How could commoners exist on naught but sleep candles at night? And had Rianor not read about this somewhere before? Had he not heard it? Again, he had not paid attention.

If he could, Rianor would have glared at himself now. There were too many things that he was prevented from knowing. He could not afford to ignore the ones that he could know easily.

Indeed, he could not afford to not know the rest any more, either.

Rianor waved everyone towards the table and steeled his impatience. Let them eat first. Otherwise, with all that he had to say to them, they would have to wait until breakfast.

Linden did seem better after eating some bread and ljutika, the dish that had chicken, roasted peppers and tomatoes with oil and garlic in it. Mathilda obviously approved of the food, too. She had taken a plate and a fork even before Rianor had let them all eat, and was now stuffing her body with great speed. Jenelly was watching her mother-in-law with envy, probably wondering how a woman could always eat so much and remain as thin as a quill. Rianor almost envied Jenelly. Amidst everything that was happening in the world, amongst all the unanswered questions, such were Jenelly's worries.

"Jenelly, don't clutch the napkin like this. What are you trying to do, suffocate it? Inni, you wipe your nose. You are young, eat properly! Don't watch me."

Despite everythinga"or perhaps because of ita"Rianor suddenly wanted to laugh. Mathilda had once been a formidable First Counselor and an overzealous guardian of etiquette, including the etiquette of correct eating. It had not been a rare occasion for Mathilda to slap Rianor's fingers back then when his parents were alive and he was little. He was either holding the fork in a skewed way, she said, or he was watching where he should not be watching, or, yes, he was eating too fast ... She herself had always been a perfect example of how things "should" be done in those days.

As if anyone knew anything about "should," or "should not" in the world.

"So," Mathilda said a moment later, laying down her fork and turning towards Linden. "A new lady, I see. Without the new-lady ritual. Or was it only me who missed it?"

Linden, who had earlier taken an immediate dislike to Desmond, did not seem irritated or otherwise discomfited by his mother's sharp, scrutinizing gaze. She returned it, sharpness finally surfacing again in her own eyes, together with what looked like a vague hint of a smile. Mathilda scowled, but Linden did not look away, and finally the corners of Mathilda's mouth tilted slightly upwards.

"Lady Mathilda," Linden said just before Rianor would have answered Mathilda's question. "You came from Balkaene, is that right? Starting from the lands of House Qynnsent? What is that, five hundred kilometers from here? You came so fast. Would you mind telling me what your means of transportation was?"

"A carriage," Mathilda stated, her voice now the loud and clear one meant for small children and fools. "What kind of question is that, girl, even commoners know about carriages, they're just like stage coaches but fancier ... Ah. I see. No, I traveled for more than six days, not for less than two as you seem to think, and that despite changing my horses at relay stations at least once every day. I could have come faster had I also traveled at night, of course, but that might have arisen suspicion. Why would an old woman be in such a hurry? She is supposedly only going to Mierber to show herself in one of the Night Fire Ceremonies; she is bringing no important news whatsoever ... No, girl, I have been coming for some time now. I did not come here because of you."

Mathilda sighed, and her next words were quieter, friendlier. "Not that I mind you, girl, you don't have to look at me like this. Rituals, trifles. Whoever be a new lady in Mierbera"it is none of my business. This is why I have left my son to be a First Counselor here. These things are his job, and the High Lord's. I am an old woman. My care is Balkaene. My poor horse beasts, too, are my carea"now, of course, I will not be at rest until those relay station Stablers have fed and rested the ones I left with them, and brought them home to Balkaene."

"A regular carriage, then." Linden seemed to not have heard the rest of Mathilda's words. Rianor's apprentice had not made a singe motion, but her body seemed as tight as a violin's string pulled to its limits.

Then, "A carriage pulled by harnessed animals, even for a lady in a hurry. Not an Artificery device like the n.o.ble House elevators," Linden added, and Rianor rose from his chair, cursing himself for a fool.

