Magdalene's Second Letter

20th Day of Fifth, 342nd Year of Founding
(Arrived at Astra 25/5/342)

Dear Sogs,

I am spending the day in my room (that is, the room that Aunt and Uncle have allocated to me, which is boxy and decorated in High Tertian style, right down to the orange velvour drapes) contemplating my actions. I hasten to add - before you become worried that I have converted to Inwardness - that this contemplation has been thrust upon me by Aunt Harriet. Something to do with yesterday's events, apparently. So, I am currently sprawled out on my bed in a most unladylike manner, watching Umberto chew his way through another meatstick. And writing to you (I'm writing to you, I mean, not Umberto).

I think that Aunt Harriet is being a little unfair. After all, it's not like anyone was actually hurt. However, as she has promised to notify you of my behaviour, and she does have a tendency to exaggerate, I may as well tell you what happened myself.

Yesterday was the day that I was allowed to explore Cromwell. Not alone - I took Umberto with me, of course - but unencumbered by relatives, anyway. I had everything all planned out. I got up at seven, ate breakfast alone (Uncle had left for work, and Aunt Harriet does not believe in early rising) and set out. The nearest loop station was a five minute walk away from their complex; I intended to buy a day pass, and spend the morning completing a circuit of Cromwell before journeying to the Pensillian Arcades for lunch. However, when I got to the terminus, I discovered that dogs were not permitted on the loop.

I pleaded with the ticket clerk, and told her how well trained and obedient Umberto was (he can be obedient, you know, when he wants to be) but she insisted that there were no exceptions. I had no desire to either return to the apartment and leave him there or to ask Aunt Harriet to arrange a private flier for me (these are only available for certified citizens of Cromwell!). So, I decided to change my plans. I found the nearest Well, and descended to the surface levels.

When I was telling Aunt Harriet about my day she collapsed on to the sofa at this point. I'm not quite sure why. The lower levels aren't that unsafe - most of the guides say that the crime rates really are declining, and it's not just people being too scared to file reports - and it was daylight after all. Well - a murky sort of daylight, it being just past eight o'clock. The people on the surface didn't seem that different from those on the upper levels. Their clothes were cheaper, of course, and they walked as if they had to get somewhere rather than if they were just waiting for people to notice them.

I found the gondolas easily enough. The Well took me right down to the edge of one of the pads, and the gondolas were all lined up along the shoreline. People were getting into them all the time, mainly taking the multiperson ones that go to the other pads, but some of them taking the one or two-person ones.

It was harder to find a gondolier prepared to take me and Umberto than I'd thought. I'd figured that I'd just hire one for a morning, but the first two quoted me astronomical figures for doing this - I think they guessed where I was from - and the next three told me that dogs were bad luck on boats. I took a quick look at one of the guides (it was flashing a yellow light at me to indicate that I was in an area of mild to moderate "unsafeness") and decided to change my plans. I picked a gondola standing a little apart from the others, and asked the gondolier to take me to the Outer Wall.

At this point Aunt Harriet clutched her chest and groaned. I don't see why. The Outer Wall is perfectly safe and walking around it with Umberto would have been the ideal way to see Cromwell. The gondolier, a taciturn chap in stag livery, just grunted at me and held out his hand for my seal. We set off in the gondolier, and I looked around eagerly.

Most of the guides have aerial shots, from fliers or the loop. Seeing things from a gondola meant that they were less clear, but just as fascinating. The pads spread out around the feet of their various towers like - well, like lily pads, and the towers arched upward, sending branches and bridges out to each other like some strange sort of mechanical tree. The water was crowded with other gondolas, freight barges and private crafts (there were even some monobikes there, just like the one Tiny fell off when we were all at Armistice). As we got further away from the pads and closer to the wall traffic thinned out, and I thought that I could even see the lights of Undersea through the dark green water.

There was a thin crust of ice forming around the wall when we got to it that broke away when I tried to touch it. The gondolier tied the boat up to a metal ring at a small landing stage; I authorised my seal and scrambled out, hindered just a little by Umberto. The gondolier untied the boat and paddled off, and I was just watching him go when I realised that I'd forgotten to ask how to get back from the wall.

I started walking, anyway, figuring that at the worst I could activate the caller on one of the guides. The pathway was quite wide, and easy to walk on, and the sun was now shining down warmly. I strode out boldly with Umberto galumphing along besides me, and decided that I might actually like Cromwell, after all.

