"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 knewa"he did not even need to say the wordsa"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 wrist.w.a.tch, 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 wrist.w.a.tch 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 wrist.w.a.tch 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 noticeda"did men ever notice such things?a"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 b.u.t.ter 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 forevera"at least if not divorceda"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 changea"sending servants or telling me to do ita"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 circ.u.mvention 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 quartersa"a whole yeara"truly pa.s.sed since she had married Desmond? Qynnsent, like Tremayne, held Councils once every quarter. Yes, four quarters had pa.s.sed 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 Innia"lady Inese of Qynnsent, a third cousin of Rianor's and a second cousin of Desmond'sa"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 hersa"she should learn that!a"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.

Linde paid her heed. The thin girl seemed to have elevator problems herself, her face still and pale, her fingers white where they gripped a support-handle. Somehow Jenne managed to step closer to her and pat her hand.

"A few minutes, Linde dear, and we are up. You can hold on for a few minutes, right? Right, I am sure. I am the same, you are not alone. The elevator gives me the creeps, even though I never minded the elevators in Tremayne."

Not that she simply had not minded them. In Tremayne, the elevators had been happiness itself. Not only had Jenne not felt imprisoned when the door to an elevator's cabin was shut in Tremayne, but her stomach had experienced much different flutters. She had felt as if she were flying when the Tremayne cabins shot up their shafts towards the Tremayne higher floors. She'd even had aberrant thoughtsa"she had imagined herself a bird shooting up to the sky.

Linde gave Jenne a weak smile and tried to pat Jenne's own hand, but only found the strength to do it clumsily. Rianor saw that, and he had perhaps heard Jenne's words to Linde as well, even though he had been engrossed into the doc.u.ment Desmond had handed to him in their suite. Now Rianor himself reached towards Linde, but then stopped as he saw that Jenne had wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulders. This was how it should be. Let the High Lord read doc.u.ments while Jenne comforted his apprentice. Doc.u.ments were a High Lord's duty, while it was a woman's duty to comfort another woman. Right now Jenne felt older, more experienced than Linde, anda"a new feelinga"stronger.

"Hold on, Linde," she whispered in her ear. "Just a little longer. The elevator weakness happens to every new lady in the House, did you know? We'll get used to it, Nan says. She says lady Eleora herself was like this twenty-five years ago."

That lady Eleora had not taken more than thirty days to get used to Qynnsent, Jenne did not mention. The Qynnsent servants must be by now whispering whenever lady Jenelly, formerly of Tremayne, turned her back to them. She used the stairs to go anywhere but to the Council Room, and she would have walked all the way to the Council Room, too, if there were stairs. But the only staircase at the tower did not have an exit for the Council floor. The servants, some having come to the House more recently than Jenne herself, used the elevators without problems, and Jenne was certain that many did not even know where the stairs were. Jenne herself had not known where the stairs were in Tremayne.

"Is this a Scientific device, Jenne?" Linde's so-far glazed eyes had suddenly become sharper. "Like the chair I talked to you about," she urged when Jenne did not immediately reply. "I have never seen an elevator for people before, did not know such existed."

"Oh!" Now Jenne understood Linde's question. "No, dear, of course not ... I mean, I don't know? It is an Artificery device, right? This is what old lord Arnolda"Tremayne's First Counselor, that isa"told me. The elevator systems are made by the same Ber lords and ladies that make the wrist.w.a.tches, he said. I guess it is not a Scientific device, then, Linde. A Scientific device has no Magic in it, is that correct?"

"Yes. It does not," Linde whispered, her eyes glazed again, her voice shakier, feebler.

Yet, a few moments later Linde raised a hand to remove a lock of hair from her eyes, and the motion was not weak. It was casual and certain with the certainty and strength of someone who did something without sparing a special thought. The girl's eyes were still glazed, but they were glazed differently from before.

Jenne sighed inwardly, her own feelings of superior age, experience, and strength slipping away. This time she did not even feel much better when the cabin finally halted its disturbing motion and the door swung open, allowing the four of them to exit the elevator's shaft.

Linde, however, did feel better. Her hand now on Rianor's elbow (where the High Lord had put it himself), she crossed the cabin's threshold almost stably. She stopped to stare at the huge metal ropes and other things that extended from the top of the cabina"the ones that were visible only from the outside of the cabin and only on some of the floors reached by an elevatora"but then she seemed to remember that the High Lord was waiting for her. He was watching the same thing she watched, while they had the Council to go to and were almost late.

They all went, then, Jenne still faltering somewhat even though she now held Desmond's arma"but Rianor's apprentice strode as if a whole new well of strength had suddenly emerged inside her, her eyes cast far, far away.

