“You didn’t choose to set up shop for yourself?”
“I found I enjoyed the challenges of traveling more. In the city, in a shop, the work is generally the same—clocks, lights, guns, the occasional bauble. On the road, you never know what you might encounter.”
“If I may ask, what is the most exotic thing you’ve had to repair?”
Telaine wiped her lips with her napkin. “Besides your bird?” she laughed. “I think I would have to say—” not Garrett’s tap Device; she was reluctant to draw their attention to him in any way—“a sword cane where the sheath was meant to sprout blades when it was released. It was a challenge because the locking Device had failed and every time I tried to adjust the blades, the thing would pop off and try to impale me.”
She chuckled, and the Baron joined her in her laugh; Morgan remained silent, his elbow propped on the table—such bad manners!—and his chin resting on his palm. When she glanced his way, he smiled that feline smile.
“But you never create new Devices? I would think that would be far more exciting.”
“I have, yes, and I find great pleasure in working out the details of a new Device. But that’s a disadvantage to traveling that a shopkeeper doesn’t have. People are more likely to commission a Device from an established shop than from a traveling Deviser.”
“I see you’re finished,” said the Baron. He patted his lips, which did nothing to reduce their wet appearance. “Would you care to accompany me? There’s something I’d like to show you.”
Telaine rose and followed him, paying close attention to the manor’s layout. The dining room was at the center of the house, with wings extending to either side. The Baron led her out of the dining room and up the right-hand stairs to the gallery, then down the hallway on the right, which was lined with doors. The Baron passed all of them until he came to the far end of the hall, where he opened a door on the left and gestured for her to enter.
Telaine gasped. The room wasn’t remarkable in its size or décor, which matched the wood paneling the Baron preferred. It did not have an exceptional view, facing the trees at the rear of the house which were visible through smallish windows. What it did have were Devices on every conceivable surface, shelves, pedestals, and lecterns. Some were under glass. All were unique. Telaine surveyed the room and saw no duplicates anywhere.
“Extraordinary, isn’t it?” the Baron said in a smug tone. “The work of a lifetime. Some I commissioned, some I purchased, some I—dare I say it?—stole. No, my dear, don’t look at me that way. I mean only that I found some of these under such circumstances that acquiring them felt like I was getting away with something, you understand? An overlooked box at an estate sale, a watch buried in dust at the back of some old shop. I am very proud of my collection.”
He went to a lectern and lifted the cover of the book that lay there; it began speaking in a tiny voice. “It reads to you. Clever, no? It’s over two hundred years old and one of only four ever made, since the Device that powers it requires a human to speak the words into the Device, and again for a second copy, and so on. The Eskandelics who Devised them believed that was simply too much work to be cost-effective. Unusually pragmatic for Eskandelics, they were.”
“May I…?” Telaine asked. For the moment, she’d forgotten her mission, though not the dark presence of Morgan in the doorway, blocking her exit.
“Please,” said the Baron. Telaine wandered the room, admiring, exclaiming, and, with a glance for permission, touching. A “flea circus” swung into motion at the tap of a fingernail. Binoculars automatically adjusted to her vision. A glass case at the far end of the room contained an assortment of projectile Devices, including one that looked like a prototype for the currently popular weapon used by Tremontane’s military.
“You have a most wonderful collection, milord,” she said.
“Thank you. I may need your services again. Some of these Devices are in disrepair.”
“It would be a pleasure, milord.”
The Baron nodded and extended his hand. “Morgan will return you to Longbourne, and I may be in contact with you soon.”
“Oh, milord,” Telaine said, alarm rising again, “I don’t want to put you to any trouble. I’m able to walk back.”
“No trouble at all. Morgan does what I tell him.” Morgan nodded, but Telaine caught a glimpse of his eyes, and they said that Morgan did not at all like being told what to do.
On the ride back, Telaine once again clinging to Morgan’s waist, her purse fatter by several coins, she said, “I’m surprised milord Baron chose to live all the way out here. He’s so sophisticated.”
“the baron loves it here. he loves the wilderness.”
