‘You shouldn’t address them at all.’ She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.
I don’t bother to hide my annoyance. ‘Then why am I learning this?’
She lets out a long, motherly sort of sigh before responding. ‘As Ambassador Patton’s escort, you will be expected to remind him of important names and information.’
‘Wait a minute.’ I tug out of the grip of the seamstress who is quietly sewing at my feet and turn to Enora. ‘Are you telling me I’m learning this so Cormac won’t have to?’
‘Of course.’
‘But I shouldn’t talk to these people?’
‘Only if they address you and only to make very casual conversation.’
‘Unbelievable.’ I’m not sure if I’m referring to the expectations or to Enora thinking this is normal.
‘That’s another thing.’ Enora hesitates. ‘You’re a bit too comfortable with him. Has Ambassador Patton asked you to call him by his first name?’
‘I can’t remember. He doesn’t seem to mind.’
‘Adelice,’ Enora says quietly. ‘He usually visits us once or twice a year, and he’s informed our head valet that he’ll be here at least once a week for the next month. Because right now he’s enamoured with you.’
‘Enamoured? Yuck, I just ate.’ I don’t care if half of Arras’s female population would run naked into his bed, he’s way too old for me. And I still don’t trust him.
‘You amuse him,’ she continues, ignoring my comment. ‘Just remember he’s the one who can sign the execution decree.’
So she knows. I hadn’t bothered to fill her in on the particulars of my meeting with him, and I’d purposefully forgotten to mention his remark about killing me. She worries enough.
‘Until he tells you otherwise, call him Ambassador Patton.’
‘Fine,’ I agree, stepping back onto the stool to allow the seamstress to continue working on my hem.
Enora pauses and draws in a breath, watching my fitting for a moment. ‘Maela has asked to go over your itinerary with you.’
‘That’ll be fun.’
‘Behave yourself,’ Enora orders me in a disapproving whisper.
A few minutes later, Maela enters my bathroom and gives the gown I’m wearing a critical look. ‘Interesting choice.’
I pretend I can’t hear her.
‘Ambassador Patton’s office has telebounded your official itinerary to me.’
‘I’d be happy to go over it with her,’ Enora offers.
Maela’s eyes burn, but she laughs at the suggestion. ‘I think it would be better if someone who has attended an official Guild event outside the compound briefs her. Why don’t you run up to the depository and retrieve suitable adornments for her?’
Enora gives me a sympathetic smile and leaves. Having succeeded in getting rid of Enora, Maela knows I’m at her mercy.
‘You’ve been to one of these before?’ I ask her.
‘You don’t think you’re the first Spinster to catch Cormac’s eye, do you?’ Maela asks.
So that’s her hang-up. ‘I haven’t given it much thought actually.’
Maela turns her attention to her personal digifile. ‘You will leave here tomorrow at seven in the morning and rebound to the Nilus Station, where you will have an image shoot with the local Stream crew.’
‘I came here through Nilus,’ I tell her, but she ignores me.
‘From there, you will rebound to the Allia Station in the Eastern Sector, followed by the Herot Station in the Southern Sector and the Ostia Station in the Northern Sector.’
‘That seems like a lot of work,’ I say, grimacing for emphasis. If I thought this would break the ice between us, I was wrong.
Instead Maela whips around to me and glares. ‘You don’t deserve this. There are dozens of girls here who’d give anything to escort Cormac without acting like some entitled brat.’
I’m guessing she’s one of them.
Just as quickly as her rage appeared, it evaporates. ‘At each stop you will participate in an image shoot,’ she continues. ‘You will be given a set of appropriate responses to the Stream crew’s questions and only speak when you are asked a question directly. Do you understand?’
‘Yes.’ I nod. ‘See! I did it!’ I add with mock enthusiasm.
This time she ignores my jibes. ‘You will visit Guild officials at each stop. I assume Enora has gone over expectations.’
‘Yep.’ I smile brightly. ‘Shut up and look pretty.’
Maela’s head snaps up, her face ripe with disapproval, but she doesn’t lecture me again. ‘The following morning Ambassador Patton will escort you to several image shoots and various scheduled appearances. Your aesthetician crew will rebound behind you.’
