Chương 17: Chapter 16: Borrowed Clothes

Crownspire's rules didn't forbid Elizabeth from entering Aurelia. They forbade her from doing it on terms she found useful. First-years needed permission from their residence supervisor and an adult or authorised upper-year escort. Noble students carried additional restrictions shaped by family status. For sons, family approval was recommended. For daughters and unmarried female wards, it was required.

The explanation occupied half a page: kidnapping, predatory contracts, scandal, unsuitable associations and the protection of family reputation. Every danger listed was real. The rule still meant a noble son could be permitted to learn the capital by visiting merchants and military offices while a daughter's route remained contingent on somebody deciding the same streets were respectable enough for her to be seen in. Alexander wouldn't help her evade it.

He'd probably listen, offer to locate legitimate equipment and then explain, gently and with complete sincerity, that an eleven-year-old girl had no business entering the eastern wards alone after dark. If she mentioned illegal skill demonstrations, he might write to Crownspire before finishing his reply. He would call that protection. Elizabeth closed the regulation book. Ruby found her the next afternoon with three city maps spread across a library table.

"You've moved from forbidden skill theory to municipal drainage," Ruby said.

"I'm impressed by the range."

"They're service routes."

"That has not reassured me."

"I need materials Crownspire doesn't stock."

"What materials?"

"I don't know yet." Ruby stared at her.

"I need to know what exists before deciding what is useful."

"That is a very Elizabeth answer." Ruby sat opposite her and lowered her voice.

"You're planning to leave." Elizabeth had considered lying. Ruby already knew too much about her dissatisfaction with the academy, however. A complete denial would only make her more suspicious.

"I'm considering visiting the city."

"During an approved free period?"

"The approved districts contain shops selected by the academy."

"That is because the unapproved districts contain people who sell powdered bone as fertility medicine."

"Do I look pregnant?" Ruby stared at her for a moment before covering her face.

"You always choose the worst possible response." Elizabeth folded one map.

"I'm not asking you to take me."

"Good, because I'm saying no." The speed of the refusal made Elizabeth pause. Ruby leaned forward.

"I mean it. I'll help you find books. I'll let you use my laboratory when I can. I am not sneaking an eleven-year-old noble girl out of school."

"You're fifteen."

"That makes my survival instincts more impressive, not my judgement less relevant." Elizabeth smiled. Ruby did not.

"What are you actually looking for?"

"Used instruments. Unusual materials. People willing to demonstrate skills Crownspire considers inappropriate for first-years. Possibly technical texts that aren't in the academy catalogue."

"Possibly crime."

"Crime is a legal category, not a product category." Ruby covered her face with both hands.

"I knew helping you make a light was going to become my problem."

"You can refuse."

"I am refusing." Ruby lowered her hands.

"That doesn't mean I'm going to pretend you won't find another route." Elizabeth waited.

"There's a second-year student named Matthias Crowell. Merchant family. He arranges awkward purchases for students with more money than patience."

"Can you introduce me?" Ruby pointed at her.

"I'll introduce you to someone who sells information. That is the end of my participation."

"Understood."

"I'm serious."

"I know." That answer appeared to unsettle Ruby more than an argument would have. Matthias Crowell met them the following evening in an unused classroom near the commercial-studies wing. He was thirteen or fourteen, neat in a way that looked deliberate rather than obedient, with polished brass fastenings replacing the academy-standard ones and a merchant seal on one finger. Two ledgers lay open in front of him. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

He looked at Ruby first.

"You said this was worth interrupting inventory." Ruby nodded towards Elizabeth.

"Ask her."

"I know who she is." Matthias studied Elizabeth without deference. The title mattered to him primarily as a source of risk.

"Lady Elizabeth White. Experimentalist."

"Elizabeth is sufficient here."

"Is it?" A merchant's son. Good. Elizabeth sat opposite him.

"I need a market outside academy control."

"That describes most of Aurelia."

"One dealing in used magical instruments, copied technical texts, unlicensed demonstrations and materials respectable merchants prefer not to put on invoices." Ruby muttered, "Subtle." Matthias closed one ledger.

"What are you buying?"

"Information, at present."

"That isn't what I asked."

"It is what I'm purchasing from you." His mouth curved slightly.

"You've negotiated before."

"Yes."

"There are traders around the student districts who sell imported reagents, copied books and guild rejects. Legal enough if nobody asks tedious questions."

"I'm looking for the version where people ask those questions and proceed anyway." Matthias stopped tapping his seal against the table.

"That information costs six crowns." Ruby made a disgusted sound.

"For an address?"

"For an address, an entry phrase and the knowledge that I'll deny giving either if she is caught." Elizabeth placed four crowns on the desk. Matthias looked at them.

"That is not six."

"You didn't say the information was exclusive."

"It isn't."

"You've sold it before."

"Yes."

"Then I'm not paying the cost of acquiring it. I'm paying for the risk of repeating it." Matthias looked at Ruby.

"I dislike her."

"She grows on you."

"That sounded threatening." He considered the coins.

"Five." Elizabeth added one crown. He swept them into a pocket and pulled a scrap of paper from his ledger.

"The eastern dye district. Tallow Lane. There's a pawnbroker with a white moth on the sign, one wing damaged. Ask whether they have any mirrors that remember previous owners."

"An entry phrase?"

"It tells the person at the counter why you're there. It does not guarantee they'll let you through."

"What is the market called?"

"The Underhall." Matthias's voice lost its humour.

"Do not say the name loudly in the wrong tavern and expect that to make you interesting." Elizabeth studied the rough map he drew.

"What time?"

"After the ninth bell. The people worth paying usually arrive later."

