A Student's Dream (Twisted Cogs Book 1)

by Hemmings, Malcolm

“I...I like you too," Elena stammered, “you sort of already make my heart all fluttery, even without the stars.”

  “Well that’s no fair, you didn’t even give me the chance to sweep you off your feet with all of the smooth little tricks I know. You’re depriving yourself.”

  “You, being smooth?” Elena teased, “I don’t know, I can’t quite picture it.”

  “Oh I can be quite smooth," Niccolo nodded sagely, “trust me, if you didn’t like me already, you would’ve fallen for me tonight.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your tricks," Elena laughed a bit shakily. Is this actually happening? Are we really having this conversation right now? “You should give me a sample, so I can gauge how effective it would be.”

  “Well first, we have a drink,” Niccolo offered her the cup again, and this time Elena took it.

  “I...I don’t think I should. I don’t don’t do very well with alcohol,” she said apologetically.

  “De Luca garzoni are forbidden from drinking alcohol. This is a heated and spiced cider, procured from a secret merchant that only I know of.”

  “How does the merchant stay in business if you’re the only person in Milia who knows about them?” Elena asked, taking a sip. It was surprisingly hot, and the taste of sweet apples tinged with nutmeg and cloves and some other taste she couldn’t identify lingered on her tongue.

  “It’s a great mystery,” Niccolo said. “Now normally this is where I’d let the silence of the night sink in, as we both enjoy our drink and look out over the city-”

  “You know how to be silent?” Elena smiled innocently, and Niccolo gave her a look.

  “I had Nicci stay away specifically so that I could be unimpeded by smart-alec responses, and now you take over.”

  “I’m sorry, go ahead, you were saying you normally let the silence sink in. Why aren’t you doing that now?”

  “Well because with all of this talking we’re behind schedule already,” Niccolo made a production of looking up at the moon to gauge the time, “you should be getting to sleep early for tomorrow, and at this rate it’ll take way too long to get to the part where I kiss you.”

  Elena felt as if the air had been knocked out of her lungs, and she spluttered and almost spilled her cider.

  “The p...you...did...” she stammered.

  “I think I’ve just figured out why I like being so upfront with you,” Niccolo grinned and sipped at his own cider, “your ‘flustered’ face is the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Elena tried to come up with some intelligent answer, then when that failed tried to come up with any answer at all, but the task seemed impossible and she was blushing so hard that it felt as if her face was as hot as the drink.

  “So anyway,” Niccolo said breezily, still smiling, “I would draw the conversation towards the stars, and the constellations. Anyone can enjoy the stars, but I think a Stormtouched especially can appreciate them. For instance, do you see over there, that grouping of stars? That’s the constellation Sagittarius. Those are my stars.”

  To illustrate where he was indicating he put a hand on her back and turned her slightly, pointing with his cup to the sky. He was close enough that Elena could feel the warmth of his body, and she was so aware of his hand on the small of her back that she could barely hear what he was saying to her.

  “It’s called ‘Sagittarius’ because the shape of the stars makes the figure of a centaur with a bow,” he said, seemingly unaware that she was finding it hard to catch her breath, “those stars form the drawn back arm, those others the bow do you see?”

  “Um...yes,” Elena lied. Violets and leather.

  “You are a horrible liar,” Niccolo grinned.

  “It looks more like a teapot,” Elena admitted, “and don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “What I’m doing?” Niccolo asked, his voice quiet enough that even standing so close she could barely hear him, “are you accusing me of having ulterior motives, taking you up here alone under the stars and the moon and making an excuse to stand so close to you?”

  “Yes,” Elena smiled and blushed, looking down at her cup, “are you sure this doesn’t have alcohol in it?”

  “Positive.”

  “I’m feeling a little lightheaded.”

  “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

  “That sounds so much more arrogant when Nicci isn’t around to make fun of you for it,” Elena lightly punched him on the shoulder, and he chuckled. “What about me? Where is the Fabera constellation?”

  “Just over there,” Niccolo turned away from her and indicated, “those nine bright stars make up the hammer and saw, crossed, do you see?”

