Fearsome Dreamer (23 page)

It had been a long, tiresome day.

Lufe had been especially troublesome in his lesson. He had been moody and snappish, thoughtlessly rude, as if White had done something to offend him. It didn't help that Lufe knew he was progressing much more rapidly than the rest of the group.

White sighed. He would go to bed early tonight. He would make sure his reports were ready. He would plan the rest of the week. When everything was done, then and only then would he allow himself to think about her, and the night of the ball, and the feel of her underneath his hands for the first time.

It was a stupid thing to have done, certainly, asking Rue to dance. But explicable. Within the boundaries of acceptable behaviour. When he wondered what Rue's reaction to it had been, he found himself sliding anxiously away from pursuing that line of thought, as if he didn't have the courage to contemplate any possible outcome. All of them, good and bad, scared him.

He set out from his classroom, locking it behind him. He would take the long route back to his rooms. It would give him time to think. He would eat in his rooms tonight, instead of the tutor's dining hall; that meant sending through on the messaging service as soon as he got back, to get something in time from the kitchens for later.

The night air was frosted and thick. White liked the university about this time. The streets were quiet – students were elsewhere in the town, drinking or gambling or temple-visiting. Some of them might even be in their rooms studying. There was a low-level hum of life, of people moving about and lights shining through windows. He liked it. Liked to enjoy it from a distance.

It was at moments like these where this life he had chosen came into its own. There were other moments that made him think about just leaving. Not to go back to World, of course, but to find somewhere else new and accepting. Then he would shake off the illusion and see it for what it was. A life was a life, wherever he would be. And if he was honest, he didn't have the courage to start all over again.

He didn't miss the technology of World. He didn't miss the stagnation of a culture that thought a lot of itself and consequently had decided that change was bad. Anything new startled them senseless, made them fear.

But Angle Tar was a place annoyed by its own backwardness, brash, needing to prove itself. It was ignorant, entrenched in history, origin, old ways and habits. It was also exciting and vibrant, embracing anything it could get its hands on. It was a patchwork place, made up of other cultures and influences, but it was proud of the fact, not ashamed of it, and claimed the result as its own; as ‘Angle Tarain'. Despite everything, the invasions and the con--querors of the last few hundred years, the reins of rule that had held it back and in a way continued to do so, it still struggled against the leash, snapping its jaws. He found it comforting, that such a small, inconsequential place had that spirit.

He reached his door, unlocking it and stepping inside, feeling his shoulders relax. They were not much, his rooms, but they had become a home to him. They were filled with his possessions, his and his alone, and inside them he could be himself, just be, without eyes on him and without judgement.

With this thought in his mind, he came to realise that someone was here, sitting in his chair by the fireplace.

‘Good evening,' said Frith. He rose to his feet and bowed.

White said nothing.

Frith had never been in his rooms uninvited before. Not once. It was a violation and he knew it. He knew it would upset White. Something was wrong. Frith must be angry over something White had done wrong, and he would punish him for it by reminding him of his place here.

‘Good evening,' said White eventually, hoping his voice had come out indifferent. It was a small rebellion, but it was there.

‘I'm sorry to come into your rooms unannounced. I had assumed you'd be back by now. So I thought I would wait.'

‘It is not a problem,' said White. He hung up his great-coat. A maid had been in earlier and lit the fire, and it was beautifully warm. ‘Have you eaten? I was going to send a message now to the kitchens.'

‘In fact, I have. But please carry on. I don't want to interrupt your routine.'

Frith sat back down. White crossed to the messaging plate and wrote his order, then took the chair opposite Frith and met his gaze.

‘Would you care for a drink?' said White.

‘Certainly. I'll get it, though, no need for you to get up again. Whiskie?'

‘Yes. It is on the bottom shelf.'

White watched Frith retrieve the bottle and select two glasses from the top cabinet with deft hands.

‘You are back from World earlier than you expected,' said White. Whatever Frith wanted, he was determined to take his time about it, and White was not going to let it hang like a cloud over the table.

‘Yes,' said Frith. ‘It went quite well, this time.'

‘I suppose you cannot talk about what you were doing there.'

Frith gave him a sidelong glance.

‘No,' he said. ‘Not really. But you may want to know that I happened to see Wren there.'

White was silent. Inside his chest, his heart skipped, nervous.

‘Why?' he managed, after a moment to steady himself.

‘No one gets to defect to another country for free, White. He works for their Talented programme. I heard tell he's their little test rabbit. They prod and poke him to see if they can quantify what he is and how he can do what he does. You know, with science.'

Frith said the last word with a kind of mild amusement, that for him seemed to translate as downright derision.

‘How is he?' said White quietly.

‘Oh, quite ridiculous-looking. He's had his whole body changed, in the way Worlders love to do. He's all slim and narrow, and has silver-coloured eyes, of all things. God knows what purpose they serve. I suppose he's just trying to fit in.'

White watched Frith dip a lemon sugar cube in his whiskie glass and soak the liquid up before putting it into his mouth. He had the sweetest tooth White had ever come across.

They sat in silence for a moment. Frith selected another cube and dipped it into his glass. ‘How did the ball go?' he said.

It was actually impressive, really it was. Every time it was impressive. There was no hint whatsoever that this was what Frith was angry about; but it could only be this.

‘It was odd,' said White. ‘But interesting.'

‘You've said that about every social occasion I've sent you to,' Frith said, with a smile.

‘I enjoy the formality of it,' said White. ‘Everything has a rule that should be obeyed. I enjoy the structure of the evening, and when each dance comes I understand what is happening. It is the talking and drinking I do not enjoy.'

‘Talking and drinking is the only way people get to know each other here,' said Frith. ‘How did our Talented group fare?'

