A Student's Dream (Twisted Cogs Book 1)

by Hemmings, Malcolm

  “Tense...shun. There’s tension in...in...in th’ what’s it. In th’air. Lotta tense...um...don’t...don’t make things awkw’rd Ele-”

  Arta interrupted by murmuring something. It was such a nice voice, Elena was glad that Arta was going to be her friend. Arturo was her friend too, but in a different way because he was so comfortable to lay on...but he was standing up now, and Elena grumbled. Ele was saying other things, and Arta and Arturo were talking back. At least Ele didn’t seem so angry anymore. Arta must’ve figured out a way to tell them what Elena was trying to say.

  They walked down the street together, three friends talking, giggling and laughing. Well, Arta Ele and Arturo doing most of the talking, Elena doing most of the giggling and laughing. She saw the marble boy yelling at them before the others did, and she was worried they’d gone too far, but Arturo just held her steady.

  A nice cool room, a cup of something that tasted minty and sweet, although not as sweet as the fruit wine. Where was the fruit wine? The marble boy must’ve taken it, because he was trying to talk but Arturo was yelling angrily. Pietro, that was the marble boy’s name. He didn’t seem to be very impressed with Arturo. Arta said something to Ele, and then they left, leaving her alone with just Ele and Pietro for company. Pietro and Ele didn’t talk to each other, which Elena found quite a shame because they were both uptight and would probably enjoy each others’ company.

  She wasn’t quite sure how much later, but there were others in the room now. An old lady, and also an old man in an yellow robe. He was looking at her with such disdain that for a moment it sobered her up, long enough at least to recognize the room as Pietro’s office, and the old lady as the head housekeeper. Everything got all blurry after that. Ele was talking to both of the old people, and Elena was sure he had everything well under control.

  Chapter VIII

  Light of a New Day

  Elena wasn’t entirely sure which woke her up, the roiling in her stomach, the bitterness in her throat, the ridiculously bright light, the piercing headache, or the crashing and clattering that seemed to come from all around her. She tumbled out of bed without opening her eyes, and the second she hit the ground her stomach lurched and she knew she was going to throw up.

  She couldn’t vomit on her mother’s things, even half asleep and feeling ill she knew she couldn’t afford whatever punishment her mother would devise for that mistake. Taking a deep breath she opened an eye a crack, regretting it when the light slammed into the back of her head. There was a water closet adjoining the room, and although she didn’t remember the tiny inn having a water closet, she wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth right now.

  It was like torture, but eventually her stomach had emptied its contents into the bowl on the floor, and though her head felt even worse, her insides felt marginally better. Her eyes still clamped shut, she groped around blindly until she found the heavy lever set in the floor, and pulled. A rush of water flew through the bowl’s bottom, carrying the refuse away, and Elena leaned her head against the cool metal of the bowl.

  “Thank the Lord for whatever Machinator invented the water closet, and thank the Storm for touching him,” she moaned with a tongue that felt thick.

  “They’d probably thank you to keep their names off of your liquor-coated tongue,” Ele said from behind her, and Elena groaned and hauled herself to her feet, braving the light and opening her eyes again to find the washbasin. There was certainly no washbasin in the inn’s room, and she was waking up enough to realize that that wasn’t where she was.

  “Alright...starting to come back to my senses. This isn’t the inn, but I don’t remember what happened after meeting Arturo and Arta,” she admitted, splashing her face with cold water and finding things only slightly improved. “Did I check into another one? How did I afford it?”

  Ele was giving her a smug look and not answering, which meant that he was in one of his moods again.

  Is he ever not in one of his moods? the thought reminded Elena of a blurry memory of the night before. “I remember you telling me to stop drinking the wine, you said I wasn’t handling it well. What happened afterward?” Of all the noises around her, Ele’s voice was the only sound that didn’t make her wince in pain.

