“But you’ll be back in time for the ball?” asked Ceri.
“Of course,” said Rinka. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Rinka found the others at the inn in Fossholm in a state of abject panic.
“It’s just not possible,” said Gwenla. “Rinka, thank the Gods you’re here. Can you talk to the princess? Perhaps if we can find an actual dwarven industrialist, we could do this. But not in two weeks.”
“I could try,” said Rinka. “But I don’t think she’ll be able to buy us more time.”
“That’s what I said,” said Lady Sibba. “We were talking about it before you got here. Keir and I read the same article in a journal a few years back—what Gwenla made up on the spot is actually possible. We could harness the power of the sun to run the ‘lectrics here.”
“I should have been a scholar,” joked Gwenla. “I just thought it sounded impressive.”
“It will take some time to research though, and even if we could meet with the scholar that proposed it, it’s unlikely she would be able to help us make a working prototype. And even if she could do that, there’s no way to have it in time.”
“Which I why I said we need to get more time,” said Gwenla.
“And you just heard it from Rinka that we don’t have it,” said Lady Sibba.
“If we just had a few more months, I could reach out to some of my extended family. There are a couple of industrialists in my mother’s line that could help with the manufacturing—”
“Wait,” said Alison. “What we need in two weeks is a working prototype of something that can harness the power of the sun to power, say, a ‘lectric candle, right?”
“Right,” said Lady Sibba. “What’s your point?”
“We don’t need a working prototype. We just need a prototype thatlooks likeit’s working.”
There was a pause as they considered it. “You’re saying we try to trick the king? But how?” asked Gwenla.
“Magic,” said Alison. “We build something that looks like it would work—have Weyland make something that looks likewhat the scholar came up with in that article—and then we use magic, my magic, to make it seem like it’s working. That will buy us more time to figure out how to actually make it.”
“But the king hates magic,” said Rinka. “I know he can recognize Idris’s magic—he told us as much. Maybe he won’t recognize yours, but it’s a risk.”
“Could you talk to Idris? And maybe Ceri? See if they have any ideas for how to conceal that we’re using magic?” asked Alison.
“I can ask,” said Rinka.
“How are they, by the way?” asked Gwenla. “That looked tense back there.”
“They’re better,” said Rinka. “I’m sure they’ll help us if they can.”
“Lady Sibba, you don’t happen to have a copy of that journal at the schoolhouse, do you?” asked Keir.
“No, I wouldn’t. I throw out journals every couple of years. I can ask Duncan.”
“I’ll check the manor,” said Keir. “I haven’t been back to my library there in some time, but we typically hold on to our journals.”
“Keir, are you sure?” asked Alison. They had been avoiding Lord Ainsley most of the summer.
“It’s time I got it over with,” said Keir. “Would you like to go to a ball with me?”
Alison smiled, blushing. “I would. But what will I wear?”
“I’m sure Ceri wouldn’t mind you borrowing one of her gowns,” said Rinka. “You’re about the same size.”
Gwenla downed the rest of her pint of ale in one long gulp. “Well, it’s far from a sure thing, but it’s better than the coal mine. Welcome to the family, Rinka. We’re glad to have you with us. I’d say we do more than just harebrained scheming and plotting, but then I’d be lying.”
Rinka laughed. “Harebrained scheming for a good cause,” she said. “That’s something I can get behind.”
