ã€ŠTwisted Cogsã€‹


 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 1

    ¡°Meddle not with shadows, though shadows give thee power, meddle not with shadows, for the shadow takes its fee...¡±

    Usually Elena enjoyed listening to Ele¡¯s voice when he sang, but today it was getting on her nerves. The journey had been long, made all the longer by her anxiety, and all she wanted was to ride the rest of the trip in peace and silence, alone in her thoughts. A brief glance at her mother seated next to her told Elena that the severe woman was watching her like a hawk. She didn¡¯t dare tell her friend to stop singing under that gaze.

    It¡¯s not so bad, she chided herself. Ele is a good singer, and he isn¡¯t bothering anyone else with his singing. Perhaps she was just on edge because of the importance of the day, or maybe it was how uncomfortable the trip had been so far. The uneven hardwood of the seat was making her rear ache, and the sun beat down surprisingly hot for an autumn day. The scenery had been interesting back when they were still in Carpi, but ever since they¡¯d left the tiny town there had been nothing to see but long stretches of quorley fields.

    ¡°Meddle not with shadows, even though you think them playthings...¡±

    The problem is that all quorley fields look the same, Elena decided. The sunlight playing across the light purple fields would be quite beautiful if she hadn¡¯t been staring at them for hours. She needed novelty, excitement, something to latch her curiosity onto..

    If this trip were a sculpture, I¡¯d say it lacked depth, Elena thought, playing word games with herself to take her mind off the discomfort. If this trip were a musical piece, I¡¯d say it didn¡¯t resonate. If this trip were a painting-

    ¡°But whilst thee plays with shadows, shadows may too play with thee!¡±

    It was no use playing word games while Ele warbled, and Elena sighed as she gave up the attempt. Trying to stave off the restlessness, she turned her curiosity back to her fellow passengers. An old man with a hunched back slept in the corner of the cart, the hood of his cloak pulled down over his face despite the heat. Next to Elena¡¯s mother, a very plump woman in a roughspun green dress was crocheting something lumpy and blue. Across from her sat Ele, but of course only Elena could see him. Next to Ele was a weary-looking father in a straw hat with his three little children, who seemed to be staring at her whenever she glanced at him.

    His gaze made her very aware of the low neckline of the pale blue dress she wore, and she tugged it a little higher. Her mother had said it was important on this trip to show she was a woman, not a girl, but Elena wished she could wear one of her more comfortable dresses.

    She doubted she looked like a woman anyway. With her snub nose, big green eyes, and constant enthusiastic grin, she was used to the adults of her village considering her still a child, despite her eighteen autumns.

    ¡°Oh meddle not with shadows...¡±

    She couldn¡¯t take it anymore. The singing may not be able to bother anyone else, but if she had to listen to another chorus of The Shadow¡¯s Plaything she would go even madder than she already was.

    ¡°Stop,¡± she mouthed silently, watching her mother carefully out of the corner of her eye. Ele stopped singing immediately, but Elena hadn¡¯t been careful enough. To the other passengers riding the cart it looked like her mother had just taken Elena¡¯s right hand in her lap, as if wanting to be close to her daughter, a passing moment of affection between mother and child.

    They didn¡¯t see the severe woman pressing her thumb into Elena¡¯s wrist, nor could they know that the wrist had been broken a few weeks ago. It might¡¯ve ruined the effect of motherly affection if they knew that Elena¡¯s smile hid the way she clenched her teeth to keep a whimper of pain from leaving her lips. Ele both noticed the action and knew of her wrist, and he was instantly contrite.

    ¡°Calzini di dio, I¡¯m so sorry Elena!¡± He said. His regretful expression was marred by the glare he shot towards her mother. ¡°We need to come up with some sort of code so Joanna the queen of bitches doesn¡¯t know when you¡¯re talking to me.¡± Elena forgave him, of course, but she very carefully and resolutely pretended that she couldn¡¯t see or hear him. Her wrist already pounded so hard with pain that she could feel it up to her elbow, she didn¡¯t need another ¡°reminder¡± from her mother.

    As soon as she could without raising suspicion, Elena extracted her hand and rested both hands in her lap. The cart rumbled on for another hour before the pain died down to a dull throbbing, every bump and rumble even more uncomfortable now.

    ¡°Do you realize, if this trip goes well, we¡¯ll be able to talk to each other whenever we want, and she won¡¯t be around to do a thing about it?¡± Ele seemed almost as excited as she was to reach their destination, and Elena smiled at her folded hands. ¡°You can actually look at me, actually talk to me, and Joanna can¡¯t do a damned thing to stop us. It¡¯ll be like we¡¯re kids again.¡±

    Elena stared out at the fields of quorley, their lavender shoots reaching almost the height of a full-grown man. Her best friend¡¯s excitement was infectious, and she began to perk up a bit. It didn¡¯t really matter how hot the sun was, or how boring the scenery, or even the dull pain in her wrist; she was on her way to the city! The trip would go well, and she would be a garzona, apprenticed to one of the greatest artist in Italoza. As long as the cart was taking her towards the city of Milia, she could put up with any discomfort.

    As if the universe had heard her, the cart suddenly lurched, one corner slamming down into the ground and sending the passengers tumbling from the wooden benches. Elena caught herself on her right hand without thinking, but her cry of pain was hidden by the other passengers¡¯ exclamations.

    They climbed down carefully as the cart driver surveyed the damage with a sad shake of his head. His equipment had looked sturdy, but it was clear that the cart was worn with age, and one of the wooden wheels had hit a bump just right and split into two uneven pieces.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry folks, I really thought she had another few trips left in her.¡± The large man examined the ruined wheel and scratched his head. ¡°I¡¯ll be refunding your money, ¡®course, but I¡¯m afraid we¡¯re going to have to walk the rest of the distance. Lucky for us this happened so close to the city, it¡¯s not too far a walk. Just an hour or so.¡±

    The tingling in her temples and fingertips was already starting as Elena surveyed the broken wheel. The pieces were splintered and wedged, but a good enough craftsman would be able to fix them. She glanced around at the passengers who milled around the ruined cart.

    ¡°None of the other passengers are likely to be able to fix that wheel.¡± Elena commented lightly, directing the comment to her mother but meaning it mostly for Ele.

    ¡°You are a Lucciano, Elena. Grubbing in the dirt to fix a cartman¡¯s wheel is hardly becoming of someone in your station.¡± Her mother said, giving her a sharp look.

    ¡°She acts like the Luccianos didn¡¯t gain their station by crafting things, the stuck up snob.¡± Ele said indignantly, but Elena tried a more subtle tack.

    ¡°I simply wondered, mother, whether it would send the right impression for us to arrive at Milia on foot, walking as if we were commoners.¡± She sniffed, trying to adopt the high-chinned expression her mother so often wore. It was difficult not to smile as she saw the conflict in her mother¡¯s eyes, but the elder Lucciano finally relented.

    ¡°Alright then, but be quick about it.¡± Elena was already running towards the quorley fields before her mother finished speaking, although she could hear her mother selling her skills to the cart driver already. ¡°I am Joanna Lucciano, you may know of my family. I believe my daughter can help, for a price...¡±

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    Elena breathed a small sigh of relief when her mother¡¯s voice was too far away to be heard. The Lucciano name was indeed quite well known in their town, but Elena sometimes wondered how much of their reputation had to do with Joanna¡¯s sharp tongue and quick temper. The reminder made her right wrist ache.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t your fault, about my hand I mean.¡± Elena said quietly to Ele. ¡°I should¡¯ve just put up with the singing, it wasn¡¯t hurting anyone.¡± She used her left hand to pull stalks of the lavender grain, uncharacteristically clumsy. Pulling grain wasn¡¯t a craft, so the Storm wouldn¡¯t guide her hand.

    ¡°It¡¯s more your hellcat of a mother¡¯s fault.¡± Ele said bitterly, watching her work. The sun on his face made his dark features stand out more, accentuated his rough brow and his large chin. When he talked about her mother, his brown eyes flashed dangerously. ¡°But you know how I feel about that. You¡¯ll need about twenty more.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Elena looked at the grain she had already gathered, ignoring the dig at her mother.

    ¡°That cart weighs a few thousand libbra, and it¡¯ll be applying that weight to the wheel pretty constantly.¡± Ele pointed out. Elena had pulled the extra and was already standing, holding the large bundle under one arm as she began braiding strands of the grain together. She didn¡¯t need to check with him for that much; they worked together so well they rarely had to slow down to discuss design.

    ¡°But the total weight will be dispersed over all four wheels,¡± Elena reminded as they walked back from the edge of the field to where the cart drivers and passengers all waited.

    ¡°Your mother is watching, no more talk for awhile,¡± Ele said sadly. Elena took his advice without looking up, focusing on the braiding. Her fingers flew with the unfamiliar task, the Storm buzzing across her fingertips like little arcs of invisible lightning. It tingled and tickled, but the feeling was relaxing like dipping her fingers in cool water on the hot day.

    Whenever one strand of grain ran out she wove in another, turning the separate stalks into one long and continuous purple strand of tough woven grain. When they arrived at the cart, her mother and the cart driver were still arguing.

    ¡°Ma¡¯am begging your pardon and appreciating your girl¡¯s work, I don¡¯t care much who you are, I can¡¯t pay you any more than that!¡±

    ¡°Any more? That would imply that you¡¯re paying anything at all! Giving us the cost of the trip is different than rendering payment for the service we provide!¡± Joanna had drawn herself up to her full height, and Elena resisted the urge to sigh. Instead she knelt down by the broken wheel.

    ¡°Would you mind lifting for me?¡± She asked, apologetically, as she spooled the makeshift braided rope on the ground behind her. The father in the straw hat, the old man, and the cart driver hurried over to lift the edge of the cart, even though her mother followed the cart driver and continued her tirade.

    ¡°If it weren¡¯t for us you would have to refund everyone¡¯s fare, I daresay. And you imagine that refunding me is a payment? I am sure any reasonable person would see my point of view, or a reasonable judge for that matter. If it wasn¡¯t of vital importance that we arrive in Milia on time, I would leave you with this broken wheel to suffer for your own poor decisions.¡±

    Elena mostly ignored her mother, holding the two wheel pieces together with her shoulder as she carefully wrapped the lavender rope around and around it. In the end the wheel was covered completely by the flexible and tough material, the wheel resting in a tight round bundle of braided woven rope.

    ¡°You¡¯ll want a pelican knot at the end of that, tight, and on the outside so it¡¯s not rubbing against the shaft.¡± Ele advised, as the men gently and gingerly set the cart back down. Elena furrowed her brow, holding both loose ends of the rope. She didn¡¯t know what a pelican knot was. Luckily Ele seemed to note the problem right away, and he knelt at her side.

    ¡°Loop it around in a big bend, like this, then three twirls and twist it into the loop.¡± He said, holding his hands next to the wheel and demonstrating the motions. His fingers slipped incorporeally through the rope, but Elena caught enough to duplicate it. It was a good knot for the situation, one that would tighten up the more the rope wore away.

    ¡°It won¡¯t last for the whole trip back; you will have to buy a new wheel when we reach the city. But we will reach the city, so there¡¯s no need to fret.¡± Elena said with a satisfied smile as she rose.

    ¡°Thank you child.¡± The driver looked genuinely grateful, grinning down at the lavender wheel. ¡°People like you make the world a better place; you¡¯ve a kind heart. Must¡¯ve gotten it from your father,¡± he added in a mutter, climbing back up into the driver¡¯s seat. The passengers were slowly moving back into the cart, and Elena went to follow them, but her mother grabbed her arm in a vicelike grip.

    ¡°I saw you talking again, down by the quorley field,¡± she said quietly. Elena tensed, but instead of scolding her mother sighed. ¡°Heaven help us Elena Lucciano, how can you not take this seriously? You are a full-grown woman now, on her way to be apprenticed. Eighteen autumns last week, that is far too old to have imaginary friends. How do you think they¡¯ll react in Milia, if they see you nattering on like a child or a madwoman? How do you think that will reflect on the Lucciano name?¡±

    Her mother¡¯s eyes were green, like hers, although in the sharp lines of her face they looked more angry than enthusiastic. They flashed with disappointment now, in a way that hurt almost as much as her wrist had. Elena dropped her gaze ashamedly to the ground, even as Ele glared daggers at her mother.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Mama. I didn¡¯t mean to harm the family¡¯s name.¡± She said quietly. Her mother put her hand under Elena¡¯s chin and lifted her head until she met her gaze.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright my child. You will pass through this phase someday. You have done more for this family than the past three generations, and one day the Luccianos will be known throughout all of Italoza because of you. It is my responsibility to help you do that, and I can only hope that you do not hate me for it.¡±

    Elena was silent as she climbed into the cart after her mother and Ele.

    How could I possibly hate Mama? It¡¯s not her fault that my mind is muddled and crazed. Even if I was sane and just pretending, she¡¯s far more patient than she has to be. She settled back into her seat and kept her eyes firmly fixed on the floor of the cart. Her mother thinking her childish was bad enough; Elena couldn¡¯t bear it if Joanna discovered that she was actually mad.

    ¡°I don¡¯t like your mother very much.¡± Ele stated flatly.

    The cart not only moved well on the repaired wheel, it rode even smoother for the rest of their trip. The bumps and jostles of stones and ruts were absorbed by the flexible grain, and the driver looked back and gave her a grin and a thumbs up.

    Elena couldn¡¯t quite find it in herself to feel proud.

    <hr />

    Author''s Note:

    I had tried posting Twisted Cogs on Royal Road in the past, but found things confusing and pulled down the four chapters I''d had up...but I realized that''s not exactly fair to all you lovely people!

    Enjoy!

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 2

    A gentle hand brushing through her hair woke Elena, and she blinked a few times before she rose from her mother¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°I thought you would like to see the city, since it¡¯s your first time approaching it,¡± Joanna said with a smile, and Elena rubbed her eyes and looked out across the quorley. Her mother was right.

    Elena realized at once that her assumptions about the city of Milia were entirely incorrect. She had imagined that it would be just like her small home village of Carpi, only scaled bigger. She hadn¡¯t ever thought about it in concrete terms, but she had been preparing for a series of it to be a series of wooden houses and thatched rooftops, of animals roaming in backyards and cookfires burning. A little less farmland perhaps, and maybe a great wooden wall, but essentially the same sort of place she had grown up in.

    ¡°Echo¡¯s shades,¡± Ele swore under his breath, looking up at the vast stone walls that ringed the city, higher than Elena would¡¯ve thought possible. The stones were a tan that was bright in the evening sun, aligned clean and straight. In her half-asleep state it looked like a castle from a fairy tale, like something that belonged in the gates of heaven. The capital City of Florezia had always been the center of the world for Elena, but looking at Milia for the first time she couldn¡¯t imagine a sight more impressive.

    By the time the cart rumbled its way beneath the gates, Elena had started to clear the sleep from her system, and was busy letting her gaze rove over the city they approached.

    ¡°How much weight do you think each wall carries?¡± she asked Ele, forgetting herself in her excitement, ¡°and how did they know how much the load-bearing stones could support when they put in the arches?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure I don¡¯t know, Elena,¡± her mother replied, ¡°but I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll find someone with both the knowledge and inclination to answer anything you might ask. It will be good for you to finally meet your own kind of people, you¡¯ll be able to stop pestering your poor mother with questions.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s hard to estimate.¡± Ele seemed just as excited as Elena was, but he had already turned his gaze inward toward the city. ¡°But they¡¯ve got some master stonecrafters living here, look at the roads!¡± He gestured at the smooth stones that made up the street around them, as the cart passed the gates and began moving more smoothly.

    It was all too much to take in. As Ele pointed out, even the streets themselves were works of art. Each piece was laid into the ground in odd angles, as if they had just happened to fall where they were, but each fit so perfectly with the others that there wasn¡¯t even space for weeds to grow between them. No sooner had she noticed this than Elena¡¯s attention was grabbed by the deep smooth grooves in the stone, worn and clean, that lay on either side of the road.

    ¡°What are the grooves for?¡± Elena asked. Her mother gave her a disapproving look, but she couldn¡¯t help herself. Without even waiting for an answer her eyes flicked skyward, following the line of precise buildings until they reached the faroff castle that stood in the center of the town, visible even from its edges.

    When they stepped down from the cart and began moving through the city on foot, Elena contented herself with drinking in the sights and listening to Ele chatter, as if he could talk enough for the both of them.

    ¡°Do you see how all the shops have signs of about the same size? I¡¯ll bet that¡¯s a regulation so that no single sign overwhelms the street, but it¡¯s also forcing each shop owner to be unique to catch the attention of passersby,¡± he noted as they walked through the merchant district.

    ¡°Mortalis merchants,¡± Joanna sniffed, staring straight ahead as she walked, her chin raised ever so slightly. Elena thought it a little unfair given that their family had always been Mortalis merchants themselves, selling all kinds of goods until she had come along.

    ¡°I had kind of hoped your mother would get lost so we could see more of the city before we reached the studio. She must¡¯ve gotten her hands on a map.¡±

    Elena¡¯s Aunt Jiani had visited them once a year every year before she had passed away, and she had regaled Elena with stories and information about the large city. Because of her Elena knew that the city was shaped like a gigantic wheel with the palace at its center. Eight of the wheel¡¯s spokes were Milia¡¯s artisan streets, home of the eight studios in which the Master Artisans of Milia lived and worked, the highest callings in the city.

    Not that every Master Artisan was at the same level, of course. It was well known that there was a certain hierarchy to the Masters of Milia, that some were more favored by the palace than others. The merchant shops they passed now all seemed to be high-end, their storefronts decorated subtly and tastefully. Clearly the merchants who operated here on the artisan streets tended to play up that hierarchy.

    ¡°Look, look!¡± Ele had run ahead and was standing at the street corner, just beneath a small yellow signpost that marked the Street of Yellow Artisans. His face was alight with uncharacteristic awe as he called back to her. ¡°It¡¯s so beautiful!¡± Elena¡¯s pulse quickened, but she maintained a dignified pace next to her mother as they made their way past the storefronts.

    It wasn¡¯t just beautiful, it was a painting, a sculpture, a song and a home all at once. Not a speck of dirt marred the surface of the street, and the few small homes and outer buildings that ran along either side of the street were a uniform light stone, but Elena¡¯s attention was arrested at once by the giant studio that lay on the other end of the street; the workshop of Master Bernardo De Luca. Its tall walls of white stone seemed to shine out light instead of just reflecting it, every line of its arches and embellishments speaking of its purpose.

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    Even with her mother walking beside her, Elena couldn¡¯t help but let an undignified skip slip into her step.

    Finally, after so many months! she thought, I¡¯m so close to meeting Master De Luca, it barely even feels real! She didn¡¯t notice the other people that filled the street, and she wove her way around carts and crates without really seeing them.

    ¡°Elena, look to your left,¡± Ele interrupted her reverie. ¡°It¡¯s a Rhetor!¡± Even with the studio in front of her Elena turned to look. The woman was surprisingly normal; tall and delicate, with pale skin and nut brown hair. If not for the contraption of black metal that covered her mouth, she might¡¯ve passed for a regular human.

    The mask she wore was thin, covering the entire lower half of her face and strong enough to hold her mouth shut firmly. Her vibrant green eyes, the only feature that could be seen, seemed to shine with mystery and secrets. Elena realized with a start that the woman was staring right at her, and a shiver went down her spine. If it wasn¡¯t for the Rhetorguard who stood close by, identifiable by the armor that matched her mask, Elena would be terrified.

    True, he was speaking to someone in front of the house, not paying attention, but if he wasn¡¯t there, what would prevent the woman from taking off her mask?

    ¡°Her eyes are pretty,¡± Ele remarked as they walked past the woman and her Rhetorguard. Elena stopped herself from rolling her eyes. When they were next alone she would have to tease him about finding a Rhetor attractive.

    It happened in a single instant, so quickly that Elena almost missed it. The Rhetor turned her head towards the pair and winked towards Ele. Ele froze in the middle of the street, staring in a mix of shock and horror, and Elena felt as if someone had poured icewater on her.

    There had been no one walking behind Ele, no one even in the general direction. In all her life, for the past eighteen years, no one had ever been able to see or talk to him. Elena had decided she was mad many years ago, simply accepting her friend as a part of her madness and living her life with it as best she could. The Rhetor¡¯s green eyes were fixed on her now, and even with the mask it was clear that the woman was smiling.

    ¡°Are you well miss?¡± Standing in the middle of the street, Elena had gained the Rhetorguard¡¯s attention. He seemed friendly, but his gaze flicked back and forth between her and his Rhetor, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword.

    ¡°Elena, come along,¡± her mother was fixing both the Rhetor and Rhetorguard with a contemptuous stare, but for once Elena didn¡¯t mind her mother rushing her. Without answering the Rhetorguard she hurried after her mother, her mind suddenly occupied with much more than her upcoming appointment.

    *

    As soon as they entered the studio, the overbearing autumn heat melted away, as did all of the noise from the outside. Walking into the cool quiet of the studio antechamber was like entering a god¡¯s own personal world, which, Elena reasoned, it almost was. Long marble benches lined two walls, on which two girls and two boys sat. On the third wall was a single doorway and a large clock. The slow-turning cogs showed that it was half-past twelve stroke, a little after midday.

    ¡°Your appointment isn¡¯t until thirteen stroke,¡± Joanna said briskly, her voice breaking the antechamber¡¯s peaceful silence. ¡°You wait here, and I¡¯m going to go collect from that cart-driver¡¯s master the money that he owes us.¡±

    ¡°Mother he doesn¡¯t owe us any-¡± Elena began, but her mother had already left. She sat on the very edge of one of the marble benches, casting a sidelong glance at the other four in the room. They were all roughly her age, though they seemed much more comfortable in their city clothing. On the other end of her bench, a very tan young man with short dark hair leaned back against the wall, his eyes closed. A little closer to Elena, a girl with similarly black hair tied up in a ponytail fidgeted, her leg bouncing up and down restlessly.

    The boy on the other bench wasn¡¯t paying attention to anything around him, his head bowed over a sketch he was drawing with a nub of charcoal. Next to him sat a young woman with long blonde locks and a paintbrush stuck behind one ear, who was fixing Elena with a look of such frank and open curiosity that it made her smile.

    ¡°Hello,¡± Elena said. The word seemed to bounce off of the walls of the quiet room, and suddenly she had the attention of everyone present. Even the boy who leaned against the wall opened his eyes and fixed them on her. Elena felt very aware of herself again, and wished she hadn¡¯t said anything.

    ¡°Hello!¡± The girl with the paintbrush said, smiling so warmly that Elena felt emboldened.

    ¡°My name is Elena. Are you here to petition Bernardo as well?¡± Elena asked.

    ¡°Oh no, I¡¯m just here with him,¡± the girl with the paintbrush gestured towards the boy who had returned to his sketch. ¡°All three of us are with him actually, a bit of moral support on an important day. He¡¯s more confident when he has other people around; it forces him to pretend he¡¯s not terrified.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t need to pretend,¡± the sketching boy muttered, ¡°you three are the only ones who seem to think I won¡¯t get in.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Arta, by the way,¡± paintbrush girl ignored her friend, ¡°it¡¯s a pleasure to meet you Elena. And what¡¯s your name?¡±

    ¡°Um...Elena,¡± Elena repeated, ¡°you just said it.¡±

    ¡°Oh, no, I heard you.¡± Arta laughed. ¡°I was asking him.¡± She pointed next to Elena¡¯s bench, where Ele stood with wide eyes.

    <hr />

    Author''s note:

    The story is more character-driven...but there will be a lot of action later on, don''t worry!

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 3

    Elena¡¯s heart raced as if she had been running, as she sat frozen on the cool marble bench, trying to fit Arta¡¯s statement into a context that made sense. In all the years Ele had been her companion, no one in the village had been able to hear or see him. When she was a little girl her neighbors and family would humor her, but the older she got the less endearing her family found it.

    ¡°My name is Ele. I¡¯m Elena¡¯s friend,¡± Ele said slowly, searching Arta¡¯s face.

    ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you too, Ele,¡± Arta smiled, and Elena shook her head once as if she could snap herself out of a dream. How many dozens of people in Carpi had treated her with scorn until she had learned to pretend she couldn¡¯t see him? How many inventive and effective punishments had her mother devised before the lesson had sunk in?

    Elena rubbed her wrist; now that she was thinking about it the dull pain from earlier in the day had returned. The restless girl, the sleeping boy, and the boy who sketched with charcoal were all treating the conversation as if it were small talk, like they were discussing the weather.

    ¡°Can...can everyone in the city see him?¡± Elena ventured a guess.

    ¡°Everyone?¡± the restless girl at the end of her bench had stopped shaking her leg, and was instead staring at Elena with raised eyebrows. ¡°Do you not know...you don¡¯t know about Echoes do you? How small was your town? Haven¡¯t you ever met another Stormtouched before?¡±

    ¡°Of course I have!¡± Elena bristled at the girl¡¯s pitying tone, ¡°Carpi might be small, but we¡¯re not so small as all that. The General of our standing reserve is a low-level Lanisti, and my great uncle is a Faberi, just like me.¡±

    ¡°And neither of them could see Ele? Neither of them had anyone who always hung around with them? Are you really from such a backwater that no one knew anything about Stormtouched?¡±

    ¡°Isadora,¡± the boy next to Arta looked up from his sketch, ¡°don¡¯t be mean. If they didn¡¯t have any Stormtouched before...Elena, was it...then how would they know?¡±

    ¡°We did have Stormtouched, I just told you,¡± even though the boy had defended her, Elena was starting to dislike the entire group, ¡®Isadora¡¯ especially. ¡°Uncle Chroli couldn¡¯t see Ele, and I¡¯ve never spoken to the General, but I¡¯m sure he couldn¡¯t see Ele either. You¡¯re the first, besides...¡± Elena lowered her voice without thinking, ¡°...besides a Rhetor we saw in the street today. Do you think she could¡¯ve done something to make Ele suddenly visible?¡±

    ¡°Elena, no.¡± Arta was clearly choosing her words carefully, trying to be gentle. ¡°The Rhetor saw Ele because she is, by definition, a Stormtouched. If your uncle and general couldn¡¯t see Ele, it means they aren¡¯t Stormtouched.¡±

    ¡°But...¡±

    ¡°It makes sense when you think about it,¡± Isadora interrupted, ¡°they picked the two Storms that are the easiest to fake. I feel bad for all the Carp who overspend on your fake Faberi¡¯s fake goods and your fake Lanisti¡¯s fake leading.¡±

    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°Now listen-¡± Elena stood up to face the girl, but her mother¡¯s sudden sharp exclamation from the doorway broke her diatribe before she had even started.

    ¡°Elena,¡± Joanna¡¯s voice was quiet, but it always seemed more dangerous that way. The single word conveyed volumes of oft-repeated lectures, scoldings about how a Lucciano should act, about never losing her temper. Elena¡¯s wrist throbbed as she sat back down without a word.

    ¡°Hello miss!¡± Arta said brightly. ¡°You must be Elena¡¯s mother! We were just talking about how Elena is the only one in your village who is actually Stormtouched. You must not know much about the subject since you never talked with her about it.¡± Elena sucked in a breath at the disrespect, but Joanna didn¡¯t so much as blink. She sat next to Elena, sliding through Ele who scowled and moved to the other side.

    ¡°You see?¡± Arta said. ¡°Normal humans. They can¡¯t see us, hear us, touch us. To Mortalis, we Echoes don¡¯t exist.¡± Elena had composed herself by this point, hands folded in her lap, mind racing. Arta was one of these ¡°Echoes¡±, like Ele? How many others in the city were there? Would Elena have to be careful of everyone she spoke to from now on in case she risked making a fool of herself?

    ¡°Don¡¯t look so miserable! Aren¡¯t you glad to know you¡¯re not crazy? Isn¡¯t it vindicating, having proof that everyone in your village was wrong and you were right?¡± Arta¡¯s voice was soothing, but Elena couldn¡¯t quite muster the relief that the Echo-girl was expecting of her. Ignoring someone other than Ele felt strange, being in this huge city felt strange, and she suddenly wished that she could be back at home where everything was familiar and safe.

    But if I did that, I wouldn¡¯t be meeting Bernardo De Luca today, Elena reminded herself. I wouldn¡¯t have the chance to become his garzona. An apprenticeship was the first step on the road to the courts; first a garzona, then a journeywoman, then an artist in her own right. From Milian courts she would work her way up, until finally the Queen of Italoza herself would be Elena¡¯s patron.

    I can handle strange, if it means reaching my dreams. She tried to avoid looking at Arta, who was fiddling with the paintbrush behind her ear. At least discovering that Ele is real is the strangest thing that will happen to me today.

    ¡°Miss Joanna and Elena Lucciano? I am Master De Luca¡¯s page, Pietro. I believe you have an appointment to see me.¡± Elena looked up up from her musing to meet the eyes of a young boy, and she cursed her thoughts. The boy was dressed in very fine clothes, a velvet cap with a feather sitting jauntily in it. Every inch of him, from his eyes to his skin to the perfect curls of his hair was carved out of very fine white marble.

    <hr />

    Author''s Note:

    Surprise! It''s a double-update day!

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 4

    Pietro bustled around the small office, moving papers and letters from his desk even as he sat down. The excitement that had been quenched a little by the people outside was starting to build up in Elena¡¯s stomach again, now that she was in the presence of a living sculpture. The changing expressions on the boy¡¯s face fascinated her, knowing that she could touch the apparently mobile muscle and feel only unyielding stone. Pietro didn¡¯t seem bothered by her unabashed stare, simply sitting down and smiling at both of them.

    ¡°Please, have a seat.¡± The boy made of marble sat heavily in the chair behind the desk, pulling a small neat pile of papers in front of him. ¡°I do apologize for the delay, Master Bernardo has decided to meet with most of his supplicants today, and it¡¯s all I can do to keep up.¡±

    ¡°Are we not meeting with your creator today? Not personally?¡± Joanna asked politely. Elena shot her mother a curious glance. Apparently she was capable of manners when speaking with someone of higher standing than her.

    ¡°My creator?¡± Pietro furrowed his stone brow. ¡°Oh, no no. Master Bernardo isn¡¯t a Caelator, I doubt he could even carve a non-living statue from marble. I was a gift from my creator, Master Malatesta. Anyways, you must understand that Master Bernardo gets quite a few supplicants, especially now just before the winter season. He has relaxed my duties so that I might evaluate potential supplicants in his place.¡±

    ¡°Mister Pietro, I don¡¯t think your master understands the extent of the opportunity being offered him.¡± Joanna¡¯s attitude began to slip back into her speech as she straightened with a look of pride. ¡°While I¡¯m sure a secretary is good enough for most supplicants, my Elena is Stormtouched.¡±

    Elena wasn¡¯t sure what reaction her mother expected from the stone-carved boy, but he simply lifted both eyebrows and fixed them both with a firm expression, one that would¡¯ve looked strange on a child if that child wasn¡¯t already strange.

    ¡°Miss Lucciano, I believe it is you who don¡¯t understand.¡± He said patiently. ¡°Master Bernardo is one of the finest artisans in all of Milia. There are far fewer Stormtouched than there are mortalis, it¡¯s true, but the master only accepts Stormtouched to be apprenticed to him.¡±

    ¡°All of his garzoni are Stormtouched?¡± Joanna blinked, and the excitement in Elena¡¯s stomach was starting to mix with nerves. She had known, in theory, that there would be other supplicants to Master Bernardo who possessed magical abilities...but all of them? Her chances suddenly seemed much slimmer.

    ¡°Every last one of them Madam Lucciano. The purpose of this meeting is to determine how the Storm touched Miss...¡± he glanced down at the letter in his hand ¡°...Elena, and whether or not she would be a fit in our studio. If, and only if, this meeting goes well, then Master Bernardo will meet with her.¡±

    He ticked off the steps on stone fingers that clicked quietly in the still office. ¡°If the meeting with the Master goes well, Miss Elena will be taken on as a probationary apprentice. After some time spent on probation, Master Bernardo will decide if he takes her on as a garzona...and since he always has the same number of garzoni, that decision will be based entirely on whether or not she is more useful to the studio than some other supplicant, who will then be cast out of the studio.¡±

    With each step the man listed, Elena felt like slumping further down in her seat. Far more hurdles, and none of them a certainty. Joanna, on the other hand, was nodding.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll see that the Luccianos are more than capable of impressing you.¡± She said with a small, smug smile. Elena wished she shared her mother¡¯s confidence.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you will.¡± Pietro agreed. ¡°Now, first things first.¡± With a grace that spoke of countless repetitions, or perhaps was just due to the magic that animated him, the marble boy dipped a small quill into a pot of ink on his desk, then wrote in a beautiful clear hand ¡°Elena Lucciano, Supplicant Four¡± at the top. He hovered the wet nib over the surface of a blank sheet of paper. ¡°How exactly was your daughter touched by the storm?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not even looking at Elena.¡± Ele spoke up from behind Elena¡¯s chair. ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to be interviewing her, not her mother?¡± The marble boy didn¡¯t answer, which didn¡¯t surprise Elena. If Arta had been right, only Stormtouched could see or hear Ele, and Pietro was the creation of a Stormtouched, not Touched himself.

    ¡°My daughter is one of the finest Fabera that Italoza has ever seen.¡± Joanna gave Elena a look much like the owner of a prize dog, and Elena refrained from squirming.

    ¡°Hmmm.¡± Pietro paused, brushing the end of the feather against stone lips. ¡°Your letter mentions nothing about Elena being a Fabera. It said something about her being an asset to any studio.¡±

    ¡°You seem disappointed.¡± Elena ventured. It was always a struggle for her to speak up when her mother was around, but the worry was threatening to override her better instincts.

    ¡°Not disappointed, perse.¡± Pietro shook his head. ¡°But it¡¯s up to me to make your case to Master Bernardo, and it makes my job much more difficult. My Master tends to look for skills that are a little more...in line with our studio. He has taken on Faberi in the past, of course, but only during those times when he needs more garzoni of any kind. This year, when we already have too many supplicants...it¡¯s harder for me to make the argument to him to take on the less valuable.¡±

    Elena winced at the characterization, but her mother was already berating the boy.

    ¡°¡®Less valuable¡¯? When you come to know our family better, little sculpture, you¡¯ll find that a Lucciano has more value than a hundred other supplicants. I find the very idea exceedingly insulting, and what¡¯s more, I¡¯m surprised that a studio of your reputation can¡¯t find a way to test a Stormtouched¡¯s true value.¡±

    Pietro let her finish, carefully holding the quill above the inkwell so as not to drip on the parchment.

    ¡°I very much wish I could know the Lucciano name better ma¡¯am,¡± he said respectfully, ¡°but just as I¡¯m sure you wouldn¡¯t wish your servants letting rabble into your home, so too is Master Bernardo quite particular about the students who are permitted to enter his studio.¡± Joanna seemed a little mollified, perhaps due to the assumption that the Luccianos had servants, and he continued smoothly. ¡°For some Touched, it is simple to test and rank them, and I must say I wish they all were; it would certainly make my job easier.¡± A wide smile flashed Pietro¡¯s perfect white teeth, and Joanna returned a thin smile of her own, as if against her will.

    ¡°Well, if simple tests exist, I don¡¯t see why you can¡¯t just use those simple tests on Elena then.¡±

    ¡°That would be wonderful, but the tests vary from case to case. If Elena were a Sagittara, I could simply give her a bow or a sling or weapon of her choice, and point her towards a set of targets. If Elena were an Artifex, I would know the second I saw one of her paintings, obviously. If she were a Caelator, she could bring one of her sculptures and we could rank her on the spot.¡±

    ¡°It seems to me that you could test a Fabera or a Machinator by looking at her creations as well, couldn¡¯t you?¡± Joanna interrupted, too hastily, too eager. Pietro was shaking his head sadly even before she stopped talking.

    ¡°It¡¯s not quite so simple. A Machinator¡¯s creations are easy to rank, yes; there¡¯s no mistaking the value of a device that humanity hasn¡¯t ever seen before. Faberi, on the other hand?¡± He spread his hands helplessly. ¡°A master craftsman can make a beautiful table, for example, one which, to the untrained eye, looks just as beautiful as a Faberi-made table. There¡¯s simply no way to distinguish whether a person is Touched, or just a good craftsman.¡±

    ¡°And so what? Surely Master Bernardo could use a master craftswoman?¡± Joanna¡¯s voice was rising in pitch now, and Elena prayed she wouldn¡¯t go into hysterics.

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    ¡°Master Bernardo can afford to hire a host of craftsmen if he wants them, Madam Lucciano.¡± Pietro¡¯s tone never changed, though his white marble eyes were locked on Joanna¡¯s. ¡°He hardly needs to go to the trouble of feeding, housing, and training a garzona to get a source of beautiful tables.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re singling Elena out in this discrimination! You¡¯re unjust in your selection, and I must say-¡±

    ¡°It is the magic of the Storm that is unjust in its selection Madam.¡± Pietro raised his voice for the first time to interrupt her smoothly, and used that momentum to barrel over her objections. ¡°To rank a Sagittari we give them a bow. To rate a Artifex we give them a brush. To the Caelator we give a chisel, and to the Machinator we give our most heartfelt and abject begging that they deign to deal with us. I am always quite sorry when a Faberi or Lanisti or Rhetor tries to be a supplicant, but that is the luck of the draw, the flip of the coin. We need no Lanisti when we can hire a swordsman, we need no Faberi when hiring a builder will do, and a Rhetor who doesn¡¯t keep their mouth shut is a Rhetor who must be put down, worthless either way.¡±

    The marble child shouldn¡¯t have been so imposing, but standing on his chair, leaning over his desk, he was somehow keeping her mother¡¯s steely gaze. ¡°Some Stormtouched are more useful, Madam Lucciano, and that is all there is to say of it.¡±

    ¡°Elena, please leave the room. I must speak to Mister Pietro in private.¡± Joanna was trembling, and Elena wasn¡¯t quite sure whether the marble boy would be safe if she left. When he gave her a terse nod, however, there was nothing she could do but step outside of the office and shut the door behind her.

    She didn¡¯t want to deal with talking to Arta, Isadora, Arturo or the sleeping boy just now, so instead of making her way back to the antechamber Elena leaned her back against the door. The heavy door was well-crafted enough that it kept any sound of conversation from the stone hallway.

    ¡°They didn¡¯t have to kick us out like naughty children.¡± Ele complained, leaning against the wall opposite from her. Elena didn¡¯t answer, and she was surprised to realize that she was shaking as much as her mother had been. The entire meeting couldn¡¯t have taken more than fifteen minutes, her prospects moving from certainty to dejection in less time than it took to bathe. ¡°Elena? It¡¯s alright, your mother will pull her family strings like she always does-¡± Ele began, but Elena cut him off with a gesture.

    ¡°It¡¯s useless. Master Bernardo has actual political power, mother¡¯s posturing won¡¯t even impress Pietro.¡±

    ¡°And so you¡¯ll just give up?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not giving up.¡± Elena lifted her chin stubbornly. ¡°There are other studios in Milia, other Masters. Some of them will take me. If not I¡¯ll...I¡¯ll find someone else to become an apprentice to. Or I¡¯ll figure out how to open a shop here on my own. If I can¡¯t get there as an artist, I¡¯ll work my way into the courts as a craftswoman or a merchant.¡±

    ¡°This morning you were an artist, now you¡¯re a merchant?¡± Ele asked quietly. ¡°It makes me nervous when you make such sweeping changes of plan.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not changing the plan.¡± Elena sighed. ¡°The plan is to get to court. One way or another.¡± Ele meant the best, but she didn¡¯t need criticism at the moment. Looking for a change of subject, her gaze travelled up and down the hallway. On one side was the door to the antechamber, the room where her mother no doubt expected her to wait. At the other end of the hallway was a closed door, fitted with a prominent lock.

    ¡°What do you think is behind there?¡± Even in the empty hallway, Elena dropped her voice to a whisper. Ele gave the door a glance, then gave Elena a warning look.

    ¡°Stop. Now is not the place for your curiosity.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with just being curious? I was just wondering what¡¯s behind there and what kind of lock that is.¡±

    ¡°We need to stay here. There¡¯s no point in offending the studio.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not like they¡¯ll reject us twice, I just assumed that you would know what kind of lock it was.¡±

    ¡°Of course I know. It¡¯s a lever-pin lock. Probably a threepin...no, he¡¯s rich, make that a fourpin.¡±

    ¡°So you could get past it?¡± Elena bit her lip to keep from smiling. It was far too easy to push Ele¡¯s buttons.

    ¡°I know what you¡¯re doing Elena.¡± Ele gave her a weary look. ¡°We¡¯re waiting out here, coming up with a plan for the future.¡±

    ¡°I know my plan, but you¡¯re welcome to.¡± Elena shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s probably for the best, anyways. We don¡¯t have anything to work with, nothing useable.¡±

    Ele gave her a hard look, and for a moment Elena thought she might¡¯ve gone a bit too far.

    ¡°Stop trying to get a rise out of me, it doesn¡¯t work.¡±

    Elena¡¯s gaze dropped to her feet, and she stuck her lower lip out ever-so-slightly. After a few moments Ele sighed and pointed to the corner a little ways down the hallway, where the wall and the floor met.

    ¡°There¡¯s a loose nail in the corner down there, and you got a splinter of wood stuck in the hem of your dress from when you fixed the cart¡¯s wheel. It should be enough.¡±

    Elena grinned as she knelt down to retrieve the nail and pull the wooden splinter, about the size of her little finger, from where it had lodged. Ele walked briskly to the end of the hallway to examine the lock as she worked. Using the sharp end of the nail, Elena scraped slivers away from the piece of wood, carving it into the rough shape of a key.

    ¡°I was right. Fourpin.¡± Ele peered closely at the lock, and Elena used the stone wall by the door to hammer the nail into the wood, so that her makeshift key had a metal core. ¡°Give it four teeth, but you won¡¯t be able to gauge the size until you try it a few times.¡± Ele advised.

    ¡°Bet you I get lucky though.¡± Elena bit down on the wood, making a face at the dirt and grit, but her sharp teeth pressed grooves along the edge.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to fuck up your teeth one of these days Elena.¡± Ele shook his head as Elena tried the wooden lockpick on the lock. When it stuck, she jiggled it gently, chewing her tongue as she payed close attention to how it pressed, how the pins inside stuck. She withdrew and carefully bit again. The edge of the wood tasted of steel. Was the taste of metal really stronger on some of the pick¡¯s ridges, showing her where to bite and where to leave it? It didn¡¯t matter, all that mattered was the result. The key slid almost all the way into the lock on the second attempt, and Elena drew it out to nibble at the wood again.

    ¡°What exactly is your goal in this?¡± Ele asked with an air of long-suffering. ¡°What do you hope to accomplish?¡±

    ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll find some books, or see some technique, something to help our skill.¡± Elena said around the key. ¡°Do we have to have a reason for everything? Isn¡¯t it enough that we¡¯ll get to see the inside of Master Bernardo De Luca¡¯s studio if we do it, and if we don¡¯t, we won¡¯t? Where¡¯s your sense of curiosity?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re the curious one. Always have been.¡± Ele grumbled as Elena slipped the key back into the lock. It fit perfectly, all four pins clicking into place. She turned the key. The wood splintered and crushed and got jammed into the inner workings of the lock, and it was almost certain that the lock was now useless, but Elena grinned as the heavy door swung open. She extended an arm in invitation, and Ele rolled his eyes as he entered first. ¡°And yet somehow I always get caught up in your escapades. Funny how that works.¡±

    <hr />

    Author''s Note:

    To the reviewer worried about my rights to post this, don''t worry, I am the author. Thank you for being so protective, I really appreciate readers who care so much about the work I''ve written, it means a lot to me :)

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 5

    Elena wasn¡¯t quite sure what she expected, but when the heavy door swung open she wasn¡¯t disappointed. The door led to a wide open courtyard of stone, enclosed on all sides by walls but open to the sky above. Sunlight streamed through some sort of netting at the top, casting a dappled shadow across the ground, letting the light in but providing enough shade to be comfortable. In the center of the courtyard stood a still statue of a woman whose pitcher somehow poured a constant stream of water into the stone pool that surrounded her. A breeze caught Elena¡¯s hair and played with a strand as she stood in the doorway, open-mouthed and entranced.

    The courtyard hummed with lazy activity. In one corner, a pretty blonde girl made marks with chalk on a block of marble as big a she was, while a golden haired boy who could be her brother looked on with interest. On the other side of the pool, a young looking black man and a pale girl with sharp eyes were discussing a half-drawn painting that sat on the easel between them. All around the courtyard servants moved with bundles and small boxes, from doors in one wall to another.

    ¡°This is what the studio of a master looks like.¡± Elena breathed to Ele. ¡°This is what we¡¯ll have, someday.¡±

    ¡°I thought you were to be a merchant now.¡± Ele said sourly, but Elena ignored him.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care what happens when we¡¯re caught, this was worth it.¡±

    As if on cue, a polite cough made Elena turn around. Standing directly to the left of the door was a tall, thin woman with grey hair wrapped in a tight bun on her head.

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe I recognize you.¡± The woman said simply, although it was clear from her voice and tone that she expected some explanation.

    ¡°Master Bernardo said we were to meet him here.¡± The lie flew to Elena¡¯s lips as soon as she¡¯d thought of it. She didn¡¯t expect to get away with the deception, but even a few more minutes in the lovely courtyard would be worth it.

    ¡°Ah, I didn¡¯t realize he had already selected supplicants for this year.¡± The severe look on the woman¡¯s face softened a bit. ¡°Have you been shown around?¡± When Elena shook her head, the woman gestured to the door on the far left of the courtyard. ¡°We¡¯ll start with the kitchens then. My name is Bea, by the way. I keep the studio running, with Pietro¡¯s help, while the Master is locked up in his study.¡±

    Elena couldn¡¯t believe her luck. It wasn¡¯t anywhere near as good as becoming Master Bernardo¡¯s garzona for real, but she would at least be allowed a glimpse into the life at the studio before she was cast back out into the world. She glanced at Ele to see if he was as excited as she was. He was facing her with a sour frown, but not even his judgemental look could cloud her glee.

    ¡°You¡¯ll not need to be concerned much with the kitchens, but going this way will let us see the entire studio.¡± Miss Bea gestured to the kitchen door. ¡°Come now, in here, the both of you.¡±

    So she can see Ele too, Elena noted as she followed, which means she¡¯s a Stormtouched. I should¡¯ve expected that; Master Bernardo doesn¡¯t take on Mortalis as apprentices, why would his household be under control of one. She still wasn¡¯t used to Ele being seen and heard by other people, but at least he hadn¡¯t given the game away by making the same mistake.

    ¡°What the hell are we doing Elena?¡± Ele lowered his voice and murmured in her ear as they followed Bea. ¡°Do you think you¡¯re going to convince them to let you be apprenticed if you¡¯re a convincing enough actress?¡±

    Elena made a dismissive gesture as if she was swatting away a fly, turning in circles to take in the kitchen. It was sweltering hot, a sticky humidity that went beyond the heat of the day, but she barely felt it. Bea was standing by the door, but Elena moved slowly, taking in the row of ovens and the three cooks, each in crisp white clothes, preparing a huge meal with practised ease.

    ¡°You seem entranced.¡± Bea noted from the doorway. ¡°If you have any questions, I¡¯d be happy to answer them.¡±

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have said that.¡± Ele grinned. ¡°Elena always has questions.¡± Bea¡¯s smile was sudden and warm, completely at odds with her otherwise severe expression.

    ¡°Ask away then Miss Elena, this might be your only opportunity for me to answer them.¡±

    If only you knew how true that was. Elena thought.

    ¡°Well first I was wondering why there was so much food being prepared. Does Master Bernardo really have that many garzoni?¡±

    ¡°Everyone gets the same meals here, so the food you see being prepared is for the Master, the garzoni, the servants and the guards as well, although of course the servants and guards will be eating later.¡± Elena nodded, already formulating the next question in her mind.

    ¡°Why do they all wear uniforms?¡± Elena skipped out of the way of one of the cooks carrying a large pot that steamed, and was rewarded with a weak nod as he passed.

    ¡°The Master is a very orderly man, and he has a reputation to uphold. As such, he enforces a certain style of dress as a bare minimum for everyone in the studio. You too will be receiving a set of clothes to wear, though what set usually depends on how the Storm touched you and what function in the studio you served...¡± Bea trailed off, her eyebrows raised in a question. Elena realized that the woman was asking what sort of Stormtouched she was, and she hastily moved on to her next question.

    ¡°Are the Master¡¯s ice chests made by craftsmen, or did the Faberi in his employ make them?¡±

    It was clear that Bea hadn¡¯t expected the question, and she looked bewilderedly around the large kitchen.

    ¡°The Master has ice chests?¡± She asked. ¡°I don¡¯t see any...¡±

    ¡°There are blocks of ice on the counter over there,¡± Elena pointed, ¡°so you must have an ice chest.¡±

    ¡°Master Bernardo had a Fabera many years ago.¡± One of the cooks wiped his forehead on his sleeve as he answered her. ¡°She made friends with a cook, and made him an ice chest as a gift. It¡¯s been passed down along with the kitchen ever since. Don¡¯t tell Master Bernardo though, he things we buy ice from the markets, and is always quite appreciative.¡± He grinned with a set of crooked teeth, dropped Elena a wink, and turned back to his work.

    Bea pursed her lips, but said nothing, merely gestured them through another door.

    ¡°Down this hallway is the garzoni dorms, you¡¯ll be seeing enough of them.¡± The woman had increased her pace, and Elena had to scurry to keep up with her.

    ¡°Do the garzoni help the servants with cooking and cleaning then?¡± Elena asked as they passed through another set of doors, into yet another hallway. Bea stopped suddenly and peered at her.

    ¡°How could you possibly know that?¡± She asked, almost suspiciously.

    ¡°Well, I just assumed.¡± Elena wasn¡¯t quite sure what Bea¡¯s purpose was, but she was growing more and more certain that something strange was happening. ¡°The garzoni will be working on various works of art, won¡¯t they? Honing their crafts? It wouldn¡¯t make sense to have them next to a noisy kitchen unless they were also expected to help there at times. Besides, in a studio this large, two chefs wouldn¡¯t be able to handle all of the work.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Bea raised an eyebrow but didn¡¯t comment further. The tour continued on at a quick pace, past the baths, several small work studios, a sunroom, and balconies on the second floor that overlooked the adjacent streets. Even at the increased pace, each room gave Elena fodder for two or three more questions. At the beginning Bea would offer some small bit of information on each room, but as the questions piled on she offered less and less comment, and her answers became more and more clipped.

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    ¡°She¡¯s going to hate you by the end of this.¡± Ele muttered as they walked across the courtyard again to reach the other side of the studio.

    ¡°What does it matter?¡± Elena hissed back. The courtyard had emptied by now, and she didn¡¯t want Bea to overhear and cut her tour short. ¡°I¡¯m getting answers to my questions and I¡¯ll never see her again after today. As soon as I get found out-¡±

    ¡°Ah, there you are Miss Elena. I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re not allowed to be back here.¡± The marble secretary seemed to appear on cue at the doorway Elena had first forced her way through, and her heart sank. Behind Pietro, her mother¡¯s face was red, her eyes puffy and her mouth set in a grim, thin line. Elena rubbed her wrist absentmindedly, the sight of her mother reminding her of the dull ache that she could normally ignore, and she shot a guilty look towards Bea.

    ¡°I suppose this is the end of your tour, my dear.¡± There wasn¡¯t a hint of surprise on the severe woman¡¯s face, and Elena furrowed her brow, confused. ¡°Now that the charade is over, tell me, are you Mortalis? Or simply not up to Pietro¡¯s rather high standards?¡±

    So she knew all along...but she still let me look around the studio. Elena¡¯s eyes began to water. As small a gesture as it was, the fact remained that Miss Bea would go to such trouble for her, knowing that she¡¯d lied about being a garzoni. After such an emotional day, it was the final straw that seemed to break the brave face she¡¯d been trying to keep.

    ¡°A Fabera,¡± she replied as she turned to leave, ¡°I¡¯m nothing but a Fabera.¡±

    Pietro was silent as he escorted the Luccianos through the hallway, for which Elena was grateful. She struggled to blink the tears away before they reached the antechamber, but her vision was still a touch blurry. Ele was quiet too, but that was rather characteristic for him.

    ¡°Arturo, I will see you next.¡± Pietro said quietly to the sketching boy, and Elena and her mother left Bernardo¡¯s studio unaccompanied. Elena stopped rubbing her wrist as they stepped out into the hot sun. She knew her mother would punish her severely for wandering off, whether that punishment was physical or emotional, and she didn¡¯t want Joanna to know how much her wrist still hurt.

    ¡°Elena and Ele! Wait for a moment!¡± Elena half turned at the call, but winced when she saw who it was. Arta hurried to catch up to them, the paintbrush still behind her ear. The colors from the setting sun played across her golden hair, looking as if the paintbrush has splashed oranges and yellows and red across it. Joanna had given Elena a sharp glance when she turned, and Elena pretending she was looking back at the studio one last time. Arta was an echo, which would mean her mother couldn¡¯t see her.The last thing she needed was to give her mother another reason to punish her, and she doubted Joanna would believe that Echoes were more than imaginary now.

    ¡°I just wanted to see how things went for you in there.¡± Arta caught up with the threesome and walked by their side.

    ¡°It turns out that Master Bernardo is too good to accept just any Stormtouched.¡± Ele said bitterly. Elena stared at her feet, willing herself not to let the tears fall. Despite her best efforts, a single tear rolled down her cheek.

    ¡°Oh no. Oh Elena I¡¯m so sorry.¡± Arta¡¯s voice was full of sympathy, and Elena winced. She wasn¡¯t used to sympathy, and had no idea how to respond. Arta suddenly stopped in the middle of the road, leaving Elena and her mother to continue on their way.

    ¡°This is as far as I can go,¡± the blonde girl said regretfull, ¡°but try to find Arturo and I, later, okay? We¡¯ll be on this street. You need to talk to someone right now, and your mother doesn¡¯t look too sympathetic!¡± The final thought was shouted as Elena and her mother continued walking.

    ¡°She¡¯s not! She models herself after the works of Dante!¡± Ele shouted back, and despite herself the corner of Elena¡¯s mouth quirked up into a smile.

    The walk to their lodgings was much less exciting than the walk to the studio had been. The wonders of the city around her seemed unfamiliar and frightening to her, the streets too crowded, the bustle overwhelming. Her looming punishment lingered in the back of her mind, and worry about her future occupied the forefront.

    ¡°We will be returning to De Luca¡¯s studio tomorrow morning.¡± Her mother was the first to break the silence between them, and she did it without looking at Elena, as if she was merely talking to herself. ¡°And I will demand to speak to someone other than that horrid stone boy. Whoever heard of giving a living statue that amount of responsibility? He literally has a mind of marble, and he presumes to lecture a Lucciano? The nerve!¡±

    Joanna continued ranting until they entered the small inn, and from the fiery spark in her eye Elena was sure that her mother was still ranting in her head.

    ¡°I have reserved a room for the evening, and a porter should¡¯ve brought my bags to it. Lucciano is the name.¡±

    ¡°There is only a single bed in your room Miss Lucciano, and just a single meal was ordered for it.¡± The innkeeper said uncertainly, glancing at Elena as he held out the key.

    ¡°And only a single bed and meal is needed.¡± Joanna snatched the key from him and turned, chin up, to march up the wooden stairs to the rooms above.

    ¡°Had my daughter impressed the secretary enough, she would be sleeping in a garzoni¡¯s bed tonight.¡± Joanna sniffed on her way up the stairs.

    So that¡¯s to be my punishment then. Elena followed her mother up the stairs in silence. It was one of her mother¡¯s favored expressions of displeasure, a nasty combination of ignoring her daughter and making bitingly harsh comments as if to herself. It had hurt much more when Elena was a child of five of six years old, and had to learn to prepare herself food or go hungry, but given the other hurts the day had given her, it would be effective enough. At least her mother hadn¡¯t decided that something more inventive was in order. When they reached the room, Elena didn¡¯t even bother glancing at the bed, instead casting her gaze around to find a suitable spot to lay out her cloak on the ground to sleep.

    ¡°If she¡¯s ignoring you, maybe you can leave to find Arturo and Arta again.¡± Ele suggested as the moved around the room, lighting the lantern and the candles on the bedside. ¡°She won¡¯t forbid you from leaving.¡± Elena glanced through the window at the street below. The sun had set, but the streets were still almost as busy as they had been, moving by the light of lanterns that hung along the sides of every street.

    ¡°I¡¯m going out, mother.¡± She said quietly. ¡°I have to find something to eat. I have a little money.¡± Technically, since she had made the products the Luccianos had sold, she could make the case that all of her mother¡¯s money was hers, but she had no desire to make Joanna even angrier. Her mother had settled into the bed with a book of poems, one she had read a thousand times but was evidently engrossing enough to keep her full attention.

    ¡°Wish me well? Bid me be safe?¡± Elena asked quietly. Her mother turned a page.

    ¡°You should take the key so she doesn¡¯t lock you out.¡± Ele advised, but Elena left quietly without it. Sleeping in the hallway would be a small price to pay for the knowledge that her mother would stay in her room while Elena explored the city on her own.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 6

    The overly hot streets of Milia had cooled to a pleasant warmth by the time Elena and Ele reached the street. Insects buzzed around the lanterns that hung on tall poles on the sides of the paved road, lighting the town in a soft glow. The crowds that had occupied the streets during the day had thinned, although there were still men and women passing to and fro.

    ¡°Should we go back to the studio and see if we can find Arturo and Arta?¡± Ele asked, putting his hands in his pockets and glancing around him. ¡°Or do you want to wander the city beforehand?¡± Elena realized with a start that she could do just that. Her mother was upstairs in the inn¡¯s room, sulking and ignoring her, and Elena was free to do anything she wanted.

    ¡°Why are you standing there, smiling like a fool?¡± Ele asked, but his half-smile told her he was teasing.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure, really.¡± Elena admitted. ¡°Everything seems so much safer now. The city seemed so hostile this evening but now it seems...inviting.¡±

    ¡°I beg pardon miss?¡± Nearby where the two of them stood, a tall man with a long black beard looked up from the bag he was tying.

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry, I wasn¡¯t talking to...I was just...¡± Elena stammered.

    ¡°No worry miss. My sister¡¯s a Stormtouched, an¡¯ she talks to herself almost constantly.¡± The man said genially. He swung the bag onto his back and walked down the road, whistling briskly.

    ¡°I think I like this city.¡± Elena¡¯s eyes felt swollen from the tears that had fallen earlier in the evening, but she smiled.

    ¡°Emotionally unstable.¡± Ele proclaimed. ¡°That¡¯s what you are. One minute you¡¯re crying, the next you¡¯re grinning, a body doesn¡¯t know what to expect next.¡±

    Elena smiled wider and punched towards him, and he stuck out his tongue as her fist passed through him.

    ¡°Next I want something to eat.¡± Elena indicated the direction they had come from. ¡°If we find a pub on the Street of Yellow Artisans, there¡¯s a chance we run into Arturo and Arta there.¡±

    <hr />

    The street had been beautiful in the daytime, and the sun¡¯s setting didn¡¯t marr its beauty. Many of the shops were closed for the evening, but a large number of them still threw light from their windows out into the path. It hurt just a bit, seeing the large bright windows of Master De Luca¡¯s studio so soon after she had been rejected from it, but it would hopefully be worth it to meet Arturo and Arta.

    Elena knew the city from her Aunt¡¯s stories before she passed away, and from any travellers who had passed through her small hometown of Carpi, but she had no idea what kind of city food she would like to try. She did know that Stone Hand¡¯s pub was on the Street of Yellow Artisans, and it only took walking past a few houses before she found it.

    Elena was pleasantly surprised the moment she entered Stone Hand¡¯s Pub. The tavern in Carpi was dim, loud, dirty, and cramped the few times she had frequented it in the past, and she had been bracing herself for much the same thing. Instead she was met with a charming little interior with high ceilings, well lit with candles on the walls and lanterns hanging from the ceilings, and a fire that burned in the grate despite how hot the day had been. The short wooden tables and benches around the room were made of a red wood that made the whole room feel warmer, and behind the bar a very fat woman with a very friendly smile gave her a wave.

    ¡°Halloo dearie! New to the Stone Hand?¡± The fat woman asked. ¡°Just take a seat anywhere ¡®bouts, there¡¯s plenty of room. You¡¯ll be wanting some food and some drink? Twenty lire, and I¡¯ll bring them to your table.¡± Elena opened her mouth to respond to the woman¡¯s questions, but she had already bustled into a room behind the bar, leaving her a little off-balance at the forward manner of the innkeep.

    Although there were a fair amount of people in the pub, it was almost quiet, only the low murmur of friendly conversation or low chuckles at jokes.

    ¡°A little too warm, but not bad.¡± Ele commented. ¡°Shall we sit in the corner over there, in case they come in here to eat?¡± Trained by a lifetime of pretending she couldn¡¯t see him, Elena didn¡¯t respond at all, but she made her way to the small table in the corner, sitting on the end so that Ele could sit by the wall and no one would unknowingly sit on him.

    Although that¡¯s not a problem, anymore. She realized with a start. They can see him. And Arta is an echo too.

    ¡°It¡¯s going to be hard to adjust, this whole ¡®Echo¡¯ thing.¡± She murmured. ¡°Being able to talk to you in public, having other people see you.¡±

    ¡°How do you think I feel?¡± Ele leaned back against the wall and eyed the rest of the room. ¡°I don¡¯t always like being invisible, but I¡¯m beginning to appreciate how good I had it now that I know other people can see me.¡±

    The fat woman made her way towards their table with a large tankard and a hot pie, which she set down in front of Elena with zeal.

    ¡°Normally I makes people come up to the bar to get their food, but you seem in such need of it, and you¡¯re new and all, so I thought to me¡¯self I¡¯d bring your food to you. Tuck in now, put some meat on your bones.¡± The innkeeper chuckled as Elena blushed and ducked her head.

    The pie was savory and meaty, full of flavor, and the drink some kind of warm ale. In the slightly too-warm room Elena would¡¯ve prefered something cooler, but it slaked her thirst and that was enough. She was so lost in her meal that she didn¡¯t notice the new presence by the table until Ele cleared his throat nervously.

    ¡°Um. Elena, we have company.¡± He said, his voice carefully controlled. Elena glanced up from her meal to find a woman with startling green eyes standing just a few feet away, holding a pie and a tankard of her own. The woman wore the black metal mask of a Rhetor, and that fact startled Elena so badly that it took her a few moments to recognize her; it was the woman from earlier, the one who had winked at Ele.

    ¡°She¡¯s not allowed to communicate by signs.¡± Elena hadn¡¯t noticed the Rhetorguard standing a pace or so away until he spoke. The black metal armor plating seemed to soak in the warm light of the room, only shining in the thin silver design that matched the Rhetor¡¯s mask. He was large, though Elena couldn¡¯t tell if it was muscle or bulky armor that gave that impression. His neat goatee and heavy eyebrows lent to the effect of presence and size, which made his friendly smile seem almost out of place. ¡°I believe she wants to join you at your table, if you have no objections.¡±

    ¡°Of course you can join us.¡± Ele said quickly. Elena shot him a glare. A pair of green eyes was all well and good, and she couldn¡¯t stop him from being attracted to whomever he pleased, but to invite a Rhetor to eat with them was pushing that crush a little too far.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    The woman¡¯s eyes wrinkled in the corners, her smile hidden by the black metal mask, but she made no move. Ele had put Elena in an awkward place; now that the woman knew they had no reason to deny her she could hardly say no.

    ¡°Yes, by all means.¡± Elena motioned to a seat across from them, and the Rhetor put her food down and sat primly, her Rhetorguard settling in the seat next to her.

    ¡°I have to say I¡¯m probably just as glad of the company as she is.¡± The guard gave a nod to Elena as he untied a set of complex knots at the mouth of his pouch. ¡°I¡¯m sure you know how most people feel about her kind, and since I have to stay at her side I sometimes feel like a pariah myself. My name is Kelf, it¡¯s good to make your acquaintance.¡±

    Elena had so many questions she didn¡¯t know which to ask first, the foremost of which was how he could talk about the Rhetor so casually as if she wasn¡¯t there. If the woman was offended at being called a pariah she didn¡¯t show it, meekly turning her head to expose the back of her neck to him.

    ¡°Ask what her name is.¡± Ele instructed, and Elena sighed.

    ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you Kelf.¡± She said politely. ¡°And what is the name of your...companion?¡± Kelf finally removed a twisted black key, it¡¯s haft made of a cast iron and its teeth extremely fine and bent at exact odd angles. Elena wasn¡¯t sure from a glimpse at it, but it might¡¯ve been Machinator-made, and it was almost certainly not duplicatable. He carefully inserted the key into the mask¡¯s slot that lay lengthwise across the back of the woman¡¯s neck.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid we can¡¯t really know that.¡± He said, unlocking the mask with a small click. ¡°She can¡¯t tell us about her family or her name, that¡¯d involve communication.¡± As he spoke, Kelf fiddled with connectors at the back of the nameless woman¡¯s mask, and as he finished, the mask fell off and onto the table with a dull and heavy sound.

    Elena was on her feet and backed against the wall before the sound had even died away.

    ¡°W-what are you doing? Why...how...¡± She gasped. The Rhetor was holding her gaze, looking up at her with a sad smile. Without her mask, she looked almost human, a beautiful girl whose feelings were hurt, but who took on the offense as if it was to be expected.

    ¡°There¡¯s no need to worry.¡± Kelf chuckled. ¡°How exactly did you think Rhetors eat? They can¡¯t exactly suck food through the mask now can they?¡±

    ¡°I just- I didn¡¯t think of it.¡± Elena¡¯s heart was still pounding, and she wasn¡¯t sure she felt up to sitting back down with the woman.

    ¡°Elena, you¡¯re being incredibly rude.¡± Ele admonished. Easy for him to say; whatever an echo was Elena was sure he wouldn¡¯t be in any danger from her. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind miss, I¡¯ll call you Emerald, because of your beautiful eyes.¡±

    The Rhetor flashed a wide smile at Ele again, and Elena felt an ugly twist in her gut at the sight. Without her mask the ¡°Emerald¡¯s¡± smile was even prettier, and the fact that Ele was so enthralled by her wasn¡¯t doing much to help Elena¡¯s confidence in the situation.

    ¡°What if she runs off? Or what if she starts talking before you can get the mask back on?¡± She demanded of Kelf.

    ¡°If she makes a sound or a sudden move with her mask off, I don¡¯t try to get the mask back on,¡± Kelf had seemed good-natured up until then, but his voice had taken on an air of deadly gravity, ¡°I use this.¡± For the first time Elena noticed the knife that Kelf held, its blade thin and the metal dull. He was holding the blade against Emerald¡¯s throat, gently enough that it didn¡¯t cut skin, but firmly enough that the edge of the blade pressed into her skin.

    ¡°You¡¯d just kill her?¡± Elena was too horrified for a moment to remember that she was frightened. ¡°What if she sneezes? Or if someone bumps into her chair so it looks like she¡¯s trying to run for a moment?¡±

    ¡°Then she dies.¡± Kelf replied simply.

    ¡°But that¡¯s horrible!¡± Elena sat back down and leaned forward. ¡°How is that fair, that Emerald should die because of a simple mistake? Doesn¡¯t that bother you?¡± She directed her last question to Emerald. The woman raised her shoulders in a slight shrug, then began to dig into her savory pie.

    ¡°Just a few moments ago it sounded as if you wouldn¡¯t mind her dying just for being her.¡± Kelf said sternly.

    ¡°But I didn¡¯t...I...¡± Elena struggled for words.

    ¡°Nice, Elena.¡± Ele admonished.

    ¡°I apologize for my harshness.¡± Kelf sighed. ¡°I just sometimes feel sorry for her, having to deal with the fear and suspicion every day of her life. I¡¯ve been assigned Rhetors before who haven¡¯t been nearly as well behaved as mine...what did she call you? ¡®Emerald¡¯?¡± He suddenly asked the woman. ¡°Do you two know each other?¡± Emerald smiled, and shook her head one time. ¡°You seemed to like it. Should I call you that?¡± Another smile, and a single nod. ¡°Emerald, then.¡±

    Elena felt oddly intrusive watching the odd exchange, the almost tenderness coming from the man who held a knife to her throat.

    ¡°You really care for her, don¡¯t you?¡± She asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s hard to spend every second of every day together and not care for that person.¡± Kelf replied. Elena glanced at Ele. Annoying as he sometimes could be, she could see what the man meant. She tried to imagine how much strength it would take, to hold a knife to his throat, knowing that in an instant she would have to decide to end his life.

    ¡°Would you really kill her?¡± She asked. Emerald nodded before Kelf could answer, and just for a moment the knife blade pressed a little bit harder against her neck.

    ¡°Only direct questions to you, you know the rules.¡± Kelf murmured, gently but firmly, and Emerald stopped nodding immediately.

    ¡°I would, in an instant.¡± He replied to Elena. ¡°I don¡¯t think Emerald would hurt anyone, not for an instant. But smarter guards than me have been fooled by Rhetor in the past. It¡¯s not up to me, and if a Rhetorguard lets his own feelings affect his judgement, there¡¯s no use in him at all.¡±

    Emerald reached out, slowly, and laid a hand across his on the table, a comforting gesture, and he smiled at her like a father would smile at his daughter. In that look was more affection and love than Elena had ever gotten from her mother.

    The knife never left Emerald¡¯s neck.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 7

    It hadn¡¯t been as unpleasant as she would¡¯ve assumed, having dinner with a Rhetor. Even so Elena found a small measure of relief when she and Ele left the small pub. Pleasant though she seemed, Emerald was a Rhetor, and the other diners in the room had given Elena long and suspicious looks as she left. Emerald and Kelf were sleeping in the inn that night, so Elena and Ele left alone.

    The moon was overhead as they left, so bright that it lit the streets on its own, but despite the late hour the street was still alive. Merchants who had been shouting their wares were now cleaning up their storefronts, or quietly talking to one another in the flickering lantern-light. Fewer horse-drawn carts rattled and rumbled down the streets, but there were more pages and messengers, silent and serious looking. The city of Milia didn¡¯t sleep, it simply rested for a few hours.

    Elena didn¡¯t want to torture herself further by the reminder of what she had lost the day before, but her gaze was drawn to the tall building at the end of the street; Bernardo De Luca¡¯s studio.

    ¡°We should write down every part of the tour we took, so we don¡¯t forget a single detail.¡± She commented to Ele as they wandered down the street. The people talking and passing by didn¡¯t pay them any mind, a benefit of this bigger town that Elena was beginning to enjoy. She liked talking to Ele without feeling like a freak.

    ¡°Why? All we did was saw how the privileged live, what¡¯s the use of keeping a record of that?¡± Ele kicked at the ground with a petulant gesture that would¡¯ve kicked up a cloud of dirt..

    ¡°We saw how the most revered artist in Milia keeps his studio running! That¡¯s going to be useful information for when we¡¯re running our own mercantile shop. Even before we start our shop we can still probably learn a lot about how Master Bernardo keeps such a huge place moving from day-to-day.¡±

    ¡°How his page and head housekeeper keep the studio moving from day-to-day, you mean. Pietro and Bea were the ones who we should be emulating, not Bernardo.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s gotten into you Ele?¡± Elena stopped beneath a lantern-post, leaning against the wooden pole and crossing her arms. ¡°We¡¯ve both always respected Master Bernardo, that¡¯s why we¡¯re here, why are you suddenly so moody?¡±

    ¡°Why aren¡¯t you more moody?¡± Ele challenged. ¡°I respected him when I thought he was a master instructor as well as a master artist, but he¡¯s not. He doesn¡¯t deserve the respect. He doesn¡¯t train people up into the best artists, he only takes the best artists in the first place and then takes credit when they become famous.¡±

    Elena was taken aback. She wasn¡¯t used to Ele being so vehement, but she considered his argument..

    ¡°We don¡¯t know all the circumstances. You think we could do better if we were in his place?¡±

    Before Ele could answer, a cry arose from behind them, and she turned to observe Arturo stumbling towards her, his cheeks bright red, with Arta following behind with a look of mixed amusement and embarrassment.

    ¡°Halloo! It¡¯s the Bernardo girl!¡± Arturo waved a large bottle genially towards them. ¡°Told you she¡¯d be here Arta.¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes you did, why don¡¯t we go sit down with her for a bit?¡± Arta made herding motions until the man slumped to the ground at the foot of the lantern post, giving Elena a somewhat beleaguered smile.

    ¡°He didn¡¯t handle the rejection quite as well as you seem to be doing.¡± She confided quietly.

    ¡°How else would you handle it?¡± Arturo was slumped down so far that he was more laying on the ground than sitting, but there was a wide smile on his face. ¡°A little wine, a couple of fine looking ladies, a paper and some charcoal, stars in the sky, those are the ingredients to a fine night.¡±

    ¡°Oh Arturo,¡± Arta clucked before turning to Elena, ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll apologize once he¡¯s sobered up.¡± Elena didn¡¯t mind, she was more concerned with what the sloshed artist was doing on the ground. He had pulled a crumpled piece of paper from the pouch at his side, and Elena recognized the sketch he had been working on earlier in Bernardo¡¯s antechamber.

    The grey tones were well-suited to the image; a small boat in a dark ocean, a few black gulls framed against rolling thunderclouds in a charcoal sky. The gulls were flapped their wings lazily, and the boat dipped up and down on the waves, moving across the paper.

    ¡°You¡¯re an Artifex.¡± Elena sat in the dirt next to him, too fascinated by the rolling waves on the paper to care much about the dirt. ¡°Why didn¡¯t Pietro accept you? I thought he was only turning away people like me.¡±

    ¡°He wouldn¡¯t say.¡± Although he smelled of liquor, Arturo didn¡¯t slur his words at all. ¡°Just that I wasn¡¯t exactly what the Master was looking for. I suspect it was my clothes.¡±

    ¡°Why would your clothes matter?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s saying Pietro kicked him out because he¡¯s not high-class enough.¡± Ele answered.

    ¡°Further proof that the venerable master doesn¡¯t actually care about talent.¡± Arturo raised his bottle in a salute with a knowing smile.

    ¡°Arturo, why don¡¯t you share your wine now that you have another human to share it with.¡± Arta suggested, settling down crosslegged next to him. Ele sat down as well, the group forming a small circle beneath the lamp.

    ¡°Arta thinks I can¡¯t handle my liquor.¡± Arturo grunted, using his finger to smudge the hard edges around the clouds.

    ¡°Arta thinks you¡¯re going to get hit with the full effects of that in about ten minutes.¡± Arta pursed her lips and pulled the paintbrush from behind her ear, dragging the handle across the ground in precise lines absentmindedly. ¡°And then pass out in a gutter, and I¡¯ll be stuck within a hundred yards of a filthy gutter for the entire night until you wake up.¡±

    ¡°Arta worries too much.¡± Arturo grinned, but passed the bottle to Elena who took a sniff and then blinked. ¡°Eh, try some. Won¡¯t kill you. Neither of us have to be anywhere in the morning anyways, fellow reject.¡± Elena took a sip, and it burned on the way down, but it was sweet and cool.

    ¡°Have you always been able to make the pictures move like that?¡± She asked, starting to pass the bottle to Arta before she remembered that the girl was an Echo. Arturo shook his head without looking up from the drawing.

    ¡°Can¡¯t even always make them move now. It¡¯s the artists¡¯ curse.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Artifexes and Caeletors are similar in a lot of ways, the Storm touched them and made them artists. Every other type of Touched, you try to use the Storm, and you either get it right, or you know you messed up somewhere. Hell, the fighters, Saggitari and Lanisti, can¡¯t mess it up. But for an artist? Sometimes it just doesn¡¯t work. Sometimes a picture just lays there flat on a page. Sometimes a statue just stays a hunk of marble. Lifeless. I can never tell if my power will work until it actually starts working.¡±

    Despite the good natured smile on his face, Elena could sense the bitterness in his voice, and she didn¡¯t press. She leaned back and watched him work, trying to take in the technique as he worked in silence.

    The four of them sat in silence for a long time, the only sound the vague buzzing of insects and the muted and quiet bustle of the city around them. It was quite nice, just relaxing, out on her own and without her mother around. Occasionally she took another sip of the wine. With each sip, the sweet tang of it was more pronounced than the bitter alcoholic sting, and she found herself enjoying it more and more.

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°What are your plans, now that being a garzoni to De Luca is off the table?¡± Ele asked, less concerned with Arturo¡¯s painting. He was watching Arta¡¯s hand motions, the doodles inscrutable since her paintbrush didn¡¯t actually make marks in the ground.

    ¡°Damnit, I was just about to say how nice it was to be able to just enjoy the silence.¡± Arturo grumbled. ¡°Between Arta and Isadora I never have a moment¡¯s peace.¡±

    ¡°Isadora, that other girl who was there wiv you?¡± Elena recalled, slurring slightly. ¡°Is she...is she...¡± her mouth felt a little dry, and she took another drink of the sweet wine, ignoring Ele¡¯s concerned look. He was already moody anyways, he couldn¡¯t blame her for enjoying herself. ¡°She came wiv you didn¡¯t she? Is she a garzona of Master Bernardo?¡±

    ¡°Isadora is an garzona for Master Omerto DaRose, on the Street of Grey Artisans. We¡¯ve known each other since we were children, Master Omerto will take me on if she vouches for me. I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll be very happy, she was really hurt when I chose to supplicate to Master Bernardo.¡±

    ¡°But she went wiv you anyways? Tha¡¯s th¡¯ sweetest thing in the world! Not approving, but still going with you to wish you luck on your...on your....¡± Elena¡¯s head was admittedly a bit fuzzy, but she knew she could find the right phrasing if she thought about it. ¡°On your day of days.¡± She finished emphatically. That sounded about right, didn¡¯t it? Judging from the appalled look on Ele¡¯s face and the grin that Arta hid behind a hand, apparently it wasn¡¯t. Elena blushed and took another sip of the wine.

    Arturo held his drawing at arm¡¯s length, looking it over with a critical eye. As far as she could tell it was absolutely beautiful, and so realistic in its motions that the rolling ship on the angry sea threatened to make her seasick. She turned away quickly, but the sudden motion destroyed what balance she had. She slumped backwards to stare up at the stars in the night sky.

    Elena realized belatedly that she had laid her head in Arturo¡¯s lap, but he didn¡¯t seem to mind, and his leg was quite comfortable. In that moment, everything seemed perfect, especially the heavy slosh of the bottle that promised much more wine.

    ¡°What was¡¯t you said?¡± She asked. ¡°Stars inna sky an¡¯ good company an¡¯ paper an¡¯ tha¡¯s all you need t¡¯be happy?¡±

    ¡°Something like that.¡± Arturo¡¯s smile was so charming when it was upside-down. Was seeing it upside-down what made it so charming? That would be odd, if all men smiled better upside-down. But what did she know about men after all? What did she know about friends and smiles and charming Artifexes with comfortable legs? Elena took another pull of her drink as she mused.

    ¡°Elena, don¡¯t drink that so fast.¡± Ele warned, his brow furroed in concern. ¡°You¡¯re really not handling it very well.¡±

    ¡°Bu¡¯ ¡®s nice.¡± Elena managed.

    ¡°Nice it is, but you¡¯ve hogged enough of my wine for one night.¡± Arturo teased, taking the bottle from her grasp with little resistance. She pouted, but managed to forget about the wine after a few moments of staring at the stars. A thought suddenly occurred to her, and she took some time to figure out how to say it before speaking.

    ¡°Wish I had somfin¡¯ like that tho. Like Is¡¯dora.¡± Elena mused aloud. ¡°You¡¯re nice Ele, didn¡¯ mean you¡¯re not nice, I just wish...I wish I had friends li¡¯ tha¡¯.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s funny hearing her talk all sloshed with her proper lady accent.¡± Arturo said to the Arta, grinning down at the girl on his lap. ¡°I could be your friend, Elena.¡± He looked almost affectionate, brushing away a strand of her hair from her face.

    ¡°Sss...sss...sank yew.¡± Elena replied with dignity.

    ¡°Perhaps even more.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll want to watch yourself there, Rizzo.¡± Ele said quietly, and Elena turned to look at him with surprise. Was ¡®Rizzo¡¯ Arturo¡¯s last name? She barely remembered when they met, but it was awfully rude of Ele to be so formal when they had just been discussing being friends. Arturo shook his head.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to give the wrong impression. I like you, and I¡¯d be happy to call you a friend. I¡¯d also be happy...but that¡¯s for later, when we have less alcohol in us. I¡¯m a little affected by the drink, but I really do mean it. Is that good enough for you, Echo lad?¡± Arturo held out an unsteady hand to shake, and Ele sighed and pretended to take it, their hands moving through each other in a phaux-shake. ¡°I like your Storm friend, I do. And I¡¯ll bet Isadora and I could convince Master DaRose to take her on as well.¡±

    ¡°And would that little favor come with a cost to her?¡± Elena¡¯s eyes widened at how sharp Ele¡¯s tone was. Arturo must¡¯ve heard it too, as he leaned back suddenly, and Elena was disappointed in a way she couldn¡¯t quite articulate. She tried her best, both to convey how she felt and to calm the situation down, to ease whatever Ele¡¯s worries were and to let Arturo know that he shouldn¡¯t feel unwelcome by them.

    ¡°Stenshun. Tensioninin...in...in...in th¡¯whatsit. In th¡¯air. Lotta tenhs¡¯n...um...don¡¯...don¡¯ make th¡¯ awkw¡¯rd tension-¡±

    Arta interrupted by murmuring something. It was such a nice voice, Elena was glad that Arta was going to be her friend. Arturo was her friend too but in a different way because he was so comfortable to lay on...but he was standing up now, and Elena grumbled. Ele was saying other things, and Arta and Arturo were talking back. At least Ele didn¡¯t seem so angry anymore. Arta must¡¯ve figured out a way to tell them what Elena was trying to say.

    They walked down the street together, three friends talking, giggling and laughing. Well, Arta Ele and Arturo doing most of the talking, Elena doing most of the giggling and laughing. She saw the marble boy yelling at them before the others did, and she was worried they¡¯d gone too far, but when she tried to turn and run the others just held her steady.

    A nice cool room, a cup of something that tasted minty and sweet, although not as sweet as the fruit wine. Where was the fruit wine? The marble boy must¡¯ve taken it, because he was trying to talk but Arturo was yelling angrily. Pietro, that was the marble boy¡¯s name. He didn¡¯t seem to be very impressed with Arturo. Arta said something to Ele, and then they left, leaving her alone with just Ele and Pietro for company. They didn¡¯t talk to each other, which Elena found quite a shame.

    She wasn¡¯t quite sure how much later, but there were others in the room now. An old lady, and also an old man in an orange robe. He was looking at her with such disdain that for a moment it sobered her up, long enough at least to recognize the room as Pietro¡¯s office, and the old lady as the head housekeeper. Everything got all blurry after that. Ele was talking to both of the old people, and Elena was sure he had everything well under control.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 8

    Elena wasn¡¯t entirely sure which woke her up, the roiling in her stomach and throat, the ridiculously bright light, the piercing headache, or the crashing and clattering that seemed to come from all around her. She tumbled out of bed without opening her eyes, and the second she hit the ground her stomach lurched and she knew she was going to throw up.

    Elena knew she couldn¡¯t vomit on her mother¡¯s things; even with all of the distractions around her she knew she couldn¡¯t afford whatever punishment her mother would devise for that mistake. Taking a deep breath she opened an eye a crack, regretting it as the light to slammed into the back of her head. There was a water closet adjoining the room, and although she questioned for a moment how a tiny inn like this could afford a water closet, she wouldn¡¯t look a gift horse in the mouth right now.

    It was like torture, but eventually her stomach had emptied its contents into the bowl on the floor, and though her head felt even worse, her insides felt marginally better. Her eyes still clamped shut, she groped around blindly until she found the heavy lever set in the floor, and pulled. A rush of water flew through the bowl¡¯s bottom, carrying the refuse away, and Elena leaned her head against the cool metal of the bowl.

    ¡°Thank the Lord for whatever Machinator invented the water closet, and thank the Storm for touching him.¡± She moaned with a tongue that felt somehow thick.

    ¡°They¡¯d probably thank you to keep their names off of your liquor-coated tongue.¡± Ele said from behind her, and Elena groaned and hauled herself to her feet, braving the light and opening her eyes again so that she could find the washbasin.

    ¡°Alright...starting to come back to my senses. I¡¯m fairly sure this isn¡¯t the inn, but I don¡¯t remember what happened after meeting Arturo and Arta.¡± She admitted, splashing her face with cold water and finding things only marginally improved. ¡°Did I check into another one? How did I afford it?¡±

    Ele was giving her a smug look and not answering, which meant that he was in one of his moods again.

    Is he ever not in one of his moods? The thought reminded Elena of a blurry memory of the night before. ¡°I remember you telling me to stop drinking the wine, you said I wasn¡¯t handling it well. What happened afterward?¡± Of all the noises around her, Ele¡¯s voice was the only sound that didn¡¯t make her wince in pain.

    ¡°Let¡¯s see...you kept drinking that wine, even though I told you not to. I think we can both see that I was right.¡± Ele was standing in the doorway with a smug look on his face, and Elena glared at him through eyes that she knew were baggy. She didn¡¯t give him the opportunity to gloat further, making a shooing motion as she walked through him back into the room. If he insisted on being unhelpful, she could figure it out on her own.

    It was a brighter room than normal, because the walls and floor were made of white marble that reflected the morning sun¡¯s rays of light, through a window in the stone. Behind her, Ele continued.

    ¡°Your new ¡®friend¡¯ Arturo started to make advances, attempted to take advantage of you when you were drunk.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not listening to you, I¡¯m figuring it out on my own thank you.¡± Elena raised her chin haughtily as she looked around the room. ¡°Besides, that¡¯s ridiculous, I would¡¯ve remembered that. He was a little...familiar...but so was I, it was just the wine.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t make that nose-in-the-air face, you look like your mother when you make that face. So Arturo did help guide you down the street, since you couldn¡¯t walk on your own, because you kept drinking that wine even though I told you not to.¡±

    ¡°Almost as if he¡¯s a perfect gentleman who just happened to have a little too much wine.¡± Elena ignored the dig as she looked around for her effects. As expected, her things weren¡¯t in the room, but on the small wooden table by the plush bed lay a neatly folded set of white clothes.

    ¡°Yes, Arta said it was just the wine too. I still think don¡¯t think I¡¯d be comfortable around him if it wasn¡¯t for the influence Arta had over him, and I certainly wouldn¡¯t be comfortable with him being around you. You humans and your alcohol.¡±

    ¡°Ele, please, can you just tell me where I am?¡±

    ¡°Oh that¡¯s right, you probably don¡¯t remember since you drank all that wine, even though I told you-¡±

    ¡°Ele!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re in a small room off of Master De Luca¡¯s student dormitory. The dorm is broken up into several small rooms like this. This one is reserved for the lowest of his garzoni.¡±

    ¡°This is the room of his lowest garzoni?¡± Elena blinked. ¡°But it¡¯s so beautiful! I can¡¯t even imagine what the more advanced...wait...¡± Slowly and painfully, Elena¡¯s mind began to catch up to the wide grin on Ele¡¯s face. ¡°...Ele...why am I in a small room off of Master De Luca¡¯s et cetera et cetera?¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s right, you don¡¯t even know.¡± Ele examined his nails, a completely unnecessary gesture since they didn¡¯t gather dirt, break, or grow. Perhaps sensing her agitation he dropped the farce. ¡°You¡¯re here because, as of last night, you Miss Elena Lucciano are Master De Luca¡¯s lowest garzona.¡±

    Elena staggered against the wall. She stared at her partner¡¯s face, hesitant to even believe him.

    ¡°Is...is it true?¡± She whispered, staring into his eyes. ¡°I swear to the Lord Ele if you¡¯re lying I¡¯ll find a way to hurt you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not lying, believe it or not. Pietro found you drunk and stumbling outside of the studio and took you in to meet Master Bernardo himself. You made...well...an impression.¡±

    ¡°Oh my God.¡± Elena buried her face in her hands. ¡°Oh my God and by all the Holy Saints what have I done? He met me when I was drunk? But he still...¡±

    ¡°He still took you on, although I convinced him to let you sleep it off before you discussed anything officially with him. He told me to let you know you are to change into the uniform and meet him in his study when you woke up.¡±

    ¡°And you kept me here yammering this whole time?¡± Elena shrieked.

    ***

    The uniform was a simple white cotton tunic and loose white pants, all of it modest and plain, but it might as well have been spun of gold for how it made Elena feel. She stood outside of the office, waiting for an answer to her knock, as directed by one of the more helpful servants in the kitchens outside of the room.

    It was still ¡°the¡± room, not ¡°her¡± room. It was all so sudden and out of the blue, and Elena¡¯s stomach was in a knot waiting for the other shoe to drop. Less than twenty four hours ago she had been leaving this very studio with tears in her eyes, trying to ignore her mother¡¯s angry comments of worth.

    ¡°Where is my mother? What has she said about all of this?¡± Elena remembered suddenly.

    ¡°She¡¯s still back at the inn, as far as I know.¡± Ele replied. ¡°Wondering if she went too far in sending her daughter out on her own, if there¡¯s any hint of motherly affection in her reptilian heart.¡±

    Elena didn¡¯t share Ele¡¯s glee, but before she could worry too much an aged voice called ¡°come in,¡± and she swung the door open to enter Master Bernardo De Luca¡¯s private study.

    She noticed absolutely nothing about the room she stood in. There were walls, and she was pretty sure a floor and a desk, but leaning over the desk was a man whose presence wiped away any other feature of the room. In another context, Master De Luca wouldn¡¯t have the kind of presence that would arrest one¡¯s attention, but here and now he was all Elena could see.

    He was a rather elderly man, with a long and neatly trimmed beard that reached to his stomach and wisps of white hair that framed a stern face. His clothes were almost as simple as hers; his pants were black, his simple tunic was embellished by a light jacket of deep orange, and he wore a loose cap on his head. On the table in front of him was a small set of blueprints, architectural designs scrawled across sheafs of parchment.

    Elena clasped her hands in front of her respectfully, holding her feet together and waiting with a bowed head for her superior to speak. In her head she thanked her mother for all of the lessons on etiquette.

    ¡°She has a courtly manner about her, now that she¡¯s not half-drowned in wine.¡± Master Bernardo¡¯s voice was dry, the remains of a rich baritone rasping a little with age. ¡°It suits her, but I can¡¯t imagine where she got it from.¡±

    ¡°Pietro says that her mother insists the Luccianos are very well considered in the upper echelons of Carpi politics.¡± Elena was surprised to notice there was someone else in the room, the head housekeeper Bea who had given her a tour the day before. Master Bernardo had taken up too much of her attention to spare much.

    ¡°Yes, and knowing Carpi I¡¯m forced to wonder again, where did she learn courtly manners?¡± Master Bernardo chuckled and waved a hand in dismissal over the blueprints. He walked around the desk and sat, clasping his hands and fixing Elena with an intent look. ¡°Now girl, are you completely sobered up?¡±

    Elena was so excited she could barely get the words out.

    ¡°Yes sir, very much so sir.¡± He was talking to her, Master Bernardo De Luca was actually taking time out of his schedule to talk to her!

    ¡°I doubt you remember much of last night, but suffice to say you are quite lucky that you came so highly recommended. While you are in my household, you¡¯ll not touch alcohol, nor recreational drugs. I trust that will be acceptable?¡±

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    ¡°Of course sir.¡± Elena blushed, grateful that Ele had at least stayed quiet. Someone had recommended her? She barely knew anyone in the city, let alone someone who could sway the opinion of Master De Luca.

    ¡°Good. Sit down, if you please.¡±

    Elena was glad she had thrown up earlier, so there was no chance that her body would betray her in the tension of the moment. Her head still pounded, and the light was still too bright, but she hardly noticed. Sitting down almost gingerly across from the Master, she finally met his eyes. They were rather disappointing, a colourless grey instead of the vibrant colors she had imagined, but they narrowed as if he could read the thoughts in her head.

    Elena ducked her head, feeling like a child. She knew she should be doing something, saying something, she should be trying to impress him or at least explain herself. Master De Luca finally broke the silence. ¡°I am a man of directness Miss Lucciano, at least to those I don¡¯t need something from. I tend towards brutal frankness, so you would be wise to expect and prepare for my frank opinion.¡± This was not at all what Elena expected, but before she could think of anything to say he was forging on.

    ¡°My frank opinion of you is that you should count yourself an incredibly lucky young woman to be sitting in that seat right now. My secretary Pietro determined that you were not fit to meet with me. You are a Fabera, one of the Touched which my studio never accepts. My own encounter with you last night gave me the impression that you were a drunk, a drooling idiot, who kept the company of the deplorable and the low.¡±

    His words were like a slap in the face, and Elena didn¡¯t know how to respond. Had he only brought her here to kick her out again? Tears welled in her eyes, but she bit her lip and kept them from flowing.

    ¡°To your great fortune, my own Echo is far more curious than I. Her curiosity was such that when you broke into my studio, she decided to observe you rather than throw you out as I would have.¡±

    Elena almost jumped in her chair, her attention moving from De Luca to Bea...Master De Luca¡¯s Echo. The elder woman nodded once, a faint smile playing around the corner of her lips.

    ¡°You said...housekeeper.¡± Elena floundered.

    ¡°What I actually said was that I keep the studio running when Master De Luca is locked up in his office.¡± Bea corrected. ¡°Your observational skill was one of the reasons I recommended you, I certainly hope that wasn¡¯t a fluke. I expect you to impress Master De Luca just as much as you impressed me.¡±

    Elena hadn¡¯t even known Echoes existed until yesterday, and she wasn¡¯t entirely sure what to do with this new information. Did Bea automatically deserve the same respect and awe that Master De Luca inspired? Should she be starstruck that she¡¯d met Bea? Frightened? Pleased? Unsure of what she should do, Elena simply nodded.

    ¡°She¡¯s not a girl of many words, is she Bea?¡± Master Bernardo chuckled to his Echo.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Master De Luca,¡± Elena gasped, tripping over her words in her haste to reassure him, ¡°I just don¡¯t know what to say and I¡¯m so honored-¡±

    ¡°It was a compliment, child, don¡¯t ruin it.¡± De Luca¡¯s smile disappeared as he turned back to her. ¡°Now, I obviously place a lot of faith in my Echo¡¯s opinion, so it is enough to give you a place here for the very limited future. That being said, I should stress that you are on the very thinnest of ice when it comes to your place in this studio.¡±

    ¡°I understand that, Master, I¡¯m just grateful for the chance.¡± Elena said honestly.

    ¡°I accept as many new supplicants into my studio as I wish every autumn, Lucciano.¡± Master De Luca continued as if she hadn¡¯t spoken. ¡°That being said, I¡¯ve found that for my own sanity it works best if I only take on a certain number to become garzoni from that pool. Two months after the supplication date, I send all but four garzoni away.¡±

    ¡°How many supplicants did you take in this year Master?¡± Elena asked.

    ¡°You will make the fourth supplicant, if you join the studio. Today will start your probationary apprenticeship.¡± He held up a hand as if reading the hope in her eyes. ¡°Please note, Miss Luciano, that I said I keep four garzoni. Four garzoni total, among both my current students and the new supplicants that were brought on yesterday. If you expect to keep your place here, you had better impress me more than my current garzoni do.¡±

    Elena¡¯s eyes widened, but she set her chin stubbornly.

    ¡°I will.¡± Of the eight in his studio, all she had to do was be better than four of them, two months from now. That was all that was standing between her and the dream she had held for most of her childhood.

    ¡°Your temerity is appreciated, though not altogether unprecedented.¡± Master De Luca¡¯s voice was even more wry, though Elena wouldn¡¯t have thought it possible. ¡°You are not the first garzoni or garzona who have assured me they would win out, and if you fail to do so you won¡¯t be the first to lie. Bea will go over the rest with you now, I must return to this.¡± He pulled the blueprints across the table to rest in his lap, dismissing her from his attention with a strangely practised ease.

    ¡°Master De Luca has already mentioned the ban on alcohol and drugs, and I don¡¯t believe I need to tell you the penalty for being caught with them.¡± Bea picked up the conversation smoothly.

    ¡°I really don¡¯t drink at all, that was just-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear it. Now, as the newest and most green member of the household, you will rise early to help the cooks in the kitchen every morning. Every provisional garzoni helps in the kitchen, but it is the lowest who are given the more undesirable tasks of helping prepare breakfast.¡±

    Elena nodded. Maybe Bea expected her to be offended by being assigned ¡®low¡¯ labor, but she was used to working in the kitchens. The Luccianos only had one chef, and Elena often sacrificed her free time to help the elderly woman. It her keep her mother from flying into a rage with the poor overworked dear.

    ¡°Every day the full garzoni will ensure that Master Bernardo has the materials to carry out his work; it is the duty of the provisional garzoni, yourself included, to ensure the same for them.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have servants to buy materials?¡± Elena asked, surprised.

    ¡°Some materials must, of course, be purchased, but each artist has their own preferences, their own tastes. It¡¯s far too much for an unskilled servant to keep track of, and it¡¯s far more difficult for them to gauge the quality of the items they¡¯re buying or making. Whenever possible we prefer to work with handmade material. You will be assigned a garzoni who will inform you what they expect, and you will be responsible for providing them. Some of them will be quite...¡± Bea seemed to search for the right words, ¡°...particular about the materials they want, and the materials¡¯ quality. Whatever standards they think need to be met, it is your responsibility to meet those standards, not theirs to lower them, am I understood?¡±

    ¡°Yes ma¡¯am.¡± How much pride did the typical supplicant have, that Bea kept pausing like this, as if at any moment Elena would throw a tantrum and storm off? Who cared that she would have to keep the full garzoni stocked with supplies, if it meant she had a chance of becoming one of them?

    ¡°In addition to your duties to the chefs and the full garzoni, you will naturally be given instruction by Master De Luca himself.¡± Even though she already knew it, Elena¡¯s heart leapt in her chest at the words. ¡°He is frequently away from the studio, and even more frequently busy with his work, so at any time he summons you, you must be available.¡±

    ¡°Of course, any time of the day or night.¡± Elena murmured. Bea gave her a hard look, as if searching her eyes for some sign of sarcasm.

    ¡°Very well. Come with me, and I¡¯ll introduce you to the other garzoni. If you will get the door please, I dislike passing through walls.¡±

    ¡°You can walk through walls?¡± Ele had been silent up until this point, and when Bea turned to give him a curious look it seemed like he wished he had remained so. Elena took advantage of the pause to rush over and swing the heavy door open in front of them.

    ¡°I think you will both learn quite a lot in your time here.¡± Bea said, and stepped through the open door without further comment.

    ¡°Why did you recommend me to Master De Luca, Mistress Bea?¡± Elena couldn¡¯t help but ask as they made their way down one of the open hallways. ¡°I mean, I¡¯m very grateful, but I...I got the impression when you gave me the tour that I annoyed you.¡±

    ¡°And yet you kept on asking questions.¡± Bea flashed a brief smile over her shoulder. ¡°I like a curious student, one who is just as passionate about learning as she is about knowing.¡±

    ¡°But how can you know something without learning it?¡± Elena shook her head. Bea¡¯s answers were proving even more confusing than the questions they were asking.

    ¡°If you¡¯re as observant as I¡¯ve noted you to be, I have a feeling you¡¯ll find that out quite quickly. This door, if you please.¡± Elena pushed the heavy door open, and Bea indicated that she should walk through. ¡°Now to meet your fellow garzoni.¡±

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 9

    From the moment that Elena entered the room, the very second that she set eyes on the men and women who worked within, her confidence slipped just a bit. All eyes had turned in her direction, and the expressions they wore were uncomfortably intense. According to Master Du Luca there were seven of them in total, but since each was Stormtouched and their Echoes milled around in various places, Elena felt as if a veritable crowd was staring her down.

    The room itself was gorgeous, just like the rest of the studio. Long marble tables stood on either side, divided into sections by wooden panels. It smelled like wood scraps and marble dust and a bitter scent Elena assumed was paints, a smell like creativity and fresh air. High ceilings made it look even larger than it actually was, and the light that poured in and reflected from mirrors in the corner lit the entire room. Lit it a little too well, in fact, as the hangover-headache that Elena had almost managed to forget came back full force.

    ¡°This is where the majority of the work in the studio gets done. Well, the creative work that isn¡¯t done by Master Bernardo.¡± Bea clarified. The room had been filled with chatter when they entered, but it was eerily silent now, and no one was even pretending to work. ¡°There are quite a few disciplines, as I¡¯m sure you could guess, but we try to keep this room well stocked with supplies for all of them. Each table is divided into four workspaces, and yours will be at the end there.¡±

    The tables at the right were filled with materials, blocks of wood and marble, pieces of canvas, brushes, chisels, and strange instruments that Elena wasn¡¯t sure the use of. If what Master De Luca had said was true and most of her time would be taken up by providing materials for the full garzoni, she doubted she would have much trouble. There were so many supplies already spread out that she would probably have weeks to get them replenished.

    The tables on the left were empty and clearly hadn¡¯t been used yet. They were so clean they practically glistened, with unused tool and materials waiting. The sections had been set up for different types of work, but the section of the table Bea had indicated to Elena was empty. It hit her just how lucky she had been to get this spot.

    They were already set to move on with just these seven. I made it by a hair.

    ¡°Are there certain instruction or class times? Any times set aside to work on projects?¡± Elena felt that her question came out at a much quieter volume than she had intended it, as if the weight of twenty-eight eyes on her were muting her speech.

    ¡°Instruction times consist of whenever Master Bernardo wants to teach you something.¡± Bea replied. ¡°Work times here in the studio are whenever you find the time; the only reason everyone is here today is because it is the single day of the month that the garzoni have off. The full garzoni have more time for their projects, since they have to do less work providing Master Bernardo with supplies than provisional garzoni.¡±

    We¡¯ll all be competing to be one of the top four, but they¡¯ll have more time to work. It struck Elena as unfair, but she supposed they had earned it. Each of the full garzoni would¡¯ve edged others out of their spots just a year or two ago. The thought made her nervous as she surveyed the men and women on the right of the workshop. They were veterans at this.

    ¡°The only true schedules beyond Master Bernardo¡¯s wishes are related to meals. The Master likes to use meal times to get to know his garzoni, so I suggest you never miss one. If there¡¯s ever the choice between missing a meal and showing up late for one, I suggest you miss it. There¡¯s little else to remember beyond your duties as a garzona, and little else to focus on besides your projects. We try to foster a peaceful environment here, one where art can flourish.¡±

    The silence in the room was starting to creep Elena out, and she was grateful when Bea marched into the center of the room and spoke again.

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll make my introductions quick since I doubt you¡¯ll be able to remember them all in so short a time. Starting with the full garzoni here on the right. At the end is Frederica, Caelator and most senior member of De Luca¡¯s garzoni.¡± As if timing the motion so that it would make a statement, Frederica, a woman with floppy brown curls, turned her back on Elena and Bea to resume her work. The boy standing next to her looked so similar he could¡¯ve been her brother, from his brown curly hair to the impressive ability to make his back look disdainful. Bea continued as if nothing had happened.

    ¡°Next to her is Carlo, an Artifex who works solely with frescoes.¡± Elena hadn¡¯t even known that Artifexes worked with specific materials, but over the man¡¯s red ragtag mop of hair on the wall hung a single wall tile, decorated with soft reds and oranges that slowly swirled together like a trails of sand. His Echo had black hair down to her waist, and had her arms crossed. Her stance almost looked defensive, as if she was prepared to tackle anyone who approached.

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    ¡°Welcome.¡± Carlo said, his eyes not meeting hers.

    Is he frightened? Why would he be, when he doesn¡¯t know whether I¡¯m a threat or not?

    ¡°Vittoria is at the desk next to him, she too is an Artifex, works with oils. She¡¯s the one standing.¡± Bea continued, and Elena was glad she specified. The woman looked exactly like her Echo; both were blond, both had hazel eyes, they even wore their hair in identical french braids.

    ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you! Welcome to the studio, and relax, we don¡¯t bite!¡± Vittoria smiled, and her Echo¡¯s grin was strangely lopsided, making them look different for the first time. Elena noted that tidbit away for future reference.

    ¡°Finally we have Niccolo, a bit of a departure since he is our sole non-artist.¡± Niccolo was on his feet and holding out a hand, and Elena shook it with some trepidation. He was large, muscled, and his handshake felt as if he could exert pressure and snap the bones in her fingers if he felt like it.

    ¡°I like to think that what I do is art.¡± He chuckled. ¡°Welcome miss.¡± His Echo was almost a direct contrast, waifish and spindly, but her smile was just as friendly.

    ¡°He¡¯s a Sagittari, in case the gear didn¡¯t clue you in.¡± She said, and Elena observed now that while the others had working materials on their desks, Niccolo had arrows, quivers, and a small but beautifully crafted bow.

    ¡°A shortbow?¡± Elena asked, surprised. Typical stories of Sagittari always featured them with monstrous weapons: bows bigger than a man, arrows as long as a horse, that sort of thing.

    ¡°Oh god please no, he¡¯s going to say it again-¡± Niccolo¡¯s Echo rolled her eyes, but Niccolo was already grinning as he spoke.

    ¡°Well you know, it¡¯s not the size of the weapon, it¡¯s all in how you use it m¡¯lady.¡±

    Elena flushed, and Bea fixed Niccolo with a steady look before turning to face the other side. ¡°The rest are your fellow provisional Garzoni, so I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll be making acquaintances in no time. Breakfast is soon, so I¡¯ll be even briefer.¡± She pointed them out one by one, and Elena tried to commit them all to memory as soon as she heard them.

    ¡°Lorenzo, the studio¡¯s very own Machinator.¡± He was pretty, with sweeping black hair and pouting lips, but he didn¡¯t seem to notice that Bea had introduced him. His Echo, another model-like young man with wavy hair, waved at her vaguely.

    ¡°Mella, an Artifex working with pencils, which she says are soft lead, somewhat similar to charcoal.¡± Mella¡¯ hair fell in frizzy red shocks, and she was as unlike her rather dignified looking Echo as possible. He looked as if not a hair was out of place, while she looked as if she couldn¡¯t force her hair down.

    ¡°Finally Leanarda, another Artifex who works with oil.¡± She was a pale thing, and looked like a gust of wind would blow her away. Her Echo was a bit more sturdy-looking, but had deep bags beneath his eyes. Elena was struck by the thought that Echoes didn¡¯t sleep; what had put them there?

    ¡°I...I¡¯m pleased to meet you all.¡± Elena said to the room in general, more to fill the awkward silence. ¡°That is, we¡¯re both pleased to meet you all, aren¡¯t we Ele?¡± She would have to be careful to include him, now that she was in a place where most of the others could interact with him.

    ¡°What? Oh, uh, yeah. Pleasure. Charmed.¡± Ele said, clearly caught off guard as well. Elena wasn¡¯t sure if she had expected a welcome, but the sullen silence didn¡¯t seem to bode well for her. Was there something about working as a garzoni that she had missed? Why did everyone look so miserable?

    ¡°Well, that was touching and wonderful.¡± Bea resembled Master De Luca when she spoke so wryly. ¡°But it will be breakfast time in an hour or so. Elena, as the lowest garzoni you will be assisting the chefs, make your way to the kitchens please. Leanarda, congratulations, you¡¯re relieved of that particular duty.¡±

    Elena turned, a little relieved to get out of the room. Beautiful as it was, the atmosphere and attention was a little oppressive.

    ¡°I can help anyways.¡± The pale girl, Leanarda, stood from her bench, but seemed to be physically pushed back when the attention of the room turned to her. ¡°I mean, just for today. Just because I don¡¯t have anything to work on right now.¡± She murmured.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Elena smiled uneasily, and followed Bea through the doorway leaving the studio behind. As soon as she left, a low murmuring told her conversation had resumed in the room behind them, but the two girls and the three Echoes walked down the hall in silence.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 10

    ¡°The kitchens are cooler than I remember them from the tour.¡±

    ¡°Well, it is the morning. They probably heat up over the course of the day.¡±

    Elena and Ele stood in the doorway, watching the coordinated chaos of the two cooks within. Behind them, the wispy girl who had volunteered and her Echo watched over their shoulders.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been here before? I thought you only got here today.¡± Leanarda said. Before either of them could answer, one of the cooks pointed a wire whisk at the group in the door.

    ¡°Which of you is garzona who helps us for next few months?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s me.¡± Elena replied. ¡°And this is...Leanarda, right?¡± She asked.

    ¡°Leanarda and Leo.¡± Leanarda nodded.

    ¡°We never learn names until the fodder leave.¡± The other cook briskly passed them two small wooden bowls and a glass bottle of cream. ¡°Whip until it is a foam. Whisks on the wall behind you. Please to stay out of underfoot.¡±

    Elena couldn¡¯t quite place the cook¡¯s accent, but his instructions were at least clear. Elena and Leanarda found small stools in the corner, split the cream between them, and began whisking. Ele leaned against the wall with arms folded, watching the kitchen, and as if taking his cue Leanarda¡¯s Echo waited in silence as well, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Leanarda.

    The two cooks moved with the ease of dancers, and Elena was so fascinated watching them that she had to remind herself to keep whisking. The one who had given them the bowls was skinny with long grey hair, the other a fat bald man, but despite their complete differences they coordinated as if they had practiced for years.

    They ducked around each other, passing items and mixing ingredients. At one point the fat man tossed a heavy cast-iron skillet across the room, without word or warning, and the older cook snatched it from the air and placed it on the stone stovetop.

    ¡°You said your name was Elena?¡± Leanarda prodded.

    ¡°Oh, yes I¡¯m Elena and this is Ele. Thank you for helping me today, by the way. I know you didn¡¯t have to do that.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s alright, it was an excuse to get out of that room. We don¡¯t really have anything to do yet, so the three of us provisional garzoni were just sort of sitting around awkwardly. Besides, it can¡¯t hurt to help out a fellow garzona.¡± Leanarda flashed a quick smile.

    ¡°I got the impression that most of our fellow garzoni would disagree.¡± Elena murmured. ¡°The full garzoni all seemed a little...moody, didn¡¯t they? Like they were angry at me.¡±

    ¡°Can you blame them? Four of us are going to be turned out into the streets in a few months, that doesn¡¯t exactly engender a helpful community spirit.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t this place supposed to be about art? About learning to make things of beauty?¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t learn if you¡¯re not here. When it comes down to it, one more garzona means one more person they have to fight to keep their place.¡±

    ¡°But I don¡¯t want to fight anyone!¡± Elena said with surprise.

    ¡°They¡¯ll fight you, though.¡± They had been talking quietly, but Leanarda lowered her voice further. ¡°Listen, Elena, I know you have to have dreams of being a wonderful Artifex or Caeletor or...¡± She paused to let Elena supply the word, but Elena blushed and kept silent. Leanarda continued unabated. ¡°The rest dream too. If they have to take you down to reach their dreams they¡¯re not going to play nice, they¡¯ll do it in an instant.¡±

    ¡°Why are you telling us this?¡± Ele challenged. ¡°If you¡¯re so sure it¡¯ll be ruthless here then why warn us?¡±

    ¡°Because maybe fighting isn¡¯t the best way to get ahead.¡± Elena got the impression that Leanarda was choosing her words very carefully. ¡°Instead of tearing each other down, a few of us could work together. Lift each other up. I¡¯ve tried the ¡®enemies¡¯ thing, allies is easier.¡±

    Elena considered the implied offer for a few minutes, while Leanarda lapsed into silence. She hated that her simple presence in the studio had earned her seven new rivals, and she couldn¡¯t deny the idea of...what exactly? Friends? Allies?

    ¡°Right now you¡¯re wondering whether or not you can trust me.¡± Leanarda guessed.

    ¡°Sort of. I guess I¡¯m wondering what exactly you¡¯re offering here.¡±

    ¡°Nothing sinister. I get the feeling there are going to be a lot of opportunities to screw each other over while we¡¯re here. You and I could agree to not take those opportunities. Maybe keep other people from taking those opportunities.¡±

    ¡°I think that¡¯s the strangest way I¡¯ve ever been asked to be friends.¡±

    Leanarda grinned.

    ¡°I¡¯m wondering whether or not we can trust you.¡± Ele broke in. ¡°You were a supplicant, this is your first day here, but you seem to have given this an awful lot of thought. No offense intended, but it makes you sound a little manipulative.¡±

    ¡°I am manipulative.¡± Leanarda leaned forward so she could address both Elena and Ele. ¡°A lot manipulative. I¡¯m also a little egotistical, too prideful, and I hold grudges for longer than is healthy. But I don¡¯t try to deny who I am, and I don¡¯t lie to get what I want when the truth will work.¡±

    ¡°And you think the truth will work here?¡±

    ¡°Elena doesn¡¯t seem like the type of girl who would like the nastiness of tearing people down. Maybe I¡¯m wrong about her, but if I¡¯m not it means they¡¯re going to eat her alive. I¡¯m offering her a...an alliance, I guess. She doesn¡¯t need to play nasty, and I¡¯ll look out for her. All I¡¯m asking is that she watches my back in return.¡±

    ¡°I would do that for you without the speech.¡± Elena broke in. ¡°Who wouldn¡¯t speak up if they saw someone doing something nasty? You didn¡¯t need to convince me to look out for you, all you needed to do was ask.¡±

    Leanarda stared at her for a moment, clearly dumbfounded.

    ¡°Well if that¡¯s the case, I¡¯m glad I got to you first.¡± She muttered, turning back to her bowl. ¡°You¡¯ll need someone looking after you with that kind of naive attitude.¡±

    ¡°Is good for now. Tomorrow you will make more help.¡± The older cook was suddenly in front of them, taking the wooden bowls out of their hands. Elena hadn¡¯t even noticed that she had whipped her cream into stiff foamy peaks. ¡°You go wash, meet others at table. Master De Luca does not like for garzoni being late.¡±

    ***

    ¡°I don¡¯t like that woman.¡± Ele had been silent after Leanarda and Elena parted ways to wash up, but he broke the silence with a sour expression.

    ¡°Are you back to being all moody?¡± Elena looked up from the washbasin for a towel, and Ele pointed.

    ¡°It¡¯s not moodiness, it¡¯s caution. You¡¯re always so trusting of everyone, I¡¯m the one who has to keep an eye out. Remember Pasaulo?¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s not talk about Pasaulo.¡± Elena mumbled, her stomach lurching at the thought. ¡°Do you remember where the dining room is?¡±

    Ele led the way, still talking. He spoke quietly, clearly becoming more comfortable with the thought that others might be listening now.

    ¡°I¡¯m always wary of people who have to tell you upfront how trustworthy they are. I¡¯m also nervous around people who feel the need to point out how much you need them. There are a bunch of reasons I don¡¯t like Leanarda, and allying with her makes me worry for you.¡±

    ¡°What is there to worry about?¡± Elena couldn¡¯t seem to muster up half the amount of concern that Ele had. The open nature of the windows in the hallway was letting the morning¡¯s light in, casting blues and whites onto the walls. Despite the hard road ahead of her, for now at least she was a garzona to Bernardo De Luca; on the path to everything she had wanted.

    ¡°Have you not been listening to what I¡¯ve been saying?¡±

    ¡°I mean, so what if you don¡¯t trust her? I wasn¡¯t planning on doing anything nasty, not to anyone. So all this means is that she knows I won¡¯t do anything nasty; I don¡¯t have to change my plan at all.¡±

    ¡°Maybe knowing is enough to take advantage of you.¡± Ele said darkly.

    ¡°Are you sure you don¡¯t like her because she¡¯s so much like you Ele?¡± Elena teased. ¡°Maybe you¡¯re jealous because you¡¯re not the only one who thinks I¡¯m too naive and wants to look out for me anymore.¡±

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    ¡°It¡¯s through here.¡±

    Somewhere in the studio, a bell began chiming the hour as Elena swung the heavy door open. The room was dominated by two very long tables of a dark wood. At one table sat the garzoni with Master De Luca at the head, at the other Bea presided over the Echoes. Every single seat was occupied except for Elena¡¯s and Ele¡¯s.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, you haven¡¯t officially arrived late.¡± Master De Luca said over the bell chimes with a friendly smile. ¡°My timepieces are exact,¡± Although his smile didn¡¯t change, the entire room seemed to drop by a few degrees, ¡°which means you have until the clock has finished ringing.¡± Elena hurried to her seat, sitting down just as the last stroke of the bell ended.

    ¡°I have so little time with my garzoni.¡± Master De Luca spoke as if he were beginning a speech, each work clear and crisp. The cooks entered with large wooden platters filled with eggs and ham, and loaves of bread so fresh that they still steamed as he continued. ¡°My work in the Milian court takes me away from my little studio for days at a time, and when I return the work that has accumulated takes up all of my attention. I probably interact less with my garzoni than any other master in this city.¡±

    He seemed a little sad, staring at his plate as the cooks served him. Frederica, Carlo, Vittoria and Niccolo, the four garzoni who had been in the studio for some time, began digging into their food with relish, and the new garzoni hesitantly followed their example.

    ¡°Please, eat, I don¡¯t worry about manners here.¡± Master De Luca came out of his stupor with a weary wave. ¡°In the studio, meals are the only place we care more about function than form.¡± The smell of the eggs and ham made Elena¡¯s stomach lurch with the memory of the wine from the night before, but she couldn¡¯t deny she was hungry. ¡°Miss Lucciano, you in particular will enjoy the hot drink.¡± De Luca lifted his own small wooden cup in indication. ¡°It¡¯s quite good for the morning after a night of drunkenness.¡±

    The excitement Elena felt that he remembered her name was quickly squashed by shame. The other garzoni were all focused on her, and she looked down at her plate, preferring to imagine their looks of contempt rather than face them.

    ¡°Master De Luca, doesn¡¯t the studio have very strict rules on drinking?¡± Elena would¡¯ve thought Frederica was asking the question innocently, if not the smug tilt in the corner of the brunette¡¯s smile. It was quite clear that she knew exactly what she was doing.

    Note to self; Frederica is not my friend. Elena thought. If what Leanarda had said was true and there really were garzoni out to get her, she would have to start keeping track of who was who. She glanced at the other table, trying to identify which echo belonged to her. The man at the Echo¡¯s table looked so similar to Frederica that they might¡¯ve been siblings, and he was smiling at her as if he had heard the snide comment.

    ¡°Yes, very strict rules,¡± Master De Luca agreed, ¡°but I¡¯m sure little Elena will have more control of herself now that she is one of us. Mella, I must say that in my long life I have never encountered an Artifex who used your particular medium. What was it you called your tools?¡± The topic change was jarring, suddenly losing interest in Elena and moving on to his next target.

    ¡°Pencil, Master De Luca. It¡¯s like charcoal in many ways, but I have more control over the finer lines.¡± Mella spoke through a mouthful of food. She sat across from Elena, and her shocks of red hair bounced whenever she moved her head, and clearly had no problems following his command to not worry about manners. ¡°I haven¡¯t met any other Artifexes like me either, that probably makes me more valuable.¡± Mella managed to give a charming smile with a mouthful of food, and Master De Luca smiled back in response.

