mean be ‘we’ and ‘here’.”

  “We as in humans: shadowkin and skykin. ‘Here’ as in this world.”

  “So did the First put us here, like the shadowkin say?”

  “Of course not. They’ve forgotten so much… We came from the stars, Dej.”

  “Uh, how? The stars are pretty lights in the night sky. According to the shadowkin some of the brightest ones are meant to be fallen saints, though I’ve no idea how that works.”

  “No, the stars are other worlds. We came from one of them.”

  “Really? Which one?” Dej had a crazy urge to go outside and look at the stars to try and work it out.

  “I have no idea. It was a long time ago. But what matters is that we arrived here from elsewhere. All of us. With tech.”

  “What exactly is ‘tech’?”

  “Like I said: machines, devices, processes used on the body or the natural world that change you or it, make things more efficient and useful. You’re no idiot, but I can’t think of any way to explain this in a way you would understand. Except maybe… You know those miracles the saints were meant to have performed?”

  “Yeah, we got taught about some of those.”

  “They were probably using tech. But I’d advise not saying that in a shadowland unless you want to get buried alive.”

  “I’ll bear that in mind next time I’m in a shadowland. But if tech’s so useful, why don’t the shadowkin have it any more?”

  “Ah, your best question yet. The short answer – and most of the details are lost, even to us – is that those who originally came here disagreed on how to use their tech. The people who became the shadowkin somehow came to see it as the cause of their woes, not the solution. So they banned it.”

  “They weren’t doing themselves any favours, were they?”

  “No, they were making their lives more difficult. But they thought – believed – they were doing the right thing.”

  “Because the First told them to?”

  “That appears to be what they thought, yes.” He shifted his head to look to the side; every movement he made was small yet full of effort. “Is it dark in here?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Good. Thought it was just me.”

  “You’re fine.”

  “No I’m not. I’m dying. And very tired.” He sighed. “I need to rest now.”

  Dej didn’t move.

  “Hah!” His exhalation was barely audible. “Don’t worry, I’ll do my best not to die overnight. But I need to sleep.”

  Dej got off the bed.

  She fetched food and water from her pack then went outside.

  The night was clear and she sat with her back to the house to eat, looking up at the sky. Could her people – both peoples – really have come from there? Etyan’s sister would wet herself at the thought.

  Assuming Jat was telling the truth. Assuming he wasn’t playing some elaborate seer’s game with her. Assuming he wasn’t simply mad.

  CHAPTER 42

  Rhia expected to feel odd, not waking up alone. But when she opened her eyes she was alone, in the bed at least. Markave stood by the still-shuttered window, dressing. Not that he had entirely undressed the night before. They had, by mutual consent, stripped down to their shifts and lain next to each other. And that was all.

  “I think,” Rhia had said, “that though there will be a time for proper consummation, it is not now.” There was no hurry: if the Church was about to condemn her she would hardly have time to conceive and birth an heir to House Harlyn before her sentence was carried out.

  Markave had nodded, his eyes flitting to the room next door, where Kerne lay in delirium.

  Now, he looked over at her as she watched him, and said, “Shall I open the shutters?” Spending the night in each other’s company did, at least, appear to have cured him of the tendency to clip his sentences as he bit back on the urge to say “m’lady”.

  “Yes please.”

  “And then I was going to attend to my duties, if that is all right with you.”

  In discussing their new and unique domestic arrangements Markave had stressed his desire to continue doing his job. She could hardly refuse him. But now she said, “Tador has grown up into a fine young man. I wonder if we should encourage him to take up his role here sooner rather than later.” Markave, reaching up for the shutter, looked back at her. “The plan was already that he should follow in your footsteps,” she reminded him.

  “It is something to consider, yes.” That careful tone; she knew it from her youth, when Markave was trying to gently steer her away from what he considered an unwise choice.

  “But not yet?”

  “He has much to learn.”

  “Which you could teach him, here.”

  “I fear I would… I am just not sure it would work. But of course, if you order it so…”

  “No. I have no intention of ordering you to do anything, Markave. We’ll leave things as they are for now.”

  After he left – managing to walk out the room rather than to back out like a servant, she was relieved to note – she lay in her bed a while longer, thinking of the men in her life.

  Etyan, of course, was a man in age now, approaching his twentieth year, even if she could not think of him as more than a boy. She must remember to tell him about the marriage; no doubt he would disapprove but that was his problem, not hers. Thoughts of him were, as ever, a tangle of love, concern and exasperation.

  She loved Francin too, in a way. She thought that affection was returned, in part because she had taken the place of the sister he lost as a child, in part because she had become a useful and impartial friend as an adult. She respected Francin so much more than she respected her foolish brother. But she was not sure she trusted him.

  Did she love Markave? She cared for him, respected him – there was no more loyal and competent person in her House – and trusted him more than anyone else in her life. But not love. Perhaps that would come in time.

