She had offered to be my patron, as it is said she does for craftsmen, for she collects them. Those she favors the most, she takes with her into her kingdom under the mountain.

And as Josh gloated over his new tools, she was too paralyzed to think.

She managed, somehow, to feign happiness, because he was happy. But what had he done by accepting the “gift”? Had he actually bound himself to Jolene’s service? Her gut clenched up, and she thought she might be sick.

“But wait!” he continued, still glowing with happiness despite his obvious weariness. “Lookit what else she give me!”

He whisked that old tablecloth off the lump, revealing—

Well, she wasn’t sure what he had just revealed. It looked like a big piece of stone, but what a stone it was! Obviously cut from a much larger piece, the stone was a rough column as long as her forearm and as big around as a melon. And it was an eye-seducing, glorious swirl of vibrant blue-green and emerald green and pale green in layers and waves and chaotic swirls that had no regular pattern to them.

“What is thet?” she gasped, its greenness dominating the gray and brown and straw-colored workroom.

“It’s malachite,” Josh said, in a voice so full of the satisfaction of possession she almost didn’t recognize it. “It’s the biggest piece I iver did see, an’ they ain’t a flaw innit near’s I c’n tell from lookin’ at it. Jolene done give it to me, an’ how a tiny liddle thang like her jest handled it like it weighed no more’n a egg, I niver will figger out. She said she give me th’ tools, an’ she give me th’ material, an’ now it was up ter me t’ prove what I was made of.”

Her dress, Anna suddenly realized. That stone—it’s like her dress. Both the first, fantastical one she had seen Jolene wearing, and the second, more ordinary one, the one with the swirly pattern. The first dress had the colors and the silky sheen of this stuff; the second had the colors and the chaotic swirls.

“Where’s it come from?” Her head was all a-maze, but her mouth kept asking sensible questions somehow.

“Same mines where y’all git copper,” he said, hands gently touching the stone, eyes filled with the stone. “Reckon she must’ve got some deal a-goin’ with the mine owners.”

“Is it valuable?” she asked.

He shook his head, still gazing on the stone and not at her. “Not really. Not fer itself; it on’y gits valuable arter it’s been carved an’ polished. An’ y’all gotter be careful; th’ dust’ll pisen y’all, so’s y’all gotter sand an’ polish it under water. Thet’s what Jolene tol’ me, anyways. She brung it, an’ th’ tools, jest afore y’all got here.”

That, she was sure, was no accident.

“I cain’t hardly wait t’set a chisel t’ this,” he continued, his voice still full of that acute satisfaction.

“What’s stoppin’ y’all?” She couldn’t help it, she was afraid of the way he was gazing at that stone, she was heartsick thinking of how Jolene was getting her hooks into him, and the words came out harsh and sharp.