The Somerfell funeral clock was indeed ruined, its glorious gold and peacock blue crystal smoked black and distorted into an ugly, misshapen lump of dead glass.

Artisan Master Arndel narrowed his eyes. “On your feet, Mage Lindin.”

Awkwardly, Barl set the funeral clock on the floor. But as soon as she let go it toppled, and shattered. Everyone gasped. Sorry for the ruination of beauty, she clambered herself upright. Nobody offered a hand to help her. Every muscle hurt, her head pounded as though it would split apart, and her blistered palms stung from the heat of Baret’s warped creation.

Even so, she met Arndel’s frigid glare unflinching. “This isn’t my fault. That funeral clock was doomed the moment Baret meddled with the timepiece incant.”

“How dare you blame me for this?” said Baret, everything about him savage. Of course he was desperate now to save his own skin. “This is your mischief! You thought you could do a better job of the clock, because you’re Barl Lindin, the greatest mage ever born. So you interfered and this is the result!”

Stunned, Barl turned on him. “How can you stand there and tell such lies? You tried to force the timepiece’s incant into an unnatural extension!”

Baret’s gaze flicked to the pieces of smashed crystal, scattered across the floor between them. The central timepiece had rolled free, a sad, melted lump of gold and silver wiring. The incant it had contained, that Baret had toyed with, was extinguished. No proof remained of what rules he’d broken. The danger he’d put all of them in.

He looked to Arndel. “I don’t know what she’s talking about, Artisan Master. I would never attempt anything so foolhardy.”

No. No. Not even Baret could be this craven. “Yes, you did. You know you did.” She took a step toward Arndel, her outstretched fingers trembling. “Artisan Master, please, you must believe me. And if I hadn’t overriden Baret’s meddling this artisanry would be nothing but a smoking hole in the ground! I—”

“Enough!” said Arndel, knocking her hand aside. “Are you mad? Do you expect me to believe you could override Baret Ventin’s magework? Mage Lindin, from the day you set foot in my artisanry you have been a disruptive presence. Until now I chose to overlook that, because your work has been satisfactory and because you pleased Lady Grie. Clearly I was in error. Clearly all I did was encourage your obstreperous arrogance. I shall do so no longer. You’re dismissed.”

Barl blinked at him, stunned.

But you can’t dismiss me. Not for this. You can’t.

“Master Arndel, you’re being unjust.” Her voice was thin and shaking. “I might be outspoken, but I have never been untruthful. You won’t find anyone who can claim they ever caught me in a lie. Baret Ventin’s the liar here, not me.”