Glass Swallow

by Julia Golding

  Mikel snorted. ‘Dream on, scavenger. The city’s been working her to the bone and given her nothing in return. The House of the Indigent is nothing but slavery with a charitable name, if you ask me—which no one does, of course.’ Mikel went off into his usual litany of grumbles as he poured Rain a cup, selecting the best one he owned from the shelf and scrupulously checking that it was clean before filling it.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Peri asked, his insides twisting with guilt. She didn’t look well: her eyes had shadows under them and she had lost weight—not that there had been much of that to start with.

  ‘I am as you see,’ Rain replied with dignity, taking the cup from Mikel. Peri noted that she gave her smiles freely to the old doorkeeper but spent none on him.

  ‘Why didn’t anyone look after you? The ambassador’s family should have stepped in.’

  Her eyes slid across him to the doorway. He could feel her unspoken question as to why he hadn’t done so himself. She seemed loath to let her gaze land on his face. If it had been anyone else in Rolvint, Peri would have said she was doing so because he was a scavenger; with Rain, he guessed it was more complicated. She probably felt very angry with him for what had happened on that first day.

  ‘I have to explain why I left you.’ Peri wished she’d just look at him. ‘I assumed your betrothed was a Magharnan. You must know by now that a scavenger would not be welcomed in the city, even if he had helped a kinswoman. I thought I was doing you a favour leaving you as I did.’

  Rain gave a tight smile directed somewhere over his right shoulder. ‘That’s all right, falcon man. I survived.’

  ‘But the ambassador—’

  ‘Is dead. No one in Rolvint owes me anything. I’m lucky to have my job.’ Her tone was bleak, the speech rehearsed.

  Peri rubbed the back of his neck, feeling her distress. The girl seemed so tired, defeated by her circumstances. He had let this be done to her.

  Helgis meanwhile was indulging his curiosity about the stranger. Having proved his theory about her sight, he had circled around her and discovered her hair only imperfectly hidden under the scarf. He touched a curl lightly, making her jump.

  ‘Helgis!’ Peri tugged his brother to take a seat beside him. ‘Forgive my savage of a brother. He’s only twelve and not yet learnt his manners.’

  ‘It’s nothing,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I’ve known worse.’

  Peri swallowed hard. He knew what she meant: the dormitories of the House of the Indigent were rough places by all accounts. Someone who stood out as being a little different would be in for serious bullying. Now that he examined her for the evidence, he noticed that the backs of her hands and forearms were bruised. His heart dropped down to his boots: he’d been partly responsible for this too. Perhaps he should have taken her home with him as she had wanted. At least in the barracks there would have been his family to look after her. He had been a fool.

  Rain tried to ignore the black-robed falcon man but he seemed to fill the room with his calm reasonableness. He’d expected her to be welcomed by the jettans. He had a sound answer for everything he’d done, or not done. He’d apologized but he didn’t really regret his actions; he was too calm, too smooth for someone racked with guilt. He represented everything she hated about Rolvint: its adherence to silly rules of association, its lack of care for a stranger.

  It didn’t help that he was still the most attractive Magharnan she’d met. She had thought him kind, but that had been short-lived. She preferred the gruff old bondsman; at least he didn’t drop her at the first opportunity.

  She turned to Mikel. ‘Thank you for breakfast. In fact, it’s my birthday today. Now you’ve made it special.’

  His eyes twinkled at her. ‘What! A stale old bun! We can do better than that.’ He patted his pockets and drew out a penny. ‘Here, lovey, buy yourself a ribbon with that.’

  Rain held the coin as if it were priceless. ‘Thank you. But would you mind if I saved it?’

  ‘You can do what you want with it: it’s your penny now. What are you saving for?’

  ‘To go home.’

  ‘Ah.’ He shifted uncomfortably. ‘And how much have you got so far?’

  She gave him a tremulous smile. ‘One Rolvint penny. But it’s a beginning. My father always said that every journey starts with just one step.’

  ‘True enough.’

  ‘I know that if he doesn’t hear from me soon, he might come looking for me; but I can’t count on that. I’ve got to make my own plans.’

  ‘Sensible girl.’

