But still she felt wary, more on edge than ever, and the edginess would not leave her, no matter that she told herself she was jumping at shadows. She just had to get through the dinner, and the night beyond. In the new day she would see Kargrin and get out.
‘Please, be seated,’ said Kilp. He clapped his hands. Four servants entered in answer, each carrying a tall silver ewer of wine. They did not ask what the guests would prefer, but simply filled the four goblets in front of each of them. A waste, Clariel thought, but typical of the showing off that Aronzo seemed to like. He’d obviously inherited the trait from his father.
‘I wanted us to have a small, private dinner,’ said Kilp as they sat. Aronzo was next to Clariel, but she edged her chair away and angled her legs, so that Aronzo’s questing foot could not touch her own. ‘The two leading families of the city.’
‘Will your lady wife be joining us?’ asked Jaciel, indicating the empty chair. ‘I have not seen her for some time.’
‘I fear Marget is ill,’ said Kilp, with a sigh that did not alter the coldness of his predatory eyes. ‘As you know, the poor dear suffers from many ailments.’
‘You are equipped for battle,’ said Harven. ‘And the Trained Bands have been called out. Should we postpone this dinner? I … We would not wish to get in the way of whatever … whatever is occurring.’
Kilp waved one hand in a relaxed dismissal.
‘It is nothing of any great consequence. A rabble of rioters has proclaimed they will march upon this house and present their “demands” to me. Malcontents from the Flat, who have no stomach for honest work. But they could be annoying, damage property of guildmembers and so forth, so we will essay forth and … contain their protest … before they get anywhere important. Let them stone their own windows and burn their own hovels, I say. We will keep them penned in, have no fear of that!’
‘What are their demands?’ asked Clariel.
‘Who knows?’ said Kilp. ‘They want this and that, changing by the day or even hour. They complain of too much work, or not enough … The truth is they need firm handling. But enough of this, these troublemakers will occupy too much of my night as it stands. Let us talk of other things, and begin to eat.’
He clapped his hands again. Four more waiters entered, bearing trays of oysters, mussels and eels, which they set upon the table. Again, there was far more food than the five of them could possibly eat, and Clariel knew it would only be the first of many courses. She had no appetite, aware that Aronzo was watching her all the time, and Kilp too, that she was of no account to them save as a playing piece in their game of power, and they were preparing to make a move.
‘You come from the Palace,’ said Kilp, opening an oyster with gusto, using the short, blunt knife provided among the array of cutlery in front of him. ‘How was the King?’
‘We did not see him,’ said Jaciel. She speared a mussel from its shell with a needlelike implement of finely chased silver. ‘He met with Clariel, to receive the kin-gift.’
‘And gave one in return,’ said Harven quickly, clearly wanting to be in on the conversation. ‘A most notable gift.’
‘He did?’ asked Kilp, with a darting glance at Clariel.
‘The Dropstone salt cellar,’ announced Harven cheerfully. ‘We will have it in the workshop tomorrow.’
‘Really?’ drawled Aronzo. ‘I would like to see that. I have heard of it, of course, but to look at it closely …’
‘You must,’ said Jaciel eagerly. ‘It is a remarkable work. Kilp, you too. There is so much that we can learn from it.’
‘I fear I am overburdened with matters of state, rather than matters of craft,’ said Kilp. ‘It is too often the way, but then I was never as skilled as you, Jaciel. Aronzo will undoubtedly benefit from a study of the work, though I must say I am greatly pleased with his journeyman piece. It will go before the Guild assayers next week.’
‘Next week?’ asked Jaciel. ‘Congratulations, Aronzo. You will be one of the youngest masters ever.’
‘Should the work be accepted,’ said Aronzo with, Clariel was sure, entirely false modesty.
‘It will be. You will be a Goldsmith of the High Guild,’ said Kilp. He gave Clariel a slight bow. ‘And a guildmember should be married. When Aronzo sets up his own house and workshop, I would be delighted to see his wife by his side.’
‘So should I,’ said Clariel sweetly. ‘Who are you marrying, Aronzo?’
Kilp laughed. Aronzo transformed the beginnings of an angry scowl into laughter as well, a second too late.
‘You are playful, Lady Clariel,’ said Kilp. ‘It would be good to plan for the wedding soon, as I fear we will all be busy with the current difficulties, which can only be exacerbated by the King’s ill health –’
‘The King is perfectly well,’ interrupted Clariel. ‘And plans for my wedding are much ahead of any likelihood of there being one.’
Kilp raised his eyebrows and opened another oyster, tipping the shell back to let the meat inside slip down his throat. He tossed the shell on his plate and looked at Jaciel.
‘Lady Jaciel? I thought this matter was agreed?’
‘Not quite,’ replied Jaciel smoothly. She looked at her daughter, but Clariel couldn’t tell what she was thinking. ‘Clariel and I have many matters we must talk about. Let us discuss other things. Your son, Aronzo’s work, perhaps. I would like to see his masterwork, if I may.’
‘It is not quite ready, I regret,’ said Aronzo. ‘A matter of some minor polishing remains, and there is the question of etiquette, that only the assayers should …’
‘That doesn’t matter,’ said Kilp. He turned to the servant behind him and snapped, ‘Fetch Lord Aronzo’s goblet from the workshop.’
‘Father, it’s really not …’ Aronzo started to protest, but Kilp merely looked at him. The young man stopped, picked up one of his goblets instead and took a hefty swallow.
‘The King is well, you say,’ said Kilp, after a minute of awkward silence, though at least Jaciel and Harven had started eating.
‘He seemed well enough, though very old,’ said Clariel. ‘He was very kind to give me … us … the salt cellar.’
Kilp grunted, but did not add anything else. He continued to look at Clariel as he ate, until she became uncomfortable and resorted to helping herself to a portion of eel. She pushed this around on her plate, cutting it into smaller and smaller sections with a knife that was considerably blunter than she thought it should be. She also couldn’t hold it tight enough, because the wound on her palm still hurt.
‘You do not intend to be a goldsmith yourself, do you, Lady Clariel?’ asked Aronzo blandly, as if they had just met. ‘What are your plans for your future?’
‘I have not been in Belisaere very long, Lord Aronzo,’ said Clariel. ‘I am still assaying the true value of many things here. Sometimes there is only the thinnest layer of gold upon the lead.’
‘That’s true,’ said Harven. ‘Remember those counterfeit bezants from that gang in Navis? They skimped on the leaf so much the coins could hardly pass between two hands before it came off.’
‘True coin is an ornament of the state,’ said Kilp pontifically. ‘And yet another responsibility of we Goldsmiths. Ah, here we are!’
His exclamation was for the arrival of Aronzo’s masterwork, which if passed by the guild examiners, would allow him to become a full member of the guild. It was a goblet, carried in the white-gloved hands of the cloth-of-gold-clad major-domo, self-evidently a much more senior servant than the man sent to fetch it, who could not be trusted with an item of such value.
It was a very beautiful piece, Clariel noted with reluctance. A slim goblet of beaten gold raised upon a long stem set with small rubies, arranged so that a red glow wrapped the cup above and the circular foot below, which was also rimmed with rubies or tiny chips of ruby.
Jaciel’s eyebrows rose as she saw it.
‘Show me!’ she demanded, rising from her seat. Aronzo stood too, and both moved around opposi
te sides of the table towards the major-domo.
‘It really isn’t ready, Lady Jaciel!’ he said, in his most charming manner. ‘Please don’t touch –’