‘All of them?’
‘Yes.’ Maela’s face contorts in impatience, showing her age. ‘As will your personal guard.’
‘But I don’t have a personal guard,’ I point out.
‘Ambassador Patton has reassigned Erik to escort you,’ she says calmly.
I am acutely aware of the number of scissors scattered around the room.
Maela keeps her eyes on her digifile, probably trying not to stab me. Apparently Erik was right about Cormac wanting to get under her skin.
‘Valery will be attending you, of course, and she is bringing an assistant. Cormac has also ordered that Josten Bell serve as his valet.’
‘Josten Bell?’ I keep my face turned down to the seamstress working at my feet.
‘He attended you in the cells,’ she tells me, studying my face. ‘Don’t you remember him? He’s our head valet. I thought he’d taken an interest in you.’
‘The rude one?’ I ask.
‘That’s him.’
‘Why?’ It feels like a trap to send me travelling with two young men, or maybe Cormac’s just really stupid.
‘He attends Cormac – excuse me, Ambassador Patton – when he calls on the Western Coventry,’ she says, checking her digifile screen. ‘The ambassador has a fondness for him, or rather for his cocktail-mixing skills, and since his usual valet is unavailable, he took ours. It seems he doesn’t care about our ability to function while you two are travelling.’
‘I guess I didn’t think he was anybody important.’ I try to keep my tone dismissive and casual, but I’m aware of how fast my heart is beating. Not only has Maela noticed Jost’s attention to me, now he’s being dragged into this mess.
‘He’s not,’ Maela assures me as she disappears back into my bedroom.
‘That’s what I thought,’ I murmur to no one in particular.
Enora comes to help me pack, and my primary aesthetician, Valery, trails behind her. I’m grateful for the company. I know I’ll never sleep, like the night before Winter Solstice, when all you can think about is presents. But this time it’s fear, not excitement, that’s keeping me awake.
Valery whispers something into Enora’s ear and she squeezes her forearm in response. ‘Ready for tomorrow?’ she asks me, leaning against Enora.
I bite my lip and screw my face into one of panic. Valery laughs, but Enora shakes her head in amused disapproval.
‘I’ve been prepping her all day,’ Enora says to Valery, but her eyes are on me. ‘She’d better be ready.’
‘If you prepped her, I’m not worried,’ Valery says, giving my mentor’s arm a friendly pat. ‘But I’d better be ready to do my part.’ My aesthetician grins at me and slips into the bathroom. She’ll be sure to have all her tools ready for this trip: the thought sends me spiralling back into dread.
Most of my belongings are being sent along with the crews following me through the rebound stations, but Enora hands me a small red box tied with a satiny white bow. It reminds me of the presents my parents brought into my room on my birthday each year. I never got a chance to enjoy the perfume they bought me on my last one, a gift to celebrate turning sixteen and the promise of my long-awaited dismissal. I ooh and aah as I open Enora’s gift, but I have to fight the hollow ache it prompts i
n my chest.
It’s a personal digifile.
‘For your rebounds,’ she tells me as she shows me how it powers on. ‘I know they can make you sick, so I thought this might distract you. It has all the information you need.’
I gently touch the screen and it offers me a variety of entertainment options: cosmetic and clothing catalogues, Stream vlips, and the latest Guild Bulletin.
‘Thank you,’ I say, genuinely pleased with the gift. Although I’ve seen some people like Maela using them, in Romen only highly ranked businessmen could afford digifiles, and I’ve never seen a woman use one outside the Coventry. It makes me feel important to have one of my own.
‘It will also allow you to communicate directly with Ambassador Patton,’ Enora says, sliding her finger to select complant compatibility. ‘He wanted us to fit you with a complant, but Maela threw a fit.’
For the first time I’m grateful for Maela’s jealousy. ‘He wanted me to have a complant?’
‘He’s been pushing for Spinsters to be fitted for years,’ she tells me. ‘He claims it will allow for quicker response to imminent threats to Arras.’
‘Is he right?’
‘No, we’re prepared with Spinsters on emergency duty at all hours. He’s more interested in keeping tabs on us.’