"Yes," he spat. "Good point, my lady. Finally do we see something that has always been before our eyes."

Linden looked at him askance, and so did everyone else. Even his apprentice had not understood his thought, although her own observations had led him to it.

"Magic has a weakness," Rianor said quietly, "that it has always had, even in Magic's strongest days, but we have all been too blind to see it. At least, the Magic of devices has it, of elevators and pipes and wells and other such things that do not rely on a harnessed living being. Think of it, there are no firepipes and waterpipes between cities. No Magical carriages without animals. Indeed, there are no pipes outside the cities at all, for the villages still rely on wellsa"and even inside the cities the pipes do not go everywhere. Magic and long distance motion do not work together. Magic cannot travel far. It only works in one place."

Rianor

Night 79 of the Fourth Quarter, Year of the Master 705 And Rianor would learn just how much restricted Magic was.

Linden had jumped from her own chair now, finally without the weakness and lethargy that had seemed to plague her all day.

"Oh, Rianor! It all starts to fit together!" Something was glowing inside her eyesa"something for hima"and gone was the absent-minded glaze. "You are right, my lord. Of course, you are right. I did not know the elevators existed at all. But they do and Magical carriages don't, and the elevators go up and down but not sideways. They don't go far. I did not make the connection you made, though."

"But you did ask." He stepped closer to her, looking into her eyes. "I have known about both elevators and carriages all my life, and yet, I never paid attention until now. It was as if I had never known at all. Is it truly so easy for the Bers to fool us? Why are we so blind? Linde, for this specifically, the Bers did not even lie."

"And perhaps this is why the firepipes are failing. Their range is not correct!" She was pacing now, as if she, unlike Magic, could not stay in one place. "The Bers destroyed the firewells in middle-cla.s.s neighborhoods when they built the pipes, did you know that? This is what people say, of course; I had not yet been born then. The Bers said that these old firewells would only obstruct the new pipe system. They said that of course fire from the wells was clean and safe in itself, but the centrally-distributed fire would be even cleaner, better, giving even more light and warmth. Perhaps they should not have done it that way! Perhaps they should have piped fire from those same wells, not from wherever they pipe fire now, for the distance would have been shorter. Perhaps the Bers were wrong."

This was perhaps the most aberrant thought Linden had ever uttered before Rianor. Logically, creepily, it made sense.

"Linde," he whispered. "They werea"area"wrong. Look at what is happening these days."

"Unless, of course, they intend it to happen like this."

This was not Linden's voice. "If you two do not mind this old woman taking part in your conversation, that is?"

Rianor and Linden glanced at each other. They had been talking as if they were alone.

Mathilda had risen from her chair and was by one of the walls, staring at the candles. Seven candles burned in the Council Room, one candle for each Council attendant but the High Lord. Their light seemed brighter now and more glaring than the light of other candles. It swallowed minor features on people's faces and carved others, until the people themselves looked different. Just a bit different, not complete strangers in the leasta"and yet they were not the people Rianor knew.

He blinked, trying to chase the confusion away. Eye illusions. Different, dangerous worlds, the Bers said. How many worlds were there, d.a.m.n it? Were there any other worlds at all? This world here was already too strange and confused, too alien itself.

The former First Counselor now turned to look at the Council, her back as straight and stiff as her bun, no stray hairs visible around her grim face.

Desmond stood up, too. "So you think that the Bers might play games with us as if they were naught but a n.o.ble House themselves? Before yesterday, I would have never agreed with you, Mother."

"I am not surprised, Son. You must have inherited this stubbornness and vehement adherence to old concepts and old waysa"be those ways right or wronga"from your father. Such are more common in Imythra than Qynnsent. So is the resistance to new ideas."

She raised a pacifying hand, for Desmond never liked the mentioning of lord Howard, First Counselor of Imythra, let alone being likened to him so. "It has not been a bad thing, so far, Desmond. I have indeed encouraged it, for it is very strong in you and thus it could be turned into your greatest strengtha"and was. It was better than making you fight it, for certain, for then you would have become weaker, your strength wasted in fighting yourself. No. Better have strength to fight the world. Remember that, youngsters, for the day when you, too, have children to raise."

