Fearsome Dreamer (16 page)

‘Can you hook yet?'

‘What?' said Rue, annoyed.

‘Hook, you know? I can. But I suppose I have an advantage, my brother is Talented as well. He taught me some of it last winter, when we finally found out I had been accepted here. I cannot wait to Jump for the first time, though.'

Rue listened to this with resentful curiosity, trying to comb out anything useful she could from the babble. The girl must have noticed her strained expression, because she smiled.

‘You don't know what the Talent is, do you? Well, why would you. I only know because of my brother. I'm surprised you weren't told on the way here, though. A recruiter picked you up, didn't they?'

Rue shrugged.

The girl slid off the bed, clutching her book. The thin nightgown ruffled briefly upwards to the tops of her thighs.

‘My family name is Pralette. My familiar is Lea, though. Only Mussyer White insists on calling me Zelle Pralette, as if he still lives in the last century, so please don't call me that.'

‘All right,' said Rue, warming to the constant chatter, despite herself. It was better than no talk at all, and listening was easy enough.

‘You should come for breakfast at eight. It's in the dining room. You're too late for supper but you can go to the kitchen and eat anything you like. You wouldn't be able to do that in other university houses but we're treated quite well here. They're a bit afraid of us, I think. Sometimes I like that, but other times it's a bit annoying. And it makes me feel sad.'

Rue didn't quite know what to say to that. For the first time in her life, she began to understand what it might be like to talk to someone insistent on being truthfully blunt at every opportune moment.

‘All right,' she said. ‘Where's the dining room, then?'

‘It's just down the corridor, but don't worry, I shall knock on your door and take you with me in the morning. All these doors look alike. And then I shall take you to class. Mouse hasn't told me I should but she won't worry herself about it, I am sure.'

Rue was delighted. ‘You mean Zelle Penafers? She does look like a mouse!'

‘She's useless,' said Lea airily. ‘I shouldn't think on her at all. She's not afraid of us, she just thinks we're all pointless. I shall complain to my father about her, I think. He's on the university board, you know. Some people think that's why I got a place here, but I've been showing Talented signs since I was little, so.'

Rue had time to wonder at the oddness of someone who said she wanted peace and quiet to read, but created so much noise instead, as Lea stepped delicately over her discarded bags and whipped out of the open door.

‘I shall collect you in the morning,' she sang as she walked off.

Rue watched her go, then hauled her bags inwards and closed the door.

The room wasn't bad, all things considered. It had a mismatched look which might have perturbed some people, but that Rue liked; the furniture was solid and there was a decent-sized grate. She wondered where the bathroom was and how many people she was sharing it with. Then she sat on the bed, and thought about her situation.

It was an odd one, there was no denying it. She was far from everything she had ever been sure about in her life, far from the faces she knew and the sights she'd seen a thousand times. She was in a room, in a house, in a place, in a city.
The
city, in fact, Capital, a place she'd only heard of and as a child decided was populated with giants and fairies, so unreal had it seemed to her. She was here because she might be able to do something only five other people her age could do. Five other people they'd been able to find, at least. Frith had told her that there were only six new Talented students that year, including herself, which was quite a low figure. Sometimes it could be as much as twenty.

And she still didn't know what the Talent was. All she could think about it was that it seemed to be to do with the way she dreamed, the way she thought, and the way she saw the world. It didn't seem like much of a skill, more an accident, but she supposed the skill was what she was here to learn. And then what? Would she be put to work? Being Talented seemed to be a very valuable asset. What could she do with it?

She sighed and lay down on the bed. Would anyone care about her here? Not that it mattered. It never had. She cared for herself and that should be enough. Perhaps she would think about her favourite collection of dreams, though, and see if she couldn't revisit one of them tonight, and comfort herself.

When she woke, it was to the sound of furious knocking.

‘Rue! Rue!' blared a shrill little voice outside her door.

She looked around. The curtains were fastened shut, but the crack of light on the floor told her it was morning. She sat up, horrified.

‘Rue! Rue! Get up!'

‘Wait!' she called, her voice crackling with sleep. ‘Wait a minute! I'm not … I'm just getting dressed!'

