Page 8 of Embrace the Serpent

They were all finely adjusted for me. The handles smooth and shaped to my palms, my fingers. The gravers honed to the angle

I liked, the shaping tools, the hand files, the little anvil and hammer. The block of wax, the metal bucket of water on the

floor. The polishing cloths in a neat line. Even the broom and dustpan were where I liked them.

This was the only place where I was myself. I took my mother’s ring off and placed it in its box, on a stand beside my table.

Galen had a much larger workstation downstairs, that connected to the showroom. He’d sometimes leave the door cracked so customers

could peek in and see the chaos. A worktable as large as a bed, stuff scattered all over it in a way that made me itch. A

huge forge carved to look like a beast’s mouth. All for show. Most jewelsmiths didn’t need a huge forge, unless they were

doing military work, like embedding stones in hilts and in shields. I usually just used a blown lamp that let out a tongue

of flame hot enough for most metals, and it could be set right on my tabletop. It was much more convenient.

I sat down.

Lady Delphina stared at me from where she was pinned above my worktable. The drawing lacked any sort of detail about the design

of the necklace, save for relative dimensions, assuming the unfortunate lady was of average size and the artist of honest

disposition.

I opened the lead-lined jewel box. The yellow jewel drew me in at once—my mind went soft, sound faded—I shut the lid.

Some jewels are easier than others. Rubies, for example, generally have a warming effect.

A few special specimens with unique inclusions have been documented to have other effects, but for the most part, rubies are all pretty similar.

I could influence the warming effect through two things: cutting the stone and the setting.

If I shaped a ruby into a smooth cabochon, its warmth would spread evenly around it.

If I cut the ruby into pointed facets, its warmth would be focused and directed.

The setting would then modulate and direct the ruby’s power—controlling the strength of the warming effect and whether it was directed at the wearer or those in close proximity.

That’s how a piece like Miss Pewter’s was made: she had requested rather large and powerful rubies, no doubt to signal her family’s wealth, but wanted them to do no more than bring a soft flush to her skin.

But this yellow tourmaline, with its unique inclusions, was a different beast. It wasn’t a matter of increasing or decreasing

its effect. It wasn’t about directing its power, either—that could be easily done, and the jewel had already been cut in a

way that suggested the power was focused on whoever stood directly before the wearer.

What Lady Incarnadine asked for was to hone its natural hypnotic power in such a way that the wearer could issue commands....

I didn’t understand how it was possible.

The question stumped me.

For days I thought on it, drafting sketch after sketch. I began to hear the murmur of the crowds out on the street as an echo

inside my skull. The jewel mocked me.

On the fourth day, hazy from lack of sleep, I became convinced that jewelsmithing had left me. I couldn’t do it anymore. Galen’s

gods had smote me for blaspheming.

“...let me tell you,” Galen was saying, “the parties this Season are like nothing I’ve seen. Due to the Serpent King, of

course. He’s been charmed by Mirandel—good for us, you know—”

I startled at her name. I’d pushed thoughts of her to the side, mostly because I had reached the limit of how terrified I

could be.

Galen took that for interest. “Yes, she’ll need those rings before long. Think of that! Our work on the Serpent King’s hand. We’ll have to remember to finish those soon,” he said meaningfully.

I stared at him.

He dropped his gaze and coughed. “Er, after Incarnadine’s task, of course. You know, I’ll let you get back to it.”

He shut the door to my room.

I found myself thinking of Mirandel’s rings. There was no point, because I couldn’t make anything anymore, and I had been

an arrogant fool to ever call myself a jewelsmith, and the problem was that I’d have to take the serpent-head clasp design

and make it in miniature, which would mean I’d need to refigure how the jewel was mounted, and I’d need to work out where

to put the hinge, since a ring had to be rigid, unlike a necklace or a bracelet— Oh. It didn’t need to hinge, but it could merely press together and the serpent’s head would act like a lock....

Dusk had fallen by the time I came back to myself. Mirandel’s rings were done. I’d made one in her size and one—judging by

the Serpent King’s height and breadth—much larger. They nestled like baby snakes eating their tails.

My back was a knot and my thighs ached. I got up and stretched.

So. Apparently I could still jewelsmith. But I avoided Lady Delphina’s gaze. I gathered up the tray beside my door, saddened

by the lovingly cut fruit that had long gone brown, and slumped down the stairs to the kitchen.

