A Student's Dream (Twisted Cogs Book 1) (3 page)

Pietro bustled around the small office, moving papers and letters from his desk even as he sat down. The excitement in Elena’s stomach that had been quieted by the people outside was starting to build up again, now that she was in the presence of a living sculpture for the first time. She marveled at the changing expressions on the boy’s face, so apparently mobile and flesh-like even though she knew if she touched him she would feel only unyielding stone. Pietro didn’t look bothered by her unabashed stare, though his busy movements seemed nervous and fussy.

“
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 De Luca 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 hadn’t ever heard her mother speak in such a respectful tone. 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 De Luca isn’t a Caelator; I doubt he could even carve a non-living statue from marble. My creator, Master Malatesta, gave me as a gift to Master De Luca.”

“
How kind of him.”

“
Mother, Master Malatesta is a woman,” Elena murmured, “head of Studio Malatesta on the Street of Purple Artisans.”

“
It says here that you hail from Carpi, Miss Lucciano,” Pietro glanced at the papers in his hands, “it would appear you’ve done your research on Milian studios.”

“
Yes sir,” Elena said.

“Anyway, to answer your question, Madam Lucciano, your meeting today will probably not be with Master De Luca personally. As the head of the highest studio in Milia, you must understand that he 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 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 made of stone.

“
Miss Lucciano, I believe it is you who don’t understand,” he said patiently, “Master De Luca is one of the finest artisans in all of Italoza. There are far fewer Stormtouched than there are Mortalis, it’s true, but the master only accepts Stormtouched to be apprenticed to him. Every other supplicant who has met with me is Stormtouched.”

“
All of them?” Joanna blinked, and the excitement in Elena’s stomach began mixing with nerves. She had known, in theory, that there would be other supplicants to Master De Luca who were like her, but her chances suddenly seemed much slimmer now.

“
Every last one of them. The purpose of this meeting is to determine how the Storm touched your daughter, and whether or not she would be a fit in our studio. If and only if this meeting goes well, then Master De Luca will meet with her for a final decision.”

Pietro 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 De Luca will decide if he takes her on as a full 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. This process is repeated every year with every new set of supplicants who enter, which means that each year Elena must be one of the four most valuable garzoni of the studio.”

With each step the man listed, Elena felt like slumping further down in her seat. Far more hurdles than she had been expecting, and none of them a certainty. Her mother, on the other hand, was nodding.

“
I’m sure you’ll see that the Luccianos are more than capable of impressing you,” Joanna said with a small, smug smile. Elena wished she shared her confidence.

“
I’m sure I will,” Pietro said agreeably, “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 Seven’ at the top. He hovered the wet nib over the surface of a blank sheet of paper. “What type of Storm does your daughter fall within?”

“
Aren’t you supposed to be interviewing Elena, not her mother?” Ele said from behind Elena’s chair. 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 squirmed in her chair.

“
Hmmm...” Pietro paused, brushing the end of the feather against stone lips, “your letter mentions nothing about Elena being a Fabera.”

“
I mentioned that she was Stormtouched, I thought that was enough to convey how much she can bring to your 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, per se,” Pietro said, “but it’s up to me to make your case to Master De Luca, and that information makes my job much more difficult. My master tends to look for skills that are a little more," he paused, looking for the right way to put it, “in line with Studio De Luca. He has taken on Faberi in the past, of course, but very rarely, and usually only when there is a lack of supplicants. This year, we have already had far 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 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, Madam,” he said respectfully, “but just as I’m sure you wouldn’t wish your servants letting rabble into your home, so too is Master De Luca 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 Stormtouched it
is
simple to test and rank them, but that is not true of all of them. I must say I wish they all were; it would certainly make my job easier,” Pietro smiled with perfect white teeth, and Joanna returned a thin smile of her own, as if against her will.

“
Well then, what makes Elena any harder to test than any other supplicant? She’ll take whatever tests you set to her.”

“
That would be wonderful, but the tests vary from case to case. If Elena were a Saggitara, I could point her towards a set of targets and watch her with her weapon. If she were an Artifex, she might’ve brought one of her paintings, if a Caelator, one of her sculptures.”

“
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 even before she stopped talking.

“
It’s not quite so simple. A Machinator’s creations are easy to rank, yes; there’s no mistaking a device that humanity hasn’t seen before. Faberi, on the other hand?” he spread his hands helplessly. “What’s the difference between a Faberi-made table and a table made by a master craftsman?”

“
A Faberi’s work is
perfect
, that’s the difference.”

“
I certainly can’t tell the difference between a perfect table and a well-made table, can you, Madam?”

“
And so what? Surely Master De Luca could use a master craftswoman?” Joanna’s voice was rising in pitch now, and Elena prayed she wouldn’t fly into a rage.

“
Master De Luca 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,” Pietro raised his voice for the first time to interrupt her smoothly, and used that momentum to barrel over her objections. “To rank a Saggitari 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 pleas that they deign to deal with us. I am always quite sorry when a Faberi or Lanisti or Rhetor tries to supplicate, 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 Joanna’s steely gaze. “Some Stormtouched are just 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 muffled the words of the conversation, though she could hear her mother was speaking angrily.

“
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 almost as angry as her mother had been. How could he just dismiss her, on the basis of a single fact? The entire meeting couldn’t have taken more than five minutes, her prospects moving from certainty to dejection in less time than it took to bathe. “Elena?” Ele tried again, “it’s alright you know, your mother will pull her family strings like she always does-”

“
It’s useless,” Elena cut him off. “Master De Luca 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 said. “The plan is to get to court. One way or another.” Ele meant the best, but she didn’t particularly care for his criticism at the moment. She glanced up and down the hallway, looking for a change of subject. 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 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.”

“
What will they do, reject us twice? Wait, do you really not know what kind of lock it is? Have I finally found one that has you stumped?”