CHAPTER TEN - FIRST EPISTLES TO THE COLONIALS
Dear Eygi,
I hope you've made it back home safely. The address you gave me wasn't quite right, but I managed to find out the proper one from the college office - sorry about that, I understand you must've been rushing. How's the countryside? I imagine the weather is significantly better than it is here - we've got that awful warm rain, the sort that makes everything smell of dust and earthworms. I hope things are better where you are, hopefully some of your good weather heads our way soon! Unless you have poor weather, then I hope it passes you by as quickly as possible.
How's Algi? Tell him I send my best, won't you?
Things are a bit odd around here since you left. Everything feels a bit emptier than usual, I'm realising just how many people have... well, left since the course started. Very quiet. I barely have to wait in line for my pecia these days, not like the first week I was here, not like that at all. The material we're covering now is frightfully interesting, right now I'm doing an introductory paper on equity law. Not sure if I'll pursue it as a specialism, though. Right now I think I might just focus on, well, common practice. Not so sure if I have an academic future ahead of me, but I can definitely see myself doing more mundane business, settling disputes, grumbling about wills, slapping purse-snatchers (metaphorically). Could be interesting! Hopefully.
Thank you for the bed, incidentally. It's lovely to actually be able to stretch out properly, really makes a difference with my sleep. It was very kind of you to let me have it, and I promise I'm taking good care of it. How's the estate? I remember you saying your father was training you to manage it, hope that's going well for you, I can imagine it's terrifically strange to shift from this dusty old place to, well, more aristocratic work. I actually find it quite hard to imagine it, I've been checking the popular fiction that's around at the moment for tips on what you might be getting up to - so you ought to let me know if I'm about to consume a lot of rot, otherwise I'll probably believe all sorts of loony things!
People are asking after you in some of the kaffs, they seem quite heartbroken to have lost you. I do hope you swing by for a visit one of these days, I'm sure you'll have all sorts of stories to tell. I doubt I'll be able to reciprocate, unless you want a long talk on equity law or eels, but I'd love to hear what you're up to, regardless!
Best wishes,
Tanner Magg
* * *
Dear Tanner,
Oh, you absolutely scrumptious ragamuffin, you barely let me settle down before sending me a letter! As for my business, I can tell you that right now all I've done is unpack and clean the dust out of my old room. Weather is utterly tolerable. Terribly sorry for not getting in touch sooner, absolutely bowled over by settling back into my old chambers. And yes, naturally, I'll come back to Fidelizh at some point, if only to manage some business of some variety. Father's hoping for me to start touring around a few of our little farmers, to inspect dairy churns and the other things I'll likely spend the rest of my life doing.
Algi is currently breathing and warm to the touch. Beyond this, I can say nothing else, least of all of the thoughts going on in his head. I'm sure there's some in there, but there's no outward sign of it. Dreadfully inconvenient.
Hope you're having a good old time in that dusty tomb, try not to strain your eyes too much, sunlight's a delirious wonder, but it becomes an absolute curse if you spend all your time indoors staring at books.
Plenty of love,
Eygi
* * *
Dear Eygi,
Lovely to hear from you! I was a bit worried by the silence, thought you might've had a train crash or something. Things are basically the same over here. I'm largely sticking indoors, I'm afraid. Too much work to be done. I do miss our chats, and I definitely miss your recommendations for places to eat - back to relying on the dining hall, really. I hope there's good fortune with the dairy churning business, sounds like something out of one of those ghastly pastoral fantasies that were popular a year ago, you remember? All those other students, doing their plays, rolling around the stage moping about how awful the city was and how lovely cows and sheep and stiles were? Speaking of which, actually, I don't suppose you have any other recommendations for plays? They're slowing the pace down a bit, letting people opt out more as we get more senior, but I still have to handle at least one. I'm terribly afraid one of the others will ask me to do something large and verbose, or worse, completely humiliating. I keep thinking one of them might ask me to try and play some sort of enormous pantomime donkey or something, and I'll splutter a bit, ramble helplessly, and before I know it I'll never live it down. I really can't pass things off as 'just a bit of fun', I don't have the lightness for it, people know that it affects me, and I know they'll always be thinking about it. I still remember that first play the three of us did, the one you and Algi ran, and how I just sat in that all-night kaff after the performance and just stayed there all night (appropriately enough(, I was just terrified of going back to my dormitory and facing people after going up there in a wretched little costume and-
Anyhow. I'm very sorry for rambling. Not many chances to ramble nowadays, what with you gone and all. Do you have any recommendations for plays, though? Anything with a bunch of small parts, just so I know what to suggest when that awful time rolls round again? Of course, if any of this is remotely inconvenient, I don't mind at all, I'm just curious, you tend to know a lot more than I do about these things.