‘As well as can be expected. Lufe was very comfortable in that context, but he comes from such a background. Lea also. I suspect they are having a relationship, or having something, at least.'

‘No surprises. Freya?'

‘Did not talk much, did not dance, complained to be taken home.'

‘Her usual self. Rue?'

Now it had come to it, White found he couldn't hide it as well as he had thought. His throat constricted at the mention of her name, and he knew he had paused too long.

‘Vela Rue was a little too easy in her choice of company. I had to intervene at one point to save her from an embarrassment. Thereafter she behaved properly.'

‘White. You danced with her.'

Finally, there it was.

But there wouldn't be shame and there wouldn't be defiance. He would show Frith that his behaviour had been normal by treating it as such.

‘I did. Lea, her chaperone, left her. She knew no one and expected to see you there. When she realised that you would not be, she became upset. A boy had found her; he was taking her to the gardens.'

‘Was she refusing to go?'

‘He was giving her Esprit and telling her it was a harmless drink. His intentions were unfavourable, in the least.'

Frith sat back. ‘Then you were absolutely right to intervene. So why did you dance with her?'

The key was not to hesitate, but also not to let it all come out smoothly as if it were rehearsed.

‘She was alone and upset. She said that she wanted to dance. She needed a chaperone and so I decided to be such. I am not sure what it is that I did wrong.'

Frith laughed and White felt a twinge of nervousness. When Frith laughed, it was almost never out of genuine humour. And if he laughed when he was angry, the person in the room with him would do well to make an excuse to leave.

‘Either you are genuinely ignorant of what you've done, which I can't really believe, or you're attempting to play me, which has never been, is not, and will never be a good idea. White, how long has this been going on?'

If White believed enough in his own innocence, it would come across in his voice.

‘Of what do you speak?' he said.

‘How tiresome. You won't even give me the truth. Do you trust me that little?'

White felt a sudden flash of resentment. He knew that Frith had intended that, but he still couldn't stop himself.

‘Trust you? How am I supposed to do that?'

Frith spread his hands. ‘How? Well, let's see. When you came here alone, looking for help, for a reason to explain your betrayal of your country, did I turn you away? Did I treat you like a spy and torture you? Have I treated you since with anything but respect? When Wren betrayed us and you didn't see it coming, when you didn't tell me about what was going on until it was too late, when he nearly ruined
everything
for us, did I blame you? Did I punish you? Didn't I take care of everything?'

Frith sat back.

‘And this is your response,' he said, with a sharp-edged smile. ‘All this time, I've tried to prove myself to you, over and over. Did not one single thing I did mean anything to you?'

White listened to this speech with a mixture of surprise and irritation. He knew Frith was playing him with guilt. He knew it. But Frith seemed agitated; he wouldn't stop gesturing with his hands, which was unlike him. Hands had never been a part of his conversation. And what was the right response?

There wasn't one.

‘Well, apparently not,' said Frith, after a moment. ‘However, let us forgo our usual pretence, just for a moment, and then we can forget that we were ever so candid, and go back to normal. So listen to me, because I can see what you won't. You made a mistake at the ball, and now you must repair the damage. I'll take care of public opinion, but you must see to your students. They've lost their respect for you. They laugh about you behind your back. Do you see?'

White suddenly realised why Frith was so angry. It was because he hadn't known about it. He hadn't even considered the possibility of it. Who knew the last time someone had been able to fool him so completely? It wasn't triumph White felt at this realisation; it was relief. The jibe about his students should have upset him, but he found that he couldn't care much about it, if he thought about her and the way her waist had felt in his grip.

‘You didn't know,' he said.

Frith, to his credit, shrugged it off beautifully. ‘No, I didn't. In all honesty, I hadn't thought it even credible. It's happened before, of course. Students and teachers. It's a time-honoured cliché. But I didn't think it would happen with you.'

‘Why not?' said White, genuinely curious.

‘Why?' Frith replied, and laughed. ‘Of all the women you could pick, and there are some jewels in my acquaintance alone, why her?'

‘I have no idea.'

‘Perhaps you should think on it. Work out what it is that attracts you, so you can get rid of it.'

‘What will happen if I do not follow your advice?'

Frith swilled his whiskie. ‘You have to ask?'

White's heart pounded. He was pushing, hard, and something could break.

‘How could you stop it?' he said. ‘It is not illegal.'

Frith changed his line of attack. ‘If this stems from unhappiness, speak to me. Tell me what has caused it. I'll do my best to change things for you.'

‘I do not rebel,' said White. He struggled not to show amusement. ‘It is very difficult for you to accept the only other explanation. Why is this?'

Frith did not respond. He looked around the room, as if appraising its condition. ‘This is a nice apartment. But I know being stuck in the old alchemy tower by yourself bothers you, though you'd never admit to wanting company. I could have you moved somewhere else, somewhere bigger. Still quiet, away from the big living halls. There's a set near the research complex.'

‘This is a bribe?' said White.

Frith looked at him. ‘No, just an option. Please don't dismiss it.'

Silence fell.

‘I don't want to sit here and call you stupid and tell you what you should already know,' said Frith, after a moment. ‘But please, think. If you're not serious about her, you'll ruin her life and her reputation by dallying. If you are, you'll do the same thing. What do you suppose people will think about your relationship? Do you think they'll accept it? They can barely accept
you
. What do you think will be said about her? Do you see yourself marrying her? If you do, it won't be in Angle Tar. You can't even apply for citizenship, never mind a marriage licence. Perhaps you think you could leave Angle Tar together. But of course, you can't go back to World now. They'll lock you up without a thought as a treacherous spy; they may even kill you. And what do you think will happen to her then?'

‘You have spoken much this evening,' said White, his voice thin with fury. ‘You must be tired from dispensing such a lot of advice. I will bid you goodnight.'