5.10 – Notis {Friends}

“At this point, I’m fairly sure you’re just showing off,” Ele said, but his affectionate expression softened the complaint.

“How am I showing off?” Elena’s Storm rushed so fluidly through her fingertips that she could feel its movements inside the lock, as if the lockpick in her hand was a part of her body. “I need to get in, and it’s locked.”

“Yes, but anyone in this studio would let you in if you just knocked,” Ele laughed. Elena glanced over her shoulder at her Echo. The morning light was just beginning to cast long shadows amd rainbows as it rose over the walls of the city, and her heart jumped at the sight of sunlight illuminating the palace at Milia’s center, sparkling in the rain.

“There are some people I don’t want to see. If I knocked and Leanarda or Niccolo answered, what would I say?”

“Tell them the truth. I’d love to see their faces.”

“Don’t be cruel, Ele, it’s too nice a day to be cruel.” The lock sprang open to Elena’s ministrations, and she carefully opened it and slipped inside.

“It’s a miserable rainy day just like every day in this miserable season,” Ele whispered as they slipped into the empty dark foyer of Studio De Luca, “you’re just giddy because we’re going to the courts tonight.”

“We’re going to the courts tonight!” Elena whispered gleefully, all but skipping down the hallway and scattering rainwater from her clothes across the stone floor.

The lock that separated the foyer from the courtyard wasn’t nearly as complex as the one outside, and Elena had to stop herself from humming cheerfully as she picked it.

“Do you remember our first day in Milia?” Ele whispered in her ear.

“We picked this same lock then too,” Elena giggled.

“Not the same lock, I’m pretty sure we wrecked that lock.”

“We were using a wooden lockpick! It was impressive!” Elena listened for the satisfying click and carefully swung the door open. Studio De Luca’s courtyard seemed more mysterious in the mist and rain, more like the mystical world of artistry that she had imagined as a child. “We’ve come ’round in a circle,” she said aloud, unable to whisper and still be heard over the fall of the rain in the fountain, “first day as a garzona, last day as a garzona.”

“Do I need to be the voice of reason again and tell you not to get your hopes up?” Ele asked warningly as they crossed the courtyard.

“Always,” Elena grinned and shoved towards him, her hand passing through his shoulder.

“You haven’t done that since we were kids.”

“I’m trying to get rid of some of your perpetual grump.”

“Well then I probably shouldn’t point out that, if we’ve really come full circle and this day is like our first day, Pietro is about to find us and boot us out.”

“But that turned out well in the end!” Elena dropped her voice to a whisper as they entered the hall on the other end of the courtyard, “we ended up meeting…um…”

“If you say meeting Arturo was ‘turning out well’-”

“I was going to say we ended up meeting Arta, but I guess I can see your point.”

They arrived at their goal, a specific door in the dormitory hallways. Elena was sopping wet, but she beamed as she quietly knocked. After a few moments, the door opened.

Leanarda and Elena stared at each other for a few long moments, both dumbstruck.

“Cog?” Leanarda asked.

“This…This used to be Frederica’s room,” Elena stammered.

“We switched…what are you doing here? Does De Luca know you’re here? DaRose isn’t doing another daytime raid are they?”

“No it’s just me, I…I-” Elena stammered.

“She’s going to bust us either way, let’s just go talk to Frederica,” Ele interrupted, “if they switched she’s in there.”

Elena turned to rush down the hallway and knocked on the door Ele indicated, as Leanarda ran just as fast in the opposite direction.

“Come on come on open up,” Elena bounced in place, unable to stand still. Beside her, Ele was chuckling.

The door opened, and this time it was Frederica on the other side, her brown hair curls mussed and frizzy and standing up at odd angles. She wore a scowl that didn’t change when she saw Elena standing at her door, dripping a puddle on the floor.

“Frederica!” Elena cried joyfully, “We don’t have much time-”

“It’s early,” Frederica mumbled with a tired glare, “ten seconds to get to the point.”

“Frederica-I’ve-been-invited-to-the-Milian-courts-and-it-might-be-even-longer-than-a-normal-invitation-and-I-can-bring-some-friends-with-me-and-you-care-more-about-art-than-anyone-I-know-so-you-were-the-first-person-I-thought-of!” Elena said in one long breath.