  “Let’s see...you kept drinking that wine, even though I told you not to. I think we can both see that I was right,” Ele stood in the doorway, arms crossed, and Elena glared at his smug face through eyes that she knew were baggy. She didn’t give him the opportunity to gloat further, making a shooing motion as she walked through him back into the room. If he insisted on being unhelpful, she could figure it out on her own.

  She hadn’t been imagining it, the room was brighter than normal, because the walls and floor were made of a white marble that reflected the morning sun’s rays of light. The window opposite the bed was the largest she had ever seen.

  Behind her, Ele continued, “your new ‘friend’ Arturo started to make advances, attempted to take advantage of you when you were drunk.”

  “I’m not listening to you, I’m figuring it out on my own thank you,” Elena raised her chin haughtily as she looked around the room, “besides, that’s ridiculous, I would’ve remembered that. He was a little...flirtatious...but so was I, it was just the wine.”

  “Don’t make that nose-in-the-air face, you look like your mother when you make that face. Anyway, Arturo did help guide you down the street, since you couldn’t walk on your own, because you kept drinking that wine even though I told you not to.”

  “Almost as if he’s a perfect gentleman who just happened to have a little too much wine,” Elena ignored the dig as she looked around for her effects. Her things weren’t in the room, but a neatly folded set of white breeches and blouse, each with a stripe of deep yellow, lay on a small wooden table by the bed.

  “Yes, Arta said it was just the wine too. I still don’t think I’d be comfortable around him if it wasn’t for the influence Arta had over him, and I certainly wouldn’t be comfortable with him being around you. You humans and your alcohol.”

  “Ele, please, can you just tell me where I am?”

  “Oh that’s right, you probably don’t remember since you drank all that wine, even though I told you-”

  “Ele!”

  “You’re in a small room off of the hallway outside Master De Luca’s kitchens. The dorm is broken up into several small rooms like this. This one is reserved for the lowest of his garzoni.”

  “This is the room of his lowest garzoni?” Elena blinked, “but it’s so beautiful! I can’t even imagine what the more advanced garzoni...wait...” slowly and painfully, Elena’s mind began to catch up to the wide grin on Ele’s face. “...Ele...why am I in a small room off of Master De Luca’s et cetera et cetera?”

  “Oh, that’s right, you don’t even know,” Ele examined his nails, a completely unnecessary gesture since they didn’t gather dirt, break, or grow. Perhaps sensing her agitation he dropped the farce. “You’re here because, as of last night, you, Miss Elena Lucciano are Master De Luca’s lowest garzona.”

  Elena staggered, bracing herself against the wall. She stared at her Echo’s face, hesitant to believe him. “Is...is that true?” she whispered, “Ele I swear if you’re lying I’ll find a way to hurt you. I’m...I’m a De Luca garzona?”

  “I’m not lying, believe it or not. Pietro found you drunk and stumbling outside of the studio and took you in to meet Master De Luca himself. You made...well...an impression.”

  “Oh my God,” Elena buried her face in her hands. “Oh my God and by all the Holy Saints what have I done? He met me when I was drunk? But he still...”

  “He still took you on, although I convinced him to let you sleep it off before you discussed anything officially with him. He told me to let you know to change into the uniform and meet him in his study when you woke up.”

  “And you kept me here yammering this whole time?” Elena shrieked.

  ***

  The uniform was comfortable, modest a
nd plain, but it might as well have been spun of gold for how it made Elena feel. It was a little loose on her, and she nervously tugged at the edge of the shirt as she waited outside of De Luca’s office. The older of the cooks had told her where to find the office, situated in a snug corner on the upper floor of the studio. Lucky for her that the room she had slept in was right next to the kitchens.

  It was still “the” room, not “her” room. It was all so sudden and out of the blue, and Elena’s stomach was in a knot waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  Everything here is a work of art, she thought, glancing up at the ornate designs painted on the edges of the ceiling, at the scrollwork carved into the door she’d just knocked on. Who would’ve thought I would be here to enjoy all of this, when just a day ago I was leaving here crying, worrying about my future and what my mother was thinking...

