Fearsome Dreamer

by Laure Eve

  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.’

  ‘You are correct,’ said White. ‘Do as you will.’ He turned to leave.

  ‘Wait! Why do you care what I do?’

  ‘The reputation of my students reflects upon me,’ was his sharp reply.

  Of course. How stupid to think that it could be anything else. Rue stood her ground and gave him a defiant look, but it was an empty gesture and she knew it. However she felt about him, she did not want him thinking of her like that. She wanted him to like her.

  She hated that about him, too.

  She watched White walk away. The
more she knew him, the more confused she became about him. His stiff and formal behaviour was so much a part of him that no amount of provoking could dislodge it. He obviously disliked her teasing manner but made little attempt to correct her behaviour, which only made her do it more. She knew nothing about him as he volunteered no information whatsoever, and whenever she questioned Frith on him, Frith smiled and said she should ask White whatever she wanted to know.

  She had never seen White in public before. It was quite extraordinary how much attention he attracted. She watched people turn their heads as he walked past them. No wonder he never went out much. She knew his lily-white skin was put about as a birth defect, but she wondered how many people actually believed that.

  It was funny how people looked at him, as though they were trying to make it seem like they weren’t, as if he was just another face in the crowd. But he wasn’t; he could never be that. Not here. As he stopped in the middle of the hall and turned back, she saw them all hurriedly avert their gazes in case he caught them watching him. Which was stupid, because only someone very drunk or unaware would have missed those collective stares.

  It was then that Rue realised White was walking back towards her. Inexplicably, her heart jumped. What was he doing?

  As he reached her, he bowed his head shortly.

  ‘Zelle Vela,’ he said. ‘Would you please join me in the next dance?’

  ‘What?’ said Rue, astonished.

  ‘Dance. You mentioned you wish to dance tonight.’

  ‘With you?’

  White gave her one of his silences.

  ‘Yes,’ he said eventually.

  ‘But that’s … is that allowed?’

  ‘I am unmarried,’ he said. ‘And a viable chaperone. Of course it is allowed.’

  Rue waited for more, but he said nothing else.

  ‘Er,’ she said. ‘I accept.’ She strained to remember the correct reply. ‘With thanks.’

  White held out his hand. She stared at it.

  ‘The next dance will start soon,’ he said. ‘We must go to the correct hall.’

  Rue was paralysed. Touch him. Touch him as if he were an ordinary person and not her odd, daunting, enigmatic tutor.

  Touch his hand.

  They had never touched each other, not once. Not even accidentally. She’d wondered if it was because he found physical contact repulsive for some reason. She’d even teased him about it once. He had given her a White silence, and then changed the subject.

  Yet here he was, offering his hand out to her.

  ‘Come,’ he said. ‘We must go.’

  She slid her hand into his. It was warm. His fingers curled around her palm and held it tight. Then he was walking, practically pulling her along. She could see faces turned towards them, rivers of people watching. She prayed she wouldn’t trip.

  When they reached the dance hall, couples had already lined up in their places. The pattern they were standing in was unfamiliar.

  ‘Wait,’ said Rue. ‘Which dance is this? I won’t know the steps!’

  ‘I will lead you,’ said White. There was a place open near the back of the set – in truth it was not very busy. Many people had migrated to the food tables in the dining hall by now.

  White led Rue in front of him and stood her there. They waited for the music to start.

  ‘I’m nervous,’ said Rue. She could feel the stares of the dancers around them, like hot sunlight on her face.

  ‘Ignore them. You will be perfect,’ said White.

  Before she could react to this, the music started. White stepped forwards and took her hand.

  ‘First it is a box step,’ he said, above the noise. ‘You know it?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Rue. The box was easy, the first thing she had been taught. Most steps were built on it, she remembered.

  ‘Four box, two linked, three box, and then change sides,’ said White.

  ‘All right,’ said Rue. The steps were easy enough. She tried to concentrate on her feet, but her worry about the dance was nothing in comparison to being close enough to smell him. She watched the creases of his shirt, for safety; it was too difficult to look up into his face.

  ‘Why are you here?’ she blurted suddenly, as they moved through a link. She was conscious of his hand on her back as he guided her through it.

  ‘To socialise.’

  ‘But why? You don’t go out around the city much. I’ve never seen you. Frith says you hardly ever go out at all.’

  They passed, and then moved through the second link.

  ‘Frith is the one who encouraged me to come out. To remove the mystery, so he said,’ White replied, his voice dry.

  ‘So people will get used to you,’ said Rue.

  White said nothing.

  ‘Does it bother you that people treat you different?’

  ‘It does not.’

