A Student's Dream (Twisted Cogs Book 1) (4 page)

“
Of course I know what kind it is, you can tell from the shape of the keyhole that it’s a lever-pin. Probably a three-pin...no, he’s rich, make that a four-pin.”

“
So you could get past it?” Elena bit her lip to keep from smiling. It was far too easy to push Ele’s buttons.

“
I know what you’re doing, Elena,” Ele said, giving her a weary look, “and I don’t approve. We
should
be waiting out here, coming up with a plan for the future.”

“
I already have my plan, but you’re welcome to come up with another,” Elena shrugged. “It’s probably for the best, anyway. We don’t have anything to work with, nothing useable.”

Ele gave her a hard look, and for a moment Elena thought she might have gone a bit too far.

“
Stop trying to get a rise out of me. It doesn’t work.”

Elena’s gaze dropped to her feet, and she stuck her lower lip out ever-so-slightly. After a few moments Ele sighed and pointed to the corner a little ways down the hallway, where the wall and the floor met.

“
There’s a loose nail in the corner down there, and you have a splinter of wood stuck in the hem of your dress from when you fixed the cart’s wheel. That would, in theory, be enough to make a lockpick.”

Elena grinned as she knelt down to retrieve the nail and pull the wooden splinter, about the size of her little finger, from where it had lodged. Ele walked briskly to the end of the hallway to examine the lock as she worked. Using the sharp end of the nail, Elena scraped slivers away from the piece of wood, shaping it into a rough key form.

“
I was right. Four-pin.” Ele peered at the lock, and Elena used the stone wall by the door to hammer the nail into the wood so that her makeshift key had a metal core. “Give it four teeth, but you won’t be able to gauge the size until you try it a few times.”

“
I’ll bet you I get lucky though,” Elena bit down on the wood, making a face at the taste of dirt and grit, but her sharp teeth pressed grooves along the edge.

“
You’re going to muck your teeth up one of these days, doing that,” Ele shook his head as Elena tried the wooden lockpick on the lock. When it stuck, she jiggled it gently, chewing her tongue as she payed close attention to the feel of how it pressed, how the pins inside stuck. The buzzing in her temples felt almost soothing as her Storm assisted her, tingling along her fingertips while she worked. She withdrew and carefully bit again.

The edge of the wood tasted of steel. It might have been that the taste of metal really was stronger on some of the pick’s ridges, showing her where to bite and where to leave it, or that might just be her Storm helping her along. Either way all that mattered was the result. The key slid almost all the way into the lock on the second attempt, and Elena drew it out to nibble at the wood again.

“
What exactly is your goal in this?” Ele asked with an air of long-suffering. “What do you hope to accomplish?”

“
Maybe we’ll find some books, or see some technique, something that helps us!” Elena said around the key. “Do we have to have a reason for everything? Isn’t it enough that we’ll get to see the inside of Master Bernardo De Luca’s studio if we do it, and if we don’t, we won’t? Where’s your sense of curiosity?”

“
You’re the curious one. You always have been,” Ele grumbled as Elena slipped the key back into the lock. It fit perfectly, all four pins clicking into place. The wood of the key splintered and jammed into the inner workings of the lock when she turned it, but Elena grinned as the heavy door swung open. She extended an arm in invitation, and Ele rolled his eyes as he entered first. “Yet somehow I always get caught up in your escapades,” he grumbled, “funny how that works.”

Elena wasn’t quite sure what she expected to be on the other side of the heavy door, but when it swung open she wasn’t disappointed. A courtyard of white stone greeted her, enclosed by the walls of the studio on all sides but open to the sky above. Sunlight streamed through some sort of netting at the top, casting a dappled shadow across the ground, letting the light in but providing enough shade to be comfortable. In the center of the courtyard stood a statue of a woman whose pitcher somehow poured a constant stream of water into the stone pool that surrounded her.

“
A Machinator fountain,” Ele murmured.

A breeze caught Elena’s hair and played with a strand as she stood in the doorway, open-mouthed and entranced. The courtyard hummed with lazy activity, and it seemed like a scene out of a painting. In one corner, a pretty brunette girl made marks with chalk on a block of wood as big as her arm, while a boy who could be her brother looked on with interest. On the other side of the fountain, a young man and a pale girl with sharp eyes were discussing a half-painted tile that sat on the easel between them. Both pairs were so absorbed in their work that they didn’t seem to notice Elena’s entrance into the courtyard.

“
This is what the studio of a master looks like,” Elena breathed to Ele. “This is what we’ll have, someday.”

“
I thought you were going to be a merchant now,” Ele said sourly. Elena ignored him.

“
I don’t care what happens when we’re caught, this was worth it.”

As if on cue, a polite cough made Elena turn around. Standing directly to the left of the door they had entered through was a tall, thin woman with grey hair wrapped in a tight bun on her head.