  “Where is my mother? What has she said about all of this?” Elena asked suddenly.

  “She’s still back at the inn, as far as I know,” Ele replied, “and if there’s any hint of motherly affection in her reptilian heart she’s wondering if she went too far in sending her daughter out on her own at night.”

  Elena didn’t share Ele’s glee, but before she could speak her concern a voice interrupted her thoughts.

  “Come in.” The voice was exactly what she had been expecting from Master De Luca; wise, aged and somber, and Elena’s still-upset stomach did a flip-flop.

  You will NOT throw up in front of Master De Luca, Elena told herself as she swung the door open to enter the private study on the other side.

  In other circumstances, Elena would’ve been sure to notice details about the room; something about the dark wood of the floors, or the many bookshelves that lined the walls. As it was, she noticed nothing about the room she stood in, despite how often she had imagined standing in this very spot. There were walls, and she was pretty sure a floor and a desk, but leaning over the desk was a man whose presence wiped away any other feature of the room.

  He was rather elderly, with a long and neatly trimmed beard that reached to his stomach. Wisps of fine white hair framed his face, making it seem stern regardless of his expression. The clothes he wore were almost as simple as hers; black breeches and a dark doublet embellished by a light yellow jacket. His only nod to fashion was the beret he wore, which boasted a single feather. He stood next to his desk, bending over a large book full of what looked like architectural designs or blueprints.

  “It’s an honor to be in your presence, Master De Luca,” Elena said respectfully. She clasped her hands in front of her, holding her feet together and waiting with a bowed head for her superior to speak.

  “Hm.” Master De Luca’s voice was dry, the remains of a rich baritone rasping a little with age. “Now that she’s not half-drowned in wine, I can see that she has a courtly manner about her.”

  “A girl of many faces, yes.” It took Elena by surprise that there was someone else in the room; Master De Luca had taken up so much of her attention that she hadn’t noticed Bea, the head housekeeper who had given her a tour the day before, standing in the corner. She was smiling as she spoke, “thus far I’ve seen an inquisitive scamp, a drunk rascal, and now apparently a would-be courtier.”

  “This face suits her, I think,” Master De Luca said thoughtfully. Elena silently thanked her mother for the lessons on etiquette. They had been difficult, and often painful when she messed them up too badly, but she had always known that they would come in useful. If Elena was to someday be an artist in the Milian Prince’s court, she would need to know how to act like she belonged there.

  “Although,” Master De Luca continued, “I can’t imagine where she got it from.”

  “Pietro says that her mother insists the Luccianos are well-considered in the upper echelons of Carpi politics,” Bea said.

  “Yes, and knowing Carpi I’m forced to wonder again, where did she learn courtly manners?” Master De Luca chuckled and closed the book he had been studying. He turned to study her as he walked around the desk and sat, clasping his hands in front of him. “Now, Elena Lucciano, are you completely sobered up?”

  “Yes sir, very much so sir.” Elena was so excited she could barely get the words out. Sure, it might not have been in the context that she had imagined, but Master Bernardo De Luca was actually talking to her! Face to face with one of the Masters of Italozian art, Elena had to force herself to focus on what he was actually saying.

  “I doubt you remember much of last night, but suffice it to say you are quite lucky that you came so highly recommended. While you are in my household, you’ll not touch alcohol, nor recreational drugs. I trust that will be acceptable?”

  “Of course sir!” Elena restrained herself from bouncing up and down. It was true! All that she could hope for, and it was true! And someone had recommended her? She barely knew anyone in the city, let alone someone who could sway the opinion of Master De Luca.

  “Good. Sit down, if you please.”

  Elena was glad she had thrown up earlier, so there was no chance that her body would betray her in the tension of the moment. Her head still pounded, and the light was still too bright, but she barely noticed as she sat down almost gingerly across from the Master, finally meeting his eyes. They were rather disappointing, a colorless grey instead of the vibrant colors she had imagined, but they narrowed as if he could read her thoughts.