Frederica’s scowl hadn’t budged an inch, and the silence stretched between them. The Caelator glanced over her shoulder, and Elena saw Fred and Freja, her Echo and her wooden creation, both exchange a look. Elena wasn’t entirely sure why there wasn’t more excitement in their faces.

“I’m…I’m telling the truth?” she ventured.

“Miss Lucciano, a word if you please,” Pietro’s sharp voice came from the end of the dorm hallway, and the marble boy approached at a brisk pace, Leanarda just behind him. Elena turned back to Frederica, but without a word the girl closed her bedroom door in Elena’s face.

“I…” Elena raised a faltering hand to knock again, then stopped. She was flabberghasted by Frederica’s reaction; of everyone she counted as her friend, she had been the most certain about the prickly yet artistic Caelator.

“Miss Lucciano, I must say that in the history of my time at Studio De Luca, I have never seen-”

“Yes, yes, we’re going, Pietro,” Ele said, “Elena let’s go.”

“I’m going,” Elena said for Pietro’s benefit, “we’re leaving.”

“I should certainly hope so!” Pietro continued talking as he ushered her towards the door, as if worried she would try to make a break for it, “honestly, it isn’t even as if you don’t know the layout of the studio! If I find out you ruined any more of our locks I’m sending a bill to Studio DaRose myself. I mean really…”

 

***

 

“Don’t let it ruin your day, Elena,” Ele said over the rain as the pair slowly made their way up the Street of Yellow Artisans. At some point while they were inside the Studio, the early morning city had woken up, and Elena watched some of the streetside merchants setting up their wide square umbrellas to protect their stands.

“I don’t think anything could ruin the day, but I am a little disappointed,” Elena said, “I thought I still had a friend in Studio De Luca, even after Niccolo and I broke up.”

“She’s been around Leanarda and Niccolo for months, who knows what they’ve been saying about you,” Ele pointed out.

“That doesn’t make me feel better, Ele.”

“Oh yeah, she totally hates you,” Ele was looking over her shoulder, grinning, and Elena turned.

Freja was getting soaked, rainwater flowing down her wooden curls and dripping off of her serene if not cheerful face. She held a tightly packed bundle under one arm and an umbrella in the other hand, carefully protecting her mistress from the rain. Frederica carried a bundle at her side, and Elena recognized the roll of her knife-carrier.

“You came!” Elena cried.

“‘Course I came,” Frederica’s hair still stood in awkward spikes, and she still looked sleepy, but she gave Elena a quizzical look.

“I thought…when you closed the door I thought…I don’t know…”

“If I didn’t pack and leave right away, De Luca might’ve scheduled time to talk when I saw him at breakfast. I didn’t have time for Pietro’s interrogations.”

Elena couldn’t help it, she threw herself at Frederica and wrapped her in a giant hug.

“I’m so glad you’re coming with me!” she cried, “I knew you would, but I’m so glad!”

“Let go of me or I will stab you with my knife sharpener.”

Elena let go, but she didn’t stop grinning.

“Now,” Frederica glanced down at her now-damp clothing, “tell me exactly how you got an invitation to the courts.”

 

***

 

Elena was struck again by how well-adorned the rooms of Studio Foscari really were. From the outside, the Studio was the most plain and unadorned in the city, but everything within was very high quality, all of it either Faberi-made or well crafted. Elena had only ever been inside once, at night, during a raid, and now she had a chance to look around she marvelled at the small but spacious private workshop.

Pieces of brass and steel and gold, springs and gears and sliding levers lay all over the three desks that lined the walls, but they were all ordered so meticulously that there could be no question that each was in its proper place. A fine set of tools, each set identical except for their varying sizes, lay on each.

“You realize that this is a very strange offer you’re bringing me,” Owl said, idly spinning a long thin brass rod between his fingers. “I’ll admit I’m not the most knowledgeable Foscari when it comes to court dealings, that would be Inkblot, but I’m pretty sure the court has never invited an individual garzona.”

“Are you saying you don’t believe me?” Elena knew she shouldn’t be surprised by the logical Faberi’s skepticism, but she still frowned.

“I’m not sure,” Owl admitted. “The courts invite Master Stormtouched, so it doesn’t seem likely that you’re telling the truth. But on the other hand, you’re my friend, and I can’t think of any reason you’d have to lie to me.”

