The Wheelwright's Apprentice (36 page)

57

Art found the return to Red City a relief, but also very hard. Everybody was now calling him “Count”, something that didn’t sit too well with him. His father was “The Count” even though he was dead. After five centuries it didn’t seem right that anyone else should have that title. It was just one of the things he had to correct when he had the time to think. For him, right now, time was a luxury in very short supply. Too many people needed him. The assimilation of two former countries into Galland was an administrative nightmare - his father’s revenge as he saw it - and he was the only person who could make an awful lot of the necessary decisions. He was going to have to put his foot down and make time for himself, if he ever had the chance. He now understood why his father had installed a King. At least he didn’t have to have formal audiences, appear on state occasions, or deal with anything in the way of routine governance. Handling the adepts and their issues was more than enough.

He found very quickly that Vanni was his almost constant companion. She had been trained specifically for this and seemed to know everything he needed. After days of living virtually in each other’s pockets, he told her, “You are working too hard, and should make some time to relax. We are spending so much time together that people will think we’re married.”

That got a genuine smile from her, the first he had seen since he had come back. “I was trained for this, and I enjoy the work. More than that, being with you is not an imposition.”

He knew exactly what she meant, but chose to skirt the subject. “I am very lucky that your mother and my father had the foresight to see what would be needed. I will be enormously in your debt when this is all sorted out.”

This was her opportunity to give him a meaningful and flirtatious smile. “I’ll look forward to collecting.”

He returned her smile, but not with quite the same promise hers had offered. “I pay my debts.”

As she walked away, it came to him that she had offered and he had accepted that they would get together someday, decades in the future, when he was free.

* * *

Six months later

Red threw the stylishly embossed piece of card to the floor of her dreshen he wsing room. “It’s yet another invitation. What shall I do?”

Milady Iria strode over to her and took her hand. “It’s easy; you either gratefully accept or graciously decline. Tell your secretary which, and she’ll handle it.” Red’s face was still showing some unease, so Iria added, “Face it. Now that you are out of mourning, and have learned how things are in this age, you are the flavour of the moment. You are a link back to the past. More importantly, nobody knew the Count the way you did. You may be over five hundred years old, but in reality you are only twenty-two. You are the person everybody wants to meet. Yes, the people who have flooded you with these invitations want you to add luster to whatever event they’re staging, but that doesn’t mean that most of them aren’t good people.”

“It still seems that all they want to do is use me. I don’t want to be a bauble on display.”

“Then don’t be. Rather than you letting them use you, you use them.” Iria picked up the card and put it with a mound of others on a side table. “Pick and choose the ones that interest you. Let your secretary tell you about the hosts and how many people are likely to be there. Hell, I’ll tell you the ones I want to go to if you like.” She grinned mischievously. “Although you have the rather off putting title of ‘Dowager Countess’, you are one of the most beautiful women in the region. If you want to marry again, or simply take a string of lovers, you’ll be able to pick and choose.” Her voice turned from girlish to serious. “Only if you take the plunge, ease your way into society and meet people.”

Red smiled back. “How about you, Iria? A lot of these invitations are for you, or for us both.”

“We both have very high standards in that we both have exceptional men to compare others against. Who knows, there may be men that’ll make our hearts beat faster, but first we have to find them.”

“Iria, dear, you have been such a help to me over these last months. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“Thanks. You flatter me, but you should really thank Art. He asked me to help you, and it’s been a good experience for me as well. He really is very clever.”

“I can’t thank him if I never see him.”

“He’s doing you a kindness by avoiding you. He knows that he looks too much like his father for your comfort. He’ll see you when you’re ready.”

At the same time, three hundred miles away in the Capital, a grand carriage, with the King’s coat of arms emblazoned on the side, pulled up in the forecourt of Master Jangon’s yard. The man who emerged was fully decked out as an important government official. He strode into the room where Master Jangon was working on his books, and demanded haughtily, “I am Antaris from the King’s Chancellor’s office. Fetch your journeyman, Gim.”

Jangon was very offhand with his clipped reply. “No.”

The official was taken aback at this, and had to think before replying. Mere artisans didn’t behave like this before important people like him. Anger welled up. “Did you not understand me? I instructed you to bring your journeyman here, right now!”

“Gim is not to be disturbed while he is working. If you want to wait, you’re more than welcome, but it’ll be two hours before he stops for lunch.”

“Look now, I have a very important commissionÀe mor for him. I am told by every Master in the City that his work is by far the best, and I have to have the best.”

Jangon put his stylus down and became serious. “Let me explain things for you. Gim only works here one day a week. He isn’t my journeyman, and he comes here because it helps him relax. Most of the time he doesn’t even work for money. I allow him to use my facilities as it improves my reputation.” He smiled wistfully. “And of course because he’s married to my daughter.”

Antaris changed his tactics. “I want to commission the wheels for two brand new carriages to be used in the inaugural ceremonies investing the new Count. It isn’t often that a chance like this to show off one’s work comes along. It’d be very prestigious for your yard.”

