A Student's Dream (Twisted Cogs Book 1) Read online

  Elena’s stomach did a flip at the words.

  No...no she can’t take me from here, she wouldn’t do that...she wouldn’t....

  “You are mistaken on several points, Madam Lucciano, points which I’m happy to enumerate once you’ve stepped away from Elena. Pietro?” The marble page took a careful and measured step away, and Joanna had no choice but to follow, leaving them evenly spaced between Elena and De Luca, who was counting off on thin wrinkled finger.

  “On the first; Elena is no longer your daughter above all things. For as long as she remains in this studio she is a De Luca garzona, nothing more and certainly nothing less, with all the respect that is owed her. Unlike the respect you expect for the Lucciano name, this is respect which she is actually owed, and it is respect she will actually be given.”

  Elena winced again. Don’t antagonize her like that when she’s already thinking of taking me away.

  “I don’t think-” Joanna began.

  “Secondly,” De Luca cut over the woman’s interruption so forcefully that both Luccianos jumped, “do not imagine you are the first mother who, in her...let’s graciously call it ‘anxiety’...has demanded the return of one of my students to them. If Elena does leave with you today, you will be the first mother who succeeds.”

  “You think you can keep a daughter away from her mother? You think you have the legal ability to do so?”

  “Yes,” De Luca said after a moment’s consideration. “Given my personal friendship with the Lord of this city, given that I have had pieces commissioned by the King of Italoza himself, I very much do think that. Elena,” his tone unchanged, De Luca turned to her, “morning meal is over, and Bea is assigning each provisional garzoni to the full garzoni they will be assisting. Make your way to the studio, if you please.”

  “Elena, you will do no such thing,” Joanna hissed, “you will stay right here and discuss this situation with us.”

  Elena struggled through the problem in her head. If she disobeyed her mother, Joanna would be even more angry, and Elena’s punishment, when it came, would be even more severe. She didn’t harbor any illusions that her mother would forget; once Elena had gone on a trip with her aunt for an entire month, only to come back to a punishment for sassing her mother the day before they’d left.

  On the other hand, everything her mother had drilled into her about the worth and pride of the Lucciano name might be at stake here. Joanna might be angry at her, but after the anger and punishment had passed, Elena’s relationship with her mother would be better, and everything would be alright again. If Elena disobeyed Master De Luca, he would dismiss her then and there. The loss of De Luca’s support wouldn’t destroy her plans for fame, but as Ele had reminded her, it would certainly put a damper on them.

  Elena made her choice, but couldn’t look at her mother as she hurried past them both.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she passed Joanna. In the long run, she knew her mother would want the security of a rich and famous daughter over a short-term obedience, but her defiance twisted in her gut all the same. She could still hear the murmurs of the adults behind her as she left.

  “Wow, that was the most awesome-” Ele began.

  “Don’t Ele. Please...please just don’t.” Elena fought the tears that were blurring her vision, and Ele thankfully stayed silent for the rest of the short walk to the workroom.

  ***

  “-Mella will be taking care of Niccolo, and that leaves Elena to care for Frederica,” Bea was saying as Elena entered the wide open workroom. The soft light and the smell of the trees just outside the window made her feel marginally better, although she belatedly realized that Frederica was the floppy-haired girl who seemed to have a problem with her.

  Bea turned to Elena. “You haven’t missed much, I’m sure one of your fellow garzoni will fill you in on the duties we’ve discussed.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Elena ducked her head in awkward acknowledgment, grateful that the Echo didn’t mention the scene her mother was making.

  “Good. Now, I’ll leave you all to get acquainted for the rest of the day. I strongly suggest buying supplies you might need, as the day after supplication is the busiest for Milian merchants. I have business to attend to now, but if anyone needs me specifically, I’ll be in the library. If anyone needs Master De Luca...I’ll be in the library.”