‘I thought country folk were used to getting up early,' said Lea through the door. ‘My nanny was from Rochelette and she always woke up at half past five, even if she'd gone to bed two hours previously. She said it was ingrained in her.'

Rue hopped about frantically to the background stream of words from the corridor. Lea's voice was actually quite musical, if you ignored what she was saying and listened to the rhythm of it. Rue hadn't washed, hadn't even undressed! It didn't matter. She needed Lea and would have to make do. She ran the tap and splashed her face with cold water, then peered at herself in the mirror and fluffed her hair.

‘Come on, come on, I'm hungry,' Lea wheedled. ‘It's eggs today and if we're late they'll all be gone. The boys are pigs.'

Boys! And me looking like a truffler's backside!

Rue sighed, stepped back, and opened the door.

‘Did you even get undressed last night?' said Lea in delight. She was looking smart in wide pants with a perfect crease and a crossed blouse in the style that all the women in Capital seemed to be wearing, from what Rue had seen yesterday.

‘I fell asleep,' said Rue crossly.

‘Well, you look terrible, but that never matters when you're pretty. Come on.'

She bounced off and Rue followed. The entire way there Lea didn't stop talking, even though she was in front of Rue and half her words were lost. Rue looked around as they traipsed along, trying to memorise their route.

It turned out that they had to leave through a back door and cross the vegetable garden to get to the dining room. The garden was hemmed in by walls on all four sides, and looked lovely. She wondered if they grew medicine herbs here. Lea wouldn't pause for anything, though, saying in a determined fashion that she was a ‘real demon' if she didn't get to eat in the mornings.

The dining room was small but quite grand, big enough to seat a hundred people at least. The tables were solid, varnished trewsey wood, from what she could tell, and the light was bright and pleasing. It was odd to see so much space and realise almost no one would be using it that year. Three of her fellow students were huddled together on the table nearest what she presumed to be the kitchen door, and there was one dark-haired girl who sat on her own at another table, her hands wrapped around a steaming bowl and her eyes focused on a book.

‘That's Freya, sat by herself like a friendless prawn,' said Lea, not bothering to lower her voice. If the dark-haired girl heard her, she gave no sign of it. ‘And the blonde one is Lufe. The fat one is Marches, and the thin bendy one is Tulsent.'

Rue stared at the three boys as they approached. She was resolved not to put out the impression that she was shy and nervous. They gave as good as they got.

The boy named Lufe had thick blonde hair that curled and flopped all over his head. He was the most aggressive of the three, openly looking Rue up and down with a lazy kind of smile she instantly disliked. Marches was hardly fat, though a good deal bigger than the other two. He seemed unconcerned about her arrival, as if he wished to give off an apathetic air. Tulsent she could barely read, as his glasses were so thick they obscured half his face. He did appear to be looking at her, but she couldn't be completely sure. One of his legs was drawn up to his chest in a most uncomfortable-looking position.

The thing that astonished her the most about them, though, was their age differences. Lufe looked almost like a man. Marches was perhaps her age or a little younger. Tulsent seemed barely out of his childhood. The dark-haired girl named Freya was harder to place, but she looked at least nineteen or twenty.

‘This is Rue,' Lea told the others. ‘Vela Rue. She got here last night.'

‘Where do you come from, then?' drawled Lufe. He was definitely aristocratic. He and Lea could be brother and sister.

‘From Kernow,' said Rue coolly.

‘Never heard of it. Is that in the country?'

‘Yes.'

‘A country lass. You must be a polytheist.'

‘Well, don't you know all the big words,' said the apparently fat one, Marches.

Lufe waved a hand airily. ‘Just because you're thick as pig shit.' He swept his gaze back to Rue. ‘So, are you?'

‘No,' said Rue firmly, without a clue what the word meant.

‘Yes you are. Grad and Buc and Threya and all that. All those made-up gods.'

‘My family are polytheists, Lufe,' said Lea. ‘Your point?'

‘I think you just made it.'

Lea drew in a shocked breath. ‘I'll have you know my family is one of the oldest in Capital, you ignorant prigger!'

‘Come come, let's not fight,' said Marches, with a grin that meant exactly the opposite. ‘At least none of you are atheists.'

‘Atheists are freaks,' Lea snapped.

