Chapter 10
Phin
Down the hall a short way from the door to Tap’s bedroom was the one that led to the workshops.
“This is a bit complicated, but not difficult once you get the hang of it,” he said, pointing to the symbols carved into the wood on both sides of the door frame. “Each one is a different room.”
“There’s more than one room behind this door?”
He nodded. “Yes. The workshops are all here. Just depends on which you’d like to call up.” He pointed at a symbol that looked like the serrated teeth of a saw blade and pressed his palm to it. Briefly, it glowed gold before the latch on the doorknob clicked.
“Here’s the woodworking shop.” He opened the door and leaned in, gesturing for me to do the same.
The room itself was about as large as the smaller library.
There were shelves and tables, a small seating arrangement and tools; everything one could want to learn or practice anything and everything about woodworking along with somewhere to rest and ponder next steps.
“And here”—he pulled me back into the hallway, closed the door and pressed his palm to a symbol that looked like a paintbrush—“is the painting studio.”
A gasp flew from my lips when Tap pushed the door open to reveal the second room, a whole new space full of canvases and easels where the woodworking shop had been a moment before. “Saints and devils.”
Tap flinched, a grimace on his face as he looked around. “I know.” He adjusted both his glasses and his earrings, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s just as disastrous as the deals. They all are.”
“No, it’s incredible,” I breathed, still taking in the full scope of the space.
“Oh?” He looked around, eyes narrowed, as though trying to see what I was.
“May I?”
“Please.” He gestured with his hand, and I stepped forward, pressing the original saw symbol again.
Once I heard the click, I threw the door open wide and walked in, awed by the neat stacks of lumber in all sizes and wood varieties off to one side of the room, the smell of it rich and earthy in my nose.
Tap followed behind me, a silent shadow as I moved from one thing to the next.
I started at the woodworking tables, running my finger over the vices attached to the sides, poking at the variety of saws and carving tools scattered across the surfaces.
There was a small puzzle box on one, along with several flat panels of wood with intricate notching to one side.
“Did you make the chairs in the kitchen?”
Tap blinked, startled by my question. “I did. How did you—”
“They all complement one another as well as the table, but they don’t match. Similar wood, but different styles. Seems like something that might happen if they were made one at a time with a gap in between.”
He inclined his head as though congratulating me for solving a riddle.
“Can I see another?”
“Of course.”
We stepped into the hallway, and I chose the paintbrush, following the order he’d started with.
Heavy cloths were laid across the floor and covered in splatters of color.
They muffled my steps as I walked from one easel to the next, looking at the partially finished paintings.
Canvases, finished and blank, were stacked in dozens against the wall, empty frames in piles next to them.
Cups full of brushes and endless tubes of paint lay strewn across two large, worn tabletops.
One easel held a portrait in progress, a family, it looked like.
One of them definitely resembled Seir. Some of the faces were complete but most were nothing more than a vague bodily outline.
We went back out, and I pressed several other symbols, looking over the room as it changed each time with wonder.
He had a workshop for small metalworks and jewelry making, a room dedicated to embroidery and needlework, along with a full-size loom and dress form with a half-finished suit jacket on it.
There was one with a potter’s wheel and kiln, another with a cauldron for wax and a rod with candlewicks ready to be dipped.
Any craft one could want to practice, he had a room and all the tools required for it.
They were dusty, but as many hours as he spent in the hall plus the little-to-no sleep he got, I could understand why.
There simply was no time for him to do any, let alone all of these things.
Finally, we went back out, and he smiled at me as he pressed the symbol that looked like a book.
“I believe this one is what you originally asked for,” he said, gesturing with his arm for me to enter first.
The library included a cozy sitting area with chairs and a sofa around a low table, all facing a fireplace. The hearth was cold and swept clean, a clear indication nobody had been in here in quite some time.
He crossed to the shelves with a tense expression and began pulling things off from several different shelves. “I’ll just … make some space. Some of these can go elsewhere.”
“Are fires even necessary here?” The question was out of my mouth before I had time to consider censoring it.
Tap huffed a low laugh as the stack in his arms grew taller. “No. The temperature can be altered other ways, but they do bring a certain comfort, wouldn’t you say?”
“Where does the smoke go?”
“Away.” He shrugged, carrying his stack over to the wall and setting them down before returning for more.
