Glasswrights' Journeyman (20 page)

In the meantime, as Berylina was hustled away by her nurses, Rani purposely dropped back. She hoped that she would have a few moments to conclude her conversation with Hal, and she gestured for Crestman to go on ahead. She was relieved when the Amanthian complied; however, she saw him glance over his shoulder as Hal fell into step at her side.

“Sire,” she began, as soon as she was certain they would not be overheard. “You know I do not argue with you to be difficult.” She swallowed hard. “I know that I have no great grace, and I have no special learning. I try your patience more often than not. But you
must
let me help you when I can. I should have been the one to treat with King Teheboth about the Little Army.”

Hal stopped walking and gazed at her steadily. “Do you truly think that he would speak with you? We are not in Morenia here. Teheboth Thunderspear has little need for women's words.”

“He will listen when Liantine can benefit. He'd be a fool to overlook advantage solely because he does not care for the messenger.”

“Whatever else he might be, Teheboth is no fool. Still, he will not speak with you. You may offer bargains through me, I will say your words, but he must not think you make decisions for me.”

“I do not decide what you will do! I offer guidance. I offer counsel.”

“He will not make such fine distinctions if you are the one who speaks.”

“That is not fair, my lord! If Farsobalinti devised my strategies, you would keep him by your side. You would let him speak his mind before Teheboth, and you would honor him for doing so!”

“The world is rarely fair,” Hal said. As Rani started to protest again, he raised a commanding hand. “Besides, Rani, are you prepared to bargain for Berylina?”

Rani's heart twisted in her chest. “Are you certain she is strong enough to meet your needs?”

“She is the only daughter of the house of Thunderspear.”

“She is afraid of her own shadow!”

“She was brave enough to speak with me, last night and today. She was certain enough just now to win a gold sovereign from her own father.” Rani heard Hal's calm logic, his growing certainty. “Rani, I remember how it felt to sit in a hall, surrounded by people who called me an idiot and thought to deprive me of power.”

“My lord, you are no longer the boy who retreated into rhymes to survive!”

“No, Rani. Now I am the king.”

“And you need a queen to stand beside you, a queen who can guide Morenia back from these dark days. Is Berylina the one? Do you truly think that she can do all that you require?”

“Who else would you suggest?”

She could not answer that. She closed her eyes and clenched her hands into fists.

She had not asked for the fire, for the firelung; she had not asked for any of this responsibility. She tried to convince herself that she wanted only to stay in Moren, only to read her books, to work toward being a journeyman. What did Davin's book say? She should learn to pour glass, to cut glass, to set glass. She should lead apprentices and obey masters. She should contribute one quarter of all her worldly goods to her guild.

That was all. She was a guildsman, a simple guildsman.

“Wait, my lord.” she said. “Do not make your decision yet. Do not go to Teheboth and ask for Berylina's hand.”

“I'll wait for now,” Hal said. “I'll wait because I need your plan. I need your strategy to get the princess, along with a dowry large enough to save Morenia.”

And then he walked away. He turned his back on her, and he walked across the emerald field, striding fast past Crestman to catch up with Teheboth, with Berylina. Rani started to follow, started to call him back, but she realized she had nothing left to say, no arguments left to make.

A gentle breeze whispered across the grass, and she felt a gossamer touch against her ankles. She looked down and saw the scarf that Berylina had let fall, the spidersilk that had set the men to jousting.

Before she could reach for it, Crestman came up beside her. He scooped up the fragile cloth with a smooth gesture, crumpling it in one tanned hand. “There were Amanthians on that field.”

“What?”

“The boys who set the quintains. They were from the Little Army.”

She said nothing.

“They did not even look my way. They went about their business like any servant in any noble's household.”

Rani did not reply.

“It's like they do not know us, like they have no memory of when they lived in Amanthia.”

