Fic: The Obloquy of Newness

[beatrice_otter]

highadrenalineexchange has revealed authors, and I can reveal what I wrote! I had a lot of fun with a Vedero-focused Goblin Emperor fic.

Title: The Obloquy of Newness
Author: Beatrice_otter
Fandom: Goblin Emperor
Characters: Vedero Drazhin
Written for: DontStopHerNow in High Adrenaline 2026
Summary: Vedero would like nothing more than to study the stars. If only court politics and gossip did not get in her way ...

Author's Note: Betaed by Irina. Title from The Old Astronomer by Sarah Williams.

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Vedero could barely see her hands as they worked.

That was alright; they knew their business. They did not need to see more than the ghostly outlines of the white tubs in the sink to fish around in the sodium sulfite solution with rubber-coated tongs and grab the edge of the paper and hold it up so that some of the fluid would drip off, before settling it gently in the tub of acetic acid that would stop the silver halide crystals from continuing to develop. She counted the seconds, and then moved the paper to the sodium thiosulfate that would wash away the excess silver from the paper, so that when she took the images out into the light, they would not be re-exposed.

On the whole, it was a very meditative process. When she had first started taking photographs through her telescope, the technical aspects of the camera and lenses and exposures had been fascinating, and the process of developing the film and printing it had been the boring bits that she tolerated in order to get the images she needed to record what she had seen. But she had grown to like it; it was quiet, and nobody disturbed her, and she could muse on anything from last night's observations to an appropriately cutting remark to make about Dach'osmerrem Adinaran the next time they met.

Today she was thinking about the latest letter from Osmer Peluvar, and what she might need to prove her point about variable brightness. He did not know who she really was, of course; she used a pseudonym when corresponding with actual scholars, but he did not seem to care who she was as long as she had interesting things to say, and observations to back them up.

He was taking her findings and writing them up as his own, of course.

No, that was unkind, and incorrect; he was using her findings as the basis for his own further research, and publishing that without any indication that he had been pointed in the right direction by someone else.

Vedero had long since decided that she cared more that her findings would be shared, than that they be credited to her. She could hardly publish them herself. Even under a pseudonym, and even with Edrehasivar's support, it would be a scandal if it ever came out. And besides, she had no degree, no university to accept her work—who would read it?

It was hardly the worst injustice in her life, and Vedero preferred to remember that she was extraordinarily lucky to have even this much. If it weren't for her brother the Emperor's kindness—and foolishness—she would have been wed long since. While it was possible to find a husband who did not care that his wife was a bluestocking, it was not likely among the set of high noblemen whose allegiance the Drazhada most needed to secure. And even supposing she had managed that much, a wife had far less freedom than a maiden lady with her own household. She could never have even dreamed of taking pictures of the stars she studied. It could not have been concealed, and it would never have been allowed.

When the last of the images was done and hanging to dry, Vedero put the chemicals away and tidied up. When she was satisfied that nothing that would be spoiled by light was exposed, she opened the heavy opaque curtains, removed the board behind them, and opened the window behind that, letting in fresh air and sunlight. She checked the clock and nodded.

She had timed it well. There was enough time to thoroughly scrub off the scents of the chemicals before getting ready for tonight's party.

***

Vedero had always been on display when in public, since the day she was born and formally presented to the Untheileneise Court as the daughter of the Emperor. She had been thoroughly trained in the arts of conversation, hospitality, and gossip, and had years of experience in assessing the currents of the court and responding accordingly.

Which was why, when she was announced at Osmer Iasthar's party, she knew at once that there was some new gossip circulating about her.

It was in the way people looked at her a little too long, or a little too short, but did not quite meet her eyes. It was in the set of their ears as she walked by them, and the knowing glances.

Vedero hadn't done anything gossip-worthy recently, and her few surviving close relatives were all equally unlikely to do anything salacious or disturbing. That meant little, of course; gossip was often made up out of whole cloth and then embroidered out of all recognition, and whether or not something was true was, ultimately, less important than whether it made a good story.

But it was her duty to find out all rumors about her House and attempt to counter, defang, or quash them if she could, and with Nemriän so far from Cetho, Sheveän relegated, and all but one of her brothers dead, there were few others who could or would look after the reputation of the House in the Untheileneise.

It took her until after dinner when the card tables had been brought out to find someone willing to do more than drop opaque hints. She had gleaned that she was specifically the target of the rumors, and that they were both scandalous and novel—the worst sort of rumor, the hardest to do anything about.

"Oh! It was Areitho Hervanin, of course," said Peleiran Meradin as she laid a card down with satisfaction and took the trick. "You know what a gossip she is." Peleiran laid down a card to start off the next trick.

"Oh, of course," Vedero said, laying down a card of her own. Though that was the pot and kettle, for Peleiran took at least as much delight in spreading hearsay and scandal—which was why Vedero had sat down at the card table with her.

"Anyway, Areitho claims that she was walking by your apartments this afternoon and smelled photographic chemicals." Peleiran's voice dropped in scandalized glee. "And then she claims when she went to visit and see you, your housekeeper said you were not receiving callers."

Only a decade and a half of practice kept Vedero's face impassive and her ears still. "Claims she smelled photographic chemicals, did she? How does she even know what they smell like? We do not think we would know—do you?"

"Oh!" Peleiran tittered. "Certainly not! We would have no idea what they smelled like, and we are all agog at the idea that Areitho would."

That would be all over the party by the end of the evening. It wouldn't stop the rumors—an archduchess suggested to be a photographer was too juicy to be quickly forgotten—but it would at least lead some to doubt them, and also pay Areitho back in some small fashion for her attack.

"What were you doing, this afternoon?" Kira Iëstenar said, not looking up from his cards.

"In bed with a headache," Vedero said, lying with as much boredom as she could manage.

"Oh?" Peleiran said. "A headache of short duration, given that we know you had tea with several ladies this morning, and are here now. Or … was the headache caused by one of your visitors?" Her eyes slid across the room to Csoru and she flicked an ear before looking back at Vedero.

