“Now, Master De Luca has already mentioned the ban on alcohol and drugs, but I must make it clear that even the barest hint of either will be cause for expulsion,” Bea picked up the conversation smoothly.
“I really don’t drink at all, that was just-”
“I’m glad to hear it. Now, as the newest and most green member of the household, you will rise early to help the cooks in the kitchen every morning. You will follow the cooks’ orders during the preparation of meals, and if they inform us that you are being unhelpful or unwilling to follow orders, that too is grounds for expulsion.”
Elena nodded. Maybe Bea expected her to be offended by being assigned ‘low’ labor, but she was used to working in the kitchens. The Luccianos only had one chef, and Elena often sacrificed her free time to help the elderly woman. It kept her mother from flying into a rage with the poor overworked woman.
“Every day the full garzoni will ensure that Master De Luca has the materials to carry out his work; it is the duty of the provisional garzoni, yourself included, to ensure the same for the full garzoni.”
“You don’t have servants to buy materials?” Elena asked, surprised.
“Each artist has their own preferences, their own tastes. It’s far too much for an unskilled servant to keep track of, and it’s far more difficult for them to gauge the quality of the items they’re buying or making. Yes, I said making; whenever possible we prefer to work with handmade material. You will be assigned a garzoni who will inform you what they expect, and you will be responsible for providing them. Some of them will be quite...” Bea seemed to search for the right words, “...particular about the materials they want, and those materials’ quality. Whatever standards they think need to be met, it is your responsibility to meet those standards, not theirs to lower them. Am I understood?”
“Yes ma’am.” How much pride did the typical supplicant have, that Bea kept pausing like this, as if at any moment Elena would throw a tantrum and storm off? Who cared that she would have to keep a full garzoni stocked with supplies, if it meant she had a chance of becoming one of them?
“In addition to your duties to the chefs and the full garzoni, you will naturally be given instruction by Master De Luca himself,” even though she already knew that part, Elena’s heart leapt in her chest at the words, “he is frequently away from the studio, and even more frequently busy with his work, so at any time he summons you, you must be available.”
“Of course, any time of the day or night!” Elena murmured. Bea gave her a hard look, as if searching her eyes for some sign of sarcasm.
“Very well. Come with me, and I’ll introduce you to the other garzoni. If you will get the door please, I dislike passing through walls.”
“You can walk through walls?” Ele had been silent up until this point, and when Bea turned to give him a curious look it seemed like he wished he had remained so. Elena took advantage of the pause to rush over and swing the heavy door open in front of them.
“I think you will both learn quite a lot in your time here,” Bea said, and stepped through the open door without further comment.
“Why did you recommend me to Master De Luca, Mistress Bea?” Elena couldn’t help but ask as they made their way down one of the open hallways. “I mean, I’m very grateful, but I...I got the impression when you gave me the tour that I annoyed you.”
“And yet you kept on asking questions,” Bea flashed a brief smile over her shoulder. “I like a curious student, one who is just as passionate about learning as she is about knowing.”
“But how can you know something without learning it?” Elena shook her head. Bea’s answers were proving even more confusing than the questions they were asking.
“If you’re as observant as I’ve noted you to be, I have a feeling you’ll find that out quite quickly. This door, if you please.” Elena pushed the heavy door open, and Bea indicated that she should walk through first. “Now to meet your fellow garzoni.”
Chapter IX
Many Introductions
From the moment that Elena entered the room, her confidence slipped just a bit. All eyes had turned in her direction, and expressions of the men and women who she would be spending the next few months with were uncomfortably intense. According to Master Du Luca there were seven of them in total, but since each was Stormtouched and their Echoes milled around in various places, Elena felt as if a crowd was staring her down.
