Of Noble Family

by Mary Robinette Kowal

  Nine

  A Charitable Call

  Seen from the great house, the wattle and daub houses had a picturesque charm that did not survive closer inspection. To be sure, the vegetable plots surrounding them lent them some softening verdure, but they were little more than sheds, with dirt floors and crumbling mud walls huddled together around a dirt yard. The low roofs, constructed of plaited palm fronds, made the ceiling of the ship’s cabin seem high.

  A gaggle of children chased each other, giving off infectious squeals of laughter. One little girl wore a ragged shirt as a dress. A boy of no more than five ran past wearing only trousers. Sitting in the dirt, patting at the dust, one toddler wore nothing at all. Watching over them were a pair of old women and an old man. The man leaned back on a bench in the sun with his head resting against the side of one of the sheds. His occasional snore was audible even over the laughter of the children.

  As the children ran past the women, a spider the size of a draft horse rose out of the dirt. It gave an incongruous, bubbling laugh. Squealing in mock terror, the children scattered.

  It had taken only a moment to recognise that the red and black creature was a rough glamour, but it still made Jane’s mouth quite dry. Even Zeus had started back when it emerged.

  The children, however, were not fearful. Their squeals quickly changed to laughter as they joined together on the far side of the yard. The older of the two women smiled and waved her hands in front of her, making the spider unravel into the ether. She nudged her neighbour and they worked together, clearly reweaving the glamour that had sprung out at the children. Jane bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep herself from shifting her vision to the ether to see what they were doing. Every movement and twist of their fingers spoke of working glamour, but she could see none of the threads. With matched grunts, they tied off their work.

  So quickly! Jane fairly itched to see their process.

  The younger of the two sat back while the elder nodded to the children to begin their run. The children started off cautiously, and Jane soon understood. The women had placed a trap for the children. They had to play their game around it, not knowing when the spider would jump out.

  One of the little girls spotted Jane and came to a halt in front of her. She remained stuck to the earth, staring first at Jane, then at Louisa and Zeus with his basket, and finally back to Jane. The girl’s braid went into her mouth as she stared.

  So riveted was the child that Jane almost expected her to scream. One of the little boys spotted them next. Then a flurry of movement had all of the children standing in a group in front of them, save for the toddler, who still played in the dirt. Jane counted nine of them in various states of undress, none appearing to be more than ten years of age.

  The old women moved more slowly. One nudged the other, who answered with a little grunt before heaving herself off the bench.

  Louisa, next to Jane, gave a little sigh.

  “Good afternoon.” Jane greeted the children first, to give the old woman time to make her way to them.

  They looked at each other and one of them giggled. What she would not give to be able to perform glamour right now. It had always been how she had made friends with children in the past.

  “What were you playing?” Jane smiled and addressed the first little girl. She backed away upon being addressed, her braid still in her mouth. One of the older boys caught the girl about the shoulders and wrapped her in a hug. On Jane’s other side, Zeus shifted with his basket. She turned to him and said, “Shall we set up on the bench over there?”

  He hesitated. “I would wait until Nkiruka tells you what to do, madam.”

  Jane made note of that hesitation and his advice. It spoke worlds about the woman’s stature in the community. “May I take it that that is Nkiruka approaching us now?”

  “Yes, madam.”

  The woman was a deep ruddy brown, all lines and wrinkles folded around a mouth that seemed designed to disapprove. Or perhaps just to disapprove of Jane, since she had been smiling broadly while playing with the children. She wore her hair under a kerchief, but the bits that peeked out at the temples were grey. She gave a sharp hiss at the children, and they scattered like water on a hot pan.

  Jane nodded to her. “Good afternoon.”

  The woman rested her hands on her lean hips. When she answered, her words clung together as if they wanted to stay snug. Jane had to think for a moment before she understood her to say, “If you say so, ma’am.”

  Jane gestured to the basket that Zeus carried. “My husband, Mr. Hamilton, and I have only just arrived in Antigua. I thought you might want some meat for your dinner.”

