Fearsome Dreamer (21 page)

‘I know what he's talking about,' said Tulsent suddenly.

‘Tulsent, hush!'

Rue looked around the table. They all knew what he was talking about, except her.

‘Tell me right now,' she said, growing angry. ‘For I've not been with anyone here, and even if I had, I'd want to know how you think you might know about it. So you tell me.'

‘There's nothing to tell,' said Lea impatiently. ‘They're just playing with you.'

‘I wouldn't have guessed you liked them older,' said Lufe, and hissed when Lea punched him on the shoulder.

The table descended into silence, and the noise of the tavern crowded back in. Rue looked at them all, again and again, but none would meet her eye. Lufe started whispering in Lea's ear, and she started giggling. Marches decided to lecture Tulsent on the merits of gambling. Rue was left to finish her dinner by herself.

The evening wore on, but with Rue on the outside of it. If it had been a joke, as Lea had said, it was an unfathomable one. But it seemed too serious for that. The atmosphere was of a step too far – something said that shouldn't have been. And not one of them would look at her properly again, not even Lea. They were tight as clam shells, and no amount of prying would shake them open.

So Rue became angry, and bored with their game, and when they reached Red House, and the rest of them had to plunge Tulsent into a cold bath to revive him from his semi-recumbent drunken state, Rue left them to it, and went to her room, alone and hurting.

Rue was lonely.

Since their falling out, the other Talented had been giving her an extremely wide berth, which irritated her no end, but also wounded her. Lea stuck to Lufe's table in the mornings at breakfast, and Rue was left to sit by herself, as Freya did, ostracised and alone. She was still bewildered about what had happened that night, but as none of them were keen to talk to her about it, and she would
never
bend for them because she would bend for no one, they seemed stuck in this for evermore; and her bewilderment had turned to hurt anger.

Frith had become important to Rue, because she had no one else to talk to. When he dropped in on Red House of an evening, which was infrequently, he would bring them all presents of gingered chocolate and quiz them about their day. He would chat to her, and laugh with her.

So when he had mentioned the midwinter ball, she'd nearly fallen over with excitement, thrilling to hear his tumble of anecdotes from last year, and the year before. Women outdoing each other with more and more elaborate hair. Thirty-seven different meat dishes. Stone fountains that ran with champagne instead of water.

The ball was so important that they had a tutor, Dam Joya, come in to Red House to talk to the Talented about it as a group. First she addressed the boys, giving them outlines on what kind of shirts they could and could not wear; which dances they were allowed to ask partners for and which they could only partake in if they were married or of a particular social class; which drinks were safe and which were for hardened constitutions only. Then she turned to the girls. Rue sat astonished as she listened.

You could not wear pearls if you were under a certain age. Any shade of red was declared too womanly, white too young, and dresses in the latest fashion were the only possible choice. You could not dance with a man unless he requested it, and you could not take a drink unless he gave you one. She wanted to ask if you were even allowed to talk but the tutor was a stern, stiff-backed old crock and provoking her was tiresome rather than fun. The others in the group were either not listening or looking bored.

‘This is completely pointless. Can I be excused? I've been taught this stuff since I was three,' drawled Lufe.

‘Well, I haven't,' Rue retorted. ‘I want to listen.'

‘That's because you're a country nothing.'

‘Silence, Mussyer Troft,' snapped the tutor. Lufe shot her a rebellious glare, but said nothing else. ‘To continue. Only unmarried women of courtable age can agree to a request for the Stinging Dance, the Barter Fanning or Rabblers. Only married women can dance, with their husbands, the Lifelong Ribbon and Tea Cupping. And anyone, within reason, can dance the Mixer together. Within reason being that – unless he is related to you by blood – you absolutely do not dance with a married man. Ever. And now we will learn the steps to the set dances. Up you get.'

There was a collective groan.

The night of the ball eventually came, and not fast enough.

Lea had suddenly decided, in the spirit of the evening and because she couldn't possibly have a boy as her chaperone, to be friendly with Rue again. Rue wanted to snub her but couldn't summon the energy because excitement kept washing it away; and most of her anger was at the boys. Especially Lufe. She'd decided to ignore his jibe about ‘liking them older'. There was no sense to it, none at all. The only older man she even knew here was White, and
that
notion was simply ridiculous. So she'd had a dream about him, once; but so what? It meant nothing. Lea seemed anxious to be her friend again, so Rue left it alone.

