“Why would I hurt you?” she asked, “even if I was that kind of person, what possible reason could I have, since hurting you doesn’t even help me?”
“Too many reasons to name,” the girl said with a shrug, turning back to the moon, “some of them beyond even my understanding. Safer by far to wait and see someone proven trustworthy.”
“Is our littlest member being her charming self?” Marsillo called from the door to the balcony, approaching in a far more relaxed manner than Golden Hair had. A pair of white gloves covered his long spidery fingers and hands, the ends neatly sewn shut where his hands would’ve connected to his arms. “Don’t be too offended. Our little one tends to take quite a while to warm up to people. Some of us took years to earn her trust. Some of us still haven’t.”
“You’re going to be stabbed in the back one of these days, Marsillo,” the little girl said. “Someone’s going to take advantage of your trusting nature, and stab you in the back. And you will cry out ‘why didn’t I listen to Little One’s advice?’. And then I shall laugh.”
“You make it sound incredibly as if you’re the one holding the knife in this scenario,” Marsillo smiled, but the little one regarded him gravely through gold eyes, not smiling back.
“You joke, but if you don’t heed my warning-”
“Our dear Marsillo has yet to heed any warnings ever given to him,” Black Furs was at the table, a jolly smile on his face, “I hardly think he’ll start now. Hello El-ena Lucc-i-a-no,” he winked at Elena, pronouncing each syllable of her name distinctly. “It’s quite a treat to see you again, and I’m very glad that you’re able to find your way here on your own. Now come, come, everyone, let’s sit down.”
When Elena sat at the table, the group had expanded to include all of the Twisted that she had met: the ribbon-faced man, the plain woman, Black Furs, Golden Hair, Marsillo, and the shadow that seemed to be made of black liquid held in place by invisible skin.
“So, Elena, how are you?” the plain woman said kindly, and Elena shuddered and winced at her voice.
“I’m...I’ve been better,” Elena said honestly, “just today I-”
“Hold on, and I’m sorry to interrupt, but you have quite a bad habit of waking up just before you tell us where we can find you,” Ribbon Face said with a chuckle, “helping you can be done so much smoother in person, but we’ve been searching to no avail for weeks now. Where in Europa are you, child?”
“Right now I’m in an inn in-” Elena began, but Ele barked an interruption so suddenly that she was startled for the second time in the night.
“Don’t tell them,” he said.
The assembled Twisted and Elena turned to give Ele looks of mixed concern and curiosity.
“What? Why not?” Elena asked.
“Something about this doesn’t feel right. No, none of this feels right,” Ele was scanning the faces of everyone at the table, his eyes narrowed. “A group of kindly benefactors, all gathering to help you, all because you just happen to be special, and all of it happening just when you need them most...it’s too convenient, too perfect.”
“I...I just promised Ele that I would take his advice,” Elena said apologetically. “If he says not to say where I am...”
“We would never ask you to do something you felt uncomfortable about, Elena,” Black Furs said with a sad smile, “nor would we dream of turning you and your Shadow against each other. But I must say, it grieves me to think what a horrid life you two must have had. To think that a stroke of good luck must necessarily be a trap...it breaks my heart.”
“I don’t know that it’s a trap, but I don’t not know either,” Ele said. “And telling you where we are...that’s not something we can take back. I just...it’s like the girl said. Better to be safe and suspicious than open and regret it.”
“Little One, have you been poisoning our new guests’ heads with mistrust?” Black Furs sighed.
“I’m sorry,” the golden-haired girl said, “but perhaps you all could take a lesson from Elena’s shadow. Perhaps your Shadows would agree if they were here.”
“Where are your Echoes?” Elena asked. Her mind was foggy, but the question had been nudged by the girl’s words. “Aren’t you all Stormtouched?”
“Shadows hate it in this world,” Marsillo said. “The feelings of peace and relaxation we feel here are to them feelings of tension, suspicion, paranoia...” he trailed off, looking at Ele.
