Tinderbox Under Winter Stars

by Emma Sterner-Radley

  Nessa laughed incredulously. She still had a chance at the apprenticeship? He was going to help her complete the test and then be her master? She was going to be a glassblower!

  She wiped her tears and sweat, her arms aching even with that small motion. The pain wasn’t that important now. What was important was that she hadn’t disappointed herself. It wasn’t over. She hadn’t let her parents, who had instilled determination and hard work into her, down. And yes, she could go home and hold her head up high as she told her heartling that she managed to get the position. Would she have preferred to do it without help? Yes. But what mattered was that against all odds, she was going to achieve it.

  With slow, hampered movements, she got to her feet. She leaned against the cart and smiled through tears. When she heard Fabian’s steps, she dried her cheeks again and stood as straight as she could.

  “Here is your coffee. I put milk in it. For energy and muscle fuel, yes? Drink up,” he said, handing her the cup she had drunk from before.

  The liquid was hot, but the cold outside and the milk in it were cooling it quickly. Nessa drank it as fast as she could. She wasn’t sure if it was the heat from the drink, or the new hope, that woke her spirits, but she felt almost reborn.

  Fabian sipped his coffee, too, peering at her over the rim of the cup. When she had gulped hers down, he took one last sip and put his half-empty cup down in the snow next to hers.

  “Now then. Let’s get this cart to its home. Just one last push, Mrs Glass.”

  Nessa tried to clear the emotion out of her throat. “Yes, Mr Smedstorp.”

  He chuckled while putting a pair of gloves on. “Oh, I think you can call me master, now. Don’t you?”

  She smiled but shook her head. “Not until I have passed the test. Not until the work is done and I have earned it.”

  He clapped her on the back, and she tried not to wince at the pain. “A real workhorse. I didn’t expect that of you soft Arclidians with your green grass and balmy weather. You’ll make a good apprentice. Ready now, yes?”

  As a reply, she dragged her body over to the cart and took one of the grips. He took the other and said, “Lift!”

  They did, and the front of the cart was up from the snow with its wheels freed. They pulled it back from the corner it had crashed into and managed to manhandle it back a bit. After a moment, the cart was on the right track again. Now all Nessa had to do was push the last bit into the shed.

  Fabian walked back to his abandoned coffee, calling out, “All yours now, Mrs Glass. Finish the test with one last shove. Then go home and rest.”

  No matter how it hurt and how tired her body was, the idea of resting and telling Elise the good news strengthened her. She took the grips for the last time and bellowed as she clumsily shoved it past the shed doors and let it down to the floor. Nessa went down after it, sitting down in a way which looked a lot like falling.

  “You all right?” Fabian asked.

  She smiled up at him, winded and dizzy. “Yes. Just tired.”

  He toasted her with his coffee cup. “I’ll bridle Annika to the cart again then. We’ll drive you home as you’re in no state to walk, yes? Well done for passing the test! You’re worthy of my teachings, time, and coin.”

  “Thank you,” she panted in a cracked voice.

  “It’s the truth. Now, I’ll put the coffee cups inside and fetch your coat, gloves, and hat for you. You stay here. Rest.”

  She was only too happy to obey. As he left, she wiped at her cold-numbed face with floppy arms. She wondered how dreadful she must look, but didn’t much care. She did it! She was a glassblower’s apprentice again. Slowly, she stood up, wincing at the pain and creaking of her body.

  Fabian came back, handing over her outerwear. While he bridled the horse to the hated cart, Nessa tried to put the garments on. She gave up on the gloves and stuck them in her pockets. Her fingers were too numb and swollen for them to fit.

  “Done,” Fabian said. “Jump up and we’ll speed you home, yes?”

  He helped her up, where she slumped into the back of the cart and muttered the name of Anja's street.

  The drive home was so peaceful. She thrummed with fatigue, and yet she was utterly blissful. She looked up at the grey clouds as the cart bumped along snow-packed roads. Her mind was blank and barely registered when snowflakes began to fall on her face. She smiled at them, feeling as if they were a thousand congratulatory kisses.