Jenelly

Evening and night 79 of the Fourth Quarter, Year of the Master 705 Entering the Council Room felt, as usual, like entering into an especially bleak and hostile night, even though outside the last daylight had not yet fully left the sky. Like in Tremayne, there were no windows in the Council Room. The silent darkness was interrupted only by the still silhouettes of waiting people and the shadows cast by the single sleep candle on a wall.

Jenne shivered and hoped that Desmond would not notice, but he scowled. He always noticed everything. At least, this time they had come with the High Lord himself, and Inni, Nan, and Master Keitaro were already here. This time, at least, the dark wait would not be too long. Her hand still on Desmond's arm, Jenne trudged the steps to the furthest wall, then let go of her husband and placed her hand on her own fireswitch.

As the First Counselor, Desmond was first. He pressed his fireswitch and, while his candle slowly glowed into full brightness, Desmond fell to his knees.

"High Lord of Qynnsent, my light is yours," Desmond alleged in his deep voice. "The Master has blessed me to be a lord of your House. For the good of Qynnsent and Mierenthia itself, you may take everything from me."

Rianor bowed to Desmond. "Lord Desmond of Qynnsent, First Counselor of the House, I accept your light. May it burn inside you long and bright. Rise now."

Desmond's words had been distinct, strong, uttered so that they resonated in the whole rooma"words that, from the deep of Desmond's heart, had meaning. The perfect First Counselor; Jenne was so proud of him at times like this. Rianor's words, on the other hand, had been rushed, uninvolved. The High Lord seemed to be thinking of other things. Linde was beside him, her hand still on his elbow, and she was staring at the rising Desmond as if he had suddenly sprouted two heads.

She should not be standing by the High Lord like this. She should indeed not yet be here. She should be waiting outside until the Council Commencement was complete, and then someone not n.o.ble, Nan or Master Keitaro, would bring her in for her Inauguration as a Qynnsent lady. And then, for next Commencement, she should take her own place by a fireswitch of her own. It was not and would not be right for her to stand where she stood now.

Jenne tried to swallow her discomfort. The Qynnsent High Lord was so unlike her own father; he paid so little heed to the rituals. Why, today he even seemed adverse to them. Why would he? The ritualsa"the sameness and familiarity of them, even in a House so different from her other one, the security of thema"were all that made it possible for Jenne to go on sometimes. Even the elevator, disturbing and frightening as it was, was still an elevator. It was made by the same Bers. How would Jenne have felt if there were something else instead of it? She shuddered and tried to chase the uncomfortable thought away.

Inni was next to kneel, while Linde still stood by Rianor. It would disturb Inni, Jenne knew. Still, Jenne was surprised when Inni's voice shook and she stumbled through half of her own Dedication, before she took control of herself and finished the words in her usual calm, clear and pleasant voice. Inni had never stumbled through a ritual before, as far as Jenne knew. Rituals existed to praise the Master and to prepare humans to best live in the Master's world, to make humans be the best they could be. Most people knew that, but Inni knew it in her heart. Mentor Octavian, the Qynnsent Mentor, said that Inni herself was an example of the best a person could be.

Mentor Octavian was not here nowa"yet another difference between Qynnsent and Tremayne. Whereas High Lord Klaus would sometimes invite Mentor Gloriana to Council, High Lord Rianor never invited Octavian. It made sense, for Octavian lived further from Qynnsent than Gloriana from Tremayne, and Octavian himself preferred to only come once every thirty days for the n.o.bles' Prayer and servants' Confession. And yet ...

Once again, Jenne chased her thoughts away, for her own turn had come.

She did the Dedication as usual. She was not particularly stumbling through it, but her words were neither calm and peaceful like Inni's nor impressive like Desmond's.

After she was done, Desmond raised a hand, just before Nan would have lighted her own candle.

"No, Nan, wait. You know the rules. Next is lady Linden." He paused. "Lady Linden of Qynnsent."

Inni clasped a hand to her mouth at that, and Jenne's own eyes widened in surprise. Linde did have a watch with a Qynnsent symbol on her wrist, how had Jenne not noticed so far?

No. She had noticed the existence of both a watch and a symbol, but she had not paid attention to the symbol itself; had thought it another House's. But Linde could not have had one, for she was a commoner, was that not right? Had been.

How?

Some time ago Linde had released Rianor's elbow. Now, something flashed in her eyes, and Jenne did not clearly see what it was but was glad that it was not directed at her.

Then, it was no more.

"All right," Linde simply said and then slowly knelt, just as Desmond asked if she remembered the words.