Master Jangon fell over laughing. When he had some control, he went to fetch his wife and daughter, Ellary, who turned out to be noticeably pregnant. When Antaris had repeated what he had said, they fell about as well. Ellary eventually offered, giggling, “I’d better get Gim. This’ll amuse him, and he deserves a good laugh too!”

The now totally dumbstruck functionary was at least partially mollified now that Gim was being fetched. He still had enough character to push while he was waiting. “This is a very good job, and we are offering a very generous fee for it, one that a man with a growing family could use.”

This, of course, set off more hilarity, at which time the official lost it. “This is unacceptable behaviour. Don’t you know that we have the power to close you down?” His voice shook. “You should be treating the King’s representative with more courtesy and deference. I hope your Gim is a lot more reasonable, or he’ll need some powerful friends.”

“I don’t need them, and you can’t close us down. Now behave a bit more civilly.” Everyone turned as Gim and Ellary came in. There was strength in the voice that brooked no argument. “Now what’s this about you wanting to give me a commission?”

“Gim Wheelwright, you are commanded to make wheels for two carriages.” Antaris drew two sheets of paper from his cloak. “Here are the specifications. We expect the work to be done in a fortnight.”

Gim ignored the papers, and drawled, “Sorry, I am working on something for a friend of mine. I won’t have the time, and anyway it doesn’t interest me.” He turned and went back out to the bench where he had been working.

Antaris was completely nonplussed; however, he determined to have one last try, mostly because he never believed anyone would refuse him. He gathered himself and followed Gim. There, on and beside his workbench, were around a dozen wagon wheels. Even he could see that they were exceptionally well made of the finest wood. Beautifully carved into each rim was the logo “Curvo’s cart and transport. Furl”. He changed his approach. “I can see why you have such a reputation, Gim, th
ese are wonderful.”

“Thank you. They’re to be a present for a friend of mine. It’s his birthday in ten days, and I want to have them all finished in time. I’ve only got today and my one day next week left.” Gim bent his head back down to his carving, effectively ending the conversation.

Antaris returned to his offices, still smarting from the way things had gone. It had been a thoroughly bad day. Crossing a courtyard, he saw the Chancellor talking with another man. His superior, who had known him for years, could see that he was upset and stopped him. “Antaris, I would like you to meet Master Beech.” He haÀing withd a moment of realization. This was the senior adept who was the new Count’s right hand man. “You look troubled. Is it anything I can help you with?”

He calmed in the face of his friend’s quiet attitude. “Someone refused a Royal commission. It’s the first time it ever happened. The wheelwright had no interest in it at all. Not only that, everyone in the yard was laughing fit to burst. I’ve never had an experience like it!”

Master Beech was by now having trouble holding himself back, and a huge guffaw burst from him. Antaris felt like the butt of a cruel joke and said, “Everybody seems to know something I don’t. Please, can you explain?”

Beech clapped him on the shoulder, and told him, “Don’t bother Gim again.”

Later that evening with a glass of spirits to hand, Antaris relived the day. Two things came to mind. How had Master Beech known which wheelwright he had approached? And Gim had said he didn’t need powerful friends, but it seemed he had them. He took a big swig and wondered who he really was.

58 Epilogue

Seventy years later

It was a time of mourning in Red City. The Countess, their mortal Countess, had died. She held a special place in the hearts of the citizens. She had been their ideal. She had captured the Count while they had both been very young, and their romance had become a thing of legend. It was even said that without her to bolster his Will, he would never have been able to defeat his mad father.

Even though the Count was acknowledged as the most powerful man on the continent, he had never strayed. Over the decades hundreds of women had thrown themselves at him, all to be left devastated by rejection. He was a complete contrast to his father, the man with a girl in every town, and with more bastards than he could count. Not that he didn’t have children, he had a round dozen, all of whom turned out to be Willed. That was another of the Countess’ charms. She had been admired for keeping her looks and figure after all her pregnancies. Even though everybody knew that her husband, who was renowned as a healer, had removed any lingering effects on her body that those confinements might have left, she had been universally admired. All the people had simply loved her.

In stark contrast to her over the years, there was the Count’s chief helper and administrator, Chancellor Vanni. She was rumored to still be a virgin after eighty-five years, and had acquired several nicknames. Even though several alluded to her coldness, the most used one was “The cog”. It was a fair description, as the affairs of the whole region could not have managed without her. While the Countess had been the center of the Count’s personal life, Vanni was the center of his working life. Even though sometimes the Count spent more time with Vanni than with his wife, there had never been any rumours. It was as if she was married to her job and had time for nothing else.

* * *

Months later, Milady Iria, the Waygand ambassador, was visiting the Count. While she was there she made a point of seeing Vanni in private. They were old friends, both having known the Count while he was still Art, the apprentice. She came straight to the point. “How’s Art holding up?”

“He is a very strong character, and he has his children. Sallo especially, as she looks so much like her mƀ Artother, has helped him a lot.”