“Perhaps they don't,” Rani said at last. “Perhaps their world has changed, and this is all they know. They were children, after all. They were children when the world they knew was lost.” Crestman looked at her strangely, and neither spoke again as they returned to King Teheboth's palace.

 

* * *

 

“What, exactly, did you think was going to happen here in Liantine?”

Rani huddled by the window, wishing that she could ignore Mair's pointed question. She ran her fingers over the wooden windowsill. The guest apartments that she shared with her friend were bare and cold, even though the palace servants insisted they were the finest in Teheboth's home. The walls were covered with fine paneling, the servants noted often, not the spidersilk trappings found in older rooms.

Now, Rani scarcely cared if she were sleeping in a military tent. She wanted to be gone. She wanted to be back in Moren. She forced herself to answer Mair. “I don't know. I thought that I would speak for Hal. That King Teheboth would listen to me.”

“What possibly made you think
that
?”

“Hal asked me to accompany him!”

“He asked you to advise him. He asked you to think of strategies, like a general.”

“This isn't a battlefield, Mair.”

“What is it, then, Rai? What else would you call it?” Rani did not answer; she had no reply. “You know how this will end, Rai. Let's finish now. Bargain for your king. Tell him the best strategy for negotiating his dowry.”

“He has not made his decision, yet. He is not certain that he'll ask for Berylina.”

“What else can he do? He's waiting for you. He wants you to tell him that he may.”

“I do not give the king of all Morenia permission to do anything.”

“Precisely,” Mair said. “And until you do, he'll wait.”

“That's not what I meant, Mair!”

“Perhaps it's the truth, though.”

“That's absurd.” Rani glared at her friend.

“So you have tried to tell yourself since our boat landed on the Liantine shore. I don't know why we made this journey, if you will not follow through.” Mair strode away from the window. “Well, I won't sit here any longer.”

“Where are you going?”

“Today is market day. I'm going to learn what Liantines use for firelung.”

“You don't even know that a single Liantine has ever
suffered
from firelung!”

“I won't find out sitting here.”

Rani listened to Mair collect her cloak; she heard a handful of coins clink together. Once, the Touched girl started to speak, but she stopped herself, sighing explosively instead. Mair's footsteps stomped across the floor, echoing off the inlaid wooden panels. The metal latch lifted free of the door, and the leather hinges creaked. Mair paused one last time, and then she stepped smartly over the threshold, grabbing the outside latch with a vicious grunt.

“Wait!” Rani called, just before the door slammed closed. “I'll come with you.”

“Of course you will.” Mair waited while Rani collected her belongings.

The market square was bustling, and Rani realized how long it had been since she had walked through a thriving trade fair. Even before the fire in Moren, the marketplace had been slow for the winter. Farmers had offered few vegetables, and trade goods were scarce as transport was delayed by snow and other harsh weather.

The Liantine fair, though, was a bustling hive of activity. Children called to one another, and mothers summoned reluctant youths to help carry purchases. Men haggled over tinware and knives and leather belts.

Rani saw one stand that sold nothing but bronze amulets, star-shaped medallions with an image of the Horned Hind soldered to the center. Another table held carved wooden bowls, marked with prices higher than any Morenian merchant would be able to command. There were other wooden pieces – platters and candlesticks, spoons and decorative combs. Many bore the image of the Horned Hind, inlaid or burned into the surface. The merchant boasted that his wares were the latest fashion, the newest treasures, but even so, they were more expensive than Rani or Mair could understand.

“Look,” Mair exclaimed once. “Over by the owlboy.”

Rani followed her companion's pointing finger, and both girls crossed to study the extensive display of herbs. Some were meant for kitchen work, but others were set aside for healing, for curing, for easing the ill. Mair began to question the handsome young vendor, and Rani's attention wandered.

Both she and Mair had recognized the owlboy, known him for an Amanthian child-scholar, even though his tattoo had been carved away from his face. There were former Little Army children scattered throughout the marketplace, some selling wares, others buying. Some were dressed in rags and had a haunted look of hunger, but most were well-clothed, cheerful, talking to companions or studiously searching out bargains.

