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<h2 id="c2">1 NETZNEGON CITY: MARCH RAIN</h2> It was raining steadily outside. The older woman’s tears and words fell in time, drip, drip. Cold, for the tall window at the room’s end would never quite shut close, bottom and top not nest into the frame simultaneously. Lalette in her soutane felt goose-pimples and tried to shut out the sound by thinking of a man with a green hat who would give her a handful of gold scudi and nothing asked, merely because it was spring and she put a small spell on him with a smile, but it was not quite spring, and the voice persisted: <div class="pagenum" id="Page_231">231</div> “. . . all my life—I have hoped—hoped and planned for you—even before you were born—even before you were born—daughter of my own—” (Yes, thought Lalette, I have heard that before, and it would move me more, but the night you drank the wine with Dame Carabobo, you told her how I was the product of a chance union in a carriage between Rushaca and Zenss) “—daughter—and after I saved and worked so hard—you miss the only chance—the only chance—don’t know what I’m going to do—and Count Cleudi’s not like most—” “You told him what he offered was frightful. I heard you.” (Sob) “It was. Oh, it was. Oh, Lalette, it isn’t right, you should be married with a gold coach and six horses—but what can we do?—oh, if your father had left us anything before the war—all I sacrificed for him—but that is what all of us must do, make sacrifices, we can’t have anything real without giving something away . . . Lalette!” “Madame.” “You will be able to employ the Art and have everything you want, you know most of the patterns already, he does not go to the Service often . . . and after all, it’s something that happens to every woman one way or another, and with the Art, even if he doesn’t marry you, he’ll find you a husband you won’t mind, it’s only men like Cleudi who want to be the first, a man who marries would really prefer a girl to have a little experience, I know . . . Lalette!” Lalette did not answer. “All the young ones come to the ball after the opera, Lalette. Count Cleudi will present you, and even if you don’t bring—” (He would have not only a green hat, but southern-made lace at wrist and throat and a funny-looking man who spoke in a Mayern accent, thick as cream, and carried the purse because it spoiled the fit—) “. . . as though he were just one of those . . . so considerate . . .” (I suppose we cannot control how we come by our parents) “. . . your father, like an angel out of heaven, and I could have taught you so much more if he—” (Now she is waist-deep in the past again, I’m going to hear it all over) “. . . really, for it is more like one step up than a leap down from a high place, which is always what we think before the first time . . . Lalette!” “Yes, mother.” Someone knocked at the door. Lalette’s mother hastily daubed at her cheeks, heaved herself heavily from the chair, looked sidewise, saying; “We could sell the stone.” But before the girl could reply, the tap again. The older woman waddled across to the door and opened it a crack; a long jaw and long nose under a wet turn-down hat poked in. “I was just saying to my daughter—” began Dame Leonalda. <div class="pagenum" id="Page_232">232</div> A pair of thin shoulders pushed past her as though not hearing, the man stood in the center of the room, sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Listen,” he said, “no more stories. I have heard too many.” Dame Leonalda gave him a doleful look and bustled back to her seat. “But I assure you, Ser Ruald—” “No more stories,” he said again. “I have charges to meet and taxes.” She put her hands to her face. (Lalette thought: her only device; I hope I shall not grow like that.) Ruald said; “But I do not wish to be hard, no, and I know you have no money just now. So I will be fair, and if you render me a small service, why then, it is not beyond me to forgive the whole four months’ arrears.” Dame Leonalda took down her hands again and said; “What is the service?” (Her voice had something like a tinge of dread.) Ruald sniffed again, darted a glance at Lalette, another at the door, and stepped close. “I have heard that you belong to one of the families of the Blue Star.” “Who told you that?” “It does not matter. Is it true?” The dame’s lips worked. “And what if it is?” “Why this, dame: it will not peril your soul to place a small witchery—” “No, no, I couldn’t do such a thing. You have no right to ask me.” The man’s face sneered. “I have a right to ask you for my money, though.” “No, no, I tell you.” Her hands waved the air. “That Dame Sauglitz, they punished her with five years and stripes.” “They will punish nobody for this; utterly private between you and myself. Is not your skill enough so that no suspicion of witchery will fall on you? Come, I’ll do better. I’ll more than forgive the arrears, I’ll give you