  After Bea left, the workshop descended into an awkward silence for a few moments, full and provisional garzoni watching each other warily. The silence was broken when the burly Saggitari, Niccolo, rose to his feet suddenly.

  “Come on, Mella, I’ll shop with you the first time to show you the sorts of things I’ll need. We can talk on the way,” he said, and as if the spell was broken the other students began mingling, quietly talking in the pairs they had been assigned. Elena turned towards the workstation on the right at the far end, where Frederica was waiting for her.

  “Here you go, wino, catch,” Frederica tossed a wooden object in her direction, which Elena caught gingerly. “These are the tools I work with, so you’ll become very familiar with them over the next eight weeks.” Elena’s eyes widened. She had caught the tool by the handle, and she hadn’t realized at first how lucky she had been.

  “Are you crazy?” she asked, holding it up. The wooden handle was smooth and sturdy wood, but extending up from one side was a curved blade of dark metal, about the length of her thumb. The inner edge of the blade looked wickedly sharp, and it caught the light with a mischievous twinkle. “What are you thinking throwing this at me? I could’ve lost a finger!”

  “You didn’t, you’re fine,” Frederica said dismissively, “would’ve been a poor catch if you’d missed from this distance.”

  “Besides, what is it you actually do?” Frederica’s Echo asked, gesturing towards her portion of the long marble table. Every other section had materials to work with except hers, probably because Bea had no idea what a Fabera would need to work with. “It doesn’t look like Master De Luca bothered giving you supplies, how much worse can ‘doing nothing’ be with nine fingers instead of ten?”

  “Alright, Fred, enough of the fraternizing,” Frederica said shortly before turning back to her workstation and spreading her hands, “now Elena, you’ll want to be at least somewhat knowledgeable about this so pay attention.” In an instant the woman’s brisk surliness melted away into a surprisingly professional tone. “Bea mentioned I’m a Caelator, but like all Caelators I have a specialty, and certain restrictions. My craft is very precise, and even with my level of skill not everything I craft will turn out right. Under my desk here is a crate in which I will put my scraps at the end of every day. I want them burnt before I come up here every morning.”

  Elena opened her mouth to ask what constituted “scraps”, but Frederica was already moving on.

  “The precise nature of my work means the tools I use must be equally as precise, but luckily for you I work solely with wood. That means you won’t have to worry about maintaining chisels, which are a pain when it comes to upkeep. You will need to maintain my knives, but seriously, you lucked out.”

  Elena wasn’t quite sure how to take the shift in mood. The girl was almost...almost friendly as she spoke. Sure she was directing the affectionate grin at her tools, but it was a better mood than Elena had seen her new co-garzona in yet. Frederica took one of the woodworking knives in her hand and hefted it as she continued, then spun it absently between her fingers.

  “Eighth-inch triple-pressed lilium iron, with cedar handles. I used to have a mismatched set, and it drove me absolutely crazy trying to adjust to the different hefts, so now I make sure they’re all of a set. Each is balanced for my hand and usually they’re all worn away at the same rate, so if you ever mess one of them up, you’d better find a way to replace the whole set, because I will notice if only one of them is new.” Elena was sure Frederica was just trying to be intimidating, spinning the blade between her fingers and then tossing it absentmindedly to the other hand, but it work
ed. Every time Elena managed to forget about the knife, the strangely dark metal would catch a flash of light at an odd angle, as if giving her a predatory wink.

  “Isn’t cedar a really soft wood? Hard to keep oiled and smooth? Why don’t you just choose a wood that doesn’t wear away so easily?” Ele asked, as Frederica paused to examine a fleck of dust on the blade.

  “Good question. Wouldn’t have expected you to know that,” Frederica gave Ele an appraising look, as if she were impressed in spite of herself, but didn’t answer. Elena watched the slowly spinning blade, trying to imagine the reason for the wood choice. Frederica didn’t seem the type to choose a weaker tool out of personal preference.

  If they were my knives, why would I want to use cedar?

