The Law of Isolation (53 page)

The first girl sniggered. “How much do you want to wager it will be a seven-month child?”

All the girls and a few of the boys laughed. “A big, healthy one,” the second girl added. “What will that be, his twelfth?”

“Thirteenth, I think,” the first girl said.

Mansan turned his back on the gossiping girls. “Don’t pay them any mind. Vigorre’s not bad. A bit serious sometimes, but who can blame him? You’ll like him.” He waved toward the three newcomers descending the stairs. “Vigorre, over here!” He turned back to Nirel. “He’ll come over once he can get loose from his father.”

Nirel smiled and nodded, doing her best not to let her racing heart affect her breathing. “I would like to meet him.”

Mansan made a mocking grimace at her. “Remember, I get the first dance, at least.”

One of the other boys elbowed him. “You shouldn’t make it so easy on him. He should have to work to take her away from you.”

Mansan waved airily. “I’m just giving her the chance to see how much more fun I am than he is.” He cocked his head as a new strain of music wafted across the room. “Hey, there’s the first dance starting. Come on, Lady Nirel. Let’s show the rest of these jokers how it’s done.”

Nirel found Mansan’s attention both flattering and intimidating. But she couldn’t let him distract her from her purpose. She tried to sneak glances at Vigorre Rothen as Mansan led her into the middle of the room. Almost all the young people were hurrying to take their places in the beginning figure of the dance. But once the music transitioned into the opening strains, she had to give her full concentration to moving her feet in the proper patterns. Luckily this dance was one Kevessa had taught her, but she’d never actually done it with a group before. Several times she blundered in the wrong direction, disrupting the carefully forming and reforming patterns of bodies, but always her fellow dancers redirected her with tolerant smiles. She was glad this particular dance involved only minor interaction with one’s partner, no more than occasionally touching hands and circling around each other before moving off to perform similar moves with others.

As she circled to the far side of the room, she caught a glimpse of Kabos standing near the far wall. Three matronly ladies were taking turns chattering at him, trying to draw him into a conversation. Whenever one got him to produce a taciturn word or two, they broke into delighted giggles. Nirel smiled at the look of grim endurance on her father’s face.

When the music concluded, there was a brief pause as the dancers caught their breaths. Mansan took a pair of cups from a passing servant’s tray and handed her one. She sipped the cool fruit juice gratefully. Then a new strain of music began, and Mansan passed her to one of the other boys who had been in their group. He whirled off with another girl before she could ask him about Vigorre.

For the third dance, she found herself with yet another partner. This dance was difficult, and she had to focus on not making a complete fool of herself. When it was over, she stood panting, wishing her stays didn’t restrict her chest so much.

“There will be a break before the next one,” her partner told her.

“Thank the Mother,” she blurted without thinking.

He laughed at her. “I quite agree. Look, they’ve brought out more food.” He led her to a long table where most of the other young people were clustered.

Mansan waved to her. “There you are, Nirel. Come over here.”

She bobbed her head in farewell to her partner and made her way through the crowd to him. He grabbed her arm and pulled her through a cluster of girls. “Vigorre, there’s someone you’ve got to meet. Nirel, this is Vigorre Rothen. Vigorre, this is Lady Nirel. She’s one of the visitors from Tevenar.”

Nirel curtsied, her mind racing. She had to figure out a way to speak at length with the First Keeper’s son in order to carry out the mission Elder Davon had given her.

Vigorre made it easy. His dark eyes took her in with immediate interest. “I’m happy to meet one of our guests from across the sea.”

She met his eyes boldly for a moment before dropping hers. “Everyone here has made me very welcome.”

“I hope to do the same. Would you do me the honor of joining me in the next dance?”

“I would like that. As long as you realize that I am not very practiced in your dances and will need guidance.”

“It will be my pleasure.” Vigorre swept her a bow. His attitude was earnest, with none of the teasing mockery Mansan would have put into the gesture. Nirel bobbed a quick curtsey in reply.

