Emerald House Rising, page 17
“Are there any scars or other marks?”
The guards worked quickly, stripping off the shirt and turning the arms to look. Jena averted her eyes from the sight of the wound in his side. “There are some moles. No scars or tattoos.”
“Anything about his clothing?”
The first guard shook his head. “The shirt and britches are plain enough. Sun-rotted, though. He must have spent most of his time outside, what with that tan and all.”
The second leaned forward to peer at the corpse’s boots.
“These are Nyarian leather. See the hand-tooling, like a stamped row of circles? Good stout waxed stitching, too—he saved awhile to buy these. It won’t tell us much about where he’s from, though. That sort of leather gets traded all over.”
As Lord Duone bent over to scrutinize the boots, Leani and Kipp returned. Grunting, Leani knelt down beside Jena and reached for the kettle, filling the bowl Kipp held out. She glanced over at the body with distaste as she filled a cotton bag with chamomile flowers and dried vervain and tossed it into the water to steep. “Here, now, I’m going to need a little more room.”
Shrugging, one of the guards grasped the body under the armpits and pulled it several feet out of the way. “Look,” Baldesar said suddenly as the head lolled. “He’s wearing an earring.”
Jena craned her neck to see over Leani’s shoulder as the first guard pushed back a hank of hair where Baldesar pointed. There, a glint of gold flashed.
“Give it here to me,” Master Rolly said.
Clumsily, the guard removed the earring, about the size of a squashed pea, and brought it over to the goldsmith. Master Rolly fitted a loupe to his eye and drew a lantern on the countertop closer to examine the small disk. It was difficult for Jena to see his face from her seat on the footstool.
Leani nudged her shoulder with another cup of wine. Jena accepted it and took a swallow as Leani held the cup steady, and at the widening of her eyes, Leani grinned. “I know. I laced it quite heavily. You shouldn’t care too much as I’m stitching you up.” She helped Jena drink the rest of it and then pushed Baldesar’s hand aside, parting the top of Jena’s dress and tearing away the top of the chemise. Baldesar politely averted his eyes as she began daubing at the oozing line left by the knife. At first, Jena set her teeth against the sting, wishing with all her might for Bram’s hand to hold. She eased her right hand surreptitiously into her left sleeve to finger the pouch holding her stone. That seemed to help stop the shaking. Eventually, as the drugged wine began to work, she relaxed, leaning back into Baldesar’s supporting arm and blinking slowly. The water in the bowl turned red.
Above their heads, Jena heard Master Rolly grunt in satisfaction. “See how the lines outlining the design are silvery black, my lord?”
“How is that done?” Lord Duone asked, leaning over the counter to look.
“Whoever made this etched the design and then placed silver sulfide in the lines and heated it until it could be pressed into the crevices. It’s called niello work; it’s a specialty of the Niolantii goldsmiths. It could be that—yes, here’s the master’s mark. If you would be so good as to reach for the Guild book there, my lord, from that stack on the other counter, against the wall? The red one, third from the top.”
They bent over the book, turning the heavy pages, as Leani threaded her needle. “Feeling a little muzzy, hmm?” she asked Jena.
“Yes,” Jena forced herself to answer after a pause. Her tongue felt thick.
“If it’s any comfort, I was a seamstress before I married my Rolly.” She smiled kindly at Jena, patting her hand, and then raised the needle. “And I was reckoned quite skillful with the needle. Now, then. Hold still, if it please you.”
It didn’t please Jena, or it wouldn’t have if the wine had allowed her to object, but it didn’t, so she didn’t. She stared at a point on the opposite wall and tried to think of possibilities that would keep the needle from seeming quite so sharp. Nothing came immediately to mind.
“Look, here’s the mark registration,” Master Rolly said, scattering her feeble attempts at concentration. “Master Chevrin of Niolantti.” She could hear him tap a finger heavily against the page. “Perhaps … We goldsmiths and jewelers trade pattern books back and forth containing the designs we use. I have some from the Niolantti Guild. That fish and crown device might be in one of them.” Jena heard his footsteps retreat to another room.