Vedero had never liked her most recent stepmother, but she couldn't even hint at spreading rumors of dissent between the Drazhada, not when Edrehasivar's grasp on the throne was still so weak. She made a noncommittal noise.

Peleiran smirked. "We see." And that would be all over the party by the end of the night too, for Vedero must not have been boring enough in her answer … or perhaps Peleiran would have found some hint of division no matter what. She was a cousin to the Bazhevada, and they were desperately trying to increase their power in the wake of all the monumental changes in court alliances since Edrehasivar came to the throne. A divided and weakened Drazhada could only help that endeavor.

"You have not denied the rumors, Your Grace," Iëstenar observed.

"We did not think we had to deny something so patently absurd," Vedero said. "Our father forbade it in the Untheileneise, and we are his loyal daughter in all things."

"'Tis not illegal, Varenechibel IV made no law," Iëstenar said. "'Twas merely his whim, enforced by protocol and respect. And he is dead, and Edrehasivar has never forbidden it."

Vedero knew this very well; knew, also, that given her brother's rejection of their father's policies, and his famous liberality, it was highly unlikely that he would instate the same ban. Still, that was not the same as approving it, or allowing his sister to be known to practice it. "We are not a photographer, we have not an artistic bone in our body—and no desire to develop one. We were quite the despair of our tutors in the arts."

"Yes," Iëstenar said, "but taking dirty pictures—or even respectable ones—"

"—if such a thing could be said to exist," Peleiran said.

Iëstenar ignored her. "—requires neither talent nor artistry. That's why the Artist's Guild opposes photography. Anyone can point a camera and click the shutters."

Vedero shrugged. "We had our brother the Archduke Ciris choose the paintings for our walls out of the family vaults, because we cared not for decoration. And even if we did, or held some great desire for photographs of any sort … why bother to take them ourself? Why not simply purchase them? Even the raciest image is easy enough to obtain in the Untheileneise. Doing it ourselves would be an awful risk."

This was true, and quite reasonable, and would hopefully convince at least some of the more reasonable courtiers that the rumors were false.

***

The next morning, Vedero summoned her housekeeper while she breakfasted. Merrem Hamezho was a short, stout woman old enough to be Vedero's grandmother. She curtseyed stiffly when she presented herself.

"Please, sit," Vedero said. It wasn't proper, of course, but Hamezho's years of service and absolute discretion were due some consideration, and Vedero wanted to keep her in her role as long as she possibly could.

"Thank you, Your Grace," Hamezho said, lowering herself into an armchair. "How may we be of service?"

"A rumor has started circulating that we are a photographer," Vedero said.

Hamezho stiffened. "Who is spreading it?"

"Areitho Hervanin claimed to smell photographic chemicals while walking by," Vedero said.

"That is not possible," Hamezho said. "The room for your darkroom was very carefully chosen."

"We know," Vedero said. "There are several possibilities. First, she may be making up stories out of whole cloth, on her own or at someone else's behest, and has merely stumbled upon the truth by accident. Second, one of the ladies who attend our private salons may have let something slip, by accident or design. This we judge to be unlikely; they are all ladies of discretion. Thirdly, our supplier may have identified us and sold that information."

"Given the precautions we take with that transaction, we doubt it would be possible," Hamezho said. "We have taken care that he does not know who is purchasing it—we doubt he even knows that the chemicals and papers are going to the court."

"Which leaves the possibility that one of our servants may have spoken out of turn," Vedero said. "We would not like to believe it possible, either. Our greatest hope is that this is merely a baseless shot in the dark, and will be forgotten as soon as something else salacious happens. Yet it would be … irresponsible, to assume that will be the case."

Hamezho nodded. "We will examine the household, and the supplier. If the knowledge of your experiments came from either source, we will find out for you."

"We have utmost trust in your abilities and discretion," Vedero said. If she had not, she would never have dared begin experimenting with so controversial a thing as a camera.

***

Vedero spent the rest of the morning with the prints she had developed the day before, comparing them with the charts and making notes. She had two aims: first, there was no proper catalog of all the stars in the sky; even the best charts left out the dimmer stars and other celestial bodies. In many cases, this was because some of the charts were old enough to predate the current state of the telescope. Vedero's telescope was rather small, compared to those of the professional astronomers, so there were doubtless many stars she could not see. Still, she could at least improve the current charts.

Second, there had to be a way to classify the stars, to find a standard way to describe and organize all the peculiarities of color and variability and brightness. Color did not show on her photographs, but there had to be a way to measure and record it.

There were many astronomers working on similar projects, of course, but to her knowledge Vedero was the only one working on doing it through photography. When one considered the time it took to take the photographs, to develop them, and then to study them, it would take her a thousand lifetimes to complete by herself. Still, it was fascinating, and even though she could not complete it her studies would advance the knowledge of the field.

She buried herself in her studies, but the rumors plagued her thoughts.

Edrehasivar was deeply unconnected to the court, and had no cronies who would tell him choice gossip. And his wife, Empress Csethiro, was not noted for her skill in the management of rumors, and was much distracted by the upcoming birth of their second child. It was possible that by the time she had recovered from that and retaken her place as leader of the court, things would have died down, and she would never hear it.

But the Emperor's secretary knew everything that happened at court. There would be no hiding it from him.

***

Vedero took her luncheon with the Ladies' Charitable Aid Society of the Untheileneise Court. This was mostly a social occasion, for the real work of the society was handled largely by their secretaries. The ladies held entertainments to raise funds for their work, and congratulated themselves on their generosity. Vedero regretted it that day.

It was not that she had any interest in the practicalities of establishing a new foundling school. But if there had been real work to be done, there would have been something to distract from catty comments about what they imagined to be Vedero's new hobby.

"And of course they must be held to the highest moral standards," Osmerrem Tenimaran was saying, which would be entirely unobjectionable if not for the way she glanced knowingly at Vedero as she said it … and the way Osmerrem Vanevaran tittered and spoke of the dangers of modeling even for innocent scenes.

