“I’m starting to think there’s nothing beneath my majesty.”
“Your sisters both did their dynastic duty. Do you suppose Cathil wanted to move to Starikland?”
How often had they gone over this same conversation? “She’s an inspiration.”
“Do you think Carlot wanted to marry the Chancellor of Sipani?”
“She always seems rather pleased about it—”
“You cannot delay any longer. You are not only damaging yourself, but the whole Union.”
She detested the Union but believed hypocrisy was a thing that only happened to other people. Orso gritted his teeth. “I’ll look at the latest list again. But I want to organise this grand tour first. Get out into the country and introduce myself to the people!”
“Far better to tour with a wife, then you could introduce her to the people and get started on producing an heir at the same time.”
“What? Actually simultaneously?”
She glanced at him down her nose. “At least they would see you were finally taking your responsibilities seriously.”
“Now who’s being facetious?”
“My master would be delighted if you were to wed.”
Orso recoiled at the voice in his ear. Bayaz’s stooge, Yoru Sulfur, had leaned grinning forward from the chairs behind. He was one of those people with an ugly habit of popping up at the worst moments.
“Oh really?” snapped Orso. “Keen to buy a new dress, is he?”
Sulfur’s sharp smile showed no sign of slipping. “Anything that bears on the stability of the realm is of interest to Lord Bayaz.”
“How fortunate we are to have such a guardian. But what brings a magus to a scientific demonstration? Haven’t you got…” Orso waved a hand. “Something magical to be about?”
“There is not so wide a gulf between science and magic as some suppose.” Sulfur nodded towards the city, where the House of the Maker was still the tallest spike on the horizon. “Was not Kanedias himself the first and greatest of engineers? And did not Juvens say that knowledge is the root of power? Lord Bayaz delights in nothing more than ideas, innovations, new ways of thinking.” He turned his bright eyes towards Curnsbick’s steam-wreathed engine. “Imagine a network of these track-roads. Iron bands binding the Union ever more tightly together, carrying a never-ceasing flood of goods and people. A wonder to rank alongside the great achievements of the Old Time!”
“It sounds a marvellous project, Master Sulfur, but… an expensive one.” Orso began to turn away. “I fear my treasury is not up to the challenge.”
“The Banking House of Valint and Balk has already offered to advance the capital.”
Orso frowned. It was largely due to the crippling interest on Valint and Balk’s loans that the treasury was in such a lamentable state. “That is… uncharacteristically generous of them.”
“The bank would take the necessary land in trust and own the tracks, charging a trifling stipend for their use. I was hoping you would consent to my making the arrangements with the lord chancellor.”
“That sounds rather like the first step in selling you my kingdom piece by piece.”
Sufur smiled wider yet. “Hardly the first step.”
“Your Majesties!” Curnsbick hurried up to the royal box, whisking off his hat and dabbing his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. “I hope we haven’t kept you waiting.”
“Not at all,” said Orso. “Converting expansive force to rotational is… no easy business… I suppose—”
The Queen Dowager issued a thunderous snort of contempt, but Curnsbick was already facing the crowds, thumping his broad fists down on the rail. The band sputtered out. The eager conversation died away. The audience turned from the engine to its creator. The great machinist began to speak.
“We have made astonishing progress in a few brief years, my friends!” Depending on who you asked, of course, Orso still heard plenty of complaints. “With the right techniques and machinery, one man can now do the work that once took ten! Took twenty!” Though what became of the other nineteen was not made clear.
“I firmly believe that this, my latest invention…” And Curnsbick wafted a hand towards the engine with the flourish of a pimp introducing his prostitutes. “Our latest invention, for it belongs to posterity, will not simply carry a few of us from Adua to Valbeck in more comfort and less time than ever before. It will carry all of us… into the future!”
“The one undeniable thing about the future,” murmured Orso’s mother in Styrian, “is that it comes to you, ready or not, without need for a conveyance.”
It certainly seemed a rather overcomplicated way of crossing two fields. But Orso could only shrug and smile, which, after all, were his main contributions to any of the many events he attended. If he’d had all the answers then he supposed he could have been the great machinist, instead of merely a king.
“There are those at both ends of the social scale who would have us change direction!” Curnsbick was shouting. “Those who would not only try to dam the river of progress but have it flow uphill! Who would break, burn and murder in the name of dragging us back into a glorious past that never truly was. A place of ignorance, superstition, squalor and fear. A place of darkness! But there will be no going back! I promise you that!” He raised his arm and turned to Orso. “Your Majesty, with your kind permission?”
It always worried Orso when someone wanted to involve him in a decision, however superficially. But decisions still had to be made. However superficially. “Carry us into the future, Master Curnsbick!” he called, grinning to the crowd.
Curnsbick turned to the engine and portentously chopped down his arm. The engineer, his smile a curve of white in his oil-smeared face, hauled upon one of the levers, and the entire world exploded.
“We have made astonishing progress in a few brief years, my friends!” bellowed Curnsbick.
“Hear, hear!” Verunice piped, and was at once rather embarrassed. One wanted to stand out from the crowd, especially after so many years in the most distant background, but one did not want to make an exhibition of oneself. Only look at Savine dan Glokta, now Brock, of course. Everyone did, after all. So audacious. Yet so feminine. The spirit of the new age! Verunice had joined all the forward-looking societies. The Fellowship for Civic Advancement, the Association for Improving the Condition of the Working Classes, the Solar Society, of course. She had already made what she considered an excellent investment with that young man Arinhorm. So polite. So attentive. He had looked at her in a way no young man had for years. Verunice felt a flush and wished she had brought her fan. But though it was summer, it was not quite fanning weather.
“With the right techniques and machinery,” Curnsbick was explaining, “one man can now do the work that once took ten! Took twenty!”
Verunice nodded eagerly, then realised she might nod her wig loose, put a nervous hand to it and nearly knocked off her hat. She was not at all used to the headgear yet. Nor the dress. If she had been removed from it, the damn thing would probably have stood up by itself, but the dressmaker had told her this was what all the forward-looking ladies were wearing. She now found herself scarcely able to breathe, turn or move her arms, but she had acquired, as if by magic, quite an impressive bust. Her mother had always insisted that a bust was half the battle. Verunice had always wondered what the rest of the battle might be but never had the nerve to ask.