Part 21 (1/2)

In the morning, they ran the drop-hammer for the first time. It worked perfectly for about an hour, then broke a shaft. Gignomai declared that this was much better than he'd antic.i.p.ated, and supervised the stripping of the gear train. It was a simple fracture, the result of a cold spot in a weld. It would take most of the afternoon to fix.

In the afternoon, Cousin Pasi came to see him. She appeared through the trees on a white palfrey, led by a single groom. She wore a dark green hooded robe. It was like something out of a fairy tale, which was presumably the desired effect. The groom was Scarpedino Heddo.

Gignomai was up to his elbows in black grease, aligning the bearings on the overhead shaft. ”Leave it,” he said, ”I won't be long.” He wiped his hands on his s.h.i.+rt, and went down to meet her. She'd brought a tiny lightweight folding table, two cus.h.i.+ons, a bottle of imported wine and two gla.s.ses.

”Your brother Luso and I are getting married,” she said.

Gignomai nodded. ”That's why you're here, I a.s.sume.”

She smiled. ”Luso told me you're sharp,” she said. ”That's right. When did you guess?”

Gignomai raised his gla.s.s in a formal toast. ”Why?” he asked.

She shrugged. ”Really it's the only logical course of action,” she said. ”I did consider Stheno, but...”

”Quite.”

”And your father agrees with me,” she went on. ”He feels Luso would be the more appropriate choice. Strength of mind were the words he used. I think I know what he meant by it.”

Gignomai put the gla.s.s down. ”So,” he said, ”what exactly did you do, back Home?”

”Oh, that.” She flicked a strand of hair away from her face. ”I sort of killed someone.”

Sort of, Gignomai noted. He couldn't help admiring the choice of phrase. ”Who?”

”My husband. He was impossible,” she went on, frowning a little. ”Oh, he drank and he gambled and he was a lout and he chased the maids and generally carried on, but I could put up with that. He wasn't any worse than my father, and I've always got on well with him. No, what finally put the lid on it was when he decided he wanted to play at politics. I warned him, he'd get into all sorts of trouble, but he never listened to me, of course. And then he got indicted for some ridiculous conspiracy, and I knew that as soon as they pulled him in and started putting pressure on him, he'd lose his nerve and say anything they wanted him to, and then there'd be an almighty mess. I really didn't want to get sent into exile with him, so I put a little something in his drink. Really, it was the best thing for everybody under the circ.u.mstances. Unfortunately, my father-in-law made a quite appalling fuss about it-he simply refused to believe his precious son was mixed up in any nonsense. He made out I wanted Phero out of the way because of some stupid affair, but that had been over for months anyway. Boulo tried to sort him out, but poor Boulo's not the sharpest needle in the cus.h.i.+on and he made rather a botch of it. Father-in-law went to the Court and laid a formal charge of murder, so Boulo and I thought it'd probably be just as well if we cleared out. Ironic, really: I killed Phero so I wouldn't end up in a place like this, and here I am.”

”How awful for you,” Gignomai said pleasantly.

”Quite. Well,” she went on, ”we really didn't have the first idea about where we were going to go. Boulo said we should head for the Republic, because at least it's civilised there. He's always wanted to see Vesanis, of course, he does so love the theatre and music, not to mention Vesani actresses. But I told him, bearing in mind the nonsense poor Phero was mixed up in, Vesanis was the last place on earth we could go: it'd look like he and I were in it too, and then we'd be officially outlawed and all the money would be seized, and then where would we be? So he suggested coming here.”

Gignomai nodded. ”So you could marry Luso.”

”Or Stheno, or you. We weren't too bothered about details. People still think quite highly of the met'Oc back home, you know. You're considered to have taken a principled stand, and several good families think you were rather hard done by, though naturally that's not the sort of thing anyone says unless it's strictly among friends. But”-she shrugged, and sipped her wine, absorbing a tiny amount of it-”after all, I've got to marry somebody, and really, there's not an infinity of choice, unless I marry outside the Families, which I'd really rather not do if I can help it.” She smiled. ”Boulo tried to persuade me that some of the older Vesani houses are practically respectable, but he's such a romantic. In time, all this nonsense will blow over, and then I'd be stuck abroad for ever and ever, married to some clown with longer hair than me, spending all my time going to the opera. No, Boulo had to admit it eventually, the met'Oc were the logical choice. So here we are.”

Gignomai nodded slowly, as though it all made the most perfect sense. ”Luso's quite happy with the idea.”

She mock-scowled at him. ”Yes, of course he is. I mean, who's he he going to marry otherwise? No, he's perfectly delighted with it.” going to marry otherwise? No, he's perfectly delighted with it.”

”Do you like him?”