"For even godly allegories can be used wrongly, and if they were to convince the girls that there is no need to guard their chastity within the studio, well then."

"Certainly the teachers and matrons must be impeccable, and lead by example," Vedero said. She would like to have quashed both of them like bugs—two mere jumped-up osmerrems, tittering at an archduchess!—but her brother's official policy was that of favoring the new industrial interests, which limited the tactics she could use against them. "We know that you have so little experience choosing staff, but we assure you, there are many excellent candidates available with the highest references. If you find the prospect of hiring difficult, you may always leave such things to those with experience in it."

Tenimaran looked like her tea had been salted at the implication that she came from such a low background that she would not even have had servants.

Vanevaran merely looked confused, and Vedero wondered if anyone would explain to her, later, what Vedero had meant. "Thank you, your Grace, but we have never found hiring to be very difficult."

"Then you must share your secrets, dear Osmerrem Vanevaran," said Osmerrem Berenaran—not the wife of the Chancellor, but his aunt, and a woman who could be relied upon to pour oil on troubled waters. "For surely it was much easier to find good servants when we were a girl. Why, only last month our housekeeper discovered one of the scullery maids selling off the sugar!"

Vedero made a note to ask Osmerrem Berenaran to tea. Given that the Berenada had the Chancellorship, and how closely Edrehasivar worked with his chancellor, the two houses were somewhat allies these days. Perhaps she would be willing to rally the Berenaran women around Vedero.

It was days like this that Vedero missed Sheveän. She had not liked her sister-in-law, and certainly Sheveän had never approved of her. But Sheveän had been absolutely committed to the unity of the Drazhada, and to the protection of their reputation and advancement of their agenda at court.

It would have been nice to have someone on her side in this.

***

That evening, Vedero dined alone. She rarely attended the full court meal, preferring to dine in smaller groups or alone unless there was some particular entertainment that evening, so there was at least a chance that her absence would go unnoticed, or, at least, attributed to habit rather than the effect of the rumors.

Hamezho had yet to find anything, nor had any of Vedero's friends found anything behind the gossip beyond mere salaciousness aimed at one who was so seldom the butt of the joke.

Vedero would like nothing more than to believe it could be handled quietly and quickly, but it had spread too far. Her friends and allies were too few, when measured against the deliciousness of the scandal.

She wrote a note to her brother the emperor, begging an audience at his earliest convenience. When it had been sent, she went up to her tiny observatory.

The skies should be clear tonight.

***

Edrehasivar VII, Emperor of the Elflands, was late.

He often was, though for a different reason than his father and predecessor. Varenechibel IV had used his movements as a tactic, a reminder to all that they waited on him, and their time was his to command.

Edrehasivar was late because he did not understand that, and did not realize that it was his right to determine what was and was not an acceptable use of his time. He never hinted that people should come to the point; he never simply stated that an audience or meeting was at an end, but let them drag on interminably. Vedero had heard that his secretary guarded his time with great ferocity, and that if you did not respond to Mer Aisava's hints or gestures, you would find that your petition or wish was denied. She had never seen this, for Aisava was rarely present and never interrupted her. In any case, there were many people whom a mere secretary could not hint to, and so many of the Emperor's meetings went long.

But regardless of why, the end result was the same: Vedero waiting, in the Tortoise Room, for the Emperor to appear and handle whatever bit of business she requested of him.

Meetings with her brother were very different from those with her father, for they were very different men, but Vedero had never before had to confess to bringing shame on the family. She was not looking forward to it.

But there was no use dwelling on what was to come. She considered her equipment, instead. Vedero had learned photography from one of the women in her private salon, who was interested in photography for its own sake. Osmin Ormozharin had been and continued to be a great help in refining her technique and using her cameras to the best of their abilities, but Vedero suspected that someone with more practical experience in the subject—for Ormozharin, like Vedero, could only practice in secret—would be of even greater assistance.

Her musings were interrupted by the bustle of the door opening. Vedero rose as her brother walked in, trailed by his nohecharei, and curtsied very properly to him, taking care to do it exactly as she always did. Their father had always been annoyed if people were more deferential to him when they had done wrong, for it implied that his mercy could be bought with excessive obsequiousness.

"Serenity," she said, as he gestured her to regain her seat.

Edrehasivar settled neatly in the chair opposite her. "We trust you are well?"

"We are very well," Vedero said, and did not allow herself to pause. "However, we regret to inform you that we have brought shame on the Drazhada."

Edrehasivar favored her with a skeptical look. "We doubt that very much."

"There is a rumor circulating, that we are a photographer," Vedero said, eyes lowered. She hesitated. She had thought it over, all through the night, and could not see any way that her transgressions might be concealed. Her household was loyal, but they would not defy the Emperor, should he or his people ask—nor should they. And if there was some evidence, someone who would speak against her, and it became public … whatever censure Edrehasivar dealt out for breaking her father's edicts would be far worse if she attempted to conceal it from him now.

Vedero sighed. "We have countered the rumor as well as we may, but … there is a limit to how staunchly we may deny it, for it is not untrue. We do use cameras to take images through our telescope, that we may have a more accurate record of what we observe. We have never taken images of anything else, except when we were learning how to use a camera, and then the images were only of things such as chairs and tables, no living things."

Edrehasivar said nothing. By this point, their father would have had several cutting remarks on her stupidity and morals, and ordered her to dispose of the camera and all related equipment. And would have been calculating if he could send her away from court for a few months without admitting her wrongdoing.

She went on. "We do not know how the rumor started, for we have always been very careful. It is said that people could smell chemicals around our apartment, but that is a lie, for we have always been most careful with such things and the room in which we use the chemicals to develop the film and the images is too high up for someone passing by to smell it. It could be a mere random coincidence that this accusation has been made; you know how the Untheileneise is."

At this Edrehasivar nodded and made a face.

"But if someone does know, and has evidence of some kind, and we deny it too strongly, then the resulting gossip when the evidence is presented will be worse," Vedero said.