I already know the Baron hates it here, thank you, Morgan. “Is he in charge of the fort?”
“Captain Clarke has command of the fort, though the Baron is ultimately responsible for its upkeep. the baron is proud to assist in the kingdom’s defense.”
“Those soldiers the other night frightened me.” This was somewhat true. “Are all the soldiers like them?”
“Fighting men have to be tough. you have nothing to fear from them.”
Telaine gritted her teeth as Morgan took a curve too fast, causing her to cling more tightly. “That’s…what I thought.”
Morgan again, unnecessarily, helped her dismount in front of the tavern. “Thank you for the ride, but I’d like to go under my own power next time,” she said. “It’s a lovely walk and I could do with the exercise.”
“As you wish…my dear,” he said, leaping back into the saddle and smiling at her in a way that raised goose pimples all down her arms, not pleasant ones. He lashed the horse into a gallop that sprayed gravel around her ankles. She watched him go, thinking He probably knows I’m watching him, but not for the reasons he imagines. He wanted to make her uncomfortable. He was succeeding.
When he was safely out of sight, she shuddered and decided to go into the tavern. She needed a drink, and she didn’t care what the other patrons thought of her. If anyone should be ashamed of that outburst of hers, they should be. She wasn’t.
Miss Handly was at the bar, polishing glasses. When she saw Telaine, she smiled. A big smile. No question about it. “Miss Bricker!” she called out. “What can I get for you?”
Telaine looked around. It was past dinnertime, so the crowd had thinned out, but the few patrons there met her eyes without flinching. A few of them smiled or raised their glasses in welcome. “Excuse me?” she said to the barkeep.
“I said, what can I get for you? Beer? Something to eat?”
“Beer,” Telaine said, mystified. Miss Handly filled a large mug from the tap until it nearly foamed over and slid it across the bar. Telaine took a longer drink than she’d planned and successfully kept from choking to death on the pale golden liquid. “Miss Handly?” she asked when she was able to speak. “Is there something I should know about?” She waved the hand not holding the glass to encompass the entire tap room.
Miss Handly’s smile vanished. “Happen we weren’t all that kind to you,” she said, her voice low. “You got people thinking and, well, they’re ashamed and trying to make it up to you. So, that one’s on the house.”
“You mean, all I had to do to make you all like me was yell and stomp around?”
“Saying the right words.” Miss Handly’s voice lowered more. “We all thought you were here because you didn’t want to make things right with your baby’s father, see?”
“Why would anyone do that? An entailed adoption isn’t so hard. And I might have been fleeing an abusive relationship. You all jumped to some nasty conclusions.”
Miss Handly reddened. “You know how rumors are. Someone says the wrong thing, and it spreads and gets worse from there. We shouldn’t have listened to the rumors, and even if we did, we shouldn’t’ve taken it on ourselves to judge you like that. So take it in the spirit it’s offered, and let bygones be bygones, understand?”
“Don’t hang on to my grievances, you
mean?”
“If grievances means being entitled to be mad ’cause you got slandered, then yes.”
Telaine drained her glass and set it down on the bar with a tap. “That is some good advice that I plan to take, Miss Handly.”
Miss Handly took the glass and rinsed it, polished it up again. “You’re going to keep coming in here, suppose you should call me Maida. My regulars all do.”
A grin tugged at the corners of Telaine’s mouth. “Then you should call me Lainie so I’ll feel welcome.” She held out her hand. Maida took it, and smiled. “I ate up at the manor, so—what’s wrong?”
Maida had gone pale. “Nobody goes to the manor doesn’t have to,” she said. “Servants all live in. What were you doing there?”
“Just repairing a Device. Maida, everyone’s been telling me the Baron is dangerous. Why?”
“Nobody knows for certain sure, but there’s always been talk. People gone missing, or livestock stolen, and himself not being over quick to find the truth. Like yesterday evening—Nev Sheldon left his parents’ house to go to his grandmother’s and never arrived, but it was his village went looking for him, not the Baron’s men. You watch yourself if you go back there.”