  Chapter 13

  First Snow of Winter

  It was growing dark and had begun to snow when Elise finally saw Nessa return. She was laying at the back of a cart, making Elise fear she might be injured.

  Sweet gods, please do not tell me she fell on the ice. Or burned herself on the furnace.

  The glassblower walked up to them, his angular face barely visible between his snow-covered hat and pulled-up collar.

  “I return to you one Nessa Glass. A woman as strong as an ox, determined as a spider making webs, and clever as a cat planning its hunt. And, also, now a glassblower’s apprentice,” he said with a big smile.

  Elise ran to congratulate and check on her beloved. Nessa was covered in snow, and her face was red-cheeked and puffy.

  Elise stopped mid-step. “Heartling,” she said on an exhale. “Are you quite all right?”

  Nessa sat up, with some apparent difficulty. “Yes. Only bone-tired. I need to sleep. Then eat. Then visit the bathhouse. Then sleep more.”

  Elise tucked snowy strands of hair behind Nessa’s ear. “Of course. You will have whatever you need. What has… what has happened?”

  The glassblower pulled his collar down so more of his face was visible. Elise realised she didn’t even know his name.

  He beamed. “As I said, your lady is a glassblower’s apprentice now. I gave her a test to try her commitment and ability to work. She passed! I shall now be kind, yes? Let her take two days to recover. Then, I expect to see her at the workshop, ready to learn and work.”

  Nessa dragged herself off the cart. “Yes. I’ll be there. Thank you again, Master Smedstorp.” She stood in front of him on wobbly legs and gave a little bow and a smile.

  He returned her smile but with more gusto. Then he waved, spurred his horse on, and disappeared into the snowy evening.

  Anja clapped Nessa on the shoulder. “Well done. By the looks of you, that wasn’t easy.”

  Nessa chuckled and in a slightly hoarse voice said, “No. It wasn’t. But worth it.”

  Elise kissed her cheek. “Come inside. I will help you wash off the worst with a cloth, then dress you in warm, dry clothes and let you sleep for a few hours. Then a spot of dinner, and after that, a trip to the bathhouse, I think. If it is still open, Anja?”

  Anja opened the front door. “Yes. It’s always open. Skarhult has many bakers and manufacturers who work unusual hours.”

  “Sounds wonderful,” Nessa said, leaning on Elise as she hobbled forward.

  When they got in, Elise kissed her wet hair, smelling the snow and fresh sweat on it. “Good. Then we can celebrate tomorrow?”

  Nessa nodded. “Why not? Maybe travel into town for a nice supper? After all, we’ll have some coin coming in soon.”

  Elise almost jumped on the spot. “Yes! Magnificent idea.”

  Anja muttered, “Why must you go out to celebrate? It’s cold. And full of people. And now also snow. What’s wrong with staying in with some good food, wine, and a fascinating book?”

  At their feet, Svarte meowed as if he agreed.

  Elise hesitated. “Those things are lovely, indeed. Nevertheless, I think it would do us good to get out of the house.”

  “We do get out. We go for walks. We search for her glassblowers and your tooth tonics.”

  Elise tried again. “Yes, but to go out at night, for merriment. If it gets too cold, we simply return home. We can go without you if you do not wish to join us?”

  Anja sighed. “Well, I suppose it is the first snow of winter, meaning the frost faire opens.”
/>   With a yawn, Nessa looked out the window. “This is the first snow of winter? What about all that substance on the ground? That’s snow, too.”

  “The calendar tells us that the week that has now begun is the first week of winter. This is the first snow of that week. Thus, first snow of winter,” Anja stated, looking at them as if they were ignorant children.

  “I see. And that is when the frost faire starts? On the River Orla? Hunter told us about that. He said it was a remarkable and magical spectacle,” Elise said, trying not to swallow her tongue with excitement.

  Anja hummed while checking her pocket watch. “Oh, it’s the same every year. Big wild cats who have been tamed and do tricks, overpriced exotic food, a noisy carousel, furs and silks being sold, and chaotic performances of all kinds.”

  Elise propped the increasingly heavy Nessa against the wall. “Performances? What performances?”

