But of course, the larger the pane—or mirror—the more difficult the task of blowing and cutting. Something the size of the mirror in the salle was going to be extremely difficult to do.
And in fact, it was Master Cuelin himself who was taking the first tries at it. A pile of rejected shards to one side testified that he had already tried and failed a time or two this morning.
“Ah, I give over,” he said, as Alberich arrived. “I thought I’d give it a try, but I’ve not the lungs anymore. I’ll stick to my colored glasses and let young Elkin here do what he does best.”
But “young” Elkin—who was older than Alberich—shook his head. “It won’t come quick, Master Cuelin,” he said honestly. “I’ve never done aught that big. I’ll need to work up to it.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything else, my lad,” Cuelin told him. “Give it time; you’ll manage. Kernos knows so long as you don’t make the mess of it that I just did, we can find buyers for the smaller panes and mirrors while you work your way up to the right size.”
“Are you sure of that, Master?” the other craftsman asked, surprised.
Cuelin laughed, and pulled off his leather gauntlets. “Certain sure. You just wait; as soon as word gets out that we’re replacing a salle mirror up there on the hill, there’ll be a stream of highborn servants at the door. ’If you’d happen to have a spare window glass, so-by-so, Master Cuelin . . . if you’re like to have a mirror for milady’s dressing table . . . ’ They know we have to work our way up to a pane that big, and they know they’ll get a bargain they wouldn’t get if they’d commissioned those glass panes and mirrors special. Then it’ll be the polishing, and then the silvering, and that’ll be a bit tricky as well. Master Alberich, I want to show you something that’ll catch your interest, aye, and you, too, Elkin—I had the Collegium servants bring me down the old glass, and when I got it, this is what I found.”
He held up a shard of silvered glass. “This’ll be from the top of your mirror—” and a second, “—and this’ll be from the bottom. Now, what d’ye think of that?”
The top shard was clearly thinner than the bottom. Alberich scratched his head. “Glass not so good as you can make it?” he hazarded.
Cuelin laughed. “Oh, flattery! No, no, it was fine glass, and we’ll be hard put to match it. But I’ll reckon that mirror was over two hundred years old if it was a day, Master Alberich. Maybe more. And when it was made, top to bottom was the same thickness.”
He wanted Alberich to look puzzled; with some amusement, Alberich obliged him. “Then, how?” he asked.
“Glass never quite sets, Master Alberich,” Cuelin told him. “It’s like slow water, my old Master told me. Believe it or not, it keeps flowing—oh, slow, too slow to notice, but over a century or two, or three, you look, you’ll see that any glass has got thicker at the bottom than it is at the top. Mind, most of it doesn’t stay unbroken long enough to find that out, ’specially with lads like your two troublemakers about, but there you have it. You can tell the age of a piece by how thick it’s got on the bottom compared to the top.”
Alberich examined the two shards, then passed them on to Elkin, and blinked at that, and tried to get his mind wrapped around the idea of something that flowed that slowly. “I am—astonished,” he admitted after a moment. “Astonished.”
“Wonderful stuff, is glass,” Master Cuelin said with pride and pleasure. “And I’ll see to it your lads get their heads stuffed full of more than they ever cared to learn about it. No point in exercising their arms and leaving their heads to come up with more mischief. I’ll send them back up the hill on time for their classes, though, no worry. And—” he took a slip of paper out of a pocket in his tunic and consulted it, “—I see I’m to expect them back down here at fourth bell, and keep them until our suppertime. We eat late, mind.”
“Correct,” Alberich said. “Be here, they will be. Fed, they will be when they arrive, then they must study for the morrow, then bed.”
Cuelin laughed. “If they’ve strength enough to hold up their heads without falling into their books, I’ll be main surprised.”
Alberich took his leave of the Master with better humor than he had arrived in; clearly Cuelin understood boys, and was quite prepared to handle them as they needed to be handled. Mical’s horse and Adain’s Companion were comfortably housed, as the Weaponsmaster saw when he went to fetch Kantor, so Alberich left them in peace. The horse was happy enough; the Companion still looked subdued.
:An interesting place. Have you ever thought of glasswork as a hobby?: Kantor asked, as Alberich mounted.
:I think I would not be good enough to satisfy myself,: Alberich replied truthfully. They rode out into the street; already, the industrious craftsmen here had gotten it cleared, and the snow had been piled up along the walls. :Why was the boy’s Companion so quiet?:
:Because he is as much to blame as the children,: Kantor told him. :Apparently, he was in league with them. He is very young.:
Alberich snorted. :He must be. I thought your kind had better sense.:
Kantor sighed gustily. :Those of us who are older, are. Some of us, like Eloran—are young.:
:Have you got any plans for delivering some sort of chastisement to Eloran?: Alberich asked after a moment, while he tried to sort out the meaning behind his words and couldn’t come up with anything.
:Oh, yes,: came the reply. :Rolan and I have devised something quite—appropriate.:
And since nothing else was forthcoming, Alberich’s curiosity had to remain unassuaged.
3
Selenay looked out of a window in the Long Gallery on the way to her Lesser Audience Chamber and sighed with regret. The garden was alive with color and movement against the snow—the brilliantly colored cloaks, coats, and hoods of the younger members of her Court as they chased one another, flung snowballs, and generally forgot any pretense of dignity. Young men who had lately fought the Tedrels had cast aside their adulthood for a few hours as they fired snowballs at pages safely ensconced behind the sturdy walls of a snow fort. Young ladies giggled and joined the pages in flinging missiles back at their suitors. Others were on the way to frozen ponds with skates slung over their shoulders, or moving toward the artificial hills in the “wild” garden with sleds. Selenay would have given a year of her life to be down there with them.
Alas. The Queen had an audience with the ambassador from Hardorn, and there was no time for frolicking in the snow, no time for skating, no time for a fast run on a sled.
Curse it.
She nodded to the guards on either side of the door of the Lesser Audience Chamber and went inside. She’d had the room repainted in softer colors than her father had favored, though she couldn’t do much about the leather paneling, which had been there for decades and would probably be there for decades more. It was easy to keep clean and looked far more luxurious than anything she could install to replace it; she’d settled for painting the trim an ashen brown with silver-gilt touches here and there. The Ambassador and his entourage were already waiting, as was Talamir. Bless him. It was clear he had been keeping the Ambassador properly entertained; although such gentlemen were notable for being able to conceal any evidence of impatience, the smile Ambassador Werenton turned on her was quite genuine and warm, and his eyes were relaxed. He wore the fine shirt, tunic, trews, and floor-length, open vest in the current Valdemaran style, which was a little disappointing. She’d wanted to see what the Hardornan mode was, for the talk was that the new Queen was quite a fashion setter.