A Student's Dream (Twisted Cogs Book 1)

by Hemmings, Malcolm

  “You think the arrow did that?” Elena asked.

  “Not likely. An arrow that small would’ve gone right through you, and you don’t have a matching mark on your back,” Ele said, “besides the fact that something that small going through you would cause damage. You’d be bleeding on the insides and all.”

  “I also saw the arrow,” Elena said, “it was a lot thicker than that mark, and it definitely stuck out of my front.” Her temples started prickling with the buzzing of the Storm, but she ignored it; she didn’t need to build anything right now. She carefully pressed at the pinprick. “It hurts. There’s a circle around the pinprick that’s sore.”

  “A large arrow hit you. It didn’t actually pierce skin or you’d be dead, but you did pass out.” Ele was pacing back and forth again, ticking things off on his fingers. “What if the arrow had a flat head? It would’ve knocked the wind out of you, and left that area of your chest sore. Of course that doesn’t explain why it stuck, or the pinprick, or the fact that you passed out.”

  The mystery was starting to annoy Elena. She knew nothing about what had laid her out for an entire night and made her nauseated for a day, knew nothing about the thing that had affected her own body.

  “What if we’re looking at it wrong?” The Storm’s buzzing was so strong in Elena’s temples it was making her feel heady. “What if it’s not a pinprick but something like a snake’s bite?”

  “Something sharp enough to pierce the skin, then injects a venom? Who the hell could make an arrow like that?”

  “A Machinator could make an arrow like that. An arrow with a flat head that sticks to skin, injects a venom.”

  “But that sort of arrow would be expensive to manufacture, and if it didn’t strike true the first time it would be ruined. They wouldn’t want to risk it. A smart Machinator would give the arrow to someone who wouldn’t miss.”

  “Right,” Ele nodded, “a Saggitari and a Machinator worked together to attack the studio, knocking you and Vittoria both out but not killing you.”

  “Even though it would’ve been much easier to just kill us. It sounds like a stretch but...it feels right,” Elena said. She was glad she didn’t have to explain just what felt right about it, because Ele was nodding. The buzzing of her power had thankfully stopped, and she worked the new information around in her mind. “It doesn’t really tell us anything about why though, does it? If we just knew what they were here for, or why they were so merciful...Ele stop staring at my chest!”

  “I may be an Echo, but I’m still human,” Ele grinned, but he turned towards the door. “The cooks will probably be starting breakfast soon, so why don’t you use the rainsluice and I’ll wait outside.” She couldn’t tell with his back turned, but she would be willing to bet that he was still grinning as he slipped through the wall.

  Elena stepped into the small rainsluice cubicle, shucking off her pants and underclothes as she went. At home they couldn’t afford a luxuries like a water closet or a rainsluice, but she had used one before during an extended visit to the Carpi Mayor’s estate. A handle hung in the middle of the cubicle on a chain, and she braced herself and pulled it.

  She was expecting the water to be ice cold like the Carpi Mayor’s, and when it turned out to be pleasantly warm she gasped with surprise. After the coughing subsided, she enjoyed the warm droplets that fell from the ceiling like rain, rinsing the sweat and grime of the past few days from her skin. When she stepped out of the water closet a few minutes later she felt refreshed and re-energized, although it still took larger amounts of effort than usual to move her muscles.

  Changing into fresh clothes made her feel even better, and when the older of the two cooks came to the door Elena was feeling almost entirely back to normal. His long grey hair was tied back in a ponytail, and he seemed in excellent spirits as well.

  “I am come to see if you helping with breakfast today,” he said in his thick accent, “little marble boy he say maybe you helping, maybe you sick. You look like you helping, yes?”

  “I’ll help, I’m feeling much better this morning,” Elena smiled. The cook returned her smile and held the door for her.

  “Is good. De Luca and marble boy, they worry of you. Your other garzoni, some of them worry of you too.”

  “Really? I wouldn’t have thought they’d care.”

  “Some of them, much care. They ask of your health, they seem sad for you,” the cook chatted away as they walked down the halls, much more animated than he had been when she had last seen him.

  “You seem in a good mood today, Mister...?”