  “Lilium iron has to be really light,” Elena realized out loud, turning to Ele, “so for the knives to feel right in her hand, she needs a light wood to keep the balance she’s used to.”

  “I really wouldn’t have expected you to know that,” Frederica narrowed her eyes, her gaze flitting back and forth between the two of them. The blade in her fingers conspicuously stopped spinning. “How did you know that?”

  “I just worked it out,” Elena said, “I’ve never even heard of a metal that could be triple-pressed, but I know double-pressing only works for light metal, so lilium must be lighter than any metal I’ve ever heard of. If it’s that light, it must need a lighter wood, right?”

  “You just worked that out, did you?”

  “I did! I’m...good at working things out...” Elena had long since given up on trying to explain how it felt when her Storm began working. She could just tell how the knives were put together, and she found it frustrating that no one else seemed to have that skill.

  “Or, more likely, she’s a Caelator herself.” Fred had moved straight from appraisal to open hostility, skipping the step of suspicion that Frederica was giving them. “How else would she know what a good balance is?” Frederica didn’t say anything, but her suspicious glare didn’t lessen in the slightest.

  “That was just a guess. If lilium iron is so rare, it must be expensive, which means you probably only got them when you came here. Chances are when you started sculpting, you learned with a much heavier set of tools, tools with a certain balance,” Elena’s explanation was faltering under the twin glares, but she forged on. “To get the same balance as heavy tools with hardwood handles, you’d need a light wood to balance the light metal in the same way.”

  “I know why I have light wood handles, I’m just trying to figure out how exactly you got that from ‘intuition’,” Frederica said. Elena shifted uncomfortably. Pietro’s words about the uselessness of Fabera made her wary of giving the pair any more ammunition they could use to give her a hard time, so instead she just kept silent. The response seemed to incense Frederica even more, because she stood from her stool with an air of finality. “Fine. You should be able to ‘intuit’ caring for my tools while you’re at it. If you mess anything up that makes me lose my work time, you had better believe I’ll still report you to Mistress Bea. And I want a backup set here by tomorrow.”

  Without another word Frederica stalked from the room, scowling. Elena furrowed her brow. For a moment, when she was talking about her tools and her work, Frederica hadn’t seemed quite so bad. She wasn’t quite sure what had made the girl so angry, and for a moment Elena pondered the problem. There was certainly something beneath the girl’s combative and snide exterior, if only she knew what had made her let her guard down for those few moments, and what had made them snap back up so quickly.

  “We’re not stupid, you know.”

  Elena jumped, whirling to face the source of the voice. Fred had remained behind, sitting on the edge of the workbench, his face more thoughtful than spiteful, although it still held a glimmer of anger in it. “Frederica has asked around, and you haven’t told anyone how you’re touched by the Storm.”

  “And...you know what I am?” Elena asked carefully.

  “With enough clues it’s obvious to put together. Look at you! You’re too mousy and shy to be a Saggitara; a girl who can handle a bow would be able to string a sentence together without looking like she’s expecting to get slapped.”

  Elena remembered the slap from a few minutes ago, and looked down at her feet as Fred continued.

  “You’re too stupid to be a Machinator, and De Luca would be fawning over you if you were. But he did accept you in, so you’re not a Fabera or Lanista. Like I said, you’ve got to be a Caelator.”

  I should just tell him what I am. This is stupid, Elena thought to herself, and judging from the look he was giving her, Ele was thinking much the same, they’re going to find out I’m a Fabera sooner or later, why don’t I just tell them?

  “So what if I am a Caelator? What’s it to you?” She asked. Maybe it was due to stubbornness, or perhaps it just seemed unfair to reveal herself to Fred before telling her professed-ally Leanarda. At least she now knew what had made Frederica so angry, though she had no clue why. Wouldn’t they want another Caelator around? Someone to talk to about...chiseling, or something?

  “Then you’re finished,” he said with finality. “Master De Luca likes diversity in his garzoni. He won’t keep both Frederica and you when Showing Day comes around.”

