Page 17 of Betraying Korth
“Not at all!” Korth assured me.
“I’ve never seen any as large or grand as the ones here. I spent far too long examining the one in my room last night and then again this morning.”
He perked up again. “I’ve never thought much about them, but theyareinteresting, aren’t they?”
“Have you ever looked at the pulleys? I was trying to figure out how many are needed to move such heavy loads. You would probably be able to figure it out since you’re so good at mathematics and the architecture of bridges.”
“There would be some similarities. Any simple machine will share commonalities with others, and each pulley used to support the dumbwaiter will reduce the strength needed almost by half. Take the mathematical advantages of a lever, for example.” And he was off again, explaining at length about the scientific principles of how things worked.
I let his words wash over me. Korth’s tone, normally so flat and monotonous, had taken on an almost giddy quality so I felt nearly as enthused about his interests as he was, though I couldn’t think of anyone I’d ever met as interested in bridges as Korth was. The rest of our walk flashed by in no time, and our chaperone, upon hearing snippets of our conversation, had retreated many more paces back, clearly confident that nothing inappropriate or overly romantic could or would happen when Korth was on one of his monologues about the inner workings of machines and bridges.
CHAPTER 9
For the remainder of that week, Korth took time each morning to take me on a stroll through the gardens or around the lake. He used his list of questions less and less each day as we discussed our unconventional interests, and I never once had to touch a door handle in Korth’s presence.
As pleased as I was that I had succeeded in improving our relationship for the benefit of the rebellion, it would have been a lie to say that my eagerness to converse with him was exclusively for the rebellion’s benefit. Korth seemed genuinely interested in my unconventional fascination as I described the differences between the dumbwaiter systems and voiced wonderings about the exact mechanisms so we could replicate the same systems at home. It became easy to procrastinate other topics of conversation that would be of more use to the rebels when I saw how raptly Korth paid attention to me.
In addition to bridges and dumbwaiters, I discovered that Korth and I had several other common interests, from simple things like our favorite color—blue—to more contemplative things like philosophy and our interpretations of various works of literature. I had never been more grateful for Odette’s laziness and indifference to her studies than I was at that point. Howelse would I have been able to keep up my current disguise otherwise?
The conversations quickly became the highlight of my day, as the rest was often filled with dull wedding preparation tasks that involved a great deal of color matching, flower selections, and measuring for a new wardrobe. Korth attended so many meetings and hosted so many delegations during the day that I couldn’t see how he would ever be able to keep them all straight and adequately prepare for each one.
In the afternoons, while Korth was occupied with his obligations, Tess often sought out my company, laden with whatever task her tutors had assigned her. She often practiced her flute or sat next to me while she reviewed notes about legal proceedings or composed speeches. The instant Korth was out of meetings, she would stick to his side so closely that it was easy to see why Korth affectionately referred to her as a little shadow.
“You look better in blue than you do in yellow,” Tess told me as she studied the dress Gerta laid out for the evening meal. “The one you wore yesterday made you look like a haystack. A pretty haystack,” she amended quickly.
“I thought you were supposed to be practicing your handwriting,” I told her with a smile.
“I am. See?” She held up her paper to show six copied lines, which she had written very slowly, biting her lower lip in concentration as she carefully formed each word in neat penmanship. She flipped the paper around to study it. “Everyone says Korth’s handwriting is better than mine.”
“He’s older than you are,” I pointed out. “So he’s had more time to practice.”
Tess let out a huff. “Practice, practice, practice. I don’t want to practice things anymore; I want to justdothem. I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”
“What would you decide to do if you could make any decision yourself?”
Tess thought. “I would go to the Night of Masks festival in town.”
“Why that?”
“It sounds fun. Everyone wears masks and there are booths and games. I heard that there are some performers like acrobats and jugglers who throw swords and torches.”
“Why don’t you go?”
She wrinkled her nose in annoyance. “It’s only for grown-ups and I have to be asleep at night.”
“Maybe I will have to go with Korth and then we could tell you about it.”
Tess rolled her eyes and went back to copying lines. “He doesn’t go to parties. He says he likes fun, but he never actuallydoesanything fun.”
“I’m sure he does something. When you talked to him yesterday, what was he doing?”
She shrugged. “Just shining his shoes. He always does that before he sees you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t he have a servant do that?”
“No. He said they never get them shiny enough, so he had me read him his reports while he did it. He told me it is good to practice public speaking so I’m not as bad as he is but I think he just wants to impress you.”
“Really?”
