Genova had always been interested in machines. Far more than she’d been interested in fancy needlework. Machines wereusefulThey created something solid and necessary. Even a dress wasn’t necessary. Many people in the world clothed themselves in a wrapped cloth.
Rothgar pointed to a model of a fireplace with a cat curled in front of it. “There’s a switch there, Miss Smith. Why don’t you move it?”
Genova did so. A cheerful tune started and simulated flames rose from the log and moved. The cat waved its tail, and the clock on the mantelpiece ticked.
“It’s charming!”
“A simple thing,” he said, as it wound down, “but it was broken and we have brought it to life again. Will you take it as a birthday gift, Miss Smith? You have shown that you know how to take care of treasures.”
Genova felt flustered, but she thanked him. Was he referring to thepresepeor to Charlie? Or to both? Or even, perhaps, to Ash?
Rothgar moved on to a bench spread with a hundred pieces of metal on a white cloth. They were all shapes and sizes. Genova could see that the drawing pinned on the wall behind was a design or map of where all these pieces went, but it made no sense to her.
She remembered how confusing sea charts had looked when her father had first taught her about them, and how clear they had become in time.
Rothgar pointed to a place on the drawing and then picked up five pieces. He deftly linked them together and pushed a pin through. Holding the pin in placewith his fingers, he moved one piece, and another piece moved twice.
He split them apart and put them down. “You may try if you wish.”
Genova looked around. Ash stood nearby, but the other three guests were wandering, switching on various devices that had been put out for exploration.
Genova looked back at the master of machines and wondered just how she was being wound up, but she couldn’t resist. “It’s easy because you’ve left the pieces in order.”
She picked them up, repeating what he’d done, glancing once at the drawing when uncertain. That bit of it made sense to her now. Then she pushed in the pin and moved the delicate extension of metal. The other piece responded, in double time.
She laughed with delight out of all proportion to the simple task, then looked at Ash, feeling as if he might disapprove. He looked only surprised.
“It was easy,” she said.
“No,” he responded.
She looked back at Lord Rothgar.
“Easy to us, maybe. Are you, too, one who needs to make the world run smoothly, Miss Smith? I warn you, it will break your heart at times.”
“I wouldn’t be so arrogant,” she said, then bit her lip.
He smiled. “We are all arrogant in our passions, whether our world is a globe or a small cell.”
“What is this?” Ash asked, indicating the shrouded shape in the middle of the room.
Rothgar lifted the cloth. Genova was not the only one to gasp in admiration at a huge dove with wings of pearl, tipped with diamonds.
“You’re trying to improve on peace?” Ash said.
Now, when she wasn’t braced for it, Genova felt the rank stink of strife.
Rothgar folded the cloth and put it aside. “His Majesty agreed with me that it was less than it could be.”
Genova longed to understand, and as if she’d asked, Ash turned to her. “This was a gift from the actingFrench ambassador to the king. All show and little substance. But then,” he added, “D’Eon is perhaps all show and little substance.”
D’Eon.
“Unwise to underestimate him that far,” Rothgar said and turned to the machine. “The mechanism is simple and couldn’t be changed, but it gave no illusion of nature. If you saw it in operation before, Cousin, judge it now.”
Rothgar moved a lever, and the bird came to life. It turned its head, flexing a little, then lowered its beak and picked an olive branch from among greenery and raised it. Genova was caught in the illusion that the dove had selected it, that the bird was real.
“There was only the one branch before,” Ash said, “and there was a click when the bird’s beak grasped it.”