By midday, I was reluctantly considering activating the caller. I hadn't seen any other boats out here, and I'd covered only a tiny portion of the curve of the Dome. And I was hungry. Umberto had taken to looking up at me pathetically and holding up a front paw with an injured expression. I leaned back against the Dome - it gave slightly, like good turf - and looked for possible alternatives that would get me away from here without distressing any relatives.

I couldn't see anyone else on the pathway. None of the pads seemed to meet the Dome itself at surface level, although plenty of towers ran into it way up above my head (as the guide says, a apartment that abuts the Dome directly is greatly prized in most sectors of society). I guess that, at surface level, it's more important to be close to all the work areas. Swimming in Cromwell's sea is not recommended, unless you're one of the Undersea people, and I certainly wasn't modified for low temps and high levels of pollutants.

It looked like using the caller was inevitable, but then I saw a dock about half a mile away. It ran just above the surface of the water, so I'd missed it at first, but when I looked closer I saw a barge moving slowly past the far end. I decided that I would go out there and try and attract the attention of the crew, and see if they would give me a lift. Umberto sighed gustily when I made him get up again, but perked up when we got on to the dock. I think he liked being closer to the water, because he kept sniffing at it and sneezing loudly.

Unfortunately, when I got to the end of the dock, I discovered that all the barges moving past were unmanned and obviously under AI control. I did shout, but nothing happened. None of them were docking, either, and although they were passing the dock the gap was still a few feet wide at the narrowest point. Still, "nothing ventured, nothing gained", as they say. I watched as the next barge came into view and noted a clear space between the wooden crates it was loaded with. I called Umberto to me, took a few steps back, hiked up my skirts, watched the barge draw closer, started to run - Umberto beside me (I fervently hoped he remembered the days when I'd tried to teach him to complete steeplechases) - and jumped just as the clear space on the barge drew level with the end of the dock.

I went to my knees when I landed, and heard something rip. Skirts are so impractical at times. I got up, dusting myself off, and turned around to see Umberto standing at the edge of the dock, looking after me mournfully.

I scrambled back across the crates, calling out to him. He shuffled sideways, looked at me again and then heaved himself forwards in a mighty leap as I flung myself across the crates and grabbed for him I think this is probably when I tore off the rest of my underskirt. I got Umberto by the collar, anyway, although he only managed to get his front paws on to the barge and his back paws scrabbled frantically at the sides, kicking up spray. It took me almost five minutes to haul him on board. I can finally see an advantage to small dogs.

We sat back on the crates, and I petted Umberto and told him he was a good dog to jump all that way. The barge was moving quite slowly, and I watched more of Cromwell slide past. I checked the crates to see if there were any clues as to our destination, but they were all labelled in what looked like Horadiim.

We went under the Arcades - I could see the bright colours of the market banners through the Crystal Bridge - and through a maze of narrow little canals. There were no footpaths to the sides of the canals, and I was reluctant to attempt another disembarkation anyway without being sure of Umberto. We drifted through a pod farm, as well, although fortunately these ones appeared to be food rather than industrial and the smells were quite pleasant - like fresh bread and strong cheese. We definitely passed over an Underseas portal. I saw the lights clearly, and two Underseas folk (in those black thermosuits) dived off the edge of a nearby pad and swam down to it.

After about an hour we moved towards one of the smaller pads. I tried to find it on the map, and think that it was on the borders of the industrial district. I had decided to explain the circumstances to whoever was unloading the barge, and hope that they did not object. As we moved into towards the wall, however, I realised that this was another automated system. A large crane descended on to the barge, and thick black tentacles fanned out from it, feeling their way around the crates before picking them up. When all the tentacles (about twenty) were full, the crane reascended.

The wall was high and sheer, and I couldn't see where the crates ended up. I also couldn't see how I could get off the barge at this point. Umberto and I moved towards the back of the barge, and watched as the tentacles felt around for more crates. I thought that we could dodge them, but they were obviously programmed to search everywhere and, as I tried to duck the first tentacle to reach us, it wrapped around my waist and I felt myself lifted into the air. The next tentacle found Umberto and he joined me, yelping in panic.

