Jenna Starborn by Sharon Shinn Page A

I know that I am the employee here, and you the employer. I believe that in the Goddess’s eyes, we are all equal. But the Goddess does not deposit my paycheck. You need not worry that I will agitate for a revolution.”
    â€œYou relieve me,” he said, somewhat sardonically. “I was beginning to peg you for just such a radical.”
    â€œIf it unnerves you to speak of my religious beliefs, we may discuss your own instead,” I said in a pacifying voice. “I take it you follow some doctrine?”
    He shrugged and made a gesture of uncertainty. “Oh, I know the litany of the Reformed Neo-Christian Church, but I confess that I use that knowledge to do little more than add force to an exclamation,” he said. “It is the same with most of my set. Now, Mrs. Farraday is rather more devout than I am, following the evangelistic branch of that same church. You might apply to her if you were looking for a more socially acceptable affiliation.”
    As if she had caught the mention of her name, Mrs. Farraday came to her feet and headed in our direction. Her pleasant face was puckered with worry, and she looked at me somewhat uncertainly. I doubted she had understood half our rather exhilarating conversation—I at least had found it exhilarating—but it was obvious that the tenor of it had disturbed her.
    â€œMr. Ravenbeck, surely you must be growing tired? Your long trip—and your accident—I am wondering how much later you should sit up.”
    â€œThank you for your concern, but I am quite hearty,” he said. His voice was a bit testy but not, I was happy to hear, unkind. A man who spoke cruelly to his dependents was not to be respected, no matter how quick and fine his mind. “In fact, I am far from tired. Miss Starborn and I have been having the most invigorating conversation on the construction of the universe. Her theories are bizarre, but her rebuttals are good, and she is making me think very hard. Something, to my discredit, I do not often do.”
    This explanation, though murky, seemed to reassure Mrs. Farraday a little. At any rate, her face cleared, and she bestowed upon us both a shy smile. “Well, I must say, your talk has sounded very strange to me,” she said. “I would have thought you would have been asking Jenna all about her schooling and her work so far.”
    â€œIndeed! And so I should have!” Mr. Ravenbeck said briskly. “Let us, Miss Starborn, return to those mundane but still important matters. Where did you go to school? And how long have you been out of it?”
    Satisfied at the turn our conversation was taking, Mrs. Farraday returned to her own seat again. I answered at once. “I attended Lora Technical and Engineering Academy, where I graduated four years ago. I stayed on as an instructor until I became restless, when I applied for this position.”
    â€œSo you have seen only two worlds in your short life? Fieldstar and Lora? That does not seem an adequate exposure for anyone.”
    â€œThree worlds,” I corrected. “I lived on Baldus until I was ten.”
    â€œLived there? With whom? You said you had no family.”
    â€œI do not. I was raised in a household by a woman who did not like me, and sent away to school when that option arose.”
    â€œShe did not like you? Well, if you spouted such radical ideology while you were under her roof, I am not sure I can blame her. Why did she raise you if she did not like you?”
    â€œShe felt responsible for me,” I said unhelpfully.
    That response earned me a quick, sidelong look, but he dropped the line of questioning. “So you relocated to Lora at a tender age and immersed yourself in nuclear physics,” he said. “I suppose you also have the usual grasp of languages and history?”
    â€œThe courses were required for graduation.”
    â€œWhich you accomplished four years ago, following that with another stint of