Fearsome Dreamer (17 page)

It wouldn't be so bad here, she thought. Lea was nice, and her room was nice.

It was a good start.

Rue had a dream that night.

She was walking along the corridor outside her bedroom, trying to remember where the kitchen was. The light was too dark for her to see properly, or perhaps it was that she couldn't open her eyes wide enough. She shuffled along, desperately hungry, feeling the walls with her fingers.

There was a glimmer of light up ahead, and when she got to it she was relieved to find that it spilled out from underneath the kitchen door. Someone had left the lamps lit, and the place was warm and bright.

Rue crept to the massive ovens, opening one of the doors and flinching as it creaked. There were the few scones left over from that morning's breakfast. She took out two and crossed to the enormous table squatting in the middle of the tiled floor, placing them on the top while she looked for the jams.

‘Hello,' said a voice behind her.

Her heart stopped. Please don't let it be one of the boys, she begged silently. How would it look, grubbing for food in the middle of the night? Lufe especially would enjoy that so much he probably wouldn't ever forget it.

At first the owner of the voice seemed hidden to her, a disembodied sound. Then she noticed something moving forwards from a shadowed corner, over by the pantry doors.

It was a boy, maybe a couple of years older than her – maybe even her age, though it was hard to tell. The light must have been a little funny in here, because his eyes shone like knife blades catching the light. But the more she stared at him, the more she realised that they were coloured that way. Like twin silver mirrors.

Her mouth fell open.

He was slim and willowy. His face was a little odd, something in the way the features were arranged deeply unfamiliar. As he moved past the kitchen lamps, his eyes reflected the light.

‘Don't be alarmed,' he intoned as Rue stared at him. ‘I come in peace.' Then issued from his mouth a series of wild choking sounds that she finally began to understand was laughter.

‘Who by all the gods are you?' she said in glowing astonishment.

‘By no gods,' he said. ‘Just myself, and all the fun that comes with that.' His voice was ordinary, and strangely jarring coming from such a body.

He made his way slowly towards her as he talked, moving quite abnormally. She later realised that it was how a cat walked, picking up its paws and placing them down with fastidious care. It looked bizarre when it was done on two legs.

‘You don't make much sense,' said Rue, still too shocked to process anything much.

‘Maybe I will in the future,' he commented, then collapsed onto a chair by the kitchen table with an oily gesture. He stretched out a hand and picked up one of the scones she had put on the table, tearing it apart with his slender fingers and throwing small pieces into his mouth. He did it with an air of intimacy, as if the two of them had done this countless times, sat up late together in the kitchen eating scones. Rue had no clue on how she was supposed to act.

‘Who are you?' she asked again, instead.

‘Patience, girl,' he replied. He didn't spare her a glance.

They sank into silence. Rue tried to pull upwards out of her confusion, but the more she fought, the easier it seemed to give up.

She watched him eat the last of the scone. He turned his head and his mouth filled her vision, curled at one end in a faint smile. She watched his lips open and words fall out.

‘I come back for the food,' he said. ‘Sometimes it just doesn't compare.'

‘Are you a new student?' Rue managed.

‘No, not new,' he said, his tone careful and amused. ‘But I do know this place. And I wanted to tell you something. I wanted to tell you that they'll kill you, you know.'

‘What?' Rue managed, unsure if she had heard him right.

‘If they can't use you, they'll kill you, to make sure no one else can have you.'

He looked at her. His strange silver eyes gleamed.

‘Be very careful,' he said.

She woke.

‘Mussyer White is the only Talented tutor in all of Angle Tar, did I tell you that before? I've got your lesson plan here, look, but I had to basically pry it from Penafers Mouse, as if she can ever rouse herself to care one centime for any of us. Are you listening?'

Rue fiddled with the hem of her dress, trying to look like she was listening. She was used to hours alone, in relative silence, with time to think about whatever she liked. She was used to moving around all day, not sitting still in a classroom and having knowledge pushed into her head for hours on end. She was definitely not used to someone like Lea.

Dam Penafers, their absentee house mistress, was supposed to make sure they didn't wander off into the city at night, keep them on a tight rein, and chaperone them if they wanted to go shopping, but she was often nowhere to be seen, and the other Talented tended to come and go as they pleased. Rue was too nervous to do this much, but Lea had coaxed her out more than once during the day, when they had no lessons to fill the long hours. They spent their time trailing around clothes boutiques, Lea spending money freely on clothes that draped over her thin frame with artful grace. More than once she had offered to buy Rue something, but that was an offer Rue felt uncomfortable about taking up. She knew the girl was rich and wouldn't care, but that was almost the reason Rue didn't want Lea to spend money on her. It seemed obscene that you could do that without even noticing the difference to yourself. Rue's pocket money was coming from the university's own coffers, something she was acutely aware of. So she refused Lea's generosity, even though it was joyless going on a shopping trip with someone when there was no end result for yourself.

‘… He'll be teaching you personally, you know,' continued Lea, apparently mildly put out at her lacklustre response. They were sat together on Rue's narrow bed. ‘You're incredibly lucky. We all are. Mussyer White only teaches Talented, and he teaches us one on one, not in a class together.'

