Glasswrights' Journeyman Read online

  Before Hal could begin to measure his true response, he heard footsteps on the stairs – fast, eager strides. He forced himself to stand straight, and he threw his shoulders back as if he had just left the solar, ever the enthusiastic bridegroom.

  He only took two steps before Baron Farsobalinti burst around the curve of the stairwell. “Sire!”

  “Farso! You’ve returned!”

  “Aye, my lord. With Mair and Rani Trader.”

  “And your mission? You reached them in time?”

  “Aye. Before Teheboth’s messenger arrived at the spiderguild.”

  Hal’s heart soared. “What happened, then? Did you speak with the guildmaster? Did Rani? Were you successful?”

  Farso flushed a curious shade of crimson, and he refused to meet Hal’s eyes. “I did not enter the spiderguild enclave, my lord. I was … detained at the gate.”

  “Detained. … What happened, Farso?” Hal barely managed to lower his voice, remembering that they spoke on a public staircase, in the middle of the Liantine castle. His urgency ripped through his words. “Did you get the trees?”

  “Aye, my lord. Rani Trader is seeing to them even now.”

  Swallowing a wave of relief more powerful than he had ever expected, Hal smothered his other questions. He hurried down the stairs and out to the main courtyard, with Farso and his page straggling behind.

  Everything was chaos. Liantine servants bustled around two great carts. Teams of draft horses snorted, shying as people bustled by. Hal heard Mair’s Touched growl before he saw her, before he found her snapping at a pair of hapless servants. “Take care wi’ them! It’s th’ yellow leaves we maun keep safe. Dinna jostle th’ puir things!”

  And Rani’s voice rose loud as well. “Saw those barrels in half, then, and fill them with water. Don’t disturb the moss around the base of the trees. Set them in water for now. We’ll do better, we’ll have to, before they ship to Morenia. Three of them in each barrel. Careful!”

  And everywhere, there were riberry trees. Riberry saplings, at least, each as tall as Rani. They were strapped upright on the two carts, lashed together. Filthy silk wrappings wove about their roots, holding in mud at the base of each tree. Twenty, forty. … Hal approximated his counting. Five hundred trees.

  “Water,” Rani cried. “Each tree needs water! They’ve dried out during transport. I don’t care if it sucks dry all the wells in Liantine, these trees must get their water now!”

  She brushed a wisp of hair back from her face, leaving a streak of mud in its place. Hal took a deep breath and crossed the courtyard. “Well met, Rani Trader.”

  “Your Majesty,” she said, bobbing into a distracted curtsey. “Careful!” she called, looking beyond Hal’s shoulder. “Do not knock the earth from the roots!”

  He waited until that tree had been settled to Rani’s satisfaction. “You were successful, then.”

  “Aye, Sire.”

  “And what have I paid for these trees?”

  For just a moment a shadow crossed her features. His heart clenched hard in his chest as he dreaded what she would say, as he feared the accounting she would deliver. She swallowed hard, though, and met his eyes. “Nothing for now, my lord.”

  “Nothing?” His amazement was shrill.

  “I threatened the spiderguild with your army, with Davin’s war engines. I bartered across the backs of the Little Army.”

  The Little Army. Hal glanced around the courtyard, suddenly looking for Crestman. He had gone with Rani to the players’ camp. Certainly, he must be somewhere amid the trees. Hal glanced around but did not see the dour soldier. He forced himself to ask, “And Crestman?”

  Rani’s glinting tears might have been brought out by the wind. “He’s gone, my lord. He stayed behind at the spiderguild. He stayed with his men.”

  He heard her sorrow, her disappointment, her fear, but he himself felt a strange shadow of relief. The Amanthian captain had been vehement about freeing the children, about tracking down and releasing the enslaved Little Army. And yet, Hal had not known how to do that, had been told by Teheboth himself that such redemption was impossible. Hal had other missions here in Liantine. He could not be the leader to all his people, not every one at once.

  Rani swallowed noisily and said, “We’ll get them yet, my lord. With the trees and your spiders, we’ll have the gold, even after you pay … your other debts.” To the Fellowship, she did not say aloud. “We’ll redeem the spiderguild slaves come next spring.”