  She thought, then, of Alharet, who she had once cared for, respected and trusted; perhaps even loved, as a friend. What would she think of this situation? Once, many years ago, the duchess had secured the services of a talented and anonymous young man to remind Rhia that sex was one of life’s pleasures. No doubt she would be amused to see things come to this. Hearing the duchess’s high, charming laugh echo in her head, Rhia found herself unable to stay in bed any longer.

  She spent the day in her study, reading and copying. No one disturbed her, not even her new husband.

  Sur Lectel arrived early, on hand to season her words should she get carried away tonight. He had been his usual reassuring self after the last court session, though he had asked, regarding the revelation that the eparch of Zekt was one of her correspondents, whether there were any other relevant facts she had neglected to mention. Although his tone had annoyed her, he had a point. She assured him she did not plan any further surprises.

  The judges arrived together at the appointed hour. She had Brynan show them up to her study, and offer refreshments; she did not yet feel ready to interact with her steward-turned-spouse in front of strangers. It was disconcerting enough to have outsiders in her sanctum. She’d had to clear one of the desks for them to put their drinks on.

  “So this is the celestial model then?” asked Vansel, nodding at her handiwork. “How does
it work?”

  “It is cranked by hand, as I shall demonstrate.” Making it not remotely heretical. “Did you wish to examine it before I do so?”

  Jertine waved the offer away but Tethorn and Vansel both looked over the mechanisms, the latter even bending down to check the cogs underneath. “Uh, please do not touch anything down there,” said Rhia, trying to hide her nerves.

  When the two judges stepped back Rhia took the crank, then paused. “Is it clear to you what is what?”

  “Not really,” said Jertine.

  “Well, the lamp in the centre is the Sun. The small globe nearest is the Maiden, and the one beyond that, the world itself.”

  “And these outer two?” asked Tethorn.

  “The Matriarch and Crone. Unfortunately I have not yet perfected the mechanism, so they do not move. If you would all stand on the same side, where the world is please.” The judges shuffled around. “Now, I will make it move…” She eased the handle round, feeling the teeth of the mechanism engage. The world shuddered and started to turn on its pole, at the same time moving around its track; a moment later, the Maiden too began to move.

  Jertine wrinkled his nose. “What is that smell?”

  “Tallow. I use it to lubricate the model.” Rhia paused in her winding. “Observe, if you will, the current relationship between the Maiden and the world, how it is lit along one edge only.” Tethorn had bent down without her asking him to, and now nodded to himself. “If the rest of you could do as Master Tethorn has done, perhaps even to take his place after he steps aside… that’s it.” Each judge took a turn looking across the model as instructed.

  “Now, I will move things on.” She started cranking again.

  “Forgive me, Countess,” said Jertine, “but ingenious though this model is, my poor intellect is finding it hard to relate it to the world we live in.”

  Rhia paused in her winding and made herself answer politely. “It is a lot to take in, but this is only the first part of my demonstration. Now, I just need to wind it a little further.” She felt resistance, and paused, breath frozen in her throat. But it had stuck here before. With exquisite slowness she applied more pressure, feeling the handle judder, then shift. The model ground back into motion. She breathed again. When it reached the relevant point she released the handle. “If you would shuffle round a bit, to where the world is now, and look, as you did before, at how the Maiden appears from there.”

  They did so, Vansel with impatience, Jertine with bemusement and Tethorn with interest.

  “As you see, the Maiden is now half lit and half in darkness.”

  “I have a question,” said Tethorn.

  “Ask away, please.”

  “If we grant the possibility that the world is not flat but is a sphere – itself a considerable leap of reasoning, but not impossible – why does it then follow that the world orbits the Sun, rather than vice versa?”

  “An excellent question!” Rhia smiled for the first time.

  “Having the Sun in the centre of the universe is the only way to explain the observations I have made. And which you will now be able to make for yourselves. Now, for the second part of my demonstration we must go up to my observation platform.” She pointed to the wooden ladder in the corner of the study. “Um, it’s probably best not to try bringing your drink.” Lord Jertine put his glass of wine back down.

  Sur Lectel stayed below, but even so the observation platform was unpleasantly crowded with four people on it. Rhia, going up first, stood with one hand on the sightglass, now locked in its tripod. She tried not to wince when Vansel, staggering slightly as he got to his feet after climbing the ladder, nearly jogged it.

  When they were assembled she pointed to the Maiden, lying low over the city’s rooftops. “We all know that the Maiden, unlike the Matriarch and Crone, appears only at dusk and dawn, and never rises high. As you may or may not be aware, all the Strays trace erratic paths in the sky. All of these facts are explained by their going round the Sun, as our world does. My sightglass is trained upon the Maiden now, and I invite you to look for yourselves.”

  As she had expected Tethorn went first. His indrawn breath at seeing the half full Maiden lifted Rhia’s heart. “Do you see how its real state mirrors that shown in my model?”

  Without taking his eye from the sightglass Tethorn murmured, “I do.”

  He looked a while longer then let Jertine take a turn. “Impressive,” the viscount conceded.

  Finally Vansel stooped to try the view, one hand braced on the platform rail. He straightened after little more than a glance. “Hmm. This is an interesting sight, but what is to say it is real?”