  “I see them,” Elena lied again, looking at Niccolo’s profile, the way his brown hair fell carelessly around his face. When he turned back to look at her, his dark eyes seemed like magnets, his expression inscrutable but somehow expressive. Elena stood on her toes, closed her eyes, and kissed him.

  There was a small clatter as his cup fell to the ground, and his arms were suddenly around her, strong and powerful but gentle, careful. His lips tasted like cider and the smell of violets made her feel dizzy again, but all of that was secondary to the wonderful, amazing fact that she was kissing Niccolo, and he was kissing her back. In that moment, in the silence on the rooftop, the worries and stresses and fears of the past two months melted away, and the only things that existed were her, Niccolo, and the dark expanse of stars looking down on them.

  ***

  The sunlight that streamed into her room seemed to know her exact mood, and Elena woke up gently with a smile on her face. She sat up and stretched, then sighed happily.

  “If only we had known that all it took was a kiss to put you in such a good mood, we could’ve found you someone earlier,” Ele said from his seat in the corner.

  “Shut up, Ele,” Elena tried for ‘reproachful’, but all she could manage was a slightly different smile.

  “I hate to put a damper on your mood, but you realize this is the most important day of your life, right?”

  “I know, I know, Ele, but...I feel good about today,” Elena rose and rummaged through her drawers for a clean uniform, “De Luca wanted me to learn about my Storm, and I can show him how much I understand it. Like Frederica said last night, what will be will be. Getting all bent out of shape doesn’t help one way or another, so why bother?” She hummed a tune as she took the uniform into the water closet to shower and change.

  “Didn’t realize Saggitari lips were made of opiates,” Ele said as she closed the door.

  ***

  When Elena emerged from the water closet, Ele was wearing a different outfit. Despite all of the manic thoughts running through her head, she did a double-take and stared. His curly black hair was neatly arranged, and he wore a version of De Luca’s uniform similar to her own, all white with yellow trim.

  “You-you changed,” Elena said, dumbfounded.

  “Yeah, well...it’s a special occasion,” Ele ran a hand through his hair in a self-conscious motion, “I thought it was appropriate. It’s sort of the two of us being judged, after all. Does it look alright?”

  “But-but- I didn’t even know you could change.” Elena couldn’t stop staring. For as long as she could remember Ele had worn the same outfit, and now he almost looked like a different person. “Where did you even get Echo clothes?”

  “While you and Niccolo were off ‘Stormtouching’ each other, Nicci and I had a long conversation about Echo stuff,” Ele said. “How to change clothes, or get little things like books or paper or other things we might need.”

  “How?” Even with the pleasant thought of Niccolo in the back of her head, Elena was curious.

  “Um...the thing about it is...” Ele looked more embarrassed than she had ever seen him before, “...I’m not actually supposed to tell you.”

  “What? Ele I didn’t think we kept secrets from each other! I told you about Niccolo as soon as I got back!”

  “I don’
t want to keep it from you, but Nicci says it’s sort of a big deal-” a knock on the door interrupted him, and Ele looked palpably relieved. When Elena opened it to find Niccolo and Nicci standing outside, her heart jumped into her throat.

  “Hi,” she said weakly, a smile creeping across her face again despite herself.

  “Hi,” Niccolo replied with a grin.

  “Oh God please tell me they aren’t going to act saccharine like this all the time now,” Nicci slipped past Niccolo with a roll of her eyes.

  “If Elena’s dreamy-eyed silly smiles this morning were any indication, I’m afraid they are,” Ele said gravely.

  “Nicci, why won’t Ele tell me how Echoes change clothes?” Elena asked.

  “Don’t bother,” Niccolo said, “Echoes are notoriously close-lipped about it. I don’t think even Carlo knows, and he and Carla are closer than any Stormtouched and Echo I’ve met before. Unless Carla has told him and sworn him to secrecy.”

