Adele wove past the construction vehicles and locked equipment trailers parked along the rear driveway. The clutter must have complicated deliveries of food for the banquet. The whole area reminded her of the floor of the library.
Walter III was renovating portions of the palace and changing the garden layout as well. Were his other projects as ill-conceived as his creation of an Electoral Library?
An aircar cruised by a thousand feet overhead. Its klaxon grunted over the howl of its drive fans. The racket was unpleasant at ground level and must be downright hideous for the occupants of the car, but pride would be served. The owner could have gained even more attention by painting himself—or herself!—blue and dancing nude in the Grand Salon; though as fat as the banquet guests tended to be, the result might have been even more unaesthetic than the klaxon.
She reached the back of the gardens. The right half of the wrought iron gate was missing, a casualty of the night Walter Hajas became Elector. “Hey!” called one of the guards as Adele walked by.
She threw up her right hand so that the light aimed at her face didn’t leach away all of her night vision. “I’m a guest going home,” she said and resumed her brisk pace in the direction of her lodgings.
“Don’t you have a lantern?” a guard called.
“No,” she said without slowing or turning her head.
A light would make her a target. By walking close to the darkened buildings she would be past muggers before they were aware of her presence. If they chose to come after her, then, well . . . her left hand was in her pocket, and it wasn’t empty.
The carpenters were sorted out, though she’d revisit the cabinet shop in the morning to make sure Mistress Bozeman hadn’t had second thoughts. The crew had the proper materials, now; enough for a start at least.
Three workmen—two, in all likelihood; the Master Carpenter still wasn’t going to get shavings on her robes—weren’t enough to accomplish anything quickly, and the journeymen weren’t trained for this job however good their intentions now were. Still, one step at a time. Adele was further forward than she had been at this time yesterday.
Rainbow light flared several seconds before the roar of plasma motors reached her. A starship was lifting from the sea. The wavering torch of its exhaust continued to climb even after the beat of the motors muted to a throb that was felt rather than heard.
One step at a time.
Daniel stood beside the timber piling at the end of a pier in the natural harbor, now used only by surface traffic. Half a mile to the west, the tide rocked starships in the Floating Harbor.
When Daniel was younger he’d have sat cross-legged on top of the piling instead of resting his palm on the wood as he did now. The staff at Bantry used to joke that the boy thought he was a seabird, though it wasn’t anything so simple as that. The pose required a degree of agility, an awareness of the wind’s strength and direction.
And yes, it set Daniel Leary a little apart. He relished the feet-on-the-ground human world, but he hadn’t been willing to be limited to it even as a boy.
Daniel snorted. He’d be on the piling now if he weren’t wearing his only 2nd Class uniform. The damp wood would stain the cloth, and he had further use for the uniform tonight. Women noticed a uniform, oh yes they did. A uniform meant the wearer was committed and disciplined. You didn’t have to be much of a naturalist to know that females of most species were hardwired to value those traits.
The surface harbor was active even at this hour. The larger vessels that fed the people and industries of Kostroma City generally docked during daylight hours, but loading and unloading proceeded around the clock. Several big freighters sat in floodlit pools across which their irregular outlines threw wedges of shadow. A derrick squealed; whistles called, and once a voice boomed in tones of unintelligible anger from a distant ship.
Lighters served the starships in the Floating Harbor, transferring cargo in both directions. One was even now nosing toward a quay to the right, its diesel engine chuffing an ill-tempered rhythm. Tarpaulins covered three pieces of heavy equipment on the open deck. Tokamaks for fusion power generation, Daniel thought, but he couldn’t be sure even when he dialed his goggles’ magnification and light-gathering features full on.