A Student's Dream (Twisted Cogs Book 1) (40 page)

“
I am forced to wonder what they have to hide,” Ribbon Face 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? We must talk, but the calm and quiet might help 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.

“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 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 that 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 acknowledgment 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
could
use 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.

“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 realize...” She cared very much about her career as a Fabera, but suddenly her trials seemed 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. 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. Anyway, 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 she had stepped away.

“
We will see you again soon, Elena Lucc-i-a-no,” Black Furs said sleepily. The focusing problems that plagued her in the dream world suddenly got worse, and as she blinked to clear her vision Elena suddenly realized that 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 helped me, Ele. Being at Studio De Luca made me I feel like I had a big family, and now that I don’t have that anymore...I feel like I need the Twisted. Like they’re the only ones on my side anymore. Them, and you.”

“
Well then,” Ele gestured towards the door of the Inn, “let’s go out and find you a new family.”

Snowflakes brushed against Elena’s cheeks as she gazed up at Studio DaRose. She felt so fragile that she was glad that they only left 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 Ele was even 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 said. “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 Nencia 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 noise 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 reminded her, “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 Florenzia. I want to make art for the rulers of Italoza themselves. 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 heavy door at its front. When she took her glove off to knock, the wind was so cold it bit into her bare skin, but she pounded resolutely, waiting in the silence for someone in the studio to respond. A few long moments later, the door opened.

“
Is De Luca trying to get a better price for his merchandise by sending pretty girls to sell it?” Arturo grinned from beneath a 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 door open wider and gestured for 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 door led directly into the kitchens. It 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 saw you in the window, I’d hoped you would come in!” Arta entered the room, 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 Touched 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.

“
Anyway, 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 talked to that girl, Olympia, this morning.”

“
I know,” Arta looked confused, “what does that matter?”

“
He turned her away. Said that there isn’t room for another student.
Diem horribilem,
I’m so sorry, Elena. I wish I had known you were looking, I would’ve tried to soften him up...”

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.

“
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 helping him with?”

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 Foscari, Studio Isota, 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, and 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 judgment. 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 Studio DaRose.”