She sighed, her back now less straight, but she remained standing, refusing the chair Rianor offered her. "Yes, it has been a good choice, raising Desmond like this. Besides, Rianor's own greatest strengths are quite the opposite, so we raised him to challenge everything not too dangerous to challenge (though he did not listen to us and challenged even more that that). And we raised Inni to not fight at all, for it was never fighting she wanteda"which was one reason that Desmond and not Inni was trained to become the First Counselor of the House. Both a High Ruler and a First Counselor must be able to fight, and not in the same ways."

She sighed again and straightened herself, her eyes hard.

"I am sorry, children, but times have come upon us that might require a shift in the balance of ways in the world. What shift exactly? I am afraid I do not know. And if it is us who must challenge the ways first, if it is us who must defy what we have known all our lives, I do not know how exactly we should go about ita"and what we should aim for. I hope that we raised you well, High Lord. I hope that you will know."

"Tell your news, aunt Mathilda," Rianor simply said. Did she have to engage in a long, heartfelt speech now of all times? There was a limit to the allowances one could make even for a dear old woman.

The Council had been going for at least an hour now, and the only useful thing Rianor had heard so far was that commoners did not have light at night. "Tell us why a former First Counselor of Mierenthia's peerage will suddenly turn against the Bers, without even having heard all of my news, aunt Mathilda."

"My first piece of news is that the Mills at the Cities of Lightber and Blessedber have started experiencing problems," she replied, "and that most probably it is the same with Roseber's Mill." She could at least be direct when asked. "I know this from a source I trust completely."

She paused, and everyone waiteda"until suddenly Jenelly exhaled with what sounded suspiciously like relief.

"Is that all? Oh, Master, you frightened me so much for a moment there, Mother Mathilda! This does not really concern us, does it?" Jenelly glanced at her husband, who watched her with narrowed eyes, saying nothing.

"I ... I am sorry for interrupting. It is just that I became so worried. I ... I of course know how important it is that Qynnsent sells its graina"our graina"with good profit. But we will get some profit, always, is that not right? The Bers will always make sure that, whatever the Houses' and cities' economical games, each House's grain is always bought. They will pay for a part of it themselves. Right? Besides, they set minimum and maximum prices for all big transactions, between anyone, always. And, anyway, why should we worry about the Mills? We would have sold the grain already, for it to get to the Mills. The Mills are Magic. The Mills are not our duty, they are a duty ofa"Ofa"" She swallowed, her eyes jumping from person to person. "Of the Ber lords and ladies!"

"Why should we worry, indeed, for anything that is in the hands of our good Ber lords and ladies." Rianor met her eyes, forcing her to look into his, until all she could do was swallow incessantly, her cheeks crimson, all words, if she had any words, stuck in her throat.

Suddenly it was clear to him. If Jenelly had been yesterday at Temple Square, she would have been one of those ready to attack him after the Ber woman's speech. At least, if she had not yet been a Qynnsent lady, she would have.

But she was a Qynnsent lady. Blatant benightedness had free reign even in Rianor's own House. He did not release her eyes. "Think, Jenne. Think. If you tried hard enough, perhaps even you could do it."

Tears wet Jenelly's cheeks just as Rianor felt Linden's light touch on his arm. Master Keitaro rose from his chair.

"This is too harsh," Linden whispered so that only Rianor could hear. "You are too angry."

Was he, now? And since when did she know him so well as to dispense her omniscient judgement on him? Was she not angry, herself?

He did not s.n.a.t.c.h her light, feathery fingers on his arm only because he thought he might break them. And Master Keitaro was once again trudging with his crutch, taking forever to cross the three meters between Rianor and the table. The man had been dancing last night, Linden had said. Rianor himself knew how he could fight. Could he not use some of his strength to walk? Nan, too, could do without her silent, disproving gaze, and Inni could raise her gaze from that constant embroidery of hers. She could show some att.i.tude, about something, anything.