  ‘It doesn’t bother me when people do it to me, neither,’ said Rue.

  ‘Yes it does.’

  Rue did look up at him, then. ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘You have spent this evening attempting to be as everyone here. Did you not say to me earlier that you wanted to feel normal?’

  ‘That’s not the same thing,’ said Rue, momentarily forgetting her nervousness in outrage. To her everlasting shock, White was smiling.

  ‘Yes it is. If it comforts you, we both lie. I would like to be treated as normal. But I also think to myself that I do not want to be anything like everyone else. It is hypocritical, and human, to feel both of these things.’

  Rue thought about this. ‘Why did you come here?’ she said. ‘To Angle Tar?’

  The smile dropped from White’s face, and Rue was sorry to see such a rare and magical thing go. Now he was himself again.

  ‘I’m sorry if you think I’m rude,’ she said. ‘I know you don’t like me much because of that.’

  White looked as though he was about to open his mouth, but the set broke to change sides, and when they came back together to start the first box, he said nothing. Rue’s heart had fallen into misery. Just when she thought the rest of the dance would be spent in silence, he spoke.

  ‘I came to Angle Tar because it is so different,’ he said. ‘There is not another place like it in the whole world. That is a valuable thing.’

  She wanted to ask him what it was really like outside of Angle Tar. What it was like in this strange-sounding URCI place. If they really did have boxes out there with whole worlds in them. If anything the silver-eyed boy said was true.

  ‘Do you know a place called Iceland?’ she said.

  White looked at her. ‘What do you know of Iceland?’ he said.

  ‘It’s full of snow. They have things there that can make food out of air.’

  ‘You have not told me this dream.’

  Rue squirmed. How to get out of this? ‘I had it last night,’ she said. ‘For the first time.’

  ‘We must speak of this in your next lesson in detail.’

  Rue looked away.

  She had to keep the silver-eyed boy to herself.

  The more she dreamed about him, the more she realised that he was something more than her. Something outside of her. She supposed it had to be a Talented thing, but she was afraid that he represented a defect in her, somehow. No one else in the group saw strange silver-eyed boys in their Talent dreams; or if they did they weren’t telling. So neither would she. White didn’t need to know every little secret thing about her, did he?

  ‘Syer,’ she said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘In this dance we don’t change partners.’

  ‘No. It is not a mixer.’

  ‘What’s it called?’

  White paused. Rue watched him, puzzled. He seemed uncomfortable.

  ‘It is called an Intentional,’ he said.

  ‘Oh. Why?’

  ‘I am not sure.’ White looked away from her.

  ‘What’s the last step?’ she pressed, aware that of the dances she had learned, there was usually
a last step different from the rest.

  ‘A two-turn round, and then finish.’

  A moment later, they moved into it. White was extraordinarily good at dancing for someone who never socialised at balls. Rue wondered if he had had private training. When he led her he did it smoothly and she had no trouble understanding where he needed her to go. They turned once, and then again, circling back. Then he took both of her wrists in his hands and pulled her gently towards him until her arms were resting up against his chest.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she said, suddenly afraid.

  ‘This is the last step,’ he said. When she turned her head, she saw that he was right; the couples either side of them had pressed together in a similar fashion. Then she saw the man nearest to her lean down into the girl in his arms and kiss her.

  She looked back at White, a horrified blush creeping across her face.

  ‘Are we meant … to do that?’ she managed.

  ‘Of course not,’ he snapped. ‘It is optional.’ His face was turned outwards, away from her.

  Rue had never felt so awkward in her entire life. This was some kind of nightmare. She was standing so close to White that their bellies practically touched. When would the stupid music end?

  Thankfully, a moment later, it did. Before they broke apart, though, she realised something. Her palm had been resting on his chest, and she could feel his heartbeat underneath it. It was pounding so fast she thought he might suddenly collapse there and then in the dance hall, but when she looked up into his face he seemed the same as ever.

  Then he stepped away from her, and it was over. He bowed his head, and she remembered that she should do the same. Before she could say anything more, there were people all around them, swarming across the floor now that the dance had finished. Lea had appeared out of nowhere, and Rue could see just behind her stood the rest of the Talented group – none of whom she had seen all evening.

  ‘Threya take us! What by all the gods were you doing with him?’ squealed Lea.

  ‘You were watching?’ said Rue. Her voice sounded whispery and weak, and she cleared her throat in annoyance.

  ‘Rue, half the university was watching.’

  ‘I think it’s disgusting,’ announced Lufe.

  ‘It’s just a dance,’ Rue said irritably. ‘I was all alone and he offered to dance with me. It’s the sort of thing he’d do to seem proper.’