Page 4 of Embrace the Serpent

had taken on human form, it would have showed more restraint in clothing than this fellow. He was draped in layers of jewel-toned

fabric, fine golden embroidery catching the light at his collar and cuffs; even his shoes were of expensive silk textured

to look like scales. The curious thing was that he wore no jewels.

He turned, bending in half to peer at another one of the three pieces in the showroom. Not our most expensive, nor ones that displayed our unique inventions, but ones that I quite liked. He smiled down at a pair of pink tourmaline earrings. “Beautiful.”

He had a slender face, with kind dark eyes that sparkled with humor. A nice, trustworthy face. All the best thieves have them.

“Rather lovely pieces,” he said loudly, and turned to face me.

I yelped. “I—I’m armed.” Grimney’s footfalls sounded as he came up behind me.

“Good for you,” he said.

My face heated as I slid the door fully open. “You broke in.”

“I’ve let myself in, it’s quite true, but I have no nefarious intentions.” He paused. “As I’m sure you saw.”

“I wasn’t watching you,” I said too quickly.

A crooked grin split his face. “No? That’s too bad. If you had been, you would’ve seen me admiring Master Galen’s work. They

are beautiful and quite clever.”

I shrugged and nodded at the same time. There was something about his grin.... “You’re the fellow who was following Galen,”

I said.

“And you’re the little mouse who was also following Master Galen.”

I gestured at my livery. “That’s my job.”

“How funny,” he said. “That’s what I was about to say.”

He was utterly unruffled. I had the feeling I was on the back foot without knowing how or why. My heartbeat quickened like

my body was preparing to run.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“My name is Rane.”

Rane? I knew that name. A rich man who had showed up a month ago and promptly proceeded to commission every jewelsmith on Gem Lane. Save Galen and Master Vyalis. Galen had gnashed his teeth at the stories, watching Rane’s flashy black carriage streak down the street and moaning, “My reputation!”

I didn’t care about Galen’s reputation. But it had irked that Rane found every hack jewelsmith worth commissioning—even Master

Roodrick, who thought that heart-shaped jewelry was the height of taste—but had found my work lacking.

“I see,” I said.

“You seem disappointed at the thought of my spending a small fortune in your store.”

“Master Galen will be very pleased,” I said. And then pride made me ask, “Will you be visiting Master Vyalis, too?”

His brow arched. “Perhaps I will, perhaps I won’t.”

It wasn’t for me to ask. “I apologize.”

“What is your name?” he asked.

“I’m—I’m just the assistant.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” he said, eyes smoldering.

“I’m not for sale.”

“That was just a figure of—never mind.” He reached into his pocket and brought out a small jewel box. “Do you recognize this?”

Nestled in pale silk was a piece I’d finished not a week ago.

A bracelet featuring one of my first serpent-head clasps, carved out of the metal orichalcum in the shape of a viper.

I had made it for a nobleman’s son who was making his debut this Season.

I remembered a bored boy of eighteen with a pretty face and hair worn in the tight waves popular in the eastern kingdoms.

I gripped it tightly. “How did you get this?”

“Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you think. I paid for it. Much easier, don’t you think?”

“Why do you keep smiling at me like that?”

“Well, it usually works,” he muttered.

“In what way?”

He shifted his weight. “I must talk to Master Galen.”

“He isn’t here.”

“Yes, I figured. Will he be along shortly?”

By the sounds of that party... “Likely not till morning.”

Rane’s expression grew tight. “That’s a little difficult.”

“Can you come back tomorrow?”

Rane crossed the room and peeked out the rounded glass of the shopfront. He’d been keeping to the shadows, I realized. Out

of sight of the street.

A rich man with enemies.

“I suppose I’ll have to try.” He paused. “You don’t know anything about his work, do you?”

Grimney rumbled a laugh. I shot him a quelling look. “A little.”

Rane opened the jewel box with the bracelet. “Did Galen truly invent this?”

My heart leapt. I forced a laugh. “Do you think he has a secret jewelsmith working for him in back?”

“No, I mean—he didn’t copy it from someone, somewhere?”

Oh. I relaxed. “No. Master Galen... pours himself into the work. It took a long time to come up with that design, in minutes stolen between all the other commissions a shop like this must take to stay afloat. It’s not easy to coax a jewel to wake and do what you want.”

“Yes,” he said. “That I know.”

“I’m afraid,” I added, “that your money was poorly spent. That bracelet isn’t much use to you, as you’ll never be able to

open the clasp. It’s not keyed to you.”

“I noticed that. It bit me.”

I hid my smile.

Rane was observing Grimney. “He’s not an ordinary golem, is he?”

“He’s not for sale.”

Rane gave me an amused glance. “While that is to be mourned, I’m sure, I was only admiring your master’s work.”

“Oh.” I scratched my ear. “Thank you.”

Rane seemed to think for a long moment. “I have one last question. Is Master Galen a good man?”

“What?”

“I understand he’s your boss and you can’t speak out against him. The truth is, I’ve been looking for a jewelsmith of a certain

caliber. I admit, I was prejudiced against Master Galen. He boasts like a man who has nothing to offer. Perhaps it’s a strange

quirk of genius. But it still makes me hesitate. Is he a good man?”

“He... saved my life.”

His eyes were soft with understanding. “That is an interesting answer.”

“Yes,” I said firmly. “He’s a good man.”

He hmmed. From somewhere in the folds of his clothes, he pulled out a card that gleamed like silver. On it was an address,

written in loopy handwriting. “This is where I will be for the next few days. I have a job I’d like to discuss with Master

Galen.”

