by Don McQuinn
Finishing the cleaning up, Leclerc drifted through the crowd. Soon he was aware of Bernhardt. She spoke to Carter and Anspach. The two of them cut a furtive glance at him. Then Kate approached him. He pretended not to notice. Jaleeta was missing from the gathering, which was troubling enough, but he was particularly concerned that she’d suddenly appear while he was alone with Kate.
Irritation combined with guilt and set him on edge. Kate Bernhardt was a friend, an ally from the crèche. There was no one in that group he liked as much.
The truth of the last thought was a revelation. It made him all the more cross. Now, if Jaleeta put in an appearance, he’d feel even worse for dismissing Kate.
It was her own fault. He never asked for her company. If she got hurt, it was on her own head.
Kate said, “We’ve only got a moment before someone interrupts. I wanted to tell you how proud I am. Our contribution to this world hasn’t been all that wonderful. You’re the one who’s been the most constructive. This antique-style fire engine is your best idea yet. Congratulations, Louis. And thanks.”
Her expression was warm, admiring. If Jaleeta saw that, she’d think something really stupid. Leclerc said, “It’s just a pump; I’m hoping we’ll find other uses for it. Anyhow, you three are the ones who’re doing the real work. Teaching a new generation of Teachers. That’s progressive. I just make toys.”
Laughing lightly, Kate put a hand on his arm. Leclerc didn’t move. In his mind, he cringed. The touch suggested intimacy, shared feelings and attitudes. Any number of things. It was exactly like her. Somehow she managed to create a sense of calm. Why couldn’t she understand he had every reason to be nervous as a cat? He hardly heard her good-bye.
He wished he’d been more welcoming. More polite, anyway. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy Kate’s company. He just wanted to be with Jaleeta more. Why couldn’t Kate understand?
When Gan retired to the castle the crowd slowly broke up. Working to hitch up the horses and move the pump wagon back to his farmhouse provided Leclerc with time to think. Oddly, his thoughts went to Nalatan’s discomfort. It was a short step from there to Lanta and the buzz of scandal when it was realized that she’d ridden off to join Conway.
It was Kate who finally convinced Sylah that Lanta was in no danger of having her religious faith sullied. Forcefully persuasive, Kate’s combination of warmth and quiet intensity swayed Sylah, persuaded her that the “religious” aspect of Conway and Tate’s trip wouldn’t impact on the small Priestess in any way. Leclerc clucked at the two-horse team; for such a reserved woman, Bernhardt could be amazingly compelling.
“No danger.” Leclerc voiced the words aloud later as he guided the team into the barn. He wasn’t sure exactly why the phrase popped into his mind, but it served to break the oppressive silence, and that was what he needed. The farm was deserted, everyone gone for the regular market day. He unhitched the animals and led them to their stalls. He just finished graining them when he heard the approaching horse.
He wondered if Jaleeta was finally coming. She’d want to see how the pump worked. How would he fill the water reservoir box? Could the two of them power the machine?
The rider appeared in the barn door. Late afternoon sunlight cut across the figure, obscuring it. Craning about, Leclerc advanced. Kate Bernhardt’s voice came at him. “I have to talk to you, Louis. I know I’m intruding, but it’s important.”
As always, she confused him. Her voice was soft, heavy with an urgency that gave it several nuances of intrigue.
Now what if Jaleeta showed up?
“I’ve got a lot of work to do, Kate. Couldn’t whatever’s troubling you wait until tomorrow?”
Color flooded her cheeks. “This isn’t easy. I’m bringing you news you’re not going to like, but I have to talk to you about it. Or go to Gan.”
“Me or Gan? It must be important.” Leclerc hated the stain of sarcasm, hated himself for not holding it back.
Kate’s urgency gave way to exasperation. “They’re talking about killing you. Right now I’m trying to make up my mind if I’m warning you because you’re important to Gan and the Three Territories, or if it’s because I give a damn if you live or die. In fact, I don’t think I do.”
Yanking on the bridle, she peeled her horse up onto its hind legs and into a pawing, head-tossing turn. Snorting surprise and indignation, it came down running. Before Leclerc could move, Kate was thundering out of the barnyard.