The tentacles froze for a minute, and I guessed that what ever program was behind them had realised that we were not the usual crates. I struggled against the tentacle, but it held firm, and in any case the thought of a fall from twenty feet into freezing cold water did not excite me. Surely the program's creator had considered the possibility of humans (or even dogs) and we would be put done somewhere in safety.

The two tentacles holding me and Umberto swung up and away from the loading dock - I had a brief glimpse of crates disappearing along a transbelt into the side of a tower - and out over the water before releasing both of us abruptly and shrinking back into the main crane. Umberto howled, I screamed, and we both hit the water with a tremendous splash.

It was very cold, and it tasted disgusting. I came up spluttering and coughing, and grabbed at Umberto's collar as he came up next to me. We splashed around, although I quickly became numb with cold and unable to kick (my skirts were dragging me down, as well, although at least I'd lost some of the material), and my life was starting to flash before my eyes (I was pleased to note that there was very little I regretted doing, although there were a few things I regretted not doing) when suddenly there was a flier hovering in front of me, and a man bracing himself against the skids to reach out to me with his hand.

I made him rescue Umberto first.

I don't remember much about the flight back, other than the man wrapping me in a thick sithfleece blanket before returning to the pilot's seat (he must have put it on auto to rescue me), and watching as a whole segment of tower sidewall opened up to let the flier glide to its landing. The man insisted on carrying Umberto, and I stumbled along behind him down a dark passageway that smelt of spices and into a large room where every available surface was covered with books and scrolls. The man swept two chairs clear one-handed before putting Umberto down in one and ushering me to the other.

I was still somewhat overcome by events, but at least I finally managed to get a good look at my rescuer. He looked to be in his late twenties, and about half a head shorter than you, with sandy hair and freckles. He had very plain grey clothes on (now covered with wet dog hair), and I noted with some surprise that he lacked a swordbelt.

This is taking too long. To cut a long story short, he introduced himself as Etienne Valgreve, one of the city Librarians. I suppose I should have guessed from all the books, but one does not expect the capital's elite knowledge corps to come swooping down from the sky and rescue one from imminent death by drowning. He didn't seem anywhere near as alarming as I would have expected from someone with his training, and he got me a hot drink and some biscuits and chatted to me while I warmed up. I said very little at first, but he asked me about Umberto - whether he was pure worffleblood - and by the time I'd explained his whole pedigree we were quite friendly and engaged in a fascinating discussion about the merits of selective breeding.

Etienne was telling me about his own dog, a half-Lapsa he'd trained to hunt with as a child, when someone knocked briskly on the door and walked straight in without waiting for a reply. The intruder turned out to be a tall dark woman with an eyepatch, who took one look at me and swung around towards Etienne, asking if he'd taken to retrieving drowned rats for amusement. Etienne started telling her his story - how he'd been flying back home when he'd seen a splash, and on a whim had chosen to look closer - and I interrupted to tell them just how I'd ended up there in the first place. They were both startled when I told them that the security program had rejected me.

"Those programs are meant to all respond to human commands," Etienne said.
The woman laughed.
"Yes, but only certain humans." She looked at me more closely. "Which tower was it, do you know?"
I didn't, but I was able to tell her about the markings on the crates.
"Horadiim?" She glanced at Etienne, and I saw him look back at her with interest. "Now, who would be receiving goods from a proscribed world... and tampering with security protocols to do so...?"
Etienne shrugged. "Falsteer has the skills, but he doesn't have the contacts."
"Not yet, anyway," the woman breathed.
Unfortunately, at this point I sneezed loudly, and the sneeze was echoed by Umberto. The woman looked at me again.
"You're still soaked through!"

I did try and protest, but I found myself being shunted out of Etienne's room and down another corridor (the wall dropped away beside me at one point, and I saw miles of shelves stretching out below me with figures moving between them like ants) and into a large heated ablutions block. The woman pushed me into a bathing room and ordered me to stay there while she got me some clean dry clothes.

Despite all the Traditions, technology can improve some things. The bathing room had every possible contrivance one could desire. I managed to get the bath to split off a small separate pool for Umberto, and then ordered all the bubble baths, oils and air jets I could find before sinking back into my own section and feeling the warmth seep back into my chilled bones. When I eventually got out I found a small stack of clothes - trousers and a tunic in the same plain grey that Etienne had been wearing - besides the absorbers, and a large bag in which to place my own long-suffering garments.

