CHAPTER 14
“The bread is not as fresh as it might be m’lady.” Rhia looked up as her maidservant placed the lunch plate on the corner of the dining table-turned-reading-desk, next to the Book of Separation.
“What? Ah, the shortages are biting, are they?” Prices went up every week, and even House Harlyn’s resources could not guarantee fresh food on the table any more.
“I fear so, m’lady.” Nerilyn turned to go.
“Wait, you went to the palace last night, didn’t you? To see your young man?”
“I did, m’lady.”
“What news of the duchess?” Francin had hurried Rhia away when he was called to attend to his wife. He had sent a messenger the next day with a typically terse note: Alharet will live. In the week since, Rhia had heard nothing more.
Nerilyn looked away before saying, “Begging your pardon m’lady, it was unseemly talk.”
“Unseemly, how?”
Nerilyn’s brow furrowed, “Well, it was about… how she did it. Tried to do it.”
“Go on.”
“You know she’s not allowed anything sharp or dangerous in her rooms?”
Ever since her incarceration for treason, Alharet had been confined to her suite, save short and heavily guarded walks in the palace gardens and attendance at the royal chapel on restdays. “Indeed not. Did she somehow get hold of a knife?” Rhia went cold at the thought of what Alharet might do with a knife. And at the thought that she might still have allies in the palace who would procure her one.
“Not a knife. One of the scullions said Her Grace hid a horn spoon, brought with one of her meals. She sharpened it, over some weeks, using the stone corner of her window alcove.” The window itself had been covered by a carved ironwood shutter; the duchess’s only view of the outside world was through ornate filigree bars. “Then she, ah, she plunged it into her breast.”
“Oh.”
“They say she wasn’t ever in danger of her life. The wound was shallow. She’s expected to recover fully.”
“Good.” Guilt nibbled at Rhia. But Alharet had caused death and suffering, and betrayed her shadowland. By rights, she should have been executed. Yet the duke had refused to publicly try her, perhaps fearing to worsen relations with her old homeland. “And how about the duke’s unscheduled absence? Have you heard anything else regarding that?”
“No one knows. Some still say it’s got to be down to a woman, begging m’lady’s pardon.”
“They would. Thank you, you may go. But please remember that no rumour is too unlikely or… unsavoury to be of interest.”
“Yes, m’lady.”
She should try to get more reading done while she waited for Kerne, who appeared as tardy in his habits as Etyan.
Oh, Etyan… She sighed. Her brother’s lack of communication was exasperating. Surely he must have been to the estate and seen the letter by now! If this was some game, some protest or ploy his lover had put him up to then they were going to have harsh words when he finally deigned to turn up. And if he did not return… no, he would come home in his own time, smiling and insouciant as ever; damn him.
Their shared tardiness aside, Kerne was the opposite of Etyan: attentive, eager to please, always willing to put in the effort. Markave had apologised for his boy’s lack of punctuality, as though it were his fault. Her steward seemed stressed. Was it just the ill times? Or had Alharet’s foolish act brought back bad memories? His second wife had been one of Alharet’s victims. Or rather she had been one of the duchess’s agents who, being of the lower orders, had been tried and executed for her treachery. Relations had already broken down between them before that – his wife had already taken a foreign lover – but even so the recollection must hurt.
When Kerne’s voice broke her reverie her head was drooping over the Book of Separation. She jumped up, eager to move on to happier pursuits.
Up in her study she got Kerne settled at the day’s copying. Rather than having him just read primers on the study of the heavens, by copying them he would hopefully gain better understanding.
She was frowning over her calculations when Brynan brought the day’s post: three more refusals to attend her trial, including one from Engineer of Dolm; he had been Father’s closest correspondent, but all he had to say was that he wished her well.
At least Examiner of Rern said he would check over her workings; he also included a two page commendation of her mental acuity and ability to express logical thoughts in a clear manner. Unlike the other two testimonials she had received so far, it did not mention how unusual such a sharp mind was in someone of her gender, which was a bonus.
Given the negative responses she might almost think Theorist of Shen had written to her fellow enquirers advising against lending their support. But she was being unfair. Most enquirers, secure in their studies and workrooms, would baulk at the thought of the journey across the skyland to another shadowland. And to go by some of the stated reasons and incidental comments in recent enquirers’ correspondence, Shen was not the only shadowland suffering at the moment. The Harbinger would have brought consternation to weaker minds across the world, and the same drought that held Shen in its grip was causing similar deprecations in Erys and Dolm, the two nearby shadowlands on this side of the mountains.
“I’ve finished!”
She looked up to see Kerne smiling at her from the far end of the desk. “Excellent. And have you had any further thoughts on my theory regarding the mechanics of day and night?”
“I have been thinking about it, yes, m’lady.”
She was coming to recognise that tone: he acknowledged the validity of the idea, but did not grasp it. Yet. “So, what still puzzles you?”
“Begging m’lady’s pardon, but even with the world and the Sun as globes, it still seems simpler that night should fall due to some obstacle coming between the world and the light of the Sun rather than all these complicated revolutions.”
“I can see how you might think that.” She was not sure she could. But she was working from assumptions held for years. Kerne had a week’s reading. “However, it is not so. When darkness falls I will take you to my observation platform and we will observe how the stars appear to wheel overhead as the night progresses to illustrate the point.”
He sounded puzzled. “I have seen that for myself, m’lady.”
“Yes, but only when you thought of the sky as a tableau that moves while we remain static. You need to learn to see with new eyes, Kerne.”
“I will try.” He sounded embarrassed at having disappointed her.
“Good. Was there anything else you wished to ask in relation to this theory, before we test it with observation?”
To his credit, Kerne was always ready with his questions. He nodded and swallowed. “What about the shadowlands? Given we live in shade, could whatever shades us in the day not block all the light at night?”
“That’s… “ She stifled her initial response. “That’s a creative approach. I believe there are structures in the sky which come between us and the Sun, and diffuse its light. But they do not block it entirely.”
“And we cannot see them…”
“No, we cannot, because we see the Sun through them. Do you understand?”
“I think so.”
“What remains unclear?” she asked gently.
“There are dozens of shadowlands, so there must be dozens of such shades.”
“Indeed there must, and they must be massive and complex structures. Think of it as a… shade-swarm.” Although she was not clear on the mechanics, she had come up with a useful analogy on her last visit to the Harlyn estate. “Imagine a lit window, on the upper storey of a house at night. You are on the ground and there is a tree between you and the window. When you look down, you see a pattern of light and shade being cast. Those patches of shade are the shadowlands.”
“Would the shades that make these patches not… interfere with each other, as leaf shadows move in the breeze?”
“A reasonable question, but I do not believe so, given the shadowlands have remained unchanged and stable for millennia. Remember what I said? Space – the openness above and beyond the world – is vast. And most likely lacking in such winds.” Not that she knew for sure, yet. “Remember, my celestial model is a simplification and is not to scale.”
He nodded, eager as ever. But eagerness to understand was not the same as understanding.