I reached for the card.

He pulled it back. “One thing. I would appreciate discretion. In fact, if word of this meeting leaves this circle, then Master

Galen can consider the offer rescinded.”

My hand hovered above the card. “You haven’t said what the job is.”

“I haven’t said who my boss is, either.”

I waited a long moment and then realized he wasn’t about to elaborate. “Well?”

“I’ll tell Galen when he comes.” He pressed the card into my hand. His gaze flickered out the window. “Forgive me, but do

you have a back door?”

I followed his gaze to the street. “This way,” I said, and showed him out back.

At the door to the garden, he gave me a gallant bow. “Till we meet again.”

He strode out. And maybe it was a trick of the light, but it seemed like between one blink and the next, a beard grew on his

face and his clothes grew more muted.

He slipped out the gate and was gone.

The street out front had been empty, save two uniformed men. But why was Rane hiding from the Imperial Guards?

Later that night, I lay in bed, thinking. The card was cool to the touch, the paper almost iridescent. The address pointed

to somewhere in the Merchant District. Curiosity tugged at me, but the thought of meeting Rane again made my skin feel one

size too small.

The front door slammed open.

I slipped the card under my pillow and hurried downstairs. Grimney met me, wringing his great stone hands.

Galen stumbled into the wall. His eyes were glassy and bloodshot, and he reeked of drink and perfume and hashish. “I tol’

’em,” he slurred. “’Ee’s not gonna come ’ere, not a chance... All of ’em sweet on ’im, the beast, like he’ll pick any one

of ’em... think they’re too good for me now...”

He vomited on the floor.

Grimney poured water down his throat. I grabbed the rags and cleaned up the mess.

We sat him against the wall, and a bellyful of soup later, Galen’s eyes seemed clearer. He gnawed methodically on a half loaf

of bread, stopping only to spit out pieces of gravel.

Curiosity nipped at me. “The Serpent King didn’t show?”

Galen frowned. “Course not. It’d be suicide. The only thing protecting the Serpent Kingdom from being conquered is that no

one can bloody pass through the wall. Why would the Serpent King ever leave? All the girls dreaming about him—idiots! Why

would he come here for a bride? Think there are no women in all the lands he’d have to cross to get here?”

“That’s unlikely,” I say.

He thought for a long moment. “We’ll show them, won’t we, Saphira?”

“Sure, Galen.”

“The gods sent you to me, you know.” He patted my cheek. His hand was sticky and smelled terrible. “We’ll show ’em. We’ll

show Vyalis....”

He fell asleep propped up against the wall of his storefront. Grimney hoisted him up and took him upstairs, to bed.

I followed. Galen’s snores soon came from his bedroom. I kept climbing, until I reached the third floor, the attic, which was all mine.

It was true, what I’d said to Rane.

I escaped the Rose Palace when I was eight, and for a time, I lived on the streets. I was by then an advanced student of hiding

and wandered the capital city.

Gem Lane attracted me; the wide flagstones stayed warm late into the night, the back alley bins were filled with sweetmeats

and pastries that were only a little stale, and most of all, the people that came to the workshops almost always left happy.

I got curious about what put the happiness on those faces. The workshops were well guarded, save for the shabbiest one at

the end of the lane, where jewelsmiths began their careers, either earning a place on Gem Lane or, if unable to make their

name, were sent to the Imperial Army to become one of the unglamorous jewelsmiths who churned out masses of obsidian-studded

hilts for swords that would never lose a sharp edge and lodestone-studded shields that would draw arrows and blades away from

a soldier’s body.

It was about the same time that Galen’s fortunes had changed. Galen had been a handsome youngish playboy with a choice job

as one of the apprentices to Master Vyalis, the Emperor’s favored jewelsmith. But, for a reason I didn’t know, Master Vyalis

kicked him out, and Galen had to rent time at the shabbiest workshop at the end of the lane, like a first-year apprentice.

Inside, the workshop had a central forge—shared by apprentices who came to heat bricks and melt metals—and three floors of rooms. Most rooms were all action: apprentice jewelsmiths running in and out, sweeping and tidying, shining tools and separating metal scrapings from wax.

It was hard for me to hide in those for long.

But one room was different.

As Galen snored on a bedroll tucked in one corner of the room, I snuck down from the rafters and, on silent feet, went to

his workbench. Upon the table was a single jewel, a glinting green one as big as my thumbnail. The jewel was cut, but not

yet polished; through the dusty facets I felt a tendril of power. It was unlike my mother’s ring. This was like tearing a

leaf in two and breathing in the green of growing things. And as I gazed on it, a pattern rose in my mind, of curling vines

and an eight-braided loop.

Unlike the other jewelsmiths, Galen could be counted on to leave his work unattended. I was a silent witness as Galen trapped

that green jewel in a horrible cage of gold, so unlike what it wanted. Over the next several weeks, whenever he wasn’t distracted

by a woman in his bed, he casually committed the same travesty on three other jewels. It was strange. I hadn’t gotten angry

in a long time. But then, I could’ve killed him.

And then, one night, he wept. The sweet-smoky smell of drink clung to his clothes. He tore his hair, he flung his tools. He

clasped his hands together and knelt, and he begged. Please. This can’t be it, not for me. Please. Let me become great.

He blubbered like nothing I’d seen. Not like a child—I was a child myself, and I didn’t cry like that. I took pity on him.

Once he’d cried himself to sleep, I crept down and left him sketches of what I saw when I gazed upon those jewels.

When he woke and saw them, he cried again. He thanked the gods. He didn’t yet know to thank me.