“It must be strange, having such a large gap in his life.”

“I’m sure it is, but he hasn’t missed a beat when it comes to the business of running the country.”

Iria curled her lips into an impish smile. “You mean when he’s with you.”

Vanni coloured. “You could say that.”

“I am saying that. He still has you to keep him together and on an even keel. The time for mourning is over.” She grabbed Vanni’s shoulders. “So when are you going to make a move?”

“I’m not.”

“In that case you won’t object if I put myself forward?”

Vanni went almost white. “I’ve known Art since we were teenagers and I understand him better than anyone. He has his own agenda and he will stick to it. Whether it’s his public or private life, he knows exactly where he’s going and what the consequences are. I trust him.”

“It must be wonderful to be trusted so implicitly.”

“Yes,” was the quick reply, “it is!”

* * *

The vegetable seller was telling her customer in the busy marketplace, “I told you so, blood will out in the end. Countess Ellary was some woman to be able to keep the Count faithful all those years, but without her...”

“You’re right,” she replied, packing away her onions, “Half a dozen bastards in as many months.”

“But he did the right thing and acknowledged them all.”

“He can afford to. I always thought he’d go for that red headed woman who runs the truthreader’s court when he had the chance, what’s her name?”

Another customer came up, “That’s Lady Amica, and can I have two pounds of leeks, please. You must never have heard the rumor.” They both looked at her eagerly. “She’s the Count’s daughter.”

“Then that must have been...”

“...before he met his Countess.”

“So she really did keep him close even though his character must be rather wayward.” She stifled a small giggle. “How many more do you think there will be?”

“His father lost count...”

They all laughed. The new customer added. “He’s our Count and I’m sure he has our best interests in mind.”

* * *

“Oh Vanni, that’s twenty in a year and a half, it must be awful trying to keep up.”

Vanni looked back dully. “Actually it’s twenty three. It’s a bit odd, these are all with women he rejected while Ellary was alive, and all he seems to have done is allow them to have his baby. It’s all very clinical.”

Iria was annoyed. “Dozens of other women falling all over him, and when I subtly offered myself, he managed to adroitly sidestep the issue completely.”

“I can’t see you ‘subtly offering’ yourself, at least not to Art. In any case, he’ll do exactly what he wants to do when he wants to do it.”

“It’s bˀeaseen well over two years now, time for him to find a companion, even if he doesn’t marry her.”

There was a discrete knock on the door. It was the Count. He went over to Iria and gave her a friendly peck on the cheek. “Do you mind if I borrow Vanni for a while.” He put a paternal arm around Vanni, and steered her away. Outside the room, Art said, “There’s something I want to show you.” He led her not to the business offices, but to his private rooms. In all her seventy plus years working in the palace with him, she had not entered these rooms. These had been Ellary’s home and no one but family went there.

They went through two reception rooms to a small private study. When she was seated on a sofa, Art opened a desk, and brought out an envelope. Sitting beside her, he pulled out several old sheets of paper and chose one. “This was a letter that my father left for me to find, assuming I managed to kill him. Read from here.” She picked it up:

You may have thought that my behaviour towards your mother was harsh. In many ways it was. Although anybody can be born with the Will, I found that there was a much greater chance if one of the parents had the Will. With my own children,the probability was even greater. Since Will adepts were sorely needed, I took it upon myself as a duty to help as best I could.”

Vanni looked up, and humphed. “Sounds like he’s justifying all his playing around.”

“Read on a bit further.”

Whether or not you believe me, I would have much preferred, looking back, to have had a constant companion to support me. I simply couldn’t bear the thought of Red dying before I did, or even seeing her grow old. Try not to make the mistakes that I did. For the good of the country, you should still try to have a lot of children, but you can do that when you are not in a long term relationship.

He took the letter from her and held her hand. “My marriage to Ellary was wonderful and was everything I could have wished for. She’s been dead for nearly three years now and I have to move on. I always knew that she would die centuries before me, and the experience of living with her taught me that I need someone with whom to share my life.” He gave Vanni’s hand a little squeeze. She needed it, she was shaking. “I have always trusted you, and I know you trust me, although I may have strained it recently. What I have done lately was primarily out of a sense of duty. A duty that delayed me being able to do something that I wanted to do, something I have looked forward to for longer than you can guess.” He got up from the couch and kneeled down in front of her. “One of my most treasured memories is our first kiss.”

“Don’t you mean our only kiss?”

“Vanni, the last year and a half has been very hard for me, just as I know it has been hard for you, with us spending so much time together. I want the memory of that kiss, seventy three years ago, not to be our only kiss, but the first of more than we will be able to count.” She grabbed him and pulled them into a tight embrace.

She was shaking and crying. It took a very long time for her to calm herself, and even then she was still tightly wound. “Seventy three years! Can you imagine what it’s been like waiting all that time? You had better make it all worthwhile!”

She leaned forward and made Art’s long ago memory to be of a first kiss in truth.

The end