Glasswrights' Apprentice (11 page)

Rani wiped a trickle of sweat from her own eyes. The sun was warm in the marketplace, and the soldier's deep crimson cloak soaked up the heat. Sitting back on her haunches, Rani removed the garment and folded it carefully on the ground, setting it in the shadows of the stone-walled stall. Here, in the crowded marketplace, no one would notice a soiled cloak. Even with the gaping hole where her guild badge had been, Rani would be practically invisible.

The apprentice almost laughed out loud as she realized the import of her thought. The market was the perfect place to disappear.

And disappearance would be even more important to Morada than to Rani. Morada had a reputation in the City; she was known to various nobles who had paid dearly for her glasswright services. Besides, Salina was certain to talk at some point, or the soldiers would ultimately take a census of the imprisoned glasswrights. They would learn that Morada was missing, and a search would begin.

Morada would not be safe anywhere in the City. No friends would take her under their roof, for fear of Shanoranvilli's retribution. Even public taverns would be closed to her. The establishments that served nobles would never let her in the door. The soldiers' drinking houses were too fraught with risk. The merchants, counting out the day's till, would not welcome a stranger. The guildsmen would embrace one of their own - even a stranger - but only if that stranger could show a token of mastery. No glasswright's token would provide passage today. Morada would be alone.

So, Rani congratulated herself on her deductions, Morada would have to make her way to the marketplace if she intended to eat or drink. Rani merely needed to study the crowds, the good folk come to spend their coins on fare for their kitchens. Rani breathed yet another prayer to Lan, grateful that Cook had shown her the path to the kitchen god.

Given Lan's help and enough time, Rani was certain to find her prey. And Rani
would
find her. Instructor Morada, by assisting Tuvashanoran's killer, was as guilty of murder as if she had pulled the bowstring herself. Murder, the guildhall's destruction, Larinda's maiming, Rani's own parents disappearing into the night as their home burned to its foundations.… Morada's list of misdeeds was long.

Even as Rani wallowed in vengeful thoughts, Narda returned. “So, my little eggcup, how is your work progressing?”

Rani had smelled alcohol on adults' breath before, but never in such quantity, and never so early in the day. She executed a judicious bow as she made way for Narda's inspection. “Just fine, mistress. I've almost finished this leg of the table.”

The old woman stared at the stand, examining it with a care usually reserved for fine jewelwork. One gnarled hand rubbed against the wood, and Rani saw that callouses marked the horny flesh. Narda cocked her head to one side, looking for all the world like a tipsy crow. “Aye, you've done a fine job with your work so far.” The words were pulled grudgingly from the woman's throat. “Don't let me keep you from the rest.”

Rani felt uncomfortable working beneath the woman's watchful eye. It wasn't that she planned to shirk her punishment - far from it, Rani knew justice when it slapped her wrist. Rather, when Narda watched, Rani felt a peculiar itch against her shin, and then a niggling tickle on her scalp. She squirmed like an infant trying to break free of swaddling clothes.

The old woman cackled, and the alcoholic fumes were nearly enough to knock Rani back on her heels. For just an instant, she thought of asking the woman to breathe on the table; surely the spirits on her breath would loosen that particularly stubborn patch of egg yolk. The image of Narda, exhaling like a dragon, made Rani smile. The smile turned to an open grin when the old woman chose that moment to yawn, marking her action with a distinct roar from somewhere deep in her gut.

“Well!” the egg-woman exclaimed, “You take to your labors like kidneys to pie! Mind you, finish that table by tonight, or you'll be explaining your laziness to Borin. For now, though, I'd best take you over to Tarin. You're to mind his stall while he takes his lunch.” Narda took Rani by the hand and led her through the marketplace.

Stepping up to the melon-merchant's stall, Rani felt the market's power in her bones. She knew that Council watchers were eyeing her, but she could not keep a smile from her lips as she sold Tarin's wares, counting out coppers with flashing precision. Rani was born a merchant; she thrived in the marketplace. Try as Guildmistress Salina might, with words and prayers before altars to the Thousand Gods, with frequent petitions to Clain, the glaziers' god, the guild had been unable to dig out Rani's roots.

