The Confectioner's Guild, page 3
When the irons came off, Wren sighed with relief and rubbed her darkened wrists. She would have bruises for days. If she lived for days, her cynical side warned.
“What is your name?” the inspector asked.
“Wren Confectioner.” The words felt strange in her mouth. Hours ago, she had known what that meant, to be Wren Confectioner. Now, she was in uncharted waters.
“Wren, it’s nice to meet you. You may call me Lucas,” he said. “I’ll be investigating Guildmaster Kasper’s murder.” Lucas had a square face with serious brows and a slightly-too-large-nose, but the overall effect was rather arresting. “Why don’t you tell me what happened, in your own words?”
Wren recited her tale, beginning with Callidus showing up at Master Oldrick’s shop and unceremoniously turning her life upside down. Her throat began to burn as her story traversed too close to the topic of magic, the binding magic of the wine rudely reminding her that some subjects were now, and forevermore, forbidden.
“Why did Callidus bring you to the Guildhall in the first place?” Lucas asked, his nimble pen flying across the notepad.
Wren’s heart hiccupped. She considered herself a good liar, thanks to her father’s worldly teaching and her subsequent time on the streets, but to be forced to lie so publicly, with Callidus watching over her, knowing the truth of her lies…
Callidus came to her rescue. “One of Wren’s confections caught the notice of a great lady. She notified Guildmaster Kasper of her admiration, and Kasper wanted to evaluate her talents to see if she should be invited to train with a grandmaster.”
She looked at him in gratitude and was met by a glare. Did his brow ever cramp from all the scrunching?
“How did he find you?” Lucas asked.
“He invited me to live here,” Wren replied, struggling to stay calm. This was all a horrible misunderstanding. Surely, they would see that.
“And look at what he got for his trouble!” said Callidus. “Murdered.”
“I didn’t murder him,” Wren shot back. Guilt coiled in her stomach. Kasper, at least, she didn’t murder. “I had barely heard of him before this afternoon. Why would I want to kill him?”
“I’m conducting this investigation, Grandmaster,” Lucas said, smooth and polite. “Tell me what happened next.”
Wren finished explaining the afternoon’s events, leaving out the revelation of her magical ability. She watched Lucas as he wrote, the curve of his long torso over the notepad, the encouraging grunts he gave as she talked, urging her to continue.
She fell silent at the end, and Lucas did too, looking up to study her. His silence unnerved her, demanded something of her, and so she spoke, cursing herself as she did it, knowing that only fools spoke with nothing to say, while those who listened stayed alive. “Am I going to prison?”
Lucas unfolded himself from the sofa and stood. “Grandmaster, do you agree with Ms. Confectioner’s version of events?”
A curt nod.
“No, Wren,” said Lucas, “you’re not going to prison.”
“What?” Both Steward Willings and Callidus exploded.
“She is guilty of a most heinous crime,” Callidus cried.
“All she appears guilty of is being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“It was her cupcake that killed the man,” Steward Willings said, a corner of his lip curling up in an inadvertent snarl. “What more do you need?”
“Why didn’t she die too?” Lucas asked.
The two men paused.
“She must have ingested some sort of antidote,” Willings said triumphantly. “Before she ate it.”
“Quite a feat when Callidus surprised her at her place of employment, seized her that moment, and took her immediately to the Guildmaster’s office. She did not know of the meeting in advance, and Grandmaster Callidus did not see her ingest any substance. Did you?” Lucas asked.
“No,” Callidus admitted petulantly.
Wren watched the exchange as if she were a spectator at a palm match, watching the white ball fly back and forth. Silently, she cheered her champion, daring to hope that she might escape this disaster alive.
“The king has the right to have his Grand Inquisitor question her. Before you officially clear her as a suspect.” Willings crossed his arms.
“The Grand Inquisitor?” Lucas’s eyes widened. “Surely, Killian’s tactics aren’t necessary for this scrap of a girl.”