Were they all just fools, slow to understand and slow to thinka"if they ever thought or understood anything. He had gathered them to get insight, but what use were they at all? Why on Mierenthia was he wasting his time with humans? Had he not had enough yesterday?

"High Lord," Master Keitaro said in his deep, quiet voice. Rianor's glare, which had so much affected Jenelly a moment earlier, seemed to pa.s.s through the man without affecting him in the least.

Rianor knew what would follow now. Some wisdom about how anger never did any good to anyone, or that Rianor was attacking members of his own House in times when there was a real threat from the outside. That an enemy's smartest move would be to cause just that, and why was Rianor himself doing their enemies' job for them?

Rianor already had a proper snapping response to all that by the time the small old man stood before hima"and then Master Keitaro extended his hand, Linden's shower head in it.

"You read what was written on the other shower head, High Lord, but did you read this one?"

No. He had not had the time. He had given both heads to the old man upon entering the Council Room. Master Keitaro was very good at patterns. Now Rianor took the shower head and stared at it, unavailingly trying to find a symbol, until his eyes teared and his hand started shaking with the force of gripping the thing.

"Master Keitaro, now is not the time to teach me a new lesson."

The old man's eyes were too d.a.m.n peaceful and calm. "No, lord, the lesson is an old one. Look again."

Rianor closed his eyes and steeled his hand and mind. d.a.m.n the old man if there were no writing at all. The way he had handed the shower head to Rianor, Rianor had a.s.sumed that there would be, but the Master had been known to surprise. Rianor always allowed him to surprise as he saw fit; there usually was a good reason.

Rianor opened his eyes yet againa"and saw.

Not a malignant, unknown symbol. Not a subtle Magical threat.

"DUMBa.s.s," the holes formed, to eyes that would look without staring, without the intention of finding something else.

Rianor's hand dropped by his body. Suddenly he was very, very weary.

"Point taken, Master. Jenne, stop crying, will you? I apologize."

Rianor

Night 79 of the Fourth Quarter, Year of the Master 705 High Ruler madness. Sometimes it almost got to him. Sometimes he almost lost control and acted without thinking, despite all barriers that he had built; despite the willpower, of which he had throughout his life meticulously cultivated everything, even the measliest sc.r.a.ps that others in his place would not even know they possessed. He needed it all.

And it all took too much time and efforta"time and effort that he could have used for Science, for life, for knowing and doing.

The Bers, of course, would not want him to know and do. One of Rianor's aberrant questions about life was whether anything could be known of yet unborn people, especially of those not yet conceived. He wanted to know whether the Bers could know about future character traits, and whether they had the power to plan who would be born where.

Rianor, in their place, would have made himself exactly a High Lorda"doomed to madness, or to fighting madness till the end, with neither time nor strength to think and question.

Even the Byas in the Healers' Pa.s.sage had mocked him. What did she, a creature out of fairytales, know? Could she perhaps heal madness? Or did she know no more, or knew even less, than the High Rulers themselves but used what sc.r.a.ps of knowledge she possessed to taunt and harm him? She had let him go, yes, but that did not mean that she would let him go whole.

If he had ever been whole.

The madness, like the Aetarx, was a part of a High Ruler's very being. They were all grateful to old Audric, were they not, even those not of Qynnsent. At night, when they could not sleep because their hearts would beat wildly and then suddenly almost stop, they would think of Audric the Insane. They would think that they were stronger than him, that they were better. That they endured stilla"that they had not gone where Audric had.

They were all, perhaps, fools. Perhaps Audric, in choosing his own madness, had found a path through the madness in the end. He had died a very old man, like few of the rest had. From what Rianor knew, Audric had been happy.

And more important than all that was that there were things that old Audric had knowna"things that Rianor did not know.

The "DUMBa.s.s" had been Audric's, Rianor knew now, even if the other writing was Bers'.

