Lan, in a high-collared long black dress with ornate lace patterns around the hem, was an impressive presence. He wondered vaguely why she didn’t make more of her athletic figure, but he assumed she was still in the habit of concealing herself.
‘So should we be doing this?’ Fulcrom asked.
Lan shrugged. ‘We’re just discussing how to find Shalev, that’s all, while the boys entertain themselves with lower-level ladies.’
‘Right,’ Fulcrom replied, noting her emphasis on the word lower. ‘They’re not going to be out all night, I hope? I mean, they must know about the indoor iren opening tomorrow?’
‘Yes they do, stop being a control freak,’ Lan mocked. ‘Despite their bravado, they do take it all seriously, especially since your lecture to them.’
‘I know, I know.’ Fulcrom leaned back in his chair. ‘It’s just that it’s only you guys and the city guard there, and I don’t think they’re particularly good at looking after themselves let alone protecting the event from Cavesiders.’
‘You’re starting to sound like one of the characters from a MythMaker sketch.’
‘You read that rubbish?’ Fulcrom asked.
‘Sometimes, I do. You must admit they’re funny.’
‘I’ve never read one.’
‘Then how would you know if they’re rubbish?’
‘A valid point,’ Fulcrom confessed.
‘Besides, the children of the city seem to love it. I vaguely remember talk of them from years ago, but they went underground. There seem to be a lot of them about now though.’
‘So I’ve noticed,’ Fulcrom grumbled. ‘I guess children need their heroes?’
‘Even adults,’ Lan remarked. ‘So it appears, at least.’
Fulcrom made a vague wave of his hands. ‘These are uncertain times,’ he said. ‘What with the ice age really settling in, the reports of genocide, and the war that’s going on in Villiren, people need to believe in something. That the Knights exist gives them deep comfort. It gives them a focus. Did you know, people even stop us investigators on the street to tell us how appreciative they are of you.’
Lan gave a cute smile, and there was something about her manner that said here was affirmation that she was doing more than just fighting crime, that she was happy to be a symbol.
*
Fulcrom came from a long line of extroverts, and found being around others to be hugely comforting. He could absorb their energy, enjoyed observing their quirks and mannerisms and making huge generalizations about their lives. Throughout his childhood, his mother and his father would constantly guffaw across the dinner table, make jokes with pats on backs and discussions of the day. They were a tight-knit and outrageous bunch, Bohr rest their souls. And it made sitting across from Lan all the more interesting, because clearly she had spent much of her life trying not to say anything — doubly interesting, because he noted how with him, she was the one initiating conversations, prodding him on his past and his tastes. She laughed when he spoke of things he knew weren’t that funny.
If he read people as well as he thought he could, these were encouraging signs.
But Fulcrom also felt uneasy for any number of reasons. Of course there was his private knowledge of Lan: she used to be anatomically male, and no matter how liberal and open-minded Fulcrom considered himself, no matter how good the cultists had been, that thought existed. A lot of it was new to him, too — he had studied as best he could to understand notions of what made someone a man or a woman or one of the shades in between; he tried to understand how someone’s gender and sex could be different, but found such matters to be amazingly complex. Could a person be so different from the one they were a year ago? Perhaps it was the investigator in him, but all he had were questions.
‘You’re thinking about the issue, aren’t you?’ Lan asked.
‘Not at all, no.’
The waitress brought over some soup and spiced bread, then left them alone again. Lan held her hair back with one hand as she leant over the dish. Whenever she looked up at him, something resolute inside him melted. He’d been shutting out such feelings for so long he didn’t know what to think any more.
‘Aren’t you going to eat?’ she asked. ‘I don’t want to look like some starved pig compared to you.’
Fulcrom didn’t need telling twice, and tucked into the soup, letting the intense flavours of garlic and cumin spill over his tongue. A band started up, violins and drums playing old folk numbers, loud enough to be heard but not enough to ruin the moment.
In between mouthfuls Lan opened up. ‘You know, it’s pretty good being a Knight.’
‘Finally adjusted to the life then? I knew you would.’
‘You know everything, don’t you?’
‘No, but it’s my job to at least try to know everything.’
Her raised eyebrow indicated she’d registered he wasn’t being serious. ‘Yes, it’s good. For the first time I’ve found a niche for myself. I’m glad I was taken — not how I was taken, but that I’ve been allowed to be something useful. To make a contribution to the world. One thing I’ve learned is that it’s very difficult being a woman in this world.’
‘I think I know what you mean.’
‘You don’t know until you’re actually a woman,’ Lan said.
He was surprised at how matter-of-fact she was about the hidden suggestions of her transformations. He’d assumed she’d never want to mention it.
She continued, speaking earnestly and with passion. ‘There are too few ways in which a woman from low birth can have an impact in society. There are next to none in the Council, few of them are landowners outright unless by marriage. Few of us have access to power. You know the other day when we were doing an appearance on behalf of the Emperor, afterwards a little girl trotted up to me in a makeshift black uniform. She was like a miniature version of me, and she told me that one day she wanted to grow up to be just like me. It was amazing. I was a role model for a young girl. I can never remember there being many female role models — apart from the Empress, and look what happened to her.’
Fulcrom said nothing.
‘That was the point where I knew for certain I could be happy — being a role model for young girls. And what irony.’
‘I guess so.’
‘You don’t like it when I hint about my past.’
Fulcrom shrugged. He wanted to say that he wanted to know every small fact about her, because he thought her attractive and that she was gradually colonizing parts of his mind.
‘I’m not going to shut it away,’ Lan declared. ‘Just because I led a hidden life didn’t mean I was repressed in any way. It is admittedly easy never to mention it, but why repress it? That only grows your anger and your bitterness. I kept telling myself that I was above all that.’
‘It must have been quite something to live with,’ Fulcrom said.
‘You have no idea.’ Lan went on to describe how difficult her upbringing had been, but spoke always with a wry smile. ‘It’s easier for me if I forgive people, if I think about their needs, make excuses for them. I believe we’re all still like children, just grown a little older. We still blunder around making mistakes, judging people based on our own limited experiences, lashing out at what we fear. We’re all still scared of something. If I think of us all like that, it’s easier to forgive.’
Lan was bewitching, holding his attention for longer than any woman in a long time, and he found her increasingly difficult to resist. It seemed those ghosts of his were growing fainter by the heartbeat.
*
Lan paid for the meal and drinks. She said she earned more than enough being a Knight, and she didn’t quite know what to do with all the money. Begrudgingly, Fulcrom permitted her the gesture. Afterwards they took a walk along one of the bridges across the city — not one of the massive ones that horses trudged across daily, dragging wares from iren to iren and rattling the stonework to dust. This was one of the daintier, more ethereal structures, with tall arches and wooden trusses. Fulcrom tried to ignore the bitter winds and the plummeting temperature, instead dwelling on the things he’d not really had time for before: the stars, the way the moonlight skimmed across the slate tops of houses, the graceful arcs of hunting pterodettes, the deep black tundra beyond the city walls.