Elena felt strangely pleased that Owl thought of her as a friend. Sure they’d interacted together, planned together, and even fought together, but she had done the same with the DaRose garzoni and it certainly didn’t seem to be enough.

“Why don’t you come with us and see, then?” Ele asked, “it’ll be pretty obvious to you if we’re lying when we don’t show up at the castle, and if we aren’t lying, you’ll benefit.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so paranoid,” Owl said.

“Paranoia is good, I can’t fault you there.”

“If this is legitimate, I am of course grateful for the opportunity…it’s just…ah, Inkblot!” he called as a girl with black pigtails and spectacles passed the open door to his workshop.

“Mmm?”

“When was the last time a court extended an invitation to an individual who wasn’t a Master?”

“Only happened once, as far as I know,” the girl pushed her spectacles up the bridge of her nose, “the Milian courts invited some Fabera named Milaura or Midia or something, but the rumor was she had connections. Do you want me to go find the specifics?”

“No, but thanks,” Owl was looking at Elena thoughtfully. “Do you have connections, Elena?”

Elena wasn’t quite sure how to answer, and she glanced at Ele.

“Never mind, you already answered,” Owl smiled his small smile, and Elena blushed. “Alright then. Studio DaRose, before the evening? I’ll be there.”

“I’ll see you there!” Elena felt like skipping as she turned to leave.

“Elena?” Owl said, uncertainly, and she paused. “Thank you. I mean it.”

“That’s what friends are for!” Elena said, and she left with a bounce in her step.

 

***

 

“Are you going to knock or not?”

“Hush, Ele, I will, I just have to work up the courage.”

“You’ve been working up the courage for five minutes, just knock.”

“It hasn’t been that long.”

“Elena, someone is going to look out the window and see you staring at the door and think you’re as weird as you actually are. Knock already.”

“Please, Ele, just let me take my time on this and I’ll eventually-”

“Excuse me, can I help you?” said a high-pitched voice, and Elena spun on her heel to locate the source. Two small children, both around ten years old, each with short-cropped blonde hair, were staring at her curiously. The boy was holding a long stick taller than he was, and the girl was trying to hide behind him despite the fact that they were the same height. From the way the girl stayed dry in the rain, she was an Echo. They both wore grey and green uniforms.

“Oh…um, I’m sorry, I was just…um,” Elena stammered.

“You’re standing on our doorstep,” the boy pointed out.

“Yes…that is I…”

“We’re looking for Cross,” Ele interrupted.

“Oh, ‘Lloza? Sure,” the boy said, “Tippy, go tell ‘Lloza- I mean go tell Cross that there’s someone here looking for her. DaRose I think.” The girl nodded wordlessly and ran toward the studio, passing through the wall without a second glance. While the three of them waited, the boy carelessly swung his stick around in lazy circles.

“I know who you are,” he said, breaking the awkward silence, “you’re Cog aren’t you? You’re the one who killed Francis- I mean Slug.”

Elena’s stomach clenched. She had half-hoped that her reputation at Studio Gritti wouldn’t last this long, but of course that was ridiculous.

“No,” she said, “I mean yes, I’m Cog, but I didn’t-”

“Cool,” the boy said with finality. “Slug was mean.”

As if satisfied with his assessment, the boy turned to stare at a cart that was passing on the road outside of the courtyard. Elena and Ele exchanged a glance.

“Don’t mind Whiskers, he’s always like that,” Cross said from the doorway, looking at the boy affectionately, “brawn of a Lanisti, brains of a Machinator.”

“Cross…” now that she was finally face-to-face with the Saggitara, Elena found that she didn’t quite know what to say.

“Hi Cog,” Cross smiled wide, and even her large and burly Echo gave a non-unfriendly nod towards her, although he didn’t smile. “I thought you were avoiding me.”

“I don’t know what would give you that idea…” Elena said, looking down at her suddenly shuffling feet.

“Probably that time when you saw me coming and ducked down a side alley to avoid me.”

“Oh, yeah…that. Listen-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Cross waved a hand, “I meant what I said in the note. We’re still not even, not by a long shot.”

“That’s kind of what I’m here about,” Elena said, “I thought I would call in that favor.”

“Name it,” Cross suddenly grew serious.