They're murmuring about pupillage now, the instructing judges are looking to see if there's anyone they want to take under their wing within the next year or so. Terrifying to think of, well, actually doing proper work. I know I said I wanted to do more common practice, the basic drudgery, that sort of thing, but there's a gulf between saying that and actually doing it, you know? Also, I can't believe I never found out beforehand - what's your birthday? Asking for a friend!
Glad to hear Algi's alive. I understand he's flitting between things at the moment, last I heard he was talking about social theories and so on, is he considered becoming a scholar? That'd be an interesting choice! I'm not sure if I should hope that he settles down to manage the estate, or if I should hope he moves on to find something else, leaving the whole kit, caboodle, guns and glory to you! I've been reading Balyol Strides Forth, that new serial, and maybe that's been shaping my impressions, but I'm convinced that everything out in the colonies is aristocrats feuding over inheritances, going to lavish cotillions, organising mutant hunts, and lots of running around the hills in swoopy dresses while wailing to the mountain-like clouds. I assume you're only doing some of that, I'd love to hear how close my delusions are to reality, though! Certainly, I can imagine you could pull off the swoopy dresses this book keeps talking about, you've got the figure for it, not to mention the confidence, but I find it hard to imagine you declaring 'lo, though his origins be so humble, the lowest station cannot taint the highest of characters, and how I long to press my rubious lips against his sturdy cheek, how I long for the maximum masculine!'
Well, I assume. I remember how you were on stage, I think you could pull that sort of thing off if you tried. Maybe as a comedy?
Hope the weather's going well, it's ghastly out here, all sorts of rain. I can hear it pattering above me, those awful breathing pillars in the entrance hall keep coughing and spluttering when the water gets inside, I think the filters are broken. Feels like the entire court is coming down with a cough, and I can feel my own lungs itching in sympathy. Do you think that might be a thing? Sympathetic illness, some sort of medical hysteria where people contract illnesses just to make actual sufferers feel a little better? Might call it 'hysterical empathy' or something along those lines. I sometimes feel that might be a thing - I'm sure you've seen some of the girls around here who read those serials, and when one of them starts weeping, it's like all the others just join in spontaneously? And then everyone's crying, and it's just a big soggy mess? I mean, surely all their emotions can't overflow at once, but maybe they decide out of awkward kindness to just give the original weeper a bit of consolation? And if it happens with weeping, why not with actual diseases?
I wonder if soldiers spontaneously catch gangrene to keep their comrades company?
I'm sorry, I'm being silly. But I do miss our little chats, I enjoyed being, well, rather ridiculous together! Let me know if you're coming down at some point, won't you? Or just pop in to call, I'd be happy to treat you to something!
Yours affectionately,
Tanner Magg
* * *
Tanner,
Very, very sorry again, completely swamped with work, didn't mean to delay for so long. Lovely to hear from you, naturally, weather's perfectly fine at the moment, hope things are going well for you back in the city. Interesting ideas, must say, always find them entertaining to read through. Algi is still alive, still cognisant, but he's not thinking of becoming a scholar at the moment - he's not remotely bookish enough, and I honestly think he'd rather be an idler the rest of his life. You know the sort, happy to lounge around and read bits and bobs, but without actually committing to anything. Deliriously fun, but terribly consumptive of the old family treasury. Someone has to make sure the golden well remains full, and that increasingly looks to be my appointed task. Not such a bad one, though. Lovely to hear from you, of course, lovely to hear that you're still pursuing the whole judging business.