    ¡°It¡¯s a good talent, to know your own worth.¡± He nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve had garzoni in the past who steadfastly refused to acknowledge their value, and there are few things more frustrating.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with a student who doesn¡¯t know their own worth?¡± Elena asked. The rest of the garzoni were silent, but if was true that Master De Luca had so little time, Elena wanted to take advantage of all that she could. The Master didn¡¯t seem to mind.

    ¡°An artist who does not know his or her own worth is an artist who is not willing to fight for themselves when it comes down to the bone. One can¡¯t be truly cutthroat if one isn¡¯t sure, without the slightest fraction of a doubt, that one deserves to be at the top.¡±

    Surely an artist can be both nice and famous. Elena frowned to herself, but took a bite instead of arguing. Master De Luca had far more experience than her, so perhaps she would understand his advice when she was further along. The hot drink was strong and a little bitter, but the cooks had put dollops of the whipped cream into it, and it softened and sweetened the taste pleasantly.

    ¡°What would become of a garzona who wasn¡¯t cutthroat, Master De Luca?¡± Frederica played with the food on her plate, stirring her fork around the eggs and staring at them with a half-smile playing about her face. ¡°What if they were timid and shy and easy to pick on?¡±

    What is her problem? Elena didn¡¯t bother trying to hide her glare. How could I have possibly offended her already, when I haven¡¯t even spoken two sentences to her?

    ¡°Hmm.¡± If Master De Luca noticed that Frederica was singling Elena out, he gave no indication, thoughtfully chewing a bite of bread before he answered. ¡°I¡¯ve seen many artists of that nature come and go, rise and fall. They tend to follow the same pattern; they meander on their way, slowly gaining in fame and fortune, until they run into someone willing to be aggressive or merciless. At that point, they fall to that someone, and the merciless artist is the one who is remembered. I wouldn¡¯t worry too much about it Frederica; you hardly have a problem in the area of being shy or timid.¡±

    ¡°What about the rest of you?¡± He turned his attention nearer to the middle of the table. ¡°It seems I¡¯ve got a quiet batch of supplicants this year; I¡¯ve not heard a word from some of you. Lorenzo, you¡¯re a new face here, would you say you¡¯re one of the tame artists or one of the cut-throat?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I would ever cut someone¡¯s throat.¡± The pretty garzoni tossed his long hair over one shoulder as he mused. ¡°I think that¡¯s against Milian laws.¡± A short silence marked this profound statement as the entire table stared at him. Elena tried to figure out if she had missed some intricate wordplay or cleverness in his answer. It seemed that Master De Luca was doing the same thing, because he didn¡¯t move on to anyone else, merely fixed the boy with a thoughtful air as he ate his breakfast.

    The room was quiet enough that Elena could hear the soft murmurs from the other table where the Echoes sat. None of them had food, but It appeared that they were having a much more friendly and interesting discussion. Some of them were smiling, Bea was gesturing animatedly with her hands. Even Ele seemed engaged in the conversation.

    Elena¡¯s observation was broken by a sound from the doorway; a cough so measured and precise that it could only be artificial. Pietro looked subdued, his face even more childlike now that it held the expression of a small child about to be punished.

    ¡°Master Bernardo, I¡¯m sorry to interrupt.¡± He didn¡¯t seem reassured when Master De Luca waved him on. ¡°Sir, there is someone at the door demanding to speak with your garzona.¡±

    ¡°Pietro, I would have thought you were capable of taking a message, or scheduling a meeting, or perhaps even approaching the garzona in question some time when we are not occupied with a meal.¡± Master De Luca¡¯s voice was even, but the marble boy flinched. ¡°Perhaps I was wrong.¡±

    ¡°It just seemed important sir. It¡¯s Miss Elena¡¯s mother.¡±

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 11

    ¡°How dare you?¡± Every line of Joanna Lucciano¡¯s face was a mask, her emotions obviously controlled. Even her tone was measured, almost calm. Elena had never been so frightened of her.

    Calm always came before a storm with her mother¡¯s moods, and the calmer the calm, the more devastating the following turmoil would be. Elena was already trying to think of what she could say to mitigate the damage, but she had never been good at it. Usually the safest route was to take her punishment quietly, to let her mother vent and rant until she had gotten it all out of her system. Of course, the safest route was not always without danger.

    ¡°Mama I thought you would be happy that I-¡± she began carefully, but her faltering explanation was cut off before it had even left her lips.

    ¡°Happy? Happy to be fooled into thinking Master De Luca didn¡¯t want you? Happy to wake up and find my only daughter missing? Did it even occur to you how worried I would be? Did I even cross your mind at all?¡±

    ¡°I meant to come tell you Mama, really I did, I just hadn¡¯t had a chance yet!¡±

    ¡°Oh, well I¡¯m quite glad that your mother¡¯s peace of mind ranked somewhere in the long list of priorities you must have.¡± It wasn¡¯t even the worst sarcasm she had been dealt, but Elena winced all the same. ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear that eventually you planned to stop your sick little joke.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t-¡±

    ¡°I thought the Luciano name meant more to you Elena.¡± The anger that had been building seemed to fall from Joanna¡¯s shoulders quite suddenly, replaced by a look of disappointment. Elena could only hold her gaze for a few moments before turning away, staring at her feet. The disappointment was somehow even worse than the anger. It meant she had worn the poor woman down so much that her own mother didn¡¯t even have the energy to feel the hurt Elena had inflicted. ¡°I thought I had taught you better than to let someone sit and worry about you all night. I¡¯d been blaming you, but really I should be angry with myself, for not helping you become the woman I know you could be.¡±

    ¡°No, Mama don¡¯t say that.¡± Elena¡¯s heart felt as if it would break. Had she really forgotten her responsibilities to family so soon? Letting her mother know the good news should¡¯ve been her first priority, but everything had seemed so rushed and fast paced...

    And now, for her mother to find her casually eating breakfast? It didn¡¯t matter what had actually happened, her mother would have the entirely wrong impression, and it was all her fault.

    ¡°I assumed you would forget about me as soon as we brought you to the big city,¡± there were tears in Joanna¡¯s eyes, and Elena¡¯s stomach twisted with guilt, ¡°I just...didn¡¯t think it would be so soon.¡±

    ¡°No, mama that¡¯s not how it happened!¡± Elena too was crying, though she wasn¡¯t sure where in the conversation that had started. ¡°I didn¡¯t forget you, I...all of this is because of you, I wouldn¡¯t even be here if not for you! Mama please don¡¯t think that-¡±

    ¡°Bullshit manipulation making you think bullshit.¡± Ele had been standing next to the closed door to the dining room since their discussion had begun, mostly quiet, but he interrupted now at the most inopportune time.

    ¡°Ele please stop, that¡¯s not helping.¡± Elena pleaded. ¡°Mama I-¡± She stopped, frozen. After the whirlwind morning and the still-fuzzy night before, she had forgotten that her mother couldn¡¯t see or hear Ele at all. She opened her mouth to give an explanation or excuse, but before she could speak Joanna had grabbed her shoulder in a grip like a vise, slamming her into the wall so hard it made her teeth rattle.

    ¡°You ungrateful, wretched little bitch.¡± Her mother hissed, her face inches away. ¡°I knew this was nothing but a joke to you, just your twisted idea of a prank. You wanted me to worry about you, this was all some sick little mind game you devised to get back at me for some slight you¡¯ve imagined isn¡¯t it? You¡¯ve been laughing at me this whole time haven¡¯t you? Answer me!¡± Her words were accompanied by another shake.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Mama I didn¡¯t-¡±

    ¡°You knew you could have me worried sick about you, and you didn¡¯t care one bit, you just sat here with your new friends laughing about how gullible your poor trusting mother is.¡± Elena wasn¡¯t even sure what that meant, but her shoulder was starting to hurt where Joanna¡¯s nails bit into it, her back aching where she had slammed it into the wall. ¡°You did! I can see it from your guilty face that¡¯s exactly what you were doing! Did you enjoy your little laugh at your own mother¡¯s expense? Answer me!¡±

    Elena wasn¡¯t sure how to respond, or even whether she should. She had seen her mother angry before, quite frequently, but never to this extent. Even when her mother had broken Elena¡¯s wrist (it had been an accident, of course, Joanna had misjudged her own strength and pulled her forward just a tad too hard), she hadn¡¯t been this incensed. What could Elena say to calm her down? She opened her mouth, but couldn¡¯t seem to come up with the right words.

    She called me a bitch. The realization settled into her stomach and into her heart with an icy weight of horror. What kind of horrible daughter have I been that my own mama would say something like that?

    Elena was brought to her senses by a sharp slap across her face, drawn back into the present out of the horror she was feeling. The entire left side of her face stung, but if anyone deserved it she did.

    ¡°I said answer me!¡± Joanna drew her hand back again, and Elena flinched and braced herself but didn¡¯t otherwise move to avoid the hand. The second stinging slap didn¡¯t fall, and after a moment Elena made herself open her eyes.

    Joanna¡¯s wrist was caught, small marble fingers wrapped firmly around it. If he hadn¡¯t been so small, Pietro might not have been able to fit between them, but he stood there now like a marble shield, arm outstretched over his head. The image of the child arresting the grown woman¡¯s swing so completely was almost ludicrous, but Elena was too discombobulated to appreciate it. To their right, closing the dining room door carefully behind him, Master De Luca took in the entire scene with vague interest.

    ¡°Miss Lucciano,¡± He said by way of greeting, as if they had just settled into his office and were discussing business, ¡°I¡¯m afraid I make it a point to never allow my garzoni to be disrespected, even in the context of a private discussion. Allowing a student of the studio to be mistreated reflects poorly on the studio, you see.¡±

    ¡°Master Bernardo.¡± Joanna drew herself up as much as she was able with her arm still caught in Pietro¡¯s grip, her voice calm once more. If nothing else, Elena was grateful for Master De Luca¡¯s presence for that reason alone. Perhaps her mother would be more willing to hear an apology now that she was a little calmer. ¡°Elena is my daughter before she is your student. If you would be so kind, we have private family matters to discuss. Whether she is going to stay your garzoni is still very much in question.¡±

    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 Miss 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 not your daughter above all things. For as long as she remains in this studio she is a De Luca garzona, and a garzona only, 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.¡±

    She¡¯s not going to like that. Elena winced again. Don¡¯t antagonize her like that when she¡¯s thinking of taking me away.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think-¡±

    ¡°Secondly,¡± De Luca cut over Joanna¡¯s interruption so forcefully that both Luccianos jumped. ¡°Do not imagine you are the first mother who, in her...let¡¯s say ¡°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 simply 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 Beatrice 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.¡± Her mother broke in. ¡°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, 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 her anger and punishment had passed, her relationship with her mother would be better, everything would be alright again. If Elena disobeyed Master De Luca, she was almost sure 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, but 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 smell of the trees just outside the window combined with the soft light of the room made her feel marginally better, even if she had just apparently been assigned to the one garzona who seemed to harbor negative feelings against her. ¡°Elena, I¡¯m sure Frederica or one of your fellow garzoni will fill you in on what you¡¯ve missed, on the duties I¡¯ve gone over.¡±

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    ¡°Yes ma¡¯am.¡± Elena ducked her head in awkward acknowledgement.

    ¡°Good. Now, I¡¯ll leave you all to get acquainted for the rest of the day. I strongly suggest buying supplies you might need earlier rather than later, since the day after supplication is one of the busiest for merchants in Milia. I¡¯ve business to attend to now; if anyone needs me specifically, I¡¯ll be in the third-floor library. If anyone needs Master De Luca...come see me first.¡±

    When the garzoni milled around to pair off as Bea left, the red-head girl made a beeline for Elena, her face intent as if she had something to say.

    ¡°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.¡± The burly saggitari called from the doorway before she could get a word out. Instead Mella mouthed the word ¡°later¡± to Elena before following her assigned garzoni. 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¡¯re fine, I knew you would catch it.¡± Frederica said dismissively, and behind her, her Echo stifled a laugh.

    ¡°Besides, what is it you actually do?¡± He 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. ¡°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 smirked 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 sneering demeanor melted away into a brisk and surprisingly professional tone. ¡°Bea mentioned I¡¯m a Caeletor, but like all Caeletors 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 bitch 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. The affectionate grin might¡¯ve been for 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 out of my fucking mind 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 fuck 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 worked. 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.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t expect just anyone to know that, but it¡¯s a good question.¡± Frederica gave Ele an appraising look, as if she were impressed in spite of herself. ¡°Believe it or not, there¡¯s a reason the handles are cedar, beyond just personal preference-¡±

    ¡°Lilium iron has to be really light.¡± Elena explained 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¡¯s appraising look was slowly turning to distrust, her gaze flitting back and forth between the two of them. ¡°How did you know that?¡±

    ¡°I just worked it out.¡± Elena answered honestly. ¡°I¡¯ve never even heard of a metal that could be triple-pressed, but double-pressed metal has to be very light, 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.

    ¡°More likely she¡¯s a Caeletor herself.¡± Fred had moved straight from appraisal to open hostility, skipping the step of suspicion that Frederica had given 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. ¡°Heavy tools with hardwood handles, so to get the same balance you¡¯d need a light wood to balance the light metal in the same way.¡±

    ¡°And you just got all that from ¡®intuition¡¯, then? Pulled it from your ass, just like that?¡± Frederica challenged. Elena shifted uncomfortably. Pietro¡¯s words about the uselessness of Faberi made her wary of giving the nasty 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. ¡°Well then, 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 stormed from the room. 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 haltingly.

    ¡°With enough clues it¡¯s obvious to put together. Look at you! You¡¯re too mousy and shy to be a Sagittara; 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 on the other hand he did accept you in, so you¡¯re not a Fabera or Lanista. Like I said, you¡¯ve got to be a Caeletor.¡±

    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 Caeletor? 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; the look of raw hatred that Fred was giving her pinpointed exactly what had made them so angry, though she had no clue why. Wouldn¡¯t they want another Caeletor around? Someone to talk to about...chiseling, or something?

    ¡°Then you¡¯re fucked.¡± He said with finality. ¡°De Luca likes diversity in his garzoni. He won¡¯t keep Frederica and you when it comes time to keep just four of us.¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t Carlo and Vittoria both Artifexes?¡± Elena was surprised at this new information.

    ¡°Vittoria was a...special case.¡± For a split second the hard look on Fred¡¯s face was gone, but it flickered back soon enough. ¡°I can guarantee that the circumstances that brought 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.

    Creepy.

    ¡°I¡¯m not a Caeletor.¡± She admitted to his retreating back. ¡°I¡¯m a Fabera.¡±

    ¡°The fuck you are.¡± Fred neither turned nor stopped.

    ¡°So that¡¯s it then? You¡¯ve decided I¡¯m a Caeletor 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, Caeletor or no. Now? 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, we won¡¯t have to resort to anything truly nasty.¡±

    With the grim warning ringing through the quiet workshop, Fred slipped through the closed door, melting into the wood without a sound.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 12

    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 toolshop 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 De Luca.¡±

    Elena shrugged, even though she wasn¡¯t sure if Ele could see her.

    ¡°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 implied that they might try.¡± 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 don¡¯t know, 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.¡±

    Ele was silent for long moments, not disagreeing. He finally let out a sigh of his own.

    ¡°If it makes you feel any better, I can keep watch over your tools tonight, wake you if anyone tries to steal them.¡±

    ¡°You can stay around while I¡¯m asleep?¡± Elena rose to her elbows to fix Ele with a look of surprise.

    ¡°Well...yes. What exactly did you think happened?¡± Ele returned her gaze with a blank stare, one eyebrow raised.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, I guess I always just assumed that you sort of...disappeared when I fell asleep.¡± When Ele frowned, Elena continued hastily. ¡°It¡¯s still new to me! I¡¯m still getting used to thinking of you as...¡± She paused, searching for the right word.

    ¡°As a real person.¡± Ele finished. There was a hard look in his eye, something Elena couldn¡¯t ever remember seeing there before.

    ¡°Ele, you have to see it from my point of view! How was I supposed to know? Everyone around me told me I was crazy, do you know what that does to someone so young?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s probably better that I didn¡¯t know until today, that you didn¡¯t consider me a person.¡± Ele half-shrugged, his overly-casual demeanor an excellent indication that he was angry. ¡°It would¡¯ve made it harder when you were ignoring me to please your mother.¡±

    Elena felt as if he had slapped her. She lay back on her pillow, blinking fast. ¡°You know I had to do that.¡± She whispered at the ceiling.

    ¡°I know you did. Didn¡¯t make it feel any better. Being the only one to see someone is tough for a child? How do you imagine it felt, being a child who only one person could see?¡±

    She didn¡¯t have an answer for him, and the silence between them stretched. They had argued before, even fought, but Elena felt as if there were something tangibly breaking between them, and she was helpless to put it back together.

    ¡°Go to sleep Elena.¡± Ele finally said. ¡°I¡¯ll wake you if someone tries to break in.¡±

    The emotional exhaustion of dealing with her mother, Frederica, and now Ele all in a single day finally hit her, an overwhelming crush that seemed to settle in her heart. Elena barely had time to shed a few silent tears before sleep overtook her.

    ***

    It seemed like she had just closed her eyes when she awoke again, but the shaft of moonlight on her wall had moved quite a bit. Elena glanced around the room bewilderedly. In the corner Ele was doing the same, blinking rapidly as if he had just woken up as well.

    When the sound repeated Elena sat up in bed: it was a fast staccato of loud clicking, moving around at a fast pace in the hallway outside her door. It sounded as if several people were walking down the hallway on stilts.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on out there?¡± Ele murmured quietly, as Elena slipped from her bed and moved to the door. Now that she was actually listening, she could also hear shouting and muffled thumps coming from around the studio. Elena listened at the door, but the clicking had stopped. She tried the handle.

    ¡°It¡¯s locked.¡± She said, a cold lump forming in her stomach.

    ¡°What? That¡¯s not possible, why would they lock us in our rooms? What right do they have?¡±

    ¡°All of the garzoni might not be locked in their rooms, it could just be us.¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°Not any more reassuring.¡±

    Without even consciously realizing it, Elena glanced around the room for something to turn into a lockpick. Unlike the hallway outside, her room was ripe with possible supplies after her shopping trip; she wouldn¡¯t need Ele¡¯s help.

    ¡°You can walk through walls, you go check it out while I make another lockpick.¡± Elena grabbed a comb from her bedside table; the long teeth were metal, but small enough that she could bend one back and forth until it snapped off. She was interrupted briefly by Ele plunging towards the door, only to bounce off and fall heavily on his rear.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡±

    ¡°I should probably talk to Bea or some of the other Echos.¡± Ele winced as he gingerly got to his feet. ¡°See how that do that as...fluidly as they do.¡± Elena didn¡¯t want to damage his pride, so she said nothing. Ele began pressing his palms against the door and wall, testing and feeling, while Elena pulled threads from the hem of her nightdress.

    He shifted and fell forward, suddenly, as if the door and wall had instantly vanished. Elena blinked, and Ele turned to grin back at her, his arms sunk halfway through the stone.

    ¡°It¡¯s like pushing through a wall made of water.¡± He whispered excitedly. ¡°And I just needed to think it would work and it does!¡± Elena nodded, glad to see him excited, as she used the threads she had pulled to tie small knots along the length of the comb¡¯s tooth. The thread would shift around, sliding back and forth across the metal, and in theory they would eventually settle into the bumps and grooves they needed to be in.

    Ele slipped through the door, and Elena got to work on the lock. The sounds had died down, leaving the studio in an eerily silence that was only occasionally broken by another crash or single shout. The metal comb tooth was slippery, and it took her longer to unlock this door than it did to unlock the door to the studio. On the other hand, this lock wasn¡¯t destroyed as it opened with a soft click, so Elena supposed the tradeoff was worth it.

    The hallway was just as bright as her moonlit room, but the majority of its light didn¡¯t come from the moon. Along the top and bottom edges of the hallway¡¯s walls was a painted pattern of squares, subtly worked into the texture of the walls so that one had to look for them to see them. At least, that¡¯s how they¡¯d been earlier in the day. Now, those square patterns were lit up in vibrant shades of yellows and reds, somehow giving off light of their own as if they were reflecting sunlight.

    It was beautiful, but the unnatural colored light made Elena feel even more tense as she stepped into the hall and closed the door behind her. It was as if the paint was still liquid, running along the pattern, and Elena had to make herself focus on the end of the hallway rather than the beautiful yet eerie sight.

    ¡°Elena!¡± Ele hurtled around the corner of the hallway. His footsteps had been silent, and he appeared so suddenly that Elena shrieked. Ele rushed down the hall and paused for a moment in front of her, gasping for breath. ¡°Not...good...¡± he panted. ¡°All...over...studio.¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s all over the studio? What¡¯s going on?¡± Elena hissed.

    Two figures stepped around the corner, the pale yellow light of the patterns not doing much to illuminate them. Both wore green cloth masks tied around their upper faces with eye holes cut in them. One had long blonde hair spilling out from beneath the mask, and she carried a slim black crossbow casually in the crook of her arm.

    ¡°Servant?¡± She asked. She held the crossbow loosely, but it was pointed at Elena. Her eyes glittered beneath the mask, and a small scar on her chin made it look pointed. The other figure was large and muscled, and wearing a hood that covered their hair, but when he spoke his rich bass gave his gender away.

    ¡°No, the running boy is her Echo. She¡¯s a garzona.¡± In another context Elena would¡¯ve found the smooth deep voice attractive, but now it sent shivers down her spine. The two hadn¡¯t slowed their approach as they talked, and were closing the distance between them quickly.

    ¡°Elena, run.¡± As Ele turned to face the pair, the large man took two quick steps forward on his long legs. His thick fist swung around with the momentum of his stride, and it connected hard with Ele¡¯s chin, sending the Echo flying backwards and landing in a heap on the marble of the ground.

    Elena¡¯s heart pounded hard in her chest, and she suddenly couldn¡¯t hear anything but the blood rushing in her ears. She sank to her knees beside Ele¡¯s limp body, reaching out to touch him even though she knew it was useless. Her hands slipped through his neck uselessly, then through his chest, which she just noticed wasn¡¯t moving. Did he normally breath? Was it bad that he wasn¡¯t breathing now? Did he even need to breath? Why did she know so little about the man who was like her brother?

    There were dangerous people approaching, she vaguely recalled, but it seemed unimportant at the moment. She tried to speak, but nothing came out. On the second try she managed a whisper.

    ¡°Ele?¡±

    ¡°Not a very fiesty one, is she?¡± The big man loomed over her.

    ¡°Don¡¯t need her to be feisty to send a message.¡± The woman replied. The crossbow gave a sharp ¡®click¡¯ in the near silence of the hallway, and Elena¡¯s breath was knocked out of her a heartbeat later. The impact threw her onto the ground, and she struggled for air. Her vision began blurring just as the pain blossomed through her chest, and it continued blurring as her mind slowly began catching up. She glanced down, and her sight was so foggy that she had to stare for a few moments before she could make out the arrow that sprouted from between her breasts.

    ¡°Oh.¡± She said sadly, before the hall slipped away entirely.

    <hr />

    Author''s Note: Since there STILL seem to be people doubting that I''m the original author of this story, I''ve posted a small note on the "about the author" page of my main site. I''m not trying to scam anyone :) I just want the lovely readers of RoyalRoadL to be able to read Twisted Cogs without having to leave this site.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 13

    ¡°Ele....is Ele okay?¡± It was a strange, floaty feeling, hearing her own voice asking questions before she was was aware of thinking them. As if speaking his name reminded her of him, her chest tightened with worry before she was even awake.

    ¡°Ah, you¡¯re up. You gave us a bit of a fright, Miss Elena. Yes, I¡¯ve been told that your Echo is perfectly fine, though his impromptu nap has thrown your sleeping schedules a little bit out of sync.¡±

    Elena rose to the surface of consciousness slowly, but the meaning of the words filtered through the haze and took the edge off of the panicked feeling in her chest.

    My chest...the arrow. Elena woke the rest of the way up suddenly, opening her eyes to face the ceiling of her room. She tried to lift her head, but her muscles responded so slowly that for a moment she wondered with horror whether she¡¯d been paralyzed. It was as if her head had weights resting on it, and it took her long seconds to lift her head high enough to look down.

    There was no indication that she had been shot. No bandage, no sling, and certainly no arrow. The sight of the long wooden shaft sticking out of her chest was the last memory Elena had from the night before, and the horrible sight had been burned into her memory so thoroughly that she knew she hadn¡¯t imagined or dreamed it.

    Even so, her biggest concern was making sure Ele was alright. With a huge effort she turned her head, scanning the room, and when she saw him sleeping peacefully on a small couch that had been moved into her room she sighed with relief.

    Pietro was sitting next to the bed, putting a small stack of parchment into a bag, but he glanced her way as he did so. It looked as if he had been working in her room, just waiting for her to wake up. He didn¡¯t look overcome with relief, but he was at least smiling at her. Elena wasn¡¯t entirely sure if his apparent unconcern was appropriate.

    There¡¯s certainly SOMETHING wrong with me. She thought, letting her head drop down. A quick experimentation told her that all of her muscles were similarly afflicted: she could move her arms, hands and legs, but they were slow and heavy, as if she each one had doubled in weight.

    ¡°Well, now that you¡¯re awake I¡¯ll be going back to my office.¡± Pietro lifted the bag to his marble shoulder and gave a polite smile. ¡°I¡¯ll let Master De Luca know that you¡¯re feeling a mite better-¡±

    ¡°Wait.¡± Elena looked into his eyes, aghast. ¡°You can¡¯t leave just like that! What happened last night?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I have no idea, Miss Elena. Master De Luca simply told me that you were feeling poorly, and to wait here until you were feeling better, in case you needed anything when you first woke up. I¡¯m just as in the dark as you are.¡± If she had been feeling more calm, Elena would¡¯ve marvelled at the fact that a boy made of stone had such a bad poker-face. Instead it only made her angry.

    ¡°I was shot with an arrow!¡± She cried. ¡°My Echo was hurt, for the first time...ever! Please, just tell me what happened. Who was that last night? How am I alive? Why did she shoot me? Who healed me? I don¡¯t believe you don¡¯t know anything.¡±

    To his credit, Pietro looked uncomfortable and embarrassed. Elena struggled to pull herself up on her elbows, moving an inch at a time and wincing at the energy those inches required. By the time she had finally moved herself to a sitting position, Pietro had sat down and heaved a very convincing sigh for his stone frame.

    ¡°A big studio like De Luca¡¯s draws a lot of attention, Elena. It makes us a target for the worst elements of Milia. Thieves, criminals, people who want to make a name for themselves. As far as we can tell, the young lady who attacked you last night was one of those criminals. She knocked you out by elbowing you hard in the solar plexus, and her Echo knocked yours out in much the same way. There was no arrow involved.¡±

    ¡°No...that¡¯s not right...I distinctly remember-¡±

    ¡°Miss Elena, where is it that hurts the most right now?¡± Pietro interrupted her with a businesslike look.

    ¡°My chest?¡±

    ¡°And do you think that if you had been shot with an arrow in the chest, we would be having this conversation right now? Perhaps you have some magical power no one has heard of? Do Fabera have the ability to repel arrows in flight?¡±

    Elena frowned. She hadn¡¯t realized before that the weight in her came along with a throbbing pain in her joints, and it was making it hard to focus on what he was saying, but something didn¡¯t quite make sense.

    ¡°Why was my door locked last night?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± The question seemed to catch Pietro off-guard, and he looked even more uncomfortable and off-balance. ¡°Oh...we¡¯re not entirely sure why that happened.¡± and Elena pressed her advantage with a barrage of questions of her own.

    ¡°So I got locked into my room for no reason? Am I not allowed to leave in the night? What¡¯s the purpose of that? What if there had been a fire? Or a lunatic with a bow who wanted to shoot me?¡±

    ¡°I...I don¡¯t know? You wouldn¡¯t have been in danger in a fire...I mean if it WAS locked...whoever locked it....Perhaps you accidentally locked it behind you? You know, without thinking?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t even know it had a lock!¡± Elena said accusingly. ¡°And anyways, how could I have locked it and then not had the key afterwards? I had to unlock it with a lockpick!¡±

    ¡°And look at how well that turned out for you! Perhaps if you didn¡¯t unlock it, you wouldn¡¯t have gotten shot and I wouldn¡¯t have to spend half the day waiting for you to awaken!¡± Pietro stood abruptly. ¡°Miss Elena, I am sorry that this had been a difficult night for you, but really I cannot sit here and answer all of these interrogations. I don¡¯t begrudge you the time I¡¯ve spent, but I really do have work to do now.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have gotten shot, eh?¡± Elena asked quietly. Pietro stared at her, uncomprehending for a few moments until he realised what he had just admitted to. His face took on a hard look, and he straightened just a fraction of an inch higher.

    ¡°I will inform Master De Luca that you are awake.¡± He said stiffly. Elena lay quietly as he gathered his bag up again and left. It was hard to keep her eyes open, and after another glance at Ele to reassure herself he was sleeping, not dead, Elena let herself drift back off to sleep herself.

    ***

    A presence in the room woke her up with a start, although she hadn¡¯t heard a sound. Elena could immediately tell by the oranges and pinks of the sunlight in her room that she¡¯d slept almost the entire day away. Bea stood silently by the door, watching her carefully. Ele still slept on the couch.

    How long has she been standing there? Elena wondered, a chill creeping along her spine. How did my subconscious know to wake me up since I didn¡¯t hear her...

    ¡°Your particular brand of perceptive seems a little overpowered pitted against Pietro¡¯s particular brand of poor lying.¡± Bea said quietly, but with a smile. ¡°It¡¯s a bit unfair, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    ¡°Is Ele okay?¡± Elena mustered the strength to sit up. The simple action still took an agonizing amount of energy, but it was marginally better than it had been earlier.

    ¡°He¡¯s quite alright. With the amount you¡¯ve both slept today, I have the feeling your sleeping cycles will re-sync soon.¡±

    Elena watched Ele in silence for a few moments, taking comfort from the sight of his chest slowly rising and falling.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen him asleep before.¡± She murmured. ¡°He was always just waking up whenever I did. When I was a little girl I used to think he just vanished or...sorry.¡± She broke off suddenly, remembering who she was talking to.

    ¡°It¡¯s not that uncommon, for those Stormtouched who grow up on their own. Mortalis tend to be rather cruel to Stormtouched, when they outnumber them, even if they don¡¯t mean to be.¡± Bea seemed lost in thought for a moment, and the two women sat in silence.

    ¡°Are you here to lie to me like Pietro?¡± Elena finally asked.

    If Ele were awake he would probably scold me, tell me not to be so impolite.

    ¡°No.¡± Bea seemed to shake herself out of whatever memory had engrossed her. When she spoke again her voice was firm, but still kind. ¡°I think Pietro was foolish to try feeding you an untruth. But I¡¯m not here to tell you the truth either.¡±

    Elena nodded wordlessly. It was a sort of honesty, and it was all she would get right now.

    ¡°I think you realize that we can¡¯t allow you to share the details of what happened last night with any of the other garzoni.¡± Bea continued.

    ¡°Are you going to kill me then?¡± Elena asked quietly.

    ¡°Kill you? Of course not Elena.¡± Bea looked shocked. ¡°Whether a provisional garzona or not, Master De Luca cares about keeping you safe. We all want to keep you safe, but right now we need you to trust us, Pietro, Bernardo and I. Not telling anyone is the thing that will keep you and the others safest.¡±

    ¡°That shouldn¡¯t be too hard, since I barely know what happened.¡± Elena said bitterly. ¡°And if last night was any indication, you aren¡¯t very good at keeping us safe. Whatever did happen, it could have been a real arrow. I could¡¯ve died.¡±

    ¡°Elena, what happened last night was a horrible misfortune, but we¡¯ve already taken steps to make sure it won¡¯t happen again. We¡¯ve hired two new servants that will make the studio much more secure, and we¡¯ve made other, more subtle steps to ensure our garzoni¡¯s safety.¡±

    There was nothing Elena could do to avoid the demand, and they both knew it. If she disobeyed and shared what had happened, it would accomplish nothing but getting her kicked out of the studio. She glanced at Ele¡¯s sleeping figure, then dropped her gaze to the bedsheets, a gesture of defeat. It wasn¡¯t hard to imagine the advice he¡¯d give. Bea continued in the same gentle but firm voice.

    ¡°We won¡¯t lock you in your room anymore, given your antagonistic relationship with the locks of this studio. We will put measures in place that will tell us if you leave your room at night again. You are excused from your duties for tomorrow, but I¡¯m sure Master De Luca would encourage you to spend the time thinking about your first project. If you need anything at all, we¡¯ll try to get it to you.¡±

    ¡°Are the others starting on their first projects already?¡± Elena asked, glad to change the subject.

    ¡°Garzoni usually scramble to impress in the first two months of apprenticeship, right up until the day Master De Luca lets all but four go.¡± Bea explained. ¡°So the autumn usually sees four to eight projects completed per garzoni. Don¡¯t worry, things usually quiet down in the other four seasons of the year.¡±

    Elena clenched her hands into fists. The intense night and the nearly full day of sleep combined to give her an odd combination of energy and helplessness.

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    ¡°If they¡¯re starting their projects tomorrow, then I am too.¡± She said. If Ele had been awake, he would¡¯ve recognized the stubborn set to her chin. ¡°In fact, I have something I have to do this evening.¡± Mustering all of her energy, Elena pulled the bedclothes off of her legs, reaching beneath her pillow to retrieve the tight bundle of woodworking tools.

    ¡°Elena, don¡¯t be silly.¡± Bea sighed. ¡°Master De Luca isn¡¯t going to penalize you for being on bedrest after your ordeal.¡±

    ¡°What ordeal?¡± Elena pushed forward and landed on her feet, wobbling a little bit. She felt weak, but she tilted her chin up in defiance, in what Ele referred to as her ¡®Joanna face¡¯. Bea didn¡¯t answer, but she folded her arms. ¡°If nothing happened to me last night, then I should be able to get right back to work, right?¡±

    ¡°If being obstinate is how you deal with the situation, I suppose I deserve that.¡± Bea sighed. ¡°But please, please try not to wear yourself out.¡± Elena tossed her head and walked slowly to the door without another word.

    ***

    She thought the stairs would be the worst, but Elena revised her view as she staggered down the hallway. It was the hallway after the stairs that was the worst; her sore and aching legs already on fire from the stairs now had to carry her down a hallway that seemed much longer than they had the day before.

    ¡°Stupid.¡± She muttered to herself, leaning against the wall for support to keep herself from falling. ¡°Should¡¯ve just taken the stupid day off.¡± When she reached the door of the workroom, she pulled herself up and took deep, steadying breaths. She refused to look weak in front of Frederica.

    Leanarda was the only provisional garzoni in the workroom when Elena entered, and on the other side Frederica and the mop-top Artifex Carlo were the only full garzoni present.

    ¡°Elena! Bea told us you were sick today like Vittoria!¡± Leanarda called from her workstation.

    ¡°I¡¯m feeling a little unwell,¡± Elena said as she handed the bundle to Frederica, ...understatement of the year... ¡°but I had to bring Frederica her tools.¡±

    ¡°You still got the tools?¡± Frederica asked, unwrapping them. ¡°And you even got them from Tellem¡¯s Shop! I¡¯m...actually kind of impressed.¡± Her words poked at Elena¡¯s subconscious for a moment, but she couldn¡¯t quite connect the girl¡¯s words to the significance.

    ¡°Where¡¯s Ele?¡± Leanarda asked, crossing the workshop to join the pair. Across the room Leo was looking at the small canvas she had left behind on the bench. ¡°He doesn¡¯t seem the type to leave your side.¡±

    Maybe it was a microscopic change in Fred or Frederica¡¯s expression, perhaps it was something in the way Leanarda had asked, or maybe it had just taken so long for Elena¡¯s worn out mind to work through things. Either way, several small pieces clicked together in her head at the same time.

    ¡°What do you mean, you¡¯re impressed?¡± Elena said suddenly, ignoring Leanarda¡¯s question.

    ¡°What?¡± Frederica¡¯s face was a mask, but behind her Fred¡¯s expression twitched. ¡°I¡¯m just impressed you were able to find Tellem¡¯s is all. It¡¯s a small shop, out of the way-¡±

    ¡°No...no you said I ¡®still¡¯ got the tools, as if you were expecting something to have happened that would¡¯ve stopped me.¡± Elena said. ¡°And Vittoria just happens to be sick today, does she? ¡°Sick¡±, just like me?¡± She whirled to face the other full garzoni. Carlo and Carla were both bent over the desk, as if they were absorbed in work and hadn¡¯t overheard the conversation. Since they were only a few feet away, the act wasn¡¯t very convincing.

    ¡°You know.¡± Elena said quietly. ¡°And Vittoria knows. All of you full garzoni know!¡±

    ¡°Know what?¡± Leanarda looked back and forth between Frederica and Elena¡¯s faces, riveted. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±

    ¡°Elena, don¡¯t be stupid.¡± Elena hadn¡¯t heard Carlo¡¯s Echo speak before, but she snapped the words as someone might brandish a weapon. As if without thinking the woman took a step forward to stand between Elena and Carlo.

    ¡°No, Elena, please do be stupid.¡± Fred needled from over Frederica¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Please give them an excuse. The studio would be better off without you.¡±

    Frederica herself didn¡¯t say anything, she simply stood with her arms folded in front of her. Elena¡¯s broken wrist throbbed, and she looked down to note that she was clenching her fists so hard that her nails had left crescent-shaped marks in her skin.

    ¡°So. What are you going to do about it?¡± Frederica asked, so quietly that Elena could barely hear it. Her voice was even, the phrase neither a worried query nor a smug challenge, just a simple question. Elena actually considered it for a moment, while beside her Leanarda practically bounced up and down with curiosity.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to Master De Luca.¡± She announced finally. Her answer seemed to disappoint Frederica.

    ¡°Unwise.¡± She muttered as Elena turned away. Leanarda went to follow, but something in Elena¡¯s eye seemed to warn her away. She heard Carlo and Carla muttering to Frederica as she left the workroom.

    Either her brief pause in workroom had rejuvenated her weak legs, or the power of righteous anger was propelling her faster than stubborn duty had, because her legs didn¡¯t hurt as much on the path back down the hallways. Her head was another story; somewhere along the line she started to feel dizzy, and halfway down the hall she had to lean one hand on the wall again just to keep her balance.

    ¡°Elena!¡± She didn¡¯t turn to see who it was, but the pounding footsteps soon caught up with her, and Carlo was by her side. ¡°Elena this is a seriously bad idea.¡±

    ¡°If Master De Luca and Bea and Pietro want to keep secrets among themselves, then fine. They run the studio, they can do what they want.¡± Elena pursed her lips. ¡°But I¡¯m a garzona, same as you all! If you can know what happened last night, why can¡¯t I? And how am I supposed to compete with you if you know more than I do?¡±

    ¡°If you burst into his office in this mood, you¡¯re going to really get on his bad side, then you¡¯ll really struggle to compete.¡± Carlo gave her a worried look. ¡°And you don¡¯t seem to be at the top of your game right now anyways. Please just...at least get some sleep before you do something big like this.¡±

    ¡°Stop sticking your neck out for her.¡± Carla walked by Carlo¡¯s side. ¡°It¡¯s not worth it.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t hurt anything to try to help her.¡± He replied to his Echo, and Elena was glad the attention was off of her when she almost stumbled.

    ¡°If she wants to sacrifice her spot here, let her. We¡¯ve gotten this far by not sticking our necks out. She¡¯s not worth risking that.¡± Carla repeated. As the threesome passed the head of a set of stairs, another voice broke in.

    ¡°Oi! Someone having a party and forgot to invide me?¡± Niccolo, the Saggitari garzoni, took the stairs two at a time, an easy grin on his face. He had his bow slung over one shoulder and a quiver dangling carelessly from one hand, his leather shouldergaurds creaking as he walked. ¡°Hello Carlo, Carla. They told us you were sick in bed today Elena.¡±

    ¡°She knows.¡± Carlo informed him as Niccolo¡¯s Echo followed up the stairs. ¡°She must¡¯ve seen something last night, I don¡¯t know. She¡¯s going to go yell at Master De Luca.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not a very smart move.¡± Niccolo¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°Besides, she doesn¡¯t look very well. Elena are you alright?¡±

    ¡°Dizzy.¡± Elena mumbled. She was still bracing herself on the wall, but the wall was rocking back and forth gently, and she didn¡¯t trust herself to walk.

    ¡°Why are you letting her go up to De Luca in this state?¡± Niccolo asked Carlo and Carla.

    ¡°I¡¯m trying to stop her!¡± Carlo protested. ¡°I¡¯m telling her all the reason she shouldn¡¯t go, I¡¯m making a very convincing argument...¡± His voice died out at the resigned look on Niccolo¡¯s face. The Saggitari wordlessly handed Carlo his quiver and bow, then swept Elena up in his arms and began walking towards the dorms.

    ¡°Oh!¡± Elena gasped, but the world was spinning so much that she could hardly argue. She let him carry her without protest, breathing in his surprisingly pleasant scent of leather tinged with...some sort of flower? If she had to guess what Niccolo smelled like, she wouldn¡¯t have anticipated that. The two smells went nicely together, but the lurching room suddenly took her mind off of them. ¡°Too dizzy.¡±

    ¡°I would really appreciate it if you didn¡¯t vomit on me.¡± Niccolo smiled down at her. It was a nice smile, though she apparently thought every boy had a nice smile. She did notice that it was entirely unlike Arturo¡¯s hungry smile had been; a little softer and warmer. It reminded her of the smell of leather and flowers.

    ¡°Okay.¡± She replied.

    ¡°Oh my god Niccolo, you¡¯re shameless. You already have one of the new garzona crushing on you, are you planning on collecting the full set?¡± Niccolo¡¯s Echo rolled her eyes.

    ¡°Nicci thinks I act the way I do so that girls will love me.¡± Niccolo dropped his voice to a stage whisper, leaning towards Elena conspiratorially. ¡°Little does she know girls love me no matter how I act.¡±

    ¡°The goal is for her to not vomit on you, mister peacock.¡± Nicci laughed, and Elena giggled along with her. Niccolo turned to open the door to her room with his back, then crossed the distance to her bed with a few long strides. Elena felt so weak that she was grateful when he gently pulled the covers over her.

    ¡°I doubt you¡¯ll be comfortable sleeping in those clothes, but I¡¯ll leave it to you to take care of that.¡± He chuckled with a wink as he turned to leave. At the doorway he turned back, his face series. ¡°Listen...if you¡¯re still convinced to confront De Luca tomorrow after you¡¯ve gotten a good night¡¯s sleep, promise me you¡¯ll talk to me first.¡±

    ¡°Carlo got a crack at you, maybe our arguments will make more sense.¡± Nicci added.

    ¡°Okay.¡± Elena mumbled, already feeling sleep steal over her again. It couldn¡¯t hurt to let them talk. The door shut quietly, and in the silence of the room Elena closed her eyes and tried to focus on stopping the dizzyness. Her stomach roiled a bit, and she was reminded that she hadn¡¯t had anything to eat all day.

    ¡°Elena?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re awake!¡± Elena smiled and opened heavy eyes to see Ele standing by her bed, grinning down at her.

    ¡°Yeah, but I¡¯m really sleepy still. Do you mind if I lay in the bed?¡±

    Elena patted the blankets, and Ele flopped down to lie beside her. The pair fell asleep together, their hands resting in the same place on the blanket.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 14

    The day had only just begun and it already seemed like it would be better than the one before. The room wasn¡¯t spinning, Ele was awake at the foot of her bed, and Elena could lift her head with only a little bit of extra effort, and she counted it as a win.

    ¡°Elena, before you say a single word,¡± Ele held up a hand, ¡°I have something to say. This is the first time we¡¯ve ever slept at different times, and the time alone has given me a chance to decompress, to work through some things in my mind. The whole experience has taught me something very valuable. Something I¡¯d like to share with you.¡±

    ¡°Of course Ele.¡± Elena struggled to sit up, giving her Echo her full attention. ¡°What has it taught you?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s taught me about you Elena.¡± Ele leaned closer, his eyes bright and serious. ¡°It has taught me that you snore so freaking loudly.¡±

    Elena threw a pillow at him, and he laughed as it passed through him to fall on the floor.

    ¡°Seriously, ¡®Lena, it sounded like a puppy with breathing problems trying to slurp porridge. You would tell me if you¡¯d eaten a puppy live, right?¡±

    ¡°You are quite literally the worst person ever.¡± Elena couldn¡¯t keep the angry look on her face for more than a few seconds. She couldn¡¯t remember him ever calling her by a nickname before. ¡°I was worried about you.¡±

    ¡°Bea told me.¡± Ele smiled. ¡°She said you were so worried that you kept asking about me before launching into nosy interrogations about what happened. I told her she must be mistaken, you aren¡¯t physically capable of putting off your nosiness.¡± Out of pillows to hurl, Elena merely stuck out her tongue.

    ¡°I missed you.¡±

    ¡°I missed you too. Now,¡± Ele sat up straighter, suddenly all business, ¡°since I am bound to the queen of nosiness, I might as well reap the benefits of it. What did you learn? What happened last night? They said you were knocked out right after I was.¡±

    ¡°They won¡¯t tell me. Master De Luca, Bea, Pietro, they all know, and the full garzoni all know too, but they¡¯re all refusing to share. Bea even warned me that they¡¯d kick me out if I told Leanarda, Mella, or Lorenzo.¡±

    ¡°So.¡± Ele rubbed his chin, staring into space. ¡°Only keeping it to the people who have been here the longest, the people who will have the most loyalty to the studio. Which means the studio stands to lose something if the secret gets out.¡±

    Elena blinked. She hadn¡¯t considered the mystery from that angle before.

    ¡°So the question we have to ask ourselves is ¡®what could the studio lose if it was known that a student and her echo were knocked out?¡¯¡±

    ¡°I was shot in the chest, not knocked out.¡± Elena said quietly. In the morning light two days after the fact it felt strange to say, and she prayed Ele wouldn¡¯t instantly reply with something condescending and snarky. She knew it had happened, the memory was still fresh in her mind, but the fact that she was sitting in bed alive seemed to contradict her statement.

    ¡°You were shot in the chest. ¡®Shot¡¯ as in ¡®with an arrow¡¯, ¡®in the chest¡¯ as in ¡®the place your heart and lungs reside¡¯.¡± Ele repeated in a flat voice.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Elena said.

    ¡°And now, two days later, you¡¯re sitting up in bed, feeling perfectly fine?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± She bit her lips and looked down at the blanket.

    ¡°Well then, we¡¯ll need to figure out how you were healed so fast, and if there was anything special about the arrow.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Elena looked up, startled, to find Ele already on his feet and pacing, his brow furrowed in thought. ¡°You believe me?¡± Ele raised an eyebrow at her as if she had just asked if the sky was really blue.

    ¡°Do you feel up to standing?¡± He asked, not deigning to answer her question. ¡°If you can come into the next room we can gather some information.¡±

    She followed him into the water closet that adjoined the room. Walking was a little bit easier today, and the dizziness had left altogether. Her reflection in the large mirror on one side of the room showed her a bedraggled girl with dark circles under her eyes, her tanned skin a little paler, her black hair a little stringy.

    ¡°I look a mess.¡± Elena said, glancing to Ele¡¯s reflection where his black hair lay in its casually messy perfection. Neither his skin nor his eyes bore any sign of being affected by their recent ordeal, which Elena thought was quite unfair.

    ¡°Yes you do, but we¡¯re not here to admire ourselves.¡± Ele had adopted a businesslike tone. ¡°Take your shirt off.¡± Elena gave him a blank look. ¡°So we can examine where you were hit, check for scars, get more information.¡± He clarified.

    Elena slipped her loose shirt off, then slowly tugged at her undershirt, uncharacteristic bashfulness creeping over her.

    ¡°Calzini di dio Elena, we¡¯ve been around each other every day for eighteen years, do you really think I haven¡¯t seen them before?¡± Ele said with an exasperated eye-roll.

    ¡°You¡¯ve always turned your back when I changed, ever since we were children! When have you seen them?¡± Elena asked indignantly. Despite her annoyance it did make her feel more comfortable, and she stripped off her undershirt and turned to the mirror.

    ¡°Just now.¡± Ele grinned. Elena glared at him, feeling the blush creeping from her cheeks down to her exposed chest. ¡°Huh...you¡¯ve always complained so much that I expected them to be smaller. You should start wearing clothes that accentuate them more.¡±

    ¡°...literally the worst person ever.¡± Elena muttered, turning back to the mirror and blushing so hard she felt overwarm. She did think her breasts were small, but that was hardly something she was going to argue about with Ele right now. He wasn¡¯t all wrong though, maybe she could start buying clothes the accentuated the little she had...she wondered if clothing was one of the things Master De Luca¡¯s studio would pay for...

    ¡°If you¡¯re quite done ogling yourself,¡± Ele interrupted her musing, ¡°what do you make of this?¡± He pointed carefully, and Elena leaned closer to the mirror to make out what he meant. Just between her breasts, the skin had been broken by a mark the size of a pinprick.

    ¡°You think the arrow did that?¡± Elena asked.

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    ¡°Not likely. An arrow that small would¡¯ve gone right through you, and you don¡¯t have a matching mark on your back.¡± Ele said. ¡°Besides the fact that something that small going through you would cause damage. Bleeding on the insides and all.¡±

    ¡°I also saw the arrow.¡± Elena said. ¡°It was a lot thicker than that, and it definitely stuck out of my front.¡± Her temples started prickling with the buzzing of the Storm, but she ignored it; she didn¡¯t need to build anything right now. She carefully pressed at the pinprick. ¡°It hurts. There¡¯s a circle around the pinprick that¡¯s sore.¡±

    ¡°A large arrow hit you. It didn¡¯t actually pierce skin or you¡¯d be dead, but you did pass out.¡± Ele was pacing back and forth again, ticking things off on his fingers. ¡°What if the arrow had a flat head? It would¡¯ve knocked the wind out of you, and left that area of your chest sore. Of course that doesn¡¯t explain why it stuck, or the pinprick, or the fact that you passed out.¡±

    ¡°What if we¡¯re looking at it wrong?¡± The Storm¡¯s buzzing was so strong in Elena¡¯s temples it was making her feel heady. ¡°What if it¡¯s not a pinprick but something like a snake¡¯s bite?¡±

    ¡°Something sharp enough to pierce the skin, then injects a venom? Who the hell could make an arrow like that?¡±

    ¡°A Machinator could make an arrow like that. An arrow with a flat head that sticks to skin, injects a venom.¡±

    ¡°But that sort of arrow would be expensive to manufacture, and if it didn¡¯t strike true the first time it would be ruined. They wouldn¡¯t want to risk it. A smart Machinator would give the arrow to someone who wouldn¡¯t miss.¡±

    ¡°So.¡± Ele nodded. ¡°A Saggitari and a Machinator worked together to attack the studio, knocking you and Vittoria both out but not killing you.¡±

    ¡°Even though it would¡¯ve been much easier to just kill us. It sounds like a stretch but...it feels right.¡± Elena was glad she didn¡¯t have to explain just what felt right about it, because Ele was nodding. The buzzing of her power had thankfully stopped, and she worked the new information around in her mind. ¡°It doesn¡¯t really tell us anything about why though, does it? If we just knew what they were here for, or why they were so merciful...Ele stop staring at my boobs!¡±

    ¡°I may be an Echo, but I¡¯m still human.¡± Ele grinned, but he turned towards the door. ¡°The cooks will probably be starting breakfast soon, so why don¡¯t you use the rainsluice and I¡¯ll wait outside.¡± She couldn¡¯t tell with his back turned, but she would be willing to bet that he was still grinning as he slipped through the wall.

    Elena stepped into the small rainsluice cubicle, shucking off her pants and underclothes as she went. At home they couldn¡¯t afford a luxuries like a water closet or a rainsluice, but she had used one before during an extended visit to the Carpi Mayor¡¯s estate. A handle hung in the middle of the cubicle on a chain, and she braced herself and pulled it.

    She was expecting the water to be ice cold like the Carpi Mayor¡¯s, and when it turned out to be pleasantly warm she gasped with surprise. After the coughing subsided, she enjoyed the warm droplets that fell from the ceiling like rain, rinsing the sweat and grime of the past few days from her skin. When she stepped out of the water closet a few minutes later she felt refreshed and re-energized, although it still took larger amounts of effort than usual to move her muscles.

    Changing into fresh clothes made her feel even better, and when one of the cooks came to the door Elena was feeling almost entirely back to normal. His long grey hair was tied back in a ponytail, and he seemed in excellent spirits as well.

    ¡°I em come to see if you helpink mit breakfast today.¡± He said. ¡°Leetle marble boy say mebbe you helpink, mebbe you sick. You look like you helpink, yes?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll help, I¡¯m feeling much better this morning.¡± Elena smiled. The cook returned her smile and held the door for her.

    ¡°Is good. De Luca and marble boy, they worry of you. Your other garzoni, some of them worry of you too.¡±

    ¡°Really? I wouldn¡¯t have thought they¡¯d care.¡±

    ¡°Some of them, much care. They ask of your health, they seem sad for you.¡± The cook chatted away as they walked down the halls, much more animated than he had been when she had last seen him.

    ¡°You seem in a good mood today, Mister...?¡±

    ¡°¡®Cook¡¯, miss garzona, you call me ¡®Cook¡¯.¡± Cook smiled. ¡°And am in good mood. Master De Luca gave extra help.¡± He gestured when they entered the kitchen, and Elena jumped.

    The man had blonde hair and blue eyes, and a smear of powdery flour half-obscured the mask he wore. Wearing a white apron and with his hands up to his elbows in heavy dough, the Rhetor gave Elena a brief nod before returning to kneading. In the corner a slightly plump man clad in the black armor of a Rhetorguard gave them an equally brief nod.

    ¡°Master De Luca hired a Rhetor to help in the kitchens?¡± Elena asked.

    ¡°Hire two. I like this one. He follow orders, he no talk.¡± Cook nodded sagely.

    ¡°I think De Luca wanted to take advantage of a two-for-one deal.¡± The Rhetorguard said wryly. ¡°He gives us both room and board, and he gets the security of a guard that has to stay in his studio, but he only has to pay my Rhetor wages. I¡¯m Eric, by the way.¡±

    ¡°Pleased to meet you Eric.¡± Cook handed Elena the same bowl of cream he had before, and she started whisking. ¡°What¡¯s your Rhetor¡¯s name?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t think he has one.¡± Eric didn¡¯t seem like much of a talker, content to just lean back with and rest his hands on his stomach. If not for the steady gaze he kept on the blonde Rhetor¡¯s back, Elena thought he would be napping. ¡°Although his friend just got a name. Pretty unusual, but she seems to be pretty happy about it.¡±

    ¡°De Luca hire two masks.¡± Cook explained. ¡°I send friend for fetch fresh tomatoes. Is back soon.¡±

    ¡°His friend?¡± Ele asked. Elena didn¡¯t need to look up to see who it was who had just entered, she could tell from the way her Echo¡¯s eyes lit up.

    Standing in the doorway, clearly smiling behind her mask, Emerald gave Ele a little wave.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 15

    ¡°So she¡¯s the reason for Emerald¡¯s newfound name.¡± Eric had gotten his hands on a jug of water, and he was throwing it back with as much abandon as another might¡¯ve thrown back liquor.

    ¡°Technically I¡¯m the reason for her newfound name.¡± Ele corrected. ¡°Not that anyone but you and she can hear me.¡±

    Emerald was busy peeling potatoes into a small tub of water, but she rewarded him with the quick smile that her mask hid.

    ¡°¡®Cause...¡®Cause of your Emerald eyes.¡± He stammered. The blonde Rhetor was still kneading dough, but he rolled his eyes at the pair.

    ¡°I have green eyes too, you know.¡± Elena muttered.

    ¡°You like that idea Rhetor?¡± Eric asked from the corner where he said. ¡°Should we start calling you...shit, what¡¯s a blue gem?¡±

    ¡°Garnet es blue.¡± Cook broke in informatively.

    ¡°You like that Rhetor? ¡®Garnet¡¯?¡± Eric asked. The man shook his head once, briefly. The flour on his mask stirred, and Elena noticed that the pattern on his mask resembled a snake. ¡°Too bad. I like it. Garnet it is.¡±

    The Rhetor seemed annoyed but not surprised, pounding the dough a little harder but otherwise giving no indication that he had even heard.

    ¡°Excuse me, Cook can I borrow Elena for a few moments?¡± From the doorway Leanarda eyed the two Rhetor, while Leo focused more on Elena.

    ¡°I can whisk and talk at the same time.¡± Elena assured Cook, whose good mood had fallen from his face. She took the bowl of cream with her just outside the kitchens.

    ¡°You look like you¡¯re doing better this morning.¡± Leanarda said brightly. ¡°I was worried about you last night. Did one of the other garzoni do something to you? Is that why you and Vittoria were sick?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Elena shook her head firmly. ¡°No one would do something like that.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be so sure...¡± Leanarda looked both ways before leaning in conspiratorially. ¡°One of the garzoni is going to plant something in your room just before lunch today. They¡¯re going to try to get you kicked out.¡±

    ¡°W-what? Who would do that? Why?¡± Elena was so shocked she forgot to keep whisking.

    ¡°I already told you Elena, the garzoni here are willing to do anything to get ahead. Just look at yesterday; do you really think it¡¯s a coincidence that both you AND Vittoria got sick at the same time, just as we¡¯re all starting our first projects?¡±

    ¡°No, it wasn¡¯t a coincidence, but it wasn¡¯t what you¡¯re thinking either. I know what happened to me, and it wasn¡¯t one of the other garzoni.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Leanarda¡¯s eyes brightened. ¡°Is that what you were arguing with Frederica and Carlo about? You said they all knew. What do they know? What did happen?¡±

    ¡°Um...¡± Elena focused on the cream she was whisking. It had formed stiff peaks like Cook had asked her the last time, but she kept whisking it. In the bright light of a new day, she wasn¡¯t entirely as willing to risk getting kicked out as she had been the night before. The fact that she could almost feel Ele staring daggers into her also helped. ¡°Look...I can¡¯t really tell you what happened Leanarda. I...I can¡¯t really tell you anything. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Leanarda leaned back, her face suddenly expressionless.

    ¡°I really mean it, if I could tell you I would-¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± Leanarda¡¯s smile was fractionally colder than it had been before. ¡°I didn¡¯t even come by to ask, I only wanted to warn you anyways. You know, since you and I agreed to help each other out.¡±

    ¡°Leanarda you have to believe me, I want to tell you, I really do.¡±

    ¡°No apologies needed Lucciano. I¡¯m even a little proud of you, coming to grips with the studio being one big battleground. I¡¯ll even keep to our agreement, if you like.¡± Leanarda turned with just a tiny bounce in her step. ¡°Although I think you owe me one now. Not that I¡¯m keeping track or anything, but warning you to check your bed before lunch is pretty ally-ly.¡±

    ¡°Leanarda, who¡¯s going to plant something? How did you find out about this?¡± Elena cried. Leanarda gave her a look over her shoulder, a cold smile with a single raised eyebrow.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I really can¡¯t tell you anything Elena. I¡¯m sorry.¡± She said. Leo gave Elena and Ele an appraising glance before he turned to follow Leanarda out of the hall.

    ¡°You¡¯re ¡®Lucciano¡¯ now, not ¡®Elena¡¯.¡± Ele commented dryly when they were out of earshot.

    ¡°Oh shut up Ele, you got what you wanted, she¡¯s not really an ally anymore. You should be happy.¡± Elena took the bowl of cream back in the direction of the kitchens.

    ¡°I would¡¯ve been happier if it had been you ditching her. She wouldn¡¯t think she has the power like she does now.¡±

    ¡°Ele that¡¯s so cynical! I don¡¯t even know how you can think like that. I could never think like that.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± Said Ele darkly. ¡°That¡¯s the problem.¡±

    ***

    ¡°I think I speak for all of us when I welcome you back Elena, Vittoria.¡± Master De Luca gave Elena a smile just as bright and affectionate as the one he gave Vittoria; anyone observing would think he had known her for more than a handful of days.

    ¡°I¡¯m just glad it wasn¡¯t anything more serious than a flu.¡± Frederica on the other hand was very obviously more concerned about Vittoria¡¯s well being.

    That¡¯s fair. Elena thought to herself. They¡¯ve been through a lot together, even if they are rivals. Maybe I¡¯ll feel the same way about Leanarda, Mella, or Lorenzo next year. Whichever of us make it that far...

    ¡°It¡¯s certainly fortunate that you recovered before I had to leave.¡± Master De Luca said, suddenly serious. ¡°I like to give my students more access to my resources before I leave, but I¡¯m afraid the Florecian royalty don¡¯t always take my desires into consideration when they summon me.¡±

    ¡°Master Bernardo, what is the Florecian court like?¡± Lorenzo asked. Elena blinked at the pretty boy¡¯s use of the Master¡¯s first name, but if De Luca was angered he didn¡¯t give any indication.

    ¡°Of course, you of all people would be interested in the Florecian court.¡± De Luca chuckled. ¡°I suppose you intend to end up there?¡±

    ¡°Always heard it was easier for Machinators to rise to the courts.¡± Lorenzo mumbled around a mouthful of bread. Elena frowned into her plate. It was terribly unfair, but it was true. A Machinator was too valuable to waste in the relatively smaller cities of Italoza like Milia.

    ¡°It¡¯s hard to describe a city like Florecia. Generations of the finest Stormtouched don¡¯t just leave a mark on the city, they become the city. It¡¯s like nothing else you¡¯ll ever see.¡± De Luca sighed. ¡°Miracles are everyday there, and sometimes I think that there¡¯s nothing that¡¯s not its own little work of art. I like the slow pace of Milia, don¡¯t get me wrong, and it doesn¡¯t hurt that here I¡¯m given the respect of a god. But in Florecia...just walking through Florecia makes me feel like one.¡±

    The table was silent for a long moment as the garzoni hung onto the mental image De Luca had painted for them, each caught up in their own little fantasies.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t it feel strange though? Going from here to being around the most powerful Stormtouched in the world?¡± Mella asked.

    ¡°You¡¯d be surprised how little one is affected by it.¡± De Luca shrugged. ¡°After all, how often does the Storm come up in daily life? You¡¯ve heard of Lady Allium? No? She is a Caelator so powerful that she can sculpt things that don¡¯t exist in the world, and still give them the gift of life. Dogs that can speak, flying lions, that sort of thing. And yet she doesn¡¯t exactly bring them with her when she visits you for tea, do you follow? A person is just a person, students, whether touched by the Storm or not. Remember that.¡±

    ¡°What about Artifexes Master De Luca?¡± Mella asked excitedly. ¡°What can the Artifexes of Florecia do?¡±

    ¡°It is said,¡± Master De Luca wiped his mouth and leaned back in his chair, ¡°that Master Coastering can paint a picture of some dead men, and the person in the picture will have all of the memories that the man had in life. They say he has a macabre gallery beneath his house, the only places you can hear the voices of the dead once more.¡±

    ¡°Are you telling that horrible dead-painting tale again you dramatic old man?¡± Bea smiled from the Echos¡¯ table.

    ¡°They asked this time!¡± Master De Luca chuckled. ¡°It¡¯s my best Artifex story. And before you others ask, I¡¯ll share more that I know. Lorenzo, I can¡¯t even begin to describe the best Machinator I¡¯ve met or heard of in Florecia, but I¡¯ll tell you one of my favorites. He¡¯s very very young, ten or so I think, but he created this tiny device that will remove the scent from any room. It¡¯s completely astounding; a press of a tab and the room becomes odourless in an instant! They make fun of him, but I find it genius.¡±

    Elena was just as enraptured by the tales of Florencia as the others, her breakfast forgotten. Why hadn¡¯t she ever heard of wonders like that growing up? For as much as she was obsessed with the big cities, Milia included, this was the first she had heard of the Stormtouched in those cities.

    ¡°Let us see...Niccolo, have you heard of Apollo the True Eye, Master Saggitari?¡± Master De Luca was clearly enjoying himself.

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard of him.¡± Niccolo replied. ¡°His real name can¡¯t possibly be Apollo, can it?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d not dare to be the one to question him on it.¡± De Luca chuckled. ¡°Apollo the True Eye shoots his arrows straight into the air, and he still hits his marks an hour later.¡± He explained to the other garzoni.

    ¡°But...that¡¯s impossible.¡± Leanarda objected. ¡°That¡¯s not aim, that¡¯s precognition!¡± De Luca simply shrugged.

    ¡°Who are we to say that a Saggitari¡¯s Storm gives them perfect aim?¡± He asked. ¡°Can any of us truly say we know how the Storm operates? Maybe a Saggitari¡¯s true Touch is that they manipulate destiny, their arrows fated to meet their target.¡±

    ¡°Niccolo a manipulator of destiny...I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever been more frightened.¡± Carlo spoke up, and a chuckle went around the table.

    ¡°As for you...Hmm.¡± Master De Luca turned to Elena and furrowed his brow. ¡°You know what...I don¡¯t think I know any Master Faberi in Florencia. Perhaps you will be the first, eh?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s a Fabera?¡± Leanarda and Frederica exclaimed at the same time. Mella gave her a startled glance, and even Niccolo and Carlo looked surprised. Only Lorenzo seemed unperturbed by the news, and that might¡¯ve been because he didn¡¯t catch the implication of De Luca¡¯s statement.

    ¡°You hadn¡¯t told them how you were touched by the Storm?¡± De Luca seemed surprised. Elena shook her head, wishing she could sink down in her chair until she was underneath the table where no one could stare at her. ¡°Well...I would apologize for giving away your little secret, but honestly Miss Luccianno, how long did you think you could keep it secret from your fellow garzoni? You share a studio with them, you don¡¯t think they would¡¯ve figured it out?¡±

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    What could she say? Elena didn¡¯t want to repeat Pietro¡¯s words in front of everyone, but she could tell from the incredulous looks that she was receiving that she didn¡¯t have to repeat them; everyone was already thinking it. Faberi were useless. Faberi were pointless. Of all the garzoni in the studio, she was the one the studio could do without.

    Elena was thankful that everyone was done eating, and she slipped away from the table as soon as she could.

    ***

    Elena had thought that the workshop was beautiful when she¡¯d first seen it, lit by natural light and all wood and marble. It was even more breathtaking now, taking in the sight in peaceful silence. Whether it was tasks or chores, or even the mysterious goings on that kept the other garzoni busy away from here, Elena was so grateful to be alone that she could cry.

    ¡°No Faberi in Florencia means less competition.¡± Ele said quietly behind her. ¡°Once we get there we-¡±

    Elena held up a hand with a pleading look, and Ele fell silent immediately. She would have to thank him for that later on, but for right now, there was silence, and peace. Elena sat at her workstation, empty of any materials, and simply took deep breaths and enjoyed the workshop. After a few minutes she got restless and began pacing.

    ¡°New project? Take your mind off it?¡± Ele ventured.

    ¡°What did you have in mind?¡± Elena smiled. Ele pointed towards Frederica¡¯s workstation.

    ¡°She wears those tools down at a steady rate, then she just throws them out. How much do you want to bet we could build something to keep them in better shape for longer?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯d find out how she wears them away.¡± Elena mused aloud, walking over to the workstation.

    ¡°She said she¡¯d worn the other set out already didn¡¯t she? She hasn¡¯t thrown them away.¡±

    The buzzing had already started in Elena¡¯s temples, and she was grateful for the distraction. She grabbed a paper and piece of charcoal from Mella¡¯s desk, making a mental note to pay her fellow garzona back for the supplies, then sat at Frederica¡¯s desk and started poring over the old tools.

    Just as Ele had said, the tools were all worn in certain areas, places in the wood where Frederica¡¯s fingers had gripped tighter, or areas of the blades that had been dulled away in specific patterns. Elena made notes on the paper with charcoal, occasionally stopping to scribble a rough sketch, turning the tool over in her hands to get a better feel for it. Ele stood beside her, occasionally making comments about things she had missed. The two worked quietly for a long time, and Elena was so absorbed in her work that she didn¡¯t even notice anyone come in.

    ¡°Frederica is going to use that knife on you if she knows you¡¯ve been messing with it.¡± Niccolo said from a few feet away. Elena was so startled she almost dropped the knife, and she gave him a look of terror.

    ¡°Oh jesu calm down flighty little bird, he was just joking!¡± Nicci reassured her.

    ¡°She would¡¯ve figured it out eventually.¡± Niccolo chuckled as he sat at his own workstation, pulling a few arrows from a pile.

    ¡°You just startled me, that¡¯s all.¡± Elena said defensively. ¡°I was working on an idea I had to keep her tools from wearing down so fast. I¡¯m supposed to be providing her with materials, aren¡¯t I?¡±

    ¡°Most provisional garzoni just buy new tools.¡± Niccolo gave her a critical glance. ¡°They don¡¯t exactly go so far as changing existing ones. Although I suppose that¡¯s what you do, isn¡¯t it? Hey there, hey!¡± He said as Elena turned back to the paper angrily, ¡°That¡¯s nothing to be ashamed of!¡±

    ¡°Oh of course not.¡± Elena said bitterly. ¡°It¡¯s just that no Faberi get famous is all. There are no Faberi legends, no Faberi masters.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what makes them the best of the Storm.¡± Niccolo said conspiratorially. Elena gave him a blank look.

    ¡°Show her the arrow thing, we both know you¡¯re dying to.¡± Nicci sighed. Niccolo grinned and slipped an arrow from a quiver that hung from his desk, crossing the distance so that Elena could see it.

    The arrow was beautiful, a work of art. Made of cherrywood, it gleamed with a wicked red light, and carvings worked along its shaft caught the eye and twisted it along it¡¯s length.

    ¡°Take a look at this arrow. It¡¯s pretty, isn¡¯t it?¡± Niccolo said. Elena nodded wordlessly. ¡°The way I see it, the world is divided into two things: the flash and the work. One catches the eye, gets the attention, and to the unobservant it¡¯s the more important. The other? It does all the heavy lifting. In a pinch, I¡¯ll take the worker over the flashy any day.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a beautiful arrow, but it won¡¯t fly straight will it?¡± Elena had been examining the arrow carefully during his speech. ¡°The wood is the wrong type, and the designs will throw off the balance.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right!¡± Niccolo said, surprised.

    ¡°It¡¯s the problem of form versus function, that¡¯s what you¡¯re saying isn¡¯t it?¡± Elena looked up at Niccolo, only a few inches away. He still smelled like leather and violets, and she was surprised again at how good the two scents went together. ¡°You¡¯re saying that it¡¯s okay to not be a flashy Stormtouched like a Machinator?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m saying.¡± Niccolo nodded with satisfaction.

    ¡°Your arrow metaphor is a little weak though. Sure the arrow is flashy, but it doesn¡¯t say anything about the other side, the ¡®worker¡¯ who gets annoyed.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say my metaphor is that weak.¡± Niccolo grinned, and the twinkle in his eye made Elena blush for some reason. ¡°People pay attention to the flash, when it¡¯s really the subtle and hard worker they should be worried about.¡±

    ¡°I...don¡¯t think I get it.¡± Elena admitted.

    ¡°She won¡¯t get it unless you spell it out for her.¡± Ele sighed. ¡°Elena, very carefully look at your leg.¡±

    Elena glanced downward and paled. Casually yet carefully, Niccolo was holding a very sharp small knife gently against her thigh.

    ¡°How long has that been there?¡± She gasped, and Niccolo laughed to himself as he sheathed the knife and stepped away, twirling the arrow between his fingers.

    ¡°I¡¯m telling you Elena. Let everyone else focus on the flash and bang of Caeletors and Artifexes. It¡¯s the Faberi I¡¯ve got my eye on.¡±

    ¡°Somehow I don¡¯t think Elena would mind your eye on her.¡± Ele said under his breath, and Elena turned back to the paper blushing bright crimson.

    ***

    Elena¡¯s heart was racing far too fast, considering she had been doing nothing but laying in bed for the past hour. Leanarda had said the garzoni would try to sabotage her ¡°before lunch¡±, and she was going to be here when they showed up. Her foot tapped impatiently on the coverlet, and Elena fidgeted, wishing she had brought something to read from the studio¡¯s library.

    She was eying the door for the thousandth when Ele stepped through it, and she almost screamed with surprise.

    ¡°There¡¯s no one coming. No one headed in this direction,¡± he reported, ¡°and the garzoni are starting to leave to go get lunch.¡±

    ¡°I wonder if they¡¯re waiting to see me leave?¡± Elena pondered aloud.

    ¡°Or maybe they¡¯ve already stowed it away...¡± Ele trailed off as their gazes met, and Elena hurled into action. There weren¡¯t many places to check: under her bed, in her water closet, under the pillow...

    Something cold beneath the pillow sloshed around as soon as her fingers touched it.

    ¡°I was laying on it.¡± Elena breathed, pulling the waterskin from beneath it. ¡°I was laying on it and didn¡¯t even know. Oh god Ele if they had come in here and I was laying on it they wouldn¡¯t believe I was innocent, not for a second.¡±

    ¡°They also won¡¯t believe you¡¯re innocent if you¡¯re holding the evidence.¡± Ele said, eyeing the waterskin. Elena ran to the water closet and dumped the skin into the bowl. The wine was so strong just the smell of it made her eyes water, and it took a few flushes to wash the scent away. The bowl for washing her hands allowed her to wash the skin itself, and soon the scent of alcohol was gone from the water closet completely.

    ¡°What do I do with the waterskin?¡±

    ¡°Window?¡±

    ¡°And have them see it land in the courtyard below?¡± Elena¡¯s temples buzzed, and she suddenly noticed more about the wineskin than she had before. It was watertight of course, but made of some treated cloth, and sewn together with thread. She brought it to her mouth without thinking, biting at the knot with her canine teeth. As soon as one edge of the seam came apart she pulled it apart easily, smoothing it out until it was nothing but a piece of waterproof fabric. She folded it and placed it on the floor beneath her shoes.

    ¡°You know, that really does make a good mat-¡± Ele began, but was interrupted by a knock on the door. Without waiting for an answer Pietro entered, standing at his full height and looking around the room.

    ¡°Miss Elena, I¡¯m afraid I must search your room.¡± He said. ¡°We¡¯ve had a report that you are in possession of something you shouldn¡¯t be.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Elena gestured around her. Pietro¡¯s gaze had gone right past the repurposed wineskin and he hadn¡¯t recognized it: she was safe. The marble boy went straight to the bed and began searching it, moving swiftly but not disrupting anything.

    Now that she was not longer terrified, Elena had time to get angry.

    ¡°Who was it who reported I had something to hide?¡± She asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t share that information Elena.¡± Pietro said absently as he continued searching the room. ¡°I don¡¯t want to start fights between the garzoni here, I just want to make sure no student is taking advantage of Master De Luca. And it¡¯s quite clear to me that you are doing no such thing.¡± Elena¡¯s room was small, and Pietro had finished his search. ¡°I believe I owe you an apology Miss Elena. I will be having words with the garzoni who reported you.¡±

    Elena stood in the middle of the room for long minutes after Pietro left, clenching and unclenching her hands.

    ¡°What are we going to do about this, Elena?¡± Ele asked quietly, the anger she felt apparent in the edge in his voice. Elena scowled as she answered.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to be Niccolo¡¯s knife.¡±

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 16

    ¡°Leetel garzona, you es cleaning all of thees!¡± Cook¡¯s words would¡¯ve been angry, had he not been laughing so hard that tears streamed down his face.

    ¡°It¡¯s not nearly as funny as you all seem to think it is.¡± Elena gave a severe look to the entire assembled group: Ele grinning, both cooks laughing outright, and even the typically stoic Rhetorguards Eric and Rolf breaking into chuckles. Only the silent Rhetor, Garnet, didn¡¯t seem to get into the spirit of things, kneading bread with the same steady unbreaking pattern he had adopted every morning for the past week.

    ¡°Really Elena, I don¡¯t see what the difficulty is; just tilt the pan when they¡¯re ready, give sudden lift, and the pancake will just flip.¡± Ele demonstrated the motion with empty hands.

    ¡°Oh easy for you to say Ele! You¡¯d be singing a different tune if you could actually do any of the work!¡±

    ¡°Emerald, you help leetle garzona,¡± Cook wiped a tear from his eye and took the breadpaddle from the corner, preparing to take the morning¡¯s bread from the oven. ¡°Her arm waving es funny, but my kitchen es covered in cake-pan.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not covered in pancakes!¡± Elena protested, glancing away from the pan to look around the kitchen. ¡°There¡¯s just a few on the floor over there. And some batter on the wall. And on the table behind me.¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯ve already cleaned up the one that landed on me.¡± Rolf noted.

    ¡°One never landed on you! Just because I want to try something new, everyone gangs up on me, see if I bother again.¡± Elena grumbled, but she smiled at the twitch in the corner of Rolf¡¯s straight face. Emerald slipped one arm around her, holding Elena¡¯s hands in hers as the pancake began to bubble in the pan.

    With a smooth motion that resembled the one Ele had demonstrated, Emerald helped her flip the pancake, where it landed perfectly in the center of the pan again.

    ¡°Thank you Emerald,¡± Elena said meekly. ¡°Even though I was totally going to figure it out on my the very next time.¡± The woman¡¯s shoulders shook with a silent motion that Ele had taken to calling ¡®Emerald giggling.¡¯

    ¡°She mean ¡®very next time¡¯ or ¡®very next time Emerald help¡¯?¡± Cook asked in a stage whisper, earning a guffaw from Rolf and another silent giggle from Emerald. Elena stuck her tongue out in answer. ¡°Here leetel garzona, you take breads to garzoni, Emerald take cake-pans, Jakob you take sugar end honey.¡± Cook pointed from his many helpers to the large platters he had arranged as they spoke. The breakfast rolls were still steaming, and Elena¡¯s stomach growled.

    ¡°Leetel garzona, she try to make me feel guilty.¡± Cook sighed dramatically to the room at large. ¡°Her stomach eet pleads, ¡®may I eat before I clean my cake-pan mess¡¯? Eet does not know I em cold-hearted cook. Eet cannot sway me.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t control what my stomach is saying!¡± Elena protested, taking the offered platter of rolls.

    ¡°She knows you not make her clean mess.¡± The fat cook Jakob broke his customary silence to remark. ¡°All of us we know, but you must make play to audience who is not there.¡±

    ¡°World ees my audience.¡± Cook said with exaggerated dignity. ¡°End only I clean cake-pan mess for today because ees big day for our leetel garzona. She finishes project today.¡±

    ¡°Thank you Cook.¡± Elena smiled as she pushed the kitchen door open with her backside, tray held carefully in her hands. ¡°You¡¯re wonderful.¡±

    ¡°I em wonderful.¡± Cook agreed as the trio plus Ele and Rolf left the kitchen. ¡°Most wonderful man in studio I think.¡±

    ¡°Man with biggest heart? Maybe. Man with smallest brain? Also maybe.¡± Jakob chuckled as they left.

    ***

    Elena barely stayed in the dining room long enough to wolf down pancakes and bread and the bitter morning drink, but she still wasn¡¯t the first to leave the room. With Master De Luca gone, breakfast had become a hasty affair; the faster the garzoni could get through their morning chores and preparations, the more time they could spend on their projects. Elena was lucky in that she could prepare Frederica¡¯s materials and work on her own project at the same time, so she had a bit of a lead. The workroom would be uncomfortably crowded later in the day, leading some of the garzoni to work in the wide courtyard below, but when she arrived there was only one garzoni there.

    ¡°Good morning Lorenzo.¡± Elena said as she moved to her workstation and began unpacking the tools she had laid away the day before.

    ¡°Hmm?¡± Lorenzo looked up with his customary open-mouthed stare, as if he had been caught sleeping. ¡°Good morning Elena. You¡¯re here early today.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m here the same time every day Lorenzo.¡±

    ¡°Oh, are you? Hm. I¡¯d not noticed.¡± Lorenzo turned back to the papers on his worktable, biting his lip as if the very act of concentration hurt him.

    His expressions probably hurt his chances the most. Elena decided, giving him a sidelong glance as she arranged her tools neatly on the desk in front of her: rags, a small pot of oil, strips of leather, string, and the neat stack of sketches and notes she had drafted up. I can¡¯t imagine Master De Luca keeping someone with that vacant a stare, no matter how the Storm touched him. He would be very pretty if he wasn¡¯t always looking so dumbfounded all the time. Or maybe if his Echo ever spoke up; they can¡¯t BOTH be that stupid. Lor had the same problem Lorenzo had; long, pretty black hair, pouting lips, but a face that looked like he was always in a daze

    It was only because she was watching him out of the corner of her eye that she noticed what he was actually working on. Two discs about the size of her head were laid on the desk in front of them, and working carefully, he lifted one at about eye-level above the other. He let go and watched it carefully, and took a few careful notations. The second disc floated where it was, weightless and gently spinning.

    ¡°How are you doing that?¡± Elena gasped.

    ¡°Mm?¡± Lorenzo looked startled, as if she had just appeared next to him. ¡°Doing what?¡±

    ¡°Your disc is floating! It¡¯s just sitting there in the air!¡± Elena pointed as if he hadn¡¯t just put it there.

    ¡°Oh yes! Neat, isn¡¯t it?¡± Lorenzo grinned. ¡°Lodestones.¡±

    ¡°Lodestones?¡±

    ¡°The Ancient Greeks and Muslims discovered certain unique properties regarding certain metals and their interactions among themselves.¡± Lorenzo began explaining so quickly that Elena leaned back, shocked. ¡°Pieces of ore or alloy which demonstrate these properties, most commonly iron, attract other pieces of iron and, more importantly for my applications, interact and align with others displaying the same properties. It¡¯s the inherent technology inside of compasses, you see, since these lodestones or magnes always point towards the north star. Of course, you know what that¡¯s done for sailing technology!¡±

    ¡°I...I hadn¡¯t really thought of it.¡± Elena admitted, shocked at the sudden enthusiasm. It was as if she were talking to a completely different person. How could someone be so passionate about this subject and so apathetic about everything else?

    ¡°It revolutionized it!¡± Lorenzo waved his arms.

    ¡°It certainly shifted what was possible to accomplish.¡± Lor broke in. Elena thought it was the first time she had heard the Echo speak. ¡°And things tend to expand from there, don¡¯t they? Sailing becomes leagues easier, if you¡¯ll pardon the pun, and suddenly importing and exporting booms, the economy thrives, and knowledge and information thrives along with it. Little droplets that cause ripples which expand the pond of human endeavour an inch at a time.¡±

    ¡°But they all just stopped there!¡± Lorenzo resumed the trail of the conversation the instant Lor had finished, oblivious to Elena who had started to grin. ¡°How many more giant booms of economy and knowledge are just waiting for us to figure out the right tool? Magnes aren¡¯t a dead end Elena, not if I have anything to do with it. And these, these are just my latest idea for their use magnes. The interactions between them can counteract gravity. At least...they can a little bit.¡±

    ¡°Well it¡¯s amazing.¡± Elena smiled. ¡°You know, I really like this side of you.¡±

    ¡°Hmm? What side?¡±

    ¡°Passionate, energetic, smart Lorenzo.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a very passionate person.¡± Lorenzo had turned back to his notes and was biting his lip, furrowing his brow. ¡°And I¡¯m always smart.¡± He added as if an annoyed afterthought.

    ¡°Of course, my apologies.¡± Elena said.

    ¡°Hmm?¡±

    Elena gave up, turning back to her own work. While Lorenzo¡¯s work was fascinating, she doubted the transformation she had just witnessed would happen again.

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    She took out the cloth-wrapped package she¡¯d received the night before from its small cubbyhole in her desk, and all thoughts of Lorenzo and his normally silent Echo fled from her mind. She had forced herself to go to sleep without opening it, though the suspense had nearly killed her, and now her hands trembled a little as she unwrapped it.

    ¡°Look at that.¡± Ele breathed as the last bit of cloth fell away. ¡°It¡¯s exactly what we asked for. It¡¯s like he took our sketches and made them real.¡± The pieces shone in the light of the workshop; she hadn¡¯t requested that they be polished, but she had to admit it was a nice touch. Tellem¡¯s Specialty Shop had even returned the sketches and specifications she had sent him, neatly folded in the bottom of the envelope.

    Elena and Ele had worked non-stop on the designs for four days, using Frederica¡¯s old worn out set of tools as a model to work by. When they had finally decided to commit to their designs, they gave Tellem the old set of tools and the designs, and now they lay before them, in all their shining glory.

    The original set had contained fourteen pieces: this set only had six. The triple-pressed lilium iron from the other tools had been melted down and worked into the handles, twisting designs and bands pressed into the smooth wood. The handles were made of black ashwood, very hard, very strong, and beautiful against the dark metal designs.

    There was a new version of each of the five basic knives Elena saw Frederica using the most, but the sixth was one of her own design. It consisted of a single long cylinder of very rough lilium, with very fine stone grit coated its surface, making it look gritty.

    ¡°He got the measurements perfect, looks like.¡± Ele confirmed. ¡°It¡¯ll fit all of her blades I think. Do you think it¡¯ll sharpen the curved tools right?¡±

    ¡°Only one way to find out.¡± Elena stepped over to Frederica¡¯s workstation and looked for one of her tools, the curved blade she had been playing with one of the first time they had met. The dark metal of the blade winked at her in the light as she lifted her new tool to its edge.

    ¡°Do you know how to it?¡± Ele asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s simple enough in concept.¡± Elena replied. She began gently running the blade along the sharpener¡¯s length, the sound of the metal rasping against metal strangely musical. ¡°It¡¯s grinding the edge of the blade, removing little bends and nicks, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°So no, you have no idea how to use it.¡±

    ¡°I said I knew in theory.¡±

    ¡°You knew how to flip pancakes in theory.¡±

    Elena didn¡¯t answer, instead enjoying the musical ring of the sharpener along the blade¡¯s edge. By the time a few more garzoni began entering the workshop, she had settled into a steady rhythm. Leanarda and Mella were murmuring quietly to each other as they entered together. They nodded politely to Elena, but didn¡¯t try to start conversation. After a week of it, Elena was used to the treatment: polite, measured, and utterly without feeling, the small-talk version of an alliance.

    ¡°What the fuck are you doing to my tools?¡± Frederica¡¯s voice broke into Elena¡¯s reverie, and she turned to find the older garzona marching across the workroom towards her. Elena had never seen her look so angry.

    ¡°I¡¯m sharpening your curved knife.¡± She said simply, holding out the instrument to show her.

    ¡°You can¡¯t sharpen lilium, nothing is strong enough to hold the grit.¡± Frederica yanked it from her hand, examining the blade carefully.

    ¡°Lilium is strong enough, and this sharpener has a lilium core holding the grit. I designed a whole new set of tools for you that I think will work better than the ones you¡¯re using now.¡± Elena couldn¡¯t help but let some pride seep into her voice. Frederica was ignoring her, looking at the curved blade skeptically. Without a word she grabbed a small block of wood from her table, shifting it in her hand a few times before pressing the tip of the blade into it.

    With a single smooth stroke Frederica slid the blade into the wood, twisting the knife here and there, turning the wood smoothly in her hand without interrupting the cut. Watching the knife glide through the soft wood was like watching a shark cut through the water, deadly and beautiful and fascinating. Even the curl of wood that fell away was perfect, a single long scrap, and when Frederica lifted her knife, the block of wood had a long whorl cut across three of its faces.

    ¡°That¡¯s amazing!¡± Elena breathed. ¡°You¡¯re a really amazing Caeletor!¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t ask your opinion on what kind of Caeletor I am.¡± Frederica dismissed her and turned to Fred, who was giving her a questioning glance.

    ¡°Looked like it had good bite.¡± He said, sounding surprised.

    ¡°Does have good bite. Like new.¡±

    ¡°Honing is probably fucked though.¡±

    ¡°Nope, edge is fine.¡±

    ¡°Along the whole length? Concave?¡±

    ¡°In the concave and everything.¡±

    ¡°The hell?¡±

    Fred and Frederica turned back to Elena in one movement, but neither spoke, just observed her carefully. If anything, Frederica still seemed angry, even though from what Elena could gather she had liked the sharpened knife.

    ¡°Alright, show me the other set of tools.¡± Frederica finally said. Elena led the way back to her workstation, a little unsure of herself as she explained.

    ¡°So from what I saw, the biggest problems you had were that you need light wood handles for balance, but a light wood wears away fast. You like the lilium blades for their thinness, but you can¡¯t sharpen them so they¡¯ll dull in time.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ll also rust very easily if they get moist at all.¡± Frederica¡¯s voice was clipped.

    ¡°Oh.¡± Elena paused. ¡°Well I didn¡¯t know that, but these tools should solve all of your other problems.¡± She shifted the cloth a bit so that the tools caught the light, neatly arranged on her desk.

    ¡°These are all wrong.¡± Frederica scowled. ¡°Are those designs lilium iron? On ash? So not only did you waste a metal more precious than gold, but you made the hardwood handles even heavier. Great job master Fabera.¡±

    ¡°The handles are just as balanced as they were before!¡± Even Frederica¡¯s surly demeanor couldn¡¯t dampen Elena¡¯s excitement as she explained. ¡°All of your old tools¡¯ handles were solid, but these are hollow. The hollow cores lightens them up so much that we could use a hardwood, which won¡¯t wear away as fast!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯ll solve the balance.¡± Frederica admitted, lifting Elena¡¯s version of the curved blade and weighing it carefully. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s actually balanced pretty beautifully. Shame it¡¯s still fucked though.¡±

    ¡°Why is that?¡± Elena thought she knew what the older girl was about to say, and she tried to hide a smile.

    ¡°Because with a hollow handle, the second I hit a knot, or drop a tool, or drive a cut too hard, that thing is going to snap in half and the blade is going to take a finger.¡±

    ¡°Which is why I reinforced each handle with the lilium iron designs.¡± Elena said triumphantly. ¡°They¡¯re for more than just being pretty, they make the hollow handles just as durable, if not more durable than you current tools.¡±

    Frederica was silent for long, long moments, spinning the blade around between her fingers, passing it back and forth as she mused. Elena wondered if she even realized she was doing it.

    ¡°These are good tools. Better than mine, and I thought I¡¯d been getting the best.¡± She finally proclaimed. Elena blinked, startled. Frederica carefully gathered up the tools in their cloth and took them over to her desk, gingerly moving her current set from its place along the side of her desk. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Wait really?¡±

    ¡°You seem surprised.¡± Frederica didn¡¯t look up from her task. ¡°What were you expecting me to say?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know...something crabby, to be honest. Or that you didn¡¯t like them.¡±

    ¡°And stick myself with using worse quality tools just to be a bitch?¡± Frederica looked over her shoulder. ¡°You did good, you were helpful, and now I can be a better Caeletor. No reason say something ¡®crabby¡¯ as you put it.¡±

    Elena was confused, but she wasn¡¯t going to argue. If Frederica told her the work was good, she could believe it. She turned back to her table, proud and happy and also a little touched.

    ¡°So...what¡¯s our next project?¡± Ele¡¯s smile matched her own.

    Elena turned back to her workbench with the musical ring of sharpener-on-knife in her ears. It would have been a perfect morning, if not for the very focused looks Leanarda and Mella were giving her.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 17

    Elena stretched as far as her reach would allow, carefully balancing on the chair that supported her. Her wrist had healed to the point where it barely bothered her anymore, but the reach made it sting annoyingly.

    "A little lower." Ele instructed from his vantage point a few feet behind her. Elena lowered the hook until it was just above the edge of the door, looking over her shoulder. At his nod she hammered the tiny hook into the frame.

    "That''s the last one." Elena sighed, wiping her forehead with her sleeve. "Now we just need to attach the entire thing together. Can you run and grab the string that''s on my bed for me?"

    "No." Ele said flatly. "No I cannot."

    "Oh...right. Echo." Elena jumped down from the chair and dragged it back into the kitchen, awkwardly holding the hammer under one arm. "Silly me."

    "You can''t forget that sort of thing Elena." Ele said exasperatedly, following her through the kitchens and down the short hallway to her room. "It''s not that weird here, but outside of the studio you''re going to run into people like your mother. People who get frightened or make judgements about you."

    "Didn''t we just have this fight in reverse a week ago?" Elena was only half paying attention, her temples buzzing with her power in action. "You wanted me to treat you more like you are a person, not less. Forgetting you can¡¯t bring me string, that seems like a good mistake."

    "I want you to know I''m a real person, but I can also acknowledge that you''ll have to play-act sometimes. I appreciate that you''ve been trying to think of me as more than just your imaginary friend- no," he held up a hand to forestall her objections, "I mean that genuinely. I just worry about you. For you."

    "You wouldn''t be Ele if you didn''t." Elena said, putting the finishing touches on her little project. A small bell tied to one end of the string hung down above her bed, running down to the loops in her arms. She carefully tossed the looped string up and over each of the hooks that hung on the upper edge of her wall. When she was done, the string was strung along the wall, unobtrusively laying along the pattern of tiles until it reached the door.

    "Will the string still have pull when the door is closed?" Ele asked. Elena walked through and closed the door, then gave the bundle of string in her hand a small tug. From within her room she could hear the tinkle of the bell, and smiled.

    The hooks had been fashioned from small bits of wire, and Elena had been able to attach them along the edge of the wall where it met the ceiling. The thin twine barely showed up along the pattern of the wall, even when she knew where to look. She tossed the line of string over each hook down the hallway and back through the kitchen, finally securing the other end to the door that led out into the courtyard.

    ¡°The first person who sees it is going to take it down.¡± Ele predicted dourly, as they both gazed up at the final hook in the door itself.

    ¡°No one will see it. It¡¯s subtle, and it¡¯s high up.¡± Elena squinted at the tiny hook in the door. Opening the door would pull the hook, and tug on the string that stretched from hook to hook along the walls. In theory, this meant that the bell would ring every time someone left the kitchens. ¡°Besides, nobody stares at doorways.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re also assuming that it¡¯ll work. The string might just snap, or have enough give that the bell doesn¡¯t ring.¡±

    ¡°Instead of tearing down my ideas Ele, you could¡¯ve suggested something yourself. You can¡¯t be sour now that I¡¯ve made my own plan.¡±

    ¡°If I recall, I gave you a perfectly valid suggestion.¡±

    ¡°¡®Mind your own business¡¯ is not a perfectly valid suggestion. I want to know the next time some armed intruder comes into the studio at night.¡±

    ¡°Yes, forewarning turned out so helpful for you last time.¡±

    ¡°Elena, Ele!¡± The call came from halfway across the courtyard, but Elena still jumped. Niccolo and Carlo had clearly been deep in conversation before they¡¯d caught sight of her, but Niccolo waved them over. ¡°We were just about to leave for lunch, do you want to join us? What were you looking at over there?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯d love to join you!¡± Elena said, too concerned with changing the subject to worry about the invitation. ¡°Are you leaving soon?¡±

    ¡°Just as soon as we hear if Vittoria is joining us...ah, speak of the devil. Hello Vi.¡±

    Elena had been at the studio for over a week, and she still couldn¡¯t tell the difference between Vittoria and her Echo Vi. She was half-convinced that the other full garzoni just chose whichever name they felt like, and were lying when they said they could tell the difference.

    ¡°Vittoria thanks you for the invitation, but we¡¯re quite involved in our current project right now.¡± Vi twisted the end of her blonde braid as she spoke. Her voice was somewhat dreamy, but her hazel eyes tended to fix whatever she was focused on with an intense stare, as if she could see your soul if she looked hard enough.

    ¡°Ah well, I suppose six is a large enough group anyways.¡± Niccolo said cheerfully, turning to Carlo and Elena. ¡°On to Marchelli¡¯s, all you quiet lads and ladies.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re not quiet, Niccolo, you just never shut up long enough for them to get a word in edgewise.¡± Nicci remarked, as Elena, Ele, Carlo, and Carla followed Niccolo out of the courtyard and through the hall and foyer that led outside.

    ¡°Pah! Implying that I am too talkative? Your lies wound me Nicci. They wound the others too, but they¡¯re too quiet to say anything.¡±

    ¡°I am pretty quiet.¡± Carlo admitted agreeably.

    ¡°I actually have just been waiting to get a word in edgewise.¡± Elena teased. Carlo gave her a look of surprise, and Nicci snickered.

    ¡°The mouse breaks her silence for that?¡± Niccolo sighed. ¡°And to think in my naivette I was starting to like you. Shame on you for preying on my innocence.¡±

    The group passed from the cool foyer to the heat of the outdoors, but the sudden change wasn¡¯t why Elena felt warm.

    He¡¯s starting to like me? She tried to brush the thought aside, but it kept springing back up. Of course, he doesn¡¯t mean ¡®like¡¯ in that way, but still...it¡¯s nice to be liked...

    ¡°Oh, Elena, I was just coming to visit you!¡± Elena was so caught up in her thoughts that she might¡¯ve missed her mother, had the woman not spoken. Joanna had been ready to enter the studio just as the garzoni exited.

    ¡°Mama! Oh I¡¯m so glad I didn¡¯t miss you-¡± Elena suddenly bit her lip and stopped talking. The two had parted on such awkward terms, and her mother did tend to hold a grudge; perhaps it was best to let her say her piece first.

    ¡°I came to see if you would like to have lunch with me.¡± Joanna was eyeing Niccolo and Carlo hesitantly, as if unsure of how to proceed with them there. ¡°But I can see you¡¯ve already made plans. That¡¯s what I get for not writing first, I suppose.¡±

    ¡°Oh, no Mama I would love your company, you know that!¡± Elena hastily assured. ¡°You don¡¯t mind, do you?¡± She asked, turning to Niccolo and Carlo. It was horribly rude to abandon them when they had extended an invitation, of course, but she couldn¡¯t turn her mother down.

    ¡°Not at all.¡± Niccolo said graciously. ¡°I¡¯ll even pay for her meal myself.¡±

    ¡°Oh...no...¡± Elena said. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean-¡±

    ¡°I insist. Madam Lucciano, it is a wonderful pleasure to make your acquaintance.¡± Niccolo took a baffled Joanna¡¯s hand and kissed it. ¡°I am Niccolo Loredan, a garzoni of Master De Luca, much like Elena here, although much less artistic than your daughter.¡±

    Joanna seemed much more flattered at his attention after Niccolo mentioned he was a garzoni, which for some reason gave Elena a sour feeling in her stomach.

    ¡°Although his skill at bluster surpasses anyone in Milia.¡± Nicci added, extending her hand. ¡°I¡¯m Nicci. It¡¯s lovely to meet you Miss Lucciano.¡±

    ¡°And you are?¡± Joanna turned to Carlo.

    ¡°I¡¯m Carlo. Another garzoni.¡± Carlo gave Joanna a short bow as Nicci left her hand outstretched for a few moments, looking confused. The light suddenly dawned in her face a few moments afterwards.

    ¡°Oh...Oh, my apologies.¡± Nicci said to Elena, letting her hand drop awkwardly. ¡°I thought...sorry.¡±

    Elena looked at her shoes awkwardly. She wanted to reassure Nicci, of course, but with her mother here, she couldn¡¯t exactly talk to her...

    ¡°Elena has always been punished for talking to Echoes.¡± Ele said sourly. ¡°I¡¯m sure she took no offense to your assumption.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Nicci tilted her head, and Elena didn¡¯t like the look of surprise on her face. ¡°I suppose to a certain degree that makes sense, not wanting Mortalis to think you were strange. I would have thought you wouldn¡¯t worry too much about it nowadays.¡±

    ¡°Shall we go?¡± Elena interrupted. ¡°I¡¯ve heard wonderful things about Marchelli¡¯s.¡±

    ¡°You mean you¡¯ve been in Milia an entire week and a half and never had Marchelli¡¯s? You poor deprived soul!¡± Niccolo took Elena on one arm, Joanna on the other, and proceeded down the street, extolling the wondrous virtues of Marchelli¡¯s the entire time and leaving Carlo and the Echoes to trail behind.

    ***

    By the time they actually arrived at the squat building, Niccolo¡¯s praise had given Elena quite an appetite. The smells did even more when they entered; the large room was just as hot as the outdoors, but the rich aroma of tomatoes and herbs and cooking pastas made it feel somehow thicker, in a homey and comforting way.

    ¡°Welcome to Marchelli¡¯s. How many are dining with you today?¡± The waitress greeted them with a smile that was tired but genuine.

    ¡°We¡¯ll have a table for seven and menus for four if you please m¡¯lady.¡± Niccolo said, ushering the group in front of him.

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    ¡°Are more of your friends joining us?¡± Joanna asked Elena, but luckily the waitress interrupted before she had to answer.

    ¡°Right this way.¡±

    The table was right next to a window, a tad cramped but with a view of the bustle of the street. The Echoes waited until Joanna had selected a seat in between Elena and Niccolo to settle into their own seats, spread out among their garzoni.

    ¡°So, Miss Lucciano.¡± Niccolo leaned in conspiratorially. ¡°You must have some embarrassing stories about Elena you can regale us with.¡±

    ¡°Niccolo!¡± Elena protested. ¡°You are not to grill my mother about things to make fun of me with!¡±

    ¡°What, you expect me to waste this perfect opportunity? Never!¡±

    ¡°Elena wasn¡¯t what you¡¯d call a ¡®funny¡¯ child anyways.¡± Joanna said with a fond smile. ¡°She¡¯s a good girl, but sometimes she could be such a burden. I¡¯m kidding, of course.¡± She laughed.

    Elena buried her face in her menu. She knew her mother wasn¡¯t kidding, but she was very grateful to her for pretending she was. It was never quite clear how she had been worse than other children her own age, but she knew that she had been.

    ¡°Ah, well, what are children for but to try their parents¡¯ patience?¡± Niccolo said good naturedly. ¡°Ooh, if it isn¡¯t the man of the hour himself. Marchelli, you had me worried that we wouldn¡¯t see your face today.¡±

    A very fat man with a round red nose had approached the table, and he clapped Niccolo on the back.

    ¡°My friend Niccolo, how you torture me.¡± Marchelli¡¯s eyes twinkled as he surveyed the table. ¡°So many pretty ladies you bring to my table, and yet when you leave, it is you who shall take the credit for introducing them to my fine cooking.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve figured me out Marchelli.¡± Niccolo raised his hands in mock surrender. ¡°But you have enough talent to share. We¡¯ll be having...let¡¯s see...bruschetta for the table, a roast, either turkey or pork, and we¡¯ll let you decide the fruit course. Perhaps a nice wine as well?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not as if we wanted to choose our own food or anything.¡± Carlo remarked dryly, as Niccolo collected all of their menus before they had even opened them.

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry, Niccolo is like me, he knows food and he knows people, I trust him to pair the two. If he says you shall like something, you shall like it. The wine, on the other hand, I do not trust him to pick.¡± Marchelli chuckled.

    ¡°If you end up not liking the food Carlo, we can steal something from De Luca¡¯s kitchens when we get back.¡± Carla said quietly.

    ¡°If he does not like the food I provide him, I will hang up my apron and never cook another fettuccine.¡± Marchelli waggled his finger at Carla. ¡°And that would be a tragedy.¡±

    ¡°A disaster!¡± Niccolo agreed. Marchelli waddled back towards the kitchen, and only then did Elena suddenly sit up, her eyes widening with realization.

    He talked to Carla...

    ¡°Marchelli is a Stormtouched!¡± She said.

    ¡°One of the great mysteries of Milia.¡± Niccolo nodded sagely. ¡°No one knows how the Storm touched him. No one has seen his Echo. No one knows what made him give up the Storm to turn to cooking.¡±

    ¡°Elena knew he was Stormtouched just from hearing him speak?¡± Joanna asked. ¡°Is there something in his manner that you all pick up on?¡±

    ¡°Ah, my apologies, you wouldn¡¯t know. He spoke to Carlo¡¯s Echo, you see, and as you know, Mortalis cannot see or hear Echoes.¡±

    ¡°Echoes?¡± Joanna sounded confused, and Elena¡¯s stomach dropped.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t really matter Mama-¡± she tried to head the conversation off, but Niccolo was already talking.

    ¡°People who exist solely in the sight and hearing of Stormtouched? Surely Elena must¡¯ve told you about Ele; each of us have a companion like that.¡±

    Joanna opened and closed her mouth a few times. After a few strangled attempts, she turned in her chair to face Niccolo.

    ¡°You can see Ele?¡± She asked, studying his face as if he might be joking.

    ¡°Of course I can, all Stormtouched can.¡± Niccolo looked back and forth between Joanna and Elena. ¡°What, did you think Elena was making him up?¡±

    ¡°I thought...I just assumed she was being stubborn...she always had spells of spitefulness like that...I thought she was being childish.¡± Joanna stammered.

    ¡°Wait, that¡¯s why you forbid her from talking to him?¡± Niccolo asked incredulously. ¡°You stopped her from talking to her lifelong companion because you thought she was being childish?¡±

    ¡°I...I didn¡¯t know. How was I to know?¡± Joanna turned back to her daughter, and Elena was surprised to see tears welling in her mother¡¯s eyes. ¡°And I punished you!¡± She gasped, her eyes wide with horror. ¡°I punished you for talking to your friend! Oh my God, Elena...¡±

    ¡°This is too perfect.¡± Ele commented from next to Elena, watching the scene unfold. ¡°I never thought I¡¯d see this day. Joanna Lucciano, displaying self-awareness?¡±

    ¡°Elena...¡± Her mother continued, unaware of Ele¡¯s commentary. ¡°...I can¡¯t believe you would do that to me!¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Niccolo looked startled.

    ¡°Well...that didn¡¯t last long.¡± Ele sighed.

    ¡°All that time, and you didn¡¯t once explain the truth to me!¡± Joanna continued. ¡°You could¡¯ve just told me it was due to your Storm, you could¡¯ve said something, and I wouldn¡¯t be feeling so horrible right now!¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know Mama I swear!¡± Elena protested, but her mother was actually crying now, fumbling with a handkerchief.

    ¡°I can¡¯t remember ever feeling so low! Did you really hate me that much, that you would let me punish you for something you had no control over? Was it because you wanted to cast me in the role of the villain? Oh Elena why did you make me think it was just childishness? Why didn¡¯t you tell me?¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t my fault.¡± Elena mumbled at the table. If her mother¡¯s tears made her uncomfortable, the presence of the other garzoni at the table made her feel ten times worse. Of all the things they could find out about her, she would¡¯ve wished anything but

    ¡°No, you¡¯re right, it was mine. I should have been able to tell what my own daughter was thinking. I¡¯ve been such a bad mother to you E-e-elena!¡± Joanna sobbed into her handkerchief.

    ¡°No! Mama no, don¡¯t say that.¡± Elena wrapped her arms around her mother, trying to console her while at the same time feeling as if her heart might break.

    ¡°Of course not, lots of wonderful mothers break their daughters¡¯ wrists.¡± Ele said bitterly. Elena whirled on him, her grief turning to anger in a second.

    ¡°You¡¯ve said quite enough Ele!¡± In her sudden rage she didn¡¯t even realize that it was the first time she¡¯d talked openly to him in front of her mother in eight years. ¡°Why can¡¯t you leave well enough alone?¡±

    ¡°She broke your wrist?¡± Niccolo had been silent up until this point, but his voice had a strange tone to it now. Elena didn¡¯t like how he was looking at her mother, although for different reasons than before.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t like that Niccolo, it was just a mistake.¡± Elena said. ¡°She was angry because she thought I was being obstinate, and sometimes she doesn¡¯t know her own strength-¡±

    ¡°When I say this is the best food in all of Milia, you may rest assured it is only because- my god, do not cry lovely lady!¡± Marchelli gasped, setting the tray of bruschetta down and hovering around Joanna like a fly. ¡°I know it was hard to wait, but the food is here now!¡±

    ¡°Marchelli, you must forgive me.¡± Niccolo stood suddenly, kicking his chair back. Elena suddenly noticed how he towered above them, and how dark his eyes were. The arrows in his quiver and the knife at his belt seemed more ominous, and for the first time she wondered why he always carried them. She wondered how often he had used them. A shiver ran down her spine as he continued, his voice low. ¡°You know how much it takes to turn my stomach, so you¡¯ll appreciate it when I say I¡¯ve lost my appetite.¡±

    ¡°Quae est ista licet, my friend, I get paid either way. Next time perhaps.¡± Marchelli seemed truly concerned for Niccolo as the Sagittari walked towards the door. In the doorway he stopped and turned, so suddenly that Nicci accidentally stepped through him and paused on the other side.

    ¡°You¡¯re not a bad mother, Miss Lucciano.¡± Niccolo said over his shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re a bad human being.¡±

    ¡°Niccolo!¡± Elena gasped, but he was gone, and Nicci followed. There was a brief and awkward pause as Marchelli looked back and forth between the guests at the table.

    ¡°Kitchens.¡± Carla said quietly to Carlo, and the pair stood and left without a word.

    ¡°Eat what you will, Niccolo¡¯s garzona friend.¡± Marchelli said, not unkindly, although he ignored her mother. ¡°I will have the remainder sent on to Master De Luca¡¯s studio. And the bill.¡± He walked back to the kitchen with just a little more haste in his waddle than he had before.

    ¡°Mama...please eat Mama, the food is good, and it can be just the two of us.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t...you don¡¯t agree with him, do you?¡± Joanna sniffled into her handkerchief. ¡°You don¡¯t think I¡¯m a bad mother do you Elena?¡± Ele opened his mouth as if he might speak, and Elena shot him a furious look of warning.

    ¡°No Mama, of course not.¡± She reassured. The food did smell good, and Elena pulled a plate toward her mother and piled it with the best-looking pieces of bruschetta.

    ¡°I¡¯ve always loved you and only wanted what¡¯s best for you, you know that don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve always known that Mama. I love you too.¡±

    The Luccianos spent the rest of their meal in silence.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 18

    ¡°It¡¯s almost a shame that we¡¯ll be using these up,¡± Elena smiled as she emptied the box of cylinders onto her workstation. The little silver tubes jangled musically as they rattled across the desk.

    ¡°What else are we going to do with them?¡± Ele stood next to her, leaning against the bench so that he could view the entire workshop. His arms were crossed, and his gaze flicked back and forth across the room, settling on each garzoni for just a few moments before it moved to the next. It was rare for all of the garzoni to occupy the room at the same time, and the subtle hum of eight craftsmen working with their various works was comforting. For Ele it seemed to have the opposite effect; he had been on-edge for the entire afternoon.

    ¡°I just how it sounds when I play with them. They¡¯re like tiny bells.¡± Elena rolled the cylinders back and forth, smiling at their melodic jingling. She glanced at Ele, his arms crossed, a scowl on his face. ¡°You don¡¯t have to be so cranky,¡± she murmured, quietly enough that the other garzoni couldn¡¯t hear her, ¡°you¡¯ll have to get used to other garzoni around sooner or later.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not them being around that¡¯s bothering me, and I¡¯m not cranky.¡± Ele didn¡¯t turn to her as he spoke, softly, barely moving his lips. ¡°I¡¯m high-strung because something bad¡¯s coming.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean ¡®something bad¡¯?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how to explain it. I just just smell it on the air, like a storm about to break. I can feel it. Something bad.¡±

    Elena gave him a look of exasperation as she began sorting the metal tubes on her desk, organizing them into small groups by type and by size. ¡°Honestly Ele could you be any more cliched? ¡®You feel it in the air¡¯, what garbage.¡±

    The brush handles were not the right sizes, and Elena frowned as she held the thin pieces up against the tubes. Most of the tubes she could force into place on the end of the handles, but a full quarter of them would have to be cut down to size.

    ¡°Do you think we could get Frederica to carve the ends of these down to fit the silver caps?¡± She asked Ele, holding up the ill-fitting tubes and the brush handles that were supposed to slide right into them.

    ¡°You think she¡¯s going to help you make brushes for Carlo and Vittoria?¡± Ele raised an eyebrow. ¡°Something that makes one garzona look good and helps two garzoni produce better work? She¡¯s smart enough to not help her competition, so no, I don¡¯t think we could get her to.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll just have to re-order them then. Adtono.¡± Elena swore. ¡°Well we can make the smaller brushes at least.¡±

    ¡°Because apparently we¡¯re not smart enough not to help our competition.¡±

    Elena didn¡¯t answer for a few moments, instead focusing on carefully twisting bunches of bristles into groups. When she was done, she would slide the bristles into the other end of the tubes, then crimp the tube on both sides. She¡¯d never made paintbrushes before, but the buzzing along her fingertips told her she was on the right track.

    ¡°This is what I do, Ele,¡± she finally replied, just as quietly.

    ¡°I know it¡¯s what you do, you¡¯re a Fabera, I¡¯m just asking if you have to do it for them.¡±

    ¡°No, I mean helping them is what I do. I can¡¯t be mean like you and Leanarda want me to be, it¡¯s just not who I am. I want to help people, I want my work to be useful, and even more I want to see the beautiful things other people can make. Don¡¯t you? Doesn¡¯t everyone? Isn¡¯t that why we¡¯re all here, because we were inspired by the beautiful art people make?¡±

    ¡°Naive.¡± Ele said. ¡°I want to see pretty art too, but not if it¡¯s Carlo painting it while we¡¯re seeing it from the street.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll be more valuable to Master De Luca if he sees us helping all of his other garzoni.¡± Elena replied confidently. ¡°He¡¯s been missing out on a good Fabera in his studio, so it¡¯s up to us to show him what a good Fabera can do; a Fabera in his studio will help every other garzoni¡¯s work.¡±

    ¡°Or he¡¯ll decide that we can¡¯t produce anything of our own and wonder what we contribute to art.¡±

    ¡°Your arguments would hold a lot more weight if you weren¡¯t this pessimistic all the time.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not pessimistic, I¡¯m realistic.¡±

    ¡°You mean like ¡®something bad is going to happen¡¯?¡± Elena teased. ¡°Was that ¡®realistic¡¯, or just you being-¡±

    ¡°Maledictus a matre!¡± Frederica shrieked the curse above the quiet murmur of the workshop, and work ceased as the assembled garzoni turned to look at her, startled. ¡°Who did this? Which one of you pathetic, ignorant, Storm-forsaken fucks did this?¡± Elena paled at the look on the older girl¡¯s face; contorted in such rage that it was almost unrecognizable.

    In Frederica¡¯s outstretched hand lay a small bird carved from maple wood. It was almost complete, from its lifelike beak to the small delicate cuts that defined the feathers, a tiny and beautiful little masterpiece. It was marred only by the fact that one of its fragile wings had fractured, and lay separate in her hand.

    ¡°Frederica,¡± Vittoria approached with a gentle tone. Elena didn¡¯t know whether to admire the girl¡¯s bravery or warn her away; Frederica still held the small knife detailing knife in her other hand. It didn¡¯t seem to bother Vittoria, her face serene as she rested a hand on the Caeletor¡¯s arm. ¡°You don¡¯t know for sure that someone did this on purpose. Maybe someone was just admiring your work and accidentally dropped it, something of that nature.¡±

    ¡°Knife marks.¡± Frederica held up the severed wing as she spat the words. ¡°This wasn¡¯t an accident, it was sabotage, and someone used my own tools to do it. Which of you was it?¡± She gestured with her other hand, pointing across the room with her knife to indicate Lorenzo, Leanarda, Mella and Elena. ¡°Which one of you thought they were being clever?¡±

    No one answered, even as the silence began to stretch. It was a different kind of silence than Elena was normally used to in the workshop, one not of solitude but of high tension.

    ¡°Whoever did this, it¡¯s only going to go worse for you from here on out.¡± Fred seemed much calmer than his counterpart, but his hands were clenched in tight fists. ¡°Master De Luca will be back in a few days, and if the culprit hasn¡¯t stepped forward by then we¡¯ll have no choice but to bring the bird to him. We¡¯re not stupid, we know what this is.¡±

    ¡°Maybe I¡¯m stupid, ¡®cause I¡¯m not sure I do.¡± Niccolo had been silent up until that point, resting his arm on his knee and watching the scene unfold. ¡°What is it you think ¡®this¡¯ is, Fred?¡±

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    ¡°It¡¯s the provisionals trying to look good to Master De Luca.¡± Frederica was the one to answer. ¡°They think if I have one less project to show him that¡¯ll make them look that much better.¡±

    ¡°Why are you so sure it a provisional garzoni?¡± Leanarda finally spoke up. Frederica¡¯s gaze snapped to where she sat, the knife pointing in her direction as if Frederica wasn¡¯t even aware of it.

    ¡°It was. I know it was. Probably you, Leanarda. Did you do this?¡± Frederica¡¯s voice was slowly growing quieter, but the anger in it was even worse somehow.

    ¡°I was just asking. You seem pretty quick to rule out Carlo, Vittoria, and Niccolo.¡±

    ¡°Leanarda¡¯s right!¡± Mella was usually one of the most quiet in the group, but she spoke up now with a kind of terrified defiance. ¡°You¡¯re so sure it was one of us trying to get ahead, but all eight of us are competing for the four spots. It could¡¯ve been one of them.¡± She pointed back across the room.

    ¡°It¡¯s not one of them. They wouldn¡¯t...¡± Frederica paused as if choosing her words carefully. ¡°They¡¯ve got better things to do with their time than try to fuck with me, and they know that the second Master De Luca finds out who did this they¡¯re out of the studio.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m honestly curious now.¡± Leanarda had noticed Frederica¡¯s hesitancy. ¡°You have some reason for trusting Vittoria, Carlo, and Niccolo, and if you don¡¯t want to tell any of us that¡¯s fine. Just ask yourself; how strong is that reason Frederica? Whatever you think is stopping them from turning on you, is it more important to them than staying garzoni?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re trying to manipulate me, but it¡¯s pathetic,¡± Frederica scoffed, ¡°you don¡¯t know anything, so you don¡¯t know how transparent you sound.¡± Frederica turned and threw the broken bird into the crate beneath her desk. ¡°I will be telling De Luca you did this.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know it was me!¡± Leanarda protested as Frederica turned her back. ¡°Even if you¡¯re oh-so-trustful of those three, it could¡¯ve been someone else-¡±

    ¡°Who? Mella?¡± Frederica didn¡¯t turn around. ¡°She wouldn¡¯t have the spine to use my knives without permission, let alone do that. If it was Mella, you told her to. And stupid as this plan is, Lorenzo¡¯s too stupid to come up with it. No offense Lorenzo.¡±

    ¡°Hmm?¡± Lorenzo looked up from the set of three discs he had been fiddling with. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I wasn¡¯t paying attention. What are we talking about?¡±

    ¡°So Elena is among your list of trusted friends and allies then?¡± Leanarda challenged, her eyes narrowing.

    ¡°Elena is too naive to be this nasty, and too mousy to be this aggressive.¡±

    ¡°Hey-¡± Elena was grateful that Frederica didn¡¯t think her capable of ruining the bird, but she wasn¡¯t quite sure she liked the reasons. Frederica spoke right over her protests.

