“Yes, Uncle?” she asked.
“I was wondering what plans you have for the day.”
Plans? Since when did she ever have plans? “I’ve nothing scheduled,” she replied. “Nothing I’m aware of, at any rate.”
“Good,” he said. “As you may have perceived, there is some unrest in the city—lots of Inspectors in the streets looking for those who did the appalling damage to Dr. Silk’s road. I’d like you to remain home and out of their way until the criminals are apprehended and the city is quiet again. Er, work on your needlepoint or whatever it is you young ladies do.”
Needlepoint? Karigan almost laughed out loud. He’d forgotten about her broken wrist, and he had no way of knowing what a disaster she was with needle and thread. However, she gave him credit for a performance well done, delivered for the benefit of the staff who attended them. He never forgot they had ears.
His admonition for her to stay home was clear enough. She would not be riding Raven today, not even disguised as Tam Ryder. Even if she’d been born of this time and place and was really the professor’s niece, heading out onto streets full of Inspectors and their unnatural Enforcers did not sound palatable.
“I will . . . stay home,” she said, the disappointment in her voice unfeigned.
“Very good, my dear. It is for the best. Now I must catch up with those students of mine. There will be no digging today. The Old City is off-limits for the time being, so I shall have to come up with an assignment with which to keep them busy.”
He bade her farewell, and only Karigan remained with her tea. The professor, she noted, had left behind his paper. Usually he took it with him. No, not usually, but always. He’d left it on purpose. For her. Servants moved in to start clearing dishes. When one reached for the professor’s paper, she forestalled him.
“May I have it, please?”
He nodded and brought it to her.
“Thank you.” She had no idea if it was deemed proper for young ladies to read the paper, but she didn’t care. Besides, the servant hadn’t shown any surprise, hadn’t even flinched, when she requested it. She hadn’t thought much about the professor’s papers before because he’d downplayed their importance. “Rags,” he had called them. “Propaganda” for the empire.
Curious, she unfolded the paper and saw that its title, in bold fancy lettering, was The Mill City Imperial Sun. A quick look over the front page showed her what she was looking for, a story with the heading: “Traitors Sabotage Archeological Endeavor.”
It amazed Karigan that the publisher of this paper could produce and distribute an article so quickly about an incident that had happened just hours ago. The presses of this time must fly compared to those of her own.
The article told of how Dr. Silk’s imperially sanctioned archeological project in the Old City had been attacked in the deep of night. There was no mention of the goals of this project, just that the doctor sought items of “great antiquity.” Karigan was not surprised by the omission since the paper was a mouthpiece of the empire and could reveal or conceal information as the empire wished. The article stated that Dr. Silk’s watchmen had been cold-bloodedly murdered, and that portions of the road that had been so carefully laid out and built with imperial funds had been purposefully damaged.
These traitors to the Empire used black powder to render the road impassable for Dr. Silk’s equipment. Dr. Silk states that his project will go on as scheduled. “My work is important to all citizens,” he told The Sun, “and I shall be tireless in my efforts to see it through.” The doctor requests that if any of the good citizens of Mill City have any information or suspicions about who committed this crime, or aided and abetted it, please report it to the nearest Inspector Station immediately.
Nothing like using citizens to inform against one another, Karigan thought. If kept in discord, they were less likely to unite against the emperor. The rest of the paper did little to diminish this impression, even in its reporting of mill productivity, proclaiming those named on the low end “a disappointment” to the “shining ideals of the Empire.”
Lesser stories covered house fires and the unveiling of the latest statue of the emperor. Nothing terribly enlightening. There were some advertisements, and she gazed at these with interest. There was hair cream for “gentlemen of discernment,” guaranteed to grow back a full head of hair within a month. Rudman Hadley’s Great Imperial Circus occupied a quarter of a page, but the black and white etching of clowns and the big top tent did not look terribly jolly. “Coffin Openings at every evening performance!” The advertisement proclaimed. “See the mysteries of death revealed!”
The people here had a strange idea of entertainment. It did not help that she’d been unwittingly made a participant in that entertainment.
Beneath the advertisement for the circus was a notice for a slave auction for later in the week. “Strong males and females of all ages. Good, fertile breeding stock.” Her gorge rose, threatening to spew her as yet undigested breakfast. She shoved the paper down the table in revulsion. A servant glanced curiously at her, then collected the paper along with a stack of teacups and saucers, and left the room.
This world, Karigan thought in despair. The professor was right to oppose the empire.
She was roused by the rush of skirts that announced the entrance of Mirriam into the dining room. “There you are!”
Karigan steeled herself against whatever she was going to be accused of this time.