quit-rent for four other months to come.” “Mother,” said Lalette from the corner. Dame Leonalda turned around. “This does not concern you,” she said, and to Ruald; “But how am I to know that having done as you wish, you’ll not denounce me before the episcopals?” “Why as for that, might I not want your help another time?” She put up a protesting hand, but he; “Come, no more stories. I’ll—” There was another tap at the door. Ruald looked annoyance as Dame Leonalda crossed the room in another rustle of skirts. Her voice was almost gay. “Come in, Uncle Bontembi.” Rain shook shining from his cloak. “Ah, charming Dame Leonalda.” The paunch hindered his bow. “The greetings of the evening to you, Ser Ruald. Why, this is a true evening gathering.” <div class="pagenum" id="Page_233">233</div> “I was just leaving,” said Ruald, tugging at his jacket. “Well, then, Dame Leonalda, bear in mind what I have said. I’m sure we’ll reach accommodation.” She did not get up as he went. When the door was closed she turned to Uncle Bontembi. “It is such a problem, dear Uncle,” she said. “Of course the child is perfectly right in a way, and it would be different if her father had left her anything at all, but with such a man as Cleudi—” “The Count is a splendid gentleman,” said the priest. “I have seen him lose fifty gold scudi on a turn, but never his composure. And he is in high favor. Is there a problem relative to him? Not that his eye has fallen on our little Lalette? I would call that a matter for consent and rejoicing.” “Ah, Uncle, it is this, if men only behaved as nobly toward women as they do to each other! He has set his eye on this dear child indeed, but not his hand, and says he will pay all our debts and give her a hundred gold scudi besides, if she will only accompany him to the opera and ball of the spring festival.” Uncle Bontembi plucked at the button of his chin, and the smile left his face. “Hm, hm, it is certainly on the face of matters a proposal . . . You are certain you have not been employing the Art, Dame Leonalda?” “Oh, no, never, never. And my dear little girl, how could she?” The priest glanced sly-eye at the girl. “Yes, yes, she has her first confession to make. Well, well, let us think this out together. I will say the Count Cleudi is highly held in other circles beside the political. There was some theological discussion at the Palace Bregatz lately, and the Episcopal was of the opinion that he had never heard sounder doctrine or better put than by Cleudi. Wherefore he cannot be very far from the laws of the good God and right moral, can he? And so his plan may be of greater benefit than first appears.” “I do not want such benefits,” said Lalette, (but thought: then I should have the Art!) “Oho! Our junior niece resists; this is not the true humility. Come, Demoiselle Lalette, let us look at it this way: we can only truly serve good and vanquish the eternal forces of evil through the happiness of others, for if it is our own happiness we seek, then others doing the same will make all unhappy, and so give victory to evil.” He signed himself. “Thus to bring joy to others is the true service of religion and moral, no matter what the appearance may say. Now in this case there would be three people given happiness. Yes, yes, the doctrinal point is somewhat delicate, but I cannot find it in my mind to disapprove. There is a technical violation of moral law involved, and I am afraid the Church will have to assess a certain fine against you, but I will make it as light as possible. Enough to remind that a good action should be done for moral gain and not material.” <div class="pagenum" id="Page_234">234</div> “I do not love him,” said Lalette. “All the more unselfish, all the more.” The priest turned to Dame Leonalda. “Have you not made it clear to our niece that the true love which puts down evil in the name of the major glory of God is something that rises out of and after union? Why, if she talks so, I will have to lay church-duty on her for approaching the doctrines of the Prophet.” “Oh, I have told her, I have told her.” (The mother’s voice began to cloud toward another rain of tears.) “But she is so romantical and sensitive, my little daughter, just like those poems by Terquid. When I was a girl—” Lalette let her face smooth out (as she thought about the opera ball and what it would be like), but even that was not much use, their voices kept picking at her until she went behind the curtain to her bed in the corner, where it was even colder beneath the blanket at first, so that she curled up tight. (If I were really married, the Blue Star would belong to me and my husband, and . . .) <h3>II</h3> “But is it a genuine Blue Star?” asked Pyax. He turned toward Dr. Remigorius, who should know if anyone. “Ah! Of that I cannot say. We have been deceived before. It is certain that the old woman has practised veritable witcheries; the Center of Veierelden found a record