“Well…I’ve been invited to the courts. I was told I needed a retinue, and I know a lot of the time a Master will bring a Saggitari with them to court as a show of muscle, like a bodyguard. Or a Saggitara…” Elena trailed off.

“You are going to the courts?” Cross asked, then did a double-take, “wait a minute, do you mean me? You want me to come to court with you? And you think that’s a favor to you?”

“Well…I didn’t know if Saggitari would find much use for courts.”

“Are you kidding? Spending every day rubbing shoulders with the wealthy and influential? Establishing ourselves as trustworthy and competent in the eyes of Lords and Ladies of the court? Not to mention being able to meet the Master Saggitari already there…oh deum Cog Master Artemis is there I could meet Master Artemis!”

Cross seemed just as excited as Elena had been earlier in the morning, and Elena sighed with relief.

“Well I’m glad that you seem up for the idea,” she said, “it might be a bit of a long invitation, I’m not sure yet…”

“I’ll speak to Master Gritti, but I’m sure any amount of time will be fine by her! Especially if it’s you,” Cross squeaked, “you need to stop doing me amazing favors, Cog, I’ll never be able to catch up!”

Elena thought guiltily of the fact that she hadn’t really been responsible for Slug’s demise, or that Cross didn’t know the ‘messed up’ daylight attack had been her own.

“You…can call me Elena,” she said, “if we’re going to court together we can probably dispense with the Studio names.”

“Belloza,” said Cross, “it’s nice to make your acquaintance, Elena.”

 

***

 

“Emerald says she’s happy to come with us,” Ele startled Elena as he slipped through the door to the Studio DaRose girls’ room, “she seems pretty excited about it. I think she’s starting to get antsy in the Studio, travelling to a new place might do her some good.”

“You don’t think she’ll…” Elena trailed off, trying to think of how to phrase the rest of the question.

“She’s promised she won’t use her Storm, Elena,” Ele said, “you know that she’s not dangerous.”

“I know,” Elena said, “I just hope she keeps her promise for her own sake. There will be Rhetorguards and people from the Guardhouse in court, I don’t want her to get caught.”

“I’m fairly sure she doesn’t want to get caught either,” Ele pointed out wryly.

“I know. Well, I think I’m all packed-” Elena broke off as Arta slipped through the door. She kicked her packed trunk beneath the bed, and turned to the Echo.

“Elena…” Arta said, and Elena noticed that her eyes were red, as if she’d been crying, “Elena…I’m so sorry.”

“What?” Elena was caught off guard.

“Arturo is…he’s horrible. I’m sorry. I tried to stop this whole thing, his whole twisted crush on you, and when he started spreading lies about you I tried to stop that too…”

“You didn’t do a very good job,” Ele said, “seeing that the whole studio seems to believe his version of events.”

“He made me stop,” Arta said, in a very quiet voice.

“That’s impressive, a human making an Echo do something against their will. Arturo must be more powerful than we thought.”

“You don’t understand,” Arta’s eyes were brimming with tears, and she spoke so earnestly that Elena was moved against her will, “you’ve seen the way Isadora and Iso act…and even though he seems fine and tries to brush it off, I’ve seen what that separation does to an Echo. It chips away at his soul every single day, until he’s numb to anything else. I…I don’t think I could bear that.”

“You think Arturo would just start ignoring you like that?” Elena asked, “why?” Isadora and Iso seemed like such an extreme case; even at her most angry with Ele Elena couldn’t picture letting things get that bad.

“He’s told me that he would,” Arta said, still in the same small voice, “whenever we argue he…he points out how lucky I am that we aren’t like Isadora and Iso. And other things…he’s very patient with me, because usually he ends up being right when we argue, but this time…this time I think he’s wrong.”

Elena wasn’t sure what to say. She could picture Arturo being wrong about things far more clearly than she could Arta, and the situation the Echo was describing didn’t quite seem to match up.

“He didn’t really talk Master DaRose into letting you into the Studio,” Arta continued in a rush, as if floodgates had opened, “he didn’t even have to check, the students always decide who gets in and who doesn’t. He just wanted you to feel like you owed him. And he would eavesdrop on you sometimes, when he could get away with it.”

Elena was a little taken aback by the sudden honesty, but she realized with surprise that she was neither overly surprised nor overly concerned with the news. She knew Arturo’s character as soon as he started spreading rumors around the studio about her, but it didn’t matter, not now that she was going to the courts. None of the petty nonsense mattered.