In terms of plays, I'd recommend looking for anything by Gulyai of the Tableland, he's decent enough, has lots of side characters who say a little, and he's good for legal humour. If someone suggests Camima of Goldcreek, ignore them immediately and curse their mothers for good measure. Camima is fine, but she absolutely adores having a suite of side-characters who have all the charm and sophistication of buboes. She appears to assume that all country-dwelling people are ignorant boors who eat their own cousins and have accents thicker than treacle. If you wind up doing one of her plays with others, and don't want to be a main character, you'll be a shambling bumpkin. So, Gulyai good, Camima crap. Simple axiom, really. Interesting to hear about that serial, been ages since I've read any. I'll try my best to avoid wandering around with an excessively flowy dress, I'd just catch my death in the weather we've got right now.
Not sure when I'm heading back into the city, but if I can, I'll pop by and say hello.
Talk soon,
Eygi
* * *
Dear Eygi,
Oh, lovely to hear back from you! Sorry that things are so busy, I completely understand. Things are busy here as well, hard to find time to step aside to write a letter. The play went... tolerably, they wound up choosing something by Camima of Goldcreek, picked it out before you were able to get back to me, but it's fine, I was able to get a role as a smaller character who isn't a complete caricature, I mostly just stood around with a goblet and waited for all the characters to die off humorously. I didn't get most of the jokes, and I don't think the audience did either, but at least the weight of the comedy wasn't resting on my shoulders. Just a goblet, and that was fairly light, all things considered. Still, I'll keep Gulyai in mind for next time, though I'm really not sure how many opportunities are left, feels like a lot of things are slowing down as we buckle into the more professional stuff. I think we've slowly shed most of the people who were only going to stick around for a few years to get a bit of basic training, so the people left are all committed to being judges - which means less drama, less hoo-ha, more plain and simple law. Which I distinctly prefer. It's funny, but just having competing commitments makes life so much more stressful, made everything harder to do overall. Just having to square competing schedules, balancing what's important against what's less important, and it always seems like the latter occupies more of your brain than it really ought to. Rationally, I know that drama doesn't contribute to anything I'll be doing later, beyond some public speaking practice, but irrationally, drama has the potential to be more humiliating, more painful, more... uncomfortable. Nice to feel like I'm shedding it, though. Since you left, I've found I don't enjoy it whatsoever, even the little bits of fun I had from time to time seem to be gone.
Sorry, don't mean to be morose. Still, glad to hear you're well, glad that Algi is alive, glad that the estate hasn't burned to the ground quite yet. The weather here is actually quite nice, they barely need to use the illuminated tiles now, the skylights take care of most of it. Quite nice, hearing birdsong while I'm studying. Do you remember last summer, back when you were still studying here, and you ended up going to what felt like a hundred garden parties? I always felt ridiculous going, what with my cape and all, always felt too warm, too stuffy. You, though, I mean, you were fantastic during them, I can't imagine how lavish the garden parties out in the colonies must be, all the space you have to work with and all that. I remember just standing around sweating my skin off, drinking citrinitas, while you were in the biggest sun-hat I've ever seen, looking absolutely comfortable. I was jealous, but at the same time, I was deeply stubborn about it all - I remember you pointing that out. Once I'd committed to wearing a cape, I wasn't going to take it off, that would just seem weak. Probably weaker to keep it on out of shame, though. Don't suppose you have any recommendations for good summer dress shops? Or wherever you got that hat from? I don't have time to go exploring, and I don't like shopping alone, so I'd very much appreciate any little tips you might have!
Funnily, I've heard that the lady judges do much the same as you did at that garden party, or rather, a mixture of the two of us. The gentlemen have to wear those big dark suits all the time, with the cape over the top, and apparently they just sweat themselves to death. But I've seen Sister Halima walking around with this lovely sundress once the weather picks up, she just slings her cape over the top. Not sure if I could pull that off, I imagine I'd receive far too many venomous glares from all the people currently transforming into baked potatoes. I wonder if someone's considered weaving herbs into our capes - I mean, I've had that meal where you wrap up a piece of meat with paper filled with herbs, then bake it, and that's just delicious. Do you remember the name? Anyway, I was thinking that might be an option for us during the summer months. Just put some thyme and sage into our cloaks, then the heat bakes us a bit, and we all smell absolutely wonderful as a consequence. Might make cannibalism a bit appealing, but I think that's an acceptable risk. Sorry for rambling, this is the sort of thing I don't really get to talk about these days, most people look at me oddly and stop talking. Need to get the thoughts out somehow, though!