    ¡°More importantly, Elena understands that you DON¡¯T. FUCK. WITH THE ART.¡± Frederica¡¯s shoulders shook with emotion, but her voice was quiet when she continued. ¡°Sure, Elena is a know-nothing annoying little puke, just like the rest of you. Probably hates me just as much as the rest of you too. But she made these,¡± Frederica held up one of her new knives with the lilium designs, ¡°because she respects the art. She knows that whatever other fucked up games you all want to play, the art comes first. She knows that however she might feel about me, the art comes first. That makes her worth a thousand of you.¡±

    Elena turned back to her desk, more to avoid Leanarda¡¯s gaze than to continue with her work. It was hard to dissect the emotions she was feeling towards Frederica at the moment. On the one hand, she shouldn¡¯t be surprised that Frederica didn¡¯t much care for her. On the other, it did sound like she almost...respected her? Surely that was better, or perhaps nearly as good... Elena shook her head, trying to sort out the new information.

    ¡°Meis auditaque, Frederica, way to make the provisionals feel welcome.¡± Niccolo muttered, resuming running his knife along the edge of a small stone.

    ¡°Do I look like I give a shit about making them feel welcome?¡± Frederica gestured to the bin. ¡°Maybe next time they won¡¯t fuck with my craft.¡±

    ¡°As you¡¯ve all decided to talk about us as if we aren¡¯t here anyways, I¡¯m going for a walk.¡± Leanarda stood and set her brush down carefully. ¡°Mella, Lorenzo, would you like to join me?¡± The fact that she hadn¡¯t invited Elena was obviously intentional, but Leanarda¡¯s feelings for her hadn¡¯t been in question for a while. Leanarda and Mella neither liked nor respected her.

    ¡°Hmm? Ah, no thank you, I¡¯m quite busy with this.¡± Lorenzo said, and Mella and Leanarda departed without another word. The workshop was once again quiet but for the scraping of Niccolo¡¯s knife on his whetstone. Elena suddenly wondered if she should buy a small chest for her projects, one she could lock up at night. If it was true that Leanarda was the saboteur, Elena¡¯s work was probably fairly high on the list of targets.

    ¡°You figured out what I needed in a knife just by looking, Elena.¡± Frederica broke the silence again, abruptly. ¡°Can you do that with other stuff?¡±

    ¡°I...I¡¯m not sure.¡± Elena was caught off guard by the seemingly random question.

    ¡°I¡¯m buying a block of maple today. It¡¯s important, and you could help.¡±

    ¡°But I don¡¯t know anything about wood.¡±

    ¡°You said you didn¡¯t know anything about carving either, but you had all of those ¡®flashes of inspiration¡¯.¡±

    ¡°I guess so...but I can¡¯t force them to come to me. I just know how some things are put together.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Frederica grunted, then stood. ¡°Come with me.¡±

    ¡°Where are we going?¡±

    ¡°I told you, I¡¯ve got a block of maple to buy. You have to help me with all my supplies, so you¡¯re coming to help.¡± Without so much as a backward glance, Frederica walked out of the room.

    ¡°I guess I owe you an apology Ele.¡± Elena brushed the cylinders, brush handles, and bristles into the corner of her desk and hid them with a rag, making a mental note to buy a chest with a lock. ¡°You were right about something bad happening. That ¡®storm about to break¡¯.¡±

    ¡°This wasn¡¯t it.¡± Ele was still frowning, but his face was more worried than angry. ¡°This is just the warning thunder.¡±

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 19

    Milia was a city of art, so it was appropriate that the streets of Milia were essentially works of art themselves. Not that a lot of people noticed it, the way the stones were arranged, a pretty asymmetry that appeared random but actually lay in sloping mathematical patterns. Even those attuned to artistry might miss how artistic the mechanisms were in the gutters, fresh water forced through at high speeds every hour. Very few understood that Milia itself was a perfect circle, and of those that did even fewer realized just how hard that must¡¯ve been to achieve.

    Maple truly believed that Milia was more beautiful to her than to any other Milian. One could not appreciate the true beauty of a city unless one appreciated the artistry that lay in its every line, and who was better at appreciating the artistry? Focusing on the art of the city let her accept its imperfections with a kind of calm reverence as she walked its dusty and hot streets. Sure, the merchants here were loud, but they were loud so that they could keep the coin moving through the city, and there was artistry in that. Yes, that man had nearly splashed her with the bucket of rotting compost, but he was using the gutter system, and as long as citizens kept using the gutter system it would be maintained. There was a kind of artistry in that, the art of utility. A majority of minor annoyances and problems of life could be accepted as long as they were for the good of the art.

    It had been lucky timing that she¡¯d found her way to De Luca¡¯s studio when she did. Even after being accepted as a garzona, her bitterness and anger had almost kept her from absorbing the lessons that De Luca had taught her. In little more than a year¡¯s time of instruction she had transformed into a new person; gone was the half-contained rage that had always seemed to control her. Occasionally she would still have a flare of anger, but she had learned the tools to cope with them. Just as Master De Luca had taught her; true Artists respected the Art even when Art led to inconveniences. She had become a true Artist.

    She had become Maple.

    ¡°What¡¯s in the big box?¡± Elena asked. Maple closed her eyes for a moment. Elena¡¯s voice was always so cheerful. It wasn¡¯t necessarily a bad thing, but it lacked a certain gravitas that a true Artist should maintain.

    ¡°You always ask so many questions.¡± Fred commented from behind them.

    ¡°What? That was just one!¡±

    ¡°Yeah but there¡¯s always five or six following on its tail.¡±

    ¡°Why are you complaining about questions I haven¡¯t asked yet?¡±

    Annoyingly chipper or not, she asks questions so that she can learn. She asks questions to further her own Art, I can respect that. Besides, this is good; forming bonds, garzona to garzona. If there¡¯s one thing I can learn from Vittoria, it¡¯s that it¡¯s good to make garzona connections.

    ¡°It¡¯s a carving,¡± Maple interrupted the two, stopping and opening the box to show Elena. A little wooden squirrel rested on green cloth within, still and silent, dead wood. ¡°It¡¯s one of mine. One that didn¡¯t turn out.¡±

    ¡°But it looks so cute!¡± Elena all but squealed. ¡°And it looks so lifelike, how can you say it didn¡¯t turn out?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a fucking Caelator,¡± Maple snapped. ¡°The fact that it just ¡®looks¡¯ lifelike means it didn¡¯t turn out.¡± She centered herself almost immediately, adding ¡°or at least it didn¡¯t turn out how I would¡¯ve liked. Living. Breathing.¡±

    They continued in silence for a while longer, and Maple mused. She had been snapping like that a lot more often over the past week or so, slipping back into the habits of Frederica. Perhaps it was because of the sudden influx of four new garzoni adding chaos to her life, or maybe it was the fear that nagged at the back of her mind that she wouldn¡¯t make it, but she had been finding it harder to slip into Maple, harder to see the art in everything.

    ¡°I thought you were bringing me with you to check out a block of wood. Why are you taking that piece with us?¡±

    ¡°Told you there¡¯d be more questions.¡± Fred smirked.

    ¡°Questions don¡¯t hurt Fred, shut up.¡± Maple tried to think of the best way to phrase her answer. ¡°The short answer is that even though Master De Luca has the money to handle our supply purchases, he also appreciates it when we can offset those costs, so I¡¯m selling it. Except our studio doesn¡¯t bother selling mundane art, it makes us look bad.¡±

    ¡°Why would that make us look-¡±

    ¡°Because Studio De Luca is the studio of Stormtouched. He doesn¡¯t accept Mortalis, he hires Rhetor as cooks, and as far as the everyday Milian knows, he and his garzoni don¡¯t produce mundane art. But we¡¯re not perfect, not everything I make has the Storm in it, not all of Carlo and Vittoria¡¯s paintings are Touched. It¡¯d be a waste to get rid of them, so we make money off of them.¡±

    ¡°If the studio doesn¡¯t sell them then who buys them?¡±

    Perhaps it would¡¯ve been a less annoying question if they hadn¡¯t just arrived at their destination. Maple sighed, and reminded herself that however unobservant and stupid Elena was, she respected the Art. She waited patiently for Elena to make the connection on her own. The girl waited for an answer for a long time, but finally began looking around her, actually seeing where she was.

    ¡°This is the Street of Grey Artisans, isn¡¯t it? Is this another studio? Who¡¯s studio is on the Street of Grey- Wait, you sell to THEM?¡± Elena¡¯s face was such a mixture of outrage and horror that it was almost comical. ¡°Frederica you can¡¯t be serious! Other studios are taking credit for De Luca¡¯s work?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re well payed for it. Besides, you don¡¯t seem to have a problem with De Luca taking credit for his garzoni¡¯s work.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s...that¡¯s different!¡±

    Maple looked up at the sturdy grey bricks of the Grey Studio, ignoring Elena¡¯s sputtering. Its walls seemed more solid than those of De Luca¡¯s studio, and a heavy iron gate separated the courtyard from the street to complete the picture. It was built to withstand intrusion, built to be defensive. The Art of the place was in the design to keep people out.

    Built poorly, Maple smirked.

    ¡°Who¡¯s studio is this?¡± Elena asked again.

    ¡°I just think of it as the Grey Studio,¡± Maple tugged at the rope that hung in front of the gate, ¡°it¡¯s Master DaRose¡¯s.¡±

    ¡°Master DaRose...the name sounds so familiar...¡±

    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t it? There are only eight Masters in Milia, eight great studios.¡±

    ¡°Something else-¡±

    ¡°Well, well, well.¡± Maple didn¡¯t like the boy the second she heard his voice. ¡°If it isn¡¯t Miss Lucciano and friend.¡± The boy¡¯s grey uniform marked him out as one of DaRose¡¯s garzoni, his brown curls marked him out as a heartthrob, and the way he was looking at Elena confirmed his was just as slimy as his voice indicated.

    ¡°Arturo! I wondered why DaRose¡¯s name sounded so familiar!¡± Elena seemed delighted to see the boy, and Maple kept her lip from curling.

    ¡°Ah, so you remember my name and everything.¡± The word¡¯s seemed bitter, but Arturo¡¯s smile was wide and friendly. ¡°I wondered if life as a De Luca garzona would¡¯ve driven your unimportant friends from your head.¡±

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    ¡°Of course I wouldn¡¯t forget you!¡± Elena seemed too excited to pick up on the bitterness in his words, and she turned back to Maple. ¡°Frederica, this is a friend of mine, we met when we were both applying to be De Luca¡¯s garzoni.¡± When her back was turned, Arturo¡¯s eyes travelled down to her backside, and Maple¡¯s dislike of him was solidified. Elena was...not a ¡®friend¡¯ exactly, but she was a fellow garzona, which made Maple feel almost protective of her, like a big sister saddled with an annoying sibling. She would be damned if this slimeball oggled her not-really-a-sister¡¯s ass.

    ¡°How lovely.¡± Maple smiled sweetly in Arturo¡¯s direction. ¡°What a shame he wasn¡¯t good enough to be accepted.¡±

    Arturo¡¯s smile slipped from his face, which satisfied her. Elena¡¯s Echo glanced at her, and a look passed between them. Maple couldn¡¯t help but feel that she had passed some hidden test as far as Ele was concerned.

    ¡°Frederica!¡± Elena gasped.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s alright Elena.¡± Arturo¡¯s Echo piped up from behind him, a paintbrush behind her ear. ¡°It¡¯s pretty typical. Garzoni of different studios tend to be a little...tense...around each other.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re selling.¡± Maple said, handing Arturo the box. ¡°Mundane animal sculpture, standard price. Go tell your Master.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t need to check with DaRose, we can pay.¡± Arturo growled, and Maple grinned. He opened the gate, but didn¡¯t make a move to welcome them in, instead turning to his Echo. ¡°Go get Agnolo, tell him to bring money for a De Luca sculpture.¡±

    It was a bad habit, left over from when she didn¡¯t know how to be Maple, but Frederica occasionally liked pushing people to the edge, making them feel a hint of the anger that had up until a year ago always filled her. These days she reserved it for people who had offended her. Being a DaRose garzoni was enough to offend her; ogling Elena had merely pushed her over the edge.

    ¡°So did you fail to get in to any other studios as well before you ended up here, or was it just De Luca¡¯s?¡± She asked lightly. Arturo set his jaw and said nothing.

    ¡°Frederica, you don¡¯t have to be so rude.¡± Elena admonished.

    Oh but I do, I do have to be rude. If I¡¯m rude enough he¡¯ll get angry, and if he gets angry enough I might find out who he really is. Not that the information was worth anything, but it would upset him, and it would satisfy her curiosity, so it was reason enough to pass the time while they waited for her money.

    ¡°Oh I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to be rude,¡± Maple laughed. ¡°I just never know what will upset people. I know I wouldn¡¯t mind being confronted with the truth if I failed to achieve a goal...at least, I don¡¯t think I would. I wouldn¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure why you¡¯re doing this.¡± Arturo¡¯s jaw was clenched. ¡°It¡¯s pretty obvious to everyone here that you¡¯re trying to get a rise out of me, for whatever reason.¡±

    And it¡¯s working. Maple thought. ¡°I don¡¯t really need a reason, do I?¡± She said aloud. ¡°It¡¯s not as if you can do anything about it, is it?¡± It was a shot in the dark, but his type tended to be on-edge when it came to challenges to their power.

    ¡°I can shut you up.¡± Arturo¡¯s face darkened and he reached for his belt, where a leather cylinder hung. It was a subtle motion, but the leather cylinder was a dead giveaway. It was fashioned to carry papers, and she knew one person who used a cylinder like that.

    ¡°Aaah.¡± Maple said with satisfaction. ¡°Grabber. No, I don¡¯t think you want to try playing that game with me.¡±

    Grabber frowned, but he dropped his hand from the leather cylinder begrudgingly.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to,¡± he muttered, ¡°it¡¯s broad fucking daylight anyways.¡±

    ¡°Why did she call you Grabber, Arturo?¡± Elena was looking back and forth between the two of them, and Maple cursed under her breath. More questions De Luca wouldn¡¯t want Elena asking, and this time it was pretty squarely her fault.

    ¡°I¡¯d actually prefer if you forgot I mentioned that name, Elena.¡± She said.

    ¡°Why is that?¡± One of the other DaRose garzoni brought a small purse of coins and handed it to Grabber, but he had picked up on Elena¡¯s question and pounced. ¡°Does she not know?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take that please.¡± Maple¡¯s voice was tight as she snatched the purse from Grabber¡¯s hand. ¡°We¡¯ll be going now.¡±

    ¡°Iam matre she doesn¡¯t know. She doesn¡¯t know any of it.¡± Grabber seemed delighted by the fact. ¡°What the hell do you even tell her to explain it all away?¡±

    ¡°Tell me what? What don¡¯t I know? Arturo do you know something about...about what happened a week ago?¡±

    It was bad. The entire situation was bad, Maple saw that now. She shouldn¡¯t have brought Elena here, shouldn¡¯t have baited Arturo, definitely shouldn¡¯t have said his real name aloud. Maple struggled for the words, for anything that she could use as damage control. She resorted to the one thing she knew she could fall back on; intimidation.

    ¡°Terribly sorry you won¡¯t be able to answer Elena¡¯s questions Grabber, but we¡¯ll be going now. Let me repeat, you don¡¯t want to play games with me again. If you¡¯ll recall, the last time we played, I won.¡±

    Grabber, Grabber¡¯s Echo Arta, Elena and Ele, Maple and Fred all waited in tense silence for a few moments as Grabber scanned her face for a few moments.

    ¡°Hundred Eye?¡± He ventured. Maple rolled her eyes. ¡°No....Maple.¡± Grabber¡¯s face darkened even more if possible, and Maple flashed him a quick smile. ¡°I got a few licks in.¡± He said sullenly.

    ¡°I won.¡± Maple repeated. They stared at each other for a long moment, then Grabber dropped his gaze.

    ¡°Enjoy the rest of your day.¡± He mumbled.

    ¡°Really Arturo? You won¡¯t tell me anything either?¡± Elena asked. ¡°I thought you were my friend!¡±

    ¡°I am...I just...it¡¯s complicated. Good to see you again Elena. Maybe next time we can have a better conversation. One where we¡¯re alone.¡±

    The statement was obviously intended to make Maple nervous, but she knew she could keep the pair from meeting before Master De Luca got back, and Master De Luca would know how to handle the situation.

    Elena was quiet as they left the studio, but Maple left her to her thoughts. They made their way towards the outer edge of town where the farmer lived who had promised Maple her block of wood.

    ¡°Am I ever going to learn what¡¯s been going on Frederica?¡± Elena suddenly asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s not up to me.¡± Maple replied. ¡°But I¡¯m going to bring it up to De Luca when he gets back. You¡¯ll be told, just...you have to wait until he decides the time is right.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t like not knowing things.¡±

    ¡°Then hurry up and we¡¯ll go look at that block of wood. You¡¯ll know about that.¡±

    ¡°If you say so.¡±

    Maple frowned.

    So much for garzona connection.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 20

    ¡°Stop ringing that bell Ele.¡± Elena rolled over in her bed, cracking her eye just enough to confirm it was still dark. Some analytical part of her brain sleepily assured her that even a hint of a sunrise would be reflected in the walls, so she was fine to go back to sleep. ¡°So tired,¡± she groaned.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t ring no bell, why would I ring a bell?¡± Ele mumbled.

    ¡°Liar.¡± Elena grumbled, but found herself falling back to sleep before she could even finish the accusation.

    ***

    The bell rang again, sharp enough that Elena winced as she woke up.

    ¡°Elena...the bell.¡± Ele¡¯s voice was enough to rouse her, and moments later Elena realized what exactly the bell indicated: someone had either left or entered by the kitchen door, setting off her contraption and waking her up. The realization was enough to wake her up, and she scrambled out of bed.

    ¡°Did it go off before?¡± She asked, wincing at the sudden cold of the room after the warm coziness of her blankets.

    ¡°I think it did,¡± Ele was near the door, his head cocked to one side. ¡°I vaguely remember it but we fell back asleep. Must¡¯ve been louder this time; someone opened the door harder.¡±

    ¡°What do we do now?¡± Elena hissed. ¡°Is it another intruder? Should we lock this door?¡± Ele put a finger to his lips, but Elena had heard the noise as well, and she fell silent immediately. A clicking sound was moving down the hallway, like stilts on the tile floor. It moved slower than it had on the night she was shot, but it was unmistakably the same.

    Elena glanced around her room for something she could use as a weapon. The only thing that would serve the purpose was the heavy wooden mallet she had used to hammer the hooks into the wall; she¡¯d forgotten to return it when she had finished.

    ¡°You¡¯re not a fighter.¡± Ele breathed as she hefted it in one hand. She knew he was right, and she hoped she didn¡¯t have to face another intruder, but the weight of the hammer was comforting in her hand. As it came closer Elena could make out the sounds of grunts and heavy breathing.

    ¡°Careful for Elena¡¯s doorframe.¡± Someone whispered, and Elena let out a tiny breath of relief. The noises were from someone who knew her, someone in the studio. She could fling the door open now if she wanted and she would probably be safe.

    Instead she pressed her ear against the door. This might be a good chance to get answers. The heavy clicking noise reached the outside of her door and then moved on without pausing, and she could hear that there were several figures moving cautiously in the hallway.

    ¡°One...two...three...four...¡± Elena began counting at the rate their footsteps had passed, trying to gauge in her mind how long the hallway extended before it hit a corner. When she figured enough time had passed, she quietly opened the door and peeked out. The timing hadn¡¯t been precise enough to see them go around the corner as she¡¯d planned, but she at least hadn¡¯t opened it when they were still in her hall.

    ¡°Should I go through walls? Try to eavesdrop?¡± Ele asked in a whisper.

    ¡°Sure, but be careful, there are other Echoes in the studio.¡± Elena whispered back. She tossed the wooden mallet onto the bed in her room, carefully shut the door behind her, and moved to follow the mysterious group.

    They had apparently crossed a larger distance than she¡¯d thought, because the next hallway was empty. Elena ran down it in a quiet jog, and peered around the corner to finally catch her first glimpse of them.

    Walking slowly and patiently behind the group of people was a gigantic tan spider, about the size of a very large dog. Elena clamped one hand to her mouth to keep from shrieking. It was the source of the clicking noises, but it took her a few moments to calm down before she realized why. It was made entirely of a light-colored wood, and its heavy footfalls along the stone tile of the studio made the noises she had thought were created by stilts.

    The fact that it was made of wood did little to comfort Elena. It was lifelike and terrifyingly smooth in its movements, its body swaying as it walked behind the group of people. For a split-second Elena thought of what it would look like charging towards her, and she shivered and pushed the thought from her mind. She turned her attention to the people in front of the spider, almost forgotten after seeing the horrible creature.

    Two people were carrying a third between them, holding the third¡¯s body at the ankles and the shoulders, while a fourth walked in front of them. Even though they wore dark yellow hoods and scarves that concealed their faces, one of them was clearly Niccolo; his distinctive bow was slung across his body to keep it out of the way. From their frames the other two were girls, and Elena could only assume they were Frederica and Vittoria. Did that make the still man they carried Carlo? Was he alright? Around the foursome their Echoes milled as well, dressed in dark colors that seemed to blend into the dim halls.

    The garzoni were carrying their comrade into one of the other private dorm rooms, although Elena didn¡¯t know which room belonged to which. She ducked back around the corner in case one of them chose to look around while they fiddled with the door and entered. After a few moments, the gentle ¡°click¡± of the latch confirmed that they had closed it behind them.

    They hadn¡¯t left anyone outside of the room to guard it, not even the spider. Elena was able to approach the door silently, close enough that she could hear the voices within.

    ¡°On the bed. No, other way. Careful...watch his arm.¡± A few moments of silence marked what Elena assumed was placing the body on the bed.

    ¡°Dulcia et crustulam the boy could stand to lose some weight.¡± Niccolo groaned.

    ¡°Really Niccolo, you¡¯re cracking jokes right now? Jokes, instead of apologizing, or saying how this will never happen again?¡± Carla¡¯s voice carried barely-contained fury, and Elena shivered at the sound of it.

    ¡°I plan on apologizing as soon as he wakes up, and I¡¯m not saying ¡®this will never happen again¡¯ because I don¡¯t much care for empty promises I can¡¯t keep. It¡¯ll probably happen again, because this whole thing is dangerous.  It might not, if he doesn¡¯t go out again. That¡¯s really up to you and Carlo.¡±

    ¡°You know we don¡¯t really have the choice. It¡¯s this or leave De Luca¡¯s studio.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a choice,¡± Niccolo pointed out. ¡°Perhaps not a very nice one, but a choice nonetheless.¡±

    Whatever exchange of glances occurred between the people in the room, Elena wasn¡¯t privy to them.

    I won¡¯t be able to tell when they¡¯re about to leave, she realized uncomfortably. One of them could be about to open the door right this moment. When someone finally spoke she breathed a sigh of relief.

    ¡°This...this evening could¡¯ve gone better, friends.¡± The voice belonged to Vittoria, her voice just as dreamy and disattached as it always was.

    ¡°What was so different this time?¡± Carla demanded. ¡°We¡¯ve dealt with DaRose¡¯s crew before, why did it go so much worse?¡±

    Elena sat down outside of the doorway, leaning her head back against the stone and trying to both listen and process what she heard. DaRose¡¯s garzoni had done something to Carlo? But why? And why had they been around DaRose¡¯s garzoni in the first place?

    ¡°They were ready for us this time. They were expecting us.¡± Niccolo replied. ¡°Which is really weird considering this was just supposed to be a random t-and-o.¡± There was a pregnant pause. ¡°It was just random, right Frederica?¡± The pause stretched even further.

    Stolen story; please report.¡°That¡¯s the reason then. It wasn¡¯t random at all was it?¡± Carla accused. ¡°You picked DaRose because of some grudge you had, and they knew about that grudge so they knew we were aiming for them. We all walked in there and the six of us were the only ones who didn¡¯t have the whole picture.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t think anyone would need the whole picture.¡± Frederica said defensively. ¡°We didn¡¯t need some kind of ¡®big picture¡¯ last time.¡±

    ¡°What was it? What was worth it? Did someone say something about one of your stupid animals? Someone make fun of your face? Someone wore the wrong color shirt?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve gotten better.¡± It sounded as if Frederica was talking through clenched teeth, growing quieter the more agitated Carla became. ¡°I¡¯m not that bad anymore.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you certainly have Frederica, you¡¯ve gone from lashing out in the moment to lashing out with half-baked vengeance plans that put us all at risk instead of just you.¡±

    ¡°What are you yelling about Carla?¡± Carlo¡¯s voice was a little weak, but Elena was surprised at how glad she was to hear it. She and Carlo may not have interacted much, but he was a fellow garzoni, and in Elena¡¯s books that counted for a lot.

    ¡°Carlo! Are you alright? How bad is it?¡± Carla asked, her anger at Frederica apparently forgotten.

    ¡°My arm hurts like a devil is gnawing at it.¡±

    ¡°As far as we can tell it¡¯s broken it two places,¡± Niccolo said, his serious tone sounding a bit odd and unsuited to him. ¡°We¡¯ll bring in a medico tomorrow, but in the meantime the splint will keep it set. Sorry we didn¡¯t keep this from happening.¡±

    ¡°What the hell happened? It was just Grey Studio! Where they always that...organized?¡±

    ¡°No. That would be because they knew we were coming. Apparently Frederica here made a friend. She was just about to tell us about it.¡±

    A sullen pause stretched again.

    ¡°It was one of the new DaRose garzoni, Arthur or something.¡± Frederica said begrudgingly. ¡°I was there with Elena selling one of my statues, and they knew each other, and he figured out that she didn¡¯t know anything. He hinted to me that he¡¯d tell her. Couldn¡¯t let him just threaten me to my face could I?¡±

    ¡°He threatened to tell her, without any provoking at all? He took a dislike to you just like that?¡± Niccolo punctuated his question with a snap of his fingers. Frederica¡¯s silence must¡¯ve been answer enough. ¡°I didn¡¯t think so.¡±

    ¡°Well I might¡¯ve been poking at him a little, but he was a scumbag anyways! He was checking out Elena¡¯s bum!¡±

    Elena didn¡¯t realize how engrossed she was in the conversation until she caught herself almost blurting out a denial. There was no way Arturo would do that...but even if he did, would it have been the worst thing in the world?

    ¡°Well, you can¡¯t exactly blame the man, she does have a nice bum.¡± Niccolo chuckled. Elena blushed so hard she thought her face would catch on fire, and Vittoria thankfully broke in before that particular line of conversation could go any further.

    ¡°We need to discuss how we¡¯re going to handle this setback, and then we need to get to bed. Tomorrow will be rough enough as it is, we don¡¯t need to stay up even later fantasizing about possibly-underaged bums.¡±

    I¡¯m eighteen years old! Elena thought indignantly.

    ¡°Right you are. So, what does this setback mean for us as a whole?¡±

    ¡°De Luca will be furious.¡± Frederica¡¯s voice was downcast.

    ¡°He will be.¡± Vittoria sounded just as regretful. ¡°He might¡¯ve not minded coming home to an unexpected win. He might not have even minded coming home to an unexpected draw. I don¡¯t think any of us can honestly say this was a draw.¡±

    ¡°Now hold on...what if we turned it into one?¡± Niccolo asked thoughtfully.

    ¡°Even you aren¡¯t that good at spinning bullshit.¡± Nicci sounded exhausted, the humor normally in her voice missing. ¡°Grey Studio was a loss Niccolo, plain and simple.¡±

    ¡°Grey Studio was a loss, but we could go out again before De Luca gets back. Get a win under our belts to balance out the DaRose catastrophe.¡±

    ¡°Carlo isn¡¯t going anywhere.¡± Carla snapped. ¡°He¡¯s got a broken arm, he¡¯s going to take things easy unless specifically ordered by De Luca.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fair,¡± Niccolo acknowledged, ¡°but we can manage without him. We only did this badly because DaRose knew we were coming. No one would expect us to go back out the next night, especially once they start hearing about Carlo¡¯s arm. No matter who we choose, we¡¯ll have the element of surprise.¡±

    ¡°And it would seem impressive, pulling off a win with just the six of us.¡± Vittoria said thoughtfully. ¡°What do you think Frederica?¡±

    ¡°I should¡¯ve told you about Arthur, you all are right.¡± Frederica said. ¡°I would¡¯ve liked to have my bird finished, but I can make do. And I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°Just keep it in mind for the future Maple,¡± Niccolo said good-naturedly, ¡°we¡¯re on your side, you know?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, not like whatever idiot provisional broke my bird.¡±

    ¡°Speaking of the provisionals, we should make sure they¡¯re all asleep.¡± Vittoria said, and Elena was on her feet in an instant. ¡°Vi, would you mind checking on them?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± said Vi, her voice identical, ¡°I can see-¡±

    Elena didn¡¯t hear the rest of the sentence, she was already careening down the hallway back to her room. Echoes could move through doors and walls; if Vi headed for Elena¡¯s room first she would get there before Elena did.

    Luck seemed to be with her, and she gently closed the door behind her and threw herself into the bed, biting back a curse as she landed on the wooden mallet she¡¯d left on the bed. It was hard to regulate her breathing after the mad dash, but Elena closed her eyes and tried to focus on taking deep breaths. Long moments passed, and Elena worried and wondered where Ele had gotten to; she¡¯d half-expected that he would be waiting for her when she returned to the room. What would they do if the others caught him wandering around the studio?

    ¡°Elena, are you awake?¡± Vi¡¯s voice was sweet and quiet, but it was so unexpected that Elena almost jumped.

    Creepy silent Echoes... She just barely managed to keep her breathing steady, her face peaceful. She wasn¡¯t quite sure how much time passed before Vi spoke again. ¡°Oh hello Ele. I was just checking up on Elena to make sure Vittoria and I hadn¡¯t woken her.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s been sleeping all night,¡± Ele said smoothly, although his voice was a little cold. ¡°I thought I heard something in the courtyard outside so I went out to check on it.¡±

    ¡°That was probably us. We couldn¡¯t sleep so we went for a walk.¡± Vi said. Elena cracked an eye to see the Echoes watching each other, sizing each other up with shrewd eyes. A long pause passed, long enough that Elena began to grow uncomfortable.

    ¡°You¡¯re a very good liar,¡± Ele finally said bluntly.

    ¡°And you¡¯re a very good Echo,¡± Vi replied, ¡°Elena is lucky to have you to protect her, but you don¡¯t have to be so paranoid about her.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s more going on in this studio than you or your Stormtouched are letting on.¡±

    ¡°Obviously. But you should believe me when I say she¡¯s perfectly safe. No one in the studio wants to harm her. In fact for most of them it¡¯s quite the opposite.¡±

    ¡°Like I said,¡± Ele moved past Vi and stood between her and Elena, ¡°you¡¯re a very good liar. I¡¯m not sure I¡¯d believe anything you say. Now if you¡¯ll excuse me, I think I¡¯d like it if you left.¡±

    Elena sat up, but by the time she did Vi had slipped through the door, leaving as silently as she had entered.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 21

    Normally it was the pleasant banging of pots and pans just down the hall that woke Elena up, but today it was the jingle of the bell above her head, warning her that Cook had entered the kitchen.

    I should¡¯ve taken the bell down. She mused, staring at the ceiling. The pots and pans are a nice reminder that I¡¯m part of De Luca¡¯s studio. The bell is a reminder of last night.

    ¡°You¡¯re making your Joanna face.¡± Ele observed from the seat in the corner of the room. ¡°That usually means you¡¯re about to be either snobby or cranky.¡±

    ¡°They haven¡¯t told me anything. All of this hidden secret stuff going on at the studio, what I thought was my studio, and they haven¡¯t told me anything. From their point of view I¡¯m just a child who they don¡¯t need to give any real answers.¡±

    ¡°Ah, cranky then. Good. I think we both deserve to be a little cranky.¡±

    ¡°Do you realize you¡¯ve only been hurt once in your life, and we still don¡¯t know why it happened?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m quite aware of that,¡± Ele rubbed his jaw and winced, ¡°and I¡¯d like an explanation myself.¡±

    The pair shared a look before Elena swung her feet out of bed, glancing around the small room with a brooding glare. The jangling bell meant that Cook and the Rhetors had entered the kitchen, so she should go and start helping them right away. Instead she continued brooding and thought about De Luca and the full garzoni.

    ¡°You¡¯re thinking about doing something stupid, aren¡¯t you?¡± Ele asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m thinking about it,¡± Elena admitted.

    ¡°Something like following them tonight, and seeing for yourself what they¡¯re up to?¡±

    ¡°Something exactly like that.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡±

    ***

    ¡°Leetel garzona, you hev the face of a demon this morning!¡± Cook seemed genuinely distressed when Elena entered the kitchen.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Cook, I just had...had trouble sleeping last night.¡± Elena faltered, taking a bowl of cream from the ice chest without being asked. ¡°It¡¯s put me in a funk.¡±

    ¡°You and me both, sister.¡± Erik scowled from his customary stool in the corner of the kitchen. Now that she noticed, the Rhetorguard did look rather horrible. There were deep circles under his eyes, his hair was greasy as if it hadn¡¯t been washed in days, and his left eye twitched.

    ¡°When was the last time you got some sleep Erik?¡± Ele asked, taking an empty stool across the large kitchen table from Elena. Garnet was peeling potatoes, but Elena thought she could see his eyes flick from Ele to Erik.

    Oh, that¡¯s right...Rhetorguards are Mortalis...

    ¡°When was the last time you had a good night¡¯s sleep Erik?¡± Elena repeated her Echo¡¯s question.

    ¡°A full night? Can¡¯t remember the last time,¡± Erik snarled, ¡°Garnet over there seems committed to working himself to the bone day and night, which would be fine if it didn¡¯t mean I had to be up at all hours alongside him.¡±

    ¡°Garnet, he makes the kitchens run smooth like butter,¡± Cook interjected, ¡°every moment he ees finding recipes, he ees preparing food, he ees cleaning kitchen, cleaning tools, coming up with lists of foods to buy-¡±

    ¡°Garnet¡¯s been writing you lists?¡± Erik roared, sitting up fast. Elena was startled at the transformation; one moment a worn out man sat hunched in the corner, the next Erik was standing, tall, threatening, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

    ¡°No no! Garnet he no write anything!¡± Cook waved his hands wildly, ¡°he ees good Rhetor! Every morning I em asking him, ¡®Garnet do we need dairy today?¡¯ He nod yes or no. ¡®Do we needing cheeses today?¡¯ He nod yes or no. Ees long process but we make work.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Erik seemed to uncoil as he sat back down. ¡°I¡¯ve seen you two doing that before. When you said ¡®making lists¡¯ I...well I was mistaken that¡¯s all. Sorry Cook.¡±

    ¡°Seems like he should be apologizing to Garnet.¡± Ele noted. Elena agreed, but kept quiet. The entire kitchen seemed to follow her example for a while: Cook uncharacteristically quiet as he got out the utensils and built a fire beneath the large stove, Garnet peeling potatoes in his customary and enforced silence, Erik brooding in the corner. It felt unnatural and awkward enough that Elena breathed a sigh of relief when Emerald and Rolf walked through the door.

    ¡°Emerald apologizes for her lateness, but apparently finding the perfect hairstyle was more important to her than showing up to her work on time,¡± Rolf said good naturedly as they came in, ¡°Emerald you may respond with the unladylike reaction I know you¡¯re just dying to- ah, yes, there it is.¡± He finished as Emerald gave him the middle finger. Elena grinned. The pair¡¯s odd, one-sided banter was good natured, and despite her response there was a smile in the corner of Emerald¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°Emerald she ees forgiven, for you two are welcome in my kitchen,¡± Cook said, ¡°you both happy, not like cranky leetle garzona and surly rhetorgaurd today. And her hair look nice.¡±

    ¡°Surly are we Erik?¡± Rolf chuckled, turning to the man in the corner, ¡°you could always improve your spirits by-¡±

    His face turned cold as his voice trailed off. Elena glanced in Erik¡¯s direction to see the man sleeping peacefully, his hands clasped and resting on his belly. Rolf crossed the distance of the kitchen in two long strides, and without a word slammed his fist into the other Rhetorguard¡¯s face.

    Erik fell of the stool heavily, yelling inarticulately and flailing. He grabbed at his sword and drew it halfway before Rolf set a heavy boot on his sword hand, pinning it to Erik¡¯s stomach.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you drew your sword with the intent of falling on it, due to your failure,¡± Rolf said quietly, ¡°but I have some words for you before you go about that.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t mean to fall asleep,¡± Erik protested, ¡°I can explain; it¡¯s been a rough couple-¡±

    ¡°No, now is not the time for you to speak,¡± Rolf interrupted. ¡°And I don¡¯t much care for what you meant to do. You left your Rhetor unguarded, what explanation is there for that? You left your Rhetor unguarded while holding a weapon.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just a potato peeler-¡±

    ¡°Garnet.¡± Rolf whirled to face the silent blond man. ¡°Do you think you could kill a sleeping man with a potato peeler? If you tried really, really hard?¡± Garnet shrugged, continuing to peel potatoes and clearly not interested in engaging in the discussion. Elena suddenly shivered at the sight of how easy the small knife stripped the skin off of the potatoes before he deposited each in a bowl of water.

    ¡°There are people around!¡± Erik still tried to protest, but Rolf talked right over him.

    ¡°It¡¯s your one sole purpose in life Erik. The one thing you have to do, the one job you have, is keeping eyes and ears on Garnet at all times. If you¡¯re that hard pressed for sleep, then keep him chained up longer and sleep in some morning.¡±

    ¡°You chain them up when they sleep?¡± Elena asked, horrified.

    ¡°It¡¯s the only way to ensure they don¡¯t sneak off or cause trouble when their Rhetorguards are sleeping,¡± Rolf explained before turning back to Erik. The heavy man was breathing hard under Rolf¡¯s boot.

    ¡°Don¡¯t report me to the Guardhouse.¡± It was strange to hear the imposing armored man plead, surly though the pleading was. ¡°It was one mistake. It won¡¯t happen again, I¡¯ll make sure of it. Don¡¯t tell you you haven¡¯t made a mistake before.¡±

    ¡°Of course I haven¡¯t. I¡¯m a Rhetorguard.¡± Rolf stepped away from Erik with a look of disgust. ¡°I won¡¯t report you. But if I had reported you, Garnet would get accolades. I don¡¯t know exactly how you¡¯re going to repay him, but figure it out. You know he¡¯s observant enough to see you sleeping, but he didn¡¯t take advantage of it.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t see fit to wake me up either.¡± Erik grumbled, getting to his feet and brushing himself off.

    ¡°That¡¯s not his responsibility, it¡¯s yours.¡± Rolf reached up and yanked down the rolling pin Emerald had been reaching for, a sour expression on his face.

    ¡°Now all my helpers cranky and surly,¡± Cook grumbled, ¡°too much to ask to see happy face? Happy wave?¡±

    Emerald waved at Cook, her eyes smiling.

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t count as a direct question Emerald, watch it,¡± Rolf snapped the warning. The kitchen remained in the chilled silence that followed.

    ***

    Elena stared at the ceiling, her eyes sore from her second night of little sleep in a row. The day had gone by in a blur, working on the paintbrushes and resolutely ignoring the full garzoni. Carlo had apparently ¡°fallen on the stairs,¡± and every time she glanced at his empty workbench with its loose half-painted tiles lying on it she felt her stomach tightening.

    The full garzoni had certainly noticed something was wrong, but Elena had had nothing to say to them, and eventually even Niccolo had left her alone. She could never remember being so angry.

    ¡°I¡¯m a garzona. A real garzona.¡± She muttered under her breath for the seventh time. ¡°Why would De Luca bother taking me on but hiding something so huge that Carlo would break his arm over it? How is Vi so sure that I¡¯ll be safe when I¡¯ve been shot in the hallway of this very room?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll find out the full story tonight.¡± Although she couldn¡¯t see him while staring at the ceiling, Ele¡¯s quiet voice was calm and comforting. ¡°But whatever the true story is behind all this, you¡¯ll be better equipped to handle it if you get some sleep.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t sleep,¡± Elena said, ¡°the last time I fell asleep I missed the bell, and I can¡¯t make that mistake a second time. I know they¡¯re going out tonight, this could be my only chance.¡±

    ¡°Suit yourself,¡± Ele said, and the room lapsed into silence again.

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Elena¡¯s eyelids drooped, and she focused on the bell hanging above her head to keep herself awake. She tried to gauge how much of the room she could see in the tiny curved reflection of the little bell, then when that had exhausted her interest she tried to work out how large she could make the bell before someone might overhear it in another room.

    Is there a unit of measurement for the amount of sound a bell makes? Her mind swam through the thought heavily. If there isn¡¯t there should be...I¡¯m sure some Machinator somewhere has come up with something...

    ***

    ¡°...but I almost forgot to tell you the most amusing part of the entire story! The best thing is, this entire time, Lady Bellini wasn¡¯t pregnant at all!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry...what?¡± Elena wasn¡¯t quite sure she had followed the story, at some point she must¡¯ve tuned the man in the black furs out.

    ¡°I know! She had been faking it the entire time, using a pillow and bribing the servants! Hah!¡± The man in the black furs had such a pleasant laugh. It was halfways between a chortle and a chuckle, and Elena couldn¡¯t help but to smile in response. ¡°Ah, me,¡± he finally sighed, and looked through the window of the carriage.

    Elena followed his example, watching the empty fields and twisted trees pass slowly by as she tried to adjust to the slight swaying motion. The silence was stretching awkwardly, although the man in the black furs didn¡¯t seem to mind. He had settled his large mass back into the pillows in the carriage, his face hidden in the shadows of the dim interior.

    ¡°The carriage is moving a bit slowly,¡± Elena said conversationally. It was proving hard to get her bearings, but at least her companion didn¡¯t seem to mind her awkward attempt at small talk.

    ¡°Mmm, that¡¯s because it¡¯s a litter my dear, not a carriage,¡± the man in black furs corrected. ¡°Isn¡¯t it interesting that long before humans asserted their dominance on horses, we¡¯d already had other humans carrying us around?¡±

    ¡°I...I suppose?¡± Elena wasn¡¯t really paying attention, focusing instead on the buzzing in her temples, taking in her surroundings for what felt like the first time. The interior of the litter was dark, but it was very luxurious with cushions and blankets on both of the wide seats. Across from her the man in the black furs was watching her, although she didn¡¯t know how she could tell without seeing his face. Why couldn¡¯t she see his face, sitting so close to him?

    ¡°Would you like a bit of candied orange my dear?¡± Black Furs offered her a small tin, but Elena shook her head. She¡¯d never much cared for sweets since the disastrous day she had tried to convince her mother to give Ele some sweets for Christmas. The final piece of the puzzle fell into place when Elena realized that Ele was nowhere to be seen.

    ¡°Is everything alright?¡± The man in black furs asked lightly. ¡°My candied orange seems to have given you an epiphany.¡±

    ¡°I only just realized,¡± Elena said almost apologetically, ¡°I think I¡¯m probably dreaming.¡±

    ¡°Do you think so?¡± Black Furs leaned forward, his mass shifting quite suddenly. ¡°Now why would you think something like that?¡±

    ¡°Well because...I don¡¯t remember getting here, my Echo is nowhere around, and I can¡¯t see your face.¡±

    ¡°Oh my goodness, really?¡± Black Furs was pleased, she didn¡¯t need to see his face to see that, a kind of happiness and excitement that was almost frightening in its intensity. ¡°Wonderful. Oh how exquisitely excellent. How fortuitous, what are the odds? What are the odds indeed? I must gather the others.¡±

    ¡°What others are you gathering?¡± Elena asked, smiling and humoring Black Furs. As far as dreams went she could do worse for a companion than the large chortling mystery man.

    ¡°Oh you shall see you shall see, and won¡¯t they be delighted to meet you!¡± Black Furs said distractedly. Figures began appearing on the benches on both sides of the litter, suddenly and without fanfare as if they had been there all along. The litter was rather large, and there was plenty of room on both sides of Elena and Black Furs, but it filled up quickly as more and more arrived. Unlike Black Furs, Elena could clearly see their faces, and she very much wished that she couldn¡¯t.

    One man had no arms, and a face that seemed oddly distant. A girl a few years younger than Elena had almost no face at all; no eyes or nose, but a too-wide mouth that curved up into a grin. The man who appeared next to Elena had strips of skin peeling away from his head. Next to Black Furs was a woman who appeared plain and normal in every feature, but for some reason Elena couldn¡¯t quite meet her eyes. There were others, but Elena couldn¡¯t process the sudden attention of so many inhuman creatures. Her stomach roiled, and she quickly looked down at her hands in her lap.

    It was too much, too many, and every face was horrifying in its own unique way. The interior of the litter darkened even more as the bodies filled the tight space, and Elena felt that somehow even the ones on the very edges were focused on her, even though she couldn¡¯t see them.

    It¡¯s only a dream, it¡¯s only a dream. She told herself firmly, willing herself not to think about the warm bodies pressed against her on both sides.

    ¡°Friends you won¡¯t believe the luck!¡± Black Furs was saying excitedly. ¡°I was just getting ready for bed, and I thought I¡¯d take a little stroll and unwind, maybe share some gossip I¡¯d recently learned about Lady Bellini...oh, by the way Lucrezia remind me to tell you about Lady Bellini sometime-¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t bring us here to talk about Lady Bellini, Wanderer,¡± the girl with only a mouth interrupted, ¡°who is the child?¡±

    ¡°I was just getting to that! Well, I was sharing my gossip and this young lady talked to me.¡± Black Furs leaned back triumphantly, clearly expecting a reaction. The interior of the litter was silent, and Elena could hear her own breathing, shallow and shaky. It was the only sound of breathing in the litter.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t understand the significance.¡± The man with the peeling skin said from next to Elena. She suddenly noticed that the skin was floating gently around his face, as if they were ribbons caught in an unseen breeze. The very sound of his voice was enough to make her flinch.

    ¡°The significance is that she realized she¡¯s in a dream! You realize you¡¯re in a dream don¡¯t you my dear?¡±

    ¡°Y-yes,¡± Elena stammered. ¡°I..I would actually like to wake up now please, if that¡¯s alright.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you see?¡± Black Furs was chortling again, though in the present company Elena couldn¡¯t find it quite as pleasant. ¡°She¡¯s one of us!¡± That statement did garner a reaction. The...things murmured to one another, too fast and too quietly to be heard individually. Elena didn¡¯t quite care what they were saying, she was just glad for the momentary reprieve from the attention.

    ¡°You are a very special young lady, although you probably know that already,¡± The girl with only a grin said. ¡°I¡¯m very pleased to meet you, Miss or Mister....?¡±

    ¡°Elena,¡± Elena introduced herself. Tears began to well up in her eyes, all she wanted to do was to wake up, but she fought them back and introduced herself properly. ¡°Elena Lucciano. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you too.¡±

    ¡°El-en-na Lucc-i-a-no.¡± Black Furs said the name as if each syllable were a delicacy he was savoring. ¡°It¡¯s been some time since we¡¯ve met another of us.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m like you,¡± Elena whispered. ¡°I mean I know this is my dream is trying to tell me I¡¯m becoming a monster or something, but I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve gotten that bad.¡±

    ¡°A monster?¡± Said the plain woman, and her voice, though completely unremarkable, left Elena feeling as if she was going to be sick.

    ¡°You misunderstand, Elena dear.¡± Black Fur said kindly. ¡°We may look a tad monstrous here, yes, but that¡¯s not what I meant. You are like us because you don¡¯t fit, you see?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fitting in just fine!¡± As she thought over the past few weeks of life at De Luca¡¯s studio, even Elena didn¡¯t believe her protests.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright you poor dear!¡± Black Fur reassured her, ¡°not fitting in is a wondrous thing! Just think of the whole of Italoza...indeed, think of the whole of the world. It¡¯s like a giant machine, with a million little gears all spinning in unison to keep it running. Each of those gears so unimportant, so pathetic, so incapable of changing anything!¡±

    ¡°Keeping a huge machine running doesn¡¯t seem very unimportant,¡± Elena pointed out. The calmer she spoke, the more panic seemed to surge in her chest, and her breathing was so rapid she felt as if she should pass out.

    ¡°Oh but it is. Those boring gears will live and die and no one will remember the best of them.¡± The Grinning Girl said dismissively.

    ¡°But sometimes in that sea of mediocrity you find one of us.¡± Black Fur said with relish. ¡°We who can halt the machine or reverse the machine, make the machine do as we please. And because we do not let the machine control us, the boring gears call us bent or warped. That¡¯s what we are, my sweet child. That¡¯s what you are!¡±

    ¡°A broken gear?¡± Elena whimpered.

    ¡°Ooh sweet child, my poor aimless Elena Lucciano.¡± A single tear had fallen down her cheek, and Black Fur reached forward to dry it, tenderly and affectionate though she couldn¡¯t see his face. ¡°Just wait until you realize how much fun a cog¡¯s life can be, when you¡¯re just the tiniest bit...twisted.¡±

    ***

    The bell above her bed jingled, and Elena woke up.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 22

    Carlo snored at night. From what Carla understood, a partner¡¯s snoring could be a big issue for two people living together, keeping them awake and slowly grind away at one¡¯s nerves. Calra didn¡¯t have to worry about it. It was one of those rarely mentioned little perks of being an Echo; when Carlo slept, she slept as well. The only reason she knew he snored was due to the few quiet minutes after she awoke each morning, since Carlo was slower to wake than she.

    Carla rose from her bed and walked around the room, stretching her long legs and using her fingers to brush out her long black hair, surveying the room as the oranges and reds of the morning light illuminated it. It was about twice the size of their original garzoni rooms, enough room that it didn¡¯t feel cramped even with the small desk and chairs.

    She turned to look at Carlo splayed out on the bed. His arm was laying awkwardly and stiff at his side, a sight that worried her. Had he turned over in the night? The pain of it would probably have woken him up, but could he have caused extra damage by not having it looked at by a medic right away? Was the splint enough?

    Carlo groaned loudly and threw his good arm over his eyes to block out the sunlight, a gesture that would¡¯ve been worrisome if he didn¡¯t do it every single morning. His slow approach to mornings often lasted all the way up until breakfast, but that too she was used to by now. Carla crawled back onto the bed on her hands and knees so that she would be the first thing he saw when he finally opened his eyes.

    ¡°Good morning Foresight,¡± she purred when lifted his arm and looked toward the window.

    ¡°Must you use that name? It¡¯s embarrassing when I¡¯m like this,¡± Carlo complained, but his cheeks turned pink, and Carla could tell his mood had been improved right from the start.

    ¡°Very well Master Donato.¡± Carla said primly, sitting up. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to be inappropriate.¡±

    ¡°You know what I mean,¡± Carlo attempted a rude gesture with his splinted arm, and winced in pain. Carla winced sympathetically as well, but couldn¡¯t help but continue to tease.

    ¡°Quite alright Master Donato,¡± she continued to simper. ¡°Your meetings have been cancelled today sir, shall I run and tell your garzoni to prepare your breakfast.¡±

    ¡°If you would be so kind, and make sure all of the paperwork is in order for the incoming batch,¡± Carlo played along, ¡°but first can you check the tiles for me?¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t check them yourself, lazybones?¡±

    ¡°I thought you were playing the part of my secretary in this little fantasy,¡± Carlo grinned.

    ¡°Most men are a little more inventive with their secretary fantasies,¡± Carla grumbled, but she made her way to the small desk anyways, humoring her Stormtouched with a broken arm. She consoled herself with the fact that his gaze followed her across the room with a little more attention than a Master would give a real secretary.

    Carlo had been experimenting with a different water content in his plasters, and the resultant mess took up the majority of the desk, but the top edge nearest the wall was carefully kept clear of the chaos. The tiles lay across the top in a neat row, and Carla turned her attention to each in turn.

    The leftmost tile displayed a field of yellow poppies under a clear blue sky. ¡°Good weather today,¡± she reported, ¡°no rain, a little warm.¡±

    Next to the poppy tile sat a work in pitch black, a pinprick in its center with eight orbs revolving slowly around it in different colors and sizes. ¡°DaRose¡¯s reputation is climbing and De Luca¡¯s falling, but then we expected that.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll probably climb even higher by tonight,¡± Carlo sighed, ¡°it was a bad move, what we tried.¡±

    ¡°If they succeed tonight we¡¯ll get back on track and it won¡¯t be a problem,¡± Carla tried to reassure him.

    ¡°Or they¡¯ll double down and we¡¯ll be even worse off.¡±

    ¡°In the worst case De Luca can come back and blame it on his impetuous garzoni and save most of our reputation.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps. And the last tile?¡±

    Carla hesitated for a moment before she turned her attention to it. She had regretted giving him the idea to paint it. She hated even more that in theory they didn¡¯t know whether it worked or not, besides the shared flutter in their temples when it was completed. Even now, months later, she had to steel herself to look at it. A plain white tile, with the beautifully stylized outline of a skull painted on it. Carla breathed a sigh.

    ¡°Not today,¡± she confirmed, and she could see Carlo relax.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s that then. You have performed your duties quite well Miss Carla.¡± Carlo said with mock offhandedness.

    ¡°How is Master Donato planning on spending his day today, sir?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s...a good question actually. With a broken arm they can¡¯t exactly expect me to bring in Cook¡¯s firewood today, nor can they expect me to grind the pigments or do any other chores really. I suppose I¡¯ve got nothing to do but work on the swirled tiles and worry about how they others will do tonight.¡±

    Carla frowned. The last thing Carlo needed was to be cooped up in his room thinking about the two things that caused him the most stress; painting and keeping his friends safe. Already she could see his forehead wrinkle with concern, could see his shoulders hunch with worry. She cast her mind around for some alternate excuse.

    ¡°Take me out instead!¡±

    ¡°Hmm? Take you out?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been very good Carlo, I¡¯ve stuck by you in your garzoni career, and you know I¡¯ll stick by you no matter what comes along.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re my Echo, you don¡¯t really have a choice but to stick with me.¡±

    ¡°Mentally stick by you, emotional support and the like,¡± Carla clarified with a dirty look. ¡°Anyways, sometimes I need to be taken care of too. It¡¯s been a long time since you¡¯ve taken me out.¡± Carla knew it was a low blow, but she also knew it would be an effective way to get him to relax.

    ¡°It has been some time...¡± Carlo mused aloud.

    ¡°It¡¯s going to be a beautiful day, we don¡¯t have to spend all of it cooped up in the studio. We can spend some time working on the idea you had, then go out in the evening.¡± She sat on the edge of his bed as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes with one hand. ¡°We¡¯ll have dinner at Marchelli¡¯s since we didn¡¯t really have the chance to the last time we were there. Then maybe...¡± Carla dropped her voice and her eyes, ¡°...maybe spend some time together alone at the end of the night?¡±

    She let the suggestion and the implication hang in the air for a few moments before she looked up at him through her lashes. While it was clear he was tempted, she could see the responsibility he felt as a garzoni holding him back. She pulled out her final trick.

    ¡°I¡¯ll wear something pretty,¡± she wheedled, and saw the hesitation leave him before he even opened his mouth.

    ¡°Just this once,¡± he begrudgingly agreed, ¡°but we¡¯re not going to make a habit of it.¡±

    ¡°Rats, I was hoping you breaking your arm could be a bi-monthly affair.¡±

    Carlo stepped into the water closet, and while he was gone Carlo looked down at the plain white uniform she wore, identical to the uniforms of De Luca¡¯s Stormtouched garzoni. It was the clothing most of the garzoni¡¯s Echos had taken to wearing, but promising to change it seemed to be more of an incentive to Carlo than her promise of a night together. Perhaps it reminded Carlo too much of work...maybe she should stop wearing it...

    No, Carla shook herself, he likes a change of pace sometimes, that¡¯s all. Second guessing everything about our relationship isn¡¯t going to help either of us. Carlo emerged from the water closet, and she gave him a smile before she stepped through the wall and into the hallway to let him change. Stepping into the hallway placed her face to face with Leo and his Stormtouched, Leanarda. They were so close to the doorway that they both jumped when she emerged. It appeared that they were just coming down the hallway, but they might¡¯ve been listening at Carlo¡¯s door.

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± Carla snapped.

    ¡°I was just coming to check to see if Carlo was awake,¡± Leanarda said, ¡°I thought maybe we could talk Artifex-to-Artifex about how things are in the studio.¡±

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Carla narrowed her eyes. It was possible that the girl was telling the truth, but it was more likely that there was an ulterior motive. When it came to Carlo, Carla prefered to err on the side of caution.

    ¡°Neither of us are interested in making deals or alliances or whatever drama-filled games you¡¯re trying to play,¡± Carla said. ¡°And Carlo fell on the stairs and injured himself last night. I¡¯d prefer it if you left him alone today.¡±

    The Stormtouched looked like she was about to snap back a response, but Leo murmured something too quiet to hear, and the pair turned back the way they came without another word. Carla watched them go until they¡¯d reached the end of the hallway, then slipped back into the room.

    ¡°You could¡¯ve been nicer about that.¡± Carlo was shirtless, looking through his closet for something to wear. Carla enjoyed the picturesque sight of her Stormtouched at the wardrobe rather than answering. Everything about him made her smile; the way his pants hung off his hips, the way the light glanced off of his wiry shoulders. She even liked his ragged red curls, even though they were currently in disarray from the night.

    ¡°Are you ready to face the day, Foresight?¡± She teased instead of answering.

    ¡°Only if it¡¯ll get us to the night faster,¡± Carlo replied.

    ***

    With the promise of her date ahead of her, Carla¡¯s day seemed to crawl past. She stood by Carlo¡¯s side as the medico bandaged his arm, passing him questions to ask the medico about how often he should change the wrappings and what activities he couldn¡¯t do. The rest of the day was spent in his room, working on his frescoes. It was awkward to prepare each tile one-handed, but most of the desk was already a mess, and he managed.

    They painted three small tiles over the afternoon, but none of them were Touched. The plaster took some time to dry after it was done being painted, but it was obvious to Carla when a tile had the magic of the Storm imbued within it. Normally three ¡°failures¡± would¡¯ve had Carlo in a funk, but he seemed quite cheerful by the time the evening rolled around, and Carla knew she had made the right choice in providing a distraction to think about. Carlo too seemed excited for the prospect, though she didn¡¯t know whether he was more excited for the date or for the night at the end of it.

    He prepared the fourth tile in silence, waiting patiently was painted in near silence. When he began painting Carla would occasionally break in with a murmured word of advice.

    ¡°More water in that.¡±

    ¡°Mhm.¡±

    ¡°Broader strokes here.¡±

    ¡°Not narrow?¡±

    ¡°Narrow wrecks it.¡±

    Carlo finished the fourth painting with a flourish, and set his brush down with a sigh. He stretched his fingers and waited, watching Carla¡¯s face as his knuckles pop. Carla let herself focus on the feeling of the tile, intent on the flutter of the Storm in her temples, but as long minutes passed and the fluttering receded, she finally shook her head.

    ¡°Fourth failure.¡± Carlo sighed. Despite his initial enthusiasm it was clear that he was getting discouraged.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to go get ready,¡± Carla replied, ¡°We¡¯ve waited long enough for our date.¡±

    ¡°Be careful.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t get to see me until our date. I¡¯ll meet you at Marchelli¡¯s.¡±

    She smiled as she felt his eyes on her when she walked through the wall of the room.

    ***

    It wasn¡¯t a bad change, the only cost had been a small cut on her upper thigh that the dress covered nicely. When she arrived at Marchelli¡¯s she made a show of looking around for Carlo long after she had actually located him, just so he was sure to take note of it. Her dress was a light blue, one which hugged her hips and pushed her breasts up. The skirt hung to her knees, layered upon light layer making it flutter at the barest of motions. A matching light blue flower contrasted with the black hair that hung to her waist to complete the ensemble, and altogether she thought she looked rather nice.

    ¡°You look breathtaking.¡± Carlo stood when she reached the table, an act that probably seemed ridiculous to every Mortalis in the rather packed restaurant. Of course, she could hardly let that bother her; the entire evening would probably look strange to them, with Carlo interacting and talking across an empty table.

    Carlo was looking rather nice himself. The white garzoni uniform he normally wore had been left behind, replaced instead with the best clothes he owned; a pair of pants and an opulent shirt and vest, all in dark colors. He looked uncomfortable in the rich clothes, especially with the bulky splint and bandage on his arm, but Carla was touched by his effort.

    ¡°I had worried we had seen the last of you when your friend Niccolo brought that unfortunate girl here.¡± Marchelli said jovially when he stopped by their table. ¡°The gentleman and his Echo are out enjoying the town today yes? Shall I bring menus for the good friends?¡±

    ¡°Niccolo trusts your judgement, I will too,¡± smiled Carlo with a wave. Even after all these years, the label of  ¡°Echo¡± and all it implied gnawed at Carla. As usual, Carlo seemed to not even pick up on the implication, ¡°something romantic, if you could. We¡¯re actually on a date, you see.¡±

    Carla closed her eyes for a brief moment, waiting for the censure or the stunned silence. To her grateful surprise, the statement didn¡¯t seem to phase Marchelli at all.

    ¡°Something romantic then, something you both shall enjoy,¡± Marchelli said with a conspiratorial wink, ¡°and a wine that will not leave you both snoring I think.¡±

    ¡°You seem on-edge this evening,¡± Carlo noted when Marchelli had left, ¡°I thought you were looking forward to this evening.¡±

    ¡°I have been!¡± Carla looked at him fondly across the table. It was as if the thought never crossed his mind that someone might wish him ill, a trait she found equally adorable and infuriating. ¡°If nothing else it¡¯s nice to be out of the studio. Maybe it¡¯s just all the provisionals running around, but that place seems a million times more chaotic recently.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know why you seem to have such a problem with the provisionals. It wasn¡¯t so long ago that we were provisionals, you remember what it was like.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have a problem with the provisionals! I don¡¯t have a problem with anyone.¡±

    ¡°It didn¡¯t seem like it this morning, when you were scolding Leanarda.¡±

    Carla thought about it as Marchelli brought a glass of wine and lit two candles at their table

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t trying to scold her. I just don¡¯t really care about anything she had to say, and neither should you.¡± She finally said. ¡°She can¡¯t help us at all, there¡¯s no point in helping her, and being seen to associate with Leo and Leanarda will taint your reputation here. It¡¯s the same reason I said we should keep our distance from Elena, or Lorenzo if he ever approached us. We don¡¯t want anyone thinking we¡¯re on anyone¡¯s side.¡±

    ¡°I understand that. Keeping ourselves away from that kind of personal entanglement worked well for us last year, it¡¯ll work well for us this year. It doesn¡¯t mean you have to be rude.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve had this discussion; being rude keeps them away from us. It lets us keep our head down and stick to the painting.¡±

    ¡°It also keeps us from making any friends or connections in the studio.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not here to make friends Carlo!¡± Carla said exasperatedly, ¡°you¡¯re here to become an Artifex!¡±

    ¡°And I will, with your help,¡± Carlo grinned, a half smile unique to him, and Carla¡¯s heart melted a little bit, all of her exasperation forgotten.

    ¡°You know that I love you Carlo. I¡¯m in this with you one hundred percent.¡±

    ¡°I know, I know. I just think you¡¯re too defensive of me sometimes.¡±

    ¡°Well obviously, dummy,¡± Carla said affectionately. ¡°If I don¡¯t defend you who will?¡±

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 23

    ¡°Are you alright Elena? You look like you¡¯ve seen a ghost,¡± Ele whispered.

    ¡°No, just dreamed of one,¡± Elena shivered, then sat up in bed to look around her, ensuring that there were no ribbon-faced men or girls with too-wide smiles on blank faces lurking in her room.

    ¡°You know, we could just go back to sleep. This is our last chance to not do something. Last chance to choose to stay in bed and let the full garzoni keep their secret.¡±

    She was so tired that her eyes stung, so the prospect was certainly appealing, but Elena shook her head and set her lips in an obstinate line.

    ¡°If they didn¡¯t want a curious garzona, they shouldn¡¯t have let a Fabera in.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know why I expected anything different.¡±

    ***

    It was eerie walking the streets of the city of Milia so late at night...or perhaps so early in the morning. Apparently the city did sleep at some point, but Elena had never been awake to see it. The streetlamps were still lit, but no one walked them, and the windows in the shops and houses in the road were dark. Far down at the end she could see the figures dressed in whites with what looked like yellow scarves wrapped around their lower faces; her fellow De Luca garzoni and their Echoes as they made a left through an alley.

    ¡°Stick to the sides of the street so they won¡¯t be able to see you if they look back,¡± Ele murmured, ¡°and try to stay in the shadows of the buildings.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure? Because I figured I¡¯d walk in the middle of the street.¡±

    ¡°What? No that¡¯s a horrible idea- oh,¡± Ele frowned, and as stubbornly angry at the garzoni as she was Elena couldn¡¯t help but giggle at the expression on his face.

    ¡°Ele you¡¯re really high-strung about this, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Whatever happens in the dead of night is between these full garzoni, but that doesn¡¯t mean we¡¯re automatically safe,¡± Ele said darkly. ¡°The last time we got tangled up in whatever this is, I got hit in the face and knocked out. It¡¯s not an experience I¡¯m exactly excited to repeat.¡±

    The pair cut through the alleyway, and Elena stopped at the corner to look around them, catching sight of the others as they took a connecting road towards the Street of Blue Artisans. Frederica was accompanied again by her giant wooden spider, and Elena shivered.

    ¡°Did you notice they¡¯re wearing scarves?¡± Ele murmured.

    ¡°All yellow,¡± Elena said, ¡°yellow masks. The archer who shot me was wearing a green mask over her eyes.¡±

    ¡°Is it too much to hope it¡¯s a coincidence?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no way it¡¯s a coincidence. Besides, we¡¯re heading towards the Street of Green Artisans.¡±

    ¡°Avenging you and Vittoria perhaps?¡±

    ¡°I doubt it. You didn¡¯t hear them in Carlo¡¯s room yesterday; if they have a reason for choosing the studio on the Street of Green Artisans, it¡¯s not because of me,¡± Elena glowered. They followed the group of De Luca garzoni down several more streets before she noticed Ele giving her a strange look. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re slowly becoming more cynical, that¡¯s all.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that what you told me I was supposed to do?¡± Elena snapped.

    ¡°It is. I¡¯m just not sure I like it now that it¡¯s happening.¡±

    ¡°Stop. If they¡¯re going to the studio on Green street they¡¯ll have stopped here.¡± Elena peeked around the corner of the alley, and sure enough the group had stopped at the corner of the studio. ¡°Who is the master of this studio? Crivelli?¡±

    ¡°No, Crivelli is on the Street of Red Artisans,¡± Ele murmured back. ¡°Green street is Tomasia Gritti.¡±

    Master Gritti¡¯s studio was made up of two L-shaped buildings, with a heavy-looking wooden gate connecting the two buildings in the front. Elena assumed the open space in between them served as a courtyard.

    ¡°Is De Luca¡¯s the only studio without a gate?¡± She wondered aloud in a whisper, watching the garzoni as they discussed something among themselves. Niccolo and Vittoria seemed to be arguing a point that Frederica disagreed with, and the Caelator kept pointing at the top of the gate.

    ¡°Maybe that¡¯s why we were attacked,¡± Ele whispered back, ¡°we¡¯re an easy target. I thought De Luca was supposed to be smart.¡±

    Elena¡¯s reply was cut short when the garzoni seemed to come to an agreement. Frederica made a motion, and the giant wooden spider sprang forward and began scaling the gate, its long legs finding some hold in the wood that Elena couldn¡¯t see. At the same time, Nicci, Vi and Fred stepped forward, the three Echoes passing through the gate as if it wasn¡¯t there. The spider reached the top of the gate and dropped down behind it.

    ¡°It¡¯s happening,¡± Elena breathed, ¡°I¡¯m about to find out what happens.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t like this,¡± Ele said. ¡°I don¡¯t like this at all Elena. We have enough pieces to figure this out now, let¡¯s go back.¡±

    ¡°We might have enough pieces, but we don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t need to know, we have enough to make an educated guess.¡±

    The gate swung open, and Niccolo and Frederica entered without a backward glance. Vittoria paused and withdrew a piece of parchment from a pouch that hung at her side, attaching it to the wall just next to the gate. Elena was too far away to see what was written on it, but Vittoria followed her fellow garzoni, pulling more parchment from the pouch as she went.

    The entry into Gitti¡¯s studio had been very quiet, but for some reason the street seemed even more eerie and silent after the garzoni had left.

    ¡°I¡¯m going in there,¡± Elena stood from where she had been crouched in the shadows.

    ¡°Are you crazy?¡± Ele hissed. ¡°Elena this is too dangerous, you don¡¯t know what we¡¯re getting into.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    ¡°¡®Fine¡¯ like Carlo?¡± Elena had crossed the street to be on the same side as the studio, but Ele¡¯s words stopped her short. ¡°Unlike you, Carlo actually knew what he was getting into, and his arm still got broken.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s...we don¡¯t know what happened there...¡±

    ¡°Exactly. We don¡¯t know anything. Going into someone else¡¯s studio, armed only with the knowledge that we¡¯re not supposed to be there and that bad, dangerous things can happen sounds like an incredibly dumb thing to do.¡±

    Elena bit her lip, looking back and forth from the studio to where Ele stood in the shadows.

    ¡°They might need my help,¡± she said uncertainly.

    ¡°Then they should have told you what was going on and asked for your. Come on Elena, tell me that a part of you doesn¡¯t want to go back to sleep.¡± Ele¡¯s words were persuasive, but Elena still hesitated. ¡°Your broken wrist is just now healing. Imagine how painful a broken arm would be.¡±

    It was something of a low blow, but Elena realized he was right. She hadn¡¯t dealt with the pain of her wrist well at all, and the first week or so had been agony. With a sigh she turned and crossed the street again, returning to the shadows where Ele hid.

    ¡°You¡¯re a scaredy-cat Ele,¡± she pouted.

    ¡°Fine. I¡¯m whatever you want to call me if it gets you to make the rational decision.¡±

    Ele made his way back into the alley they emerged from, and Elena slowly followed, glancing behind her one last time.

    ¡°Ele! Look, up on the rooftops!¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡± Ele didn¡¯t come back to look, but he turned at the other end of the alley.

    ¡°It¡¯s the archer! The woman who shot me!¡± The figure was unmistakable even from the long distance; her blonde hair spilled out from the green mask, and a small black crossbow hung down from her belt. She was focused on something happening in the courtyard between the buildings, drawing an arrow from the quiver at her back.

    ¡°That¡¯s even more reason to leave now,¡± Ele insisted, ¡°you already know how it plays out when you go head to head with her.¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t leave! She¡¯s on the rooftops, the others won¡¯t know she¡¯s there, she can pick them off one by one!¡±

    The sudden sound of a woman¡¯s scream sent Elena¡¯s feet moving almost involuntarily. She had no clue what a scream from Vittoria would sound like, and she couldn¡¯t even picture Frederica screaming, but she couldn¡¯t just stay behind, she couldn¡¯t leave. She was angry at her fellow garzoni, she could almost convince herself that she hated them, but they were her studio mates. She could convince herself that they had abandoned her to ignorance, but she couldn¡¯t convince herself to abandon them, and she reached the studio gates in less than a minute.

    The gate hung half open, though Elena wasn¡¯t sure how the spider had managed the chain that lay on the ground. Before she entered, Elena glanced at the parchment Vittoria had put up by the door. It was a very rough sketch of a man she didn¡¯t recognize, the lines hurried and ugly except for the eyes. So much time and attention had been spent on the images eyes that Elena could easily imagine the man was watching her, and the effect did nothing to dispel the eerie atmosphere of the studio.

    She slipped between the doors of the open gate without touching either one. As she had suspected, the space between the two buildings was a courtyard, but it was silent and empty. The sounds of heavy dull impacts rang from the building on her right, and there was vague shouting coming from the wing that lay across the courtyard from her. Elena paused.

    It had been easy to make the decision to follow her fellow garzoni into the studio, but now that she was here she wasn¡¯t exactly sure what she should be doing. She had no weapons, no clue of what was going on, and didn¡¯t even know where the others were. Whatever was making the heavy impacts, Elena wanted no part of it, and the shouting across the way sounded like multiple people, none of whose voices she recognized.

    ¡°There¡¯s a ladder to the roof back behind this corner.¡± Elena jumped at Ele¡¯s whisper. ¡°Since you¡¯re resolved to be stupid, maybe you can catch the archer off guard and push her off the roof.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t push a girl off of a roof!¡± Elena hissed, but she moved towards where he had indicated anyway, ¡°and I thought you thought this was a stupid and reckless idea.¡±

    ¡°I do. But if I didn¡¯t stand by you when you were being stupid or reckless I¡¯d never see you.¡± Ele grimaced. He waited until Elena was halfway up the ladder to start climbing behind her. ¡°And I¡¯m not sure if you¡¯ve aware of this, but the girl who is getting in position to raining death on your teammates from above might not share your reservations about pushing girls off of rooftops.¡±

    Elena shook the problem from her mind. She was good at thinking under pressure; whatever happened she was sure she could figure out a way to help without killing anyone. The very thought of it made her shiver, and her heart was racing when she climbed out onto the roof.

    The slant of the roof was slight, but enough to make her aware that she was treading on precarious ground. The archer and her Echo both stood on the corner of the roof at the far end, their backs to her, quietly talking to each other as she sighted down the crossbow at something below. Elena crept forward in a crouch, almost holding her breath and expecting either of them to turn at any time. She was grateful for the soft slippers she had been sleeping in, and the loose white sleeping clothes that didn¡¯t flap in the wind.

    ¡°I have a shot at Balance,¡± the archer murmured.

    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± her Echo said quietly in his deep voice. Unlike the archer, he wasn¡¯t wearing his green mask, and the back of his bald black head was hard to make out in the dark of the night.

    ¡°Went back inside. Damnit Bello I could¡¯ve gotten that shot. I owe him one.¡±

    ¡°If you missed Balance you would¡¯ve let them all know we¡¯re up here and you lose the element of surprise.¡±

    ¡°Bello¡± is entirely too calm for the situation, Elena thought as she crept closer still. A few quick steps would bring her to them now, and she still didn¡¯t have any idea what she would do when she reached them.

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    ¡°I don¡¯t mind alerting them,¡± the archer seemed momentarily distracted by something in a window below, but then returned to tracking the crossbow back and forth across the courtyard.

    ¡°Alright, if you missed Balance and you¡¯d piss Master Gitti off for wasting the most expensive bolts in the world, how about that then?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a much better point.¡±

    The idea came to Elena in a stroke of inspiration. The archer had a quiver slung over her shoulder, about twenty arrows sticking out of it. Elena wasn¡¯t sure exactly how much an arrow cost to make, but if they cared enough to worry about risking one, then surely the entire bundle would keep their attention. She lunged forward, grabbing the bundle of arrows and yanking them out before taking several quick steps back again. The archer was turning, and Elena saw the crossbow spinning towards her as if in slow motion.

    ¡°Drop the weapon or I¡¯ll break them all!¡± She said, holding the bundle of arrows over her head as if she would snap them over her knee.

    ¡°Jesu mi salvi!¡± The archer clutched at her chest with one hand, the sudden startled fear on her face giving way to a chuckle. ¡°Matrem omnium sanctorum you scared me half to death. I almost fell off this roof.¡±

    ¡°I keep telling you to be more aware of your surroundings,¡± Bello had turned as well, his large arms folded across his chest.

    ¡°Oh shut up Bello, they managed to sneak up on you too,¡± the archer had lowered her crossbow and was wearing a lopsided grin as she looked Elena up and down. Out of the corner of her eye Elena could see Ele shifting uncomfortably, and she was just as nervous. The pair did not seem like two people at their mercy; they seemed like two people at ease, confident, and amused.

    ¡°No tricks,¡± Elena warned, ¡°I mean it, I¡¯ll snap these arrows in two.¡±

    ¡°Not to be pedantic, but they¡¯re bolts, not arrows,¡± the archer pointed out, ¡°they¡¯re for a crossbow. Also, please don¡¯t, you have no idea how much those cost to make. They¡¯re works of art really.¡± Elena glanced at the bolts in her hands. There was no question that these were the bolts that had hit her. Just as she and Ele had guessed, the heads were not only flat, but bulged slightly to prevent them from puncturing flesh. A tiny pin like the fang of a snake stuck out from the flat ends, all of which were made of some sort of glass. Thin liquids of different colors sloshed around in each.

    ¡°How does the glass not break when it hits someone?¡± Elena wondered aloud, curiosity overcoming her sense of danger.

    ¡°That¡¯s part of what makes them so expensive!¡± The archer said excitedly, ¡°see it¡¯s not glass, it¡¯s much stronger. It absorbs the shock of impact, and then tiny little barbs hold the bolt in place-¡±

    ¡°While the force of the impact injects the liquid through these little fangs in the front,¡± Elena guessed. ¡°But why the not-glass at all? Why not just have a hollow compartment in the wood?¡±

    ¡°Um...Elena...¡± Ele muttered, ¡°there¡¯s a time and a place-¡±

    ¡°Aha, that¡¯s exactly what I asked! It turns out that the liquids would seep into the wood itself if they come into contact with it, so something different was needed. Plus, they thought I¡¯d want to look at the color to determine what kind of bolt I was firing. Can you imagine, sorting through a handful of bolts to select the one I want while in the middle of shooting?¡± The archer chortled.

    ¡°So how do you tell which kind of bolt...oh, I see, the different colors have different feathers on the ends. You can feel the difference in feathers when you¡¯re reaching back to grab one.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly right! Only the feathers are called ¡®fletching¡¯...you¡¯re a strange one, knowing how my bolts work but not knowing the difference between arrows and bolts, or what fletching is. What are you?¡±

    The question suddenly reminded Elena that the friendly and outgoing woman in front of her was actually an enemy, one who had been talking casually about shooting her friends full of some unknown poison.

    ¡°That¡¯s not important,¡± she answered, ¡°drop the crossbow.¡±

    ¡°Hmm? Oh!¡± The archer carefully set her crossbow down on the roof. ¡°Sorry, this is just my first year, sometimes I forget!¡± She reached into her pocket and dug out a silver coin, flipping it toward Elena. ¡°Here you go!¡±

    Elena caught it instinctively, only realizing after she caught it that it might be a trap to lure her attention away. The archer hadn¡¯t moved, one thumb hooked into her pocket, the other resting on her hip. Elena risked a glance down at the coin in her hand.

    It was large and silver, and the working across both faces was more intricate than she¡¯d expect of a coin. An image of a cross was worked into the silver, and around the edge among a pattern of vines were the words ¡°Cross, Year One, Gitti¡¯s Studio¡±.

    ¡°Cross?¡± Elena asked.

    ¡°Yeah, I know it¡¯s kinda obvious, Cross carries a crossbow,¡± Cross gave an embarrassed shrug, ¡°but I didn¡¯t have a lot of time to think about it, you know?¡±

    Elena didn¡¯t know. None of it made sense, and she felt more and more as if she was walking into a trap. Didn¡¯t the girl care that these custom-made bolts, almost definitely the work of a Machinator, were in danger of being broken? Didn¡¯t she care that she was at Elena¡¯s mercy? Was it that obvious that Elena wasn¡¯t planning on kicking her over the edge of the roof?

    Elena shivered at the thought.

    ¡°Alright, you¡¯ve successfully startled us, gained the upper hand,¡± Cross¡¯ Echo broke the silence, ¡°congratulations, you are surely the most skilled garzona ever. Just be careful with the bolts when you give them back.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Elena felt as if she had missed something. Cross was still smiling, holding out her hand for the bolts. ¡°N..no, no I¡¯m not giving these back. I have to decide what I¡¯m going to do with you two first.¡± The words were confident, but Elena felt more like she was asking permission than making demands.

    ¡°What you¡¯re going to do with us?¡± Cross exchanged a look with Bello, the smiles gone. ¡°What do you mean ¡®what you¡¯re going to do with us¡¯? You¡¯re going to give us the bolts back.¡±

    Elena glanced behind her, wondering if someone had snuck up behind her and was holding her at arrowpoint. The rooftop was clear, but Cross was moving for her, holding out her hand exasperatedly.

    ¡°I¡¯ll snap them in half!¡± Elena threatened.

    ¡°Look you¡¯re a cool girl, I¡¯m glad I met you, but this isn¡¯t funny,¡± Cross didn¡¯t even slow down, reaching out as if to snatch the bolts from Elena¡¯s hands. Elena backed up and tripped, sprawling on the rooftop and then tried to scramble to her feet.

    She doesn¡¯t think I¡¯ll do it...she¡¯s calling my bluff... Panic began to set in, Cross was almost on top of her, and without letting herself hesitate Elena grabbed half of the bolts in one hand and dashed them on the rooftop, the silence of the night broken as the bolts splintered and shattered on the tiles.

    ¡°Oh my god.¡± Cross whispered, the color draining from her face, staring in horror at the pool of mixing liquids and the splinters in them. ¡°Oh my god what have you done?¡±

    ¡°I told you I¡¯d do it!¡± Elena protested defensively, feeling ridiculous for justifying herself to the girl. ¡°I¡¯ll smash the rest if you don¡¯t back up!¡±

    ¡°But...but I don¡¯t understan...?¡± There were tears in Cross¡¯s eyes, and the girl had the most hurt and betrayed look on her face that Elena had ever seen. ¡°Why? What did I ever do to you?¡±

    ¡°You shot me with an arrow!¡± Elena yelled. The rooftop suddenly lurched, though her stomach disconcertedly stayed in one place.

    ¡°Deus, the fumes! Hold your breath, don¡¯t breath in the fumes!¡± Cross warned, but Elena wasn¡¯t entirely sure how to do that when it felt like she wasn¡¯t getting enough oxygen in the first place. The sky spun one way and the horizon spun the other, and Elena tilted her head to keep her balance and slumped to one side.

    ¡°Elena!¡± Ele shrieked, but she could only see his panicked face for a few moments before she slipped over the edge of the rooftop.

    She fell and fell and fell and fell, but the ground below never seemed to come any closer, although her stomach dropped at the sight of the unforgiving hard tiles beneath her. The rest of the crossbow bolts that had been clutched in her hand hit the tiles and shattered with small splintery cracks, and just above her Elena heard a moan. With difficulty she looked up to find Cross just above her, holding her fast by the back of her shirt.

    ¡°Deos atque terrore vindictae,¡± the blonde girl whimpered, staring past Elena and to the ground where the remains of the bolts lay, ¡°Master Gitti is going to flay me alive. And if she doesn¡¯t, Slug will do something worse. I told you to hold your breath!¡±

    ¡°You saved me,¡± Elena managed to say around a tongue that was too thick. Cross dragged her back onto the roof with a series of grunts, then held onto the back of her shirt as she led Elena across the rooftop to the ladder.

    ¡°Of course I saved you, what was I supposed to do let you fall to your death?¡± Cross snapped. ¡°Maybe I should¡¯ve, considering how bad I¡¯m going to be punished for this.¡± Elena clung fast to the ladder. ¡°Echo, can you get her back to the studio?¡±

    ¡°I can,¡± Ele responded shortly, as Elena slowly descended, clinging to the ladder with every rung, ¡°but I have questions, I want to know what¡¯s going on-¡±

    ¡°You have no right to question me right now, after what you two just did,¡± Cross said with venom, ¡°just...just get out of here.¡±

    Elena touched the ground and started to run, but quickly slowed as the ground rolled beneath her. With one hand on the wall to steady her, and Ele murmuring encouragement, she made her way out of Gitti¡¯s studio.

    ***

    The dizzying disorientation lasted almost the entire trip back to De Luca¡¯s studio, and Elena would¡¯ve gotten turned around several times if Ele hadn¡¯t pointed her in the right direction. Her stomach roiled with nausea, the exhaustion she had felt all night pounded in her head, and she couldn¡¯t even begin to process what she had learned. By the time she reached the door of the studio every part of her hurt.

    It had been a bad idea from beginning to end. It certainly didn¡¯t feel like a victory, even though she had managed to keep Cross from shooting her friends, and by all rights had scored a win against a studio that...that what? That De Luca was a war with? That had attacked them? Were they at war with DaRose¡¯s studio as well? Why had Cross seemed so friendly with them when she was about to shoot other De Luca garzoni, and why had she acted like Elena had broken some kind of code by retaliating?

    ¡°This was supposed to tell us everything, and I have more questions than I started with,¡± she bemoaned to Ele quietly as they walked through the outer halls that led to the courtyard.

    ¡°I might have some idea...but it¡¯s too much to process, I need your help,¡± Ele said, ¡°things will be clearer in the morning, it¡¯s obvious you¡¯re not in a good state to think about important things right now.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not in a good state to think about anything right now.¡± Elena opened the door to the courtyard, pausing for a moment to let another wave of nausea pass. ¡°I¡¯m just glad I don¡¯t have anything that needs thinking about before the morning...¡±

    Her words trailed off as she stepped into the courtyard. Directly in front of her in the middle of the courtyard stood Niccolo, Nicci, Vittoria, Vi, Frederica and Fred, clearly waiting for her to return. Waiting behind them, with arms crossed and a frown on his face, stood Master De Luca.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 24

    De Luca¡¯s office seemed much more imposing lit by lantern-light and in the middle of the night. The flickering of the wicks within gave the large room an air of mystery, and the pale yellow tint made it seem somehow more scholarly; it made the books and papers in their neat, orderly stacks seem more profound. It was hard to forget that she was speaking to one of the most influential Masters of Milia in that room.

    ¡°How did you know?¡± Elena mumbled. ¡°Did you check my room?¡± She was so tired that her eyes stung, but even in her exhausted state she could feel the prickles of worry like ice in her stomach. For all she knew, following the garzoni to Gitti¡¯s studio was enough to get her kicked out, or perhaps De Luca wouldn¡¯t care. There was no way she could think of to gauge the extent of her crime, and that alone was terrifying.

    ¡°Elena, I did tell you that we would put measures into place to warn us if you were out of bed at late hours,¡± Bea said gently. ¡°Vittoria has a gift when it comes to watching out for people, and she saw you leave Gitti¡¯s studio. She would¡¯ve seen you enter it as well, but she was a touch distracted.¡± The gentle tone worried Elena almost as much as the freely offered information. There was no need for gentleness if Elena wasn¡¯t going to be punished, and they¡¯d always guarded their secrets.

    ¡°You¡¯re not going to kick me out of the studio, are you?¡± she asked, unsure if she wanted to hear the answer.

    ¡°That depends,¡± De Luca sat at his desk with his fingers steepled. The answer and the ease with which he said it made Elena feel as if the wind had been knocked out of her chest, and the adrenaline alone served to wake her up a little.

    ¡°What does it depend on?¡± Ele asked for her as she reeled.

    ¡°It depends entirely on how I can think of you from now on.¡±

    ¡°You can trust me sir, I¡¯ll-¡±

    ¡°It has little to do with trust and more to do with...how to put it? I am a man who loves procedure. I enjoy processes and rules and very stark definitions. Breakfast time is like so, dinner is like so. Servants are treated in one way, students another way. Provisional garzoni are like this, full garzoni are like that. I¡¯m sure there exist masters for which your indomitable curiosity would be a joy, Elena, but for me all it does is blur the lines and ruin the lovely distinctions which I like to keep in place.¡±

    Elena glanced from De Luca to Bea who stood by his side. She had been glad when he¡¯d sent the other garzoni to their rooms, glad that they wouldn¡¯t see her scolded like a child, but now she wished there was someone else to give her a facial reaction or a clue. The Master and his Echo were studying her so carefully, and yet in the flickering lantern-light she couldn¡¯t seem to make heads or tails of what their expressions meant.

    ¡°I...I¡¯m sorry Master De Luca,¡± she said finally, ¡°I don¡¯t know what you mean.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s quite simple. My studio operates on rules, and I¡¯m not interested in fostering any hybrid-halfway-special-case nonsense. Right now you are one such case, and I don¡¯t intend to see you leave this room until I¡¯ve decided into which category you fall so that you may be treated accordingly. You are either a provisional garzona who knows far too much, or you are a full garzona who has been here for less time than she should.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re...you¡¯re promoting me to full garzona?¡± Elena felt almost as disoriented as when she fell from Master Gitti¡¯s roof, although at least then she¡¯d had some idea of why.

    ¡°He¡¯s saying we know too much about what¡¯s going on for him to treat you like a provisional, but not enough for him to treat you like full a garzona,¡± Ele translated quietly.

    ¡°You know, some scholars say that a Stormtouched and their Echo are always nearly identical in their level of intelligence?¡± De Luca said conversationally. ¡°I¡¯ve never found that to be the case.¡±

    ¡°Then...if that¡¯s the problem, you could tell us what¡¯s going on between the studios, and make me full garzona,¡± Elena ventured, but De Luca was shaking his head before she even finished the sentence.

    ¡°That would be promoting you to full garzona, and would be unfair to Lorenzo, Leanarda, and Mella. Indeed, it would be unfair to all of the provisional garzoni over the years who have ever worked hard to become full garzoni at this studio. Now in your case,¡± De Luca stabbed a wrinkled finger in Elena¡¯s direction, ¡°you¡¯ve worked hard too, but you¡¯ve worked in a different, roundabout direction. We¡¯re about to see exactly how well that has paid of for you. Tell me Elena, what, in your words, ¡®is going on¡¯ between the studios?¡±

    ¡°I..I don¡¯t know,¡± Elena said. It was all too overwhelming, too much to handle and she couldn¡¯t think hard enough or fast enough to manage any of it. As soon as she had a thought it seemed to slip through her mind like sand through fingers, and it was all she could do to even follow what De Luca was telling her.

    ¡°In that case, I have no choice-¡±

    ¡°Have you ever wondered why I recommended you, Elena Lucciano?¡± Bea held out a hand in front of De Luca, as if she would rest it on his shoulder if she could, and De Luca paused. Her voice was severe, as always, but there was something strange in her eyes, something that Elena couldn¡¯t quite identify. ¡°You¡¯re the first Fabera we¡¯ve let in this studio in more than a decade, why do you think that is?¡±

    ¡°Because...¡± Elena strained to remember, ¡°you said I impressed you on the tour of the studio?¡±

    ¡°So why don¡¯t you sit down, think carefully, and try to impress me now.¡±

    ¡°But I can¡¯t-¡±

    ¡°Just try.¡±

    Elena obediently sat in the seat in front of De Luca¡¯s desk, her mind racing and sluggish at the same time. Bea continued speaking.

    ¡°Were you using your Storm Elena, when you spied on the garzoni?¡±

    ¡°Using my Storm?¡± The idea of pausing to focus on building something in the middle of the rush of confusion in Gitti¡¯s studio was ludicrous. Even if she had managed to build some sort of weapon, it wouldn¡¯t have told her anything new about what was happening. Elena looked to Ele to explain, but he looked just as confused as she was. ¡°No...I didn¡¯t need to build anything, why would I use my Storm?¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t need to build anything when you were on the tour either,¡± Bea replied, ¡°and yet you knew things about the Studio that I doubt the full garzoni realize. You realized something even Bernardo and I hadn¡¯t noticed before, when you noticed the studio has an ice chest.¡±

    ¡°We have an ice chest?¡± De Luca asked. ¡°I¡¯d assumed the cooks bought ice from the market every morning.¡±

    ¡°I just figured that stuff out because I was thinking of what I would need to start my own studio,¡± Elena mumbled, ¡°I thought I wasn¡¯t going to be allowed in. I was thinking of what I¡¯d do-¡±

    ¡°You were building it, in your head. Well then. Your Master is asking your a question about the city, Elena. You had better build a city.¡±

    ¡°Enough help,¡± De Luca leaned back in his chair, folding his arms and fixing Elena with a look that was neither hostile nor friendly, ¡°either she figures it out on her own from here or she¡¯s not the garzona you thought she could be. Elena, I¡¯ll ask you again, and I warn you now that if the answer is ¡®I don¡¯t know¡¯, you will be be finding another bed to sleep in tonight. What is ¡®going on¡¯. What do the full garzoni know that the provisionals do not?¡±

    Elena turned helplessly to Ele, to find him deep in thought, brow furrowed.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Trying to build a city in my head,¡± he replied. ¡°It¡¯s hard, there¡¯s way too much to even consider.¡±

    The panic was threatening to well up in her head, but Elena pushed it back down. When she replied to Ele, her voice came out shakily.

    ¡°What¡¯s there to consider? There¡¯s a city with eight studios on eight streets named after colors, dedicated to beauty and art, collecting the most talented artists in the world. Oh yes, and sometimes in the dead of night they go out and attack each other for no reason.¡±

    ¡°Why do they have to be named after colors?¡± Ele asked, ignoring the sarcasm.

    ¡°Because they¡¯re named after colors! Yellow, green, red, blue, grey, orange, purple, ___, those are colors!¡± The frustration and anxiety of the night was beginning to bubble over, and although she couldn¡¯t snap at Master De Luca, she could snap at Ele. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have to tell you how Milia is laid out.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re building a city, and I don¡¯t think they should be named after colors. Our city, our choice,¡± Ele pointed out. ¡°Can we please just try this, Elena? Unless you¡¯ve been holding out on me and actually know exactly what¡¯s happening. What have we got to lose?¡±

    For a few moments Elena wasn¡¯t quite sure whether she would help Ele or clench her teeth and scream. His eyes were closed, his arms behind his head, and his head tilted back towards the ceiling. After a few deep breaths, Elena closed her eyes as well, and focused.

    ¡°Fine, eight studios, not named after colors. They are supposed to be dedicated to art, but for some reason they¡¯re not,¡± she said, her voice somewhat bitter.

    ¡°They are,¡± Ele corrected, ¡°this is our city, and we want them to be, so they are. Art and beauty to all of Italoza. The highest courts commission the studio Masters, and the most talented of Stormtouched and Mortalis flock to them for guidance.¡±

    ¡°Beautiful. Perfect. End of story.¡±

    ¡°Stop being petulant and think.¡±

    Elena pouted, but let her mind run over the foggy city in her mind, indistinct except for the eight studios that shone like diamonds. She began filling in spaces of the city in general terms: places to live, to work, areas to support the city itself, shops and imports to support the studios. After a while the map became muddled in her head, and it was easy to see why.

    ¡°As long as we¡¯re making an imaginary city and we can do whatever we want with it, I probably wouldn¡¯t have eight of them,¡± she noted. ¡°Let¡¯s say four studios.¡±

    ¡°But each studio is run by one master,¡± Ele pointed out, ¡°that means only four Master artisans in our city.¡±

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    ¡°Four studios with their own group of garzoni would produce plenty of art, and still keep healthy competition going amongst themselves. The culture of the city will grow without strangling it.¡±

    ¡°But more competition means only the best will survive! If four studios art and beauty, eight will produce twice as much, won¡¯t they?¡±

    Closing her eyes wasn¡¯t helping Elena¡¯s fatigue. Her temples were buzzing uncomfortably, and she snapped at her Echo irritably. ¡°It¡¯s not feasible Ele! A city can¡¯t support eight studios; there wouldn¡¯t be enough supplies to go around, there wouldn¡¯t be enough market for their art, and it would be impossible for them all to remain in equilibrium for long anyways.¡±

    ¡°But Elena-¡±

    Even though it was uncomfortable and distracting enough that she wasn¡¯t quite sure what they were arguing about, the buzzing in her temples was at least keeping Elena awake and alert. ¡°The best students would join the best studios, so eventually the rest would have nothing left. They would close, so why bother starting with eight when either way we¡¯ll end up with less? No, it¡¯s my city, I say we¡¯ll start with four studios. Eight is unsustainable.¡±

    ¡°Elena, Milia has eight studios. It¡¯s had eight studios for decades.¡±

    Elena opened her eyes and stared at Ele, off-balance for a moment. She had forgotten that they were talking about a real city.

    ¡°Milia has eight studios,¡± she repeated dumbly. ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°It...it can¡¯t,¡± Ele faltered. ¡°Like you said, it¡¯s unsustainable. There¡¯s not enough resources to go around.¡±

    ¡°It can¡¯t, but it does, so how does it?¡± Elena tried to follow it through, even tried to force the Storm back through her temples again, but it was as if a switch had been flipped.

    ¡°If the city isn¡¯t running naturally, then something is keeping it moving, some sort of system,¡± Ele was on his feet now, pacing back and forth across the office, ¡°a system held in place by law, so that all of the studios follow it.¡± Elena glanced at Bea and De Luca, but neither of them seemed to mind Ele¡¯s pacing, watching the interchange carefully.

    ¡°What kind of system?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know...¡± Ele trailed off, looking at her sharply. ¡°Build one.¡±

    ¡°How am I supposed to-¡±

    ¡°Just try. Congratulations, you¡¯re the new Queen of Milia. Your city has eight studios in it, not enough resources to take care of them all, and half of them won¡¯t have enough students to stay open next year. Build a system to fix that.¡±

    Elena closed her eyes again. She knew what Ele was doing, trying to spark her Storm into working again, but even knowing it was coming she could feel the prickle of it as she began.

    ¡°On the one hand, some studios will have to get less resources than they need. They¡¯ll be barely scraping by, but at least the better-off studios won¡¯t be allowed to take everything. The less-well-off will get a portion. That applies to materials, but also to students as well.¡±

    ¡°You think Milia is forcing some garzoni to join the less-well-off studios?¡± Ele asked.

    ¡°Yes! Milia would have to force them to, otherwise...otherwise...¡± Elena struggled as the buzzing of her Storm began to fade. Her train of thought faltered, and she tried to pick it up again. Milia could do any number of things, how was she supposed to know what they had done? She didn¡¯t know a think about the royals of Milia, how was she supposed to think like them?

    No...I¡¯m not trying to think like them, I¡¯m trying to build laws. With great effort Elena tried to think of it as her system, as something she was building, and as soon as her thoughts coasted in that direction the Storm returned, buzzing a confident answer in her mind.

    ¡°No. We can¡¯t force garzoni to serve in less successful studios; they would be miserable and leave. We can place restrictions on the more successful studios.¡± She opened her eyes. ¡°Restrictions like ¡®you¡¯re only allowed eight garzoni at a time¡¯, for instance. The more successful studio gets the eight of their choice, and those students who weren¡¯t accepted...well they¡¯d naturally apply at other studios, wouldn¡¯t they?¡±

    ¡°Like Arturo,¡± Ele said, ¡°when he was rejected from De Luca¡¯s Studio he applied to DaRose¡¯s.¡±

    De Luca¡¯s face remained mostly impassive, but a slight smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It was as good a confirmation as any.

    ¡°I don¡¯t get it,¡± Ele said, ¡°why would you get rid of four garzoni every year? Why not take on eight and keep them with the studio?¡±

    ¡°So that he always knows that his studio has the four best garzoni in Milia,¡± Elena answered.

    ¡°But none of this explains why we were attacked, or why we attacked Gitti¡¯s studio.¡±

    ¡°A system like this keeps the ¡®lesser¡¯ studios open, but it wouldn¡¯t keep them happy,¡± she barely had to think about it now, the system of laws forming in her mind as if she had been drafting them all night. ¡°Who wants to be the least successful Milian studio forever? No, our laws need a way for a studio to advance, it needs a way to move up in the pecking order. The studios fight to build reputation, don¡¯t they? They use that reputation as a currency to move ahead...and,¡± the thought struck Elena like a thunderclap, and she dug in her pocket and fished out the coin Cross had given her, ¡°they use actual currency as reputation.¡±

    Bea was beaming, and even De Luca half-smiled, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

    ¡°I¡¯d be impressed, if this was actual intuitive power,¡± he said.

    ¡°Every single studio has to make choice in the students they accept. Garzoni whose Storm is better suited for art, balanced with the garzoni whose Storm is better suited for battle...it¡¯s a little barbaric, but it means all eight studios are in a constant state of flux, each of them having their time to shine over the years,¡± the buzz of the Storm had faded, but it had helped enough for Elena to continue the thought process on her own. She was so awestruck that she was almost whispering. ¡°You keep the provisionals in the dark for the first two months to see if they¡¯re better suited for art or for combat. Why did I never question how Niccolo became a full garzoni in an art studio?¡±

    ¡°Because, on your own and without your Storm, you¡¯re an incredibly unobservant girl,¡± De Luca chuckled, ¡°it¡¯s a touch ironic.¡±

    ¡°But I don¡¯t understand, what does this mean?¡± Elena asked. ¡°I¡¯m...I¡¯m a Fabera. I build things. Like Pietro said, ¡®a Fabera can make a nice table¡¯.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been away, Elena, so I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ve not seen your work, but I somehow doubt that ¡®building tables¡¯ is your Storm. In fact, I would bet that you haven¡¯t built anything overly complicated at all.¡±

    ¡°I made Frederica new knives that were better than her old ones!¡± Elena protested.

    ¡°Made them yourself? Built with your own two hands?¡±

    ¡°Not exactly...but I designed them myself, and fixed everything that was wrong with the old ones-¡±

    ¡°So you built them in your mind then?¡± The question stopped Elena up short as De Luca continued. ¡°The Storm is subtle in its touches, Elena. Subtle enough that one rarely sees two people touched the same way. Your Storm happens to be quite unique.¡±

    ¡°Special. Twisted,¡± Elena murmured to herself, remembering her dream.

    ¡°Some Faberi might have skill at furniture-making, but I assure you that such a Faberi would have no place in my studio, unlike yourself.¡±

    Elena pondered the statement for a few moments before its full meaning sunk in.

    ¡°I can stay?¡± she gasped. ¡°I¡¯m a full garzona?¡±

    ¡°You are nothing of the kind,¡± De Luca said severely, ¡°but yes, at least until we whittle our garzoni down to four, you can stay.¡±

    Elena¡¯s legs were so weak that if she had been standing, she would¡¯ve collapsed. As it was she slumped in the chair, shaking with relief.

    ¡°Now, if there is no more discussion, I¡¯ve had a very long trip and would like to sleep,¡± De Luca waved a hand to dismiss her.

    ¡°I just had one more questions Master De Luca,¡± Elena ventured.

    ¡°I somehow doubt that, but go ahead.¡±

    ¡°How do you know so much about how the Storm touched me?¡±

    De Luca¡¯s face was impassive, but out of the corner of her eye Elena noticed Bea glance for a split-second at the neat stack of scrolls on the edge of his desk. It happened so fast that she might¡¯ve imagined it, and Bea¡¯s face became just as impassive as De Luca¡¯s.

    ¡°I may be an Artifex, Elena, but I am above all a Master Stormtouched,¡± De Luca replied with dignity, ¡°if I wasn¡¯t able to help Stormtouched other than Artifexes, there would be no reason for them to attend my studio. Now, really I must insist, to bed with you.¡±

    Elena stood on wobbly feet and made her way to the door, a silent Ele behind her. At the doorway she turned.

    ¡°Oh, Master De Luca?¡±

    ¡°I knew that wasn¡¯t your last question.¡±

    ¡°Sorry sir. I just wondered...why do they all have code-names? Names like ¡®Maple¡¯ and ¡®Hundred Eye¡¯ and things like that? Isn¡¯t it easy to find out who they really are?¡±

    ¡°They all have code-names,¡± Master De Luca gave a long-suffering sigh and rolled his eyes, ¡°because they are melodramatic, young and silly twenty-somethings for whom art and war are apparently not exciting enough. I don¡¯t know when the tradition started, but I¡¯m hardly going to prohibit them from it. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll come up with something equally ridiculous when it¡¯s time. ¡®Builder Girl¡¯ or ¡®Fab-ulous¡¯ or something. Now please Elena for the love of all that is sacred get out of here.¡±

    ¡°Constructor,¡± Ele said as they walked through the hallways back to their room.

    ¡°Hmm?¡±

    ¡°As a code-name. You should go with ¡®Constructor¡¯. Oh, no wait, what about ¡®Design¡¯?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Elena shook her head, struggling to keep her eyes open for the brief way they had to walk, ¡°I already know what my code-name will be. I had a dream about it.¡±

    ¡°Oh? Well don¡¯t take my input or anything,¡± Ele grumbled, ¡°what is it?¡±

    ¡°¡®Cog¡¯. I think I like ¡®Cog¡¯.¡±

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 25

    The heavy autumn heat had finally broken, and the air was crisp and cool as it blew through the open courtyard of Bernardo De Luca¡¯s Studio. The skies were a cloudless blue, the leaves had turned their bright oranges and yellows, and the courtyard was filled with the sound of laughter.

    ¡°Look, I¡¯m trying to have an adult conversation here, and just because you all took it the wrong way doesn¡¯t mean you should laugh at me,¡± Carlo had to raise his voice to be heard over Niccolo, Nicci, Vittoria and Vi¡¯s mirth as Elena approached the group, a small wooden case beneath one arm.

    ¡°You...you can¡¯t seriously expect us to believe that you didn¡¯t know how that would sound,¡± Niccolo was gasping.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t so bad...or at least it wouldn¡¯t have sounded that bad if you weren¡¯t so dirty-minded,¡± Carlo retorted.

    ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡± Elena raised an eyebrow as she joined the group.

    ¡°Elena, perfect timing,¡± Niccolo waved, ¡°alright Carlo, we¡¯ll put it to the test.¡±

    ¡°Or we could just drop the whole thing,¡± Carla seemed much less amused at Carlo¡¯s discomfort, but Niccolo shook his head.

    ¡°No no, Carlo thinks we¡¯re such dirty-minded creatures, and maybe he¡¯s right. Why don¡¯t you say to Elena what you said to us, she¡¯s about the purest girl in the world, if she finds it dirty you know it was a poor choice of words.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not that pure,¡± Elena protested, although she wasn¡¯t entirely sure why she was arguing. Maybe it was Vittoria¡¯s comment from a week ago about her ¡®possibly underaged bum¡¯.

    ¡°Look, you see? She¡¯s literally blushing at the very thought of being impure, you can¡¯t have a more clean slate to test than that. Go ahead Carlo,¡± Niccolo challenged, ¡°share your horrible smutty thoughts with this beacon of innocence.¡±

    ¡°I was just saying,¡± Carlo didn¡¯t meet Elena¡¯s eyes as he spoke, ¡°that Cross hadn¡¯t been beaten before, so she might have a grudge against you because you were the first person to get her coin, that¡¯s it.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound dirty at all,¡± Elena said, confused.

    ¡°Now tell her in the exact words you used,¡± Niccolo prodded.

    ¡°I think I said something like ¡®Elena was Cross¡¯ first...¡± Carlo blushed furiously, and Vittoria and Vi began giggling again.

    ¡°The words he actually used,¡± Nicci said, ¡°were ¡®I hope Cross doesn¡¯t get as obsessed with Elena as I was with my first, you know how intense the first time can be¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Oh wow Carlo,¡± Elena tried to hold back a laugh.

    ¡°It didn¡¯t sound so bad in my head...¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s in the box Elena?¡± Despite the fact that she had been spending even more time with the full time garzoni over the past week, Elena still couldn¡¯t tell the difference between Vittoria and Vi, but one of them turned to her to ask still smiling.

    ¡°Oh! That¡¯s actually why I came out here in the first place!¡± Elena opened the box with a flourish. Carefully nestled inside was a set of brushes, each a light wood with little green swirls painted along their handles. ¡°I know it¡¯s not a huge surprise since I made a set of brushes for Carlo, but I made these for you Vittoria.¡±

    She held the box out towards her best guess at the right girl. The pair exchanged a glance, and Vittoria kindly reached over and took the box from Elena.

    ¡°They¡¯re lovely Elena, thank you,¡± she smiled.

    ¡°I wish they were better,¡± Elena mumbled.

    ¡°Frederica¡¯s knives actually solved problems for her,¡± Ele explained, ¡°but as far as we know you and Carlo weren¡¯t having trouble with your old brushes...so it was a bit of a pointless project.¡± He gave Elena a look.

    ¡°Nonsense, these are works of art in their own right,¡± Vittoria said. ¡°Even if they weren¡¯t, I like them more than my old brushes because they were a gift designed by a fellow teammate.¡±

    ¡°You consider me a teammate?¡± Elena asked with surprise.

    ¡°Of course! You¡¯re by our side every day, you¡¯re one of De Luca¡¯s garzoni, why wouldn¡¯t we consider you a teammate?¡±

    ¡°Well...you could say the same of the other provisional garzoni, couldn¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°I suppose I could call them teammates, in a way...¡± Vittoria said thoughtfully, ¡°...but it¡¯s so much easier to be around you when we don¡¯t have to guard what we say.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you considered us teammates...I-I don¡¯t know what to say-¡± Elena stammered.

    ¡°A teammate we still won¡¯t be taking out with us this week,¡± Niccolo cut in.

    ¡°Even though I could help you?¡± Elena wheedled, ¡°I could be the deciding factor some time, you never know! I did get a coin last time.¡±

    ¡°Look at the little provisional, she gets one coin and suddenly she¡¯s all full of herself!¡± Niccolo said. Elena stuck out her tongue at him, and he grinned. ¡°You got a coin by accident, my favorite little Fabera, and your last little sojourn cost the studio far more than you gained.¡±

    ¡°Which wouldn¡¯t have happened in the first place if you hadn¡¯t been so cloak and dagger about everything,¡± Elena grumbled, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have smashed the arrows on the roof if I had known we were supposed to be all nice and friendly when we fought.¡±

    ¡°I think technically they¡¯re called ¡®bolts¡¯, not ¡®arrows¡¯.¡±

    ¡°I know, I know, Cross told me.¡±

    ¡°Well how do you like this?¡± Niccolo looked past her and raised his voice, ¡°speak of the arrow-wielding devil!¡± Elena turned to door that led to the studio¡¯s foyer and entrance to see where he was indicating.

    Cross looked much younger without the green mask covering her lower face, perhaps due to her pouting lips or her small chin. The difference made Elena suddenly realize how much older the girl¡¯s Echo was, seeing both the young blonde girl and the huge black man standing side by side. Cross held the handle of a low cart with wheels, on which sat a large chest. A large purple and black bruise adorned her right eye and half of her right cheek

    ¡°I should go back to my work,¡± Vittoria quietly excused herself, and Carlo and Carla followed her and Vi without a word, but Niccolo and Nicci stayed.

    ¡°I know you know the difference between arrows and bolts, Balance,¡± Cross folded her arms and frowned.

    ¡°What, just because I carry a bow you think I¡¯m supposed to know all the minutiae of every ranged weapon?¡±

    ¡°No, just because you¡¯re being annoying, I think you¡¯re doing it on purpose. Also I just heard you telling the new girl that they¡¯re bolts.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s figured out my secret weapon Cog, annoyance,¡± Niccolo grinned. Elena felt a thrill run down her spine when casually called her ¡®Cog¡¯. Master De Luca could say what he liked, Elena loved having a code-name.

    ¡°You¡¯re not going to bait me that easily,¡± Cross said.

    ¡°Alright, alright,¡± Niccolo said, ¡°you seem rather on-edge today Miss Cross.¡±

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think ¡®on-edge¡¯ is the best phrase to use to describe Cross, Niccolo,¡± Nicci said.

    ¡°No you¡¯re right, she seems more...Cross seems agitated.¡±

    ¡°Cross is grumpy, perhaps?¡±

    ¡°Cross is annoyed?¡±

    ¡°Cross is irritated?¡±

    ¡°I get it,¡± Cross snapped, ¡°I¡¯m cross and my name is Cross, you¡¯re definitely the first people to ever have made that joke. And if I seem irritated, it¡¯s because I have to spend my Tuesday afternoon escorting a chest of coin away from our studio.¡±

    ¡°A chest of coin?¡± Elena glanced from Cross to her Echo Bello, ¡°why is Gitti giving us a chest of coin?¡±

    ¡°Oh, and to top off the whole afternoon, the little new girl is here,¡± Cross glowered.

    ¡°Cross, I¡¯m sorry, I really didn¡¯t know what was happening-¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t know how things worked, I know.¡± Cross folded her arms, ¡°De Luca¡¯s little marble boy explained things to us when he brought the coin. That doesn¡¯t mean I was punished any less for losing the bolts. They¡¯re worth a lot and our studio doesn¡¯t have that kind of money to burn.¡±

    ¡°Master Gitti did that to you as punishment?¡± Elena gasped.

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°No,¡±  Cross¡¯ hand flew to her face, gingerly resting on the bruises for a moment, ¡°Slug took the loss of his handcrafted bolts a little worse than Master Gitti did. He felt that Gitti¡¯s punishment wasn¡¯t quite enough to stick in my mind.¡±

    ¡°If your studio is short on money, why exactly are you returning the fine De Luca paid?¡± Niccolo had grown uncharacteristically serious again, ¡°and don¡¯t tell me it was Slug.¡±

    ¡°That was Master Gitti,¡± Cross said, ¡°although partly due to Slug I suppose...but that¡¯s none of your business. We don¡¯t want the fine, we¡¯re not accepting it, so just take it back and count yourselves richer and luckier. I wouldn¡¯t even be here returning it if I wasn¡¯t in the doghouse right now.¡±

    Now that she knew what the money was for, Elena took a second look at the chest. It was huge, large enough that she doubted Cross could¡¯ve carried it if it hadn¡¯t had wheels. The fact that De Luca had been willing to pay so much to make up for Elena¡¯s reckless behavior worried at her stomach.

    ¡°That¡¯s how much the bolts were worth?¡± Ele muttered, clearly thinking the same thing she was, ¡°I don¡¯t care what they used instead of glass, De Luca was overpaying.¡±

    ¡°The cost probably has more to do with what¡¯s inside than the bolts themselves,¡± Niccolo answered quietly. ¡°It¡¯s hard to put a price on a Machinator¡¯s work. It tends to be one-of-a-kind, so they can charge what they want. Especially if they¡¯re full of themselves...Slug wouldn¡¯t happen to have a large ego, would he?¡±

    ¡°I already told you I¡¯m not rising to the bait Balance,¡± Cross said wearily, ¡°I¡¯m not telling you anything you could use against Slug, and I¡¯m definitely not giving you any ammo to use to sow contention in our ranks. We don¡¯t turn on each other that easy.¡±

    ¡°If your eye is a sign of ¡®not turning¡¯, I¡¯d hate to see the Gitti clan when they get contentious,¡± Niccolo paused for a few moments, allowing his words to sink in before he continued, ¡°now if your Echo is done memorizing the layout of the courtyard, you¡¯ve done what you needed to do and I think it¡¯s time you left.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t blame a man for taking an opportunity when he¡¯s offered,¡± Bello smiled without humor.

    ¡°I defend from that window there,¡± Niccolo pointed, meeting and holding Bello¡¯s gaze, ¡°I¡¯ll look forward to seeing you.¡±

    Bello grunted and turned to leave. Cross looked as if she was about to say something, but instead turned and wordlessly followed, and the gnawing in Elena¡¯s stomach grew more pronounced.

    ¡°This whole thing is all my fault,¡± she said quietly as the door closed behind Cross.

    ¡°No Elena that¡¯s not-¡± Niccolo began as Ele at the same time said ¡°Don¡¯t be silly, you-¡±

    ¡°Stop, please just...just stop. If I wasn¡¯t so reckless, if I had actually listened to Ele¡¯s advice, then Cross wouldn¡¯t have gotten in trouble or gotten hurt, De Luca wouldn¡¯t have had to offer such a huge amount of money.¡±

    ¡°Well as long as you¡¯ve learned your lesson, namely that you should listen to my advice, you should be fine in the future,¡± Ele tried to joke lightly, but Elena wasn¡¯t in the mood.

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t help Cross.¡±

    ¡°Come on Elena,¡± Niccolo said gently, ¡°let¡¯s get some lunch from the kitchens, I heard Cook in there and you know he¡¯ll give you a sweet roll if you ask him, he loves you.¡±

    ¡°I will,¡± Elena glanced towards the door of the courtyard, ¡°but there¡¯s something I have to do first. I¡¯ll meet you there.¡±

    ¡°Make sure you do,¡± Niccolo called after her as she ran for the door, ¡°lord knows Cook won¡¯t give me a sweet roll unless you¡¯re there! I like sweet rolls!¡±

    ¡°What are we doing?¡± Ele asked as the pair ran through the hallway and out into the street.

    ¡°I can¡¯t leave it like this. I have to make things right somehow,¡± Elena replied. She caught sight of Cross and Bello turning the corner, and ran again at a full tilt to catch up. ¡°Cross!¡± She yelled, and the girl turned and frowned. Before she could say anything, Elena began rambling. ¡°Cross I meant what I said back there, I¡¯m so sorry I got you in trouble with Master Gitti, and I¡¯m so sorry I made Slug mad at you...I¡¯m just sorry for everything.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t do it on purpose, I get that,¡± Cross said begrudgingly. ¡°You didn¡¯t mean for any of that to happen.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what I meant or not, what matters is what happened. Here,¡± Elena dug through her pockets and brought out the coin, silver and engraved with the words ¡°Cross, Year One, Gitti¡¯s Studio¡± around the edge, an image of a stylized cross in the middle. ¡°It¡¯s not fair of me to keep this when I wasn¡¯t playing by the rules.¡±

    ¡°Do you know what that¡¯s worth?¡± Despite her protests Cross accepted the coin, but she stared at the girl with a bewildered expression. ¡°You didn¡¯t know the rules when you took this, you couldn¡¯t have played by them, why would you give me this?¡±

    ¡°All the more reason it¡¯s not fair of me to keep it,¡± Elena said awkwardly. She was suddenly unsure of what to do with her hands, and she stuffed them in her pockets to avoid thinking about it. ¡°I don¡¯t deserve it...I don¡¯t care what it¡¯s worth, I just want you to know how sorry I am.¡±

    Cross flipped the coin over and over in her hands, staring at it as if she was turning a decision over in her mind.

    ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± Bello¡¯s deep voice broke in with authority. Cross looked up at her Echo and bit her lip, then back down at the coin, clearly torn. ¡°Belloza, don¡¯t,¡± Bello repeated, and his Stormtouched gave an agonized glance back and forth between him and Elena.

    ¡°Master Gitti didn¡¯t take De Luca¡¯s chest of coin because if she did, by the rules, the offense would be repaid,¡± Cross blurted, lowering her voice and speaking fast as if worried she would change her mind.

    ¡°What?¡± Elena asked, startled.

    ¡°This is going to bite you in the ass Belloza,¡± Cross¡¯ Echo muttered.

    ¡°Master Gitti doesn¡¯t want the offense to be repaid. If the offense is repaid then Slug stays angry, and he would take it out on the rest of the studio,¡± Cross continued in the same hushed and hurried manner, ¡°instead she¡¯s letting him take action, a vengeance on his own. If Slug breaks one of the rules towards De Luca¡¯s studio, then your rule-breaking is considered even.¡±

    ¡°Maybe that¡¯s fair,¡± Elena mused, ¡°I did break the rules, I ruined his artistry, that¡¯s one of the worst things I can imagine. Maybe I should go tell him I¡¯ll accept whatever punishment he thinks is just.¡±

    ¡°New girl, look at me,¡± Cross hissed, and Elena took a step back at the intensity from the other girl as she indicated her bruised eye and swollen cheek. ¡°Does Slug strike you as the kind of person who is interested in justice? Don¡¯t...just don¡¯t...¡± she clearly struggled for words for a moment, but then stepped in close, inches away from Elena. Even so close Elena could barely hear the words the other girl breathed, though she could see the fear in her face. ¡°Don¡¯t make the mistake of thinking of Slug as if he has any humanity in him.¡±

    Elena stammered for an answer, but Cross was already gone, walking away with a light pace, almost a skip in her step, as if she didn¡¯t have a care in the world. If she could see the young archer¡¯s expression, Elena was sure it would be happy, without a trace of the fear she had just seen.

