Glasswrights' Master (39 page)

Now, though, Rani had the confidence of mastery. She had designed the work inside the box. She had crafted it from materials of her own making, with tools that she had modified to her own needs and desires. She had foiled every seam, soldered every joint.

Her fingers were firm as she lifted out the orb. She raised it above her head, even as she sank back to her knees before her king. She heard the crowd whisper behind her, heard the stir of awe as they saw the intricacy of her work.

She had poured her heart into the glasswrights' orb, harnessing all of her knowledge, all of her craft. She had painted scenes upon the glass panes, fine drawings that captured the history of her guild. She had recreated the cathedral, with its stunning windows, now shattered and gone forever. She had drawn the guildhall that she once had known, its stalwart walls providing shelter even as they kept out the unworthy. She had shown the ruin of that fine hall, the utter desolation that had befallen the guild. And she had sketched a Hand, a mechanical tool that was used by the glasswrights who had been maimed so many years before.

The top panels of the orb were bare of any decoration, as if Rani could not guess what the future would bring, what her guild would become. Remembering the orb that she had glimpsed in King Hamid's court, the visual symbol of his uniting power over all his electors and landed men, she had kept the top level of her creation simple. She had indulged in the purest colors she could craft: cobalt and crimson, topaz and emerald, a single pane of clear, unstained glass.

The glasswrights' orb. The symbol of her guild, replacing the one that had been smashed when Rani first had led her companions to death and destruction. One king had had an orb destroyed. Now, if all the gods were willing, another would accept a replacement, would bring the guild back into official being.

She watched Hal study her creation. She watched him measure out the story of her past, of
their
past. She saw that he understood the bare panes at the top of the orb, the unmarked glass where future generations of apprentices would set their palms, would take their vows to uphold and support the guildhall.

He nodded once, and then he set his own hands atop the orb. “We see the orb that you bring this day, and we recognize it for the masterpiece it is. We declare the glasswrights' guild reaffirmed within all our lands, within Morenia and Amanthia, and all the kingdoms that would call us friend and ally. We recognize you, Ranita Glasswright, as a master of your guild, indeed, as the Guildmistress for all the rest of your days. We expect you to bind all of your guildsmen–apprentice, journeyman, and master–through the power of this orb, by the laying on of hands. We ask that you remember our blessing and our acceptance of your orb, and that all the members of the glasswrights' guild be sworn directly to us, to the house of ben-Jair, from this day onward.”

Rani blinked back sudden tears, surprised by the strength of the royal acceptance, by Hal's surprise intention to bring the glasswrights under his personal protection. “Your Majesty,” she forced herself to say, “you honor us too greatly.”

“We honor you as you deserve.” He stepped forward then and helped her to her feet, eased her toward the altar and the specially crafted stand that would protect the orb, even as the masterpiece was displayed to all the assembled crowd.

Only when Rani had nestled the work to her satisfaction did Hal turn back to the throng. “Behold!” he proclaimed. “Behold the glasswrights' orb! Let all who are present today bless the name of the glasswrights. Let all who look upon this masterpiece of their craft rejoice that the glasswrights' guild is returned to Morenia!”

The crowd erupted into cheers, the cries bouncing off the cathedral stonework with a force that might have threatened the windows if they still stood. Hal's smile was broad, unforced, and he took advantage of the prolonged celebration to turn Rani toward him.

“You can meet with Davin this afternoon,” he said, in a voice meant for her ears alone. “You can begin discussing plans to rebuild the hall. He suggests the northwest corner of the keep; he says that you'll get the best access to light that way.”

She was so startled that she forgot to call him by a title. “We already have land! We'll rebuild on the old site!”

“On land that was sown with salt? On land that bears so many grievous memories?”

Despite herself, despite the joy of the day, she cast her eyes toward her feet. It was, after all, her fault that the old hall had been destroyed so thoroughly.