"We see that," Edrehasivar said. "What we do not see is why you cannot simply … show people the images you take."

Vedero's ears rose. That, of all reactions, she had not anticipated. "Serenity … did you not know that our father forbade photography at court?"

"Yes, but that was not a law," Edrehasivar said. "And we understood it to be so that he would not have to worry about photographs being published in newspapers and scandal sheets?"

"The reason hardly matters," Vedero said, "and the Untheileneise is the Emperor's domain, as purely as any nobleman's seat is. He did not have to make it a law for it to be binding here … and even if he had not that power over the court, he surely had that authority over me."

"Our father has been dead for four years," Edrehasivar said. "And we made it plain from the first that we did not follow his policies. If this one should be changed, that is a simple thing to do."

Vedero did not let the hope within her overturn her reason, and resented that once again she must argue against her own heart, to teach her brother better politics. "But, Serenity, photography is … scandalous. Even an it were allowed at court, it would be bad enough to be known to possess photographs, much less to be known to take them!"

"Photography is looked down upon because it is new," Edrehasivar said, "and because the Artist's Guild does not like it and has successfully blocked its use in many places, and because of these things the people most likely to be willing to try it are also the most willing to use it for improper purposes. But that does not mean that photography is inherently bad … and if we are to judge an art based on the worst use it has been put to, the paintings and sketches and woodcuts of the Artists' Guild have surely been used for things at least as bad. Photography may make pornography more affordable, but it did not create the concept."

"That is true," Vedero said slowly. "But it does not affect what people think of photography … and photographers."

"If people wish to think the worst, they cannot be prevented from doing so," Edrehasivar said. "That does not make them right. And as for the rumors … if people don't know what you are actually doing, they are free to make up the worst possible interpretation. But we think it would be very hard to make pictures of stars seem salacious."

"You assume, Serenity, that people would believe that was all we were doing with our camera," Vedero said. "We think that the knowledge that we have a camera, and admit to it, would make them more likely to believe we are doing something illicit with it. No matter how many pictures of stars we showed them. For we could not prove that those were the only pictures we had taken."

Edrehasivar sighed. "This is true. Well, it is your reputation, and you know the way the court works far better than we do. Keep us informed of what you choose to do, and if you wish us to say anything in particular should someone ask us about it. Meanwhile, we shall discuss the ban with Csevet and Lord Berenar."

***

"He's going to what?" Osmin Ormozharin's voice climbed in both volume and pitch.

"Nothing is certain," Vedero said. "He must first consult with his Lord Chancellor." It was widely known how much the Emperor depended on his secretary's advice, but Vedero downplayed it whenever she could, not wishing the Emperor to look as if he did not make his own decisions.

"But even that is something," Osmin Aran Saseso said. She wrote plays, some of which were even performed in Cetho under a pseudonym. "To even raise the question—it means that if someone should be exposed as a photographer, with proof, he would not be likely to judge harshly."

"I doubt Edrehasivar has judged anyone harshly in his life," Vedero said. "He did not want Sheveän to be executed, and she tried to usurp him."

"Yes, but she was his sister-in-law and the mother of his heir," Aran said. "It is different, when it is a stranger … or someone politically or socially inconvenient."

"My father would excuse murder and treason more easily than anything that hinted at licentiousness, at least in his daughters," Dach'osmin Pastheno Zhalethin muttered, stabbing her embroidery. Pastheno's interests were the most socially acceptable of Vedero's inner circle, for she drew plants, and as long as she mostly showed her family the flowers it was a suitably feminine accomplishment they were happy enough with.

"If thy brother does allow photography in the Untheileneise Court … wouldst thou show thy work?" Aran asked.

"I have no idea," Vedero said. "I could not even imagine it. Surely, concealment is better?"

"Wouldst be able to show the world thy research without it being through Peluvar or Othasezh or some other man," Pastheno said.

Vedero thought it through. "We suppose … that to be credible, we would need to not only show the pictures, but the rest of the work. Lectures so detailed that nobody could doubt we know our subject, and are obsessed with it to the exclusion of other possible uses for our camera."

"That should not be difficult, for thee," Ormezharin said with a smirk.

"But surely it would still be best if this were to be swept under the rug, somehow," Vedero said. Though perhaps it mattered less, now; at thirty-two, Vedero was old enough to be largely out of consideration for marriage. Few men wanted a wife with but a decade of fertility left to her, and it was the possibility of Idra marrying that gossip centered on these days. Edrehasivar was largely established, and though there was less stability than in Varenechibel's day, still it was infinitely better than that first terrifying year.

"We shall do our best to see that it is, of course," Pastheno said. "If that is thy desire."

***

Whatever else could be said about her brother, he was not indecisive. Three days later, Edrehasivar announced that photography was no longer forbidden in the Untheileneise Court, but that anything that was to be published or publicly displayed must be approved by either the Emperor's office or that of his Chancellor.

And the rumors about Vedero's photography soared to new heights.

Vedero should have anticipated that. She couldn't think why she hadn't, when Edrehasivar suggested it; her only excuse was that she had been too shocked to consider the politics of it as carefully as she could have.

It left her little choice.

As she had expected, few people believed her.

"We do not take portraits," she said in some exasperation for the tenth time that evening. "We take pictures of the stars, through our telescope, to record our observations with more accuracy than is possible with mere note-taking."

"Can one take pictures through a telescope?" Dach'osmer Alchenar said, eyebrows raised. "Does photography not require a great deal of light?"

"Ordinarily, yes, but there have been great advancements in the chemistry involved, and the technology of the lenses and so forth," Vedero said. "There are films designed for low light, and of course one may simply make the exposure time longer to compensate. Even five years ago, it would have been very difficult if not impossible to photograph the stars, but photography is a very new technology—it is developing very rapidly. If you are interested, we are planning an exhibition of our work, with accompanying lectures about what we have learned and the technical aspects of how the images are achieved, and the uses photography has in the science of astronomy. It allows for far more accurate measurements, for one can compare precisely the difference in the same star from one night to the next. And do many other things!" Vedero could see that he had lost interest, but given how often he had bored her with tales of his horses or his hounds or his hunting, she considered it fair game. And strategically, the more people knew about her astronomy, the less credible the rumors would be. If she was known to be obsessed with her subject, hopefully people would believe the truth: that her desire to study the stars was in every way adequate to explain why she would take up a forbidden art.