It took no effort to remain at Vigorre’s side as they helped themselves to generous portions of the dainty, delicious treats laid out on the tables. He seemed just as interested in remaining in her company as she was in staying with him. He wasn’t very talkative, but he listened to the conversation that ebbed and flowed around them, occasionally offering a word or two of explanation to Nirel when the gossip turned to people she didn’t know. Nirel found his quiet refreshing. It gave her time to think about what she would say.

The musicians struck up a new tune, its gentle, lilting strains drifting across the room. The crowd reacted with an intensity at odds with the pleasant music. The young people applauded and hurried to find partners and move into the dancing area. The parents murmured with various degrees of disapproval.

Vigorre arched one eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have thought Lady Yovella would allow a waltz at her ball. I suppose she must care more for fashion than propriety, after all.” He inclined his head to Nirel. “I’ll excuse you from our agreement, if you prefer not to share such an intimate dance with a stranger.”

Nirel eyed the couples in the middle of the room. They were standing much closer together than for any of the previous dances, one pair of hands clasped, the other arms circling each other’s waists. As the music reached the end of the introduction and shifted into the main section, the couples stepped off in graceful unison, swaying around the floor arm in arm.

She swallowed. She couldn’t back out now. This was much too good an opportunity. Kabos would hate it, but he couldn’t object to her following Elder Davon’s instructions. Her heart raced at the thought of allowing Vigorre so close, but she found to her surprise that mixed with her nervous reluctance was a thread of excitement.

She cleared her throat. “I have no objection. As long as you’re sure your father will approve.”

Vigorre snorted as he took her hand and led her toward the dancers. His grip was firm and warm. “He adores the waltz. Look.”

Nirel followed his nod. Across the room, First Keeper Rothen was whispering in his young wife’s ear. She blushed and giggled as he swept her into his embrace and out among the dancers.

“Father considers undue preoccupation with outward shows of modesty a Purifier affectation. He maintains that it honors the Mother to enjoy all her gifts.” Vigorre stepped close to Nirel. Before she quite realized what was happening, his arm went around her waist and his hand settled firmly in the small of her back.

She resisted the impulse to flinch and pull away. Instead, she copied the position of the other women and set her hand tentatively between Vigorre’s shoulders. He offered his other hand, and she laid hers in it lightly. “Kevessa never showed me this dance.”

“It’s simple enough. Just follow my lead.” Gentle pressure of his hand on her back guided her toward the center of the room.

She stumbled a few times before she caught the trick of the steps. But he moved confidently, without showing any dismay at her clumsiness. For a while she kept her gazed focused on her feet and her mind chanting the
one
-two-three rhythm.

But as soon as she mastered the dance, she looked up. Nervous as she felt, she had to use this opportunity to talk with Vigorre. “Do you share your father’s opinion?”

He didn’t answer for a moment. When he did, it was with a one-sided smile and an air of choosing his words carefully. “I enjoy waltzing. But I can see the Purifiers’ point. Some of my friends take advantage of the dance.” He glanced at Mansan and his partner. They were pressed much more tightly together than Vigorre and Nirel, with his hand several inches lower down her back, and their eyes locked in a smoldering gaze. Nirel blushed and quickly looked away.

Religious politics suddenly seemed a much safer subject. “I still don’t understand about the Purifiers. We have nothing like them in Tevenar.” She wondered if she ought to begin to hint at the deception that was her true purpose, but decided it was too soon. “Are their beliefs really that different?”

Vigorre tilted his head. “They are and they aren’t. They believe the same things about the Mother that the Temple teaches. Just more rigidly, more absolutely. They claim the Temple has grown lax and corrupt through the years, and that our faith must return to the pure worship of the Mother practiced by the ancient wizards. My father says their interpretation of the sacred writings is far too narrow and literal. That the Mother can’t be confined within any words, no matter how inspired, and that she’s constantly revealing new aspects of her power to us.”

Nirel heard a note of ambivalence underlying his words. “What about you? What do you believe?”

He looked at her, dark and unreadable. “Shouldn’t a son stand by his father and adhere to his teachings?”

“Only if you believe them. For yourself, not just because it’s what you’ve been taught.” Nirel made her voice as certain as she could.