  ‘Have you thought of applying to the government to pay for your return?’ It was Master Calm-and-Reasonable again.

  Rain gave a short laugh. ‘What do you think I’ve been doing the last few months, falcon man? The first thing I did was ask the matron at the House of the Indigent to make an approach on my behalf.’

  ‘And did she?’

  ‘Oh yes. She has no more desire for my presence cluttering up her halls than I have to be there. She petitioned the foreign ministry but was told that as I merely accompanied the craftsman and was not the one bidden to do the work on the palace myself, the Magharnan Master had no further responsibility to me. In short, it was my bad luck to be a victim of your bandits and I had to be grateful that I hadn’t been left to starve.’ She gave him a brittle smile. ‘They did mention that they had buried my kinsman at their own expense. So generous of them, don’t you think?’

  ‘How much do you need to get home?’

  ‘I’m not sure. It’s a long voyage and I don’t think ships make the journey unless chartered to do so.’

  ‘Chartering doesn’t come cheap. You’re talking thousands of gold signets.’

  Rain knew full well that her own efforts to pay for her passage were pretty futile and she was unlikely to see a silver jettal, let alone a signet, in exchange for her work, but she would not just give up. She shrugged. ‘Oh well, I’d better keep on economizing on the hair ribbons then.’

  ‘Rain! Rain! Get your lazy carcass back here!’ yelled a woman outside.

  ‘My summons.’ Rain rose from her seat by the fire and dipped a curtsey to Mikel. ‘Thank you for breakfast.’

  The old bondsman passed her another bun. ‘Here, keep that for later.’

  ‘You are the kindest man.’ Rain reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

  Mikel blushed and held his hand over the spot reverently as if to preserve her touch. ‘Get along with you.’

  Rain nodded slightly to the falcon men in farewell, but did not look at them. She had had it drummed into her that she should not turn her unearthly blue eyes on ordinary Magharnans so it had now become habit. Besides, she did not want to see Peri: he was too big, too calm, too good looking …

  Now where had that traitorous thought come from? She had to stop it before she got herself in more hot water. She had already been reprimanded for numerous infractions of Magharnan customs; to be caught hankering after one of the scavengers would probably have her thrown out of the city.

  He wasn’t handsome. He was arrogant. Too tall. Yes, that was it. He was no more good looking than the rear end of a donkey …

  Who was she trying to fool?

  ‘Rain, you will take no break at midday since you’ve been frittering away the morning with that dirty bondsman by the gates.’ The cook waved a rolling pin at her as she entered the shabby, low-ceilinged kitchen. It smelt of boiled cabbage and the tables were none too clean. By chance, it had turned out that Rain’s new mistress was the very woman who had sat in front of her in the employment office. The claim to prior acquaintance had not helped. Rain suspected it had worked against her as the cook felt ashamed she had been seen there by someone else.

  ‘Yes, Mistress Hundle.’

  ‘Wash yourself thoroughly. I will not have the artisans’ food rendered unfit for them because you have been gossiping with the lower classes.’

  ‘Yes, mistress.’

  The cook turned to address the gathered servants, t
apping a metal bowl to get their attention. ‘A glass-maker will be on site today. Since the attempt to bring in foreign craftsmen failed last year, Jettan Kirn has appointed one of ours to design the windows. You will treat him with utmost respect.’

  Rain clenched her fists. That was supposed to have been her job. She’d spent long enough on the site to have thought up patterns for all the empty window niches as a means of filling her lonely hours. In her mind’s eye, she could already see the summer palace as a blaze of colour: flowers, skies, wild animals, trees, all delicately picked out in a lacework design to complement the airy architecture.

  ‘If you are fortunate enough to come across the glassmaker during your duties, you are to stand to one side and curtsey. Rain, keep your eyes lowered.’

  ‘Yes, mistress.’

  ‘And for the Master’s sake, do something about your hair. I can see it tumbling down your back.’

  Rain tried to bundle it all under her scarf but Helgis’s exploration earlier had undone her braid. She would have to start again.

  ‘Now, stop all looking at me like a herd of mindless cows. Get back to work!’