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Oh, incidentally, before I forget myself - you forgot to mention when your birthday was! Asking for a friend who might want to send a present your way, if at all possible. Either way, once you come back to Fidelizh for a bit, I'll happily treat you to a proper slap-up dinner. And you must tell me more about your estate, I'm still struggling to imagine it - the serials keep talking about huge libraries and rambling corridors and wings in all directions, but as you said, I'm not sure how much bearing those serials have on reality. I mean, they were incorrect about the flowy dresses, and I'm not sure if anyone in their right mind has ever said 'the maximum masculine', but here we are. Please, I'm eager to lose my ignorance!
Pupillage business is continuing, though I've still got no idea as to who wants to take me on. Hope it's one of the nicer judges, the kind that actually get you to do things rather than just haul around their laundry and whatnot. Incidentally, I don't suppose you have any thoughts on the stuff going on in the riverbed settlement? I heard there was something going on, people keep talking about it, but I'm honestly a little afraid of asking - I know very little, and it feels like everyone took an introductory course I accidentally missed out on. I thought you might know something, seems like the sort of thing that would be a popular topic of discussion. Either way, I hope you're doing well, and I hope you continue to do well. And let me know about your birthday! And when you're heading back to Fidelizh, love to see you again! Plus, I need to thank you properly for the bed, honestly, it's done things for my back I didn't think were possible, thank you again for letting me have it. Love to buy you a proper dinner as a proper thank-you!
Yours,
Tanner
* * *
Dear Eygi,
I'm very sorry to write twice in quick succession, I understand how annoying it must be, but I really needed to ask - has something happened with Algi? These men came by this morning to ask me about him, has he gotten into trouble? I think they were with the Erlize - they had the same tweed suits, the same odd-shaped cufflinks, all that business. Anyway, I was just finishing up m breakfast when these two men, one tall, one short, came up to me in the corridor and quietly led me off, said that they had to ask a few questions. They took me out of the court itself, and no-one seemed to stop them, so I assumed it was fine for me to leave - took me out of the inner court and the outer court, took me to this squat little building, just underneath one of the god-towers. It was uncanny, neither of them had a god on their back, not at all, I remember checking the star-charts in the newspaper that morning, and there was nothing about any demands for tweed or cufflinks, nothing at all. I assume that it's a uniform, but... well, it's honestly one of the first times in the last few years that I've seen a non-judge without a god on their back. No idea what behaviours were being dictated to them, as a consequence. I think I understand why people in the city are so afraid, they feel like voids, like unnatural absences in the world. Stuck out like sore thumbs under the god-towers - I mean, they're surrounded by colour and strangeness, and then there's two plain, unremarkable men in identical tweed suits with these glittering, ornate cufflinks, and the entire world just parted around them, crowds shifted, people kept their eyes away, it was all deeply surreal. Like going into an otherworld of some kind. It honestly felt like being buried alive, I was panicking like you wouldn't believe. Each step was just another shovelful of dirt on the surface of my coffin, and the more we walked, the more people just seemed to recede away. Could be standing right at my side and they'd seem distant.
I wonder if that's how ghosts see the world?
No, sorry, sorry, I'm very nervous and that makes me ramble, I haven't been able to talk about this at all, I'm very sorry. I'll get to the point.
Anyway, they took me into this building, squat, unremarkable. It seemed to just be narrow corridors full of wind, and heavy metal doors. I ddin't know much about the Erlize, I still don't, I just know that I'm meant to do what they say when they ask. Anyway, they opened up one of the metal doors - like something out of a bank vault, or an oven. Shoved me into a room with nothing but a little wooden table and a little wooden stool which creaked when I sat on it, I was terrified of snapping the thing. Then they started asking me questions. Neither of them sat down. Their eyes looked like flat silver coins, sometimes I even forgot they were human, thought they'd been mutated until they lost some crucial part of themselves. My father used to talk about people like that from the Great War, said the asylums were full of people like that, mutated just a little bit. They'd stand in their cells, never sleeping, never blinking, just staring at whoever came to see them. Nothing human left behind their eyes. It's why he stopped working for them, really, even when money was tight. Not the screaming inmates, just the silent ones, the staring ones. The Erlize kept reminding me of those stories, and I just kept sweating, the stool was uncomfortable, the table creaked constantly, there always seemed to be a file of some description, and they were just...