Once, looking up from the stand, Rani glimpsed a figure on the edge of the market, a shrouded woman who kept her face well-hidden within her cloak. Rani caught a glimpse of a white streak in dark hair, and she almost cried out Morada's name. Before she could make a move, though, one of the Council's women stepped into view, her fretted badge clear on the shoulder of her tunic. Reluctantly, Rani dropped her hand, settling to the business of making change for a peck of fruit.

When Tarin returned, he was surprised and pleased with her handiwork, and he presented her with a melon - a little dented on one side to be sure, but fragrant in the midday sunlight. Narda, too, held true to Borin's edict, handing over a large loaf of bread when she fetched Rani from the fruit-stand and led her back to her scrubbing. Further pleased with the progress on the table, the old woman splurged on a meat pie for supper, drawing on the coppers that Borin had awarded her for the loss of her eggs. Even as Rani ran a surreptitious finger down the front of her tunic to scrape up a stray daub of gravy, her eyes darted around the market, hoping against hope to catch another glimpse of the figure she was increasingly certain had been Morada.

Few shoppers remained in the district; even the tardiest of cooks had gathered up remnant herbs and produce to prepare their evening meals. Narda, finishing her own pie, eyed the detritus of the day's market shrewdly, then walked around her trestle table with an inebriate's false balance. She barely managed to strangle a cry as the last rays of sun glinted off the stand. “Cor! You've done a fine job, girl.”

Rani's narrow chest swelled with pride at the compliment. She
had
done well - the table was stripped of its egg glaze to reveal sturdy oak trestles and planks. Rani had polished the wood until it gleamed, using all her skill as both merchant and guildsman to bring out the whorls in the oak. Rani imagined smooth white eggs arranged on the surface, inviting tomorrow's shoppers with their perfect shape.

“Aye,” Narda completed her circuit around the table, “you've done well by your family. Almost makes me hate to do this.”

Before Rani could startle away, the old woman withdrew a heavy chain and a manacle. She clapped the iron around Rani's wrist, anchoring the chain on the leg of the trestle.

“Mistress!” Rani gasped out her surprise.

“What else would you have me do, little merchant? You've paid your way today, but Borin allotted me another thirteen days of your labor. I'd not have you count out the coin in your own fashion and conclude your debt paid. You can keep watch here in the marketplace for the night. Don't worry. It'll be dry enough.”

“Mistress Narda, you can't leave me alone!”

“Nonsense. Stop that blubbering! You're a big girl, and you must learn to accept responsibility.”

“But the Touched -” Rani gave voice to her long-standing merchant-child's nightmare,
ignoring the pangs of conscience that reminded her she now had
names
for the Touched. Old
habits died hard, and the limits of caste were the oldest habits of all.

“If you need assistance, you can always call for the guard. Here. This will sweeten your night.” The egg-woman produced a sweet cake from her satchel, only a little the worse for its leathern stay. “Sleep well, little merchant.”

Rani stared as the woman staggered away to complete her studies in tavern alchemy, transforming the last of her copper to ale.

Rani had not realized how fatiguing her day had been; she found herself drifting off to uneasy sleep before the sun had set. She curled protectively around Tarin's half-eaten melon, her gnawed loaf of bread, and the untouched sweet cake.

She was swirling into dreams when a hiss hurtled her back to wakefulness. “Shhhhh. We'll see if she's got any eggs on 'er!”

The words shocked Rani into a sitting position, and she immediately reached for her Zarithian dagger. Rabe materialized out of the twilight, his earnest face twisted into a sneer as he saw her blade.

“Not much good that'll do ye now. I'd kick yer wrist, an' th' knife'd go flyin'. Why don't ye drop it, and spare yerself th' pain.”

“Rabe.” Rani twisted around and saw Mair watching her lieutenant from the shadows. She nodded a cautious greeting, and the girl stepped up to Rani's side.

“Ye were expectin' First God Ait, p'r'aps?” Mair settled onto the trestle table, swinging her legs as Rani clambered to her feet. “Afraid of us Touched, are ye?”

“And why wouldn't I be? I've heard tales.” Rani raised her chin defiantly.

