Making a Tinderbox (The Tinderbox Tales Book 1)

by Emma Sterner-Radley

  Elise squeezed her hand. “Come on. I will do the talking, but you should help me negotiate if I seem to be overpaying at any point.”

  “Oh, count on it,” Nessa said, squeezing her hand back.

  * * *

  A quarter of an hour later, they were up in their room. Their room.

  Elise walked in first. Nessa joined her, put her satchel down on the floor, and stood by the door looking around.

  Elise smiled at her. “Well, here we are! What do you think?”

  “It’ll do. I like how light it is. Shame there’s no privy or bath. I don’t mind using the one down the corridor, it’s still luxurious to me to have it so close. But I was hoping for your sake that there would be one in the room. In fact, for your sake, I hoped we’d find lodgings that looked a little less like it might fall down any second. What do you think of it?”

  “Well…” She looked around, trying to assess it objectively and not immediately defend it because it was hers. The first place that was actually hers.

  “It is rather cramped and might have seen better days.” Elise shivered as a draught came from the room’s only window, despite it being closed. They might have to see if they could seal that. “But it is so central and affordable. The room looks clean enough and it has everything we need.”

  Elise realised that was true after she had said it. The room held a dresser, a narrow wardrobe, a slim table with a basin, a mirror, and a worn chair. Two small bedside tables on either side of the bed. The one, single bed. There had been a huge price difference in getting a room with one bed and a room with two beds. So, in a rush of indignation and thriftiness, Nessa had decided that they could keep sharing a bed.

  Elise wasn’t going to complain about that. She had enjoyed sleeping close to Nessa, despite her embarrassment in finding herself snuggled in on top of her this morning. Elise would gladly continue acting as a cuddly toy for the practical, shy, sweet woman who was currently unpacking her few changes of clothes and putting them into the shabby dresser and tiny wardrobe.

  With a happy sigh, Elise whispered, “Welcome home.” She wasn’t sure if it was meant for Nessa or herself. Perhaps both.

  Chapter 12

  A New Day, a New Start

  The next morning Nessa woke to the view of a large crack in the ceiling. A white-washed concrete ceiling, she noted. So different from the one she had grown up with in Ground Hollow.

  She peered bleary-eyed at it, trying to remember where she was. The question was quickly overshadowed by why she was alone. She might not immediately know where she was, but she somehow had a sense that Elise was meant to be there with her. It was startling how after merely two nights she had adapted to sleeping next to Elise. Or on top of or underneath her, depending on how much fidgeting and moving around her bedfellow did.

  Nessa realised that what must have woken her was Elise unlocking the door. She now walked in, carrying a paper bag in one hand and a large tin mug in the other.

  “Good morning, beautiful. I am sorry that I was not here when you woke up. I went out for fresh bread and some leaf tea.”

  Nessa looked down at the pillow, letting her hair cover her face. It was far too early in the day to be blushing, just because her flirt of a roommate had called her beautiful.

  “Good morning to you, too. That smells delicious.”

  “I hope it tastes good, too. Here you go.” Elise handed her a roll and the big metal mug filled with what looked like weak tea.

  It wouldn't surprise Nessa if the tea was as weak as it looked. It might only have seen leaves from a distance. She was fully aware that most of what Elise had paid had probably gone to paying for the tin mug. She’d have to speak to Elise about being careful with coin. And how to be clever when dealing with overcharging traders.

  They ate in silence and handed the mug of tea back and forth.

  Nessa cast glances at the woman who now sat on the edge of the bed. Elise was still wearing the clothes she had lent her. Somehow, they looked so much better on Elise, even though they didn’t fit her as well as they did Nessa.

  She must have missed when Elise washed up and got dressed this morning. Her hair, however, still lay in tangled waves down her back.

  Adorable, but messy. Did she go outside looking like that? Odd. Maybe a rebellion against the impeccably styled life of Noble circles? Or perhaps she isn’t used to styling her hair without a servant to assist? Well, she’ll have to get used to doing it herself. Unless she cuts it short. Would Lady Elisandrine Falk ever cut her hair? Probably not. But perhaps Elise Aelin would?