When I returned to the room, Etienne was flipping through a pile of scrolls. The woman looked up.
"Feeling better? If you'll follow me, I'll take you home in my flier. If you tell me where "home" is, of course."

I told them, a little hesitantly. The Library is not particularly New Age, of course, but the lack of a sword belt on Etienne - and the fact that the woman, whose name I still did not know, was wearing one, meant that I was not among Traditionalists either. Etienne didn't seem surprised - of course, our conversation had indicated that I was from an estate outside of Cromwell, and most of the country estates were owned by Traditionalists, but the woman looked at me closely.

"You say * is your Uncle?"
I nodded.
"Are you *'s daughter?"
I stared at her in surprise.
"Yes - but -"
"I knew your father," she said briskly, cutting me off. "A good man. Stubborn, but a good man."

I wanted to ask her more questions, but she pushed me out of the door again and I barely had time to gasp my thanks and farewell to Etienne, who was waving goodbye and grinning. The woman took me back to Etienne's flier - at least I got to be in the co-pilot's seat this time - and we took off, flying straight at the wall again before it suddenly dilated open at the last second.

She took me all the way back to Aunt and Uncle's apartment and knocked sharply at the door. Aunt Harriet answered, looking vexed, shot a disapproving glance at my grey uniform and turned to the woman.

"I don't think that this is the right-" she said, in her most superior tone, but the woman interrupted.

"I've brought your niece back," she said, indicating me. "She seems to have had a fairly eventful introduction to Cromwell."

Aunt Harriet looked back at me again, paled and clutched at her chest."Magdalene!"

I did try to tell her I was fine, but it was difficult to get a word in edgeways with her declaiming about my lack of responsibility and reckless behaviour. Aunt Harriet was just dragging me inside to hide my unladylike garb when some of her sense of the proprieties returned to her. She turned around, drew herself up to her full height (all of five foot two) and demanded, "And to whom do I owe the pleasure of her return?"

The woman (who'd been watching with an amused expression) dipped her head in a half-bow and said, "Julia Decatur, ma'am, the rightful Heir to the throne of Homeworld."

Fortunately, she then helped me manage Aunt Harriet inside and on to the couch. She's jolly heavy when she's unconscious. I told Julia - no, I suppose I should call her the Pretender - to thank Etienne heaps for rescuing me (I almost thanked her for making Aunt Harriet swoon, but it seemed unkind). She said she'd see me at Court, and asked if I'd mind not telling anyone else about the labels on the crates, and the crane that didn't respond to humans. I agreed. Then, I went back inside, changed out of the Library uniform, fed Umberto and myself, and waited - somewhat reluctantly - for Aunt Harriet to wake up.

That's about everything, really, and I don't see what I did that was so bad. Maybe I should have come back to the apartment and hired a flier, but the gondola was fun and walking along the wall was a great way to see some of Cromwell. And meeting a Librarian, and the Pretender... But Aunt Harriet doesn't see it that way. Hopefully she'll calm down soon, but I may have to spend all next week being a well behaved niece and going to teas and fashion shops with her. The things I do for Society...

* * *

Just a quick note before I post this. Have just received your letter. I'm glad to hear that you're settling into your Embassy duties (I assume you have duties, although they don't seem to warrant a mention) and that you've found some decent fencing competition. The little green Mule is gorgeous - I've put him on the mantelpiece, where it clashes outrageously with the drapes.

Charles sounds nice, and I'm pleased that he recovered from his self-inflicted concussion. I was quite alarmed by the thud his head made when it hit the bulkhead. Pass on my regards to Tiny; it sounds like the Horadiim females may be too much even for his charms and graces.

I did mention the Tech Armour to Uncle, but Aunt Harriet swept into the room and started lecturing me again before I could ask him what he thought. He did say he would look into it, though, so I shall ask him what he found out next time I get the chance.

Aunt Harriet no longer blanches whenever she sees me, but it may be some time before I am allowed anywhere on my own. I have been very dutiful, however, and have been fitted for a number of overly frilly gowns, which has warmed the cockles of her heart somewhat. Fortunately she has not yet found out that I have left all of her guides in the Library with Etienne! The first ball is in two days time, anyway, and I received a post from Toby to say that he will be attending. It will be good to catch up with some of the Academy gossip, anyway, even if you are no longer there to cause it.

write soon

your devoted (and dutiful) sister

-- Magdalene