  Elena ducked her head, feeling like a child. She knew she should be doing something, saying something, she should be trying to impress him or at least explain herself. Master De Luca finally broke the silence. “I am a man of directness, Miss Lucciano, at least to those I don’t need something from. I tend towards brutal frankness, so you would be wise to expect and prepare for my frank opinion.” This was not at all what Elena expected, but before she could think of anything to say he was forging on.

  “My frank opinion of you is that you should count yourself an incredibly lucky young woman to be sitting in that seat right now. My secretary Pietro determined that you were not fit to meet with me. You are a Fabera, one of the Touched which my studio never accepts. My own encounter with you last night gave me the impression that you were a drunk, a drooling idiot, who kept the company of the deplorable and the low.”

  His words were like a slap in the face, and Elena didn’t know how to respond. Rather than say something that would only embarrass herself, she bit her lip and kept quiet.

  “To your great fortune, my own Echo is far more curious than I. Her curiosity was such that when you broke into my studio, she decided to observe you rather than throw you out as I would have.”

  Elena turned, startled, to the woman who stood in the corner. Bea...Master De Luca’s Echo. The elder woman nodded once, a faint smile playing around the corner of her lips.

  “You told me that you were the housekeeper,” Elena said, flustered.

  “What I actually said was that I keep the studio running when Master De Luca is locked up in his office,” Bea corrected. “The observational skill you showed during the tour was one of the reasons I recommended you, I certainly hope it wasn’t a fluke. I expect you to impress Master De Luca just as much as you impressed me.”

  Elena hadn’t known that Echoes existed until yesterday, and she wasn’t entirely sure what to do with this new information. Did Bea automatically deserve the same respect and awe that Master De Luca inspired? Should she be starstruck that she’d met Bea? Frightened? Pleased? Unsure of what she should do, Elena simply nodded.

  “She’s not a girl of many words, is she, Bea?” Master De Luca chuckled to his Echo.

  “I’m sorry, Master De Luca,” Elena gasped, tripping over her words in her haste to reassure him, “I just don’t know what to say and I’m so honored-”

  “It was a compliment, child, don’t ruin it,” De Luca’s smile disappeared as he turned back to her. “Now, I obviously place a lot of faith in my Echo’s opinion, enough to give you a place here for the very limited future. That being said, I sh
ould stress that you are on the very thinnest of ice when it comes to your place in this studio.”

  “I understand that, Master, I’m just grateful for the chance.”

  “I accept as many new supplicants into my studio as I wish every autumn,” Master De Luca continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “after the space of two months, enough time to become familiar with the supplicants, I send all but four away, as Studio De Luca only officially has four garzoni.”

  “How many supplicants did you take in this year, Master?” Elena asked, already trying to prepare herself for how much competition there would be.

  “You will make the fourth supplicant, if you join the studio. Today will start your probationary apprenticeship.” He held up a hand as if reading the hope in her eyes. “Please note, Miss Lucciano, that I said I keep four garzoni. Four garzoni total, among both my current students and the new supplicants that were brought on yesterday. If you expect to keep your place here, you had better impress me more than my current garzoni do.”

  Elena’s eyes widened, but she set her chin stubbornly.

  “I will.” Of the eight in his studio, all she had to do was be better than four of them, two months from now. That was all that was standing between her and the dream she had held for most of her childhood.

  “Your temerity is appreciated, though not altogether unprecedented.” Master De Luca’s voice was even more wry, though Elena wouldn’t have thought it possible. “You are not the first garzoni or garzona who has assured me they would win out, and if you fail to do so you won’t be the first to lie. Bea will go over the rest with you now, I must return to this.” He pulled the blueprints across the table to rest in his lap, dismissing her from his attention with an ease that seemed practiced.