  “Carla hasn’t told him,” Nicci said confidently, “the tradition goes way back. I don’t even think-”

  “Elena, Niccolo,” Vittoria suddenly appeared behind Niccolo in the doorway, “you need to come with me.” Her face was pale, her eyes intense, and there was no sign of the dreaminess that would indicated she was focused elsewhere. She left almost as suddenly as she arrived, and Niccolo and Elena had to run to catch up, their Echoes hurrying behind them.

  “Vittoria what happened?” Niccolo asked when they caught up to her.

  “I didn’t think I’d have to go to any great measures, I thought common decency or artistic respect would be enough of a protection,” Vittoria muttered, making her way down the hall towards her room, “I left to have breakfast with Vi and Mistress Bea, I thought no one would be cruel or crazy enough to try to get past the lock on my door.” In Elena’s stomach the pleasantness of the morning was slowly beginning to congeal into an icy ball of worry.

  When they arrived at the doorway of Vittoria’s room the worry grew at the look on Frederica’s face, the Caelator leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. Niccolo rushed inside the room and she heard him swear, but Elena had to steel herself for a moment before she peered inside.

  The room looked a little less warm without the lanterns lit, and that made it seem strangely unfamiliar, even though the layout hadn’t changed. It was littered with sketches of faces with detailed eyes, all ripped apart or shredded. On the desk, Niccolo’s bow had been broken in half, jagged knife-marks along the middle indicating how it had been done. In the corner, the wooden statue of Freja had a deep cut gouged into her that ran from her shoulder down her chest and almost to her waist. On the floor next to the bed, the large pile of shattered, crushed and broken wood pieces were only recognizable as Elena’s models due to the fact that the model Studio De Luca studio was left unmolested, carefully placed on top of the mess.

  The room was quiet, the four garzoni taking in the sight of the destruction from the doorway in silence. Elena struggled to find something to say, something to ask, but nothing occurred to her but to keep looking at the devastation in Vittoria’s room, as if by looking she could somehow undo it all.

  “Ah, you’re all here, how convenient!” From the end of the hallway, Pietro’s voice sounded entirely too cheerful. “I was sent to find the rest of you. Master De Luca is ready to begin the Showing in the courtyard and you four are the last to show up. If you could please bring your projects down, we can begin!”

  Chapter XXXV

  The Day

  The air in the courtyard was only moderately chilly, but Elena felt numb. The De Luca garzoni and their Echoes were arranged in a loose half-circle, while Master De Luca, Bea, and Pietro stood opposite with concerned looks on their faces, leaving a clear area in the center.

  “You understand the particular constraints I am under,” De Luca said carefully, “you understand why the Showing Day must be today, regardless of this sabotage? We cannot delay to search for the saboteur or to let you work on another project.”

  Elena nodded wordlessly. Whatever laws governed the studios, De Luca was only allowed four garzoni. He could get around the restriction for a little while by keeping some of his students “provisional”, but she assumed at a certain point he had to cut them down to a group of four.

  “This is ridiculous,” Niccolo all but snarled, “Master De Luca, you can’t truly be considering proceeding like this? I’ve seen you pick garzoni for their mastery of the art, and I’ve seen you pick garzoni for mastery of...” he shot a quick glance towards the other provisional garzoni, those who didn’t know that fighting ability played a part in the selection, “...mastery of other things, but I’ve never seen you pick your garzoni based on their ability to manipulate, to cheat, or to backstab.”

  “Apparently I’m quite good at picking them on the basis of their speech-writing abilities,” Master De Luca said wryly. “I understand your anger, Niccolo. The destruction of art runs in opposition to everything this studio stands for, and you may rest assured that if the person who did this comes to light, their punishment will be extreme.”

  “That doesn’t exactly help those of us who have been hamstrung by the destruction, Master De Luca.”

  “You may also rest assured that I am fully capable of judging the merits of artistry without a visual aid in front of me,” De Luca continued, “I am just as capable of extrapolating your artistic ability with a description of your project as I am with the visual. This destruction, while unkind and irresponsible, will not affect my judgment. Simply tell me the damage done, and I will take into account what has been lost when making my decision. Now, I think it’s best we begin.”