  Rain couldn’t help watching for the designer as she went about her tasks. Given the unpleasant job of heaving buckets of water from the well, she made many tottering journeys across the site. She knew that Mikel was keeping an eye on her from the gate, making sure she wasn’t bothered by any of the labourers, but there was no sign of the falcon men. They’d probably left before the ordinary workers had reported for duty. Towards noon, a party arrived on horseback, flanked by six guards dressed in blue livery. Rain recognized Jettan Kirn, the overseer of the works, a thin man with receding hair and an expression of permanent disgust. She’d been told he was the most important man in Magharna after the Master. Kirn’s footsteps were dogged by a smartly dressed drummer, employed to be his intermediary with the lower classes. Next to the jettan was a stout man with brawny arms. He had the look of a glassmaker, down to the scarred hands of one who worked at a forge. Rain felt a pang of homesickness. He reminded her of her father—the same stature and air of competence. The bucket slopped, dampening the hem of her gown, as she stumbled out of their way.

  ‘Now, Master Glassmaker, Jettan Kirn would like you to explain your preliminary sketches to him,’ said the servant.

  The man began his description, relating how he planned to fill the windows with images taken from Magharnan history, portraits of famous Masters, images of decisive battles.

  All wrong, thought Rain. They would ruin the building, being completely out of harmony with the vision of summer lightness created by the architect. The palace needed beauty with a touch of fantasy.

  ‘That sounds very satisfactory,’ said the jettan. ‘I expect work to begin immediately.’

  ‘Tell your master that I will have my best apprentices dedicated to the task working day and night,’ replied the craftsman.

  ‘I will leave him to his work then.’ The jettan gave the glassmaker a nod and strode from the site, his work for the day complete. The designer wiped his brow and gave a huff of relief, thankful for passing the test. He looked up and saw Rain waiting by the side of the plank walkway over the rough ground.

  ‘Here, girl, bring me some water.’ He beckoned her closer.

  Rain presented him with the dipper she carried at her belt for use of the builders when they required a drink.

  The glassmaker took a long, deep draught and smacked his lips. ‘That’s better. Thirsty work, dealing with a jettan.’ He held out the dipper. As Rain reached to take it back, she glanced up, giving the glassmaker a glimpse of her eyes. He kept hold of the scoop, not letting her tug it from his grip. ‘Wait a moment, I’ve heard of you.’ He scratched his nose trying to remember. ‘You’re that girl from Holt. A few months back someone was asking around for you, but I said I’d never seen you.’

  Rain felt a leap of hope. ‘Who, sir?’

  He relinquished his hold on the dipper. ‘Oh, some scavenger. I couldn’t understand why that lot would be interested in a foreigner. You came to Magharna with the Holtish glassmaker, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ So it hadn’t been someone from home; she’d been foolish to let herself even think this.

  He rolled his shoulders, easing the tension. ‘Sorry for your loss, but I can’t say that I was sad that the work stayed with us Magharnans. Still, do you know anything about Holtish glassmaking?’

  Rain could have laughed: what did she know? Only everything.

  ‘I grew up in my father’s forge, sir. I have picked up a few bits here and there.’

  ‘Do you know what your kinsman had in mind for the palace?’

  Rain glanced towards the kitchen, wondering if she would be reprimanded for talking so freely to the craftsman. ‘I think he would have made the windows with a variety of summer themes—fruit and flowers, that sort of thing.’

  The glassmaker shook his head. ‘Just as well then. That would never have done for the Master.’ He gave her another inspection. ‘In the House of the Indigent, are you?’

  ‘As you see, sir.’ She wondered for a moment if he was going to offer her the hospitality of one craftsman to another. That is what would have happened in Tigral.

  ‘Good. I’m glad to see the Master is looking after you.’

  Her heart sank. ‘He has been most kind,’ she lied.

  He reached in a bag hanging from his shoulder to draw out a scroll, already dismissing her from his thoughts.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘If anyone from Holt should ask after me, will you tell them where I am to be found?’

  He looked puzzled. ‘Why would they ask me?’

  ‘I think my family would expect me to be lodged with the glassmakers.’

