A Student's Dream (Twisted Cogs Book 1) (16 page)

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 Caelator!”

“
Didn’t ask your opinion on what kind of Caelator 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.”

“
Probably warped the honing to hell though.”

“
Nope, edge is fine.”

“
Along the whole length? In the concave?”

“
In the concave and everything.”

“
Quam in mundo
?”

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 from their rapidfire jargon-filled exchange she had liked the sharpened knife.

“
Alright, you made a whole set of tools, show me,” 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 ashwood? 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 useless 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 hollow handle 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 your current tools.”

Frederica was silent for long, long moments, spinning the blade around between her fingers, passing it back and forth from one hand the other 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 horrible?” Frederica looked over her shoulder. “You did good, you were helpful, and now I can be a better Caelator. 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.

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 judgments 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 appreciate it. 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 anyway,” 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 naivete 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 eying 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 afterward.

“
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 two weeks 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 of Marchelli’s had given Elena quite an appetite, and 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.

“
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 anyway,” 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 to Elena quite
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.