Chapter 18
Just as Leclerc abandoned hope of recalling Kate, he thought he saw her horse slow. He started running again, knowing how foolish he looked, puffing and panting down the muddy track. His strangled yelling sounded equally silly.
Turning in the saddle, Kate stopped. She laughed uproariously. Leclerc swallowed the last part of a shout and nearly choked. Salvaging shreds of dignity, he slowed to a walk. He wished he could look menacing. No one could manage a threatening mien when his feet were slithering about in ankle-deep mud like two pigs in slop. Balance alone demanded near-total concentration; there was none left over for manly posturing.
Kate trotted back. She looked contrite. Amusedly contrite. “I’m sorry, Louis. I lost my temper. You were pretty snotty.”
He wished she wasn’t so considerate. It blew all the anger out of him. Worse, it made him feel odd. “You caught me at a bad time.”
Understanding lingered in Kate’s smile, but it threatened to turn sharp. “You made that clear. I thought maybe something happened at your demonstration that troubled you. Or maybe something didn’t happen.”
Leclerc had the feeling he was being sliced like bacon. He reminded himself he mustn’t be short with her. That’s how all this got started. Or was it? He wasn’t sure of anything anymore. He said, “Come back to the house. Tell me what’s up.” He reached to the saddle cantle where it flared up behind her. Assuring his balance occupied him for a moment. When he looked back to Kate, he was startled by the change in her manner. She was bleak, brows drawn close, forehead cut by a deep frown.
“I’m afraid, Louis.”
“Of what? The war this spring?”
She shook her head, eyes still straight ahead. “I don’t know exactly.”
Leclerc tried to lighten her mood. “You’ll have to do better than that. You said someone’s out to kill me. I can’t run away until I know which direction is safe.”
The weak joke earned a weak smile. “Running won’t do it. That’s the problem. We’ve got enemies inside the walls.”
“In the castle? That can’t be.”
“I can’t say for sure there’s anyone in the castle. I know there are people in the Territories who actively oppose Gan. And us.”
“We’ve known that all along. What’s happened to frighten you? And don’t you think it’s about time for names?”
Kate blushed furiously. “It’s gossip. Some of the Violet Abbey sisters aren’t completely controlled by their Abbess. They tell us bits and pieces. Some people here are terrified by the things you do: We see invention, they see perversion. They hate us. They’re really afraid of you. The Violet Priestesses say four Barons seem to be working together a lot. Priestesses have overheard conversations. Nothing incriminating, but suggestive.”
“Come on, Kate; everyone in the Territories knows those old aristocrats miss their good old days. It’s the same old story; the rich always know what’s best for the poor.”
“They love power, and Gan took it from them. The Priestesses say men trade with the returned Mountain People. And theres’s talk that fishermen go out at strange times and won’t tell anyone where they’ve been. Some say they deal with Skan.”
They were at Leclerc’s place by then. He tied up Kate’s mount while she stepped to the ground. Walking across the raised stone porch into the house, he said, “No one’s ever stopped trade, Kate. I know, I know; the Priestesses suspect some sort of spying going on. Don’t you think Gan’s got his own spies working that territory? He’s no fool. And Gan’s ordered everyon
e to put away as much food as possible for spring. I’d be suspicious if the fishermen weren’t going out. They’re doing what they’ve been told.”
While Leclerc threw kindling on the coals and fanned up a flame, Kate moved to a chair. She decided to wait for him to finish his chore before arguing further. Looking around the room, she allowed herself to mentally step away from her deeper concerns for the moment.
It was unmistakably a bachelor’s cave. Equally, it could belong to no one but Louis. A desk stood piled with drawings and plans and pages of notes. Kate thought of her small Chosens, straining to grasp the simplest arithmetic. One day he’d make them aware of angles and diameters, of levers and pulleys, of friction and gravity. Pride swelled in her. Sylah brought the treasures of the Door, but it was herself and her friends who could teach the Chosens.
She snuggled deeper into the absorbing warmth of her leather armchair, telling herself to remember to get the name of the man who made them. They were Louis’ design, she knew.