  “‘Cook’, miss garzona, you call me ‘Cook’,” Cook smiled, “and am in good mood. Master De Luca gave extra help,” he gestured when they entered the kitchen, and Elena jumped.

  The man had blonde hair and blue eyes, and a smear of powdery flour half-obscured the mask he wore. Wearing a white apron and with his hands up to his elbows in heavy dough, the Rhetor gave Elena a brief nod before returning to kneading. In the corner a slightly plump man clad in the black armor of a Rhetorguard gave them an equally brief nod.

  “Master De Luca hired a Rhetor to help in the kitchens?” Elena asked incredulously.

  “Hire two. I like this one. He follow orders, he no talk,” Cook nodded sagely.

  “I think De Luca wanted to take advantage of a two-for-one deal,” the Rhetorguard said wryly, “he gives us both room and board, and he gets the security of a guard that has to stay in his studio, but he only has to pay my Rhetor his wages. I’m Eric, by the way.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Eric,” Elena eyed the Rhetor as Cook handed her the same bowl of cream he had before, and she started whisking. “What’s your Rhetor’s name?” The Rhetor paused for a few seconds at the question, giving her a curious look before turning back to the dough.

  “Eh, name? Don’t think he has one,” Eric didn’t seem like much of a talker, content to just lean back with and rest his hands on his stomach. If not for the steady gaze he kept on the blonde Rhetor’s back, Elena would’ve thought he was napping. “Although his friend just got a name. Pretty unusual, but she seems to be pretty happy about it.”

  “De Luca hire two masks,” Cook explained, “I send friend for fetch fresh tomatoes. Is back soon.”

  “His friend?” Ele asked. Elena didn’t need to look up to see who it was who had just entered, she could tell from the way her Echo’s eyes lit up.

  Standing in the doorway, clearly smiling behind her mask, Emerald gave Ele a little wave.

  Chapter XV

  Form and Function

  “So she’s the reason for Emerald’s new-found name?” Eric had gotten his hands on a jug of water, and he was throwing it back with as much abandon as another might’ve thrown back liquor.

  “Technically I’m the reason for her new-found name,” Ele corrected, “not that you can hear me.”

  Emerald was busy peeling potatoes into a small tub of water, but her eyes conveyed the quick smile that she gave him that her mask hid.

  “‘Cause...‘Cause of your Emerald eyes,” he stammered. The blonde Rhetor was still kneading dough, but he rolled his eyes at the pair.

  “I have green eyes too, you know,” Elena muttered.

  “You like that idea, Rhetor?” Eric asked from the corner where he said. “Should we start calling you...I dunno, you have blue eyes, what’s a blue gem?”

  “Garnet is blue gem,” Cook said informatively. Elena wasn’t sure if that was the case, but he seemed very confident.

  “What do you think, Rhetor? ‘Garnet’?” Eric asked. The man shook his head once, briefly. The flour on his mask stirred, and Elena noticed that the pattern on his mask resembled a snake. “Too bad, I like it. Garnet it is.”

  The Rhetor seemed annoyed but not surprised, pounding the dough a little harder but otherwise giving no indication that he had even heard.

  “Excuse me, Cook, can I borrow Elena for a few moments?” From the doorway Leanarda eyed the two Rhetor, while Leo focused more on El
ena.

  “I can whisk and talk at the same time,” Elena assured Cook, who was giving Leanarda a skeptical look. She took the bowl of cream with her just outside the kitchens.

  “You look like you’re doing better this morning,” Leanarda said brightly. “I was worried about you last night. Did one of the other garzoni do something to you? Is that why you and Vittoria were sick?”

  “No,” Elena shook her head firmly, “no one in this studio would do something like that.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure...” Leanarda looked both ways before leaning in conspiratorially. “One of the garzoni is going to plant something in your room just before lunch today. They’re going to try to get you kicked out.”

  “W-what? Who would do that? Why?” Elena was so shocked she forgot to keep whisking.

  “I already told you, Elena, the garzoni here are willing to do anything to get ahead. Just look at yesterday, do you really think it’s a coincidence that both you AND Vittoria got sick at the same time, just as we’re all starting our first projects?”

