"No, my lord." I had no idea who any of these people were, but had decided I couldn't go wrong with the title.
"Just you then?"
"Just me."
"Because of that?" He pointed at the scars on my neck and cheek.
"No, sir."
"Curiouser still." Sporinov patted my hand. "Now, tell me all about it."
"My lord?" I asked.
"Debris, of course. Tell me what you do."
"Well, my lord, to understand that you must understand how I came to it. I used to be a pion-binder. I was a strong one. Then-"
"Start early, do you?" A thin man with yellowing skin interrupted me. He touched a long ivory pipe to his lips, drew a deep breath and released smoke into my face. I blinked, coughed. It smelled nothing like Eugeny's tobacco.
"My lord?" I asked, unsettled.
"When you collect." He waved the pipe in a slow arc. "Early morning?"
"Y-yes."
"Long way to travel?"
"Yes." What was this? What did it matter how far I needed to go in the morning or how early I rose to get there? "But, really, that's not important. If you will listen, sirs, I will tell you about how I fe-"
"And do you do a lot of walking?" This time I was interrupted by a truly ancient man. His eyes were white and he carried a long, ebony cane with a gold handle. Walking? What did it matter?
"Please, my lords-"
Lord Sporinov had been holding my hand the whole time, his eyes trained intently on me. He patted the back of my fingers. "We're just old men, dear girl," he said. "Interested in your world. Please forgive us our curiosity."
"My lord, there is nothing to forgive. But I am trying to tell you something no one else has heard. Something strange and unique." I latched onto my oddity status like it was a lifeline. "I know you are curious about debris, and it is vital to understand how one comes to see it in the first place. I fell, my lords, from a great height. And they said it was an accident but I know-"
"Tell me about this." Sporinov drew back the sleeve of my shirt with a lazy finger. "What is this beautiful thing?"
So I explained the suit, and was obliged to show it shining on my wrists. I explained about jars and teams.
"And now," I tried again. "If you will just listen-"
But all at once the old men turned away, as though they had lost their collective interest in me at the same time. A few smiled at me, a few gave easy nods, then they wandered away and rejoined the ball. Only one hesitated, watching me intently. And I realised that I knew him: the inspector who had visited my construction site the day of Grandeur's fall.
I lifted my free hand to him, I tried to take a step forward, but Sporinov held me tighter that I had realised. "Wait," I said. "You were there. You saw them, didn't you? The crimson pions, the ones that destroyed my statue. You're a veche inspector. You must have seen them too."
But the old man just shook his head. "Let it go, girl," he whispered. "It really would be easier if you just let it go." Then Sporinov coughed pointedly, and the inspector disappeared into the crowd.
I stood, still beneath Sporinov's hand, mouth open and unable to understand why I hadn't managed to tell them the truth. To press for my tribunal. The perfect opportunity and all they had let me talk about was the ridiculous and the mundane.
"Thank you, dear girl, for sharing that with us." Sporinov patted me again.
Share what? I hadn't, really, told them anything.
"You're quite a determined young thing, aren't you?" There was an indulgent humour in Sporinov's smile that I didn't understand. I felt strangely like a pet beneath his gaze. "Even when the world aligns itself against you, you keep trying. It pleases me. But I wouldn't try too hard, if I were you. Not everyone would find it so amusing." Then he caught sight of his wife, and pushed purposefully through the crowd toward her.
I was left among the guests and their finery, to endure the surreptitious glances and outright stares. I lifted my chin. What did it matter that I stood out among the tailored and the diamond-encrusted like a stone among pearls? What did I care that the host treated me more like a rare animal on a leash than a guest? Or that Devich, who had convinced me I belonged here, who had dragged me to the door, had suddenly disappeared?
Devich. He had left me with these men. Sporinov's words shuddered through me. They had almost, if I thought about them hard enough, if I twisted them with the image of Pavel leaning so angrily above me, sounded like a threat.
Where was Devich?
Shoulders straight, chin high, I pushed my way through the guests to a long table heavy with full glasses. Rich amber brandies, deep red wines and faint blue spirits twinkled in the light like a constellation against the pale tablecloth sky.
I caught edges of conversation.
"Let them try it! Hon Ji thinks they can rival Varsnia, we'll show them true meaning of power."
"Heard they had spies in Movoc-under-Keeper. Even Sporinov is hiring enforcers, just in case."
"By the Other, I swear it. The veche is hiding something even from us. A weapon that will put Hon Ji firmly back in their place."
The usual speculations and proclamations of Varsnian supremacy. I'd heard them all my life, and paid them little heed. The critical circle revolution began in Varsnia, but it had spread. Around us, nations grew strong on their borrowed technologies, and occasionally rumours of war would trickle down from the veche. I wasn't sure how much I believed them, because nothing ever came of it. Deals to share pion technologies, promises to stop training soldiers, even the odd skirmish. Part of me had always thought the veche made them all up, just to start conversations like these.
I selected the largest glass of red I could find and headed to a corner where I could sip it in peace, until the guests and the host and the loss of Devich simply wouldn't matter.
"T-Tanyana?"
I turned to a soft, restricted-sounding voice, and found Tsana, resplendent in a gown of rich tree-leaf green sewn with tiny, white beads in the shape of flowers. Her cheeks were flushed with the heat of the room, her eyes – set off so well by the colours in her dress – swam rich and brown. Her thick brunette hair was piled high on her head so her neck seemed longer, the skin paler and more delicate. Another flower, made this time from diamonds, shone on her neck.
For a moment, I considered pretending I was someone else. Because the bright flowers that decked her so beautifully reminded me hauntingly of the critical circle in which she had once stood. And my scars tightened, perhaps remembering the panic and pion skill that had created them.
"It is you." Tsana stepped forward as I stepped back, pressing us both into the corner I had tried to hide in, the unsteady shadows an inefficient cloak. "What are you doing here?"
And that snapped me out of my fear and bad memories. I held the wine easily at my waist and lifted an eyebrow. She had always seemed shorter when I was her critical centre. Somehow easier to look down on.
"I am Lord Sporinov's guest." I bent the truth just a little out of shape. "As, I assume, are you."
Tsana, flustered, waved a flat hand like a fan at her face. "Of course. I… I'm sorry. I hadn't expected to see you."
Ever again, I didn't doubt. I took a larger than usual sip. "You were wrong."
"Yes. I'm sorry." She glanced over her shoulder. "Grandda is a friend of Vladir. We're always invited. To the balls." She fussed with the pleating below her waist. "It's good to see you, my lady."
Now she was someone I wasn't about to correct. But I gave a sigh. "I'm sure that's not true."
If anything, Tsana's flush deepened.
"Come now, I know what happened. Volski told me." I hoped she could see every bandage and scar, hoped they were all plain and unavoidable.
"V- Volski?" Tsana began to tug on the pleats so violently I was surprised the seam didn't tear.