Poor Grimney. He hated coming up to the third floor, where the stairs narrowed, since he almost always scraped his rocky head

against the ceiling.

I picked up the trail of rocks Grimney had left in his wake. They were of a concerning size. I was fairly certain that several of them had been his toes.

“Hullo, Grimney,” I said to the dark corner beside the oven, where a shoulder-high pile of mismatched stones seemed to have

collected.

With a rumble, the pile rose to a towering height, and from the melon-shaped head came a sound like a boulder rolling down

a gravel path. “Grrzzdhj?”

“I think we’re in trouble,” I said, dropping his toes on the kitchen table. “I can’t do it.”

“Krrdyndrr?” asked Grimney.

“Where would we run to?” I said. “And Galen draws so much attention. Can you imagine him living on the streets?”

“Grzzn, dzzyrn.”

I laughed. “We can’t leave him behind. What do you mean, why? We’re family, Grims. And... well, because... he taught

me jewelsmithing. I wouldn’t have anything if it wasn’t for him.”

Grimney put his hand on my head, very gently. “Krrdyn.”

I patted his hand, feeling my spine crush. “I know I don’t owe him my life. But I do owe him.”

“Ddryn dyn dzzshn.”

“I’m not hiding behind him.” I crossed my arms. “You’re wrong. I’m not afraid to let people see me. I just prefer that they

didn’t.”

Grimney set a steaming bowl before me. I slurped down the rice and lentil broth. A basket of bread appeared at my side, and

I ate until I stopped feeling sorry for myself.

“All right,” I said. “Open up. Let me fix you.”

Grimney sat on the floor and removed the vaguely heart-shaped slab of slate in his chest. It revealed a hollow cavity, with a delicate lattice of gold and jewels. They were like his organs.

I crawled half in and got to setting him to rights. He hummed to himself and the sound enveloped me.

Taking care of him made me feel better. And if we did have to run, better that Grimney didn’t leave a trail that led the Imperial

Guards right to us.

When I finished up, I swept up the gravel and dust and took it out back.

There came a rattling at the gate. A wrinkled little hand rose above the wood, waved hello and produced a wooden bowl. “Alms?”

said a shaky voice.

“Yes, just hold on.” I grabbed the rest of the bread and ran back to open the gate.

A stooped, cloaked figure shuffled in.

“Here you are,” I said.

“I apologize,” he said, stepping forward and shutting the gate behind him. He straightened up to a formidable height and pulled

his hood back. Dark hair in waves to his shoulders; dark, amused eyes; and a crooked smile that sent a tingle of surprise

down my spine. “Please forgive me this little subterfuge.”

I crossed my arms. “Rane.” His hands were smooth and large. Had I imagined the wrinkled, weather-beaten hand? “Sneaking around

is quite the habit with you, is it?”

“Think of it as a measure of my desire to meet with Master Galen.”

“I’m afraid Master Galen is rather busy at the moment. You might’ve heard if you went around front.”

He waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, I’ve heard, everyone has heard. But Master Galen will want to hear what my boss has to offer.”

“I—Galen could lose the shop. Be stripped of his title and his home. Your boss can’t offer anything more important.”

Rane leaned in. “You might be surprised. I can’t tell you much. But it may be the most honorable thing any jewelsmith could

ever do in their life.” His eyes glittered with purpose. “What I work for—what my boss works for—it is as right as the sun

rising in the east. I promise you that. Galen would be remembered forever. How can any jewelsmith prefer making pretty little

baubles for the whims of these silly nobles?”

His passion startled me.

Rane smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “And I do not come empty-handed.” He produced a pendant with a faceted purple stone.

“If Galen would be so kind as to meet—”

Really? “Bribery?”

“Don’t pretend. I have heard that Galen is quite receptive to such... gifts.”

I glanced at the pendant. “First of all, you’re wrong. Neither Galen nor I believe in bribery. Second, your pendant...

If it’s a purple topaz, which I’d guess it is from the cut of the stone and that you haven’t bothered to get it re-engraved—then

it’s not worth very much except to those fools who want to make their eyes a different color. If it’s a purple corundum, then

it’s far too valuable—and dangerous—to offer as a bribe. If it’s the first, then Galen won’t look twice, and if it’s the second,

you never intended to gift it in the first place.”

