Chapter 41 #2
“The skirts will lose some of the fluidity,” Ivy warned me, tentatively. “You…did mention kraken. I was thinking sea, long, flowing skirts… this way, they’re not even touching the ground.”
“Perfect.” I didn’t want to think of the amount of skirts I’d sewn back together after catching a layer of fabric beneath my boot. “I love it. I need a belt,” I said to the room at large.
“Matching vambraces would be delightful,” Amber said. “And on-theme for your men’s, but make it attractive theme.”
Ivy’s cheeks went red. “That wasn’t the theme.”
“Uh-huh.” Amber popped some more food in her mouth. “Now your pet creation has been approved, I want to see the skirtaloons.” At my look, she said, “That’s just my name for them, don’t worry.”
I put my hands back on my head. Removing the work in progress didn’t take long. Ivy tossed the fabric to Amber, who caught it one handed with a reproachful scowl toward Ivy.
“So you’ve options other than the absorbent pants?” I asked Amber.
She made a noise of agreement. “Insertable options. An absorbent, single-use item wouldn’t be too hard to create, but I need resources to test it thoroughly. Obviously, that’s a time issue as well.”
“Tell her what your last patron told you,” Ivy suggested, then waved Matilda away from the piles of garments on the bed.
I was never getting rid of them before my captain arrived.
I considered sending Isolde to Elnyta with the promise of a visit this evening, but I also didn’t want to assume anything. I’d assumed far too much with Chay. I didn’t want to make the same mistake here. Anyway, captains were busy people.
Another part of me was considering the benefits of insertable, absorbent menstrual products.
The idea of removing such an item worried me.
There was also the issue of who would be purchasing them, because whilst in many households women managed day-to-day tasks, I was an exception in managing my own purchases.
Still, many women were given allowances.
It would depend heavily on how the items were understood by the men.
We wouldn’t want anything impinging on our purity, would we?
“The Wife stands for clean and good and wholesome,” I offered Amber. “You’ll need to lean on that image when you’ve got the single-use, insertable items ready for production.”
She blinked.
“This is why she wants a patron,” Matilda told me. “Step.” I stepped into the pool of fabric on the ground.
As I did, Amber said, “There’s nothing dirty about menstruation. It’s simply inconvenient and irritating.”
The correction stung. “Of course,” I agreed, feeling bad.
“I didn’t mean—only that men are the ones with the coin and they’re already concerned with our purity.
Anything insertable will upset them. We might be able to get ahead of that if we convince them they don’t need to know the details, it’s just Wife-approved, women’s business to help with cleanliness. ”
Matilda eased the shirt over my head, so I didn’t get to see Amber’s expression or judge whether my explanation had been accepted.
“Another thing I’d like,” Amber said, not a hint of humor on her face, “is to make all of the plans publicly available for every studying Stitcher—or Crafter, as there’s a lot of overlap—much like the Clockwork Stitcher.”
Gratitude for her forward thinking made me feel lightheaded.
“I’d hoped with what you’ve done here, that you’d be agreeable to that,” she said. “I’ve other ideas for fine fashion, a creation that might change undergarments entirely. But I want anything to do with menstruation to be as accessible as possible.”
I was yanked forward lightly. Matilda murmured an apology.
Paying for Amber’s conditions was fine. I’d already factored in similar costs, though.
“If I need to hire an extra Stitcher, or a Crafter, at similar rates, I may need to put an end date on our contract,” I said.
Panic flared in her expression at that, and I hated that I had to be so pragmatic.
“I want to pay you what you’re worth and make the work accessible,” I said.
“I’ll do my best. But it’ll depend on what revenue I make in other places. ”
Matilda shot Ivy a grim look over my shoulder.
“But whatever research I complete during the contract remains mine,” Amber said.
“Of course. And I’ll do everything I can to retain you.”
She drained her cup of cider. “Wait until I tell you about the flexfabric I’ve been experimenting with that bends like hot metal, holds liquid, is softer than that silk dress of yours, and has the potential to revolutionize medicine as we know it.
” That sounded like a decades-long commitment if ever I heard one.
“I know—I know, us mages,” she said, waving her hands.
“With our big ideas. But I’ve made progress on this one. I really have.”
I held up a hand. Matilda dodged around it and slid the jacket over my arm with enough force that I suspected I’d upset her. “I wasn’t doubting you. I was wondering if I could afford such a thing.”