The room itself was gorgeous, just like the rest of the studio. Long marble tables stood on either side, divided into four sections each by wooden panels. A smell like creativity and fresh air filled it, the scent of wood scraps and marble dust and a bitter scent Elena assumed was paints. High ceilings made it look even larger than it already was, and the light that poured in and reflected from mirrors in the corner lit the entire room. Lit it a little too well, in fact, as the hangover-headache that Elena had almost managed to forget came back full force.
“This is where the majority of the work in the studio gets done. Well, the work that isn’t done by Master De Luca,” Bea clarified. The room had been filled with chatter when they entered, but it was eerily silent now, and no one was even pretending to work. “There are quite a few disciplines, as I’m sure you could guess, but we try to keep this room well stocked with supplies for all of them. Each table is divided into four workspaces, and yours will be at the end there.”
The sections of table at the right were already filled with materials, blocks of wood and marble, pieces of canvas, brushes, chisels, and strange instruments that Elena wasn’t sure the use of. She doubted she would have much trouble providing materials for the full garzoni: there were so many supplies already spread out that it would probably be weeks before they needed to be replenished.
The table on the left was empty, only a bare set of unused tools laying in wait on each section. Each had been set up for different types of work, but the place at the end that Bea had indicated to Elena was empty.
They were already set to move on with just these seven, Elena realized, and it hit her again just how lucky she had been to get the spot, I only made it by a hair.
“Are there certain instruction or class times? Or times set aside to work on our art?” Elena felt that her question came out much louder than she had intended it, as if the weight of thirty eyes on her were intensifying her speech.
“Instruction times consist of whenever Master De Luca wants to teach you something,” Bea said, “and work times here in the studio are whenever you find the time; the only reason everyone is here today is because it is the single day of the month that the garzoni have off. The full garzoni have more time for their projects, since they have to do less work providing Master Bernardo with supplies than provisional garzoni.”
We’ll all be competing to be one of the top four, but they’ll have more time to work. It struck Elena as unfair, but she supposed they had earned it. Each of the full garzoni would’ve edged others out of their spots just a year or two ago. The thought made her nervous as she surveyed the men and women on the right of the workshop. They were veterans at this.
“The only true schedules beyond Master De Luca’s wishes are related to meals. The Master likes to use meal times to get to know his garzoni, so I suggest you never miss one. Although if there’s ever the choice between missing a meal and showing up late for one, I suggest you miss it. There’s little else to remember beyond your duties as a garzona, and little else to focus on besides your projects. We try to foster a peaceful environment here, one where art can flourish.”
The silence in the room was starting to creep Elena out, and she was grateful when Bea marched into the center of the room and spoke again.
“Alright, I’ll make my introductions quickly since I doubt you’ll be able to remember them all in so short a time. Starting with the full garzoni here on the right. At the end is Frederica, a Caelator and most senior member of De Luca’s garzoni.” As if timing the motion so that it would make a statement, Frederica, a woma
n with floppy brown curls, turned her back on Elena and Bea to resume her work. The boy standing next to her looked so similar he could’ve been her brother, from his brown curly hair to the impressive ability to make his back look disdainful. Bea continued as if the pair hadn’t just snubbed them.
“Next to her is Carlo, an Artifex who works solely with frescoes.” Elena hadn’t even known that Artifexes worked with specific materials, but over the man’s red ragtag mop of hair on the wall hung a single wall tile, decorated with soft reds and oranges that slowly swirled together like a trails of sand. His Echo had black hair down to her waist, and had her arms crossed. Her stance looked defensive, as if she was prepared to tackle anyone who approached.
“Welcome,” Carlo said, avoiding Elena’s gaze.
Is he frightened? Why would he be, when he doesn’t know whether I’m a threat or not?
“Vittoria is at the desk next to him, she too is an Artifex, works with oils. She’s the one standing.” Elena was glad she specified, since the woman looked exactly like her Echo. Both were blond with hazel eyes, and they even wore their hair in identical french braids.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you! Welcome to the studio, and relax, we don’t bite!” Vittoria and her Echo both smiled, their faces mirror images of each other. Elena’s stomach lurched at the momentary feeling of double-vision, but she returned the pair’s smile.
