“Please call a carriage whenever you want to visit the City, Miss. It isn’t done for young wanded ladies to be seen walking around town.” He hesitated for a second and then added. “It isn’t a bad thing when you’re accompanied by your guardian, but you shouldn’t go anywhere in the City on foot alone.” She didn’t see the need to reiterate, but Mia assured him that she didn’t have any intention of roving the City streets and promised that she would call a cab if she had the urge to go anywhere. There were so many new rules! Mr. Smith walked them out of the office and hailed a cab for them. “If there’s any assistance I can offer, don’t hesitate to ask. I will send a note ‘round when the estate is ready for a visit.”
The afternoon was spent at a dressmaker, picked at random from the six or seven on Taylor’s Row simply because it was the first one they came to that had a display of College uniforms in the window. The seamstress seemed irritated when they walked in. She quickly put together a pile of uniforms for Mia to try and hustled her to the back room to change. She was muttering to herself about deadlines as she oversaw seven needles flying around a dress form while two pair of scissors flew around patterns.
Three hours later, Mia twirled around in front of the chipped mirror. The uniforms were not in the latest mode. The skirt was a bit too wide, not all like the popular tulip skirts that had come out last fall. Apparently the college staff didn’t read City Couture. But it could have been much worse. The uniform could have been orange or had a hoop skirt. Objectively speaking, this wasn’t a bad design. The dark grey material was nice with her golden tan and the skirt nipped becomingly in at the waist. She especially liked the puffed sleeves and ruffled accents on the jacket and the back of the skirt.
Mia bought seven skirts, as many shirtwaists, and three jackets. She splurged on twelve shirts on Emma’s recommendation. “Don’t skimp on the shirts! It’s the place where young ladies can show their individuality.” All of the shirts were white of course, but there were so many materials and styles to consider. Tiny pearl or gold buttons, rows of lace, ties, and types of linen and silk were all seen, commented on, and considered. Most of the new blouses she purchased were silk: from a light material that would be almost translucent under the shirtwaist, to a heavy twilled silk blouse for the chilliest winter weather. She added a white wool blouse, and a matching undershirt.
She chose a light shawl, a heavy cloak, and three pair of gloves, though she expected she would be picking up another pair or two at the milliner’s when she looked at hats. She sighed as the seamstress wrapped the packages in brown paper. The woman had gotten much friendlier once she saw the card Mr. Smith had given her. Mia made a mental note not to come back to this shop when she needed more clothing for winter. She was bleeding a little where the seamstress had poked a bit harder than she should have while fitting the uniforms up.
They still had to shop for stockings, under-things, nightdresses, and shoes. The list of things she suddenly needed seemed endless. Exhausted, she and Emma made their way back to their rooms for tea. It was a fine meal, and Emma rested while Mia read a book she’d gotten at a street vender in between shops. Imagine, being able to buy a new book on the street! It wasn’t even a market day. Things were very different in the City.
Her first glimpse of the college came the next day when she picked up her course schedule. It was a sprawling complex totaling over fifty buildings. If asked, a student of architecture could trace the various styles to every major period in City history. Some were showpieces of flamboyant carving and glasswork; others were models of more subtle craftsmanship. There were spiraling towers, domes, arches, and flying buttresses: occasionally all on the same building.
Mia walked hesitantly up the stair of the man office, and queried the busy woman behind the first desk. The woman mutely pointed to a desk with a sign that read “schedules” without looking up from the strange machine she was working on. It took up the whole working area, with hundreds of individual brass buttons set up like an organ. She was pressing those buttons at a rapid rate, making a soft clicking noise with each tap. The sound was at once irritating and vaguely appealing, assuming as Mia did, that the quick taps were accomplishing a great deal. She was inclined to linger and watch this fascinating procedure, but Emma steered her to the desk.
A plump woman with three pencils sticking out of her hair at odd angles handed Mia a slip of parchment containing a rather full schedule. Mia took the slip and counted the classes. She was surprised to see that she’d been assigned thirteen. She glanced up and noticed that the lady was watching her intently: she blushed and thanked her, and walked outside with Emma.
Another bout of shopping ensued. Mia bought three additional dresses and matching slippers to wear on rest days, a sky blue, a deep purple, and an emerald silk that was too fancy for anything she was likely to be doing. But it was such a lovely color and cut in the popular mermaid style! It brought to mind old daydreams from when she was a very little girl: days when a ragged shawl tied around her waist became a fashionable gown and she danced away the night in the arms of a handsome Greatlord at a fabulous party. So she’d bought the emerald dress, however impractical it might have been.
The seamstresses weren’t the only place to spend gold in the City. Each class had a list of supplies to purchase. The trip to the bookshop shouldn’t have taken a full day to complete, except that Mia was hopelessly addicted to books and her fingers itched when she saw the tightly-packed rows in the store. They left only as the shop was closing: the sales clerk turned the lock after he walked them out. Mia could barely see over the stack of books she was carrying to the boarding house.