This got her attention. ‘Why's that?'

‘It works better, so he says, if you and he are alone. He can focus his energies into one person at a time only.'

This sounded a little bit nerve-wracking. Alone with a tutor that she had heard all sorts of strange things about. A tutor that would tell her what this thing was inside of her. This hunger.

‘What's he like?' said Rue.

Lea touched her mouth with a finger, a smile curling upwards like smoke. ‘Weird.'

That meant weird in a good way. She felt her curiosity unfurl a little more.

It was usually impossible for Lea to stop talking. Sure enough, she giggled, shook her head, and continued.

‘I don't know. You think he's horrible at first, but he's so different. And powerful, you can feel it. I heard he's the most powerful Talented in the whole world.'

Powerful. He'd be imposing, then. Commanding. Or maybe wise, like a wizard. Long beard and startling eyes and magic spilling like water from his fingertips.

‘What's he doing here?' said Rue.

Lea's voice dropped to a dramatic murmur. ‘I heard he had to flee his country on account of his Talent. He hasn't even been in Angle Tar that long. A year or two, at most.'

As a rule, Rue had learned to believe exactly a tenth of what Lea came out with, and disregard the rest. But this Mussyer White certainly had an effect on his students – even Lufe spoke of him with a noticeable degree of awe. She wanted to impress this impressive man.

And then she yawned, suddenly.

‘What's wrong with you, anyway?' came Lea's voice, irritable. ‘You're practically lolling on me.'

And I'm not hanging on your every word, which annoys you no end, thought Rue.

‘I'm tired,' she said out loud. ‘Keep having these dreams.'

‘Ooh, you'll want to write all that down. He asks you about your dreams every lesson, and gets awfully cross if you can't remember all the details. Dreams are the key, so he says. You know that, right? I mean, I know you haven't had a lesson with him yet but you know about the dreams, of course.'

‘Course I do,' said Rue, irritated. She was currently struggling with an impasse concerning the Talent. She burned to know more, but couldn't bring herself to ask Lea or any of the others about it, because then she'd look ignorant. They already thought her backward just because she was from the country. She wouldn't prove it by asking questions that would make them laugh at her.

‘Well, you'd better remember as much as you can, then. He'll ask you on your very first lesson, I don't doubt.'

Rue folded her arms. ‘Well, and so, when
is
my first lesson?'

‘In half an hour.'

She sat upright, squalling.

‘Sorry,' called Lea, watching Rue as she scrabbled around the room, trying to make herself look decent. ‘It's in your lesson plan, look. I've got it for you here and everything.'

Twenty-seven minutes later, Rue was walking as fast as she could along a corridor, glancing every few seconds at the map Lea had given her and looking desperately around for the right door. The building that Mussyer White taught from was hidden away at the back of several others. You could only find it by twisting and turning through a series of obscure rooms and then walking across a small, forlorn courtyard with cracked paving stones to another set of rooms and endless, endless corridors.

Eventually, she came across a black painted door with a small, neat plaque fixed about eye level.

Talent theory and practice

That was all it said.

She raised her hand, hesitated; knocked. No time for shyness, she was already nearly late. She listened for a moment, but heard nothing from inside. She opened the door a crack.

‘Come,' said a voice from beyond the gap.

Rue slipped in through the doorway and stood, trying to make sense of the room. It was freezing in here, and far too dark. Why weren't the lamps lit?

She looked about for Mussyer White, but couldn't see him. She couldn't even make out the place to any degree, although there were vague bulky furniture shapes a good distance off. This part of the room nearest the door was bare and cavernous. It was a ground-floor room, which meant its floors were stone instead of wood, like the rooms in Red House.

‘Come to the table,' said the voice.

It was a hard voice, and suited the room. Well, he was probably old and cold and dusty, wasn't he? That would be about right, considering the other tutors she had met so far.

She looked about, hoping that the table he meant was where the only source of light was positioned. She could see an enormous lamp, even from here, which gave out a strong but oddly dark colour, throwing everything into shadow and strange shapes.

Rue started to walk, feeling her anxiety grow. Instantly she disliked this White, for she understood his first trick; to make visitors walk to him across a bare and barren floor, with bad lighting and a dim, forbidding appearance, increasing their nervousness and fear of him. She had reacted the exact way he had wanted her to, and she did
not
like to be manipulated.

He was hunched over the end of the table farthest away from the lamp, a vague figure with his head lowered, appearing to look over papers strewn in front of him. The shadows his body cast against the wall behind gave him an insectile shape.

‘Name, please?' he said, turning over a paper.

‘Vela Rue,' said Rue. Was he even going to look at her?

‘Ah. Yes. The one Frith found himself.'

Rue was silent.

‘What you will understand from the commencement of our lessons,' he said in his strange, jangling voice, ‘is that I do not appreciate time-wasting nor laziness. Whilst a student under my supervision you will work as hard as is possible for you to do. You are here to learn from me and I am here to examine you for latent Talent that I am informed you possess. If you do have such of worth to offer, we will see how far I can coax it from you. Do you comprehend my terms? A simple ‘yes, syer' will suffice.'