“I will. Thanks for the warning.” She wondered how many other people would feel the need to warn her. On the one hand, it was nice to know they cared, but on the other, she’d like to have a few more details beyond rumor—which, as Maida had said, she shouldn’t listen to. People gone missing, huh? No wonder going up to the manor was such a big deal. And they were worried about the Baron, not just Morgan, who was certainly the more obvious menace.
Garrett had just plunged something hot into the quenching barrel when she approached the forge. He glanced up the road behind her, frowning, then relaxed when he saw she was alone. “I have not been eaten by the Baron,” Telaine said when he opened his mouth. “I have not been poisoned by the Baron’s food. I have been paid by the Baron and I may have repeat employment by him.”
“Not something to laugh about,” Garrett said, frowning. “Baron’s not best loved around here. And that Morgan is the kind of fellow enjoys torturing animals. You might not be safe with him.”
He’d come right up to the rail, and Telaine came forward and laid her hand on his arm. “Thanks for being so concerned. I mean it. And I’m going to take everything you say about them seriously. But I also have to work.” His muscular forearm tensed under her fingers, and she released him. “I won’t do anything foolish,” she added.
“Happen just going up there is foolish,” he said. “Heard about your song and dance in the tavern yesterday,” he added, turning back to his work.
“My—oh. You mean my temper tantrum.” She leaned against the rail and watched him pull a length of metal out of the fire and flatten one end with a short-handled hammer. “It was unexpectedly effective.”
“Funny how shame can make people think harder on a thing.” Plink, plink, plink.
“I didn’t mean to make anyone feel ashamed. Well, no. I suppose I did. But I wasn’t trying to manipulate anyone.”
“I know.” Garrett pushed the metal back into the coals. “That gear’s done, if you want to take a look at it.”
Telaine came around the rail and picked up the gear, where it lay on a table with other bits of metal, mostly scrap. “Do you have a rasp? A file?”
Garrett pointed at the back wall. “Take your pick.”
Telaine chose one, leaned against the table, and began shaving the rough edges down. “It’s a good match.” The sound of the hammer began again. It was a soothing sound, and the scrape of the rasp fell into rhythm with it.
“What’s it like?” Garrett asked.
“Fine. I’m taking off the burrs.”
“I mean the Baron’s manor.”
She lowered the rasp. “Fancy. Dark. Big.” She’d been about to say “not too big” but remembered in time that Lainie Bricker’s scale of comparison wasn’t like the Princess’s. “It was depressing, all that space with just him and Morgan rattling around inside.”
“Don’t expect me to feel sorry for him.”
Telaine laughed. “You shouldn’t. He’s got his Devices to keep him warm at night. I mean, not literally. Though he might have a Device to keep him warm at night, too.”
“They make those?”
“Sure. Goes inside a mattress, or between mattresses.”
A pause. “Can’t imagine having more than one mattress on a bed.”
“Most beds don’t.” How she missed her bed, with its two fluffy mattresses and four pillows and as many blankets as she wanted. And someone to make it up for her in the morning. Better not to think about it too much, and be disappointed by the reality that awaited her in Aunt Weaver’s spare room.
“I wonder if you could work it into a blanket instead,” she continued. Plink, plink, plink. Scrape, scrape, scrape. “Be a nice way to keep warm during the winter.” She blew iron filings off the gear and held it up to the light. “I’m going to put this in now,” she said, taking the rasp with her.
Telaine only needed the spanner for this stage of the repair. The gear slotted into its place and meshed perfectly with its brothers. She screwed the case down tight, made a few last twists with the spanner, and gingerly moved the handle a fraction to the right. Water trickled out.
She continued to turn the handle, slowly, feeling for misalignments inside the Device, but it turned smoothly all the way. She ran her hand under the fixture; the water was hot, but not enough to burn. With the right parts, that far-right setting would produce boiling water, which was dangerous and probably another reason they didn’t make them like this anymore. Using the iron gear had been the best choice.