“Can you afford to ignore it?” Amber asked me, raising her brows. “Imagine, being able to put something over a sucking wound until a Healer Mage could arrive. If such a thing existed, how many more would be alive?”
A chill went up my spine. “Be careful who you offer medical advances to,” I said quietly. “There are plenty who’d keep them for themselves.”
She stared at me, her expression intent. “I am careful. That’s why I’m here.” She picked up the green dress, then a half-burned candle on my nightstand. Around the candle, she used her fingertips to loosen the large metal necklace she wore, shaking a little of the dark powder onto the fabric.
“Flame must flare, and wax be spare.”
Matilda’s hands stilled on the buttons at my chest. Ivy, lacing fabric at my ribs, did too. The smell of magic filled the room.
In a moment, Isolde was beside me, halfway between Amber and I, so I didn’t see everything the mage did. But I saw the candle come alive and heard the bellows of a forge. Amber’s lips moved. Her eyes, usually brown, glowed a soft golden color.
Unease coiled around my spine. Sweat gathered beneath my breasts and on my brow.
Holding my gaze, Amber flicked out the dress, running her hand quickly over it, from hem to hem. It smelled like hot fabric and snuffed wick. When she stood, she said, “The Wife, the One, and the Son see it done.”
The candle was snuffed out. The wax overflow was now part of its pillar. Aside from the charred wick, it looked unburned. She set it down and offered a handful of pins to Ivy.
“Your dress, my lady,” she said, giving it a flick.
My mouth was dry. All the alterations were done. The fabric was seamless, as if it had been created as one unbroken, breathtaking piece. I knew it would fit me like a glove. I’d never seen Stitcher magic, but I’d read about it.
I ran the fabric through my hands. “A fashion-forward woman would be impressed.”
“A woman who appreciates efficiency and concerns herself with costs and benefits should be, too,” Amber said. “These two, they…work well with me. Very well.”
I met Matilda’s suddenly guarded expression. Training mages outside of the academy was illegal.
I was getting three Stitchers—or, at the very least, one Stitcher and two apprentices. I didn’t know how the spells worked, but I suspected the pins they used weren’t just normal pins.
Isolde quietly slipped to the side. I wished she didn’t. I wanted to hide.
I didn’t know what to do with two illegally trained mages and one with a heart too big for this world.
“I need your contract to look like any other mage contract,” I said, slowly. “The Duke could return any day. You need to be careful because I might not be able to protect you.”
“I don’t want protecting,” Amber told me, lifting her chin. “I want to create.”
Tears burned my throat as I looked at her, not much older than me, but so much freer. Could that have been me?
“I want you to create, too,” I said, and I hated that there was a catch in my voice. “Whether you want protecting or not, it’s hard to make anything from the grave.”
From the corner of my eye I saw Isolde nod once, the movement firm.
“Two years?” she asked me.
“Two years,” I agreed, feeling sick. “But…mayhap not from La’Angi. I’ll need to look at what’s best.”
“The resources you have—”
“Will be yours,” I promised. “No reports for two years, no interruptions. But trust me, please, Stitcher.”
She hesitated, glancing toward Matilda.
“I want to work on fashion,” Matilda said, tentatively.
“Then take on an apprentice and teach them how to take measurements,” Isolde suggested. “And mayhap go and speak to some of the locals about the Duke while you consider the offer.”
I closed my eyes, giving them the privacy I could.
Treason didn’t scare me.
My father having access to these mages did.
“If anything happens to you,” I said, “none of the research goes to La’Angi.”
“He can’t be that bad,” Amber said. “I’ve dealt with a lot of nobles. I made armor for the Black Borough general.”
The idea of my father getting his hands on magically reinforced armor made me feel unwell, while I couldn’t help but wonder…could I have such a thing?
“It’s never just the serpent’s venom,” Isolde told her. “It’s their coils, too. Their speed and reach.”
“He’s returning,” I said, the words creaking like the doors to the great hall at the start of the season. “Come winter, he’ll be back. You need to be gone when he is. I’ll see to your accommodation.”
She made a noise of annoyance. “After the tourney, but before the snows,” Amber said, clearly grudging. “It’ll take us time to train someone up, and we need the boost we’ll get from patrons during the season.”
I nodded my agreement, knowing this need wasn’t financial but creative. This was part of Matilda’s dream. I couldn’t slap her back from it, even if I knew it could very well kill her.