The next morning, Arndel sent her back to the trade workroom.

“Mage Egin has the gripe,” he said. The glint in his eye dared her to complain. “And there are trade clocks for export to Brantone that must be done by week’s end.”

“Of course, Artisan Master,” she said, compliant. There was her Lindin crystal at home, waiting for his submission to the Guild. Give him the smallest excuse and he’d likely smash it instead. “I’ll get started right away.”

And with gritted teeth she filled in for hapless Tagget Egin.

Four days he was absent from the artisanry, him and his inconvenient gripe. Every time the trade workroom doors opened during those long four days she looked around, hoping it was Arndel with a new commission from Lady Grie. But though he often came to supervise, he always came empty-handed. On the fifth day Tagget Egin sheepishly reappeared. With scarcely concealed relief she gave him back his trade workbench and returned to her place in the smaller, specialist artisan room.

“That’s good timing,” Ibbitha greeted her. “We’ve some new commissions coming today. Master Arndel told us last night.”

New commissions. Barl felt her heart double-thud. She was so tired of trade clocks she could easily scream. Her fingers itched to make something fabulous, something beautiful. Something for Ancilla Grie. If she never again saw the makings for another tedious trade clock, she’d die happy.

Not long after the artisanry clock finished chiming the work day’s start, Arndel entered with a sheaf of papers tucked under his arm. Designs for their latest commissioned pieces. One by one he handed them out, to Ada Mortyn and Nyn Bardulf and Ibbitha. Last of all he stopped before her bench.

“Mage Lindin,” he said, and handed her the final design.

Staring at it, she felt an unpleasant jolt beneath her ribs. “It’s a journey clock.”

“Indeed it is,” said Arndel. “How perceptive of you.”

She scarcely noticed his dry sarcasm, too overwhelmed by the larger insult of the commission.

“It’s for Lady Lassifer,” Arndel added. “Her nephew travels soon to an appointed position in the Seventh district.”

Another unpleasant jolt. “Lady Lassifer? But—”

“That’s correct. Why?” Arndel raised an eyebrow. “With Mage Egin recovered, did you think I would pay you to sit idle until Lady Grie dreams up something else for you to make?”

She bit her lip. “Of course not, Artisan Master. But it’s a journey clock. With a design so simple it makes Lord Traint’s piece seem a miracle of complexity. The least accomplished mage in the artisanry could create it with his eyes shut. I am worthy of a greater challenge than this.”

A sudden hush in the workroom. Feeling her fellow artisans’ disparaging stares, Barl curled her fingers to fists beneath the cover of her bench.