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Chapter Four
After breakfast, such as it was, had been finished, and the dishes, such as they were, had been
washed, Rayley followed Dorinda up to the high garret, lodged in one of the castle turrets, where she
mixed her paints. In some ways, it was a logical location for the task, since the room had windows
on both sides and thus suitable ventilation. But in other ways it was wretchedly impractical, for each
morning the supplies had to be carried up the circular staircase that wound to the top of the turret, a
treacherous ascent involving any number of worn and crumbling steps. Since there was no handrail,
it would be impossibly dangerous to climb with one’s arms full, but Dorinda showed him, with
significant pride, a rope and pulley system she had devised to raise the buckets of water needed for
mixing.
“It is ingenious,” he admitted, even while noting that half the water sloshed from the bucket to the
stone floor below during the process.
“My father was an engineer,” Dorinda said a bit breathlessly, struggling with one of the ropes. “He
had no sons and taught me and my sister how to contrive any number of such machines.”
“It doesn’t look very steady,” Rayley said. He didn’t wish to criticize the girl’s invention, and in fact
he was filled with admiration for both her ingenuity and her pluck. It was hard to believe she had
managed to transport the water by herself for so many days. But he also felt the need to point out that
the pulley was screeching in protest as Dorinda pulled up the last bucket. It seemed a miracle the
whole apparatus hadn’t come crashing down upon some unsuspecting colonist walking through the
stairwell below.
“It bears weight well enough,” she said with a shrug, and then motioned that he should follow her into
the garret.
What was even more surprising than the pulley was the fact that once they had climbed the circular
staircase and entered the small room, Dorinda immediately set about mixing paints for LaRusse
Chapman. Her own and then an entire second set, which were placed rather reverently aside for him
to come and fetch later, at his leisure. When she noted Rayley’s disapproving frown, Dorinda merely
laughed.
“You find it odd that I would perform yet another task for LaRusse?”
Rayley shrugged, making a concerted effort to look nonchalant. It would be a useful skill as a
detective, this ability to appear relaxed when one was truly agitated, but he feared he had never fully
gotten the knack. “LaRusse,” he finally said cautiously, “seems to inspire a great deal of loyalty
among the members of the colony.” Particularly the women, he added in his own mind, but he
refrained from speaking this last bit aloud.
“But why shouldn’t this be the case?” Dorinda asked and her own nonchalance seemed utterly
unfeigned. “He is the king of our kingless kingdom, the god of our godless universe.” She paused to