“Look at the back page, Eddie.”
I did as he asked, and recognized her postcode and handwriting. There was also the official stamp that transferred her merits to her husband and, more important, her color-perception ranking.
“Some of us do things we regret, then fix them as best we can afterward,” he said in a quiet voice, once I had read and digested the implications. “We’re not so different, you and I, although by rights, we should be as different as different could be.”
“You’ll always be my dad,” I said, handing the book back.
“And I won’t veto your marriage, or cease to keep a careful eye on you.”
We stared at each other for a long time. I didn’t really know what to say. I’d always assumed that my mother’s ranking was high, but it wasn’t. She had been only 23.4 percent Red. With Dad at 50.23 percent it didn’t take a math wizard to realize that my 70-plus percent couldn’t be anything but purchased parentage. Perhaps most people were. Perhaps that’s how it really worked. Dad had not married to enRedden the Russett line, but for a much more noble reason, the same as I hoped to do myself.
“So who was the man who made me?” I asked at length.
He looked at me for a long time and then said in a quiet voice, “Some questions are not easily answered.” He looked at his watch. “It’s just past nine. You need to be in your formals and ready outside the town hall in half an hour. I’ll run you a bath.”
I found Tommo talking to Doug outside the town hall. There were still ten minutes to go before we had to file in and wait in the anteroom, and it was customary for those who were due to face the spots to arrive early and chat with parents, friends or residents who had taken their tests the year before. Violet was there, along with Daisy and Imogen, who was looking quite lovely and very nervous. She and Dorian had agreed on terms with the Colorman and were going to elope on the train that afternoon. Of the ten of us, seven had nuptials already agreed—some of them from wrangles going back ten years or more. Tommo’s fantasy marriage league may have been something of a joke, but the principle was sound. The day of your Ishihara was the day your life was set. A relief, if you were the sort of person who didn’t much care for making decisions, but anathema to those who did.
I saw Violet talking to her family; when she noticed me, she looked quickly away.
“Nervous?” asked Dad.
“A little. How long did it take when you had it done?”
“About twenty minutes. A few minutes to discover my predominant perception, then some fine-tuning to find out the range. They use a lot of test cards to make sure you’re telling the truth, so you’ll never know whether seeing anything in the dots is good or bad, positive or negative.”
Doug wandered over.
“I’m sorry that you’re up to marry Violet again,” I said. “I’d do anything to help out, except marry her myself.”
He shrugged good-naturedly. “I was always expecting it, so the shock wore off long ago.”
“Have you heard the rumor?” said Tommo, striding up. “Dorian’s going to elope with Imogen on the fifteen forty-three.”
“And speaking of marriage,” he added, turning to Doug, “hold out for at least three grand from the deMauves. Barring any sleepers, Violet’s pretty much in the bag.”
“Three grand?” he said in a quivering voice. “I can’t ask that much!”
“Believe me,” said Tommo, laying a hand on his shoulder, “deMauve will definitely pay that to have his daughter in the Green Dragon’s bridal suite by Monday night. I’ll negotiate for you if you want—I need the merits after Eddie’s little disappointment.”
“Would you?” asked Doug. “I’d really appreciate it.”
Doug walked off to speak to his family, and I was left alone with Tommo. We were silent for a while. I was going to be a prefect, and I needed Tommo on my side. He could never know what I was up to, but his skills at wily artifice might be an asset.
“How are your ribs?”
“You broke two.”
“I’m sorry.”
“And I’m sorry about that whole leaving-you-to-starve-to-death deal. It was Courtland.”
“I know.”
We shook hands and smiled uneasily. The friendship wasn’t yet healed, but would be, given time.
“Good morning.”
I turned. Jane was dressed in her best Grey formal wear, with her hair plaited and interwoven with wildflowers. She looked quite lovely—radiant, in fact—and was accompanied by her parents, who were grinning like mad. I shook hands with Stafford and was introduced to her mother, who was a small, chirpy-looking woman with only one ear.
“Very pleased to meet you,” I said.
“Pardon?” she replied, cupping her hand to her missing ear before bursting into laughter, for it was a joke.
“Mother!” implored Jane. “Please don’t embarrass me.”
“I’m sorry I was unable to ask you for your daughter first,” I said to Jane’s parents, “but the conditions of our courtship were somewhat onerous.”
A bell sounded.
“You’re wanted,” said Jane’s mother, kissing us both. “Good luck.”
We made our way to the Chapter House, where Yewberry was ringing the hand bell. We filed into the anteroom behind the Council Chamber and took a seat, whereupon Yewberry read brief instructions regarding protocol and told us to just relax and enjoy it. At the end he made a lame joke, which wasn’t funny, but we laughed to break the tension. All eyes, however, were soon riveted on the door that led to the Council Chamber. You would walk out of this room a youth and enter the village twenty minutes later an adult. You were even allowed to exit the Chapter House by way of the prefects’ entrance. It was quite an honor.
Ishihara
6.3.01.01.225: The Ishihara test is final and can be neither reviewed nor retaken.
At ten o’clock precisely, the first person was seen. It was Violet, and she went to the Colorman with a spring in her step. We all sat silently under Yewberry’s watchful eye, and after twenty minutes it was Doug’s turn. He gave us all a bow before vanishing next door, and after half an hour, Jane was called.
She caught my eye as she went in, and gave a half smile. We’d brought books, but none of us read them.
For the most part we all just sat and stared blankly into space, shuffling down a place every twenty minutes, so that the next person to go was always sitting nearest the door.
“Edward Russett?”
“Yes?”
“You can go in now.”
I got up and entered the Council Chamber, carefully closing the door behind me. There were two people in the room: my erstwhile father-in-law and the Colorman, who was dressed in long robes that had no color in them at all, but were fastened by a long series of buttons that reached from his throat to his feet and shone brightly in the broad beam of light that descended from the skylight.
“Hello, Eddie,” said the Colorman in a friendly voice. “Take a seat. Do you have your merit book? I know you’ve already been verified, but I need to check again.”
So I did, and once satisfied that I was who I said I was, he shuffled to get comfortable and cleared his throat. “It’s very simple. All you have to do is tell me what you can see in the pictures.”
There was a big book on the reading stand in front of me, and deMauve positioned himself on my right, ready to turn the pages. At a signal from the Colorman, he opened the book.
The page was a mass of grey dots, which ranged in size from a period to the width of a pencil. But interspersed within this grey mass were colored dots, and they made up a picture.
“What do you see?”
“A swan.”
“And in its beak?”