“Nice to see a Rechnov girl. Great men in your family, of course, quite a line, but few women. Which would you prefer, a boy or a girl?”
Adelaide took a demure sip of weqa.
“I hear the abortion rate is very high these days,” she said.
The Councillor looked surprised, but nodded. “A valid fact. Pregnancy is a serious notion for any young woman.”
She was not sure whether he was hinting at her as a potential breeder, or trying to gauge her attitude to the practice. She offered no response. The Councillor tried again.
“I’m told you have a fascinating little outlet of your own on the outskirts. Do you ever find it lonely living with such a view?”
“I like my own company,” she said.
“If I might recall the popular saying, Miss Rechnov: a Rechnov dreamt the City, a Dumay built it, and an Ngozi lit it. I propose that you, Miss Rechnov, are a dreamer.”
She felt the hooks digging in. It would start here, over a five course dinner. The tug would start with tonight.
On her other side was the Councillor of Netting, a man it would also be useful for the Rechnovs to forge an alliance with. Since the population control laws were introduced twenty years ago, choosing a mate had become a matter of vital importance. She noticed that Tyr had been seated between two influential women. On his left was Zakiyya Sobek, and on his right was Hildur Pek, Councillor of Assessment, who had lost her husband in a shark attack many years ago and had formed an almost pathological obsession with the ring-net ever since. Feodor must be incredibly sure of Tyr’s loyalty to consider setting him up like that.
She turned her gaze to Linus. Did Feodor have anyone in mind for him? Linus was devoted to the Rechnov line, but he had independent political ideas which Feodor would prefer to curb, not least of all his anti-Nucleite stance. And Linus’s support for Vikram and the west had no doubt been a contentious subject in the domestic core.
“Guava dressing, Miss Rechnov?” The Councillor of Netting indicated the platter hovering beside them as though he had produced it personally.
“Thank you.”
She wanted to push her chair back and stretch out her legs, but not wishing to brush against either man, she kept her elbows in and her knees pressed together as she ate. The Councillor of Netting was discussing the state of the kelp forests with his neighbour-“It won’t be a good year for weqa, my dear”-whilst across the room, Hildur Pek had cornered Tyr with horror stories. Elsewhere, Adelaide overheard snippets about the educational syllabus. A small group including Linus were debating the relevance of taught history.
“-essential to have a world understanding-”
“But in the current climate, practical and sociological issues are far more important. Osiris must remain strong-”
“But informed.” That was her brother.
“What about the south? What about Tarctica… surely we should be considering…?”
“Still decades away.”
“And it could act as a terrible temptation. I mean, technically, we’re still under quarantine.”
“Precisely. Any eventual excursion would have to be heavily supervised-not to mention kept under wraps.”
“Personally, I believe quarantine is a technicality that should have been lifted years ago. The idea that it’s actually illegal to leave the City is absurd in this day and age, and as for the map ban, it’s quite simply ludicrous.” Linus was in argumentative mode. Adelaide wondered, suddenly, what he would have made of the balloon room.
“That law keeps people safe. We don’t have a seaworthy boat left in the City and everyone knows it. Start bandying Tarctica about and I tell you, people will be tempted to make rash decisions.”
“Then again, we do have a population problem. Maybe these futurists shouldn’t be disencouraged?”
“That’s a rather cynical view-you don’t really think?”
“Oh, of course not. Just a little gallows humour.”
Low laughter.
“Well, we’ve already got an issue with psychological containment trauma.” The voice was lowered but Adelaide just made out, “Everyone knows the-well, that particular rate is high enough already.”
The debate rescinded. Suicide was not a dinner party topic. The woman who had spoken flushed, aware of her mistake. Adelaide, remembering Radir’s last words to her, felt her own colour rising. Surely nobody else imagined Axel could have taken such a course?
The second course was brought out. Around the table, glasses chinked in private toasts and engraved cutlery scraped on plates. In Adelaide’s ear, the Councillor of Estates was praising her family’s architectural skill.
“I understand the Osiris Board never really considered anyone but Alexei Rechnov. And wisely so. Through his and your grandfather’s great work, the city has endured. And this residence is-quite spectacular.”
Grandfather calls it a house, Adelaide felt like saying, but she did not, because that was a personal piece of information. Tonight would be the only occasion that she had been in the Domain without her twin. He had always stood between her and them, fighting her fights, sharing the blame for her mistakes. There had been no mention of Axel. It was as if he had been whitewashed.
Adelaide’s hand shook as she cut into a rainbow-fish fillet. She put down the knife to hide it.
“Delicious,” said the Councillor of Estates. “Highly cunning of Feodor to slip this dinner in before the official ban goes through.”
“What ban?” she asked.
“Oh, you don’t know?” The Councillor looked pleased at this opportunity to repair Adelaide’s ignorance. “Rainbow-fish is on the danger list until the stocks rebuild. Along with a few of the bigger staples. We’ll all end up vegetarian by the end of it.” He gave her a wink. “Of course, there are ways around these little rules, if you know the right people. In fact, I sometimes hold soirees of my own. Nothing on this scale-just a few, intimate acquaintances.”
Adelaide turned to the Councillor of Netting on her other side. “When you said it is going to be a bad year for weqa, Councillor, did you mean, just the weqa? Or did you mean, the kelp harvest as a whole?”
Her voice, which carried clearly in the vault of the banquet room, was louder than she had intended. She saw Feodor glance in her direction. The Councillor of Netting looked uneasy, but rallied.
“There are always good years and not-so-good years, Miss Rechnov. That is a perfectly normal and healthy state of fluctuation. It may be one of our not-so-good years, but the next shall improve.”
“And with that and the new ban on certain fish stocks, do you anticipate food shortages this winter?”
“Not in my household,” murmured the Councillor of Estates.
“Supplies will be adequate,” said the Councillor of Netting firmly.
“Forgive me,” said Adelaide. “I’m something of an amateur in these matters, but wasn’t the last major crop shortage three years ago?”
“I believe it was, and, as you see Miss Rechnov, we survived to live another day.” He gave a little laugh.
“Yes,” she said. “It didn’t stop the riots, though.”
Now she saw the spots of colour in Feodor’s cheeks. The look he gave her this time was pure warning, but the Councillor of Netting had misunderstood her tone.
“I assure you, my dear, you have no need to fear for your safety. The Minister of Security has everything in hand, is that not the case, Ailia? Any hint of violence from the west shall be swiftly crushed.”
“But that’s the point, isn’t it? If the supplies were adequate, westerners wouldn’t feel the need to riot, would they?”
“I don’t think you quite understand, my dear,” said the Minister of Security kindly.
“I understand that three years ago, food supplies were stockpiled unnecessarily in the City and withheld from the west. Is that what’s going to happen this time?”
“You’ll have to forgive my daughter’s passion,” Feodor interrupted. “The west is her latest whimsy.”
“It’s not a joke-”
“Of course, of course, very admirable-and you have been championing that young man with the schemes,