  “No, it wasn’t a coincidence, but it wasn’t what you’re thinking either. I know what happened to me, sort of, and it wasn’t one of the other garzoni.”

  “Really?” Leanarda’s eyes brightened. “Is that what you were arguing with Frederica and Carlo about? You said they ‘all knew’. What do they know? What did happen?”

  “Um...” Elena focused on the cream she was whisking. It had formed stiff peaks like Cook had asked her the last time, but she kept whisking it. In the bright light of a new day, she wasn’t entirely as willing to risk getting kicked out as she had been the night before. The fact that she could almost feel Ele staring daggers into her back also helped. “Look...I can’t really tell you what happened, Leanarda. I...I can’t really tell you anything. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh,” Leanarda leaned back, her face carefully expressionless.

  “If I could tell you I would-”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Leanarda’s smile returned, fractionally colder than it had been before, “I didn’t even come by to ask, I only wanted to warn you anyway. You know, since you and I agreed to help each other out.”

  “Leanarda, you have to believe me, I want to tell you, I really do.”

  “No apologies needed, Lucciano. I’m even a little proud of you, coming to grips with the studio being one big battleground. I’ll even keep to our agreement, if you like,” Leanarda turned with just a tiny bounce in her step, “although I think you owe me one now. Not that I’m keeping track or anything, but warning you to check your bed before lunch is pretty ally-ly.”

  “Leanarda, who’s going to plant something? How did you find out about this?” Elena cried. Leanarda gave her a look over her shoulder, a cold smile with a single raised eyebrow.

  “I’m afraid I really can’t tell you anything, Lucciano. I’m sorry,” she said. Leo gave Elena and Ele an appraising glance before he turned to follow Leanarda out of the hall.

  “You’re ‘Lucciano’ now, not ‘Elena’,” Ele commented dryly when they were out of earshot.

  “Oh shut up, Ele, you got what you wanted, she’s not really an ally anymore. You should be happy.” Elena took the bowl of cream back in the direction of the kitchens.

  “I would’ve been happier if it had been you ditching her. She wouldn’t think she has the power like she does now.”

  “Ele, that’s so cynical! I don’t even know how you can think like that. I could never think like that.”

  “I know,” said Ele darkly, “that’s the problem.”

  ***

  “I think I speak for all of us when I welcome you back, Elena, Vittoria.” Master De Luca gave Elena a smile just as bright and affectionate as the one he gave Vittoria; anyone observing would think he had known her for more than a handful of days.

  “I’m just glad it wasn’t anything more serious than a flu,” Frederica on the other hand was very obviously more concerned about Vittoria’s well being.

  That’s fair, Elena thought to herself, they’ve been through a lot together, even if they are rivals. Maybe I’ll feel the same way about Leanarda, Mella, or Lorenzo next year. Whichever of us make it that far...

  “It’s certainly fortunate that you recovered before I had to leave,” Master De Luca said, suddenly serious, “I like to give my students more access to my resources before I leave, but I’m afraid the Florenzian royalty don’t always take my desires into consideration when they summon me.”

  “Master Bernardo, what is the Florenzian court like?” Lorenzo asked. Elena blinked at the pretty boy’s use of the Master’s first name, but if De Luca was angered he didn’t give any indication.

  “Of course, you of all people would be interested in the Florenzian court,” De Luca chuckled, “I suppose you intend to end up there?”

  “I always heard it was easier for Machinators to rise to the courts,” Lorenzo mumbled around a mouthful of bread. Elena frowned into her plate. It was terribly unfair, but it was true. While she hoped to someday reach the Courts of Milia, a Machinator was too valuable to waste in the relatively smaller cities like this one.

  “It’s hard to describe a city like Florenzia. Generations of the finest Stormtouched don’t just leave a mark on the city, they become the city. It’s like nothing else you’ll ever see,” De Luca sighed, “miracles are everyday there, and sometimes I think that there’s no part of it that isn’t a work of art. I like the slow pace of Milia, don’t get me wrong, and it doesn’t hurt that here I’m given the respect of a god. But in Florenzia...just walking through Florenzia makes me feel like one.”