Hal's finger on her chin was gentle, but she could not resist the gesture. She looked into his eyes. “This is a time for new beginnings, Ranita Glasswright. We will not return to the sorrows of the past.” He took a step closer, as if he were unaware of the crowded cathedral, as if he could not hear the cheers and cries of a grateful people. “We've both made mistakes, Rani. We've both acted without thought and paid the cost for our impulses. Will you set aside those errors? Will you stand beside me for all the rest of our days?”

Rani heard the words with her ears, but she could make no sense of them with her
heart. “I…” she started, but could not find an answer. “Hal…” she began again, but lost
the path before she could even speak his full name. “We cannot be together,” she finally made
herself say. “You are king of all Morenia, and I am nothing but a merchant's daughter.”

“You are merchant and guildswoman. You've been soldier and Touched. You have lived inside my palace as a noblewoman for over nine years. The old orders have crumbled. They are gone, like the enemies who occupied our streets, the enemies that you drove forth with the power of your faith, with the strength of your convictions. Who am I to try to stand against that force?”

She tried to believe that he was speaking the words, tried to understand that he was offering all that she had ever wanted, more than she had ever hoped. “It will not be easy, my lord,” she said. “There will be consequences.”

“There are always consequences!” Before she could stop him, before she even knew what he was thinking, he closed the distance between them. She saw him lean closer, smelled the sweet soap of the royal baths upon his cheek, and then she felt his lips brush against her own, feather soft, but promising. “I need you, Rani Trader. I need you by my side. You drive away the voices, you keep the ghosts at bay. Promise you will never leave me. Promise me that you will be my queen.”

The crowd had fallen silent behind them. She felt the pressure of thousands of eyes upon her back, the power of a hundred hundred questioning faces. Hal leaned down, though, and kissed her again, kissed her with a passion that surged down her spine with more force than the rollicking Speaking stream. “I promise,” she whispered when he pulled away. “I promise I will stay.”

She saw tears spring to his eyes and a swell of joy that brightened all his face. She felt his fingers, firm upon her arm as he turned her back to face the crowd. She heard the breathless silence, and then the solid clap as Farso thrust his hands together, repeating, two times, three, four, until all the crowd began to join him in applause.

Rani looked out over the cathedral, gazing down the long nave. Someone had opened the massive wooden doors, letting the late autumn light flood down the aisle. For just an instant, she remembered that her brother had once waited for her outside those doors, Bardo, whom she had loved with a child's simple strength.

She blinked, as if she expected her past to stride into the cathedral. No Bardo appeared of course. He was long gone, resigned to the mistakes of their past.

A shadow solidified in the sunbeam, though, thin and lithe. Rani could just make out the cropped hair, the narrow but muscular shoulders. Mair. She glanced at Farso to see if he could see her too, but the nobleman had eyes only for his liege-lord and king.

Rani turned back to the doorway in time to see the shadow raise its hand, fingers moving in a rapid blessing. Then, Mair slipped away into the streets outside the cathedral, off to whatever Touched games she would play, whatever life she would build on the fringes of Moren's castes.

Rani's heart was light as she stepped down from the dais, leaving the House of the Thousand Gods with Halaravilli ben-Jair at her side.

 

 

 

 

About the Author

 

 

Mindy L. Klasky learned to read when her parents shoved a book in her hands and told her that she could travel anywhere in the world through stories. She never forgot that advice.

Mindy's “travels” took her through multiple careers. After graduating from Princeton University, Mindy considered becoming a professional stage manager or a rabbi. Ultimately, though, she settled on being a lawyer, working as a litigator at a large Washington firm. When she realized that lawyering kept her from writing (and dating and sleeping and otherwise living a normal life), Mindy became a librarian, managing large law firm libraries. Mindy now writes full time.

In her spare time, Mindy quilts, cooks, and tries to tame the endless to-be-read shelf in her home library. Her husband and cats do their best to fill the left-over minutes. Connect with Mindy online: http://www.mindyklasky.com

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