"What prevents someone from simply walking in?"

"You currently look like a marquess's daughter in a Crownspire uniform."

"That isn't what I asked."

"It is the first thing preventing you." His gaze moved over her hair, hands and coat.

"If you walk into the dye district like this, someone will return you for a reward before you find Tallow Lane. Or sell the information that you're missing." Ruby folded her arms.

"Excellent. We're finished." Matthias shook his head.

"A servant would attract less attention. An apprentice. Messenger." He examined Elizabeth's face.

"A boy would be easier." Ruby turned on him.

"You are actively making this worse."

"I'm answering the question I was paid to answer." Elizabeth considered it. At eleven, loose clothes, poor light and expectation would do more work than cosmetics. The disguise only needed to survive casual attention. Under close inspection, it would fail.

"I need used clothes." Ruby stared at her. Matthias smiled.

"I can arrange those."

"Price?"

"Two silver marks, including delivery to North House without a merchant label."

"For worn work clothes?"

"For discretion."

"One silver mark and six copper pennies." Matthias tilted his head then sighed.

"One silver mark and ten copper pennies."

"Agreed." Ruby waited until they were halfway back to North House before stopping.

"You negotiated a disguise in front of me."

"I said I needed information."

"You also said I could refuse."

"You did."

"And you're going anyway."

"I haven't chosen a night."

"That isn't a denial." Elizabeth could have lied. Ruby wanted her to. The lie would postpone the argument and make their next laboratory session easier until Ruby discovered it.

"I'm going," Elizabeth said. Ruby's jaw tightened.

"Then take someone."

"Who?"

"An older student. A servant you trust. Anyone who isn't eleven."

"Anyone I involve becomes another person who can identify me, be questioned or decide to stop me."

"And going alone creates an eleven-year-old in a criminal market."

"Yes."

"You say that like it's just another variable."

"It is also dangerous." Ruby looked away towards the courtyard windows. Students crossed below them in groups, arguing about assignments while the evening bells rang over the roofs.

"I'm your friend," Ruby said, quieter now.

"That does not mean I'm required to help you do every dangerous thing you decide is useful."

"I know."

"And I don't want details afterwards that make me responsible for hiding whatever you buy." Elizabeth considered the boundary. Ruby had helped with the research because she chose to. She was withholding help now for the same reason.

"Understood." Ruby looked back at her.

"I still want to know you came back." That was not operationally necessary. Elizabeth almost asked why, then decided she understood the answer well enough.

"If I end up going that is." Ruby's expression hardened. Elizabeth amended, "Before breakfast."

"Thank you." The parcel arrived two days later through the North House laundry system. The clothes smelled of soap, smoke and machine oil. The trousers were too wide but could be belted securely. The jacket had patches at both elbows. The boots were scuffed and slightly too large. The cap mattered most. It hid the pale hair that marked Elizabeth as expensive before anyone examined the quality of her skin or speech. Her first attempt at the disguise failed before she reached a door.

In the mirror she looked like Elizabeth White wearing a poor boy's clothes. The posture was wrong. So was the way she held her shoulders, the careful placement of her feet and the expectation that space would be made for her. Eleven years of servants correcting the original Elizabeth had left habits in the body even when the mind occupying it didn't care about them. The following evening she tested the clothes beneath a long laundry smock and carried an empty parcel through the service corridors.

A kitchen porter looked at her twice, then snapped, "If you're going down to the furnaces, stop walking like you've got a tutor behind you." Elizabeth changed her pace. He never asked her name. The correction was useful. She spent two more evenings observing the lower service gate from ordinary places rather than hiding in shrubs like a criminal in a children's story. Kitchen deliveries thinned after the eighth bell.

Furnace workers, cleaners and messengers continued moving between academy buildings and the outer service yards until nearly eleven. Guards checked carts and unfamiliar adults more carefully than children carrying routine parcels. On the third night, Elizabeth locked her bedroom door and changed. She didn't build an elaborate dummy beneath the blankets. Anyone authorised to enter despite the lock would discover the deception regardless.

She left the room dark, placed a note on the desk claiming a headache and went down the laundry stair with the empty canvas parcel under one arm. The work clothes changed how people looked at her. More accurately, they changed whether people looked at her at all. A maid stepped aside without curtsying. Two students passed while arguing about spatial geometry. A groundskeeper saw a small boy with a parcel and pointed irritably towards the lower path when Elizabeth hesitated at a fork.

At the service court, the disguise nearly failed for a reason she hadn't modelled. A furnace supervisor caught her by the shoulder.

"Where are you taking that?" Elizabeth's body tensed before she could stop it. The man looked down at the canvas parcel.

"Tallow Lane," she said.

"Laundry return."

"From Crownspire?"

"North House." His eyes narrowed. Elizabeth kept her chin down and resisted the instinct to answer like Lady Elizabeth White explaining herself to an instructor. The supervisor clicked his tongue.

"Then use the east cart next time. Lower road's slick after rain." He released her and kept walking. Elizabeth waited until he turned the corner before breathing normally again. Preparation had helped. So had a lie simple enough to fit the role. Mostly, the man had been busy. At the gate, one guard inspected a coal cart while the other drank something steaming from a tin cup. Elizabeth joined the trickle of workers leaving the grounds. The second guard glanced down.

"Whose boy?"

"Laundry."

"Back tonight?"

"Yes, sir." He waved her through. No ward flared. No alarm sounded. No one asked for a family representative's approval. Beyond the gate, the service road descended towards Aurelia. Crownspire's lamps thinned behind her while the capital spread below in uneven bands of gold, blue and red. Elizabeth adjusted the empty parcel under her arm and started down.