They dressed together, chattering and laughing. Lea exclaimed when Rue pulled out her dress, as Rue had known she would, but laughed when she saw it on and said that it suited her very well.

The ball itself was in the university's main reception halls, reserved for occasions such as this. None of the students had been given carriages, unless they lived far away, but fortunately Red House was quite close, and it took them only fifteen minutes to get there, or it would have if Lea hadn't insisted on walking at a decorously slow pace. Her reasoning had been that she didn't want to arrive looking flushed. Rue privately thought that men quite liked a flushed-looking girl – it denoted passion, and all that came with that. But Lea would have declared her coarse if she'd said such a thing out loud, so she kept it to herself. She didn't want them to fall out again.

When they arrived, they joined a stream of people making their way slowly indoors. Music and light spilled out into the dark, frosty evening. Everywhere was laughing, sparkling chatter. Rue grinned.

‘So are you pursuing anyone this evening?' said Lea, pulling Rue's linked arm closer to her.

‘I don't know what you mean,' said Rue, putting on a haughty voice, and was glad to see it made Lea giggle.

‘Just watch out,' she said. ‘Some of the boys have the morals of a dog.'

As they entered, Rue allowed herself to think about it a little more. She didn't really know anyone, apart from the Talented group, and she wasn't the slightest bit interested in any of them. But there would be plenty of others there tonight to look at, and maybe dance with. She hoped she didn't muck up the steps and embarrass herself.

The halls were grand indeed. Ceiling-to-floor heavy curtains, chandeliers of intricate silver as far as she could see. Each set of double doors was open and pinned back, so you could see through into the next room. The crowd was swelling. Everyone was in their finest. Sparkling jewellery flashed on the women. Complicated lace collars and heavy velvet adorned the men. It was beautiful, and Rue stood for some time, watching everything with her mouth open before she dared enter.

Lea, predictably, scampered away from Rue as soon as they had passed through the entrance hall, presumably to find Lufe and giggle at him uncontrollably. Rue was a little annoyed about finding herself in a sea of strangers with no one familiar to anchor herself to. Where was Frith?

She stood for a moment, uncertain. There was a great rippling world of people before her, and not one of them had given her a second glance. Should she wander slowly around the room with an arch air, and let people know she was the sort of interesting girl who preferred her own company? Would that make them stay away from her? Neither did she want to appear eager or too pleasing – that was not the kind of impression people should have of her at all.

Rue set out, determined to find Frith. As she searched for him, she found her gaze locking with so many strangers by accident, that by the time she'd looked down in apology and back up to search again, an entire group of people had been missed out. If only they wouldn't all move about so much.

The air glittered and snagged her eye as she walked slowly around. She soon realised it was the light catching the droplets of liquid people were sprinkling on their shoulders, for luck. She wished she could do the same but had not yet found the source of the drinks everyone held in their hands.

‘Where's your chaperone?' said someone standing next to her.

Rue turned. The owner of the voice swung forwards to face her. It was a young man, possibly her age, and dressed quite finely. Not a poor student, then; but she knew there were hardly any poor students in the university. The only poor ones here, who had their education paid for them by the government, were exceptionally gifted in some fashion. Like her, she supposed. She hoped.

‘Did you manage to dodge her? Good play,' he said.

‘Actually, she dodged me,' said Rue.

‘And left you alone at your first ever ball? Appalling.'

‘How do you know it's my first ball?'

‘It's a look you have. Virginal. Also, your choice of dress. A pure swan amongst preening peacocks. Would you like a drink?'

Rue thought about this. The boy was confident and nicely built, and therefore normally no hesitation needed. But somehow he wasn't quite what she was waiting for.

On the other hand, she was friendless and wanted a drink.

‘I don't even know your name, though,' she said for politeness.

‘Ackery Shay,' he said promptly.

‘Vela Rue.'

‘Shall we?' He offered his arm.

Rue hesitated for a moment, then took it.

Shay steered and chatted at the same time. His voice was smooth and sure, and he pointed out the most expensive dresses and people of the most interesting reputations as they sashayed past. He was pretty and had rescued her in an easy fashion from the embarrassment of being alone at a social ball. But he was younger than she was really wanting, and his manner too nice, somehow.

Shay procured her a drink, promising that it was mainly made from apples and amongst the weakest of the array on offer that evening. She wanted to explain that country girls were quite used to such drinks, but Dam Joya's frowning face flashed through her mind with a cry from her beaky mouth of ‘decorum!' So Rue smiled instead. The drink was pleasant enough; it had a crisp, sweet taste, something like mead but less syrupy.