I try to hide my surprise at her openness. Despite her kindness, Enora rarely speaks so directly with me.
‘Why did Maela say no?’
‘Don’t worry,’ she says, and laughs. ‘She’s not reconsidering your relationship. She couldn’t get approval from Loricel, so I suggested this.’
‘Loricel?’ I ask, scanning through the files.
‘She’s the only person around here who says no to Cormac.’
I set the digifile down and pay closer attention. ‘Who is she?’
‘She’s the Creweler.’
‘Like you?’ I ask, recalling Enora’s various duties.
‘No, I’m nothing like her,’ she admits. ‘I merely assist her on certain projects.’
‘But there’s more than one, right?’
‘Not really,’ she says, lounging back on a floor cushion. ‘True Crewelers are very rare. Loricel is the only Creweler in Arras.’
‘The only one?’ I stop pacing and sit down next to her.
‘Crewel work is an act of pure creation. Crewelers do more than weave the fabric of Arras. They can capture the materials to create the weave. Only they can see the weave of the raw materials.’ She looks at me pointedly. ‘It is only through Loricel that Arras survives. The Spinsters wouldn’t have any matter to weave if it weren’t for her special gift.’
‘How old is she?’ I ask, my stomach dropping. All the years of hiding and lying about my ability to touch the weave without a loom, even here at Enora’s request, make sense now.
‘It’s hard to say, with renewal patches and medication,’ Enora says lightly. ‘But she’s been in service for over sixty years.’
She must be ancient. ‘What happens when she dies?’
‘They’ll find a new Creweler.’ Enora’s gaze is steady on mine. ‘But so far there haven’t been any real contenders.’
‘And if we can’t find one?’ I whisper.
‘Arras will fade away.’
I search her face for a sign of sadness or fear but it’s not there. If the possibility of Loricel’s death frightens her, she doesn’t show it. But the image of Amie laughing with her friend floats to my mind, followed by how Jost’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. Without a Creweler, they’ll fade away too. It’s a possibility I can’t even consider.
‘Cormac showed me Amie, you know,’ I say in a quiet voice.
‘Your sister?’ Enora confirms, and I nod my head.
I haven’t spoken of her often since I’ve been here. My life feels split in two: before and after. Everything that preceded my retrieval is a secret. A past life that has no place here, and although Amie is alive, for me she exists only in that time. I keep her there in my private thoughts, but something about the memories parading through my head as they prep me for travel longs to break free and be acknowledged.
‘She was happy,’ I say, and I hear how my voice almost echoes from the pain. I don’t tell Enora that Amie’s different now or what’s been done to her. Or that my thoughts have turned from memories to plans, and that the real reason I’m going along with this tour is to get out from behind the Coventry walls to the world of before, where Amie still exists, even if she’s changed.
‘I think rebounding will be much more comfortable for you this time,’ she says, pushing the digifile into my hands and forcing my mind back to the present moment.
The shackles from my first trip flash through my thoughts and set my hands trembling. ‘I won’t be—’
‘No,’ she says in a rush, reading my thoughts. ‘You will be travelling in first-class rebounding chambers. Ambassador Patton wants you kept happy.’
‘I’m still not sure what I did to deserve this,’ I admit.
Enora smiles sadly. We’re not stupid enough to believe the top-notch privileges I’ve been receiving have anything to do with me deserving them. ‘I guess we’ll have to wait and see.’
In the morning, I ride by motocarriage to my rebounding appointment. Erik and Jost come with me, but the rest of my crew follows behind. Erik keeps up a steady stream of chatter, but Jost sits quietly to the side. I laugh with Erik, but I feel the thickness of the air in the back of the carriage – Jost isn’t happy about being sent all over Arras. And he doesn’t seem thrilled about me chattering away with Erik either.
My scruffy friend has been cleaned up for the event. Jost’s face is closely shaved, and his hair is combed and tucked behind his ears. It brushes the collar of his grey wool jacket.
‘How do you two know each other?’ I ask Erik, pointing at Jost.
Jost startles out of his malaise and stares at me.
‘You said he sent you . . .’ I trail off, not wanting to talk too much about what Jost told me in the cell in case the Guild has installed audio transmitters in our motocarriage.