At last, Dach'osmer Alchenar escaped her clutches, and she surveyed the room, looking for her next target.

Three more people later, she happened to end up in a knot of people that included Csoru Zhasanai. This was not unusual; given that there were only four Drazhadeise ladies of rank at court, and that the Zhasan and Csoru Zhasanai hated one another, and that Csoru resented Arbelan Zhasanai, Vedero was the one most often left to coordinate things between them. It fell to Vedero to preserve at least the appearance of unity within the house. It was a difficult and annoying task, Csoru Zhasanai being what she was, but it was also a deeply necessary one that nobody but Vedero could presently do.

"Oh, we have been studying the stars since our girlhood, Count Cambeshel," Vedero said. "The reason we selected the apartments we have is that the roof is flat and high and perfectly suited for an observatory—there are no other buildings to overshadow it, nor any trees, so the field of view is quite excellent."

"And did your father know about your … hobbies?" Cambeshel asked, with a dubious frown.

"We had not yet begun experimenting with cameras when he was assassinated," Vedero said. "It is only in the last few years that it has become possible to take photographs in low enough light to be useful in astronomy, and we have no interest in photography for its own sake. But he knew we loved the stars, and had set up an observatory on our roof, and did not mind so long as it did not interfere with our duties."

"And you have always been such a dutiful daughter," Csoru said sweetly. "So loyal to the Drazhada."

"We strive to be," Vedero said, keeping all hint of her mistrust out of her demeanor. Csoru was only sweet when she wished to hide poison, but she was usually smart enough to keep the poison out of public events. Still, with Csethiro largely withdrawn from court life for her lying-in, and Arbelan gone to visit friends and see sights throughout the Ethuveraz, perhaps Csoru had thought to take the opportunity to jockey for power.

Still, Csoru said nothing she should not, and Vedero moved on to talk with someone else.

***

The next day Vedero had nothing scheduled, which was excellent because she now had a great deal of organizing to do. The most important part of the lecture she planned to give would be to reassure the Court that her photographs were perfectly respectable. Everything else would be secondary.

However, while the Untheileneise might not care about the astronomy, Vedero cared very much about it. She had already spoken with the Steward of the Untheileneise Court about the use of one of the galleries to display her photographs and when she might give her lectures—for Vedero had several in mind, on various subjects related to her work. The announcement would be made at dinner, and there would need to be signs and invitations printed up. She would need to go through her collection of photographs and curate which ones should be shown—or rather, she should organize them, because if the point of the display was to convince the Untheileneise that her head was in the stars, she should display the full depth and breadth of her work.

And then there was the writing of the lectures themselves. Some of the ones Vedero had planned she had given before, at her salons; some would be new. But even the old ones must be carefully gone over and polished until they shone, for the Untheileneise would not be the only ones invited.

Vedero was going to invite Osmer Peluvar and the rest of her academic correspondents. She was going to invite them under her own name, and provide passenger fare on an airship for the ones who held tenure at universities in other cities. Whatever they might think of lady scholars, and whatever they might think of photography, and whatever they might think of amateur astronomers, she did not think many would pass up the chance to come see the Untheileneise Court at the invitation of an archduchess. And while they were here, they would have to listen to her.

Vedero was deeply engrossed in her work and wishing she had an assistant when one of the maids came in with a pneumatic. She thanked her distractedly and opened it, hoping it would be a simple matter easily dealt with.

It was, instead, a luncheon invitation for that very day. Osmerrem Olchevaran apologized for the shortness of the notice, knew of course that the Archduchess was probably busy and no offense would be taken if she did not come, was aware of presuming on a very slight acquaintance (although Arbelan Zhasanai always spoke very highly of her), but wished to discuss matters of interest relating to the previous night's entertainment at court.

Vedero sighed, and tried to convince herself that she need not accept the invitation. It was short notice, and to the best of her knowledge nothing of note had happened last night—she had been there herself. And there was so much to do, all of it more interesting than lunch with an elderly lady.

But Osmerrem Olchevaran had been a pillar of court life since long before Vedero's birth, and was a particular friend of Arbelan Zhasanai's—who had continued that friendship during Arbelan's relegation, even—and there were many people who would speak to her who might not speak to Vedero or her friends.

She wrote a note of acceptance, sealed it, and rang for the maid to send it through the pneumatics.

***

Osmerrem Olchevaran was a slight woman who looked as if a stiff breeze might bowl her over, with watery lilac eyes. It was difficult to remember that she and Arbelan were of an age, for she looked much older and frailer.

Vedero was the only guest, which she tried not to find ominous. Her host made one comment on photography—that the stars were a perfectly respectable subject for a young lady to be contemplating, and did the Archduchess feel any special calling to venerate Cstheio Caireizhasan? Upon hearing that Vedero's interest was purely scholarly, they had a nice chat about the change of fashions and when the two young archduchesses, Ino and Mireän, would begin appearing at court functions.

When the meal was finished and the servants had cleared the table, Osmerrem Olchevaran broached the reason for the invitation.

"We were most interested tonight to learn that Csoru Zhasanai has learnt some subtlety at last."

"Oh?" Vedero said.

"Instead of broadcasting her words to all and sundry, she spent the evening whispering to a select crew, instead." Osmerrem Olchevaran gave a small smile. "Though her judgment in her choice of confidants was still … lacking, for it included our granddaughter Osmerrem Lavrenaran."

"And what was our stepmother saying?" Vedero asked.

"Many things," Olchevaran said. "She called you a liar, implied many salacious things about your work, and was glad her dear husband had not lived to see the shame you had brought on the House."