  Elise was focused on ripping up a second roll into little pieces and eating the small morsels. Nessa took the chance to examine Elise’s face. Unlike when they first met, Elise wasn't wearing the kohl around her eyes or the red lip tint. Even without it, she had the most captivating appearance Nessa had ever seen, especially those mesmerising eyes. She couldn’t look away from them. She remembered when they had been face to face yesterday morning in Ground Hollow. Those sleepy eyes blinking their beauty at Nessa. So intimate, so vulnerable, so near.

  We were so close. I could have kissed her then. Or even better, she could have kissed me.

  Suddenly Elise looked up, making eye contact with a warm smile. Nessa forced herself to look down at the mug in her hands.

  A tingle was starting in her chest and spreading throughout her body. She willed herself to breath normally and not blush. The tingle died down, doused by a realisation. It wouldn’t do to be attracted to this woman. She was out of Nessa’s league. Besides, there was the description that Elise had given of herself “A sexual woman who likes bedplay for fun, not for relationships or for love.” That was the opposite of Nessa, who had little need for bedding someone she didn’t want to spend her days with. They were not romantically compatible. Elise was not meant for her. She had to remember that.

  Nessa took a big gulp of the watery tea. “Thank you so much for going out to buy breakfast.”

  “You are most welcome. It was not an inconvenience. Well, in a way it was, since I was hobbling like a three-legged dog. I will have to buy new boots today. It is an unwelcome expense considering we do not have any capital coming in, but I have to be able to move.”

  Nessa put the mug on the bedside table and picked up what was left of her roll. “Of course. After I have washed and dressed, we’ll go to the nearest cobbler and get you some good boots. I assume you’ll want a job that is not pure grunt work. That means you’ll also need clothes that are practical but somewhat stylish.”

  Elise wiped breadcrumbs off her hands. “I had not thought of that. Yes, new boots and practical but elegant dresses for me. I suppose you would prefer some shirts and trousers which allow for physical labour?”

  Nessa considered what jobs she might want, finding none needing a dress. “I think so.”

  “All right. I will put my hair up and get the coin purse out.”

  Nessa swallowed the last bit of her bread roll. “Great. I will get ready. Feel free to have the last of the tea.”

  * * *

  After going downstairs to ask the landlady about cobblers, they had been directed to the biggest street in Nightport, Core Street. Miller Street was an offshoot of Core Street so it would be easy to find. They headed there now, looking for what the landlady said was a “cheap but good” shoemaker.

  Elise was passing the time by badgering Nessa about what she looked for in a job. “Oh, come now. Surely you had something in mind when you thought about moving to Nightport all those years?”

  Nessa shrugged, once again noticing the itch on her shoulder which had appeared after last night. She tried not to entertain the possibility that their cheap lodging house had fleas, lice, or something worse. “Perhaps. But what you dream of doesn't necessarily relate to what life looks like. Not when you're trying to make ends meet. I will take whatever job I can get.”

  Elise waved the statement away. “Yes, yes. I know that. But why not aim for what you truly want to do? Come on
. You can tell me. What did you see yourself doing when you dreamed about coming here? Working in that big toy shop? Candle maker? Barmaid? Getting a job in one of the new factories?”

  Nessa wasn't sure if she should be honest. Talking about dreams and plans wasn’t done in her home. If she said this out loud, it felt like it might somehow disappear into thin air. Be tainted by reality. Or that Elise would laugh at her high-flying plan.

  No, Elise wasn’t like that, so she squared her shoulders and forced the words out.

  “I’ve n-never told anyone this. Nor really dared to truly consider it, I guess. But, th-there was one trade I did want to learn. I’m not sure I’d be any good at it, though. I know how to read books and farm land. That’s it. Besides, it would take a master for me to apprentice with and they are few and far between. Most of them take a family member as an apprentice anyway, so what chance do I have?”

  Elise walked closer to her. “Who can say? Let us find out together. What is the profession?”

  Nessa chewed her lower lip, keeping her gaze on the road ahead. “Glassblowing.”

