Glasswrights' Journeyman (40 page)

“Will you?” Rani looked about her, as if she were honestly considering the guildmaster's defiance. “Can you wait out a season? Two? Three? What will that do to the market for spidersilk?” Rani pulled her arm free from Tovin's frantic grasp, snarling at the player as he tried to placate her. “I've been in Liantine, my lord! I've seen that your guild is already dying. The Horned Hind holds sway in the capital. King Teheboth has ordered his entire palace reworked in the wood sacred to the Horned Hind, replacing your precious silk. If Halaravilli sets siege to your walls, how long will your guild hold on to its market? How long will the world desire spidersilk when it can live in wool or linen? Not a single shipment out, for all the summer. All the autumn. All the winter. Can you last till spring? Can you last another year?”

Anigo stepped toward her, his scarred forearms quivering with fury. “We paid for our slaves, paid Sin Hazar honorably. You have no right to demand them now.”

Rani glanced at Crestman, saw the hope and admiration spread across his face. She wished that she could spare him the course this bargaining was about to take. She wished that she had time to explain. “There is nothing honorable in bargaining for children.”

“For soldiers, glasswright.”

“For boys. For girls. My king will come to redeem them, with all the might at his command. Unless.”

Anigo's eyes were shrewd. “Unless what?”

“Unless you pay him. Pay Morenia for the slaves.”

Crestman's cry was strangled, and for the first time since entering the spiderguild enclave she was grateful that the westerners' weapons had been taken from them. Anigo's glance flickered over the captain, and his voice was chilled as he said, “So, your noble king would trade his children for silk?”

“Not silk. For riberry trees.”

“What?” Anigo was astonished.

“One score trees for every Amanthian child you keep within the enclave.”

“Impossible.”

“Twenty trees, or Halaravilli orders his army mobilized. Lord Davin has had three years to devise new engines, three years since Morenia conquered Amanthia.”

“Rani, you can't!” Crestman's protest was harsh in the dim room.

“Quiet, Crestman!”

“They are
children
.”

“They are soldiers,” she snapped at him. “Soldiers sworn to your king. Your king, who will bring the spiderguild down to its knees. Unless this man pays.”

“Ranita,” Tovin began, as if he might talk sense into her.

“Silence!” she cried. “I wait to hear from one man in this room. Lord Anigo, what say you? Will you pay in riberry trees? Or will you watch your silk trade die?”

The guildmaster glared at her. His neckpiece rose and fell as his breath came harshly, and beads of perspiration stood out on his shaved head. His eyes were caves, hidden, angry, and she wondered for just a minute how she dared to make this demand, how she dared defy the spiderguild. But then, just as she thought that she would lose, just as she thought that Hal would truly need to summon Davin, Davin and all the army, to rescue her if nothing else, Anigo nodded. Once. A tight inclination of his head, as if his neck were stiff.

“One tree,” he said. “One tree for every slave.”

“Ten,” Rani countered.

Anigo's teeth grated, the scraping clear in the otherwise-silent room. Rani caught her breath, frozen, waiting. “Ten.”

“No!” Crestman howled, throwing himself toward the guildmaster. A half dozen soldiers surrounded him, even as Anigo scrambled back four steps. Crestman swore and fought as if his life depended on ripping himself free from the spiderguild guards. He tossed his head like a wild man, struggling to bite his captors, to kick them, to chop at them with his furious fists, but he was subdued quickly by their weapons and superior force.

Rani stared, horrified by what she had provoked. For just an instant, she thought that Crestman might only be play-acting, that he actually knew her
true
plan, the one still hidden, but when she saw the vicious hatred flashing from his eyes, she knew that he was lost. “Crestman,” she said, her voice barely audible above his harsh panting, and the exerted breath of his captors.

“Don't speak to me, traitor!”

She could not respond. She could not tell him her intentions. She could not say that she would bargain for the riberry trees, establish Hal's silk trade, and then return, next year, with gold from the profitable sale of silk, gold that the spiderguild could not resist. She would ransom all the slaves eventually, but for now she could not reveal her plans.