"We see," Vedero said heavily. "Did she say anything against Edrehasivar?"

"Not that we have heard," Olchevaran said.

"That is something, at least," Vedero said.

***

Back in her apartments, Vedero requested another audience with her brother Edrehasivar, and tried to get back to work. Scarcely had she finished dictating the invitations to her secretary when Merrem Hamezho requested a moment of her time.

"We have found the culprit," she said grimly.

Vedero sat back in her chair. "Oh?"

"The maid who cleaned your workroom has forgotten her place," Hamezho said. "Arru thinks it is her right to pass judgment on her betters and disapproves of your use of photography. Instead of finding a job in a different household, or requesting to be reassigned to other tasks, she has been disposing of the used chemicals by pouring them out the window. In the hopes that someone would notice and you would be shamed."

Vedero could not picture any maids named Arru, though they must have met at least when Arru was hired. "It seems a remarkably petty and inefficient way to handle things," Vedero said. "If she had a moral qualm, why did she not simply send an anonymous note to our brother?"

Hamezho spread her hands. "We cannot speak to her intelligence or judgment; we can only tell you what she has told us. Do you wish to question her yourself, or shall I turn her out immediately?"

Vedero considered. "If you are satisfied that she did this at no one's instigation but her own, and has not passed information to anyone outside the household, we have no need to see her ourself."

Hamezho nodded. "Very good, Your Grace."

***

Vedero glanced up to see Csethiro waddle into the room. "I'm sorry to disturb thee, sister."

Csethiro waved a hand. "Don't be. I have been going mad from inaction." She lowered herself with a thump into an armchair. "I wish most fervently that the Alcethmeret had fewer stairs. I am considering refusing to leave the main floor until the babe is born, and ordering them to bring my bed to me rather than the reverse."

"Thy husband would do it," Vedero said. "And if it would make thee more comfortable …"

"'Twould not make me more comfortable to give birth here," Csethiro said. "So. What has Csoru done now?"

Vedero told her what Olchevaran had said, and what she had learned from others when she started asking. She had just finished when Edrehasivar came in—very nearly on time—and gave him a summary. He did not need to know all the details, just the substance of what Csoru had done.

"That is very unpleasant of her," he said. "What are you going to do about it?"

Vedero shook her head. "It cannot be us; if she were going to listen, she would not have been gossiping about us. Csethiro … should not be disturbed by matters of gossip at the moment."

Csethiro put her hand on Edrehasivar's arm. "I could do it, but … regardless of my imminent labors, Csoru would not take it as the lady of her House giving her a deserved reprimand, but merely as an extension of our quarrels. It would not last."

"Arbelan Zhasanai could also settle her," Vedero said, "but Arbelan Zhasanai is not here. And she is getting older; what will happen when she dies? If she is our only leash on Csoru's good behavior, that is not sustainable."

"She is annoying, and difficult," Edrehasivar said, "but she has been annoying and difficult before. What makes this different?"

"This is the first time she has publicly tried to weaken another member of the Drazhada since your hold on the throne was cemented," Csethiro said. "I know thou likest not interfering in women's matters, but … thou must know that whatever may happen in private, a House should be unified in its dealings with outsiders—or at least maintain that façade here at the Untheileneise."

"A larger house might be largely undamaged by such infighting," Vedero said. "But there are only six adult Drazhada at court. We are politically weakened—you are politically weakened—if we cannot work together."

Edrehasivar contemplated this, and then nodded. "What can be done?"

"Send her away from court for a while," Vedero said. "Let her be as unpleasant as she likes, so long as she is not here when she does it."

His ears drew back.

Csethiro squeezed his arm. "Not relegation, Maia. She would have full control over where she went, and her household, and her money. Being at court is a privilege granted by the head of one's House, not a right."

Vedero herself would rather have been in the country. Cetho kept expanding its network of gas streetlights, and so one could not see as much from her rooftop as one could in the country. But Csoru would think it a punishment, and would probably give in to avoid it. "It doesn't have to be public—indeed, it shouldn't be, if Csoru could be prevailed upon to keep it quiet," Vedero said. "'Tis the summer. Many are gone from the Untheileneise to their country estates, for hunting parties and outdoor sports and the like. It would not be noteworthy if Csoru Zhasanai accepted one of the many invitations we are sure she has received."

"We still do not like the suggestion," Edrehasivar said.

Vedero shrugged. "This is not the first time she has acted against the interests of the Drazhada. She wants power and influence, more than she has; when she sees weakness, she tries to tear others down so that she might take their power for her own. In the past, Csethiro, Arbelan, and I have together been able to keep her machinations pointed at those outside our House. We cannot now do it, and you are the head of our House, Serenity. You may handle her however you see fit."

"Thou couldst suggest that she marry," Csethiro said cheerily. "Then she would be the problem of some other house, and no longer our problem at all. That would be a perfect solution."

"She'd never agree to a marriage," Vedero objected. And of course Edrehasivar would not order her to do so. "She is not stupid. Her life is very nearly perfect—she is a wealthy and noble widow whose head of house does not interfere in her life. Why give up that freedom? Any marriage would be a step down."

Csethiro shrugged. "Not all women dislike the prospect of marriage as much as thou dost, and a marriage of her choosing might be pleasing to her. Especially if it meant that she might lead the ladies of her House, instead of being the one in lowest favor." She turned back to her husband. "In any case, dear one, a formal audience and an instruction that if she cannot refrain from slandering her House, she should either leave court or marry into a House that suits her better, will probably be sufficient."

"But if it is not, you should be prepared to follow through with whatever threats you have made," Vedero said. "Else there will be no stopping her in the future."

Edrehasivar was not happy with this, but Csoru was a perpetual problem—and while he could usually leave the managing of her to others, he was still aware of her. He agreed to handle her, and went on to his next appointment.

"I would stay and keep thee company," Vedero said to Csethiro, "an I had not so much to do in a very little time."

"Surely thy friends can help a little," Csethiro said. "Lend thee their secretaries, if nothing else."