“It works,” Garrett said from the doorway. She smiled and worked the handle back and forth quickly, still feeling for any problems. He took the handle from her and moved it back and forth himself, ran his fingers under the hot water at the extreme right setting. “Nice to know I don’t have to shave with cold water anymore,” he said.
“If you were shaving with that cold water, I’m impressed. That had to have come all the way from a frozen mountain spring.”
He flashed a smile, then ducked his head, looking at the Device. “Thanks again,” he said. He seemed to be looking for something else to say, but finally just nodded. “Thanks.”
“Any time you need one of these antiques fixed, you know where I live,” she said, and went out through the forge and back to Aunt Weaver’s home. On that short journey, no fewer than twelve people waved, ten smiled, and five called out her name in greeting. She returned all their gestures in kind. She was determined to take Maida’s advice and behave as if the last three days hadn’t happened. As far as she was concerned, she’d be happy for that to be true.
The smell of chicken soup met Telaine halfway to the back door. In the kitchen, Aunt Weaver stood over the pot, fishing out and shredding pieces of chicken meat. “Supper’s ready in a few minutes,” she said.
“Thanks.” Telaine sat at the table and stretched out her legs. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about my keep. The Baron paid me and—”
“Not takin’ money from you. You’re my guest.”
“But you’re feeding me, and—”
“This ain’t a debate.”
“Is Uncle paying you at all?”
“It’s an exchange of favors. Don’t worry about it.”
Telaine gave up. “Did you have a good day?”
“Can’t complain.”
“Everyone’s decided to be nice to me now. I never realized how effective a shouting tantrum could be.”
Aunt Weaver shrugged. “They’re good people.”
And you inadvertently tricked them into giving me a cold welcome. “Do you have plans tonight?”
“knitting circle.”
Telaine raised an eyebrow at the echo. “I thought that was last night.”
Aunt Weaver gave her a sharp glance that Telaine once again felt she ought to recogni
ze. “sometimes it’s two nights in a row.”
“Oh? That must be…nice.” So where was Aunt Weaver going, really?
Aunt Weaver ladled up a bowl of soup and handed it to Telaine. “You any closer to finishing this job of yours?”
“Getting into the manor was the first step. So it’s a qualified ‘yes.’”
“Good.” She sat down opposite Telaine with her own bowl. “Sooner you finish, the better.”
That hurt, though it was Telaine’s thought as well. “I’m sorry to be such a burden,” she said stiffly.
There was the sharp-eyed glance again. “Thought you was in a hurry,” Aunt Weaver said. “Happen you’re not so much a burden as I thought.”
“Well…thanks.” Telaine ate the rest of her supper in silence, then washed her bowl and set it in the drying rack. “I don’t suppose I could come to knitting circle?” she said off-handedly.
“don’t think you’d feel welcome,” Aunt Weaver said, clearing away her own bowl. “And I thought I told you not to meddle in these folks’ lives. No sense you making a place for yourself here when you ain’t stayin’.”
“That makes sense.” So, Aunt Weaver was going somewhere she definitely didn’t want Telaine tagging along. From a woman who didn’t shy from airing her opinions, this counted as strange.
Telaine nodded and said, “Good night, then,” and went up the stairs into her room, leaving the door open a crack. She heard Aunt Weaver ascend the stairs and go into her own room, then the house was silent. Telaine waited. This wasn’t as boring as the time she’d sat concealed in a cupboard, waiting to eavesdrop on a meeting between two women that turned out to be nothing more than a romantic tryst, but it was close.
The sun set, the room grew dark, and Aunt Weaver’s door opened again. Telaine waited until she heard the familiar slam of the back door, then hurried downstairs to follow. It was probably nothing, but she was tired of being at a disadvantage when it came to her occasionally hostile landlady.
Aunt Weaver was wrapped in a black cloak, which was a mistake; pure black stood out at night in a way dark gray or green didn’t. But then she probably didn’t expect to be followed, judging by how she strode down the streets of Longbourne and into the forest. Telaine kept a good distance, though she had to shorten it when they entered the forest, which closed in around her with unsettling rapidity.
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