Rue gave up trying to follow the conversation, and noticed Marches staring at her.

‘So how Talented are you, then?' he said.

Lea sighed. ‘Let's get some food.' She walked away without waiting for a response from Rue, who hesitated for a moment, and then followed her into the kitchen.

It was a homely place. The three stoves were familiar-looking cast-iron affairs, and a fire burned cheerfully in the enormous grate dominating the end wall. It was empty of people, but large dishes of food were set out on the counter tops in the middle of the room. Lea walked straight up to them and took a plate from a stack. She started ladling various spoonfuls of food onto it as she talked.

‘Plates there, help yourself. There's a lot of choice today – sometimes they've only one or two things, I've no notion why that might be.'

‘Must depend what they can get in the markets each morning,' said Rue.

Lea looked surprised. ‘I never thought of it like that. I suppose you're right.' She gave Rue a sidelong look. ‘Don't pay attention to Marches. He asks everyone that question, as if the Talent can be quantified so quickly. Actually he asks you as a test, not because he thinks you'll know the answer. To see what sort of person you are, you see. If you say you're very Talented, he knows you're cocksure. If you say not very, he knows you're meek. If you say you don't know, he knows you're uncertain of yourself.'

‘There's no good answer, then,' said Rue, grabbing two warm eggs. They rocked gently around her plate as she moved.

‘Quite. He just wants to make you feel stupid. He's like that. Tulsent is sweet, a bit young for all this. Lufe is just Lufe. Freya ignores everyone completely, and so everyone ignores her.'

Lea had somehow managed to fit three eggs, a huge hunk of broche bread, a slice of ham and a small pile of scones onto her plate. As Rue watched on in amazement, she picked up a spoon and ladled a torrent of jam onto the scones.

‘So how did you know about the Talent?' said Lea. ‘Do you have someone else in your family with it?'

Rue shrugged. ‘Don't know. Never knew my parents. They put me on a farm when I was a baby. The farm owners never even saw who put me there. They were glad to raise me – they needed every hand they could get and only had two children of their own.' She picked up a scone and squeezed it before setting it on her plate. It had a firm crust but the middle was soft, springy sponge. She thought about dewberry jam but decided on apricot. As she ladled the jam onto her scone, she became aware that Lea had stopped talking, and was staring at her.

‘What?' she said.

‘You were an orphan?'

‘Right.'

‘I've never met one before.'

‘Chances are you have,' said Rue, offhand. ‘They're never talked about, but there's a few. Especially in cities, I'll bet. Not so many in the country, where big families are likely to adopt an unwanted kiddie and say nothing more of it.'

‘How do you know all this?' said Lea. For once, she was in thrall to Rue, who walked back to the dining room not knowing if they should sit with the boys – it seemed wrong, somehow, to assume she would be included on her first day. So she chose a table next to them. Lea sat opposite her.

‘Why are you sitting there?' said Lufe to Lea.

‘Hush, I'm listening to something more interesting than you.' Lea focused her gaze on Rue.

‘Don't know how I know, I just thought about it a lot, and I reckon that's the way it goes,' said Rue, starting to enjoy the rapt attention the higher born girl was giving her.

‘So did they put you to work? Did you have to … harvest fields, or something?'

Rue laughed, rolling her egg to crack the shell. ‘Gods, no! I'm not big or strong enough. Girls usually look after the animals, and the garden, vegetables and herbs. And the household chores. They hired men for the fieldwork. I wouldn't even be able to operate any of them field machines they used.'

‘Animals, how lovely! That must have been a wonderful job to have,' said Lea, and proceeded to rattle off the names and types of all the pets she had had as a child. Rue didn't want to disavow Lea of the pretty picture in her head. Animals, in Rue's experience, were hard work, messy, demanding and disloyal. And only occasionally sweet enough to make it nice to keep them. She wondered where the egg had come from as she ate it. They must have chickens kept somewhere in the university. She wouldn't mind tending to them, if they needed the help. Chickens were silly but uncomplicated little creatures, and Rue had always enjoyed moving amongst them, feeding them their grain, feeling in their nest boxes for eggs, watching their fat bodies hop clumsily out of the way as she went past.