    ¡°We¡¯re staying as far the hell away from Gitti¡¯s studio as we possibly can,¡± Ele said, ¡°you can call me ¡®paranoid¡¯ as much as you like-¡±

    ¡°No. You¡¯re not being paranoid,¡± Elena turned and began walking back to De Luca¡¯s studio in a daze.

    ¡°I¡¯m not?¡±

    ¡°Cross is in her first year as a garzona, Ele. She¡¯s only been there for a month.¡±

    ¡°I know that. What does that have to do with Slug?¡±

    ¡°How is has she already gotten so much practise hiding how scared she is of him?¡±

    The pair walked back to the studio in silence.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 26

    Elena sat with her back to the hallway wall next to De Luca¡¯s office door, uncomfortably aware of the cool tile beneath her rear. Staring blankly at the equally blank paper on her knees, she tapped the feathered tip of her quill against her chin.

    "Can you please give me a hand with this Ele?" she asked, shifting her position to relieve the cramp that was starting to form.

    "It''s a bow, how much of a hand do you need?" Ele asked, "it''s the product of thousands of years of people thinking of the best way to stick someone with an arrow, I doubt you''re going to improve on that."

    "If people had always thought like that, we wouldn''t have the crossbow, and I like Cross." Elena wasn''t really paying attention to the flow of the conversation, focusing instead on drawing the basic outline of the bow. It was crooked with wobbly lines, and she turned the paper over and redrew it.

    "You think Cross'' storm wouldn''t have touched her if the crossbow hadn''t been invented?" Ele asked. Elena stopped drawing and pondered the question for a moment.

    "I don''t know...perhaps it would''ve, but in a different way? Maybe it''s like The Artifex and the Prince."

    ¡°You know how much I hate The Artifex and the Prince.¡±

    ¡°Oh really? You should¡¯ve mentioned that, I¡¯m sure mother would¡¯ve stopped reading it to us.¡± Elena smiled as she copied down numbers from the book next to her; the strengths of different strings, the stretch of different woods.

    ¡°If your mother had ever believed I was real, she wouldn¡¯t have stopped just because I whined every night. She would¡¯ve found a way to beat me. What has that got to do with Cross?¡±

    Elena herself had never much cared for the story; a saccharine-sweet tale in which a beautiful Artifex was mocked for only painting in yellow, until her fated love the Prince discovered that her paintings were made of pure gold. It was childish and riddled with plot holes (how did no one realized that her paintings suddenly weighed tons?), but Joanna had delighted in reading it to her daughter every night.

    "Cross could¡¯ve been like the Artifex,¡± Elena explained, continuing to diagram and label, ¡°not knowing what her Storm was, or thinking she¡¯d been cursed with a weak one.¡±

    "You think she would''ve just gone through life, preternaturally skilled at something that didn''t exist?" For some reason, the question made Elena uncomfortable, and she returned to her sketching with a frown on her face.

    "Very well, we won¡¯t try to re-invent the bow. If we can''t improve on the design of his tool, or on the ¡°function¡± as he would say, maybe we could improve on the form."

    "Isn¡¯t that the opposite of what Niccolo says? Wouldn''t he be the first to say that this is a waste of your time?"

    ¡°I¡¯ve made Frederica and Carlo and Vittoria tools, I would feel bad if I didn¡¯t do the same for him.¡±

    ¡°And you think this will impress De Luca as a final project?¡±

    Elena was spared from having to answer Ele''s point by the door next to them swinging outward and Lorenzo stepping out.

    ¡°Oh, hello there Elena. Are you here to see Master De Luca?¡±

    ¡°Yeah I was just waiting-¡±

    ¡°What are you working on?¡± Lorenzo¡¯s normally quiet Echo Lore asked, leaning over and tilting his head to look at her paper.

    ¡°Just a design for a bow I was thinking of building. Well, of having built,¡± Elena showed off the paper, and Lore scrutinized it. He wasn¡¯t as similar to Lorenzo as Vi was to Vittoria, but the pair definitely looked related. They both had the sweep of pretty black hair, they both had the same slight pout to their large lips, and both tended to walk around with a vacant expression on their face.

    Neither was looking very vacant at the moment. Elena hadn¡¯t ever seen them so fascinated in anything that didn¡¯t involve Lodestones. It was a strange sight, watching their dull expressions light up with fervor.

    ¡°How did you figure out the tension that was needed here?¡± Lore asked, indicating a few notes with a thumb.

    ¡°I had to look up the tensile strength, and then do the math by hand,¡± Elena replied glumly. ¡°Normally my power lets me remember little things like that, or figure them out without trying, but trying to design Niccolo¡¯s bow it just won¡¯t...it won¡¯t come to me.¡±

    ¡°Maybe your power is dying,¡± Lorenzo said absentmindedly, taking the sheet from Elena and turning it sideways to study the designs from a different angle.

    ¡°What? Does that happen?¡± Elena¡¯s stomach went cold.

    ¡°Not that I¡¯ve ever heard, but you never know. Do you think I could keep this?¡±

    ¡°I...I suppose I haven¡¯t gotten very far beyond the measurements yet...so sure, I guess. But why would you want-¡±

    ¡°Thanks!¡± Lorenzo and Lore turned and left as soon as she let go of the paper.

    ¡°Hey! Why do you want it?¡±

    ¡°Oh, that reminds me!¡± Lorenzo turned to address her, but his eyes stayed glued to the page as he continued to walk backwards, ¡°Master De Luca said to have you come right in as soon as I saw you.¡±

    Elena sighed and walked through the door to De Luca¡¯s office.

    ¡°You mentioned at breakfast that you wanted to see me at one of the clock, Master De Luca,¡± Elena asked, glancing at the clock on his desk and trying not to sound accusing.

    ¡°I did, and I can¡¯t tell you how sorry I am that I kept you waiting for so long,¡± De Luca said. As soon as she had entered he set aside the large book he had been studying, giving Elena his full attention. ¡°I despise breaking my own rules of punctuality, but as I¡¯m sure you know, sometimes a rule must be broken and there¡¯s just no way of getting around it.¡± His eyes twinkled as he spoke, and she couldn¡¯t remember ever seeing him so cheerful. Bea was nowhere to be seen, but it wasn¡¯t so strange that she might be out and around the studio taking care of the things that she could. ¡°Now, tell me how you are progressing with your Storm.¡±

    ¡°With my Storm?¡± Elena and Ele sat in the chairs that across the desk from De Luca, ¡°I don¡¯t know what you mean.¡±

    ¡°Well when we last spoke, it sounded as if your biggest problem was that you still haven¡¯t quite gotten a handle on your Storm, on the ins and outs of how it works. I had assumed that you would have spent the past week working on figuring it out.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve...mostly been trying to figure out what I would do as my final project, Master De Luca.¡±

    ¡°Your ¡®final¡¯ project?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s what the full garzoni have been talking about all week; the last project before you decide who stays and who goes. They say it¡¯s the most important one, so I thought I¡¯d think for a week and then spend two weeks working...¡± Elena trailed off, searching De Luca¡¯s face for some hint of where the conversation was going. His cheerful demeanor had sobered a little, and he was looking at her thoughtfully.

    ¡°One of my greatest regrets in taking so many trips to the palace and to Florezia,¡± he sighed, ¡°is that I have so little time to help my individual garzoni. Elena, the most important thing you should be focusing on right now isn¡¯t how to impress me with some individual project.¡±

    ¡°But they said you picked the garzoni with the most impressive projects last year!¡±

    ¡°That might very well be true, but I didn¡¯t pick them because they were the most impressive. I am a Master Artist, Elena, and I am at the head of this studio because I hope to, someday, train up another Master Artist just as good as I am. Better than I am, perhaps. Do you know what makes the best Master Artist, Elena?¡±

    ¡°They make the best art,¡± Elena said simply, still confused, ¡°but you just said-¡±

    ¡°Wrong. The best Master Artist is the artist who knows their Storm. The one who has the most control over it, the most mastery in it, the most domination of it. Those are the Stormtouched I have my eye on.¡±

    ¡°I thought you said the Stormtouched with the best gifts came from Florezia.¡±

    ¡°The best Stormtouched and the Stormtouched with the best gifts are often two entirely different beasts, my little garzona. The best Stormtouched come from all over Italoza, there is no city that constantly produces the best.¡±

    ¡°The best do tend to flock to Florezia. Florezia is where the Masters assemble, and as time goes on I would like to send more and more of my Journeymen students there, to spread great art through the world. I truly hope that you are among them someday Elena, and I think you may yet have the potential to be.¡±

    ¡°So...you¡¯re saying that to become the best artist I can be, I have to figure out how to use my Storm?¡±

    ¡°You have to figure out everything about your Storm, Elena. Every tic of it, every little trick it lets you use, every facet and every detail. Don¡¯t worry about impressing me with your project, stop couching your thinking in unimportant details like ¡®will I stay in the studio¡¯.¡± Elena thought that was an incredibly important detail, but she kept silent as he continued, ¡°worry about making your Storm work for you. Worry about using it as an extension of your own body. If you can master that, you¡¯ll produce something that keeps you in this studio as a mere side-effect.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just so hard, Master De Luca,¡± Elena protested, ¡°sometimes it comes to me when I don¡¯t even realize I have a problem to solve, and other times I can sit and try to focus for an hour and can¡¯t get so much as a tingle.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid when it comes to the specifics, I¡¯m let help to you Elena,¡± De Luca said, ¡°your Storm is far too personalized to you for me to be able to give you advice on using it.¡±

    ¡°How did you do it?¡±

    ¡°Hmm? Do what, child?¡±

    ¡°You said that the best Stormtouched knew every in and out of their power. How did you learn about your Storm when it¡¯s so dangerous?¡±

    ¡°What do you know of my Storm? Why do you say it¡¯s dangerous?¡±

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    Elena was surprised at the question; she had figured it out as a child reading about De Luca in her books, and she had always assumed it was too obvious for anyone to mention.

    ¡°Everyone says you¡¯re one of the best artists in Italoza, and you run the most prestigious studio in Milia...but you didn¡¯t ever move to Florezia, you stayed here. The King and Queen invite you to Florezia all the time, but always to visit, never to stay. Why would that be the case if your power wasn¡¯t dangerous?¡±

    De Luca was silent for a long time, his fingers steepled in front of him and pressed against his mouth. A strange smile played around his lips.

    ¡°I sometimes wonder if your Storm somehow manifests itself in your curiosity,¡± he said as if to himself, ¡°you can be so completely oblivious to questions that dangle right in front of your face, and then every now and then you¡¯ll say something like that.¡±

    ¡°What? What questions are staring me in the face?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what Elena, we¡¯ll work on your Touch right now. No one knows about my Storm, you said? Figure it out, right this moment.¡±

    Elena was tempted to blurt that she couldn¡¯t, but the last time she had tried to use her power under similar circumstances it had worked beautifully. She straightened her shoulders in the chair and closed her eyes.

    ¡°Build a De Luca in your mind, from scratch,¡± Ele reminded her quietly. Elena nodded and began.

    ¡°A man who is a Stormtouched, leads the arts of Milia,¡± she said slowly, ¡°he is invited to Florezia often, but stays in Milia. His power is something dangerous...not dangerous enough to keep captive or kill like a Rhetor...¡±

    ¡°Or maybe even more dangerous,¡± Ele offered, ¡°so dangerous that no one dares try to keep him captive.¡±

    ¡°Right, or more dangerous. Let¡¯s see...¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s well known that he¡¯s an Artifex, but that could cover quite a lot,¡± Ele said.

    ¡°But he doesn¡¯t have any galleries, no one can buy his works anywhere,¡± Elena countered, ¡°how can we be sure that¡¯s what he really is? Bea proves he¡¯s Stormtouched, but what evidence do we have that he¡¯s Artifex? Maybe he pretends for some reason. Unless his Artifex Storm is too dangerous to let others find out about.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s good, that¡¯s good! What else?¡±

    Elena strained her mind, thinking so hard she wrinkled her nose.

    ¡°I think that¡¯s it,¡± she said finally, ¡°at least, all I can figure out for now.¡± When she opened her eyes, De Luca was watching her with a raised eyebrow.

    ¡°Very good,¡± he said dryly, ¡°you¡¯ve figured out that I am Stormtouched, that I stay in Milia, that I¡¯m either less dangerous or more dangerous than a Rhetor, and that I am certainly either an Artifex or not an Artifex.¡±

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t get my Storm to work,¡± Elena said.

    ¡°Try again. With less of the talking-things-through nonsense. Just use your Storm.¡±

    Elena closed her eyes again, imagining the buzzing in her temples, the prickle across her fingertips. She tried to build a De Luca in her head, first imagining a personality, then adding bits and pieces onto it, adding relationships with other studios, with his students. She had flashes of ideas and thoughts, but the Storm stubbornly refused to cooperate.

    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± she finally said, ¡°I just can¡¯t. Maybe my Storm is just random, and there will never be a way for me to control it.¡±

    ¡°If you expect me to believe that, you¡¯re both far more lazy and far more stupid than I imagined of you,¡± De Luca snapped, his cheer and fatherly tone gone. The words stung, and Elena blinked back tears.

    ¡°It could be true, no one knows-¡±

    ¡°But I know, I know that it¡¯s an excuse. You want to be a garzona in this studio? You really want to? Did you think it would be easy?¡±

    ¡°I want to be a De Luca garzona!¡±

    ¡°Then try. Try again, try harder.¡±

    Elena grit her teeth and tried again, tried so hard that her head spun and her face grew hot. She pictured the boy De Luca must¡¯ve been, forced that boy to grow in her mind. What choices must he have made, what factors must have influenced him to reach this point? How had De Luca become De Luca, and what part had his Storm played in shaping him into De Luca?

    It was no use. She was starting to get a headache, but beyond that her temples didn¡¯t feel any different, and they certainly weren¡¯t buzzing.

    ¡°It¡¯s random. Or it won¡¯t come when I call it, only when I need it,¡± she said, ¡°however it works, I can¡¯t get it to work now.¡±

    ¡°More excuses.¡±

    ¡°It won¡¯t work! I¡¯m trying!¡±

    ¡°You know, we get garzoni like you in here every now and then.¡± De Luca leaned forward, not a scrap of pity in his eyes, ¡°usually Pietro or Bea will catch them, but once in a while a good enough actor comes along and fools them. You don¡¯t actually care about art at all, do you? You couldn¡¯t care less about graduating to journeywoman.¡±

    ¡°I do care-¡±

    ¡°The real reason you¡¯re here is two months of soft beds and luxury, feeding off of this studio. You took the spot that other Stormtouched, true artists, would¡¯ve done anything to have. You¡¯re wasting the time and money that could¡¯ve been spent training them into great artists, all because of your selfish wants.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not true!¡± The tears were flowing now, and Elena didn¡¯t know if they were tears of anger or despair, ¡°I care! I care about art more than anything!¡±

    ¡°Then you¡¯re doing a poor job of showing it. If you really care about art, prove it. Use your Storm.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t! But that doesn¡¯t mean I don¡¯t care about being a garzona!¡±

    ¡°Words, useless words. Use your Storm and speak with actions.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m trying!¡±

    ¡°Elena Lucciano,¡± De Luca roared, standing from his chair and towering above her, ¡°your continued presence in this studio is based on you being like no Fabera we¡¯ve ever seen. If you can¡¯t justify that, if you are unable or, more likely, unwilling to use your Storm now, then it is clear that Bea¡¯s faith in you...MY faith in you, was misplaced. Use your Storm, Miss Lucciano, or get the hell out of my Studio and don¡¯t bother returning!¡±

    She bit back her tears and clamped her eyes shut. She wasn¡¯t going to get kicked out of the studio, not now, not when she had lasted so long, not when she was finally starting to make friends with the full garzoni. It was everything she had dreamed of, talking and laughing and making art. She wasn¡¯t going to give Leanarda the satisfaction of seeing her leave, she wasn¡¯t going to disappoint Niccolo, and she was definitely going to prove to De Luca that she was a true artist.

    Elena focused so hard that her arms and shoulders began twitching, her hands clenched so tight that the fingernails bit crescents into her skin. She focused so hard that everything became dull around her and faded away, her jaw ached, her fingers hurt, but one question remained in her mind like a single point of light that she flew towards like an arrow: ¡°what is De Luca¡¯s power?¡±

    The Storm refused to come.

    Elena collapsed into the chair and gasped, unaware that she had been holding her breath until her lungs rebelled. Her shoulders shook with sobs that wracked her so completely that she couldn¡¯t even make a sound to go with them. I¡¯m finished. Chance after chance, close call after close call, and this is all there is. I¡¯m done.

    ¡°Elena! Elena listen to me, I¡¯m not kicking you out of the studio,¡± De Luca¡¯s voice seemed to come from far away, but they jolted her out of her misery.

    ¡°You¡¯re....you¡¯re not?¡± She sniffled.

    ¡°Of course not. You guessed that perhaps your Storm only worked when you needed it, and that wasn¡¯t a bad idea. There are some Stormtouched whose power works only at certain times, or under certain conditions, so I thought I would test that theory out.¡±

    ¡°It was a test?¡± Elena asked, unsure of whether to let herself hope again.

    ¡°It was an attempt to help you figure out your powers,¡± De Luca said sadly, ¡°one which unfortunately didn¡¯t work, but of course you¡¯re still in the studio. Of all of my garzoni, everyone knows how much you love art Elena. I¡¯ve always known how much being a garzona means to you.¡±

    ¡°You were just trying to help me,¡± Elena said, weak with relief.

    ¡°That was very cruel,¡± Ele¡¯s voice had an edge of hostility in it, and he was glaring daggers at De Luca, ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of a Stormtouched suddenly figuring out more about their Storm by being bullied, or by thinking they lost the thing they cared about the most.¡±

    ¡°Ele-¡± Elena began, but De Luca held up a hand.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright Elena, I quite deserve it. It was cruel Ele. But I happen to know first-hand that such a Stormtouched exists. Elena¡¯s Storm is not mine, but it is is...let us just say we may be different, but I think we are similar in many ways as well. I had hoped what worked for me might¡¯ve worked for her...ah well. I think I have tormented the both of you enough for one day. Elena, you may go now. You and I will continue working on figuring your Storm out, but I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll try this tactic again. We¡¯ll find a gentler way to explore your Storm.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Master De Luca.¡± Elena¡¯s legs wobbled when she stood, and she had gone all the way to the doorway before a question suddenly occurred to her. ¡°If my Storm wasn¡¯t working when I guessed, then what is the real reason you live in Milia? You¡¯re one of the best, why don¡¯t you stay in Florezia?¡±

    ¡°Oh just because your Storm wasn¡¯t working doesn¡¯t mean all of your wild guesses were wrong, Elena.¡± The wizened man carefully opened his book to the place he had been reading, but he gave Elena a friendly smile that made the corners of his eyes wrinkle. ¡°I am far too dangerous for royalty to risk being around me for too long.¡±

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 27

    The days of late autumn were still uncomfortably hot during the daylit hours, but the nights had begun to take on a chill that warned of the fast-approaching winter. After checking with Bea and Pietro, Elena had found a store of extra blankets in the studio, and now she lay in her bed under three of them, trying to come up with ideas for a bow.

    ¡°What if we put something sharp on the bow itself, so Niccolo could use it as a melee weapon if someone got too close?¡± Ele suggested from his chair in the corner. He leaned back and stared at the ceiling, clearly not as enthusiastic about the project as she was.

    ¡°Something sharp will cause actual damage, so it¡¯s not really helpful in the inter-studio battles,¡± Elena pointed out.

    ¡°It¡¯ll make him look scarier though. Intimidation can be helpful.¡±

    ¡°But Niccolo is a Saggitari, his Storm only helps him when it comes to ranged weapons. He would be hopeless using his bow as a melee weapon. His Storm might not even work with the bow, since it technically wouldn¡¯t be a ranged weapon anymore.¡±

    ¡°Would that work?¡± Ele asked curiously, ¡°does a Storm know the difference between a bow that¡¯s used for melee and a bow that¡¯s used for range? You think his Touch would suddenly stop working if it was changed?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Ele, can we just focus on this please?¡± Elena frowned and tried again to force her Storm into action. Once again it failed her, and she clenched her fists on the bedcovers.

    "Your lack of curiosity is frustrating," Ele said, ¡°you used to be just as curious about things as I am, back before we came here.¡±

    "I just have better things to do now!¡± Elena snapped. ¡°You''ve just been so obsessed with how the Storm works, and meanwhile I''ve been the only one trying to figure something out to keep us in the Studio!"

    "No, what you''ve been trying to do is make Niccolo a bow when your Storm is clearly trying to tell you it''s not interested in doing that. We¡¯re supposed to be getting the Storm to work, and instead you¡¯re trying to out-stubborn it."

    "You''re talking about the Storm like it''s a person Ele, instead of a force of nature. The Storm can¡¯t be stubborn if it can¡¯t think."

    "Can¡¯t it? I¡¯ve never known a widlfire or a flood to target certain people, much less to know the difference between a ranged and melee weapon. It certainly gives people powers that I wouldn''t expect from a mindless force of nature."

    Elena wasn''t sure why, but the discussion was sending prickles down her arms.

    "It gives people tools that they can use," she said, "you might as well say a hammer is intelligent because houses are built with one."

    "What about Echoes? It''s obvious we have something to do with the Storm, do you think a force of nature is capable of birthing or creating creatures of such vast intelligence?" Even with his joking manner, Ele seemed to be deep in thought, and Elena wasn''t entirely sure what to say. Her Echo had never before voice thoughts about who he was or where he came from. ¡°Anyways,¡± Ele continued, ¡°all of this is beyond the point of our discussion.¡±

    ¡°And what was that?¡±

    ¡°That you need to stop making this bow for Niccolo.¡±

    ¡°Ele, you can argue all you want, you can¡¯t convince me-¡± Elena was interrupted by a quiet knock on the door of her room. Sighing at the further distraction, she rose to open it. Waiting in the hallway outside were Niccolo, Vittoria, and Frederica. They looked quite serious and grave, although with Frederica it was hard to tell.

    ¡°We need to talk to you Elena,¡± Vittoria said, ¡°can we come in?¡±

    Elena nodded and stood aside, feeling for the first time that her room was just a little cramped. Niccolo closed the door and slid to the floor next to it, sitting with his back against the wall and resting one arm on his knee. Frederica stood next to the chair that Ele occupied, her perpetual frown seeming less angry and more her natural expression. Vittoria sat on the end of Elena¡¯s bed, so that when Elena returned to it and sat down she was faced with all three full garzoni.

    ¡°Where are your Echoes?¡± she asked.

    ¡°They¡¯re out in the hallway and nearby, keeping an eye out,¡± Niccolo said, ¡°making sure no human or Echo spies on us.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it normally your job to keep watch, ¡®Hundred Eye¡¯?¡± Elena joked, but none of the other three garzoni cracked a smile.

    ¡°All my eyes are closed tonight,¡± Vittoria said, her manner crisp and very different from her normally dreamy and distracted demeanor, ¡°this discussion is too serious to split my attention.¡±

    ¡°That seems a little somber...is that really necessary?¡± Elena wasn¡¯t sure she liked how the three full garzoni exchanged glances at the question.

    ¡°Elena, we think that Leanarda and Mella are working together to keep their place in the studio.¡±

    ¡°Oh! They are,¡± Elena nodded, ¡°I think I was technically supposed to be a part of that too, but they don¡¯t trust me anymore. Aren¡¯t we all working to keep our place in the studio?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a difference; the rest of us are working hard on our art, those two are working hard at being underhanded.¡±

    ¡°Frederica overheard them talking to Lorenzo,¡± Niccolo explained. ¡°Apparently your little design of a bow has given him some new idea for lodestones, but they¡¯re trying to convince him that he should steal your project idea wholesale. ¡®Build a better bow than Elena can¡¯, they said.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s...not very nice,¡± Elena said, ¡°but I would sort of expect that of Leanarda. I mean yes, she¡¯s very cutthroat about this whole process, but there are only four slots in De Luca¡¯s studio, aren¡¯t there?¡±

    ¡°Four slots for the four best artists, not the four people who can most easily tear each other down,¡± Vittoria said firmly. ¡°Those two are much better at destruction than they are at creation, and none of us want to be full garzoni alongside someone like Leanarda, having to watch our backs when all we want to do is focus on art.¡±

    ¡°She destroyed my bird,¡± Frederica growled, ¡°if she¡¯ll destroy art now, she¡¯ll destroy it as a full garzona whenever she wants to look good to De Luca.¡±

    ¡°That bird might¡¯ve been an accident,¡± Elena said uncertainly.

    ¡°Leanarda was the one who planted the wine, Elena,¡± Ele broke in. ¡°There was nothing accidental about that.¡±

    ¡°Planted wine?¡± Niccolo raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Someone put a wineskin under my pillow, in my first week here, then reported it to Pietro,¡± Elena explained, ¡°but Ele it was Leanarda who warned me about the wine in the first place.¡±

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°And she warned you right about the time she was trying to get you to trust her,¡± Ele pointed out, ¡°right after she¡¯d given you a speech about how every one of the garzoni would try to stab you in the back. Think, Elena, if it wasn¡¯t Leanarda, who do you think it was?¡±

    Elena considered the question. Lorenzo was too scatterbrained when not thinking about lodestones, and she couldn¡¯t see Vittoria or Niccolo being so underhanded. Frederica might have tried to get her kicked out of the studio, but she was so straightforward and blunt; intrigue wasn¡¯t really her style. The only garzoni Elena could even picture planting the wine was Leanarda, Mella, or..

    ¡°Where is Carlo?¡± she asked suddenly.

    ¡°Carlo isn¡¯t interested in helping. He doesn¡¯t stick his neck out for anyone,¡± Elena caught a flash of annoyance on Vittoria¡¯s face, unusual for the typically happy garzona, ¡°but he also doesn¡¯t stick his neck out to hurt anyone. Carla is convinced that as long as they keeps their heads down, they¡¯ll be fine, and he trusts her.¡±

    ¡°Alright...¡± Elena stared at the floor, trying to take in all of the information, ¡°...so Leanarda is out to get me, and has been for some time. What exactly are you three planning to do about it?¡±

    ¡°I like to think we¡¯re a little more mature about the nature of being a De Luca garzoni.¡± It was eerie how serious and grave Vittoria seemed when all of her concentration was in one place. She was obviously so used to multitasking that when she focused she became intense. ¡°We know that De Luca can only have four of us, but it¡¯s not De Luca¡¯s fault, and we don¡¯t have to be enemies here. It¡¯s better for everyone concerned if we don¡¯t drag each other down to get ahead, but rather raise each other up-¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re here to help you with your final project,¡± Frederica interrupted, ¡°a bow is a stupid idea.¡±

    ¡°I would¡¯ve phrased it a little differently,¡± Vittoria winced, ¡°but essentially, yes, we¡¯re here to talk you out of your idea of making a bow.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯ve been trying to tell her,¡± Ele chuckled.

    ¡°But I¡¯ve made something for all of the full garzoni but you, Niccolo,¡± Elena said.

    ¡°I can handle being left out,¡± Niccolo shrugged from the floor, ¡°but a bow, no matter how nice, isn¡¯t going to impress De Luca.¡±

    ¡°It might,¡± Elena said defensively, ¡°if it was an elaborate enough bow.¡±

    ¡°Elena, do you know what the rest of the garzoni are doing for our projects?¡±

    ¡°I know that everyone is keeping their projects locked away in their rooms. I know Frederica is doing something huge; I helped her pick out the block of wood.¡±

    ¡°Frederica is trying to carve a living statue of maple wood. A human statue, like Pietro,¡± Niccolo said. Elena blinked. It was the thing that Caelator were best known for, after all, but actual human statues were rare. It was mostly Master artists who created them, and if Frederica could pull it off she would be known throughout the city.

    ¡°That¡¯s...that¡¯s amazing,¡± Elena stammered.

    ¡°Vittoria has been talking to the Bishop in charge of the cathedral near the West gate of the city, trying to convince him to let her bring a team of painters to paint a mural of our lord Jesus set against a backdrop of a storm on the cathedral belltower...¡±

    ¡°That would be pretty-¡±

    ¡°...A painting of which Vittoria would paint the eyes,¡± Niccolo finished. ¡°She would be able to watch an entire eighth of Milia if she succeeded, any time she chose to focus through them.¡± Elena¡¯s mouth was suddenly dry as Niccolo continued. ¡°I¡¯m a Saggitari, De Luca will either keep me or get rid of me as the studio needs a Saggitari, but even I¡¯m trying something new; very very thin arrows, sharp enough to punch through stone.¡±

    ¡°I get it,¡± Elena said, but Niccolo kept talking.

    ¡°Carlo is trying to paint his first full fresco, something he¡¯s been training for years to do. It¡¯s an image of an oracle, one that will actually tell him the future. Not just symbols or signs, if it works it will speak to him and tell him what the future holds. Leanarda and Mella are keeping apart from us, but if they¡¯ve been clever enough to keep the nature of their Storms away from us, they¡¯re clever enough to know what they¡¯ll need to do to prove their worth. Lorenzo...well I¡¯m not entirely sure Lorenzo even realizes that he¡¯s competing. And you...¡±

    ¡°I was going to bring a bow,¡± Elena whispered.

    ¡°You were going to bring a bow,¡± Niccolo nodded. ¡°It was very well intentioned, and I can¡¯t help but smile. I would very much like a bow crafted by my favorite Fabera, but maybe wait until after we both make full garzona, yes?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe I was going to bring a bow,¡± Elena looked back and forth between her three friends. She was still reeling from the sheer magnitude of their undertakings; the raw power of the Stormtouched in this room made her head spin. Her mind jumped to the horrible thought of showing a simple bow to De Luca, of displaying it sheepishly after they all showed off their successes. The thought made her shudder. ¡°I need to think of something awe-inspiring.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯ve been trying to tell you,¡± Ele said, exasperated.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright Ele,¡± Vittoria stood from the bed, a dreamy expression slowly coming over her face, ¡°sometimes people need to hear from many different sources before it filters through.¡±

    ¡°Thank you all,¡± Elena said as the others stood to leave, ¡°I would¡¯ve made a fool out of myself if you hadn¡¯t warned me.¡±

    ¡°Damnit, I knew we shouldn¡¯t have come, that would¡¯ve been amusing to watch,¡± Niccolo grinned.

    ¡°Leave the poor girl alone Niccolo,¡± Vittoria smiled, ¡°and of course, Elena. Whatever four make it through, you deserve a fair shot.¡±

    ¡°I just wish it wasn¡¯t limited to four,¡± Elena sighed. Vittoria pausing at the door as Elena thought aloud. ¡°How could I be happy, knowing that if I succeed it means someone I care about doesn¡¯t? How does someone live with themselves knowing someone else had to fail to keep their own dream alive?¡±

    Vittoria half turned, the dreamy look gone again. It was replaced with a look of such heartbroken sadness that it made the intensity of earlier seem tame.

    ¡°You don¡¯t,¡± she replied.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 28

    It was a tickle across her subconscious brain, like a sand-laden feather being dragged across sensitive skin. Elena wasn¡¯t awake and so couldn¡¯t process the feeling in words like ¡°someone is inviting me away from my dream, inviting me somewhere else, would I like to join them?¡± but even so she was somehow able to make the choice.

    Yes. Yes I would like to join them.

    ¡°-will be absolutely heartbroken if it doesn¡¯t work this time, I really will, but there¡¯s always the next...oh...OH, ladies and gentlemen I think we¡¯ve got her! Her and her Echo friend!¡± The voice was familiar; the large man in black furs who had talked to her in a dream before. Elena felt sluggish, as if she were waking up slowly in reverse, and she had to blink several times before the scene in front of her came into focus.

    It was a gigantic hall, full of arches and with a high ceiling. She was sitting at the head of a long table of dark red wood, and up and down the side sat the monstrous apparitions who had inhabited her last dream. Dishes and silverware made of the same red wood sat neatly in front of each, though on the plates were quite varied foods. Next to her sat Ele, looking around him curiously and blinking as she did.

    ¡°Elena Lucciano!¡± Black Furs said from his seat at the opposite end of the table. As he had when they¡¯d last met, he said her name very deliberately, as if he was tasting every syllable. Before she had found it unnerving, but he was beaming so heartily that Elena managed a half-smile herself. ¡°I was so hoping that our most recent visit wouldn¡¯t be our last!¡±

    ¡°You were so frightened, we all hoped we would have the chance to make a slightly better impression,¡± the Grinning Girl¡¯s smile stretched so wide that it almost reached from ear to ear, her blank face featureless besides the long mouth.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been here before?¡± Ele asked Elena from the side of his mouth. He was holding himself stiffly, as if worried of attracting the monsters¡¯ attention.

    ¡°I¡¯ve met these...ladies and gentlemen...in a dream a few weeks ago Ele,¡± Elena said, ¡°it¡¯s a bit much to get used to, but they¡¯re very polite. There¡¯s no need to be frightened- well, I was a little bit frightened at first,¡± Elena admitted sheepishly. Now that they were at a table rather than all piled into a cramped litter, the monsters were slightly less threatening.

    ¡°You were quite frightened yes, and I¡¯m terribly sorry for that, but thank you for admitting it. Honesty is a wonderful virtue...as long as it¡¯s practised among friends,¡± Black Furs said with a wink.

    ¡°No offense meant, but I can see why she was frightened,¡± Ele said. Elena scanned the assembled group; her eyes were struggling to focus within the dream, but with a little concentration she could see each of her dinner companions. In addition to the Grinning Girl and the fat man in black furs, there were other familiar faces. The man whose face hung in ribbons around his head, slowly floating as if they were underwater, was on her right. Next to him was the woman who was perfectly plain in every way, although Elena¡¯s stomach clenched at the sight of her. Across from the pair was a man with very thin features and long spidery hands that had no arms connecting them to his body. Next to Black Furs sat a small child with gold hair, picking at her food and not looking at Elena.

    ¡°Oh Mister Shadow, I¡¯m sure you and Elena are far too clever to judge this small library of books by their respective covers,¡± Black Furs said reproachfully. Even in the brightly lit hall it was impossible to make out the features of his face no matter how hard Elena tried, and eventually she simply gave up.

    ¡°Sometimes the cover of a book is a perfect indication of what lurks beneath it,¡± Ele replied.

    ¡°If our monstrous appearance was indication of monstrous morals, then what would that say about our dear friend Elena?¡± Black Furs lifted a glass of swirling blue liquid and made a toasting gesture towards Elena.

    ¡°I¡¯m still trying to figure that out.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Elena asked. Lucid or no, she seemed far less able to think clearly in the fog of the dream. It wasn¡¯t until Ele motioned down at her hands that she realized what had happened. At first glance she thought that her skin had dried out and was cracking, but on closer inspection the deep cracks that traced through her hands were too precise, too careful to be random.

    ¡°I will be the first to admit that I don¡¯t know you very well Elena,¡± Black Furs said, watching as she raised her hands in front of her face, letting the sleeves of her shirt fall to see the cracks running all the way down her arms, ¡°at least not yet, not as much as I¡¯d like to...but I do have to admit that it¡¯s a rather amusing form you have. Appropriate, somehow.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a jigsaw puzzle,¡± Elena realized aloud, somewhat belatedly. The cracks that ran along her flesh outlined the curves of pieces, locked into place.

    ¡°As I say, appropriate. You¡¯re puzzling.¡±

    ¡°Not really, I¡¯m easy to figure out,¡± Elena was so fascinated that she was only half-paying attention, running her finger along the lines, feeling the tiny near-microscopic gaps between them. ¡°What happens if I take a piece out?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m...not entirely sure, but I wouldn¡¯t suggest it, I wouldn¡¯t want you to hurt yourself.¡±

    ¡°Pardon me,¡± Ele broke in, ¡°Elena seems a little sleepdrunk at the moment, so perhaps you¡¯d be kind enough to answer some of my questions.¡±

    ¡°I am not sleepdrunk!¡± Elena protested.

    ¡°Of course!¡± Black Furs waved a hand, ¡°in fact that¡¯s part of the reason we¡¯ve brought you here along with Elena, because the first several times can be rather disoriented. The other reason was to meet you, of course. If we¡¯re going to be meeting with Elena regularly, it wouldn¡¯t do to not have met you.¡±

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    ¡°That¡¯s my first question, right off the bat,¡± Ele brushed Elena¡¯s protests aside, ¡°who are you? Why are you meeting with Elena, and why do you think you can just pull us through dreams whenever you want?¡±

    ¡°Oh dear,¡± the ribbon-faced man sighed, ¡°I believe you¡¯ve started things on the wrong foot with Ele, Wanderer. We really should stop defaulting to letting you speak for us.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t mind him speaking for us,¡± the Grinning Girl popped something from her plate into her mouth and chewed loudly, occasionally grinning through shark-like teeth.

    ¡°You don¡¯t count, you don¡¯t mind anything he does.¡±

    ¡°Alright, alright, you answer then,¡± Ele said impatiently to the ribbon-faced man, ¡°as long as we get an answer.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s quite a long and convoluted answer that your question has, but I shall strive to do it the justice it deserves,¡± the ribbon-faced man leaned back and rested his hands on his stomach, ¡°it all began many decades ago-¡±

    ¡°We are the Twisted. I am Marsilio,¡± The thin man with spindly hands and no arms interrupted, turned suddenly to Ele. He had a trace of a Spanish accent in his dark deep voice, although his face bore no sign of Spanish heritage, ¡°the reason we bring Elena here is because she is one of us. We want to help Elena discover herself and her Storm.¡± He turned towards the ribbon-faced man, ¡°that¡¯s how you answer questions. It¡¯s only you who makes everything long and convoluted.¡±

    ¡°Using your real name Marsilio?¡± The gold-haired child said quietly, ¡°we know nothing about Elena, least of all whether or not she¡¯s trustworthy.¡±

    ¡°We can hardly ask her to trust us when we do not offer her the same trust,¡± Marsilio made a motion with his disembodied hands that might¡¯ve been an attempt at a shrug, ¡°besides, her Shadow already doesn¡¯t like us. No need to put him more on guard by being secretive.¡±

    ¡°Why do you call me a Shadow instead of an Echo? And speaking of secrets, how do you know Elena needs help figuring out her Storm?¡± Ele demanded. Elena blinked to try to focus, concerned by Ele¡¯s aggressiveness. She was very much reminded of the last time he had seemed angry and she blurry; under the stars with Arturo and the wine. Nothing bad had happened then, but still...perhaps she would trust Ele¡¯s judgement this time.

    ¡°Elena is one of us,¡± Marsilio said simply, ¡°of course she needs help. As for why we call you a Shadow...it¡¯s because some of us are rather melodramatic, and have decided to come up with secret names for absolutely everything.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re no fun Arc,¡± the Grinning Girl growled, although a smile played in the corner of her wide lips.

    ¡°In truth, we would¡¯ve offered our services much sooner; we all remember how hard it was to learn control over our Storm,¡± Black Furs broke in, ¡°but this dream hall is very difficult to get set up correctly, and finding Elena again was harder still, getting her to join us the very hardest. All of us must be sleeping, yet not sleeping so deeply that we drag others further in, and of course the keys of- well, it¡¯s not important. Suffice to say that even though it becomes easier the more we attempt it, I¡¯ll be quite glad when we finally meet face to face and can dispense with all of this dreaming nonsense.¡±

    ¡°Meeting face to face?¡± Elena asked.

    ¡°Why yes of course Elena dearest! You didn¡¯t think that we would let you rot away in whatever little town you¡¯re in now, did you? You¡¯re one of our own now!¡±

    ¡°Speaking of which, we should probably take care of that sooner rather than later,¡± the plain woman said, and Elena¡¯s heart pounded. She still couldn¡¯t bring herself to look at the woman¡¯s average features, nor could she get rid of the feeling of ice down her spine whenever the woman spoke. ¡°Elena, you must tell us where we can find you, so that we can visit and help you in person.¡±

    Elena might¡¯ve told her had it been another of the Twisted, but the plain woman still disturbed her in a way she couldn¡¯t quite put her finger on. The fact that Elena had no clue why she was so disturbed made her even more uneasy.

    ¡°Oh don¡¯t worry Miss Lucciano!¡± As if reading her mind, Black Furs waved both hands in a way that made his large belly jiggle, ¡°we of all people know how important it is to keep worlds separate. No one in your life will know about us, you¡¯ll have nothing to fear. Who knows, we might even be able to help you keep your-¡±

    The hall had been quiet up until this point, the gentle click of wooden silverware on wooden dishes pleasantly muted, but the silence was suddenly broken by a resounding, echoing boom. Another crash shook the room and rattled the dishes, and Elena covered her ears.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s just your real life,¡± Marsilio shouted over the noise, ¡°someone is knocking on your door.¡±

    ¡°I must say Elena, I pity your lack of sleep; this is the second time your acquaintances have cut our meetings short,¡± Black Furs bellowed.

    ¡°Her address! Her town! Elena, where can we find you?¡± The plain woman asked.

    ***

    ¡°Elena, are you in there?¡± The knocking on the door was infinitely quieter when she was actually awake, and Elena sat up in bed. Across from her, Ele¡¯s wore a thoughtful frown.

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t just any dream, was it?¡± He asked. Elena shook her head, then rose to throw open the door. Lorenzo stood outside, dark bags beneath his eyes and stacks of paper in his arms. Behind him Lore looked equally tired, but the fire in the eyes of both told her what they were thinking.

    ¡°Lodestones?¡± she asked, rubbing her eyes.

    ¡°Elena can I please come in? I think I¡¯m becoming a killer and I need your help to stop it.¡±

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 29

    ¡°You killed someone?¡± Despite herself, Elena took a step backwards. She was almost sure she had misunderstood, but the fiery look in his eyes did look a little unhinged.

    ¡°About to be a killer,¡± Lorenzo repeated, already turning back to his papers as he entered the room, ¡°future tense, and probably in the third person since I¡¯m not going to be the one doing the actual killing but that doesn¡¯t exactly give me the moral high ground does it?¡± He answered before Elena could even open her mouth, ¡°it doesn¡¯t, that would be ridiculous, it would be like calling a General innocent since he never actually spilt blood. I¡¯d never spill blood but Elema the blood is still on my hands! Inventing a better killing method makes me a killer!¡±

    His words, combined with the rambling and distractedness, made Elena relax just a little bit, visions of lodestone-related murders slowly subsiding. She closed the door and blinked sleepily.

    ¡°Please, come in,¡± she said a bit wryly.

    ¡°Ah, yes thank you,¡± Lorenzo flipped one of the pages he carried over, and another fell off the stack and gently floated to the ground, ¡°Lore can you grab that please?¡± Lore was looking over a smaller stack of his own notes, but he bent down and grabbed at the fallen page, apparently too absorbed in his reading to realize that his hand was passing through the paper. Elena watched Lorenzo for a long moment.

    ¡°You wanted something Lorenzo? Blood on your hands?¡± she prompted.

    ¡°Hmm? Oh, yes! I was going over the diagrams you drew, the workings for the bow,¡± Lorenzo explained, ¡°and it caught my eye, namely the tensile strength of the string. Lore pointed out the low velocity at which the arrow leaves the bow caught my eye.¡±

    ¡°¡®Low¡¯ as a relative term, of course,¡± Lore broke in, ¡°sufficient velocity to cause permanent damage naturally, but in our work with lodestones we encounter forces faster than an arrow regularly.¡±

    ¡°You make lodestones move faster than an arrow...at the workstation right next to mine?¡± Elena tried to remember how often she had worked next to Lorenzo over the past several weeks.

    ¡°It¡¯s mostly theoretical work that Lore is talking about, but that¡¯s not the point,¡± Lorenzo said. ¡°The point is that we instantly knew we could do better! Inserting bars of lodestone into the arrow was easy, as was triggering the  lodestone-laden arrows to activate as soon as they¡¯re fired. No the truly clever thing was combining them with some work we¡¯ve been doing recently with sympathetic lodestones...the applications are awe-inspiring!¡±

    ¡°What are sympathetic lodestones?¡±

    ¡°Wait!¡± Ele interrupted as Lorenzo opened his mouth to answer, ¡°I have the feeling we¡¯re about to get far too much information that we won¡¯t understand and really don¡¯t need to know. Lorenzo, maybe just tell us what you can do with sympathetic lodestones, not what they are.¡±

    ¡°What can¡¯t we do is a better question,¡± Lore said, ¡°the sympathetic magnetic force is independent of proximity up to a max range!¡± He looked at them expectantly, seemingly unphased by Elena and Ele¡¯s blank looks.

    ¡°We don¡¯t know what that means,¡± Ele said.

    ¡°The lodestone effects that normally happen across a distance of a few inches can be applied within a few hundred yards,¡± Lorenzo explained.

    ¡°I still don¡¯t understand what that means,¡± Elena admitted, ¡°please, I haven¡¯t been sleeping very well, and I don¡¯t even know what time it is...pretend I don¡¯t know anything about lodestones and explain it again.¡±

    ¡°Arrows that the archer can curve through the air towards their target, or can fire faster than any crossbow. Arrows that you can pull back towards you and re-use. The invention of lodestones changed navigation technology forever; I think I¡¯m on the cusp of changing archery in the same way!¡±

    ¡°That sounds like...an amazing project to show off to De Luca,¡± Elena said a little wistfully.

    ¡°No! It¡¯s horrible!¡± Lorenzo waved the handful of papers at her. ¡°How many people will die because of these advances? An archer with a better bow is an archer who can take life faster. How can I live with myself if I am responsible for the deaths my creations cost?¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± Elena sat on the bed and mused, trying not to drift off to sleep, ¡°you¡¯re just advancing technology. Isn¡¯t that what you wanted to do with lodestones? Just like using them for navigation?¡±

    ¡°Navigation has helped humanity, this will help cull it! I don¡¯t want my first project, the one that defines me as a Machinator, to be a better method of death! No Elena, I came here for a reason, and I¡¯m set on that reason.¡± He thrust the papers towards her, ¡°take them.¡±

    ¡°What? What am I going to do with them?¡±

    ¡°If I keep them, I¡¯ll be tempted to work on it. This was your project, you came up with the designs, it wasn¡¯t fair of me to steal the idea from you in the first place.¡±

    Elena tilted her head to look at the equations on the top sheet of paper, all of them completely unintelligible.

    ¡°Lorenzo you don¡¯t have to do that. All I ¡®came up with¡¯ was copying down some data from books in De Luca¡¯s library, anyone could¡¯ve done that.¡±

    ¡°But it¡¯s your project,¡± Lorenzo pleaded, ¡°and as long as I can remind myself of that I can avoid working on it, because I don¡¯t want to take it from you.¡±

    ¡°I just...see you talking to Leanarda and Mella so often, I¡¯m a bit surprised that¡¯s a concern of yours,¡± Elena said carefully.

    ¡°Hmm? What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°The conversation from earlier today,¡± Lore reminded his Stormtouched quietly.

    ¡°Oh! Yes Leanarda said something about me taking the project from you...to be honest I hadn¡¯t even realized that¡¯s what I was doing until she pointed it out. It¡¯s a stupid way to work,¡± Lorenzo waved one hand vaguely, ¡°you can¡¯t get any real work done when you think like that.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate the fair play Lorenzo, but I¡¯ve already decided to move on from the archery idea. Besides, it sounds like you can do a lot more with the idea than I can.¡±

    ¡°But the blood on my hands! Becoming a killer-¡±

    ¡°Now listen, you,¡± Elena said sternly. She wasn¡¯t used to scolding, and it felt strange on her lips, but she tried to channel her mother and continued doggedly, ¡°you just told me you were about to revolutionize archery. If you can improve something that mankind has been stuck on for so long, you can find some way to make the technology non-lethal.¡±

    ¡°Non-lethal? Who ever heard of non-lethal archery?¡±

    ¡°There are several ways to be a non-lethal archer! Just look at Balance or Cross!¡±

    ¡°Elena!¡± Ele snapped the warning from the corner.

    ¡°What¡¯s a balance or cross?¡± Lorenzo asked, and Elena swallowed nervously. She had forgotten that the provisional garzoni knew nothing about the true workings of the studios, and thus would know nothing about the code-names of Niccolo or Belloza.

    ¡°It¡¯s a...just a few non-lethal archery practises,¡± she said, ¡°my point is you shouldn¡¯t just dismiss it out of hand before you¡¯ve even given it a try.¡±

    ¡°How would I go about designing a non-lethal arrow?¡± Lorenzo¡¯s tone was somewhere between scorn and panic, ¡°how do you make a projectile that moves at those speeds without piercing flesh?¡±

    ¡°It would have to be large and rounded on one end,¡± Lore scoffed, ¡°like a giant teardrop.¡±

    ¡°Exactly! I mean, sure, the distribution of force would make an excellent blunt weapon, but how ridiculous would it be?¡± Lorenzo added.

    ¡°A blunt weapon in sync with its user¡¯s bow, unlike our current arrow design which could be reused by anyone...¡±

    ¡°And yes, that shape would make the sympathetic magnetics easier to pack into one end, instead of having to distribute the force throughout...but the heft of the projectile would change...¡±

    ¡°Not that the heft would make much difference given the magnetics¡¯ effect.¡±

    ¡°...it would solve the tailspin problem...¡±

    ¡°...we¡¯ll need a new kind of quiver...¡±

    Elena watched them with a sort of jealousy as the pair began conferring with each other. She couldn¡¯t feel it in any way, but it was clear that their Storm had picked up the idea and run with it. It was a good feeling to know that she had helped, she only wished she could help herself as easily.

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    Above her bed, the bell jingled gently, informing her that someone had just entered the kitchens. She turned to the window in surprise, and sure enough the first shafts of morning light were shining through it. Groaning, she turned back to the pair.

    ¡°I have to get ready to help in the kitchens, do you both need any more help?¡± The pair was so deep in discussion, their heads almost touching, that they might not have even heard her. ¡°HEY!¡±

    ¡°Hmm? Oh! Thank you for your help Elena. You¡¯re a good um...a good garzona. I¡¯ll remember this, I promise you.¡±

    ¡°Of course, Lorenzo,¡± Elena smiled, ¡°why were you up so early in the morning?¡±

    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s morning already? I¡¯ve been working on this bow idea all night...¡±

    ¡°You haven¡¯t slept yet?¡±

    ¡°I um...I forgot.¡±

    *

    ¡°I¡¯m not saying it was the wrong thing to do, I¡¯m just saying that the other provisional garzoni wouldn¡¯t have helped you in the same situation.¡± Ele stood with his face to the wall as Elena pulled on her uniform, the rainsluice shower had helped wake her up, but it also left her damp and cold in the late-autumn chill of her rooms.

    ¡°The full garzoni have helped me,¡± Elena said, ¡°they¡¯re my friends, and I don¡¯t see any reason I can¡¯t be friends with Lorenzo and help him too.¡±

    ¡°He could be scheming along with Leanarda and Mella, how is that for a reason?¡±

    ¡°And that¡¯s why he offered to give me my designs back? I¡¯m dressed, you can turn around.¡±

    ¡°Damnit Elena I hate how often we have this conversation,¡± Ele had a frown on his face when he turned around, ¡°you¡¯re always so eager to trust and it¡¯s going to get you into trouble.¡±

    ¡°When you¡¯re actually correct in your pessimistic paranoia I¡¯ll actually start listening to you.¡± Elena stuck out her tongue and shut her bedroom door behind her emphatically, smiling when he stepped through it with an annoyed look. Without turning to watch him she made her way down the short hall to the kitchen.

    ¡°I was right about Leanarda. I said she was trouble the very first day we met...her...¡± Ele trailed off as they entered the kitchens, and following his gaze Elena saw why.

    An attractive man with blonde hair and dark circles beneath his eyes sat at the table in the center of the kitchen, a half eaten apple in his hand. He looked so familiar and yet so unfamiliar at the same time that Elena had a hard time placing him even though she knew she had met him before. At her and her Echo¡¯s entrance he looked up and silently met their eyes. His eyes were a vibrant blue that went well with his hair, and it was the eyes that finally drove home that she knew this man.

    She had just never seen him alone without his mask before.

    ¡°G-good morning Garnet,¡± Elena said hesitantly. As soon as she¡¯d said the words a horrible feeling twisted in her gut; the thought that he could answer her out loud and there was nothing she could do about it. Instead, as he did every morning, Garnet inclined his head carefully, once, not conveying anything beyond an acknowledgement of her greeting. She knew she was supposed to be doing something, but she seemed locked into place.

    It was the worst possible time to ask questions, but suddenly it was all she could do not to ask any one of the many that had sprung into her head. Besides the obvious ones like ¡°where is Erik?¡± or ¡°how are you here alone and unsupervised?¡±, there were stupid trivial questions like ¡°why doesn¡¯t your face have tan-lines?¡± or ¡°if you can¡¯t remove your mask, does that mean you¡¯ve never kissed a girl?¡± She blamed his handsome face for that last one, but there was nothing playful or flirtatious about his manner; he simply sat there, eating the apple, watching her.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to go get something we forgot, Garnet,¡± Ele recovered faster than Elena did, ¡°we¡¯ll be right back, and just-¡±

    ¡°Right, that¡¯s taken care of, you almost finished with your breakfast?¡± Erik entered the kitchen, wiping his hands on the cloth shirt that stuck out of his Rhetorguard¡¯s breastplate, but when he saw Elena and Ele standing there he froze. ¡°What...what are you doing here?¡± He asked guiltily.

    ¡°What were you doing NOT here?¡± Ele asked. The corner of Garnet¡¯s mouth tilted up in a smile, but Erik of course couldn¡¯t hear him.

    ¡°We came in early to help with breakfast,¡± Elena stammered, ¡°sorry.¡±

    ¡°Why are you apologizing? Where the hell was he? He just left Garnet here without a mask? What was he thinking?¡±

    ¡°We just came in early, and I had to use the restroom...I figured,¡± Erik shrugged, ¡°no one was around for him to talk to, I thought it¡¯d be fine...he didn¡¯t say anything to you, did he?¡± Elena shook her head. ¡°Good, good, I didn¡¯t think so, he¡¯s a good Rhetor, that¡¯s why I trusted him to...look, I¡¯d take it kindly if you didn¡¯t tell Rolf about this. He thinks I¡¯m a poor Rhetorguard as it is...¡±

    ¡°I WONDER WHY?¡± Ele yelled.

    ¡°...and even though this didn¡¯t hurt anyone, I doubt he¡¯d see it that way. He¡¯d turn me in to the Guardhouse, and they¡¯d be even less understanding. Chances are they might even strip me of my armor. I¡¯m not much of what you¡¯d call a skilled worker, I don¡¯t...¡± Erik fumbled with his gloves, as if he didn¡¯t know what to do with his hands, ¡°...don¡¯t know what I¡¯d do if that happened. I¡¯ve got a niece on the city outskirts, and if I didn¡¯t have the money to take care of her...¡± He trailed off awkwardly, seeming torn between the desire to avoid their gaze and to look at them guiltily. After a few moments he walked over to Garnet with knife drawn, holding it to the man¡¯s neck as he finished his apple.

    ¡°As far as reasons go to not turn him in, ¡®I shouldn¡¯t be trusted with a Rhetor¡¯ is a pretty bad reason,¡± Ele said. Elena looked back and forth between Garnet and Erik, the former continuing to meet her gaze as he chewed, the latter nervously watching her out of the corner of his eye.

    ¡°What d¡¯you say Miss Elena?¡± Erik prodded.

    ¡°I...I think I¡¯d better start with the cream so I can have it done by the time Cook gets here,¡± Elena said.

    ¡°Elena! Are you kidding me?¡± Ele said, ¡°he¡¯s a Rhetorguard! He has one job, to guard Rhetors! It doesn¡¯t matter that Garnet behaves himself, just how badly does a person have to mess up before you¡¯ll treat them even the slightest bit forcefully?¡±

    Elena ignored him. She could¡¯ve responded; Erik had been around the Stormtouched garzoni enough to be used to them and their Echoes, but she wasn¡¯t entirely sure how to defend her decision. She wouldn¡¯t be responsible for stripping Erik of his armor, especially when no one had been hurt. Whoever his niece was and whyever she needed money, Elena wouldn¡¯t be the one to remove Erik¡¯s means of supporting her. Besides, having two Rhetorguard in the studio made her feel safer, even though she now knew that she had never been in danger from Cross in the first place.

    ¡°I¡¯d give you the ¡®you¡¯re going to get in trouble being so trusting¡¯ speech, but for some reason it seems like I¡¯ve already used that today...oh yes, it was just a few minutes ago. Is it going to take a disaster for you to actually listen to me?¡±

    It felt like a long time since Elena had pretended Ele didn¡¯t exist, but she slipped into the old habit easily, pulling the bowl of cream from the ice chest and settling down at the table across from Garnet, who was carefully putting his mask back on.

    He worries too much. I would rather take a risk and keep friends around me than be as paranoid as him and not have anyone, she whipped the cream a little more ferociously than she needed to. If it was up to him, I wouldn¡¯t have any friends, I¡¯d be suspicious of everyone I ever talked to, but oh at least I would be ¡°safe¡±. How much danger could I really be in, tucked away in the most prestigious studio in Milia? What is he so terrified will happen to me?

    She glared at Ele, who was too busy glaring at Erik to notice.

    What¡¯s the worst that can happen?

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 30

    ¡°You¡¯re going to use your Storm to spy on royalty?¡± even with her back turned, Elena could hear the scepticism in Ele¡¯s voice.

    ¡°That¡¯s not what I¡¯m saying at all and you know it.¡± Elena¡¯s stomach growled, and she turned her attention back to the contents of the icechest. The pair had been at it all day and late into the night, late enough that dinner was hours in the past and she was hungry again. Somewhere beneath the ice was a leftover hunk of cheese, and she was going to find it no matter how numb her hand became.

    ¡°Maybe I¡¯m just misunderstanding it then-¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not misunderstanding it either, stop being so exasperating.¡±

    ¡°Okay, maybe I¡¯m hoping that if you keep repeating it you¡¯ll hear how dumb you sound.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing dumb about it! You¡¯ve been shooting down my ideas all day, but this one is solid.¡± The kitchen was too dark at night to see the bottom of the icechest, so Elena fished around blindly for the cheese, ¡°it¡¯s still trying to figure out our Storm, it¡¯s just working backwards from how we¡¯ve been trying. Instead of figuring out why and when it works, we take an instance where it worked and try to duplicate it.¡±

    ¡°By finding out what Milian royalty is doing.¡±

    ¡°The Storm told us about the laws that govern the studio didn¡¯t it?¡± Frustrated, Elena slammed the icechest shut.

    ¡°You¡¯ll wake someone up.¡±

    ¡°If I do it¡¯s your fault,¡± Elena waited for a few moments, listening for noise before she continued, ¡°De Luca told us we were more or less correct about the studio laws. If the Storm got that right, it can get other laws right. If we can figure out laws, we can figure out other things. Plans, plots, secrets, or court...stuff. Court stuff.¡±

    ¡°You understand why this makes me nervous, right? That the best-case scenario of your plan involves learning very powerful peoples¡¯ potentially dangerous secrets?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what we need! Something big and huge and dangerous and...fine. FINE. You come up with something then.¡±

    ¡°Come on Elena,¡± Ele sighed.

    ¡°No, go ahead. You seem to have fun poking holes in my ideas, let¡¯s hear one of yours.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have any-¡±

    The pair¡¯s bickering was interrupted by a quiet knock on the kitchen door. Elena and Ele exchanged glances. It was rare for them to be awake so late, and had their sleep schedule not been so unbalanced lately the kitchens would¡¯ve been empty at this hour. She crossed the short distance and opened the door.

    Standing in the courtyard was a squat young man, his upturned nose and bright brown eyes giving him a charming air. His grin was mischievious and roguish, and it made him look quite distinctive. Behind him, a large woman stood with muscular arms crossed, her brown hair done up in a tight bun. Both wore nondescript clothing, the sort that was worn by merchants or laborers.

    ¡°¡®ello luv,¡± the small man said, his strange accent so thick Elena could barely understand it, ¡°you ¡¯s prettier than I ¡®eard.¡±

    ¡°Slug.¡± Elena had meant for it to come out as a question, but when she spoke the words there wasn¡¯t a doubt in her mind. The knowledge was supplied so fast that Elena briefly wondered if her Storm had provided it.

    ¡°Right you are in one,¡± Slug answered agreeably.

    ¡°Elena get away from the-¡± Ele began, but before he could finish his warning Slug had punched Elena in the shoulder. She staggered back, caught completely off guard, and the motion was enough for the small man to follow her into the kitchen and kick the door shut behind him, his eyes never leaving her. The stocky woman slipped through the kitchen door after him.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to...to,¡± Elena¡¯s vision lurched in the midst of her apology, and she stumbled again, her legs almost giving way. Her shoulder throbbed, and a glance downward revealed a small transparent tube sticking fast, its contents empty. If her past experiences with Cross¡¯ bolts were any indication, she would be passing out within a few seconds, and she could already feel the ground rising up to meet her. Her lungs tightened, and she panted hard to take in shallow breaths. ¡°Ele get help,¡± she managed to gasp, and without responding her Echo sprang through the kitchen wall.

    ¡°Fran, be a darlin¡¯ an¡¯ catch the Echo, ¡¯fore ¡®e wakes up the whole bloody studio,¡± Slug said casually. The burly woman took off through the same wall Ele had, and Elena shivered, waiting for the fog of darkness to sweep her away. Long moments slipped by, and then suddenly she was being lifted, hauled from beneath the shoulders up to rest on the stool in the corner, the favorite seat of Erik.

    ¡°Oof. I¡¯d never call a lady fat, Miss Cog, but I can say wif certainty that I ain¡¯t strong enough for this kinda liftin¡¯,¡± Slug was behind her, arranging the stool so that she leaned against the wall, but when he took a step back he wore the same charming smile on his face. ¡°Now that¡¯s done wif, we can get to the fun bits. Can you talk?¡±

    Elena¡¯s whole body was locked in place sitting on the stool, her jaw included, but she managed to move her tongue enough to say something between her clenched teeth.

    ¡°Please, I didn¡¯t mean to break your bolts,¡± she whispered.

    ¡°Good good. What about somefin¡¯ louder? Can you scream?¡±

    She knew it was useless without even trying. Each breath was such a struggle through her tight lungs that it was all she could do to whisper.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know there were rules,¡± she wheezed.

    ¡°See tha¡¯s where we run into problems, Cog.¡± Elena strained to understand Slug¡¯s accent as he turned and dragged a chair to sit facing her. It reminded her of the Englisso traders that had visited her hometown, but it was somehow less civilized, more raw. ¡°Cos I somehow doubt De Luca sent you to Gitti¡¯s without tellin¡¯ you th¡¯ rules.¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t! I snuck out, I just followed my teammates! Please, Slug listen-¡± Elena¡¯s pleas were cut short when Slug¡¯s Echo came back through the wall, holding Ele in an armlock with one hand, the other arm slung around his mouth.

    ¡°Thankee Fran,¡± Slug said.

    ¡°Wot did oi miss?¡± Fran¡¯s accent was even worse than Slug¡¯s, so much so that Elena couldn¡¯t even follow it.

    ¡°Cog ¡®ere was jus¡¯ explainin¡¯ how we should go easy on ¡®er, on account of she didn¡¯t know there was rules. Problem is, even if she didn¡¯t know there was rules, she still mucked up me bolts didn¡¯t she? What you think, Fran, let ¡®er off easy?¡±

    ¡°Not bloody loikely. She finks she got one over on us, give ¡®er a reason to fink otherwise,¡± Fran said. Ele made a jerking motion to try to get out of her grasp, but she held on to him easily. ¡°Oi, Cog, if yer Echo don¡¯t stop muckin¡¯ about, oi¡¯m ganna break both of ¡®is legs. Oi don¡¯ fink oi¡¯ve heard of an Echo tryin¡¯ to make the Trip wivout ¡®is legs, but I don¡¯ reckon it¡¯s pretty.¡±

    ¡°Ele stop,¡± Elena breathed, ¡°just stop, let them hurt me, it¡¯s better than seeing you get hurt.¡± Ele stopped, but his gaze flicked back and forth around the room, as if searching for something that could help.

    ¡°You ¡®ear that Slug?¡± Fran said, ¡°mebbe oi should break ¡®is legs, jus¡¯ to teach ¡®er a lesson.¡±

    ¡°No, none o¡¯ that Fran,¡± Slug ran his hands over his belt, and Elena noted that he had several small clear capsules hanging on his belt, each similar to the one that stuck out of her shoulder, ¡°Cog ¡®ere broke me bolts, Cog pays the price for it.¡±

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°Get on wi¡¯ it then.¡±

    ¡°Gettin¡¯ to it Fran, gettin¡¯ to it,¡± Slug murmured, finally selecting one of the small vials from his belt. Like the bolts, the vial had a small fang on one end, and he stepped forward and stabbed it into Elena¡¯s shoulder, just below the one that already hung from her skin. It hurt, but she was anxious enough that the pain barely registered. ¡°Right, tha¡¯s the enhancer.¡±

    ¡°Talk it through, Slug, tell ¡®er wot you¡¯s doin¡¯¡± Fran said, jerking to hold Ele up a little straighter.

    ¡°Ah, right you are me darlin¡¯. See Cog, we used to know this doc when we was younger, genius man. ¡®e used to give me advice, said ¡®if¡¯n you¡¯ve ever got to work on a patient an¡¯ you can¡¯t put ¡®em to sleep first, talk to ¡®em. Tell ¡®em what it is you¡¯re doing. It makes the work go smooth¡¯.¡± Slug looked Elena up and down again as he spoke, less like a man looking at a woman and more like a butcher looking at a pig. ¡°It took me a while to figure, but wouldn¡¯t you know it, it don¡¯t just work for doctorin¡¯, it works just as well for hurtin¡¯!¡±

    ¡°Surprised to learn that, we was,¡± Fran broke in.

    ¡°Surprised as anythin¡¯. So, what I just injected you wiff was some of me own venom, compliments of me Storm. First one is obvious, borin¡¯, it¡¯s a paralytic. Second one is more interestin¡¯. In a few seconds you¡¯ll feel a lovely little heat rush, then we can really get started. In the meantime, a little gab never hurt anyone, don¡¯t you fink? So what¡¯cha do, where ya from?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m from Carpi,¡± Elena said, ¡°De Luca will-¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t actually askin¡¯ where you¡¯re from,¡± Slug rolled his eyes, ¡°or ¡®bout what you fink De Luca¡¯ll do. Th¡¯ chest of coin he sent over, tha¡¯s all he¡¯ll do. On that subject, ¡®ere¡¯s somethin¡¯ interestin¡¯; did you know there¡¯s five ¡®undred gold¡¯s worth of venom flowing through your bloodstream right now?¡±

    Elena was at a loss. Pleading wasn¡¯t working, nor had explaining the situation. She couldn¡¯t move, and if Ele tried to make a break for it he risked even worse danger than her. Slug kept on talking conversationally, ¡°¡®s funny, you bein¡¯ in this situation on account a thinkin¡¯ you was above me. Ironic, I call that, ¡®cause now your blood¡¯s worth five hundred, technically, you is better than me, jus¡¯ like you thought.¡±

    Elena was trying hard, but his accent was so thick that it was hard to follow what he was saying.

    ¡°Never...said...I was better...than...anyone,¡± she gasped. Was it becoming harder to breath, or was it her imagination?

    ¡°Didn¡¯t haffta say it,¡± Slug looked down at his nails, ¡°smashed the bloody bolts, didn¡¯t¡¯cha? Rules don¡¯t apply to Cog do they? Cog¡¯s master¡¯ll pay a fine, an¡¯ who cares about Slug¡¯s effort? No one. No one cares.¡±

    ¡°Cross cares.¡±

    ¡°Aye! ¡®xactly!¡± Slug¡¯s facade broke for just a moment, and he jabbed a finger towards Elena¡¯s face, ¡°Belloza cares. She cares on account of I taught ¡®er to care. Taught the whole studio to care ¡®bout what ¡®appens to me. That¡¯s what you do when someone don¡¯t think about anyone but themself, you teach ¡®em to care. You think you¡¯re better¡¯n Fran an¡¯ me, well Cog, you¡¯ll think different after your lesson.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re not going to kill me?¡± Even she knew it was naive to feel hope at the words, but Elena was grasping at any straw she could.

    ¡°Nah Cog, I ain¡¯t gonna kill ya,¡± Slug chuckled, ¡°no matter how much ya beg me to.¡±

    A sudden rush of heat made Elena¡¯s head feel light, and for a few moments of blind terror her throat closed completely. All of a sudden every sensation was too much; the fabric of her clothes rasped across her skin, the weight of her body crushed painfully against the muscles of her rear where she sat, and the cool tile against her trailing foot seemed like ice. When she could breath again the breaths came raggedly, the air freezing as it scraped into her lungs.

    ¡°You¡¯re blushin¡¯, Miss Cog. Is that on account of the heat rush or ¡®ave you just been overcome by me rugged good looks?¡± Slug asked. He reached out and pinched the skin on her shoulder.

    Despite the shallowness of her breathing, the pain was so intense that Elena tried to scream. Her lungs locked up, and nothing came out but a strangled whimper. Across the table from them Ele tried to jerk out of the Echo''s grasp again, yelling something too muffled to be heard, but Fran only grinned and twisted his arm further.

    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s th¡¯ magic rush we was waitin¡¯ for,¡± Slug said, "lowers th'' pain threshold, heightens th'' senses. Means we can ''ave some fun without gettin'' into too much trouble afterwards when the Masters find out. ¡®I swear I only pinched her a bit, gave ¡®er a few cuts ¡®n scrapes!¡¯ Golden."

    Ele suddenly went limp, using the weight of his body to pull his mouth away from Fran''s arm.

    "Help! Someone help, they''re killing-" he managed to scream before the other Echo clamped her arm back down over his mouth. Slug and Fran froze, looking nervous for the first time as they listened for a reaction. Elena struggled to move, to yell, but she was still panting with what little breath she could manage. Slowly, the pair relaxed.

    ¡°No need for all that, already said I weren¡¯t gonna kill ¡®er,¡± Slug said. ¡°She¡¯s just gonna be a mite more colourful tomorrow is all.¡± Elena glanced down, and sure enough a large purple bruise was already blooming across her shoulder where he had pinched her. ¡°Oh don¡¯ worry missy,¡± Slug said, following her glance, ¡°I¡¯ll leave the rest o¡¯ the marks in places that can¡¯t be seen.¡±

    If there was ever a time for my Storm to help me, it¡¯s now, the random thought floated through Elena¡¯s mind, but no provident buzz or tingle arrived. When Slug leaned in close again, so close she could feel his breath on her skin, her thoughts became even less connected. His breath is too hot. I can¡¯t even scream when he hurts me.

    ¡°Francis.¡± Fran¡¯s warning was sharp, and Slug whirled. Over his shoulder Elena could see the doorway to the kitchen had opened, but the room was flooded in moonlight, and the silhouetted figure was hard to make out beyond his height and general figure.

    ¡°This situation may look a mite bad to you, stranger,¡± Slug spoke smoothly, drawing a small knife from his belt, ¡°but I guaran-bloody-tee you this goes worse for ¡®er if you don¡¯ turn ¡®round and leave.¡± He pressed the little blade against Elena¡¯s throat, and even the small pressure was enough to hurt, the metal incredibly cold.

    What will it feel like when he has me alone and can actually use that knife?

    The man stepped into the kitchen and let the door close behind him, folded his arms and leaning against the far wall. As her eyes adjusted again to the dark of the room, Elena noticed that Slug had drawn more of the clear fanged tubes, and was holding him behind his back where the man couldn¡¯t see them. When she glanced back at the man she recognized him, though he still looked quite different without his mask on.

    ¡°Did you not ¡®ear me, tall dark an¡¯ ¡®andsome?¡± Slug gripped the clear tubes tighter behind his back, ¡°walk away or Cog ¡®ere gets ¡®er throat slit open.¡±

    ¡°Can I watch?¡± Garnet asked.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 31

    Whenever Erik yawned, he made a heavy, rasping, breathless noise that sounded like a snore in reverse. It was the kind of sound that set Domenico¡¯s teeth on edge behind his mask. Having to put up with that reverse snore so many times in a given day was just another of the million little indignities that weighed down on his shoulders at every moment, so many indignities that it felt as if one couldn¡¯t be angry about all of them.

    With great effort of will, Domenico managed to stay angry about each and every one. He remembered every single slight that anyone offered him, and in his deepest heart of hearts he hoped he could repay all of them. It was that hope that let him stay awake now, when the very bones in his body screamed out for sleep.

    ¡°Please tell me you don¡¯t have work in the kitchens tonight,¡± Erik groaned, ¡°you¡¯ve been there till three in the morning for the past two weeks, how much work can there be to do?¡± The answer was of course that there hadn¡¯t been that much work to do. If Erik had been a more observant man he would¡¯ve noticed that; vegetables and side-dishes prepared for meals that were days away, too much bread dough being prepared, long hours of cleaning areas that were spotless. ¡°Hey, Rhetorman!¡± Erik snapped his fingers in front of Domenico¡¯s face, ¡°if I could take up a few seconds of your time here? I asked you a question. Do you have work in the kitchens tonight?¡±

    You take up all seconds of my time, The rush of anger felt good, kept him awake. The snapping fingers was just another little indignity, but the phrasing of the question hit him in the gut. You take up every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every-

    Domenico shook his head in response to Erik¡¯s question.

    ¡°Ego moriamet I¡¯m glad to hear that,¡± Erik yawned again, his rattling rasping snore-like yawn. ¡°If I don¡¯t get a few days of good sleep soon I¡¯ll fall asleep standing up, and I don¡¯t need to get yelled at again. Not that the last time was your fault, but well...if you hadn¡¯t been working so late, it wouldn¡¯t have happened is all I¡¯m saying.¡± He clapped a heavy hand on Domenico¡¯s shoulder and gave him a little push in the direction of their room; a familiarity that was another little indignity.

    If the book of indignities were written out, neat little columns of acts demanding vengeance, Erik would have his own dedicated volume.

    Their room was dark when they entered it, and even though they would be going to sleep in a few minutes Erik lit all of the lanterns. It was a habit of the man¡¯s, and he hadn¡¯t seemed to realize what a waste of time it was. Domenico couldn¡¯t point out the waste of time, couldn¡¯t point out anyone¡¯s wastes of time, so instead he had been forced into learning patience.

    ¡°Go use the restroom,¡± Erik ordered. Domenico didn¡¯t have to, but he obediently entered the water closet and closed the door behind him. He leaned with his back against the door, closing his eyes and enjoying the few moments of his life where he could be alone. The deep breaths smelled like the leather and metal of his mask, but it was hardly a new smell.

    I shouldn¡¯t close my eyes, I¡¯ll fall asleep, Domenico thought dully. Of all nights to fall asleep early, tonight would be the worst, after months of preparation. A small fraction of my book of indignities finally repaid-

    ¡°Hey, Garnet, you alive in there? I told you I was sleepy didn¡¯t I?¡± Erik pounded on the door, and Domenico slowly took a final deep breath through his nose. ¡®Garnet¡¯ was a red stone, and ¡®Garnet¡¯ was a girl¡¯s name, and every time they used it to refer to him he would fantasize about this night. He pulled the lever to flush the empty bowl, washed his hands, and emerged from the water closet.

    ¡°About time,¡± Erik growled. ¡°Your sleep clothes are on the bed.¡±

    Undressing in front of Erik was one of the minor indignities, now that the Rhetorguard had matured a little and stopped making jokes, but it was still just as uncomfortable as it had been the first night. Domenico distracted himself by thinking about the night ahead. Strangely enough, now that the moment had finally arrived, he wasn¡¯t even excited; he felt numb.

    Probably just the exhaustion of the last few weeks catching up to me, he reasoned. Keeping Erik awake and tired means keeping myself awake and tired.

    ¡°You¡¯re moving slow as a glacier tonight,¡± Erik said as Domenico finally settled onto the small cot set up in the corner. The Rhetorguard yanked Domenico¡¯s wrist over the edge of the cot and attached a heavy manacle to it, then snapped the other end to leg of the nearby dresser. ¡°Right, can you get out?¡±

    Domenico gave the manacle three hard tugs, demonstrating that it held fast. Beneath his Rhetor-mask, he held his breath. Erik was selfish, careless, and above all very, very stupid, but there was always the chance he would notice his mistake tonight, the chance that Domenico¡¯s plan would be cut short at this last possible moment.

    ¡°Alrigh¡¯ then, I¡¯m going to sleep,¡± Erik made a circuit around the room, blowing out the lanterns one by one. ¡°If you need anything in the middle of the night...well, I¡¯ll probably sleep through it, so make sure not to need anything,¡± he chuckled.

    Domenico didn¡¯t let himself relax until the room was entirely dark, and he heard the comfortable bed on the other side of the room squeak as Erik eased into it. As usual, his manacle was short enough that Domenico¡¯s arm hung over the side of the cot, it¡¯s hard edge digging into his shoulder. Tonight the discomfort was a good thing; he didn¡¯t want to fall asleep.

    Given that his yawns sounded like snores, it was ironic that Erik didn¡¯t snore in his sleep. the only way Domenico could tell that he was sleeping were his deep breaths in the quiet room.

    One. Two. Three. Four. He started counting at the first breath, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness of the room without the lanterns. No noise broke his silent count, even the street outside the studio was quiet. He had felt numb before, but as the time slowly approached he could feel the stirrings of excitement. Perhaps he just hadn¡¯t let himself be excited before because he hadn¡¯t believed this moment would ever arrive.

    Two thousand nine hundred ninety nine. Three-thousand.

    He slipped from the cot silently, but jingled the manacles on purpose to see if, beyond all indication, Erik was awake. In theory the Rhetorguard could be feigning sleep, lying in wait for him, but if he was so clever and insightful then he must have been a master actor for the last twenty years that Domenico had known him.

    He slipped his fingers beneath the lip of the dresser and strained. He wasn¡¯t a weak man, but the dressers were hefty and sturdy, and he had to struggle to lift it off the ground. Luckily he only had to raise it a few inches before he could nudge the end of the manacle out from beneath its leg. Holding the manacle so that it didn¡¯t rattle, Domenico pulled the pillow from his cot and crossed the distance to Erik¡¯s bed.

    The past several weeks of long nights and early mornings had paid off. Erik didn¡¯t even stir when Domenico pulled the knife from his sheathe. While he didn¡¯t feel any joy in slitting his Rhetorguard¡¯s throat, holding the pillow in his face to silence any sounds, Domenico didn¡¯t feel a hint of guilt either.

    *

    As he¡¯d suspected, the hallways of De Luca¡¯s studio were dark and abandoned so late at night. If there had been patrols or guards he might not risk this step of his plan, but there was little danger in it now. Of all the people in his mental book of indignities, there were precious few people who had earned a debit, showing him kindness without asking anything in return, and there were only two in this studio.

    The door wasn¡¯t locked, and he slipped inside silently and easily, his mask in one hand, open manacles in the other, closing and locking the door behind him. The first thing he noticed was that Rolf had elected to take the uncomfortable cot, letting Emerald have the studio bed. The second thing he noticed was that, silent and stealthy as he had been, Emerald was awake.

    Her gaze flicked back and forth between his face and the items in his hands, her expression unreadable behind her mask. Domenico grinned and gave her a wink, then crossed to where Rolf slept. He passed the manacles through the cot¡¯s frame, then around Rolf¡¯s wrists.

    This Rhetorguard¡¯s reflexes were much better than Erik¡¯s. Domenico had barely closed the cuffs before he was awake and alert.

    ¡°Garnet?¡± He asked before Domenico clamped the mask down on the man¡¯s face, smiling with satisfaction for the first time at the metallic sound of the mask locking.

    ¡°It¡¯s actually ¡®Domenico¡¯, if you don¡¯t mind,¡± he said quietly. The mere act of speaking felt glorious, even without his power buzzing in the words. After more than twenty years of silence he had a feeling that once he was safe, he would be quite the chatty person. He took key from around Rolf¡¯s neck, ignoring the tiny muffled noise of the man trying to yell an alarm. ¡°The mask is designed to keep people silent, do you think it¡¯ll stop working just because it¡¯s on you instead of me?¡± he asked with derision.

    Emerald had been watching him intently throughout the interaction, and her gaze didn¡¯t waver when he crossed over to her bed. He unlocked her mask and let it fall away, and without the obstruction it was clear that the expression she wore was one of worry. His Storm had been tingling in the back of his mind, just waiting to be let loose, and for the first time in two decades he indulged it.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry, you¡¯re safe now.¡± Domenico said. His Storm was smooth and relaxing in his neck, like drinking hot tea after days of a sore throat. It rounded his consonants by the smallest hint and gave his words sharper definition, and as he spoke, the Storm supplied him the meta-information of what it had done. It was an accent from Florezia, specifically the northern area of Florezia in which the merchant class and the noble class melded the most seamlessly. An accent of a person with a noble parent who raised her and a merchant parent who only visited, occasionally, enough to affect her words but not enough to shape them.

    Interesting. I wouldn¡¯t have picked Emerald out as a Florezian.

    ¡°What did you do?¡± Emerald asked. Her voice was like a song made out of silver bells, even the brief question she had whispered. Domenico smiled appreciatively. That was a Storm he wouldn¡¯t mind in a travelling companion. It was a voice a man could fall in love with no matter who the speaker was.

    ¡°Where does he keep the key to your manacles?¡± he asked in Emerald¡¯s accent. ¡°I somehow doubt your Rhetorguard restrained you as shoddily as mine did. We¡¯ll get you out of here, kill your Rhetorguard, and be on our way to wherever you want to go by dawn.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want him killed...Domenico, was it? This is wrong.¡±

    ¡°Fine, we don¡¯t have to kill him, we can leave him chained and silent like my Rhetorguard is,¡± he lied. If she was squeamish about killing then there was no point in telling her exactly how quiet Erik now was, ¡°but we need to unlock you-¡±

    ¡°Domenico, you¡¯re misunderstanding...¡± Emerald interrupted.

    Cunctis deos meos, my name on her lips is the sweetest thing I¡¯ve ever heard.

    ¡°...I¡¯m not going with you. I¡¯m staying here.¡±

    ¡°What? Staying, under lock and mask for the rest of your life?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the right thing to do,¡± Emerald gave a little shrug, ¡°my fate is here. I won¡¯t leave Rolf, not like this.¡±

    ¡°You realize he¡¯s heard you speak, don¡¯t you?¡± Domenico couldn¡¯t quite understand his fellow Rhetor¡¯s reluctance, and it was making him angry. ¡°He¡¯s the embodiment of the Guardhouse, he follows the rules to the letter. He¡¯ll kill you the very second he¡¯s able to. It¡¯s you or him, Emerald...or rather, whatever your name is.¡±

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    ¡°¡®Emerald¡¯ is fine,¡± Emerald gave a sad smile, but it was towards the Rhetorgaurd on the cot. ¡°I¡¯m no stranger to the concept of my life being in his hands. If he truly believes he has to kill me...¡± She trailed off, turning her gaze back to Domenico. ¡°Thank you for coming here to rescue me. I know it was a risk.¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯re not coming with me?¡±

    ¡°But I¡¯m not coming with you.¡±

    Domenico swore and stood from her bed. So much for there being two at the studio who treated him with kindness. He considered killing them both, but he knew he was overreacting. Even now Emerald was still better than all but one of the others in this place, and he didn¡¯t plan on killing any of them. Besides, he hadn¡¯t told her where he planned on going. He left the room in a much worse mood than he had entered.

    Stopping by Emerald¡¯s room had been a mistake. He¡¯d assumed that behind their masks, all Rhetor were just as hurt and angry about the way the system treated them as he was, longing for a chance to repay them a fraction of the hurt they¡¯d dealt. It appeared that some of his brothers and sisters behind their masks had somehow learned to love their captivity.

    Ungrateful. But I suppose it doesn¡¯t matter anyways, she¡¯s going to die for her idiocy within a day.

    The courtyard was rather well-lit for Domenico¡¯s tastes, but besides Rolf and Emerald, chances were no one else was awake; as long as he hugged the wall he was probably safe.

    ¡°Help! Someone help, they''re killing-¡± The sudden voice came from the kitchens just as he passed the door, and Domenico froze. So everyone wasn¡¯t asleep then, and it sounded as if someone was in trouble. The Rhetor paused for a few moments, curiosity warring with caution. The voice had sounded like Ele, the Echo of the naive garzona Elena. Had it been anyone else he would¡¯ve played it safe, left and not given it a second thought...but of everyone in the studio, Elena was the one person who treated the Rhetors like actual people.

    He opened the door quietly, but the sudden moonlight that lit the room was enough to alert those within. Domenico took in the little scene before him. A muscular girl held Ele, which meant she was an Echo. That would indicate that the unknown squat fellow a Stormtouched. Elena sat stiff and unnaturally, so whatever the squat man¡¯s Storm was, he could petrify people.

    ¡°Francis,¡± the strong girl warned, and the man who must be Francis whirled to face the door, drawing a knife and pressing it against Elena¡¯s throat as he spoke.

    ¡°This situation may look a mite bad to you, stranger,¡± Francis said, ¡°but I guaran-bloody-tee you this goes worse for ¡®er if you don¡¯ turn ¡®round and leave.¡±

    When he heard Ele cry for help, Domenico only had a passing interest in helping the pair, but now...

    You¡¯re a part of the problem, little man. The type who thinks that because you¡¯ve got the knife you¡¯re in charge. Domenico¡¯s eyes were locked on the knife at Elena¡¯s throat, and he couldn¡¯t help but be reminded of his mealtimes, every single day, cold metal on his skin. Why does everyone assume that having a knife puts you in charge?

    He let the door close, his storm buzzing in his throat and mind as he did so. Threats or warnings wouldn¡¯t help against a man who thought he was in charge, so instead Domenico adopted a casual stance, leaning back against the wall.

    ¡°Did you not ¡®ear me, tall dark an¡¯ ¡®andsome? Walk away or Cog ¡®ere gets ¡®er throat slit open.¡±

    ¡°Can I watch?¡± Domenico asked, tasting the accent as the Storm rolled it across his tongue and mind. Englisso, suburbs of Premblestin, a tiny little southern town so small it wouldn¡¯t be on a map. A Stormtouched from such an insignificant little speck of a town would have a chip on his shoulder, no wonder he liked feeling in charge.

    ¡°You....whot?¡± Francis blinked.

    ¡°Wot, got somfink in your ears mate?¡± Domenico said. ¡°Only asked if¡¯n I could watch didn¡¯t I?¡±

    ¡°Why would you want to watch this?¡± Francis¡¯ expression was somewhere between suspicion and confusion, and Domenico struggled to stay patient.

    ¡°Well you¡¯re the one¡¯s got the knife, but ¡®slong as you¡¯s gonna carve ¡®er up a bit, thought I might enjoy the sight at least.¡±

    ¡°Garnet...please...¡± Elena whimpered.

    ¡°Shut up,¡± Domenico growled, and at the same time Francis snapped ¡°shut your bloody mouth.¡±

    ¡°Lady Cog¡¯s got a way of makin¡¯ enemies wherever she goes then, don¡¯t she?¡± Francis still looked suspicious, ¡°what ¡®xactly did she do to you, that you¡¯s so okay wiv seein¡¯ ¡®er cut up?¡±

    ¡°Wot ¡®as she done to me? Ain¡¯t that a right bloody obvious question! She¡¯s a bitch, wot more reason is there to need?¡± Domenico stalled for time to think, but he could see in Francis¡¯ eyes that he needed to come up with something fast. ¡°Every day I¡¯m ¡®ere, acts like she don¡¯t even see me. Same as all o¡¯ them garzonis, walkin¡¯ ¡®round as if I¡¯m beneaf their notice.¡±

    ¡°Like they¡¯s better than you,¡± Francis said, nodding. Domenico gave a mental sigh of relief; his guess had been spot-on.

    ¡°¡®Xactly. Half of ¡®em don¡¯ even speak two words to me, ¡®cause I¡¯m jus¡¯ a cook. T¡¯other half jus¡¯ take notice of me to order me ¡®round, or make fun of me accent.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯s got to teach them to respect you,¡± Francis advised, ¡°that¡¯s wot I do.¡±

    ¡°Yeah well, you¡¯s a lot more valuable than me. I don¡¯ ¡®ave the luxury of teachin¡¯ them respect. But if you¡¯re ¡®ere to sharpen your knife on ¡®Lena¡¯s bones, I repeat that all I want is to watch.¡±

    ¡°Well...only I ¡®adn¡¯t intended to kill ¡®er, you see,¡± Francis said. Domenico¡¯s heartfelt speech and subtle flattery had apparently won the squat man over, and he slipped a handful of vials into his belt, ¡°you can bet that as soon as she¡¯s free she¡¯s gonna tell tales ¡®bout you to Master De Luca. You¡¯d best make yourself scarce after tonight.¡±

    ¡°Not going to kill ¡®er? Is you an idiot?¡± Domenico asked. ¡°You fink she¡¯s gonna take ¡®er lesson lyin¡¯ down an¡¯ not come after you? She¡¯s a bloody Stormtouched, mate, they go for revenge.¡±

    ¡°¡®adn¡¯t thought of it like tha¡¯,¡± Francis said, turning to look at Elena thoughtfully. ¡°Normally when I teach someone a lesson, they don¡¯t come after me.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know this one. Tenacious, she is. Tell you wot, this ¡®ole mess is my fault on account of she saw me face,¡± Domenico hated this accent, it was all missed letters and broken vowels and was beginning to give him a headache, ¡°¡®ow about you ¡®ave your fun, I watch your ¡®andiwork, then I kill ¡®er meself. You can bug off an¡¯ no one¡¯ll be the wiser.¡± Elena whimpered, and Domenico rolled his eyes.

    ¡°Do I detect a hint of Sluggasworth accent ¡®bout you?¡± Francis asked.

    ¡°Nah, neva ¡®eard of Sluggasworth. I¡¯m from a little town called Premblestin, but you prob¡¯bly ¡®aven¡¯t ¡®eard of it.¡±

    ¡°You ¡®aven¡¯t ¡®eard of Sluggasworth on account of I jus¡¯ made it up,¡± Francis grinned, ¡°Premblestin meself, born and bred.¡±

    ¡°Well ain¡¯t you a sneaky bugger!¡± Domenico was pleasantly surprised that his Storm was coming in so handily for him so quickly, ¡°I should¡¯a recognized th¡¯ lingo, only I¡¯m ¡®orrible with accents.¡± Sadly his joke was lost on everyone gathered in the room, but Domenico wasn¡¯t bothered. He sauntered forward until he was only a few feet away from the stool, peering at Elena. ¡°Why¡¯s she not movin¡¯?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s me Storm,¡± Francis said, ¡°got ¡®er pumped full of venom, custom made, it¡¯ll keep ¡®er stiff for a few ¡®ours.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± Domenico said with disappointment, ¡°I was ¡®oping to see ¡®er wiggle a bit. Takes the fun out o¡¯ it when you can¡¯t make ¡®em squirm.¡±

    ¡°Hm...you know, now that I ¡®ave someone to ¡®old ¡®er down, maybe the paralytic ain¡¯t necessary anymore. Fran can even ¡®old the Echo so ¡®e can watch us have fun wiv ¡®is Stormtouched. This¡¯ll let ¡®er move a bit,¡± he held up a small vial of purple fluid, ¡°an¡¯ then we can play wiv a live and kickin¡¯ specimen.¡±

    ¡°Well, live and kickin¡¯ for now,¡± Domenico grinned. Elena gave a shuddering whimpered again, weakly, and Francis turned back to flash her a quick smile.

    Domenico slammed his knife through the back of Francis¡¯ neck with one smooth motion.

    The look on Francis¡¯ face as he turned, full of hurt and bewilderment and shock, was too amusing for words, and Domenico had to chuckle a bit, stepping back to avoid the small spurts of blood from his neck.

    ¡°Francis!¡± The Echo girl, Fran, barreled forward and skidded on her knees to where Francis slumped. ¡°Francis! Talk to me, say somefin!¡± Her hands did nothing to slow Francis¡¯ decent, and he wound up on his side. The squat man tried to speak, but all that came out was a wet gurgle. ¡°Francis don¡¯ go, not loike this, it weren¡¯t supposed to be loike this.¡± The wound bled fast. It took less than a minute for Francis to die.

    ¡°No...don¡¯ leave me you arsehole,¡± the Echo whispered. ¡°Francis don¡¯ leave me.¡± She looked up at Domenico, helplessly. He didn¡¯t really care about Francis or Fran now that he¡¯d repaid Elena for her kindness, but the look on the Echo¡¯s face caught him in a wave of nostalgia. How long had it been since he¡¯d got that rush, seen that mixture of fear and helplessness on the face of someone who knew they were going to die?

    Not enough fear though, he thought, mildly disappointed, that makes it a little less fun.

    ¡°¡®e¡¯s gone,¡± the Echo whispered. She was beginning to unravel at the edges, little wisps of her melting away as if her skin was letting off steam. It was the worst around her throat; it was vanishing so fast that her neck was starting to go transparent. ¡°¡®e¡¯s gone and soon I¡¯ll be gone too.¡±

    Still too much shock, not enough fear there, she¡¯s ruining this. Domenico cast his mind back, trying to think of what he knew about Echoes and fears. He suddenly leaned in closer to Fran and smiled.

    ¡°When you get where you¡¯re goin¡¯, say ¡®ello to th¡¯ gale-devils for me luv,¡± he whispered.

    ¡°No...no don¡¯ make me go back, I can¡¯t go back there...please¡±

    Aaah, there¡¯s the fear.

    Domenico turned his attention to Elena as Francis¡¯ Echo waned and dwindled, tears streaming down her face as she melted away in mist-like strands.

    ¡°Everything is alright now, Elena, you¡¯re safe,¡± he said, Storm swirling in his mouth. The Carpian accent, straightforward and plain like its people, was a relief after the rasps of the Premblestin accent. ¡°You¡¯re lucky I happened to be passing by.¡±

    ¡°P...please,¡± there were tears on Elena¡¯s cheeks, and her teeth were chattering, the effect of her whole body wanting to shake but too paralysed to do so, ¡°please don¡¯t talk to me.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not a very nice thing to say to someone who just saved you from being tortured, or worse.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m s..sorry, I am grateful Garnet but please-¡±

    ¡°Shh, it¡¯s alright, I understand,¡± Domenico put a finger on her lips, quieting her before she said something stupid that would upset him. ¡°You¡¯ve been taught to distrust and hate Rhetors all your life.¡± He bent down and unhooked Francis¡¯ belt, heavy with vials. Stormtouch-made poisons could only help him on his journey. ¡°I¡¯d stay and take you to your bed Elena, but I see that Ele has run off and is probably waking someone as we speak, so I really must leave.¡± He picked up the purple vial from the puddle of Francis¡¯ blood where it had rolled, and on his way out of the kitchen he placed it on the table where it would be seen.

    *

    The Street of Yellow Artisans seemed so much more pleasant when he could actually smell the scents of the city, when he could look late-night passersby in the eye without them nervously averting their gaze. With a belt of venoms around his waist and a light jaunt to his step, Domenico began whistling as he strolled off into the night.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 32

    Elena stared at the ceiling of her room, waiting for the sun to rise. In the corner Ele was probably awake as well, but it seemed like too much effort to turn her head and look. The bell that warned of people entering and leaving the kitchen had been taken down, and was coiled up neatly in a pile on her bedside table, but it was late enough in the morning that she suspected people were there. She shivered at the thought of the kitchens, even though the bite of late-autumn¡¯s chill was muffled by her blankets.

    ¡°Elena,¡± Ele said from the corner.

    ¡°I can tell what you¡¯re going to say by the sound of your voice, so don¡¯t bother saying it,¡± Elena would¡¯ve snapped, but her voice was hoarse from crying and it instead came out in a rasp.

    ¡°You couldn¡¯t possibly know what I was going to say,¡± Ele said from the chair.

    ¡°You¡¯re talking in a gentle voice like you¡¯d talk to a hurt horse, and you¡¯re going to say it was horrible but I¡¯ve had a whole two days and I need to get up and go about my life like normal.¡±

    ¡°Mihi supra serpentes, your Storm has given you the gift of mind-reading!¡± Ele gasped, clearly trying to joke, ¡°truly you have more power than we realized, we should try to capitalize on this by learning what we can of your Storm!¡±

    Elena rolled over so her back was to Ele, curling into a ball beneath the covers.

    ¡°I¡¯m not really in the mood for jokes right now Ele.¡±

    ¡°Alright, no jokes, sorry.¡± Ele¡¯s voice grew serious, ¡°Elena I¡¯m sorry that I¡¯m doing this, I really am, if it were up to me I¡¯d let you take just as long as you needed to recover, but De Luca¡¯s schedule isn¡¯t up to me unfortunately, and you were already behind before. You can¡¯t afford to spend your time like this, curled in your room hiding from humans and the light like a cockroach.¡±

    You didn¡¯t see. Elena didn¡¯t want to argue with Ele, so she responded only in her head. You ran for help and didn¡¯t see any of it.

    ¡°Elena, please just talk to me,¡± Ele¡¯s voice came from right next to her bed, and she winced in spite of herself, ¡°just tell me what¡¯s going on in your head and maybe I can help you with it.¡±

    You weren¡¯t there.

    ¡°Nothing¡¯s going on in my head Ele, it¡¯s blank. There¡¯s nothing to help with. I¡¯m just really tired, that¡¯s all.¡± Elena didn¡¯t expect Ele to believe her, but she also didn¡¯t particularly care.

    ¡°Ah, well at least you finally admit that your mind is blank,¡± Ele joked, ¡°maybe you¡¯ll finally admit that I know what I¡¯m talking about then. You¡¯ll feel better after a shower and something to eat, you must be famished-¡±

    ¡°Can you please just go away Ele?¡± Elena interrupted quietly. ¡°I want to be alone right now.¡± Ele¡¯s footsteps were silent, but she somehow knew that he had left, slipping out of a door or wall to leave her in peace. Sunbeams slipped through her window, and Elena watched the motes of dust floating through them, staring without seeing.

    In her mind¡¯s eye the scenes replayed themselves with perfect clarity, mixed with the sensations that flashed across her just as strong as when they¡¯d first happened. Her stomach fluttered with the panic of anticipating a night of being tortured or worse. Her heart wrenched with the feeling of nauseating horror and shameful relief of seeing the bloom of blood spurt from Slug¡¯s throat. Her ears tingled with Fran¡¯s broken pleading as she was ripped away from reality. Elena hadn¡¯t seen Erik¡¯s death, so she didn¡¯t think it was fair that it played through her head as well, the image of Garnet¡¯s disconcerned smile as he stabbed the Rhetorgaurd over and over and over again.

    And all of it is your fault. A voice whispered in her head, a voice that for some reason sounded like her mothers¡¯. If you had reported Erik to the Guardhouse he would¡¯ve lost his job, but at least he would¡¯ve still been alive. Slug and Fran wouldn¡¯t be dead right now if it weren¡¯t for you. If you had been a little smarter about Cross¡¯ bolts, none of this would¡¯ve happened in the first place.

    The door to her room behind her opened, but she didn¡¯t care enough to turn. Strong arms grabbed her shoulders, gently but firmly turning her over. Elena screamed, flailing and kicking, trying to find purchase on her attacker with her nails, but they held her firm, and the panic rose in her stomach and threatened to overwhelm her.

    ¡°Elena, calm down, sub astra it¡¯s just me, calm down little Fabera,¡± Niccolo said in soothing tones, but Elena couldn¡¯t calm down, not when he was grabbing her like that, and her breath came out in short gasps. He let go of her arm, and she slowly began to calm, focusing on breathing deeply. Behind Niccolo, Ele and Nicci stood at the doorway with twin expressions of concern.

    ¡°I said I wanted to be left alone,¡± Elena tried to say it indignantly, but it came out closer to a whimper.

    ¡°I know you do Elena, and I wish I could leave you to your space,¡± Niccolo said with concern, ¡°but we can¡¯t let you. I¡¯m sorry. Go in and shower, and then we¡¯ll go get some food in your belly.¡±

    Elena glared at Niccolo, for once able to ignore the scent of leather and violets. When he didn¡¯t seem to be affected she shot another glare over his shoulder at Ele. If they were really her friends they would leave her alone when she asked them to.

    ¡°I mean it Elena, either you go in there and wash or I¡¯ll drag you in there and wash you myself.¡±

    At one point the idea of Niccolo washing her would¡¯ve made her blush from head to toe, but now it just created a sour feeling in the pit of her stomach. Elena curled her hands into fists, but stood and made her way into the water closet.

    *

    The shower didn¡¯t make her feel any better, but it did make her feel cleaner. Niccolo and Ele led the way into the kitchens, and she followed with a glower. She hesitated at the doorway. It was stupid, she knew, but a part of her expected to still see Slug¡¯s body splayed out on the ground, the blood-spatters and crying Echo that had in her mind irrevocably tainted the room. The cleanliness and brightness of the kitchen seemed wrong somehow, as if it was trying to pretend the ugliness never happened.

    Niccolo, Nicci, and Ele waited patiently in the kitchen for her to take the faltering steps inside. Even beyond the oddness of the bright and clean lie, it felt strange with so few people inside it.

    ¡°Where is Emerald?¡± Elena asked.

    ¡°Rolf, he take Emerald to Guardhouse,¡± Cook was at the stove, mixing something in a huge pot. ¡°He would no say why.¡±

    ¡°I hope the two of them aren¡¯t being punished for Erik and Garnet¡¯s...¡± Ele trailed off, clearly unsure of what to call it.

    ¡°Cook, we¡¯re going to steal some food and your helper today, I hope that¡¯s alright,¡± Niccolo was already grabbing some rolls from the platter on the table and transferring them to a plate.

    ¡°Ees fine. We miss having kitchen helper, but Jakob and I we handle kitchen just fine.¡± Cook seemed far more subdued than normal, and the effect was oddly calming on Elena¡¯s nerves. It was right that he be subdued. Everyone should be subdued. The horror that had happened under the roof of the studio shouldn¡¯t be so ignored and blase by everyone but her.

    ¡°I need to talk with Vittoria and Frederica,¡± Niccolo said, ¡°you take this plate back to your room and I¡¯ll meet you back there in a few minutes, alright?¡± Elena nodded and accepted the plate wordlessly, and Niccolo and Nicci left through the courtyard door.

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    The roll was good, she had to admit, soft and flakey and still warm from the oven. Nibbling on one corner, she walked down the hallway with the plate in her hand. Ele was silent until she walked by the door to her room without stopping.

    ¡°Where are you going Elena?¡± He asked cautiously. His tone of voice got on her nerves, that he still spoke as if she was a dangerous animal who needed to be kept calm.

    ¡°You and Niccolo both said I don¡¯t have time to be alone, that I don¡¯t have a choice but to work on my project,¡± she said, climbing the stairs to the workshop, ¡°so that¡¯s what I¡¯m going to do.¡±

    The workshop was also less busy than she would¡¯ve expected. Only Leanarda, Mella, and Lorenzo worked at their workbenches.

    ¡°Hi Elena!¡± Lorenzo waved from his stool. Leanarda and Mella both gave her friendly smiles as well, and Elena gave them a brief nod in return as she sat her plate down on her desk. The random materials, pieces of cloth, a can of oil, paper and charcoal seemed to stare at her from the surface of her workstation, and she realized that she still didn¡¯t have the faintest idea what to do for her project.

    Normally she would try to talk it through with her Echo, but she wasn¡¯t in the mood to talk to him yet. Instead she just continued nibbling at her roll and staring at the items on her desk. Maybe she could create some kind of flexible armor that could be worn under clothes...or a better mask for a Rhetor that they could eat through but never take off.

    She shook her head. Her Storm wasn¡¯t supplying anything, but that was hardly surprising; new inventions were the domain of the Machinator, and she was just a Fabera. She couldn¡¯t build anything that hadn¡¯t been built before. Perhaps she could design a sheath for a small knife she could wear underneath her clothes and access the second she needed it. Her temples buzzed as she turned the idea over; it could hang just beneath one shoulder, and when she needed it she could just reach into her sleeve and-

    The mental image of Slug¡¯s face in front of her as the knife sprouted from his neck struck her like a physical blow, and the buzzing in her temples and fingertips vanished as she shivered. No knives. Nothing violent. She would be glad if she never had to encounter real violence ever again.

    ¡°Hello there Elena.¡±

    Elena jumped and almost shrieked for the second time in the day, turning fast on her chair to find Leanarda standing next to her. The other girl looked positively thrilled at something, but Elena didn¡¯t like her smile. It was casual and light but somehow detached from anything that would make Elena smile. It reminded her of Garnet.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± Elena asked.

    ¡°Is it true that you killed a garzoni from Gitti¡¯s studio?¡± Leanarda asked, almost breathless. Elena turned back to her desk and stared at the cloth and can of oil again. ¡°Dulces sermones pabula it IS true! I didn¡¯t believe it at first, but the rumor is going around...you¡¯re still here, so I just assumed it must¡¯ve been exaggeration or made up completely, but I can tell from your face it¡¯s true! How did you manage to avoid getting arrested? Did De Luca pull strings or something? Why? Was he just saving face or do you have something on him?¡±

    ¡°I really don¡¯t want to talk about this Leanarda,¡± Elena said quietly, ¡°I¡¯m just here to get some work done on my projects.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you still think De Luca is going to choose you as one of his four garzoni after killing someone? I envy you, I don¡¯t think I could ever be that optimistic.¡± Leanarda smiled again, wider this time, ¡°that¡¯s a really good trait to have.¡±

    ¡°An even better trait is minding your own damned business,¡± Ele snapped. Elena returned to nibbling on her roll, content to let them fight it out and not really caring about the outcome, but before Leanarda could respond the door to the workshop opened.

    ¡°Elena,¡± Frederica barked, ¡°De Luca wants to see you in his office.¡± Leanarda turned back to Elena, smirking. Elena stared blankly at Frederica and chewed for a few moments, briefly considering simply not going.

    He¡¯ll just send someone else if I don¡¯t...or come himself, angrily. Elena gathered her second roll and followed Frederica, Ele trailing along. They moved in silence, for which Elena was grateful, their footsteps echoing along the marble hallways. When they turned right down a hallway instead of left, Elena stopped.

    ¡°De Luca¡¯s offices are that way.¡±

    ¡°I know, I lied. Niccolo asked if you could work with us, which was dumb of him because obviously you can, but you weren¡¯t in your room. Vittoria saw you in the workshop just now so they sent me to save you. Come on.¡± Elena didn¡¯t think she needed saving, but she followed wordlessly until the three of them reached one of the dormitory doors. A small sketch of a woman eating fruit hung on the door, the eyes so lifelike that Elena knew at once who had drawn it. Vittoria must¡¯ve been watching, because no one knocked and yet Niccolo opened the door for them.

    The room was larger than Elena¡¯s, and the bed had been pushed into one corner to make more space. Lanterns added to the light that streamed through the windows, and the whole room was so cozy and comfortable that it almost lifted Elena¡¯s spirits in spite of herself. Nicci lounged in the corner next to the desk, and Niccolo walked back to his seat on the desk¡¯s corner, picking up a half-fletched arrow and resuming his work. Frederica joined Fred in the other corner, where a six-foot block of wood stood with a rough figure half-carved in it.

    ¡°It¡¯s good to see you, Elena and Ele,¡± Vittoria and Vi had been sitting on the bed with their backs to the wall, sketching, but Vittoria rose from her seat as soon as they entered, pulling the unused chair from the desk until it sat between the bed and the block of wood. ¡°I saw you trying to concentrate in the workroom, and thought this would be a more peaceful place to work.¡±

    ¡°Thank you Vittoria,¡± Elena mumbled, sitting down and clasping her hands in her lap.

    ¡°I told you you¡¯d be able to tell the difference between Vi and Vittoria eventually,¡± Niccolo smiled from the desk. Elena glanced back and forth between the girl and her Echo dispassionately. Their features were the same, but she had no difficulty telling the two apart, and she wondered why she had before. Somehow didn¡¯t seem a very impressive feat to her now.

    ¡°Here you are,¡± Vittoria pressed a sketchpad and piece of charcoal into her hands without touching her. ¡°The rest of us won¡¯t bother you while you work.¡±

    ¡°But I don¡¯t even know what I¡¯m going to do,¡± Elena protested, ¡°I don¡¯t know what to make, nothing impressive like you all.¡±

    ¡°Then just doodle. Sketch a bunch of nothing. It¡¯s alright, I have plenty of paper, and no one here will judge you.¡±

    Vittoria settled back onto the bed with Vi and worked on her own sketches, and the room was quiet except for the scratch of charcoal on paper, the scrape of Frederica¡¯s knives on the wood, or little rattles as Niccolo slid another arrow into his quiver. The room was warm, and the presence of people was soothing now that she didn¡¯t have to worry about them talking to her.

    Elena pulled her legs up onto the chair, took a deep breath, and began to sketch.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 33

    Even after the shock and horror of Slug¡¯s attack and Garnet¡¯s escape a week ago had slowly faded, Elena had been more quiet around the Studio than normal. The stress of a broken Storm and the worry that she might never find out how to fix it had weighed down on her shoulders and dampened her mood. This morning, she wasn¡¯t alone. The entire breakfast meal was muted and reserved, each of the garzoni at the table lost in their own thoughts and plans. Even Elena had come up with a plan for a project that would keep her in the studio, and her heart had been beating a steady staccato ever since she had put the final touches on her Storm-less designs the night before. Vittoria¡¯s warm and comfortable room seemed to call to her, and it was almost physically painful to be sitting still.

    The table was already quiet, but when Master De Luca cleared his throat the brief murmurs went silent immediately. At the Echoes'' table, Bea and the other Echoes quieted and turned as well, all attention on the Master of the Studio as he rose to his feet.

    "Many years in the past, I used to pretend as if the upcoming few days were no more important than any day in the studio,¡± De Luca sounded tired as he spoke, his grave voice loud in the quiet room. ¡°I¡¯ve since come to realize that acting so casually, as if you aren''t all preparing furiously, isn''t fair to you garzoni. Now, when this point comes around every year, I''ve learned to speak plainly. This Saturday marks a point exactly two months after our newest batch of garzoni arrived. In accordance with tradition far older than any of you, Studio De Luca only trains up the best four garzoni in all of Milia. Unfortunately, this means that on Saturday four of you will be dismissed from the Studio.¡±

    He let the statement hang in the air for a few moments.

    ¡°Bea and I will make this decision based on the skill and artistry you have displayed over the past few months. I understand that all of you are finishing up rather large projects in the next few days...and those without large projects I¡¯ve instructed to start one," he smiled at Mella, "so I''m sure it will come as no surprise that this last project will play a great part in the decision that we make.¡±

    In the silence that followed the proclamation, Elena gazed across the table, at the men and women who listened to De Luca¡¯s speech. Lorenzo chewed thoughtfully on a thin cut of pork, but he was staring off into space as if his mind was elsewhere. Mella poked at a nearly-full plate, and Leanarda seemed more concerned with her friend than with De Luca¡¯s words. Carlo looked restless, as if he couldn''t wait to get back to work, but Vi and Frederica gave the Master their full attention. Niccolo was watching Elena, and when she saw him looking she blushed and stared down into her empty plate.

    "The skill, dedication, and artistry I''ve seen from you eight over these past few months has been...¡± De Luca¡¯s voice faltered for just a moment before he continued, ¡°...has been breathtaking. I will be quite sorry to see four of you go.¡±

    He paused for long moments, as if at a loss for words, and from the Echoes¡¯ table Bea spoke.

    ¡°Much as we enjoy sharing meals with all of you, we¡¯ve decided to give you every last possible moment to prepare for Saturday...¡®Showing Day¡¯, some of the past garzoni have called it. For the next few days you are all excused from morning and evening meals and chores, so that you can adequately prepare. Now, we won¡¯t detain you any longer. When the De Luca garzoni eat together again, it will be a party of ten Stormtouched and Echoes. Go make works of art, garzoni.¡±

    *

    ¡°Why doesn¡¯t Carlo ever join us in your room Vittoria?¡± Elena asked as she curled her feet up in the now-customary spot in the chair in the corner. Vittoria and Niccolo lit the lamps around the room as the other garzoni and Echoes spread about into their little work areas.

    ¡°He gets a little stressed, this time of year,¡± Vittoria said, ¡°more stressed than the rest of us, I mean. Being around anyone but Carla is like torture to him when he¡¯s so anxious, so he holes up in his room working until Showing Day arrives. This year especially, since someone broke the old brushes he had lying on his workdesk.¡±

    ¡°I think he does it to spare Carla more than his own anxiousness,¡± Vi said from the bed, where she lay sprawled on her back with a sketchbook on her legs. ¡°Sometimes I think Carla wants him to be a Master Artisan more than even he does.¡±

    Elena considered the statement as she rolled her design sketches out on the floor, sinking down from her chair so that she could consider them all at once. The warm room and company of friends over the past week had carried her through some very rough days, and she couldn¡¯t imagine facing the stress of the next few without them.

    ¡°Is today the day you finish sketching and start assembling?¡± Nicci asked from the desk where she and Niccolo worked. Her tone was light, but Elena thought she caught a hint of concern from the Echo. The deadline was approaching, the time for casual doodling over.

    ¡°Today¡¯s the day,¡± Ele replied.

    ¡°In fact I think we start assembling...now,¡± Elena said hesitantly. She had already secured the small boards of wood from Frederica, as well as one of the Calaetor¡¯s old knives, but she still looked down uncertainly down at the designed in front of her.

    ¡°Your final project is a carving?¡± Fred looked over with interest from the large block that had slowly been gaining definition over the past several days. Though the individual features were still rough, it was quite clearly the form of a young woman, her wavy hair captured perfectly in the pale wood.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be dense Fred,¡± Frederica didn¡¯t even look away from her work, ¡°Elena is a Fabera, Fabera build things.¡±

    Elena cut careful notches in the wooden pieces, moving slowly so that she wouldn¡¯t cut herself on the unfamiliar tools. She tried to follow the designs she¡¯d laid out for herself, but the cuts were inexact and awkward, and she knew she would have trouble putting the whole thing together.

    When she finished the final notch cut into the boards, Elena looked up to find that Fred, Niccolo, and Vittoria were watching her work.

    ¡°I don¡¯t get it,¡± Fred said, ¡°you¡¯re a Stormtouched, why does your work so far look so...shitty?¡±

    ¡°Fred!¡± Vittoria scolded.

    ¡°I¡¯m just confused! We know she¡¯s a Stormtouched, shouldn¡¯t her final project be something...I don¡¯t know, artistic and of fine quality?¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t the final project,¡± Elena picked up two pieces of the notched wood and began carefully lining up the grooves and notches in them, ¡°this is just a...a tool that I¡¯m using for the final project.¡±

    The notches and grooves didn¡¯t fit perfectly, and she had to use the handle of the knife to hammer the two pieces together, but when she set them down the snug fit kept them together. Elena picked up a third and fourth piece, fitting the notches into the first two.

    ¡°It¡¯s a puzzle,¡± Niccolo said, tilting his head to one side, ¡°a puzzle in three dimensions.¡±

    Neither Ele nor Elena answered, and Ele pointed to show Elena where one of the notches was sticking. The mental image of her flesh fitted together like puzzle pieces in her dream made Elena shiver.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Fred raised a skeptical eyebrow, ¡°it¡¯s still shoddily put together...¡±

    ¡°Fred, maybe you should keep still and let Elena work in peace,¡± Vittoria said, her dreamy voice firm. Fred lapsed into silence, and Elena kept on working, fitting the pieces together one by one. Occasionally one would need a few extra cuts or a little application of force, but when she was finally done and set the little box down on the ground, it held together firmly. She leaned back to admire her handiwork.

    ¡°It¡¯s DeRose¡¯s Studio!¡± Niccolo exclaimed, ¡°I recognize the front, and the layout of the place. You see Fred, it¡¯s more than just a puzzle.¡±

    ¡°I suppose a puzzle that¡¯s also a model could pass as ¡®art¡¯ for a Fabera, but is that really going to be enough to impress De Luca? And how would you use that to fight other studios, we already know DeRose¡¯s Studio¡¯s layout.¡±

    Elena ignored Fred¡¯s criticism, steepling her fingers in front of her and staring at the small model. DeRose¡¯s Studio was the studio that Arturo had joined when Master De Luca had turned him down. Modelling it correctly wasn¡¯t impressive; she had seen it before, on the Street of Grey Artisans when she¡¯d gone with Frederica to sell her sculpture. The model was only a tool, one that hopefully she could use.

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    ¡°Don¡¯t try to hold the studio in your mind anymore,¡± Ele murmured from her side. ¡°The studio is there, in front of you. Use your mind to fill it in.¡± Elena tried to clear her head of everything, tune out the warm room of friends around her and focus on the little studio. Without having to keep it in her mind, it was easier to focus on the little details that weren¡¯t there...the way the iron gate swung back and forth on smooth wheels set in the wall, or the slope of the roof that kept rain from pooling in its courtyard. ¡°Are you getting anything?¡± Ele asked. Elena shook her head, fighting disappointment.

    If my Storm can¡¯t use this, I¡¯ll have nothing to show for a final project. I haven¡¯t come this far to leave without a struggle. Her past experience had taught her that forcing her Storm was useless, so instead she simply stared and focused.

    ¡°Maybe enlighten us as to what you¡¯re doing with your little model Studio?¡± Fred asked. ¡°I¡¯m dying of curiosity.¡±

    ¡°¡®My little studio¡¯,¡± Elena replied, ¡°needs to get food and supplies somehow, and I¡¯m trying to figure out how my little studio gets them.¡±

    A cart, the same cart for both food and supplies, she thought, it could deliver them in crates at sundown to ensure that it¡¯s not caught up in the roads¡¯ traffic.

    The Storm that buzzed down her spine, her temples, and her fingernails was as refreshing as a stream¡¯s current and energizing as a strike of lightning. She looked up at Ele and saw the same surprise and excitement in his eyes.

    ¡°It¡¯s back...my Storm is back!¡± she cried. ¡°They get their food and supplies on a cart, at sundown!¡±

    Niccolo leaned back and whistled, and Fred nodded thoughtfully.

    ¡°Your Storm let¡¯s you...what, tell the future?¡± Fred asked. ¡°A bit like Carlos¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Faberi build things...I think my Storm gives me the ability to build whatever things that exist in the present,¡± Elena said excitedly, ¡°DeRose Studio exists in the present, so I can build a model and use my Storm to build how it works in my mind!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m...not sure about that,¡± Ele was furrowing his brow thoughtfully. ¡°We¡¯ve built lockpicks from wire and thread...and what about the wheel of the cart that we fixed with braided quorley? Or when we built your Uncle that basket that could hold water without leaking.¡±

    ¡°Lockpicks, wheels, baskets, they exist in the present don¡¯t they?¡±

    ¡°But then why has the Storm not been working lately? Don¡¯t you think there¡¯s more to this that we might be missing?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be such a pessimist, not now that we¡¯ve finally discovered how it works!¡± Elena brushed Ele¡¯s objections aside and focused on the little model.

    ¡°What are you doing now?¡± Niccolo asked.