“I can see why they don’t like it,” Ele said, crossing his arms and shivering, “if I had the chance I’d leave here in a second.”
Black Furs made a small waving motion, and suddenly Ele was no longer by Elena’s side.
“What happened?” Elena asked.
“It pains me to see what this place does to Shadows,” Black Furs said, “Ele is safely enjoying his own, natural dream now, one which I’m sure he’ll find much more pleasant than here. Oh don’t worry,” he said hastily at Elena’s look of unease, “this isn’t a precursor to us trying to find you. If your Shadow is sure you two must be hidden away, then we will respect that. It does, however, make things a touch trickier...”
“I am forced to wonder what they have to hide,” Ribbon Face said darkly.
“Am I the only one who finds the idea of a hidden Twisted incredibly dangerous?” The man made of black liquid spoke for the first time.
“Enough,” the plain woman spoke in her horrible, frightening, yet nondescript voice, “we are not pressuring Elena to reveal herself, not even with discussion.”
“Agreed. We should move somewhere else to discuss this,” Black Furs said. “I am sorry, Elena. You say that you’ve had a hard day, would you like to stay here while we discuss this recent turn? We must talk, but the calm and quiet might help take the edge off before you awake again?”
“Thank you,” Elena said quietly. She wasn’t entirely sure how to feel as the Twisted shuffled off of the balcony, murmuring to each other quietly as they left. A part of her felt that she should be terrified, part of her wondered if she should be angry at Ele, but everything was so fuzzy and warm and relaxing that a part of her didn’t care at all. She sat in one of the chairs and leaned back, staring at the sky and letting herself relax completely, resting beneath a giant moon and a sky full of colourful stars.
Chapter XLI
Dreams and Studios
“We’ve given the matter some thought, Elena, and discussed things among ourselves.” Marsillo looked grave, his unattached hands clasped in front of him in a gesture that would seem normal if he’d had arms. Elena had almost been able to enjoy herself, the stars and perfect temperature lulling her into a sense of comfort she hadn’t been able to feel in the past few weeks. Now that the Twisted had returned, the comfort was slipping away, replaced by the anxiety that was becoming more and more familiar. She slipped from the chair and faced the Twisted, her stomach in knots.
“We feel that anyone unable to give us their name and location must be considered an enemy, to be hunted down with extreme prejudice, and...ah quelsa de tori I can’t do this with a straight face," Marsillo broke into a smile.
“She said she was having a hard few days, Marsillo, that was cruel," the Grinning Girl scolded, her wide mouth turning down into a slight frown, “Elena, we are perfectly fine with you sharing only what you are comfortable with. You understand that some of us, Little One especially, will be a tad more careful about what we tell you about ourselves, and it will be slightly more tricky for us to help you with your Storm if you aren’t wanting to share specific details, but none of that should be too much of a problem when you visit in the future.”
Elena felt a wave of relief at the girl’s words. She decided that she quite liked the Grinning Girl, no matter how sharp her many, many teeth were.
“I can come back here? You’re still going to help me with my Storm?” she asked.
“We wouldn’t dream of leaving a sister of ours alone in this cruel world!” Black Furs walked through the table, which melted away as
he moved, resuming his seat. “Twisted look out for each other, my dear, and there is no question that you are one of us. Being a little paranoid is a trait that should be encouraged, if anything.”
“I wish I had learned that less far earlier in my career," the plain woman chuckled, and Elena’s stomach lurched.
“I was...put into a bad situation, recently, because someone sabotaged my work," Elena admitted.
“You poor thing!” the Grinning Girl took Elena by the hand and gently led her back to her seat, “it’s a sad truth of being Twisted that you’ll be no stranger to jealousy, anger, and mistrust.”
“Now I feel ashamed for teasing you earlier," Marsillo said.
“It’s alright, I’m used to it," Elena smiled, and Marsillo returned the smile, inclining his head slightly in acknowledgment of the forgiveness.