A dance had begun in the hall next to them and Rue manoeuvred a reluctant Shay to watch it. After a minute or two she realised what it was.

‘This is Tea Cupping!' she said, pleased with herself.

‘The dullest dance known to the civilised world,' Shay agreed. ‘Let me show you the gardens.'

‘Wait, I want to watch it. I haven't learned this one.'

‘Thank the gods for that. It's a marriage dance.'

Shay let her be for a while as she gazed at the dancers, trying to work out the steps. When the dance ended, he touched her elbow.

‘What would the next one be?' said Rue.

Shay shrugged. ‘A mixer, most probably. Come with me to the gardens.'

‘Aren't you going to ask me to dance?'

‘Oh, I'm a terrible dancer. And it is very hot in here, don't you think?'

It was quite hot, of a sudden. Fresh air and cool darkness became more important than dancing in bright lights. When Shay took Rue's hand and led her away, she didn't protest. She dimly remembered Dam Joya saying something about hand-holding in public, but couldn't raise enough energy to care about whether it was good or bad.

After much weaving and walking, and feeling progressively warmer and more uncomfortable, Rue became aware that Shay had stopped their quick march and was in conversation with someone.

‘I apologise, syer,' Shay was saying. ‘I didn't know you were her tutor. Nevertheless, unless you're also her chaperone, I'm a bit confused as to why you feel you should step in.'

‘I am not her chaperone,' said the other. ‘But I
am
her tutor. You will relinquish Zelle Vela to me and find another girl to do what you like with.'

The other man's voice was deeply familiar. Rue peered over Shay's shoulder to get a look at him, and her mouth fell open.

It was White, and he looked angry.

Shay was trying not to back down. ‘Who else do you tutor, syer? I'm afraid I've never had the pleasure of knowing your reputation.'

‘It will stay that way,' said White. ‘Leave.'

‘I can complain.'

‘To whom? Will you tell them why I stopped you and what you were going to do with my student?'

‘If you are not a relative or a chaperone, you can't interfere,' said Shay, though his voice was small. Rue felt a spike of irritation. He had lost his handsomeness and was now only a silly young thing who buckled in the face of authority.

‘I don't need a chaperone,' she snapped. ‘I don't need anyone.'

She shook off Shay's hand and stalked away. Two men deciding what she should and shouldn't be doing! She would find a dark room somewhere and sit down, away from all this. Then she would find Frith.

‘Stop, Zelle Vela,' said White behind her.

‘Leave me be,' she retorted, but stopped. It was very hard to disobey White. She could tease and delay, but eventually she would do whatever he said. She hated that about him.

‘Where are you going?' said White. He moved around to face her.

‘I'm going to find Frith.'

‘Mussyer de Forde is not here,' said White.

‘But he told me he would be!'

‘It was his plan. But he received urgent business and left to attend it this morning.'

Rue tried not to let her dismay show. An evening alone here? Who was she to talk to? Who was she to dance with, if another Shay did not come along?

‘Why do you want Frith to be here?' said White. He was watching her.

‘Because I don't know anyone else. Frith was to introduce me to people. I wanted to dance. I wanted to feel normal, not as a freakish secret that has to be kept hidden away. And a boy come to me and treated me normal, and you come and ruined it!'

Rue knew she was going too far, being malpolite and petty, and everything that made her tutor angry with her. She didn't want it to be like the first time they had met. She still thought about it with severe embarrassment. But she couldn't stop herself.

White had gone quiet. Rue became horribly aware how loud her voice might have become in the midst of the crowd.

‘If you wish to find the boy,' he said, ‘I will not stop you.'

‘Then why did you?' said Rue. Inside her head a voice filled with alarm kept telling her to shut up.

‘He was taking you to the gardens. Do you understand what that means?'

‘Oh, of course I do,' Rue snapped. ‘I'm from the country, remember?'

White looked taken aback. ‘Then I made a mistake,' he said. ‘I thought you were troubled. In trouble. I saw him give you Esprit to drink. Perhaps you have
that
in the country, also.'

‘Don't know. What is it?'

‘An amouriser.'

‘Oh. Well, he didn't need to do that.'

White's face flickered.

‘You know, I
can
do that if I want, with whoever I want,' said Rue. ‘Just because you see everyone as silly children, doesn't mean they are. I'm an adult in the law's eyes. So you can't tell me what to do.'