    ¡°My studio gets its deliveries at sundown, but I need to know which day so that I can check the real-life studio...¡± The buzz was like a pair of wings, flying her mind through the answers to questions before they were barely out of her mouth. ¡°...Mondays and Wednesdays,¡± she finished. ¡°Today. There will be a delivery today, at sundown. That¡¯s how I¡¯ll know if my Storm is telling me the truth; DeRose Studio will get a delivery of food at sundown today.¡±

    *

    ¡°You didn¡¯t have to come with me.¡± Elena and Niccolo waited at one end of the Street of Grey Artisans, watching its front gate in the yellow light of the evening.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, you seem to get into an awful lot of trouble when left on your own.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not...¡± Elena thought back over the course of the past few months, ¡°that¡¯s not entirely...well alright. But still, you have your final project to work on as well, don¡¯t you? I feel bad that you¡¯re missing out on valuable time preparing.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve already made the arrows I¡¯ll be showing off. Showing day is a little different for me,¡± Niccolo glanced down at her, and she was reminded again how much taller than her she was. ¡°I don¡¯t think De Luca even expects me to come up with anything new. We¡¯re not much for surprising displays of artistry, us Saggitari. Shoot an arrow, hit a target.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re artistic!¡± Elena protested. ¡°What about your whole speech about ¡®form and function¡¯, and how function is just as important as form?¡±

    ¡°Function is important, my favorite little Fabera,¡± Niccolo said, ¡°but De Luca is an artist, first and foremost. An Artifex, no less, which is the most arty of artists. In the real world function is king, but in the land of artists form is also important. I¡¯m surprised I¡¯ve lasted this long as one of his garzoni.¡±

    ¡°Yes, he just used the word ¡®arty¡¯,¡± Nicci said.

    ¡°Why have you lasted this long?¡± Ele asked. ¡°I mean, I¡¯m sorry to be blunt, but with only four spaces for students, wouldn¡¯t De Luca want to have as many artists in his studio as he could have?¡±

    ¡°Partially because a Saggitari is good in a Studio fight,¡± Niccolo said. ¡°Partly because a Saggitari who can incapacitate instead of mortally wound is even better in a Studio fight. Mostly, I think, because he likes my attitude.¡±

    ¡°I like your attitude too,¡± Elena said before she could stop herself. She stared very resolutely at the gate as she tried to explain, ¡°I mean, you¡¯re always so carefree and supportive. Even now when we should all be at each others¡¯ throats for the four spots, you¡¯re here helping me instead of trying to make me fail.¡±

    ¡°I mostly try to ignore the fact that only four of us are getting through. That kind of thinking makes a person feel like ranking his friends, deciding who he wants to get through, and that doesn¡¯t end well for anyone. I¡¯d much rather be there for my friends, and worry about myself when De Luca lets me go.¡±

    Elena had been trying to ignore the thought, but his words brought it to the forefront of her mind. If she became a full garzona, which of her newfound friends would be sent away to make a space for her? Frederica, who seemed so tough but loved art more passionately than anyone Elena had ever known? Carlo, who struggled desperately for his spot and for his Echo? Vittoria, who had been so kind and gentle to Elena when she needed a friend? Niccolo, who...

    Elena wasn¡¯t quite sure how to put her feelings for Niccolo into words. Niccolo, whose smile made her heart feel warm. Niccolo, with his strong arms and a grin that made her weak. Niccolo, who smelled like leather and violets. She suddenly noticed that he was looking at her again, and she stammered a reply.

    ¡°You...You sound so certain that De Luca isn¡¯t going to keep you around.¡±

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t have much choice in the matter. There are amazing, talented garzoni in his studio that he can¡¯t afford to let slip through his fingers. Like you, for instance.¡±

    Elena froze, still staring at the ground. They were still on the corner of the busy street, Ele and Nicci were still there, but all of a sudden nothing seemed to exist but him and her.

    ¡°What...what¡¯s so special about me?¡± Elena murmured.

    ¡°Well...¡± Niccolo paused for long moments, and her heart leapt in her chest, ¡°...for one thing it looks like your Storm is going to be incredibly useful.¡± Elena looked up to see Niccolo pointing down the street. In front of DeRose¡¯s Studio, lit by the rays of the setting sun, a cart was unloading large crates, and several strong men were carrying them inside the Studio¡¯s gates.

    ¡°It works! The model works!¡± Ele crowed. Niccolo clapped Elena on the back, and Nicci clapped her hands as Ele continued. ¡°Do you realize what this means Elena? Once the other Studio models are done, we can start discerning things like weaknesses, strengths, we can figure out whether they¡¯re attacking on a certain night, or what forces they have...¡± Elena tuned out Ele¡¯s babbling as the group turned to head back towards De Luca¡¯s Studio; most of it they had already discussed between the two of them.

    She was equal parts excited and relieved that she¡¯d finally figured out her Storm, and that she¡¯d have a truly impressive final project to show De Luca, but as she watched Niccolo smiling and talking with Ele, she couldn¡¯t help but wonder what might¡¯ve been said if the cart hadn¡¯t shown up.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 34

    "Doesn''t it bother Vittoria, us being in her room when she''s not here?" Elena asked.

    "Nah. We wouldn¡¯t disturb her things or mess with her art, and she knows it." Frederica said without looking up. She was seated in front of the block of wood, examining it with a critical eye, although now that it had been almost entirely carved it couldn''t be said to be a "block" anymore. The wooden figure was a young woman, a little bit younger than the Caelator who had carved her. She stood with head bowed, her hands clasped subserviently behind her back. Her nude form in the pale wood was lit by the evening¡¯s light, and even without the Caelator¡¯s spark to make her live Elena though it was a beautiful work of art.

    "It''s not supposed to be moving yet, is it?" she asked worriedly.

    "Not yet." Fred was standing, walking in a slow revolution around the wooden girl and watching her carefully. "There''s a few more cuts to make on her neck, just below the ear here where it bows out." He pointed.

    "Can you come get me when you make the last cut? I''ve never seen a Caelator statue come to life before."

    "No need to come get you, you''ll already be there tomorrow when we make the cut that gives Freja life."

    "You''re doing it tomorrow? In front of De Luca, during the final presentations? But...I thought a Caelator¡¯s Storm wasn''t a sure-fire thing! What if it doesn''t work?"

    "If the Storm works and brings Freja to life, then it works and brings Freja to life," Frederica said. She had apparently found her scrutiny satisfactory, because she stood and took a broom that lay in the corner of the room and began to sweep up the copious amount of wood shavings that littered the floor at Freja¡¯s base. "If it doesn''t work, I don''t need an evening of dread in front of me. Tonight, I''ll sleep more soundly not knowing. In the morning, I''ll learn along with everyone else when I make the final cut."

    "I couldn''t ever be as carefree about it," Elena shuddered at the thought. "I''d go crazy not knowing." She set down the model of De Luca''s studio and surveyed the set she''d made so far; each of the eight studios in rough detail. They were a little shoddy, the pieces a tad haphazard, but as she kept reminding herself they were only tools, not the art itself. In the future, after the Showing tomorrow, she could give the designs to Tellem and have him make her cleaner and nicer models.

    I''m getting ahead of myself, Elena chided herself. I should focus on keeping my place in De Luca¡¯s studio first.

    "Maybe that''s the difference between Faberi and Caelator," Frederica said, stuffing her hands in her pockets and staring down at the pile of wood scraps. "We can''t put so much pressure on ourselves to get it right every time. It''s just not possible."

    "You seem very introspective today."

    "Aren''t we all?" Frederica flashed her a very out-of-character smile, and nodded at the models on the floor. "Maybe Faberi and Caelator aren¡¯t so different after all; from the look of those you¡¯re not worried about being perfect either."

    "Well, they¡¯re just tools, really. What I¡¯m showing off to De Luca tomorrow is more how I use them..." Elena blinked, "wait, did you just make a joke?"

    "Deprecating humor is as close as she comes to actual humor," Fred said with a smile, "so yeah."

    "What? That''s what you''re supposed to do when you''re friendly with other garzoni, isn''t it?" Frederica shifted uncomfortably, "Niccolo gives you a hard time like that all the time, am I not allowed to?"

    "You''re definitely allowed to," Elena smiled, "I just...didn''t expect it."

    "If we''re going to be fellow garzona for the next year, we might as well be friends as well."

    "Stop, you''re going to jynx it," Ele groaned. "Saying things like that is tempting fate."

    "Fate has already made up her mind how tomorrow will go," Frederica said with a shrug. "Nothing us mortals say or do is going to change her mind." She rolled her knives up in their small pouch slung it over her shoulder. "Fred and I have a tradition for the night before Showing Day. We''ll see you tomorrow."

    "See you Frederica," Elena said.

    Even in the silence that followed Frederica and Fred¡¯s departure Vittoria''s room seemed comfortable and friendly. Elena leaned back and surveyed the models again.

    ¡°I think we¡¯re done,¡± she noted.

    ¡°Done for what we¡¯ll show off tomorrow, at least,¡± Ele replied. ¡°There are some changes I¡¯d like to make later on. Should we test it out? Or should we go to bed early so we¡¯re well-rested for tomorrow?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s only eight o¡¯ clock.¡±

    ¡°Alright then,¡± Ele stood and began pacing in the room, ¡°De Luca will probably ask how it works.¡±

    ¡°The model is a tool used to supplement my Storm,¡± Elena began, officially. ¡°By not having to hold a mental image of the studios in my mind, I can let my Storm tell me details about them.¡±

    ¡°And did you take my advice and figure out your Storm?¡± Ele said, doing an impression of their elderly master.

    ¡°I did take your advice, Master Ele Luca,¡± Elena smiled, ¡°I¡¯ve discovered that specifically, my Storm allows me to build ¡®things¡¯ that already exist, whether those ¡®things¡¯ are physical or theoretical.¡±

    ¡°Except you don¡¯t actually know that¡¯s what it is,¡± Ele dropped the act and gave her a reproachful look.

    ¡°Ele will you stop?¡± Elena rolled her eyes, ¡°I know you want it to be something more exciting or intriguing, but I¡¯m happy we¡¯ve finally figured it out. It¡¯s a really powerful Storm, and once we start getting the hang of it there are some amazing implications of what it can do!¡±

    ¡°Hmmm, very well. So Miss Lucciano, tell us what this project helps you to do.¡± Ele looked unsatisfied with her answer, but continued on.

    ¡°The studio¡¯s have plans and schedules, all things that already exist. Since they exist, my Storm lets me build those same schedules and plans in my head.¡±

    ¡°Can you please give me an example?¡±

    Elena focused on her model studios, deciding which one to use for an example. She had arranged them on large pieces of paper in the same rough position as they were in the city, so she could see at a glance where in her paper Milia her studios sat. She pointed at her Malatesta¡¯s Studio, on her Street of Blue Artisans. The buzz in her temples was as instant as it was gratifying, and the fingertip that pointed crackled as if energy was arcing between the model and her hand.

    ¡°Malatesta¡¯s garzoni have a Showing Day as well,¡± she said triumphantly, ¡°but she¡¯s waiting until the day after tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°I...I don¡¯t know exactly. But I know it¡¯s the truth.¡±

    ¡°De Luca might want more than your word on it.¡±

    ¡°De Luca is smart enough to come up with some question he can ask for proof,¡± Elena sighed, ¡°Ele I love you to death, but you¡¯ve really got to work on being such a buzzkill.¡±

    ¡°I think it¡¯s an Echo thing,¡± Niccolo said from the doorway, ¡°Nicci is just as bad, she laughs at every word out of my mouth.¡±

    ¡°Maybe you should try saying something that doesn¡¯t sound like a joke,¡± Nicci grinned.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d see you before tomorrow,¡± Elena rose to her feet and brushed small woodchips from her lap, ¡°didn¡¯t you say you needed to buy something this evening?¡±

    ¡°Just got back,¡± Niccolo held up a metal cylinder about a half-foot long that sloshed when he gave it a shake. He slid the bow and quiver from his back and the knife from his belt and set them all on the desk, giving her a sidelong glance as he did so. ¡°Listen, Elena, are you busy at all? I have something I¡¯d like to show you.¡±

    *

    ¡°What did Nicci want to talk to Ele about?¡± Elena asked as she followed Niccolo through the dark hallways.

    ¡°Um..I¡¯m not sure,¡± Niccolo said, ¡°Echo stuff, probably.¡±

    Getting rid of Ele so we can be alone, perhaps? Elena¡¯s heart beat faster as she followed Niccolo into the lantern-lit workshop. Is he planning on picking up where we left off yesterday? Could this be the night that-

    ¡°Hullo Elena, Niccolo,¡± Lorenzo said from his workstation. Elena almost groaned with frustration, but Niccolo didn¡¯t seem perturbed in the slightest.

    ¡°Hello Lorenzo. Big day tomorrow, eh?¡± Niccolo crossed the room to the window, ¡°if you wouldn¡¯t mind holding this Elena?¡± He passed her the metal cylinder, then unlatched the window and threw it open. Elena was surprised to find that the metal was warm to the touch, almost hot.

    ¡°Hmm? Big day? Why, what¡¯s happening tomorrow?¡± Lorenzo asked. Niccolo turned and gaped.

    ¡°It¡¯s the...do you have a big project to show off?¡±

    ¡°Oh, yeah, thanks to Elena! It probably won¡¯t be finished for another hour or so though,¡± Lorenzo grinned, ¡°you might be interested in it actually; it essentially operates on the principle of resonated lodestones-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be very interested in the details Lorenzo,¡± Niccolo interrupted, ¡°but we¡¯ll wait until tomorrow so that everyone in the studio can hear about it.¡±

    ¡°Ah, yes that makes sense,¡± Lore nodded from Lorenzo¡¯s side, ¡°we should finish this up anyways.¡±

    ¡°Just to the side of the window there¡¯s a ladder, Elena,¡± Niccolo said quietly, taking the cylinder back from her. ¡°I¡¯m right behind you.¡±

    Elena¡¯s heart was beating fast again, and she tried to ignore Niccolo''s gaze as poked her head out the window. Sure enough, there was a ladder that led up to the roof, starting just outside the second floor window. Elena carefully grabbed onto the rungs and climbed.

    The roof itself was bright with reflected moonlight, so bright it was as if the stone itself was alight. Niccolo casually pulled himself over the edge with one hand, the other clasping the metal cylinder.

    "So many worries and questions in my head the evening before Showing Day," he said, moving to join her, "I like hanging around up here on a lot of nights, but this night seems the most serene of all. I come up here every Showing-Day-Eve." After her encounter with Cross, Elena didn''t feel comfortable too close to the edge of the roof, but Niccolo stood so close that his toes hung out over the lip.

    "How many Showing Days have you had in De Luca''s studio?" She asked, moving a little closer, but still far enough away from the edge to feel safe. After a moment''s pause he stepped back to stand next to her.

    "This will be my fourth. If De Luca decides to keep me this one last time, next year I''ll be a Journeyman Sagittari from De Luca''s Studio...I could get work anywhere in Italoza with credentials like that."

    "And if you don¡¯t make it?"

    "Then...I''ll have to find some other studio for my last year, same as anyone else. It won''t be as prestigious, but with three years as a De Luca garzoni under my belt, I''m sure I could find a place with one of the better studios." As he talked, Niccolo unscrewed one end of the cylinder and pulled two cups from the pouch at his side. The night was a little cold, and Elena hugged herself and shivered, watching him and musing on his words.

    "What was it you wanted to show me?" She asked.

    "First, I want you to taste this," Niccolo poured something that steamed into both cups and offering her one, "and then I want to show you those." He made a wide gesture towards the stars. Elena gave the cup a sceptical look.

    Drinking with a cute boy under the stars, she thought to herself, sounds familiar. Ele would probably be warning me to be careful right about now.

    "What is it about men and wanting to show me the stars?" she asked. Niccolo grinned sheepishly.

    "Alright, so it''s a little cliched," he admitted, "but it''s so effective! Sharing the stars on a silent moonlit night is a secret shortcut to making a girl''s heart all fluttery."

    It was so sudden and straightforward that it caught  Elena completely off guard. She opened her mouth, then closed it wordlessly. After a few moments of her heartbeat pounding in her ears, she tried again.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    "Your...your goal is to make my heart all fluttery? Are you always this...upfront about things like this?"

    "Never. This is the first time I''m trying it." Niccolo''s grin was infectious, and Elena smiled in spite of herself. "I like you Elena. You make a day brighter just by being around, and I want to be around you more often, no matter what happens tomorrow. I don''t see much point in hiding that."

    "I...I like you too," Elena stammered. "You sort of already make my heart all fluttery, even without the stars."

    "Well that''s no fair, you didn''t even give me the chance to sweep you off your feet with all of the smooth little tricks I know. You¡¯re depriving yourself."

    "You, being smooth?" Elena teased, "I don''t know, I can''t quite picture it."

    "Oh I can be quite smooth," Niccolo nodded sagely, "trust me, if you didn''t like me already, you would''ve fallen for me tonight."

    "Sorry, I didnt mean to ruin your tricks," Elena laughed a bit shakily. Is this actually happening? Are we really having this conversation right now? "You should give me a sample, so I can gauge how effective it would be."

    "Well first, we have a drink,¡± Niccolo offered her the cup again, and this time Elena took it.

    ¡°I...I don¡¯t think I should. I don¡¯t don¡¯t do very well with alcohol,¡± she said apologetically.

    ¡°De Luca garzoni are forbidden from drinking alcohol. This is a heated and spiced cider, procured from a secret store that only I know of.¡±

    ¡°How does the store stay in business if you¡¯re the only person in Milia who knows about it?¡± Elena asked, taking a sip. It was surprisingly hot, and the taste of sweet apples tinged with nutmeg and cloves and some other taste she couldn¡¯t identify lingered on her tongue.

    ¡°It¡¯s a great mystery,¡± Niccolo said. ¡°Now normally this is where I¡¯d let the silence of the night sink in, as we both enjoy our drink and look out over the city-¡±

    ¡°You know how to be silent?¡± Elena smiled innocently, and Niccolo gave her a look.

    ¡°I had Nicci stay away specifically so that I could be unimpeded by smart-alec responses, and now you take over.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, go ahead, you were saying you normally let the silence sink in. Why aren¡¯t you doing that now?¡±

    ¡°Well because with all of this talking we¡¯re behind schedule already,¡± Niccolo made a production of looking up at the moon to gauge the time, ¡°you should be getting to sleep early for tomorrow, and at this rate it¡¯ll take way too long to get to the part where I kiss you.¡±

    Elena felt as if the air had been knocked out of her lungs, and she spluttered and almost spilled her cider.

    ¡°The p...you...did...¡± she stammered.

    ¡°I think I¡¯ve just figured out why I like being so upfront with you,¡± Niccolo grinned and sipped at his own cider, ¡°your ¡®flustered¡¯ face is the most adorable thing I¡¯ve ever seen.¡±

    Elena tried to come up with some intelligent answer, then when that failed tried to come up with some answer period, but the task seemed impossible and she was blushing so hard that it felt as if her face was as hot as the drink.

    ¡°So anyways,¡± Niccolo said breezily, still smiling, ¡°I would draw the conversation towards the stars, and the constellations. Anyone can enjoy the stars, but I think a Stormtouched especially can appreciate them. For instance, do you see over there, that grouping of stars? That¡¯s the constellation Sagittarius. Those are my stars.¡±

    To illustrate where he was indicating he put a hand on her back and turned her slightly, pointing with his cup to the sky. He was close enough that Elena could feel the warmth of his body, and she was so aware of his hand on the small of her back that she could barely hear what he was saying to her.

    ¡°It¡¯s called Sagittarius because the shape of the stars makes the figure of a centaur with a bow,¡± he said, seemingly unaware that she was finding it hard to catch her breath, ¡°those stars form the drawn back arm, those others the bow do you see?¡±

    ¡°Um...yes,¡± Elena lied. Violets and leather.

    ¡°You are a horrible liar,¡± Niccolo grinned.

    ¡°It looks more like a teapot,¡± Elena admitted, ¡°and don¡¯t think I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re doing.¡±

    ¡°What I¡¯m doing?¡± Niccolo asked innocently, his voice quiet enough that even standing so close she could barely hear him, ¡°are you accusing me of having ulterior motives, taking you up here alone under the stars and the moon and making an excuse to stand so close to you?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Elena smiled and blushed, looking down at her cup, ¡°are you sure this doesn¡¯t have alcohol in it?¡±

    ¡°Positive.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m feeling a little lightheaded.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I get that a lot.¡±

    ¡°That sounds so much more arrogant when Nicci¡¯s not around to make fun of you for it,¡± Elena lightly punched him on the shoulder, and he chuckled. ¡°What about me? Where is the Fabera constellation?¡±

    ¡°Just over there,¡± Niccolo turned away from her and indicated, ¡°those nine bright stars make up the hammer and saw, crossed, do you see?¡±

    ¡°I see them,¡± Elena lied again, looking at Niccolo¡¯s profile, the way his brown hair fell carelessly around his face. When he turned back to look at her, his dark eyes seemed like magnets, his expression inscrutable but somehow expressive. Elena she stood on her toes, closed her eyes, and kissed him.

    There was a small clatter as his cup fell to the ground, and his arms were suddenly around her, strong and powerful but gentle, careful. His lips tasted like cider and the smell of violets made her feel dizzy again, but all of that was secondary to the wonderful, amazing fact that she was kissing Niccolo, and he was kissing her back. In that moment, in the silence on the rooftop, the worries and stresses and fears of the past two months melted away, and the only things that existed were her, Niccolo, and the dark expanse of stars looking down on them.

    *

    The sunlight that streamed into her room seemed to know her exact mood, and Elena woke up gently with a smile on her face. She sat up and stretched, then sighed happily.

    ¡°If only we had known that all it took was a kiss to put you in such a good mood, we could¡¯ve found you someone earlier,¡± Ele said from his seat in the corner.

    ¡°Shut up Ele,¡± Elena tried for ¡®reproachful¡¯, but all she could manage was a slightly different smile.

    ¡°I hate to put a damper on your mood, but you realize this is the most important day of your life, right?¡±

    ¡°I know, I know Ele, but...I feel good about today,¡± Elena rose and rummaged through her drawers for a clean uniform. ¡°De Luca wanted me to learn about my Storm, and I can show him how much I understand it. Like Frederica said last night, what will be will be. Getting all bent out of shape doesn¡¯t help one way or another, so why bother?¡± She hummed a tune as she took the uniform into the water closet to shower and change.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t realize Saggitari lips were made of opiates,¡± Ele snarked as she closed the door.

    *

    When Elena emerged from the shower, Ele was wearing a different outfit. Despite all of the manic thoughts running through her head, she did a double-take and stared. His curly black hair was neatly arranged, and he wore a version of De Luca¡¯s uniform similar to her own, all white with yellow trim.

    ¡°You- you changed,¡± Elena said, dumbfounded.

    ¡°Yeah, well...it¡¯s a special occasion,¡± Ele ran a hand through his hair with a self-conscious motion. ¡°I thought it was appropriate. It¡¯s sort of the two of us being judged, you know?¡±

    ¡°But- but- I didn¡¯t even know you could change.¡± Elena couldn¡¯t stop staring. For as long as she could remember Ele had worn the same outfit, and now he almost looked like a different person. ¡°Where did you even get Echo clothes?¡±

    ¡°While you and Niccolo were off ¡®Stormtouching¡¯ each other, Nicci and I had a long conversation about Echo stuff,¡± Ele said. ¡°How to change clothes, or get little things like books or paper or other things we might need.¡±

    ¡°How?¡± Even with the pleasant thought of Niccolo in the back of her head, Elena was curious.

    ¡°Um...the thing about it is...¡± Ele looked more embarrassed than she had ever seen him before, ¡°...I¡¯m not actually supposed to tell you.¡±

    ¡°What? Ele I didn¡¯t think we kept secrets from each other! I told you about Niccolo as soon as I got back!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to keep it from you, but Nicci says it¡¯s sort of a big deal-¡± a knock on the door interrupted him, and Ele looked palpably relieved. When Elena opened it to find Niccolo and Nicci standing outside, her heart jumped into her throat.

    ¡°Hi,¡± she said weakly, a smile creeping across her face again despite herself.

    ¡°Hi,¡± Niccolo replied with a grin.

    ¡°Oh God please tell me they aren¡¯t going to act saccharine like this all the time now,¡± Nicci slipped past Niccolo with a roll of her eyes.

    ¡°If Elena¡¯s dreamy-eyed silly smiles this morning were any indication, I¡¯m afraid they are,¡± Ele said gravely.

    ¡°Nicci, why won¡¯t Ele tell me how Echoes change clothes?¡± Elena asked.

    ¡°Don¡¯t bother,¡± Niccolo said, ¡°Echoes are notoriously close-lipped about it. I don¡¯t think even Carlo knows, and he and Carla are closer than any Stormtouched and Echo I¡¯ve met before. Unless Carla has told him and sworn him to secrecy.¡±

    ¡°Carla hasn¡¯t told him,¡± Nicci said confidently, ¡°the tradition goes way back. I don¡¯t even think-¡±

    ¡°Elena, Niccolo,¡± Vittoria suddenly appeared behind Niccolo in the doorway, ¡°you need to come with me.¡± Her face was pale, her eyes intense, and any hint of the dreaminess that indicated she was focused elsewhere was gone. She left almost as suddenly as she arrived, and Niccolo and Elena had to run to catch up, their Echoes hurrying behind them.

    ¡°Vittoria what happened?¡± Niccolo asked when they caught up to her.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d have to go to any great measures, I thought common decency or artistic respect would be enough of a protection,¡± Vittoria muttered, making her way down the hall towards her room. ¡°I left to have breakfast with Vi and Mistress Bea, I thought no one would be cruel or crazy enough to try to get past the lock on my door.¡± In Elena¡¯s stomach the pleasantness of the morning was slowly beginning to congeal into an icy ball of worry. When they arrived at the doorway of Vittoria¡¯s room the worry grew at the look on Frederica¡¯s face, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. Niccolo rushed inside the room and she heard him swear, but Elena had to steel herself for a moment before she peered inside.

    The room looked a little less warm without the lanterns lit, and that made it seem strangely unfamiliar, even though the layout hadn¡¯t changed. The room was littered with sketches of faces with detailed eyes, all ripped apart or shredded. On the desk, Niccolo¡¯s bow had been broken in half, jagged knife-marks along the middle indicating how it had been done. In the corner, the wooden statue of Freja had a deep cut gouged into her that ran from her shoulder down her chest and almost to her waist. On the floor next to the bed, the large pile of shattered, crushed and broken wood pieces were only recognizable as Elena¡¯s models due to the fact that the model De Luca studio was left unmolested, carefully placed on top of the mess.

    The room was quiet, the four garzoni taking in the sight of the destruction from the doorway in silence. Elena struggled to find something to say, something to ask, but nothing occurred to her but to keep looking at the devastation in Vittoria¡¯s room, as if by looking she could somehow undo it all.

    ¡°Ah, you¡¯re all here, how convenient!¡± From the end of the hallway, Pietro¡¯s voice sounded entirely too cheerful. ¡°I was sent to find the rest of you; Master De Luca is ready to begin the Showing in the courtyard and you four are the last to show up. If you could please bring your projects down, we can begin!¡±

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 35

    Master Bernardo De Luca didn''t sit down so much as he collapsed into his chair.

    "I can''t do any more of these Bea," he sighed. "They''re too hard, too draining."

    "You say this every year Bernardo," Bea said gently. "Saying it again won''t make Showing Day any easier on you. You''re hurting now, but by this time next year you''ll be recovered enough to handle it again."

    "And again and again and again, year after year, so many garzoni discarded as if they''re worth nothing...I cant keep doing this Bea I just cant." Bernardo passed a weary hand over his brow. "The look in their eyes...the crushing, hurting look. What I wouldn''t give to not have to be the cause of that look."

    "You don''t have a choice, my old friend."

    "I know it!" Bernardo snapped. He instantly regretted his outburst and opened his mouth to apologize, but Bea made a waving motion of her hand as if to tell him he was already forgiven. Bernardo slumped across his desk for long minutes, staring through the stack of neat books that arrayed it. His hands were actually shaking, and there was a pain in his chest.

    "This Showing day seems to be hitting you harder than most," Bea observed. "It''s about more than keeping some and letting others go, isn''t it?"

    "What else would it be about?" De Luca grunted. Beneath his desk was a bottle of white wine from Rimi, and he uncorked it before realizing he didn''t have a glass to pour it into.

    "It has to do with the fact that there''s emotion involved in this Showing Day."

    "There''s emotion, there''s always emotion have you not been listening?" Bernardo set the open bottle of wine on the desk. "From my poor garzoni''s point of view....ex-garzoni''s point of view...I''m the sole reason their dreams and ambitions are crushed. A bitter, heartless old man who cares more about his stupid pointless rules than about art."

    "You know that''s not the case. They''ll know it too, once they take a position at another studio and work it out."

    "Not all of them are looking for work at other studios," Bernardo brooded, "they might never know."

    "Aaah," Bea breathed. "That''s why this Showing Day was so hard for you. Because she didn''t make it."

    "Don''t give me a hard time, Bea," Bernardo sighed. "Not now, not today, not after Showing Day."

    "I''m not going to give you a hard time old friend. I wouldn''t. You seem set on giving yourself as hard a time as possible anyways."

    "I couldn''t give her a position. I only have four slots, and the choice was clear."

    "Yes, it was."

    "Giving her a position would''ve been wrong, I had no choice."

    "No, you didn''t."

    "Then why do I feel so miserable about it?"

    "Because she''s the first Fabera to gain a place in this studio for a long, long time, and you were hoping she''d make it?"

    "No. I hope all of my garzoni make it."

    "Because of the way her lip quivered and her eyes teared up when she realized she wouldn''t pass?"

    "No, although a die in igne for mentioning it," Bernardo swore

    "Because you love the little Fabera." Bea phrased it as a statement rather than a question. The room was silent for a long moment, as Bernardo was torn between sullen anger and heartache. Without answering he grabbed the wine and took a long draught from it as Bea continued. "You love her and so you didn''t use your Storm on her. You have no idea how she feels about you."

    "If I had used my Storm I might''ve been able to help her, that''s what you''re saying. Was I the reason she didn''t make it through? Did she fail due to an old man''s foolishness?"

    "You clearly forget how foolish you were as a young man as well," Bea smiled. When Bernardo gave her a dour look she sobered.  "If it makes things any better, I think she loved you too," she added quietly.

    "Which part of that is helping me feel better? That the girl I love might''ve loved me back, and now I''ll never see her again? Or that the girl whose hopes and dreams I just crushed might''ve also felt personally betrayed by my choice?"

    "Alright then," Bea said exasperatedly, "how about this; you''re far and away old enough to be her father, or that until yesterday evening you were her teacher and she your student. Had you told her you love her and then rejected her from the studio, she wouldn''t have been able to forgive you, and had you told her you love her and then accepted her into the studio you wouldn''t have been able to forgive yourself for betraying something you love even more than the Fabera; true art."

    "That''s just ''restating the obvious'', not ''helping''," Bernardo took another long pull from the bottle. "Nothing is going to help. She''s leaving, she hates me, and maybe even for good reason. Perhaps it''s better that she didn''t know how I felt about her."

    "Midora knows how you feel about her," Bea said quietly.

    "What makes you so certain of that?"

    "Midora knows how you feel about her," said a voice from the doorway. Bernardo started, almost dropping the bottle. Midora was dressed in the simple clothes she had worn when she was first interviewed for her place in De Luca''s studio, the light yellow clashing a bit with her blonde hair.

    Of course, she can''t wear her garzona uniform anymore...

    She seemed uncharacteristically downcast, neither the fiery stubbornness nor the  fierce cheer he had come to associate with her. Bernardo wasn''t quite sure how to react to her presence.

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    "I''m going to leave and check on...I don''t know, some excuse or other in the courtyard," Bea said, and she walked through the wall without a backward glance, leaving the room quiet in her wake.

    "How long have you been listening at the door?" Bernardo asked.

    "Long enough, Master De Luca," Midora said.

    "I didn''t want to have to-"

    "Don''t," Midora held up a hand, and Bernardo stopped. "Don''t explain, I don''t think it will help.I...I only came here to tell you...how I felt. But I see you already know, and now that I know you feel the same way I''m...I''m not sure what I''m doing."

    "There really is a reason that I couldn''t keep more than four."

    "I know. I may not know why, but I heard enough to know there were reasons behind who you picked and who you didn''t. It''s okay, honestly. I''ll be able to get over it. Someday."

    It wasn''t perfect, but the lump that had risen in Bernardo''s throat lessened just a touch.

    "Seeing you like this...is hard," he attempted. "You''re usually so confident, so..." he trailed off as Midora crossed the room to sit at the desk across from him, and reached out a hand for the wine. He passed it over without comment, looking her up and down as she took a long swig from it.

    "Being like this is hard," she said quietly. "But like I said, I''ll get over it." It was the way she said the words that broke his heart more than what she said. She spoke carefully, as if letting any bitterness through would make her shatter into pieces on the floor.

    "Midora If you need anything, any money to keep you on your feet while you decide what you''re going to do-" he began awkwardly.

    "I don''t think that would be quite fair to the others, Master De Luca," Midora seemed to gain a little bit of her customary fire back from from the Rimi white, and she looked him in the eye. "Unless your offer stands for them as well?" Bernardo frowned and took the bottle back. "I didn''t think so. Don''t let your feelings for me cloud your artistic objectivity."

    It was one of the more disrespectful things she had ever said to him, but then, she wasn''t his student anymore.

    "What will you do?" he asked. "Prochelli tells me you don''t plan on joining any of the other studios in Milia."

    "There''s a guild in Florezia...I had planned on applying there when I left your studio, so I suppose I''ll be sticking to my original plan, just fast forwarded by several years."

    "Bah," Bernardo wrinkled his nose in disgust, "a Faberi guild? Midora you''re more of an artist than any Faberi I''ve ever met, you have the potential for so much more than that!"

    "I agree," Midora laughed sadly, "but it''s a step in my plan, assuming I can even get in. Especially since..." she trailed off and took the bottle back, leaving the rest of the sentence hanging in the air.

    Since I won''t be a De Luca-trained journeyman.

    She didn''t have to say it for De Luca to feel it like a punch in the gut. Every part of him wanted nothing more than to scoop her up in his arms and assure her that everything would work out. Was that the protective love he felt of her as his student? The romantic love he felt of her as a man? The appreciative love he felt of her art? It didn''t matter.

    "If I were to write a letter to this Faberi guild in Florezia," he said slowly, "one in which I told them exactly how much I think of you as an artist, how much would that help in the next step of your plan?"

    "A letter of recommendation from one of the greatest artists in the world? Yes, I can see that being useful." The twitch in the corner of Midora''s mouth was enough to make Bernardo''s heart rush with relief. "But...promise me you won''t put anything in the letter that you don''t feel to be true, just because of how you feel."

    "I won''t," De Luca promised, thinking of several glowing things to include in the letter that he felt to be quite true. "I''m glad I can do something to help you reach the next step of your plan."

    "Next step? A letter from you would send me on my way to becoming leader of the guild...almost halfway to the end goal." Midora grinned, her mischievous face brightening the room.

    "Being the leader of Florezia''s Faberi guild is only your halfway point? Exactly how far does your plan take you Midora?" He asked with a chuckle.

    "It takes me all the way to the top, of course," Midora said cheerfully. Bernardo couldn''t help but laugh at her bravado, and she laughed as well, bright and airy.

    Not twenty-four hours since being rejected from the studio, already planning on ruling the world, he thought affectionately. This is the Midora I''ve come to love...unstoppable.

    "You think I''m joking, just you wait," Midora wagged a finger at him. "With all of the help I''m getting, it won''t be long until I''m one of the gears that runs this machine we call Italoza."

    "If I could believe it of anyone, I''d believe it of you. I won''t be a bit surprised," Bernardo said, passing the bottle back to her for the last of the wine. Tension that he didn''t realize he carried slowly eased away as the pair talked and laughed late into the evening. For years afterwards the tableau remained a cherished memory in Bernardo De Luca''s mind; the quiet room, the warmth of the wine, the lovely conversation, and the pretty little Fabera who wanted to rule the world, grinning from ear to ear.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 36

    The air in the courtyard was only moderately chilly, but Elena felt numb. The De Luca garzoni and their Echoes were arranged in a loose half-circle, while Master De Luca, Bea, and Pietro stood opposite with concerned looks on their faces, leaving a clear area in the center.

    ¡°You understand the particular constraints I am under,¡± De Luca said carefully, ¡°you understand why the Showing Day must be today, regardless of this sabotage? We cannot delay to search for the saboteur or to let you work on another project.¡±

    Elena nodded wordlessly. Whatever laws governed the studios, De Luca was only allowed four garzoni. He could get around the restriction for a little while by keeping some of his students ¡°provisional¡±, but she assumed at a certain point he had to cut them down to a group of four.

    ¡°This is ridiculous,¡± Niccolo all but snarled, ¡°Master De Luca, you can¡¯t truly be considering proceeding like this? I¡¯ve seen you pick garzoni for their mastery of the art, and I¡¯ve seen you pick garzoni for mastery of...¡± he shot a quick glance towards the other provisional garzoni, those who didn¡¯t know that fighting ability played a part in the selection, ¡°...mastery of other things, but I¡¯ve never seen you pick your garzoni based on their ability to manipulate, to cheat, or to backstab.¡±

    ¡°Apparently I¡¯m quite good at picking them on the basis of their speech-writing abilities,¡± Master De Luca said wryly. ¡°I understand your anger Niccolo. The destruction of art runs in opposition to everything this studio stands for, and you may rest assured that if the person who did this comes to light, their punishment will be extreme.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t exactly help those of us who have been hamstrung by the destruction, Master De Luca.¡±

    ¡°You may also rest assured that I am fully capable of judging the merits of artistry without a visual aid in front of me,¡± De Luca continued. ¡°I am just as capable of extrapolating your artistic ability with a description of your project as I am with the visual. This destruction, while unkind and irresponsible, will not affect my judgement. Simply tell me the damage done, and I will take into account what has been lost when making my decision. Now, I think it¡¯s best we begin.¡±

    The words were somewhat comforting, but Elena still felt goosebumps along her skin that had nothing to do with the weather. Leanarda had been right, so many weeks ago. There were some in the studio who were willing to go great lengths to make others fail, and the warmth and friendship she had been enjoying in the company of the full garzoni had been an exception, not necessarily a rule.

    Bea stepped forward into the center of the half-circle.

    ¡°Before we start, I would just like to say that these past few months have been absolutely amazing in terms of what you¡¯ve accomplished. At the De Luca studio we are used to seeing some of the best young artists beneath our roof, but this year I think I speak for both Master De Luca and I when I say we¡¯re truly awed by the artistry we¡¯ve seen. Now, we¡¯ll begin alphabetically by last name, and Pietro will help you retrieve your projects from the workshop or your rooms if you require assistance. Vittoria and Vi Arcimboldo, will you please tell us what your final project was before it was destroyed?¡±

    Elena realized with a guilty start that she had been so concerned with her own smashed project that she hadn¡¯t been focused on the effects of the destruction on her friends.

    How could I be so selfish? My friends have done so much for me, and I almost forgot they¡¯re in just as dire straights as I am...

    Vittoria and Vi didn¡¯t seem worried at all as they stepped forward to occupy the space in the middle of the semi-circle. They were dressed in matching white and yellow uniforms, but Vittoria wore her gold hair tied back with a red ribbon that seemed vibrant against the pale colors. Her gaze was focused and sharp, and Elena was struck by just how wise she looked when she wasn¡¯t staring dreamily off into space. Vittoria made a small motion towards the doorway, and only then did Elena notice a very thin man in robes of deep purple who had been quietly watching the proceedings.

    ¡°Luckily for me, the saboteur clearly didn¡¯t know what my final project was,¡± Vittoria began as the man in purple robes moved to join her in the center of the circle, ¡°she...or he, I suppose, destroyed several of my sketches, but my final project was a little bit grander in scale. This is Father Sforza, of the Domine Cathedral near the West gate of Milia. I¡¯ll let him describe my project, if he is willing.¡±

    ¡°Miss Vittoria did us the honor of designing a magnificent mural to adorn the belltower of our Cathedral,¡± Father Sforza beamed, ¡°depicting our Lord and Savior risen above the dark clouds of the Storm. I must say that it has been a pleasure to work with Miss Vittoria. She can be a little absent-minded perhaps,¡± the Father and Vittoria shared a smile, ¡°but such piety is rare to see in one of her age, and even more rare in one touched by the Storm, begging your pardon of course and no offense meant.¡±

    ¡°Thank you Father Sforza,¡± Master De Luca stroked his beard thoughtfully. ¡°Vittoria, a design is quite lovely, but did you do any work on this mural yourself?¡±

    ¡°As you well know, Master De Luca, I am blessed with a Storm that lets me paint eyes of great realism,¡± Vittoria said carefully, ¡°I painted the eyes of the savior, looking out across Milia.¡±

    ¡°I see. And from where in Milia would I be able to see these eyes?¡±

    ¡°From the edge of the Street of Yellow Artisans to the edge of the Street of Grey Artisans, Master De Luca.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± De Luca nodded, and Elena was sure he had realized the implications. Vittoria ¡®Hundred Eyes¡¯ could see through the eyes of her Stormtouched paintings, and if the mural had been infused with her power she could now see a good eighth of Milia any time she wished. ¡°I am quite impressed. Father Sforza, thank you for taking time from your day to come vouch for my garzona.¡±

    ¡°Of course, Master De Luca,¡± Father Sforza smiled, ¡°it was a pleasure.¡±

    ¡°Now then...Carlo and Carla Donato, I believe you are next.¡±

    Father Sforza departed as Carlo and Carla left the courtyard with Pietro, and a few minutes later they returned, carefully wheeling out a large section of a plastered wall. When they turned it around so that the Masters and garzoni could see it, Elena gasped.

    Even if she hadn¡¯t known what Carlo was planning to make for his final project, it was quite clear what his fresco depicted. The Oracle was a young girl, younger than Elena had expected, but she stared from the plaster with an expression of such tortured knowledge that it was hard to meet her painted gaze. She sat in a tiny room, cluttered and dark but Elena could make out outlines painted into the work; glimpses of snakes, desiccated skulls, and dark clouds peaking through broken shutters in the background.

    ¡°The Donatian Oracle, when complete, will divine the future,¡± Carlo said quietly, without much emotion. Now that Elena was paying attention to them, she noticed how tired and run-down the pair looked; his red hair was always messy, but Carla¡¯s long black hair was mussed as well, and there were dark circles under both of their eyes. They didn¡¯t look nearly as excited as the beautiful masterpiece in front of them warranted. ¡°In the time-honored tradition of De Luca Artifexes and Calaetors in years gone by, I decided to make the final touch to complete this work here, in front of everyone,¡± Carlo continued. ¡°Please give me a few moments to prepare.¡± Pietro handed over the materials that he had been holding, and Carlo went to work on a patch of a few inches in the lower corner of the painting that remained blank.

    ¡°For those of you who aren¡¯t familiar with fresco painting,¡± Carla said as Carlo worked, ¡°it is a very long process that requires very careful timing. For this painting we had to first apply the trusilar, a layer of coarse sand and lime, which we then let dry for six days. The second layer of medium sand and lime, the arricio, was then applied and smoothed, then the final layer of finest sand and lime, the intonaco. The painting is done on the fresh plaster, which then hardens when it dries. Since it must be painted wet, we had to work on the Donatian Oracle in small patches at a time.¡±

    ¡°The fresco is complete when the plaster dries, over the period of a few days,¡± Carlo said as he worked. ¡°Fortunately for us here the Storm works faster. If this fresco is touched by the Storm, we¡¯ll know as soon as the final brushstroke is applied.¡±

    The Oracle seemed to be looking right through Elena as Carlo spoke.

    Maybe that¡¯s why he looks so tired, Elena thought, I couldn¡¯t imagine falling asleep with that little girl¡¯s staring at me.

    ¡°Before you complete the fresco, Carlo,¡± Bea broke in, ¡°I would just like to compliment you on your work from an artistic standpoint. This fresco is one of the most hauntingly beautiful works I¡¯ve seen in a long time, perhaps rivalling the non-Touched work on display in Florezia itself.¡±

    ¡°Thank you Mistress Bea,¡± Carlo said, though he neither looked pleased nor looked up from his work. ¡°It¡¯s a skill born of much practise due to many, many failures.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t help but think that talent also plays a large part in it.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps.¡± As the patch of blank space became smaller and smaller, Carlo and Carla both seemed to be more and more tense. Finally, Carlo leaned back and set his brush back on the platter Pietro carried. ¡°It¡¯s done.¡± He said with finality.

    He rose, and both he and Carla took a step back to look up at the Oracle. The child¡¯s eyes looked back, inscrutable and still.

    ¡°Can...can you hear me?¡± Carlo asked, his voice rough. The girl stared, silent and still. Long moments passed, moments in which Elena held her breath. A small breeze stirred the courtyard, but the rustle of the potted trees seemed to counterbalance the inactivity of the painting. Each moment that the girl remained motionless seemed to hurt, and Elena couldn¡¯t imagine what was going through the artists¡¯ heads.

    Carlo turned suddenly and walked back to his place in the semi-circle, Carla following silently. He kept his back straight, and he stared directly in front of him.

    ¡°It appears that this fresco was a failure,¡± he said in clipped tones. ¡°I suppose the decision on whether or not to keep me on at the De Luca studio must be based on past work, rather than this.¡±

    ¡°What should I do with the fresco?¡± Pietro asked.

    ¡°Sell it. Burn it. I don¡¯t care.¡±

    ¡°Carlo-¡± Bea said gently

    ¡°I think Niccolo is next, Mistress Bea,¡± Carlo interrupted in the same clipped voice. Bea looked as if she was about to say something, but instead shook her head and turned to Niccolo.

    ¡°Niccolo and Nicci Loredan.¡±

    ¡°Well, my bow was snapped in half, because apparently whoever the backstabber is was under the impression that a Saggitari can only use one bow or something.¡± Niccolo said. Elena was so used to seeing him with a bow slung over his shoulder that she¡¯d failed to realize he was carrying one now, slightly smaller than his usual. ¡°I¡¯ve never had a bow break before, but I always keep multiple spares in my room just in case.¡±

    ¡°I am happy that you were not taken out of commission by the sabotage, Niccolo, but I believe your past demonstrations are enough to inform us of your powers,¡± Master De Luca said.

    ¡°Ah but with all due respect sir, I¡¯ve learned a new trick since then,¡± Niccolo said. From his sleeve he drew an arrow, as thin as a needle, with one bulky knob on its end. De Luca waved a hand for him to continue. ¡°For the benefit of my fellow garzoni, I¡¯ll explain. My Storm is simple as can be; it balances my arrows. For the past few years I¡¯ve been using it to correct for specialized arrows with modified fletching or flat heads, so that I can make an arrow drift to the left or right, or fire an arrow that hurts like hell but won¡¯t pierce flesh. This year I¡¯ve realized that my Storm might let me fire arrows that no other archer can.¡±

    As he spoke, Niccolo nocked the needle-like arrow to his bowstring using the bulky knob. He turned towards the fountain in the center of the courtyard, drew, and let it fly with a single smooth motion. It was strange to watch the misshapen arrow hurtle through the air on a perfectly straight path, and it sunk into the marble of the fountain down to the knob. From behind De Luca, Pietro gave a small squeak.

    ¡°A very good application of your Storm, Niccolo, quite creative,¡± Bea said approvingly.

    ¡°Although I can¡¯t help but notice that for the third year in a row you¡¯ve chosen to demonstrate your Storm through destruction of Studio property,¡± Master De Luca glared at the fountain where the needle-arrow still stuck fast.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Master De Luca, I tried to talk him out of this plan,¡± Nicci said.

    ¡°Think of it as a demonstration both of my Storm and of my personality,¡± Niccolo grinned.

    ¡°So noted,¡± Master De Luca said. ¡°Now, next would be Elena and Ele Lucciano.¡±

    She had been so interested in the others¡¯ displays of their Storms that for a few minutes Elena had forgotten she would be going next. Trembling, she took a few hesitant steps forward, focusing all of her attention on trying to breathe.

    ¡°M...my project was models of studios,¡± she almost whispered. ¡°Only the De Luca studio model is left.¡±

    ¡°Pietro will run and fetch it while you explain,¡± Master De Luca nodded to the marble boy, who departed.

    ¡°You um...you said I should be working on figuring out my Storm,¡± Elena felt sick, her stomach lurching. How had the others made it seem so easy? Her entire life depended on this moment, this speech, what was the trick to making it seem so blase? Although focusing on the importance of the moment really wasn¡¯t helping her. What had she meant to say next?

    ¡°So we devised a project that would do just that,¡± Ele broke in smoothly, ¡°something useful, that demonstrated what we could accomplish while also letting us test the limits of our Storm.¡± Elena flashed him a look of relieved gratitude and tried to pick the thread back up.

    ¡°Uh, yes. So we used these models as tools to do that,¡± she accepted the model of the studio from Pietro as she spoke. ¡°We used the models to discover that my Storm...it lets me build anything that already exists.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s quite a powerful trait to have,¡± Master De Luca¡¯s eyebrows shot up. ¡°And you applied it to the models how?¡±

    ¡°Since the studios all exist, I could create my own versions of them in my mind, which will let me know what they¡¯re doing. I can know all of their plans and strategies.¡± As Elena spoke she felt her confidence increasing just a touch, enough that she could raise her head and speak more clearly. ¡°With the studios modeled out like this, I could focus on the internal details.¡±

    ¡°Hmmm.¡± De Luca was staring at the model in her hands. ¡°If your Storm is to build things that already exist, why isn¡¯t the model of the De Luca studio an exact replica of this studio?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s...the model is just a tool, not what my project is. The models aren¡¯t important.¡±

    ¡°Ah, but nevertheless, the De Luca studio is something which exists, and thus the models¡¯ quality is very important to your theory about your Storm. Unlike Calaetors and Artifexes, a Faberi¡¯s Storm will consistently and uniformly Touch anything they create. Why didn¡¯t your Storm Touch this?¡±

    ¡°I...¡± Elena stared down at the model in her hands. There was obviously an answer to De Luca¡¯s question, but her brain seemed locked down and she couldn¡¯t think, couldn¡¯t even begin to figure out what that answer was. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s because I don¡¯t know the details of the Studio well enough?¡± She ventured.

    ¡°That excuse makes no sense, and you should know it,¡± Master De Luca said severely. ¡°If your Storm needs the details to model a studio you live in, how can you map out the plans and designs of Studios you¡¯ve never seen?¡±

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    When she was six years old, Elena and her mother had taken a trip to a lake near Carpi to spend a day at the lakeshore. She had been a curious child, and had wandered into the water, struggling as the waves dragged her under for a few long seconds before her mother was able to pull her out. At this moment, she was reminded of nothing more than the waves closing over her head, the claustrophobic feeling of being sucked under the surface.

    ¡°Maybe...maybe I¡¯m too close to this studio, so the details in my head get in the way of the Storm?¡± She managed to gasp.

    ¡°Twice, that I know of, you¡¯ve constructed lockpicks capable of circumventing quite expensive locks. One of them you ruined since you made the lockpick out of wood. Setting aside for a moment that I don¡¯t believe there exists a lockpick, made of wood, that exactly fits that lock, can you explain how your Storm worked then, when you knew neither the details of their inner workings, nor were you too close to them?¡±

    There was nothing to say in response. A kind of quiet horror was welling up in her heart, and it was stopping all attempts she made to answer or figure out why Master De Luca was wrong. She was going to fail. A part of her wanted to take it bravely like Carlo, but judging from the burning behind her eyes she was about to burst into tears.

    "Master De Luca," Vittoria interrupted, "I wonder if you might let Niccolo and I go retrieve a few things that are pertinent to this discussion?"

    "Of course. I''m quite willing to consider all of the information available."

    "What are you doing?" Elena asked, but Vittoria and Niccolo were already halfway to the door, and neither heard her.

    To Elena the length of time waiting for them to return simultaneously took less than a second and more than an hour. When they returned, they carried a small pouch and a wooden case. They stopped in the center, one on either side of Elena. Niccolo opened the pouch and displayed the knives that Elena had made for Frederica, while on her other side Vittoria opened the case which contained her brushes.

    "I''ve heard of these tools that Elena made," Master De Luca nodded, "and I do appreciate the craftsmanship that went into them. Unfortunately, craftsmanship isn''t what we''re judging here."

    "You''re judging artistry, Master De Luca," Niccolo said. "Elena is a Fabera; her artistry might not be flashy or showy, not something she can blow you away with in a single instance, but in the long run it stands to do more for this Studio than any of us. Frederica won''t have to buy knives again for years. Vittoria''s work is improved by the quality of these brushes."

    "It''s not fair to judge Elena''s work on its own, in a vacuum," Vittoria said. "Her work improves the work of everyone in the studio who works with her. Her value to the studio can''t be measured in a single project, but rather in the vast amounts of help she''ll be able to offer over the years that she''s here."

    "I suppose just like I can''t judge a Calaetor in the same way I judge a Saggitari, I should judge a Fabera on a more individual basis," Master De Luca mused, stroking his beard. "Very well. I''ll think on this. Lorenzo and Lore Malatesta, you''re next.¡±

    "Thank you," Elena murmured to the pair as they returned to their places in the circle.

    "Don''t mention it," Niccolo whispered back.

    "Did he say ''Lorenzo Malatesta?" Vittoria asked. Even with the tight feeling still in her chest, Elena¡¯s head jerked up.

    Lorenzo¡¯s last name is Malatesta? Is he related Master Malatesta on the Street of Blue Artisans? Why was he here at De Luca¡¯s studio?

    Lorenzo stepped forward, already holding his project; a pair of silver balls that rested in his gloved hand.

    ¡°Speaking of helpful Faberi, my project was actually inspired by something I saw Elena working on,¡± he began, ¡°she had copied down some numbers for a bow she was working on, and right away I was struck by the ludicrously low maximum velocities she¡¯d written down.¡±

    ¡°¡®Low¡¯ being a relative term, of course,¡± Lore broke in, ¡°we had been working with lodestones so long that we¡¯d become blind to other areas of study, a danger for many Machinators.¡±

    ¡°Lodestone interaction exceeds the physical limitations of a bow with such effortlessness that we realized what a contribution the technology could make to the art of archery.¡±

    It¡¯s not fair, Elena thought, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. Coming up with the words I had to say was like moving through molasses, but they can present things so effortlessly, because of course they can, they¡¯re talking about lodestones.

    ¡°There was some concern about creating a technology that would allow for more death and destruction, but there Elena came to our rescue for a second time,¡± Lorenzo continued, ¡°it¡¯s ironic, she first helped us when we had been too focused on lodestone theory to realize a real-world application, and then later helped us when we were too focused on archery to realize the application of the lodestones-¡±

    ¡°An arrow¡¯s deadliness is a function of that fact that it must be aerodynamic when powered by a single application of physical force,¡± Lore interrupted excitedly, ¡°but no such constraints exist when application of force is held constant-¡±

    ¡°Force-as-a-field removes all air-resistance from the equation!¡±

    ¡°Removes all other forces from the equation! Drag!¡±

    ¡°Friction!¡±

    ¡°Gravity!¡±

    ¡°Gravity?¡± Lorenzo turned to his Echo, startled, ¡°why didn¡¯t we think of that before? Application of similar frequencies to overcome gravitational pull...¡±

    ¡°Dangerous if desynced for even the slightest instant,¡±

    ¡°Yes but if we had stabilizers of some sort...Pietro could you grab me some paper?¡± Lorenzo asked.

    ¡°Lorenzo, perhaps you should just show us your project,¡± Master De Luca put a hand on Pietro¡¯s shoulder before he could leave.

    ¡°Hmm? Oh, yes I suppose. This is a really interesting new idea though...¡± Somewhat distracted, Lorenzo lifted the small silver balls. The floated slowly into the air, then began circling him in slow orbits. With a series of small motions of his gloved hands, Lorenzo sent the silver balls bounding over each other, moving in tight circles, flying high in the air and then whistling towards the ground before stopping short inches away from his face. He made another motion and the balls resumed their lazy orbit around him.

    ¡°That is...marvelous,¡± Master De Luca breathed.

    ¡°Small resonance panels in these gloves allow for manipulation of magnetic fields which then siphon the lodestones into -¡±

    ¡°I must admit to you Lorenzo, you could explain until you were blue in the face and I wouldn¡¯t understand how it works,¡± De Luca said, ¡°but that it works is...frankly amazing.¡±

    ¡°Master De Luca do you think I could go back to the workshop? I want to work on this gravitational idea before I forget it...¡±

    ¡°I suppose...but don¡¯t you want to hear who stays in the studio?¡±

    ¡°Hmm?¡± Lorenzo half turned on his way to the door, ¡°oh, are people leaving the studio? I didn¡¯t realize...well I¡¯m sure someone will let me know.¡±

    The assembled artists stared at Lorenzo as he walked to the door and entered the studio.

    ¡°Ehm...next is Mella and Mell Rosso,¡± Bea said, bringing their attention back to the semi-circle. It was Mell who stepped forward first, with Mella a little ways behind.

    "Our project is really just using the artistry we already knew we could do," he spoke quietly, confidently, a strange counterpoint to his Stormtouched who seemed to be doing her best to sink into the ground behind him. Elena couldn''t remember ever hearing him talk, but now that she heard him she didn¡¯t really like his voice. It was confident, but there was something vaguely threatening about it. "We didn''t know it was typical to finish out a project in front of everyone. From what I understand, our success rate is one of the best among Artifexes, and we don''t like presenting incomplete work." Mell shot a glance at Carlo.

    "Do you need Pietro to fetch your project?" Bea asked.

    "No need," Mell smiled and indicated Mella. She, at least, looked just as nervous and terrified as Elena felt, and was visibly trembling. From the hemline of her uniform, a small grey design suddenly snaked out into view across her chest, slid up her neck and encircled her eye in a crescent shape. "For this particular demonstration, Mella is the canvas."

    "That is quite unique," Master De Luca said thoughtfully. "For an Artifex that uses graphite, it''s quite unique indeed; I would''ve thought that skin would be too soft and pliant a surface to draw on with...what was it called, ''pencils''?"

    "That''s the best part, Master De Luca," Mell replied. "Mella, take off your shoe."

    His Stormtouched obeyed without question, slipping her right boot off and setting her bare foot on the ground. The design around her eye slipped down her body again, disappearing beneath her clothing for a few moments before reappearing on her foot. After a moment of hesitation, it moved from her foot to the bare marble of the floor, where it travelled to the center of the semi-circle and stilled.

    "Very unique indeed," Master De Luca said. "It can travel from any surface to any other?"

    "Every surface we''ve tested," Mell said.

    "Most excellent." De Luca mused, and the design slipped back across the floor and onto Mella''s skin before she put her boot back on.

    ¡°I think we¡¯re next, Master De Luca. ¡®Mocenigo¡¯,¡± Leanarda said. Unlike most of the others, she had opted for a blouse and long skirt instead of the De Luca uniform, but it went well with her pale skin and dark hair.

    ¡°Yes that¡¯s right,¡± Bea waved her forward. ¡°Though I have great interest in all of the projects being shown, I¡¯m the most curious about yours Leanarda and Leo, since I have no idea what your Storm actually consists of.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think anyone at the studio knows, Mistress Bea,¡± Leanarda lifted a wrapped canvas from where it had sat at her feet, carefully unwrapping the cloth as she spoke. ¡°We work...a little slowly.¡±

    ¡°Mell mentioned that Mella and his Storm works almost all of the time,¡± Leo said, staying in his place instead of following Leanarda to the middle. ¡°We¡¯re nowhere near that lucky; we¡¯ve only had two successes since arriving at De Luca¡¯s studio. We decided to show the second.¡±

    Leanarda dropped the cloth to the ground and slowly rotated to let everyone present see the painting that was beneath. It was a scene looking down into a small pool, with a silver goblet resting in the sand on the bottom. The blue-green water rippled across the canvas, and the silver of the goblet twinkled with a greater light than the late-autumn sky provided.

    ¡°Quite beautiful,¡± Master De Luca murmured, ¡°but perhaps you should explain exactly what it is that your Storm does for you? If you wouldn¡¯t mind.¡±

    ¡°Easier to show you, Master De Luca,¡± Leanarda smiled, then reached her hand into the painting. Elena jumped, and around her the others exclaimed with various levels of shock. Leanarda fished around for a moment, then withdrew her arm. Water dripped from her soaking wet sleeve, and the goblet was in her hand, dripping wet and glittering in the light.

    ¡°If I may anticipate your questions, I can only retrieve non-living items,¡± Leanarda continued speaking as if nothing strange had happened. ¡°A single item per painting, as far as I can tell. You see, this one¡¯s gone all flat and motionless now.¡±

    ¡°Even with those restrictions, I don¡¯t think I need to tell you how powerful your Storm is,¡± Master De Luca seemed almost awed, and the expression made Elena¡¯s blood run cold. The courtyard went silent as Leanarda returned to her spot, her motionless painting in one hand, the silver goblet in the other. Her arm was wet, and she shivered in the cold, but the look of pleased contentment on her face was unmistakable.

    "Frederica and Fred Vasari?" Bea broke the silence to ask. Frederica didn¡¯t say a word, she simply stomped off to collect her project, Fred trailing behind her.

    ¡°I¡¯ll go help her,¡± Pietro murmured. A few minutes later the pair returned, with the wooden statue on a small wheeled trolley, a long painter¡¯s sheet draped over Frederica¡¯s shoulder. Elena winced again at the ragged gash that ran from the statue¡¯s shoulder to waist, marring the otherwise smooth carving work that had gone into the wooden girl.

    ¡°No speeches here,¡± Frederica shrugged, taking one of the knives from the pouch that Niccolo carried, ¡°we carved a statue of a girl. Hopefully she¡¯s touched by the Storm, but she might not be. Whatever idiot thought they¡¯d ruin my work doesn¡¯t know a thing about Calaetors; if you don¡¯t have the Storm that Touches a statue then you can¡¯t mess up the statue¡¯s Touch, obviously.¡± Frederica shot a scornful look at the assembled garzoni. ¡°Shows how much the saboteur knows.¡±

    Carlo had been cautious in his work in front of the watching eyes, but Frederica worked almost casually, making the final few cuts along the girl¡¯s neck with apparent ease. She stepped back, and behind her Fred folded his arms and looked on as well. Again, the courtyard dropped into silence. Frederica and Fred didn¡¯t look worried, they just stood and watched and waited, quiet and still as statues themselves.

    ¡°Frederica?¡± The voice was a rasp, almost a croak, but it had definitely come from the wooden girl. Even now Elena could see the locks of maple hair stirring, moving in the breeze instead of their solid mass of a few moments ago.

    ¡°Hello Freja.¡± Frederica¡¯s mouth turned up in a half-smile, one more genuine than Elena had ever seen her give.

    ¡°Why...why is it so hard...to talk?¡± .

    ¡°Someone thought they were being clever, hurt you to get to me.¡± The smile fell from Frederica¡¯s face as she stepped forward, and she wrapped the painter¡¯s sheet across the wooden girl¡¯s nude form. Freja clutched them around her as if she was cold.

    ¡°Oh god it hurts...¡± Freja almost collapsed, but Frederica wrapped her arms around her to keep her on her feet, ¡°it hurts so much Frederica.¡± She clasped the sheet to her chest.

    ¡°Shh, I know it does, I know,¡± Frederica murmured, with a tenderness that surprised Elena. ¡°I know it hurts. We¡¯ll do what we can for you, but you have to be brave.¡± She turned and began leading the damaged sculpture towards the door.

    ¡°Frederica, Master De Luca might have questions for you,¡± Bea called.

    ¡°He can ask them later,¡± Frederica snapped over her shoulder, ¡°I¡¯m going to go take care of Freja.¡±

    ¡°Why would someone do this to me?¡± Freja asked plaintively

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry,¡± Frederica soothed. ¡°You¡¯ll be alright. And as soon as I¡¯m sure who did this to you, I¡¯m going to make them pay.¡±

    ¡°She needs to learn to be more respectful,¡± Bea said disapprovingly as the door shut behind the Calaetor.

    ¡°In this case, I¡¯m inclined to forgive her,¡± Master De Luca said thoughtfully. ¡°I was starting to worry she didn¡¯t have an empathetic bone in her body. Now then, I think Miss Vasari was the last to demonstrate her project?¡± He glanced around the half-circle. ¡°Yes, I do believe we¡¯ve seen everyone¡¯s work. I hate to leave you all in further suspense, but the decision ahead of me is not one that I can make lightly. After Bea and I discuss matters, we will send Pietro out to gather you all again.¡±

    De Luca, Bea, and Pietro left the courtyard and entered Pietro¡¯s office, leaving the garzoni to await their fate.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 37

    ¡°You know, if you went back inside you¡¯d be able to stop shivering.¡± Niccolo paced back and forth in front of the bench that Elena occupied, hands in his pockets.

    ¡°If going back inside is such a great idea, why aren¡¯t you doing it?¡± Elena said.

    ¡°Because...¡± Niccolo trailed off, glancing up at the door which Master De Luca, Bea, and Pietro had left through an hour ago, ¡°...because I want to know as soon as humanly possible. And I know that¡¯s why you¡¯re here too. Just because I can give advice doesn¡¯t mean I can take it,¡± he sighed.

    ¡°You know that all you fragile humans could have us Echoes wait for the news and come tell you, right?¡± Ele said, sprawling out on the freezing courtyard tile with his hands behind his back. ¡°It would only add a few seconds to your wait, and you wouldn¡¯t have to suffer the cold.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t wait for a few extra seconds,¡± Elena mumbled, ¡°I feel like I can barely wait as it is. I have to know as soon as I can.¡±

    ¡°Niccolo, stop pacing,¡± Nicci said soothingly. ¡°You¡¯ll get in, you know you will, and your friends will too.¡±

    ¡°We won¡¯t though,¡± Niccolo barked a humorless laugh, his pacing unabated. ¡°That¡¯s the thing, isn¡¯t it? Four slots. Me, Elena, Vittoria, Carlo, Frederica, that¡¯s five people. We won¡¯t all get in, infernum mea selecto and I don¡¯t even know who to hope for any more. I almost hope I don¡¯t get in if it means taking a slot from one of you.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t say things like that.¡± Vittoria sat on the other end of the bench, staring at her hands not looking up as she spoke. ¡°This isn¡¯t going to change anything between the five of us, Niccolo, you have to understand that. None of us are going to blame you if you get through and we don¡¯t. Frederica will be just as annoyed by you either way, I¡¯m still your friend no matter what, Carlo will keep being Carlo-¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± Carla snapped.

    ¡°-and Elena will still blush at the mention of your name,¡± Vittoria finished.

    ¡°I do not-¡± Elena began, before realizing that she was blushing. Ele chuckled from his spot on the ground, and even Niccolo flashed her a nervous half-smile. For the fifth time since De Luca had departed, Elena realized that her knee was bouncing nervously. ¡°Who...who do you think he¡¯ll pick?¡±

    ¡°I like Niccolo¡¯s odds,¡± Vittoria said, ¡°from what I¡¯ve heard De Luca keeps one dedicated fighter around the studio all the time, it helps him keep his top spot in the interstudio fights.¡±

    ¡°Lorenzo is probably a shoe-in, has been since the beginning,¡± Niccolo glanced at the door to the workshop, ¡°no way De Luca gives up a Machinator.¡±

    ¡°Can we please talk about something else?¡± Vi interrupted. Of the Echoes, she was the only one who stood, leaning against Vittoria¡¯s side of the bench and hugging herself. ¡°Talking about it doesn¡¯t help any of us, and I¡¯d prefer to not have to think about it until it actually happens.¡±

    ¡°What should we talk about then?¡± Niccolo asked. As if on cue, the door from the dorms opened and Frederica emerged, alone.

    ¡°Fred and Freja are talking,¡± she explained, at the curious looks. ¡°He¡¯s catching her up on things she¡¯ll need to know. Thought I¡¯d come out and hear the news with you all.¡±

    ¡°Is she going to be alright?¡± Vittoria asked.

    ¡°She has a hard time in front of her,¡± Frederica folded her arms and stood, legs apart, glaring at nothing. ¡°Living sculptures live their lives in stasis. Freja was born with a gash, the pain of that gash isn¡¯t going to go away. I¡¯d hoped the Storm would¡¯ve interpreted it as a scar but...¡± she trailed off for a moment.

    ¡°Freja¡¯s going to feel like she¡¯s been cut open forever?¡± Vi asked, aghast.

    ¡°Not forever. I¡¯ll fix her in the next few days but...it won¡¯t be pleasant.¡± Frederica said grimly. ¡°I¡¯ll have to cut the sides of the gouge to smooth them, then sand it down.¡±

    ¡°But...but she¡¯ll feel that.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    The group descended into a tense and nervous silence. The morning was so still and quiet that when Leanarda left Mella, Mell, and Leo to move towards them, it was enough to draw all of their attention. The gathered Stormtouched and their Echoes watched silently as she crossed the distance, her footsteps sounding strangely loud in the quiet courtyard. When she reached them she paused a moment, hesitating and clearly trying to choose the right words.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t break your stuff,¡± she finally said.

    ¡°What a strangely specific and pre-emptive denial,¡± Nicci said.

    ¡°I¡¯m not an idiot. You full garzoni have been shooting glares in my direction for the whole day, the day you find out someone broke all of your things? You think I did it, so I¡¯m telling you I didn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°How are we supposed to take that at face value?¡± Frederica said flatly. ¡°You think tearing others down is a perfectly valid way to lift yourself up.¡±

    ¡°Destroying a final project is going too far. I wouldn¡¯t do that.¡±

    ¡°But you have done things to tear us down.¡±

    Leanarda looked down at her feet at the accusation, and even with the nervousness, Elena felt a spark of anger towards the girl.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t destroy your final projects,¡± Leanarda said after a long pause.

    ¡°You planted the wine under my pillow, didn¡¯t you?¡± Elena asked.

    ¡°But I warned you about it!¡± Leanarda said, ¡°I thought if you had time to get rid of it that no harm would come to you, and you would trust me!¡±

    ¡°I almost missed it, even with the warning!¡± Elena rose to her feet, ¡°I came within seconds of being expelled from the studio because of that wineskin!¡±

    ¡°But you weren¡¯t expelled. You were fine, there was no harm done. I did that so you and I would be closer.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve either ignored me completely or made snide comments about me for almost the entire time we¡¯ve been in De Luca¡¯s studio.¡±

    ¡°I was hurt!¡± Leanarda protested. ¡°I was the first one to reach out a hand to you, even though I was scared and nervous, and you ditched me as soon as the full garzoni started hanging out with you. So yes, maybe I was a little mean, a bit snide, but I didn¡¯t want to see you get kicked out of the studio, and I don¡¯t want to see you go now. I still want to be friends, and I¡¯m telling you now so that when we both become full garzoni you won¡¯t think I¡¯m just trying to make up after the fact.¡±

    ¡°You just admitted that you tried to frame me.¡±

    ¡°And I explained why. I just...I wanted you to see me as your friend, Elena, that¡¯s all I¡¯ve ever wanted. That¡¯s all I ever wanted with any of you.¡±

    ¡°Is that why you broke my bird?¡± Frederica asked suddenly. Leanarda¡¯s face twitched for a split-second before her mask of innocence fell back into place.

    ¡°I just wanted to help Elena-¡± she began.

    ¡°You wanted to help yourself,¡± Frederica snarled.

    ¡°Yes, myself, but also my friends!¡±

    ¡°You have a very warped idea of what friends are supposed to be. And if you think any of us are going to be your friend if you become a full garzona, you have a very warped idea of how forgiving Stormtouched are.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not fair! I¡¯m taking the blame for sabotage I didn¡¯t...why are you smiling?¡±

    ¡°I just realized,¡± Frederica grinned, ¡°that you have absolutely no idea what you¡¯ve gotten yourself into. But you will, in the next few days. And then you¡¯ll meet Maple.¡±

    ¡°Frederica, stop, Leanarda is right.¡± Vittoria said quietly. Elena, Frederica, Niccolo and their respective Echoes turned to stare at her in disbelief. ¡°If she becomes a full garzoni, at least some of us are going to have to live with her. If she¡¯s willing to make up now...it can¡¯t hurt to try to get along, can it?¡±

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    ¡°She. Broke. My. Bird.¡± Frederica snarled.

    ¡°Of course she¡¯s willing to make up now!¡± Niccolo said, ¡°after she¡¯s landed her final stroke to boost herself into the studio, at the expense of one of us!¡±

    ¡°I want to make up because I can¡¯t stand the thought of a year living with people who hate me!¡± Leanarda exclaimed.

    ¡°Shut up,¡± Frederica said.

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me to shut up, I¡¯m honestly making an effort to-¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Frederica whispered, pointing, ¡°shut up.¡±

    The garzoni turned. De Luca and Bea moving slowly across the courtyard, towards the point at which they had demonstrated their final projects. Elena¡¯s skin, already cold from sitting in the courtyard for so long, suddenly felt even colder and prickled with goosebumps. Her legs almost gave way, but Niccolo caught her arm, and they moved along with the others towards De Luca and his Echo.

    Master De Luca looked tired, somehow, more worn than he had when he¡¯d left. Bea stood quietly at his side, her hands clasped in front of her. The two were silent as the garzoni and Echoes gathered round, and their silence combined with the uneasy quiet of the students combined to give the courtyard an eerie hush.

    ¡°So many years I¡¯ve had to stand here and make this speech,¡± De Luca said, looking out at the fountain over his garzoni¡¯s heads. ¡°So many students I¡¯ve had to turn away. I used to hope I could find some way of doing this to make it easier but...there isn¡¯t one. Giving a speech only extends the anticipation, blurting out names is too brutal. I¡¯ve settled on this method as the best, but I realize there¡¯s no-¡± His voice suddenly broke, and he paused for a moment. ¡°Before I begin, is there anyone who would prefer to hear it in private, whether or not they will be continuing as garzoni?¡±

    Elena couldn¡¯t look around, couldn¡¯t do anything lock her gaze on Master De Luca¡¯s face as his eyes swept over the large group.

    ¡°Very well. The demonstration was in alphabetical order, I shall run in reverse order now. Frederica Vasari...¡± All attention turned to Frederica. She didn¡¯t tense, or even worried, but she stood as still as a statue herself, not even blinking. ¡°...your sculptures are beautiful, functional, and true works of art. You will continue your training in my studio.¡± Elena breathed a sigh of relief. If anyone deserved to continue on it was Frederica, with her love of real art.

    ¡°Leanarda Mocenigo. Your Storm is quite intriguing, and if you can better understand how to use it, I foresee a great future for you. You will continue your training in my studio.¡±

    Two slots gone already, only two left. The dread was building again, in ever-increasing waves as if every moment of worry in De Luca¡¯s studio had been waiting for this moment to raise its head. The very first interview, the failure, the worry after the attack on Ele, even the aftermath of Slug all seemed to pale in comparison.

    ¡°Mella Rosso, I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever before seen an artifex with a gift like yours, transferring their art from one medium to another. Your art will be amazing to watch grow, but unfortunately I will not have that honor. I¡¯m afraid there is no room for you in the studio. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    Mella didn¡¯t say a word, didn¡¯t make a sound. She seemed to collapse in on herself, as if she had only been barely holding her chin up before. Without looking to the left or the right she turned and ran for the dorms, head down, her shoulders shaking.

    ¡°Lorenzo Malatesta isn¡¯t here,¡± De Luca continued, ¡°but his machinations are as fascinating as they are unique. He will continue his training in my studio.¡±

    Even though Elena had been expecting Lorenzo to make it, the words were like a slap in her face. She glanced over at those left to hear; Niccolo, Carlo, and Vittoria. Of the four of them, there was only room left for one.

    ¡°Elena Lucciano,¡± De Luca said. Elena¡¯s heart beat so loudly in her ears that she was worried she would miss what he was saying, her hands shook, she forgot how to breath, and time was somehow standing still and all moving too fast at once. ¡°Your Storm is clearly quite powerful, your desire to assist your fellow garzoni admirable, and Bea herself has seen something in you that she finds utterly fascinating.¡±

    I didn¡¯t make it. With a sudden, terrible clarity, Elena knew, even before De Luca continued speaking.

    ¡°Sadly, I cannot take on a garzona for a role in support. Were I able to open a fifth spot for you I would, but I cannot afford to dedicate one of four places to a Fabera whose work can instead be duplicated by a well-trained craftsmen. I¡¯m sorry Elena, but there is no room for you in the studio.¡±

    Elena nodded once, her eyes dry. A feeling of calm and tranquility had enveloped her, one that she didn¡¯t understand.

    ¡°Niccolo Loredan, your expertise is invaluable, and the fact that you still strive for creative application of it is an art in and of itself. You will continue your training in my studio.¡±

    ¡°Thank you Master De Luca, but you¡¯re making a mistake sir,¡± Niccolo¡¯s voice barely filtered through the odd film that surrounded Elena¡¯s senses.

    I didn¡¯t make it, she thought, as if repeating the fact in her head would change something, would make it suddenly real to her. There was no change, no sudden revelation, it was just the purest of bare facts. Her time was over, her attempt at reaching for her dreams had failed. Why was she so calm?

    ¡°Carlo Donato, I want you to know that your oracle did not play into my decision. As a fellow Artifex, I know that not every attempt is a success, and I did not judge you on the fresco¡¯s failure.¡±

    ¡°I know, Master De Luca. I appreciate the lessons you¡¯ve taught me,¡± Carlo said.

    I didn¡¯t make it, Elena thought aimlessly, I¡¯m not a De Luca garzona anymore. I will never be a graduate of De Luca¡¯s studio. The thought did not seem to mean much.

    ¡°Vittoria Arcimboldo, I think you know what words I would say to you, what advice I would give. I¡¯m sure that your sister told you...¡±

    ¡°I know, Master De Luca.¡± Vittoria¡¯s voice wavered when she spoke, as if she was on the verge of crying. ¡°I know. She would...¡± her voice broke in a sob, ¡°...she would forgive you.¡±

    ¡°She and I are different in that respect then.¡± De Luca turned to address the group, looking as if he had aged five years in the space of a handful of minutes. ¡°If any of you wish to speak with me...any of you...I will be in my office. I would truly like to have a chance to talk with each of you before anyone leaves...as soon as you¡¯re ready.¡±

    ¡°Could I speak with you for a moment first, Master De Luca?¡± Leanarda asked.

    De Luca, Bea, Leanarda and Leo turned to leave, and Elena watched them go with a detached disinterest.

    We didn¡¯t make it. Vittoria, Carlo, me. None of us made it.

    Niccolo¡¯s arms wrapped around her, and suddenly Vittoria was there too, clinging to them both. Carlo joined the hug, and after a pause Frederica grabbed them all and embraced them. The crush and weight and fierce affection of her friends wrapped Elena tight, and all of a sudden she gasped.

    ¡°We...we didn¡¯t make it?¡± she stammered in a whisper. Suddenly there were tears in her eyes, her heart felt as if it would burst, and the horror and despair and panic clawed at her for the first time. ¡°We didn¡¯t make it.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s going to be okay,¡± Frederica said fiercely.

    ¡°We didn¡¯t...we didn¡¯t make it.¡±

    The five garzoni stood in the courtyard, clasping each other tightly, surrounded by their Echoes, and cried.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 38

    "Violet warned us that we''d change, coming here," said Vi from the bed.

    "I remember."

    The ripped sketches were almost entirely useless, but they still represented her past work, and as such Vittoria saved them, carefully placing each half in a small wooden box she¡¯d procured for the occasion. She ran a hand almost affectionately along the profiles, smoothing out wrinkles in the paper before she closed the lid. She turned in place in a slow circle, taking in the interior of her home for the past two years.

    "Sometimes I wonder if she was right," Vi said quietly.

    "Perhaps," Vittoria sighed, "but I like to think we didn¡¯t change. We just had to face things that we¡¯d never encountered before. We had new experiences and new battles, but having new reactions to new situations doesn¡¯t mean we¡¯ve changed.¡±

    ¡°It also doesn¡¯t mean we haven¡¯t changed.¡±

    Vittoria carefully locked both her chest of belongings and the two small boxes that protected her sketches, putting the key in the pocket of her dress. The clothes still felt odd to her after months of nothing but De Luca student robes. The room felt strange without her sketches hung, the bare walls reminding her of when she had first arrived at the studio. The only items on the desk were a piece of paper and a bit of charcoal, two small piles of coin, a larger and a smaller, and two squares of cream-coloured cloth.

    ¡°I think we¡¯re both disappointed in me,¡± Vittoria said, just as quietly, tying the money into two bundles with deft motions, ¡°I don¡¯t know that I need scolding.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t, and I wouldn¡¯t scold. I am just as culpable.¡±

    Vittoria pulled the paper and charcoal closer, scribbling across it in a neat scrawl;

    I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t know it would hurt.

    *

    ¡°Kepkik, please...¡± Jakob wrung his hands, ¡°I not know what to do when you are like this.¡± In the corner of the kitchen, between the cupboards and the broom which leaned against the wall, a small sketch of a single eye watched the two cooks impassively.

    ¡°Ees no ¡®like thees¡¯,¡± Cook slammed a lid on the pot he had been stirring, his grip on the wooden spoon so tight that his knuckles were white. ¡°¡®Like thees¡¯ means ¡®like cooking¡¯? Then yes, always I am like thees!¡±

    ¡°Provisional garzoni, they come and they go Kepkik, you know this.¡±

    ¡°I know thees.¡±

    ¡°All garzoni they come and go in time.¡±

    ¡°Also I know thees.¡±

    ¡°Kepkik, the Fabera they do not last, not in De Luca¡¯s studio.¡±

    ¡°Also I know thees! Why must you be always with the telling me of things I know!¡± Cook exploded, half turning to dice carrots and onions with a savagery that would result in a lost finger had he missed. ¡°De Luca, he say ¡®I care of the art¡¯, but only his art he cares of. He ees blind to all other art; art of keeping hearth burning, art of food on table and good tools and happy life, this art he cares none of.¡±

    Jakob remained silent, sitting and watching helplessly as Cook whirled, knife in hand, to lift the lid and pour the vegetables into the pot.

    ¡°Kepkik, you are sad, I know this, but-¡±

    ¡°Sad? I am sad for studio. Too many artist who make paint and sculpt, not enough artist who feel and live. Maybe less sad for studio if artists who make happiness. Maybe less sad if studio had artists whose art is life, artists who make...who make....what is word, §å§ã§Ñ§Õ§î§Ò§Ñ?¡±

    ¡°Eeh...¡®house¡¯ means §å§ã§Ñ§Õ§î§Ò§Ñ. ¡®Homestead¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I like artists whose art is homestead. Madora, she is such artist. Elena, she is such artist. De Luca no can appreciate such art.¡± The kitchen was silent for long moments, Jakob pensive and Cook clearly fuming. After a while, Cook moved towards the icebox. ¡°Come, we make supper.¡±

    ¡°Soup is supper...¡± Jakob looked confused, but he rose to help, ¡°...already we are making supper for the little artists.¡±

    ¡°We make supper for Elena,¡± Cook had set his jaw as he hauled some dough from the icebox, ¡°one last meal for our leetel garzona.¡±

    *

    Vittoria returned her full attention to her own eyes, glanced around her before shutting the door behind her.

    "You keep looking at the room," Vi commented as she followed Vittoria up the stairs towards De Luca''s office. ¡°Making a memory?¡±

    "I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever forget it, but...I suppose I just want to experience our old room for as long as I can."

    Carlo was just leaving De Luca''s office when she arrived. He didn''t return her sad smile, but he kept his chin up, and he nodded in greeting. Whatever he had needed to do that let him come to terms with their expulsion, he had figured it out.

    "I''ll wait for you in the courtyard?" He offered as she passed, "we can leave together."

    "I would like that," Vittoria replied.

    De Luca''s office was one of the few places that Vittoria could consider ''timeless''. The books on the bookshelves might shift or change, and the neat stacks of papers might be on a different side of the desk, but it could have been just yesterday that she and her mother and sister had first arrived.

    De Luca sat behind the desk, his shoulders slumped, leaning forward as if he didn''t even have the energy to sit up straight. When he saw Vittoria he deflated even more, a small sigh escaping the old man.

    "Hello, Master De Luca."

    "Hello Vittoria." Master De Luca replied. ¡°I had hoped that none of you would be too angry to see me, one final time.¡± He looked so sad that Vittoria felts sorry for him in spite of the circumstances. She turned to the bookshelves.

    "This is always a hard time on you," Vittoria ran her fingers along the aging leather spines, brushing away dust and trying to read the faded lettering. "How are you holding up?"

    "Ironic, you being the one to ask me that. You all deserve more than the empty platitudes I can offer. I wish there was more that I could do."

    "I suppose it is the price you pay for being the master of Milia."

    "I suppose so."

    "I''ve never liked empty platitudes either, so you¡¯ll forgive me for being quiet,¡± Vittoria turned back, breathing in the scent and using all of her attention to form one last impression of the room. ¡°I just came so that you''d know I wasn''t angry at you. I don''t feel betrayed or anything."

    "I''m glad of that. Your sister probably would have."

    "Yes," Vittoria smiled, "I like to think I''m a little more...forgiving than she was."

    "I''m glad of that. You¡¯re much slower to anger, but once you¡¯re incensed you are quite capable of wielding the same fire as Violet did."

    "It''s a trait of Arcimboldo women," Vittoria laughed, "as my poor father would be willing to tell you."

    "I''m sure he would," De Luca chuckled. They remained in comfortable silence for a few moments before he spoke again. "If there is anything else I can help you with, anything you want to ask, within reason, now is the time," he said quietly.

    "I''ll miss our conversations, the lessons you share. But now that we¡¯ve come down to the last time we talk to each other, I don¡¯t think I have anything to ask." Vittoria appreciated that De Luca didn¡¯t cheapen the moment by trying to pretend that she would be welcome in the studio, that he would always have time to meet with her. Her time in his presence was over, and it would¡¯ve rung false if either of them had tried to say otherwise. ¡°Do you have anything you¡¯d like to say to or ask of me?¡± She teased with a half-smile.

    ¡°There is one manner that has me a bit curious,¡± De Luca said. ¡°I can¡¯t help but wonder why you sabotaged the garzoni who considered you their friend.¡±

    The smile dropped from Vittoria¡¯s face.

    ¡°I had heard rumors,¡± she said slowly, ¡°that you didn¡¯t use your Storm on your garzoni.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure you have. It¡¯s a rumor I find quite helpful,¡± De Luca said. ¡°I¡¯m a little annoyed that Violet shared the secret of my Storm with you.¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t Violet,¡± Vittoria shook her head, ¡°and I don¡¯t know the secret. Just little bits and bobs of overheard conversation, pieced together to give me a generality. I assume the sabotage is why I was expulsed?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I didn¡¯t have the room for you either way,¡± De Luca said, ¡°but I couldn¡¯t have allowed you to continue. It¡¯s very rare that I misjudge one¡¯s character. Did you hate the others that much?¡±

    ¡°No! No not at all,¡± Vittoria said. ¡°You...you like things fair and balanced. I knew that you would take sabotage into account, and I¡¯d hoped that you would overcompensate. That you would perhaps give some of the others an edge without doing any real harm to our projects.¡± She thought of Freja, whimpering and clutching the sheet around her wooden arms, and the guilt gnawed at her stomach even further.

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    ¡°That¡¯s a more honest admission than I expected.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no reason to not be honest,¡± Vittoria shrugged, ¡°I don¡¯t have much to lose any more. I would appreciate it if you didn¡¯t tell Frederica, but I wouldn¡¯t blame you if you did.¡±

    ¡°I strongly disagree with your actions,¡± De Luca said, ¡°but given that you did it to help your friends, it would be cruel of me to hurt your relationship with them.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°So, I suppose we part ways with both of us feeling regret.¡±

    ¡°I suppose we do.¡±

    *

    An eye was worked into the designs that ran along the hallways, painted in the same shape and tone until it blended almost completely. It looked down the entire length of the row of doors, so it was able to watch Leanarda and Leo¡¯s entire trip from one end of the hall down to the last door on the left. The black-haired girl looked even more pale and whisp-like than ever as paused at the door, ready to knock but hesitating. She held a bundle of cloth in her arms, but kept shifting it from one hand to another nervously.

    ¡°I still think we should leave while we have a little bit of dignity,¡± Leo¡¯s said, ¡°she¡¯s just going to spit in your face.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s worth a try,¡± Leanarda said. ¡°I have to start somewhere if I¡¯m going to make any headway with her.¡±

    ¡°There we disagree. I doubt you will ever make any headway with her. You¡¯d be better off trying Niccolo first.¡±

    ¡°Niccolo and Elena are a couple, which means he hates me just as much as she does.¡±

    ¡°And Frederica doesn¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°I just...I have to try.¡± Leanarda straightened her shoulders and rapped on the door. After a few moments it opened, and Frederica poked her head out.

    She looks exhausted, Vittoria noted. Staying up all night out of concern? Or has she started working with Freja sooner than she thought she would? I hope not, I haven¡¯t given her money for repairs yet...

    ¡°Oh. It¡¯s you,¡± Frederica said flatly.

    ¡°Hello Frederica,¡± Leanarda said, her voice much brighter than it had been a few moments ago. ¡°I...I got you something. Sort of a peace offering...or at least my clumsy attempt at one.¡± She held up the bundle. Frederica looked her up and down silently. ¡°They¡¯re um...they¡¯re clothes. Clothes for Freja. I know you probably already have some for her, but I thought it would be nice...¡± Leanarda¡¯s voice faltered a little bit at Frederica¡¯s stony face and silence, ¡°...I didn¡¯t know how you wanted to dress her, so I got some white and yellow, like De Luca¡¯s studio colors...I thought...maybe she would like them...¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s great!¡± Frederica said, matching Leanarda¡¯s enthusiastic tone, ¡°then she¡¯ll have something to hide the gash you left when you gauged a piece out of her chest!¡±

    ¡°I-¡±

    ¡°I mean sure, she¡¯ll still be in pain, and she¡¯ll always have her first memories be unhappy ones, but wow, clothes? That¡¯ll make up for everything!¡±

    ¡°But I didn¡¯t-¡±

    ¡°Or hey, maybe you could cut her arm off like you did to my bird! That¡¯d save some fabric on clothes, ¡®cause she¡¯d only have to wear one sleeve!¡±

    ¡°I...um...I just wanted-¡± Leanarda stammered.

    ¡°Or perhaps, and this is my best idea yet, you could tie those clothes around your head so that for the next year I don¡¯t have to look at your face!¡± Frederica finished, and slammed the door.

    The girl stood there with the bundle of clothes in her hand.

    ¡°No ¡®I told you so¡¯?¡± She asked Leo quietly.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think it would be appropriate.¡±

    ¡°Thank you Leo. You¡¯re a good friend.¡± Leanarda turned and walked back down the long hallway.

    ¡°I just hope I¡¯m not your only one this year,¡± Leo muttered as he followed, too quietly for any but the eye to overhear.

    *

    ¡°Carla thought you¡¯d just left without meeting us,¡± Carlo said as Vittoria entered the courtyard, wheeling her chest behind her with the two boxes atop it.

    ¡°Ever the pessimist, Carla?¡± Vittoria asked as they made their way through the door that separated the courtyard from the foyer.

    ¡°Given how this morning turned out, I think it¡¯s more apt to call me a realist,¡± Carla said bitterly.

    ¡°Where did Elena go?¡± Vi asked, ¡°as long as we¡¯re leaving together we may as well have a meal before we part ways for the last time.¡±

    ¡°It won¡¯t be the last time,¡± Vittoria said. ¡°If we all stay in Milia we can at least meet for meals.¡±

    ¡°Unless our new masters don¡¯t approve.¡±

    ¡°Niccolo is with Elena in her room, helping her pack up,¡± Carla said. ¡°I¡¯m sure they want time together before they¡¯re wrested apart. He¡¯ll take care of her.¡±

    The two Stormtouched and their Echoes stood in the foyer for long minutes, staring at the door that led to the Street of Yellow Artisans. Vittoria crossed the threshold first, stepping onto the street as her own woman for the first time in two years.

    A man and woman, both dressed in very fine purple uniforms, were lounging against the merchant shop on the other side of the street. Almost as soon as Vittoria and Carlo exited the studio they rose and crossed the distance, although they left their Echoes behind.

    ¡°Hundred-Eyes, Foresight,¡± the man said, ¡°we¡¯d hoped to run into you.¡±

    ¡°Only two people waiting for us?¡± Carla scanned the street up and down. ¡°I don¡¯t mean to sound arrogant, but I¡¯d hoped for a bit more of a clamor.¡±

    ¡°Oh there would¡¯ve been, but we took steps to be the only ones to accost you at first. We¡¯ve been saving our tokens for months now.¡±

    ¡°You bought the others all off? How do you know we¡¯d come with you?¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t. We understand that you¡¯re perfectly free to walk away, but eighteen tokens was deemed an acceptable price to pay to give you our offer first.¡±

    Vittoria smiled and raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Delightful as that flattery is, you aren¡¯t interested in just us,¡± she pointed out. ¡°You were probably told to make an offer to any ex-De Luca garzoni who came out here.¡±

    ¡°You caught me,¡± the man said, and Vittoria decided she liked his smile. ¡°My name is Ercole.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet you, Ercole,¡± Vittoria said.

    ¡°Oh we¡¯ve met before. I¡¯m Patchwork, and this is Ripple.¡±

    ¡°Patchwork and Ripple! Callum excursor, you two look nothing like I would expect.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s sort of the point,¡± Patchwork winked, ¡°though I¡¯d always wondered if you ever caught my real face with one of your hundred eyes. I suppose that answers that question.¡± Ripple made a complicated series of gestures with her fingers next to him. ¡°Ripple says that she never worried that you saw her.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a mute!¡± Vittoria said with surprise, ¡°I suppose that¡¯s why you were so good at keeping quiet.¡± Ripple smiled and stuck out her tongue.

    ¡°Enough of the pleasantries,¡± Carlo broke in abruptly, and Vittoria sighed. ¡°Are you here to make us an offer, or did your master send you here with other targets in mind? Balance and Maple didn¡¯t get cut, if that¡¯s who you¡¯re looking for.¡±

    ¡°Please, Foresight,¡± Patchwork said with dignity, ¡°you should be familiar enough with our studio by now; we know who was cut. But, as you say, we are here for business, not pleasure.¡± He turned to the group at large. ¡°Our showing day is tomorrow, and we naturally want some of our provisional garzoni to pass through. That being said, Malatesta¡¯s studio has two spots open specifically for those garzoni who De Luca does not appreciate. Nothing would have to be proven or displayed, the spots are yours for the taking.¡±

    ¡°Two?¡± Vittoria glanced over her shoulder at the studio.

    ¡°We were told to get Foresight and Hundred-Eye, if we could,¡± Patchwork nodded. ¡°If not, we would settle for Cog or the pencil girl.¡±

    The feelings of guilt that gnawed at Vittoria¡¯s stomach had been lessened by the pleasant banter, but they came back full force at his words.

    Was there a time where I wouldn¡¯t have even considered this? She thought. Was there a time when I would¡¯ve rather thrown myself on a sword than leave a friend to her fate?

    "Violet warned us that we''d change, coming here," Vi said, as if she knew what her Stormtouched was thinking.

    ¡°I remember,¡± Vittoria said. ¡°I wish she had been wrong.¡±

    *

    On the belltower of the Domine Cathedral, near Milia¡¯s West gate, a mural of the Savior riding the Storm looked down upon the city, its eyes detailed and lifelike. The eyes gazed out at the marvel and wonder that was Milia, taking in the rooftops and streets, but soon it focused on one street in particular. It watched as, slowly but without a backward glance, four Malatesta garzoni withdrew from De Luca¡¯s studio.

    *

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 39

    ¡°I feel like I should feel worse about leaving my bedroom than I do,¡± Elena said dully, staring around the empty room.

    ¡°I think you¡¯ve been feeling bad about enough,¡± Niccolo said quietly from beside her. ¡°If this isn¡¯t making you sad, just go with it.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll hit her later,¡± Ele said glumly, ¡°I think she¡¯s still a little shell-shocked.¡±

    It certainly felt as if she was in shock. It wasn¡¯t as bad as the first few days after Slug had paralyzed her and threatened her with torture, but Elena couldn¡¯t help but feel as if none of it were real. The hallway slipped by and passed without her paying attention, as if in a dream, and they were in the courtyard before she had even realized it.

    ¡°Hold on,¡± she said, stopping. ¡°Too fast.¡±

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Niccolo turned to give her a look of concern.

    ¡°I¡¯m okay, I just...let me hold on here for a second.¡± Even with the dreamlike quality, Elena knew she would want to preserve this moment. She turned in a slow circle, taking in the courtyard around her. The fountain splashed lazily, and a chilled breeze made the bare tree branches rustle against each other. Her breath hung in the air in a frozen mist, and the courtyard was so silent that the very air itself felt chilled. The white marble of the tile glittered with the first frost of the year, and Elena shivered.

    It was beautiful, a work of utter art, yet it was beautiful in such a cold, unfeeling way that it made Elena shiver just to look at it.

    It¡¯s like the studio, she thought forlornly, pretty and perfect, but not for me.

    ¡°Leetel garzona?¡± Cook broke the silence from the doorway to the kitchens, and Elena shook herself.

    ¡°I...I don¡¯t think I am that anymore,¡± she said. ¡°A garzona, I mean. I think I¡¯m just ¡®Elena¡¯ now.¡±

    ¡°Bah,¡± Cook said, waving one hand dismissively as he approached, ¡°other studios they snatch you up in beating of heart. Not worth to change name now.¡± He held out a clean piece of linen wrapped around something that steamed and smelled of yeast and herbs and sausages. ¡°So used to cooking for so many garzoni, accidentally I make too much of the supper. You take, else will go to waste.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Elena took the little bundle, still warm from the oven, cradling it to her chest. In the blurry world that seemed like a dream, somehow that little bundle of warmth meant more to her than all the beauty of the courtyard. De Luca¡¯s studio had felt like her home, and having it ripped away from her stung, but in this moment the little lump of bread and sausages felt more like hers than anything else in the world.

    Her Storm buzzed in her temples and fingertips, the reminder of her failure an insult added to the injury of having to leave the Studio. The bread was made with oregano, tarragon and rosemary, little bits of sausage baked inside and garlicky butter melted across the top. For it to be this warm, it would¡¯ve had to be baked less than an hour ago, fresh from the oven. Stepping forward and carefully holding the bread away at a safe angle, she pressed the large man into a hug. He squeezed her back, tightly, then stepped away and cleared his throat.

    ¡°We will miss leetel garzona. Jakob, he crying, like baby. But I will miss as well.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to miss you too Cook,¡± Elena had thus far been handling herself well, helped along by the feeling that it was all unreal, but it was hard to pretend to herself that the large man standing in front of her, twisting the end of his apron nervously and blinking rapidly, wasn¡¯t real.

    ¡°Well. I must go back to kitchens now, much to prepare. We will... I would say for you to have the luck, but...you will have luck. Goodbye, leetel Elena.¡±

    ¡°Goodbye Cook.¡± Elena¡¯s vision was blurry as she watched him walk away, and she wiped her eyes on the hem of her sleeve.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize the two of you were so close,¡± Niccolo said, ¡°I spent some time in the kitchens, but I don¡¯t think we ever got along that well.¡±

    ¡°To be fair, you were pretty damn lazy when you worked in the kitchens,¡± Nicci pointed out.

    ¡°He¡¯s a good man, he and Jakob both are,¡± Elena sniffed.

    ¡°Don¡¯t say anything. Don¡¯t say a single word.¡± Frederica¡¯s voice wasn¡¯t particularly loud, but it broke across the courtyard with a kind of fervor that was startling. Elena turned to find the Caelator striding towards her, looking angry and tired. Elena opened her mouth to speak, but Frederica held up a finger and she paused. ¡°I mean it,¡± Frederica snapped. ¡°I don¡¯t like it when people say goodbye and get weepy and distressed. I had about enough of that when I left home, I don¡¯t need more of it now that I¡¯m here. Here.¡± She thrust a small box into Elena¡¯s hands.

    ¡°Thank you-¡± Elena began, but quieted again at the look Frederica gave her. She carefully unlatched the box and opened the lid. Sitting within, nestled in a little layer of white cloth, lay a small ermine carved from maple wood, about the length of Elena¡¯s hand. It looked up at her and blinked little wooden eyes, cocking its head to one side with interest. ¡°Dio carino peloso meo,¡± Elena gasped, staying silent forgotten in the face of the tiny creature.

    ¡°Her name is Frell,¡± Frederica said as if issuing a challenge. ¡°I stayed up all night to make sure it was done. Making something for Vittoria and Carlo too, but I didn¡¯t know if you were leaving Milia or not.¡± Frell yawned and stretched tiny paws, then scampered up Elena¡¯s arm to sit on her shoulder. Elena was so delighted that she almost dropped the box. The detail in the ermine¡¯s face made her look clever and curious, and its movements were smooth and lifelike.

    ¡°She¡¯s beautiful,¡± Elena breathed, ¡°she¡¯s so pretty!¡±

    ¡°How many of those did you have to make?¡± Niccolo asked.

    ¡°About none of your business,¡± Frederica replied. ¡°Are you leaving Milia, Elena? No one I¡¯ve talked to knows.¡±

    ¡°Even I don¡¯t know yet,¡± Elena dragged her attention away from Frell. ¡°I want to send a letter to my mama, and see what she thinks. Now that I know I won¡¯t be a De Luca garzona, I don¡¯t...I don¡¯t really know what to do with myself.¡±

    ¡°What about all of those plans you came up with the first time you didn¡¯t get in?¡± Ele broke in. ¡°What about starting up a mercantile shop? Apprenticing with some other craftsman?¡±

    ¡°Just because you¡¯re not a De Luca garzona doesn¡¯t mean you can¡¯t become a very successful Fabera, Elena,¡± Niccolo had been carrying her large bag for her, containing all of her possessions which amounted to a few changes of clothes and a little bit of money, but he set it down now. ¡°The other studios usually leap at the chance to get De Luca students, even when they don¡¯t make it through to become full garzoni.¡±

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    Even though he had put it gently, Elena winced.

    Failures, you mean.

    ¡°I...I really don¡¯t know what I¡¯m doing yet,¡± she repeated. ¡°I just need to spend a day or two at the inn, and then when I hear back from my mama I¡¯ll know-¡±

    ¡°What has Joanna ever done to help you that wasn¡¯t also helping her?¡± Ele demanded angrily.

    ¡°Ele please, please not this discussion. We haven¡¯t had this fight for months, I don¡¯t need you disparaging my mother at a time when I really need her help.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t need your mother¡¯s help, and the past two months have proved it! How much money has your mother made from you, selling all of your crafts over the years?¡±

    Elena pressed her knuckles to the bridge of her nose, feeling so overwhelmed that she could barely think. Frell nudging at her from her shoulder, and Elena let the creature nuzzle at her cheek while she tried to unwind all of the pieces in her mind.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been in the care of De Luca, the past couple of months,¡± she finally responded, ¡°without mama or De Luca I don¡¯t even...I don¡¯t know how to be. I need her advice, I¡¯m going to get her advice, that¡¯s the last I¡¯m going to talk about it.¡±

    ¡°At least look at the other studios. It¡¯s not that different from what you wanted before, at least see what they have to offer.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m writing to my mother.¡±

    ¡°Someday, at some point, I hold out hope that you¡¯ll actually listen to my advice,¡± Ele said through clenched teeth.

    ¡°I am listening to you, and I¡¯ll look at the other studios, but first I¡¯m going to write to my mother.¡±

    ¡°When my advice is to make the choice without your mother¡¯s input, writing to her is not listening.¡±

    ¡°My mother has helped me, she deserves the right to give me advice.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯VE HELPED YOU!¡± Ele yelled. Elena flinched, and immediately clenched her own teeth, her hands balling into fists at his outburst. As if picking up on her anger, Ele grew quieter, although his eyes still flashed. ¡°Every step of your life here in Milia I¡¯ve helped you. Every decision, every project, I¡¯ve been by your side, and I¡¯ve not steered you wrong once. You¡¯ve ignored my advice time and time again, refusing to see reason, refusing to learn that maybe you should listen to me just once, even when ignoring my advice results in disaster.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry that I¡¯m so stupid that I can¡¯t make smart decisions on my own,¡± Elena said bitterly, ¡°but every ¡®disaster¡¯ here has been the result of someone else, or pure bad luck! I¡¯d like to hear one example where your precious oh-so-wise advice would¡¯ve prevented a disaster!¡±

    ¡°Maybe if you had listened to me, you would¡¯ve had time to figure out your Storm and not get kicked out of the studio!¡±

    Elena took an involuntary step back, as if he had slapped her in the face. The courtyard rang in the silence that followed Ele¡¯s retort, his voice reverberating on the marble tiles. Elena¡¯s mind spun as even the echoes of the Echo died away, leaving them in complete silence. She couldn¡¯t even begin to formulate a response, her throat locked with grief and anger and betrayal.

    ¡°Listen, you two-¡± Niccolo began.

    ¡°Niccolo, Frederica, there you are!¡± Pietro bustled across the frosty floor of the courtyard, a small stack of papers in his hand. ¡°Master De Luca would like to see all of the full garzoni in his office, if you would be so kind.¡± The marble boy gave a polite nod in Elena¡¯s direction, but didn¡¯t seem overly friendly.

    ¡°Are you going to be okay? Where can I find you, after this meeting is over?¡± Niccolo rested a hand on Elena¡¯s shoulder, and although it was comforting she could barely process what he was saying through the haze of anger.

    ¡°The...I¡¯ll be at the Inn of Gold,¡± she finally stammered, ¡°I stayed there with my mother when we first arrived in Milia.¡±

    ¡°The Inn of Gold, I¡¯ll remember. Hang in there Elena, it¡¯s going to be alright I promise you.¡± Niccolo leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead, and even in her rage Elena blushed slightly.

    *

    Elena had never been reminded so much of her old life as she was on the walk to the Inn of Gold from De Luca¡¯s studio. She kept her gaze locked forward, pretending that Ele wasn¡¯t walking a few steps behind her, trying to think of how best she could phrase her situation to her mother so that Joanna wouldn¡¯t be angry at her. No way was perfect, of course, but if she could word her failure just right, she might avoid a particularly harsh punishment.

    The entire way to the Inn, Elena half-hoped that Ele would say something, just so that she could make a point of not answering or responding. For his part he stayed silent, and whenever she stole a glance at him he seemed more interested in staring at the ground a little ways in front of his feet.

    Halfway between the studio and the Inn, Elena noticed Cross sitting in one of the streetside cafes, dressed in the green-and-white of Gitti¡¯s studio. The gazes of the two Stormtouched met, and Cross¡¯ eyes widened in recognition, but Elena ducked into an alleyway before the other girl could get up from her chair. She didn¡¯t have the mental or emotional energy to deal with being yelled at for Slug¡¯s death, and if she could avoid interacting with any of the garzoni of any studio she would. Ele opened his mouth as if to say something, but remained quiet.

    I don¡¯t want to interact with anyone, Elena thought, as they reached the small inn which somehow seemed even smaller than the last time she had been inside it. I don¡¯t want to do anything, or talk to anyone.

    She paid for the room and went straight up the stairs, closing the door in Ele¡¯s face and locking the door as he silently walked through it. The room had a single desk with paper and ink, enough to begin writing the letter to her mother, but instead Elena threw herself onto the bed, clamping her eyes shut and trying to pretend that the past few days were only a bad dream.

    None of it happened. None of it was real. Today feels like a dream because it was, that¡¯s all it was, she repeated to herself.

    When she opened her eyes, blue light shone through the cracks in her puzzle-piece skin.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 40

    The small, dark hallway was lit by a blue glow that emanated from Elena¡¯s skin. The outlines of the puzzle pieces were eerie, and gave Elena the feeling that she might fall apart if she moved too quickly or accidentally bumped into something. The hallway was long but narrow, dark enough that she couldn¡¯t make out any of its features, and it was the first time she¡¯d arrived at the dreamworld without someone there to meet her. Ele sat beside her, taking in their surroundings and looking at the pattern of light that shone through the cracks in her skin with interest. The heavy weight of exhaustion Elena had felt when awake was gone now, and she seemed to be much less angry at him without it, but out of stubbornness or principle she turned away from him.

    The long hallway was lit with a soft blue light that had no source, and curved to the side so that she couldn¡¯t see the end. A few doors were scattered along both walls, and Elena picked the one closest to her and stepped through. She held the door open for Ele, feeling just a twinge of guilt for the way she had treated him.

    The door led out onto a huge balcony made of pale blue stone with moss growing between the cracks. Empty chairs and a large wooden table lay on one side of the balcony, and all along the railings grew ivy with little twists of pale pink and lavender flowers that glowed. In the night sky hung a colossal full moon, one that should¡¯ve been blindingly bright but instead gave off just enough illumination to bathe the balcony in moonlight. The air was warmer than it was in Milia, just a little too hot for comfort but with a cool breeze that made it perfect.

    ¡°Twisted Dreamer sure knows how to make himself a world,¡± Ele put his hands in his pockets, craning his neck to look up at the stars which shone bright in multiple colours overhead.

    ¡°I always thought of him as ¡®Black Furs¡¯,¡± Elena said, before remembering that she wasn¡¯t speaking to him. Now that she had broken her silence, she continued, ¡°I wonder how he does this all? What kind of Storm lets you share your dreams?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s probably a Machinator who build some kind of dream machine,¡± Ele said. ¡°What I wonder is how far the dream goes. Does he do the landscapes as well? What¡¯s the view like from up here?¡± The pair walked towards the railing in concert, leaning over to look down at ground far beneath them.

    ¡°Dio mio,¡± Elena breathed.

    There was no ground beneath them. The tower that they stood upon was many stories high, the highest that Elena had ever seen, but at its base where it should¡¯ve connected to the ground there was instead a...something. At first glance it simply looked like a field of angry grey thunderclouds, but upon closer inspection Elena couldn¡¯t help but feel as if there was a mass there, just beneath the clouds, something with enough presence and weight that she could sense it even as far above it as she was.

    Arcs of lightning flashed beneath the surface of it, in strange symbolic patterns that looked more like design than like random chance. The sight of the roiling clouds made Elena feel uneasy for some reason, as if it were watching her. She turned her gaze back towards the sky, reveling in the beauty instead of the slightly eerie scene below.

    ¡°You seem a little more relaxed, here,¡± Ele commented, somewhat cautiously. Elena took mental stock, looking around her at the other tower spires she could see from the balcony.

    ¡°It¡¯s a little harder to think here,¡± she said finally. ¡°Everything is a little bit fuzzy and a little bit more relaxed around the edges. It¡¯s a nice feeling, when everything outside is so frightening and stressful.¡±

    ¡°For me it¡¯s the opposite,¡± Ele furrowed his brow, his gaze locked on the clouds far beneath them. ¡°This place sets my teeth on edge. But I am glad it¡¯s having this effect on you. You could use some time where you¡¯re less stressed.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for not listening to you,¡± Elena said quietly. ¡°It¡¯s not because I don¡¯t care about you, you know.¡±

    ¡°I know. It¡¯s because you¡¯re impulsive and stubborn and think you know everything,¡± Ele grinned to show he was joking. ¡°And I¡¯m sorry I scolded you. It can just be frustrating, not being able to help. I think the two of us make a pretty good team, when we work together.¡±

    ¡°We do. I promise, I¡¯ll try to take your advice into account when making decisions in the future.¡±

    ¡°I would appreciate that.¡± The silence between the two was much more comfortable after that, Elena trying to look for familiar constellations in the colorful stars, Ele staring off into the grey clouds as if lost in thought. ¡°I wonder where the Twisted are,¡± Ele finally said, ¡°didn¡¯t you say there were always around as soon as you fell asleep?¡±

    ¡°They have been...but I¡¯ve only met with them twice so far,¡± Elena said, ¡°I don¡¯t know how this whole thing works. I don¡¯t mind waiting for them. If I can enjoy this place for a few hours while I nap, I can think about what to do without too much stress going along with it.¡±

    ¡°I thought you¡¯d already decided you were waiting for your mother to tell you what to do.¡± Ele¡¯s voice was a little bitter, but Elena ignored it.

    ¡°I said I would listen to your advice, and I meant it,¡± she said. ¡°If you have a plan of action, we can try it, and I¡¯ll just write my mother to tell her we were expelled from De Luca¡¯s studio. I won¡¯t leave her in the dark, but I¡¯ll listen to your advice; is that an acceptable compromise?¡±

    ¡°I would be alright with that,¡± Ele smiled. ¡°I was thinking we could apply to other Studios. Spending any time in De Luca¡¯s will make you more attractive to other studios, I think, and we can still learn a lot, even in other studios. Who knows, we might find one with another Faberi who can mentor you.¡±

    ¡°I can do that,¡± Elena said cautiously, ¡°only I don¡¯t want to apply to Gitti¡¯s Studio. Not after what happened to Slug.¡± Just thinking about the venomous Machinator made her feel uneasy, and she glanced over both shoulders.

    ¡°Alright. We¡¯ve probably missed our window for today, but that¡¯s fine. After you wake up, you can get something to eat, we can try to build something in our room, and bright and early tomorrow morning we¡¯ll set out to the other studios.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t know how time works, here,¡± Elena pointed out. ¡°Sometimes in a dream hours and hours pass when only minutes pass in real life, or the other way ¡®round. It might be that I¡¯ve only been sleeping for twenty minutes, and when I wake up it¡¯ll still be in the afternoon.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± The voice was muted and neutral, but Elena hadn¡¯t been expecting it from the side opposite to Ele, and she jumped. Standing next to her, just barely tall enough to rest her chin on her arms on the railing, the little girl with hair made of gold looked up at the moon. ¡°You must¡¯ve slept through the evening,¡± she continued as if nothing had happened, ¡°because I didn¡¯t go to bed until eleven of the clock. It¡¯s definitely night time.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t hear you,¡± Elena said, her heart still racing.

    ¡°No,¡± the golden-haired girl agreed without turning, ¡°you didn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s...it¡¯s nice to see you again,¡± Elena ventured, feeling a bit foolish.

    ¡°The others prefer that I do not lie to you,¡± Golden Hair said, ¡°so I won¡¯t say the same.¡±

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    ¡°Oh.¡± Elena lapsed into an awkward silence.

    ¡°What did we do that you dislike us so much?¡± Ele asked.

    ¡°Do?¡± Golden Hair finally turned towards them, tilting her head. Now that she was close, Elena could see that her eyes were made of gold as well; pupilless and smooth. It was impossible to tell if she was looking at Ele or Elena, but her comment seemed to be directed at both of them. ¡°You did nothing. I simply have no reason to trust you. My companions seem to believe that just because you are Twisted, you are necessarily trustworthy, that just because you are like us you are necessarily harmless to us. I have been harmed enough to know that harm may come from all angles, from any direction.¡±

    Elena wasn¡¯t quite sure how to take the girl¡¯s stance. It was even more paranoid than Ele¡¯s way of thinking, and it was so out of Elena¡¯s experience that she couldn¡¯t quite figure it out.

    ¡°But...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,¡± Golden Hair 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. Don¡¯t take it personally.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going to be stabbed in the back one of these days, Marsillo,¡± Golden Hair 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 I¡¯m going to laugh.¡±

    ¡°You make it sound incredibly as if you¡¯re the one holding the knife in this scenario,¡± Marsillo smiled, but Golden Hair 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 Luc-cia-no,¡± he winked at Elena, pronouncing each syllable of her name distinctly. ¡°It¡¯s quite a treat to see you again, and I¡¯m quite glad that you¡¯re able to find your way here. 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 also another, someone 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 Little One 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 Golden Hair¡¯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 just happened?¡± Elena asked.

    ¡°It pains me to see what this place does to Shadows,¡± Black Furs explained, ¡°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,¡± Golden Hair 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? 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.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 41

    "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''s face 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; 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 acknowledgement 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 did want 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.

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    "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 know." She cared very much about her career as a Fabera, but suddenly her trials seemed very 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 we do. 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. Anyways, 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 the plain woman had stepped away.

    ¡°We will see you again soon, Elena Luc-ci-ano,¡± Black Furs said sleepily. The focusing problems that plagued her in the dream world suddenly got worse, and before she knew it 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 have helped me, Ele. Having the Studio made me I feel like a big family. Like they¡¯re the only ones on my side anymore. Them, and you.¡±

    ¡°Well then,¡± Ele gestured towards the door. ¡°Let¡¯s go out and find you a new family.¡±

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 42

    Snowflakes brushed against Elena¡¯s cheeks as she gazed up at DaRose Studio. She felt so fragile that she was glad of the 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 he was 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 shrugged. ¡°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 Foscari 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 noises 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 said. ¡°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 backwards 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 Florezia. I want to make art for the rulers of Italoza. 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 iron gates at its front. The pullchain that hung down was so cold it felt like it bit into her bare skin, but she pulled it resolutely, waiting in the silence for someone in the studio to respond. A few long moments later, a hooded figure emerged from the doorway, walking leisurely through the powdery snow that covered the courtyard.

    ¡°Is De Luca trying to get a better price for his merchandise by sending pretty girls to sell it?¡± Arturo grinned from beneath the 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 gate open and gestured 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 foyer was more casual, less artificial, less exact. It didn¡¯t impress her with DaRose¡¯s power, but it was much more comfortable.

    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 recognized you at the gates, I¡¯d hoped you would come in!¡± Arta rose from the wooden bench in the corner, 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 Stormtouched 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.

    ¡°Anyways, 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 accepted that girl, Olympia, this morning.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Arta looked confused, ¡°what does that matter?¡±

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    ¡°He said it was his last. That there isn¡¯t room for another student. Diem horribilem, I¡¯m so sorry Elena. If it had only been a day ago instead of now...if I had known you were looking...¡±

    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.

    ¡°What are you doing, 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 doing for him?¡±

    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 Isotta, Studio Nencia, 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. 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 judgement. 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 DaRose Studio.¡±

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 43

    Elena opened her eyes and stared at the bed above her. The bundled layers of cloth that served for a mattress bulged through the slats of Isadora''s bed, but Elena had stopped worrying about the top bunk collapsing after her first few days.

    It had taken longer to adjust to having to share a dorm with other garzoni, the three of them packed into a single room. After having her own room for two months at De Luca''s studio, and before that only having to share a room with her mother, the dorm was cramped, but she was finally beginning to think of it as hers. Well, not hers exactly, but the little bunk she lay in, at least, was entirely her own.

    Elena stretched, her grey nightgown''s touch on her skin rough but warm. As usual, none of the others were stirring yet, and Elena pushed her blanket off and crept out of the room. As she did every morning, Elena shuddered at the cold of the hallway. One benefit of the dorms was that between the insulation and three warm bodies, the room had been warm, although she dreaded to think what it would feel like in the summer.

    "Morning sleepystorm," Ele greeted her when she entered the kitchen. Studio DaRose''s kitchen was more pantry than the kitchen she was used to; dry goods that wouldn''t spoil, the only luxuries being the woodstove in the corner and the sink connected to Milia''s water source.