Vedero sighed. "A secretary could not help me organize the photographs—that requires a greater knowledge of astronomy than one could reasonably expect."

"True," Csethiro said. "But if it goes well, thou couldst hire an astronomer to be thine assistant, and train them to do it."

"Oh," Vedero said. She had not thought of that, but of course now that the photography was known, many things would be possible. "That is true—or perhaps I could train them to operate the camera, on nights I needs must be at parties and the like. Or take images after I am abed."

"Does it matter so much, that you cannot take photographs every night?" Csethiro asked.

"It matters a great deal," Vedero said. "For stars do not always have a consistent brightness, and then there are comets and other transitory objects—a consistent study would be so much more complete than what we are able to manage fit in around our duties."

Vedero contemplated her allowance. It was lavish, as befit an Archduchess, but much of that was necessary to put on the proper show of a lady of the Drazhada. How many assistants could she afford? Of course she would hire women, because she always wished to give opportunities to those who (like her) might not otherwise have them, but that would have the added benefit of making things cheaper. There were sure to be women who would gladly do the work for room and board and a small stipend.

She pulled her mind back to the current moment, and chatted a bit more with Csethiro before returning to her work.

***

Vedero had never been so busy in all her life, and never had she so resented the demands of her duty as she did now. She was going to share her work publicly, in the larger circle of academia, not just the salons of the court! And she had to take time from preparing in order to take tea with people and go to parties and dances. Ordinarily she enjoyed dancing and had no objections to the rest of it, but not when she had something so much more interesting to do … and so little time to do it in.

But, she reminded herself, the presentation was only possible because it was necessary to salvage her role at court as one of the ladies of House Drazhada. She could not confuse what was important with what was merely her own personal pleasure.

She was writing a speech when Csoru was introduced.

"You bitch," Csoru snarled, following hard on the maid's heels.

Vedero silently dismissed the maid, noting her wide eyes and sighing because they had been trying to contain the gossip. "Zhasanai, will you not sit down?"

"No, we will not sit down in the presence of such a licentious, devious, two-faced bitch."

None of that was true, and of the two of them Csoru was the treacherous one, but arguing that point would not get them anywhere. "Why are you here?"

"You went tattling to your brother, and we are to be sent away!" Csoru said. "While you, the disgrace, get to stay!" She paced from one end of the room to the other, like an animal in a cage.

"You know that the Emperor—our head of House—listens to us more than to you," Vedero said slowly, "and your first actions upon learning that he was censuring you for gossiping about me was to … call us names?"

Csoru froze. The danger of her approach had apparently not occurred to her. "We have said nothing that was not true! If you have a shred of common decency or respect for your step-mother, you will release whatever hold you have upon him and apologize for your disrespect!"

Vedero held onto her temper with both hands. "You are a fine one to lecture about respect, Csoru; you respect nobody but yourself."

"We certainly do not respect you," Csoru said.

"We don't require your respect," Vedero said. "But your courtesy to other members of your house—in public, at least—is not optional, Zhasanai."

"And who art thou, old maid, to tell thy stepmother how to behave," Csoru said venomously, slipping into the informal as an insult, as if she were Vedero's mother in truth, instead of merely a step-mother a decade younger. "Thou, who sitst around with thy little hobby as if it is serious work, instead of doing thy womanly duty and marrying. Thou, who demandst that the court change for thy whims and the Emperor change the rules so that thou canst flaunt thy immorality without consequence. Thou, who hast brought the entire House Drazhada into disrepute!"

Vedero said nothing, for each accusation was true.

"We have never done anything wrong, and yet we are the ones sent away! Thou art the disgrace; thou shouldst go!"

There was justice in that, as well. And yet … "What we have not done, Zhasanai, is intentionally brought our House into disrepute, nor slandered other members of it."

"We have never brought the Drazhada into disrepute," Csoru spat out.

"You have intentionally spread rumors about other members of it," Vedero said. "You have consistently refused to work with the rest of us in managing the Untheileneise Court and the political goals of the Emperor. You take every opportunity to belittle the Empress, and work to increase your own power and influence at the expense of the rest of us. The consequences you now face are not merely about this one incident, but about a longstanding habit."

"And why should we not seek power and influence?" Csoru said. "We are Zhasanai! We should be the leader of the Untheileneise Court! The leader of the Drazhadeise ladies! We have always done everything right and played the game as we are meant to play it! We were a loyal wife, and our reward is thee? Our reward is to be the least of the Drazhada, even behind that hoyden Csethiro, barren Arbelan, and a photographer?"

And again, Csoru was not wrong. She was unpleasant, but she had been a good wife, to a much older man who had not always treated her well. She had always played the parts she was meant to play—not entirely skillfully, but she had played them by the rules she was meant to.

And then the rules had changed, and she had received none of the rewards that had been dangled in front of her.

"Would your fate have been any different if Varenechibel had not been assassinated, or if Nemolis had lived?" Vedero asked. "Sheveän would not have given you greater power or respect than you have now." Indeed, Sheveän would have tolerated rather less from Csoru than Csethiro did … and Nemolis would have allowed Sheveän free rein to handle any woman's matter as she saw fit. Nemolis would also have been far more willing to send people away from court than Edrehasivar was. He had had no love for the youngest of his step-mothers, and while he would have treated her courteously and with all the forms of respect she was due, that would not have resulted in any of the power or influence Csoru so ardently desired.

Csoru fumed, but did not actually answer that, for she knew the answer as well as Vedero did.

"You are a very fortunate woman, Csoru Zhasanai," Vedero said. "Few women in the Ethuveraz are as lucky as you are."

"Lucky!" Csoru said. "Thou darest to call us lucky!"

"We do call you so, Zhasanai," Vedero said. "You were widowed young, with few years of your life spent dancing attendance on a husband and subject to his will. You have a large fortune. The new lord of your house is permissive in the extreme. You have more power over your own life than almost any other woman in the Ethuveraz. It is true, you do not get along with the women of your house … but that is common enough, and all we are asking of you is that you refrain from attacking us, and provide at least the façade of a united House to the court."

