Chapter 41
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
AUDREY
Yours is the first case of an internal information leak. We can’t afford your ego, Luis, not even with access to the King’s coffers. —in a letter from High Magelord, Bearer of All, Gautier the First, to the First Guidelord, Luis
La’Angi Keep
I’d wanted to take my time, to sink into the bath and let it soak out the grime and sweat of the day. To let the water cool around me, and to cool with it.
Instead, I’d scrubbed, got myself presentable, and, with my hair still dripping, opened the door to my bedroom.
Two tailors and a Stitcher mage were there, fabric draped everywhere. Any other day and I’d’ve been excited. But it was Elnyta’s first time back in moons.
I wanted to tell my captain I’d been practicing being a kraken.
“Mm, the comfortable old robe,” Matilda said, pursing her lips. “I’m glad you’re so relaxed with us now, m’lady, because today is going to be a day.”
It had already been a day, and now I was hoping to skip forward to the night. I accepted the cup of spiced cider from Stitcher Amber with thanks.
She fell back with a puff of skirts into a chair still draped with the dress Isolde had laid out for me, popping a piece of cheese into her mouth.
“This relish is amazing,” she said, her eyes fluttering closed. “Mm, Tilly, you need to try the cheese. I hear we’re trialing one of the spreads for the tourney festivities,” Amber told me. “Oh, Ivy, it looks amazing.”
I held out my arms for Tilly to remove my robe, following Amber’s gaze to where Ivy stood, beautiful green fabric flowing from her hands.
Panic fluttered in my chest. The fabric was beautiful, but there wasn’t a lot of it.
You’re a kraken, I reminded myself. And in time for my captain to see, too.
I followed Matilda’s instructions as Ivy approached me, pins in her mouth. “You’ll probably want to be naked under it,” Stitcher Amber told me. “We might be able to make something to wear if you’re menstruating—I’ve been testing some options, but I need a Crafter.”
I let Matilda maneuver my limbs into the fabric, but my mind was on the mage before me. “What do you mean, something to wear? What have you planned?”
Her eyes glittered. “A clockwork device used for hygiene purposes, rather than pleasure. So far, no one has funded my studies.”
Of course they hadn’t. “Insertable?” I asked, lifting my arms. Ivy nudged Matilda out of the way. Her hands on my back were cool. The fabric felt like liquid against my skin.
“I’ve a few options,” the mage said, then sipped her drink.
“She’s used to Academy softcock—men trying to steal her ideas,” Tilly said, from my armpit. I pretended not to hear the slip. “Don’t move a few moments, m’lady.”
“I’m untrained in magic,” I told her, honestly. “I’m stealing no one’s ideas and would consider being your patron.” She’d known that, though, when she opened her mouth.
Was this all a long, drawn-out marketing ploy? I considered the possibility as Amber popped a piece of smoked sausage into her mouth thoughtfully.
“I’d want payment,” Amber said. “Somewhere quiet to work and full support. I don’t want to leave my rooms unless it’s by choice.”
She was getting a little ahead of herself. “I’d accept that of anyone I chose to patron.”
“I don’t want anyone checking in on me.”
I understood that desire as much as I understood the first request, but… “I’d want updates at regular intervals,” I said, my voice firm.
What was fair? I tried to recall how long some of the big inventions had taken.
The Inking Presses had taken decades, and still took months for a skilled mage to assemble.
Some of the clockwork concepts Crafters came up with took decades, too.
Then they’d emerge with an elaborate set of pulleys, belts, cogs and tools that automated building standard size crates.
La’Angi’s own Clockwork Craftable was due to be tuned next spring.
I was hoping to talk to a Crafter about purchasing an upgraded Glass Station.
Right now, the only size bottles I could make weren’t in vogue anymore.
It had been bought by my great-grandfather, and now the size of our bottles were shy of what was considered standard.
We’d been getting around it for so long with knappchs, but it was an ongoing irritation when the vodaken from the South and the different types of whiskey in the west were all sold in standard size bottles, either a tiny bit larger, or a third smaller.
All of this was going through my head as Amber wrinkled her nose. “At the solstices, or immediately at any big milestones.”
“For two years.” I was gambling that would be long enough she’d not be looking for contracts elsewhere in the short term, which would allow me to keep her out of the way of my father whilst giving her some assurance of my goodwill.
“Then we revisit to see if it’s working.
