“They were using the Hjalstrom notational system . . .” Leary said. “Or a precursor of it, at least. That was supposed to have come from Spraggsund University near the end of the Hiatus.”
He closed the metal covers, then looked directly at Adele. “I don’t mean to intrude in another citizen’s business, mistress,” he said, “but sometimes going outside a bureaucracy is easier than going through it. My manservant Hogg is very good at finding people who can do things. If you’d like him to locate some common carpenters . . . ?”
Adele snorted. The library budget, if there was one, wasn’t under her control. On Bryce, Walter’s envoys had given her a travel honorarium. By stretching it Adele had managed to survive since her arrival, but no member of the Elector’s staff had flatly admitted it was even their responsibility to arrange for the librarian’s future pay. At the end of the week her concierge would be looking for the rent, and Adele would very likely be trying to find room for a bedroll here in the chaos.
“I appreciate the offer,” she said, “but I regret that I’m not in a position to take advantage of it. Unless your man could find the carpenters’ wages as well as the carpenters themselves.”
Leary grinned, but there was a serious undertone in his voice as he said, “I really don’t dare suggest that, mistress. While I don’t think Hogg would be caught, I’m afraid his methods would bring spiritual discredit on a Leary of Bantry. What Hogg does on his own account is his own business, but if I set him a task . . .”
He laughed again, in good humor but apology.
The world had gone gray around Adele. “You said, `a Leary of Bantry,’ sir,” she said. Her voice too was without color. “You’d be related to Speaker Leary, then?”
Leary grimaced. “Oh, yes,” he said. “Corder Leary is my father, though we’d both be willing to deny it. If you mean, `Will I inherit Bantry,’ though, no—I certainly will not.”
He tried to smile, but the expression that formed was a mixture of emotions too uncertain to identify. “In the first place, Father looked healthy enough to live another fifty years when I last saw him six years ago. My elder sister is the proper heir anyway—the Learys don’t divide their estates, which is why Bantry is still Bantry. And finally, my father and I are not on terms of intimacy. Or any terms at all.”
“I see,” Adele said. Her voice came from another place, another time; from the past that had led to this present. If there was a deity, which Adele very much doubted, it had a sense of humor.
She crossed her hands behind her back. “Lieutenant Leary,” she said, “I have a great deal of work to do before this collection is ready for visiting laymen like yourself. You’re a Cinnabar citizen and I will presume a gentleman. I therefore request that you cease to trouble me and my staff until such time as the Electoral Library is opened to the public.”
Vanness had been standing nearby, listening to the discussion of books and media. His mouth opened in amazement as he turned quickly away. His cheeks were already showing a flush.
Daniel Leary reddened also. He replaced the logbook on the pile and made a stiff half-bow. “Good morning, mistress,” he said. “No doubt we’ll meet again.”
Leary strode from the library by a circuitous route to avoid passing close to Adele on his way. He moved with a caged grace.
An interesting fellow, Adele thought as she watched him leave. Bright, knowledgeable, and she’d be the first to admit it had been pleasant to hear a Cinnabar accent again. There hadn’t been many on Bryce, not since the war restarted.
And the son of Speaker Corder Leary.
Daniel Leary sat on a bench in a terraced formal garden that was probably half a mile from the Elector’s Palace. He wasn’t sure of the distance or even the direction; he’d simply walked till the adrenaline burned off and he needed to sit.
He hadn’t been so angry since the afternoon he broke with his father.