Crestman twisted until he could glare at Anigo. “Take me, then. Make me one of your slaves.”

The guildmaster laughed, the grim sound bouncing off the ceiling of the high chamber. “And why would I do that?”

“I can work. I can plow your fields and haul your water. I'll feed your cursed spiders. I'll do whatever you command.”

“I could never trust you.”

“You'll keep me under guard. You'll keep me without weapons. The other slaves will see me, and they'll know better than to rebel.”

Rani wanted to protest. She wanted to tell Crestman that he did not need to do this; he did not need to sell himself for the riberries. He could stand now, walk out of the hall with her, with Tovin. All would be right, within one year.

Anigo nodded slowly, and his blunt fingers stroked his neckpiece. “I won't change my mind. I won't release you, when you recognize your foolishness.”

“My foolishness was in believing a Morenian would ever hold my own interests at heart. Better that I serve honorably with my soldiers, than that I lap the boots of conquerors.”

Anigo stared for a long moment, but then he gestured to his soldiers. “Take him to the slave quarters. Issue him a tunic, and send him to the fields, with chains about his ankles. He's on bread and water rations until I say otherwise, and two men will watch over him. Kill him if he takes one false step.”

The guards wrestled Crestman to his feet, jostling him with their swords. “Crestman!” Rani cried.

He spat at her.

For just an instant, she was outside of the spiderguild hall, outside of Liantine altogether, and back at the fallen Swancastle. She stood beside Crestman on the hillside, listening to his tale of bitter disappointment, to the cruelty that had bound him to the Little Army. She remembered the hatred in his eyes, the bitter lust for revenge that had tightened the scar across his cheekbone.

And now, she saw that same raw desire, that same desperate rage. Crestman was lost to her forever.

He turned away without a word, and the guards led him from the hall.

Anigo waited for a long minute, and then he raised a diamond-studded hand. “Done. Ten trees for each of my slaves. But not for that one. He was not mine when you drove your bargain.”

Rani nodded, sick at heart that anyone – even Anigo – could think that she had meant to profit from Crestman's choice.

Anigo raised a commanding hand, summoning a servant from the shadows. “Very well. We will have the papers completed by sunset, and you may sign them then. Ranita Glasswright, you may go about our compound for the daylight hours, but you may not enter any building without a member of the spiderguild.”

Rani inclined her head, accepting the restrictions. Before Anigo could leave, Tovin started forward, looking as if he intended to kneel before his lord. “Player,” Anigo said. “You too are forbidden from entering our buildings.”

“My lord, I have negotiations to complete, for the players' cobalt cloth.”

“You will not negotiate with us. You chose your side in this charade. The spiderguild has no further interest in the players.”

“My lord!”

“Silence!” Anigo's bellow made the floor tremble. “You brought outsiders into our midst. You allowed them to manipulate us. You paved the way for riberry trees to be released into the outside world. The spiderguild will having nothing more to do with you – not with you, and not your troop. You will leave at dawn tomorrow, and you will be denied any further entrance to our enclave.”

“My lord, I –”

“One word more, and I will have you taken to the stockade, with the two who broke our laws at the gate.”

Tovin's throat worked, and he clearly considered testing the guildmaster's edict. Rani could see that Anigo would not relent, though, and she reached out one hand to still the player. He shook away her fingers angrily.

“Until sunset, then,” Anigo said, inclining his head toward Rani.

The remaining guards led them from the chamber, weapons drawn as they traced their way through the twisting guildhall corridors. None actually touched Rani with the point or flat of a blade, but they left no question about where she must walk and how quickly. The tangled hallways seemed darker now, gloomier and more twisted.

Rani was relieved at last to find herself in the large reception room, under the glint of colored glass from the octolaris window. Then, she was outside the building altogether, back in the morning sun, looking down on the black-veined marble courtyard. The leader of the guards repeated Anigo's warning to avoid the buildings before he led his men away, abandoning Rani and Tovin on the blinding white steps.

