Watermark by Vanitha Sankaran Page B

the drawing.
    “I don’t suppose you’d want her? It would be my first sale in town.” His words came out in a tumble.
    Her heart plunged. She owned no wealth of her own.
    “Or perhaps a trade? The picture for the shoots?”
    A tempting offer. The picture was worth far more than a hand weight of old twigs, even if you took only the cost of the parchment into account. But the branch wasn’t hers to give. She glanced at Poncia; the thought of asking the favor somehow cheapened the drawing. She shook her head with reluctance.
    “Well,” he said, a smile quick on his lips and a sudden glibness to his voice, “let’s hope my luck improves.”
    She lowered her head in apology. Before she could think twice, she reached into her basket to pull out her tablet. Quickly, she pressed on the wax and pushed it toward him.
    Auda.
    She pointed to herself.
    He searched her face, from eyes to lips, chin, forehead and ears, and head covered by a thick cap. His entire face lit up in a smile and he gave her a flourished bow.
    “So you can write? I am surprised, I admit. I am Jaime.” He took her fingers in his for a kiss.
    She felt herself shiver as his lips grazed her fingers, his breath hot on her cold skin. Blushing, she snatched her fingers away before her sister could see. He bowed again and, with a wink, disappeared into the crowd.

Chapter Eleven
    Martin arrived at the stall just after the bells sounded for midday. Poncia had left the wares in charge of the pregnant maid, who had finally shown up, and returned home with Jehan. Auda was glad to see her father. The maid had been darting fretful looks at her, drawing back every time Auda moved or made a sound.
    He greeted her with a wide smile. “It was a fine morning, ma filla . One of the cobblers came by with a message from his son. Turns out the son’s wife had her first child. A boy! The cobbler made me write the news out to three people right then.”
    Ducking out of the stall with a nod to the maid, Auda herded him toward the edge of the market, away from the town center with its priests and Jacobins. Impatient, she handed him her tablet. She had been waiting all day to see him, had already written a few sentences to explain last night’s dinner. She reiterated with her fingers, miming first a sheet of paper, then a crown atop a lady’s head. Paper ordered by vicomtesse.
    Martin stopped in the middle of the road and asked Auda to sign again.
    “The vicomtesse ? I knew my patron had to be someone wealthy, but I never expected this. And a scriptorium in town? Now this is the chance we’ve been waiting for!” Clapping his hands, he laughed out loud. People surrounding them stared.
    Auda remembered the bloodied demonstrator in the square and shuddered. Taking her father’s hand, she forced him to keep walking. The rains had broken for the moment, but there was no point in lingering and getting drenched. And there were other things she wanted to discuss.
    Miller, she started to sign, but Martin interrupted.
    “Never mind the fat miller,” her father said, waving the thought away. “As my fortunes rise, so do yours. We’ll find you a man far more worthy than the miller.”
    Auda thought of the painter and flushed.
    Her father took a sharp turn to the left. “Come, Auda, I almost forgot. Remember what Tomas said, about Shmuel looking for me? Let’s stop and see what he has to say. I’ve a good feeling about this day.”
    The Jew. Her sister had warned her about them, said they killed innocent gentile children in the gray moments just before a ruby sky dawned. Of course Poncia told her so many rumors that Auda wasn’t sure when to believe her. Shmuel had always been courteous when he stopped at Tomas’s shop to see her father. But then why did the stationer view him with such suspicion?
    They turned eastward at the synagogue. A pair of darkly dressed men, with their hair in ringlets topped by inky black hats, walked on the opposite side of the street. Auda tried to