    "That''s not fair, I''m the first one up!" Elena protested, ducking to rummage on the lower shelves for a loaf of bread and a slice of cured pork.

    "Still later than you used to," Ele said, "later than the De Luca garzoni wake up."

    "When in Roma, do what Romians do," Elena said sagely. A slice of bread and pork went on a tin plate, and she hopped up to sit on the counter with the plate in her lap.

    "Maybe the Romians in this case would do better if they held themselves to higher standards," Ele said. "You would do better if you kept to a De Luca schedule, Elena."

    Elena mused on his words for long minutes, thoughtfully chewing the slightly

    "I''m not good enough to be a De Luca garzona, Ele. I''ve come to terms with that, I''m fine with being a Studio DaRose girl, and acting like I''m still one of Master De Luca''s is just fooling myself."

    "You seem awfully chipper about it."

    "I''m in a good mood." Elena shrugged. "Today''s going to be a good day."

    "Any particular reason?" Ele asked. Elena shrugged again, but she couldn''t help but smile and look down at her plate. "Aah, yes, Niccolo."

    "He wants to see me, he wants to see me," Elena said in a singsong voice, kicking her feet beneath the counter. She grinned at Ele''s exasperated expression, finishing off her salty breakfast and adding the tin plate to the stack of unwashed dishes in the sink. "Nothing you say can bring me down, it''s been ages since I''ve seen him and I get to see him today! His message said he can''t wait!"

    "I guess it''s true what they say about Saggitari''s intelligence," Ele grumbled with a smile.

    *

    By the time the two of them returned to the dorm, Isadora was awake, still in bed and reading. She glanced up when Elena entered, giving a polite smile and nod before returning to her book. As usual, Iso was nowhere to be seen, and the only other person in the room was Dolce, still asleep in her bed.

    ¡°Good morning,¡± Elena practically skipped towards her bed, reaching beneath it to pull out the small chest that contained her clothes and belongings.

    ¡°You seem in a good mood today,¡± Isadora said.

    ¡°I have someone visiting me today! Niccolo, my...um...¡± Elena wasn¡¯t quite sure how to finish the sentence, ¡°...someone I know from De Luca¡¯s studio.¡±

    ¡°Niccolo your ¡®significant pause someone you know¡¯, eh?¡± Isadora raised an eyebrow, and Elena blushed.

    ¡°I¡¯m just not really sure what to call him. Studio business came up before we had a chance to talk about it, and we haven¡¯t seen each other since.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like it could be interesting.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe? I suppose I¡¯ll know today, but I¡¯m really excited to see him either way.¡±

    ¡°How do you feel about him? Do you hope things get serious?¡±

    ¡°I think so,¡± Elena turned to find an outfit to wear in silence. She didn¡¯t mind talking about Niccolo, but she would¡¯ve preferred to have the conversation with Vittoria or even Frederica. Isadora was alright in her way, but they barely knew each other, and somehow discussing something so personal made Elena uneasy. ¡°I do like him, but I want to make sure he likes me too.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s just timid,¡± Ele said from the doorway with a smile, ¡°Niccolo likes her just plenty, trust me.¡±

    ¡°Anyways,¡± Elena changed the subject hastily, ¡°I think it¡¯s going to be a good day, that¡¯s why I¡¯m in a good mood.¡±

    Perhaps taking the hint, Isadora returned to her reading, and Elena leaned back with a bundle of clothing. Her bed looked inviting, but she resisted the urge to crawl back into it, instead standing and kicking the chest back beneath it. It hit the back with a thump, and

    The screw in the back corner of the bed is about to come loose.

    The power of the Storm flowed through her temples, crackling like liquid lightning in her temples and itching in her fingertips.

    ¡°Ele, it¡¯s happening again,¡± she said, and her Echo was by her side in an instant. ¡°With the bed. I was just thinking about ¡±

    ¡°Okay, let¡¯s break it down. You¡¯re in a good mood, your bed isn¡¯t super important to you, you weren¡¯t trying to force yourself to fix it, and no one around you had mentioned the bed.¡±

    ¡°Which...pretty much kills every theory we¡¯ve come up with about my Storm in the past week,¡± Elena sighed. Her Storm merrily filled in details for as long as she kept the bed in her thoughts; the way that the joints of it fit together, the way the wood had been stained darker to imitate a more expensive cherry, even the fact that sanding away one of the knots in the corner would get rid of the little creak that had been plaguing her for the last week.

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    ¡°Not every theory,¡± Ele corrected. ¡°We assumed that forcing your Storm wasn¡¯t effective.¡±

    ¡°Technically all you¡¯ve proven here is that you can use your Storm without forcing it,¡± Isadora pointed out, ¡°it could be that you can totally force your Storm.¡±

    ¡°So really this doesn¡¯t help us at all,¡± Elena said miserably.

    ¡°You really don¡¯t know how to use your Storm, do you?¡± Isadora asked. ¡°I thought Fabera Storms always worked, not like mine.¡±

    ¡°I thought so too, then I came to Milia,¡± Elena mumbled distractedly, trying and failing to use her Storm on the upper bunk of the bed where Dolce was still sleeping. About halfway up the posts that held Dolce¡¯s bed above hers, Elena could only guess at the details, whereas below she knew, could break down details that she wouldn¡¯t think to guess about.

    ¡°Any of you awake?¡± Arturo poked his head into the room, his brown hair still mussed with sleep.

    ¡°No,¡± Isadora replied straight-faced, and turned the page of her book.

    ¡°Har har,¡± Arturo stepped inside and opened the door further for Arta to follow. ¡°I was just coming by to see if you two had plans for the day. I thought we could spend the day working in the boiler room, since everywhere but there and the dorms are cold as anything and the dorms are too messy to get anything done.¡±

    Elena glanced around her. Discarded clothes, cast off sketches, and art supplies littered the floor of the little room, and she knew that the boys¡¯ dorm was just as bad.

    ¡°Elena can¡¯t join us today, she¡¯s meeting up with her boyfriend.¡± For some reason a smile played around the corner of Isadora¡¯s lips, though she didn¡¯t look up from her book.

    ¡°Oh.¡± Arturo paused awkwardly, looking back and forth between Isadora and Elena. ¡°Oh, sorry, I didn¡¯t know you were seeing someone...¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re probably not going to hang out all day though,¡± Elena reassured him, ¡°I can join you two later this evening after he goes back to De Luca¡¯s. And he¡¯s not my boyfriend, Isadora, it¡¯s more...complicated than that.¡±

    ¡°Might as well be though,¡± Ele said, looking pointedly at Arturo. ¡°I mean, I heard about that kiss under the stars on the rooftop, with a kiss that amazing it¡¯d be silly to call you two anything else.¡±

    Elena blushed at the memory. It had been quite amazing, but it was embarrassing that Ele was mentioning it now, in front of Isadora, Arta, and Arturo.

    ¡°Sure, well, you should have a good time and just catch up with us later,¡± Arturo said in a rush. ¡°I just thought I¡¯d swing by to offer but I¡¯m going to wash and eat breakfast now. I¡¯ll see you later Isadora, Elena.¡±

    The room was quiet after he left, and Elena stared at the door, biting her lip.

    ¡°You¡¯re honestly wondering if you missed something right now, aren¡¯t you?¡± Ele asked.

    ¡°I know I missed something,¡± Elena said, her brow furrowed. ¡°But what did I miss? What just happened?¡±

    ¡°Wait really?¡± Isadora set her book down in her lap, giving Elena and Ele an incredulous look. ¡°Oh honey...you can¡¯t be that naive and clueless. I may know Arturo better than you, but hell your own Echo got it. Your little wooden mouse probably got it.¡±

    Elena glanced at Frell, who was still curled up on her pillow.

    ¡°What did they see?¡±

    ¡°I got it and I¡¯m not even awake yet,¡± Dolce mumbled sleepily from the bed, her curly black hair covering her face and pillow. Elena folded her arms, feeling quite ganged-up on, and determined on figuring out what she had missed. The room remained silent as she turned the past conversation over in her mind, trying to think of it from every angle. Suddenly the scene crystallized, and her mouth fell open.

    ¡°Wait, I think she¡¯s got something,¡± Ele said.

    ¡°Arturo likes me?¡± Elena gasped.

    ¡°Aaah, there it is,¡± Dolce mumbled from the bed. ¡°Silly guileless Fabera.¡±

    ¡°How long has he liked me?¡± Elena turned to Isadora. ¡°I¡¯ve only been here for a week! He barely knows me!¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s been nursing a crush ever since the day he applied at De Luca¡¯s studio,¡± Isadora had returned to her book, answering detachedly. ¡°He cooled a little when you got into De Luca¡¯s studio and he didn¡¯t, but now that you¡¯re here I think it revitalized the spark.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not why I got in, is it?¡± Elena wrung her hands, ¡°I didn¡¯t get in just because Arturo has a crush on me, did I?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Isadora didn¡¯t elaborate further.

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe I didn¡¯t catch on earlier...and you!¡± Elena swiped at Ele, her hand passing harmlessly through his shoulder, ¡°you said all that stuff about a kiss just to torment him!¡±

    ¡°What, I¡¯m not allowed to have fun?¡± Ele grinned.

    ¡°Not when it¡¯s at the expense of our fellow garzoni!¡±

    Ele looked as if he was about to say something in response, but with a glance at Isadora he closed his mouth.

    Now what have I missed?

    Elena¡¯s musing was interrupted by the bell that rang gently throughout the studio; an indication that someone was at the gates. Even though she had no reason to be nervous, Elena¡¯s heart fluttered. She hurriedly pulled her clothes on over her nightgown, slipped on her shoes, and with some trepidation went out to meet Niccolo.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 44

    Niccolo, Niccolo, Niccolo.

    It was ridiculous that Elena¡¯s heart was pounding in her ears, even more ridiculous that his name ran through her mind with every heartbeat. They had only been apart for a week, how pathetic was it that she was so excited? She didn¡¯t ask out loud, because she was sure Ele would be more than happy to inform her.

    "You''re drooling a bit," her Echo said, as if reading her mind. Elena put a hand to her mouth, horrified, until she realised that he had been teasing. She didn''t deign to give him a reply, instead opening the door and trudging out into the snow that had been steadily dusting Mila for the past few hours.

    When she had waited outside of those gates a week ago, the quiet of a snow covered Milia had seemed terrifying and lonely. Now it just felt quiet and peaceful, the rooftops and ground pristine and twinkling beneath the morning sun.

    "Elena!" Niccolo called from the gate, and all of a sudden she was overcome with shyness. Isadora had called him her ¡°boyfriend¡±, but Elena suddenly realized that she didn¡¯t know if he felt the same way about her that she did about him. Sure he had kissed her, that night on the rooftop that felt like years ago, but that could''ve been nothing more than tension before showing day...

    Elena opened the gate for Niccolo to enter, then stood awkwardly hugging herself until he had entered and she closed the gates again.

    "Hi there, Fabera," Niccolo grinned.

    "Hi there, Sagittari," Elena smiled.

    "Well...that was anticlimactic." Nicci said in a stage whisper to Ele.

    "Ah, so Niccolo has been mooning around like a child with his first crush too?" Ele said.

    "Yeah, it''s been pretty bad, but I should probably let him keep this casual-macho thing going on so Elena doesn''t know how much he''s missed her."

    "Yeah, it''s only polite,¡± Ele agreed, ¡°that''s why I''m not mentioning how I can tell whenever Elena is thinking about Niccolo ''cause she blushes and stares off into space."

    "Honestly," Niccolo said, "do you two even know how to talk without being snide?"

    "They wouldn''t know, they''d have to try it first," Elena made a face at Ele.

    "I have missed you though," Niccolo admitted.

    "I''ve missed you too," Elena hadn''t had any trouble talking with Niccolo back at the studio, but now it was harder to figure out what to say, how to act. "Do you um...do you want a tour of the studio?"

    "I¡¯d love one.¡± Niccolo held out a hand, and after a moment¡¯s hesitation Elena took it in hers. Even in the cold of the courtyard, the warmth of his hand seemed to travel all the way up her arm and into her heart.

    *

    ¡°It¡¯s...a little bit messy,¡± Elena said apologetically as she opened the door to the dorm, ¡°a tiny bit.¡±

    ¡°A tiny bit? It¡¯s a disaster,¡± Dolce said from her bunk, where she was combing out her long black curls. ¡°I¡¯d say it was unusual, but that¡¯d be a lie. ¡®lo Elena.¡± Now that Elena looked around at the mess of clothing and supplies on the floor and desk she was growing steadily more embarrassed. She quickly changed the subject with introductions.

    ¡°Niccolo, this is Dolce, a fellow DaRose garzona. Dolce, this is my...um...¡± Elena shot a glance at Niccolo. She had no clue what to call him, and the pause became more awkward by the millisecond, ¡°...this is Niccolo. We know each other from De Luca¡¯s studio.¡±

    ¡°Nice to meet you, Elena¡¯s ¡®friend¡¯,¡± Dolce smirked. ¡°Isadora would¡¯ve liked to meet you too, but I think she¡¯s gone out into the city to get a bite to eat.¡±

    ¡°Lovely to meet you too.¡± Niccolo said, glancing around with a good natured smile. Elena kicked a discarded undershirt beneath her bed, thoroughly regretting bringing him here when the room was in this state. ¡°Your room isn¡¯t that bad, I¡¯ve seen worse,¡± Niccolo reassured her, ¡°At least it¡¯s not full of little wood shavings like Frederica¡¯s.¡±

    ¡°But then, from what I hear, you don¡¯t have to share your room with your fellow garzoni,¡± Dolce said. Elena didn¡¯t know the girl well enough to tell whether there was bitterness in the statement or not, but either way the comment made her a bit uncomfortable.

    ¡°If it makes you feel any better Dolce, speaking as the one person who does share a room with him, it¡¯s pretty miserable,¡± Nicci grinned. Dolce continued combing her hair, her gaze moving back and forth between Niccolo and Elena, not so much as pausing at Nicci. ¡°Oh!¡± Nicci finally said, looking uncharacteristically flustered. ¡°Oh...I get so used to interacting with Stormtouched, I sometimes forget some studios have Mortalis students...not that there¡¯s anything wrong with that, of course, I just...sorry.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s move on,¡± Elena said quickly.

    ¡°Maybe I should count myself lucky she can¡¯t hear me,¡± Nicci said as Elena led them from the dorm down the hall towards the boiler room. ¡°If she could¡¯ve that would¡¯ve been awkward.¡±

    ¡°You mean almost as awkward as ¡®this is my um Niccolo¡¯?¡± Ele asked mischievously.

    Elena looked down at her feet as she walked, mentally cursing Ele with every swear word she knew.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± Niccolo said from behind her. ¡°We didn''t really get a chance to talk, back at De Luca''s. About what exactly we are, what we''re doing."

    ¡°Oh god, this is a conversation that I don¡¯t think I can handle,¡± Nicci said. ¡°Do you want to give me the abridged tour of this place Ele? The one that takes us away from the lovebirds?¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± Ele said, ¡°I had some things I wanted to talk to you about anyways.¡± Something about Ele¡¯s tone of voice made Elena look up sharply, but his face was guardedly neutral.

    What is it that those two get up to, when Niccolo and I are alone? she thought. And why is he so secretive of what she tells him?

    She shook her head. Whatever mystery was there, she wouldn¡¯t be discovering the answer today. As the two Echoes walked off in the opposite direction, she struggled to come up with a response to what Niccolo had said. For his part, the large Sagittari waited patiently at her side for her to say something.

    ¡°Whatever it is that we have, I like it,¡± Elena remembered the kiss on the rooftops beneath the stars, and tried to force herself not to blush, ¡°we don¡¯t have to label it or try to make it something...¡±

    ¡°I like what we have too,¡± Niccolo said. ¡°I like it a lot. If you don¡¯t want labels, we don¡¯t have to do that, I just wanted to make sure...you were as happy with the situation as I am.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m as happy as I could possibly be! I mean...I¡¯m not happy about being in two different studios,¡± Elena admitted. ¡°It would be nice if we could see each other every day. Or even to know that you were just down the hall from me. And I guess it would be nice to-¡± Niccolo leaned down and kissed her, gently and suddenly. Elena¡¯s train of thought melted away, and it was hard to catch hold of a new one. His hand was around her waist, which was good since her legs felt weak, and he pressed her so close to him that she felt the heat of his body through the layers of clothes and nightshirt she wore.

    ¡°You were saying?¡± He said quietly once their lips had parted.

    ¡°Oh...I...¡± Elena gasped, ¡°I was saying I was happy as I could possibly be? I think?¡±

    ¡°Good. I think I¡¯m even happier than that.¡±

    ¡°Uh oh, we¡¯ve got some fraternizing with the enemy going on!¡± Sometime within the past few minutes Elena¡¯s world had shrunk until it included only her and Niccolo, and she jumped when Arturo¡¯s voice broke into her awareness. He approached from the direction of the boiler room, an overly bright smile on his face. ¡°Just kidding, of course,¡± he said, ¡°you¡¯re Elena¡¯s friend, so I guess fraternization is allowed there, even if you are a dirty De Luca garzoni. Niccolo, right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s me,¡± Niccolo leaned away and let Elena go, and she suppressed the urge to whimper with disappointment. ¡°Elena has just been giving me a tour of the Studio. You know, showing me weak spots, points of entry, that sort of thing.¡±

    ¡°What? Niccolo-¡± Elena turned to him, startled, only to be met with a wide grin. ¡°Oh...you¡¯re teasing again.¡±

    ¡°By this point, the studios have ¡®interacted¡¯ with each other enough that there are no real secrets when it comes to layouts,¡± Arta said. ¡°I think we¡¯ve even got some blueprints of De Luca¡¯s studio in the war room.¡±

    ¡°I should¡¯ve known, anyways,¡± Elena gave Niccolo a look, ¡°he teases me all the time.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not very nice of him,¡± for a split second Arturo¡¯s face darkened, but then the bright smile was back in place as if it had never been gone. ¡°Do you mind if we join you? We can fill you in on parts of the studio that you might miss.¡±

    If she was honest with herself, Elena just wanted time alone with Niccolo, but she thought back to the discussion she had with the girls earlier in the morning. If Arturo did have a crush on her, it was generous of him to want to spend time with her and Niccolo after finding out that they were together. It would be rude to deny him when he was trying to extend a hand of friendship.

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    ¡°Of course you can join us. We were just about to go to the boiler room,¡± she said.

    ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet you, by the way,¡± Niccolo said, ¡°at least, to meet you like this. We¡¯ve probably technically met before. You¡¯d know me as Balance.¡±

    ¡°Aaah, I thought we had finally gotten to see the mysterious Foresight face-to-face,¡± Arta said.

    ¡°That mystery must persist, I¡¯m afraid,¡± Niccolo said agreeably. ¡°Just your friendly neighborhood archer. I¡¯m sure you all must hate me here.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re hardly the worst we have to deal with,¡± Arta smiled, ¡°it¡¯s hard to be too angry at you when we have to deal with the likes of Cross.¡±

    ¡°Cross is your least favorite Sagittari? Come on, what about Seashell?¡±

    ¡°Seashell may be bad in the moment, but with Cross I have to helplessly watch Arturo sick and vomiting the next day.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s more Slug¡¯s fault than Cross¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Oh I had plenty of blame for the both of them, don¡¯t worry.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve got some good points, but I can¡¯t believe I think you¡¯re both missing Deluge,¡± Arturo said.

    ¡°Oh my god, yes, Deluge,¡± Arta agreed.

    ¡°Ah taeter, Deluge,¡± Niccolo wrinkled his nose, ¡°okay, I agree, next to that asshole I suppose I¡¯m positively pleasant to fight.¡±

    Arturo, Arta, and Niccolo chuckled as Elena tried to keep up with the conversation.

    ¡°I really missed a lot as a provisional garzona, didn¡¯t I?¡± She said, a little wistfully, ¡°not knowing about all this stuff.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Elena. We¡¯ll get you out into the field soon enough,¡± Arta said, ¡°and when we do, you¡¯ll be a force to be reckoned with.¡±

    Niccolo didn¡¯t say anything, and when Elena looked at him sidelong he seemed deep in thought.

    ¡°This is the boiler room,¡± Arturo threw open the door and stepped inside. The cold that seemed to permeate the very stones of the studio melted away as soon as they stepped inside, and the low and steady sound of the boiler seemed to thrum in Elena¡¯s bones.

    ¡°It¡¯s like being inside a giant heart,¡± Niccolo said.

    ¡°It is the studio¡¯s heart, that¡¯s what makes it amazing,¡± Elena said, looking around. The room was dim, and the ceiling quite low, but it was large enough that all of the garzoni could gather comfortably and spread out their work. At the far end sat the boiler, a huge contraption of thick black metal that hummed as the gears within it turned. ¡°The boiler uses the heat and steam as power to draw water from the city, and the warmth is spread out among the studio.¡±

    ¡°You might want to turn it up a bit more,¡± Niccolo said, ¡°I like the temperature in this room, but the rest of the studio is a little cold.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what separates De Luca from DaRose, I guess,¡± Arturo snapped, ¡°we don¡¯t have the money to throw at every little inconvenience and issue, so instead we have to find ways to work around it. When the boiler breaks and can only warm one room consistantly, we make the best of it and turn this place into the heart of the studio, a place for us garzoni to gather together and do our art.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to imply...¡± Niccolo said, ¡°...I didn¡¯t realize it was broken.¡±

    ¡°Hey no worries,¡± Arturo¡¯s face suddenly softened. ¡°It¡¯s just kind of a sore spot, when you have to fight for the things you have, you know?¡±

    ¡°Arturo-¡± Arta said quietly, but before she could finish a figure stepped through the closed door of the boiler room.

    ¡°Ah, I didn¡¯t realize anyone would be here this early,¡± Iso frowned. His short dark hair had a habit of falling into his face, making him seem even more guarded than his closed off expression did.

    ¡°Hello Iso! Elena, Arturo and I are showing Niccolo here around the studio. He¡¯s visiting from De Luca¡¯s.¡± Arta¡¯s face had broken into a smile as soon as Iso had entered, and he returned the smile, the first one Elena had ever seen him give.

    ¡°If you¡¯re leaving anyways, I¡¯ll just read my book here then. You seem to have lost your Echo, Elena.¡±

    ¡°Ele and Nicci wandered off together a while ago,¡± Niccolo said, ¡°what about your Stormtouched? Whose Echo are you?¡±

    ¡°I am no one¡¯s Echo, Mister Niccolo.¡± Even in the warmth of the boiler room, Elena felt as if the temperature had dropped a few degrees. ¡°I do not belong to anyone.¡± After a few moments of silence, the Echo relented, ¡°but I do have the misfortune to be shackled to within a hundred feet of Isadora. One of the studio¡¯s garzona here.¡± He offered no further comment, sitting down with his back to one of the room¡¯s dark stone walls and opening his book.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to offend...again,¡± Niccolo said.

    ¡°He¡¯s...touchy,¡± Elena whispered, ushering him out of the doorway. ¡°He and Isadora...they don¡¯t get along. I¡¯ve been here a week and I haven¡¯t seen them say a word to each other.¡± Niccolo was quiet until they had emerged into the hallway again.

    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine what that would be like. What happened between them?¡±

    ¡°Neither of them will tell us,¡± Arta said. ¡°They¡¯ve been like that for years, for as long as we¡¯ve known them. Whatever happened was clearly painful enough that neither of them want to talk about it. We don¡¯t ask anymore.¡±

    ¡°Suddenly having a snarky Echo doesn¡¯t seem nearly as bad,¡± Niccolo shot a glance over his shoulder as they departed.

    *

    ¡°And that brings us back to the Dorms where we started,¡± Elena said, swinging Niccolo¡¯s hand back and forth happily as the four of them walked down the hall.

    ¡°The place looks a lot nicer in the light, without people trying to thrash me,¡± Niccolo said lightly. Elena frowned, but Arta and Arturo both seemed to find it amusing.

    ¡°Don¡¯t get used to it, Balance,¡± Arta smiled. ¡°It¡¯s going to be even harder for you De Lucans, now that we have Cog.¡±

    ¡°I have no doubt about that. I¡¯ll bet Master DaRose was quite excited to have you, Elena.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m...sure he was too.¡± Despite herself, Elena looked away. It was the one thing she had hoped Niccolo wouldn¡¯t bring up.

    ¡°You¡¯re ¡®sure¡¯? Where you not there when he made the decision?¡±

    ¡°I um...I haven¡¯t actually met Master DaRose yet,¡± Elena admitted.

    Niccolo blinked.

    ¡°What do you mean you haven¡¯t met him yet? He¡¯s the Master of the Studio, he¡¯s your patron, he¡¯s supposed to be training you!¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s just been very busy lately-¡± Elena began.

    ¡°Master DaRose has a lot of things that take up his time-¡± Arturo said at the same time.

    ¡°There¡¯s a lot that Master DaRose has to handle...¡± Arta said. Niccolo looked back and forth between the three of them, until his gaze finally settled on Arturo.

    ¡°Master De Luca is just as busy...every master artisan is busy,¡± Niccolo narrowed his eyes, ¡°but the students are an important part of the studio. I can''t see one of the Masters just ignoring one of their newest Stormtouched students. What¡¯s going on?¡±

    Elena bit her lip. It had seemed a bit odd to her that Master DaRose hadn''t shown any interest in her, but the other garzoni had seemed so casual about it that she hadn''t given it much thought.

    "Different studios work different ways, Balance," Arturo said condescendingly. "I''m sorry you have to find out that your precious De Luca methods aren''t universal."

    Elena saw Niccolo glance down the hallway, in the direction that had taken them past the large door of DaRose''s private rooms. His hand tightened on hers.

    "Niccolo, what are you doing?" She asked.

    "There''s something they¡¯re hiding, something not right," Niccolo said. "Normally I''d mind my own business, but this is important...I''m introducing you to Master DaRose."

    He started moving quickly, pulling her along firmly but without jerking her. Arta grabbed at him as he passed, her reflexes fast enough but her hand passing through his arm.

    "Maledicere umbrabilis digitos meos! Arturo stop them!" she shouted, but Niccolo and Elena had a head start, and Arturo took a few moments to get moving even after Arta warned him.

    "What are you doing? You''re going to get me into trouble!" Elena was equal parts excited, nervous, terrified and intrigued as she ran a few steps behind Niccolo.

    "You''ve never even met the man, how do you know what he wants or doesn''t want you to do?" Niccolo said over his shoulder. "Tell me you aren''t curious to know what''s really going on!"

    She was curious, and the door was only a half-hallway away now. Niccolo skidded to a stop in front of DaRose¡¯s private room, gave Elena and the pursuing Arturo and Arta a wink, and pounded on the heavy doors.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 45

    ¡°Come in,¡± said a muffled voice within the room.

    The heavy doors of Master DaRose''s studio had always held an air of mystery behind them. It had been a busy handful of days settling into the studio, but wondering about him had always taken up some space in Elena¡¯s mind. Now that she was finally meeting him she was nervous. Niccolo stood smugly to one side and gestured for her to go ahead, clearly pleased with himself, but Elena wasn''t quite sure whether to be equally pleased or angry.

    What if I make a bad impression, barging in unannounced and unasked?

    Arturo and Arta''s silent presence behind her was ominous, and she pushed the door opened carefully, as if it might explode.

    The room was so dark that it took long moments for Elena''s sense of sight to return, but unfortunately her sense of smell worked just fine. The room reeked of body odor, machine oil, resin, wine, and the musty odor of a room that hadn''t been aired out in years. As her eyes slowly adjusted, Elena found that the sight of the room wasn¡¯t much better, though it was stranger.

    She had never before seen such meticulous, organized mess. Small piles of dishes sat in orderly stacks by the door, the food on them crusted and moldy. A desk on the far wall covered in books and dust and gears and half-empty wine glasses took up a large portion of the space at the end of the room. Two baskets of stained and dirty clothing, neatly folded, stood in the corner. Garbage and crumpled pieces of paper were arranged in careful piles on the floor. In the corner, a young woman with short black hair lay asleep in the bed, her arms and shoulders half-passed through the rumpled and mussed blankets. The only part of the room that seemed entirely given over to neatness and order was the high table in the middle of the room, at which stood Master Omerto DaRose.

    He wasn¡¯t tall, but he was so thin that Elena could see the outline of each bone beneath his thin skin. The clothes he wore were simple and elegant; a fashionable doublet and trousers, but they were wrinkled and it was clear he had slept in them, perhaps several nights in a row. He was standing at the table, working on a small box with delicate tools that looked like elongated lockpicks. Although the heavy doors squeaked when they opened, DaRose didn¡¯t look up at Elena¡¯s entrance. She wasn¡¯t entirely sure what to say to get his attention, but she took a small step into the room.

    ¡°I thought we were going to wait to introduce Elena to Master DaRose,¡± Isadora said from the corner of the room where she was picking up a third basket of clothes, ¡°and the De Luca Saggitari definitely shouldn¡¯t be here.¡±

    ¡°We tried to stop them,¡± Arta said.

    ¡°It¡¯s not the end of the world I suppose,¡± Isadora sighed. ¡°Elena would¡¯ve been introduced to him eventually, and she¡¯d probably tell her ¡®friend¡¯ about him.¡±

    ¡°Is...is Master DaRose deaf?¡± Elena ventured a little further into the room, craning her head to look at what the Master was working on but unwilling to catch his attention if he couldn¡¯t hear them.

    ¡°Not quite...¡± Isadora drew a handkerchief from her pocket and stepped forward, carefully draping it across the box that Master DaRose was working on. The Master looked up suddenly with a start, as if waking up, annoyance on his face.

    ¡°I rather wish you wouldn¡¯t do that, ¡®Dora dearest,¡± he said, ¡°if you wish to speak with me you know I am perfectly willing to give you my utmost attention.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Master DaRose, that was rude of me,¡± Isadora said, ¡°I just know how delicate the Instrument is to things like dust and moisture, I wanted to protect it while I talked to you.¡±

    ¡°Ah, and thus am I chastised,¡± Master DaRose¡¯s expression softened, ¡°what I mistook for discourtesy was in fact respect for my work...you have my humble apologies.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s no problem, sir.¡± Isadora turned to indicate the group in the doorway, ¡°I just wanted to introduce you to your newest garzona-¡±

    ¡°Elena Maria Lucciano!¡± Master Omerto turned and fixed Elena with a smile, ¡°otherwise known as ¡®Cog¡¯, the Fabera who joins us straight from De Luca¡¯s studio itself. My dear, the joy in having you here is matched only by the anticipation with which I eagerly await the great works that will come from you.¡±

    ¡°Um...thank you Master DaRose...¡± Elena said uncertainly. His accent and voice was cultured and refined, and simply looking into the emaciated man¡¯s sharp eyes was enough to convince her of his intelligence. Yet, when Isadora had spoken about him as if he wasn¡¯t there, he hadn¡¯t objected or even seemed to notice.

    ¡°In my estimation, we shall need to do some catching up, Miss Lucciano, both for your sake and mine. I am given to understand that you have some troubles with your Storm, and have a few ideas on the matter which we should explore as you settle into my Studio.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m already mostly settled in, sir, but I would be very grateful for any help you can give me.¡±

    ¡°Settled already?¡± Master DaRose said with surprise, ¡°ah, I suppose I have been a touch remiss...but it makes no matter my dear, we will schedule some time to meet very soon.¡±

    ¡°I understand that you¡¯re busy, Master DaRose, I wouldn¡¯t want to intrude on your time.¡±

    ¡°Nonsense! One of my duties as a Master is to instruct and guide my students, Elena. I would never shirk that responsibility willingly! If I have been a tad careless, it is only due to a momentous breakthrough in a new method of automatic string adjustment on the- oh, but of course you don¡¯t know. Behold!¡± Master DaRose swept Isadora¡¯s handkerchief away from the small box on the table, gesturing her over to his side. Brimming with curiosity, Elena joined him at the table. The box¡¯s lid was open, revealing internal workings packed full of tiny gears and very fine strings stretching all throughout, as if a nest of mechanical spiders had lived inside it for years.

    ¡°It almost looks like a music box,¡± Elena said after a few moments.

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    ¡°More apt than you know!¡± Master DaRose chuckled, ¡°I call it The Instrument, for that is in part the role that it plays. The machinery within is so complex it has taken me decades to build. It  uses its strings to simulate the variances of vocal patterns, you see, playing music that is a touch more esoteric than most.¡± With one of the long delicate tools, he reach into the box and depressed a switch. The little box whirred to life, little pieces moving and turning, levers swiveling, tiny pincer-like claws plucking strings soundlessly.

    ¡°I don¡¯t hear any-¡±

    ¡°Hush!¡± Master DaRose ordered. After a few more moments of motion Elena began to hear it, whispers so soft they tickled at her ears. Dozens, maybe hundreds of voices, in tones from light and feminine to a deep base, all whispering to her.

    ¡°Can not an expression of sanctified self relay its own death?¡± the voices whispered.

    ¡°What does that mean?¡± Elena murmured.

    ¡°That is a question that only I can answer, someday,¡± Master DaRose said. ¡°There are so many pieces of The Instrument that my Storm has puzzled out, but so many more mysteries yet to unravel. I hope you don¡¯t consider me braggadocious when I say I don¡¯t believe any other Machinator has the ability.¡±

    ¡°Does your Storm have something to do with sound then? Or...music boxes?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Master DaRose looked startled, ¡°no no my dear, my Storm has to do with The Instrument. I have far too much to do in working on The Instrument to concern myself with other, lesser art.¡±

    Or with eating...or sleeping... Elena suddenly realized, looking at the deep bags under the Master¡¯s eyes, his face so thin it resembled a skull.

    ¡°Never though a thousand stars burn their pinpricks of hell into the man whose tongue relays sounds of mourning,¡± whispered the box. Despite herself, Elena shivered. ¡°Yea unto twenty score of morning¡¯s light shall the truth of the papers of death be relayed along the backs of wolves.¡±

    ¡°For example,¡± Master DaRose depressed the switch again, and the whispers faded away, ¡°right now my Storm is telling me that I¡¯ll need to make a small adjustment here,¡± he indicated one of the scores of gears with the tool, ¡°that will prevent the spring on the other side from slowly coming loose in a few months, but it has the added benefit of adding more counterweight to the string a few inches above it, you see?¡± Elena didn¡¯t see, but Master DaRose was already making the adjustments.

    ¡°What does weight on the strings do?¡± Elena asked. The master ignored her, and after a few moments she tried again. ¡°Master DaRose?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve lost him now,¡± Isadora said.

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand...¡± Elena said, ¡°you can hear us, can¡¯t you Master DaRose?¡±

    ¡°THE STUDIO IS BURNING DOWN! RUN!¡± Isadora screamed, directly into the Master¡¯s ear. DaRose made a vague brushing motion, as one might with a fly, then returned to his work.

    ¡°Ingenio mors ab, is that what Lorenzo is going to turn into when he grows older?¡± Niccolo asked from the doorway, horrified.

    ¡°The Storm affects different Machinators differently,¡± Isadora hefted the basket of clothing onto one hip. ¡°I¡¯ve heard that some of them are almost normal, but I couldn¡¯t say. Master DaRose is the only Machinator I know in person.¡±

    ¡°But...how...how does Studio DaRose even run?¡± Elena spluttered. ¡°Do you have to cover up his work every time a decision has to be made? Does he take The Instrument with him when he goes to court? How does anything get done?¡±

    ¡°We can usually get a few general ideas out of him when we make him eat,¡± Arta said, ¡°but there aren¡¯t so many momentous decisions that need to be made around here. For the most part we all just sort of...get by. We make enough money selling art in the shop to keep afloat, barely. It helps when we¡¯re able to defeat garzoni from other Studios; we trade their trophy coins for actual coin instead of favors. As for going to court-¡±

    ¡°Not every Master can be De Luca,¡± Arturo finished, his voice oddly flat. ¡°There¡¯s a big difference between how the ¡®favored¡¯ masters are treated and the rest. Master De Luca is invited to court. Master Malatesta is invited to court. Master DaRose has never been invited.¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t the Milian court send an invitation to the Studios based on their rankings, not personal favoritism?¡± Niccolo asked.

    ¡°I guess you would know, since you¡¯ve been on top for thirteen years,¡± Arturo turned towards Niccolo, fists clenched, ¡°so maybe if we want to get to court us lesser studios should start aiming for Yellow Street more often.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯d be good,¡± Niccolo casually hooked his thumb into his belt, a few inches away from his knife, ¡°staying on top is easier with Grey Street feeding us a constant supply of trophy coins.¡±

    ¡°Like, when we took out Foresight a few months ago? Didn¡¯t seem like we were feeding you trophy coins then-¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s enough!¡± Elena cried. ¡°Arturo, that¡¯s my friend you¡¯re talking about, and Niccolo, that¡¯s my new studio you¡¯re talking about!¡± Neither of the boys broke their gaze, but Niccolo at least dropped his hand from where it had been hovering. ¡°Niccolo, didn¡¯t you say you wanted to go to Marchelli¡¯s for lunch? Since the tour is over, do you want to go now?¡±

    Niccolo turned his attention away from Arturo, and he luckily missed the momentary murderous glare on the tousle-haired Artifex¡¯s face before he arranged it into a mask of neutrality.

    I¡¯ll have to figure out some way to fix this...I can¡¯t have Niccolo coming over here if it¡¯s going to threaten an inter-studio fight every time.

    ¡°Of course, we can go right away. Sorry, Elena,¡± Niccolo said a little sheepishly. Elena took his offered arm, and with one more backward glance they departed, leaving the master of her new studio alone in his dark room, silent and unconcerned.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 46

    "Attention, if you please, ladies! Wake up! Up and aware, if you would be so kind!"

    Elena blinked and rubbed her eyes, disoriented. She glanced down at her skin sleepily, making sure she was still in her bed at DaRose¡¯s studio and not in the castle in Black Fur¡¯s dream world. Above her the bunk shifted as Dolce rose, and across the room Isadora was throwing off her blankets and struggling to get to her feet. There were two figures at the door in the front of the room, but in her disoriented state Elena couldn''t identify them.

    In the space of a few footsteps the smaller figure crossed the room and lifted a long leg, pushing Isadora back into bed with a foot.

    "Good evening ladies," the other figure said, his voice quieter now. "We had hoped we could carry out this transaction without being so rude as to wake you up, but then, we forgot we were dealing with DaRose. You see, civilized studios tend to keep their coins on bedside tables to prevent this sort of unpleasantness.¡± He looked around disapprovingly.

    "We prefer knowing who to get revenge on," Isadora growled. The figure standing at her bed held her down with one foot, keeping its balance on the other perfectly.

    ¡°Well then, I''m afraid you have only yourselves to blame for such a rude awakening."

    "You''re from another studio," Elena realized aloud, belatedly.

    "A gold star to little Cog," the man in front of her gave a small bow, "and a silver coin for us, if you please." Now that she had rubbed some of the sleep from her eyes, Elena could see the scene a little better. The first figure was covered from head to toe in a fancy suit, mask, and hood, all made of purple squares in shades from lavender to almost black. The one who held Isadora down in bed wore a much more subtle outfit of purple that clung to the curves of her body and face.

    "Tam horridus, Patchwork, of all the studios who don¡¯t pose a threat to you, we have to be the most harmless,¡± Dolce complained from the bunk above Elena, ¡°don¡¯t you have beggars to kick or some ivory tower to sip fine wines in or something?"

    ¡°Believe me Dolce, the pair of us would much rather be doing exactly that, although it¡¯s more of a marble veranda than an ivory tower,¡± Patchwork said, and Elena could almost hear the sneer behind the purple cloth mask. ¡°But sadly until we take charge of our studio, we are at the mercy of those above us. That said, coins, if you please. I won¡¯t ask again.¡±

    It¡¯s my first inter-studio battle! Elena thought with excitement. Isadora and Dolce seemed to be biding their time, waiting for some moment to strike, so she did the same, tensing her muscles and preparing to spring out of bed. Her feet pressed against the wall on one side of the bed, and she waited.

    ¡°DaRose won¡¯t forget this,¡± Isadora said with a glare, reaching into the pocket of her sleepclothes¡¯ pocket. The silver coin caught the moonlight as she flipped it to Patchwork.

    ¡°You may rest assured that the entirety of Studio Malatesta is appropriately terrified of DaRose¡¯s ire.¡± Patchwork gave the coin a cursory glance and pocketed it, then glanced up at Dolce.

    Why aren¡¯t they giving a signal? What are they waiting for?

    Dolce threw her coin at Patchwork¡¯s face, but the man barely flinched before his silent companion snatched it from the air, continuing to hold Isadora down as she slipped the coin into her pocket.

    ¡°And last but certainly not least?¡± Patchwork ignored the piece of silver recently flung in his face, turning to Elena and holding out his hand.

    Is it me they¡¯re waiting for? Elena looked across the room, trying to figure out what the other girls wanted her to do. Isadora met her gaze for a moment across the room, but if there was a hint in the dark-haired girl¡¯s blank expression Elena couldn¡¯t see it. Without an idea of when she should strike, Elena took a gamble and decided on....

    Now!

    She sprang from the bed, flinging herself at Patchwork. Time seemed to slow for a few moments, and a few thoughts ran through her head as she crossed the few short feet between them. The first was that she would need some kind of weapon, in the future. Not something that would grievously injure, of course, but she wondered how much damage her fists could really do against the man. The next thought was a surge of triumph as Patchwork jumped backwards, letting out a startled yell.

    You¡¯d better yell! Elena thought fiercely, before time suddenly sped up and several things happened all at once.

    ¡°No, Elena stop!¡± Isadora yelled.

    ¡°Don¡¯t!¡± Dolce shouted.

    Patchwork wobbled in Elena¡¯s vision, then suddenly melted out of sight.

    A firm hand grabbed at her hair, winding its fingers until it held a handful.

    The woman in dark purple moved in a small contained twirl, using her grip on Elena¡¯s hair to yank her off balance. The foot which had been holding Isadora down hit the ground just in time to trip Elena, and the grip in her hair made it easy for the dark woman to slam Elena¡¯s face into the side of Isadora¡¯s bed. The woman let go of her hair to let her fall to the ground in a heap.

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    It had all happened so quickly and so unexpectedly that Elena didn¡¯t even have a chance to understand what had just happened. Her face didn¡¯t even hurt at first, she was too flabberghasted to even process the pain. Above her Isadora struggled to rise, and the dark woman slammed a foot back into her chest to shove her back into the bed.

    The pain blossomed in her eye and cheekbones, enough to make Elena gasp. Tears sprang to her eyes, but through the tears she could see Patchwork materializing over her again, appearing in blotchy patches of color. On the floor she couldn¡¯t make out what Dolce was doing, but she doubted the Mortalis girl could do much against both Malatesta garzoni.

    ¡°You-¡± Elena began, but Patchwork interrupted her with a sudden sharp kick to the stomach. She curled up in a ball, trying to gasp but unable to breath, and suddenly he was on top of her, straddling her and feeling along her hips and waist. She had barely enough breath to shout, let alone struggle, and the weight of him on top of her made the pain in her stomach even worse.

    ¡°I certainly hope your studiomate hasn¡¯t secreted her coin away in her underclothes, or this has the potential to become awkward,¡± Patchwork said casually, ¡°ah, here we are.¡± He reached into Elena¡¯s pocket as she still struggled to gasp in a breath. Even as the pain pounded in her face and her abdomen, Elena tried to grab at her coin as he pulled it out, but the man casually flicked her hand and stood. ¡°Ripple, let¡¯s depart. I doubt the others are having this much trouble.¡± The woman let Isadora go and skipped lightly over Elena¡¯s prone form. She could barely see them through the blur of pain and tears, but as the two Malatesta garzoni left Patchwork paused at the doorway. ¡°I¡¯d thought we¡¯d dealt with this unfortunate habit of impertinence from Grey Street. Hopefully the next time we visit we can avoid all of this unpleasantness,¡± he remarked over his shoulder. He vanished in splotchy patches before closing the door behind him.

    ***

    ¡°Six coins. Six maledictus tamen sonticus coins gone in a single night,¡± Arturo shouted to the room at large. ¡°And we let them hurt Cog. Our reputation was getting better after we repelled De Luca, this is going to set us back almost to the beginning! And maybe it should if we can¡¯t even protect our new garzona!¡±

    ¡°Arturo, quiet down,¡± Arta said gently, ¡°yelling isn¡¯t going to solve anything, and we¡¯ve all already had a rough night.¡±

    ¡°How bad is it?¡± Dolce asked from next to the boiler.

    ¡°It¡¯s going to leave some nasty bruising, but nothing long term,¡± Isadora said.

    ¡°I just don¡¯t understand why you didn¡¯t help me!¡± Elena winced as the older garzona dabbed at her face with a damp cloth.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Elena, I just didn¡¯t think you were going to take them on by yourself like that!¡± Isadora turned Elena gently by the chin to face the light more, ¡°you¡¯re so mousy and timid, how was I supposed to know you¡¯d suddenly try to play the hero?¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that what we¡¯re supposed to do? Fight the other studios?¡±

    ¡°In theory, maybe. Hold still, there¡¯s a splinter. We can fight them when they attack, but DaRosa garzoni...we need time to prepare, we¡¯re no good at immediate response. One of us was supposed to be on guard tonight, but...¡±

    ¡°I thought it was the new girl¡¯s turn,¡± Elio, one of the mortalis students, said sullenly.

    ¡°It really is our fault for not telling you not to fight,¡± Arta wrung her hands a little ways off, pacing back and forth in front of the boiler without casting a shadow, ¡°we didn¡¯t think you¡¯d be in any altercations before the next war counsel, when we could catch you up to everything!¡±

    ¡°I thought I was finally done with people hiding things from me! When will I get ¡®caught up¡¯? And what¡¯s a war counsel¡± Elena flinched as Isadora caught a pinch of skin between her fingernails.

    ¡°The Mortalis feel left out when people talk to me,¡± Arta said.

    ¡°None of that weird mind-reading Stormtalk,¡± Dolce grimaced at the same time, ¡°we¡¯re all in this together, so talk where we all can hear you.¡±

    ¡°So the Echoes are ignored here when we¡¯re around mortalis students? That won¡¯t get to be demoralizing at all,¡± Ele muttered.

    ¡°We¡¯ll catch up now, Elena,¡± Isadora said authoritatively, ¡°we¡¯re all here, we might as well have an impromptu war counsel.¡±

    Holding her head still as Isadora dug another splinter from her throbbing cheek, Elena looked around the boiler room at the assembled garzoni. Arturo sat in the corner, blinking sleepily, while Arta continued to pace. Ele and Isadora stood by Elena, and a little ways off the Mortalis students, Dolce, Festo, and Elio stood, looking uncomfortable.

    ¡°Arta will you please go get Iso in here?¡± Isadora gently wiped Elena¡¯s face a final time and leaned back on her heels, ¡°we need to figure out Studio DaRose¡¯s next move.¡±

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 47

    "I''m calling the War Council to order." Isadora sat cross-legged next to the boiler, looking around at the other garzoni arranged in a small half-ring around her. "As has been mentioned, we''ve lost six coins at I time when we really need them, and the hit to our reputation won''t be pleasant to deal with either. I don''t want to go back to being the studio people pick on when they want a quick coin."

    Various murmurs of agreement filled the room as she continued.

    "The most obvious answer is to conduct a raid ourselves, get a good stock of coins back. We have enough in our stores to buy food for this month..." Isadora glanced at Arta, who gave a single nod, "but we''d hoped to get some higher quality supplies that Elena could turn into tools and materials for us."

    "Maybe it''s better to get her in the heat of things sooner rather than later anyways," Dolce said. "She was pretty ferocious in the room, that could be nice to have that next to us in the field."

    "It would be nice to have other people being ferocious next to me," Elena said pointedly.

    "Play nice with the other boys and girls, Elena," Ele said, "and it''s me saying that."

    "Right, it seems as if we''re all on the same page as far as an attack on a studio," Isadora said, "I suppose the next order of business is deciding what our target is."

    "And catching Elena up on the rules so she doesn''t get hurt again," Arturo said.

    "Arta, catch her up while we discuss our target," Isadora said. Arta crossed the room to sit next to Elena, lowering her voice as the others continued the discussion.

    "Basically, Elena, the whole system is set up so that garzoni don''t get hurt. Students try to blunt or hobble their powers as much as possible to prevent serious injury."

    "Those didn''t seem like hobbled powers to me," Elena gingerly touched her face, which throbbed beneath her fingers.

    "It''s a very delicate system. When one student has another at a disadvantage, they get the coin, that''s how it works. By not giving up your coin, you were signalling that you thought you could take them."

    "And that gave them the excuse to beat the stuffing out of me?"

    "It gave them free reign. A lot of students would¡¯ve been nicer, but Studio Malatesta has a reputation...they like to make examples of those who don''t surrender right away. Studio De Luca is another one like that; the¡¯ll give you a lot of chances,  but once their patience runs out they can be pretty brutal as well....oh, sorry." Arta paused for a moment, embarrassed, before she continued. "A lot of our fights have to do more with mental estimations than outright fighting. Patchwork and Ripple against a Fabera, a Mortalis, and an Artifex, all just waking up and in bed? When you attacked they probably saw it as an insult. Studio Malatesta is very touchy about their pride."

    Elena nodded, frowning.

    "So...don''t get into a fight unless I know I can win?" she asked.

    "Supposedly we should never be getting into fights at all," Arta said, "but even the rulemakers realize that that''s not going to happen. The formal rules are that if a garzoni gives up their coin, they''re off limits for the rest of the attack. It''s just that at this point, we''ve fought enough to know who will usually win in a given encounter. No point in fighting a lost cause."

    "That''s why we don''t go up against Studios like Malatesta, De Luca, or Gitti," Isadora broke in, "experience tells us we can¡¯t beat them unless we get lucky, or if we have the advantage of preparation. We were just discussing who we were going after."

    "But it''s Malatesta''s fault that we''re in this mess! And that was my very first Cog coin, I want it back! How do you know we wouldn¡¯t get lucky and beat them this time?"

    "Sorry for being the asshole here," Ercole said, "but I think your face is evidence that we can''t beat Malatesta. Which we already knew from before, but it''s nice to know having a new Fabera in the studio didn''t change that."

    "We''re a slow but steady improvement," Ele said defensively, "you can''t judge a Fabera by her first couple of weeks in the...oh, you can''t hear me. That''s going to get old."

    "We''re thinking Studio Crivelli," Ercole said to Elena, unknowingly cutting Ele off. "And we''re thinking of moving tonight."

    "Tonight?" Elena thought longingly of her warm bed. As long as they weren¡¯t going after the Studio who had taken her coin, she didn¡¯t see why they couldn¡¯t at least get a little more sleep first.

    "By tomorrow night all of the studios will have heard that we got hit, and they''ll be on guard," Isadora explained, "if we can hit them tonight they¡¯re less likely to be waiting for us."

    "Then when do we go?"

    Isadora looked around the room once, nodding a few times in silent appraisal.

    "Now. Grab new coins from the supply, everyone, we don''t want to be caught without. Let''s pay Studio Crivelli a visit."

    ***

    Elena adjusted her grip on the weapon the others had given her.

    "I''m really not sure about this," she muttered to Dolce as the six garzoni made their way quietly along the Street of Grey Artisans. "What if the cloth slips?" She hefted the large hammer, its head wrapped in layers and layers of soft fabric.

    "Chances are you won''t even have to use it," Dolce whispered back, "but impressions are a big thing in studio fights. People will look at the hammer and focus on how much they''d like not to get hit with it, and not the scrawny thing holding onto it. Besides, if you do need to fight, we can''t have you swinging your fists around like you did in the room, it''ll make us look bad." Elena blushed, but she lifted the cloth-covered hammer over a shoulder and continued moving with the group.

    The grey cloth mask she wore rubbed irritatingly against her bruised face. It kept her head warm, but it obscured her vision a bit, and even if she hadn¡¯t been hurt Elena was pretty sure she wouldn¡¯t like it.

    "How come you don¡¯t have to wear a mask, Dolce?" she asked.

    "I don''t wear one for the same reason I don''t have an alias," Dolce replied, "I''m just a Mortalis. I''d look silly wearing one, like I thought I was above myself."

    "Oh." Elena fell silent in the face of her sharp reply, and tried to ignore the rubbing against her face.

    The path to Studio Crivelli took them past the Street of Yellow Artisans, and when they passed Studio De Luca Elena couldn''t help but look up at the white walls longingly. From the top of the walls, Frederica¡¯s giant spider watched them pass as it walked slowly back and forth, silhouetted against the moon.

    "Don''t worry," Dolce followed her gaze, "they just use to guard the studio. It won''t attack as long as we stay on our side of the walls." Elena kept casting glances over her shoulder at Studio De Luca until it had passed out of sight, but the glances alone weren''t enough to fill the empty feeling in her stomach.

    "Focus, Elena," Ele murmured in her ear, and she shook her head to clear it.

    He''s right. This is my first real actual inter-studio fight. The first one to actually count, now that it''s being completely ruined by stupid Studio-

    "Malatesta." As the group of students emerged from a side alley onto the Street of Red Artisans, Isadora completed Elena¡¯s thought aloud, stopping so suddenly that Elena bumped into her.

    "Why Torchhand! What a pleasant surprise!" Elena''s already aching stomach tightened at the sound of the voice she''d heard so recently before, and her face throbbed.

    The moonlight reflected off the snow and illuminated the street in front of them, making it easy to make out the purple figures that blocked their.

    "With Cog and Grabber as well," Patchwork sounded pleasantly surprised, "and I see Dolce, Festo, and Ercole there as well, why it''s the entire DaRose studio!" Behind Patchwork, another four figures in purple shuffled and waited, all wearing purple masks along with their various costumes. Elena glanced behind her and noted another three figures standing in the streets behind them, unmasked and wearing matching neat purple uniforms.

    Stolen story; please report.

    "How did you know we''d be here Patchwork?" Isadora asked, her voice ringing in the quiet street.

    "Eventually the people of Milia will stop asking that question," Patchwork said with a sigh. "We''re Studio Malatesta, Torchhand. We always know."

    "What do you want?"

    "It simply occurred to us, as we waited here in the snow, that our raid on Studio DaRose earlier this evening did not go as smoothly as some of us forecast. It occurred to me, especially, that this was most likely my fault."

    "Your fault?" Isadora asked suspiciously.

    "Our fault in failing to convey the relative position between DaRose and Malatesta," Patchwork somehow managed to look condescending even with the mask that covered his face. "Little Cog had somehow gotten it into her head that she could fight us, you see? Allowing that sort of misapprehension is what led to things turning so nasty."

    "You...you don''t have to worry," Elena spoke up, "that won''t happen again."

    "I would certainly hope not," Patchwork said, "however, it worries me that apparently our studio''s name wasn''t enough to let poor little Cog know of the futility of fighting us-"

    "Whatever you''re going to do, Patchwork, just do it," Arturo spat, "stop making a production out of it."

    "Very well," Patchwork seemed displeased by the outburst, and he snapped his fingers. One of the Mortalis without masks approached from behind them with a small bag. "Puello here will be taking your coins, if you please. Again."

    Grumbles rose among the small group of DaRose students, and Elena got a better grip on her hammer, but Dolce grabbed her gently by the wrist.

    "Six of us, ten of them," Dolce said quietly, "with Patchwork and Ripple included among those ten. These are worse odds than in the room." As if to punctuate her words, Dolce dropped her coin into the bag as Puello walked by. Elena grit her teeth, reaching into her pocket and running her finger along the cold metal of her coin. Two coins in a single night, and Patchwork made it sound like it was all her fault. Half of her wanted to collapse into tears, and half of her wanted to swing her hammer at the first person who came up to her for her coin.

    Her hammer, which, her storm informed her, would wear through the cloth enough to cause serious damage after only a few weeks'' worth of use if she used it too often without coming up with a more permanent solution than just binding the head with fabric. Indeed, according to the buzzing in her temples it would still break bone if she wasn''t careful; there wasn''t enough cloth to sufficiently soften a blow...

    "There we are, it wasn''t so bad giving up a second set of coins now was it?" Patchwork''s voice broke through Elena''s musings, and for a moment she wondered if Puello had forgotten to collect hers. "Oh, but it seems we missed one," Patchwork continued. "Cog, somehow Puello must have skipped you, how inopportune of him. Your coin now, if you would be so kind." He held out a gloved hand in her direction.

    Oh, Elena realized with a sinking feeling. He hadn''t forgotten, they just wanted to single her out...make her walk the few feet''s distance and give up her coin individually, in front of everyone. Proving a point. They like to make examples out of those who don¡¯t surrender.

    Her hand clenched into a fist, and the urge to cry bubbled even closer to the surface, as did the urge to lash out with her not-quite-safe hammer.

    Just do it, she ordered herself. You''ve been through worse, this isn''t as bad as Slug, it''s not even as bad as getting kicked out of De Luca''s studio. She crossed the empty space between groups, her footsteps crunching in the snow, with the garzoni of both studios watching her. Patchwork''s mask was impassive, but perhaps it was better that she couldn''t see his expression. Elena took a deep breath, fished the coin out of her pocket, and dropped it over his outstretched hand.

    "On second thought..." Patchwork withdrew his hand quickly, and Elena''s coin tumbled through the air and fell into the snow, "...Studio Malatesta really only accepts coins that are actually worth something."

    Time seemed to freeze as Elena looked down at the coin that stuck buried halfway in the snow. Her coin, the coin that represented her worth as an artist, sitting in the slush. Her coin, a proud little silver gear emblazoned on each side. It was bad enough that she had to give them up, both time had hurt, but she had mentally prepared for that; she¡¯d known she would have to give them up eventually. This was something entirely else. This was desecration.

    Her new studiomates were distant to her, her friends were in another studio, her Echo kept secrets from her, her mother was a city away..."Cog" was all that Elena had left. That little coin that lay dirtied in the snow was all she had.

    How dare he.

    Her temples didn''t buzz with the Storm, her entire body trembled with it. Her fingertips buzzed so hard that it felt as if the hammer was begging her to be swung, but at the same time it wasn¡¯t begging as hard as the little silver going on the ground. He didn¡¯t deserve the hammer. The Storm demanded she use the coin.

    Her mind wasn''t on fire, her mind was fire and it burned with an intensity that was unlike anything she had ever felt before. In the time it took Patchwork to casually turn his back on her, the Storm had filled her head with designs and plans, and she flicked through them in her mind so fast that she didn¡¯t even realize what she was thinking..

    There were impurities in one of the gear spokes on the coin, dropping the temperature to 60 degrees below freezing would allow a kick to shatter it and send shards of silver through Patchwork''s shin-

    Stupid, no way to lower temperature.

    It would take 25 libbra of pressure for the coin to puncture skin and muscle, severing vitals on the inside. 0.75 seconds to pick up the coin, 2 seconds to cross the distance between them and hold the coin against the back of his neck,  0.56 seconds to swing her hammer which would apply roughly 40 libbra, more than enough to-

    Too long, his teammates would stop me.

    1.23 seconds to swing the hammer against the ground, applying roughly 45 libbra to flatten the coin to a sharp edge. The sharpened edge would lowering the pressure needed down to a measly 11.6 libbra, and if she threw it hard enough-

    "It''s okay Elena." Hands on her shoulders interrupted the rapid and manic calculations in her mind, and Elena started as if she had just been woken up with a bucket of snow to the face. "We''ll get those bastards next time," Arturo was saying, casting a murderous glare at the retreating Malatesta students, "you''ll get revenge I promise."

    I was planning to kill him, Elena realized. The feeling was so horrifying that it left her speechless, and she suddenly started shaking in earnest. I was actually thinking of ways to kill him. She tried to speak, but all that came out was a choked sob.

    ¡°Elena, it¡¯s okay, it¡¯s not your fault,¡± Dolce approached from the other side, guiding her along with Arturo back to the group.

    "She''s alright," Arturo said, "she''s just had a rough night. We all have. Let''s just get home and figure out what to do in the morning." Elena bent down and retrieved her coin, the tears flowing freely now.

    What happened to me? she thought desperately, what''s wrong with me? She was vaguely aware of Ele watching her, silent but very attentive, and she couldn''t meet his gaze. I almost used my Storm to hurt someone...how could I...

    Despite how horrible she felt, despite how horrifying the knowledge had been, it was made even worse by the fact that she was still angry at Patchwork. There was an angry, bitter part of her that swore she would make Patchwork regret this night. She wouldn''t hurt him, certainly not kill him...but her Storm was on her side in this, she knew she could make it help her. She could make him pay.

    On the way back to the studio, Elena gripped her coin so tightly that it left a little pink imprint of a cog on her palm.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 48

    ¡°The Storm has a sick sense of humor.¡± Grabber resisted the urge to rub his eyes and nose with a charcoal-stained hand, instead just gritting his teeth and continuing to draw.

    ¡°If the charcoal dust is bothering you, you should take a break,¡± Arta was up in his Grabber¡¯s bunk, painting something or other, and he rolled his eyes at her.

    ¡°It¡¯s not as easy as that Arta, I can¡¯t just take a break when I¡¯ve got things to do. I have to bear through it, and just live with the pain. That¡¯s how my Storm works, there¡¯s nothing I can do about it, so I might as well learn to live with it.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a very positive way of looking at it,¡± Arta said.

    Grabber frowned at his Echo¡¯s cavalier attitude at his suffering. Sure, he was being positive, but she could at least offer some sympathy. He turned back to his drawing with a sigh. Nobody really paid attention to his pain, but then that wasn¡¯t exactly new. He was used to people taking advantage of his kindness, it came with the territory of being such a nice person.

    ¡°What are you working on?¡± Arta asked from the bed.

    ¡°Another fire piece. They¡¯ve been pretty effective so far, people are starting to remember me for them. I might switch to them exclusively.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you think there might be...kinder ways of handling fights?¡± Arta said carefully. Arturo scoffed, both at her mincing attitude and at her naivette.

    ¡°Ugh, not this again. You don¡¯t understand, I can be a nice person in everyday life, and people walk all over me but that¡¯s fine. If I¡¯m too nice in studio fights, people will still walk all over me, and that affects the whole studio.¡±

    ¡°I guess...¡± Arta said uncertainly. The charcoal flames that licked across the page began flickering, and Grabber leaned back, satisfied. He could tell his Echo was unconvinced, but as always she kept her reservations to herself like a coward. Another person might¡¯ve called her out, yelled at her until she said what was on her mind, but Grabber wasn¡¯t that kind of guy.

    Taking great care to use the edges so he didn¡¯t touch the surface of the paper, Grabber began rolling the paper into a tube.

    ¡°...I just sometimes wonder if we could-¡± Arta began suddenly, and Grabber¡¯s finger slipped across the page.

    ¡°OW! Stultus delicatus vir sortis!¡± Grabber bellowed, clutching at his finger. The burn may have only been in his head, but the pain was real. ¡°Didn¡¯t you see me rolling this up you innattentive bitch?¡± He shrieked.

    ¡°Arturo I¡¯m so sorry!¡± Arta clasped her hands to her mouth, ¡°I didn¡¯t realize I would startle you, are you okay? Is it bad?¡±

    Grabber took a deep breath, fixing Arta with a glare, but he hadn¡¯t touched the paper for very long and the pain was already subsiding.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, I forgive you,¡± he said with a wave of his hand. Most people wouldn¡¯t have been so magnanimous, but then he was one of the nicer people out there. He carefully retrieved the paper from the floor, rolling it into a tube and depositing it into one of the leather tubes that awaited it.

    ¡°How many does that make?¡± Arta asked quietly.

    ¡°Enough, I think. Bandolier is full.¡±

    ¡°Do you think maybe-¡± She was interrupted by a knock on the door, and Grabber made a quick visual sweep of his desk before Elena stepped in.

    ¡°Sorry to interrupt Arturo, do you have a second?¡±

    ¡°Of course! For you, anything,¡± Grabber gave the desk a second glance, but the only sketches were of waves or snowstorms. ¡°How can I help?¡±

    ¡°I vaguely remember in my books about Milia that there was a Faberi guild in this city,¡± Elena seemed a little intense, the fire still in her eyes from the night before. ¡°Do you know where I can find it?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s near the walls, between Red and White streets,¡± Grabber narrowed his eyes, ¡°not thinking of leaving us so soon, are you Elena?¡± As long as she was in the same studio as he was, Grabber was sure Elena would eventually come to her senses, dump the De Luca tool, and see how nice of a man had been by her side this whole time...but if she left the studio to join Faberi Guild, that made things difficult. ¡°I was looking forward to seeing what Cog could do with DaRose behind her. If it¡¯s Malatesta you¡¯re worried about, I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll leave you alone just because you¡¯ve left Studio DaRose.¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m not leaving...and I¡¯m definitely not running from Malatesta.¡± Elena seemed distracted, ¡°I just need to figure some things out, and I realized they might be able to help me.¡±

    ¡°Do you want some company? I just wrapped up a sketch, I¡¯d be happy to show you the way there.¡±

    ¡°No thank you, I can find it on my own. Thanks for the information, though.¡±

    He waited until Elena had shut the door behind her to speak.

    ¡°Shoot, I should¡¯ve said I didn¡¯t know where it was and offered to help her look.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no reason that Malatesta would go after Elena if she left, Arturo,¡± Arta said reproachfully.

    ¡°If she thinks there is, she¡¯ll be more likely to stay with people she knows can protect her,¡± Grabber explained.

    ¡°It was a really transparent lie, and if you keep doing that she¡¯s going to see right through you. It¡¯s really going to hurt your chances with her!¡±

    ¡°You really just don¡¯t know how to mind your own business do you?¡± Grabber growled. ¡°I wish I had never told you about how I felt about her.¡±

    ¡°If you hadn¡¯t, I wouldn¡¯t have gone along with your plan of lying to her from the beginning, telling her you got her a spot in the studio.¡±

    ¡°This is exactly what I¡¯m talking about, I don¡¯t even get the slightest bit of loyalty from you, when you¡¯re supposed to be on my side.¡±

    ¡°Trying to date a girl you like shouldn¡¯t have ¡®sides¡¯!¡± Arta exclaimed.

    ¡°Just...just leave me alone, will you? Please? I can¡¯t even stand to talk to you right now.¡±

    After a few moments of silence Arta slipped from the bed. At the door she half turned, but Grabber resolutely ignored her until she left. Even so, her words still stung long after she was gone.

    All I want is love, is that such a horrible thing? Why is it that so much to ask?

    He rose and locked the door, giving the room a quick once-over for Echoes before reaching beneath his desk. Firmly secured to its underside was a small leather pouch, and he slipped the three rolls of paper from it, rolling them out on the desk.

    He thought he had really captured Elena¡¯s smile in the first one, the lopsided grin that went well with her snub nose. Closing his eyes, he brushed a hand across the charcoal surface, and for a moment he felt soft skin, the back of Elena¡¯s hand brushing against his cheek. The second had been drawn from life, when both had been in the boiler room working. Her hair fell in her face, and she was biting her lower lip, a habit whenever she was lost in deep thought. It was his earliest drawing of her, and he noticed as he drew a finger across the lines that the edges of the picture were beginning to smudge. The scent of her hair, warm and bright, filled his nostrils. He breathed deeply for long moments after the scent faded, staring off into space and daydreaming.

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    The third was a bit risque, drawn from imagination, of course, and was the one he would be most embarrassed for her to see. Elena emerging from the rainsluice, strands of wet hair clinging to the sides of her face. She was holding a towel, but it had fallen askance so that it just barely covered her, and her expression was one of pleased surprise. Grabber brushed a thumb gently across the lower edge of the picture, and for a single, glorious moment he felt the warm of her in his arms, felt her breathing next to him.

    It faded all too soon, but he didn¡¯t sample them again. It was difficult finding the time and privacy to draw them, and the majority of them weren¡¯t touched by the Storm. Eventually enough of the charcoal would smudge that the picture would decay and become a flat, boring piece again, and he wanted to savor them for as long as he could before that point.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± he consoled himself in a murmur as he rolled them up again. ¡°Sometime, it¡¯ll be for real...¡±

    *

    ¡°Are you going to tell me where we¡¯re going?¡± Ele grumbled, looking up at the heavy snowfall and leaning into the heavy wind.

    ¡°That depends,¡± Elena said, ¡°are you going to tell me where you got that coat from?¡±

    Ele looked down at the oversized heavy coat, a rough brown leather with what looked like soft fur lining.

    ¡°I told you, it¡¯s the same place Echoes get all of their clothes,¡± he shrugged.

    ¡°But you won¡¯t tell me where that is.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t! I told you from the beginning Elena it¡¯s a secret I can¡¯t share with you!¡±

    ¡°So no, you aren¡¯t going to tell me where you got the coat,¡± Elena tugged at the sleeves of her own grey coat to keep the flakes of snow off of her wrists, ¡°so no, I¡¯m not going to tell you where we¡¯re going. The difference is that eventually, you¡¯ll find out where we¡¯re going on your own.¡±

    ¡°Alright, I get it. I shouldn¡¯t have changed into the coat. Excuse me for being excited about being able to change now.¡±

    Elena grit her teeth to keep herself from snapping at him. The feeling had been constant ever since she woke up, the feeling that it would only take one more comment to push her past her breaking point. It dragged down on her shoulders in the same way the mallet dragged down on the strap of her wrist.

    ¡°If I had known changing my clothes would upset you so much, I would¡¯ve stuck out the cold in my old clothes. It wouldn¡¯t have been fun,¡± Ele shivered and glanced up at the snowfall again, ¡°but I would¡¯ve done it.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not about clothes!¡± Elena stopped and whirled on her Echo. ¡°I don¡¯t care what you¡¯re wearing, you can wear whatever outfit you want!¡± Even though the snow seemed to muffle every sound, her voice bounced off of the storefronts around them. ¡°Even though you can¡¯t feel the snow, so your choice of costume has less to do with the actual weather and more to do with your own vanity.¡±

    ¡°For your information, I¡¯m allowed vanity now that it¡¯s one of the few vices I can actually enjoy,¡± Ele¡¯s tone was light and casual, a sure sign that Elena¡¯s words had hurt him. ¡°If not the change in clothes, what exactly has you in such a delightful mood this morning?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have any secrets from you. I¡¯ve never had secrets from you,¡± Elena turned her back on him, ¡°I don¡¯t think I even can have secrets from you.¡±

    ¡°Honestly, Elena is that all? It really makes you so angry that you only know 99.999% of my life instead of 100?¡±

    ¡°No! It¡¯s just...it¡¯s coming at a time where I feel like I don¡¯t have anything.¡± Elena knew she wasn¡¯t making much sense, but she wasn¡¯t quite sure how to articulate further. Ele was such a constant in her life, to have even the slightest jar to their relationship now hurt more than it should have. ¡°Last night when Patchwork dropped my coin, I wanted to kill him. I wanted it so badly, and even my Storm was helping me...¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound like the Elena I know.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought this morning. That it wasn¡¯t me at all. But you know what? Maybe that¡¯s good. Maybe my Storm was trying to push me into being the Elena who¡¯s actually worth something!¡±

    ¡°You are worth something, Elena, don¡¯t tell me that stupid trash-talk Patchwork said actually got to you.¡±

    ¡°Just because it was trash talk didn¡¯t make it untrue,¡± the strap was starting to dig into her wrist, and Elena hefted it angrily.

    ¡°If this is the ¡®new Elena¡¯ your Storm is turning you into, I¡¯m not sure I like the new Elena,¡± Ele said darkly.

    ¡°I¡¯ve lived my whole life as old Elena. What exactly has it gotten me? Old Elena wasn¡¯t good enough for Studio De Luca, old Elena might not even be good enough for Studio DaRose. Old Elena got her butt kicked twice last night...and every single time she got into any kind of conflict or fight. Patchwork, Slug, Cross-¡±

    ¡°Are you crazy? What could you have done to change any of that? What could you have done differently to avoid Cross shooting you with a crossbow in the hallway?¡±

    ¡°If I had my Storm acting like it did last night, maybe I could have. That¡¯s what I¡¯m saying, Ele, I¡¯m tired of not being able to do anything. There are so many opportunities that I haven¡¯t taken advantage of. Old Elena was content just sitting still and only looking as high as the next rung of the ladder, but new Elena...no, Cog is going to start doing things differently.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re talking about the Twisted,¡± Ele narrowed his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m still not sure how much I trust them, Elena.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not sure how much you trust me either,¡± Elena glanced at Ele¡¯s fur-lined coat and grit her teeth again, ¡°I promised you I wouldn¡¯t tell them where I am, I didn¡¯t promise I wouldn¡¯t see them again. Turning away good help is an old-Elena thing to do, and I¡¯m done being passive when I could be active.¡±

    She stopped in front of the building that Arturo had told her about, eying it critically for a few moments. The Faberi Guild was smaller than any of the studio, without any of the arches or embellishments that she had expected, but it was very solidly built, and there was a certain pleasing quality to the craftsmanship. Lifting her chin and trying to put her and her Echo¡¯s conversation behind her, Elena stepped inside.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 49

    Elena yawned and stretched, her eyes still closed. She was used to waking up to the chill of the unheated room, grasping for a tangled blanket while staying in the warm spot of the bed, but this morning there was neither bed beneath her nor cold around her, so she must have fallen asleep in the boiler room...

    Or I''m not in Studio DaRose at all. The blue light from her skin cast patterns across the walls as she opened her eyes, a puzzle-piece lightshow the filling the little hallway with a glow.

    ¡°I have things to do, why am I here?¡± Elena sighed. This hallway was slightly different, but the slight fuzziness around the edges of the world clearly indicated that she was in Black Furs¡¯ dream world.

    ¡°What are you complaining about? The Twisted can probably help you just as well as the Faberi Guild can. You¡¯re getting help becoming ¡®new Elena¡¯, nothing¡¯s changed there.¡± Ele was already up, on his feet with arms crossed and scowling. ¡°Nothing¡¯s changed for me either; I had no clue why we were going to the Guild, and now I have no clue why I was brought to this hellish place again.¡±

    ¡°When did I even fall asleep?¡± Elena asked, struggling to her feet and leaning against the wall to steady herself. ¡°I should be in the waiting room of the Faberi Guild.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d had a long night last night and didn¡¯t get much sleep thanks to Malatesta. The Guild secretary asked you to wait and the benches were comfortable.¡±

    ¡°Well as long as I¡¯m here, you¡¯re right, I might as well see if any of them can help me.¡± Keeping one hand on the wall to both keep her balance and light her way, Elena moved down the cold hallway, searching for the doors that had littered both sides of the hallway the last time she had been in the dream. The feeling of disorientation that marked this world hadn¡¯t gone away yet, and she took each step carefully.

    ¡°What about ¡®I hate it here¡¯ didn¡¯t they understand the last time?¡± Ele snarled, glancing over his shoulder.

    ¡°We don¡¯t even know if they invited us here, don¡¯t you remember? They said it would become easier and easier to join them in the dream world, and maybe I¡¯d be able to join without them inviting me first.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize that would mean I¡¯d have to tag along.¡±

    ¡°Honestly, what¡¯s so horribly unpleasant about being here Ele? It¡¯s a little fuzzy, but it¡¯s not bad.¡±

    ¡°Hard to explain. It¡¯s...intense being here. Too much is fuzzy, reality is fuzzy. It¡¯s like the air is made of insects, crawling into my head, buzzing, buzzing in my temples and along my fingertips...¡± Ele shuddered and grit his teeth. ¡°It¡¯s like too many conversations going on at once, each of them vitally important and all of them in whispers. And I also get the impression that something is watching me. Something bad and strong that thinks they have the right to do what they want to me...like Joanna times a million...¡± He trailed off, and Elena frowned. As frustrated as she was with him lately, the experience did sound pretty terrible.

    The hallway finally ended at a large metal-bound door, the first door she had seen so far. When she pushed it open the wood felt moist beneath her fingers, and she shivered at the damp odour. The small round room was smaller than both the huge dining hall and the overlarge balcony that had been her previous experiences with the castle, lit with pale pink orbs that mixed with the blue light coming from her skin. Shelves of bottles and books lined all sides of the stone walls, carefully labelled and clearly organized in some fashion. In the center of the room, a stone table served as a desk to the small girl with golden hair and golden eyes, who glanced up briefly as Elena entered.

    ¡°Oh...I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to disturb you,¡± Elena stammered, but the girl was looking past her at Ele.

    ¡°I thought he hated it here,¡± she said.

    ¡°He does, but I think I bring him whenever I fall asleep.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s easy to push him out, if he wants to be gone. Do you want to be gone, Elena¡¯s Shadow?¡±

    ¡°More than anything,¡± Ele shuddered again, looking over his shoulder down the dark hallway. The Golden Child reached out towards him and made a small motion, as if she was shooing away a cat. When Elena looked again, Ele was gone.

    ¡°Thank you, Golden...um...I don¡¯t know your name.¡±

    ¡°No Twisted knows my name, that¡¯s how I like it.. You can call me Little One, like the others do.¡±

    ¡°Thank you Little One. I love Ele, but he and I haven¡¯t been getting along lately at the best of times, so having him all cranky here...¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s common,¡± Little One hopped down from the chair where she¡¯d been standing and turned to the shelves, ¡°you become more familiar with your Storm, your Shadow pushes you to use it more often. The two of you disagree on how to use it, which causes arguments. It gets better with time, all of us experienced it.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not really what happened in my case...it¡¯s more that our whole relationship has been changing,¡± Elena said, ¡°he¡¯s hiding things from me, and where we used to understand each other without even speaking, now it seems like we can¡¯t really tell where the other is coming from.¡± The golden child gave her a searching look over her shoulder, but then turned back to the shelves. ¡°Anyways, I can leave you alone now...I know you don¡¯t really care for me.¡±

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t.¡± Little One took a book and a bottle from the shelf, ¡°but then, I don¡¯t like the other Twisted either, and we coexist well enough. Go ahead, have a seat,¡± she waved towards one of the stone seats by the table. Elena hesitated; what she really wanted to do was to find another Twisted, one who might help her figure out her Storm. On the other hand, the little girl had been so distrusting of her that it seemed a shame to ignore this strange olive branch from her.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you like the other Twisted?¡± she asked as she took the offered seat.

    ¡°Various reasons for various members,¡± Little One flipped through the pages of the book as she spoke, ¡°and more reasons the longer I know each of them. The most common is when they give up information without expecting anything in return. Some of them even try to get me to do the same.¡± She paused and gave Elena a pointed look.

    ¡°Oh. I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean for them to...wait,¡± Elena narrowed her eyes, ¡°are you saying that the last time I was here, when I asked for help with my Storm...¡±

    ¡°Mmm,¡± Little One nodded, again without looking up from her book, ¡°yes, I know things that could help you. And yes, they tried to convince me to tell you. As if I would throw away such information like it was worthless.¡±

    Elena took in the statement as Little One flipped a page, moving her lips silently as she read. While it was easy to believe that the golden-eyed little girl would withhold information from her, Elena wasn¡¯t sure why she would tell Elena that she was withholding it?

    ¡°Do you...are you saying you¡¯ll tell me more about my Storm for a price?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m only stating the fact that information is a currency. I¡¯m not suggesting a trade, just that I wouldn¡¯t give it away for free.¡±

    Despite Little One¡¯s casual demeanor, Elena gripped the cold edges of the stone chair beneath her. The very thing she had been searching for, suddenly dropped into her lap? The secrets to her Storm, the secret to so many things...understanding herself, revenge on Studio Malatesta, dragging Studio DaRose up through the ranks, maybe even being invited to the Milian Courts, who knew? De Luca had said her Storm had the potential to be one of the most powerful he had seen, and if a Master Artisan had said that...She was close, so close that she could almost taste it.

    ¡°What do you want to know? In exchange for telling me about my Storm?¡± Elena asked. She already suspected what the answer would be, even as Little One carefully bookmarked and closed her book, turning to face Elena fully for the first time since she had entered. Her golden eyes had no pupils, but Elena could feel the intensity of her stare for long silent moments.

    ¡°Would you tell me...¡± Little One hopped down from her seat again, and Elena was reminded just how small the little girl was as she made her way around the table. She stood in front of Elena, arms folded, staring up at her speculatively. ¡°...would you tell me where you are? Where I can find you? If you do that, I¡¯ll tell you what I¡¯ve observed about Twisted Storms.¡±

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    I knew it. The one thing I can¡¯t tell her. As if reading her thoughts, Little One spoke again.

    ¡°The others are very wise and very clever in their own ways, but they have the habit of denial when it comes to areas of their own personalities. I think I¡¯m the only one who can give you this advice.¡±

    Elena¡¯s mouth was dry, her knee bouncing nervously. Even though she had expected it, the question was even more tempting when spoken aloud. After all, they already knew her name...how hard would it be for them to find her eventually anyways? This way she could at least get something out of it...and what a something. Full control over her Storm, maybe even getting her life back on the path she knew it was meant for...a path that would lead her to the courts.

    On the other hand, it was the only favor that Ele had requested of her; to trust him.

    But he only asked for that favor because he didn¡¯t trust them...and now we know why he didn¡¯t trust them, because this place makes him magically paranoid, she reasoned, besides, he would be perfectly happy even if I never figured out my Storm. He doesn¡¯t care, he¡¯d be just as content if I were working in a merchant¡¯s shop as if I made it to the courts as an artisan.

    ¡°If you¡¯re hovering on the edge of a decision, just blurt it out and be done with it,¡± Little One murmured. Her golden eyes swivelled as she searched Elena¡¯s face, though where exactly they rested was a mystery. The little girl was so close that Elena could touch her, and somehow she was sharp and in focus where the rest of the world remained fuzzy around the edges.

    ¡°And...And you promise to tell me about my Storm if I tell you?¡± Elena faltered.

    ¡°I promise,¡± the little girl whispered, so quietly that even in the silence she made barely a sound. Elena took a deep breath and held it, as if she could force herself to keep the answer to herself, but when she exhaled with a sigh she let the words tumble out.

    ¡°Milia. I¡¯m in the city of Milia, a garzona in Studio DaRose, I call myself Cog.¡±

    Little One¡¯s face remained grave, her pose unaltered. Elena¡¯s hands began to tremble, but she waited as the silence between them stretched.

    ¡°Did you...did you hear what I said?¡± Elena ventured after almost a minute had passed.

    ¡°I heard you,¡± Little One said, ¡°and I believe you¡¯re telling the truth.¡±

    She leaned back and slapped Elena across the face

    ¡°Idiota absoluta!¡± The little girl shrieked, smacking her in the shoulder again. ¡°Ingenua y est¨²pida imprudente tonta tonta ni?a tonta!¡± Elena tried to scramble away from the screaming girl, tumbling over the chair in the process. Little One stopped screaming suddenly, though she glared down at Elena, her little hands clenched into fists. ¡°That was the stupidest thing you¡¯ve ever done, Elena Lucciano,¡± she hissed.

    ¡°Wh....what? You don¡¯t even know-¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have to know you to know that was the stupidest thing you¡¯ve ever done! I don¡¯t care what great heights you¡¯ve taken your ineptitude in your past, you idiot child, although I¡¯m sure they were great heights indeed. Tu dios italiano en el cielo, how on earth have you even survived this long? How can you possibly be so trusting?¡±

    ¡°Wait...but you wanted me to tell you where I lived!¡±

    ¡°That should¡¯ve been your foremost reason not to tell me! Every alarm bell in your addlepated little head should¡¯ve rung true at that moment! Me, a suspicious girl who admits to disliking you? Me, one of a group that you know has power and sway? You just take us at our word that we want what¡¯s best for you? You just assume that your best interests are what drive us?¡±

    ¡°But...but of course I¡¯d trust you, you¡¯re like me...Twisted-¡±

    ¡°You know that for sure, do you?¡± Little One interrupted, ¡°you have evidence beyond what you were shown here that makes you believe we¡¯re all so trustworthy? Do you know a thing about any of us beyond what we¡¯ve told you?¡±

    Elena could only open and close her mouth wordlessly. It was true, the only interactions she had had with the Twisted was in the dreams they had created. What did she really know about them? What was worse, there was nothing she could do about it now. Little One lapsed into silence again, fury somehow radiating from her eyes even though they were blank.

    ¡°What...what are you going to do?¡± Elena whispered.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to fulfill my end of the bargain and tell you about your Storm,¡± Little One growled, a sound that might be adorable from the little girl in another context, ¡°but just because you happened to get luckier than you deserve, in this one particular case, it doesn¡¯t excuse the horrifyingly stupid thing you just did.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m...I¡¯m sorry. You were just very convincing,¡± Elena got shakily to her feet, picking up the overturned chair with a trembling hand.

    ¡°You already know that the Twisted have Storms that don¡¯t make sense,¡± Little One began, pacing back and forth behind Elena¡¯s chair. ¡°They require certain contexts to work. The others already told you that much. What they didn¡¯t tell you is that each contexts is similar in a way.¡±

    ¡°They said they all had unique contexts that made their Storms work.¡±

    ¡°They do. But the one thing each of us have in common is that our Storms care more about us than about other people.¡±

    ¡°Storms aren¡¯t alive, they don¡¯t ¡®care about¡¯ anything,¡± now that she was starting to get over the shock, Elena began to feel a bit angry. It didn¡¯t seem very fair for the child to scold Elena for something she¡¯d convinced Elena to do.

    ¡°I never said Storms were alive, but they do care about things. The Storm makes choices all the time. Haven¡¯t you ever thought about why some people are chosen to be Stormtouched and some aren¡¯t? Don¡¯t you think Artifexes and Caeletors have been trying for years to discover why some paintings and sculptures are touched and some aren¡¯t? The Storm chooses, Elena, and for the Twisted the Storm¡¯s choices are quite easy to predict.¡±

    ¡°What are you saying? I¡¯ve used my Storm to help people before.¡±

    ¡°Have you? Have you ever been able to use your Storm in a situation where only someone else would benefit, not you?¡±

    ¡°If the Storm cared about me, it wouldn¡¯t have failed me when I needed it most!¡± Elena thought back to Studio De Luca¡¯s showing day.

    ¡°Oh but it will Elena, it will fail you the second it disagrees with your reasons for acting. If I were you, I¡¯d think back very carefully, considering exactly what your intentions were when your Storm has worked in the past. Think about when it failed you. Don¡¯t think of it as a skill you have, think instead of a watchful guardian. A watchful guardian who lets you have access to your power at some times, restricts access from you at others. Figure out what that guardian wants.¡±

    ¡°If what you¡¯re saying is true,¡± Elena said slowly, ¡°my Storm doesn¡¯t sound like a very nice guardian. It sounds like...a tyrannical bully.¡±

    ¡°And yet a few minutes ago you were so eager to trust a group of Twisted who have no problem working with their Storms.¡± Little One had returned to her perch on the chair, flipping her book back open with a snap.

    ¡°Why are you telling me all of this, Little One? If you think the Twisted are so horrible, why are you warning me about them...about you?¡±

    ¡°Close the door when you leave,¡± Little One said without looking up. Elena hesitated for a few moments, but when it became clear that the golden-eyed child wouldn¡¯t say anything further, she rose and made her way to the door. ¡°Oh, one more thing Elena.¡± Little One called.

    Elena turned to find the girl staring at her with dead golden eyes.

    ¡°If I ever hear of you being so brainlessly, astonishingly naive again, I will leave my home city. I will travel to Studio DaRose, on the Street of Grey Artisans in Milia. And I will cut your face off.¡±

    The little girl¡¯s voice was so deathly grave that sent a chill through Elena¡¯s body.

    ¡°Unless you want to live the rest of your days looking like Lucrecia with her faceless grin, it¡¯s time to wisen up now, Lucciano. There are monsters about.¡±

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 50

    ¡°Miss Lucciano? Miss Lucciano, we¡¯re ready for you miss.¡±

    It took a few hesitant shakes by the shoulder to wake Elena up, and the secretary looked mortified to be the one shaking. Even though she had only been walking through a hallway in her dream it took a few moments for Elena to reorient herself.

    ¡°Please forgive her, it¡¯s been a long night,¡± Ele apologized, and his voice brought Elena to consciousness with a sharp pang of mixed guilt and fear.

    What have I done? He only asked one thing from me, one little thing...

    ¡°Ah, it looks like she¡¯s up now. Welcome back to the land of the living, Elena.¡±

    ¡°Hello Miss Lucciano, I¡¯m sorry we kept you waiting for so long,¡± the secretary smiled apologetically, ¡°the Master is always quite busy at this time of year, as I¡¯m sure you can guess.¡±

    ¡°Wha?¡± Elena asked sleepily.

    ¡°Ah, perhaps you wouldn¡¯t know. In the winter months we tend to be swamped with requests for certifications and tests, by Faberi looking to be hired before the rheghen months. Unfortunately this means that the soonest we can have you tested is a month from now.¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes I suppose that makes sense,¡± Elena rose, gathering her cloth-covered hammer, ¡°but I actually think I¡¯m alright. I might have found an answer to my questions.¡±

    ¡°Oh...well, alright,¡± the secretary looked confused, ¡°well, I¡¯ve marked you down in the Faberi registry, so if you ever change your mind...¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to let you know, thank you, sorry for wasting your time!¡± Elena was already through the door as she called the apology over her shoulder. She winced at the light reflecting off of the snow, blinding after so long in the dark hallways. Although a biting wind had picked up since she was last outside, she wrapped her cloak tighter and continued on with determination.

    ¡°The Twisted told you something?¡± Ele asked excitedly, sprinting to catch up with her, ¡°you found out something about your Storm?¡±

    ¡°They told me...Little One, the gold-eyed girl, said to think of my Storm like a guardian. That all I needed to do was to figure out when it was helping me and when it wasn¡¯t, find out the rules, and I¡¯d know how to use it.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe she of all people was the one to help you. I would¡¯ve guessed she was the last person to count on,¡± Ele said.

    ¡°Um...Yeah, I was surprised too.¡± She couldn¡¯t tell him that she had given up the secret, not with the way things had been between them lately. A part of her knew that it would come out eventually, but she would put it off for as long as she could. ¡°I guess we¡¯d just been reading her wrong?¡±

    ¡°If the Storm is a guardian, it does a pretty poor job of guarding you. It would¡¯ve been nice if it had been looking after us when we needed it to prove ourselves to De Luca.¡±

    ¡°Or when Slug attacked.¡±

    ¡°Or any of the times when it would¡¯ve been nice to get away from your mother.¡±

    Elena fell silent, backtracking through her usage of the Storm, imagining some nebulous it standing nebulously over her. For long minutes the pair remained silent as they walked.

    ¡°It must like furniture,¡± Ele noted, ¡°you¡¯ve never had a problem making furniture back in Carpi.¡±

    ¡°It didn¡¯t seem to mind when I made gifts for the other De Luca garzoni-¡±

    ¡°But it wouldn¡¯t help you build Niccolo¡¯s bow, which was a gift for another De Luca garzoni. Hmm, maybe your Storm just won¡¯t work for people you want to make out with,¡± he gave her a sidelong glance, and in spite of herself Elena smiled back. For a second, their old camaraderie was back, the lighthearted teasing that had been the norm before they had started disagreeing so often. ¡°Anyways, that¡¯s probably important somehow. What was different between Niccolo¡¯s bow and Frederica¡¯s knives?¡±

    ¡°When I made the knives I was trying to prove to myself I could do it, but when I tried to make the bow I was trying to prove to De Luca I could do it?¡±

    ¡°But you weren¡¯t trying to prove anything to anyone when you made furniture back home, you just did it for fun. Hell your mother tried to stop you for a while, before she realized she could sell what you made. And your lockpicks had nothing to do with proving anything to anyone.¡±

    ¡°Neither does the hammer,¡± Elena bit her lip. ¡°It must¡¯ve had something to do with the difference between the bow and the knives.¡±

    ¡°Is there any way we can take a look at the knives again? Maybe actually getting your hands on them would spark some idea?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the plan,¡± Elena stopped and hefted her hammer onto her shoulder, waiting for Ele to look up for the first time on their journey.

    He stares at his feet when he¡¯s thinking, Elena realized. He¡¯s been by my side, why have I never realized that before?

    In front of them the familiar sight of De Luca¡¯s studio loomed, practically sparkling with its dusting of snow. Her toes grew cold as she stood, letting her gaze wander over the sharp lines, then linger on the roof for another few moments.

    ¡°Is there a reason you¡¯re stalling?¡± Ele asked. Snowflakes drifted through his body, and he tugged his coat closer around him.

    ¡°It took less than two weeks for this place to feel strange to me,¡± Elena was hesitant to open the front door. No matter how many times she had opened it in the past, the sad truth was that Studio De Luca no longer felt like her home. ¡°I¡¯ll open it in a second...I just want to look at it for a bit.¡± The pair stood outside, letting the soft flakes of snow settle around them.

    ***

    ¡°Good afternoon, Miss Lucciano, what a delight to see you again,¡± Pietro¡¯s stone smile did not extend to his eyes, but his tone was respectful. He stood next to his desk, his childlike height obscured by the pile of books he was using as a stool. Freja, Frederica¡¯s creation made of maplewood, sat in his chair at the desk, and she grinned when she saw Elena.

    ¡°Hello, Elena!¡± Freja said with a little wave.

    ¡°Hi Freja,¡± Elena said, ¡°I didn¡¯t know if you¡¯d remember me, since you were a little...distracted when we saw each other.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah, that¡¯s all better now,¡± the wooden girl rubbed absentmindedly at the middle of her shirt, ¡°I don¡¯t remember a lot, but Frederica talks about you all the time. She misses you.¡±

    ¡°I miss her too. I feel a little out of place at Studio DaRose still.¡±

    ¡°Ahem,¡± Pietro interjected pointedly. ¡°Do you have business in Studio De Luca that I can help you with, Miss Lucciano?¡±

    ¡°I need to talk to everyone...or I guess just Niccolo and Frederica. I was hoping you could let me in, so I didn¡¯t have to break the lock again,¡± Elena smiled.

    ¡°I appreciate your restraint,¡± Pietro did not return her smile, but after a moment he hopped down from the books and walked briskly into the hallway to unlock the door to the courtyard.

    Though the courtyard still retained its ice-covered charm, three of the garzoni were standing outside when Elena entered. Leanarda held a large book open, and was pointing something out to Niccolo and Frederica. Frederica stood with arms crossed and a frown, but Niccolo was leaning closer to get a better look, clearly fascinated.

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    The sight of the two of them so close was enough to stop Elena in her tracks, confused by the rush of feelings that assaulted her. At first she felt betrayed, then guilty for feeling betrayed, then hurt and angry, and finally a little silly.

    It¡¯s not as if there¡¯s anything happening between the two of them, she reasoned, especially not with Frederica there. Besides, Niccolo wouldn¡¯t do anything like that. Of course De Luca garzoni would be comfortable around each other.

    ¡°Elena!¡± Frederica shouted, loud enough that Leanarda squeaked and almost dropped the book. On her way to join the group, Elena couldn¡¯t help but notice the flash of guilt that passed over Leanarda¡¯s face, and she immediately felt a little less silly.

    ¡°Seeking out weaknesses in our defenses?¡± Niccolo asked, gathering her into a hug and holding her tight. ¡°Studio DaRose using cute girls as spies, now that¡¯s playing dirty.¡± Elena closed her eyes and let herself be swept away for just a moment, enjoying his strong arms and the scent of violets and leather around her before she shook herself and returned to the business at hand.

    ¡°It¡¯s wonderful seeing you again, but I¡¯m actually here because I need to see the tools I made you, Frederica. I think it might help me with my Storm-¡±

    Frederica had already started moving towards the door, waving off Elena¡¯s explanation.

    ¡°The mystery of the Fabera powers is finally coming to a close, eh?¡± Nicci asked. ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re finally getting closer to an answer!¡±

    ¡°I wish it had happened a little sooner,¡± Niccolo said.

    ¡°Is it...wise,¡± Leanarda broke in, carefully, ¡°to help Cog with her powers, since technically she¡¯s from a different studio? Arming our enemies and all? Hell, that hammer looks dangerous enough without a Fabera¡¯s craftsmanship...¡± she trailed off when Niccolo turned and glared at her, raising her free hand in surrender, ¡°...alright, alright, that¡¯s fine I get it. Cog is a special case.¡±

    The small group stood in awkward silence for a few moments until Frederica returned with the small pouch of knives, Fred at her side.

    ¡°I¡¯ve used all of them since you made ¡®em, so I hope you didn¡¯t need a fresh one,¡± she said, displaying the case. ¡°Is there something in the knives that¡¯s a clue? Something like ¡®you can only make things that are used by other craftsmen¡¯?¡±

    Elena paused, turning the thought over in her head.

    ¡°N..no, I don¡¯t think so,¡± she said, ¡°because my Storm worked on this hammer, and I use it. That¡¯s a pretty good guess though. How did you know it was so complex?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a Caelator whose art can only be Touched if it¡¯s worked in maplewood. I know how frustrating it can be to not know your Storm. I would still be in the dark myself if it weren¡¯t for my niece.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t even know you had siblings!¡± Elena selected one of the knives at random, turning it over in her hands, ¡°what did your niece do that helped you?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a story for another time, maybe.¡± Frederica gave a sidelong glance at Leanarda, who flushed and looked away. In spite of herself Elena felt a surge of appreciation for Frederica.

    No, I¡¯m being unfair to Leanarda, she chastised herself, she did what she did to stay in the Studio, just like I should¡¯ve. And right now she¡¯s just trying to make friends in the studio, just like I was.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re thinking about, but I can tell you¡¯re not focusing.¡± Ele¡¯s wry tone brought her back to the present, and she began examining the knife in her hands in earnest. Not even the faintest hint of a Storm¡¯s tingle touched her temples or fingers, even though she remembered the designs that ran along the handle.

    ¡°Familiar, but no Storm,¡± she murmured.

    ¡°Alright, so we have a single item that the Storm used to work on, but now doesn¡¯t. What changed between then and now? Why doesn¡¯t your ¡®guardian¡¯ want you knowing anything about it?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a De Luca garzona anymore, that¡¯s changed,¡± Elena suggested.

    ¡°That can¡¯t have anything to do with it, you made the furniture and a lockpick before you came here and the hammer after you left.¡±

    ¡°Frederica has used the knives since the Storm worked, that¡¯s different. Maybe it doesn¡¯t like me using the Storm on things other people have touched.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not it either; your Storm works on the bed in DaRose¡¯s studio. It may be yours now, but it definitely belonged to someone before you.¡±

    ¡°¡®It may be mine now¡¯...¡± Elena bit her lip. ¡°Frederica, I know it¡¯s a huge favor, but...could I have this knife back? If I got you another one?¡±

    ¡°Not that one, I use it too often.¡± Frederica ran a hand across the knine handles in the satchel, finally selecting one and passing it over. ¡°What about this one? Hey watch it!¡±

    Elena was so eager that she almost stabbed Frederica with her own knife, fumbling to exchange the two.

    ¡°So, just to be clear, this knife is mine now?¡± she asked, ¡°all mine?¡±

    ¡°Sure, if it¡¯ll help you.¡±

    The lower end of the design will bow a bit after a few more months of use, since the full weight of each stroke is applied to it. The tip of the blade has a nick despite the high strength of the metal, meaning it must¡¯ve fallen onto stone once or twice. Dirt has begun to collect in between the handle and the lilium iron grip, and with no way to clean it the handle will gradually loosen over time.

    The Storm hit her like a headache, snapped across her fingers like the end of a whip. Beside her Ele drew a sharp breath through his teeth. Elena felt almost dizzy, though she didn¡¯t know why. Her thoughts were jumbled, as if she was trying to get a mental word in edgewise around the information the Storm gave her.

    Mine.

    ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± she breathed, ¡°the Storm works on things that are mine.¡±

    ¡°What about when you made furniture at home?¡±

    ¡°Even then, it was still my furniture, until we put it into the shop,¡± Elena was so excited her hands were shaking.

    Mine.

    The word resounded in her head, as if whispered by something so vast and significant that there was only room in her mind for the single word.

    ¡°I think...I think that¡¯s it,¡± Ele said. ¡°It feels...right.¡±

    Mine.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if it feels ¡®right¡¯, exactly,¡± Elena said. The tingling her her fingertips and temples should¡¯ve felt familiar, she should¡¯ve felt happier, but instead she only felt vaguely uneasy. ¡°But it does feel like we¡¯ve finally figured it out.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve figured it out!¡± Ele whooped. He tilted his head at Elena, apparently noticing her lack of excitement, ¡°just think, Elena, now that we know how to use the Storm, imagine how much we can accomplish! The Storm will work on anything that¡¯s ours!¡±

    ¡°Anything that¡¯s ours,¡± Elena agreed quietly, nodding and ignoring the voice that whispered in her head.

    Anything that¡¯s mine.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 51

    "Tell me something, Goldtongue."

    "Of course, Your Majesty. Would you like me to tell you something in particular, or do you simply miss the sound of my voice? I¡¯m quite capable of babbling on without cease, but I was under the impression that particular skill annoyed you."

    In spite of himself, King Thesslenario smiled. "No one can be quite so glib as a Rhetor," he said wryly. "I would like you to tell me, specifically, how many years you''ve been in my service."

    "I have served Italoza since the day I was born, Majesty; so one might say that I have been in your service for my entire life." The King gave him a look, and Goldtongue raised his hands in mock surrender, "I''m sorry for being glib when you''re trying to craft a narrative. I''ve served you for twenty-six years."

    "And how many times have you gone above and beyond your duties? How many favors have you won from your king?"

    "There are some who would say that counting favors owed to you by a king is a dangerous business, majesty."

    "Honestly, Tongue, I''m trying to make a point here, must you be so pedantic?"

    "More favors than I can count, Majesty," Goldtongue sighed.

    "Yes, well, I think the entire countless pile of them is squared, as of this morning. That I''m even considering this meeting makes me question my sanity."

    "I¡¯m happy to consider them repaid, majesty. Setting up this meeting will make for an admirable first favor to start a new countless pile."

    "What happened to not being glib?"

    "I''m a Rhetor, Majesty, I don''t think I''m capable of not being glib."

    "At least you''re honest."

    The two men chuckled, the easy good humor of two who had worked side by side over decades, as King Thesslenario glanced out at the city that spread out beneath them. A light rain was falling, but the balcony was protected by an overhang, leaving him with only the beautiful sight of the city and the vague scent of rain on stone.

    The responsibilities of the crown didn¡¯t make Florenzia any less beautiful, but the beauty of the city was often a good reminder of what exactly that crown meant. He didn¡¯t understand how anyone could look down on that breathtaking city through the rain and believe that they were somehow above it all, and he found several of his ancestors difficult to relate to because of it. What good was power if the people of Italoza had to pay for his use of it?

    "Majesty?¡± one of his attendants broke through the King¡¯s reverie, ¡°you said to inform you when the stonemason arrived. He is here with his family, Sire."

    ¡°Send them all in, and the translator as well.¡± King Thesslenario gave Goldentongue a dark look as the attendant scurried away. ¡°A countless pile of favors, Tongue. I hope it¡¯s worth it.¡± His advisor clasped his hands behind his back and turned back to the view, not responding. ¡°A silent Rhetor, I¡¯ve seen it all.¡±

    ¡°Your Majesty, may I present Diego Nelleda, stonecrafter, his wife Isabel, and their daughter Mia.¡±

    King Thesslenario turned to appraise the family. Diego was tall and handsome, his wife thin, their daughter a little wisp of a thing, but they shared their raven hair, dark-tanned skin, and bright eyes. Diego clutched his hat and shifted his weight from one foot to another, his wife stood still and stiff as a statue, and his daughter hid behind the woman¡¯s skirts; it was clear they were all terrified.

    ¡°Hello Master Nelleda. I¡¯m glad that you were able to make your way to my court,¡± King Thesslenario said. He waited patiently as the translator conveyed his welcome to the family and Diego replied in Espanan, haltingly and with a stammer.

    ¡°Diego thanks you for your welcome, but he says he does not know why he is here. He says he is sure you have stonecrafters more skilled than he,¡± the translator said quietly.

    ¡°We have wonderful stonecrafters here in Italoza, but I assure you, Master Nelleda that none of them can provide exactly what you can,¡± the King smiled, ¡°your experience in the Espanan methods of stonework, your grand reputation...suffice it to say, I¡¯m quite glad you agreed to relocate your family to work with us.¡±

    He approached to shake Diego¡¯s hand, smiling genially and reading the man carefully. Nelleda looked confused but hesitantly pleased as the translator conveyed the words, his wife even more mollified. Thesslenario paused, trying to think of a way to put the man even more at ease. ¡°Hello there little Miss Nellada,¡± he said, crouching down to be at eye level with the child. To his side his attendant stiffened at the sight of the King getting down on one knee, but Thesslenario brushed the thought aside; this was more important. ¡°Do you know who I am, child?¡±

    When the translator passed on his question, the girl looked up at her mother, as if too frightened to speak without permission.

    ¡°Contestarle, peque?a,¡± Isabel gave her daughter a little push to move her out from behind her skirt.

    ¡°Usted...usted...¡± the little girl stammered, her green eyes wide as saucers, ¡°usted es el rey de Italoza?¡±

    ¡°She says you are the king of-¡± the translator began.

    ¡°Yes, I understood, thank you,¡± King Thesslenario rose and turned back to the railing. ¡°Well, Master Nelleda, I¡¯m sure you¡¯re eager to move your family into your new home, I won¡¯t keep you here any longer. Before you depart...we happen to be quite close to the new wing of the palace. Perhaps you and your family would like to take a look at it, to see where you will be working for the next few years? My advisor could show you around.¡±

    ¡°He says he would love to see it, but doesn¡¯t know if a half-finished wing is safe for his child to walk around in,¡± the translator said after a small exchange.

    ¡°You may leave the girl here with me on the balcony,¡± King Thesslenario said, ¡°she can look out at the city, and when you¡¯re done you can pick her up.¡±

    Goldtongue ushered Diego and Isabel out the way they came, tailed by the translator and jabbering the entire way. After her parents left, the little girl was so silent that it seemed as if she was holding her breath, which suited Thesslenario for the moment. He turned back to the view of the city he had been enjoying before the interruption, watching the tiny trail of people the size of pinpricks wend their way through the streets.

    After a few moments the King glanced to his side to see the girl creeping up to the railings herself, her tiny fingers gripping the edge as she looked down at the city below. The King of Italoza and the Espanan stonecutter¡¯s daughter stood side by side, taking in the sight in silence for long minutes.

    ¡°Do you know who I am, child?¡± King Thesslenario asked again without looking at the girl.

    ¡°I think I have an idea, your majesty, although I don¡¯t know if I should say it aloud,¡± the child answered, without a trace of accent.

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    ¡°A little girl could get in trouble, keeping secrets from her new king.¡±

    ¡°A little girl could get in trouble by offending her new king just as easily.¡±

    ¡°Let us pretend for a moment that I am not so easily offended.¡±

    ¡°Then I would answer that you¡¯re a bit of an enigma, your majesty. You¡¯re known as a good man, but I don¡¯t think that¡¯s true. I think you¡¯re a very frightened man.¡±

    ¡°Do I strike you as being frightened right now?¡± The situation was too ludicrous to be offensive, having this conversation with a child of six years, but something about her grave little frown and furrowed brow kept King Thesslenario from finding it funny.

    ¡°A frightened man couldn¡¯t stay King for long if he wasn¡¯t also an excellent actor. I would be foolish if I expected you to seem frightened.¡±

    ¡°Then what exactly makes you believe I am a frightened man, rather than a good man?¡±

    ¡°A good man doesn¡¯t worry so much about his reputation as a good man. But I know that you¡¯re clever, Majesty, and a clever man would be frightened in your position. Through no fault of your own you happened to be King in a time of turmoil like the world has never seen. No matter your other legacies, in the histories you¡¯ll be known as the first King in a new preternatural world. The first King over a Stormtouched Italoza, and the first mortalis King at that.¡±

    King Thesslenario let the child speak, looking down at the city below.

    ¡°Everything has changed, thanks to the Storm. Peasants have become warriors that surpass your highest trained generals. Political enemies have cropped up overnight, enemies whose words are able to sway the people like never before. The artisans in your court, most of them, are only the highest of nobility because they are in your court; their art is no longer the best in Italoza like it used to be.¡±

    ¡°What a rosy and merry child you are,¡± King Thesslenario sighed.

    ¡°I find very little to be gained by pretending reality is what it isn¡¯t, Majesty.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t that anything you¡¯ve said is untrue, although perhaps I might¡¯ve put a more positive spin on some things.¡±

    ¡°That is a part of your role, as King of Italoza.¡±

    ¡°Tell me, if you were in this role, how exactly would you combat this dilemma?¡±

    ¡°Luckily for me, I am not King. I¡¯m just the little girl of a foreign nobody.¡±

    ¡°Indulge me. As a mental exercise.¡±

    The child¡¯s eyes were so naturally wide, it made her seem younger than she actually was when she turned to him.

    ¡°I said you were a clever man, majesty; you¡¯ve already done what I would do. You¡¯re a mortalis, so you¡¯ve started gathering the most powerful Stormtouched around you. You know the power of intelligence, so you gather the most clever.¡±

    ¡°How do you know I¡¯ve been gathering Stormtouched?¡±

    ¡°Your bodyguard didn¡¯t bother checking my family for weapons; too overconfident for a mortalis bodyguard. Your translator doesn¡¯t speak Espanan very well; too under-competent to be in your court if that was all he could do. Your advisor is called ¡®Goldtongue¡¯, even a normal six-year-old could pick up on that hint. Besides, I hardly think it was coincidence that brought me here, having this discussion with you, any more than I think an Italozan King happened to hear about a stoneworker foreman¡¯s reputation from two countries away.¡±

    King Thesslenario smirked. Despite his reservations, he was growing to like the little girl.

    ¡°You said I was a frightened man. Why would a frightened Mortalis surround himself with people of such power? Wouldn¡¯t I be worried about the loyalty of all of these powerful Stormtouched around me?¡±

    ¡°Majesty, there are a million ways to gain someone¡¯s loyalty, and with no disrespect, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised to learn you had used all of them. Blackmail, bribery, the army, the church...  Capitalizing on someone¡¯s patriotism, or giving them honors and station that they are unused to. Perhaps importing someone away from their home to a place where she knows no one, employing her father far beyond his abilities. Making the court all she knows, the vague unspoken threat of harm to her and her family hanging over her head.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to have to swallow my pride and commend Goldtongue,¡± Thesslenario said, ¡°he didn¡¯t exaggerate about you. I would prefer, of course, to have a more friendly relationship with you than one of threats, unspoken or not.¡±

    ¡°So I am to be a part of your court then? Perhaps a secret for some years, until I¡¯m old enough to be at your side in my own right?¡±

    ¡°That was the general idea, yes. The story will be that I take a paternal interest in you and take you under my wing, and we¡¯ll find some way to involve you in Council meetings and the like without your parents finding out...and without broadcasting to the world that the King takes advice from a child.¡±

    ¡°Besides, you don¡¯t want it known what a resource this child is.¡±

    King Thesslenario hid another smile behind his hand. However else her mind might¡¯ve developed, she certainly still had a child¡¯s frankness. He would be worried about her ability to survive in the court¡¯s dangerous atmosphere of intrigue, but he got the feeling that she would catch on quickly enough.

    ¡°What type of Storm is it, exactly, that makes you this way?¡± he asked, ¡°Rhetor, Caelator, Fabera, Artifex, Lanista...you don¡¯t seem to fall in any of the categories we know. Do I have to worry about Stormtouched masterminds now as well?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a question I¡¯ve asked myself for some time now, Majesty. I don¡¯t think there are any others like me.¡±

    ¡°You sound unsure.¡±

    ¡°I am unsure of a lot of things about the Storm. I think we-¡± the child stopped talking suddenly, staring out at the city in silence. After a few moments the door behind them creaked as the attendant entered.

    ¡°Your majesty, the Nelladas have concluded their tour and are ready to depart,¡± the attendant said quietly.

    ¡°I¡¯ll send their daughter out to them in a moment,¡± the King said, and the attendant respectfully retreated. ¡°It was a pleasure to meet you, Mia.¡±

    ¡°My parents will probably wonder, if you call me by my given name. It¡¯s not very appropriate, given our relative positions.¡±

    ¡°I see. Yes, a King speaking to a child like an equal will probably raise eyebrows. What should I call you, then?¡±

    ¡°Something offhandedly affectionate, vaguely condescending. ¡®Peque?a¡¯, perhaps? My uncle sometimes calls me that.¡±

    ¡°Is that Espanan? It wouldn¡¯t make sense for me to give you an Espanan name.¡±

    ¡°Use the Italozan translation then. You can call me ¡®Little One¡¯.¡±

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 52

    Room of Council, Florezian Palace, 80 years past

    ¡°My conclusion, council, is much the same as it¡¯s ever been. Italoza is dying, the flames of its destruction will soon catch throughout the country, and it will burn to ashes unless we get ahead of it. I¡¯ll end my report here, to avoid giving the same speech I¡¯ve given for ten years in a row, but I continue to be baffled that all of you are so tranquil about this.¡±

    The teenaged girl didn¡¯t so much sit down as she flounced into her seat, crossing her arms angrily and glaring around the table at the most powerful men in the world. King Thesslenario had to struggle to remember that her opinions needed to be taken just as seriously as his other advisers, despite the fact that she looked for all the world like a brooding teen.

    ¡°I think I speak for all of us when I thank you for not giving us your annual ¡®Italoza is doomed¡¯ speech, Little One. The fact remains that my answer to you is the same,¡± Ercole the Coinmaster used to gesture effusively when he spoke, but old age had turned the enthusiastic gestures into vague shrugs, ¡°the economy has risen over the past two decades. The commoners are less poor, the merchant class has more jobs, and our courts have become known for the best in artistry and culture. The burning Italoza you describe seems to have nothing to do with the Italoza we live in, Little One.¡±

    ¡°A castle can burn on the inside and still look beautiful from the outside!¡± Little One protested, ¡°and until you have your ear to the ground you won¡¯t be able to hear the embers!¡±

    ¡°I think you¡¯re getting your metaphors a little mixed, child. And perhaps when you¡¯re older you¡¯ll learn not to jump at shadows.¡±

    ¡°There is no need to be insulting, here.¡± The voice of Admiral Damiano boomed even when he wasn¡¯t shouting, and it was effective at silencing the old Coinmaster. ¡°Ercole, every member of this council was selected by King Thesslenario, and as such deserves respect. Little One, we all appreciate your concerns, we truly do, but the simple fact is that none of us can see the effects of what you¡¯re talking about.¡± One by one the burly man swung a hand round the table to indicate the assembled council of advisors. ¡°Ercole may not know Italoza inside and out, but he knows what the coin says, and the coin is strong today. Abele can barely make change, but his Watch have not seen the unrest that you seem to think is around every corner.¡±

    ¡°If anything, the Watch¡¯s job has been easier now that we have Lanisti and Sagittari we can hire,¡± Abele nodded.

    ¡°I have no knowledge of the Watch, but I can tell you that the threats on the border have decreased, and we¡¯ve had no issues of authority among our soldiers. Magister Settimo will know more about the crime of Italoza than I, but I¡¯ve heard of no great increase in executions or trials.¡±

    ¡°The guilty are tried and condemned, same as they ever were,¡± Magister Settimo said slowly, stroking his long red beard, ¡°Stormtouched or Mortalis it makes no matter.¡±

    Mia continued to brood at the end of the table, but she made no comment. King Thesslenario felt sorry for the child, but it was his habit to remain largely silent at council meetings, and he let Abele continue.

    ¡°That is how this council has always worked, Little One. None of us can have full knowledge of everything in Italoza, but rather we are experts in our specialized spheres. The King hears us all so that he might have an understanding of the whole. Economy from Ercole, internal security from Abele, law from Settimo, external security from myself, matters regarding the Stormtouched from Goldtongue...¡±  Damiano faltered for a moment, his eyes flicking to the two at the table he had not mentioned, ¡°...and her majesty and yourself, Little One, to help the King in matters that may require a woman¡¯s delicate sensibilities.¡±

    It was an extremely clumsy attempt at a save, but then Damiano was hardly the most tactful of men. Abele might¡¯ve been able to think of a less condescending theory for why Little One and the Queen were present for council meetings, but Damiano simply plunged ahead with the stubborn steadfastness of a charging bull.

    ¡°My point is, we are all here because the King trusts our expert opinions. You should trust your King.¡±

    An awkward silence fell at the end of Damiano¡¯s words, during which Mia swept the table with a scathing glare but remained quiet.

    ¡°I believe now is as good a time as any to suggest a short break for luncheon,¡± Goldtongue said, ¡°we¡¯ve been at this for four hours and have quite a lot yet to get through.¡±

    ¡°Little One, would you mind staying for a moment?¡± King Thesslenario said as the counselors began shuffling their way out of the throne room. Queen Elaide and Goldtongue remained in their seats as well, but the King waited until all of the others had left before turning to Mia.

    ¡°I should never have taken on ¡®Little One¡¯ as a name,¡± Mia seethed before the King could speak. ¡°It was one of the more foolish things I¡¯ve ever done. As if I wouldn¡¯t have trouble enough being taken seriously.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re set in their ways, Little One, they don¡¯t take well to change,¡± King Thesslenario said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°You have nothing to apologize for, Majesty. You, at least, hear me when I speak. I understand that you won¡¯t take action when every other voice on the council is reassuring you that all is well.¡±

    ¡°Not every other voice. My voice has been silent on this issue,¡± Goldtongue said, ¡°I am not sure enough to argue on your side, but I understand your doubts that all is well.¡±

    ¡°Why is it so hard for you two to believe that all is well?¡± the King asked. ¡°You seem to think me a fool to believe everything will proceed as normal, but you¡¯ve been worrying for years and yet here we are, the same old Italoza.¡±

    ¡°Majesty, this meeting has been the perfect example of why things will change! They don¡¯t listen, they don¡¯t change, they assume that all will continue as it has. The Storm doesn¡¯t fall along class lines, it doesn¡¯t fall along gender lines.How much longer do you think we have before the commoners realize they have commoner Stormtouched on their side? Or the slaves? Or the women?¡±

    ¡°Before the Storm, bloodlines and the law were enough to keep Italoza running smoothly. The commoners have Stormtouched among them, yes, but so does the nobility. On average, no power has shifted, everything balances out. Besides, a rebellion takes dissent, and the people have had more prosperity under my reign than they have ever known!¡±

    ¡°The Storm is unpredictable, Majesty. Having Stormtouched scattered throughout the classes doesn''t make ¡®everything balance out¡¯.¡±

    The King sighed and leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head and staring up at the ceiling. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mia smirk and look down at her lap. To his right, Queen Elaide smiled demurely, and Goldtongue chuckled.

    "Echoes," Thesslenareo muttered, "I don''t suppose anyone wants to fill me in?"

    "It was nothing, dearest," Elaide said soothingly, "Mi made a small jest, it has no bearing."

    "If it was nothing, perhaps we can return to the matter at hand," Thesslenareo tried not to snap.

