“They’re not really servants, are they?” he asked in a low voice “They’re enslaved.”
“You’re right.” I took his hand and led him down an aisle of high shelves. My feet recalled every hidden pathway through the storeroom. Down here, I’d briefly been invisible. Undisturbed. I’d enjoyed the respite from trying to be a good student, trying to do everything right. “So let’s protect them as best we can.”
We had to move as quickly as possible, taking advantage of being unseen. Once the alarm was sounded, every Transistor in the House would be on our tail. We crept up the winding stairs to the kitchen that served as a hub to every dormitory, with lifts designated specifically for servant use. Trying to walk calmly, I stepped into one and beckoned for Ezra to follow.
“This a glorified coffin,” he murmured unhappily.
“Let’s hope not,” I said, turning the lever to the first-year girls’ floor and placing my hand on the conduction pad.
We rose slowly, the gears creaking. The service lift wasn’t ornate like the ones for general use. It didn’t have the same gold filigree and built-in lamps and polished floor. I felt like cargo being hoisted by a winch. When it jerked to a stop, I pushed the doors open to a room full of startled little girls. Gertrude sat on the floor with them, a tin box of medical supplies next to her. Her eyes widened, and she froze midway through wrapping a cotton bandage around a girl’s bloodied knee.
“Are youkiddingme?” Gertrude asked, so shrill that it was almost comforting.
Before I could explain anything, one of the girls jumped up and pointed. “It’s the lady with the secret stories!” she squeaked.
No one had ever called meladybefore. It threw me off so much that I stuttered, trying to think of a single thing to say. “W-well. Huh?”
The girl pulled a crumpled pamphlet out of her pocket and waved it at me. “I saw you with these. You’re”—her voice lowered to a whisper—“a resistor.”
“Children,” Gertrude said, bunching up her skirts to stand, “give me a moment to speak to our guest. Be good and quiet.”
“Miss Gertrude, are they going to kill us?” another girl asked, wringing her hands and staring at me.
“No,” I said, gesturing a sign of surrender. “Goodness, no. I’m looking for my friend who’s … lost. Everything’s all right.”
Gertrude, glaring at Ezra, took me by the sleeve and pulled me into the washroom. When Ezra tried to follow, she snarled at him: “Wait at the door. One move, and I’ll show you I can keep up with Josephine’s temper.”
Looking appropriately contrite, he hung back in the doorway.
“What under the stars happened in Copper Hills?” I asked Gertrude. “Why are you back? Why are you—” I couldn’t finish the question.
She was little more than a shadow. That’s all the House servants had ever been. Had they always looked this afraid? This empty?
Gertrude’s gaze went flinty. “My Senior was notpleasedI refused to do what he expected of me,” she said, lifting her chin to look me square in the eye. I saw a challenge there, a spark of rage that warmed me like the heat of a bonfire. A lifetime seemed to pass between us as I allowed what she wasn’t saying to sink into my bones. After all I’d learned of the House, it shouldn’t have surprised me that a Senior Conductor might demand to be served sexually.
“Are you all right?” I asked, numb. “Did he hurt you? Are you …?”
Her breath huffed, a shadow of the contempt she’d always showed me. “I’m here in front of you, breathing, aren’t I?”
I wanted to make my way to Copper Hills and find her former Senior. I wanted to run my radiance through him until his soft parts bubbled and burst.
“Control yourself,” Gertrude hissed.
The washroom flickered with the radiance threading up and down my forearms, looking for a way to be released, looking for someone to kill.
Shoving my hands behind my back, I held her gaze. “We’re here to rescue Julian. Leave with me. All of you, the servants … you’ve got to get out.”
“What are you saying?” Gertrude whispered. “Do you really believe the stories in those pamphlets?”
There was no time to tell her anything.
And I wasn’t sure if she’d believe me if I did. Even worse, I wasn’t sure if she’d feel the same way I did—that the House needed to be destroyed entirely. That’s what it would take to stop the spread of death and pestilence in the name of Industry. Only in the absence of the House could electricity rise in its place.
“There’s so much I want to tell you,” I said helplessly.
“Judging by the state of your clothes, I’m sure of that.” She let out a hitched sort of chuckle. “I see you found yourself trousers.”
“Not before I nearly got myself killed tripping over my skirt.”
