“This is Mage Lindin,” Arndel croaked. “She—she—” His larynx convulsed. “Under my strict and constant supervision, she made your clock.”

“She made it?” Lady Grie’s finely arched eyebrows echoed her surprise. “Not you, Master Arndel?”

Clasped fingers tightening to breaking point, Barl took a small step forward. “It’s true I performed the incants and conjurations, Lady Grie. But Artisan Master Arndel made certain of every syllable. Not a single piece in this artisanry is created without his involvement, or released to a patron without his permission. If the clock pleases you, my lady, you have him to thank.”

Arndel cleared his throat. From the look on his face it would be easy to think he’d swallowed a hedgehog.

“Mage Lindin’s work is of the highest standard, Lady Grie. There isn’t another mage in my artisanry I’d have trusted with your design.”

“I’m sure,” said Lady Grie, pettish. “But why did you trust her with it at all? For the exorbitant fee I’m paying I expected you to make my nursery clock.”

“Lady Grie, it would’ve been my great pleasure to do so,” said Arndel, chin lifted. He was astonishingly close to looking down his nose. “But I had already undertaken a commission from Lord Bren. You were unwilling to wait and I was unwilling to inconvenience a patron who has shown this artisanry much grace these past two years.”

Barl held her breath. That was more spice than she’d ever thought was in the old trout. She might not like him but she could respect him for that much, at least.

“Indeed?” Unexpectedly, Lady Grie laughed. “A proper answer, Artisan Master. I will expect no less a defence of me in the future.”

Arndel’s thin lips stretched wide in a smile. “The future? Most certainly, Lady Grie.”

“Not so fast, Artisan Master. There are conditions.” Lady Grie smoothed the vastly curved front of her glorious dress. “Firstly, I must be satisfied with the clock’s sounding. And secondly—”

“Yes, Lady Grie?” Arndel prompted, after a moment.

Ignoring him, Lady Grie shifted round. “You. Mage Lindin. What does your family call you?”

Barl loosened her clasping fingers, making sure to keep her gaze far from Arndel. “Barl, Lady Grie.”

“Hmm.” Lady Grie sniffed. “Odd name for a girl, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps, but I find myself content.”

“And if I tell Artisan Master Arndel that should my first condition be met, my second condition is that you, and only you, are to execute my commissions? Would that content you, too?”

Barl felt her heart stutter within its cage of curved bone. Moistening her lips, she risked a glance at Arndel. His eyes bulged at her in a face now flushed dusky red.

“My feelings in the matter are of no import, my lady. But should Artisan Master Arndel agree to such an arrangement, I would of course be honoured.”

“Ha!” said Lady Grie, trenchantly amused. “And I suppose butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth, either.” She turned back. “Well, Arndel?”

“This artisanry would be pleased and proud to serve you, Lady Grie,” Arndel replied. Only someone who knew him well, who worked with him day in and day out, would hear the lemon tang in his voice. “And of course I will assign your commissions to any mage whose work you find pleasing.”