  Something which looked like it could grow into a smile tugged at Anja's lips. “Look at your little ears prick up. You know, performances. Jugglers, magic tricks, musicians, plays, dancers with as few clothes as they can have on without becoming part of the river ice,” Anja said, chuckling at her own joke.

  “Ah, I should love to see the dancers, and the play! Oh, and to go on the carousel.”

  Anja scoffed. “It’ll be filled with sappy couples and excited children. All those painted wooden horses covered in children’s sugar-sticky fingerprints.”

  Elise bit her lower lip. “What about the ice? Will we slip? Do we need skates?”

  “You can skate there, but skates aren’t necessary. The ice is generally so scratched and gritted that you can walk on it without falling on your arse.”

  “Not to be a bother. But I still need to sleep, eat, and a have a bath,” Nessa mumbled.

  Elise looked at Nessa, who was yawning right in her face.

  “Naturally, heartling. Let me wash you up and get you into something warm.”

  “No time. Sleep now,” Nessa muttered. She stumbled over to the metal bed and dragged herself onto it. It looked like she was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

  Anja caught Elise’s eyes and whispered, “Let her sleep. I’ll tell you more about the faire in the kitchen over some berries and coffee, yes? It looks like dinner will wait a few hours until the glassblower’s apprentice wakes up.” She pointed to Elise. “Then you’ll have to clean those muddy sheets.”

  When Elise asked to look at Anja's timepiece she realised it had been three hours since Nessa had gone to sleep.

  “Should we wake her?”

  Anja put away the towel she’d been using to dry the dishes. “Why? Are you hungry?”

  Elise shrugged, hunger not being something she noticed until she was lightheaded.

  Anja looked her over. “Of course not, look at the size of you. You’re thin like a sparrow at a health retreat and eat like one as well. I, on the other hand, need food.” She glanced out of the kitchen. “Nessa is likely to be ravished when she wakes, not to mention thirsty. Let’s get the reindeer meatloaf in the oven. Do you want that task, or do you want to cut the radishes?”

  “I think I will stick to what I know and cut the radishes. I cannot recall ever even seeing a meatloaf.”

  Anja gave her a brief smile. “It’s good to know your limitations, although I know you could learn to make this. Just as you learned to assist me earlier today.”

  Elise laid a hand over her heart. “Does that mean you were happy dictating to me?”

  Anja put the meatloaf in the oven. “You write fast and accurate.”

  Elise wished she’d look at her. Or give away more of her feelings regarding their new arrangement.

  “I see. So, do you wish to try dictation tomorrow as well? In the daytime, naturally, as we are going to the faire in the evening.”

  “Yes, yes. I haven’t forgotten about the faire,” Anja said. “And yes. I’d like to dictate again tomorrow. Speeds up the process and looks neater than writing with my left hand.”

  It wasn’t glowing praise, but Elise tingled with the sense of achievement just the same. “Splendid! I am so glad to have been of assistance.”

  Anja opened the cupboard which held plates. “It’s fine, it’s not like I cannot afford to pay you, despite being prudent with my inheritance to make it last. If I get the book out there, it can start making me some income too. So yes, a good investment, I guess.”

  “Oh, do try to not sound so overly enthusiastic,” Elise said with a quirked eyebrow and hands on her hips.

  Anja stopped taking plates out and faced Elise. Whatever facetious or cranky comment she’d expected, the look on Anja’s face suggested it wasn’t coming.

  “I… apologise. I’m not good with these things. I rely on myself and myself alone. And I don’t… enthuse as much as you do. The few times when I have, life seems to have punished me for it.”

  Elise’s hands fell to her sides as she sought for something to say. “No need to apologise. I would not want you to alter the way you are just because two strangers burst into your home.”

  Anja gave a curt nod, and Elise smiled at her, almost drawing out a return smile from her hostess. She took the plates from Anja and placed them around the table.

  Anja picked up cutlery and glasses. “There. Now it’s all ready for when the meatloaf is baked, which should be a little less than an hour. Wait, no, you never cut those radishes. Get to it, young lady!”