Lord Duone asked his guards, “Have you found anything else?”
“No, my lord.”
Leani paused to daub again at a trickle oozing from the tracks of her needle as she glanced again over her shoulder at the body. “Kipp,” she said, wrinkling her nose, “put down that bowl and go fetch the old gray blanket at the bottom of the oak chest in the workroom. They can use that to roll him up and carry him outside until someone can go fetch the watch.”
While the apprentice went away on that errand, Master Rolly returned, thumping several more books down on the counter. “Here they are. It will take me a while to go through them.”
“Two will make the job go more quickly.” Lord Duone pulled one of the books toward him and began turning pages, too.
The drugs in the wine were making Jena sleepy. She watched through half-lidded eyes as the apprentice brought the blanket, and the dead man was taken away. She could tell the blood on the floor pained Leani, but although the goldsmith’s wife sent the apprentice to fetch more rags, Leani didn’t set him to work cleaning.
“Go back to the workroom now, Kipp, and finish up some of your sketches,” she said as she snipped off another stitch. “I’ll see to this mess; you’re too young to have the stomach for it. Oh, but send Celya to me once she is back from market: I could use her advice on a poultice, and I want her help putting Jena into bed, too. Certainly Celya’s nightclothes would fit better than mine.”
More borrowed clothes, Jena thought.
“Patience, now, Jena, I’m almost done.”
Just then, Lord Duone made a soft sound of recognition. “Here it is,” he said, and swung the volume around on the counter for Master Rolly to see.
“‘Fish and Circlet’,” Master Rolly read aloud. “It’s the device of a shipping consortium. ‘Mark of trade, House of Palani.’ Perhaps they employed him as a sailor?”
“Palani?” Lord Duone repeated sharply.
“You recognize the name, my lord?”
“I know I’ve encountered that name recently.” There was a moment of perplexed silence. “Palani …” Lord Duone muttered. “Palani! That was the candidate—they would dare—!” he stopped and cursed under his breath.
“My lord?”
“Never mind,” Lord Duone said impatiently. “Tell me, do you know if one of the seven houses of the Diadem is involved in the ownership of this shipping company?”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t know,” Master Rolly said, his tone skeptical. “Although …”
“Yes?”
“Well, this pattern book lists a number of commissions Master Chevrin has done for the Topaz, Lord Guilford Oselare.”
“The Topaz! That would make sense,” Lord Duone said softly. “The Topazes are involved in shipping and fishing, aren’t they? And they do have investments in Niolantti.” He thought it over for a moment and gave a short, hard laugh. “Yes. That certainly makes sense.”
Leani cut the thread on the last stitch. “Now, then,” she said briskly, as she gave the site a last blot with her cloth, “are you able to stand up?”
Jena tried and gave up abruptly.
“Very well, then, you carry her, Baldesar,” Jena heard faintly through the spreading haze.
“I feel like such a fool,” Jena mumbled. “It—mm, only some stitches.”
“No, it’s the drugs in the wine as much as anything, not to mention the shock. You’ll sleep awhile now. In Celya’s room, Baldesar.” Baldesar was carrying her up a narrow staircase. “Set her down on the bed carefully—that’s right!” Presumably then Baldesar retreated, because she could feel someone easing her out of her clothes and into a nightgown. She managed to snag the pouch holding her stone, crumpling it in her hand as her arm was pulled out of her sleeve. The neck of the nightgown was left untied so a cool poultice could be applied over the stitches. She would have sneezed at the pungent herb smell if she hadn’t been so very tired. Thrusting the pouch with the stone under her pillow, she slid gratefully into a deep sleep.
She awoke the first time because someone was changing her poultice. The light from the single candle beside her bed made her blink as she squinted up at Leani.
“Well, now!” Leani said softly. “Awake? Do you need to use the chamber pot?” Jena nodded, and Leani threw back the covers and helped her onto it. When Jena was done, she noticed her knees still shook a bit as she slid back under the blankets.
“Ah, you must be hungry: that’s why you’re feeling weak.”
Jena consulted her stomach. “I am hungry, I think. A little.”
