“Anyway, it hardly matters. You were right and I was wrong. I can’t change anything. I’ve no power at all.”

She’d hurt him with her waspish tongue. She often did. More often than he liked to admit, or ever told her. But it wasn’t in him to further twist the knife that the College had plunged through her heart.

“You’re mistaken, Barl,” he said quietly. “You have the power to make beautiful things. Not just clocks. I think clocks are just the beginning. In time I’ve no doubt you’ll become Dorana’s greatest artisan mage. I think you’ll make things other mages can only dream of.”

Barl laughed, the sound breathy and shaken. “You don’t need to flatter me, Remmie. I’ve no intention of casting myself into the pond.”

“It’s not flattery. I mean it.”

“I know,” she said, and turned. The lowering sun glittered the tears on her cheeks. “But please, don’t say anything more. Let’s just go pick your wretched beans and carrots.”

Nodding, he stood. Hurting miserably for her, knowing there was nothing he could say or do to make this better. In her own time, in her own way, she’d have to come to acceptance. Find a way to ease the disappointment, a reason to laugh and smile.

“Yes. All right.”

“Barl!” Ibbitha hurried to meet her halfway to her workbench. “Should you be here? Master Arndel told us yesterday you were taken poorly. I must say, you look peaked. Perhaps you should take another day in bed.”

The concern was meant kindly, but it set her teeth on edge. Easing her hands free of Ibbitha’s solicitous clutchings, Barl smiled then edged sideways toward her bench.

“I’m fine,” she said. “It was only a megrim. Besides, if I’d stayed abed again today I’d only have fretted over Lady Grie’s clock. Master Arndel is very anxious it be finished, since he promised her delivery of it this afternoon.”

“Oh,” said Ibbitha, following. Her lips thinned. “Yes. Of course. We mustn’t upset Lady Grie.”

So, there was still a lingering resentment over that, was there? She shouldn’t be surprised. There were artisans here who’d had worked years for Arndel and never attracted the attention of an influential First Family mage. And while she and Ibbitha might be friendly, their bond wasn’t near deep enough to overcome the perceived slight.

She can’t bring herself to admit that on my worst day I’m twice the mage she’ll ever be. None of them can. But it’s not my fault and I won’t feel guilty for it.