“Finally we have Niccolo, a bit of a departure since he is our sole non-artist.” Niccolo was on his feet and holding out a hand, and Elena shook it with some trepidation. He was large, muscled, and his handshake felt as if he could exert pressure and snap the bones in her fingers if he felt like it.
“I like to think that what I do is art,” he chuckled. Next to him, his Echo rolled her eyes. She was almost a direct contrast to him, waifish and spindly, but her smile was just as friendly.
“He’s a Saggitari, in case the gear on the desk didn’t clue you in,” the Echo said, and Elena observed now that while the others had working materials on their desks, Niccolo had arrows, quivers, and a small but beautifully crafted bow.
“You use a shortbow?” Elena asked. Typical stories of Saggitari always featured them with monstrous weapons, like bows bigger than a man, arrows as long as a horse.
“Ah deus please no, he’s going to say it again-” Niccolo’s Echo put her head in her hands, but Niccolo was already grinning a lopsided grin as he spoke.
“Well you know, it’s not the size of the weapon, it’s all in how you use it, m’lady.”
Elena flushed, and Bea fixed Niccolo with a steady look before turning to face the other side. “The rest are your fellow provisional garzoni, so I’m sure you’ll be making acquaintances in no time. Breakfast is soon, so I’ll be even briefer,” she pointed them out one by one, and Elena tried to commit them all to memory as soon as she heard them.
“Lorenzo, the studio’s very own Machinator.” He was pretty, with sweeping black hair and pouting lips, but he didn’t seem to notice that Bea had introduced him. His Echo, another model-like young man with wavy dark hair, waved at her vaguely.
“Mella, an Artifex working with pencils, which she says are soft lead, somewhat similar to charcoal.” Mella’ hair fell in frizzy red shocks, and she was as unlike her rather dignified looking Echo as possible. He looked as if not a hair was out of place, while she looked as if she couldn’t force her hair down.
“Finally Leanarda, another Artifex who works with oil.” She was a pale thing, and looked like a gust of wind would blow her away. Her Echo was a bit more sturdy-looking, but had deep bags beneath his eyes. Elena suddenly wondered if the Echoes slept or not.
“I...I’m pleased to meet you all,” Elena said to the room in general to fill the awkward silence, “that is, we’re both pleased to meet you all, aren’t we Ele?” She would have to be careful to include him, now that she was in a place where most of the others could interact with him.
“What? Oh, uh, yeah. Pleasure. Charmed,” Ele said, clearly caught off guard as well. Elena wasn’t sure if she had expected a welcome, but the sullen silence didn’t seem to bode well for her. Why did everyone look so miserable? Was there something about working as a garzoni that she had missed?
“Well, it is touching to see a little family forming like this,” Bea resembled Master De Luca when she spoke so wryly, “but it will be breakfast time in an hour or so. Elena, as the lowest garzoni you will be assisting the chefs, make your way to the kitchens please. Leanarda, congratulations, you’re relieved of that particular duty.”
Elena turned, a little relieved to get out of the room. Beautiful as it was, the atmosphere and attention was a little oppressive.
“I can help anyway,” the pale girl, Leanarda, stood from her bench, but seemed to be physically pushed back when the attention of the room turned to her. “I mean, just for today. Just because I don’t have anything to work on right now.”
“Thank you,” Elena smiled uneasily, and followed Bea through the doorway leaving the studio behind. As soon as she left, a low murmuring told her conversation had resumed in the room behind them, but the two girls and the three Echoes walked down the hall in silence.
Chapter X
Breaking Fast
“The kitchens are cooler than I remember them being in the tour,” Elena said.
“Well, it is the morning. They probably heat up over the course of the day.”