“So, Elena, tell us how we can help you," Black Furs adopted a businesslike attitude, as far as Elena could tell without being able to focus on his face. “We won’t be able to give you our normal boosts of financial or political support, but may the Storm take me if we can’t assist a sister Twisted somehow.”
Elena thought the matter over. She really could use political help, if they could provide it. Help like that could potentially boost her into the Florenzian court just as easily as De Luca’s help would, depending on who they were. But she had promised Ele, and so would have to figure something out that didn’t involve telling them who or where she was. The ribbon-faced man and the black liquid person began talking in quiet tones about some large dinner being planned, and Elena liked the fact that she could take the time to actually think through the question without anyone getting impatient with her.
“My problems lately stemmed from the fact that I still don’t know what my Storm does," she said finally, “did any of you have problems where your Storm just...didn’t work?”
“All of us," the plain woman answered. “Every single one of us could tell you stories, times when our Storm seemed to fail us at the most inopportune moments, sometimes at great cost.”
“I have a scar just above my eye because of it," the Grinning Girl said.
“My brother refuses to talk to me," Marsillo said.
“Because my Storm failed me when I needed it most, the only woman I ever loved is dead," the black liquid person said quietly.
“I...I’m so sorry," Elena was horrified at the sudden gravity of the room, “I didn’t realize...” She cared very much about her career as a Fabera, but suddenly her trials seemed petty in comparison.
“This is why we welcome new Twisted with open arms," Black Furs said, “so that they do not have to suffer the same slings and arrows of outrageous fortune the we had to bear.”
“The trick, you see, is all about context," Ribbon Face explained, “as far as I’ve found in my research, no other Stormtouched has to concern themselves with such matters, but for us, context is everything.”
“But...that makes no sense," Elena said, “the Storm isn’t a living thing, it can’t tell what the context of a situation is.”
“Perhaps we humans can only use our Storm when we’re ready, or maybe we don’t know as much about the Storm as we’d like to think. Think back to when you’ve successfully used your Storm. What was the common factor? What linked them all?”
Elena obediently cast her mind back to consider her Fabera accomplishments. There had been a range of emotions, situations, and purposes when she’d built things, so many that she couldn’t think of any similarities that spanned them all. She’d been panicked when she built her lockpicks, worried when she plotted the plans of her little studios, she’d been contended when she made the furniture for her mother’s shop in Carpi.
“It might not have to do with mood," the plain woman broke in, “in some cases the Storm seems to require even more specific contexts. For example, has someone been present when your Storm worked?”
“Just Ele," Elena said.
“And was Ele around when you weren’t able to use your Storm?”
“No, he was there too.”
“Hmm.”
The group grew quiet for a moment.
“This is something we’ll all have to give some thought to," Black Furs said with a yawn, “but I’m afraid I must be up early. I have an appointment with a certain loudmouthed official in the morning. I very much to not enjoy the prospect, and when I’m done with him he won’t either.”
“Go easy on our good friend the Count," the plain woman said gently, “he just lost a son to the Turks.”
“Ah," Black Furs gave a sigh, “perhaps some leniency is in order then. Anyway, this is neither here nor there. Elena, you are welcome back at any time, of course.”
“Thank you," Elena gazed at the assembled Twisted, tears filling her eyes, “this was...I really needed this.”
“You poor thing,” the plain woman stepped forward to wrap her arms around Elena in a hug. Elena forced herself to resist the urge to scream and flinch, accepting the hug but only breathing easily again after she had stepped away.
“We will see you again soon, Elena Lucc-i-a-no,” Black Furs said sleepily. The focusing problems that plagued her in the dream world suddenly got worse, and as she blinked to clear her vision Elena suddenly realized that she was blinking at the ceiling of the Inn.
Ele was standing at the window, looking out at the city. He didn’t turn when Elena sat up in bed, stretching and enjoying the sight of the morning light warming the tiny room. Frell lept from where she had been curled on the ground, pushing her little muzzle against Elena’s hand.