  The woman continued to stand there, her gaze occasionally darting to the children as though she wanted to return to playing with them and Jane was keeping her from it. To be fair, Jane was detaining her, so she cut straight to the point.

  “I took the liberty of bringing a side of bacon as a gift, thinking it might keep.” Though truly, how anyone could keep anything in one of these sheds was beyond Jane. If they accomplished nothing else in the next two weeks, they simply must do something to address that.

  “Bacon?” Nkiruka studied Jane for a moment, compressing her lips. Then she turned her back on them and headed for one of the sheds to the side of the yard. “That good. Amey go lub dat.”

  Jane had to struggle for a moment to understand the woman. She had thought that Louisa and Zeus sounded Antiguan born, but even these few words made it clear that she had barely heard the Antiguan accent. She frowned, trying to make the alteration in her understanding.

  Louisa misinterpreted the frown and spoke in a low tone to her. “Please forgive her, madam. She is old, and as a field slave, has not learned to be around the master or any other white people. The manners of the others, too, may be coarser than what you are accustomed to.”

  “I am aware that I am not in a drawing room.” Jane picked her way across the yard, glad that she had worn one of her shorter day dresses. The hem would still need attention, but at least it would not drag in the dirt.

  At the door to the small shed, Nkiruka stuck her head into the dark interior. “Amey! Lady from de big house ya fu see you.”

  A moment later, a woman of colour who was heavy with child emerged from the house. Though not so dark as Nkiruka, her skin was still deeper than any of the house slaves, with a dash of freckles across her nose and cheeks. She wore a ragged dress, and the swell of her belly lifted the front hem to the middle of her shins. She had a hand against her back and squinted against the sun as she stepped out.

  Jane’s gaze was dragged back to the woman’s stomach. She must be very near her time. Perhaps it was only the threadbare frock that made her appear so large, but Jane could not help brushing her hand down the front of her own gown. Her stomach had not increased even half so much, and she already felt enormous.

  If Amey had not attempted a curtsy, made clumsy by her condition, Jane might have stared for another five minutes before collecting herself. The social forms gave her an anchor. She returned the curtsy before remembering the difference in their stations. She hoped the young woman would not take it as a mockery. She quickly brushed past it by introducing herself and stating her purpose in visiting.

  “That is kind of you, ma’am.” Amey turned to Zeus. “A table inside.”

  He nodded and carried the basket into the dark interior.

  Louisa called after him. “The little jar in the basket—bring it with you when you come back.” She murmured to Jane, “I brought a bit of candied ginger for the children.”

  “Oh. Thank you, that was thoughtful of you.” In spite of the records that she had looked at, it had not occurred to Jane to bring a sweet. She waited, awkward in the silence, for Zeus to return. The children whispered to each other, all seemingly curious about her. Nkiruka, too, watched her steadily. Jane became keenly aware of the paleness of her own skin. She had not given her complexion much thought before, besides wishing that it were not
quite so sallow. Clearing her throat, she offered the old woman a smile. “The spider you worked earlier was an interesting glamour.”

  “Anansi?” Nkiruka shrugged as if that were no great thing.

  “I was curious about what folds you were using to lay it. It seemed clever—”

  At that moment, Zeus appeared with the little jar. Jane’s interest in candied ginger had never been lower, but the children who had followed them to the house all stared at it with something akin to awe. He handed the jar to Louisa, who in turn held it out to Jane.

  Jane shook her head. “It was your idea. Please.”

  “It is more proper coming from you.”

  “Is proper really a concern?” Jane moved to the nearest bench, which had the dual advantages of being shaded by the shed and removed from the chaos of the children. She pulled her bonnet off, though they were yet out of doors. She was enough in the shade to prefer a breeze to the stifling closeness of the straw brim. “May I sit?”

  “If you want.”

  “Will you join me?”