Elena and Ele stood in the doorway, watching the coordinated chaos of the two cooks within. One of them was very large and bald, the other thin and elderly, but the two of them moved quickly and efficiently around the kitchen. Behind them, the pale girl who had volunteered and her Echo watched over their shoulders.
“You’ve been here before? I thought you only got here today,” she said.
Before either of them could answer, the fat cook pointed a wire whisk at the group in the door. “Which of you is garzona who help us for next few months?”
“That’s me,” Elena replied, “and this is...Leanarda, right?”
“Leanarda and Leo,” Leanarda nodded.
“We never learn names until the provisionals leave,” the cook briskly passed them two small wooden bowls and a glass bottle of cream. “Whip until is foam. Whisks on wall behind you. Please to stay out of underfoot.”
Elena couldn’t quite place the cook’s accent, but his instructions were at least clear. Elena and Leanarda found small stools in the corner, split the cream between them, and began whisking. Ele leaned against the wall with his arms folded, watching the kitchen, and as if taking his cue Leanarda’s Echo waited in silence as well, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Leanarda.
The two cooks moved with the ease of dancers, and Elena was so fascinated watching them that she had to remind herself to keep whisking. Despite their complete differences they coordinated as if they had practiced for years.
They ducked around each other, passing items and mixing ingredients. At one point the fat man tossed a heavy cast-iron skillet across the room without a word of warning, and the older cook snatched it from the air and placed it on the stone stovetop.
“You said your name was Elena?” Leanarda prodded.
“Oh, yes I’m Elena and this is Ele. Thank you for helping me today, by the way. I know you didn’t have to do that.”
“It’s alright, it was an excuse to get out of that room. We don’t really have anything to do yet, so the three of us provisional garzoni were just sort of sitting around awkwardly. Besides, it can’t hurt to help out a fellow garzona,” Leanarda flashed a quick smile.
“I got the impression that most of our fellow garzoni would disagree,” Elena murmured, “the full garzoni all seemed a little...moody, didn’t they? Like they were angry at me.”
“Can you blame them? Four of us are going to be turned out into the streets in a few months, that doesn’t exactly engender a helpful community spirit.”
“Isn’t this place supposed to be about art? About learning to make things of bea
uty?”
“We can’t learn if we’re not here. When it comes down to it, one more garzona means one more person they have to fight to keep their place.”
“But I don’t want to fight anyone!”
“They’ll fight you, though.” They had been talking quietly, but Leanarda lowered her voice further, “listen, Elena, I know you have to have dreams of being a wonderful Artifex or Caelator or...” she paused to let Elena supply the word, but Elena blushed and kept silent. Pietro’s attitude had told her what people thought of Fabera. After a moment, Leanarda continued, “the rest dream too. If they have to take you down to reach their dreams they’re not going to play nice, they’ll do it in an instant.”
“Why are you telling us this?” Ele challenged. “If you’re so sure it’ll be ruthless here then why warn us?”
“Because maybe fighting isn’t the best way to get ahead,” Leanarda said carefully, “instead of tearing each other down, a few of us could work together to lift each other up. I’ve tried the ‘enemies’ thing, allies is easier.”
Elena considered the implied offer for a few minutes, while Leanarda lapsed into silence. She hated that her simple presence in the studio had earned her seven new rivals, and she couldn’t deny the appeal of...what exactly? Friends? Allies?
“Right now you’re wondering whether or not you can trust me,” Leanarda guessed.
“Sort of. I guess I’m wondering what exactly you’re offering here.”
“Nothing sinister. I get the feeling there are going to be a lot of opportunities to screw each other over while we’re here. You and I could agree to not take those opportunities. Maybe keep other people from taking those opportunities.”
“I think that’s the strangest way I’ve ever been asked to be friends.”
Leanarda grinned.
“I’m wondering whether or not we can trust you,” Ele broke in, “you were a supplicant, this is your first day here, but you seem to have given this an awful lot of thought. No offense intended, but it makes you sound a little manipulative.”
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