  Hal heard the exhaustion behind her words, heard the shadow of an untold story about crossing the plains with the trees, about bargaining for their possession. Now that he looked for it, he could see the slump of her shoulders, the smudges beneath her eyes, the weariness throughout her body. “Aye, Rani. We’ll speak of that later.”

  “You must send notice to Davin immediately, my lord.”

  “To Davin?”

  “Aye. He must figure out a way to get water for the trees. At the spiderguild, there is a well. …” She trailed off, and her fingers strayed toward her throat, toward a new-healed wound and a scab that spoke of danger. She shook her head, though, as if she were thrusting away some private vision. “We must find a way to get the trees the water they need – twenty-four buckets, every day, for every tree.”

  “Twenty-four. …”

  “Davin can do it. He must.”

  “I cannot reach him now. Puladarati, Davin, all the council lords – they all have taken ship for the wedding.”

  “The wedding!” Rani said, as if she had forgotten their initial reason for coming to Liantine.

  “Aye. One week.”

  “Then we’ll speak to Davin as soon as he arrives. He can begin his planning here, and send orders home.” She nodded, and he could see the way that she adjusted her thoughts, the way that she shifted her plans to keep pace with the facts. Her face was drawn as she asked, “And you, my lord? How go your negotiations with Liantine?”

  It’s not enough, he wanted to say. I have Berylina’s dowry, which will keep the church at bay, but I cannot pay the Fellowship. Or, I have the spiders, which will pacify the Fellowship, but the church’s demands will go unmet. Berylina or Mareka. Mareka or Berylina.

  He started to explain, but he saw the shadows of fatigue on Rani’s face, the tight lines beside her lips as she glanced beyond him at the trees.

  “Rest, Rani. Come to me this evening, and I’ll tell you of our plans.”

  She started to protest, but her words were nearly drowned in a yawn that she fought to turn into a cough. “Yes, my lord. I’ll see to the trees, then come to you tonight.”

  * * *

  Hal paced his chamber, measuring the steps with the impatience of a young child. Fifteen paces to the door. Turn about. Fifteen to the window. Turn about. Door. Window. Door. Window. With every pass, he reminded himself not to look at his wedding raiment, already hanging on a wooden stand. Not to look at the octolaris cages nestled against the walls.

  Farso had spent the better part of the afternoon in Hal’s chamber, filling in the details of the visit to the spiderguild. Although the noble had never made it past the stockade, he knew how Rani had outsmarted the guildmaster, how she had made her bid for the riberry trees. Farso had listened as Rani told Mair every detail about forcing the spiderguild to collect the trees that very afternoon, about pledging gold for draft horses and drays.

  Waiting to leave the spiderguild, Farso himself had seen the carts lined up just inside the enclave’s gates. He had watched the mirrored racks drawn into place before dawn; he had listened to the barked commands as King Teheboth’s rider was blinded, was searched, was conducted inside the walls.

  Teheboth’s man had protested his treatment, had argued that he should have been permitted entrance the day before. The rider had been so indignant that he had not paid attention to the two draped carts beyond the mirrored racks. He had not realized that his embassy was lost before it had begun.

  All that, Farso told, even as he
laid out Hal’s wedding finery. Hal insisted that his servants would attend to the crimson and gold cloth, that there were days left before the ceremony, but Farso only shook his head. He had served his lord in Morenia. He would not forfeit that honor in a foreign land.

  And so Hal now paced inside his chambers, waiting for Rani. He hoped she would have an answer, some guidance, any instruction as he asked himself – Berylina or Mareka? Liantine or spiderguild? Church or Fellowship?

  Who would be appeased?

  Could all be pleased? Would all be seized?

  He shook his head. It had been years since his mind played its rhyming tricks on him, since the chittering voices had come to whisper their twisted versions of the truth. He would not yield to them now. He had not given in to their seductive whisper in nearly three years, since he had camped on the Amanthian Plain, believing that Rani was dead and buried, left to rot in the cold, northern earth.