Leclerc turned from the fireplace. She reluctantly straightened, surrendering her chair’s comforting embrace. “Everything you say is true, Louis, but you’re only putting a different face on the same facts. Anyhow, the Violet Abbess herself has said some things about ‘when Church discipline is reestablished.’ Last week she was openly wondering what Church would do with the ‘ruined’ Chosens. I think she’ll cast them out if she ever gets the chance.”
Leclerc shrugged. “Probably. She’s mean enough. That doesn’t prove—”
Kate cut him off. “Think, Louis. You cast out Chosens, you withdraw the protection of Church from orphan children. Where do you think they go? To lunch? They’ve got one future: slavery. She knows that.”
“Oh, someone would take them in.” Leclerc blustered, waved his arms. “Anyway, it’s just an old woman, shooting off her mouth. You see a threat to Gan? Really?”
“You bet I do. Not just Gan. Let me give you another of the good Abbess’ pithy observations: ‘Cut off the branches, kill the tree.’ Does that suggest anything to you?”
“Does it make any difference? You’re going to educate me anyhow.”
“I can educate children; a fool may be beyond me. Didn’t you hear the fear and anger in Emso today? All the things you’ve given Gan have marked you. I’ve seen your face when women hide their children from you. They call us Teachers witches, too. We speak of equality and we teach girls. Those are unforgivable crimes. But you. You do things no one can explain, make things no one’s ever seen. In your case, they believe.”
A rack of fire tools hung from the stone face of the fireplace. Taking the brass poker, Leclerc shuffled it around in the coals. The end of the instrument was cast in the shape of a man’s head, mouth open, eyes wide. When Leclerc lifted it, with sparks swirling around the end, it looked as if the tiny face spewed fire and ash. For a moment, Leclerc stared at the thing. He jammed it back into the rack, nearly dislodging the other tools. When he faced Kate again, his jaw was set. “I won’t let a lot of rumors keep me from perfecting things that mean progress.”
Kate shook with anger. “Don’t lecture me. I knew I shouldn’t have come here. You wouldn’t listen to me if I told you two and two is four.” She whirled. The heavy Church robe flared in a warning circle. On her way to the door she flung a last remark over her shoulder. “You’d be safe if your enemies knew you as well as I do. Just an overgrown boy, smart enough to build lethal toys and way too stupid to be a witch.”
The door was cedar planks, steel banded. A full two inches thick, it was proof against the strongest arrows, built to hold off a man with an axe for an appreciable time. When Kate slammed it, she put her back into it. The entire house shuddered. Leclerc yanked the door open again.
Kate sat her horse, backing away from the hitching rail. She matched Leclerc’s glare. A blink multiplied her ire. Blinking was weakness. But she had to. The tears would have come, otherwise, and that was even worse. She told herself she had to avoid breaking the delicate thread that was once the rich fabric of their friendship.
He held out both hands. “I didn’t ask to come to this world, Kate. No more than you did. But now that it’s happened I’m going to be everything I can be. Everything. I won’t be distracted.”
Kate’s heart closed like a fist. He didn’t understand anything. “Oh, forget it. Just forget it.” She pulled her horse’s head around.
To make her humiliation total, she looked up to discover Jaleeta a stone’s throw away. Kate turned to see if Louis knew of the other woman’s approach. Instantly, she regretted it. Leclerc stood on the porch, so tense he might have been impaled.
This was the second time this had happened; Kate wondered what miserable fate planned her life. Still, the sight of the other woman eased the fire burning in her. By the time she reached the gate, her departure and Jaleeta’s arrival literally simultaneous, there was nothing left but cold, bitter ash.
Jaleeta smiled too sweetly. “I heard you were coming this way. I hoped we could talk. Do you really have to leave? I suppose you must. It must be terribly demanding, being a mother to so many children. And not a father in sight.” She laughed merrily.
Kate found a smile. “It’s work. Not as tiring as trying to make a father out of every man in sight.” Kate intended her laughter to have a sneering ring. Instead, it raked at her ears as a grating cackle. Jaleeta’s composure actually cracked. Back straight, head up, Kate rode on. Inwardly, she worried. Behind that shining beauty she’d seen an even brighter evil.