  “Yes, Mother,” Elise joked, getting a light smack on the shoulder for her troubles. She decided that as soon as she had cut the radishes, she would wake Nessa. She looked forward to hearing all about the glassblower’s test at dinner. Later, at the bathhouse, she would tell Nessa all about the dictation. She figured they were making a real friend in Anja, something which the older woman seemed to need as much as they did.

  She sang as she cut the radishes, marvelling that their life in Skarhult was finally on track.

  Chapter 14

  The Magic Lantern Show

  In front of the Queen and the chosen crowd of courtiers and dignitaries, the colours and light of the magic lantern show transformed into pictures on the wall.

  She sat forward on her chair, back straight. It was her natural way of sitting, certainly not to show off her powerful shoulders and the bosom which her corset pushed up. Certainly not.

  Marianna wondered what people said about the fact that she wore a corset. The garment had gone out of fashion in the past decade, but she had kept hers. She told her tailor that it was expected of royalty. But the truth was… she enjoyed the restriction. She took pride in the fact that she could endure the torture without ever letting it show and relished knowing that if anyone else restricted her in any way, she’d have their veins pulled out of their body and made into a latticework. Through the corset’s tightness, she felt a glow of pride at this sheer power over the most powerful being she knew: herself.

  The slide changed, and the next scene of the magic lantern show filled the white wall in front of her. The main character, an elegant banker, suffered a near-fatal wound. The small crowd gasped.

  Well, most did. In the darkness behind her, Marianna felt the presence of a man who was not the type to gasp. He wouldn’t spare the tiniest reaction for something so frivolous as entertainment. Magic lantern shows were all the rage throughout the orb, and yet, this man seemed about as diverted as if a rat had skittered across his steel-booted feet.

  High Captain Nordhall of the Joiners Square stood to attention. She couldn’t see the Storsundian dignitary because of the dimmed lights and the fact that he was behind her. She still knew that he would be standing to attention, in his strict and medal-decked uniform. Back even straighter than her own, strong chest pushed forward and hands clasped behind his back. Ice blue eyes fixed ahead and immaculate blond moustache laying tight against his upper lip. That damned Northman and his infuriating disapproval of everything at her court.

  Why did Joiners Square, I mean the Storsund authorities, she
mentally corrected herself, pretending even in her thoughts that there was a difference. Why did they send this man? Why not someone charming and interesting? If they wish to win my favour, why not send me someone I might like? Someone who would revere me as they should?

  She moved on the edge of her seat, annoyed that while she hated the stoic man, she also wished to bed him. Of course, that was only to see him unravel as she forced him to come for her and lose all his meticulous control.

  Still, he held great influence in Storsund. And she needed the northern continent on her side. Once more, there had been riots in the villages around Highmere and whispers of a nationwide revolt. She kept telling Adaire not to fret too much over it, that this always ended in the same old song and dance. Either the people tried to get another Noble family on the throne, leading to infights between the Nobles, or they tried another form of government, only to realise they did not know how to rule or what they wanted instead of a monarchy.

  Due to being half-witted, uneducated peasants.

  Marianna smiled to herself. The Hargraves traditionally helped these failures along by sowing discontent among the Nobles and undermining the idea of other forms of government.

  Nevertheless, if Marianna could avoid another rebellion now, she should. They took effort, time, and coin to quell and clean up. She had two choices, align Arclid with the powerful, rich Storsund, while keeping the Northmen from colonising Arclid. Or take a husband and breed little royal brats for the peasants to coo over.

  Consequently, here she was, entertaining Option A in a frantic attempt to avoid Option B. She was not for marrying and certainly not for breeding. She sought control, wickedness, and entertainment. Nothing so disgustingly wholesome as a family.

  By the door stood Adaire. Aloof and patient, as always. Awaiting command. Marianna beckoned her over and the queen’s aide strode, elegant and almost ghostly on silent feet, towards her mistress. That flawless taupe skin glowing in the light of the magic lantern show. Marianna raked her gaze over her. Her languid feminine beauty stood in direct contrast to the stiff High Captain Nordhall in his grey, high-collared uniform and the dusty fur across his shoulders. Those Joiners Square uniforms were impressive and handsome, yet Marianna preferred resting her eyes on a lavish dress or nicely cut smoking jacket any day.