  As if summoned by his memory, there was a knock at the door, and Hal’s page entered. Calaratino bowed deeply and said, “Ranita Glasswright, Your Majesty.”

  “Send her in then.”

  The boy stepped aside, ushering Rani into the chamber. “Thank you,” Hal said to the page. “Please see that we are undisturbed.”

  Hal waited until the door closed before he let himself look at Rani. She had clearly rested since her labors in the courtyard. She wore a simple gown, clean lines of somber grey. As if to compensate for the quiet attire, her hair was plaited in an intricate braid, a style that made her seem older, more worldly.

  “The trees are settled then?”

  “Aye, my lord. King Teheboth is already complaining that his wells will run dry with the effort to water all of them.”

  “Will they?”

  “Not for the short time the trees will stay here. We must take fresh water in barrels, though, for the ocean crossing. We’ll likely lose some trees, no matter what precautions we take. Tovin says they are very sensitive.”

  “Tovin?”

  Hal was surprised to see Rani blush. “Tovin Player. The man who took us to the spiderguild.”

  “He’s from the players’ troop? The one that performed after the Spring Hunt?”

  “Aye.” The troop that Rani had run after. The people she had left him to join – left him after they had argued. Before Mareka came to his chambers.

  Hal cleared his throat. “The players are sponsored by the spiderguild, are they not? Did Tovin bargain on your behalf, then?”

  “No!” She answered too quickly, and he wondered at the story she did not tell. She must have realized how harsh her answer sounded, for she swallowed hard and said, “No, my lord. Tovin did not bargain for Morenia. He feared that our request would anger the spiderguild. He was right.”

  “Then he was put between his patrons and Morenia.”

  “Aye, my lord. But not for long. Anigo Octolaris decided that Tovin had turned traitor, and the spiderguild withdrew its sponsorship of the players. Anigo ordered Tovin from the guildhall.”

  “Then they are left without a patron?” Hal could not keep concern from his voice. He had seen the players, the sort of awe that they inspired in the Liantine court. If charismatic souls like that were alienated. … What deviltry could they work throughout the land? What stories could they spread about Morenia?

  “Not precisely, Sire.” Rani swallowed and licked her lips. “They needed a guild to sponsor them. The glasswrights have undertaken that responsibility.”

  “What!”

  “I have agreed that they may go forward under my guild’s name. I have pledged responsibility for their actions on the high roads, and I have agreed to fund their play-acting, to the extent that I am able.”

  “Here? In Liantine?”

  Again, she swallowed. She bent her head to study her clasped hands, and the action highlighted the careful braiding in her hair. “No, Sire. The players will follow me. They will come to Morenia, after the wedding.”

  “And they agreed to this?”

  “They had no true choice, my lord. In Liantine, no troop may travel without a sponsor. The spiderguild withdrew its support immediately upon the conclusion of our … negotiations for the riberry trees.”

  Hal heard the story she did not tell – how angry Tovin must have been, how cheated he must have felt. Hal reached out and covered Rani’s clasped hands with one of his own, and he tried to ignore how she flinched. “Did he hurt you, Rani? Is that why you took on such an obligation?”

  “No!” Her head shot up, and she jerked her hands away from his. “No, Sire, it was not like that!”

  Not like that. Then precisely how was it, Hal found himself wanting to ask. What exactly passed between the two of you? Astonished, he watched a blush steal across Rani’s cheeks, and he could not ignore the sudden catch in her voice.

  As if in answer to the questions he could not bring himself to ask, one of the octolaris shifted in its cage behind Hal. The spiders moved often as they wrapped and re-wrapped their egg sacs. The sound should not have surprised him, but this time it made him start, made him remember his own manipulations, his own actions that had led to the acquisition of the spiders. …

  Who was he to question Rani? Who was he to question the price of a bargain fairly made?

  He stepped back, crossing toward the octolaris cage. He gestured toward the beasts, even as he made sure to keep a careful distance from the venomous spiders. “Very well, then. The players made their choice, and you completed your negotiations. We have the riberry trees, and – for now – we have the spiders.”

  “For now?”