Anyway, the Erlize started asking me about your brother. They knew I'd been in contact with him while he was in the school, they knew I was corresponding with you, and they thought I might know more. They started small, just asking about Algi's appearance, habits, conversation topics. What we liked talking about (not much), how often we met (not very), and how close we were (not particularly). Asked a bit about you, but not much, and I didn't say anything embarrassing, I promise. Then they got more intense. They said he was involved with some kind of organisation, something about restoring the monarchy to Fidelizh, bringing a king back from Mahar Jovan. They showed me little journal articles he'd been writing, things about how the Golden Parliament was possessed by usury and corruption, how they just existed to stamp us down, how they were a bunch of hollow-souled monsters who understood nothing but continuing their control, using crisis after crisis as an excuse to exert more control over us, including through the Erlize. All this talk about bringing virtue back to governance - sorry, he spelled it Virtue, with a capital V - and restoring dignity to Fidelizh. It was strange to read, I'm sure Algi's just drifting to another of his odd ideas, you know what he's like. I didn't say much, I'd never read about it, I only dimly remember him talking about how... kaffs were signs of how fake and surface-level the world was, the specifics elude me. The Erlize just kept asking little questions, kept asking about tiny details - when I mentioned his kaff theory, they asked what he'd been eating and drinking, what his suit was like, was he wearing a cape, they always seemed to be insinuating things, but I never knew what.
Eygi, I'm very sorry to write to you again, I don't want to rush you at all with things, I know you like to reply at your own pace, but I really need to know if everything's alright. Did the Erlize come for you too? Is something wrong? Is Algi alright? Are you alright, and is there absolutely anything I can do to help? There's not a holiday for a while, but I think I might be able to sort out a small break for personal reasons, I've not taken any before, but it might work. Maybe I can take a train out?
Please do let me know, Eygi. I had no idea anything was happening - why didn't you tell me? I understand if it was too sensitive to talk about, I really do, but I would've liked to have some warning about getting questioned. But, again, I understand if it was too sensitive, I really do understand, and I don't hold it against you at all. I just want some clarification, if you can possibly provide it. At least let me know that you're alright. I'm worried.
Tanner
* * *
Dear Tanner,
I received both of your letters, I apologise for any delay. I also apologise for any inconvenience you might've had with the Erlize, I know they can be a little rough. Yes, to clear things up, Algi's decided to be a bloody little neo-monarchist who wants to bring the king back after a good few centuries of absence, he went on a little holiday to Mahar Jovan, wound up finding himself a tart to gnaw on (pardon my vulgarity), and promptly became addicted to the place. I don't know what your home has in terms of women, but clearly they're capable of radicalising the most idle of creatures. Honestly, I could blame just about anyone - father, mother, the colony, the estate, that girl he was sweet for a while back, Fidelizh, the gods, the damn movement of the stars, I could blame anything and everything ,but right now I'm happy to blame him. Don't you worry about him, he's sitting around with other down-at-heel princelings. Under no circumstances should you decide to write to him and give him lodging with your family, you're the sort of person to do that, and you mustn't. The Erlize get very tetchy about that sort of thing, and they've more than enough on their plates right now with the riverbed business.
Listen, Tanner, with all due politeness - do not bring up my brother again. Not unless he decides to renounce his silly little ideas and come home. Until he decides to do that, he's not in line for the estate, father refuses to speak his name. Bringing back the king, of all the lunatic notions he had to adopt. Apologies for not informing you about the possibility of getting questioned, the Erlize might come back and ask you a little more, that's why it's important your family doesn't interact with him at all. You'll gain nothing, and lose much. At minimum, deportation back home, the cessation of your education, all that ugly business. Apologies for not informing you. It was sensitive, family business. You know that I don't discuss family business as a rule, yes? Anyhow, Algi aside.
Good to hear from you. Weather's tolerable. I'm very busy, it's doubtful that I'll be able to come to Fidelizh any time soon. Don't bother coming out here, I don't want to interrupt your work, and I dare say I'd be a shoddy hostess at present. Good to hear the plays worked out well. Happy about the bed. Afraid I must dash, there's a hundred accounts to manage and a crumbling house to keep going. If you wanted to know how estates function - they don't, they're maintained in a state of continuous decline, and the best we can do is extend the process until we have to call in the fire squads to burn it all to the ground, once contamination seeps into the walls. Must be off. Incidentally, you really wrote a smoke bomb with that last letter - absolutely full of bits of ash and crumbs, my father was downright alarmed when I opened it over breakfast. Not like you to be so sloppy. Must be off. Talk soon.
