“But to show I bear no grudge, Lady Clariel, I will sit down.”
He sat down and turned away from Clariel, pointedly looking at the empty chair next to Belatiel.
Clariel slid her small dagger home into the sheath along her left wrist, under her sleeve, and also sat. Yaneem, Denima, and Belatiel sat down as well. There was complete silence for a moment, then Denima suddenly laughed.
“That was more interesting than most tea service lessons!”
“It’s not supposed to be like this,” muttered Yaneem. Whether she was talking about the lesson or her relationship with Aronzo was unclear, thought Clariel, though the spiteful glance she then received suggested it was the latter. An enemy found without wanting one, with little chance of repairing the situation. Yet another reason to be away from the city as soon as possible.
They sat in silence for a minute, until Dyrell came in, holding a great sheaf of papers and appearing quite flustered. He looked at the table, saw the broken cup in front of Clariel, dropped the papers, and flapped his hands around in what in other circumstances might have been the beginning of some kind of dance but here was an expression of great upset.
“You broke a cup!”
“It was an accident,” said Denima as Clariel said, “I didn’t mean to break it!”
“It’s only a cup,” said Aronzo. He carelessly reached into the purse at his belt and withdrew two gold bezants, throwing them on the table. They rang true as they hit and one rolled on its edge over to Belatiel’s saucer, clanging again as it struck.
“It is not the cost of the cup, Lord Aronzo,” said Dyrell. He took a deep breath and bent down to pick up his papers, continuing to speak as he crouched on the floor. “It is the principle. The opportunity for such a breakage should not have occurred. You must aim for greater delicacy when handling a teacup, Lady Clariel, really you must try harder.”
Clariel bit back an extremely rude response as she saw Denima smile and shake her head, just a little bit. It was a warning and a friendly gesture and as soon as she saw it Clariel realized that entering into any kind of discussion with Dyrell would only prolong the awfulness of this tea service lesson.
“I will try my best,” she said primly.
“Thank you,” said Dyrell. He put half his papers on the table and bent down to pick up more, but continued to speak, so that his voice appeared to be emanating from the floor. “Now, you may go to your next lesson. Please do not dawdle or delay.”
Everyone pushed back their chairs. Clariel waited a moment, letting Aronzo stalk out first as he clearly expected to do. Yaneem was close in his wake, trying to catch up with him, one hand almost plucking at his elbow, but not quite landing there, as if she didn’t dare to make that touch. Both Belatiel and Denima stayed back, and followed Clariel close as she went out into the corridor.
“What is your next—” began Belatiel, as Denima said, “What have you got next—”
They stopped talking at the same time and both gestured to the other to continue.
“Please, go on,” said Belatiel, but Denima was saying, “After you, sir.”
Clariel took out her paper, consulted it, and said, “I have Matters of Law, Royal, City, and Guild in the Crooked Room. But I don’t know where it is.”
“That’s my next lesson too,” said Denima. “I’ll show you the way. Come on, we don’t want to be late.”
She started off, with Clariel and Belatiel following, the latter talking as he walked.
“I’ve got Money Counting,” said Belatiel, making a face. “Tower Room, with Master Fincher. But I really do want to talk to you, cousin, about . . . about a very important matter concerning our family, the Abhorsens, that is. I hesitate to ask, after Aronzo, but my motives really are straightforward and honest, so I wonder if we could meet after the lessons today . . .”
“I really am busy,” said Clariel, giving him the benefit
He sat down and turned away from Clariel, pointedly looking at the empty chair next to Belatiel.
Clariel slid her small dagger home into the sheath along her left wrist, under her sleeve, and also sat. Yaneem, Denima, and Belatiel sat down as well. There was complete silence for a moment, then Denima suddenly laughed.
“That was more interesting than most tea service lessons!”
“It’s not supposed to be like this,” muttered Yaneem. Whether she was talking about the lesson or her relationship with Aronzo was unclear, thought Clariel, though the spiteful glance she then received suggested it was the latter. An enemy found without wanting one, with little chance of repairing the situation. Yet another reason to be away from the city as soon as possible.
They sat in silence for a minute, until Dyrell came in, holding a great sheaf of papers and appearing quite flustered. He looked at the table, saw the broken cup in front of Clariel, dropped the papers, and flapped his hands around in what in other circumstances might have been the beginning of some kind of dance but here was an expression of great upset.
“You broke a cup!”
“It was an accident,” said Denima as Clariel said, “I didn’t mean to break it!”
“It’s only a cup,” said Aronzo. He carelessly reached into the purse at his belt and withdrew two gold bezants, throwing them on the table. They rang true as they hit and one rolled on its edge over to Belatiel’s saucer, clanging again as it struck.
“It is not the cost of the cup, Lord Aronzo,” said Dyrell. He took a deep breath and bent down to pick up his papers, continuing to speak as he crouched on the floor. “It is the principle. The opportunity for such a breakage should not have occurred. You must aim for greater delicacy when handling a teacup, Lady Clariel, really you must try harder.”
Clariel bit back an extremely rude response as she saw Denima smile and shake her head, just a little bit. It was a warning and a friendly gesture and as soon as she saw it Clariel realized that entering into any kind of discussion with Dyrell would only prolong the awfulness of this tea service lesson.
“I will try my best,” she said primly.
“Thank you,” said Dyrell. He put half his papers on the table and bent down to pick up more, but continued to speak, so that his voice appeared to be emanating from the floor. “Now, you may go to your next lesson. Please do not dawdle or delay.”
Everyone pushed back their chairs. Clariel waited a moment, letting Aronzo stalk out first as he clearly expected to do. Yaneem was close in his wake, trying to catch up with him, one hand almost plucking at his elbow, but not quite landing there, as if she didn’t dare to make that touch. Both Belatiel and Denima stayed back, and followed Clariel close as she went out into the corridor.
“What is your next—” began Belatiel, as Denima said, “What have you got next—”
They stopped talking at the same time and both gestured to the other to continue.
“Please, go on,” said Belatiel, but Denima was saying, “After you, sir.”
Clariel took out her paper, consulted it, and said, “I have Matters of Law, Royal, City, and Guild in the Crooked Room. But I don’t know where it is.”
“That’s my next lesson too,” said Denima. “I’ll show you the way. Come on, we don’t want to be late.”
She started off, with Clariel and Belatiel following, the latter talking as he walked.
“I’ve got Money Counting,” said Belatiel, making a face. “Tower Room, with Master Fincher. But I really do want to talk to you, cousin, about . . . about a very important matter concerning our family, the Abhorsens, that is. I hesitate to ask, after Aronzo, but my motives really are straightforward and honest, so I wonder if we could meet after the lessons today . . .”
“I really am busy,” said Clariel, giving him the benefit
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