of a conviction against her in the church there. The only surety is in the test; and that is a test that only Friend Rodvard here can make. If it should be genuine, our game’s won.” The lower lip of Pyax hung open among his pimples and Mme. Kaja’s ravaged face changed line. “It would be wo-onderful to have it,” she said, drawing out the long sound, and Rodvard felt the blood run warm beneath his skin as they all looked at him. “But I do not think her mother would permit a marriage,” he said. “How will you have me do?” “Do? Do?” said the doctor, the little white planes at the corners of his mouth shining against the black fantastic cut of his beard. “Shall we school hens to lay eggs or rats to suck them for you? Do what is most natural for a lad with a willing girl in his arms, and the Blue Star is ours. Will you have Mme. Kaja to teach you?” <div class="pagenum" id="Page_235">235</div> The flush warmed Rodvard, and he said; “I—will you—” Mathurin in the background opened his thin, tight lips. “Our friend is lapped in the obligation of the Church. Hey, Rodvard Yes-and-No, what moral do you follow? If it’s to be that of the priests, you have no place with us. You are engaged as a soldier to the overthrow of all they stand for.” “O-o-oh, you are so wrong, friend Mathurin,” said Mme. Kaja. “I understand. There is the heart—” she pressed a hand to a pendulous right breast “—but as my old friend, the Baroness Blenau used to say, hearts do not guide but to sorrow. Ah, friend Rodvard, believe me, if one is to have the great peace, one must deny the heart’s message and seek the good of all beyond what gives pain at the moment.” She slapped her breast again and turned to the others; “I know; he is in love with another.” Without reason, Mathurin said suddenly; “When I went to the court service with Cleudi last night, the old hog was drunk again. Fell on the floor at her royal prayers and had to be helped—” Dr. Remigorius; “Will you still distract us, Mathurin? There is but one present question before this Center—the bidding of the High Center that friend Rodvard here obtain the Blue Star from Lalette Asterhax. Can we report to them that the task is undertaken?” Pyax spoke, running his tongue across lips; “If he will not, I can offer through marriage and lawful lease. My father would be willing to give a dower—” Rodvard burst into laughter with the rest, over the thought there could be enough money in the world to buy a Dossolan bedding for one of Pyax’ Zigraner birth. (But the laugh ended bitterly for the young man at the thought that because they could see no better way he must give up his ideal of honor and true love. He tried to imagine how it would be to live with someone who did not love one again, but whom for honor’s sake he must have married, and for a moment the intent candle-lit faces dissolved away; he felt a momentary strange sweet painful thrill before the picture in his mind changed to that of his father and mother quarreling about money, and she began to scream until his father, with contorted face, reached down the cane from the mantel . . . Oh, if one gives in love, it should be forever, ever, love and death—) <div class="pagenum" id="Page_236">236</div> “—still place him,” Dr. Remigorius was saying, “but that will be a matter for the High Center. No, there’s only the one thing, and we’ll have the answer now. Rodvard Bergelin, we summon you by your oath to the Sons of the New Day and your desire to overthrow the wicked rule of the Laughing Chancellor and the old Queen, to take your part.” Pyax smiled nastily. “Remember Peribert? We know how to deal with those who fall away.” “It is not good to be hard on those from whom you seek help,” said Mme. Kaja. “Be still,” said Remigorius. “Young man, your word.” (One more effort.) “Is it so vital that we have this jewel?” said Rodvard. “Yes,” said Remigorius, simply; but Mathurin; “This is the only true Blue Star of which we have record, and even this one may not be true. But if you will not make the effort to win it, as ordered, there’s still an escape. You are a clerk to the Office of Pedigree; find another Blue Star that we can have, and you’re excused. But with matters so approaching a crisis at the court, we must have one; for we are the weaker party.” Rodvard saw Pyax touch his knife-hilt and once more wetly run out his tongue, so like a lizard’s. Beaten; had he not himself in those long conversations until daybreak, maintained that among free men the more voices must make the decisions? With a sense that he was assuming an obligation to baseness, he said: “I will do as you desire.” Dr. Remigorius’ face cracked into a red-and-black smile. “Pfo, young man, you’ll make a witch of her and she will gain her fortune.” Mme. Kaja came over to take both his hands as he left. “The heart will follow,” she said. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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