‘I am a member of the Order of Magi.’
Savine was not easily surprised, but she could not stop her brows lifting at that. Zuri usually shepherded the cranks away, but she seemed for once to be elsewhere. ‘A wizard at a meeting of investors and inventors? Are you scouting the enemy?’
‘Say rather that I am seeking new friends.’ His smile was full of clean, sharp, shiny teeth. ‘We magi have always been interested in changing the world.’
‘How admirable,’ said Savine, though in her experience, when men spoke of changing the world, they always meant to suit their own interests.
‘There was a time, in the days of Euz and his sons, when magic was the best way to do it. But that time is long past. These days …’ And Sulfur glanced about the heaving foyer and leaned close as if to share a secret. ‘I begin to think this is better.’
‘You go where the power is,’ murmured Savine, touching him gently on the wrist with her fan. ‘I am just the same.’
‘Oh, you should meet my master. I have a feeling the two of you would have a great deal in common. He is used to dealing with your father, of course. But no one lasts for ever.’
Savine frowned. ‘Whatever can you—’
‘Lady Savine!’ Curnsbick was advancing on her, arms spread wide in a gesture of great affection. ‘When the hell are you going to marry me?’
‘A few days after never. Besides, I swear I was at your wedding to someone else.’
He folded her hand in his and kissed it. ‘Say the word and I’ll throttle her myself.’
‘But she’s such a lovely woman. I couldn’t have that on my conscience.’
‘Don’t pretend you have a conscience.’
‘Oh, I have one. But muzzled and kept well away from my business affairs. This is …’ She turned to introduce Sulfur but he had already vanished into the crowd.
‘Curnsbick, you old dog!’ It was Arinhorm, the deliverer of the first address, blundering into their conversation like a hog into a rose garden.
‘Arinhorm, my friend!’ Curnsbick slapped him heartily on the shoulder. He was a genius where machines were concerned, but prone to give people far too much credit. ‘Might I introduce Savine dan Glokta?’
‘Ah, yes.’ Arinhorm offered her a particularly mirthless smile. One of those insufferable men who thought everyone existed to service his needs. ‘I understand you have invested in several iron mines in Angland. Indeed, I understand you are perhaps the largest single owner in the entire province.’
Savine did not like her affairs being discussed before an audience. Winning made people friendly. Winning too much made them nervous. ‘I believe I have some interests there.’
‘You should have heard my address. The main challenge to the efficiency of mines is how quickly water can be pumped from their depths. There are limits to what can be achieved by hand or horse, but with my adaptation of Master Curnsbick’s engine, one can pump at ten times the speed and therefore dig further and deeper—’
There was sense in what he said, but Savine detested the way he said it. ‘My thanks, but it is not iron that interests me at the moment, but soap.’
‘Pardon me?’
‘Soap, glass, crockery. Things which were once luxuries for the noble have become essentials for the wealthy and will soon be a staple for everyone. Clean bodies, and glazed windows, and … crockery. Find a way to pump dinnerware out of the ground and I would be delighted to discuss it.’
‘You must be joking.’
‘I save my jokes for those with a sense of humour. You understand I have to be careful in my choice of partners.’
‘You are making a mistake.’
‘It would hardly be my first. I struggle on regardless.’
‘One should never allow feelings to get in the way of profit,’ he snapped, slightly blotchy with anger about the collar. Zuri had slipped from the crowd now and was doing her best to ease him away but he refused to be moved. ‘This only strengthens my conviction that there really is no place in business for women.’
‘And yet here I am,’ said Savine, smiling all the wider. ‘And here you are, with your begging bowl. No doubt there are many parts of Union life in which there is no place for women. But you cannot stop me buying or selling a thing.’
Curnsbick breathed on his eye-lenses and gave them a wipe. ‘Take care, my friend.’ And he placed them on his nose and looked up from under his brows. ‘Before Lady Savine chooses to buy and sell you.’
‘No need to worry.’ Savine flicked out her fan with a snap. ‘I only buy things with some profit in them.’
‘Master Arinhorm looks rather angry,’ murmured Curnsbick as they moved away through the crowd. ‘You might find, in the long run, that a little generosity can repay itself five-fold. Goodwill can be the best of investments—’
She dismissed his nonsense with a fond pat of his hand. ‘Generosity and goodwill sit well on you but they simply do not go with my complexion at all. A certain number of bitter enemies are an essential accessory for a lady of fashion.’
‘And it may be that he has procured an investor after all.’
‘Damn it.’ He was already deep in conversation with Selest dan Heugen. ‘Is she picking through my offcuts?’
‘Do you know, I think she might be.’
‘Like a bitch at the butcher’s bins.’
‘She seems quite popular with the gentlemen of the Society.’ Indeed, one could almost see the grey heads turning as she slipped through the room on Arinhorm’s arm.
‘Anything with a quim is popular with them,’ muttered Savine.
‘Ouch. She reminds me of a younger you.’
‘Younger me was poison.’
‘Younger you was nectar. Almost as much so as older you. But I’ve heard it said that imitation is the most honest tribute. We have a whole theatre full of old fools trying to do a Curnsbick, after all. Do I complain?’
‘Whenever you’re not boasting.’
‘I’ve been boasting continuously for so long it hadn’t come up.’ And Curnsbick gave her the mildest of grins. ‘The Circle of the World is wide, Savine. You can allow someone else to occupy one little plot of it.’
‘I suppose so,’ she grudgingly admitted, putting the distasteful union of Arinhorm and Heugen from her mind. ‘As long as they’re paying me rent.’
But Curnsbick was no longer listening. The eager chatter was falling silent, the crowd parting like soil before the plough. A man strode through the throng, his facial hair meticulously barbered and lavishly waxed, his crimson uniform festooned with gold braid.
‘Bloody hell,’ whispered Curnsbick, gripping her wrist, ‘it’s the bloody king!’
Whatever the criticisms of His Majesty – and there were many, regularly circulated in ever more scurrilous pamphlets – no one could have denied that King Jezal always looked the part. He chuckled, slapped arms, shook hands, traded jokes, a beacon of slightly absent good humour. A dozen fully armoured Knights of the Body clattered after him, and at least two score clerks, officers, servants, attendants and hangers-on after them, chestfuls of unearned medals glittering beneath the thousand dancing candle flames above.
‘Master Curnsbick.’ His Majesty ushered the great inventor up from his knee. ‘So sorry I’m late. This and that at the palace, you know. Management of the realm. So much to take care of.’
‘Your Majesty,’ frothed Curnsbick, ‘the Solar Society is illuminated by your presence. I regret that we had to begin the addresses without you—’
‘No, no! Progress waits for no one, eh, Curnsbick? Not even kings.’
‘Especially not kings, Your Majesty,’ said Savine, sinking into an even deeper curtsy. One of the royal party issued a choked splutter at her insolence, but no risk, no profit.