  When Elise didn’t react, she forced herself to speak again. “When I visited Nightport as a child, I saw a man blowing glass and was mesmerised by it. He shaped this blob of unassuming stuff over fire, making the most beautiful but useful objects out of it. Since then, I’ve never been able to shake how fascinating and versatile glass can be. It’s almost become a bit of an obsession. Layden would laugh at me for admiring his array of tincture bottles and glass jars. If there was a skill I could pick to dedicate myself to, glassblowing would be the one.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Elise give a quick nod. “Splendid. After we get my boots and the clothes, we will ask around regarding the city’s glassblowers. Then we will seek them out and ask if any of them would take an apprentice. If they have any sense, they will see how capable and hardworking you are as soon as they speak with you.”

  Nessa scoffed. “I doubt it. I will probably be shy and make an idiot of myself.”

  “Not while I am around. I will not allow it. First things first, however, let us make my feet hate me less.”

  They arrived at the suggested address on Core Street and walked into the cobbler and shoemaker’s shop. Elise marched right over to a man with a giant, bushy moustache. Smiling prettily, she greeted him. He looked up and instantly smiled back, smoothing his moustache and sucking in his beer gut. Nessa tried not to roll her eyes as she sat down to wait.

  “I am looking for a sturdy but elegant pair of heeled, black boots. It is a bonus if they do not pinch too much. I should also like… and this is an unusual request, I know. I should also like some addresses for glassblowers in Nightport. If you know of any, that is. I am certain you do. You look to me like a real man about town.”

  The moustachioed man stood to attention. “Most certainly, Miss. I’ll find ye the best black boots I ‘ave. Elegant they are, too. An’ won’t be costin’ ye an arm and a leg. Then I’ll write down the names of some glassblowers. I know quite a few. Nightport born an’ raised, I am.”

  “Thank you ever so much. I am so lucky to have stumbled upon you and your lovely shop,” Elise said, blinding the man with another smile.

  The man bowed low and then scurried off to a shelf of black boots.

  Nessa leaned back and marvelled at Elise. She had a feeling that the confident and vibrant lady currently looking at shoes would keep her entertained and captivated for the rest of their friendship. She shook her head, smiling.

  I never knew people like her existed. Please don’t let her get bored of me.

  * * *

  Two hours later they had three new sets of clothes each and Elise had a pair of gorgeous new boots.

  They had also traipsed throughout Nightport, visiting nearly all the glassblowers on the list that the cobbler had written down for them. None of them had been willing to take an apprentice.

  Nessa’s dream seemed to have been left on the narrow, dirty streets behind her. She rubbed her face with her hand. “Was that the last one?”

  Elise consulted the list. “No. He wrote down one more. A Josiah Brownlee. It says he works on 32 Orgreave Street. That is next to Miller Street, I think. So close to home – that must be a sign.” She gripped Nessa’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Stay positive.”

  Nessa sighed but followed Elise towards Orgreave Street. When they got there, they counted the numbers out until they reached a building with the number 32 on it. It was a normal house connected to a long workshop with a giant chimney above it. Nessa wasn’t even nervous this time. What was the point? There would be no job here either.

  Elise knocked on the door, and after a while it opened with a slow creak. A man who must've been in his fifties, with a scraggly beard and a haggard face, peered at them.

  Elise took a step forward, back ramrod-straight and a winning smile on her face. “Hello. Are you Josiah Brownlee? The glassblower?”

  “I am. Who’s askin’?” he barked.

  “My name is Elise, and this is Nessa Clay. We are new to the city and looking for work. Nessa here has always wanted to learn the craft of glassblowing and was told you were the person she should learn from. Would you be willing to take an apprentice? She is hardworking, diligent, trustworthy, and a fast learner.”

  Josiah looked Nessa up and down with a sceptical air.

  Nessa felt the need to say something. “I’d work long hours for small pay.”

  He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “I’d say ye would. My last apprentice lived ‘ere. Slept on a mattress in the hot shop; that’s a glassblower’s workshop, in case ye didn’t know. He sometimes helped me an’ Mrs Brownlee in our house next door. Cleaned an’ did errands, the lad did. All for the privilege of bein’ taught a proper profession. His wages used to be a roof over his ‘ead an’ food in his belly.”