“Oh? You speak as if you have experience in these matters. Have you disagreed with your father’s beliefs?” Vigorre looked past her toward where she’d last seen Kabos, an eyebrow arching in speculation.

“I—” She’d better be careful not to contradict what she needed to say later. “I’d rather not talk about it right now. But I’ve always made up my own mind about what I believe.”

“Hmm.” He studied her in silence through several measures of the dance. When he spoke again, his voice was very low. She had to strain to catch his words over the music and other couples’ conversation. “While I don’t agree with everything the Purifiers espouse, I do have certain… sympathies… with some of their arguments. A number of their criticisms of the Temple accord with my observations.” His gaze shifted away from Nirel’s. “I love my father and support him. As long as I can remember I’ve planned to follow him as a Keeper. But the Temple does abuse its power. If we don’t change that from within, the Purifiers will force reform on us from without. And with it will come their other policies, which will harm Ramunna as they have harmed Marvanna.” He flashed an apologetic smile at Nirel. “I’m sorry. You probably find these matters tedious.”

“No, I’m interested. I asked, didn’t I?” The more she could get him to confide in her, the more credible he’d find it when she confided in him in turn. “Tell me more. What sorts of abuses do you mean?”

He scowled. “If you haven’t heard the gossip already, I’m sure you will. My father has always acted honorably in his dealings with women, despite what people say, but not all Keepers hold to his standards. There’s a lot of wealth and status in being a Keeper’s wife, or even his mistress. I’ve had girls offer me far more than they should, hoping I’ll favor them once I’m a Keeper.” He hesitated and looked away before rushing on. “By law the Temple receives a tithe of everyone’s earnings, even the poorest folk. All that money goes to build larger and more ornate temples in the wealthy districts, when it doesn’t go into the Keepers’ pockets. The only place to worship in the whole Beggars’ Quarter is a little bare building scarcely big enough for a hundred people to crowd into. People suffer and die uncomforted every day, while we argue fine points of theology. We may no longer have the power to heal them, but at least we could do something!”

Nirel blinked, taken aback by the passion her innocent query had unleashed. “This really matters to you, doesn’t it?”

He flushed. “Yes. Not that I can do anything about it. I’m only an acolyte. Maybe someday, if my father’s name helps me reach a position of influence, I can start to make a difference. Until then I can only watch, and think, and speak out when I can get someone to listen.” He looked sideways at her. “Most people think I’m strange to care about such things.”

“I don’t know why. Your concerns seem legitimate to me.” Nirel didn’t have to feign sincerity.

He smiled wryly. “Are things very different where you come from?” His voice remained casual, but his expression took on an odd intentness. “Are the wizards everyone is talking about like the wizards of ancient Marvanna, who abused the Mother’s power until she took it away from them? Or do they use it as she intended from the beginning, to ease her children’s suffering?”

It was the perfect opening, but Nirel found she couldn’t take it. Suddenly she was ashamed of the elaborate series of lies she needed to make him believe.

The music drew to a close, giving her an excuse to evade the question. She dropped her eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s complicated. If we had more time I could explain. Perhaps we could dance again later?”

Vigorre guided her to a smooth halt. “I’d enjoy that.” He released her hand and took his arm from around her waist, stepping back. The places his warm body had pressed against her felt cold in his absence.

All around them, couples drew wistfully apart, applauding the musicians, a few calling for them to play another waltz. Nirel smiled awkwardly at Vigorre and turned away. She drifted toward the food tables. The musicians began to play one of the conventional figure dances, a complicated one Nirel hadn’t yet had the chance to learn. She was just as glad to wait a dance out. She was tired, and she needed to clear her mind so that when she spoke with Vigorre again she could stay focused on her task.

A hand closed hard on her forearm. She turn to meet Kabos’s burning gaze.

“How dare you!” he hissed. He dragged her toward a clear stretch of wall. “Of all the wanton, indecent, shameless displays of lust—”

“Father!” Nirel kept her teeth clenched, her lips stretched in a frozen smile. “Don’t make a scene!” Loudly, for the benefit of those around who were giving them odd looks, she said, “I know you didn’t want me to waltz, but there’s no harm in it. Everyone was having such a good time.”