She felt a greedy glee as she contemplated the pristine covers of her purchases. She’d never bought so many books at once before in her life. They were new; some of them were newly published. They were fascinating, even if they were mostly background material for her classes. The shop was sending the actual course books on to the boarding house tomorrow. She felt like dancing, like only the heavy load of books kept her from floating off the pavement. That night she read until the book fell out of her hands, when the boardinghouse was completely quiet. Emma woke up at some point in the night and forced her into bed.
Mia had a long list of potion-making ingredients…about half of them were already scratched off, thanks to Emma. “No reason to buy Troll’s Foot Mushrooms in the City…most of them come from Forestreach anyway!”
That didn’t keep Mia from compiling a copious list of products to purchase.
Emma hurried along a little side street, passing several large apothecaries with shining displays of state-of-the art gizmos that Mia couldn’t wait to see. “Emma! Did you see…?”
Emma snorted. “Tourist traps. Arm-chair potion makers and dabblers. They’d load your arms so full of ‘time savers’ so that you won’t notice that their potion ingredients are sub-par. We’re going to see someone who actually knows his business…I know he does…he orders a lot of it from me.” Mia rolled her eyes as her guardian winked and hurried along the narrow side street.
The faded sign outside the shop advertized it simply as ‘Apothecary’ in neat black lettering. The windows were wavy amber glass…impossible to see through. Emma walked in without a backward glance.
The interior of the shop was rather dark after the bright light outside. A dumpy little shop keeper was speaking with a man by the register in low tones. Emma ignored the pair and went down an aisle that was marked “Fins-Frankincense”. Mia walked over to a tall stack of copper boilers near the counter.
“That’s a rather large fee for a permit Greatlord…” The little man behind the counter was almost trembling, Mia could hear it in his voice. She snuck a peek at the Greatlord…all she could really see was his large back in a dark coat. “The new fees are necessary after that terrible mess with the potion maker’s guild last month. Since the guild has been incompetent in the management of potion making, it is my duty to regulate it…for the good of the City, of course.” The little old
man handed over three large gold coins, and the Greatlord passed him a slip of paper. “Display this in the store window so that it can be seen from the outside. The guards will avoid your shop while conducting raids for faulty potions.” The little man’s eyes widened, as the Greatlord smiled toothily. “You’ve made the right decision Dobbs. I’d hate to see this place after a raid. The guard is only human, and they do tend to get a bit overzealous when the health and welfare of the community is in question.” He walked a few feet toward the door and turned back. “You can give your monthly renewal fee to any guard who comes in to check up as the month wears on. Save you a trip to City Hall.”
The little man let his head sink into his hands for a moment, then turned his eyes to Mia as she tried to look engrossed by the simple double boiler in front of her. Thankfully Emma chose that moment to walk up to the counter.
“Emma!” The little man shed the look of despair instantly as he clutched Emma’s hand (the one that wasn’t holding a deep red root and two baggies of herbs). “Dobbs.” Emma grinned. “How is business?”
The little man hustled around the counter and pulled out a large basket. “It’s always good when you are in town!” He grinned and Emma threw back her head and laughed. “You know me too well.” She put the root and herbs in the basket and extended her hand to Mia. “Dobbs, I want you to meet Amelia Rusticov, the child I’ve fostered all these years.” The little man nodded pleasantly. “I suppose you’ll be going to college this year Miss? All to the good. Once we get you settled, you can just send me lists of ingredients through the year and I’ll have them sent up for you…you’ll be needing the full starter pack then?” He started down an aisle but Emma grinned at him.
“Don’t be silly Dobbs. I made sure Mia had plenty of herbs from Forestreach. But she isn’t your typical first year Alchemy student.” Dobbs snorted. “I should hope not.”
Emma grinned. “Quite right. No my girl has been helping me gather rare herbs since she was knee high.” She pulled out the long list that Mia had made. Dobbs’ eyes widened in delight. “She’s got her school list of course, but I have a few items myself.” Emma grinned and Dobbs went to get the hand cart.
An hour later Mia was debating cauldrons while Dobbs and Emma were chatting over tea. “I just prefer the cold-pressed oil for my most temperamental brews. It wouldn’t matter if I put the solvent extracted hippopotamus oil in a tummy tantrum tonic but it might cause teal colored warts to pop up if I used it in a sound amplification philter.” Dobbs rolled his eyes. “That’s what was causing the warts! I wish I’d know that a few weeks ago.” He looked around the store nervously. “Greatlord Strathorne shut down three of my best customers last month.”
He shook his head as he measured out powdered eel toes. “The regulations for potion-making in the City have really tightened up in the past year.” He looked around nervously. “Not that I blame the Greatlord, mind.” He seemed much too eager to get that point across in Mia’s opinion. “Some of these local people were accused of putting the most appalling things in their potions, trying to stretch them so they could sell less for more as it were…at least, that’s what the Greatlord was claiming.” There was something in his tone that alerted Mia. Emma crooked a brow. “You don’t think they were actually doing it?” Dobbs adjusted his scale.