Rani waited until the soldiers had left, and her voice trembled as she asked, “Is that all? They won't place a guard upon us for the day?”

“What could you do to harm the spiderguild?” Tovin's words were bitter. “All the silk is locked up. The spiders would be death if you handled them. You are locked inside until the gates open at tomorrow's dawn.”

Tomorrow's dawn. When the messenger would arrive from King Teheboth.

Rani swallowed hard. “I bargained for Morenia. I got the riberry trees.”

“At what cost?” Tovin nearly shouted, his player's voice booming across the courtyard. He clutched at her arm and pulled her close, the force of his fingers strong enough that she knew immediately she would have bruises. “At what cost, Ranita Glasswright? To prove that you could outwit Anigo Octolaris? Without octolaris, your trees are worthless, and for that, you have broken the players!”

“Surely, the players are not broken! Audiences will watch you, even if you play your pieces with ragged curtains.”

“This isn't about curtains! Don't you understand? The guild has withdrawn its
support
. We will not be allowed on the Liantine roads without a sponsor. The entire troop will be illegal, banished. Every troop needs a patron, and you have driven ours away!”

Rani had not understood. She had not realized what her bargain cost. Nevertheless, she could not have acted otherwise. She needed the trees. Hal needed them; Morenia did. With the trees, they could rebuild safely, recover from the fire and the illness, escape from under the Fellowship's thumb. …

Even if she had needed to bring down the players. Even if she had lost Crestman.

Tovin glared at her. “And you don't even realize, yet, that all your bargaining was for nothing. You'll never keep those trees alive.”

“We will. We must.”

“Do you know the first thing about riberries, Ranita Glasswright? You should have asked a player. Any one of us could have told you that your plan was foolish. We trade in stories, after all. We trade for knowledge. Our Speaking is not just a way for lonely noble-girls to pass the time.”

“I'm a guildsman,” she said through set teeth.

“Aye, a guildsman. So what do you know about riberry trees? First, you must protect them from the wind.”

“I'll do that. I – I'll design glass screens.”

“You must pollinate each tree by hand.”

“The children will do that – the Touched and other folk in Moren who were left homeless by the fire.”

“You must water each tree twelve times daily, with two full buckets each time.”

“We can –” Rani caught herself. “
Twelve
times?”

“Twelve.”

“The trees will drown!”

“They are nourished by a moss that grows around their roots.”

“We – we can impress people to do that.”

“And what will they use for water?”

For the first time since leaving the guildhall, Rani saw that her plan might fail. Her voice shook as she said, “Moren's wells, of course.”

“Moren's wells? How deep are they? How much water do they yield, Ranita Glasswright?” She heard her name like a mocking slur. What could a glasswright hope to know of such things, of planting and harvesting and husbandry? How could she be expected to answer?

“How does the spiderguild do it, then?” she spat back in defiance. “We're on a plain here, far from any river.” She waved her hand vaguely to take in the marble courtyard, which had begun to shimmer in the morning heat.

“The spiderguild has a well. A deeper well than you'll ever dig in Moren.”

“Don't be so sure. When King Halaravilli sets his mind to something, he can do it.” He
can
, Rani told herself. Hal can, and Davin, and all the people of Moren, who will have no choice if they wish our land to survive.

For answer, Tovin merely strode away. When Rani hesitated to follow him, he turned back, his lips twisted into a cruel grin. “Surely you're not afraid, Ranita Glasswright? Not afraid to follow me to the truth?”

Rani trotted to catch up to him. She wanted to demand an answer. She wanted to order him – a player, a man not even
recorded
in Morenia's castes – to stop, to listen to her. But she thought of the power he had held over her, the power of Speaking, the power of his glasswright skills, and she held her tongue.

And all the time that she followed him, around the corner of the guildhall, along the side of the long brick building, through the ornate, carefully planted gardens, she listened to doubt grow in her mind. Hal had taken the spiders from Mareka. Mareka had
offered
the spiders to Hal. What had passed between them? How had their alliance been built? What would that bond mean to Hal's impending marriage to Berylina?