Page 20 of Embrace the Serpent

I inched toward the door as they argued. “The well will work again,” the shopkeeper said.

“Yes, when pigs fly, when beggars are kings, when the Emperor sends jewelsmiths.”

I winced. I should’ve just gone. But I found myself saying, “I’m a jewelsmith.” And then adding, “Perhaps I can help?”

They turned to me with twin looks of astonishment.

“Or not,” I said. “Happy to not help as well.”

On the village’s outskirts—that is, thirty paces from the last building—was an ancient stepwell. It was wide enough and deep

enough to fit Galen’s entire workshop. Stone steps zigzagged all the way down to a square basin the size of my old room. Lines

ran across the stone walls, marking where the water level had once been. The highest, faintest line went over my head when

I stood on the basin floor.

It was bone-dry. And someone had decided to store three bags of grain in the dead center, apparently having given up on the

well ever filling with water.

The shopkeeper’s daughter dragged the bags aside and turned to me expectantly. “Well? Can you fix it?”

I drew close. At her feet was a silver disc set into the stone. It looked almost like a compass, with four stones, each set

at a cardinal direction.

Two aquamarines to attract groundwater. A large freshwater pearl to purify it.

And a moonstone, with a blue-green sheen and dotted with inclusions.

I’d heard of a few rare moonstones that were said to affect tides.

Interesting to use one inland, on ground water.

Perhaps it had once influenced the river?

All the stones were loose. It seemed like someone with rudimentary knowledge had tried to reset them but had done so with

thick and clumsy prongs that held the stones too high and kept them from connecting with the metal. The pearl needed a new

bezel entirely. Veins of gold and bronze threaded through the thick silver in a ropelike pattern, but the once-fine work had

settled and separated.

“You said it sometimes works. When it does, is it after landslides or quakes?”

She nodded.

“I can fix this,” I said. “But I’ll need a fire.”

In the matter of an hour, the blacksmith had been woken up, and I was set up in his smithy. His forge was named Lula, and

she was a fine lady, or so he told me. It was overkill for what I needed, but he handled melting the metals for me, the edges

of his mustache smoking as he bent over the fire.

I’d made molds for the stones out of wax, and cast them in a mix of silver and gold. I looked up from my work once when food

was placed before me and found a dozen villagers poking their heads in through the window and the doorway.

I ducked my head and got back to it, listening to the blacksmith chat with them. The villagers were more white-haired than

not, and it seemed like they’d been left behind when the Imperial Road had been built. Their children had mostly left for

better opportunities.

The chatter melted into background noise as the work drowned out all else. I pulled apart each piece and felt the hands of the jewelsmith who had first crafted it, showing me the original intent behind every whorl and line and joint. It was like being in the company of an old friend.

It was beautiful work, practical and elegant in its simplicity. I’d never worked on something like this, something good and

helpful. Rane’s words echoed through my head, when he had come to the garden to convince Galen and said the job he had was right , unlike the frivolous trinkets I spent my days making.

Perhaps this was the kind of thing he meant. A calmness sank into me, right into my bones.

I worked late into the night. I didn’t have to: the shopkeeper begged me to rest, and when that didn’t work, his daughter

told me to be smart and pace myself so I could eke a few extra nights of shelter out of them. But it was precisely because

I didn’t have to that I couldn’t bring myself to stop. When had I chosen a job myself, made something because I wanted to?

Dawn was only a few hours away by the time the last bit of the disc was engraved and polished. I stretched, stepping over

the blacksmith’s feet. He was out cold on the floor, like he’d nodded off while keeping watch. Three other villagers were

sleeping, sitting along the wall, their heads propped on each other’s shoulders. Grimney had curled up on the lap of the little

old man in the middle. The fire in the forge had burned low, and I stoked it so they’d stay warm.

I padded across the street to the Inn and Trading Post and found a low cot already made up for me. My knees brushed the edge,

and sleep took me before my head touched the pillow.

I was shaken awake.

“You must get up,” said a trembling voice.

My vision swam into focus.

The old shopkeeper glanced over his shoulder. “People are looking for you.”

“Who?” I said blearily. “Does he have silver hair?”

“I couldn’t tell. They’re all wearing Imperial uniforms.”

I was suddenly wide awake. “Imperial Guards? Looking for me?”

“Yes. They had a description, and they called you Saphira.”

That was specific enough. The dusty panes of the window showed five Imperial Guards striding down the street. How had they

found me? I’d gotten rid of the tracker stones. But that didn’t matter now—I had to go. The shopkeeper handed me my boots,

and I laced them quickly. “Grimney and my tools—they’re at the blacksmith’s.”