Mair flourished a large bouquet of dried herbs, laughing when Rani sneezed. “The man says these will help. He says they'll ease the bone-ache and help folks cough the soot from their lungs.”

“And if it works? How will you find more?”

“He says it's called lamb's breath. It's common to the east of here. We can find a source in Moren, or buy up his stock here.”

Rani sniffed at the herbs again, committing the pungent scent to memory. She caught Mair's eye as she straightened. “We both knew that was an owlboy.”

“Aye.”

“How? He only wears a scar.”

“We spent enough time with the Amanthians to know. We learned their castes by living with them, seeing how they carry themselves, how they look.” Mair shrugged. “You know that I'm Touched, even when I speak like a noble in the king's own court.”

“
Anyone
would know you're Touched, Mair.” Rani laughed.

“Ho, there, my lady! Such mirth on market day!” Rani jumped at the loud greeting, whirling about to find the source of the shout. She was startled by the man who stood before her, shocked by his red and black parti-colored leggings, by his shimmering white spidersilk tunic. “Greetings!” he cried. “Salutations from the Spiderguild Players.”

“The Spiderguild Players?” Rani repeated, confused.

“Aye, my lady.” The man bowed, sweeping an imaginary hat into the air with a dramatic flourish. “The spiderguild sponsors us. We take their money and turn it into tales!” The man placed his invisible hat on his head, settling its imaginary weight with a wiggle of his wrist. He straightened with an infectious grin.

Something about the precise motion of his hands made Rani recognize him. “You're the jackhand!” she exclaimed. “From last night!”

“Pollino, my lady. At your service. And have you come to the market to Speak with us?”

“Speak with you?” Rani had no intention of speaking with the players; she had not even known that they would be in the marketplace.

“
Speak
, my lady,” Pollino said expansively. “King Teheboth has granted us leave to Speak with whoever comes our way, for one entire day and night. We'll leave at dawn tomorrow, packing away our new stories with our spidersilk and glass.”

“New stories?” Rani felt like a foolish child, like she could only repeat words given to her. She glanced at Mair to see if the Touched girl understood any more than she. Mair, though, was making her way toward another herbalist.

Pollino cocked his head to one side, as if he were studying her for a portrait. “You've never seen players before, have you?”

“Not players like your company. In my land, in Morenia, there are bards who sing, and pageant-men who tell the stories of the Thousand Gods. We don't have companies like yours, though.” She licked her lips and ventured one more sentence. “Our players don't have glass.”

Pollino darted a glance at her, and she was certain that he saw the yearning on her face. He smiled easily, though, and said, “Your bards, your pageant-men, do they Speak to their watchers?”

“Speak?” Once again, she heard his odd emphasis on the word. “I don't know what you mean.”

“We Spiderguild Players borrow our stories from those who watch our tales. We invite the watchers to our tents. We charge them a small coin, and then we ask them questions. We learn their stories, and then we give the tales back to others. A watcher's story might last through the ages, if it is clever enough. If it is daring. If it is true. The asking and the telling, that's Speaking.”

Rani shook her head uncertainly. “The players in my land do not Speak, then. Your practice seems unfair. You take your watchers' story, and yet you make them pay.”

“We take, that is true – coins and tales. But we give, as well. No watcher leaves unhappy, and many come to us again, Speaking as often as we let them.” Pollino edged closer, all mirth draining from his face. “And you, my lady? Would you like to Speak with the Spiderguild Players?”

She was about to refuse, about to rejoin Mair and finish prowling the marketplace for treasures. But if she agreed to Speak, Pollino would take her to the players' tents. Their glass would be there. She could see the panels, study the finest glass she had seen since her guild was destroyed. “I –” Her voice broke, and she swallowed hard. “What does it cost?”

Pollino smiled his contagious grin. “A sovereign, my lady. A single sovereign to Speak to the players.”