  With a shrug, Nkiruka settled next to her on the bench. Zeus and Louisa moved a few feet away and opened the jar of candied ginger. One girl reached out to touch the cotton of Louisa’s gown, but otherwise, their attention seemed fixed on the jar. Zeus smiled and held out a piece of ginger. She had not seen him smile before. It quite changed his face.

  Her chief interest, however, lay in Nkiruka’s spider. “Am I correct that you were using a frottis mélange to slip the spider outside the visible spectrum?” It was the only thing that made sense, for them to have created the spider earlier and then colour-shifted it away.

  Nkiruka frowned at her for a moment, then shouted into the house. “Amey!” She followed that with a string of language that Jane did not recognise at all.

  The young woman poked her head out of the house. “Mama. Remember Mr. Pridmore want us to speak only English.”

  “Bah. Let dem tell.” She shrugged. “Me too old fu punish.”

  “You know that not true.”

  “Maybe. But still, tell me wha she say.”

  Amey turned to Jane. “Sorry, ma’am. You can repeat the question? I’ll try an’ help my mother understand.”

  “Of course. Thank you for your help. The spider your mother made. I wanted to know if she used frottis mélange.”

  Amey bit her lip. “Hm … I don’t know that word either.”

  Too late, far too late, Jane understood that she was asking about a formal term of art that neither woman would have had opportunity or reason to learn. “It … it is a word that relates to using a thread of poorfire…” That term received nearly as blank a look as the French had. “Using a thread of glamour that is above the visible spectrum—that is, light that we cannot see with normal vision. So, frottis mélange means using that thread to anchor a fold elsewhere. I—I think my explanation was so disordered that it barely made sense to myself, but did you catch my meaning?”

  “I think so, ma’am.” Amey turned to her mother, who waited patiently through the exchange. Amey changed to a rolling percussive language and the two had a rapid conversation, including hand gestures that Jane thought might be glamour.

  In fact, as they continued, she became more certain that it was. It alarmed her to see a woman who was increasing work glamour. “Please—there is no need for you to work glamour on my account. Not in your condition.”

  The two women stopped. Nkiruka looked at her, then at Amey, then back at Jane. “Why?”

  “Well…” She did not want to discuss such a delicate subject, especially if it would alarm Amey, but without the benefit of an education, they might not know of the danger. “Well, glamour is not safe for a woman in the family way.”

  “You t’ink glamour mek woman lose dem baby?”

  “I have been taught that, yes.” It was, in fact, common knowledge in England.

  Nkiruka laughed at her, shaking her head. “No, no.”

  Jane shook her own head. She had miscarried before while working glamour. “I have evidence to the contrary.”

  “Ha! If working glamour mek woman lose picknee then no new slave woulda born.”

  “I understand your point, but must, respectfully, disagree. All of the best medical science says that the energy toll on the mother’s body from working glamour is a danger to both her and the child.”

  “English medicine. You t’ink glamour all one thing.” Nkiruka shook her head and held up three fingers. “Is three different magics. Two safe. Sound and scent. Even light all right, if not too much. Like walking. Walking good for de mother. Running, no.”

  The memory of running through a field of rye with a stitch in her side stopped Jane’s breath for a moment. She shook her head to brush the past away. “But the overseer says that the birth rate here is extremely low. If your expectant mothers are working glamour, might that account for it?”

  There was a shift in Nkiruka’s posture, but Jane could not determine what it was. A glance passed between Amey and Nkiruka. The moment passed so quickly that Jane might have imagined it.

  Amey struggled up from the bench, steadying herself with a hand against the wall. “Don’t worry bout me. The only thing that hurt is that hard bench. I goin’ inside. Call if you need me.”

  “You lie down.” Nkiruka watched her daughter go, then leaned back against the wall. “My daughter tell me what you asking ’bout de spider. You wan’ know how I do it.”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Language hard for dis. Come, let me show you.” She moved her hand and, in the centre of the yard, the spider rose from the dust.