Yet again, a message.

"Aunt Mathilda, tell Jenne and all of us why your news is so important that you would come here yourself, with what others would call treacherous words in your mouth, instead of simply sending a messenger."

Mathilda watched him for a long moment. "You jumped at Jenelly, but you, too, do not understand, do you? Tell me, please, High Lorda"or anyone else who would care to answera"just how do you think those Mills would impact us?"

This time Rianor controlled himself well enough to let Desmond speak.

"No matter how much we get paid for our grain, we still need to pay for Milling the grain that remains for our own House's flour, and for transportation. The Mills in Blessedber and Lightber are closest to our own lands in Balkaene, at distances of two hundred kilometers and two hundred and fifty kilometers respectively. The Roseber Mill is four hundred kilometers away from our lands. With those Mills closed, we will have to supply our lands with flour from Mills located much further away.

"We won't even be able to use the three Mills here in Mierber, five hundred kilometers away, for these Mills are allocated to serve the n.o.ble House Properties in Mierber itself and to provide the flour for Mierber's common citizens. I know these Mills don't have the capacity to accept more grain and to provide more flour than that. Similarly, the capacity of the Srednaber and Southber Mills in the South is limited. We'll have to work with the Mills in the Northwest, or we'll be a little more lucky and work with the Northber Mills in the North. But even trading with the North, it would be too far, at a distance of possibly seven hundred kilometers.

"Anyway, the Mills in the Northwest, in the Sunset Lands, would be our best bet, for those are the most numerousa"but they are at least eight hundred kilometers from our lands in Balkaene. A wagon full of flour will need more than thirty days to travel between them and our lands. That would raise our transportation costs dramatically and disadvantage our House financially for the next yeara"with the possibility of serious long-term financial effects, especially if the Mill issues continue. I am not even considering the Mills in Dobria Province in the West. There are fewer Mills there than elsewhere, in addition to the Dobria Mountain being on the way. A good thousand kilometers to circ.u.mvent the Dobria Mountain to the north. Even more than that to circ.u.mvent the mountain on its southern side, in addition to pa.s.sing too close to the Edge by the Pirin and Sredna Mountains."

Desmond looked at his wife. "Now do you understand? Whatever we are paid for the grain we sell to others, our House might become poor."

Mathilda nodded to her son. "A good a.n.a.lysis of the financial situation, as always."

Rianor met Mathilda's eyes. "But there is more, right?"

"Yes, there is. I knew you youngsters would not understand, for you have all lived in too safe a world. Money is not everything. Money matters not if there is no food. Mill problems might mean starvation, no flour and no cleansed wheat, rye, barley, beans, or potatoes. Nothing but some fruit and vegetablesa"the kind of food that only needs to be blessed by Mentors and not cleanseda"and meat, for meat can be cleansed outside of Mills.

"But meat and fruit and vegetables won't be enough. I have seen it. It already happened once, for a short time while the Bers were building the Factories and the Mills and destroying the old craftshops and millsa"when, this old woman thinks, the Bers had to focus all their power on something big and thus could not spare it for caring for the world properly. There was increased crime and despair in those days as well. Hundreds died, even though not n.o.bles, of course. Hundreds also died later in the Factories themselves, before they started working properly."

Mathilda sighed. "The Bers are not all-powerful, aberrant as the thought might be. It seems that they, like the rest of us, need to allocate their resourcesa"and I do not necessarily agree with their choices, children. There are rumors that it was like this with the Great Fire of three hundred years ago, too ..."

She shook her head. "But here is my other piece of news: you know that our peasants have been spreading rumors of Bessove on the Edge for some time now; we had dismissed them as a typical Balkaene superst.i.tion. Now, however, a source much more trusted than peasants mentions Bessove sighted close to the border between Waltraud and the Edge." She sighed again. "I know that they are supposed to be just a fairytale, but this old woman knows better than to dismiss evidence. Qynnsent will suffer because of this, mark my words."