“I was. When I was fifteen,” she added.
“Oh, right, the brickwork medallion,” he muttered, remembering that one. “It’s hard to keep track of all the discs you’re entitled to wear . . . ah. Sorry about that,” he added, blushing and scooting his hips back a bit. “It has a mind of its own in the mornings.”
“It’s, um . . .” She blushed herself. At his inquiring look, she blushed harder, struggling to come to grips with the odd thoughts flitting through her head. For the first time in her life—or at least what felt like it—she finally understood the “fuss” everyone made of moments like this. The pleasant sort of fuss, that was. “It’s okay. I’m not offended.”
The way she snuck a peek up at his face made Alonnen wince a little. “Please don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” she asked.
“Like you want me to kiss you,” he told her candidly. “Because if you don—”
She kissed him. It was awkward, it was short, the tip of his nose bumped her cheekbone, and it ended within just a few seconds. Feeling like she was blushing all over, Rexei cleared her throat. “I-It’s okay. I told you I trust you.”
Groaning, he squeezed his eyes shut. “Rexei, don’t tell a man that. Not when I’m trying to respect you.”
“I can’t help it!” she argued defensively. “I don’t know how all of this is supposed to work. The only thing I know how to do is either lie or tell the truth, and since I feel like it’d be wrong to lie to you, I’m telling you the truth. I . . . like you. A lot.”
Closing his eyes, he sighed heavily but hugged her close. A kiss on her short-cropped hair, and Alonnen returned the sentiment. “I like you, too. A lot. But we’re going to go slow and get to know each other.”
“Well, I wasn’t going to go stomping full on the galloper-pedal on this motorhorse, when I feel like I barely know how to steer it just yet,” she muttered into his shoulder. Then mumbled, “I don’t know what romance is like. Not from the inside.”
An odd thought made him chuckle. When she shifted in his arms, Alonnen explained it. “I can see why you picked a Goddess of Guilds, instead of a Goddess of Romance, then.”
That got him a pinch on his ribs, which got her a yelp in her ear. They tussled for a moment, until the covers shifted, sending cold air between their bodies. Shivering, both yanked up the bedding at the same time, cuddled close, and behaved themselves while the coals slowly caught in the stove and worked on heating the room.
At some point, Rexei drifted off to sleep again, but Alonnen stayed awake for a while. He thought about what she had said, about what had happened the previous night, and tried to figure out how all these disparate pieces would fit together in a way that would stop a demonic invasion. Thinking about demons was far safer than thinking about the fact that she wanted to kiss him, after all.
• • •
“Oh! Uh . . . sorry,” Rexei stammered, taken aback by the sight of a woman in the Consulate’s talker-box room. “I thought this was empty.”
“I take it you need it?” the older woman asked, swiveling to face the door. She started to say more, then held up her finger, listening to the cone held to her ear. Turning back to the machine, she spoke into it, some sort of confirmation and a request for more people.
Rexei wondered idly if the woman’s conversation had to do with last night’s meeting. Possibly, from the sound of things. She studied the other woman, taking in the dark wool trousers and thick-knitted sweater, not much different from Rexei’s own, save for a subtle pattern down the front and along the neck and cuffs. The smaller rooms of the Consulate were heated by those new boiler-fed pipes, so the woman wasn’t wearing a cap or bundled up in a coat. Her ash-brown hair had been pulled up into a bun; from the size of the knot, it looked like it would be fairly long when unwound.
Absently rubbing her own short, dark locks, Rexei wondered if she’d ever get a chance to grow them out without fear. Probably not for a long while. Not until we’re so firmly a new kind of kingdom and Guildra is so firmly our Goddess, that She has the power to flick away the old priesthood like I’d flick a bug off a fence rail.
“. . . There we go. Do you know how to operate a talker-box?” the woman asked, turning back to her.
Nodding, Rexei pulled out her necklace of discs and sorted out one of the three medium-sized coins. The other woman raised her brows at the sight of so many coins, then slowly nodded.
“I see. So, you’re Master Longshanks. Or rather, Guild Master Longshanks. Gabria told me about you last night.” The woman smiled with one side of her mouth and held out her hand. “I’m Marta Grenspun, Clockworks Guild and Precinct clerk. Today’s my rest day, so I came here. I was going to use the Precinct’s talker-box to start making calls on behalf of this new kingdom idea you’ve tossed out there, but the Hammer of Heiastowne put his foot down.” Her half smile gained a wry wince to it. “It’s not Precinct militia business, so out I had to go.
“So. Here I am, networking with my fellow clerks and kinsmen, trying to spread the word of Guildra and Guildara. On your behalf,” she added, pointing a finger at Rexei.
That took the younger woman aback. Blinking, Rexei asked, “You’re not afraid of . . . of Guildra’s manifestation? Or of me, for summoning a Goddess?”
The smile Marta gave Rexei was wry, and only on one side of her mouth. “I’m not Gabria. In the ‘m’ sense, as well as by personality—she’s my dearest friend, don’t get me wrong, but she’s the shy, creative type, while I’m a natural-born organizer. And you, young lad—or lady, whichever you prefer—need organizing.”
Rexei blanched. She quickly shut the door to the talker-box room, hissing, “She told you that?”
Marta blinked. “What? Oh no! Gabria would never betray anyone else,” she denied firmly. “No, I figured it out for myself, the moment I saw you just now. I’ve met many women who dress as men, particularly those who work in the factories and among the militia ranks. In fact, I tend to do it myself. It makes dealing with the men in the Precinct offices easier. Speaking of which, what sort of militia-based role do you see women accepting? Strictly clerical and other forms of support, or do you picture them taking up arms and defending this new nation of Guildara?”
Caught on the spot, Rexei stammered. “I . . . that is . . . uh . . . I-I don’t think a . . . a member of the Holy Guild should . . .”
“I think you should think about these things. Remember, we suffered in part because what the deity is all about, the kingdom becomes,” Marta told her. “Now, since I have personally seen it, I know that women can be just as effective as men in combat, if they are given training appropriate to their strengths and their reflexes.”
“But women aren’t as strong as men,” Rexei stated, bemused by the turn of conversation. She had come in here to use the talker-box to contact other Consulates to find Gearmen apprentices willing to serve in the new Holy Guild, and . . . Marta was shaking her head. “What?”
“Longshanks, Mekha gave us all that mechanical knowledge to augment our abilities. It honestly does not matter if it’s a man or a woman steering a motorhorse. It does not matter if it’s a man or a woman maneuvering around in a motorman suit. Both can do so equally well. It doesn’t even matter all that much if it’s a man or a woman operating a cannon, save that it may take two women to easily load the munitions into the chamber, versus one man with a bit of effort or one woman having to struggle hard. But they can all load the cannon and fire it. Not that I advocate going to war, but I do strongly suggest we prepare ourselves to defend against it.”