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A Student's Dream (Twisted Cogs Book 1)

Page 38

by Hemmings, Malcolm


  Elena hadn’t realized how cold she was until she entered the warmth and shook the snow from her hair and shoulders. Frell brushed flakes daintily from her own wooden muzzle.

  “Elena! Ele! I saw you in the window, I’d hoped you would come in!” Arta entered the room, stowing her long paintbrush behind one ear. As always, her smile was infectious, and even as worried as she was Elena couldn’t help but to smile in return. “What a beautiful little ermine! You’re not selling it are you? I thought De Luca didn’t approve of selling Touched creations.”

  “I’m actually not here to sell at all,” Elena repeated, “I’m looking for a Studio to join. I was...I didn’t make it, in De Luca’s studio.”

  “Really? You?” Arturo did a double take, “I thought that after they went to the trouble of bringing you back the first time you were a sure thing.”

  “I guess I just wasn’t good enough.”

  “That’s horrible, Elena. I can’t say I’m surprised though. When you joined Studio De Luca, I knew that you were in for a hard time. De Luca likes to lord his power over his students. You know he’s the only Master who keeps provisional garzoni? Giving you false hope, wasting your time.”

  “It’s...it’s not like that,” Elena stammered, “he just...he only has so much space for students. He can only afford to keep the best, and I’m...I’m just not the best.”

  “Oh you poor thing, don’t think like that!” Arta said, “don’t ever rank yourself in your mind against other Stormtouched. As long as you make works of art, you’re no worse than any of the rest of them. Art is art, and some of the masters could stand to remember that from time to time.”

  “I suppose...” Elena said, unconvinced.

  “Anyway, you’re here now. No one here is going to tell you you’re not good enough, no one here is going to-”

  “Arta,” Arturo interrupted, his expression miserable, “Master DaRose just talked to that girl, Olympia, this morning.”

  “I know,” Arta looked confused, “what does that matter?”

  “He turned her away. Said that there isn’t room for another student. Diem horribilem, I’m so sorry, Elena. I wish I had known you were looking, I would’ve tried to soften him up...”

  She had been trying not to get her hopes up, but even so the news hit Elena like a punch in the gut.

  “It’s...it’s alright,” she gasped, trying to remain stoic. “It’s an odd time of the year to take on new garzoni, and this isn’t the first studio to not have room for me. Don’t worry, I understand.”

  “Arturo, what are you-” Arta began, but Arturo cut her off.

  “No...no I won’t stand for it!” He slammed a fist into his palm. “This studio can’t afford to lose an amazing Fabera like you. I won’t let it happen.”

  “You’ve never even seen my work, how would you know I’m an amazing Fabera?” Elena smiled through the tears that fell down her cheeks, despite her best efforts to keep them in check.

  “I know you, that’s enough. I’m going to talk to DaRose, I have to get him to make an exception.” Arturo turned towards the door that separated the foyer from the rest of the studio.

  “Are you telling me there’s still a chance?” Elena’s heart leapt in her chest.

  “There’s a chance if I have anything to say about it. Hell, I’ll give him an ultimatum if I have to!”

  Arta had been looking back and forth between Arturo and Elena, her eyes narrowed, and before Arturo reached the door she stepped in front of him. Arturo’s back was to Elena, but she could see Arta searching her Stormtouched’s face.

  “Arturo?” she asked, so quietly that Elena could barely hear her.

  “You owe me a favor, Arta, I’m calling it in right now,” Arturo murmured back.

  “On this? Is this really something you want to do?”

  “The terms of the favor were ‘anything I wanted’. Don’t do the ‘Arta’ thing and mess this up.”

  Arta stepped aside and let Arturo leave, then turned back to Elena with a slightly sad smile.

  “What...what was that about?” Elena asked. “Do you not want me in DaRose’s studio?”

  “No! No, Elena that’s not it at all!” Arta protested, “I just...I disagree with Arturo’s methods sometimes. But don’t worry, if he says he can convince DaRose...I believe him.” Arta avoided Elena’s gaze, glancing down at her hands instead. “You should wait here until he gets back at least. I wouldn’t worry.”

  “You look pretty worried,” Ele raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m not worried about you, I’m more worried about him.”

  “What favor was he talking about?”

  “Something stupid. I shouldn’t have made the deal with him in the first place, but he did me a favor once, when I was desperate, and now he’s calling it in and I have to help him.”

  “What are you helping him with?”

  Arta paused, her gaze flicking to Elena for an instant.

  “I just...I should go see how Arturo is coming along. He might need my help convincing DaRose.” She slipped through the wall without looking back, leaving Elena and Ele alone in the foyer.

  “Don’t panic,” Ele said.

  “I won’t, I’m not, I’m fine,” Elena wrung her hands, pacing back and forth across the space of the foyer. Frell jumped down from her shoulder and landed on the bench next to Ele, and the two of them watched her pace.

  “Even if Arturo can’t convince DaRose to let you in, there are other options,” Ele said after a few moments. “We haven’t tried Studio Foscari, Studio Isota, or Studio Gritti.”

  “I can’t show my face at Studio Gritti, I’ve already said that. Between destroying Cross’ bolts and what happened to Slug...there’s no way there’s a place for me there.”

  “They shouldn’t blame you for Slug, Elena, that wasn’t your fault.”

  “But they do. Didn’t you see how Cross made a beeline straight for me as soon as she saw me in the street?”

  “If worse comes to worst, it won’t hurt us to at least ask them-” Ele stopped talking as Arturo and Arta entered the foyer. Elena froze, her stomach doing flips. Arturo’s face was impassive, but Arta still looked troubled, still not meeting her gaze, and Elena braced herself for the bad news.

  “Master DaRose is really strict about the number of students he lets in-” Arturo said awkwardly.

  “It’s fine,” Elena broke in. She didn’t want to hear the pity in his voice as he gave his explanations, didn’t want to dwell on the reasons yet another avenue was closed to her. All she wanted to move on, approach the last three studios before they too filled up.

  “-which is why I had to call in a bunch of favors, work my magic, and promise to take on more chores before he agreed to bring you on as a student.”

  Elena stared. Unlike when she had been dropped from De Luca’s roster, she had no trouble processing what Arturo had just said, but it was so straightforward that she was taken aback.

  “You got us in?” Ele seemed more surprised than Elena was. “Just like that? Without an audition, without an interview, without even meeting with him?”

  “What can I say?” Arturo grinned, “Master DaRose actually trusts his garzoni’s judgment. It’s another thing De Luca could learn from the other Masters. Isadora’s recommendation was enough for me to join. With my good word and my arguing, I got you in, even though he was really against taking on another student.”

  “I...I can’t believe it,” Elena gasped.

  “You’d better believe it. And none of that ‘provisional’ nonsense that De Luca likes to play around with. Full garzonaship, from now until you graduate, as long as you’re clever and talented enough to keep up with DaRose’s instruction.”

  “You’re one of us now, Elena,” Arta smiled, “you’re a DaRose garzona.”

  “I...I don’t know what to say,” Elena looked back and forth around the room, at Arturo who beamed, at Arta’s small smile, troubled but happy, and Ele’s look of skepticism.

  “Not
much to say,” Arturo grinned. He swung the door behind him open, and Elena caught a glimpse of the interior beyond. “Welcome to Studio DaRose.”

  About the Author

  Malcolm Hemmings is a mage, an artist, and a web developer by day, a sci-fi and fantasy author by night. He began writing for pleasure in late 2013, and sharing his writing in late 2014. He has since completed several small novellas and free online serialized fiction works.

  You can reach Malcolm at blackllama1@gmail.com

 

 

 


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