I tried to see what he was taking, but none of the spines were facing out.
“Don’t concern yourself overmuch with details like that, Phin.
The workings of this place are complex but also very simple.
I’ve shaped the living space as rooms because it’s what I’m used to, what makes me most comfortable.
They didn’t always look like this, either, but that’s neither here nor there.
The fireplaces and stove burn wood, the smoke goes up a chimney.
The water in the faucets is either hot or cold depending on which handle you turn because that’s how it should be, and it drains away when you let out the stopper.
Nothing has to be more complicated than that.
The workshops can only be visited one at a time, unless you’d like for me to put the rooms side by side down the hall, then they can all exist at once.
Both things can be true. If you need more space, a ceiling …
I can requisition such a change, or perhaps do the enchantment myself. ”
“So it’s … magic.” No other word felt as right as that one for what he was describing.
His smile was soft as he nodded. “As you say. Perhaps it is.” He set down the rest of the books he’d pulled down, the stacks not insignificant, but he hadn’t made a dent in the overall collection.
“But you still need supplies?”
“Yes. Food and other expendables need to be brought in. All the tools here were acquired over time as well. But shopping is far more convenient than it otherwise could be, given I have access to infinite portals.”
There was no arguing that.
I went to the shelves, finding that the private book collection he claimed was small was in fact quite substantial …
and just as disorganized as he’d said. There were endless hours of reading material here, of all kinds, mixed together in piles and groups that made no logical sense.
But I could fix that. I absolutely needed to fix that.
Seated on a heavy rug next to the library was a stout writing desk, and atop it at least a dozen different quills and inkpots, parchment sheets, and drying powder.
“This is all truly stunning.”
“Each of the hobbies has brought me great joy at one point or another. You’re welcome to try any that interest you.”
“When was the last time you got to spend any time in here?” I asked, running my finger along the hearth, cutting a line through a decent layer of dust.
He frowned in concentration. “It’s been … a while. Inspiration has been as sparse, as has free time.”
“Thank you for showing me.” I glanced around, trying to decide where I wanted to start.
“My pleasure. I mean what I said, please make yourself at home in here. And not just to organize books,” he looked me in the eye, expression serious.
“You have leisure time, Phin, make use of it. The deals aren’t going anywhere, and you don’t have to spend every waking hour working.
That’s not the intention or the nature of this arrangement. ”
“What about you?”
“Me?”
“When is your leisure time?”
“I …” His lips flattened. “My schedule is unusual. I would never ask anyone else to hold the same hours I do. That would be cruel.”
“But you could take some time away if you wanted?”
He pushed at his glasses, fingers twitching at his sides. “I suppose arrangements could be made, yes.”
“So, you’ll join me?” I asked, flushing hot when I realized how forward that question sounded. “I mean, I don’t know what half the tools do. I’d like it if you could show me or explain some of them at least.”
“Hold still.” He lifted a hand, reaching out to pluck something off my collar.
“Yours?” He spun a small silver feather between his fingers.
I groped along my back with one arm, blushing furiously.
I’d felt the painful prickle of some breakthrough feathers when I had my last episode, but hadn’t thought they’d come all the way in.
“Yes.”
“It’s a lovely color. Matches your hair.” His head tilted to the side. “When was the last time you stretched your wings, Phin? I’m guessing that was not allowed while you were in disguise?”
I tensed. “No, I couldn’t.” For several reasons. “It’s been a long time.”
He frowned and nodded, still twirling the feather. To my shock, instead of handing it to me, he pulled it through the buttonhole on his vest pocket, using it as his own adornment.
My mind stuttered, wondering if demons had the same unspoken language as angels about some things. I assumed they might, as he was technically a fallen angel. But still, surely he didn’t mean it as the courting gesture it was. Did he?
“I’ll try my best to make some time,” he said, interrupting my mental spiral.
Tap walked me back to my room, bade me goodnight with a bow, and continued on toward the main hall.
I glanced back the other direction, realizing that the seemingly normal hallway was like some of the walls off the living area and great hall—there was no visible end, just a vague fade into blackness and a sense of there being something solid just out of sight.
The workshop door was on the side of the hallway where Tap’s room was, but there was another across from it on mine. Now that I knew what beautiful madness the workshops door contained, I tried not to wonder too hard about what might be behind the other.