  “Aren’t Carlo and Vittoria both Artifexes?” Elena was surprised at this new information.

  “Vittoria was a...special case,” Fred said, avoiding her gaze for a moment, “I can guarantee that the circumstances that bought her a spot on this team won’t work for you.” He slipped off the side of the desk and walked towards the door. For the first time, Elena noticed that his footsteps didn’t make a sound as he crossed the space.

  That’s creepy. Do all Echos not make a sound?

  “I’m not a Caelator,” she admitted to his retreating back, “I’m a Fabera.”

  “Ha. Sure you are,” Fred’s laugh was humorless, and he neither turned nor stopped.

  “So that’s it then? You’ve decided I’m a Caelator and I’m just competition? There’s nothing I can do to make things better between us?”

  “You were competition the second you walked through the door, Caelator or no. Now? Now that we know you’re a liar and direct competition? Now you’re the enemy.” Fred reached the closed workshop door and turned, facing her full-on. “Please don’t have those backup tools here tomorrow. Give us an excuse to report you to Mistress Bea and leave gracefully. If you get kicked out in the first few days, you might have time to find a place at another Studio.”

  With the grim warning ringing through the quiet workshop, Fred slipped through the closed door, melting into the wood without another sound.

  Chapter XII

  Night of Surprises

  Few of the merchants in the village of Milia carried anything made of lilium iron, and those who did hadn’t heard of triple-pressing. After a pause midday for a small loaf and a piece of sweet cheese, Elena continued on her search, locating and checking in at shops all around the city. By the time she finally found a small tool shop that offered the right tools, she was watching the sun to be sure she wouldn’t miss the evening meal.

  Elena couldn’t help but wonder if Frederica would have known the shop, if that had been among the information she’d kept to herself after Elena had made her angry. She’d returned from buying the rare tools just in time to wash up for dinner. The evening meal was much more subdued and quiet than the breakfast, and after it was over Elena had gone to bed without further incident.

  Now that she was in bed, she found herself unable to sleep.

  The white marble of Elena’s ceiling had reflected the sunlight in the morning, bouncing it all round the room, but in the moonlight it seemed to be dulled. It was still light enough to see every corner of her room, but dim enough that it shouldn’t have kept her from sleeping.

  Elena’s eyes roved back and forth over the patterns in the stone, idly trying to form pictures where none existed. She reached beneath her pillow,
feeling around for the lump of woodworking tools wrapped in cloth. The awkward bundle was comforting, and she settled back beneath the thick blanket.

  “You’d better hope you don’t toss and turn enough to unwrap those in your sleep, or you’re going to lose an ear,” Ele commented from the small chair in the corner, “that’s the fifth time tonight you’ve checked to make sure they’re there. They aren’t going anywhere, Elena.”

  “I just don’t think I’ve ever had something so expensive in my possession in my entire life,” Elena murmured, “I feel more comfortable knowing where it is at all times.”

  “But Master De Luca is going to pay for it. The shopkeep didn’t even bat an eye when you told him to credit it to Studio De Luca.”

  Elena shrugged, even though she wasn’t sure if Ele could see her from where he sat.

  “Maybe I’m just a little bit paranoid, with everything you and Leanarda have warned me about.”

  “You think someone is going to steal it?”

  Elena shrugged again, frowning to herself.

  “Fred certainly seemed angry enough that they might try, just to report me and get me kicked out,” she sighed, “I don’t know, everything just seemed so bright and beautiful this morning. But between people warning me, people threatening me-”

  “People slapping you...”

  “That was my own fault, I should’ve told Mama the second I knew I’d gotten in. I’m so happy that I got in, but everyone seems so tense here, everyone is on edge. I thought we would all be happy and friendly, maybe learning tricks of the trade from each other, but instead it feels like the full garzoni versus the provisional. I wish I knew why that was. It’s a bit of a let down.”