“
I don’t believe I recognize you,” the woman said simply, although it was clear from her voice and tone that she expected an explanation.

“Pietro
said we were to meet him here,” the lie flew to Elena’s lips as soon as she’d thought of it. She didn’t expect to get away with the deception, but even a few more minutes in the lovely courtyard would be worth it.

“
Ah, I didn’t realize that Pietro was already sending the year’s supplicants on.” The severe look on the woman’s face softened a bit. “Have you been shown around?” When Elena shook her head, the woman gestured to the door on the far left of the courtyard. “I have a few moments to give you a quick tour; we’ll start with the kitchens. My name is Bea, by the way. I keep the studio running, with Pietro’s help, while Master De Luca is locked up in his study.”

Elena couldn’t believe her luck. It wasn’t anywhere near as good as becoming Master De Luca’s garzona for real, but she would at least be allowed a glimpse into the life at the studio before she was cast back out into the real world. She glanced at Ele to see if he was as excited as she was. He was facing her with a sour frown, but not even his judgmental look could cloud her glee.

“
The other doors lead to different areas of the studio, of course, but going this way will let us see the entire studio without having to step out into the heat again,” Miss Bea gestured to the kitchen door, “come now, in here, the both of you.”

So she can see Ele too
, Elena noted as she followed,
which means she’s a Stormtouched
.
I should’ve expected that; Master De Luca doesn’t take on Mortalis as apprentices, it wouldn’t make sense for him to leave his household in the control of one.
She still wasn’t used to Ele being seen and heard by other people, but at least he hadn’t made the same mistake and ruined things by saying something snarky that gave her away.

“
What the hell are we doing, Elena?” Ele lowered his voice and murmured in her ear as they followed Bea through the door, “do you think you’re going to
trick
your way into becoming a garzona?”

Elena made a dismissive gesture as if she was swatting away a fly, turning in circles to take in the kitchen. It was sweltering hot, a heavy heat that went beyond the heat of the day, but she was too intrigued to even feel it. Bea was standing by the door, but Elena moved slowly, taking in the brick ovens, the huge pantry, and the two cooks preparing a meal with practiced ease, one fat and bald, one old and thin, each in crisp white clothes.

“
You is lost, little girl?” one of them asked, stirring a large bowl with one hand and adding cream to it with the other.

“
No, I’m just looking,” Elena said.

“
You seem entranced,” Bea noted from the doorway. “If you have any questions, I’d be happy to answer them.”

“
You shouldn’t have said that,” Ele grinned, “Elena always has questions.” Bea’s smile was sudden and warm, completely at odds with her otherwise severe expression.

“
Ask away then,” she said, “this might be your only opportunity for me to answer them.”

If only you knew how true that was,
Elena thought. Since this was her one opportunity, she tried to think of what questions she would need to know when she was running her own studio. It would be quite some time, but there was no harm in preparing for it now when she had the chance. Her Storm buzzed helpfully, highlighting things to ask questions about.

“
Why is there so much food being prepared? I thought Master De Luca only had four garzoni?”

“
Four garzoni, four want-to-be garzoni, two cook, one Master...we need much food for this many mouth,” the older cook answered.

“
Everyone gets the same meals here, so the food you see being prepared is for everyone, although of course the cooks will be eating later,” Bea said. Elena nodded, already formulating the next question in her mind.

“
Why do they all wear uniforms?” Elena skipped out of the way of one of the cooks carrying a large pot that steamed, and was rewarded with a weak nod as he passed.

“
The Master is a very orderly man, and he has a reputation to uphold. As such, he enforces a certain style of dress as a bare minimum for everyone in the studio. You too will be receiving a set of clothes to wear, though what set usually depends on how the Storm touched you and what function in the studio you served...” Bea trailed off, her eyebrows raised in a question. Elena realized that the woman was asking what sort of Stormtouched she was, and she hastily moved on to her next question.

“
Are the Master’s ice chests made by craftsmen? Or did one of his Faberi garzoni make them?”

It was clear that Bea hadn’t expected the question, and she looked around the large kitchen, bewildered.

“
The Master has ice chests?” she asked. “I don’t see any...”

“
There are blocks of ice on the counter over there,” Elena pointed, “so you must have an ice chest.”

“
Master De Luca had Fabera many years ago.” The plump cook’s accent was less pronounced than his partner’s, which made him easier to understand. “She made friends with cook, and made ice chest as gift. It is passed down with kitchen ever since. Don’t tell Master De Luca though, he think we buy ice from the markets, always very grateful.” He grinned with a set of crooked teeth, dropped Elena a wink, and turned back to his work.

Bea pursed her lips, but said nothing, merely gestured them through another door.

“
Down this hallway is one of the garzoni rooms, you’ll be seeing enough of them.” The woman had increased her pace, and Elena had to scurry to keep up with her.