    ¡°What can I do, majesty?¡± Mia pleaded. ¡°What can I do to convince you that Italoza stands on a knife¡¯s edge?¡±

    ¡°Little One, you¡¯re the cleverest on my council by far, but Damiano has a point. You don¡¯t know all of Italoza. I can¡¯t simply take you at your word when your word contradicts what every other person on my council says. To convince me, first you must convince all of them.¡±

    ¡°A task which I can never accomplish, not if I had a thousand years.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re sixteen autumns old, Little One! You¡¯re likely to get your way through sheer stubbornness, by dint of the fact that you¡¯ll outlive everyone else on the council! Infernum, the little prince will probably hear enough of your complaining to agree with you and take your side once I¡¯m gone.¡± Thesslenareo reached out and placed a hand gently on Elaide¡¯s belly, and was rewarded with a weak kick. Little One smiled at the display, but her smile soon faded into the brood that she had been wearing more and more often recently.

    ¡°Assuming Italoza lasts that long. If there isn¡¯t a monumental change there will be a rebellion, and we can¡¯t weather a rebellion. Our neighbors wouldn¡¯t give the new regime the years they needed to stabilize, they would pounce straight away. The rebels wouldn¡¯t stand a chance.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad to see your concern for me is still a top priority,¡± King Thesslenareo said wryly.

    ¡°There¡¯s only so much my mind can handle, majesty, no matter how well I¡¯ve built it. If I can¡¯t save you from the rebels, I would hope I can at least save Italoza after the rebels take over.¡±

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.¡°Little One, Mia-¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s alright, Majesty,¡± the teenaged girl heaved a sigh and rubbed her eyes with tired hands, a motion that made her look far too old for her years. ¡°The council will continue on as it always has, making only minute adjustments if any at all. I understand that now.¡±

    ¡°We do care about your opinions, Little One. Truly. But we must all look to the good of Italoza.¡±

    ¡°I know, Majesty,¡± Little One gave him a smile, a sight he hadn¡¯t seen in months, ¡°I¡¯ve been more concerned with selfish things than with the good of Italoza, I see that now. I¡¯ll try to be better about that.¡±

    ***

    King¡¯s Quarters, Florezian Palace, 40 years past.

    The balcony was awash with warm reds and oranges, far too bright for the cool winter¡¯s night. Beneath his fingers the stone railing was freezing to the touch, almost as cold as the grip of the sword in his other hand. The pale stone of the balcony reflected the firelight from the city below.

    In the large bedroom behind him, the loud battering noises on his door had ceased, so he assumed they had broken through and would be out on the balcony for him soon. It would take them a few minutes to search the room perhaps, looking for the rumored secret passages and hideyholes, looking for Queen Elaide or Prince Pellegrino.

    The thought of the rebels ransacking his bedroom of sixty years should¡¯ve made him angry, but he could barely muster up any emotion. The buildings beneath him burned, flames far and wide across the entire city. There was less screaming now, or perhaps it was covered by the chaotic noises of a city crumbling around him.

    Or perhaps I¡¯m just dying, the King thought grimly. His fingers were numb in the cold, his head pounded. His old joints had ached during the best of cold days, tonight they had been pushed far past the point of pain and had mellowed into a dull throbbing. His whole body was a dull throbbing, and he wondered vaguely what he thought he was going to do with the sword that he clutched. His feeble arms already shook just resting them on the railing.

    The door to the balcony opened quietly, almost respectfully, a far cry from the splintering blows that had opened the bedroom door. King Thesslenareo closed his eyes for one brief moment, then raised himself to his full height and turned to face the intruders. He had been expecting footsoldiers, or maybe a handful of Lanisti and Sagittari if the rebels had been feeling respectful. He hadn¡¯t expected their leader and general herself to come for him.

    ¡°Hello, Little One.¡±

    ¡°Majesty.¡±

    Her dark hair was wet with sweat and plastered to her face, her dark grey dress clung to her beneath the heavy grime and blood-caked armor she wore. With the thin sword of lilium steel and partially silhouetted against the doorway, she looked like the angel of death herself, but even now King Thesslenareo couldn¡¯t completely ignore fifty years of fatherly affection for her. She took a step onto the balcony, and Goldtongue followed her through the doorway.

    ¡°Your Majesty if you would be so kind-¡± Goldtongue began carefully.

    ¡°Don¡¯t!¡± King Thesslenareo tossed his sword to one side in disgust. ¡°Quia misericordiam propter, silence your cursed Rhetor tongue. Give me at least the dignity of choosing to disarm myself.¡±

    ¡°Of course, Majesty. My apologies.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you apologize to me, damn you,¡± the King snarled and turned back to the city, gripping the railings hard and blinking the tears from his eyes. He kept his back straight, waiting for the razor sharp blow on his neck. The pair had been closer to him than his own family; they would make it quick at least. There was enough humanity left in them to do that much. At least, he hoped so.

    Mia rested her elbows on the railing of the balcony, standing next to him and looking down at the city. Her dark eyes didn¡¯t flinch away from the fires and destruction below, but her hand did tighten just a touch around the handle of her sword. The firelight played along the blade.

    ¡°There¡¯s blood on the blade,¡± King Thesslenareo noted aloud. ¡°Didn¡¯t think you were the type to actually dirty your hands.¡±

    ¡°If my convictions are strong enough to give orders of death, I can¡¯t shy away from dealing that death with my own two hands. It¡¯ll haunt me no less,¡± Mia said quietly, ¡°and it felt...necessary.¡±

    ¡°¡®Necessary¡¯? ¡®Necessary¡¯? What about this is necessary?¡± the King swung an arm out to indicate the burning city. ¡°You have a hundred Stormtouched Rhetor mouths with a hundred different ways of taking the country from me peacefully! You could¡¯ve kept me as a puppet even, only the highest up would know the difference! Instead this...death and chaos and destruction was your answer. How do you have the audacity to stand here and say that this was necessary?¡±

    ¡°Taking Italoza was never my goal, Majesty, I-¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t!¡± the King hissed, ¡°don¡¯t you dare call me that, not after you betrayed me, not after all you¡¯ve done these past weeks! I am not your King, I¡¯m not anyone¡¯s King anymore; you¡¯ve accomplished that much with your rebellion. And look, this was all that had to be sacrificed for it! Just the people of Florezia. Just the capital city itself.¡±

    ¡°Little One, we¡¯ve just had a courier,¡± Goldtongue said from the doorway, ¡°the Thirteenth Constellation is less than an hour away. We should see them over the crest of the hill in a few moments.¡±

    ¡°My, my,¡± King Thesslenareo said bitterly, ¡°you aren¡¯t one for half-measures are you Mia? Your rebels, your Rhetors and Lanisti and Sagittari and Caleators and Faberi, all of them weren¡¯t good enough, you had to enlist mercenaries as well? What were you so afraid of, that your wreckage and ruination of Florezia wouldn¡¯t be enough to take the city?¡±

    He had expected her to be more fiery in the face of his bitterness and contempt, or at least to bristle at his accusations. Instead, each word he said seemed to weigh Mia¡¯s shoulders down further. He had known woman for fifty years, for longer than his own son,  and yet he had never seen her look so sad.

    ¡°Taking the city was never what was needed,¡± Little One whispered. ¡°Just the ruination.¡±

    King Thesslenareo didn¡¯t know what to say. He turned away from her to look back at the city that she gazed down upon. All of the fire had died in his chest, and now he simply felt numb and weary. Hollow. Absurdly, he felt the urge to extend his wrinkled hand and clasp hers where it rested on the railing a small ways away.

    I want to grasp a hand that¡¯s red with the blood of loyal subjects, killed for defending my throne. What preposterous thoughts we think when about to die.

    The sun was just beginning to rise, its first sliver lighting the city and making the fires seem a bit less extreme. Over the crest of the hill on the horizon, a large black mass made its way towards the city; the Thirteenth Constellation, a mercenary force that rivalled his own army.

    ¡°This was where we first met, you and I,¡± Mia said quietly. ¡°You brought me here and we looked down at the city below.¡±

    ¡°I remember,¡± Thesslenareo grunted. ¡°You told me what kind of king you thought I was.¡±

    ¡°What kind of person you were,¡± Mia corrected.

    ¡°You would know, I¡¯d trust your memory what¡± he said, attempting an offhanded shrug. His casual demeanor was somewhat marred by the tears that rolled down his face. ¡°You always were far smarter than me. Hell, you even predicted the rebellion, as a teenager, do you remember?¡±

    ¡°I remember.¡±

    ¡°Though I suppose that¡¯s not an impressive prediction, when you ended up bringing it about.¡±

    ¡°I suppose not.¡±

    ¡°Why do you bring up the past now? Feeling guilty about your role in this night?¡±

    ¡°I strongly doubt there will be a day in which I don¡¯t feel guilty for this night. No, I brought up the past because I wondered if you knew the answer to the question you asked me, back then. Do you know who you are?¡±

    ¡°What was it you said back then? ¡®Not a good man, but rather a frightened one¡¯? I suppose that¡¯s still true. I¡¯m just a man. I tried to live a good man, I¡¯ll die a frightened one.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re wrong.¡±

    King Thesslenareo reached up a withered hand to wipe the tears from his eyes, then blinked. The companies of the Thirteenth Constellation were closer now, close enough that he could see their banners. They weren¡¯t flying the red-and-pink of the rebels; they flew the laurels on a white field of Thesslenareo¡¯s Florezia. They weren¡¯t here to fight him, they were here to fight for him. The King turned to face Mia, confused.

    ¡°You¡¯re not a frightened man,¡± Little One held out the bloody sword to him, handle first. ¡°Usted es el rey de Italoza.¡±

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 53

    Prince¡¯s Quarters, Florezian Palace, 20 years past

    Prince Pellegrino heaved the heavy coat from his shoulders with a sigh, shaking his damp locks of hair as if he could scatter his stresses as easily as the raindrops. Even without the coat the rest of his clothes were formal and uncomfortable, but he was used to formal and uncomfortable attire; it had been his standard wear since he was a small child. Such was the burden of a Prince of Italoza.

    "Your Majesty is probably tired. I have taken the liberty of drawing a bath and preparing a Rima wine, and a small selection of cheeses." Prince Pellegrino''s manservant appeared at his side as soon as he entered his quarters, ¡°I hope that was not too bold.¡±

    "That does sound incredibly appealing, Hama, but I''ve only just stopped by to change cloaks and send a message.¡±

    "I see. My apologies, Majesty. How was the funeral for the Rhetor?"

    "It still hasn''t really fully hit me yet, I don¡¯t think," the Prince was already moving into the office that adjoined his bedroom, handing his wet cloak to Hama. "He¡¯d been such a constant presence in my life...even after The Silence, he was always around. Lassus digitos meos I wish you hadn''t mentioned that Rima, Hama, now I can¡¯t think of anything else."

    "The bath is still warm, Grino, there''s nothing stopping you from relaxing for a little bit," the lilting voice that drifted from his bedroom had a ring to it, a tone that had never failed to make Prince Pellegrino smile until today. ¡°Perhaps I could even join you, and we can ease our stress together.¡±

    "Lareana," he turned to find her in the doorway, eyes twinkling, "when did you arrive in the city?"

    "This morning. When I heard that my Prince and master had need of me I didn''t dare keep him waiting," Lareana teased. She stepped forward and leaned towards him, pursing her lips. With great force of will Prince Pellegrino took a step back, trying hard to ignore the faint scent of her as he did so.

    "Lareana..." he began. He had expected the hurt look on her face, but it still twisted in his stomach like a dagger. Even with months to prepare, months that had soured every moment with her even as he tried to savor them, it was more difficult than he expected. He could tell that her mind was already working, her eyes narrowed as she searched his face.

    "Oh,¡± she said quietly, ¡°it''s over between us, isn''t it." It was a surprised statement rather than a question.

    "Our...romantic relationship is over, yes."

    "I see." There was a long pause, and Prince Pellegrino looked away awkwardly as she brushed a tear from her cheek. "Forgive me, majesty, I don''t mean to...this is just very unexpected. I thought you enjoyed this enough to find another advisor."

    "It''s not that, Lareana, I do enjoy- how do you know I want you as an advisor?"

    "Don''t be silly, Grino. You¡¯re easy to read, I would''ve been able to tell if you had grown dissatisfied. The only reason you¡¯d have to end things was if you were convinced you were doing what was best for Italoza. Your father swears by his advisors, it stands to reason you want to start appointing your own.¡±

    ¡°So you knew this was coming?¡±

    ¡°No. I suppose I just let myself hope that instead of wanting me for a counselor, you might want me as a Que- no, pretend I didn''t say that. You want a Stormtouched Queen, I know that. Oh dear, this just caught me so off guard." The knife in his gut twisted further with each word she spoke, and Pellegrino had to force himself to speak.

    "I do, I would! I wish this isn¡¯t what had to happen, but with Goldtongue dead a new head advisor must be appointed, and their relationship with the throne had to be beyond reproach. You''re the second smartest person I know-"

    "You don''t pull your punches when you dump a girl, do you?" Lareana gave a choked laugh.

    "You''re the smartest person that I trust. If it were only about what I wanted, nothing would make me happier than to keep on as we''ve been forever, happy to make you my wife-"

    "Don''t." Lareana held up a hand, closing her eyes, "please stop your horrifyingly bad attempt at letting me down easy, Majesty. Alright. Okay. An advisor." She took a few deep breaths, then opened her eyes. ¡°If an advisor is what you need me to be, an advisor is what I can be for you. I can do this."

    "I do love you, Lareana, you know that don''t you?"

    "I dont think that is appropriate, Your Majesty," she raised her chin, her face dignified if a bit dulled, the enthusiasm she had greeted him with completely gone. "It will be better if we avoid aphorisms like that in the future." Pellegrino actually winced at that, feeling vaguely as if he had been slapped. Lareana''s face softened slightly. "It''ll get easier with time, Majesty. For both of us. Was there anything else you needed before you go on your errand?"

    "I actually hoped you could come with me on my errand," Pellegrino said, "as you''ll be my right hand, there''s someone I need you to meet."

    "Of course, Majesty. You''ll have to give me a few moments to change."

    "I think you look very nice!"

    "Our relationship has changed rather dramatically since I got dressed. This outfit sent just the right message as the Prince''s paramour, but as the Prince''s right hand? Terrible."

    Pellegrino looked Lareana up and down again with a fresh eye. The green dress that clung to her body and highlighted her red hair and pale skin was appealing, true, but she was right; it didn''t exactly send the right message.

    "I never would''ve have considered that," he said.

    "I suppose that''s why you need the second-smartest person you know as your advisor," Lareana said with a sad half smile as she turned to leave. "What weather am I dressing for, Majesty?"

    "We won''t be leaving the palace."

    "Oh? I thought I had met all of the important people in the palace as your lover. Who will I be meeting as your advisor?"

    "The smartest person I know."

    ***

    The Tombs, Florezian Palace, 20 years past

    The wing that The Tombs resided in was relatively new; a mere twenty years old rather than the centuries that the other dungeons boasted. Also unlike the other dungeons, The Tombs were quiet, luxurious, and kept many floors above ground in one of the higher portions of the palace.

    They were also as quiet as their namesake; so quiet that even though they walked along plush carpet the Prince and Lareana''s footsteps seemed loud to him.

    ¡°What does the King think about your appointment of a new advisor so soon after the last one has died?¡± Lareana asked.

    ¡°We¡¯ve discussed it. He¡¯s getting on in years, and we agreed that I should have people I trust around me, people I have a relationship with, not people he¡¯s chosen.¡±

    Pellegrino glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Her transformation had been stark; her hair pulled back into a severe bun, the blush on her cheeks and lips removed, the slim green dress replaced with black and dark violet robes. She looked somehow more sharp, more dangerous, and it had only taken her a few minutes to effect the change.

    This was the girl offering to join me in the bath less than an hour ago, but she seems like she prepared for this eventuality. Pellegrino wasn¡¯t quite sure whether to be bothered or impressed by the transformation, and he frowned as he stepped through the door to The Tomb¡¯s entrance hallway.

    ¡°Just how dangerous is the person you¡¯re introducing me to?¡± Lareana¡¯s question broke him out of his reverie, and Pellegrino looked down the two rows of twenty guards that stood on either side of the hallway.

    ¡°We don¡¯t truly think she¡¯s this dangerous, but we¡¯ve learned that it pays to overestimate her ability,¡± he said quietly as they moved past the rows of silent, watchful eyes. There was no sudden straightening or coming to attention when he appeared, as one might see in some of the lower guards; they had been alert since they took over their shifts. The double doors at the end of the hallway were neither strengthened nor locked; the prisoner was far too smart to attempt to open them. They made no sound when Pellegrino pushed them open.

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    ¡°Prince Pellegrino, always a pleasure. Ah, and you¡¯ve brought a friend, how lovely.¡± The old woman¡¯s voice scratched and rasped, but it wasn¡¯t unpleasant. She looked far better than she sounded, her wrinkled face serene, her grey hair neatly braided and tied with a ribbon that matched the simple dress she wore. She wore her age well, as if it was an intentional choice rather than a necessity.

    ¡°Good morning,¡± Prince Pellegrino said respectfully. ¡°I would like to introduce you to Lareana. You¡¯ll be seeing a lot of her from now on.¡±

    Little One rose from her seat by the window, her slow movements more careful than graceful.

    ¡°How nice to meet a friend of his Majesty¡¯s,¡± she said, extending a hand.

    ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you as well,¡± Lareana said, politely shaking the offered hand. Her eyes narrowed for a moment, and Little One quite frankly eyed the other woman up and down. Pellegrino shifted uncomfortably. He had known he had to introduce his advisor to the woman, but now that it was done he wasn¡¯t quite sure where to go from there. Should he tell Lareana exactly who Little One was, potentially frightening her in the process? How much should he let Little One know about Lareana? Perhaps he would let them talk for a little bit longer, and then over the space of a few days-

    ¡°I had expected the famed ¡®Rebel Queen¡¯ to be taller,¡± Lareana said.

    ¡°Then shame on you for believing every folk tale you hear,¡± Little One smiled, ¡°I¡¯m sure in another decade I¡¯ll be twenty foot tall in their tales. And don¡¯t worry my dear, no matter who the Prince chooses as his Queen, I doubt your relationship will be much different than it used to be, if you¡¯ll have him.¡±

    ¡°I know. It doesn¡¯t make it hurt any less, though.¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯d imagine it doesn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°W-Wait now wait just half a moment!¡± Prince Pellegrino spluttered, ¡°how could you possibly know- who could have told- I wouldn¡¯t be unfaithful to my Queen- you weren¡¯t supposed to know she was the Rebel Queen! How?¡±

    ¡°A prisoner so well guarded, but yet kept alive?¡± Lareana raised an eyebrow, ¡°one who ¡®caused disaster when your father underestimated her¡¯? Of course it was the Rebel Queen.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯ve not brought a single person to visit me since the rebellion, Prince Pellegrino,¡± Little One croaked, ¡°naturally she is your new advisor. You may have appointed her to be your advisor, but you¡¯re far too ruled by your heart to stay untangled with a woman you love so dearly, one who you plan on spending every day with.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re just guessing now,¡± Prince Pellegrino felt vaguely as if he was witnessing some sort of witchcraft, ¡°you can¡¯t know how I feel about her, there¡¯s no way.¡± Both Lareana and Little One rolled their eyes at the same time, and the Prince blushed. ¡°Very well, you¡¯re both very clever, it¡¯s rude to boast.¡±

    ¡°The fact that you think it takes someone clever to see that you¡¯re in love is simply adorable, Majesty,¡± Little One gave Prince Pellegrino¡¯s cheek a small pinch, and walked back to the window.

    ¡°It is sometimes like watching a child delighted by a magic trick,¡± Lareana said with a mischievous smile towards the Prince. ¡°No offense meant, Rebel Queen, but given how highly you¡¯re regarded, I would¡¯ve expected something more...mystical.¡±

    ¡°I prefer Little One to Rebel Queen; I¡¯ve spent far more time as the former. You mean that you¡¯re surprised I¡¯m not more clever? The Fabera whose skill at building can only be applied to her mind?¡±

    ¡°Well...yes. If I might be so bold.¡±

    ¡°You may. It¡¯s because cheap tricks, smoke and mirrors, those things are easy. True thinking, displays of true cleverness, that¡¯s the sort of thing you won¡¯t notice for decades. I try to show his majesty respect by avoiding the parlor tricks, but my real acts of cleverness are the sorts of thing that won¡¯t be exhibited until long after I¡¯ve died. The history books will sing my praises perhaps, but no one else will.¡±

    Little One sounded so sad, and despite himself Prince Pellegrino felt a twinge of conscience at the thought of the woman who had known him since birth locked up in these rooms for the rest of her life. Still, he was here for a specific reason.

    ¡°Maybe you could humor us with cheap tricks?¡± he asked. ¡°I¡¯ve never been able to figure them out, but we¡¯ve already established that Lareana is smarter than I.¡±

    Little One turned to look at the pair for long moments before she spoke.

    ¡°Goldtongue is dead, isn¡¯t he?¡± she asked quietly.

    ¡°That would be easy to discern,¡± Lareana said, ¡°you know I¡¯m the Prince¡¯s new right hand, and he wouldn¡¯t take a new one if the old one was still alive.¡±

    ¡°Quite easy to discern,¡± Little One agreed, ¡°but less easy to discern is the fact that at his funeral today, Lady Calvanese sneezed so hard that her wig fell off.¡±

    The familiar icy feeling, typical of his meetings with Little One, built in Prince Pellegrino¡¯s stomach.

    ¡°Perhaps you watched the funeral through that window?¡± Lareana asked.

    ¡°It faces the opposite direction,¡± Pellegrino said.

    ¡°Maybe...maybe the servants gossip?¡±

    ¡°No servants may enter, her food is brought to her by the two guards nearest the door, both of them mute and deaf.¡±

    The Prince let Lareana muse on it for a few moments before changing the subject. He didn¡¯t like to dwell on how Little One got her information, not when he knew she would always be one step ahead of him if he tried to figure it out.

    ¡°You don¡¯t seem upset about Goldtongue¡¯s death,¡± he said.

    ¡°I mourned for him ten years ago,¡± Little One shrugged, ¡°I think that was when he really died, in his mind. When Italoza ripped his voice from him.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a bit dramatic; we didn¡¯t rip anything from him, we gave him a mask.¡±

    ¡°You muzzled him and made him less than a human. But let¡¯s not have this discussion again, please. You know we only go ¡®round in circles.¡±

    ¡°As you say. I just wanted you to meet Lareana, and let you know of Goldtongue¡¯s passing, in case your mysterious powers hadn¡¯t already informed you.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate the thought, Majesty. It was very thoughtful of you.¡± The old woman¡¯s face was so motherly and kind when she smiled. It was hard to remember how terrifying and hellish that night had been twenty years ago. With a gesture he indicated to Lareana that they should go.

    ¡°No, I have to ask or it will drive me mad,¡± Lareana paused at the doorway, ¡°Little One, how did you know about the Lady Calvanese and the wig?¡±

    ¡°A friend of mine told me, that¡¯s all,¡± Little One smiled the same grandmotherly smile as the pair departed.

    ¡° What an interesting woman. She can¡¯t possibly be telling the truth, can she? Does she have a spy who feeds her information somehow?¡± Lareana asked.

    ¡°We¡¯ve had her watched through peepholes in the walls for weeks at a time,¡± Prince Pellegrino sighed. ¡°Her room has been searched for secret passages, nothing comes in from the outside that isn¡¯t thoroughly searched. Besides, ¡®Lady Calvanese wears a wig¡¯? Who would go to the trouble of smuggling such banal and trivial gossip to a prisoner?¡±

    ¡°You seem more on-edge than I¡¯ve ever seen you,¡± Lareana noted. ¡°Does she bother you that much, that she knows all of the gossip around the palace?¡±

    ¡°Her? Bother me?¡± Prince Pellegrino turned to look at the doorway they had just passed, beyond which lay a hallway of both Stormtouched and Mortalis guards who would kill on the slightest provocation, beyond which were impenetrable walls of stone and marble and iron bars, beyond which he somehow knew that the old woman was staring directly at him. ¡°She doesn¡¯t bother me, she terrifies me.¡±

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 54

    The Tombs, Florezian Palace, 15 years past

    Mia sat in the middle of her prison''s huge bed, hugging her legs to her chest. She stared at nothing, her red and swollen eyes searching the pattern in the carpet. Her stomach ached, but she couldn¡¯t bring herself to even look at the plate of food by the door, let alone eat it.

    Every morning for the past thirty-nine years, two months, one week and three days, she had started her day with a series of exercises and stretches designed to keep her joints and muscles limber and healthy. This morning she had skipped them, opting instead to stare at the sky through the window of her prison, staring without seeing.

    She could expect a visit from the prince at some point during the day, either to grieve with her, or possibly to execute her. Her stomach growled, but she barely noticed it; it was understandable that her breakfast had been delayed. There was a knock at the door, the first knock that had ever sounded on it. Privacy was one of the few things she had learned to live without during her incarceration of forty years.

    ¡°Come in,¡± Mia rasped.

    How sweet and innocent my voice sounded when I first met Thesslenario, she thought. Now listen to me. I sound like the hag from fairy tales.

    Prince Pellegrino looked almost as bad as she did; with dark circles beneath his eyes and a grim expression on his face, the old man looked as if he had aged five years and not slept a day since she had seen him the week before. When he cleared his throat, he sounded almost as bad as she did.

    ¡°I have news for you. I¡¯m not entirely sure how you¡¯ll take it.¡±

    ¡°I know, your Majesty. I am sorry for your loss. It is a loss to all of Italoza.¡± In spite of herself, tears welled in Mia¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°You know? What am I saying, of course you know.¡± Pellegrino heaved a sigh and sat on the corner of her bed, passing a hand over his tired face. It was obvious from his body language that he wasn¡¯t there to inform her of her execution, but Mia was having trouble feeling relieved, or happy, or anything other than numb.

    ¡°Your father was a great King, Pellegrino.¡±

    ¡°He was an old king. I¡¯m too old to fill that role, Little One. How am I supposed to fill the crown, after him? How am I supposed to sit in that throne, and act as if I can rule half as well as him?¡±

    Now that he was opening up to her, she could drop a subtle mention of the fact that Lareana wasn¡¯t there. It would be a tiny seed, but it could potentially be the beginnings of a seed of doubt in the Prince¡¯s mind, something to nudge him ever so slightly towards the thought that he needed Little One as a confidant and advisor just as much as his right hand, or perhaps even more. Only the first step of a plan, but one that could work given enough time.

    ¡°Majesty, your father tried at all times to be a good man and a good king.¡± Mia brushed the thought aside, placing a withered hand on the Prince¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I have faith that he and your mother instilled in you the same values that made him those things.¡±

    ¡°I suppose...¡±

    ¡°No supposition about it. Do not do your father¡¯s memory the disservice of pretending that he didn¡¯t raise a fine young man as Italoza¡¯s next King.¡±

    Her words seemed to have an effect on the Prince, and he stood.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about the display, I did come here for a reason. The choice has fallen on me now, what to do with the more powerful prisoners of Italoza.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do with you.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡±

    ¡°From what I gather, my father let you live after the rebellion because you did end up helping Italoza, albeit through a short period of violence, chaos and slaughter. I suspect he also let you live because of your friendship with him. Your execution now would serve the throne no purpose.¡±

    The revelation to Italoza that the Rebel Queen had been alive during Thesslenario¡¯s reign, combined with her subsequent execution, would immediately distance Pellegrino¡¯s regime from his father¡¯s. It would cement him as a more just ruler, but also as a more heartless one. There would be no question of his forcefulness, so his reign would begin stronger, but it would also send a message to the people that their second Mortalis King is someone who cannot be reasoned with should he make a decision. His opponents are more likely to choose violence rather than diplomacy when dealing with him.

    ¡°None whatsoever, Majesty,¡± Mia said.

    ¡°But I¡¯m not quite sure I agree with his imprisonment of you either. Whatever further mischief he thinks you might plan, I doubt that this prison would prevent you from carrying those plans out, so perhaps I should trust you. We could let you leave the prison, perhaps install you as one of my advisors.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not really sure how to answer that offer, Pri- King Pellegrino. I don¡¯t even know how I would answer it if I weren¡¯t aware it was a trap.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the crux of the problem, isn¡¯t it?¡± King Pellegrino frowned. ¡°You¡¯re too clever for your own good, Little One. There¡¯s no test I devise that you won¡¯t see through, and I don¡¯t know of anyone I trust enough to design such a test.¡±

    Seventy decades of experience made it all to easy for Mia to hide her emotions, but she felt a fierce sense of pride in the newly-made king. He knew his limitations, and even better he could tell the difference between liking someone and trusting them. Her own personal feelings aside, paranoia was a good trait for a king to have.

    ¡°Your father had much the same dilemma, if I read him correctly. He didn¡¯t wish me ill will, but for obvious reasons he didn¡¯t trust me.¡±

    ¡°Much as I told him he should make up his mind one way or the other, I suppose I have to keep you here. Perhaps that makes me a hypocrite.¡±

    ¡°Or perhaps you¡¯re already learning some of the intricacies of the crown.¡±

    ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, I hope that, in time, I can think of such a test.¡±

    ¡°I hope so too, Majesty.¡±

    *

    The Tombs, Florezian Palace, 5 years past

    Mia didn¡¯t often write in the waking world. Leaving her thoughts out in writing was too prone to others finding it, deciphering her intricate method of encryption, and trying to muddle through some of the many plans she had running through her mind. Now was a bit of an exception, however; she was trying her hand at composing poetry. It was proving frustratingly difficult for her, and the experience of frustration was refreshing.

    ¡°Little One, may we enter? I¡¯d like to introduce you to someone,¡± the question was accompanied by a knock. Mia guessed that the King didn¡¯t realize he always knocked now, ever since his father had died. Perhaps it was a sign that in some way, once she became his responsibility, he thought of her more as a guest than as a prisoner.

    ¡°Please, come in.¡±

    The man and woman who entered with the King was slightly younger, though he too was beginning to grey around the temples. His skin was pale and wrinkled, but his step seemed spritely enough for someone his age.

    A room full of fossils, Mia thought, absentmindedly rubbing a hand which had become cramped from writing, in a country full of younglings.

    The man was uncomfortable, but not because of the King or Mia¡¯s presence. The woman who was with them moved out of the King¡¯s way, and his motions made it clear that he couldn¡¯t see her. She was an Echo then, which meant the man was a Stormtouched. The King wouldn¡¯t expose her to a Stormtouched unless he believed that Stormtouched could provide proof of her loyalty.

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    ¡°Is this the Stormtouched who will tell you once and for all how trustworthy I am?¡± She asked.

    ¡°How does she know that? Any of that?¡± the Stormtouched asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ve learned it¡¯s best not to ask,¡± King Pellegrino said wryly, ¡°she won¡¯t tell anyone, so for my own mental sanity I don¡¯t bother much about it. Little One, this is Master Bernardo De Luca.¡±

    ¡°A pleasure to meet you, Master De Luca. And to meet you as well...Mistress Berna? Mistress Ber?¡±

    ¡°Bea, and likewise,¡± the woman smiled. ¡°I wasn¡¯t quite sure if you could see me; do they keep your Echo in a different cell?¡±

    ¡°No, Mi....my Echo is dead.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m so sorry,¡± Bea put a hand to her mouth, looking genuinely regretful.

    ¡°It happened a very long time ago. Now, I don¡¯t mean to be rude, but discussions he is not privy to make the King very anxious. It¡¯s a trait he inherited from his father.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    ¡°If we could get back to the point,¡± the King said testily. ¡°As you¡¯ve ascertained, Master De Luca is here to ease all of my doubts, once and for all. He¡¯s going to draw a sketch of you, while the two of you talk.¡±

    ¡°Whatever puts your mind at ease, Majesty,¡± Mia shrugged, her mind already returned to the problem of the poem. She returned to her seat as Master De Luca set up an easel and laid out paper and thin black chalk. Only when he was ready, his hand poised over the paper, did he look up at her.

    ¡°The King calls you ¡®Little One¡¯, but I¡¯m sure that¡¯s not your name,¡± he said, with the air of someone choosing their words carefully. ¡°I wonder if you could tell me how you got the nickname? In fact, if you could tell me as much of your life as possible, that would be most helpful.¡±

    ¡°Ninety-one years is quite the life story to tell, Master De Luca,¡± Mia said with a half-smile.

    ¡°I am in no particular rush.¡±

    Mia sighed and closed the book, staring at its cover for a moment as she gathered her thoughts.

    ¡°One of my earliest memories is on the balcony of this very palace, meeting King Thesslenario for the first time...¡± she began.

    *

    ¡°I¡¯m quite angry that you haven¡¯t brought the portrait Master De Luca painted of me, young man.¡± Was it that she had become so good at hiding her emotion that she hid it herself, or did she truly not care? Mia hardly knew any more, all she knew was that she was vaguely anxious and quite vexed because of it.

    ¡°The portrait that Master De Luca painted told him whether or not you could be trusted,¡± King Pellegrino said, ¡°I would¡¯ve thought you would know that.¡±

    ¡°Of course I know that, but I still would¡¯ve liked to see it,¡± Mia snapped. The King regarded her with a face of stone, hands clasped behind his back, one foot tapping on the ground. She couldn¡¯t read him, and the fact worried her.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you the slightest bit curious of what his portrait told me about you?¡±

    Mia crossed her arms and tapped one wrinkled finger impatiently against her sleeve. She was, of course she was, she was only human. That said, despite the fact that her life was in the balance she refused to give him the satisfaction of begging. Whether he told her now or she found out later, it wouldn¡¯t change the reality of what it was. She had more pride than to-

    ¡°Tell me what he said. What did the mystical painting of the old man say about me?¡± Mia said. King Pellegrino strode back to the door of her luxurious cell and threw open the door. It probably wasn¡¯t as effective a gesture as he thought it was, since the first and only time she had seen the hallway was brief glances as her food was delivered to her.

    ¡°It¡¯s empty,¡± she said, more for the King¡¯s benefit than her own. ¡°The guards are gone.¡±

    ¡°From now on, Little One, you are a free citizen of Italoza,¡± the King beamed.

    ¡°Excellent,¡± Mia nodded once with great satisfaction, then returned to the book of poems.

    Perhaps in focusing on the meter, I¡¯ve overlooked the more creative aspect of the-

    ¡°That...that¡¯s it?¡± the King asked. ¡°Little One, you¡¯re free! You can leave your cell, you can go anywhere and do anything you wish!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m quite content here, thank you.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re ¡®content¡¯? You¡¯ve been a prisoner for a quarter of a century, and now you intend to stay here for...for how long exactly?¡±

    ¡°Oh, probably until I die,¡± Mia waved a frail hand, ¡°what is there out there that I can¡¯t find in here?¡±

    ¡°Knowledge of the outside world!¡± King Pellegrino exploded.

    ¡°And how is your tryst with Lareana, majesty? Has the Queen found out yet?¡±

    ¡°How did..that¡¯s private...you know what, I give up,¡± Pellegrino looked positively deflated, ¡°I¡¯ll leave you to your...your self-imposed prison, I suppose.¡±

    ¡°Have them send up supper, if you would be so kind,¡± Mia called to him as he shut the door behind him.

    *

    Norcia Transport, Florezia, 5 days past

    Giorgio Norcia finished filling the lanterns with oil, replacing the top on the cask.

    ¡°I¡¯m telling you, anyone who wants to leave so late is bad news,¡± his brother grumbled from the fireplace. ¡°You¡¯re a fool for taking the old witch anywhere. Should¡¯ve taken my lead and gone inside.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m taking her and that¡¯s that,¡± Giorgio grunted.

    ¡°Tell her to wait until morning at least! Most likely you¡¯re about to travel into a roadblock and get robbed and left for dead; some thieves probably decided to pay the old lady since she seems so harmless!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m taking her Sesto, the fare¡¯s worth it. She paid half up front.¡± Giorgio was a man of few words; his brother rarely heard him say so many at once.

    ¡°The fare is worth it, is it? I get that it¡¯s a lot of money, it¡¯s a long trip to Milia, but is it worth your life, Giorgio?¡±

    Giorgio sniffed, then set down the bag the old woman had given him a few moments ago. Even by the dim light of the fire, the jewels and gold gleamed and reflected, sending sparkling multi-colored flickers across the walls and ceiling.

    ¡°Might be,¡± he grunted, picking up the lanterns and stomping outside once more.

    The woman had already taken her place in one of the Norcia brothers¡¯ cart, but she was fixated on something over his shoulder, staring at it with tears in his eyes. Giorgio half turned as he tied the lanterns in place on the cart.

    ¡°Never used to sunsets like that?¡± he asked.

    ¡°The sun sets in the west,¡± she answered, as if that explained everything. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen a sunset in a long time.¡±

    ¡°Oh? How long?¡± Giorgio climbed up and took the reigns.

    ¡°Thirty-nine years.¡±

    Giorgio paused for a moment, but then shrugged.

    Crazy pays just as well as sane, he thought, and slapped the reins, humming tunelessly as they started their journey towards Milia.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 55

    The cold air burned in her lungs as she ran, but Elena didn¡¯t care. Her fellow DaRose garzoni ran alongside and in front of and behind her, and in that moment they felt like her brothers and sisters in arms. They were a pack of wild animals, them against the entire world, and they could take on anything that tried to stand in their way. There was something exhilarating about it to Elena, as if she were rebelling against the feelings of helplessness and doubt that had been assailing her ever since she¡¯d left De Luca¡¯s studio. The wind was unpredictable and cold, her grey hood that covered her face was restrictive and too hot, but she felt as free as if she¡¯d been released from a cage.

    Her hammer seemed clumsy bouncing against her leg with every step, even after the modifications she had made to lighten it. Slipping it from its spot on her belt and running with it in her hand felt much more natural. Its light weight was already familiar enough to be comforting, perhaps because she had made it to be an extension of her arm. It might have started out as a stonemason¡¯s hammer, left over by who-knew-who after some job at the studio who-knew-when, but now it was hers.

    Mine, the word rang hungrily through her head, a sensation like an itch she hadn¡¯t known she wanted to scratch. No one argued the hammer being hers, and the Storm had sprung to her fingertips readily when she¡¯d need it; with every chalk-mark she had scratched on it, with every modification she had imagined, with every step of the hammer¡¯s modification it had guided her, because the hammer was hers.

    ¡°I should give my hammer a name,¡± she panted to Isadora, who ran just next to her.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that a little dramatic?¡± Isadora was less out of breath, and she gave Elena a sidelong glance. ¡°Generals and Kings name their weapons, not garzona.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly why I should name it!¡± Even Isadora¡¯s negativity couldn¡¯t dampen Elena¡¯s spirits this evening, ¡°it¡¯s about time the other studios started thinking of us as generals and kings, instead of as easy pickings. Maybe we should give them something to be afraid of.¡±

    ¡°No offense, Elena, but you¡¯ve been a DaRose garzona for all of two months, don¡¯t start buying Arturo¡¯s bitter claptrap about the other studios giving us no respect just because we¡¯ve lost a few coins. Secondly, if you approach anyone with your hammer yelling ¡®feel the wrath of Mjolnir¡¯, you¡¯re more likely to have people laugh at you than jump back in fear.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t...call it...¡®Mjolnir¡¯,¡± Elena panted, her face flushed. Even beneath the grey hood covering her face, she could tell Isadora was grinning at her, and she decided not to dignify her fellow garzona¡¯s mockery with a response.

    She also dutifully ignored the butterflies in her stomach. True, it was the second time she¡¯d been going out to attack a studio with the DaRose pack, but this was the first time she would actually have to face anyone. At least she hoped she¡¯d be able to face them tonight. It was why they were running; even if Studio Malatesta were able to see them making a break for Studio Foscari, the DaRose garzoni hoped they would be able to collect some coins before they were pounced on. Isadora and Arturo had both assured her that other students could only take her own coin, not any others she happened to be carrying at the time. If she managed to collect more than one Foscari coin before Malatesta attacked them the studio would still be at a net gain.

    Elena was so intent on the plans for the night that she didn¡¯t even see the man before colliding with him. They slammed into the ground hard, but his bulky mass cushioned the fall. He was huge, all muscle and brawn, but he groaned a little when she fell on him.

    ¡°Oh god, I¡¯m so sorry, are you okay?¡± Elena floundered to stand up, but only served to entangle herself further in a mess of limbs.

    ¡°Quite alright kid,¡± the man said cheerfully, ¡°no harm done.¡± Elena scrambled off of him to one side in the snow. She blushed behind her hood as the man picked up...Skullcrusher...no, Faberawrath- No, just a hammer. Isadora is right, no stupid names...and offered it to her handle-first.

    ¡°Thanks, I¡¯m going to need that tonight,¡± she said, rising.

    I bowled into him without even seeing he was there. How am I supposed to beat other garzoni if I don¡¯t even notice a huge hulking brute like him? If I can¡¯t see see a giant like that, how can I match up against Patchwork who can disappear?

    The thought of Patchwork made the butterflies in her stomach suddenly go cold and still, and Elena narrowed her eyes. She would match up against Patchwork, no matter how unobservant she could be. She would prove to him how much her coin was worth.

    "Seems a little rough, doesn¡¯t it?" the stranger was giving her hammer a worried look, "pounding on someone with a hammer like that?" Elena looked down at the weapon in her hand. It did look like a beast; its head gigantic and the handle so big around that Elena had to grip it in just the right places. Casual observers couldn¡¯t tell how much of the inside had been hollowed out, making it light and easy to heft. It would still hurt to get hit with it, but Elena wouldn¡¯t be killing anyone with a hammer like that. Then again, it was meant to look intimidating, so perhaps it was a good thing that the man seemed so worried.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    "Some people deserve a good pounding,¡± Elena said darkly, then glanced in the direction of Studio Foscari, ¡°and they''re gonna get it tonight." the man laughed appreciatively, although Elena wasn¡¯t quite sure why.

    ¡°We¡¯re falling behind, Elena,¡± Ele warned. Sure enough, her fellow garzoni ducked around the next corner and out of sight, and with a nod towards the friendly stranger Elena scampered after them.

    *

    Studio Foscari looked monolithic in the light of the rising moon. Other studios were typically split into multiple buildings, their mass broken up appealingly, but Studio Foscari had started out as a storehouse; a single building separated into rooms. They had no walls or courtyard inside their gate, nothing but wide windows and a simple door in the front. Elena eyed the dark windows above, tapping her foot restlessly. There was no sign of movement, but if it were Studio De Luca there would be at least one student posted in one of those dark windows, watching for intruders.

    ¡°It¡¯s not going to be as rough as you¡¯re imagining it,¡± Arta said reassuringly. ¡°Studio fights aren¡¯t about hurting people, they¡¯re about getting coins. Well, not about hurting people directly, I guess. Just...threatening to hurt them...¡±

    ¡°And hurting them for real if they don¡¯t give the coins up,¡± Isadora added helpfully, ¡°and since it¡¯s your first raid, chances are no one¡¯s going to give their coins up, so you¡¯re probably going to have to prove your metal. Really it¡¯s mostly about hurting people.¡±

    ¡°Stop trying to scare her, it¡¯s her first time,¡± Arturo had been silent during the discussion, focusing on getting the group through the gate, but he spoke up now. ¡°I remember my first raid, I was terrified.¡±

    ¡°It was two months ago, Arturo, we all remember your first raid. You tried to run away, Ercole had to grab you and drag you back.¡±

    Dolce giggled, and Arturo scowled and turned back to the gate¡¯s lock. He held it gingerly, wrapped in the parchment on which his painting lay. It was already steaming in the cold winter air, and his attention seemed to be more on holding it just right than on any application of power.

    ¡°Alright, we¡¯re- ipse succendit- ¡± Arturo swore and dropped the parchment, which burnt brightly for a few moments before hitting the snow. The lock was glowing, not quite red-hot, but close. The Mortalis garzoni exchanged a glance, then Ercole stepped up to the gate, lifting the stave he carried. With a few strokes he had sent the lock into the snow, where it hissed and made a puddle of melted slush around it.

    ¡°Stave is better now,¡± Ercole jerked his head in Elena¡¯s general direction. ¡°It swings good. You did good.¡± Elena grinned, even though he couldn¡¯t see her through the masking hood. It had barely qualified as a ¡°stave¡± before, it was more like a solid piece of wood with bumps and knots and twists all throughout it. Even though she didn¡¯t know how to use woodworking tools, it had been easy to make it more balanced, especially with her Storm guiding her on the simply work of shaving a little bit off one end, removing some of the knots.

    ¡°Now that Elena¡¯s done with Mjolnir, we¡¯ll all be getting nicer weapons soon,¡± Isadora teased as Festo and Dolce swung the gate inward.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be mean, I said I wasn¡¯t going to name it!¡± Elena hissed, but Isadora was already growing serious, passing out scraps of parchment.

    ¡°Remember, speed over completeness, we¡¯re just looking to get coins quickly. Malatesta could already be on their way for all we know.¡± As soon as each garzoni received their scrap of parchment it began glowing, bright enough that they would be able to see their way in the dark hallways of Studio Foscari. ¡°Wrap things up when the light turns blue, get out fast when it goes red.¡±

    The group paused when they reached the front door, waiting for Elena as she pulled the lockpicks from her pocket. She had never made lockpicks without seeing the lock first, and her heart fluttered as she bent down to examine the lock set in the door. Very gently, she inserted the lockpick and nudged it by hairs¡¯ breadths, exploratorily. Ele stood at her side, waiting for the first hint of information he could help her with.

    ¡°Something¡¯s wrong...¡± Ele murmured suddenly.

    ¡°What¡¯s the matter, Ele? Elena?¡± Isadora shot a glance over her shoulder, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, ¡°you said you could pick their locks, what happened?¡±

    ¡°Either they aren¡¯t worried about attacks from any other studio, or they¡¯re expecting us and want us to come in,¡± Elena said, turning the handle easily and opening the door. ¡°It wasn¡¯t locked.¡± Throwing each other uneasy glances, the six DaRose garzoni entered Studio Foscari.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 56

    "The clock is ticking, Elena." Ele''s voice was quiet, but it still seemed loud in the  stillness of the empty studio halls.

    "I know, I know, what exactly do you want me to do?" Elena hissed, "they''re not here!"

    ¡°I¡¯m just saying that we need to find them faster.¡±

    ¡°Well sitting here hounding me isn¡¯t helping. Go scout the other side if you¡¯re so worried about time, see if the others have found anything.¡±

    In answer, Ele vanished through the wall with a frown. Elena continued on through the studio, trying not to regret sending Ele away and facing the silent studio by herself. Every door throughout the studio had been unlocked, and every room within empty. From the outside Studio Foscari had looked ugly, but the extra space clearly gave them a lot more to work with.

    From the rooms she had seen so far, dark and abandoned, the Foscari garzoni each had their own personal workshop; small and cramped but no worse than the workstations she had had as a De Luca garzoni. The bedrooms were cleaned to the point of spotlessness, possessions presumably tucked away in the several locked wardrobes and drawers that were in each room.

    ¡°They¡¯re all gathered in some sort of main hall,¡± Ele said from just behind her, and Elena jumped in spite of herself. ¡°The studio is just as empty all throughout.¡±

    ¡°Do you know how to get to the main hall from here? Without walking through walls?¡± Elena asked. Ele nodded without speaking and led the way, Elena trailing behind. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to snap at you like that, I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said quietly.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Ele said shortly without looking back at her.

    It¡¯s getting worse between us, Elena mused, it keeps happening, no matter what we talk about, it always leads to this.

    ¡°There you are, Elena. What do you make of this?¡± Isadora asked as the pair entered the main hall. Like the rest of the studio, the hall was utilitarian but not ugly; the only decoration was a large rug that stretched along the middle. The ceiling was so high that the light from Isadora¡¯s Stormtouched scraps of parchment didn¡¯t illuminate it, making the entire hall feel a bit cave-like.

    Isadora, Arturo, and Arta appeared to have been in some discussion before she had arrived, and a little ways away Dolce, Ercole, and Festo stood waiting for a decision. On the other side of the room, Iso stood with his arms crossed, looking bored.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what to think,¡± Elena said, ¡°they¡¯re not sleeping in their beds, they¡¯re not staying up late in their workshops...is the entire studio at court or something?¡±

    ¡°Masters get invited to the courts, not students,¡± Arturo said, ¡°and Foscari isn¡¯t high enough in the hierarchy to be invited even to the Milian court.¡±

    ¡°Then where are they?¡±

    ¡°This is when it would¡¯ve been nice to have the models you promised,¡± Festo said with a side-glance at Elena. ¡°What was it you said? ¡®All of the plans of the studio¡¯?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been trying-¡± Elena started to protest, but Isadora cut her off with a gesture.

    ¡°Let¡¯s not get into that again, we don¡¯t have the models and arguing isn¡¯t going to make them appear from thin air. We need to decide what to do, now. Chances are that Studio Malatesta is waiting for us outside as we speak, so what do we do? Ideas for plans, people.¡±

    ¡°There might be a back way out,¡± Festo said, ¡°some studios have passages out. Again, it¡¯d be nice to have the plans to the studio in this case.¡±

    ¡°Ideas for plans using things we have right now.¡±

    Elena furrowed her brow, but was distracted by Iso, still standing on the other side of the room, crooking a finger to beckon her over. He didn¡¯t seem at all concerned, but he tilted his head as she approached, as if sizing her up.

    ¡°They¡¯re underground,¡± he said quietly, as soon as she was close enough to hear him.

    ¡°I...what?¡± Elena blinked.

    ¡°Studio Foscari are hiding underground. There¡¯s a separate part of the compound just underneath this room, and that¡¯s where they¡¯re all sleeping right now. They aren¡¯t even aware you¡¯re here.¡±

    ¡°How do you...I¡¯m confused.¡±

    ¡°The other Echoes don¡¯t really think to look through floors,¡± Iso said patiently, ¡°I had a hunch, I checked it out, and I¡¯m telling you where they are.¡±

    ¡°Why are you just telling me this? Why not the rest of them?¡± Elena narrowed her eyes. Ever since Little One has screamed at her to be more careful, she had been trying to be wary of blindly trusting everyone around her. Iso didn¡¯t seem offended by her paranoia, but he threw a contemptuous glance towards Isadora, absorbed in her quiet discussion.

    ¡°And let the meretrix stulta over there think I care?¡± He rolled his eyes at Elena¡¯s shocked gasp, ¡°sorry for the language. I don¡¯t care about studio politics or any of this play-fighting you all do, so to be honest I couldn¡¯t care less if you beat Foscari or not.¡±

    ¡°Then why tell me at all?¡±

    ¡°You seem like you need a win. And Arta likes you, that¡¯s enough reason to help you.¡±

    Elena wasn¡¯t quite sure about his reasoning, but he seemed genuine enough.

    ¡°They¡¯ll know it was you who told us, they can see us talking to you,¡± Ele said quietly.

    ¡°That¡¯s why you¡¯re going to wait until they leave to go down there. Tell them you found it on your own, don¡¯t bring my name up. I don¡¯t want her to know I helped.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t seem very-¡± Elena began, but Isadora called over to them.

    ¡°Elena, Ele, Iso, we¡¯re leaving. If we move out in a group we might be able to outrun Malatesta or maybe even fight them, if they haven¡¯t brought everyone.¡±

    ¡°You guys go ahead, I¡¯m going to check one more place,¡± Elena said with a sidelong glance at Iso. ¡°I um...have a hunch,¡± the lie felt bad on her lips, but she consoled herself with the fact that Isadora didn¡¯t seem to be fooled at all, fixing Iso with a look for a long moment.

    ¡°Chances are we¡¯ll be just as well off without her as we will with her,¡± though Ercole muttered it quietly, it was still loud enough for Elena to hear, and she winced.

    ¡°Alright,¡± Isadora finally said, ¡°the rest of us, let¡¯s get moving.¡±

    As soon as the other garzoni had left, Elena surveyed the large main hall. If there truly was an underground portion to the studio...she hurried over to the rug in the middle, snagging one corner and dragging it away. After only a few feet of the thick material had been pulled back, Elena could see the trapdoor; as long as the door to a room and set smoothly into the floor.

    ¡°We owe Iso a favor,¡± Ele said quietly as she left the rug in a bundle to one side.

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°I¡¯m just happy he seems to be one of the few in the Studio who doesn¡¯t hate me,¡± Elena frowned. The trapdoor wasn¡¯t locked, but it was heavy, and Elena strained to carefully pull it open, revealing a set of steep stairs that descended into darkness. She pulled her hammer from its loop on her belt, set the glowing scrap of Isadora¡¯s parchment down outside the trapdoor, and carefully descended, using her free hand to follow the wall of the hallway.

    The underground hallway was so dark and so quiet that Elena felt as though every footstep would be loud enough to wake those sleeping at its end. At the end of the hallway there was a soft flickering light around the corner, and she tried to make her footsteps even quieter as she approached and peaked around the corner.

    A boy with messy black hair and glasses was sitting cross-legged with his back against the wall, a book in his lap. He looked up from the book with wide eyes as soon as Elena looked around the corner, and he grasped for the wooden baton that rested next to him with something approaching panic. Without stopping to think, Elena lunged forward, stumbling and nearly tripping herself to step a foot on the baton. The two of them stared at each other in silence, both of them wide eyed and frozen.

    ¡°Um...g-give my coin,¡± Elena stammered, ¡°give me your coin, I mean.¡±

    ¡°You sound like it¡¯s your first time,¡± the boy said, his eyes flicking towards the dark hallway behind her.

    ¡°Give up your coin, or take a hammer to the chest,¡± Ele said from the shadows. The boy hesitated for a moment, seemingly weighing his options, but finally fumbled in his pocket, retrieved a silver coin with a beetle engraved on it, holding it out to Elena. She eyed it suspiciously; this was too easy, there had to be some trap. ¡°Wow this really is your first time, isn¡¯t it? You get to take the coin now, and I have to step out of the studio fight. Your studiomates really should¡¯ve told you how all this works.¡±

    ¡°I know how it works!¡± Elena said indignantly, snatching the coin from him. The boy raised both hands in a gesture of surrender, made infuriating by the matching shrug.

    ¡°Alright, no offense meant, miss...?¡±

    Elena opened her mouth, but then shut it again so suddenly it almost made a snapping noise. What would Little One tell her to do in this situation?

    ¡°No offense taken,¡± she said, turning to look past the boy. He had been guarding a small door set into the stone, a large lock at its center with ornate swirls worked into the metal. If the flickering light of the boy¡¯s lantern was enough for him to read by, it should suffice for her to work.

    ¡°I¡¯m Owl,¡± the boy tried again, ¡°nice to meet you.¡±

    ¡°Nice to meet you too, Owl,¡± Elena pulled the lockpicks out once again and began working on the large lock, ¡°you¡¯ll forgive me if I don¡¯t give my name ot the enemy.¡±

    ¡°Hey, whoa, enemy? I¡¯m trying to be friendly to the new girl here, you can cut me some slack. Look, I¡¯ll even give you some free advice; you¡¯re wasting your time because that lock is Faberi-made. Give it as much time as you want, you¡¯re more likely to break your tools than get past it. There, you see, I just saved you a few hours.¡±

    The lockpick was hers, hand made. It wasn¡¯t custom-created for this lock like many of her past creations, but the Storm had guided every second of its creation. Elena could feel the pins as if it were her own fingers manipulating the tumblers within the lock, and she wasn¡¯t worried.

    ¡°You have Faberi here?¡± she asked, ignoring his advice.

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with Faberi,¡± Owl said with a frown, ¡°we like our Faberi, they contribute just as much to our studio as anyone else. You¡¯re awfully hostile, has anyone ever told you that?¡±

    ¡°No! I meant...there¡¯s nothing wrong with Faberi,¡° Elena said.

    ¡°You¡¯re darn right there¡¯s nothing wrong with them. Hell, if more studios would stop looking down their noses at Faberi, I think a lot of them would benefit. There¡¯s a lot they can offer a studio.¡±

    ¡°Like secret underground sleeping rooms and difficult locks?¡± Elena smiled at the door.

    ¡°Like mostly secret underground sleeping rooms and impenetrable locks.¡± Owl had gone back to his book, apparently completely unperturbed by his recent loss of coin and Elena¡¯s attempt to steal more. Elena didn¡¯t respond, feeling a thrill of excitement as the last tumbler clicked into place. She twisted with one sharp, smooth motion, the door gave a soft ¡°click¡±, and with a gentle push Elena swung it open.

    When she turned triumphantly, Owl¡¯s thunderstruck expression was worth all of the work that had gone into the lockpicks.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have a coin, so you aren¡¯t allowed to warn or wake anyone,¡± Ele reminded him as Elena slipped into the room beyond.

    ¡°I know the rules,¡± Owl whispered, ¡°I¡¯m not new.¡±

    The room within was a wide circle, with beds arranged all along the curved wall. Patchwork had told Elena that most garzoni slept with their coins out in plain view, and now she could see that he had been telling the truth. Next to every bed was a bedside table, and on each table among various personal effects the silver coins reflected the flickering lantern light from outside. A part of Elena felt bad, going from bedside to bedside and taking the coins as their owners slept peacefully in their beds, but there was no way she could¡¯ve overpowered all of them in a fair fight, and besides...if she was being honest with herself, she was having a lot of fun.

    ¡°Bye Owl,¡± she whispered on her way out, ¡°it was nice meeting you.¡±

    ¡°Nice meeting you too, mystery lockpicker,¡± Owl grumbled, but the corner of his mouth twitched in a smile.

    Elena was so excited she practically skipped up the dark stairs. Feeling a momentary twinge of guilt she carefully swung the trapdoor closed, and she did her best to pull the rug back into its place on top.

    How do they get it put in place when they¡¯re all down there? She wondered as she made her way out of Studio Foscari, running her fingers over the coins in the pouch at her side. Her musing was interrupted as soon as she stepped into the snow outside.

    Dolce sat in the snow, holding one leg tight to her body. Further off, Festo held a handful of red snow to his face, glaring. Arta and Iso stood to one side, Arta looking worried and Iso watching with dispassion. Almost directly in front of the studio, Ercole, Arturo, and Isadora were fighting Ripple.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 57

    Elena didn¡¯t much care for reading poetry and ballads. When it came to books, she much prefered more down-to-earth reading like history or information on various crafts. It showed how much poets loved tales of Lanisti that even someone who avoided ballads had heard of how supposedly beautiful it was to watch one of them fight.

    It barely even looked as if the girl in the snow was fighting, more like she was engaging in an elaborate dance that just so happened to coincide with the DaRose garzoni¡¯s movements. A skip back sent her out of range of Ercole¡¯s two-handed swing of his stave, then a few quick steps forward brought her close enough to slam a fist into his chest, hard enough that the muffled thud resounded in the otherwise quiet streets. Another turn and a duck and weave, and she was far out of reach of retaliation, her arm swinging wide to narrowly miss Arturo¡¯s face. When Isadora lunged forward in a feint, Ripple didn¡¯t flinch.

    The beautiful dance made her motions seem so effortless, Elena wasn¡¯t sure why her team was waiting around in front of Studio Foscari, especially since Dolce and Festo had apparently already lost their coins. Even Elio was still making jabs with his stave, though he seemed to be favoring the arm on the side that hadn¡¯t been punched.

    They¡¯re waiting for me! Elena suddenly realized, they were waiting for me to catch up, and now they¡¯re waiting for me to... the hammer seemed heavy at her belt, and Elena swallowed. Elio, Arturo and Isadora were pressing in closer now, dangerously close, and now Elena could see what they were doing.

    Ripple hadn¡¯t seen her yet, so there was a chance, a very slight chance...

    Elena slipped her hammer from her belt, carefully moving through the snow as quietly as she could. Her heart leapt at each crunch of her footsteps, but she probably didn¡¯t need to worry given the grunts and crunches of the back and forth in front of her.

    This is the defining moment, Elena thought, creeping closer, step by step, this is where Cog becomes a big name in the studio world. Should I yell something when I hit her? I should probably yell something, it¡¯ll be more impressive.

    Ripple caught Elio¡¯s stave in the crook of her arm, twisting it away from the burly man while swinging for his chest and forcing him to let go and skip back or take another punch to the chest. After a moment of tense stillness, she tossed the stave into the snow to one side, contempt radiating from her.

    Maybe I¡¯ll yell something after I hit her... Elena was closer now, so close that she could cross the distance and swing in a few steps. Swing with MY hammer, she reminded herself, and her Storm buzzed into action along her fingertips, reassuring her that the hammer¡¯s reach was long enough if she took two quick steps-

    ¡°You have a timid Cog behind you, eyeing you with her hammer,¡± Patchworks¡¯ voice drawled lazily from thin air to her right. Ripple shifted her weight suddenly, her left foot snapping up just a few feet away from Elena, who squeaked and jumped backward so fast she almost fell over. Had she been a little closer, Ripple''s foot would''ve hit her square in the chest, and Elena dreaded to imagine how much damage it might''ve caused.

    There wouldn¡¯t be another chance to attack, now that she¡¯d lost the element of surprise. Ripple continued to spin and dance, but she shot glances over her shoulder every now and then, as if Elena was only barely a threat that needed tracking. It was humiliating and enraging and mostly correct, since even as Elena blushed with anger she didn¡¯t dare make another move towards her. Instead she turned to the general direction that the voice had come from.

    Patchwork.

    ¡°Why do you always have to ruin everything!¡± she yelled at the empty air, charging forward and swinging her hammer blindly. ¡°What did we ever do to you? If we¡¯re so beneath your notice then why...don¡¯t...you...leave...us...alone?¡± She accompanied every word with a swing of her hammer, even though she knew it would do no good. Her arms were tired, her teeth clenched, her face flushed, and all of the good feelings she had from Studio Foscari were gone.

    ¡°Because it¡¯s easy,¡± Patchwork didn¡¯t even sound out of breath. Elena swung again, and although he was close enough that she could hear his footsteps crunch as he skipped back, she still had no idea where he was.

    She gave another swing, although at this point she didn¡¯t really think she would hit him. A sudden shove from behind sent her sprawling into the snow, her fingers pinched between her hammer and the stone of the street beneath the snow. For the second time in the evening the cold and damp of the snow seeped into her clothes, and she drew in a sharp breath through her teeth at the pain in her knuckles and knees.

    ¡°Because it¡¯s easy and because DaRose has lately been insisting on acting as if they have a place among the higher studios,¡± Patchwork continued. Elena struggled to her knees, but a sharp kick in the ribs sent her onto her back, staring up at the stars and clouds above. ¡°DaRose has no higher place in the hierarchy than the rock bottom, at which it sits now. You all used to remember that, but the fact that your studiomates are fighting Ripple instead of giving up their coins makes me think that you¡¯ve perhaps forgotten.¡±

    It had taken a while for the pain from the kick to filter through to her, but Elena let out a half-cough, half-cry, clutching at her side. Her eyes watered, and the pain branched out into different types, a bass thrum in her chest, staccato riffs through her knuckles, a piercing single note whenever she breathed in.

    He didn¡¯t even ask for my coin, she thought, head spinning, that¡¯s not fair...isn¡¯t that against the rules?

    ¡°Of course if you¡¯re looking for some deeper reason, DaRose kid, it could simply be that we don¡¯t have anything better to do on a Friday night,¡± Patchwork said from her left. Elena turned her head in the snow, looked through her tears, and saw him.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    She had thought Patchwork¡¯s outfit was a patchwork quilt of differing shades of purple, one that he could somehow turn invisible with his Storm, but only now did she realize how wrong she had been. It was a patchwork quilt of Artifex paintings. The colours of the surrounding area, dark blues and blacks and deep silvers, swam along the surface of the material, shifting with every miniscule movement he made. To her fellow garzoni, only half paying attention, Patchwork was effectively invisible, his clothes and hood and mask displaying the surroundings around him. To Elena, lying on the ground beneath him, the man was a patch of wall and snow-covered ground perfectly outlined against a starry black sky.

    Momentum gained from the ground up, adjusting for hurt rib and looser grip- her Storm began to supply.

    I don¡¯t need the Storm to know how to swing a hammer, she mentally snarled.

    The hammer flung an arc of snow into the night sky as she swung it.

    The jolt of the impact made her grazed knuckles sting.

    The light, cloth-bound, half-hollowed hammer against Patchwork¡¯s hip rang loudly like a wooden drum in the quiet street.

    He crumpled to the ground, momentarily disappearing from sight, but his groans made it clear where he was. Elena sat up with a groan of her own, gathered a handful of snow, and flung it to where he had fallen next to her. The snow clung, seemingly to thin air, and as it melted into his clothes the water distorted the images rippling across them. After a few moments Patchwork grunted, and his Storm¡¯s effect dissipated in a series of waves, leaving him sitting in the snow, covered from head to foot in his patchwork purple outfit. Elena rose slowly, her teeth clenched to avoid making sounds of pain.

    ¡°If you move,¡± Elena said through her teeth, ¡°if you say anything or move, I¡¯m going to hit you in the face with my hammer.¡±

    Patchwork lay very still in the snow, his expression unreadable through his lavender mask. The street quieted as Ripple, Ercole, Arturo and Isadora stopped fighting, an uneasy standoff as they observed what was going on.

    ¡°How do you always know where we¡¯ll be? The real answer, not that ¡®Malatesta always knows¡¯ line.¡± Elena asked. Patchwork reached into his pocket and she gripped her hammer tighter, but he was only going for his coin.

    ¡°I¡¯m offering up my coin and therefore further damage to me is not allowed under the Intrastudio Convention,¡± he said, holding the silver disc out to her.

    ¡°You can¡¯t even give up without sounding pompous,¡± Elena snapped, ¡°I don¡¯t want your coin, I want to know how you always know where we¡¯ll be.¡±

    ¡°Alas, Cog, since I¡¯m no longer in the game, I have absolutely no obligation to inform you of our sources,¡± Patchwork said, his smug expression obvious even though it was hidden. ¡°Take the coin, it¡¯s yours, but that¡¯s all that you¡¯ll get from me.¡±

    The coin was hers, the hammer was hers, and the Storm was feeding her a steady stream of information about both. Neither of them were Studio Malatesta, and Elena almost growled in frustration. She slapped the coin from Patchwork¡¯s hand, taking some small satisfaction from the way it rang as it bounced down the street.

    ¡°Well, now that your pointless and ineffectual display of temper is done,¡± Patchwork rose to his feet heavily, then tried to brush the snow and damp patches from his outfit, ¡°I think we¡¯ll be going.¡±

    ¡°One second,¡± Isadora interjected. ¡°We¡¯ll be taking your coin as well, Ripple.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous,¡± Patchwork chuckled, ¡°Ripple was handling the group of you even with your two Mortalis, Cog isn¡¯t going to tip the scales.¡±

    ¡°She was handling us with your help, shouting invisible instructions, letting her know when someone was behind her,¡± Isadora pointed out. ¡°Now that you¡¯ve given up the coin you¡¯re not allowed to help her anymore. Can she handle all of DaRose¡¯s Stormtouched without your help?¡±

    Elio is probably more help than I am, Elena thought, but she didn¡¯t say anything. Ripple glanced over her shoulder at Patchwork, the silence stretching out as they somehow exchanged glances without either¡¯s expression showing. Ripple gave an almost imperceptible shake over her head, and Patchwork¡¯s shoulders slumped.

    ¡°Very well. Ripple, I suppose we have no choice. If you please?¡± Ripple silently pulled a coin from a small pouch at her waist in a movement so smooth that Elena barely registered it. Isadora accepted it hesitantly, and Ripple turned on her heel and moved to grab and support Patchwork, who looked as if he was about to collapse. ¡°Mark my words, DaRoses, there will come a day-¡± Ripple placed a gloved finger on his lips, then took her studiomate¡¯s arm over her shoulder, helping him limp away. The DaRose garzoni watched the pair hobble down the street, and in spite of her frustration Elena felt a glow of pride in herself.

    ¡°I found the Foscari garzoni,¡± she said, turning to the others. ¡°eight coins! With Ripple¡¯s that¡¯s nine that we¡¯re up!¡±

    ¡°Ten,¡± Isadora nodded down the street where Elena had slapped the coin away, ¡°DaRose can¡¯t afford to give up coins like that, go find Patchwork¡¯s. Dolce and Festo lost theirs, so we¡¯ll have a net eight gain.¡± A little subdued, Elena turned to look down the street for the patches of disturbed snow where the coin might have skipped. ¡°Oh, and Elena...¡± Moving to help Dolce to her feet, Isadora flashed a wide smile over her shoulder at the Fabera. ¡°Net eight is better than we¡¯ve done in a long time. Well done.¡±

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 58

    ¡°All of our pieces are unique, Mister Lanzetta, but some pieces are more rare than others.¡± Dolce turned the small stone statue over in her hands, strategically covering the chip in its bottom as she displayed it from its more flattering sides, ¡°this one, for instance was carved by one of our artists who primarily works with marble, but as you can see, this piece is made of granite.¡±

    ¡°And...that makes it worth more?¡± the man bit his lip and furrowed his brow, splitting his attention between the stone rabbit and the girl who displayed it.

    ¡°Well, it depends,¡± Dolce mused, ¡°if our artist becomes famous for working in marble, an early work in a different stone might be hard to sell, since not enough buyers would have the money to pay you for it.¡± The man¡¯s eyebrows shot up, and Dolce shrugged, ¡°I have to be honest with you, sir, it¡¯s a gamble. Buying a piece that becomes worth too much can sometimes be just as bad as buying a piece that¡¯s worth too little.¡±

    Elena knew just as well as Dolce that the sale had already been made. A few more minutes of haggling and hedging on his part, a few more shamelessly unsubtle comments from Dolce, and in the space of a half hour Mister Lanzetta strode from the storefront with the statue in hand.

    I wonder if she even knows who carved the statue, Elena mused, checking the list in her hand for the next item to wrap up. There was no organization to Studio DaRose¡¯s shop, but it was small enough that she knew she would find it easily.

    Tiny wooden jewelry box, tiny wooden jewelry box, she thought to herself, running her hand across shelves as she made a slow circuit.

    ¡°I can hear the sound of your judgement from here,¡± Dolce remarked from the counter.

    ¡°What judgement?¡± Elena half-turned.

    ¡°You don¡¯t like me lying to customers or spinning tales about the merchandise, I can tell.¡±

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t mind...I mean, it would be nicer if we could tell the truth and just sell what we sell, but you all do so much better than me when it¡¯s your turn to run the counter...I suppose the tales are for the greater good of the studio, in the end.¡±

    ¡°Wow,¡± Dolce leaned back and folded her arms, eyebrows raised, ¡°there might be some hope for you, Elena, even if you can¡¯t lie worth a damn. You didn¡¯t used to be such a pragmatist when you first came here. What changed?¡±

    ¡°The jewelry box is in the display over there,¡± Ele pointed and Elena turned to casually survey the shop. Then, as if she had seen it on her own, she crossed to pick up the little box.

    ¡°Christus supra, have I mentioned what a bad liar you are?¡± Dolce grinned, ¡°you can¡¯t even hide when you¡¯re listening to your Echo.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean? I wasn¡¯t-¡±

    ¡°You always get a vague, innocent look on your face, and you nod as if you¡¯re listening but don¡¯t answer questions. It¡¯s okay to talk to him, I don¡¯t mind.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I just don¡¯t want to be rude, I feel bad leaving you out of conversations.¡±

    ¡°Maybe you should just recount everything your Echo says, kind of like a translator.¡±

    ¡°I...I suppose I could do that-¡±

    ¡°Oh my god, Elena, I was joking. You need to learn to say ¡®no¡¯ when people tell you to do dumb things.¡±

    ¡°No, I won¡¯t!¡± Elena smiled.

    ¡°Har har. Now don¡¯t try to change the subject, Elena. You¡¯ve become more pragmatic, what¡¯s started to corrupt your pure little core? Tell me so I can do more of it. Ooh, is it that hunky Saggitari you started dating when you came here? Has he been corrupting you this whole time and you haven¡¯t shared the juicy details?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t even know what you mean by that,¡± Elena said, blushing furiously, ¡°and no, that¡¯s not it. I don¡¯t really know what¡¯s changed, exactly. Figuring out my Storm has helped me feel less useless, maybe that¡¯s made me more practical about things.¡±

    The two girls sat in silence, Dolce pulling out the book she read when the store was quiet, idly turning the pages while Elena carefully wrapping the wooden jewelry box in cloth to be shipped to its buyer. After she crossed the jewelry box off of the list she looked around for something else to do.

    The shop was built off of a wing of the Studio, and opened onto the Street of Grey Artisans under a merchant¡¯s sign. It was usually quiet, which was pleasant in some ways but not very exciting. The trickle of profit in reselling art, both their own and other studios¡¯, made it too valuable to close.

    ¡°Try the Studios again, if you¡¯re bored,¡± Ele said from his perch at the window where he watched the street. Elena frowned, but turned to the shelf to her left. Little wooden models of each of the eight studios of Milia sat in a neat row on the shelf, low enough that they would be out of sight of the casual customer, but still technically for sale. The very sight of them made Elena feel helpless and frustrated, but brooding wouldn¡¯t bring her any closer to figuring out how to use them.

    Dolce watched over her book as Elena set the model of Studio De Luca down on the counter.

    ¡°We usually don¡¯t mess with De Luca,¡± Dolce said, ¡°if you¡¯re trying to come up with plans for them. You¡¯ll have a hard time convincing the others to do that raid.¡±

    ¡°I just want my Storm to work, I¡¯ll worry about coming up with plans later,¡± Elena narrowed her eyes and stared at the model, trying to summon her Storm.

    This model is my model, this is my Studio. It¡¯s a representation of MY Studio. Studio-De-Luca- Lucciano. Not a single spark of Storm assisted her.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright, just stay calm and focus,¡± Ele said quietly. ¡°You¡¯ve done this before, so you know it¡¯s possible. Focus on a question about the Studio, remember that you built it with your own two hands.¡±

    Elena took a deep breath and tried again.

    This belongs to me. I built this, I made this. My studio, so how should I run it? Mine mine mine mine MINE. I cut the wood, I fit the pieces together, I drew the designs and cut them out with a knife. She ran her fingers over the tiny little embellishments she had painstakingly carved into the wooden walls of the Studio De Luca model, the windows and the texture of the roof. I knicked myself when I made this window, I BLED to make this my own.

    Her Storm snapped into focus, buzzing in her fingertips as if tiny lightning bolts were arcing from them to the edges and corners of the model. It was exactly 1.5 hands tall, its weakest connection was in the corner where one of the wooden tabs had cracked, and there was a knot on the left wall was the model¡¯s strongest point.

    ¡°It only works on the model,¡± Elena sighed, ¡°it¡¯s not going through to the Studio itself.¡±

    ¡°Your studio,¡± Ele emphasised.

    ¡°My studio. My studio needs food, so to accomplish that I should...I would...ugh, I don¡¯t know.¡± Elena slumped on the counter, her face level with the little studio. ¡°Why can¡¯t I break into this studio!¡± She groaned.

    ¡°Probably because it¡¯s way too small,¡± Niccolo said from the doorway, ¡°you should try breaking into studios your own size.¡±

    ¡°Niccolo!¡± Half of the frustration that had been building in Elena melted away at the very sight of him, and she ran to wrap her arms around him.

    ¡°Hello there, Saggitari,¡± Dolce said.

    ¡°Hi there, Mortalis,¡± Niccolo returned Elena¡¯s hug with arms that felt safe and firm.

    ¡°There¡¯s no need to be insulting,¡± Dolce wrinkled her nose at him, ¡°especially when I was just saying such nice things about you to Elena.¡±

    ¡°Oh? What sort of nice things?¡± Niccolo didn¡¯t show any sign of letting Elena go, and she was just fine with that.

    ¡°We were talking about how you should keep corrupting our sweet friend Elena. She was sharing all the juicy details about how she wants to be corrupted-¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you planned on coming by today,¡± Elena hastily interrupted, ¡°you¡¯ve been so busy at the Studio De Luca I feel like I haven¡¯t seen you in weeks!¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize that I¡¯d be coming by myself,¡± Niccolo finally let her go and showed her the leather canvas carrier he carried, ¡°but Studio De Luca had some paintings to sell, and I volunteered to bring it over.¡±

    "Oh..." Elena said, disappointed.

    "Ah, rookie move, Saggitari," Dolce said, "you should''ve pretended that catching a glimpse of her sweet face was the only reason you came by, and that you desperately searched for some excuse."

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    ¡°Well, I also thought I¡¯d ask Elena to come to Marchelli¡¯s for lunch, does that make up for it?¡± Niccolo said

    ¡°I¡¯d love to, Niccolo,¡± Elena shifted uncomfortably, shooting a glance at Dolce. When she was a De Luca gazona she had barely thought of the cost of eating out on the Studio¡¯s coin, but these days she was painfully aware of how much it cost for even the most basic food deliveries, ¡°but I don¡¯t know if I should...¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll pay.¡±

    Elena blushed at how easily Niccolo had guessed the cause of her reservations, but in spite of herself, she smiled.

    ***

    It smelled as good as she had remembered it, the scent a blend of savory meats mixed with various spices Elena couldn¡¯t identify. She gave Niccolo¡¯s arm an appreciative squeeze, and he smiled down at her in return. When her stomach growled, Niccolo raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Do you not eat breakfast at Studio DaRose?¡± He asked.

    ¡°I forgot to this morning,¡± Elena admitted, ¡°I was trying to work out a new weapon for Dolce to use, and we don¡¯t ever eat at regular times so it¡¯s easy to forget.¡±

    ¡°How do you all know when the next meal will be then? Does Master DaRose go ¡®round and gather you all up to eat together?¡±

    ¡°The DaRose garzoni have a much less structured life than De Luca garzoni. They don¡¯t ever really eat together.¡±

    ¡°¡®They¡¯? Don¡¯t you mean ¡®we¡¯?¡±

    Elena blinked, but before she could think of an answer a waitress approached where they stood at the door.

    ¡°Hello Niccolo, always good to see you here again!¡± she said brightly, ¡°how many will there be for you today? Just the two of you?¡±

    ¡°There will be five total,¡± Niccolo replied, ¡°all Stormtouched, so ten seats if you could.¡±

    ¡°Actually...¡± Nicci broke in, ¡°I think Ele and I are going to go for a walk, we have some...things...that we want to discuss. So you¡¯ll only need eight seats.¡±

    The pair of them had been talking quietly, lagging a few footsteps behind the others, for the entire trip from Studio DaRose to the restaurant, so Elena wasn¡¯t sure what more they would have to talk about.

    ¡°It¡¯s not going to be just us?¡± Elena asked Niccolo as the waitress ushered them to the same large seat by the window that they had sat at the first time she had visited. She tried to brush the doubts from her mind as she sliding into the seat across from Niccolo.

    ¡°I invited the De Luca garzoni as well,¡± Niccolo said. ¡°None of them have seen you in a few weeks, and we all miss you.¡±

    ¡°Oh...okay. Although I¡¯m not sure I believe that Leanarda and Lorenzo miss me.¡±

    ¡°Lorenzo is hard to gauge, I¡¯ll admit, but Leanarda isn¡¯t so bad, Elena, really. She talks about you all the time.¡±

    ¡°Talks about me...with you?¡± Elena blurted before she could stop herself.

    ¡°She doesn¡¯t say anything bad, don¡¯t worry,¡± Niccolo chuckled, clearly missing the point of her concern. ¡°Honestly, I think you two could become friends if you gave her a chance.¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s giving whom a chance?¡± Leanarda asked. Elena looked at the white furs at the cuffs of the girl¡¯s coat, in the white and deep yellow colors of Studio De Luca, and immediately felt underdressed. ¡°No, don¡¯t tell me, I can tell by the way Cog is blushing that it¡¯s me.¡± The Artifex smiled and slipped into the seat next to Niccolo, ¡°it¡¯s good to see you, Cog, it¡¯s been a while.¡±

    ¡°Hello, Leanarda,¡± Elena said. She couldn¡¯t put her finger on any one detail that was bothering her, but the entire situation made her feel self-conscious and uncomfortable.

    ¡°Where is Leo? And the others?¡± Niccolo leaned back in his chair, as at-ease as he ever was.

    ¡°Leo saw Nicci and Ele down the street, so he went to join them. I don¡¯t know if he¡¯ll be welcome, they seemed in the midst of a pretty deep discussion. Lorenzo refused to budge because he is on the verge of yet another breakthrough, and Frederica has to deal with Freja. Pietro has issued another one of his ultimatums.¡±

    Niccolo threw his head back and laughed.

    ¡°Pietro has been giving ultimatums?¡± Elena asked

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s right you wouldn¡¯t know, Cog,¡± Leanarda said, and an ugly cold feeling knotted up in the pit of Elena¡¯s stomach, ¡°Pietro has been trying to train Freja to help with the some of the administrative duties. The poor thing means well but she¡¯s like a puppy, so easily distractible by the slightest thing. Pietro has decided that the best method of dealing with his troubles is to make broad and sweeping declarations and ultimatums to anyone who will listen, and Frederica has been taking it on herself to calm him.¡±

    ¡°That sounds like a lot of patience, for Frederica.¡±

    ¡°Without a doubt,¡± Leanarda said.

    ¡°Pompous little Pietro,¡± Niccolo smiled.

    ¡°¡®Like a herd of elephants!¡¯¡± Leanarda said with an impression of the stone boy, and the pair of them chuckled together again. Elena clenched her fists beneath the table, but she barely knew why the situation upset her so much.

    ¡°Excuse me, Miss Lucciano?¡± Elena had been so intent on Niccolo and Leanarda that she hadn¡¯t even noticed the woman approach until she laid a hand on Elena¡¯s shoulder, ¡°could I talk to you for a moment? Just over there?¡±

    Elena glanced across the table, but she didn¡¯t know what to say to her old studiomates. Without saying a word she rose and followed the woman across the restaurant, into a corner away from the tables. Elena shot another look over her shoulder as they walked, noting with a frown that Niccolo and Leanarda were continuing their discussion in quiet tones, as if they hadn¡¯t even noticed that she¡¯d left.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if you recall me, Miss Lucciano, but I have heard that you have connections in Studio DaRose,¡± the woman said. Elena wrested her attention away from the table and gave the woman her full attention for the first time. She had pale skin, green eyes, and short-cropped brown hair. Her smile was apologetic, but tilted up at one corner as if there was no way for her to hide its mischievous spark. Though there was something vaguely familiar about her, Elena couldn¡¯t quite put her finger on why. She was sure she¡¯d remember that smile.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I don¡¯t think I remember meeting you,¡± Elena said.

    ¡°Well, I suppose that¡¯s neither here nor there. I¡¯m looking for a job, Miss Lucciano, any job will do really, and I was hoping I could find one at Studio DaRose.¡±

    ¡°I...I¡¯m sorry, that¡¯s not really up to me. That would be up to Master DaRose himself, but I¡¯m pretty sure we can¡¯t afford-¡±

    ¡°Oh but I think you¡¯ll find that my offer is quite reasonable. I only want food and lodgings, nothing more. I don¡¯t know that you could find better wages asked than that, even a slave would cost more up-front.¡±

    Over her shoulder, Elena had noticed that Leanarda had placed a hand on Niccolo¡¯s as they spoke, and she was having difficulty paying attention to what the woman was saying.

    ¡°I can tell you¡¯re distracted right now,¡± the woman said, ¡°perhaps it would be better if I returned with you to Studio DaRose and we could discuss it there?¡±

    ¡°Okay, we can do that,¡± Elena nodded, ¡°let me go tell my old studiomates where I¡¯m going.¡± She had lost her appetite at the prospect of spending an entire meal with Leanarda and Niccolo talking and laughing together. She would take the woman back to Studio DaRose, but first she would give Niccolo a piece of her mind. He spent every day with Leanarda, was it so much to ask that he dedicate one meal to his girlfriend? She had to start sticking up for herself, it was like Dolce had said.

    As she stalked back towards the table, Ele stepped through the door of Marchelli¡¯s.

    ¡°Hey, Elena, we ran into Leo outside and he and Nicci are talking, I think that...¡± Ele trailed off as he looked past Elena, his mouth open mid-word.

    ¡°Hello Ele,¡± said the woman, smiling wide, ¡°it¡¯s been some time.¡±

    Ele blinked again, his expression halfway between excitement and worry. ¡°Emerald?¡±

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 59

    Although snow still covered the streets and rooftops of Milia, the sun was shining and the wind¡¯s bite was less intense. Even so, even with her arms wrapped around herself, Elena shook as if she was freezing. The alleyway behind Marchelli¡¯s blocked the light breeze, but her teeth chattered against each other.

    ¡°You look more terrified of me now than when we first met, the day you arrived here. I sat down to eat with you, do you remember?¡± Emerald asked gently. Her voice was beautiful; now that she was paying attention Elena could hear a silvery underlay to her words, so subtle that it might just have been her imagination. Imagination or no, she flinched every time the Rhetor opened her mouth.

    ¡°You were wearing your mask then,¡± Elena whispered.

    ¡°After spending months together I would think that you¡¯d know I wouldn¡¯t hurt you.¡±

    She sounded so hurt and sad that part of Elena wanted to console her, to reassure her, but how could she be sure it was due to her own emotions and not the touch of Emerald¡¯s Storm on her mind? Elena shivered again, trying to shake the imaginary feeling of crawling insects across her mind.

    That¡¯s ridiculous, I wouldn¡¯t be able to feel anything. I wouldn¡¯t even know that I¡¯m being influenced. She could have me already and there¡¯s nothing I could do about it...

    ¡°Please stop talking to me,¡± Elena whimpered in spite of herself.

    ¡°If it makes you feel better I can talk to Ele instead,¡± Emerald turned to her Echo, ¡°it¡¯s killed me, not being able to thank you for all of the lovely things you say to me. The things you say about me.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s good to see you again, Emerald, it really is,¡± Ele said carefully, ¡°but...and I don¡¯t mean to hurt your feelings...¡±

    ¡°I get the feeling you¡¯re going to anyway,¡± Emerald said sadly.

    ¡°I just don¡¯t know if Rhetors¡¯ Storms can influence Echoes, that¡¯s all. We know so little about you...¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll change that,¡± the sad look vanished, replaced with a conspiratorial wink. It was startling to see her entire body language shift in an instant, almost as unsettling as her voice. ¡°Now that I¡¯m coming to work for you at Studio DaRose it¡¯ll be just like old times. Even better, because we¡¯ll actually get to know each other, without a million watchful eyes.¡±

    ¡°A million eyes like Rolf? Erik? Garnet?¡± Ele asked pointedly. In an instant Emerald¡¯s face was contrite once more.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, that was tactless of me, mentioning them.¡±

    ¡°Mentioning the Rhetorguard who died, the Rhetor who killed him, and your own conspicuously missing guard? Yes I think it was.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not...stop, please, both of you,¡± Elena managed. ¡°This is all confusing and I can¡¯t think with you two talking.¡± Ele and Emerald both paused, watching her with concern. She rubbed her temples and tried to take deep, calming breaths.

    This would be the perfect scenario for my Storm to help, she thought, but of course it wouldn¡¯t help her here.

    ¡°Rhetors aren¡¯t tactless, they¡¯re good at conversation the same way I know my way around a hammer,¡± she finally said. ¡°You brought them up on purpose. Why?¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t know whether or not-¡± Ele began.

    ¡°No, she¡¯s right,¡± Emerald said, holding up a hand to stop Ele. ¡°I...I thought it was better to bring them up now. I¡¯m sure you have questions, I¡¯d rather address them now than wait and have to revisit them when I¡¯m working in Studio DaRose.¡±

    ¡°You also keep saying that,¡± Elena clenched her teeth, ¡°like if you say it over and over it¡¯ll make it so.¡±

    Ele was looking at her curiously, and even Emerald looked taken aback.

    ¡°You¡¯re not normally this astute,¡± the Rhetor said, ¡°you¡¯re more paranoid than when we last met.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m confused and I¡¯m scared and I¡¯m tired of people who have advantages over me!¡±

    ¡°I said you were paranoid, I didn¡¯t say you were wrong.¡± Emerald took a deep breath and sighed. ¡°The body language, the little tricks of swaying people...sometimes I don¡¯t even realize I¡¯m doing it anymore. But for you, I¡¯ll stop. Tell me what I can do to set your mind at ease.¡±

    ¡°You can answer my questions without trying to influence me at all.¡±

    ¡°Alright,¡± Emerald said, her face settling into a neutral expression, ¡°I¡¯ll do my best.¡±

    ¡°What happened to your Rhetorguard? Did you kill him like Garnet did to his? The last thing we heard was that he was taking you to the Guardhouse, but we didn¡¯t know why.¡±

    ¡°I spoke,¡± Emerald¡¯s eyes flashed, ¡°I spoke to Garnet to keep him from killing Rolf and freeing me. That was my crime.¡±

    ¡°So you killed him?¡±

    ¡°I would never hurt Rolf, although he clearly didn¡¯t have the same feelings about me,¡± Emerald said bitterly, ¡°I knew he wouldn¡¯t kill me, but I thought that extended to not turning me over to people who most certainly would. I kept thinking he would change his mind, see how unreasonable the Guardhouse¡¯s rules were. I really thought he would turn back before taking me in. Two nights before we would¡¯ve reached the Guardhouse I realized that he was serious. I escaped.¡±

    ¡°You escaped. Just like that?¡± Elena frowned, ¡°from Rolf?¡±

    ¡°Is it so hard to believe that after twenty-five years of perfect behavior from the model Rhetor, he would let his guard down just a little? Not enough to break the rules, but enough that he didn¡¯t consider how close the beds were to each other? It only took a single mistake.¡±

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    ¡°It sounds believable, but I don¡¯t even know if I can trust what you¡¯re saying!¡± Elena wanted to pull her hair out in frustration, ¡°I don¡¯t know if it makes sense because it makes sense, or because you¡¯re using you Storm!¡±

    ¡°But I¡¯m not using my Storm!¡±

    ¡°But your voice is so pretty...¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t use my Storm on you, Elena!¡± Emerald protested, ¡°you¡¯re the only person in the world I can consider my friend! You treated me like an equal even when I wore that horrible mask.¡±

    ¡°Wait, maybe you should!¡± Ele said suddenly.

    ¡°Ele, no what are you talking about?¡± Elena¡¯s stomach went cold, and the trembling that had subsided came back full force at the thought of a Rhetor¡¯s Storm used on her.

    ¡°Think about it, Elena; you don¡¯t know whether or not Emerald is using her Storm on you...if she did it with something harmless, innocuous, then you would know how it feels.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t...I can¡¯t...¡± the panic fluttered in Elena¡¯s chest, and her breath was only coming in short gasps, ¡°I don¡¯t...¡±

    ¡°Emerald, can I talk to Elena alone? Please?¡±

    Emerald nodded silently and walked across the street, looking through the window at the wares of the candleshop across the way.

    ¡°Ele I can¡¯t, I can¡¯t do it I can¡¯t let a Rhetor use her Storm on me, not even Emerald,¡± Elena gibbered.

    ¡°Elena wait, listen...¡± Ele shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearly trying to choose his words. ¡°I don¡¯t...I don¡¯t ask for a lot.¡±

    The statement caught Elena off-guard, enough so that she stopped her panicked babbling.

    ¡°You ask for stuff,¡± she said, confused.

    ¡°I give you advice...okay I boss you around sometimes,¡± Ele admitted, ¡°but I don¡¯t ask for things, for me. I¡¯m asking for a favor now. I¡¯m...I¡¯m begging, actually.¡± There was no snark or sarcasm in his face, but instead he had an earnest vulnerability that looked strange on him. ¡°Please don¡¯t send her away, Elena.¡±

    ¡°But...she scares me,¡± Elena said in a small voice.

    ¡°It¡¯s the one favor I¡¯ve asked of you, Elena. Our entire lives I¡¯ve tried to help you.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not fair.¡±

    ¡°I know it¡¯s not, but I¡¯ll do whatever I can. Please don¡¯t turn her away.¡±

    ¡°Why Emerald? Is this really because of your stupid crush? A pair of green eyes?¡±

    ¡°Emerald says you¡¯re the one person who looks at her and actually sees her...besides you, she¡¯s the only one who actually sees me. Do you know how rare that is? Someone who likes me?¡±

    ¡°Lots of people like you! What about...¡± Elena groped for a moment, ¡°...what about Nicci, she likes you. You two go off and talk all the time.¡±

    ¡°Nicci?¡± Ele blinked, then laughed, ¡°Nicci doesn¡¯t like me, she¡¯s just teaching me because she doesn¡¯t want me to die.¡±

    ¡°To die? What are you doing that would make you die?¡± Elena gasped.

    ¡°I¡¯ve said too much already, I¡¯m not saying more.¡±

    ¡°The only thing you won¡¯t tell me is how you change your clothes, Ele...are you risking dying to do that?¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t what we¡¯re talking about, Elena, we¡¯re talking about Emerald, the one favor I¡¯ve asked. Let her use her Storm on you, prove to yourself that you¡¯ll recognize it when she does, and you¡¯ll be more comfortable letting her live and work in Studio DaRose.¡±

    ¡°That still won¡¯t prove that she didn¡¯t do something to Rolf.¡±

    ¡°What can I do to convince you to do me this favor?¡±

    ¡°Tell me the Echo secret you¡¯ve been hiding and I¡¯ll let her use her Storm on me.¡±

    Elena hadn¡¯t even meant to say it, didn¡¯t realize she was thinking it, but in the sudden silence that stretched between them she felt as though she couldn¡¯t take it back.

    ¡°If any Echo finds out that I told you, they¡¯ll kill me.¡± Ele¡¯s voice was so grave that Elena almost lost her nerve, but a glance across the street steeled her again. If she had to give ground then he could too. She stayed silent, folding her arms across her chest. ¡°Fine. Let her do it and I¡¯ll tell you. We¡¯ll be even, after that?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll be even,¡± Elena promised. And maybe things between us can finally go back to normal.

    Emerald seemed to be completely engrossed in the candles, but as soon as Ele waved her over she approached, practically beaming.

    ¡°Have you two worked things out?¡± She asked. Elena shivered at the sound of her voice, too beautiful, like soft silver bells formed into words.

    ¡°Elena will let you use your Storm on her, once. That way she¡¯ll know what it feels like, so she¡¯ll know if you try it in the future.¡±

    ¡°And then you¡¯ll let me work at Studio DaRose with you?¡± Emerald asked brightly.

    ¡°It really isn¡¯t all up to me,¡± Elena said, ¡°but...I¡¯ll do my best.¡±

    This is a horrible idea, the thought nagged at the back of her mind.

    ¡°Your best is good enough for me!¡±

    Emerald smiled, opened her mouth, and Spoke.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 60

    Meryl stared into the window of the dim candleshop, entranced. The candles themselves were boring, but the cold light of the day outside made the reflection clear enough to watch them, across the street, talking and arguing. The tousled black curls of his hair bounced when he shook his head; a small detail that would¡¯ve seemed unimportant to anyone else, but Meryl locked it away and smiled to herself. He probably had no idea how cute he looked, the contrast of his tanned skin and black curls accentuating features that were already appealing. Trapped in a world where the only ones who saw him saw him as someone else¡¯s appendage, had anyone ever looked at him and seen his features on their own merit? Maybe that¡¯s why he was so fond of commenting on her green eyes, they were the only eyes that seemed able to see him.

    She did wish she could do something about the worry lines on his forehead right now. Painful as it was, seeing him so distraught, it was also worrisome. If they were arguing, it meant that Elena was seriously considering sending Meryl away, or perhaps even turning her in to the Guardhouse. Had she banked too much on the influence of Ele¡¯s crush and Elena¡¯s naivette?

    If I can¡¯t get Elena to trust me, this entire thing becomes much more difficult.

    Meryl shook her head to clear the worry. Her short-cropped hair still felt strange against her neck with every movement, not to mention how exposed the skin of her face felt without the leather and metal of the mask pressing against it. Goosebumps prickled along the back of her neck, but she forced herself to remain calm, to push down the feeling that she should be running, that she was hunted.

    No one knows what I am, no one knows to hate me... she reminded herself, a mantra that had kept her calm enough to act naturally for the past few weeks. ...yet. A quick sidelong glance up and down the street revealed that no one was around; the bite in the air tended to keep people indoors unless they had somewhere to go. Meryl could afford to wait for Ele and Elena to talk things out. After all, she still had at least a week or two before she would have to worry about Rolf.

    ***

    ¡°Are you sure you¡¯ve thought this all the way through?¡± The tip of Rolf¡¯s sword danced very subtly in the air, twitching back and forth by less than an inch, just enough that the thieves had to pay attention to it. ¡°Robbing someone who has dedicated their life to combat? The best-case scenario of your plan involves leaving a Rhetor free.¡±

    ¡°A masked Rhetor,¡± the leader pointed out. He didn¡¯t have the same flourish to his drawn sword, but then again he had an additional four men, which was a type of flourish itself Meryl supposed. She sat in the cart, strangely calm given the violence that had just occurred in front of her. The cart driver¡¯s weak struggles on the ground had stilled a few moments ago, but the robbers hadn¡¯t approached yet, content for the moment to maintain the tight ring they¡¯d established. Above her Rolf stood on the cart¡¯s bench, his vantage point allowing him to tower as he flicked his sword to point at them in turn.

    Maybe ¡®calm¡¯ is the wrong word, Meryl glanced down the road at the city that remained a speck on the horizon. After all, she felt slightly uneasy for Rolf¡¯s sake. It was easy to maintain a lack of concern for herself; she had already accepted that she was dead. After her Rhetorguard dealt with the robbers, another hour would bring them into Florezia proper, and then the Guardhouse, and then execution. Rolf could reassure her all he wanted about the understanding of the Rhetorjudges, about how they would ¡®take her behaviour into account¡¯, but he was only fooling himself. Her demise had been fated since the moment she¡¯d opened her mouth to save his life, back in Studio De Luca.

    ¡°You know, pretty lass, you could push your armored friend off the cart if you wanted to help us out,¡± the leader of the robbers wheedled, snapping Meryl from her reverie, ¡°we¡¯re gonna kill you either way, but tell me it wouldn¡¯t be nice to get a little payback on your Guard here first.¡±

    Meryl shook her head. There was certainly a touch of bitterness in her feelings about Rolf, but he had performed his duties with kindness and honor. He may have been taking her to the slaughter, but a part of her felt almost indebted to him for the gentleness he had shown her. Odd as it was, she almost thought of him more as a friend than a jailor.

    ¡°Worth a try,¡± the robber shrugged, ¡°alright rhetorguard, here¡¯s your own question turned back at you; are you sure you¡¯ve thought this all the way through? You¡¯re supposed to have dedicated your life to protecting us honest citizens from Rhetors, what are you doing risking your life in defense of a few coins?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t like robbers,¡± Rolf said, ¡°or thieves, pirates, smugglers, or anyone who feels they don¡¯t have to follow the laws laid forth by Italoza. Perhaps it¡¯s because I live my life by those rules, or maybe I just don¡¯t feel much compassion for those too lazy to make an honest living.¡±

    ¡°I think we¡¯ve reached an impasse then. Might be time to stop talking and start fighting.¡±

    ¡°It seems so.¡±

    ¡°We will kill the Rhetor for you after you die, if it eases your mind.¡±

    ¡°If it came down to it, I¡¯d have more faith in Emerald to turn herself in.¡±

    After she realized that Rolf was really taking her to the Guardhouse, Meryl had floated through her final days in something of a haze, feeling more like a corpse on borrowed time than a real person, and that feeling didn¡¯t go away now. She watched the men throw themselves at Rolf with a kind of detached interest, clasping her hands in her lap as they fought almost on top of her.

    We¡¯ll have to make the rest of the trip on foot, now that the cart driver is dead, she mused to the tune of iron on iron and flesh, that adds an extra hour or two before my execution. I wonder if that¡¯s better or worse? More time to be alive, but more anticipation of my death.

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    She lifted her skirt a few inches off the ground as one of the thieves fell to the floor of the cart in front of her, keeping the fabric away from the pool of blood that spread. Rolf made sure the next corpse fell on the outside of the cart, kicking him away after stabbing him.

    That was considerate of him. If it made any difference, I¡¯m sure judges would look more harshly on a Rhetor covered in blood, even if it wasn¡¯t through any fault of my own. ¡®Guilty through no fault of my own¡¯, they should put that on my tombstone. Not that I could request anything on my tombstone. Or that anyone would visit to read it. A part of her wondered if her detachedness was healthy given the situation...but what did it matter? Whether in a few moments or in a few hours, her mental wellbeing wouldn¡¯t be an issue any longer.

    ¡°Emerald? Are you alright Emerald? Emerald, look at me!¡± Rolf shook her by the shoulders, and Meryl blinked.

    Three of the robbers were dead, on the ground or draped over the cart¡¯s edge. One was breathing but unconscious, his neck at an awkward angle where he had fell. The last was trying to drag himself away from the cart with his spear, but the heavy trail of blood he was leaving in the grass indicated he wouldn¡¯t get far. The entire fight had taken less than a minute.

    Rolf shook her again. ¡°Emerald, are you hurt?¡±

    Meryl shook her head, annoyed. His sword hand was all bloody, and when he had shaken her he¡¯d left red stains on the shoulder of her shirt. Was it so much to ask to be executed in a clean dress? And what was he thinking, looking at her with such concern, his sword hand dangling inches from the hands of the one he was taking to the Guardhouse? It wouldn¡¯t even take much effort to grab his hand, to twist upward, shove forward to knock him off balance...the armor was good, but after enough blows of his own good sword, even it would eventually fail. It would be easy. If it wasn¡¯t Rolf, of course. Meryl sighed and closed her eyes. Garnet had been the lucky one, being saddled with a Rhetorguard he hadn¡¯t minded killing.

    The man in the grass gave a loud grunt, hurling his weapon and then screaming at the pain. The spear caught Rolf in the hip, just above the right leg. Already off-balance, the impact threw the man into a spin, off the cart in a tumble. Meryl didn¡¯t see the spear splinter beneath the weight of Rolf¡¯s body, but she heard the snap of cracking wood.

    Her reaction wasn¡¯t...ordinary...she realized that even as she picked Rolf¡¯s sword up from the floor of the cart and jumped down. It was possible to identify, in a detached sort of way, that she shouldn¡¯t be feeling so detached. The man in the grass was yelling, saying something, but she didn¡¯t care that she couldn¡¯t quite process what he was saying.

    A normal reaction would probably be to rush to Rolf¡¯s side, perhaps, see if he¡¯s alright, if there¡¯s something I can do, she thought, reaching the robber in the grass.

    The impact of the sword in her hand felt strange, more like cutting into meat in De Luca¡¯s kitchen than using a weapon.

    Or maybe sitting in the cart, paralyzed with horror, or screaming for help.

    The unconscious but breathing robber was on the ground in between her the cart, and she stopped at him on the way to where Rolf lay. When the sword got stuck she abandoned it, leaving it sticking straight up to make her way to the fallen Rhetorguard.

    ¡°You know...you¡¯re not allowed...to use weapons...¡± Rolf said, alternating speaking and taking shallow, sputtering breaths. Meryl tore a strip from the hem of her skirt, pressing it to the wound at his hip and moving his hands to hold it there. ¡°I¡¯ll...have...to...tell...Guardhouse...¡±

    The wound could¡¯ve been worse. Instead of shattering inside his hip, the break was well beyond his hip. It was even staunching the flow of blood as long as they left it stuck in him. He would most likely survive if someone from the city could reach him fast enough. She helped prop him up against the cart¡¯s wheel as he dug in his pouch for paper and a nub of charcoal. He scrawled a short note as he spoke, gritting his teeth.

    ¡°Can¡¯t...walk. You have to....go to Florez...¡± Rolf winced , paused, and continued, ¡°give this to the Guardhouse. They¡¯ll send....send help. Promise me you¡¯ll send help?¡±

    Meryl nodded, glancing him up and down one final time before she took the note from him. He would live, she was sure of it. Even though he was facing away from the road, she waited until the cart was far behind her before she opened her bloody fist, looking down at the key she had taken from him as she¡¯d helped him sit up.

    She could deliver the plea for help to one of the Guardhouse gatekeepers; without the mask there would be no suspicion, and she owed Rolf that much. After that...she would have to find a place to lay low for a few years, somewhere out of the way but not obvious. Given what she knew of her own Storm, it wouldn¡¯t be hard to convince someone to take her in, but it would be much easier if she could find someone who already liked her. Her fellow De Luca cook Domineco would¡¯ve been the best, one who both had a crush on her and wouldn¡¯t care about her using her Storm, but she had already passed up that opportunity, and it would be far too difficult to track him down now.

    There was only one other option that would let her use her Storm smoothly, without a long time of preparation and danger. Rolf would track her back to Milia, of course, but she would have plenty of time to prepare for him. Living her life on the run like Domenico wasn¡¯t Meryl¡¯s style; she would have to deal with her Rhetorguard sooner or later.

    First things first, deal with one person at a time, she thought, taking her first breath of fresh air since that night in Studio De Luca. ¡°I¡¯ll deal with Rolf later,¡± she said aloud, testing her voice out, ¡°first Ele.¡±

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 61

    Elena¡¯s eyes fluttered, and even though the sky was overcast it was bright enough to make her wince.

    ¡°Elena, are you alright?¡± There were silver bells in Emerald¡¯s voice, still, but it didn¡¯t make Elena flinch away in fear as it had earlier.

    ¡°I...I think so?¡± It came out more as a question than a statement, but Elena did feel a bit better.

    ¡°It¡¯s pretty uncommon for people to be disoriented by a Rhetor¡¯s Storm, but I¡¯ve heard of it happening. You got a little loopy there for a bit.¡±

    ¡°You were a bit unsteady on your feet,¡± Ele said, watching her closely, ¡°and you blinked a lot.¡±

    ¡°Did I?¡± Elena tried to remember, but her recent memory seemed blurry. She recalled Emerald opening her mouth to speak, recalled bracing herself for whatever horrors a Rhetor¡¯s voice would overwhelm her with...then fuzziness, as if the memory were locked away behind a wall of water in her mind. Emerald had said something to her, and Elena had picked up a fist-sized stone from the ground, one she was still holding. Ele had spoken to the Rhetor, then to her...Elena furrowed her brow. It was too difficult to recall the sequence of events.

    ¡°What did you do to me?¡± She asked. It was unsettling, not knowing what had just happened to her. A shiver ran through her, this time more due to the cold than to fear of Emerald.

    ¡°We should head back to the Studio while we talk,¡± Ele said, noting the shiver.

    ¡°I did what you asked, Elena,¡± Emerald said as the three of them began trudging through the snow in the direction of the Street of Grey Artisans. ¡°I used my Storm on you, something harmless and innocuous. I had you pick up that snowball and I told you it was a rock.¡±

    Elena stopped in the middle of the street and looked down at the half-melted rock in her hand.

    ¡°You can...do that?¡± she asked with quiet awe. The rock was smooth and dark, and the cold of it was starting to make her hand grow numb. ¡°You can just tell me what to think and I¡¯ll think it?¡±

    ¡°It depends on the willingness of the person I¡¯m talking to,¡± Emerald put her hands in her pockets and glanced up and down the street, her short black hair flicking back and forth as she did so. ¡°You wanted me to use my Storm, so it was more effective.¡±

    ¡°That seems...dangerous,¡± Elena said, but she frowned as she tried to reconcile her own feelings about her Rhetor companion. Ele was quiet, looking at his feet as he walked, but Elena caught the pair of them exchanging a quick glance between each other.

    The fact of the matter was, the simple facts of the case should have been terrifying, but instead of the fear that she should be feeling, the worry that she had felt just a few minutes ago, she felt...trusting. Calm. Emerald wouldn¡¯t betray her trust, she was as certain of that as she had been of anything. The rock in her hand continued to melt, and she poked it with a gloved finger. It broke into pieces with a wet crunch, the smaller ones melting into small puddles almost instantly. She knew it was a handful of snow, the facts of the case were simple and straightforward.

    Emerald made me trust her. There was no other explanation for the missing suspicion, for the fact that despite her obvious danger Elena couldn¡¯t imagine the Rhetor turning on her. She threw the pieces of the rock into the rest of the snow, biting her lip. Does she think I¡¯m stupid? That I wouldn¡¯t realize what she¡¯d done? Even worse, she realized, trying to remember the blurry conversation, was that Ele had seen it happen and wasn¡¯t warning her.

    ¡°Not too dangerous. It¡¯s only dangerous if I were to use it to hurt people,¡± Emerald said, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t do that.¡±

    Elena believed her, but the belief made her frown. Though she couldn¡¯t find Emerald suspicious, apparently she could be angry at her. Little One had been right; Elena was far too trusting, far too willing to give people the benefit of the doubt. Now she had no choice.

    ¡°Everything alright, Elena?¡± Ele was close enough that Elena jumped. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you the secret like I promised, but I thought we could wait until we got back to the Studio. You seem like something¡¯s on your mind.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re quite quiet,¡± Emerald agreed, ¡°what are you thinking?¡±

    They¡¯re not sure that I know, Elena realized, looking at their innocent faces. They don¡¯t think I¡¯ve put two and two together. Of course, the last time Elena had seen Emerald they were still at Studio De Luca; she had become much less naive since then. But Ele should know me better than that. I may still be too trusting, but I¡¯m not stupid!

    ¡°I was just thinking about the rock, that was so cool!¡± Elena said cheerfully. Emerald¡¯s face brightened, and the three of them continued in silence. It was hard to keep the smile on her face when she would rather clench her fists and hit something. Niccolo¡¯s easy manner with Leanarda was nothing compared to the anger that boiled in her stomach now. Ele, her own Echo, had chosen to help a Rhetor lie to Elena. He was so worried about his little crush that he hadn¡¯t said a word of warning.

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    Between Niccolo and Ele, Elena was starting to wonder if she had any friends left at all.

    ¡°This city is always so beautiful in the winter,¡± Emerald said happily, ¡°but I¡¯d never realized how crisp and clean it smells.¡±

    ¡°You couldn¡¯t smell anything through the mask?¡± Ele asked.

    ¡°Not a thing! They¡¯re so horribly designed, but you know how people are about tradition. Even if anyone realized our discomfort and mentioned it, I¡¯m sure no one would take them seriously.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s horrible!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just a little thing, really, but the little things wear on you, you know?¡±

    Elena grit her teeth listening to the conversation. She wasn¡¯t sure which was making her angrier; Ele¡¯s concern with the Rhetor he had chosen over her, or Emerald casually reminding her of a danger she could no longer worry about. She wanted the comforting weight of her hammer in her hand, even if she couldn¡¯t hit Ele with it, and Emerald...

    Elena pondered the thought of cracking the Rhetor over the head with her hammer. It appeared that she was allowed to think about that, even if she wasn¡¯t allowed to worry that Emerald would harm her. It was a small thing, but it was something to keep in mind, especially since Emerald didn¡¯t know Elena knew of her deception.

    Should I still try to get her a position at Studio DaRose? Elena kicked a pile of snow in the street as they turned onto the Street of Grey Artisans. She¡¯s not dangerous, but can I trust her to be my friend while knowing that she¡¯s lied to me? On the plus side, at least, she knew what it felt like to have a Rhetor use her Storm. Elena doubted that she would forget the feeling of disorientation, the loss of memory, the feeling of blurring water in her mind.

    When she looked up and caught sight of Studio DaRose, Elena knew that something was wrong. A carriage waited in front of the gates, the driver wearing muted purple livery and sitting at attention.

    ¡°Malatesta,¡± Elena muttered under her breath, breaking in to a run. Of all the things I didn¡¯t want to deal with, of all the things I didn¡¯t want added to this miserable day...

    The small courtyard was empty, but the trail in the snow leading to the front door had several sets of footsteps. It would be brazen of a raiding party to enter through the front door, let alone arrive in a carriage, but Elena couldn¡¯t imagine any reason Studio Malatesta would be making a polite visit. As far as she was concerned, anything Patchwork or Ripple wanted was something that she wanted to make sure they couldn¡¯t have. As she paused just inside the door, shucking off her wet boots, she could hear voice in the dining room, and she nodded. It was one of the few places that the DaRose garzoni kept clean, and it was a much better place to deal with unwelcome guests.

    Ele and Emerald were still outside, but Elena wasn¡¯t in the mood to wait for them. She took a deep breath, steeling herself, and pushed the door to the dining room open and strode inside. The figures at the table all looked up when she entered, and all of the confidence and anger that had been building in her chest drained suddenly.

    On the left side of the table sat a grave-looking woman with brown hair in a severe bun, her dress a deep purple. To the woman¡¯s left sat a boy in purple with a mane of blonde hair, and to her right sat Vittoria. Vi stood behind Vittoria¡¯s chair, and others who Elena assumed to be the others¡¯ Echoes stood behind theirs.

    The sight of her old friend was like a punch in the stomach. Elena hadn¡¯t seen her since they had all left Studio De Luca, and she had often wondered where Vittoria had ended up, what she and Carlo had been doing since leaving. The purple robes Vittoria wore answered that question quite simply, and from Vittoria¡¯s averted gaze Elena could tell that her friend was aware of how much Elena approved of her new studio.

    Sitting across from the three Malatesta visitors, Master DaRose looked much more attentive than when Elena had last seen him, and it was the first time she had seen his Echo up and awake. She was a whispy thing with tousled hair and looked as if she was falling asleep on her feet next to Master DaRose.

    Next to Master DaRose sat Elena¡¯s mother, Joanna.

    ¡°What excellent timing, Cog,¡± the woman in the purple dress said with a small smile, ¡°we were just talking about you.¡±

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 62

    Elena entered the dining room slowly, looking around at those assembled  and biting her lip. She sat down at the head of the table, her hands clenched into anxious fists.

    "Goodness, Elena, you needn''t look so terrified!" The woman with brown hair laughed, "we''re not here to hurt you. Quite the opposite in fact."

    "Mama, what are you doing here?" even though she was fairly sure that the woman was Master Malatesta, the Calaetor who ran Studio Malatesta, Elena was more worried about her mother''s presence. What had the Masters said about her that her mother felt it warranted making the long trip back to Milia, when Elena''s expulsion from Studio De Luca wasn''t enough to bring her?

    "Mistress Malatesta was kind enough to write to me and tell me how you''ve been handling yourself," Joanna replied, her chin held at a dignified angle, "which I appreciated, since you haven''t seen fit to do so yourself."

    ¡°It¡¯s ¡®Master¡¯,¡± Elena mumbled. Normally the guilt at her mother¡¯s prod would¡¯ve overwhelmed her, but the emotional ups and downs of the day had left her almost numb, ¡°whether a studio master is a boy or a girl they¡¯re called ¡®Master¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Some of our students tell me you¡¯ve displayed a lot of promise during your time at Studio DaRose, Elena,¡± Master Malatesta said. ¡°Combined with the praise that your friends Vittoria and Carlo, I have to admit I¡¯ve grown intrigued.¡±

    Vittoria gave Elena a smile and a small wave, ¡°it¡¯s good to see you again Elena.¡±

    ¡°Your mural,¡± Elena blurted, ¡°the mural you painted on the Cathedral, it overlooks the Street of Grey Artisans. That¡¯s how Studio Malatesta has known whenever we left for a raid, because you told them.¡±

    The boy with the blond mane of hair spoke, and Elena¡¯s stomach clenched in recognition of Patchwork¡¯s voice, ¡°you already knew that we knew when you raided, I don¡¯t know why you¡¯re acting so surprised.¡±

    Elena tried to ignored Patchwork, but his voice had been enough to send her already abused emotions into tailspin. It wasn¡¯t fair, none of it was fair; just when she¡¯d thought she had no more friends who could betray her this had to happen. ¡°How could you, Vittoria?¡±

    ¡°I...I don¡¯t know what you mean, Elena,¡± Vittoria looked as if she had been slapped, ¡°I¡¯m helping my studio, just like I did when I was in Studio De Luca...just like you¡¯re doing with your studio.¡±

    ¡°But we were friends!¡±

    ¡°We still are! What happens between studios doesn¡¯t mean we can¡¯t be friends!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just studio politics, Cog, you take it way too seriously,¡± Patchwork said offhandedly.

    ¡°You called me trash and said my coin wasn¡¯t worth taking!¡± Elena was so heated that her voice rose to a squeak.

    ¡°Now, now, Elena,¡± Master DaRose spoke for the first time, ¡°try to calm down. Master Malatesta has made an offer, and you¡¯ll need a level head to consider whether or not you wish to take it.¡±

    Patchwork smirked. ¡°As long as she has a head she¡¯ll know whether or not to-¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s enough, Ercole.¡± Master Malatesta said with authority, and Patchwork fell silent immediately. ¡°Elena, we¡¯ve come to offer you a place at Studio Malatesta. If you accept, we can leave at once, together. We¡¯ll have your things sent over, and you¡¯ll be a Malatesta garzona before nightfall, with all of the responsibilities and benefits thereof.¡±

    Elena had suspected as soon as she had seen Master Malatesta, her mother, and Master DaRose together in the same room, but even so the offer gave her pause. Her thoughts were sluggish, and even with the muted numbness that had overtaken her she couldn¡¯t identify what she was feeling.

    ¡°I don¡¯t...¡± she began, then paused. Her first instinct was to say no, and that instinct nagged her stomach, but she didn¡¯t quite know why. She glanced at Master DaRose, who spread both hands helplessly.

    ¡°I won¡¯t lie to you and say it¡¯s not an excellent opportunity,¡± he said, ¡°of course we would all be very sad to see you go, but if you choose to leave us I would understand.¡±

    And you wouldn¡¯t even notice me gone, Elena thought, hidden away in your room, working on your whispering box.

    ¡°Elena, Master Malatesta has told me all about the hierarchies of Milian studios,¡± her mother broke the silence, ¡°you¡¯ve spent so much time studying this city, I would have thought the answer to her question is obvious.¡±

    Elena swallowed. Her mother was right, as usual. Studio Malatesta was prestigious, almost as prestigious as Studio De Luca, and unlike Studio De Luca they seemed to be willing to go out of their way to have her. On the other hand...

    ¡°...¡¯s not my studio...¡± Elena said, so quietly that she could barely hear herself.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± Master Malatesta said.

    ¡°Elena speak up, and sit up straighter,¡± her mother chastised at the same time. Elena straightened instinctively, but tears began to form in her eyes. The idea that she would leave the studio and join Malatesta was just wrong, in some way she couldn¡¯t form in her head, but there was too much stacked against her, too much to think about to put her half-formed objection into words. Vittoria looked at her with a hopeful expression, Patchwork with casual dismissal, and the thought of crushing her friend and letting Patchwork feel that he¡¯d won were both equally as horrible.

    What have I got to lose? she thought, forlornly, the DaRose garzoni either dislike me, don¡¯t care about me, or tolerate me, all but Arturo and Arta. I¡¯ve officially had just as many conversations with Master Malatesta as I have with Master Omerto. Mama has always known what¡¯s best for me, and she would be disappointed in me if I didn¡¯t take this opportunity...

    As Elena opened her mouth to speak, the door opened and Emerald entered, followed by Ele. Elena had forgotten that they had been following her, and she furrowed her brow. Ele would hate being separated from Emerald, which would surely happen if she took Malatesta up on her offer.

    Why should I care? They both lied to me, brainwashed me, I don¡¯t owe them anything...

