Especially since not one of them, aside from Ibbitha, bothered to ask after her health or even glance up as she slid onto her workbench’s stool. Doubtless they were sorry she didn’t lie at death’s door. Doubtless they’d spent all yesterday coveting the natal clock she’d almost finished, hoping, dreaming, that she was gone for good and that Arndel would point them out to Lady Grie and that Lady Grie, forgetting her, would show them favour instead.

Dream on, she thought, sneering on the inside where they couldn’t see. Dead or alive, Arndel’s favourite new patron won’t forget me.

The natal clock for Ancilla Grie’s mother was close to complete. Oblivious to her fellow artisans and their occasional hushed to-and-fro comments, ignoring Ibbitha, whose frequent glances suggested she had more to say, not even acknowledging Arndel when he entered the workroom to count heads and issue orders, Barl poured herself into the final, exacting incants that would see her latest commission a success. Lady Grie’s design this time featured a full moon and the rising sun, sharing a starless sky. So for the clock’s steady tick she wove an incant echoing the hoots of an owl, that popular symbol of wisdom… and for its hourly chime a brash cockerel’s crow, optimistic herald of the new day. Both incants were a challenge, but there was no chance she would fail.

Finished at last, the incants warded safe within the glossy clock, she slid off her wooden stool and slipped out of the workroom for a few precious moments, to breathe in some fresh air and wriggle the kinks out of her spine. The late morning sky was beginning to gauze over with high cloud, and it was cooler than it had been when she’d left Remmie brooding over his morning poached egg and brown toast. She thought she could taste the promise of rain.

Wandering the outside of the artisanry, arms folded against the slight chill, she felt the day before’s bruised feeling return as her glow of success faded. Her eyes were scratchy and tired. Tormented by failure, she’d not passed a restful night. And though, for Remmie’s sake, she’d tried hard to show a careless face at breakfast, she’d not managed to fool him… and his concern was another burden wearing her down.

He’d be better off if I wasn’t around. I think it’s time he lived his own life, and stopped fretting about mine. We’ve been in each other’s pockets ever since Mama and Pa died. That’s long enough.

Not that he’d agree. Remmie was convinced she couldn’t manage without him. And though she’d told him and told him he was very much mistaken, he wouldn’t listen. Which meant he left her with no choice: she’d have to convince him the hard way, by deed instead of word.