Best wishes,
Eygi of Yorone
* * *
Dear Mother,
I know this is sooner than usual, and my monthly letter might be slightly delayed as a consequence. Apologies for that. I hope you're well, and that the lodge is conducting affairs properly. Speaking of the lodge, could I possibly ask if you could might inform them I'm in need of some additional protections? It's superstitious, but I like to know they have a few candles burning for me, especially now. Mother, if a young man by the name of Algi of Yorone (frog-like face, my age, tends to sprawl in his chair, well-dressed last I saw), speaking with a Fidelizhi accent, perhaps with a female companion, likely associated with monarchy restorationists, approaches the house and indicates familiarity with the name of Magg, please turn him away. He's not a friend, and is considered a dangerous radical by the Golden Parliament. He used to be in my year at the inner temple, but left just over a year ago. It's imperative you don't let him in.
I-
Tanner stopped. Slowly peeled one of the lenses from her face. The goggles around her head were heavy, and her neck twinged slightly, eager to hunch and bear the weight in the most cringing manner possible. A leather circlet, with a series of tiny metallic strands branching away, like a metal spider was nesting in her hair. At the end of each rigid strand was a lens, wide and gleaming. She only had the largest lenses down, just out of habit - the smaller ones were for refining things further, for seeing the tiniest of sub-footnotes. At this point she barely took them off, she liked having something to fiddle with, something to clean, something to maintain. Something to do with her hands beyond clenching. A rattle in the corridor startled her, and she turned sharply, staring into the gloom. Nothing. Not men in tweed suits coming to find her again. With a creak of protesting wood and leather, she shifted in her chair, biting her lip almost hard enough to draw blood.
Glared at the paper in front of her. The creamy sheet of letter-stock, better than the whisper-thin stuff, thin as cigarette paper, that she wrote her notes on. She was alone. The dormitory closed in around her, as it always did - she'd been moved. Smaller rooms, less judges, newer years getting the long, barracks-style place. The others were out, which was the only reason she dared to write. This was... she didn't dislike Algi, she'd never disliked him, just preferred his sister significantly. But he'd never been a negative point in their collective meetings, never someone she regretted to be acquainted to. Well. Not until now. This was a rank move for her, telling her mother to shoo him away, but... but her mind immediately flirted with catastrophic visions. She saw him arriving. She saw her mother letting him in for tea, as was dictated by etiquette. She saw Algi, a dangerous radical, meeting her mother, and... and her father, meeting her father. Seeing him sitting by a fireplace in his blanket, pale from lack of sunlight, eyes staring ahead, a thick hat to cover up the dent in his skull where his thoughts had once sat.
She imagined three possibilities. First, her mother being interrogated. This was bad enough. Her mother was... alright, Tanner hadn't spoken to her much. Still something awkward between them. Things that neither had apologised for, and had long-since missed the chance to do so. Still remembered a few weeks after the accident, when... no, no. Not thinking about it. But even the shadow of the memory made her jaw clench painfully. Her mother was still half-decent. Being interrogated would shame her before the lodge. It would ruin her health, she was nervous, always nervous. Tanner could endure things, she hadn't cried after the questioning, she'd kept working, she'd honestly just sat down and finished up her notes for the night. She had her mechanisms for coping. Her mother didn't. Not in the same way. Second, Tanner being deported back home. Unacceptable. The idea of... of failing was terrifying to her. The idea of falling short of expectations. Wasting the money lavished on her. Failing the lodge. Shamed before them. Shamed before everyone. Sitting at home, alone, stained with the refuse of dock work, wiping the spit from her father's slack lip, helping spoon food to him, her fingernails still clogged with tiny bones from little fish...
No. No. She had to finish. Expectation demanded it. And she wouldn't fail because of Algi.
And the third possibility was the worst of all. The least likely, but she kept imagining it. Algi doing something stupid. Asking to use the hosue for clandestine meetings. Asking to see the lodge to have a chat, he didn't know the taboos, he didn't know the rites, and if he was forceful enough, mother would let it happen. Algi trying to get back in contact with Tanner. Algi blackmailing Tanner to put up inflammatory posters. Algi ruining Tanner's life.