“Thank you for telling me all of this, Arta,” she said, “and thank you for apologizing, even though you don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“It…It didn’t feel right, you not knowing,” the Echo said with a sad smile, and she turned to leave. Halfway through the door she paused and turned back, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face, pausing to run a thumb along the paintbrush that was always behind her ear. “If you want me to tell the other garzoni the truth, just let me know, and I will. If Arturo decides it’s a reason to be like Iso and Isadora…then that’s how it will have to be, I suppose.”

She slipped through without another word, leaving Elena staring at the door, deep in thought.

“That seems to have brought you down a bit,” Ele remarked. “But I feel a bit bad for her too. Can you imagine being tied to that scumbag your whole life?” Elena bit her lip, musing. “Elena? What’s going on in your head Elena?”

Elena moved to the door and yanked it open.

“Hey! Elena where are you going?” Ele asked as she rushed through.

“One more, Ele,” she said without slowing. “Just one more dumb, rash decision, and after this I promise you, I’ll ask your advice about everything and take it without even questioning it, I swear. I just need to do this one last stupid thing as a garzona.”

Ele didn’t respond, and they wandered through the Studio room by room in silence. Elena finally found what she was looking for in the kitchen.

“-can’t just disappear without telling me where you’re going,” Arturo was saying.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Arta said. The Artifex and his Echo paused when they caught sight of Elena, fire in her eyes.

“Arta, you’ve been a friend to me ever since my first day in this city,” she said. “I’ve been invited to the Milian court, and I want you to come with me. Will you come with me?”

“What…Elena the courts don’t invite-” Arturo began.

“Shut up,” Elena snapped, then turned back to Arta, “what do you say?”

“I…of course,” Arta stammered.

“Good,” Elena said with finality, and then turned to Arturo, “you are very lucky to have her, do you understand me?”

“How did you-” Arturo tried again.

“She is going to the court with me, which means we have to drag you along in my retinue as well. If you set a foot out of line, I’ll make you pay for it. I don’t know how I’ll be able to make you pay without punishing Arta as well, but I am very good at planning, and I have a very strong Storm to help me, and I will figure it out, do I make myself clear?”

Arturo, Arta, and Ele stared at Elena with various expressions of shock.

“Elena what on earth-” Arturo tried a third time.

Elena interrupted him with steel in her voice. “Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear.”

Arturo looked back and forth between Arta and Elena.

“Yes,” he finally said.

“Good. You only have a few hours to pack your things, I suggest you hurry.”

Elena didn’t know whether she was shaking with anxiety or relief as she left the kitchen.

 

***

 

Elena bounced from one foot to the other, ignoring the rain that soaked her to the skin. In front of her, her trunk sat on the stone street, its waterproofed wood glistening.

“I’m getting so waterlogged I’m going to bloat,” Freja complained from next to her creator.

“Shush,” Frederica craned her neck to glance up and down the street.

The others remained silent: Owl stoic in the downpour, Cross excitedly checking for a carriage every few minutes as her Echo stared up into the rain, Emerald still but smiling, Arturo seeming unsure of whether he should be sulking or enjoying himself, Arta practically buzzing with anticipation.

“So; a Saggitara, an Artifex, a Caelator, two Faberi and a R- a Lanisti all walk into a tavern,” Ele joked.

What he had to say afterwards was cut abruptly short by the sound of wheels on stone. The carriages emerged suddenly out of the rain, their maroon pain glistening in the dying light of twilight. Cross squealed, Frederica smiled, Owl breathed a surprised curse, and then the carriages had stopped in front of Studio DaRose’s doors. Pages opened the doors almost at the same instant that they rolled to a stop, and footmen were gathering and loading trunks and bags before Elena had even come to terms with the fact that they were really here, that this was really happening.

“Good evening, Miss Luc-ci-a-no and company.” Black Furs sounded so much more like himself when speaking from the darkened recesses of the lead carriage, cloaked and obscured by the shadows. “I am terribly sorry that you had to wait in the rain, but your wait is over. Please, step in, and we will depart to your new home.”

Elena swallowed the lump of anxiety in her throat, took the Page’s offered hand, and stepped into the carriage.

 

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End of Twisted Cogs: An Artist’s Touch

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