‘Jost is the head valet,’ Erik informs me. ‘When I couldn’t come to your cell, I asked him to attend to you.’
‘Okay.’ I nod, not sure I believe it’s as simple as that. Jost spoke as though he knew Erik. As if they had a history of some sort, and not a pleasant one.
‘Are you nervous about rebounding?’ Erik asks, changing topics.
Out of the corner of my eye I spy Jost settling back against his seat, but his eyes remain on me.
‘Yes,’ I admit, trying to ignore the steady gaze of Jost’s blue eyes. ‘My first experience wasn’t very pleasant.’
‘Well, that was not a typical experience,’ Erik tells me.
‘I forgot. You were there,’ I remember out loud.
He nods. If he’s sorry about ordering the medic to dose me, he doesn’t show it.
‘Enora gave me this,’ I tell him, producing my digifile from my handbag.
Erik lets out a low whistle. ‘Fancy gift.’
‘Really?’ I ask, flushing. ‘I assumed most Spinsters got one.’
‘Nah, Maela has one, but only because she sits on the training panel. Enora pulled some strings for that,’ Erik says.
‘I had no idea,’ I admit.
For a brief second Erik’s eyes flash to Jost’s, but whatever prompted the look, neither speaks. The conversation trails off again and I’m grateful the ride is short, because my stomach is doing cartwheels.
The rebound station that sits outside the compound walls is small and unassuming. Erik escorts me through the double brass doors into a small lobby with one brushed-velvet chair, which I’m forced to sit in. Behind us, my team, along with my gowns, bags and carts, filters in, packing the tiny room. A polished woman in a sky-blue suit appears from the hallway and speaks briefly with Erik. I watch as he nods and gestures to the group. A moment later, she strides over and beckons for me to follow her. I walk by her side. Behind us I hear Erik smoothly dir
ecting the rest of the group into an ordered line.
‘You’re rebounding into Nilus?’ the woman asks me evenly, and I manage a nod. She’s older, with her hair neatly kept in a simple bun, and she guides me with the expertise of someone who’s done this her whole life.
‘Your rebound will take about an hour,’ she continues, leading me into a softly lit room and directing me to sit in an overlarge leather seat in the dead centre of the chamber. She reaches towards a panel beside me, and I hear the click of a button as she pushes it. I tense, waiting for the metal helmet to lower onto my head, but instead a small oak tray table glides over my lap. I exhale as she fastens a long, thick belt diagonally across me.
‘Have you rebounded before?’ she asks curiously.
‘Yes.’
‘I’m sorry to ask,’ she says. ‘You seem nervous. Most people aren’t as scared the second time around.’
I shrug weakly, not wanting to tell her I was chained to the chair during my last rebound.
‘You’ll be fine,’ she tells me sweetly. ‘I’ll bring you some tea.’
She disappears out the door, and Erik’s head appears in the doorway. ‘I’ll see you at Nilus.’
‘See you there,’ I manage.
He continues past my door and Jost follows him. Our eyes meet for only a moment, but I can’t think of anything to say to him. As soon as he’s out of my sight, the stewardess reappears with a glass of iced tea.
‘Best not to drink anything hot until you’re more accustomed to rebounding,’ she advises, setting it neatly on a square white napkin in front of me.
‘Thank you,’ I tell her sincerely, and she pats my arm as she exits. I feel my chest constrict, the memory of my last stewardess tugging at my mind.
After the door is shut, the room begins to shimmer, fading in and out around me. This time without the helmet blocking my vision, I’m struck by how beautiful it is. Strands of golden light wind around me, and the rebound chamber gradually dissolves. I relish the few moments when everything is pure time, knitted with raw material, as it is seconds before the weave binds together into the new room. I forget about the tea and the digifile I’m clutching in my sweaty palm as the room flickers in and out of my vision and another slowly and gracefully replaces it. I relax back into the chair as the hour passes, noting how each piece of the room is carefully rewoven until I’m in a bright red space decorated with a vibrant pattern painted in gold along its walls. As the last bit of the chamber settles into place, a pretty young girl bounces into the room.