  Jane frankly gaped. When Nkiruka had worked the creature before, she had been sitting on a bench on the other side of the yard. Any threads she had to control the glamour must have been anchored there, and yet she worked it from here. Generally, the further one was from the illusion, the harder it was to maintain the threads and folds involved in creating it. Nkiruka showed no sign of even breathing hard. Jane swallowed in astonishment.

  “I am afraid I did not quite catch the weave.” To be more accurate, Jane had not seen it at all.

  “Dat ah your first trouble. Folds. Weaves. I do not use those.”

  “Pardon?” It had clearly been a glamour. “May I ask, then, how you created it?”

  “Is different where I come from. We don’t try an’ mek glamour behave like cloth.”

  “Oh—oh, well, neither do I. It is only that the language of fabric is so useful for discussing what is an otherwise intangible art.”

  “An’ it set what de English can do.”

  Jane thought of the detailed glamurals that she and Vincent had created for the Prince Regent. Months of care had gone into creating a representation of an undersea kingdom that could be mistaken for real. Even Vincent’s pranks when studying with Herr Scholes had apparently looked quite real. Nkiruka’s spider was impressive only because of the distance involved. The illusion itself was quite crude. “I think, perhaps, you have not had the opportunity to see what a professional glamourist can do.”

  Nkiruka snorted and gave Jane a look that made her feel quite small.

  “I—yes, my apologies.” Jane clasped her hands in her lap, but undid them when she noticed the fabric of her dress smoothing over her stomach. “How … how do you approach glamour, then?”

  “Glamour is it own thing. Why mek it subben else?”

  Jane considered this, recalling a conversation she had once had when attempting to explain glamour to a little girl. The child had wanted to know why glamour used borrowed words. “Do you not think that a metaphor makes it easier to understand?”

  “Babies understand glamour.” She gestured with her chin at the children. “You ha fu teach dem fu see dis world. Fold? Weave? Stitch? Wrong words.”

  “I confess that I have spent my whole life thinking of glamour in these terms, so it is hard to think of it any other way.”

  “Ha! See? Dat ah de trouble. Look.” She drew a fold of yellow gl
amour out of the ether and fanned it out so that a sunrise seemed to be in her hand. “Now. You do this with a fold?” She slid her other hand across the length of the glamour and … Jane bit her lip in frustration. She could see the sunrise change smoothly from yellow to red to blue, but not how.

  “No. Can you describe what you just did? I am afraid I did not see it.”

  “Yes, m na-eke ya ka a na-eke ịsị aka, and then ị dọ ya-adọ ka ịwedata ugwu dị na ya ka hancha dị na-ala.” The woman stared a challenge at her.

  Jane took her point and sighed. “Would you show me again, please?”

  Maybe Jane could hazard a guess from watching only the visible parts. She would not chance even peeping into the ether, as much as she was tempted. It likely would not hurt, but before, when she had first been with child, even looking had made her dreadfully ill. Concentrating, she watched Nkiruka’s hands, trying to match the movement with techniques that she knew, but was confounded completely. “Did you stretch it?”

  “See? T’inking ’bout fabric stop you.” She raised her hands. “Again.”

  Jane shook her head. “Thank you, no. I am afraid I cannot see what you are doing.”

  Nkiruka looked at her as though she were stupid. Jane ducked her head, irritated that she could not explain that she was prohibited from working glamour, because to do so would be to tell Louisa and then Lord Verbury that she was with child. A little of her old distress returned. She was accustomed to being good at glamour—and not merely good. Jane would never admit it aloud, but she knew that her work could be accounted brilliant. So to be suddenly too stupid to even see a fold vexed her. Crying about it would be nonsensical, especially when sitting here surrounded by people who barely even had clothes enough, yet Jane’s eyes began to burn. She picked up her bonnet to go.

  As she lifted it, she saw Nkiruka look down at her stomach and make a small, “Ah.”

  Jane’s heart staggered, and, as if in response to her agitation, the baby kicked hard against her side. Only the fact that she was holding the bonnet kept Jane from touching the spot. She could not even weave a sphere of silence around them so she could beg Nkiruka to hold her tongue.