“Eh, well, you’ve slept away the day and a good part of the night. I have some soup here that should hearten you up a bit.” Leani uncovered a bowl on the table by the bed, and a spicy steam rose up, curling in the candlelight. Then she helped shift the pillow so Jena could sit up and handed her the spoon. To Jena’s relief, Leani didn’t seem inclined to try to feed her. The soup was thick with beans and potatoes and tasted very good going down.
“There, now,” Leani said, taking the bowl when Jena was done. “Go back to sleep. That’s the quickest way to put you on the mend.” The last thing Jena remembered before drifting off to sleep once more was Leani’s touch as she checked the position of the poultice again. Her hands were warm and soft.
When Jena next awoke, daylight was streaming in through the oiled window cloth, bringing a glowing luminosity to the narrow, low-ceilinged room. The bed in which she lay was short and simple, just a straw ticking on top of planks supported by trestle stands. A wooden chest and bedside table were the only other furniture. After a short scramble through her memories, she identified where she was: at Master Rolly’s in Tenaway, in the room of someone named Celya. The housemaid? She shifted her blanket and winced as something pulled. She turned her head at the sound of a thump on the wooden flooring and saw Baldesar, who was placing a saddlebag just inside the doorway. As she raised herself up on an elbow, he saw she was awake and smiled at her.
“Good morning. I’m sorry I woke you.”
“No, that’s all right. What time is it?”
“Almost midmorning.”
“Well, then I’ve had more than enough sleep.” She yawned, and then, noticing that Baldesar seemed embarrassed at the sight of her nightgown, drew the covers up farther. At her motion, the stitches pulled, and she winced once more. “I suppose this poultice needs changing again.”
“The mistress said she’d have Celya do that, once you’re awake. I just came in to leave the saddlebag. One of Lord Duone’s men dropped it by this morning, so you’d have some more clothes.”
“Mmm. Thank you for bringing it up.” Jena drowsily pushed hair out of her eyes. “Did they find out who sent that messenger?”
“No. I know Master Rolly and the Lord Duone’s men talked with the watch, but they haven’t been able to find out anything yet.”
Jena shook her head. “Strange.”
Baldesar gave her a sidelong glance. “I heard a little of what they were saying. Do you happen to know what it was all about, then?”
“Maybe I do,” replied Jena cautiously. “But maybe I don’t. Anyway, I don’t know how much Lord Duone would appreciate having his private business discussed.”
Baldesar shrugged agreeably. “Suit yourself. It’s just that we don’t often have people come in and try to carve up our customers. You can’t blame a fellow for being curious. Oh, Lord Duone also sent this.” He tossed her a large pouch.
Jena caught it before it thumped her on the nose; it was very heavy. She opened it and gasped. “It’s gold, and a lot of it.” She pulled a small square of parchment out of the pile of coins and squinted at it in the morning light. “To Jena Gemcutter,” she read aloud, “as a token of gratitude for your help yesterday on behalf of myself and my House. I hope and trust you will be ready to ride again in two days’ time when we continue on to Piyar. Lord Duone.” She hefted the pouch and grinned up at Baldesar. “He must be planning to take my advice, then.”
“His lordship is generous,” said Baldesar, suitably impressed.
“Yes, very. And his timing is wonderful. Do you think Master Rolly would allow me to cast something in his workshop before I leave? I can use this gold for a project I have in mind.”
“Depends on how big it is.”
“Not big. A belt buckle. The model’s in that saddlebag, in a wooden box near the top. Could you get it out?” She pointed, and Baldesar lifted the bag’s flap, fished out the box, and handed it to her. She opened it and unwrapped the protective layers to show him the wax design.
Baldesar studied it carefully for a few moments. “This is the final model, then, you think?”
“Yes, it’s done. I’ll need to add the wax sprue rods for the casting, of course.”
“A betrothal or wedding gift, I suppose?”
Jena nodded.
“Good traditional design,” Baldesar said. “I’m pleased to see you’re finally returning to the old forms.” Jena managed not to smile. For Baldesar, “traditional” was the highest possible praise. She hoped he would not be too disappointed when he learned she intended to leave the buckle free of enameling.