During this speech, the man at the table had not once looked up. Rue felt her cheeks flush with the slow build of anger and embarrassment.

‘You've certainly an odd way of talking,' she said.

White finally turned his face and gave Rue the full beam of his gaze.

Gods. He was so
young
. He looked as if he could pass for a student himself. No one had so much as mentioned that to her. Was it a mistake? Had she got the wrong room?

‘But you're just a boy,' she blurted. ‘Are you … are you supposed to be my tutor?'

He continued to stare at her, unreadable.

‘You possess neither maturity nor manners. This is a good beginning,' he said at last, his voice drier than bone dust. ‘Sit.'

She took the chair beside him, flouncing as much as she dared. He had bent over his papers once more and she studied his profile, determined not to be cowed. His face seemed chiselled from stone, his nose long and his skin smooth and luminously pale. He could not possibly be any more than nineteen or twenty. His hair was very dark, thin, and draped freely over his shoulders, a lacquered fall of silk.

Rue waited, watching him read. After a moment that lasted too long, he shifted and leaned back. It was strange the way he moved, as if his bones were built differently to hers. His eyes were black in the dim light. He was … exotic. Unlike any other boy or man she'd seen before.

‘Vela Rue,' White stated. ‘Vela to denote your approach to adulthood, Rue your birth name. Rue a country name by origin, meant to symbolise a relationship with nature. But Rue being the common plant name, not its proper form. Perhaps to denote humility.'

Rue couldn't possibly see where such an odd series of statements was going. She opened her mouth as if to interrupt, but White was staring off into the middle distance, as if talking to himself.

‘I wonder,' he continued in his stilted manner, ‘about origins. About how much they can affect a person. Whether a mind that has not been expanded from an early age by vigilant learning could ever hope to absorb the teachings it must to grow. The problem with Talent is that it is an art, a beauty, and a science all in one.'

You strange, rude little snob, thought Rue. I bet no one ever puts you in your place.

‘I can't follow your talk at all,' she said. ‘You speak like you're reading something out loud and your words don't fit together properly, and you've a horrible accent. If you put such faith in learning, how about getting on with some?'

White was icily silent. After a long, long moment, he stirred.

‘Our lesson ends for today,' was all he said.

Rue waited.

White had moved back to his papers.

Rue waited.

‘Perhaps you misunderstood,' said White eventually, still reading. His hand came out, and for one moment Rue thought he meant to hit her. His fingers flicked upwards.

‘Get out.'

Rue stood, stumbled, turned and walked.

‘Grad take him!' Rue spat. ‘He's nothing but a stuck-up lump of brown ice!'

‘Yes, indeed,' said Frith smoothly.

They were sat together in the common room of Red House. Rue hadn't seen Frith since the day he had dropped her off at the front door, but he had called in unexpectedly that evening for tea. Lea was nowhere to be seen and the boys had gone to play some dull aristocratic sports game or other with carved sticks.

She was glad to see Frith. It took her away from stewing about her encounter with White by herself, which was never as satisfying as doing it with someone else.

‘He's just a baby! He's my age! I mean to say that it's rich the way he talks, as if he were forty years older than you and knows everything there is to know about everything!'

‘He is slightly older than you, in fact,' said Frith. ‘But I take your point.'

‘What's a boy his age doing being a teacher anyway? That's just about the most ridiculous thing I ever saw. I could teach, if we're talking about having kiddies being teachers now. I could teach about a lot of things.'

‘I'm sure you could.'

‘He's rude. And he can't even speak properly! He has this horrible accent and he says his words all mixed up!'

‘You didn't happen to mention that charming sliver of thought out loud, in front of him, did you?'

‘So if I did.'

‘Rue. Please think for a moment about the way your accent is received in the city. Your rather hit and miss grammar and the words you use that no one here has ever heard of.'

‘And so? I'm not changing one slice for anyone,' snapped Rue.

‘I'm glad to hear it. But think of what people say about you, based solely on what they hear when you open your mouth?'

Rue sighed loudly. She'd already seen where this was going. ‘That I'm rude and ignorant.'

‘And we know this to be both unfair and untrue,' said Frith. Rue watched him. If anyone else had said that, she would have slapped them for laughing at her. But Frith never looked like he was lying.

‘So, think,' he continued, ‘Mussyer White's mode of speaking makes you perceive him as odd and cold. But he can't help the way he speaks, any more than you can help the way you speak.'

Rue was irritated by this sensible reasoning and tried to ignore it.

‘But why does he speak like that?'

‘He had to learn our language. Some people are easy with adoption, others are not.'

Rue felt a grudging stir of interest.

‘Where's he from?' she said.

‘He's from URCI.'

‘From where?'

Frith looked at her for a moment, tapping his chin with a finger.

‘It's a country in World. What do you know of what lies outside Angle Tar?'

Rue shrugged, stalling. She hated appearing stupid, and she knew that he didn't ask her to make her look so. But still.