“The Greatlord certainly does, and I suppose that has to be good enough for the rest of us. There was certainly no open court so the rest of us could hear the evidence…” Emma frowned. “There should have been. And since when does Strathorne regulate potion-making ingredients? Where was the Guild?” The apothecary twitched. “Greatlord Hudson is the current Guildmaster, and he actually protested, but Greatlord Strathorne told him it was a matter of City security, making it his problem. Hudson backed off.” The little man shrugged. “Who wouldn’t have?” Dobbs added another pouch to the growing stack. “Aside from the Greatlord’s rather unsavory reputation…” he glanced at Mia and looked back to Emma. “Well…Strathorne has quite the reputation on the dueling ground…and enough clout that they say he doesn’t always have to deal with the normal regulations…” Dobbs cleared his throat nervously. “But apart from all that, we have had several deaths due to faulty potions in the last year alone. And the rumors are that the potion makers were knowingly adding rat pellets and pigeon droppings to their brews….” He shook his head again. “We had a lot of sick people and the potions were certainly bought from those potion makers…” Emma’s eyes flashed to Mia’s face. As always there was a slight contraction around Mia’s heart when she thought about faulty potions…it was how her mother died, after all.
Emma’s tone became fierce. “Serves them right then. What sort of sentence did they get?” The apothecary nodded. “The worst offender was banished; the other two were ruined, paying damages to their ex-customers.” He measured out a pint of snake oil in an amber bottle. “That should ride just fine back to Forestreach if we wrap it in cloth.” In between Emma and Mia, they bought so much that the little apothecary offered to send the supplies on to their rooms free of charge.
Seven days before the term began Mia received a note at breakfast. Mrs. Sullivan’s serving girl announced a footman dressed in College livery and wearing an antiquated powdered wig. He handed a heavy parchment note to Mia, who broke the seal with no little surprise. Who would be writing to her?
She mutely handed the note to Emma after reading it. Emma respectfully told the footman that they would be very pleased to have tea with Headmistress Villanova this afternoon. The man nodded his powdered head and left. The wig didn’t move an inch on his head. A small portion of her mind wondered if he used a spell or an adhesive.
Mia picked the heavy parchment up from the table and stammered “Why does she need to talk to me?” Emma glanced at her charge cryptically and then started buttering a scone. “You’ll never know until you go, though I expect it might have something to do with all those stones you raised.” She took a large bite and a quick sip of tea. “Now, we’d best be off if we’re going to do any shopping today at all, and we need to buy the supplies for your music class.”
They arrived back at the boarding house right before luncheon with newly purchased sheets of piano and vocal music. Mia put them in a corner in the growing pile of school supplies. If they bought much more the supplies were going to need their own room. Class began in three days. Mia was looking forward to it, and dreading Emma’s departure.
She and Emma sat down to a quick luncheon. Mia wished they’d caught a bite with a street vender. Mrs. Sullivan’s ideas about lady’s lunches ran heavy to cress and cucumber sandwiches. They tasted alright, but didn’t give one a lot to run on. The landlady’s teas and dinners were more satisfactory to Mia’s way of thinking.
After they finished their light meal, they readied themselves for the upcoming ordeal. Dressed in one of her new school uniforms, Mia anxiously waited for the hired cab to take them to the college. Emma declared that three miles was too far to walk, eyeing the shoes she’d chosen to wear this afternoon with some dislike. “These shoes were made for sitting.” The healer’s black half boots were neither fashionable nor comfortable, but they were in better shape than the brown leather shoes she’d worn most of the summer. Those comfortable moccasins were little more than soft leather socks with a slightly thicker sole attached. Without doubt, they were the shoes of a country dweller. They were most often sported by woodsmen and hunters.
Mia had her own pair at home, but she hadn’t brought them to the City. Emma wore hers everywhere, ignoring the startled glances as they entered the shops around the City. The old healer seemed to take no notice of the fact the moccasins were too thin to walk comfortably on the stone sidewalks. Mia’s slippers had a full inch of padding, and her feet still hurt at the end of a day of shopping. The moccasins were most suitable for ghosting through the deep places in Forestreach, where speed and silence were more important than protecting one’s toes from branches and brambles. Emma picked up her old olive green shawl
and hurried her charge into the waiting cab.
Tea time occurred that day at the exact time it did every other day. Mia fidgeted while the cab made its way to the college, three miles taking thirty minutes because of the heavy traffic. She hadn’t realized how much quieter the bed and breakfast was until they were bouncing down the street in the cab. Mia wondered a little about how much Mrs. Sullivan must pay for the sound dampening spell she had on her grounds. The guard at the college opened the wrought iron gates for them, and suddenly, the noise of the streets, the venders, the carriages, the horses, and general hum of humanity disappeared. The only sound was the clip-clop of the horse trotting down the lane to the Headmistress’ domain. Mrs. Sullivan’s sound dampening spell was good, but the college’s was better. It was even quieter than Emma’s cottage.
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