“
Do the garzoni help the servants with cooking and cleaning then?” Elena asked as they passed through another set of doors, into yet another hallway. Bea stopped and peered at her.

“
Yes. How could you possibly know that?” she asked, almost suspiciously.

“
Well, it...it was just a guess,” Elena stammered. Her Storm had supplied the hunch, and it took Elena a few moments to follow through its reasoning. “The garzoni will be working on various works of art, won’t they? Honing their crafts? It wouldn’t make sense to have one of them next to a noisy kitchen unless they were also expected to help there at times. Besides, in a studio this large, two chefs wouldn’t be able to handle all of the work.”

“
Hmm.” Bea raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment further. The tour continued on at a quick pace, past the baths, a sunroom, and balconies on the second floor that overlooked the adjacent streets. Even at the increased pace, each room gave Elena fodder for two or three more questions. At first Bea would offer some small bit of information on each room, but as the questions piled on she offered less and less comment, and her answers became more and more clipped.

“
She’s going to hate you by the end of this,” Ele whispered as they walked across the courtyard again as a shortcut to the other side of the studio.

“
What does it matter?” Elena hissed back. The courtyard had emptied by now, and she didn’t want Bea to overhear and cut her tour short. “I’m getting answers to my questions and I’ll never see her again after today. As soon as I get found out-”

“
Ah, there you are, Miss Elena. I’m afraid you’re not allowed to be back here.” Pietro appeared at the doorway Elena had first forced her way through, and her heart sank. Behind the marble secretary, her mother’s face was red, her eyes puffy and her mouth set in a grim, thin line. Elena rubbed her wrist absentmindedly, turning to shoot a guilty look towards Bea.

“
I suppose this is the end of your tour, my dear.” There wasn’t a hint of surprise on the woman’s face. “Now that the charade is over, tell me, what was it that made Pietro turn you down? What type of Storm has touched you?”

She knew I was lying all along...but she still let me look around the studio.
Elena’s eyes began to water. As small a gesture as it was, the fact that Bea would go to such trouble for her was touching, and made her feel even worse about the lie.

“
A Fabera,” she replied as she turned to leave, “I’m just a Fabera. Thank you for showing me around.”

Pietro was silent as he escorted the Luccianos through the hallway, for which Elena was grateful. She struggled to blink the tears away before they reached the antechamber, but her vision was still a touch blurry by the time she reached the others that still waited.

“
Arturo, I will see you next,” Pietro said quietly to the sketching boy, and Elena and her mother left Studio De Luca unaccompanied. Elena stopped rubbing her wrist when the pair stepped out into the hot sun. She knew her mother would punish her severely for wandering off, whether that punishment was physical or emotional, and she didn’t want Joanna to get any ideas.

“
Elena and Ele! Wait for a moment!” Elena half turned at the call, but winced when she saw who it was. Arta hurried to catch up to them, the paintbrush still behind her ear. The colors from the setting sun played across her golden hair, making it look as if the paintbrush has splashed oranges and yellows and red into it. Joanna gave Elena a sharp glance when she turned, and Elena pretended she was looking back at the studio one last time. The last thing she needed was to give her mother another reason to punish her, and interacting with someone that Joanna couldn’t see or hear was a sure-fire way to provide such a reason.

“
How did you do in there? You were gone for a long time, we were all hopeful!” Arta caught up with the threesome and walked by their side.

“
It turns out that Master De Luca is too good to accept just any Stormtouched,” Ele said bitterly. Elena stared at her feet, willing herself not to let the tears fall.

“
Oh no. Oh Elena and Ele I’m so sorry.”

Elena winced. She wasn’t used to sympathy, and had no idea how to respond to the girl. Arta suddenly stopped in the middle of the road, leaving Elena and her mother to continue on their way.

“
This is as far as I can go,” the blonde girl said, “but try to find Arturo and I, later, okay? We’ll come back to this street and meet up. You need to talk to someone right now, and your mother doesn’t look too sympathetic!” The final thought was shouted as Elena and her mother continued walking.

“
She’s not! She models herself after the works of Dante!” Ele shouted back, and despite the tears in her eyes, Elena half-smiled.

The walk to their lodgings was much less exciting than the walk to the studio had been. The city that had been full of wonders before now just seemed unfamiliar and frightening, the streets too crowded, the bustle overwhelming. Her looming punishment lingered in the back of her mind, and worry about her future occupied the forefront.

“
We will be returning to De Luca’s studio tomorrow morning,” her mother said, breaking the silence between them without looking at Elena, as if she was talking to herself. “I will demand to speak to someone other than that horrid stone boy, someone with some sense. Whoever heard of giving a living statue that amount of responsibility? He literally has a mind of marble, and he presumes to lecture me? The nerve!”

Joanna continued ranting until they entered the small inn, and from the fiery spark in her eye Elena was sure that her mother was still ranting in her head.