  He didn’t take the hint. ‘All right, I’ll tell them. Now leave me in peace: I’ve work to do.’

  Shard 7

  Flame Gold

  One evening late in March, Hern returned from a hunting trip on a jettan’s estate.

  ‘Another merchant convoy’s been attacked,’ he announced to the family as everyone gathered in the shared kitchen for supper.

  Shaking his head, Peri finished oiling his gauntlet and started on Helgis’s glove.

  ‘Any survivors?’ asked Katia, checking that Rosie wasn’t in earshot. The little girl was playing ball with some other scavenger children by the open door, untouched by the troubles that worried their elders.

  ‘None. Word has it that they carried a cargo of gold for Wealer Damset.’ Hern poured himself a mug of beer, took a gulp and wiped the foam from his top lip. ‘There will be lots of worried people up in the city tonight.’

  ‘Why?’ Helgis scrawled absent-mindedly on a slate, drawing the mountain pass. ‘It wasn’t their stuff that was stolen, was it?’

  ‘Not directly. But Damset runs the biggest house of coinage; his money underpins our whole currency. If he goes down, so do many of the people who borrow from him,’ Hern explained.

  Helgis grinned. ‘So what? A few rich men lose out: sounds like good news to me.’

  ‘We’ll see.’

  Peri checked the stitching on the gauntlet carefully, ensuring there were no loose threads to catch on a raptor’s claws. Remarkably for Helgis, it was in a sound condition, unlike the Magharnan state. That had been fragile ever since the run of bad harvests and huge losses to the bandits. This latest attack was cutting off the blood supply to the heart of an already wounded patient; there was only so much trauma Magharna could withstand.

  ‘What do you think we should do, Pa?’ Peri asked quietly.

  Hern sat down next to his oldest son and lowered his voice. ‘I think we should make preparations for the worst. Your mother and I, along with the other families, have been stockpiling supplies for some time now, but we’ll have to think how we’ll react if law and order breaks down in the city-within-the-walls. I wouldn’t put it past the rich merchants to think they can walk in here and take our stuff if they are i
n need.’

  ‘So, what? An armed guard?’

  ‘Yes. All of us capable of defending the compound will have to take our turn.’

  ‘Starting when?’

  Hern took a breath. ‘About now, I’d say.’ He stood up, climbing on a bench. ‘My friends!’

  The chatter quickly died away as the scavengers gathered in the four sections of the room turned in their seats to look up at Hern.

  ‘We’ve been expecting trouble for some months, haven’t we?’ There were rumbles of agreement. ‘It’s time to take precautions. The city’s on a knife edge and there’s no guarantee the problems won’t spread down here. If you agree, I propose we choose someone to organize our defenders and another to control our stores to see us through the bad times to come.’

  A woman at the far end of the room stood on her chair. ‘We trust you, Hern. My vote is to put you in charge of our defence.’

  Her suggestion was seconded by many in the room.

  ‘I’d be honoured, Kentara.’ Hern shifted uneasily. ‘But what about supplies? Will you take that on?’

  She shrugged, hands on hips. ‘If you think I’d do a good job.’

  ‘It’s right that a butcher does it,’ agreed Katia, standing beside her husband. ‘You’re the best woman for the position.’

  Kentara grinned. ‘All right. At least between us, we won’t run short of meat, eh?’

  There was a ripple of laughter in the room, lightening the mood despite the seriousness of the occasion. Peri found it hard to join in. The scavengers wouldn’t be able to save everyone, their resources just didn’t stretch that far, but he hoped to make the case for some exceptions. He wondered what would happen to those he knew in the city, to Mikel and to Rain. If things got as bad as his father feared, he would have to do something for them; he couldn’t hide in safety knowing they were suffering.

  Rain encountered the first sign of the approaching crisis on her way to work the next morning. Queues had formed outside a beautiful mansion on a city square, the line snaking round a peacock-shaped fountain and under the arcade of exclusive tailors’ shops. The house was decorated with a shield over the door, inscribed with the word ‘Damset’. But the mood of the crowd was out of step with the tranquillity of the plaza; the people were talking angrily, the men at the front thumping on the closed gates.