CHAPTER 5

Rhia wrote two letters immediately after her visit to the duke. One to Cardinal Marsan, requesting a grand trial with a full year to prepare. The other letter, to Etyan, explained her situation and asked, no told, him to come to the city at once. She softened the tone with an apology: he would be expecting her, not merely a letter, to be waiting at the estate for his next scheduled visit, but she dare not leave the city until she had the Church’s answer.

She had also faced up to the growing pile of household correspondence. Markave ran the townhouse efficiently despite not having a housekeeper since the unfortunate business with his wife. Mereut, her estate manager, did an equally good job in their holdings beyond the city. But some items still needed her attention, as nominal head of House Harlyn while her brother was “indefinitely absent”.

The two dozen other letters she wrote over the next few days took more thought. Assuming she was granted a grand trial, she could call up to five witnesses and read depositions from up to twenty more. The obvious witnesses would be her fellow enquirers, assuming any were willing to travel to Shen.

The right words were essential, and as words were not her strong point, it took a full day just to compose a draft. She then had to modify and tailor her request to each enquirer, depending on their area of knowledge and previous dealings with her.

The enquirers in the six shadowlands adjacent to Shen were close enough to consider appearing in person but those farther afield might offer written testimony, and she needed to allow time for them to receive her request and send their answers.

Her defence would rest on two pillars: the provability of her theory, and the fact that it did not directly contradict the Scriptures. For the former, she was on her own. For the latter, there was one obvious ally in the enquirers, a respected religious scholar from a nearby shadowland who nonetheless kept an admirably open mind. But she had reason to distrust Meddler of Zekt. She did not write to him.

When the effort of dealing with words got too much she returned to the more-vital-than-ever task of making the numbers fit the observations. The real problem was the Strays; none of her calculations explained their erratic movement across the sky – which was ironic, as her observations of these three most prominent stars had prompted the realisation that the Sun was at the centre of the universe.

When she could no longer hold a pen she either went up to her observation platform or, in daylight, tinkered with her celestial model. She had used her father’s writings to design it, employing cogs and wheels to build a device that would – hopefully – emulate the movements of heavenly bodies. But she was not the engineer he had been; whenever she fixed one part, something else jammed or broke. Again, the Strays were the problem. The spheres on sticks representing the outer two, the Matriarch and the Crone, had not moved for weeks. Of course, had Francin provided iron cogs then perhaps the mechanism might run more smoothly.

The longer she waited for the Church’s response, the harder it became to concentrate. She kept coming back to how little control she had over events, and how matters might play out.

There was one matter she had control over, however distasteful. And it needed to be resolved. She could not put off confronting her colleague any longer.

Rhia did not visit the middle city much, save occasional trips to the guilds to order items for her work, and it took a while to find Theorist of Shen’s house. Then again she had only visited Shen’s other natural enquirer once, long ago.

When his housekeeper answered the door Rhia said, “I wish to speak to Andar Olashin.” She had considered sending a note ahead, but did not want to give him the chance to find some excuse not to see her.

The woman’s gaze pulled away from the lacquered mask covering the area around Rhia’s left eye – always the first thing a stranger’s glance went to – to take in her fine clothes and lack of escort.

“Who shall I say is calling please?”

“Rhia Harlyn.” Enquirers needed to know each other’s real names in order to write to each other.

“Of course, m’lady. If you will wait in the parlour I will bring refreshments.”

“Just some cordial please.” It was too hot for tisane.

Andar Olashin was an architect by trade, and his minimal but pleasing decor and furnishings reflected this. He – or perhaps his wife – had a good eye for colour, matching pale golds with lavender and pastel blues.

The housekeeper returned with a cool beaker of cordial. After the servant curtseyed and left, Rhia suppressed the image of Sur Olashin creeping out the back door to avoid her.

The natural enquirers valued independent thought; meeting in person was frowned upon. Hence also, the two enquirers in a given shadowland focused on different areas. So she, like Father before her, was Observer of Shen, a position stressing the practical side of enquiry, in contrast to Theorist of Shen’s more abstract concerns.

Father knew his son was not as suited to inherit his role as his daughter; by the age of fifteen Rhia had already compiled books of sketches and observations of the natural world and begun the study of optics that would culminate in her sightglass. Ever one to think the best of people, he had wanted Shen’s other enquirer to get used to the idea of a woman in the network. Their reception by Theorist of Shen had been somewhat cool. She expected no better today.

The door opened.

“Good afternoon, Sur Olashin.”

“M’lady.” He had not been young when they first met, and was truly old now, his hair reduced to wisps and his movements ponderous. He lowered himself into the seat farthest from her with a grunt. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visitation?”

“I find myself in trouble with the Church.”

His face remained suspiciously bland. “How unfortunate.”

“I am being called to task for some of my work for the enquirers.”

“Are you now? That sounds quite serious.”

“It is. And I am guessing by your reaction that you are not overly concerned for me, or my work.”

“I fear you may be right, m’lady.”

He was enjoying this, damn him. She may as well come out with it. “Did you inform the Church of my new theory?”

“I did, m’lady.” To his credit, he held her gaze.

“And would you have done so were I a man?”

For a moment, Andar Olashin was silent. When he spoke his voice was pensive. “I find a feminine presence in the arena of knowledge… disconcerting. However I would have alerted the cardinals to your heretical theory regardless. I acted according to my conscience and my faith.”

And there was, Rhia knew, no arguing with faith. “Well, at least you had the good grace to admit it to my face.”

“We are enquirers. I owe you the truth.”

“Indeed you do.” Through her disappointment, cold anger flared. “Even though your actions broke our code. Our work is not to be shared with unsympathetic parties.”

Sur Olashin made a hmm noise deep in this throat, then said, “It is not, no. But the enquirers’ code is not a binding and enforceable law.” He was right. And calling for his censure from their peers might not endear her to those very people she had just written to seek aid from. Sur Olashin continued, “And I had the interests of the network at heart.”

“Really? I fail to see how bringing our work to the attention of the Church will benefit the enquirers. Quite the contrary, in fact.”

“I am bringing your work to the attention of the Church. Not the network’s as a whole. If we lived in a shadowland where enquirers are persecuted, I would have stayed silent rather than draw any attention. But in Shen we are lucky. We can work freely – provided our work does not offend Church or State.

Your radical theory offends not only my own beliefs but the institution of our Church. Better to dissociate the enquirers from it now than have it become public knowledge, and bring our wider work into question.”

“So betraying me was a matter of expedience as much as faith?”

“My decision to pass on your work served both causes. I do not regret it.”

“Then I will not take any more of your time.” She stood.

“I can see myself out.” She turned on her heel and strode over to the parlour door, yanking it open, only to stop on the threshold. Two young men stood immediately outside, one leaning forward as though to hear better the proceedings in the room, the other with a warning hand on his arm. They looked as shocked to see her as she was to see them.

“Oh,” said the younger one, straightening.

The other, slightly older, managed a hasty bow, “M’lady!”

His companion shadowed the bow, clumsily.

From behind her Sur Olashin shouted, “Boys! What is this?” These must be Sur Olashin’s apprentices.

Under other circumstances she might have enjoyed the absurdity of the situation. But right now she just wanted to get out of this man’s house, so she swept past, and out the front door.