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other was much younger and more poorly dressed.
 Siffy! Casil Kinuqah went stumping across the yard, white hair fluttering in
the breeze. He hugged the older woman, then stepped back.  What you doin
here? What about the kids, is there trouble?
 No trouble. Can t I visit my own father without some song and dance about
it?
 Nay, of course you can. You re looking marvelous, Siffy. Life is treating you
well.
 I ve come to Glory, Fa. It s made a wonderful differ-ence. But we ll talk
about that later. She looked over her shoulder.  See that everything s
there, then pay the men, Rudli. She turned back.  You said you had a new
ap-prentice, send him down to fetch the baggage in, will you, Fa?
 He s a journeyman, Siffy. In his last days, so treat him like the Master
he ll be soon enough, you hear?
Her lips compressed in a thin line, the woman nodded, then marched into the
house.
Casil watched her go, his shoulders slumping.
Lavan leaned out the window.  Master, I ll be down in a minute. Be happy to
help. .
Casil looked up, his mustache spreading with his smile.  Thanks, Lav.
Siffana Kinuqah took against Lavan the minute she saw him. She treated him
with icy courtesy and worried at her father to get rid of him while she was
trying to convince him to go home with her so she could take care of him and
his grandchildren would get to know him. The house was filled with tension,
Casil turned cranky, snapping at Lavan every time he opened his mouth, telling
his daugh-ter to leave him alone and let him make up his own mind.
 Show me that thing. Casil coughed, clearing his throat, blew his nose, then
jabbed a knobby finger at the roll of parchment that held Lavan s sketches for
his mas-terwork. His rheumatism was worse and he was starting to have trouble
breathing; he looked twice as old as he had when he opened the door to
Lavan that first day.
After Lavan unrolled the parchment, the old man stud-ied the newest of the
designs, made since
Lavan had started work with him, a wide armlet pierced and hinged. He tapped
it with a stiff finger.  This is good. You ready to start?
 I could do the projections, I don t have the materials.
 Light the lamp and come over here.
Casil led Lavan to the strongroom, unlocked it, and went inside to unlock the
inner drawers. He was out again by the time Lavan had the lamp going and
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reached the door.
 Go in, choose what you ll need gems, gold and sil-ver.
 I can t pay ....
 Don t matter. I ll worry about that when there s time for it. Hurry, I want
this done before she gets back.
Lavan went in without saying anything more there was nothing he could say that
wouldn t make the old man feel worse.
He set his choices on the workbench, a large black opal, two smaller emeralds,
two plates of gold, a coil of fine silver wire.
Casil nodded.  Good. You always had a good eye for color. Here s what it s
about, Lav. Siffy isn t goin to leave without me and the way things are now,
he shook his head,  ahwu,  tisn t goin to get better. Put your other projects
aside, I ll finish them, give me an excuse to hang on Siffy s like her Ma, a
good eye for the coin, she ll ease when I tell her if they don t get finished,
I have to pay back the fees.
You concentrate on your masterwork. I han t got a doubt you can make it good,
Lav. I ll send for the
Guild valuer,  s a good thing Bokivada s so close, and we ll have you a
Master s papers before the month is out. You got anything to say?
Lavan shook his head.
 Then you get busy on it now. He closed his hand over. Lavan s shoulder,
squeezed hard, then went to close the locks on the strongroom.
The next days Lavan spent in the workroom, eating at the bench, leaving
only when his bladder forced him, sleeping when he couldn t keep his eyes
open. Perhaps because of the pressure and the hurry, perhaps in spite of it,
the gold yielded to his tools like a cat to a caressing hand, the silver inlay
flowed with a grace he d never managed before. On the thirteenth day, he gave
the armlet a last polish, set it on the viewcloth, and knew he d never done
anything as good before, perhaps never would again.
He looked at it a moment, stretched and yawned, sud-denly so tired he could
scarcely keep his eyes open. It was still mid-afternoon, but he left the
workroom, went upstairs, and fell into bed.
Casil Kinuqah set the armlet on a viewing stand in the light pouring through
one of the workroom windows, walked round it for an overview, then took it,
ran his thumb along the nearly invisible line where it was hinged,
opened it, holding it close to his ear, inspected the slide cover of the tiny
hinges, went over every inch of inlay, the setting of the jewels, weighed it
in his hands, judging the balance. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]