As soon as they were gone, she ran down the steps and under the arch of the gatehouse to the bridge over the moat, breathing the deep stillness of the warm night. Bats flitted over the sky; watching them, she tugged off the stiff ruff and the necklaces, and from under the dress she stepped out of the stiffened petticoats and dumped them with relief into the old disused privy below the bank.
Much better! They could stay there till tomorrow.
Her father had retired earlier. He had taken Lord Evian up to the library; perhaps they were still there, talking money and settlements and discussing her future. And afterward, when his guest was gone and all the house was silent, her father would pull back the black velvet curtain at the end of the corridor and open the door of his study with its secret combination, the one she had tried for months to work out. He would disappear in there for hours, perhaps for days. As far as she knew, no one else ever entered the room. No servant, no technician, not even Medlicote, the secretary. She herself had never been in.
Well, not yet.
Glancing up at the north turret she saw, as she'd expected, a tiny flame in the window of the topmost room. She walked quickly to the door in the wall, opened it, and climbed the stairs in the dark.
He thought of her as a tool. A thing he had made ... bred, was his word. She tightened her lips, her fingers groping over the cold greasy wall. Long ago she had come to know his ruthlessness was so complete that to survive she would have to match it.
Did her father love her? As she slowed for breath on a stone landing she laughed, a quiet amusement. She had no idea. Did she love him? She certainly feared him. He smiled at her, had sometimes picked her up when she was small, held her hand on grand occasions, admired her dresses. He had never denied her anything, had never struck her or been angry, even when she'd had tantrums and broken the string of pearls he'd given her, or ridden off for days to the mountains. And yet as far back as she could remember the calmness of his cold gray eyes had terrified her, the dread of his displeasure hung over her.
Beyond the third landing the stairs were cluttered with bird droppings. They were certainly real. She picked her way through, groped along the corridor to the bend, climbed another three steps, and came to the iron-barred door. Grasping the ring, she turned it softly and peered in. 'Jared? It's me.'
The room was dark. A solitary candle burned on the sill, its flame guttering in the draft. All around the turret, the windows had been rolled back, in a disregard of protocol that would have given Ralph kittens.
The observatory roof rose on steel beams so narrow, it appeared to float. A great telescope had been wheeled to face the south; it bristled with finderscopes and infrared readers and a small flickering monitor screen. Claudia shook her head. 'Look at this! If the Queen's spy sees this, the fines will cripple us.
'He won't. Not after the amount of cider he sank tonight.'
At first she couldn't even find him. Then a shadow at the window moved and the darkness resolved into a slender shape that straightened from the viewfinder. 'Take a look at this, Claudia.'
She felt her way across the room, between the cluttered tables, the astrolabe, the hanging globes. Disturbed, a fox cub streaked to the sill.
He caught her arm and guided her to the telescope. 'Nebula f345. They call it the Rose.'
When she looked in, she could see why. The creamy explosion of stars that filled the dim circle of sky opened like the petals of a vast flower, millennia of light-years across. A flower of stars and quasars, worlds and black holes, its molten heart pulsing with gaseous clouds.
'How far away is it?' she murmured.
'A thousand light-years.'
'So what I'm looking at is a thousand years old?'
'Maybe more.'
Dazzled, she withdrew her eye from the lens. When she turned to face him, tiny flickers of light blurred her sight, played, over his tangle of dark hair, his narrow face and spare figure, the unlaced tunic under his robe.
'He's brought the wedding forward,' she said.
Her tutor frowned. 'Yes. Of course.'
'You knew?'
'I knew the Earl had been expelled from the Academy.' He moved into the candlelight and she saw his green eyes catch the glimmer. 'They sent me a message this morning. I guessed this might be the result.'
Annoyed, she brushed a pile of papers off the couch onto the floor and sat wearily, swinging her feet up. 'Well, you were right. We've got two days. Its not going to be enough, is it?'
He came and sat opposite her. 'To finalize tests on the device, no.'
'You look tired, Jared Sapiens,' she said.
'So do you, Claudia Arlexa.'
There were shadows under his eyes and his skin was pale. Gently she said, 'You should get more sleep.'
He shook his head. 'While the universe is out there wheeling over me? Impossible, lady.'
She knew it was the pain that kept him awake. Now he called the fox cub and it came and jumped on his lap, rubbing and butting his chest and face. Absently he stroked its tawny back.
'Claudia, I've been thinking about your theory. I want you to tell me about how your engagement was arranged.'
'Well, you were here, weren't you?'
He smiled his gentle smile. 'It may seem to you as if I've been here forever, but I actually came just after your fifth birthday. The Warden sent to the Academy for the best Sapient available. His daughter's tutor could be nothing less.'
Reminded of her father's words, she frowned. Jared looked at her sideways. 'Did I say something?'
'Not you.' She reached out to the fox but it turned away from her, tucking itself tidily into
Jared's arm. So she said sourly, 'Well, it depends which engagement you mean. I've had two.'
'The first.'
'I can't. I was five. I don't remember it.'
'But they betrothed you to the King's son. To Giles.'
'As you said, the Warden's daughter doesn't get second best.' She jumped up and prowled around the observatory, picking up papers restlessly.
His green eyes watched her. 'He was a handsome little boy, I remember.'
Her back to him, she said, 'Yes. Every year after that the Court painter would send a little picture of him. I've got them all in a box. Ten of them. He had dark brown hair and a kind, sturdy face. He would have been a fine man.' She turned. 'I only really met him once.
When we went to his seventh birthday party at Court. I remember a boy sitting on a throne too big for him. They had to put a box for his feet. He had big brown eyes. He was allowed to kiss me on the cheek, and he was so embarrassed.' She smiled, remembering. 'You know how boys go really red. Well, he went scarlet. All he could mumble was, 'Hello, Claudia Arlexa. I'm Giles.' He gave me a bunch of roses. I kept them till they fell to pieces.'
She went to the telescope and sat astride the stool, hitching her dress up to her knees.
The Sapient stroked the cub, watching Claudia adjust the eyepiece and gaze through it.
'You liked him.'
She shrugged. 'You'd never have thought he was the Heir. He was just like any other boy.
Yes, I liked him. We could have gotten along.'
'But not his brother, the Earl? Not even then?'
Her fingers turned the fine dials. 'Oh him! That twisted grin. No, I knew what he was like straightaway. He cheated at chess and tipped the board over if he was losing. He screamed at the servants, and some of the other girls told me things. When my ... when the Warden came home and told me Giles had died so suddenly ... that all the plans would have to be changed, I was furious.' She sat up and turned quickly. 'What I swore to you then still goes. Master, I can't marry Caspar. I won't marry him. I detest him.'
'Calm down, Claudia.'
'How can I!' She was on her feet now, pacing. 'I feel as though everything's crashed in on me! I thought we'd have time, but a few days! We have to act, Jared. I have to get into the study, even if your machine is untested.'