  “But you can see it for yourself, through the sightglass!”

  “I look into this tube and I see a half-lit sphere, yes. For all I know I just see an image you had put into the tube.”

  “You cannot…” Rhia made herself breathe. “I have extensive writings on optics, the branch of learning that allowed me to create this sightglass. Would you like me to provide them?” She already had a bundle of papers for Sur Tethorn, showing her mathematical workings to date.

  “I think you had better.” Vansel held up a finger. “Even if I concede, for now, that what I saw was real, I am most disconcerted at such imperfection.”

  “Imperfection?”

  “That these so-called spheres in the sky should be half in darkness… I am not sure the First would permit such a thing.”

  Rhia had a sudden desire to push the cardinal off the roof. She blew out an explosive breath to drive off the urge. “If you mean the phases, then surely you would have the same complaint of the Moons, whose phases can be seen without the aid of any sightglass.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Actually,” said Tethorn, “I was wondering about the Moons. How do they fit into your model?”

  “They orbit around the world.”

  “Ah,” chipped in the cardinal, “so not everything goes round the Sun, then?”

  “No. As I say, moons orbit the world – in fact, worlds.”

  “Worlds?”

  From the cardinal’s tone, Rhia suspected she may have gone too far. But the truth was the truth. “Yes. The Strays are globes, so they are worlds too, and the Matriarch – which, unfortunately, is not currently in our skies – has a moon of its own.”

  Beside her, Vansel shook his head

  Jertine said, “Talking of moons, could we not settle the argument about whether the sightglass shows a true image by looking at one of them? I believe Greymoon is up.”

  “It is!” Rhia tried not to sound too triumphant. “If you stand back as far as you can I will move the sightglass.” Greymoon was off to one side, beyond the tripod’s limited arc, so she had to call each of the judges forward to take the sightglass, then point it as she directed.

  This time, Vansel went first, by dint of having ended up standing closest to her on the crowded platform. “Hmm,” he said. “The image is different, yes. Somewhat… shaky.”

  “That is a problem, yes,” Rhia conceded. “Hence the tripod. But you can see the surface of the Moon, yes?”

  “I can. It appears… barren and pitted. There are no celestial settlements there.”

  At least it was Greymoon, not Whitemoon, that was visible. Her answer to his query would not hold for the larger Moon, said to be the heaven to which worthy shadowkin ascended to live in harmony close to the First. “As the scriptures themselves say, we are very different to the skykin. I do not believe they live in cities.”

  “But you don’t know that, of course.”

  “There is much I do not know.” Whether people could live in the sky at all, for example. Not that she was going to mention this. She had given them enough to fill their heads.

  Vansel must have thought the same. When everyone had viewed the Moon, he said, “We have much to consider as a result of this demonstration.”

  The other two nodded, shadowy forms off to one side.

  “Tomorrow is restday. I p
ropose we three spend firstday discussing what we have been shown and what it may mean. We will reconvene on twoday. I will send word as to when.”

  CHAPTER 43

  Dej slept on the floor at the foot of Jat’s bed, wrapped in her blanket. The seer was already stirring when she woke. She gave him water but he refused food. “You’d only end up having to clean up after me,” he croaked.

  “I’ve changed nappies, back in the crèche. At least you’re not screaming and puking.”

  “I might… if I had the energy.” But his humour felt forced. He seemed weaker today, every breath heaved in with an effort. She doubted he’d last another night. “Sit then.”

  Dej did, and waited for him to gather his thoughts.

  Finally he said, “We talked about tech, didn’t we? And what the Separation really was.”

  “Sort of. But I still don’t understand why the shadowkin rejected tech.”

  “No one does. Some great difference in worldview. A split. Long time ago. We’ll never know the full truth.” He drew a long wheezing breath. “Just have to deal with the consequences.” He smiled. “At least we got the useful stuff. Not that most of us understand our tech, even though we use it every day.”

  “So where does it come from?”

  “Old, old processes and skills. Our ancestors combined the original tech they brought here with the plants and animals they found, and with themselves. Much to the irritation of the shadowkin.”

  “If tech’s so ancient, and you don’t understand it, how come it’s still working? Wouldn’t it have broken or gone rotten or something?”

  “It’s grown as much as made. It won’t break as such, though it does stop working sometimes, or work in odd ways. But we have some skills, still, to fix it up. You were told there were ten roles in a clan, weren’t you?”

  “Yes. I’m guessing there are more.”

  “One more: technician. A manipulator of tech.”

  “Do they go to crèches?”

  “Of course, even seers start off in crèches.”

  “So what’s their parting-gift?”

  “The shadowkin think technicians are destined to be builders; as with builders their mother leaves them with a perfect carved cube the size of a thumb-tip. Only while the builders have cubes of stone, technicians have cubes of… to be honest I don’t know the name of the stuff, but I do know the crèche-mothers would have a fit if they knew what it really was.” He gave a tired but amused hah, then spent a few moments just breathing.