“Tales!” Mair chortled. “If ye 'eard 'alf th' stories we could tell ye! About thieves 'n' murderers 'n' ghosts seekin' bloody revenge i' th' night!”

Rani blanched, certain Mair was referring to Tuvashanoran, wondering whether the Touched leader would give her up to the Guard. “You're just trying to frighten me.”

“Ye've done a fine job o' that yerself. What sort o' rot 'ave they been feedin' ye about my sort?”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“Did they tell ye we skin cats in the night alleys? Did they tell ye we kidnap babes 'n' drink their blood?” Mair's laugh was deep in her throat, and her fingers closed tight on Rani's wrists as she pried loose the glinting Zarithian blade. “Those're pretty bangles ye're wearin', Rai.”

“Please.…” Rani swallowed her fear - these were the same children she had faced down last night, the rag-tag band who had gladly eaten her carrots. They could not mean her harm. Rani repeated that irrational mantra as she held up her manacled wrists. “Can you help me out of them?”

Mair set the knife on the table with a curious glance at Rani. “
That
we canna do. We 'ave our own peace with th' Council. We don't brook their justice, 'n' they let us creep th' market.”

Rani thought of the shadowy figure she'd seen at noon, and she pounced on the opportunity. “You can really go through the marketplace as you will?” Mair nodded. “Then we can work a bargain.” Rubbing her arms against the gathering night-chill, Rani described the Instructor she sought, stressing Morada's ragged cloak, and the distinctive white stripe in her jet hair.

“'N' if we find 'er for ye, what'll ye give us?”

“If you
look
for her, I'll share my food. Today Narda brought me a full loaf of good bread, and Tarin gave me a melon for my labor. If you find her, all you need to do is follow her, tell me where she's hiding.” Rani proffered the half-melon that she had been saving to break her fast in the morning. She hesitated only an instant before adding Narda's cake to the bait. Mair snatched at the food like a starved animal, sniffing at the cake before handing it to her lieutenant.

The Touched leader kept her eyes on Rani as she spat into her palm, and then offered her hand to her new partner. “Deal.”

Rani spat onto her own hand, clattering her chains as she clasped Mair's palm. “Deal.”

Mair did not ask why Rani sought Morada, and Rani volunteered no information. The Touched leader forced Rabe to hand back Rani's dagger before the children melted into the market shadows.

After that, Rani's days settled into a pattern. Narda appeared each dawn, trundling her barrow through the waking streets, eggs teetering dangerously. Rani rose from her chilly bed, helping to steady the load and lay out the wares, alternating smooth white eggs with brown ones. Narda shared a breakfast of fried dough, or boiled eggs, or fat bacon, and then the woman disappeared into the growing crowds. Rani sold eggs all morning, adjusting prices to match the buyers, scrupulously collecting pennies into the leather pouch Narda had provided. The egg-woman returned whenever she needed more coins to finance her tavern visits, bringing food and praising Rani for her labor. Tarin came at noon and at dusk to claim her services - she minded his stand for an hour when the sun was directly overhead, and she scrubbed down the vegetable debris at the end of the day. She offered up at least half her food to the horde of Touched children every night, and Mair reported on the ever-disappointing status of the hunt.

Rani never faltered in her submission to the Council's verdict. She never failed in her responsibility to Narda, never shirked her work for Tarin. She never received shelter at night, even when a steady drizzle dampened the entire marketplace. She never saw Morada.

Until the last day of Rani's two-week sentence.

That morning began like all the others, with Rani groggily waking in her rough bed beneath the trestle table. She stretched in the early morning dawn, rubbing her arms against the chill that shivered through the autumn sunrise. Soon, merchants trundled in their wares, narrow handcarts jostling in the tight marketplace aisles.

Narda was late, and Rani was getting impatient as she peered down the ranks. She had followed Borin's edict to the letter, and her chains chafed more this morning than they had at any time since she left the guildhall. The destruction of her guild still haunted her nightmares, and Cook's order echoed louder in Rani's skull. Cook had charged her in the name of Lan, in the name of the god who had watched out for Rani so far. Rani could no longer duck her responsibilities. But the apprentice knew that she needed her freedom if she were ever to find Morada.