A younger Tanner would've been paralysed by these thoughts. Paralysed by catastrophe on one side, and churning guilt on the other. Paralysed, and useless.
Tanner had grown up, though. Grown yet larger in terms of size. Grown stronger and smarter. She'd learned to endure things. Had her coping mechanisms. She was a little boiling engine of progress, girdled with bands of expectation, tradition, necessity. And tiny outlets in the form of her letters to Eygi.
And this little engine moved.
Regardless. The Erlize were spying on her letters. Tanner didn't smoke. And Eygi had mentioned her letter being full of ash and crumbs. The Erlize had opened them up, read the letter, approved of the contents. Not even sure how much of it had arrived, and how much had just been cut away with a razor blade. Needed to make a display that she wasn't tied up with Algi, not at all.
In the end, there wasn't a choice. She felt guilty. But she knew that if she stumbled here, she'd have wasted almost three years of her life. 17% of her life, according to a mental calculation. Almost a fifth.
No choice.
I apologise for the suddenness of this letter, but I do hope you're well. I hope Father is well. I apologise for any stress this might cause. Algi isn't a violent individual, but he's very misguided, and I wouldn't want to visit any trouble on you. I'm afraid I won't be able to come home for a while - we're moving into pupillage soon, and I have a massive pile of work to do.
Yours,
Tanner
And even now, after three years of letters, and fifteen years of life, she cringed at the formality in her writing.
With a thump, the letter was sealed.
And the tightening bands of expectation, ritual, purpose...
The perpetual golden braid wound tighter and tighter around her, like one of her ribbons holding her omnipresent cape in place.
Had to do this. No reason not to.
* * *
Dear Eygi,
I apologise again for the rapid correspondence. I hope you're well, and that the weather is tolerable enough. No further problems with the authorities, and I'm terribly sorry if this letter is ash-stained! I'm sorry to hear about the estate. I imagine you're not in a very good mood at present, I do hope you feel better soon. What helps when I feel a bit on the rough side is having a nice long chat with a friend, or when that fails, or if there's no friends immediately available, sometimes I like taking long, long walks. Long walks in empty streets where I can talk to myself a bit. It sounds peculiar, but just speaking to myself can help, I feel like I just exhale all my lesser and greater problems into the world. Rather like a dog growling, I suppose, getting all its tension out with a few rumbles. It's a silly idea, but it can help. I've been doing some very long walks lately, helps me out. I'd love to talk more, though, there's really no substitute to sitting down with a good friend and having a long, long talk. I'm sure you're in a similar boat - really, the moment you get back to Fidelizh, I want to be there at the station to say hello. Should be easy enough to spot me! Just let me know when you're coming back, I assume you are, at some point, even just for business - all the serials have stories about noble ladies nipping to the city and back again, keeping up social engagements, maintaining chambers in elegant hotels... sounds rather up your street!
Pupillage went through, by the way. I'm a pupil under Sister Halima - you remember her, she's the lecturer who gave us that great little talk back at the start, the one the two of us met during. Thought you might like to know. She specifically requested me, too! So, I thought I ought to extend some thanks to you - it was the two of us that spoke during that lecture, so you get half of the credit! I'm sure if you were still here, she'd have asked for two pupils. Sometimes I feel as though I only have half a brain when I'm on my own, you really filled out the rest. Together, I think we make quite an impressive individual! Alone, well, I can do my best.
I miss you dearly, I don't hold the Algi business against you at all, I really wish to talk with you more, it's never been the same since you left. I truly miss you, would ask little more than to be in your company again and
Sorry, mistake above, must be tired - usually I'm more careful with my spelling! Anyhow, I do hope you're well, that the estate is in rude health, so on and so forth. I'm considering buying some of those suits which have all the buttons up the sleeves and trousers, it's fashionable for the senior judges right now, and I like the look of them. Grown on me. You remember how Brother Olgi always had those suits, black with little pearl buttons up the sleeves, the trousers, everything? Made him look like a walking constellation in the right light. Seems to have been a bit ahead of the curve in terms of fashion, might be worth keeping an eye on him in future!
I'm sorry for bothering you. I do hope you're well. We must talk soon - and you have to let me know if you're coming back. You really must! And let me know about your birthday, you keep forgetting!
Your loyal friend,
Tanner