  The words were somewhat comforting, but Elena still felt goosebumps along her skin that had nothing to do with the weather. Leanarda had been right, so many weeks ago. There were some in the studio who were willing to go great lengths to make others fail, and the warmth and friendship she had been enjoying in the company of the full garzoni had been the exception, not the rule.

  Bea stepped forward into the center of the half-circle.

  “Before we start, I would just like to say that these past few months have been absolutely amazing in terms of what you’ve accomplished. At Studio De Luca we are used to seeing some of the best young artists beneath our roof, but this year I think I speak for both Master De Luca and I when I say we’re truly awed by what we’ve seen. Now, we’ll begin alphabetically by last name, and Pietro will help you retrieve your projects from the workshop or your rooms if you require assistance. Vittoria and Vi Arcimboldo, will you please tell us what your final project was before it was destroyed?”

  Elena realized with a guilty start that she had been so concerned with her own smashed project that she hadn’t been focused on the effects of the destruction on her friends.

  How could I be so selfish? My friends have done so much for me, and I almost forgot they’re in just as dire straights as I am...

  Vittoria and Vi didn’t seem worried at all as they stepped forward to occupy the space in the middle of the semi-circle. They were dressed in matching white and yellow uniforms, but Vittoria wore her gold hair tied back with a red ribbon that seemed vibrant against the pale colors. Her gaze was focused and sharp, and Elena was struck by just how wise she looked when she wasn’t staring dreamily off into space. Vittoria made a small motion towards the doorway, and only then did Elena notice a very thin man in robes of deep purple who had been quietly watching the proceedings.

  “Luckily for me, the saboteur clearly didn’t know what my final project was,” Vittoria began as the man in purple robes moved to join her in the center of the circle, “she...or he, perhaps, destroyed several of my sketches, but my final project was a little bit grander in scale. This is Father Sforza, of the Domine Cathedral near the West gate of Milia. I’ll let him describe my project, if he is willing.”

  “Miss Vittoria did us the honor of designing a magnificent mural to adorn the belltower of our Cathedral,” Father Sforza be
amed, “depicting our Lord and Savior risen above the dark clouds of the Storm. I must say that it has been a pleasure to work with Miss Vittoria. She can be a little absentminded perhaps,” the Father and Vittoria shared a smile, “but such piety is rare to see in one of her age, and even more rare in one touched by the Storm, begging your pardon of course and no offense meant.”

  “Thank you, Father Sforza,” Master De Luca stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Vittoria, a design is quite lovely, but did you do any work on this mural yourself?”

  “As you well know, Master De Luca, I am blessed with a Storm that lets me paint eyes of great realism,” Vittoria said carefully, “I painted the eyes of the savior, looking out across Milia.”

  “I see. And from where in Milia would I be able to see these eyes?”

  “From the edge of the Street of Yellow Artisans to the edge of the Street of Grey Artisans, Master De Luca.”

  “Hmm,” De Luca nodded, and Elena was sure he had realized the implications. Vittoria ‘Hundred Eyes’ could see through the eyes of her Stormtouched paintings, and if the mural had been infused with her power she could now see a good eighth of Milia any time she wished. “I am quite impressed. Father Sforza, thank you for taking time from your day to come vouch for my garzona.”

  “Of course, Master De Luca,” Father Sforza smiled, “it was a pleasure.”

  “Now then...Carlo and Carla Donato, I believe you are next.”

  Father Sforza departed as Carlo and Carla left the courtyard with Pietro, and a few minutes later they returned, carefully wheeling out a large section of a plastered wall. When they turned it around so that the Masters and garzoni could see it, Elena gasped.

  Even if she hadn’t known what Carlo was planning to make for his final project, it was quite clear what his fresco depicted. The Oracle was a young girl, younger than Elena had expected, but she stared from the plaster with an expression of such tortured knowledge that it was hard to meet her painted gaze. She sat in a tiny room, cluttered and dark, but Elena could make out outlines painted into the work: glimpses of snakes, desiccated skulls, and dark clouds peaking through broken shutters in the background.