“I didn’t tell them where we were,” Elena said, petting the wooden ermine.
“Thank you,” Ele said. “I know I don’t have a lot of reason for you to take my word for it, but there’s just something that sets me on-edge about that place. About them.”
“The Twisted helped me, Ele. Being at Studio De Luca made me I feel like I had a big family, and now that I don’t have that anymore...I feel like I need the Twisted. Like they’re the only ones on my side anymore. Them, and you.”
“Well then,” Ele gestured towards the door of the Inn, “let’s go out and find you a new family.”
Chapter XLII
Student Girl
Snowflakes brushed against Elena’s cheeks as she gazed up at Studio DaRose. She felt so fragile that she was glad that they only left gentle pinpricks of cold, anything else might’ve been too much to bear.
“How are you holding up, Elena?” The snowflakes passed through Ele, but he shivered as the soft wind ruffled through his curly hair. Elena’s coat was a little thin for the weather, but now that he had switched out of the De Luca uniform and back into his more typical outfit Ele was even less prepared for the cold than she.
“Sorry,” she murmured, “you’re cold, I should go in.”
“Don’t apologize, I’ll be fine,” Ele said. “Take your time, whatever you need to do to handle this. I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright.”
“There are more studios,” Elena said, half trying to reassure herself as she spoke. “Studios Malatesta, Crivelli, and Nencia might not have wanted me, but that doesn’t mean we won’t find a studio to take us in.”
“That’s not fair, it’s not that they don’t want you, they’re just already full.”
“I know, I know.” Elena clenched her fists, still staring up at the grey stone walls. On her shoulder, Frell shook her wooden head of the snowflakes that had accumulated, giving Elena a reproachful look. “I’m sorry, you two are being very patient with me, I just...I just need a minute.” The street was busy, as always, but the snow that fell around them in gentle flurries muffled the noise of passersby. The quiet let her feel as if she was on her own, just her, Ele, and the large studio in front of her.
“We have backup plans,” Ele reminded her, “apprenticing at a merchant, or opening your own shop. When we were first sent away from De Luca’s studio didn’t you say you would open your own studio rather than take a step b
ackwards in your career?”
Elena half-smiled at the memory.
“I was drunk on the city of Milia that night, even before I’d had any wine,” she said. “How much money does it take to start a studio? Or open a shop? Where exactly is that money going to come from?”
“I’m just saying, there are options.”
“I know. But I want this, Ele. I want it so bad it makes my heart hurt. I want to become a journeyman Fabera, I want to make it in the Milian court, I want to go to Florenzia. I want to make art for the rulers of Italoza themselves. I’ve never heard of a merchant’s apprentice being asked to the courts.”
“Well then...a Studio it is.”
“There are only three left to try.”
“Then you’d better get in there and knock ‘em dead.”
“Right.” Elena squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, walking the rest of the way around the grey brick studio to the heavy door at its front. When she took her glove off to knock, the wind was so cold it bit into her bare skin, but she pounded resolutely, waiting in the silence for someone in the studio to respond. A few long moments later, the door opened.
“Is De Luca trying to get a better price for his merchandise by sending pretty girls to sell it?” Arturo grinned from beneath a grey hood.
“Arturo!” Elena relaxed just a bit, although she shivered as the wind picked up, “It’s good to see you again!”
“Good to see you too,” Arturo swung the door open wider and gestured for her to enter, “you can come wait inside while I get your money, if you like. I know Arta would like to see you again. She hates the cold, so she’s inside.”
“I’m actually not here to sell...I’m here to see if Master DaRose has any positions open.”
“Positions? What do you mean?” Arturo held the door for her as they entered the studio. From the moment they entered the foyer Elena was struck by how different it was to the studio she was familiar with. De Luca’s foyer gave the impression that one had entered a different world, one completely within the master artisan’s control. DaRose’s door led directly into the kitchens. It was more casual, less artificial, less exact. It didn’t impress her with DaRose’s power, but it was much more comfortable.
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