  The table was silent for a long moment as the garzoni hung onto the mental image De Luca had painted for them, each caught up in their own fantasies.

  “Doesn’t it feel strange though? Going from here to being around the most powerful Stormtouched in the world?” Mella asked.

  “You’d be surprised how little one is affected by it,” De Luca shrugged, “after all, how often does one’s Storm come up in daily life? You’ve heard of Lady Allium? No? She is a Caelator so powerful that she can sculpt things that don’t exist in the world, and still give them the gift of life. Dogs that can speak, flying lions, that sort of thing. And yet she doesn’t exactly bring them with her when she visits you for tea, do you follow? A person is just a person, students, whether touched by the Storm or not. Remember that.”

  “What about Artifexes, Master De Luca?” Mella asked excitedly, “what can the Artifexes of Florenzia do?”

  “It is said,” Master De Luca wiped his mouth and leaned back in his chair, “that Master Coastering can paint a picture of those who have died, and the picture will speak to you with all of the memories that the man had in life. They say he has a macabre gallery beneath his house, the only places you can hear the voices of the dead once more.”

  “Are you telling that horrible dead-painting tale again you dramatic old man?” Bea smiled from the Echos’ table.

  “They asked this time!” Master De Luca chuckled. “It’s my best Artifex story. And before you others ask, I’ll share more that I know. Lorenzo, I can’t even begin to describe the best Machinator I’ve met or heard of in Florenzia, but I’ll tell you one of my favorites. He’s very very young, ten or so I think, but he created this tiny device that will remove the scent from any room. It’s completely astounding; a press of a tab and the room becomes odorless in an instant! They make fun of him, but I find it genius.”

  Elena was just as enraptured by the tales of Florenzia as the others, her breakfast forgotten. Why hadn’t she ever heard of wonders like that growing up? For as much as she was obsessed with the big cities, Milia included, this was the first she had heard of the Stormtouched in those cities.

  “Let us see...Niccolo, have you heard of Apollo the True Eye, Master Saggitari?” Master De Luca was clearly enjoying himself.

  “I’ve heard of him,” Niccolo replied, “his real name can’t possibly be ‘Apollo’, can it?”

&nb
sp; “I’d not dare to be the one to question him on it,” De Luca chuckled, “Apollo the True Eye shoots his arrows straight into the air, and they still fall onto his marks. Run from him, stand still as a stone, take a few steps one way or another, his arrows hit their mark.”

  “But...that’s impossible,” Leanarda objected, “that’s not aim, that’s precognition! Saggitari Storms concern aim.”

  De Luca simply shrugged. “Who are we to say that a Saggitari’s Storm gives them perfect aim? Can any of us truly say we know the intricacies of how the Storm operates? Maybe a Saggitari’s true Touch is that they manipulate destiny, their arrows fated to meet their target.”

  “Niccolo a manipulator of destiny...I don’t think I’ve ever been more frightened,” Carlo spoke up, and a chuckle went around the table.

  “As for you...Hmm,” Master De Luca turned to Elena and furrowed his brow, “you know...I don’t think I know any Master Faberi in Florenzia. Perhaps you will be the first, eh?”

  “She’s a Fabera?” Leanarda and Frederica exclaimed at the same time. Mella gave her a startled glance, and even Niccolo and Carlo looked surprised. Only Lorenzo seemed unperturbed by the news, and that might’ve been because he didn’t catch the implication of De Luca’s statement.

  “You hadn’t told them how you were touched by the Storm?” De Luca seemed surprised. Elena shook her head, wishing she could sink down in her chair until she was underneath the table where no one could stare at her. “Well...I would apologize for giving away your secret, but honestly, Miss Lucciano, how long did you think you could keep it secret from your fellow garzoni? You share a studio with them, you don’t think they would’ve figured it out?”

  What could she say? Elena didn’t want to repeat Pietro’s words in front of everyone, but she could tell from the incredulous looks that she was receiving that she didn’t have to repeat them; everyone was already thinking it. Faberi were useless. Faberi were pointless. Of all the garzoni in the studio, she was the one the studio could do without.