Baldesar carefully packed the model back into the box. “After you’re dressed, come down to the kitchen. It’s at the foot of the stairs, to the right. Celya or the mistress will give you something to eat and check that knife slash, and then you can speak with the master in the workshop.”
Master Rolly’s shop was smaller than Collas’ in Piyar. To Jena, it felt more disorderly, although certainly everything had its place, either stacked on tables and shelves or hanging from hooks on the walls. Perhaps the impression came from the way equipment crowded the working space. The goldsmith apparently didn’t worry if the sketches tacked up on the wall hung crookedly, either. Baldesar’s grinding and polishing wheels stood tucked into one corner. Light poured in through two glass roundel windows and an open doorway leading to a small internal courtyard where the furnaces stood. The room smelled of wax, hot metal, and glue.
Master Rolly sat on a stool tipped back against a wall. He was studying Jena’s letter from the Jewelers’ Guild while eating a late breakfast. He took his time reading it, brushing fallen crumbs off the parchment as Jena and Baldesar waited. Eventually he refolded the letter and looked gravely at Jena’s model in the center of the table. “And so this is intended as your reapplication piece?” he said through a mouthful of bread and sausage.
“Yes, if you’re willing to let me cast it here, Master Rolly.”
The goldsmith leaned forward and turned the model, studying it from another angle. “What mixture of metal do you want?”
“Gold, if you please. Eighteen-carat weight, since it’s to be set with gemstones. I’d like it alloyed with equal proportions of copper and silver—not too green, not too red.” She gestured to the pouch on the table next to the model, full with the money given to her by Lady Kestrienne and Lord Duone. “Will this be enough to cover your fee, as well as the cost of the raw material for the buckle?”
“Well, now, how do you suppose we could find how much metal you’ll need to cast it?” He took the last bite of his breakfast and leaned back on his stool again, grinning up at her as he chewed.
“Weigh the model, once the sprues are set,” Jena answered promptly. “Then multiply by the specific gravity.”
“Ah. And for eighteen carats gold, yellow mix, that would be?”
There was a tiny pause. “Fifteen and a half.”
“Very good.” Master Rolly hefted one of the pouches and then placed it back on the tabletop. “My guess is you’ll have plenty here. Will you be enameling the piece?”
“No, I’ll just be doing a bit of flat chasing.”
“How do you intend to set it?”
“Faceted gems in claw settings. Rose cut, I think, although the central stone will be brilliant cut. I’ll be getting the stones from Piyar.”
“Not cabochon or table cut?”
Jena shrugged. “I like the challenge. It is meant to be an exhibition of my best work, after all.”
“Would you like me to make the foils, too?”
“Thank you for the offer, but I don’t plan to use them.”
Master Rolly’s eyebrows went up. “Oh?”
“I believe,” Jena said politely but firmly, “if a stone is properly chosen and properly faceted and polished, the color will be sufficiently rich without tricking out the setting with foil backing.”
“The Guild could regard such a position as a bit eccentric,” Baldesar ventured.
“Possibly. Or they might consider it a sign of confidence in my own work.”
Master Rolly rubbed his chin as he thought that over for a moment. “They might,” he admitted finally. “What gems do you plan to use?”
“I must keep that to myself for now, Master Rolly, since the engagement is still secret. But I can tell you the piece is intended as a gift for a prominent member of one of the Diadem Houses.”
“Ah, I see,” Master Rolly said, a slow smile growing. “Intriguing. How could I turn down a commission like that?”
“It must be pointed out, I suppose,” Jena said, after a little hesitation, “that since I’ve already been rejected by the Guild once, helping me with this piece might be … well, politically delicate. You understand, don’t you, that I’m asking the Guild to overturn a long-standing tradition?”
Master Rolly’s keen blue eyes shot her a look of hawklike amusement. “Well, now, tradition is all very well,” he said, throwing Baldesar a significant glance, “but I believe in keeping the Guild from becoming too hidebound. That comes from being a goldsmith, maybe.”
