The apparatus had been moved upstairs.
I recognized the brass stand before I saw the Duke. Someone had polished it, including the lever I had struck with my left hand. It stood on a table beneath the gallery windows, too far from any chair for me to sit without making a separate decision about it.
The Duke was examining the instruction plate. He did not look up when the attendant announced me.
"Nine," he said.
The clock had not finished striking. I stopped beside the table.
"Yes, Father."
That word still needed preparing. I had used it twice in my room that morning, softly, and disliked how easily the second attempt came.
A court attendant stood at the other end of the table. He had brought the wooden pointer and a cloth for the brass. There was no sword, no live opponent and no explanation of what the Duke intended to ask me to do after this.
"Your requests have been reaching me," the Duke said.
I glanced at the gloves I was taking off.
"Preparations for the journey."
"And the court. And the records office."
The right glove resisted at the knuckle. I worked it off without tugging at the fingertip and laid it on the left one. I'd left the linen in my room. With my hand flat, the small raised line faced the table.
"You told me to prepare."
"I did."
He waited. I had meant to stop there; I nearly kept talking anyway.
The Duke moved to the window side of the table.
"Show me what you've been doing."
I reached toward the supply wheel, then stopped with my fingers short of it.
"This is the unit I've used."
"I know."
The attendant shifted the pointer out of my way. I set the wheel to its lowest mark and opened the supply. Light joined the two studs. The wooden indicator rose behind the glass, and I heard its little stop click into place.
It had sounded much louder in the empty court.
I turned the stand so the line lay across my right hand. The cutoff was to my left. I rested that hand on the table instead of taking the lever, which left me very conscious of the distance between them.
"At that level?" the Duke asked.
"For the timing."
His gaze remained on the wheel.
I could have raised it. One more notch was almost nothing as a movement; my thumb was close enough. I took my hand away and spread my feet a little farther apart.
The first breath caught high in my chest.
I let it out. The attendant was watching my fingers. I remembered Valeria at the window, looking away while I sat, and wished this man had somewhere else to look. He would be expected to know whether I'd touched the lever.
I tried again with less air.
The familiar pressure moved beneath my ribs and into the arm. I didn't follow it by stiffening the shoulder this time. At the wrist it thinned. I waited with my hand clear of the light.
The Duke's sleeve brushed the table.
I lowered my finger.
Pain reached me before the sight of the line changed. My hand wanted to close; I moved the whole forearm back, letting the breath go with it. The light broke under the pad of my finger. The wooden piece dropped and struck the bottom of its slot.
Then the supply fed across the gap again. By the time my hand was clear, the indicator had risen.
I had done it.
The Duke leaned toward the glass. I kept my left hand flat while he looked. My right wanted to shake. I turned it palm inward, beside my leg.
"The supply stayed open," he said.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"So you could see the interruption."
He looked at the attendant, who nodded once.
"It dropped, Your Grace."
The Duke touched the edge of the plate with his nail. I could feel the spot on my finger getting hotter, as if the contact had only just occurred.
"Again. Increase it."
I reached for the wheel because reaching was easier than answering. Then I saw my bare finger reflected in the brass and stopped.
There would be nothing to conceal if I put myself on the floor.
"Not through these contacts."
The attendant looked down. The Duke did not.
"You brought me a child's exercise."
"The household brought it." The answer came too quickly. I made myself look at the open studs rather than at the man who had carried the stand upstairs. "It's the instruction unit. I've shown the release. If you want the full supply interrupted, use a housed target."
"Are you concerned for my equipment?"
My index finger had begun to curl. I kept it close to the seam of my trousers.
"I would rather not replace a training frame to make the same point."
For a moment I thought he would tell the attendant to fetch another one.
He walked around the table instead. I had to turn to keep facing him, and the pressure beneath my ribs pulled with the movement. The line remained lit between us. I could shut it off, but he had not finished looking.
"You used to dislike stopping."
I said nothing.
"Especially when instructed to."
The court attendant's hands stayed behind his back. There was a pale smear of polishing paste on one cuff.
"I can continue on another target," I said.
I had no idea whether I could. I had offered him the time it would take to bring one.
The Duke studied my face. He was close enough now to see the dampness at my hairline, and I could not arrange my breathing without him noticing the arrangement.
"The academy will have suitable equipment."
I waited.
"And witnesses who know what to look for. I want the complete examination report. The assessment, the result and the examiner's remarks."
"I'll have it sent."
"They will send it. You will give them my direction."
The line hummed faintly. I had never noticed the sound until there was nothing else to do but stand beside it.
"Is that understood?"
"Yes, Father."
He stepped away from the table.
"That will do for this morning. Close it."
I pulled the cutoff. The light disappeared and the indicator fell again, an ordinary mechanical click this time.
The Duke spoke to the attendant about returning the apparatus. I waited through all of it, holding the gloves together. Then he glanced at the door.
"You may go."
I bowed. It was shallow enough that he might notice, but straightening after a deeper one would have been worse.
The older attendant was outside. He made room as I passed, and I kept walking until the corner hid the gallery door. Only then did I stop to put on a glove.
I couldn't get the first finger in.
---
In my room, I put the gloves on the desk and sat on the edge of the bed. The right hand shook against my knee. It wasn't a great tremor, but trying to stop it made my forearm hurt.
I asked for the Ledger.
FATALITY SLOT #02: CLEARED
The number held while I read it twice.
FATALITY SLOTS CLEARED: 1/47
NARRATIVE DEVIATION INDEX: 1%
I had expected something to happen in the room. A sound, perhaps, or a change in the pressure under my ribs. The bedcover was still creased beneath my thighs. Someone was wheeling a cart along the corridor.
Another field appeared.
ROLE PERFORMANCE: +30 VP
BALANCE: 30 VP
I read the credit explanation. The award belonged to the performance the Duke had accepted: his son demonstrating restraint as a choice, preserving the household's account of him. Clearing the fatality had not paid a second reward.
Thirty points for how it had looked.
My hand was still trembling. I tucked it under my left arm, then took it out again because the pressure hurt.
There were forty-six entries left. I dismissed them before I started trying to read them all. For this morning, the Duke had told me to go.
I undid the collar. One fastening, then the next. The window was open a little and the room was cooler near the bed, though I hadn't felt it when I came in.
After a while someone knocked about lunch.
"Bring it here," I said.
I had meant to add something about being busy. The footsteps were already moving away.
When the tray arrived, I stayed sitting. I moved the bread within reach of my left hand, left the report paper where it was and ate.