He gave me a long, considering look. “You realized all that with just one glance?”

“I’m a good assistant,” I said quickly. And to keep him from asking any more questions, I went on the offensive. “And who is it that you work for?”

A long pause. “I can’t say.”

“How can I trust you if you won’t tell me that?”

Rane’s lips curved in a soft smile. “My dear little peafowl, how can I trust you with that, when you won’t even tell me your

name?”

I wanted to say, You don’t need to know me .

“Saphira?” Galen stood silhouetted in the back door, red-cheeked, fuming. Behind him, like a stone wall, was Grimney, fidgeting.

Rane strode forward. “Master Galen. I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I have a job—”

“You and everyone else, boy. So you thought you’d seduce my assistant?”

Dumbfounded, I said, “What?”

Palms up, placating, Rane said, “I’m afraid you are mistaken—”

“I saw you whispering sweet little nothings in her ear.”

Sweet what? “Wait, what—”

Galen talked over me, shooting daggers at Rane. “I know your game. I’ve been in your shoes. Find yourself a plain little girl,

an easy target for a bit of charm, use her to get what you want—”

Rane drew himself up. His smile was gone, his eyes cold. “That is not my game, sir. You dishonor your assistant. And I see

that perhaps I was wrong. You are not the man for the job.”

Galen said, “Leave, before I call the guards.”

“Goodbye, Saphira,” said Rane. “I doubt we’ll meet again.”

He whirled on his heel, and left through the gate.

Galen dove into a lecture the minute I was inside.

“This isn’t the time to take a lover, Saphira.

I understand—and perhaps I’ve overlooked it—that you’re a woman grown now.

You may want certain things... but surely you know the work must come first. If you want marriage, a wedding.

.. well, we shall see....” Galen went on, a strange, panicked look in his eye. “Remember, we’re a team.”

“Of course, Galen,” I said vaguely. I didn’t bother to tell him how wrong he was. Something Rane said stuck in my ear. It is as right as the sun rising in the east. “Sounds great. I think I—I have to go.”

He sputtered as I ran upstairs.

The jewel box on my worktable. I lifted the lid, and the yellow tourmaline glittered at me.

Why was Rane’s comment sticking with me? The sun did always rise in the east. That was an immutable fact.

I’d taken some things about the jewel as fact. The way it was put in the box, for one. I turned the jewel upside down. The

backside of the jewel had facets that came to a flattened plateau.

There. The angle of the facets didn’t make sense. They should’ve come to a point, and the jewel would’ve been worn with the

point directed at the wearer’s vocal cords. Some time, long ago, the jewel had been recut by a second jewelsmith. I’d taken

what Lady Incarnadine said as fact, that the jewel had been untouched and only the setting needed to be fixed.

I had to recut the jewel. The setting would then need to lower the drawbridge, so to speak, of a person’s mind. And then the

jewel could do the rest.

I drew up a dozen designs. Feverish, mad with inspiration, desperate to hold on to the idea, the feeling, the inspiration—like

bottling a whisper.

They were all so close —I knew in my teeth that they were almost there—it was like... like I was plotting a path on a map. One route dropped into

a deep gorge, another hit an unscalable mountainside, yet another ended at a rockslide that destroyed the way. Dead end after

dead end.

But I finally understood where I had to go. Where the path had to lead. A fog shrouded the path, but I had to find it. Lady

Delphina smiled at me from the sketch, and I drew closer.

An image, a waking dream, a vision. Lady Delphina shrouded in milky veils, nothing distinct about her but the yellow jewel

at her throat. It glittered and glimmered and drew me in. I wanted to lift her veil. My fingers brushed the edge, and I drew

it up by inches. The veil rose over the curves of her chest, then over her collarbones, then—there it was.

The necklace. Whole and distinct.

I jolted back to myself. I needed—a new parchment. The stub of charcoal flew across it, my memory flowing onto paper. I didn’t

breathe. But the design had seared itself into my mind. I couldn’t forget it, even if I wanted to.

There it was.

I sat looking at it for I don’t know how long and then I stumbled downstairs, lightheaded.

Galen dropped his glass on his foot, splashing amber liquid on his trousers. He cursed. “Saphira?”

I met his worried eyes. “I think I’ve figured it out.”