    ¡°Elena who is this?¡± Joanna asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m the new servant, Ma¡¯am,¡± Emerald said respectfully, ¡°at least I hope to be. Elena is giving me a recommendation, and I thought-¡±

    ¡°This is a private meeting, of artists and family,¡± Joanna said, her tone biting. ¡°I don¡¯t care what you thought, it was very rude of you to barge in like that.¡±

    A hard look passed over Emerald¡¯s eyes for a split second, but then she bowed her head.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry ma¡¯am.¡±

    ¡°As well you should be. Now unless you have something to say, I suggest you wait outside.¡±

    Emerald pointed out that a servant should be on hand in case Elena needed anything.

    ¡°I suppose that is true,¡± Joanna said, frowning, ¡°but we¡¯re in a meeting-¡±

    Emerald noted that a family of such high stature as the Luccianos would surely need someone on call, even during an important meeting.

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    ¡°Well, that is quite right at least. It¡¯s good to see a servant with a proper sense of decorum. Very well, you may stay, but stand in the corner quietly.¡±

    It had taken Elena a few moments to identify why Emerald¡¯s words had sounded so strange, as if they were fuzzy around the edges, but when she did her eyes widened.

    ¡°NO!¡± she shouted, turning to face Emerald with fiery eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare!¡±

    ¡°Elena-¡± Emerald began, but Elena was on her feet and shouting.

    ¡°That is my mother! You aren¡¯t allowed to...you aren¡¯t allowed!¡± she shouted. The tears that had been forming in her eyes had dried up in the rage that suddenly filled her. It was as if every emotion from the day, from the week, from the months she had been here had been gathered and focused into this one minute.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Elena, I didn¡¯t mean-¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care. I don¡¯t care if you¡¯re sorry, I don¡¯t care. Get out!¡± Elena snarled.

    How dare she? How DARE she? That is my mother, MINE, and she acts as if she¡¯s allowed to Rhetor-talk herself into MY mother¡¯s head?

    Elena suddenly realized that Emerald was staring her, eyebrows raised. ¡°I said get out!¡± She snapped, and the Rhetor turned without a word. Ele joined her in leaving, flashing Elena a glare before he left.

    ¡°Elena Lucciano,¡± Joanna said severely, ¡°you must learn to control your temper young lady.¡±

    ¡°You...you shut up!¡± Elena whirled back to the table, her hands clenched at her sides. Her anger hadn¡¯t dissipated, if anything it had just grown wilder. They all sat there in silence, all of them staring at her as if she was the one in the wrong. All of them trying to dictate to her, all of them trying to tell her what she should do with her life, what her plans and goals and dreams should be.

    They have no right. None of them have any right. MY life, MY goals, MY plans, MY future. It was a different kind of buzzing, less like her Storm and more like her anger snarled like a nest of angry bees in her stomach and around her heart.

    ¡°You don¡¯t get to just...just show up out of the blue and tell me what to do!¡± She said. ¡°You weren¡¯t here when I join DaRose, you didn¡¯t even answer my letter asking for advice!¡±

    ¡°Elena-¡±

    ¡°And what do you know about it anyways? What do you know about art, or Milia, or studios or...or anything that I¡¯ve been through?¡±

    Her mother gaped, opening and closing her mouth wordlessly.

    ¡°I¡¯m not leaving,¡± Elena hadn¡¯t realized she made a decision, she looked towards Master Malatesta and the anger only increased. ¡°I would rather be without a studio than be a Malatesta garzona.¡±

    ¡°Think very carefully about this, Elena,¡± Master Malatesta said quietly.

    ¡°Are you seriously going to throw your future away just because your feelings are hurt when you lose coins?¡± Patchwork leaned back and folded his arms with a grin.

    ¡°It¡¯s MY future, you don¡¯t know a thing about it,¡± Elena snapped. The Storm prickled so hard in her head it felt as though she were being stabbed, ¡°and no, I don¡¯t plan on throwing it away at all.¡±

    ¡°Why, Elena?¡± From behind Vittoria¡¯s seat, Vi asked the question quietly, ¡°why are you choosing this?¡±

    Elena frowned, trying to think of her answer while her head pounded.

    ¡°It might not be the highest in the hierarchy, or have the most resources,¡± she said, ¡°but Studio DaRose is my studio. It¡¯s where I belong, and I¡¯m not going to run away from them just because I got another offer.¡±

    ¡°Well then, it would seem that¡¯s settled, though not as I¡¯d liked,¡± Master Malatesta rose, ¡°Master DaRose, thank you for your hospitality.¡±

    Elena took note of Ercole¡¯s Echo as the Malatesta group left, committing the girl¡¯s appearance to memory. The Echo had short blonde hair, dark eyes, a brooding and thoughtful expression, and Elena was quite sure that for all her interactions with Patchwork, she had never seen his Echo before. She stored the knowledge away in her mind; Studio Malatesta had kept Vittoria¡¯s presence a secret, who knew what other details might be important?

    ¡°E...Elena...¡± her mother finally managed to stammer.

    ¡°Mama, I¡¯m sorry but I need to talk to Master DaRose alone for a moment,¡± Elena said, avoiding her mother¡¯s gaze. Both her anger and her Storm still burned in her, but a dreadful feeling of guilt was also beginning to well up within. Luckily her mother still seemed somewhat flabberghasted, and she left the room without her customary huff.

    ¡°I am very touched by your loyalty, Miss Elena,¡± Master DaRose smiled as he rose. His eyes flicked to the doorway, ¡°you said you had something to speak to me about? I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t have a large amount of time, Master Malatesta interrupted me in my work at what might be a critical moment.¡±

    ¡°This will be quick,¡± Elena said. She chose her words carefully, trying to tell if her Storm was helping her sift through the words or if it merely prickled in her mind. Some of her anger had dissipated when Studio Malatesta had left, but there was enough to spare for her erstwhile Master. A Master who was supposed to take care of his garzoni, train them and teach them and make sure the studio ran smoothly. She was careful to keep all of the anger out of her voice when she spoke; she didn¡¯t think he would pick up on it, but she wasn¡¯t sure how perceptive his Echo was, the woman who eyed her sleepily from behind him. ¡°Master DaRose, there are times when you are...rather busy with your work, aren¡¯t there?¡±

    ¡°Indeed, the work often takes up much of my time. It¡¯s just a part of being a Master.¡±

    His words made her anger flare again, but Elena continued carefully.

    ¡°I wondered if there was anything I could do to help you with that. Maybe I could help take care of the Studio when you¡¯re working?¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes, all of you garzoni do a very good job at that,¡± Master DaRose said kindly, moving towards the door. ¡°There¡¯s no question of your effectiveness at that, Elena.¡±

    ¡°But maybe I could do better if I helped take care of all the Studio when you¡¯re working,¡± Elena said, ¡°take care of it as if it¡¯s my own.¡±

    ¡°That sounds like a wonderful idea, excellent¡± DaRose nodded, already halfway out of the room.

    ¡°Master DaRose!¡±

    The man turned, seeming exasperated.

    Exasperated at exchanging a few sentences, Elena clenched her fists and her teeth, after I just chose him over Malatesta.

    ¡°Just to make sure I understand you, while you¡¯re working the studio is mine to take care of?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Elena, as I said. While I¡¯m working, the studio is yours.¡± DaRose let the door swing closed even as he finished speaking, leaving her alone in the suddenly quiet dining room.

    Elena¡¯s Storm erupted.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 63

    The answer that I expected to a question I didn¡¯t care much about either way. Why did it put me in such a bad mood? Ercole had been musing on the thought all the way out of the studio, but he finally figured it out at the doorway. Just having to be in this filth-hole of a Studio is enough to put me in a bad mood.

    When the group reached the carriage that awaited them Ercole paused, hand on the doorhandle.

    "I think we''ll walk," he said.

    "Are you sure?" Master Malatesta asked, "it''s rather cold."

    "I''ll be fine, Master, I just need some fresh air. Better for us to be gathering information anyways."

    Beyond Master Malatesta, Hundred-Eye looked on without comment. She didn¡¯t care whether he walked in the cold. She didn¡¯t care whether he lived or died. It was remarkable, really, how well and how quickly she had fit in with the rest of his studiomates.

    His Echo cared, at least, but Ercole could sense that Erica too was annoyed with him, and when she opened her mouth to speak he held up a finger to forestall her.

    ¡°One moment, if you please.¡± He pulled Voicemap''s clicker from his pouch and held it up to his lips. The wooden box was small enough that he could hold in in the palm of his hand without others catching sight of it, but even so he glanced around him before squeezing the sides in.

    Within the box, Ercole knew, two tiny strips of metal now touched, and...that was as far as he could understand, even after Voicemap had explained it several times. She had finally given up trying to explain to him how it worked, content that he understood that it worked.

    "Cog wasn''t interested in the offer. Master and Hundred-Eye are headed back to the studio, I¡¯m going to scout for a bit," he said into the box. Bracing himself, he let the sides go and felt the two strips of metal within separate.

    ¡°It¡¯s like lightning in a box,¡± Voicemap had told them, but Ercole personally believed that she didn¡¯t know what she was talking about. It stood to reason that being struck by lightning would burn like fire, whereas her clickers felt like every muscle in his body were being pinched from his hand to the ground.

    Lightning or no, the pain told him that the little ears of wood and metal would replay his message to Voicemap within a few seconds. As usual, the fact that he didn¡¯t know how it worked was a constant source of annoyance for him, but he could hardly be expected to be both a master Artifex and a master Machinator as well.

    ¡°I hope that you¡¯ve learned something today, Ercole,¡± Erica said as soon as the message was sent.

    ¡°Learned something?¡± Ercole frowned. ¡°Do you mean I should view Cog as a cautionary tale? A warning about keeping my temper? I think I do well enough at that, I don¡¯t need to see Cog flying off the handle to teach me that lesson.¡±

    ¡°What I mean is that your attitude has consequences for the studio.¡± Erica sounded exasperated, and Ercole struggled to follow what she was saying.

    ¡°Consequences? You don¡¯t think I had anything to do with Cog not taking our offer, do you?¡±

    ¡°She certainly seems to have taken a dislike to you.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous! She took a dislike to me because I beat her, there¡¯s no mystery in that. No, there are two possible reasons she didn¡¯t take our offer; one, that she let her emotions cloud what¡¯s best for her, or two, unlike most of the garzoni in that hellhole of a Studio she actually knows her place.¡±

    ¡°Judging from some of the things she yelled I doubt it¡¯s the latter.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Ercole agreed, ¡°but I¡¯m willing to give her the benefit of the doubt and assume that was it until proven otherwise. She knew that she¡¯s a DaRose garzona, and she knew that she¡¯d never fit in at Studio Malatesta. If anything, she¡¯s to be commended for her decision. I told Master Malatesta that she¡¯d say no.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s statements like that that make people dislike you, Ercole.¡±

    Ercole rolled his eyes. The desire to disagree warred with the desire to avoid an argument with Erica. The real reasons that people disliked him was simple. Non-Malatestans disliked him because he represented Studio Malatesta, the Studio that made them look pathetic (technically De Luca held the foremost position of the Studio hierarchy, but everyone knew that Studio Malatesta struck the perfect balance between the hierarchy games that the studios played and the true hierarchy in the courts). As for his fellow garzoni, they disliked him because...well, because...

    ¡°Are we scouting, or what?¡± he frowned.

    ¡°I¡¯m going, but just...think about what I¡¯m saying, alright? Would it kill you to act a little less arrogant?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll try to keep it in mind,¡± Ercole shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the ground in front of him, keeping his face turned away from his Echo. Before she took off down the nearest sidestreet, Erica gave him a severe look, indicating that she could tell how likely it was that he would think about it. Somehow, she could always tell.

    But what¡¯s the point of being a Malatesta garzoni if I have to pretend I¡¯m not? And how long will it take her to realize what it means to be a Malatesta?

    For the sake of keeping Erica happy, he would change his behavior of course, he always did. It simply rankled at him that she seemed unwilling to accept the truth about the world and their situation within it. Would it always be this way? Even after they had graduated, even when they were in the courts themselves? Would he be expected to act as if position didn¡¯t matter there? The thought was worrisome.

    The Trombetta Bakery was across the street, and Ercole changed course to make for its doors. For weeks he had been spending money there as an investment for a rainy day, and he had the feeling that today was going to be just such a rainy day. Erica may have been wrong, but she always seemed to know when something would bother his fickle fellow garzoni and master. If he had done something that bothered Erica, chances are his studio would be similarly annoyed with him when he returned.

    The thought was enough to put a sour frown on his face, but he took a deep breath and replaced it with friendly neutrality as he entered. The warmth of the bakery and smell of bread was comforting after the bleak grey day outside, and Ercole felt better already.

    ¡°Heya, it¡¯s Ercole the wandering artist!¡± the enthusiasm was enough to make Ercole smile even before he saw the baker¡¯s boy, grinning from ear to ear and dusting flour off onto his apron. He clasped Ercole¡¯s hand in both of his, pumping it up and down, ¡°master Trombetta was worried you wouldn¡¯t come by this week, when we didn¡¯t see you this morning, but I told him you were probably just running late, I told him we wouldn¡¯t be losing such a regular customer so easy!¡±

    ¡°Hello Bortolo,¡± Ercole brushed the filthy smears of flour from his gloves without letting his smile waver. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I had some things to attend to with my Studiomates that kept me busy this morning.¡±

    ¡°Wow, important studio stuff, that is so cool! Was it artist stuff, or some of that secret stuff you were telling me about?¡± Bortolo was almost bouncing in excitement, gathering the rolls and loaves that Ercole ordered weekly. The Artifex winked and didn¡¯t say a word, and Bortolo¡¯s grin became even wider. ¡°It was the secret stuff, wasn¡¯t it? Awesome!¡±

    Ercole tried to think of the best way to interact with the boy...it was becoming hard to think like these people, but if he was going to keep Erica happy he supposed he would have to get better at emulating them. He tried to think of the most low-class thing he could say.

    ¡°The girl¡¯s think it¡¯s pretty awesome too, if you know what I mean,¡± he said. Bortolo blushed, but his grin didn¡¯t diminish. He gathered courage as he wrapped the rolls in paper, trying several times before asking.

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    ¡°Do they really? Do you have lots of...of girlfriends then?¡±

    ¡°More than I even know what to do with,¡± Ercole chuckled. He laid two coins down on the counter, one gold and one silver. ¡°As usual, one for the baked goods, one for the service,¡± he smiled.

    ¡°And as usual, thanks very much, Ercole.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to stay here for a while, warm my bones a bit before I head out again.¡±

    ¡°No worry, stay as long as you like. Do you mind if I...?¡± Bortolo gestured towards the back door, and Ercole nodded and watched him scurry away. The bakery was silent for a time, long enough that Ercole worried for a few moments whether or not Erica would stray too far from him. She, after all, assumed that he was walking this street as she searched the neighboring one.

    ¡°Good afternoon Mister Ercole!¡± The baker emerged from the kitchens, a thin layer of sweat on his brow. ¡°I wondered if we¡¯d see you this week, glad you came by.¡±

    ¡°Came by for the last time, I¡¯m afraid.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± Trombetta stopped in his tracks, the furrows of his brow sending beads of sweat down the sides of his face, ¡°always sorry to hear we¡¯re losing a customer...is the bread not to your liking anymore?¡±

    As if the bread would be to anyone¡¯s liking, half grit and the other half dust.

    ¡°The bread is just as good as always, but whenever I¡¯m here, that Bortolo makes me feel a bit...uncomfortable.¡±

    ¡°Well sir, if that¡¯s all then I can talk to the boy! He¡¯s not the brightest flame on the wick but he¡¯s got a good heart.¡±

    It¡¯s ¡®sir¡¯ now, is it?

    ¡°I don¡¯t doubt his heart, but truly I think it will just be easier to find a baker closer to the studio.¡±

    ¡°No need for that, just tell me what he did and I¡¯ll have words with him.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s hard to explain, it¡¯s just a feeling...¡± Ercole paused for a few moments, feigning hesitance. It was ironic that there were so many actual complaints he could level, but none of them would go over as well. The boy got flour on his gloves, he addressed Ercole by name rather than an honorific, he was overly familiar, and he referred to the baker as master Trombetta, as if the garbage they baked could be considered art.

    Instead he listed the complaints he had prepared. ¡°Well, for instance today...he kept bringing up what he called ¡®secret business¡¯ of Studio Malatesta. I don¡¯t know what you¡¯ve heard on such matters, but generally we try to discourage that sort of rumor.¡±

    ¡°Of course, of course. I¡¯ve heard...but then I wouldn¡¯t dream of...yes.¡±

    ¡°And another thing; he seems to have no decorum or sense of the appropriate. Again, just today, the boy actually asked some searching questions about my romantic life; how many ladies I¡¯d been with, things of that nature,¡± he dropped his voice to a hush, as if embarrassed to bring it up. ¡°Even the way he snatches at the tips I leave...¡±

    ¡°Tips, sir?¡±

    ¡°It could be that I¡¯m merely oversensitive,¡± Ercole waved a hand vaguely, ¡°but this is quite a walk from my studio anyways. It¡¯s nothing personal, you understand?¡±

    ¡°Well I do hope you change your mind.¡±

    Ercole swung the door open wide as he left, glancing up and down the street as he did so. In the time it took the door to slowly swing closed he had ducked out of sight, pulled the hood over his face, and slipped back inside the bakery.

    The Storm was warm and comfortable across his skin, like a blanket in the winter¡¯s day, something that he would enjoy even if it didn¡¯t indicate that he was clothed in anonymity. He didn¡¯t know whether his Studiomates were aware that the suit of purple patches wasn¡¯t his only work of art. It wasn¡¯t any particular concern of theirs, but it occurred to him that he should at least let the planners know, Foresight and Voicemap and Claystorm. The information might be useful in their planning. In the meantime, he folded his arms, all but invisible, and waited for Bortolo to come back.

    ¡°Did Ercole leave? He said he was going to warm up for a bit, and I was gonna ask him more about his studio,¡± Bortolo scurried back into the room, but as soon as he saw the baker with his hands on his hips the bounce drained from his step. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    ¡°Your mouth has gotten us in enough trouble as it is! He¡¯s left alright, and he doesn¡¯t plan on coming back!¡±

    ¡°W-what?¡±

    ¡°What were you thinking? Thanks to your prying into his studio, you drove him off! A weekly paying customer!¡± Trombetta didn¡¯t raise his voice, but he had a disappointed tone that was clearly getting to the baker¡¯s boy, whose expression ranged between confused and hurt.

    ¡°I was just talking, I thought we were...friendly. I didn¡¯t think I was saying anything I shouldn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°You asked him about his love affairs? His love affairs? You don¡¯t ask anyone a question like that, not anyone and especially a paying customer! And a prissy studio boy like that, what possessed you to pry into his personal business?¡±

    I am not prissy! Ercole thought indignantly.

    ¡°I..I thought it was okay...¡± Bortolo stammered, ¡°he didn¡¯t seem to mind talking about it.¡±

    ¡°Well of course he took it in stride, rich kids like that wouldn¡¯t let on that it bothered them, but you have to have some delicacy, Bortolo!¡±

    Ercole saw it, the moment when the baker¡¯s boy hesitant confusion turned to self-doubt and shame. The fact that he had caused it made the Artifex¡¯s chest swell with the sense of power. The boy hung his head and scuffed one shoe on the ground.

    ¡°I really didn¡¯t mean it master Trombetta, honest.¡±

    ¡°I know you didn¡¯t, boy,¡± Trombetta sighed, ¡°but you¡¯ve got to be more careful, right? When someone comes in with that kind of money, you¡¯ve got to treat ¡®em carefully, treat ¡®em like glass. In fact...maybe don¡¯t treat with them at all. New customers come in, you come get me, alright?¡±

    Ercole was impressed. It seemed that the baker had actually learned the right lesson from this little adventure. It wasn¡¯t what the Artifex had intended, but it was a nice little side benefit.

    The baker¡¯s boy was doing a very poor job of holding back tears. The stress in Ercole¡¯s shoulders eased, like a weight lifting from them, his sense of justice buzzing in his heart just as sweetly as his skin buzzed with his Storm.

    He wanted to get in closer, to really see the emotion on the boy¡¯s face, but it wouldn¡¯t do to marr the experience by getting caught. Bad enough that he had to slip out, but the pair of bakers would probably blame the door swinging open on the wind outside. As he did every week, Ercole tossed the package of bread into the gutter as he strode down the street, stuffing his hands back into his pockets.

    It was colder than he had remembered, perhaps due to the combination of Storm and bakery that had kept him warm, but his step was lighter and there was a smile on his face. Even the shock of lightning squeezing through his muscles unexpectedly wasn¡¯t enough to dampen his mood.

    ¡°Everyone get back to the studio,¡± Voicemap¡¯s voice emerged from his pocket. ¡°Foresight has just checked his tiles and there¡¯s something wrong with the studios, with the hierarchy...Something changed today, something big. We need to start preparing.¡±

    Ercole brightened even further at that. When they had something to preoccupy them with, his studiomates could usually be rather bearable, and they wouldn¡¯t try to harass him about whatever Erica was so upset about. Whistling a soft tune, he turned to the direction of Studio Malatesta.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 64

    ¡°Ah, the blue and puzzling glow of pleasant company. We¡¯ve missed you, Miss Luc-ci-a-no.¡± The rich voice that seemed to savored every syllable of her name was instantly recognizable, even when Elena was struggling for consciousness.

    ¡°Hello Black Furs,¡± Elena struggled to her elbows, trying to focus her vision. Her head throbbed and prickles, a low but steady pain occasionally punctuated with a stabbing second-long headache behind her right eye. She was laying next to a wall, and a little ways off she could vaguely make out the large dark form of the friendly man.

    ¡°Black Furs? Ah, I quite think I like that,¡± Black Furs chuckled, ¡°and I¡¯ve been called much worse. You seem a touch more, ah, energized, if I may say so.¡±

    ¡°Do I? I feel like I fell on my head,¡± Elena groaned, dragging herself to her feet, her eyes struggling to focus. The huge castle balcony swayed in front of her as if she were on a ship, and she stumbled slightly to one side. Before she could fall, Black Furs had caught her and held her up. Beneath the huge expanse of furs, his arms were small and spindly. The scent of cinnamon and cloves filled Elena¡¯s nose and almost made her sneeze, but he set her upright and took a quick step back.

    ¡°Perhaps ¡®energized¡¯ is the wrong word, but you¡¯ve discovered far more about your Storm than when last we met! You¡¯re coming into your own, how delightful!¡±

    ¡°You can tell?¡± Elena¡¯s vision was slowly clearing, giving her a better picture of her surroundings. Overhead a star-filled sky gave off enough light to somehow make the balcony bright, illuminating the solitary forms her both her and Black Furs. After a few more blinks the only thing that remained blurry and fuzzy was Black Fur¡¯s face, but even so it was obvious that he was looking at her intently.

    ¡°This place is mostly my own creation, but I¡¯ve found that people¡¯s Storms seem to influence it in small degrees. The way you look now...¡± he gestured towards her, ¡°...is one such indication.¡±

    Elena looked down at hers hands and arms. In the past, in the dream world, her skin looked as it were made of puzzle pieces, lit from the inside with a blue light. Now, the puzzle pieces seemed to float by a half-inch, the cracks between them wide enough that she could almost fit her little finger into them. Beneath the puzzle pieces of her flesh, the blue light of her core glowed as if there were a fire just beyond reach of her vision.

    ¡°Well, I have been learning a lot more about my Storm,¡± Elena said, flexing her hand and watching the pieces gently brush against each other.

    ¡°Oh? I hope we¡¯ve been helpful to you then? Perhaps helpful enough to share more information about yourself?¡± Something about Black Fur¡¯s tone made Elena nervous. It was a bit too light, a bit too casual, like a piece of silk covering a sharp knife. Elena¡¯s last conversation with Little One nudged at the back of her mind, but there was no way the child had told him...she was too adamant that Elena kept it a secret.

    ¡°I...I already said I wasn¡¯t comfortable telling anyone...¡± she stammered.

    ¡°Ah, you misunderstand,¡± Black Furs chuckled, ¡°I¡¯m not trying to pressure you into telling me, I¡¯m merely curious if anyone else might have learned on their own. It would be quite unfortunate if the information you wanted hidden were to come to light, wouldn¡¯t it? I am only looking out for you, we Twisted must stick together, you realize.¡±

    Black Furs turned to look out over the railing, his hands clasped behind his back in a casual and nonchalant pose. His hands were clenched just a little too tight, his back a little too stiff, and a cold feeling had crept its way into Elena¡¯s stomach.

    ¡°Why are you worried about that now...Black Furs, where is everyone?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid none of us have been able to get much sleep, recently. Indeed, Faceless has gone a few nights in a row without a minute of rest. We¡¯re all searching for someone, you see.¡±

    ¡°For one of the Twisted? Who?¡±

    ¡°Little One has disappeared in the real world. She¡¯s a very reserved recluse, almost a hermit in many ways, so it took us some time to realize she was gone. I¡¯ve extended several invitations to the dreamworld to her, she hasn¡¯t accepted a one of them. Of course we¡¯re all very worried about her.¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t her parents know where she is?¡± Elena asked, although she already knew the answer. Little One was the cleverest child she knew; if she wanted to run away Elena was sure she could escape her parents.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not, in this case,¡± Black Furs said, ¡°both of her parents are dead.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize she was an orphan.¡±

    ¡°It makes us worry even more. It¡¯s been a very long week for all of us, trying to hunt her down...hunt her down to make sure she¡¯s safe, of course. It¡¯s not like her to avoid us; something drastic must have happened, but we are all at a loss.¡±

    Elena bit her lip, the cold feeling in her stomach spreading throughout her. ¡®If I ever hear of you being so brainlessly, astonishingly naive again, I will leave my home city,¡¯ Little One had said at their last meeting, ¡®I will travel to Studio DaRose, on the Street of Grey Artisans in Milia. And I will cut your face off.¡¯ Elena had assumed it was exaggeration, but the child was unpredictable, violent, and didn¡¯t like her, could it be that she had been serious?

    But I haven¡¯t done anything stupid, she thought frantically, I didn¡¯t tell anyone else where I live, I haven¡¯t even made any big choices besides to turn down Master Malatesta...was that it? But how could she know that news so fast?

    ¡°Where...where does Little One live?¡± Elena asked, her heart beating fast.

    ¡°You never answered my question, Elena,¡± Black Furs said quietly, ¡°did you tell Little One where you were? Could that be where she¡¯s headed right now?¡±

    Yes. ¡°No. I don¡¯t know how she could¡¯ve found out where I live,¡± Elena lied. On the off-chance that Little One wasn¡¯t coming to Milia, Elena didn¡¯t need to give her a reason to be angry. She would keep on lying to the other Twisted, at least until she knew for sure.

    What if Little One was lying? Elena thought suddenly. I assumed the Twisted lived in Florezia, but what if she lives in Milia too? What if she¡¯s been keeping tabs on me this entire time? Am I in danger right now, asleep in my bed? She never paid attention to the children when she walked about the city, never even noticed their faces. It would¡¯ve been incredibly easy for Little One to stalk her, unnoticed; she could¡¯ve had the little girl as a tail for weeks and be none the wiser. And if Little One lived in Milia, wouldn¡¯t that mean the others lived there as well? Was she putting herself at risk of exposal every time she walked down the streets?

    They don¡¯t know about me, Elena struggled to calm herself down. They¡¯re in positions of power, they deal with political things...if they¡¯re in Milia, it will be the courts, not the streets.

    ¡°You¡¯re very quiet this evening, Elena,¡± Black Furs noted. His voice was too sharp, different in tone than the friendly, fatherly, genial voice he normally used. It was clear that he was worried about his fellow Twisted, but Elena was more worried about Little One herself. ¡°I don¡¯t mean to sound paranoid, but I can¡¯t help but wonder at the timing of this debacle. Our mysterious new member wishes to share nothing, to keep to herself, and now a second of our number makes the same choice, keeping to herself when she never used to.¡±

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    ¡°I didn¡¯t have anything to do with-¡±

    ¡°So you say.¡±

    Elena¡¯s head was starting to hurt, and she rubbed at her temples, annoyed when her fingers caught on the edge of a puzzle piece. The pain of her headache was bad enough that she could barely contain her emotions, which were already swirling confusingly.

    ¡°I¡¯m telling the truth, I don¡¯t know where she is or why she disappeared!¡± she whimpered. ¡°Why was it that everyone seems so against me? My studiomates, my Echo, even my friends, and now you...¡±

    ¡°Oh, Elena, I¡¯m sorry,¡± Black Furs turned and approached her, the sharpness gone from his voice. He clasped her in an awkward hug, and she struggled again not to sneeze at the overpowering smells. A tear hung from the edge of one of the puzzle pieces at her cheek, a feeling both unfamiliar and annoying, but she couldn¡¯t wipe it away with her arms trapped in Black Furs¡¯ crushing embrace. ¡°I don¡¯t mean to accuse you of anything,¡± he said, ¡°we¡¯re all just so worried about Little One, it¡¯s hard to keep our calm. The Twisted would never turn against you Elena, we of all people know what it feels like when it¡¯s one against the world. Fighting bullies is something we¡¯ve all had experience with.¡±

    Little One¡¯s warnings rang in Elena¡¯s ears. The Storms of Twisted were bullies, tyrants, selfish and even potentially harmful...and yet the other Twisted had no problem working with them, using them.

    But is it fair to judge them for that? After all, I¡¯m doing the exact same thing...I¡¯ve been happy to work with my Storm whenever I can...

    As if the thought was a physical hammer, the pain in Elena¡¯s head increased, and she gasped. Black Furs held her out at arm¡¯s length, his face still a blur of unfocused shadow.

    ¡°I trust that you won¡¯t turn on us, either, Miss Luc-ci-a-no,¡± he said earnestly. ¡°We Twisted have to stick together. Do tell us if you remember anything that might help us find Little One?¡± Before Elena had the chance to answer, she woke up.

    ***

    Her head pounded just as bad when she was awake as it had when she slept. Sharp prickles intruded into her mind, running across her scalp and making it hard to string thoughts together, while a deep, aching pain thudded in the center of her skull.

    ¡°Are you awake, Elena?¡± Ele¡¯s voice was quiet, she could tell, but even the quiet voice hurt.

    ¡°Wha¡¯ happened?¡± she mumbled, opening her eyes and squinting at the morning light.

    ¡°Dolce and Ercole found you passed out in the dining room. No one knows when it happened, it must¡¯ve been after everyone left.¡±

    ¡°Everyone left? Have to apologize to Mama,¡± Elena swung her legs out of bed, blinking away tears at the pain. She couldn¡¯t quite remember what she wanted apologize for, but she knew that she owed her mother one.

    ¡°Easy there,¡± Ele moved as if to catch her, even though she would¡¯ve passed through him. ¡°Joanna left, not too long after the meeting. You shouldn¡¯t be moving around, we still don¡¯t know what happened to you. Do you have any idea why you passed out?¡±

    Elena shook her head gingerly, ¡°my head really hurts, but I don¡¯t remember...¡± it came back to her in bits and pieces; she had blown up at her mother, she had turned down the offer to join Studio Malatesta, she had convinced Master DaRose to call the Studio ¡®hers¡¯ while he was working, and then-

    Elena¡¯s head spun, and she retreated from that line of thought. There was so much information there, sitting just beneath the surface, enough that it could easily wash her away in a torrent. Like a child who had been burnt gingerly reaching for the candle a second time, Elena carefully considered her surroundings.

    Just this room of the studio, my room, she mused, and the flood of information came on gradually enough for her to handle it. The room was 18 feet by 12 feet and 2 hands, the stone a hand-me-down from some other construction project. Elena¡¯s gaze travelled the wall, observing which of the large bricks held more weight than others, seeing where the weak spots of the wall were and what parts could handle more pressure. The window let in light, but it was also the main source of the cold air, its frame loose enough in two corners to encourage a draft.

    ¡°This is...amazing,¡± Elena breathed, standing up and spinning slowly. ¡°Are you getting this Ele?¡±

    The little pits and scratches in a vertical line along the far wall were there because this room had once been smaller, but several years ago had been extended into the washroom beyond by a few feet. The desk that Elena and Dolce shared was Faberi-made, but very very old, old enough that DaRose might have bought it at a discount, neither he nor the seller knowing what a bargain he¡¯d gotten.

    ¡°It¡¯s a lot to take in, and I don¡¯t think I¡¯m making as much sense of it as you are,¡± Ele answered, ¡°but yeah, I¡¯m getting something. Will this help us, do you think?¡±

    Her sense of betrayal and arguments with her Echo seemed trivial now, standing in the middle of a pool of information. Carefully, she let herself reach out further. For the first time, she saw Studio DaRose, saw it for everything it was, what it had been, what it could be. More and more of it widened out in front of her, and as a picture began to form, she realized for the first time what a mess it truly was. Almost everything she saw carried flaws; finances in disarray, systems that didn¡¯t work and never would, physical bits and pieces falling apart or about to fail. Like lines of spiderwebs that stretched across every layer of the Studio, fault-lines and cracks lay exposed to her.

    Broken. So much of it broken, or breaking...the studio, the money, even the garzoni...what did I let myself in for? She took a deep breath, puffed out her cheeks, and let it go with a sigh. Her decision had already been made, now she had to live with it. Who knows, maybe all of the studios have the same sorts of problems, but no one can see them like this?

    Elena didn¡¯t actually think so, but it was an encouraging thought. Regardless of the problems other studios might have, she was the only one who could even begin to work on the cracks and faultlines. But where to start?

    Elena still hadn¡¯t adjusted the fastener in the bottom corner of her bed, so she could always start there...but the prickling in her head seemed to be nudging her in a different direction. She would drive herself crazy trying to peck away at tiny things at random. Her Storm felt like a whirlpool, details buffeting against her, all dragging her towards the center of the Studio. Elena set her chin in a resolute jut and moved towards the door.

    ¡°Where are you going?¡± Ele asked. Elena didn¡¯t pause, shooting the answer over her shoulder.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to the boiler room.¡±

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 65

    The boiler sat in the corner of the room, thick and squat, like a huge teapot of dirty silver. From its top sprouted a flue, which split into several cylinders of thin copper, all leading to the wall. Just within the first bend above the boiler¡¯s body was where the clog started; a giant brick of dirt and grime that had accumulated over the course of decades. It wasn''t the only thing wrong with the boiler, but it was the easiest problem to fix, and it was something Elena could work on while she waited for the hotter pieces of metal on the inside to cool. There were probably better tools to use to clean the flue than the broken piece of wood, but her Storm was assisting her, telling her where to poke, where to scrape, what to do.

    A chunk of black gunk fell into the grate, and Elena carefully scooped it out onto the floor next to her. Her clothes and skin were covered in ash and soot, but she was far too distracted to care. It was almost unnerving, the sixth sense that told her how the massive contraption was shaped on the inside. From where she knelt next to the boiler she couldn¡¯t actually see up into the flue, but she knew that it curved just so at a certain point, that there was a blockage there, there, and here.

    Because it¡¯s mine, her mind whispered, triumphant and possessive and not-at-all like her. Was it her Storm, whispering those thoughts into her ear? The tyrannical guardian that Little One warned her of, doling out power to her, but only if she acted as it wanted? It¡¯s mine to take care of, she told herself carefully, it¡¯s mine for right now, until Master DaRose takes it back. The Storm¡¯s buzzing in her head didn¡¯t diminish, and Elena breathed a sigh.

    Exciting as the knowledge about the boiler was, after twenty minutes of careful scraping the novelty had begun to wear off. Elena let her mind wander, cautiously allowing more and more of the Studio to come into focus while at the ready in case it became too much to handle. Her headache wasn¡¯t as bad this time, but the sheer amount of information was still overwhelming.

    The door to the boiler room swung open. Her back was to it, and it hadn''t made a sound, but it was one of the doors to her studio, and Elena was as sure that it had opened as she was the sky was blue.

    "Elena?" Arturo said gently. "I thought I''d find you here, but I didn''t think I¡¯d find you shoulder deep in the boiler though.¡±

    ¡°Hi Arturo! It¡¯s actually not broken as badly as you might think. I don¡¯t think I even need any new parts for it, but that will depend on whether or not I can get the little metal fins out to straighten them without taking the whole thing apart.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s our Fabera, fixing things around the place like crazy,¡± Arturo chuckled. ¡°Do you want a hand with that?¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Elena moved over to one side and gestured to the tile of scrap wood she had been using to scrape the ashes from the boiler¡¯s bottom. ¡°Up through the top there¡¯s an opening, and all of this gunk has been collecting there for years. I¡¯m scraping it off up top, you can scoop it out from the grate and onto the floor. I¡¯ll sweep it up later when we¡¯re done.¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t sound too difficult.¡± Arturo knelt down beside her. Elena hadn¡¯t realized how close it would put them, cleaning the boiler together; so close that there were only inches of space between them.

    Arturo has feelings for me, Elena remembered with a start, I hope I¡¯m not sending him the wrong message, asking for him to work so close... she watched him out of the corner of her eye, but he seemed focused on the work, carefully transferring grit and soot from the grate to the ground by the boardfull. He barely paid her any attention, and Elena relaxed slightly.

    After a few minutes Arturo broke the silence. ¡°Listen, Elena, the reason I came by was to see if you were okay. I heard that your dumbass boyfriend brought another girl to your date, and then you spent the rest of the day and night locked up in your room. Are you alright? Do you want to talk about it?¡±

    Elena unwedged her hand from the boiler flue and stared at him, confused.

    ¡°How did you hear about Niccolo and Leanarda?¡± she asked, ¡°I was the only one there.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Um. Ele told me.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize the two of you talked much.¡± Elena neglected to mention that Ele disliked Arturo since the first day they had met. Of course, the two must¡¯ve talked about it, otherwise there was no way he could¡¯ve known. ¡°I¡¯m fine, I suppose. So much else happened yesterday that I hadn¡¯t really given it much thought, to be honest. I suppose I should talk to Niccolo about it.¡±

    ¡°Nah, I wouldn¡¯t give the guy a chance, not after he¡¯s blown it so thoroughly.¡± Arturo leaned back on his heels to dust his hands off, ¡°I don¡¯t think he realizes what a great girl he¡¯s got.¡±

    Elena blushed, turning back to her work to avoid his gaze. ¡°That¡¯s...nice of you to say.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the truth. He should treat a special girl like you better.¡± Arturo leaned in to clean the very back of the grate, straining to reach.

    It really wasn¡¯t anything to get angry about, Elena thought, at least, not angry with Niccolo about. She suddenly noticed how close Arturo¡¯s work forced him to be to her. His face was inches away, his eye catching hers. A part of Elena wanted to be captivated by his eyes, to be carried away by the closeness in the warm little room. He was watching for her reaction, closely. His breath smelled like mint.

    Which was not the curiously pleasant scent of violets and leather, she reminded herself firmly, shaking her head ever so slightly to clear whatever crazy thoughts had been building within.

    ¡°I think that¡¯s all, at least the majority of it,¡± she said, rising and dropping her stick. ¡°There¡¯s some cooked-on grime that I can¡¯t scrape out, but it¡¯s a start.¡±

    Arturo blinked as if just waking from a deep sleep, glancing back at the mess in the grate he had yet to clean with a sour expression. Elena stepped back and surveyed the boiler, her Storm buzzing behind her eyes as she did so.

    Now that the flue was cleared, the contraption was capable of building up a huge load of heat given enough coal and wood, but the blockage had only been one aspect of the problem. Attached to the boiler¡¯s base was a metal chamber for a tankard of boiling water, which would produce steam pressure that turned a series of metal fins in the cylinders above. The whirling fins would send the too-hot air rushing through hollow spaces in the floors and walls of the studio, but the fins were bent and rusted and wouldn¡¯t turn. Without the spinning fins, the hot air would collect only in the boiler room.

    ¡°So all this is why the boiler room has been so cold this year?¡± Arturo asked, getting back to work. While he scraped, Elena slid the chair she had brought for the purpose next to the boiler. ¡°Arta heard that this room used to be warm and comfortable all the time, but it hasn¡¯t seemed that way to me.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll be nice again if I can figure the next bit out,¡± Elena said, ¡°otherwise this room won¡¯t be very comfortable at all.¡± By sight she couldn¡¯t figure out how the metal cylinders went from the wall to the boiler so evenly, but her Storm fired again with a burst of information; they slid together tightly, one into another. Retrieving her hammer from the floor, she began tapping gently at the seams of the closest cylinder. When it came loose she held it in the air carefully so as not to disturb the little pipes and gears within; even with the help of her Storm Elena found it hard to understand the actual mechanics of the Machinator¡¯s work, and she wasn¡¯t sure she¡¯d be able to put those parts back together if she broke them. After she had removed and set aside the little circle of fins, Elena carefully put the first metal cylinder back and started working on the next one.

    ¡°Where is Arta, anyway?¡± she asked.

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°Oh...ah...¡± Arturo looked around guiltily, ¡°she¡¯s around somewhere. She¡¯s probably talking to...someone. Or doing something. I don¡¯t know.¡±

    Elena glanced over her shoulder at him, curious. ¡°Why are you acting so strange, Arturo? What is Arta doing?¡±

    ¡°I told you I don¡¯t know! I don¡¯t always know where my Echo is, is that a crime?¡±

    Elena set the second circle of fins down on her chair carefully and fit the second cylinder back into place, loosely so that she could remove it again when it was time to put the fins back. That he was hiding something was obvious, but she had no idea what it could be.

    Does a Studio DaRose garzoni count as ¡®mine¡¯, if I¡¯m taking care of Studio DaRose? she thought. Was it wrong, to use her Storm on a studiomate? After all, knowing about the other garzoni could help me to help them... She mused over the question as she worked. Maybe I could just open myself up to the possibility, and if my Storm tells me something about him, well that¡¯s hardly my fault, that¡¯s just the Storm acting on its own behalf.

    Her Storm unfurled and stretched out almost instantly, and pins and prickles rippled along her head and down her neck. It took Elena a few moments to understand the information she was receiving, as if she was having to translate it from some foreign language that she could understand but not intuit, but when she did she was disappointed.

    Although the data swamped her, she wasn¡¯t learning anything personal about Arturo. Her knowledge was of him as an asset, an impersonal and dry knowledge. Arturo, the asset, had been a fairly good addition to Studio DaRose; his presence made Studio DaRose seem more dangerous to attack, though due less to his skill and more to...the fear he inspired?

    That can¡¯t be right, Elena furrowed her brow, Arturo is a good garzoni, but he¡¯s not frightening. Definitely not next to Ercole and his giant stick.

    ¡°Are other studios afraid of you, Arturo?¡± Elena asked. Arturo seemed surprised by the question.

    ¡°They¡¯re certainly afraid of my Storm, if that¡¯s what you mean,¡± he stood and stretched, ¡°which works out well; it means they¡¯re more likely to fork over coins instead of fight.¡±

    ¡°But...why?¡± Elena jumped down from the chair and observed the fins she had laid out on the ground. As her Storm had told her, all of them were warped or bent in some way. ¡°Don¡¯t you just touch them with your pictures to knock them over?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s...a little more than that,¡± Arturo smirked. ¡°Hasn¡¯t anyone told you what it is that I do?¡±

    ¡°I never thought to ask. I guess I¡¯m used to Studio De Luca, where we tried to hide our Storms from the other garzoni.¡± As helpful as it would¡¯ve been to have the details about Arturo¡¯s Storm, Elena¡¯s Storm seemed unable or unwilling to provide them. Elena filed that thought away: her Storm couldn¡¯t tell her anything about Arturo himself, it could only tell her the effects of Arturo on her Studio.

    On the Studio I¡¯m taking care of, she mentally corrected, not my Studio. Out loud she asked, ¡°well can you show me?¡±

    ¡°Sure. Let me run back to my room and find one of my pieces.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re carrying them with you,¡± Elena pointed at his belt, where the small leather tubes hung. He wore them everywhere, so that he could slip a sketches out at a moment¡¯s notice.

    ¡°That¡¯s...no, that¡¯s not a good idea,¡± Arturo said uneasily.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Arturo...if it makes people give up their coins I know it¡¯s probably unpleasant,¡± Elena faced him and squared her shoulders, ¡°but I¡¯m a big girl, I want to know what our enemies deal with.¡± If I want to come up with strategies to fight, I have to know what tools we have at our disposal.

    Arturo hesitated as he put on the glove that hung at his belt, then slipped a piece of parchment from one of the pouches. He still frowned, and he glanced back and forth from the parchment in his hand to Elena.

    ¡°I really don¡¯t know how I feel about this,¡± he said.

    ¡°Please?¡± Elena asked. Arturo took a hesitant step towards her, paused, and then another. Elena bit her lip, waiting for him to move at his own pace, but she couldn¡¯t help but grow more nervous the slower he moved. After a few moments more of hesitence she finally snapped. ¡°Oh just do it already!¡±

    Arturo held the parchment in his gloved hand, and grabbed Elena¡¯s bare wrist.

    A few weeks before Elena had arrived at Milia, she had broken her right wrist as a result of an unfortunate misunderstanding with her mother. It had been some of the worst pain she¡¯d felt in her life, up until that point.

    It was strange how many thoughts managed to worm their way through the agony. How was this possible? How was it allowed? How could Arturo be so cavalier about mutilating fellow human beings? Even though she had asked him to, how could he burn her hand so badly, the hand she needed to become an artist? There was no doubt in her mind that she would lose the hand; the burn was simply too intense to be anything she could heal from. As soon as Elena remembered how to scream, Arturo took a step away from her.

    The pain was over, ending as suddenly as it had begun. Her hand didn¡¯t even throb, indeed her throat hurt more than her hand did. Even so, the memory of the pain remained, and she scrambled away from Arturo involuntarily. The boiler room was quiet for long minutes, and Arturo watched her carefully. Elena¡¯s mind spun, her thoughts scattered, and her hands still shook. There wasn¡¯t so much as a mark on her, as if the horrible burning had never occurred.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Arturo finally asked.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know,¡± Elena whispered.

    ¡°You don¡¯t know if you¡¯re okay?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know anything!¡± Elena¡¯s eyes were wide, her thoughts still scrambled, but one thought above all stood out, with prickles and buzzes in her temples. ¡°I¡¯ve been raiding with you for more than a month, and I didn¡¯t...it didn¡¯t even occur to me to find out...Arturo I don¡¯t know anything about Studio DaRose, do I?¡±

    ¡°What do you-¡±

    ¡°How am I supposed to help if I don¡¯t know anything?¡± Something like a calm hysteria was washing over Elena, a panic that demanded action. ¡°How am I supposed to create things to help, or come up with plans, or fix anything if I don¡¯t know...when I¡¯ve been so blind and so...so STUPID?¡±

    ¡°Elena, calm down, no one is asking you to fix anything, and you¡¯re not stupid. I should¡¯ve gone to my room to get a nicer piece of art, that was my fault, you don¡¯t have to-¡±

    ¡°Arturo, can you do something for me?¡± Elena interrupted, ¡°a favor?¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°I have to find out as much as I can, about everything. Who knows the most about Studio DaRose?¡±

    ¡°Isadora. She¡¯s been here the longest of any of us.¡±

    ¡°Can you ask her to come here please? I have to talk to her. Arta too, if you can find her. I need to know...I need to...¡±

    Arturo was already at the door when he seemed to think of something. ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re okay, Elena? What are you going to do?¡±

    I¡¯m not okay. Studio DaRose isn¡¯t okay. But we will be.

    Elena turned back to the fin circles, forcing herself to turn her back on Arturo, forcing her recently burnt hand not to shake as she picked up her hammer.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to fix things,¡± she said grimly.

    <hr />

    After a long break, we''re finally back!

    Big thanks to readers and fans alike. I often forget to post up on RRL, but your patience with me continues to astound. For those of you who don''t want to wait, you can buy the fully edited books (with even more content) in my signature, or find the current up-to-date draft on the Twisted Cogs website</a>

    As always, thanks for reading!

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 66

    ¡°It feels like it¡¯s against the rules.¡± The top half of Dolce¡¯s face was hidden by her mask, but her frown seemed even more intense for it. ¡°It feels worse than anything they ever did to us.¡± Elena bit her lip, glancing at her studiomates shuffling their feet in the snow to her left and right. This would work, she knew it would work. Even if it didn¡¯t work exactly as she had planned, why was it so hard for the other garzoni to understand that DaRose would never progress as long as they kept doing the same things?

    ¡°Elena¡¯s Storm says it¡¯ll work, and that it¡¯s not against the rules,¡± Arta said. It wasn¡¯t entirely true, but Elena flashed the Echo a grateful smile for her support nonetheless.

    ¡°Elena¡¯s Storm is for building furniture, not planning or following rules,¡± Ercole grunted.

    ¡°She found the Foscari kids, we can give her the benefit of the doubt this once,¡± Isadora said. Elena hadn¡¯t missed the operative word ¡°once¡± in the sentence, and she gulped, but she was also grateful to Isadora. On her own, Elena doubted her mortalis studiomates would¡¯ve gone along with her idea, even with all of the gear she had made them over the past few weeks.

    ¡°It will work because nobody does things this way,¡± Elena said, trying to sound more confident than she felt, ¡°but just because we¡¯re the first to try it doesn¡¯t mean we¡¯re not allowed.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re blaming you if all of this goes sour,¡± Ercole said.

    ¡°Sounds to me like you¡¯re blaming her already,¡± Ele said, but the Mortalis could neither see nor hear him, and none of the others repeated his words. Elena glanced at her Echo standing at her side. He still hadn¡¯t told her the secret that he had been keeping from her, but since Emerald had started working at Studio DaRose the building enmity between them had all but vanished, and Elena didn¡¯t want to risk asking and upsetting him.

    You should start standing up for yourself more, she scolded herself, you have a right to hold him to his end of the deal, especially since he lied to you about your end. Despite her own advice, when her childhood companion smiled at her encouragingly, standing up for herself didn¡¯t seem quite so important. It reminded her of his silent encouragement when her mother lectured her, terrifying and quiet, and she couldn¡¯t be angry at him in the face of his support.

    ¡°I¡¯ve decided I really don¡¯t want to do this,¡± Dolce half turned, glancing around her to see if anyone would follow. ¡°It is worth it, you all? I mean yes, Studio DaRose is just barely hanging on to the bottom of the hierarchy, but I¡¯ll taking ¡®hanging on¡¯ over ¡®punished into oblivion¡¯ any day!¡±

    ¡°There is no punishment! It¡¯s all made up!¡± the fluttering feeling in Elena¡¯s stomach snapped into her mouth without her realizing it, ¡°that¡¯s the entire point of this, the chance that we have to launch us higher in the hierarchy! No one understands that there are only a handful of rules!¡±

    Dolce fixed her with a dubious look, and although her heart hammered, Elena held her gaze. With a grim shrug, Dolce turned back to the gate of Studio Malatesta and waited.

    Only a handful of rules, Elena reminded herself, and this probably isn¡¯t one of them.

    ***

    ¡°One of the biggest hurdles to learning all of the rules is that there are just so many of them,¡± Arta had explained as Elena dipped her rag back into the bucket of filthy water. The work was tiring, but she was making visible progress towards cleaning the little circle of fins that would eventually send heat throughout Studio DaRose. Arturo was around the studio, gathering up the rest of her Studiomates as she¡¯d asked, but he had sent Arta in so fast that she suspected the Echo had been waiting outside. That also meant that Arta hadn¡¯t entered when she was screaming, her hand on fire, but Elena was trying to ignore that particular fact.

    ¡°How are new garzoni supposed to know so many rules?¡± she asked, ¡°why hasn¡¯t anyone told me about them, in Studio De Luca or here?¡±

    ¡°Well we don¡¯t exactly get them in a list,¡± Arta said, amused, ¡°they¡¯re little things you pick up from the ones who have been here longer than you. Isadora¡¯s friend Aquilius told her about them, Isadora told us about them, now we¡¯re telling you.¡±

    Something about the system seemed not-quite-right to Elena, but she couldn¡¯t put her finger on what exactly it was. She was already using her Storm to gain information about the fins in her hand, intuiting how they were supposed to work as she bent them back into shape.

    ¡°The biggest rules are the ones everyone knows,¡± Arta continued, ¡°no serious injury to other garzoni. No fighting with someone who has given up their coin, no fighting if you aren¡¯t carrying a coin yourself.¡±

    ¡°What makes those the ¡®most important rules¡¯?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve seen the coin collector come by at the start of the month? After the coins have been tallied, each studio receives a letter from the Prince of Milia. It¡¯s supposed to go to the Master of the studio, but...¡± Arta trailed off.

    ¡°But the Master of our Studio usually isn¡¯t usually in a state to read the letters addressed to him?¡± Elena guessed.

    ¡°Isadora usually handles the correspondence. The letter lets the studios know where they fall in the hierarchy of the City¡¯s Studios, and reminds them of those main rules. If the Studio has broken the rules, the letter informs them of the fines to be paid. I¡¯ve heard that when Studio Masters are invited to the Court, it¡¯s in those letters, but Master DaRose has never been invited.¡±

    The fin was straightened and relatively clean, and Elena stood on the chair to slip it back into its place.

    ¡°So the other rules you were talking about, those aren¡¯t in the letters?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re pretty easy to pick up when you¡¯ve been here long enough,¡± Arta began ticking off on her fingers as she spoke, ¡°the fighting between Studios should be kept secret from the Mortalis, so we usually try to keep the fighting limited to within Studio walls, and at night. It¡¯s considered bad form to lie about having your coin on you. Echoes don¡¯t have coins, so really they shouldn¡¯t be involved in the fights at all. Injured garzoni are off-limits, and backhanded methods for getting coins aren¡¯t allowed either. That¡¯s why we don¡¯t worry about someone bribing, blackmailing, or threatening family members to get coins.¡±

    ¡°Echoes help capture coins all the time,¡± Elena scratched her nose thoughtfully. Her Storm was tickling at the back of her brain, but trying to focus both on what it was telling her and on the task at hand was proving difficult. ¡°You and Iso help Arturo and Isadora, and I¡¯ve seen Belloza...¡®Cross¡¯ from Studio Gritti, her Echo spots for her from the rooftops.¡±

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s one of those rules that everyone knows but no one really follows, we all help our Stormtouched whenever we can,¡± Arta smiled. ¡°Well, most of us. Iso helps the studio when can without it looking like he¡¯s helping Isadora. Don¡¯t let him catch you saying that, though, he¡¯ll sulk. You¡¯re the only other person in the Studio besides me that he¡¯s taken a liking to, it¡¯d be a shame to ruin that.¡±

    ¡°Iso likes me?¡± Elena was surprised; besides helping her locate the Foscari students, Isadora¡¯s reclusive Echo had never given her the impression he cared about her.

    ¡°Hmm...perhaps you¡¯d better not tell him I said that either,¡± Arta said thoughtfully, ¡°I don¡¯t know how he¡¯d take it.¡±

    The metal cylinders slid together with little effort, and when Elena turned back to the room Isadora was standing in the doorway, her arms folded. Elena frowned; when Arturo had entered the room she could sense it through the Storm, but this time her Storm hadn¡¯t alerted her. Between the boiler and trying to figure out what it wanted to tell her about Arta¡¯s lecture, she must not have noticed.

    I¡¯ll have to remember that, she thought, I can only focus on so much, Storm or no Storm.

    ¡°Knowing Iso, he¡¯d probably take it poorly,¡± Isadora said.

    ¡°What...¡± Elena had begun to ask again about the relationship between Isadora and her Echo, but as if reading her mind the girl shook her head.

    ¡°Arturo said that you wanted to ask about my Storm?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve just realized that I know so little about peoples¡¯ Storms, and how things work around here,¡± Elena said. The next boiler fin made a sharp click when it slid into place, and she tried to remember if the first one had made that sound.

    ¡°Oh. Well mine is easy; pictures I paint of light cast light when I want them to. Simple.¡±

    ¡°You have good timing actually,¡± Arta broke in, ¡°I¡¯m telling her about the Studio rules.¡±

    ¡°She said that one of the rules was that Echoes couldn¡¯t help in the fights?¡± Elena¡¯s head was starting to pound again, but she wrestled to pay attention to both the information about the boiler and whatever it was that tickled at her mind.

    ¡°They don¡¯t have coins, so they shouldn¡¯t be fighting,¡± Isadora nodded.

    ¡°But Echoes do help.¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter, all of the studios do it.¡±

    ¡°That was kind of my point,¡± Elena mused. The last cylinder that housed the final set of fins took some force, but it finally slid back into place. The water tank at the side was already open, and she poured in the bucket of dirty water she¡¯d used to clean the fins and latched it shut. She bit her lip as she loaded pieces of wood into the boiler¡¯s base, furrowing her brow as she worked. ¡°Everyone ignores that unofficial rule, but they don¡¯t get penalized for it?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s your point? You think we should start reporting other studios?¡±

    ¡°No...¡± now that she wasn¡¯t focusing on the boiler, Elena could focus her Storm. It wasn¡¯t as definite as it had been before, more of a nudge, a hunch, a feeling of prickles. ¡°I¡¯m just wondering how many other ¡®unofficial rules¡¯ might not be rules at all. What other rules are we allowed to ignore?¡±

    ***

    ¡°I can¡¯t for the life of me imagine what you think you¡¯re doing, but I¡¯m sure it¡¯s something stupid.¡± Patchwork¡¯s voice in the quiet Malatesta courtyard shook Elena out of her reverie. He stood on the inside of the heavy iron gate, alone, his arms folded over his chest, staring the group down. He was dressed in similar clothes that he had worn a few weeks before when Malatesta had come to offer Elena a place, deep rich purples that went well with his long golden hair. ¡°Dare I ask, or will I end up regretting it?¡±

    The DaRose garzoni were quiet, and it took a few moments for Elena to realize that they were all looking at her. Normally Isadora or Arturo would assume lead of the small group, but Isadora had stepped a pace or so back, leaving Elena out front. They had agreed to try her idea, but they made it clear whose responsibility it would be should they fail.

    ¡°We¡¯ve come-¡± Elena¡¯s voice broke, and for a horrible moment she forgot what she was going to say.

    ¡°It¡¯s Patchwork,¡± Ele murmured from next to her, so quiet even she almost missed it, ¡°you beat him once, you can take him on again.¡± Elena took a deep breath, threw her head back, and started over.

    ¡°It¡¯s not that hard to figure out, is it?¡± she said, lifting her hammer to her shoulder. ¡°We¡¯ve come to raid you. You may want to warn your studiomates.¡±

    Patchwork raised one eyebrow, his arms still crossed, and glanced back and forth between the DaRose garzoni. The silence between the group of garzoni was broken only by the sounds of activity on the street around them, carts and passersby and merchants. His expression sardonic, Patchwork looked up at the sun above them, then back down at Elena.

    ¡°Six or seven hours early, aren¡¯t you?¡± he asked, ¡°or are you really so desperate that you don¡¯t care about the grievous fines for breaking the interstudio rules? I wasn¡¯t aware Studio DaRose had such disposable income.¡±

    There were the beginnings of a crowd beginning to form, curious passersby with nothing important to do, confused messengers and merchants, little slices of Milian city life. Despite the fact that his gaze was locked on her, Elena could tell that Patchwork was just as aware of the building crowd as she was. It couldn¡¯t have been a common sight; a group of six young students dressed in grey clothes and masks (nine, if they were Stormtouched and could see the assembled Echos as well) standing just outside of Studio Malatesta¡¯s gates. As the silence had stretched further, Elena came to another realization:

    He doesn¡¯t know what to do. This scenario never occurred to him.

    Elena made the decision in a heartbeat. If Patchwork needed more time to think, that was exactly what she would deny him. The crowd was growing, large enough that people were starting to come by just to see what others were looking at. Elena pointed at the lock hanging from the heavy Studio Malatesta gates.

    ¡°Grabber,¡± she said, her voice steady and loud enough for everyone to hear, ¡°melt it off.¡±

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 67

    Elena frowned when Patchwork yanked the hood of his outfit over his head. The optimistic side of her had hoped that he only wore his Artifex-costume at night, when out on raids, but clearly he was more prepared than that. The blonde-haired boy rippled out of sight with a glare, prompting a murmur from the crowd that surrounded the little group of DaRose garzoni.

    The people watching are a double-edged sword, Elena thought, Malatesta doesn¡¯t want to risk looking bad around them, but if they beat us in front of so many people our reputation will take a hit as well.

    At least they cut an impressive figure. After fixing the Studio RaRose boiler, the first thing Elena had done was to work on costumes for her fellow garzoni. Her needlework needed work, and even with the Storm helping her she had jabbed herself several times, but she¡¯d managed to finish six outfits over the course of the week. They were uniform in their various shades of light and dark greys, and the hoods and masks completed the effect.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you or Ercole or Festo have a hood on your outfit?¡± Elena had asked Dolce once.

    ¡°Same reason we don¡¯t have nicknames,¡± Dolce had replied, ¡°we¡¯re just Mortalis, what do we need them for?¡±

    She glanced over at the Mortalis student now with a mixture of glee and nervousness. Dolce returned her smile with a frown, but Elena still thought the group looked much more imposing now than they had. With a crowd of Milian townsfolk watching, looks counted for quite a lot.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t work like this, Cog,¡± Patchwork¡¯s voice placed him somewhere around the center of the courtyard, and Elena narrowed her eyes trying to catch the translucent glimmer that she had seen on the night she¡¯d beaten him. ¡°You can¡¯t just throw convention to the winds and not think there will be repercussions.¡±

    ¡°Ignore him,¡± Elena murmured to her studiomates, as Arturo tugged gently at the lock he held wrapped in the canvas in his hand. A thick black smoke rose from the bundle, and Elena shuddered as she remembered the feeling of burning in her hand. ¡°It¡¯s not against the rules, not the real rules,¡± she repeated, trying to take her mind off of it.

    Ercole and Festo were pushing at the gates even as the lock fell away, and Arturo dropped the parchment with the chunk of still-smoldering metal inside on the ground, where it smoked and hissed in the snow.

    ¡°He¡¯ll stay invisible until Ripple gets out here,¡± Isadora called, as the DaRose students poured into the courtyard, ¡°we¡¯ve got a time limit.¡± Elena bent over as she ran, scooping up handfuls of snow as she went. Her studiomates were doing the same, and by the time Elena had straightened they were already hurling snow around them, filling the courtyard with flurries of white powder.

    A handful of small dark shapes began emerging from the windows of the Studio. Elena was so busy looking for Patchwork that she didn¡¯t pay them much mind until they were close enough to see clearly. Small little insects carved of stone, scurrying through snowdrifts and leaping when they were close enough. One of them landed on Elena¡¯s arm, clinging to the fabric with stone legs as it drew back a tiny little claw.

    Ercole swore and threw one of the insects off at the same time the bug drove a needle-like stone pincher into Elena¡¯s skin. It hurt, enough that her eyes watered, but not enough for her to lose focus. Shaking the bug off, Elena brought her hammer down hard. Even with the cloth covering over the hammer, Elena could feel the grinding as the stone bug broke between hammerhead and stone.

    I need to make a note, she thought, smashing another with a satisfying crunch, not to hit anyone on the ground with Mjolnir. It was harder to pay attention to both the bugs and keep an eye out for Patchwork, but after a few more of the stone creatures popped beneath her hammer, the others scampered back towards the open window. Each one of those must¡¯ve taken a long time to make, Elena thought guiltily, but at least now she was free to look for the invisible Artifex.

    The front door of the Studio burst open and Ripple launched herself through it, slipping a little at the doorstep in her haste to come outside. Elena scanned the courtyard as the others kept throwing snow, looking for anything, any little patch of wet cloth that would give Patchwork away in the few seconds it would take for Ripple to reach the group. She saw the spreading damp smear in the air a split second before Patchwork rammed her.

    The entire weight of the boy slammed into her chest, so hard that it lifted her off of the ground. The breath left her lungs in a gust, everything in her mind pointing at the piercing pain just above her stomach. She hit the ground suddenly, the shock of it shivering through her elbows and tailbone and spine just before her head hit the ground. Patchwork¡¯s full weight landed on her a heartbeat later, hammering into the same spot in her chest that was already screaming. Elena¡¯s head spun in off-center circles as she tried to gasp, but her chest refused to take in air, as if she were underwater.

    In comparison, Patchwork¡¯s fist connecting with her face didn¡¯t even hurt as much, though it snapped her head to one side and into the snow. The snow was too cold, the pain too severe; everything was too stark, too real. She could feel the warmth of Patchwork¡¯s body on top of her, feel him shift his hips as he wound up to punch her again, and all the while a voice in the back of her head that sounded like Ele screamed for someone to help her.

    Elena winced at the sudden sound of wood on flesh, and Patchwork screamed as several hands grabbed him and flung him off of her. She sat up, still trying to draw in a breath, gingerly feeling at the cheek that was already beginning to swell. Patchwork was on the ground a few feet away, handing his coin over to the burly Ercole who stood over him, but his eyes were on Elena, his face twisted into an ugly expression.

    ¡°We can¡¯t do anything to him now,¡± Dolce held out a hand and helped Elena onto her feet, and Elena finally gasped in a few ragged breaths.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t...matter,¡± she managed, ¡°got...coin.¡±

    ¡°Two coins,¡± Isadora had her back to the group, facing Ripple. ¡°Same deal as before, Ripple, it¡¯s the whole group against you, and you don¡¯t have a spotter.¡±

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    The Lanista had stopped a little ways from the scuffle in the middle of the courtyard, her silent gaze moving from Patchwork to the group of DaRose students to the crowd that still watched from just outside of the courtyard gates. She made a few complicated gestures with her fingers in Patchwork¡¯s direction.

    ¡°They won¡¯t wait that long, they¡¯re too bloodthirsty right now,¡± Patchwork said sullenly.

    ¡°What are you doing? You¡¯re not allowed to help her,¡± Dolce protested.

    ¡°Just talking to her, that¡¯s allowed,¡± Patchwork snapped, ¡°besides, the rules don¡¯t mean anything anymore, apparently.¡±

    Ripple made more gestures with her fingers, and Patchwork nodded.

    ¡°It might even work out as a net loss, once they pay the fines,¡± he said.

    Ripple made one final gesture in the direction of the DaRose students, an extended middle finger, then tossed her coin in the snow at Isadora¡¯s feet.

    ¡°Let¡¯s move fast,¡± Elena panted as Isadora picked it off the ground, ¡°if we rush we can catch more of them by surprise.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t count on it, Cog,¡± Patchwork sneered, accepting Ripple¡¯s help to get on his feet. He held something to his lips, too small to see, but Elena and her studiomates were already moving towards the Studio¡¯s front door.

    ¡°Hope someone opens the door before I have to break it down,¡± Ercole said, casually swinging the heavy stave in his hands as the group approached.

    ¡°It¡¯s not locked, you maniac,¡± Patchwork snarled, but he quickened his pace and shoved the door open.

    ¡°Let¡¯s not lose any momentum,¡± Isadora caught the door and ushered the rest of them in, ¡°the faster we get in and out of here, the better. Echoes, start searching.¡±

    Ele, Arta, and Iso broke into a run, spreading out and slipping through the walls of the studio, leaving the five human DaRose garzoni alone in the foyer. Elena could feel her heart pounding in her ears, but she nodded at one of the side doors, and the group moved together towards it.

    The room on the other side was some sort of workshop, most of it taken up with a huge round table. On the table¡¯s surface, three praying mantises the size of Elena¡¯s head turned and blinked stone eyes at the intruders, and behind them a girl with short-cropped black hair widened her eyes.

    The mantises skittered across the table, stone claws clicking together loudly and moving so fast that Elena barely had time to shift her grip on her hammer. Ercole lifted his stave and widened his feet into a more stable stance, but the girl yelled out before the mantises could cross the entire distance of the table

    ¡°Stop! Come back! Here, take my coin, please, just...stop,¡± she flicked the coin at them, and Isadora caught it on its second bounce off of the table. ¡°They¡¯re my favorite,¡± the black-haired girl said, somewhat abashedly.

    ¡°What other Stormtouched can we expect?¡± Isadora demanded.

    ¡°I gave up my coin, I don¡¯t have to help you. You¡¯ll figure out on your own what a mistake you¡¯re making.¡±

    ¡°Next room then,¡± Elena could almost see Isadora dismiss the girl as soon as she realized she would be no help, focused only on getting through the studio as quickly as possible, ¡°and since you¡¯ve given up the coin, you can¡¯t warn anyone else that we¡¯re coming.¡± She shot over her shoulder.

    ¡°I know, I know the rules,¡± The girl glared at them as they left, stroking one of the stone mantises that was now resting in her lap, ¡°unlike Studio DaRose, apparently.¡±

    Elena opened her mouth to remind her studiomates that there was no specific rule against attacking in the daytime, but as soon as she entered the next room the thought was driven from her head. The room was a dining hall, large and wide with high ceilings, and it was full of Malatesta garzoni. Purple uniforms, each of them armed with batons or staves or cudgels. It was obvious that they were waiting for the DaRose garzoni.

    Too many of them, Elena stood frozen, holding her hammer so tightly in her hand that her fingertips were growing numb. There was no way that Malatesta had this many students, all of them carrying coins, all of them able to fight. As if to prove her wrong, the mass of uniformed students charged.

    ¡°Lighting up,¡± Isadora shouted, and despite the danger, despite the terrifying sight of a mass of purple advancing towards them, Elena clamped her eyes shut tight. Even with her eyes shut tight it was so bright that she could see the light flash behind her eyelids, and the startled yells and screams were indication that it was even more effective than she had imagined.

    It had been Patchwork who had given her the idea of Artifex powers layered onto clothing. Isadora had been skeptical when Elena had asked her for help, but after a little experimentation she had launched herself into the project full force. As the lights died down and Elena opened her eyes, fast enough that she could see the fading light of the glowing fabric that made up her studiomates¡¯ uniforms. Even the fading light was bright.

    Not a one of the Malatesta students had been prepared for the onslaught of light, and even for Elena it was easy to knock weapons away from them, trip them up. On her left, Ercole was a little more rough, shoving the students to the ground and kicking wooden weapons across the room.

    ¡°I see you found the Mortalis students,¡± Arta panted, emerging from one wall and running towards the wall opposite, ¡°I was going to warn you, but it looks like you have them well in hand.¡±

    ¡°Keep scouting,¡± Arturo said, and Arta continued on through the next wall without pausing.

    ¡°You all have some coins to give up, Malatesta garzoni,¡± Isadora said to the group of blinded Mortalis.

    ¡°I think not. I think that will be quite enough of this nonsense.¡± The severe voice cut across the ruckus like a knife, and suddenly the room was silent again. At the opposite end of the long dining hall, flanked by two large men made of marble, Master Malatesta stood with her arms crossed, staring at the DaRose Garzoni.

    Elena had never seen anyone look so furious.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 68

    Six DaRose garzoni, three echoes, and seven Mortalis Malatesta students waited, still and silent, as Master Malatesta walked down the rows of seats, the heels of her shoes clicking sharply on the stone.

    ¡°This entire affair was unnecessary, and I¡¯m putting a stop to it now. I would say that I¡¯m disappointed in my students for rising to the bait and engaging, but Studio DaRose appear to have permanently lowered my bar for disappointment. Which of you is responsible for this?¡±

    Even though technically Lady Malatesta had no authority of any of the DaRose garzoni, Elena¡¯s stomach twisted at the look on her face. She was one of the younger Masters of the Milian studios, closer to Elena¡¯s age than to Master De Luca¡¯s, but she radiated such authority that Elena felt like little more than a scolded child. The others were looking to her, which wasn¡¯t a huge surprise, Elena had suspected that any blame for this adventure would fall squarely on her shoulders.

    ¡°We¡¯re raiding Studio Malatesta. For your coins.¡± She had meant to sound official and confident, but even to herself it sounded like a meek excuse.

    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s quite clear what you think you¡¯re doing,¡± Master Malatesta said, ¡°almost as clear as the fact that you hadn¡¯t thought it through in the slightest. How long have there been Studios in Milia, Cog?¡±

    ¡°I...what?¡± Elena was startled by the sudden shift in the conversation.

    ¡°The Studios of Milia have a long and proud history, do you happen to know how long that history is?¡±

    ¡°No, ma¡¯am.¡±

    ¡°Nearly forty years. Four decades of students learning their crafts, engaging in combat and artistry. Do you honestly believe that in those forty years, no one in the eight studios has considered raiding during the daytime, in the open?¡±

    ¡°I...I hadn¡¯t thought of that,¡± Elena admitted.

    ¡°So as soon as you had this brilliant idea, it never occurred to you that perhaps, just perhaps, there may have been students in the past just as clever as you think you are? You were so enamoured with the realization that no one has broken our secrecy that you never thought to imagine why no one has broken our secrecy? I would ask if it ever occurred to you to ask Master DaRose permission for this little stunt, but clearly it hadn¡¯t since I doubt he would give it to you.¡±

    Elena¡¯s face felt hot, the silence around her thick and choking. She wished she could command her face to betray nothing to the amassed students around her, both DaRose and Malatesta, but she knew everyone could at least see her blushing beneath the mask.

    As if the attention of the students around her weren¡¯t enough, behind Master Malatesta, Elena noted two men made of marble watching the scene unfold from the back of the dining hall. They looked a bit like Pietro, but were both adult, heavily muscled, and could easily enforce the Master¡¯s request. Following her glance, Master Malatesta spoke, ¡°those are Galeazo and Alfonso, two of my marble servants. Now that this tremendous display of poor thinking has reached a culmination, I hope they won¡¯t be necessary in escorting you out of my studio.¡±

    ¡°Only two?¡± Arturo said from behind Elena, ¡°you think that¡¯ll be enough?¡± Elena appreciated the support, but she wished Arturo would be a little less aggressive when talking to the Master artist, one who was occasionally invited to the Milian Court, and whose recommendation held weight with the Princeps and Principessa of Milia themselves. Had this entire thing been a bad idea?

    ¡°Perhaps not,¡± Master Malatesta said levelly, ¡°but my third, Lalelle, is on her way to the Milian Court as we speak. Since she left nearly twenty minutes ago, I¡¯m sure a page has been dispatched by now, and I¡¯m sure things will look better for you if your costumed crew isn¡¯t here when they get here.¡±

    ¡°Wait,¡± Elena said, confused, ¡°we hadn¡¯t even gotten here twenty minutes ago. How would you know to send someone...¡±

    ¡°Ercole,¡± Master Malatesta said with a long-suffering look, ¡°go ahead, just this once.¡±

    Elena didn¡¯t need to see Patchwork¡¯s face to see the smug smile on it; it was obvious enough in his voice.

    ¡°Already told you, Cog. Malatesta always knows.¡±

    I didn¡¯t think this through at all, Elena thought, not really. I was so excited that my Storm told me so much, I didn¡¯t stop to think of what my plan DIDN¡¯T take into account. Her shoulders slumped, and she looked helplessly from Malatesta to the students around her.

    MY plan, the thought rustled in the back of her mind like an echo, a barely-heard brush of prickles in the back of her head. Elena frowned, focusing on what she had been thinking. The plan was hers, all hers, which meant she should be able to get information on every part of it. She should be able to change it and update it no matter what new information came up. The Storm stirred again, stronger this time, prickles and buzzings.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go, Elena,¡± Isadora said quietly from behind her. A part of Elena knew she should¡¯ve listened to her studiomate, or at least be influenced by the presence of stone-muscle, but she was too intrigued by what her Storm was doing.

    It wasn¡¯t the instant buzz she was used to, it was more as if the lightning in her temples and fingertips was...waiting. Aware, but distant, slightly dispassionate. Little One had told Elena to think of the Storm like a powerful custodian of her power, but she had never felt its presence like she did now.

    Master Malatesta is trying to ruin my plan, Elena thought tentatively, she¡¯s trying to break something that¡¯s yours, are you going to let her get away with that?

    Her head pounded, the pain so bad that for a moment Elena worried she might vomit. The information wasn¡¯t overwhelming like it had been when the Studio became ¡®hers¡¯, but it was insistent, ruthless. If her plan was a design, the hesitance she was displaying was a flaw in it, the hunched shoulders and hangdog look just as unadvised as building a table with broken nails or a hammer made of paper.

    She straightened her shoulders and met Master Malatesta¡¯s gaze.

    It had been very easy to miss, under the stern and unflinching glare of those steely eyes, but Master Malatesta hadn¡¯t ordered them to leave. She hadn¡¯t even had her marble servants throw them out. In fact, if asked about it later, Master Malatesta could honestly say that she hadn¡¯t interfered in any way other than speaking to the group.

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    She doesn¡¯t know that we¡¯re wrong. The connection formed half from the Storm, half from her mind, like lightning leaping from a metal tip to the ground. Not for sure. She thinks this is against the rules, but she doesn¡¯t know for sure, so she¡¯s trying to bluff us out of here. Just like the crowd outside could hurt Malatesta¡¯s outside reputation, if Master Malatesta were reprimanded by the court page in front of both her and DaRose students, Elena couldn¡¯t imagine what that would do to her image.

    She doesn¡¯t want to risk it if she¡¯s not sure, and she doesn¡¯t want to get involved on the off-chance that I¡¯m right. If this is allowed, and she fights or forces us, that would be breaking one of the real rules.

    The thoughts passed through her mind in a few seconds, as Elena held Master Malatesta¡¯s gaze. The woman didn¡¯t flinch, but her eyes narrowed by a fraction of an inch, as if reading Elena¡¯s mind.

    ¡°We¡¯ll leave then,¡± she said, ¡°as soon as we get our coins.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Master Malatesta¡¯s eyes narrowed further, but she made no move otherwise.

    ¡°We don¡¯t have to keep going through the studio, if you¡¯re admitting defeat. But we should still get our coins.¡±

    ¡°Elena what are you talking about? Let¡¯s go,¡± Isadora whispered furiously. Elena didn¡¯t turn to look at her, instead holding Master Malatesta¡¯s gaze like the prickles in her temples were telling her to. The room was so silent that Elena could pick out the individual breathing of the mortalis students around them. After a few moments, Master Malatesta sighed.

    ¡°Galeazzo, go to the treasury and prepare a bag for the departing DaRose please. One of each coin.¡±

    ¡°Mistress?¡± The younger of the stone men looked startled.

    ¡°Sooner rather than later, Galeazzo.¡±

    ¡°Master Malatesta, we could take the DaRose¡¯s, we don¡¯t have to give up coins like that,¡± one of the older mortalis students said hesitantly.

    ¡°No need, Gabino,¡± Master Malatesta said evenly, ¡°Studio DaRose is about to be penalized harshly enough. If they are so desperate for a goal that they¡¯re willing to suffer such consequences, we may as well be gracious and allow them to achieve something.¡±

    Giving up an entire studio¡¯s worth of coins is worth it to her on the chance that I¡¯m right, the buzzing Storm told Elena. The pain in her head was so bad that the entire studio was blurry, viewed through tears, but she could see when the stone man returned, carrying a bag that jingled as he moved. He handed it to Master Malatesta, who considered Elena for a few moments.

    ¡°If nothing else,¡± she said, holding the bag out to her, ¡°at least today has displayed how lucky we were that you didn¡¯t take us up on our offer.¡±

    ***

    The bag of coins was heavy at Elena¡¯s side, and it jingled satisfyingly with every step that she took. People followed the group of costumed students down the street at a distance, whispering and pointing. The sun was bright overhead, and it sparkled in the piles of snow that had begun to slowly melt. Despite it all, the DaRose garzoni all walked with a heavy step, shoulders slumped, faces downcast.

    ¡°Everything I said before still applies now,¡± Elena said to her quiet studiomates, ¡°we didn¡¯t break any rules, and we got a bagful of coins!¡±

    ¡°Master Malatesta seemed pretty confident that we had broken some rules,¡± Isadora said shortly.

    ¡°If she was that confident, she wouldn¡¯t have given us these!¡± Elena jingled the bag of coins, trying for a cheerful smile. None of her fellow garzoni returned her smile.

    ¡°How did you know that she¡¯d give up the whole studio¡¯s coins, anyway?¡± Arturo asked, ¡°with how angry she was, it wouldn¡¯t have even occurred to me to ask.¡±

    ¡°My Storm did,¡± Elena sighed and gave up on cheering her studiomates, it was hard enough to stay positive on her own with the knot in her stomach. ¡°It helped me know how to talk to her. I still don¡¯t have a really good handle on all of the ins and outs of it, but it sure helped today...what¡¯s wrong?¡± She had glanced over her shoulder to find the others looking at her with various expressions ranging from confusion to mistrust.

    ¡°Your Storm told you how to talk to someone?¡± Dolce phrased it as a question, but her tone was flat.

    ¡°No...it just helped out with a plan I¡¯d already had,¡± Elena said.

    ¡°You told us you were a Fabera. Fabera build things.¡±

    ¡°Well I did. I built a plan to get us coins, and then I built a way for us to succeed at that plan.¡±

    ¡°Did you really?¡± Festo cut in, ¡°because the only Stormtouched I¡¯ve ever heard about whose Storm tells them how to talk to people are Rhetors.¡±

    Elena went cold, as if her blood had suddenly been replaced with the snow that they walked through.

    ¡°N..no,¡± she said carefully, ¡°I¡¯m a Fabera, I¡¯m not a Rhetor. I sewed your clothes, I fixed the boiler...I have an Echo for goodness¡¯ sake!¡±

    ¡°She does have an Echo,¡± Isadora confirmed to the Mortalis. ¡°Rhetors don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve still never heard of a Fabera whose Storm helps them talk,¡± Festo said darkly, ¡°even if she¡¯s not a Rhetor exactly, isn¡¯t it the same thing?¡±

    Elena wasn¡¯t sure what to say, though she felt like remaining silent was somehow even more damning. The weight of the bag that jingled against her leg was more distracting than enjoyable now, and she shivered despite the warm costume she wore.

    ¡°Look, I don¡¯t...¡± she began over her shoulder, but her studiomates weren¡¯t looking at her, they were looking further down the road where the sturdy grey walls of Studio DaRose lay.

    In front of the gates stood a carriage of deep maroon wood, drawn by a pair of chestnut horses. Painted on its side was a stormcloud surrounded by laurels, the symbol of the Milian Courts.

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 69

    The carriage was small and compact, but it reminded Elena of a predatory animal, laying it wait for the group. The closer the DaRose students came to their studio, the more Elena was sure that someone inside was watching them.

    ¡°How do you think Master DaRose will react to Milian Page being here?¡± Elena murmured to Arta, partly to keep from wondering who was sitting in the carriage, what they were thinking..

    ¡°I don¡¯t think Master DaRose will even realize,¡± Arta said just as quietly, ¡°you know how he is; unless it¡¯s related to his machine, nothing inside or out of the Studio will keep his attention for long.¡±

    The carriage sat quiet and still as the garzoni passed, but as soon as they reached the gate a man emerged. He slid through the wooden door and onto the ground with a single movement, as if it were the step of a dance. Elena had been eyeing the carriage over her shoulder, and she stopped to face the man that waited politely in front of the carriage, a few steps away from them.

    "Good afternoon, DaRose garzoni," he said, his voice carrying the hint of an accent from somewhere Elena couldn¡¯t place, "I am here on business from Prince Langone of Milia. I wonder if we might speak, inside."

    Elena glanced back and forth at her studiomates. Dolce, Ercole and Festo were shooting the Stormtouched quizzical looks, but Isadora was looking at her pointedly. Arturo avoided her gaze. The message was as clear here as it had been outside of Studio Malatesta; this was her mess to clean up.

    "Of course you can come inside. Do...do you want me to fetch Master DaRose?" Elena asked tremulously.

    "Who are you-" Festo began, but Dolce elbowed him in the ribs.

    "Echo," she hissed, and Festo grew quiet.

    "Summoning your Master will not be necessary at the moment, thank you." The pages echo said with an arched eyebrow, "we trust the students of Studio DaRose to pass the information on to those who may need it."

    There was nothing more to do but escort the Echo into the studio, through the hall and into the dining room, the same room in which Elena had shouted at her mother and refused Malatesta''s offer.

    "Do we need to be here for this?" Dolce asked Isadora in a whisper.

    "No point," Isadora answered, "we''ll fill you in later."

    The Page Echo waited patiently as the mortalis filed out, facing the window with his back to the students, his hands clasped behind his back. Ercole shot a look over his shoulder at Elena before he closed the door, but she wasn¡¯t entirely sure what the look was supposed to mean.

    For long moments they waited in the quiet room, Elena and Ele, Arturo and Arta, Isadora and Iso, and the Page. Now that she was inside, the mask and hood were making Elena start to sweat, and Elena slipped them off quietly, trying not to break the silence as she did so.

    "Before we begin this discussion, DaRose garzoni, I must make sure you¡¯re aware of a few things," the Page said without turning. ¡°First, that I speak for Prince Langone himself. Please understand that my message carries the full weight of Milian nobility, and by extension the weight of King Pellegrino the First himself.¡±

    ¡°We understand, sir,¡± Isadora said.

    ¡°Secondly, by passing the message to you three students, I am considering my duty complete in giving Studio DaRose the message.¡±

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you give the message to Master DaRose?¡± Elena ventured. Naive as she had been when she¡¯d first arrived in Milia, she realized now that the small lessons in courtly etiquette from her mother weren¡¯t nearly enough. What would happen if she said the wrong thing? What if she breached some code of manners and offended him? For all his faults, Master DaRose would at least know the right thing to say.

    ¡°Miss Cog, the courts are well aware of Master DaRose,¡± the Page replied, finally turning and looking at the assembled students with a neutral expression, ¡°he is a Master artisan, and thus deserves the greatest of respect, but for matters more...mundane, I think it will be more efficient to tell you students directly.¡±

    Of course they know, Elena chided herself, the courts run the studios, they¡¯ll be aware of everything that goes on inside them.

    After a few moments of silence, the Page spread his hands as if begging for an explanation. ¡°Cog, Torchlight, Grabber. You¡¯re all vaguely intelligent, you¡¯re garzoni of a studio of Milia. I don¡¯t really need to say what this is about, do I?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s...there¡¯s no rule against attacking during the daytime,¡± Elena whispered. She had said the phrase enough over the past 24 hours that it felt hollow in her throat, but she set her chin stubbornly. The Storm that had filled her with fire to stand up to Master Malatesta still stirred sluggishly beneath the surface of her mind, but she had to force herself to meet the Echo¡¯s gaze.

    He was small, but the way he held himself lent him an air of presence. His expression was flat, his handsome green eyes locked onto her and bright enough to flash. He didn¡¯t move a muscle, but his silence and stillness was menacing.

    Elena was aware that her face was settling into the stubborn frown that Ele liked to call her ¡®Joanna face¡¯. ¡°Are we going to be punished for something that¡¯s not even a real rule?¡±

    ¡°There is no explicit rule against attacking during the daytime,¡± the Page stressed the word, his eyebrow twitching, ¡°but I hardly need to tell you the damage that could be done from any studio attacking the other at any time.¡±

    ¡°Master Malatesta gave us that insight already,¡± Ele mumbled.

    ¡°Yes, as a Master of a studio I expect that she did. I can¡¯t imagine that you are the first students to get this idea in your heads, but it is the Masters who can see the repercussions of such careless raids. Normally, it is the Masters who would put a stop to such plans before they came to fruition, but Studio DaRose is somewhat...unique, in that regard. Children governing themselves, and the other Studios wonder that this happens.¡± The page seemed to be talking to himself, staring down at the table as if he was looking through it. After a moment he shook himself.

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    ¡°That is neither here nor there; my message is much more concise than that.¡±

    ¡°No more attacks during the day,¡± Elena guessed with a sigh. It hurt more than she had expected, the final blow to her plan. Everything had gone so smoothly, even counting the lecture from Master Malatesta. The plan had technically worked, and she had finally felt like she had struck a blow for Studio DaRose. To have her biggest contribution to the studio yet yanked out from beneath her was sudden and discouraging.

    ¡°Oh no no, the Prince of Milia learns far faster than that Miss Cog,¡± a wry smile tugged at the corner of the Page¡¯s lips, ¡°it is not simply ¡®no more attacks during the day¡¯, it is no more loopholes, all told. As we speak, there is an entire team working to assemble a set of rules governing every single aspect of the inter-studio system. A copy of the new system of rules will be provided to every Studio in Milia before the week is out, and before the month is over I¡¯m sure copies will make their way to every studio in Italoza. I anticipate it will be the size of a small book.¡±

    Elena blinked. A part of her had known that her actions would stir up the Studio life in the city of Milia, but the thought that she might affect studios across Italoza stirred a feeling in her stomach that was hard to identify. It made her feel just a touch...proud.

    That¡¯s ridiculous, she chided herself, this is NOT a good thing! It wasn¡¯t even something special that I did, the only reason it happened was because we¡¯ve got the only Master in Italoza who didn¡¯t step in to stop us. Yet despite her own scolding, despite the fear that still hammered in her stomach, and despite the Page frowning at them, the corner of Elena¡¯s mouth twitched.

    ¡°Don¡¯t think I didn¡¯t see that hint of a smile, Cog,¡± the Page wagged his finger at her, ¡°in case you were planning any additional ill-advised raids between now and the arrival of the Rulebook, pleading that you hadn¡¯t read the rules, you should know that the Prince has instituted a lockdown. The new set of Rules goes into effect the moment the Milian Pages reaches their respective studio, which for DaRose was several minutes ago.¡±

    ¡°But you said the rules haven¡¯t even been written yet!¡± Elena protested.

    ¡°Indeed. The more cautious members of your Studio, the ones who haven¡¯t spent this entire time answering back,¡± the Page gave her a pointed look, ¡°might have already discerned that this means the rules are retroactive. It would be a very bad time for DaRose to carry out a raid until they receive the Rulebook; who knows what rules might be broken without realizing it?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s more to our punishment than a break from raiding, isn¡¯t there,¡± Arturo¡¯s flat voice made it a statement, but there was an undercurrent of bitterness in it. She shot him a look of surprise, and found him glowering at the Echo, running his thumb absentmindedly over the edges of the parchment holders at his belt. ¡°The Malatesta snobs wouldn¡¯t have been so calm if there weren¡¯t a punishment coming our way.¡±

    ¡°The Prince of Milia would hardly single out a single studio¡¯s garzoni in a matter as simple as a misunderstanding of the rules.¡± Even Elena could see the glint in the Page¡¯s eyes, but Arturo was the one to question him on it.

    ¡°They wouldn¡¯t single us out...but...?¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± the Page made a small conceding gesture, ¡°since Studio DaRose seems to adept at finding loopholes, we may need to review their Rulebook more thoroughly than the others. Just to make sure that we haven¡¯t missed anything exploitable.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not so bad,¡± Elena sighed, and the knot in her stomach relaxed a bit.

    ¡°Elena,¡± Arta said, and the knot returned full force at the gentle tone the Echo used.

    ¡°And I suppose our ¡®review¡¯ will take quite some time. Perhaps on the order of several days,¡± Arturo said.

    ¡°It could even be as long as several weeks,¡± the Page shrugged. It took Elena a few seconds to realize what he meant, and when she did she clenched her fists.

    ¡°You¡¯re giving the other studios free reign to attack us, and we can¡¯t respond,¡± she said, ¡°that¡¯s our punishment.¡±

    ¡°Punishment? Oh no. We are simply responding to the actions of a wayward Studio, Cog. Of course, if we thought those actions were an attempt to subvert the rules, rather than simply a misunderstanding of them, we would be more likely to dissolve Studio DaRose than to punish them.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯re so grateful that the Prince understands the reality of the situation,¡± Isadora interrupted before Elena could say anything, ¡°that is was just a mistake.¡± The Page looked back and forth between the faces of the assembled students for a few moments, then nodded, seemingly satisfied.

    ¡°Very well then. My message has been delivered, so my work here is done,¡± he said, walking through the table as he spoke. He paused at the door, half turning so that only Elena could see the barest hint of a smile on his face. ¡°By the way, the Prince gave me no orders to confiscate any coins as a part of this message. Enjoy the fruits of your raid, DaRose garzoni.¡±

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 70

    Between the warmth of the studio¡¯s kitchen, the smell of cooking pan-cakes, and the sunlight that streamed through the window promising spring, Elena was finding it very hard to approach the day with the gravity it required.

    ¡°Let me get this straight,¡± Emerald flipped the two pan-cakes in the pan with an easy motion as she spoke, ¡°so you got to keep the entire studio¡¯s coins, and your only punishment is having to take a few weeks off? I dunno, Elena, it sounds like you got off pretty easy to me. Maybe you should ¡®screw up¡¯ more often, get even more vacation.¡±

    Elena frowned at the parchment she had been working on, trying to both follow the conversation and add up the numbers at the same time, ¡°it¡¯s not that simple, Emerald. For all we know we¡¯ll have an attack to deal with every night this week.¡±

    ¡°And then you can take their coins again. I really don¡¯t see the problem.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s not wrong,¡± Ele chimed in. ¡°You worry too much, Elena.¡±

    ¡°You agreeing with Emerald, what a shock,¡± Elena muttered under her breath. Her relationship with her Echo had improved ever since Emerald had started cooking and cleaning at the studio a few weeks before, but Elena was beginning to resent his dogged loyalty to the Rhetor. Elena and Ele had been the most important fixture in each others¡¯ lives for so long, it was strange to think that there was someone else who he might care for now. Someone, perhaps, that he even cared for more.

    I have no right to be jealous, she thought, after all, he''s probably felt the same way since we''ve come to Milia...I¡¯m supposed to be his friend, but I¡¯ve been caught up in studio business, I started dating Niccolo...he probably feels just as betrayed by me.

    It was a sobering thought, and Elena sighed as she continued to tally up the expenses of the Studio on the parchment in front of her. According to Isadora, Studio DaRose usually only squeaked by with enough money left over for a few luxury food items and enough art supplies to carry them through the next month. With the money that would be paid out by Studio Malatesta, assuming they didn''t lose several iterations of their own coins, they were actually quite far ahead of their expenses this month.

    "But maybe you''re right," Elena sighed. "Maybe things are finally turning around for Studio DaRose." After a few moments the fate-tempting nature of what she just said hit her, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, "oh fortunam tentantes did I just say that out loud?"

    Dolce slumped into the kitchen just as Emerald slipped the first few pan-cakes onto a plate.

    "Morning Miss Dolce!" Emerald smiled.

    "M''r''n''n," Dolce mumbled. The girl was clearly asleep on her feet, and Elena felt a twinge of guilt. She had many small plans in motion to improve the studio, but one she hadn''t told her studiomates about was this; an attempt to get her studiomates¡¯ sleep schedules all in sync. Having Emerald around had made the task much easier, as she could now determine the time in which delicious hot meals would be available.

    As if reading her mind, Dolce complained, "Osci tar, Em, do you have to make breakfast so early every morning?"

    Emerald smiled and raised an eyebrow, then pointed out that she had no way of knowing when the garzoni would wake up, that all she could do was make food and give it to whoever showed up to the kitchen.

    "Well, I didn¡¯t think of it that way, but...yeah, I suppose the food is worth it," Dolce said, taking the plate of pan-cakes from Emerald and joining Elena at the table. "Still..."

    "Good morning Dolce!" Elena said cheerfully.

    "Mornin'' Elena. You admitted to yourself that you''re a Rhetor yet?" Dolce said casually, with a mouth full of pan-cake. Emerald¡¯s shoulders tensed, but she flipped the next pan-cake without turning.

    "I''m not a Rhetor," Elena protested.

    "Talked Master Malatesta into giving up a studio full of coins while we faced down the whole studio, talked the Milian Page into letting us keep those coins, and used your Storm to do it? Sounds like a Rhetor to me."

    "Dolce, you''ve seen me build things. You wore the costumes I''ve made you, for goodness sake!"

    "A Rhetor who¡¯s good enough with her hands to pass as a Fabera, that strikes me as even more dangerous than a regular Rhetor."

    "I have an Echo! Just ask Isadora or Arturo!"

    "If they put masks on Rhetors, I wonder if they''ll have to put you in both a mask and cuffs that cover your hands," Dolce said thoughtfully. Elena stared at her, aghast, until she noticed the twinkle in the other girl''s eye.

    "You''re messing with me," she realized aloud.

    "It''s barely any fun anymore, if you''re just going to believe anything I say."

    "That''s a pretty serious accusation to joke about," Emerald said lightly, without turning.

    "Depends on who it¡¯s coming from," Dolce shrugged, "even if I did believe it, who''s going to listen to the mortalis DaRose kid? No, I''d be more worried about accusations from someone who matters, like our esteemed friend Patchwork, or Elena''s boyfriend. Ah, speak of the devil."

    Elena could see the top of Niccolo''s tousled hair through the glass at the top of the door as he knocked, and she jumped up to let him in.

    "Hello there, my favorite Fabera," Niccolo''s grin seemed to wipe away some of the stress of the past week, and Elena felt herself grinning in return.

    "Hi, my favorite Saggitari," she said.

    "Wow he''s your favorite?" Nicci asked, "he''s my Stormtouched and he doesn¡¯t even make my top six."

    "Hey Nicci," Ele had been lounging on the stool in the corner, but he sat up straight as the other Echo entered, "do you want to go for a walk?"

    "Sure thing, that sounds nice."

    Elena watched the two Echoes leave, curious. They weren¡¯t even subtle about it anymore; what did they talk about, when they went off on their own? Was there something romantic going on between then? Elena had thought Ele was infatuated with Emerald...she glanced at the Rhetor at the stove.

    Elena clearly hadn''t been the only one to notice Ele''s behavior with Nicci. Emerald watched him depart with a face so neutral that it had to be guarding some deeper emotion. Unfortunately Elena had no idea what emotion that was; whatever was going on beneath those brown curls was a mystery to Elena.

    Niccolo followed Elena''s gaze.

    "Ah, I don''t think we''ve met, I''m Niccolo, Elena''s boyfriend," he said, reaching out a hand.The phrase "Elena''s boyfriend" made her heart beat faster, and she smiled happily.

    "I¡¯m Em, the cook and housekeeper here. It''s nice to finally meet you, Niccolo," Emerald shook his offered hand, "Elena tends to smile whenever your name is mentioned."

    "I do not!" Elena said.

    "Do too," said Dolce around a mouthful of pancake.

    "Actually..Have we met before?" Niccolo narrowed his eyes, "your face seems remarkably familiar, but I can''t quite place it..."

    Elena''s heart beat faster for a different reason now, her stomach lurching. Emerald had helped in the De Luca kitchens for weeks, of course Niccolo would recognize her. How could she have been so absentminded? Her mind raced, trying to decide what to do.

    "No, I don''t think so," Emerald sounded far more lighthearted and easygoing than Elena could¡¯ve managed, "I only arrived in town less than a week so."

    "Aren''t you friend with Elena from a while back?" Dolce asked, licking the honey from her fingers.

    "Yes, we knew each other back in our hometown, Carpi," Emerald continued to lie with apparently the utmost ease.

    At least she remembered my hometown, Elena thought with a kind of horrified calm.

    "Well it''s nice to meet one of Elena''s friends! You¡¯ll have to tell me some stories when you have the chance," Niccolo smiled, but the curiosity didn''t fade from his face, "but I swear I¡¯ve seen you somewhere before..."

    Elena was already mentally preparing damage control. Ele had managed to convince Elena to not turn Emerald in to the guardhouse, but somehow she didn''t think convincing Niccolo would be quite so easy. As worried as Emerald''s presence made her, as complicated as it had been, and as frightening add it was to have an unmasked Rhetor under the same roof, Emerald had been Elena''s friend in Studio De Luca. Niccolo had no such hangups.

    Would he stay quiet for Elena? Was their relationship strong enough that he would risk the wrath of the guardhouse to protect a friend of hers? Did she dare even ask him? Elena was frightened to find out...

    "Did you work near Studio De Luca at all? Is that it?" Niccolo asked.

    Emerald stated quite firmly that Niccolo hadn''t met her.

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    "My mistake then," Niccolo said cheerfully, "I must be thinking of someone else."

    Elena frowned. He had dropped the issue so fast...natural satisfaction with the answer, or was Emerald using her Storm again, mind-controlling Elena''s boyfriend just as casually as she had been prepared to do with her mother? It was all Elena could do not to groan and rest her head on the table. It was hard, being the friend of a maskless Rhetor.

    "You look so miserable, Fabera of mine," Niccolo sat at the table with the two DaRose girls, leaning back so that only two chair legs tested on the floor.

    "It''s because she''s worried about being outed as a Rhetor," Dolce said sagely.

    "Dei, Dolce please stop," Elena did groan this time.

    "What''s this now?¡± Niccolo looked back and forth between them, ¡°you¡¯re no Rhetor, Elena, I''ve seen your Echo."

    "I know that! Even Dolce knows that, she''s just teasing me because my Storm told me how to take Malatesta''s coins, and that method just so happened to involve talking to Master Malatesta."

    "So...Your Storm put words in your mouth?" Niccolo set his chair back down slowly, and was giving her an uncomfortable look.

    "No! Honestly, Niccolo, not you too! I''m a Fabera, my Storm build things and it fixes things. So, I built a plan to get us coins, and then when that plan broke down I fixed the plan, that''s all."

    "But...that''s not how it works," Niccolo spluttered, "just because you phrase it in a way that includes the words ¡®build¡¯ and ¡®fix¡¯, doesn''t mean it''ll work like that! Faberi are craftsman, you can''t just...TRICK your Storm into doing what you want it to do."

    "I didn¡¯t trick it, it was more like convincing it," Elena said in a small voice, ¡°I¡¯m learning how to tell what it wants to do.¡±

    "Elena you''re talking about your Storm like it''s a person," Niccolo said, "and it¡¯s really creeping me out."

    "That''s your girlfriend for ya, and our studiomate," Dolce said with an unpleasant smile, "leave it to Elena to make ¡®not a Rhetor¡¯ the more unsettling option."

    Elena''s cheeks burnt red, and she looked down at the parchment on the table. The two of them ganging up on her seemed hardly fair, but she didn''t know what to say to refute them.

    "My plan got us a whole studio''s worth of coins," she said sullenly.

    "And we''re quite grateful for that," Dolce said with a magnanimous gesture of her fork, "we can be grateful and creeped out at the same time."

    "That''s...actually why I''m here, Elena." Niccolo ran a hand through his hair, looking awkward for the first time since Elena had known him. Somehow he managed to make even awkward and abashed look handsome, and she lost track of what he was saying.

    "Hmm?"

    "It¡¯s just...Some of the studios aren''t very happy with the daylight attack of Malatesta. Or the fact that you got a studio''s worth of coins without losing any of your own. There are a lot of phrases being bandied about...¡®Not how the game is supposed to be played¡¯, ¡®upsetting studio balance¡¯, ¡®getting too-¡¯" he broke off suddenly, looking embarrassed.

    "Getting too full of ourselves," Dolce finished helpfully with a single raised eyebrow, "wow, that must be really hard for you De Luca and Malatesta kids, huh? Having to deal with the traumatizing thought of us lower classes rising through the ranks. You poor things."

    "It''s not just De Luca and Malatesta who are upset by this," Niccolo said, his cheeks turning red, "and I want going to say ''getting too full of yourselves'', I was going to say ¡®getting too intense about the combat, at the expense of the art¡¯."

    ¡°Sure De Luca, I believe you.¡±

    Elena folder her arms and stared Niccolo down. "So you came here as a messenger to give us De Luca''s official position on our actions."

    Is there ever going to be a time when he comes by just to see me?

    "No, this isn''t official. Master De Luca hasn''t sent the official response yet, I just wanted to make sure that...that you won¡¯t take it personally when he does. That Studio De Luca''s official actions won''t affect our relationship."

    It was incredibly hard to keep her face stern as she looked at him, eyes wide and waiting for her response. His heart-melting plea was bad enough, even without the big brown eyes.

    "Fine," she said finally, "I understand, you aren''t responsible for what your Studio does. But you ARE responsible for what you do, so I''d better not hear any of that talk about DaRose being lower."

    "You won''t," Niccolo promised, standing. "Now I have to go, I''ve got such a big day ahead of me that I probably shouldn''t have come by at all, but...I had to see you. I had to make sure that whatever happened, you and I would be okay."

    Elena opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly he was just in front of her, and she found she couldn''t speak, or breathe, or do much of anything. His lips pressed against her forehead, his soft voice whispered something about his favorite Fabera, and then he was gone.

    "Wow, he¡¯s smooth," Dolce said, staring at the door after him with a half smile playing about her lips, "from calling you creepy to leaving you blushing and slack-jawed...maybe HE''S a Rhetor."

    ***

    Elena was the last to eat, after her studiomates had trickled in drawn by the smell of Emerald¡¯s cooking. Each of her fellow garzoni had been woken up, and eventually their schedules would begin to sync up. She suspected that Festo had gone back to bed after he had eaten, but overall the plan to have the garzoni keep the same hours was going quite well. Dolce had brought in parchment and paints after she¡¯d finished, and was working on a Mortalis painting on the other end of the table.

    "And you''re really not going to tell me what the two of you talk about?" Elena asked. The pancakes were nearly as good as they had been at Studio De Luca, and Elena tucked into them with a vengeance.

    "I just don''t see why you''re so intrigued," Ele shrugged.

    ¡°You know, it¡¯s really distracting, listening to one side of a conversation,¡± Dolce muttered.

    Ele continued, "I can''t have any secrets?"

    Elena was about to point out that he seemed to have nothing but secrets recently, and that he still hadn¡¯t honored his promise to tell her where he got clothes from, when she was interrupted by a knock on the door she started to rise, but Dolce gestured for her to sit. ¡°You¡¯ve been making sure the rest of us eat, enjoy your food, I¡¯ll get it.¡±

    When Dolce opened the door, Elena observed over her shoulder. The boy was about her age, with short curly black hair, and wore glasses. He looked vaguely familiar, but it took Elena a few moments to place him in her mind.

    ¡°You¡¯re the Foscari garzoni,¡± she said, ¡°¡®Beetle¡¯ or ¡®Bug¡¯ or something, right?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Owl, actually,¡± the boy adjusted his glasses, seemingly unphased by Elena¡¯s guess, ¡°and yes, I am from Studio Foscari. We have a proposition for you, one I think you¡¯ll appreciate...but first you should probably read this.¡±

    Dolce took the note from him and scanned it, her mouth moving as she read. Owl waited patiently on the doorstep, making no move to enter.

    ¡°It¡¯s a..a schedule,¡± Dolce said, looking over her shoulder. The snarky, sarcastic girl looked taken aback, and the expression was so unlike her that it raised goosebumps on Elena¡¯s skin. ¡°A schedule for the studios. It has signatures from all of the Masters.¡±

    ¡°We believe the letter made its rounds in order of Studio Hierarchy,¡± Owl said, ¡°which would explain why it reached Foscari last. After all of the others signed.¡±

    ¡°A hit list on Studio DaRose...or a raid order...or whatever you want to call it,¡± Dolce said quietly, ¡°to teach us a lesson. They¡¯re coordinating attacks. Multiple raids, from different studios every single night. We won¡¯t be able to keep up, won¡¯t be able to adapt or adjust.¡±

    Elena wasn¡¯t sure how to process what Dolce had just said. ¡°All...all of the Studios?¡± she asked, willing it to not be true. Niccolo wouldn¡¯t have just walked out without warning them, if it had been true.

    Dolce seemed to read her mind, and she walked over to set the letter gently in front of her. The language was flowery and formal, but the content was just as Dolce had said; coordinated scheduled attacks, designed to leave Studio DaRose destitute and wipe out any advantage they had gained. At the bottom were signatures, pledges of cooperation from the Masters of the Studios dedicated to punishing DaRose for their breach of the unspoken intra-studio rules.

    Near the head of the signature list, just after Master Malatesta¡¯s signature, was the inscription ¡°Master Bernardo De Luca¡±

 Twisted Cogs, Chapter 71

    "According to the schedule we can expect the first attack tonight, and since it¡¯s Crivelli we can expect it to be just after nightfall; they like their early mornings." While Isadora addressed the assembled garzoni, Elena bit her lip and glanced from face to face. They showed none of the hesitation that had greeted her plan, none of the sidewise glances or furrowed brows. ¡°Obviously the more difficult attacks to deal with will be towards the end, when we¡¯re worn out and the attackers are still fresh.¡± The attention and nods conveyed nothing but respect towards Isadora. It was hard not to be a little hurt by the difference in reactions between Elena and her studiomate, but she tried to ignore the sting.

    She¡¯s been here for years, she¡¯s earned their respect and I haven¡¯t yet, that¡¯s all. I¡¯ll get there someday.

    ¡°Tonight is the only night with one attack, and that¡¯s only because Foscari aren¡¯t joining in. From there on we¡¯ll be getting hit at least twice a night, for seven days provided they stick to the schedule here. Any questions so far?¡±

    ¡°Why are De Luca and Malatesta so late in the schedule?¡± Dolce asked, looking down at the schedule that Isadora held out for inspection, ¡°they don¡¯t even hit us the first time until day four.¡±

    ¡°By that time they¡¯re hoping we¡¯ll be worn down completely,¡± Isadora said, ¡°De Luca and Malatesta want to just walk in and take our coins the easiest. They¡¯re highest in the hierarchy, and Malatesta feels slighted; they probably feel like they deserve it. Any other questions, or should we get to work preparing?¡±

    ¡°Did I miss the meeting where we decided to trust Studio Foscari?¡± Ercole nodded in the direction of Owl, who sat at the corner of the table behind Isadora. ¡°No offense, but I notice Master Foscari signed this schedule as well.¡±

    ¡°No offense taken,¡± Owl¡¯s fingers rested lightly on a small book that rested on the table, and he drummed his fingers along the cover, ¡°you don¡¯t know us. That said, we have absolutely nothing to gain by telling you we¡¯re attacking, giving you the schedule and a day¡¯s head-start. We hoped that alone would act as a token of good faith.¡±

    ¡°Maybe you just like playing fair,¡± Ercole narrowed his eyes, ¡°maybe your studio just wants to fighting their enemy face-to-face.¡±

    ¡°No, you¡¯re thinking of Studio Nencia; honor-bound and combat-mad. The idea of putting ourselves at a disadvantage because of some idealized version of reality is entirely the opposite of our Studio¡¯s modus operandi.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to forgive us, but it¡¯s a bit of a paranoid time for Studio DaRose, what with discovering a city-wide hit list on us and all,¡± Isadora said, ¡°maybe you can indulge us and tell us why you felt the need to give us the information? Especially since we just raided your studio for all of its coins not too long ago.¡±

    Owl was quiet for a few moments, his fingers drumming a pattern onto the cover of his book. Elena could almost hear the gears spinning around in his head, though she had no clue what he could be thinking over.

    ¡°If I had to describe Studio Foscari in a single word, that word would be ¡®realists¡¯,¡± he finally said. ¡°We try to see the ramifications of everything that happens between the Studios. The fact that you took our coins didn¡¯t enter much into our discussions. The very real possibility that Studio DaRose might be hit so hard it could shut down? That did.¡±

    ¡°Studio DaRose can¡¯t be shut down!¡± Festo protested, ¡°there¡¯s no way we would let that happen!¡±

    Owl gave a sad smile. It wasn¡¯t a lopsided grin like Niccolo¡¯s, or a wide toothy smile like Arturo¡¯s, but Elena sort of liked it.

    ¡°It¡¯s those kinds of statements we try to avoid,¡± Owl said, ¡°you are free to say ¡®we won¡¯t let it happen¡¯, but I don¡¯t think Coin Collector cares what you¡¯ll let happen when he comes by and your studio has too much due.¡±

    ¡°Why do you care if Studio DaRose shuts down?¡±

    ¡°Do you know where Studio Foscari is, in the hierarchy?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re second-to-last, aren¡¯t you?¡± Elena guessed, ¡°if Studio DaRose closes, you¡¯ll be last?¡±

    ¡°Not quite, although you¡¯re thinking in the right direction. The fact that you don¡¯t know is exactly what we want to cultivate. When a Studio closes, it knocks everyone out of their comfortable patterns and forces them to look around. Forces them to re-evaluate Studios they¡¯ve dismissed before.¡±

    ¡°So...what, you don¡¯t want to be noticed?¡± Dolce asked incredulously.

    ¡°It¡¯s worked for us so far,¡± Owl nodded, ¡°in everything we want to accomplish. We¡¯re quiet, and no one bothers with us. Did you know that Foscari hasn¡¯t lost a single coin in the past four months except for your last raid? We used Faberi-made locks, hidden bunkers, kept out of sight, out of mind. Raids come by, gain no coins, and don¡¯t bother coming by again.¡±

    ¡°You haven¡¯t won any coins, either,¡± Arturo retorted, a little sharply Elena thought.

    ¡°Winning makes you enemies, and enemies work to find out about you, to find your weaknesses and exploit them. You DaRose garzoni are all clever, you¡¯ve probably already pinpointed studio weaknesses and how to capitalize on them.¡±

    I really should¡¯ve done that, Elena realized, I wish I could get my models to work...

    Arturo ticked off on his fingers, ¡°De Luca has palace connections, always gets whatever garzoni he wants. Malatesta knows everything. Gritti has the poisons and potions, Crivelli¡¯s full of idiots, Nencia has self-righteous fighters, and DaRose doesn¡¯t have weaknesses.¡±

    ¡°I think the more common thinking is that DaRose has...if you¡¯ll pardon me...the misfits.¡±

    Isadora opened her mouth, looked around her at the assembled garzoni, and closed it again.

    ¡°And Studio Foscari?¡± Owl continued, ¡°what do you know about us?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re acting like Studio Foscari is invisible,¡± Arturo snarled.

    Elena looked around her as the pregnant pause stretched.

    ¡°You don¡¯t do a lot of raids?¡± Arturo said.

    ¡°They don¡¯t make Touched art,¡± Dolce supplied.

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    ¡°I heard that they were all Mortalis,¡± Arta said hesitantly.

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t talk to you if I weren¡¯t Stormtouched,¡± Owl pointed out. Elena thought back to their raid on Foscari, trying to remember details that she¡¯d learned. The studio was ugly on the outside, but the extra space had been put to good use with huge personal workshops, filled with high quality supplies. The students themselves had been sleeping in an underground bunker, Owl had boasted that the lock to that bunker was Faberi-made, and however they¡¯d locked themselves in, the rug that covered their bunker¡¯s trapdoor had been pulled neatly back into place.

    ¡°You have Faberi garzoni,¡± Elena said slowly, breaking the silence, ¡°you told me that much. I should¡¯ve paid attention to how many of your students had Echoes sleeping around them, that would¡¯ve told me how many Stormtouched you have.¡± Owl watched her closely as she continued, not making a move, ¡°I know that Master Foscari isn¡¯t brought to court often, but there was so much high-quality furniture and supplies, almost as much as De Luca¡¯s studio...and you have the money for servants to clean and to pull the rug back over your trapdoor before they leave. I think...I think Studio Foscari is rich?¡±

    ¡°Yes, we worried that DaRose might be this perceptive when you raided us,¡± Owl sighed, ¡°another reason we decided we¡¯d rather be with you than against you. But my main point is that none of the other Studios know that.¡±

    Elena beamed. She couldn¡¯t remember anyone ever referring to her as ¡®perceptive¡¯ before.

    ¡°You¡¯re going off on tangents when we¡¯ve got less than a day to prepare for a weeklong siege,¡± Isadora snapped, ¡°was there a point, Owl?¡±

    ¡°Ah, yes, I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯s a simple matter of risk versus reward. If one counts only liquid assets- that means only florins, not studio coins or court credit,¡± he explained to a confused looking Festo, ¡°-then Studio Foscari is in fact the richest Studio in Milia. We stay under the radar, we keep out of battles, and we spend all of our time quietly observing and making goods to sell.¡±

    ¡°¡®Goods¡¯, not art? You¡¯re a Faberi studio?¡± Arta asked. Arturo shot a look in Elena¡¯s direction, although she wasn¡¯t entirely sure why. It wasn¡¯t so surprising that other studios had Faberi, was it? Or was he angry at her for not making goods to sell for DaRose?

    ¡°We¡¯re a Studio that believes there¡¯s no art quite like the art of giving people what they want in exchange for florins,¡± Owl smiled, ¡°not all of us are Faberi any more than every Studio Nencia garzoni is a Lanisti, but as long as the other Studios are casting Faberi aside, we have no problem snatching them up.¡±

    ¡°Not all of them,¡± Dolce threw her arm around Elena¡¯s shoulder, ¡°not the best one.¡±

    ¡°Hmmm...¡± Owl said noncommittally, looking at Elena thoughtfully.

    ¡°Tangents again,¡± Isadora growled, ¡°you were talking about ¡®risk and reward¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Yes, risk and reward, of course. As long as Foscari stays out of fights, we remain unmolested  and comfortable, but we can never move up the hierarchy.¡±

    ¡°So you want to join forces with another Studio who can help you move up while you stay unnoticed.¡±

    ¡°Precisely.¡±

    ¡°And you chose the one Studio that all of the others are turning against?¡±

    ¡°A very small chance of reward, it¡¯s true, but also almost no risk to us,¡± Owl shrugged. ¡°Besides, if Malatesta finds you threatening enough to organize a city-wide persecution against you, clearly they see you as a threat. You may very well be going places.¡±

    ¡°So let me get this straight,¡± Isadora folded her arms in front of her, ¡°Studio Foscari is gathering pre-emptive favors for when we rise to the top of the hierarchy?¡±

    ¡°Or,¡± Arta pointed out, ¡°Studio Foscari is offering to help us when we¡¯re at our lowest, maybe even save our studio.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not either of those things, we¡¯re not making noble gestures or manipulative plans,¡± Owl broke in, ¡°it¡¯s just a....an investment. Studio Foscari is just doing what we do best.¡±

    ¡°Sounds an awful lot like what I said,¡± Isadora grumbled under her breath. ¡°Fine. We don¡¯t have the time to argue about this, we¡¯ve got work to do. Thank you for the warning, Owl. We¡¯ll be thinking your offer over.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve got more to offer you than a warning, we¡¯ll help you with whatever you need; materials, workers, name it. And in return-¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes, in return you¡¯ll be remembered when Studio DaRose rises like a phoenix from the ashes of this hellish attack.¡± Isadora crumpled the schedule in her hand, ¡°I understand the offer, I just don¡¯t know if we¡¯ll be accepting it or not. Now is not the best time to think it over.¡±

    ¡°Of course, I understand. Talk it over with your studiomates, with Master DaRose. You won¡¯t want to make a light decision. Thank you for your time.¡± Owl rose, slipping his book into a pocket. Elena noted that he¡¯d never had time to read a page, it was almost as if he just enjoyed carrying the book around with him like a talisman.

    Isadora waited until Owl reached the door before she turned back to Elena. ¡°What do we do to get ready?¡± She asked. Elena blinked, caught off guard, and belatedly realized that the others were looking at her as well.

    ¡°W-what?¡±

    ¡°You fixed the boiler. You know the Studio. You¡¯re the Faberi, what do we need to do? What defenses should we build? How do we keep people out? What about traps or things like that? Don¡¯t tell me the daylight attack was your only good idea!¡±

    Elena glanced towards the door to find Owl still in the doorway, listening to the conversation with interest. When he saw her looking he gave his small smile and stepped out, shutting the door gently behind him. Elena wasn¡¯t quite sure what to make of the boy, his quiet mannerisms or the offer he had just brought them, but she shook her head to clear it of such thoughts. She had bigger things to focus on right now.

    ¡°Alright,¡± she said to the assembled garzoni, ¡°I do have a few ideas...¡±