  “Mareka Octolaris informed me this morning that she might take the beasts. She might offer them to Teheboth.”

  “But he would destroy them! Farso said the spiderguild wants them dead.”

  “The spiderguild does. But Teheboth might not yield to the desires of the guild. Things are shifting here in Liantine; they’ve changed even in the months that we have been here.” Hal gestured to the cages, struggling to put into words the transitions he had witnessed. “When we arrived, the spiderguild still held some power – they had just wed their journeyman to the king’s youngest son. Now, though, the Horned Hind is taking hold, more thoroughly than ever before. I think it has to do – at least in part – with the Little Army, with their faith in the Thousand Gods. Teheboth wants to distance himself from slaves, from everything base, and so he pulls even closer to the Hind, to the Hind and her wooden symbols. As a result, the price of silk is falling, even on a daily basis.”

  “Aye.” Rani nodded, and he could see shrewd calculation behind her eyes. “I’ve seen the markets, of course. I’ve seen the stands selling wool and linen.”

  “There was a time when Teheboth would not have dared to defy the spiderguild. But now? With spiders in his own palace? With riberry trees as well?”

  He watched Rani calculate the threat. “You think he’ll take them for his own, then?” she said. “He’ll take a stand against the guild, to crush them for his own advance?”

  “I cannot say. I believe Teheboth still intends for me to marry Berylina. He wants to get her out of Liantine.”

  “Then you’ll take the princess and her dowry, and we’ll sail for Morenia immediately following the wedding.”

  “Except that Mareka might act then. She might offer Liantine the spiders –” Hal paused to clear his throat, “– out of spite, when Berylina and I are wed.”

  Out of spite. There. That should serve as his confession. If Rani were half the negotiator she claimed to be, she should understand. She should know the hold Mareka had over him.

  He caught his breath to see how long it took for her to process his words, to weigh their true meaning. The turnings of her merchant mind were nearly visible as she glanced from the octolaris cages to Hal, as she flicked her eyes toward his inner apartments. “So,” she said at last. “The spiderguild apprentice might act out of spite if you marry Berylina.” He could not read Rani’s tone, could not find acceptance or
rejection, or even resignation in her words. Rather, she was a merchant, counting out her wealth, measuring up her position in the marketplace. “She’ll offer up her spiders to Teheboth, and we’ll lose our Order of the Octolaris. We can have the princess’s dowry – and pay the church immediately – or we can have the spiders and the trees – and pay the Fellowship over time.”

  Hal’s relief was nearly palpable. Of course Rani saw the problem clearly. “Precisely,” he said.

  Rani glanced at the octolaris cages once again, started to speak, but then she stopped herself. Instead, she took a deep breath and raised a hand to her throat, to the remnant of her small, healing wound. Who had hurt her? How had she received the nick?

  Hal resisted the fleeting temptation to follow her hand, to set his own fingers against her injury. Instead, he said, “You see the problem, then. How are we to do both? How are we to satisfy the church and the Fellowship?”

  “And keep from earning Liantine’s enmity, all at the same time.” Rani strode across to the window, looking out over the city. “You must let me think on this, my lord. Let me see what I can devise.”

  “We haven’t much time, Rani.”

  “Hardly any time at all.” Her answer was so soft that he had to strain to hear her words. She gazed into the distance, and her fingers strayed to her throat once again. After a moment, she shook her head, and the motion seemed to set aside her vague and distant mood. “We must prepare for what we can, though. The players will come to you tonight, my lord. They’ll speak with you, in preparation for the festivities following your wedding.”

  “Why do they wish to speak to me?”

  “No. Speaking.” There was a curious emphasis as she said the word. “They will prepare a play for you, a story to tell in honor of your wedding. After the feast, of course. After the houses of Morenia and Liantine are joined.”

  “This … speaking. Is it difficult?”

  She turned and smiled at him – the first untarnished smile she had shown him since her return to Liantine. “Oh yes, my lord. It is difficult. You will be asked to share your stories, your secrets, your deepest thoughts. It is difficult, my lord, but well worth the labor. Speaking will change your world forever.”