"I did hear them three times, First Counselor. I am not mindless."

Jenne tugged at her wrist.w.a.tch. She often needed to hear something more than three times before she would remember it.

Linde repeated the words quietly, her voice having no emotion at all. Still, she somehow seemed to be struggling. Why? Had she, after all, not remembered the words despite hearing them three times?

Then, before Rianor could say anything, Linde toppled to the side.

Rianor caught her before she would have hit her head, and carried her to a chair by the Council table. Nan followed with her omnipresent wet cloth to put on the girl's face, Inni at her heels. Jenne went after them, too, even though the other two women were better than her and would be of more help.

A moment later, Nan pursed her lips and Inni knit her trembling fingers tightly together. Why? Had Linde fainted?

No. Her eyes were wide open when Jenne came close enough to see them and to hear the High Lord's words.

" ... I don't want everything from you," the High Lord was whispering to his apprentice. "I told you last night what I want, and you are giving me more than enough. Hold on. Stay with me."

These were not proper words. This was not a proper ritual at all. Linde had not even lit a candle.

Then Jenne saw her own hands tremble, gooseb.u.mps on her skin, when the High Lord turned towards everyone.

"I am not saying any Ber-imposed words to people I care for, and I am not hearing any such said to me from anyone, ever again."

His eyes were so sharp and hard that they seemed to take over his face, as if forcing Jenne to look into them and them only. As if making her cut herself. Even the High Lord's wound, the thin and ominous one that Jenne now suspected had something to do with all this, seemed thinner and less significant with his eyes like that.

Somehow, Jenne was not surprised by his next words.

"The time has come for this House to defy the Bers."

The silence that followed seemed to stretch forevera"until a new, grumpy, voice broke it with, "Just about time, I would say, boy."

Rianor

Night 79 of the Fourth Quarter, Year of the Master 705 If Rianor had ever in his life especially loved lady Mathilda, Qynnsent's Lady-in-residence in Balkaene, it was now. Her grouchy, quarrelsome voice, her scowl and the sharp eyes presently watching him with suspiciona"even the gray hair, strands of which always escaped her overtightened bun these daysa"he loved them all. They did for him what none of the others' various degrees of shock could do.

They pushed his fury back and let him think again.

"I am glad to see you, too, aunt Mathilda," Rianor murmured, and suddenly the others in the room seemed to start breathing again.

"I must say, Rianor, do you dispose of the Ber words only, or of the kneeling, too?" She scowled again. "I must say that, at my age, this is a very important question. You young fools don't believe the likes of me and don't care, but old bones do hurt. They wobble!"

She was at the table now, having stridden in a manner that implied these particular old bones did not know that they were supposed to wobble, and thrust herself into a chair.

"There we have it. Hey, boy?" The last words were directed at Desmond. "Saying no words is all fine with me, but go light my candle, will you? And hers, too." She nodded towards Linden, who was seated beside her. The girl's eyes were not yet fully focused, and a gla.s.s of water that Nan had brought was clasped into her hands. "It will not do, disposing of the light."

Obediently, the First Counselor of Qynnsent lit the candles.

"You, girl." This was directed at Nan. "Bring some food for this child at once." She nodded towards Linden once again. "Shame on you, Nan, you are a commoner yourself. Unlike me, you are too young to be forgetful. Do you know what time it is? It is past evening and into night. The commoners have eaten long ago. No wonder the girl would faint ... What now?"

Mathilda glared at the uncomprehending faces of mostly everyone. "Ah, you don't know. Of course. Commoners outside, and not"a"she waved at Nana""silly n.o.bled servants who know Mierenthia no better than the silly n.o.bles themselvesa"Commoners, I was saying, eat dinner before the night has fallen. Always have."

She sighed. "It is difficult to set a table, eat, and wash-up on naught but a sleep candle, you knowa"and a sleep candle is all they have. No day candles past evening, no lanterns but those in the streets, no matter how much money they earn. That's how the commoners' firepipes and buckets work, when they do work." She glared at everyone again. "Commoners, like any sensible people, are afraid of the dark, and with a single sleep candle it is dark. Better sleep through it. Not to speak of having to get up early on the next day for work."

By now Nan had come back with a tray. She had indeed brought the food to the tower earlier, only not yet to the Council Room itself. She always did so, for they all usually ate here after Council. Ate by the light of normal, many candles, whatever the time of day. Rianor remembered now that it had been darker than usual when Linden's father had been bandaging him two days ago, that it had become darker in the middle of it. Occupied by other things, Rianor had not paid attention, and the mobile Healers' candle he had received shortly after had been much more interesting, anyway.