“We’ll get them to you.” He hurried me to my feet. “Go out the back door. Someone will meet you at the stepwell. There’s a

pass that cuts up the cliff.”

Mention of the stepwell made me stop. “Wait. I’m almost done, I just need to place the disc. Have them bring it to me.”

He frowned like he would object, but then said, “Fine. Go.”

The way to the back door wound through teetering stacks of gizmos and relics that sprouted from the floor like fanciful stalagmites.

It creaked open, and I squeezed myself out into the pale dawn light.

Voices came from the main road, and I inched along the backside of the inn and peeked around the corner.

The villagers mobbed the Imperial Guards, shouting questions: “Did the Emperor finally hear our petitions? Are you fellows here to fix the bridge? What about the stepwell?”

The leader of the guards barked back, “As we have said, we are here for a girl.”

I sucked in a breath. There went the faint hope that the shopkeeper had misheard.

A stooped old woman raised her walking stick. “Well, if that’s all you’re wanting, you can have me.”

The villagers cackled, and my stomach lurched. They didn’t know how dangerous the Imperial Guards could be.

The next building was a few paces away, but thankfully a clothesline was strung across the alley, and the sheets hid me as

I ran. I made my way from building to building, crouching low and watching for the guards, and sprinting across whenever no

one was looking.

All my attention was on the main street, so the hand that came from behind and covered my mouth made me scream. The sound

was muffled.

“Shh,” a deep voice said. “It’s me.”

He let me go, and I spun to face the Serpent King. A deep hood shielded his features, but a lock of silver hair hung free.

The blood—the blood was gone, but I could smell it still—

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“No,” I said faintly.

“Thank the stars—I feared the worst when I found you gone, and then again when I finally read the messenger’s scroll. I wish

your Master Galen had waited just a little longer before revealing the truth.”

“Galen revealed the truth?” I repeated.

“Why do you think the guards took you?”

“They didn’t take me,” I said. “I walked here. They just showed up.”

He reared back like I’d slapped him. “You left of your own free will. Why? ”

I hushed him and dragged him with me to the shelter of the next building. The last one before the stepwell.

He removed my hand. He took a step back, his body taut, hands fisted at his sides. “My people went through the forest, looking

for you. They were captured by the reinforcements, taken to Copperton. I had to choose. I came for you, like a fool.”

They were taken? Even... “Rane?”

“What do you care? You ran away.”

“It—it was the blood. I saw you—it was—”

“ The blood? Do you think I enjoyed that?” A dark laugh. “Yes, of course, how I just love bathing in blood.” He shook his head. “I’m done. You people are all the same. You look at us and see monsters.”

Hurt flickered in his eyes before a shutter came down over his expression. He was a storybook creature, divine, powerful.

It shouldn’t be possible that anything I could do would hurt him.

“I can’t do this,” he murmured to himself, then raised his voice. “Fine. Consider the deal revoked. You’re free.”

My hand rose, reaching for him, but he slipped away, melting like a ghost into the shadows. He skirted the stepwell and made

for the mountain pass.

There was an oily pit in my stomach. I rubbed my arms, willing it away.

A distant shout from the main street snapped me out of it, and I dove for the stepwell, down the stairs and into the shelter of the shadows cast by the low angle of the morning sun.

The old shopkeeper scampered down the steps a moment later, gripping the silver disc, my bag slung over his shoulder, Grimney

jogging beside him.

“Hurry,” he said to me.

I took the disc to the bottom of the stepwell. I checked the marks to make sure it was positioned exactly right, and then

lowered the disc carefully into place. It settled with a soft click.

A rumble came from deep below. Behind his glasses, the shopkeeper’s eyes widened.

A trickle of water came, and then a rush, a flood, an amount that felt impossible, filling the square basin and lapping at

my toes, my ankles, my calves.

I scrambled up the steps.

A lightness swelled in me as the water rose, expanding through my chest, radiating to my fingertips.

The old shopkeeper wiped his eyes and put his spectacles back on. He flung his bony arms around my shoulders, pressing whiskery

kisses to my cheeks. “Bless you, child. You have saved us.”

A warmth blossomed in my chest. If I hadn’t run, I’d never have met these people. I’d never have helped them. I’d never have

witnessed this pure, helpful kind of jewelsmithing.

“You don’t have to go,” he said. “Hide in the mountain pass until they go, and then stay here, with us.”

His eyes were so kind. This little village could be home.