“I’m guessing your family are automaton makers?” Princess Iona said.
Eluned could not approach the difference between ‘are’ and ‘were’, so ignored the question.
“I knew where the key was, and as I ran for it I could hear the engine stop, and then start up again as I returned. Most automatons run on cams or on sequence cards that control their movements. Sequence cards can be chained together, and the chain made into a loop, so that the automaton will run continuously. In a timing test for a processing automaton, you leave the automaton running without materials, to test whether the sequence stays true.”
“The movement had paused when I used the key. I threw the door open, and that frightened Jasper, and of course he ran right into the workings, and I wasn’t sure what part of the sequence it was up to, so all I could think to do was run and grab him. And the machine started.”
No-one spoke. Eluned was remembering the feeling of fur beneath her fingers. Whenever she thought too much about what it had been like to have two arms of flesh and bone, she could feel Jasper’s soft black fur, and see his brilliant blue eyes.
“Only five. Would know now to pull the cards, or the fulgite.”
Eluned threw Eleri a look of relief and gratitude, but her sister’s gaze was not on her.
They entered a domed playroom—such a delightful construction that Griff forgot puppies altogether and stopped dead in the doorway to drink in an elegant metal framework, and the triangular panels of window alternating with a ceiling painted dark blue and flecked with stars.
“Steel structure?” he said. “This isn’t in the original plans.”
“Mother had it added,” Princess Iona said, continuing on to an island of mats and cushions hiding the centre of a splendid parquetry star. “For Dimmy more than us, I tend to think. Dimmy loves the way her song echoes.”
I‑i‑EE!
The blue and white triskelion whirled down to circle around Princess Iona, then shot up to the very highest point of the dome, the volume of its song rising as it did until a high, sweet note pierced Eluned like a needle. She shuddered, then felt a touch on her left hand. Princess Tete, face still obscured, tugged at her fingers, the briefest contact, before following her sister into the centre of the dome.
“It’s easier to take if you lie down,” Prince Luc said and, with a ready understanding of Griff’s competing interests, guided him to the far side of the island from where Princess Celestine had folded herself cross-legged on a cushion with Falinis on her lap.
Eluned, following her sister to the centre of the pile, took the opportunity to murmur: “All right, Eleri?”
It seemed a brief nod would be the only response she was to receive, but then Eleri leaned in and added: “Never met anyone so incredible.”
This was such an un-Eleri thing to say that Eluned at first couldn’t take it in, and turned the whole of her attention to the problem of formal clothing and proper decorum. Did one simply settle on a particularly wide and squashy cushion and treat royal heirs as new acquaintances? There was nothing to do but try not to look too stiff about it.
But it was impossible to ignore Eleri’s words longer. ‘Incredible’ was not a word Eleri used for people, even the scientists she most admired. Did she mean one of the Suleviae? Or their children?
Princess Iona plumped back on another central cushion, her springing curls tickling Eluned’s ear. “Luc, Tete, Cele, you do Toroco. Everyone else can do Dimmy.”
Had Eleri meant Iona? That sheer confidence, and full force personality? Or…Eluned turned her head and considered Prince Luc, who was possibly as handsome as the papers said, in his reserved way. He glanced in her direction, and smiled encouragingly, and Eluned looked hastily away, then cursed herself because now he would think she liked him. But she supposed he was used to that.
The two triskelion, their song muted, slowed to hover directly above them, sending a faint, warm wind down onto their faces. Then the red and gold, Toroco, sang its name, but drew each syllable out to produce a long OOOOOOO‑oooooo‑OOOOOOO, and the three designated Gwyn Lynns, a fraction of a note behind, sang along with it.
Eluned’s chest throbbed again, and she shot a wide-eyed glance at her sister, but Eleri’s head was turned away. Toward Princess Celestine.
Celestine? Eluned couldn’t understand it. Fine-boned, and a little taller than Eluned and Eleri, Celestine she had her father’s long fall of straight, black hair, and exceptionally nice, clear skin. And…she had seemed to like her new pet? Attractive, yes, and with a fascinating parentage, but ‘incredible’?
Deciding she was misunderstanding something, Eluned turned her attention back to the dome above as Dimity blurred in a series of sidewise darts before settling above them again to sing its name. It was impossible to match the high, ethereal notes, but Eluned at least managed to keep her pitch true, and she took a deep breath after, wondering if she could truly feel the triskelion’s reaction. Everyone spoke of the joy of the Solstice Singing, but she’d had no idea it would be so intense.
Then the two triskelion sang at the same time, spiralling together along with the notes of their names, and they all sang back, even Eleri and Princess Tethané, who had a sweet, true voice, deep for such a small girl.
It was easier after that, to set aside the confusion of Eleri, and the memory of soft fur, and the discomfort of being thrust on prestigious strangers to entertain. The triskelion made all the difference. They could do nothing but spin, and speed or slow their song, but their delight was a second sun. Creatures of Sulis, sky-born, wind-hearted, completely different from her own human existence, present thanks to the tie of full allegiance between Sulis and the Suleviae.
Her hand itched.
FIFTEEN
Prytennia’s Crown Princess had a reputation for being unsociable, and her official photographic portrait certainly seemed to show a stern and uncompromising young woman. After a less than successful State visit the Dauphin had even taken to calling her ‘La poupée d’acier’: the Steel Doll.
That piece of mockery in no way suited Aerinndís Gwyn Lynn on a warm summer afternoon, wearing the lightest of Continental frocks and with her waist-length hair unbound. While not so deliciously tall as Lynsey Blair, she still had several inches on Rian, and seemingly endless legs. Her mouth—wide and generous, but with an upward crimp in her lower lip—might give her an air of being permanently unimpressed, but automaton-like she most certainly was not.
Rian stole appreciative glances, but during the short walk to the princess’ tower she set aside formidable distraction and refocused on goals. There were immense advantages in the Suleviae becoming involved in the investigation, particularly Princess Aerinndís. As the Sulevia Sceadu, the Crown Princess commanded ‘the Night Breezes’: a very mild name for one of Prytennia’s main defences—and sources of information-gathering.
Hoping Griff had not been too inconsiderate in his explorations, Rian followed the princess to her tower’s central stair, and was not surprised to be led downwards. She knew his heartbeat now, the vampire whose blood she shared. There was a certain resonance as well, not entirely pleasant. Part of herself, sitting before her.
Or, in Makepeace’s case, lying sprawled on an oval table, reading a newspaper.
He was dressed as he had been when she’d first seen him, in a casual wrapped shendy and a worn shirt lacking its laces. The formal clothing of the other day must have been on Cernunnos’ account. Perhaps Makepeace—with a millennia supporting Suleviae rule behind him—offered the Gwyn Lynns the same disdain he spread so liberally elsewhere.