Kate slowed. She should go back. Not even Jaleeta would seduce a man in front of a witness. Then Kate asked herself why she should bother. She couldn’t be present all the time. Nor did she want to be. She heeled her horse into a ground-eating trot, suddenly anxious to get home. She couldn’t compete with Jaleeta. If there was to be a struggle for Louis, something besides physical beauty would have to win it for Kate Bernhardt, she told herself. It was a heartrending admission.
* * *
Jaleeta bubbled with enthusiasm. “Everyone’s talking about your new machine. They think you’re wonderful.” Her teasing smile hinted at how much she agreed with them. “I want to see it myself. Will you show me? Please?”
Jaleeta was dressed in a formfitting blouse with overlying vest and matching trousers caught up in ornately decorated calf-high boots. The vest material was heavy linen, the blouse of the finest cotton. Both were a very pale beige, simply decorated. The window behind her was pieced glass, salvaged from godkills, and she made a perfect foil for the multicolored light. Jaleeta could never have explained the effect, that of a polished ivory figurine serene against the clash and vibrancy of hue and visual tension. She sensed it, however. She moved across the window, displaying.
Leclerc rushed to grant her request. Leading her toward the barn, he pointed out his large flock of chickens, indicating the effects of controlled breeding. Similarly, he drew her attention to the horses, cattle, and sheep roaming the adjacent fields. As they approached the barn, she linked her arm through his, gazing up at him. “You do so many things, Louis. Doesn’t it bother you when someone says you do magic?”
“You mean Emso?”
She looked away.
Leclerc grew expansive. “Emso doesn’t like to think about change. I want to change everything.” He swung his free hand in an all-encompassing arc. The other clamped harder on Jaleeta’s. “Where my friends and I came from, people had a name for me. I was called a ‘tinker.’ I liked to work with things, fix what was broken, make stuff. And I like excitement, too. I like challenge.”
They were entering the barn, then, a huge, dim place. High in the rafters, sparrows chattered constant aggression and complaint. Directly ahead, the pump gleamed softly. Jaleeta stopped, looked away from the machine. She wrinkled her nose, distracted, and aimed a questioning, unpleased look at Leclerc.
He hesitated, puzzled, then smiled broadly. “That smell bothers you? Hides tanning. I use a lot of leather, so we make it here. And the black powd
er uses sulfur and other things, too. Then there’s the coke ovens, off there in the distance. Lots of smells. A price of progress.” Quick, distracted irritation touched his features. When he spoke again, it was defensive. “I’ve said it before, and I meant it: I’m going to be everything I can be. It didn’t exactly work out that way for me before, but this time it’s going to be different. I’m in the game to the last card. No more tinker, no more fixer. This time it’s builder. Creator.”
Without realizing it, Leclerc had turned during his speech. He faced Jaleeta. His hands gripped her shoulders. The pressure of his attention caused her to take a rearward step. He leaned closer. A second step followed, and then another. An object stopped her abruptly, painfully. She exclaimed aloud. Leclerc paused. Awareness softened his features. Still, he maintained his grip. He spoke softly, confiding. “It’s appropriate that you should bump into this thing. A symbolism. This is power.”
Looking at the device, Jaleeta tingled with an inexplicable understanding of his meaning. The rough oak was rock-solid, but there was life in it. And death. Her eyes devoured the thing, its rough, plaited cord, the geared wheel and handle on its side. Brass gleamed, and cold iron’s sullen gray-black called for her to touch its menace. She reached, both hands caressing. Inhaled, taking in oiled wood, soft leather, hammered metal.
Satisfaction honeyed Leclerc’s voice. “This is where it comes from, Jaleeta. Power starts with this. And this.” He pointed to the catapult, then to his head. “Power isn’t a man’s arm, or clever schemes, or daring deeds. It’s knowing. And I’m the one who knows. There are more wonderful things to come. Each of them a step forward for me. And you.”
“Please. We have to talk. While we can. I promised we’d see each other. You know how I feel toward you. But I lied when I came today. I didn’t just come to see your new magic. I came to say we can’t be together the way we… I hoped.”
He stared. “You have someone else?”
Mute, she turned away. She shook her head.