Things change, and you’re the first mage I’ve worked with.
” And if things went bad…she was a resourceful woman.
She nodded firmly. “Sensible. If the contract ends before completion, my work is mine.”
“If something happens to you, copies are provided to me,” I countered. “Plus any apprentices you’re working with, the Mage Academy, and up to three heirs of your choice.”
She blinked at me. “That’s dark, my lady.”
“Welcome to La’Angi,” Matilda said wryly.
“I suppose,” Amber said, shooting Matilda an unreadable look. “If foul play is involved, everything is destroyed.”
I tried not to get upset at that. I knew how much some of the large clockwork creations were worth.
“Can we perhaps freeze it and provide the research to just the academy until guilt can be established? I’d hate for, say, an apprentice to have reason to harm you, but I’d also hate for your work to vanish. ”
“This is an elaborate plan for a mechanism you don’t even know about,” Matilda said. “Amber, just show her the plans. She’s keen, and she’s honest. We all know there’s not huge amounts of coin to be made in helping women.”
“It’s marketable to men, too,” Amber said, with the air of someone who’s had the argument many times over. “They don’t like the smell of our copper crotches on a monthly basis.”
“Their fault for getting close enough to smell them,” Isolde offered, from the window.
“Ah, you surround yourself with wisdom, my lady, and it speaks well of you.” Matilda stepped back, admiring me. “That’ll do it, my beautiful little stabber. Come.” She was grinning so widely it was a wonder her face didn’t split. “By the Wife, it’s gorgeous.”
Ivy came around from behind me. I dropped my hands, but then was unsure where to put them.
Matilda motioned with one hand, and I turned.
“The lace at the waist needs to be tidied up,” Ivy said, but there was excitement in her voice. “Are you happy with it?” she asked me, her hands knotting up in front of her.
I knew I had to act happy. I’d prepared a happy expression, one of gratitude and excitement, and was arranging it on my features as I lifted my gaze to the looking glass.
There was no way to see all of me, not here.
But the part of me I could see was mostly bare.
There was something painfully intimate about having clothing on, and yet showing so much.
The curves of my biceps, the valley where muscle curved out from the bones and sinews of my arm full of delicate shadows, the soft undersides totally vulnerable.
Fabric fell over my breasts. Faint ridges in the muscles below the protective cage of my ribs made me uncomfortable.
I turned, seeing the strength of my own spine.
That, at least, looked similar to what Ivy had sketched.
“What they’ll save on fabric they can spend on tailoring,” Isolde offered. “Is that the marketing plan for this one?”
“It needs a warbelt,” I said, without thinking. Before I could snatch back the words, Matilda let out a hoot of laughter. “It’s gorgeous,” I said. “I don’t think I can wear it anywhere.” Except right here.
“I told her to include a belt,” Matilda told me, grinning.
“A good thick one. Here. Get me,” she waved a hand at a basket.
“Some ribbon or something.” Matilda put her hands on my shoulders, angling me.
“The neck could be shortened,” she told Ivy.
“We could move it all up a tiny bit.” Pins appeared, seemingly from nowhere.
She set to work on the green lace collar.
When Ivy returned with a wide copper ribbon, Matilda tossed it over her shoulder in a businesslike fashion.
“One option for menstruation garments is properly fitting underpants that cradle the buttocks and thighs. They would absorb, but not let moisture out,” Amber told me, as Ivy silently directed me to lift my arms again.
“The issue is how frequently they can be washed, as I can increase absorbency to contain a cycle’s flow, but, as you can imagine, that isn’t good to hold the blood against our bodies for so long. ”
I nodded, folding my hands atop my head. “Especially in the heat.” I couldn’t imagine the smell of it this time of year.
“Even in the winter. We make our own warmth. There’s a version of that garment already in circulation, but it’s considered a single-use item and created specifically for formal occasions. It’s also tightly controlled.”
“Don’t want the women being comfortable, do we?
” Matilda muttered. The ribbon in her hands was pulled snug around my belly.
“There.” She stepped back. “Like that. Except dark. Black leather. A lot of detailing.” She made a noise of approval.
“And your breasts are more likely to remain behind the fabric.”
“That’s probably an improvement,” I offered, tentatively, turning to see the way they’d adjusted it made the ribbon sit a little like a bodice. When I turned, it hid the vee in my lower back. I was still exposed, but the tightness felt reassuring. “Yes.”