  Nessa’s heart sank even further. She’d heard similar tales from the other glassblowers. Any apprentice had to be young and willing to live with the glassblower, in all but name being a slave. To make matters worse, their querying had confirmed the assumption that glassblowers chose the younglings from their extended family. She was about to thank him for his time when she saw Elise hold up a hand.

  “Mr Brownlee. You said ‘used to be.’ May I ask where your apprentice, this lad, is now?”

  The old man rubbed his bearded chin and squinted at Elise. “Skipped out on us, didn’t he? After pilferin’ the month’s earnings an’ my wife’s best porcelain. Why do ye ask?”

  Elise hummed. She clasped her hands and shook her head. “From what I hear there is a lot of that in Nightport. Plenty of untrustworthy youngsters growing up on the tough streets.”

  He was about to say something, but Elise carried on. “Well, my friend here is a hardworking young woman from Ground Hollow. A farmer’s daughter who has helped the farm to thrive. She is used to putting in a good day’s work without grumbling. Helping those around her without asking for anything in return. Constantly following a strict code of moral conduct.”

  Josiah looked Nessa over again, this time with a greater interest, but he still didn't look convinced. Nessa saw Elise smile at the old man, grabbing his attention to speak again. “She would live in lodgings with me just a short walk away, over on Miller Street. I need the companionship, you see. Nessa offered to help, being the good person she is. It seems to me that the few coins you would pay her would be less than you paid your last apprentice, if you factor in what he stole. Nessa only needs enough for rent and some basic food. Pittance, really. She would almost be working for free.”

  All of a sudden, a woman stepped out from inside the workshop. She opened the front door wider, and a wall of heat hit Nessa.

  “Josiah, I’ve been listenin’, and there is sense in what the girl is sayin’. Ye’re not a young buck anymore, an’ my back is bent like a rusty pipe. We need help with the grunt work. But I'll be drawn behind a cart if I let another skivin’, thievin’ young scoundrel under m
y roof. Havin’ someone livin’ a street away sounds better to me.” She squinted at Nessa. “Let me ‘ave a look at this farm girl an’ see if she’s all what her friend reckons she is.”

  Josiah grunted and muttered, “This is Secilia, my wife. She’s a glassblower, too. Does most of the tricky, fiddly work. Ye’d be workin’ for us both if we took ye on.”

  Secilia walked up to them and looked Nessa up and down, much as her husband had a moment ago. After a tense moment, she gave a quick nod.

  “Looks trustworthy enough. Honest eyes and doesn’t stand there smilin’ like some fool. However, looks can lie. Are ye willin’ to work your fingers to the bone, girl?”

  Nessa knew this was the time for her to do her part. Elise couldn’t help her now.

  “Yes, Mrs Brownlee. It’s been a dream for me to become a glassblower, and I’ll work myself into the ground if it means I can make that dream a reality. I’ll clean, run errands, do heavy lifting. Anything you need in return for teaching me the trade. Oh, and earning enough coins to keep me in bread.”

  “Speaks nice and proper, too. Good posture and seems to ‘ave some muscle on her bones. We’ll give her a chance, Josiah. Take her on for a month, and we'll see how hardworkin’ and trustworthy she is.”

  With that Secilia returned to the workshop, leaving Josiah, Nessa, and Elise on the doorstep.

  Josiah drew in a long breath and echoed his wife. “I'll hire ye for a month. I can only pay ye one silver a week. That should be keepin’ ye in bread and rent if you’re on Miller Street. After that first month, we'll see if ye want to stay on. And if me and Secilia want ye to. Sound fair?”

  Nessa felt like she had just been given the best present of her life. “Absolutely. You won't regret it.”

  Elise broke in. “Excuse me. Will the wages go up if you both decide that Nessa can stay on as apprentice?”

  “Of course!” Josiah barked. “I'm not some bloodsucker who keeps good workers on for small coin. If she works hard, does as we say, an’ has a knack for glassblowin’, we’ll be payin’ her three silvers a week. Ye can’t say fairer than that.”