She grinned. ”Actually, I do. He's so fierce, fierce, it's such a refres.h.i.+ng change from poor dear Phero. Of course Phero couldn't help the way he was made, and with that awful father of his he turned out much better than anyone could have expected. But he wasn't up to much. People used to say he was so soft you could've spread him on fresh bread. Luso's quite different. I think we'll get on famously.” it's such a refres.h.i.+ng change from poor dear Phero. Of course Phero couldn't help the way he was made, and with that awful father of his he turned out much better than anyone could have expected. But he wasn't up to much. People used to say he was so soft you could've spread him on fresh bread. Luso's quite different. I think we'll get on famously.”

”Quite possibly,” Gignomai said politely. ”Does he know? About your first husband, I mean?”

She nodded. ”He laughed,” she said. ”Made some joke about having to be very careful about eating what was put in front of him. I think your father was a bit alarmed at first, but he's a practical man, he knows a good deal when he sees one.”

Gignomai smiled. ”Oh, I'm sure he does. The deal being, Luso inherits when Father dies, because he's the one capable of producing a legitimate heir, meanwhile, the met'Ousa will do everything they can to see to it that we can go back Home and get our property back. You'll end up as the wife of the met'Oc, and we'll get away from this place. Ideal.”

”Thank you,” she said. ”We think so. Of course, there's a lot of detail to sort out first, and it's so difficult in the circ.u.mstances, without proper valuations, or even knowing what you'd be likely to get back and what's gone for good. But in any event, it's got to be better than pining away in Vesanis. It's so hot there, all year round, I think I'd go out of my mind. Boulo doesn't feel the heat, of course. He's lucky.”

Gignomai sat up a little. ”Well,” he said, ”I hope it all works out for you, and I wish you the very best of luck. Not sure what any of this has got to do with me.”

She gave him a rather sweet smile. ”Oh come on,” she said. ”You're Luso's brother. You're family.”

”Not any more,” Gignomai replied quickly. ”And I've got a piece of paper to prove it.”

”Oh, I think we can sort that out,” she said mildly. ”Luso's very keen to get you back. In fact,” she went on, s.h.i.+fting just a little, ”he's sort of made it a condition of the agreement.”

Gignomai frowned. ”Go on.”

”Well.” She looked away a degree or so. ”Bluntly, he won't marry me unless your father revokes the disownment. I'm with Luso,” she went on. ”I think it was an awful thing to do, and if Luso wants to use the wedding to put pressure on your father, I'm all for it. Luso's very fond of you, you know. He says it's been very fraught up there since you left, and he's been trying to think of a way-”

”Luso always agrees with Father,” Gignomai interrupted. ”He always does as he's told.”

”He keeps the peace,” she said. ”And really, you can't blame him for that. Someone's got to, in every family. My mother's made a career out of keeping my father and Boulo from tearing each other to bits. And Luso's very good at it. You've got to admit, you're not the most docile family in the world.”

Gignomai didn't say anything for a while. Then he said, ”You still haven't told me what you want from me.”

She pursed her lips. He got the impression she disapproved of the request she was about to make. Presumably he was meant to. ”Like I said, the dowry terms are still being sorted out, but Boulo thinks it's almost certain that he'll need to ask you for his men back. As I understand it, your father wants them to add to his garrison or standing army, or whatever you like to call it.”

”Luso's gang.”

”Yes, if you like. Your father feels that your family needs more footsoldiers. And the fact that they're from Home really appeals to him. He reckons that means they'd be better than the local material.”

”And Luso agrees with him.”

She made a nothing to do with me gesture. ”Back Home it's considered unforgivably gauche for the bride to take an interest in the settlement negotiations. I'm just pa.s.sing on the message.”

”And Cousin Boulomai sent you instead of coming and talking to me himself.”

”I wanted to talk to you anyway.” She gave him a hard, cold look. ”I had this silly idea you might like to get to know your future sister-in-law. Please forgive me if I've inadvertently breached some local protocol.”

Gignomai lifted his hand in the minimum possible apology. ”The thing is,” he said, ”I'm not sure they'd want to. They've fitted in here really well, made themselves useful, they're excellent workers and they seem to like the idea of what we're trying to do here. If they want to stay, I honestly don't see how I can make them go.”

”I'm sure you can think of something,” she said. ”Anyway, that's the request; what you do about it is entirely up to you. The other thing-”

”Other thing,” Gignomai repeated. ”I see.”

”Luso wants you to be his best man,” Pasi said. ”Or at least to be there when we get married. He keeps going on and on about it. I'm sick of hearing him, in fact.”

Gignomai shook his head. ”Not possible,” he said.

”Oh, you don't need to worry about that,” she replied. ”Luso's said, he'll put his foot down. If your father makes any fuss at all, there won't be a wedding. He told me, he's absolutely set his heart on it. It just wouldn't be right without you, he said.”

”Then he's going to be disappointed,” Gignomai replied. He stood up, a beautifully composed gesture of finality. ”Thank you so much for coming to see me,” he said. ”And I wish you every happiness, needless to say. If you'd care to wait there, I'll fetch your horse.”

”Don't be so stupid,” she snapped, and he felt the tug of her voice; it was hard to ignore. ”Stupid and selfish. One day being civil to your brother isn't going to kill you.”