Csoru wasn't looking at her. She was still breathing heavily, but something in the set of her ears said she was listening.

"You can do almost anything you truly wish to do, Zhasanai," Vedero said. "You could spend your life in parties and entertainments. You could pick up a hobby or a field of study and dedicate yourself to it. You could find a religious vocation and dedicate your life to the mysteries of whatever deity you chose. You could travel the world. Who else has such freedom?"

"Yet we cannot do what we really want, for the headship of our house and the leadership of the ladies within it has been stolen from us," Csoru said.

"That honor was never yours to possess, Zhasanai," Vedero said. "It was always going to pass to another upon your husband's death … and even within his life it was contingent upon his favoring you." As he never had, Vedero thought but did not say. "Nothing has been stolen from you; and if you have the ability to take the money and rank you have and make it into a power base in the Untheileneise without it being at the expense of other Drazhadeise, you would be more than welcome to it."

"You say that, and yet you have organized our being sent away from court like a shamed child sent to bed without supper," Csoru said.

"It need not be a public shame," Vedero said. "You are free to tell any story you like about where you are going and why." She caught herself. "That is, any story that does not attack the house Drazhada or any member of it. Why should you not take a holiday? Why should you not visit friends who are having a party at their estate?"

Csoru nodded, but from the set of her ears Vedero rather thought that she had spread her bile to someone before coming here to confront Vedero about it, and Csoru's friends were not the type to allow loyalty to prevent them spreading interesting gossip.

"And you might not even need not even go, if you will agree to mend your ways," Vedero said. "You know how soft-hearted Edrehasivar is. If you go to him and apologize, and promise not to scandal-monger about any member of the Drazhada, he may change his mind and allow you to stay."

"As if Edrehasivar the Obstinate ever changed his mind about anything," Csoru said.

"Edrehasivar is stubborn when he believes he is in the right," Vedero said, "or when he has something he particularly wants. But he does not like sending people away. He is too sensitive, because of his relegation in his youth. It took considerable persuasion—and your long history of making trouble whenever you thought you could get away with it—to convince him of this course of action. It will take very little on your part to convince him to change his mind."

Indeed, when Vedero had spoken with him, he had only been willing to offer removal from court as a threat in case Csoru would not stop making trouble. Csoru must have been in fine form, when he called her in to speak with her, that he had not given her the option of staying. Or perhaps he had, and Csoru was being dramatic because she didn't wish to change her course.

"You apologize so prettily," Vedero said.

Csoru shot her a poisonous glance, and Vedero wondered briefly what her father might have required apologies for, and how often, before deciding she did not want to know.

"We should not have expected sympathy or consideration from thee," Csoru said, but it was half-hearted.

"Certainly not after you have been fanning the flames of gossip about us," Vedero said. "Granted that we brought the scandal down upon ourself through choosing a disreputable hobby, but you did not have to make it worse."

Csoru sniffed. "We thought that thou shouldst have some consequences, at least, for defying thy father and bringing scandal on the house. And we will not apologize to thee."

"If you could have done that without also publicly dividing the Drazhada, we would have considered it fair," Vedero said. Which was not quite true, but close enough. "And, Zhasanai, we have never expected you to apologize to us. We only desire that you aim your attacks outside your own House."

"Well!" Csoru lifted her chin. "We shall have to consider our options." She swept out without bothering to take her leave.

Vedero sighed, and turned back to her speech.

***

That evening, Vedero returned home from the court dinner to find a letter from Csethiro.

"It was hand delivered, your grace," said the footman with a bow.

Vedero cracked the seal and read it.

Sister, whatever you said was effective. Csoru requested an audience with E. and was in as fine a form of Magnanimous Great Lady as I've ever seen. Truly, she ought to have been an actress. She apologized for fanning the flames and has agreed to behave. We shall see how long it lasts. I wish she hadn't; I'd have loved a summer without her. Ah, well. Good luck on thy speeches. C. Zn.

Vedero smiled, and set the letter afire in a lamp, before tossing it the grate. It wouldn't do to risk it being somehow exposed and fanning the flames of a feud in the Drazhada, just when things looked they might be settling down.

***

Vedero peeked through the curtain to watch people milling about the hall, staring at her pictures of the stars. They had denuded the Untheileneise Court of frames and easels and still come up short; the less important images had instead been bound into books and left on tables. She had not quite realized how many images she had taken in the last year, until they were all put together like this.

Most of the people in the hall were courtiers staring around in baffled incomprehension, but there were three elderly men with the red ribbons of first-class scholars braided into their hair, arguing about one of the images; one was so close his nose was almost touching, while another pointed out some detail and the third sneered at him. Across the room were another two; and at the table with the books, there was a young lady with second-class ribbons flipping back and forth from one image to another.

There was a deferential cough. Vedero turned to see the Steward of the Untheileneise Court standing behind her.

"Your grace, it is time," he said. "Shall I signal for them to take their seats?"

"Yes, thank you," Vedero said.

She clothed her eyes and breathed deeply while the crowd settled. Top courtiers and honored guests in chairs, the rest standing around the edges.

When the steward signaled her, she stepped out into the hall, walking as gracefully as she knew how to the dais up front.

She stopped to give a deep curtsey to Edrehasivar, who returned it with a regal nod.

Vedero mounted the dais, took a deep breath, and turned to face the assembled guests.

"We do most humbly thank you, our brother Edrehasivar, for the kindness and generosity of allowing us to pursue this form of study. Thank you also to everyone who has come here; we hope that it will be edifying. Although we have no formal training, we have been studying the stars since we were twelve, and corresponding with various academics since we were sixteen, and we think we have learned some things of note in that time.

In the last year and a half, we have been experimenting with new photographic techniques that allow for the capturing of stars in photographs, as you can see from the images displayed around the room. We believe that it is an important tool for the study of astronomy, and would like to share what we have learned so that the entire field may benefit …"