Lucas shot her an apologetic look, which wasn’t strictly necessary. He could call her a loaf of burnt bread if it kept her away from the Grand Inquisitor. Wren had heard that the inquisitor had once served a man a plate of ladyfingers in an effort to break him. And not the spongy biscuit kind. The kind that came from the man’s own wife.
“She should be properly questioned,” Callidus said. “We must do everything we can to bring Kasper’s killer to justice. I insist.”
“He insists,” Willings said.
Wren glared.
“Killian is with the King in Tamros, negotiating with the Apricans.” Lucas shook his head. “It could be a month before they return.”
“Then she’ll have to be held until he returns.”
Lucas strode to meet Willings, drawing him towards the window to converse out of Wren’s hearing.
Little did he know, Wren had excellent hearing.
“You and I both know she won’t last two hours in the Block,” Lucas hissed. “Why are you doing this?”
The Block, Maradis’s prison, had a reputation as black as tar. Filled with cutthroats and thieves, rapists and murderers, Wren had no delusions that the quick wits that had saved her as a young orphan would be enough on the inside.
“If one worthless confectioner must be sacrificed to get to the truth of this, it is a price I am willing to pay ten times over,” Willings said, his crooked teeth bared in a scowl.
Lucas ran his hands through his hair, turning from Willings with a frustrated hiss. His eyes met Wren’s, and she held them in her own, her gaze full of pleading and hope. Don’t abandon me, she wanted to beg.
I won’t, his eyes seemed to say back. Though I’m not sure why I’m going to such lengths to help you.
She could live with that.
“Very well,” Lucas announced, turning back to her two detractors. “She will be questioned by the Grand Inquisitor when he returns. If we haven’t found the real culprit by then.”
“I will send for the gaoler from the Block,” Willings said, striding towards the door.
Wren whimpered despite herself, his comment setting her heart racing like a predator nipping at her heels.
“That won’t be necessary,” Lucas said.
“She’s a murder suspect,” Willings said, turning. “She can’t go free.”
“I will vouch for her,” Lucas said.
The room went silent.
What did he mean, vouch for her? Wren had never heard of such a thing. Perhaps an archaic legal concept? Curiosity bloomed in her—a single flower bright against the dark winds of fear buffeting her.
“Surely not,” Callidus said. “Why would you do such a thing?”
“My reasons are my own,” Lucas said. “Callidus, she is a member of your guild, and by law she is entitled to lodging and protection here. She may be treated no differently than your other guild members.”
“I won’t have her under this roof after what she did. It’s too dangerous. What if she kills again?”
“What she has done has yet to be determined,” Lucas said, his voice like steel. “And I have vouched for her. By law, it is enough. Or shall I summon a magister to remind you of your obligations under crown law?”
“Very well,” Callidus said, his thick brows merging as he glowered at Lucas. “What if she runs?”
“She won’t run, will she?” Lucas said, turning to Wren. “Innocent people don’t run.”
She shook her head woodenly. Her thoughts hadn’t even caught up enough to think about running.
“I must continue my investigation,” Lucas said. “Gentlemen. My lady.” He pulled on a black hat and tipped the brow to her before striding out of the room, three sets of wide eyes following in his wake.
Wren found herself alone in the sitting room, summarily abandoned by the men who had been so keenly interested in her fate just moments before. She watched their retreating forms before sinking into the plush sofa with a shaky breath, her knees going weak.
Wren weighed her options. Run. Or stay. She had the gold crown, but how long would that last her? Would it be enough to buy her way out of Maradis, past the borders of Alesia? Perhaps she could go north, into Tamros… or find a vessel to take her Centu. But then what? Even if she could find work as a confectioner, it would make her too easy to find. The king’s eyes saw far, even into the countries bordering Alesia. With no way to earn a living… she had begged and stolen for scraps for two years before starting her apprenticeship. She never wanted to go back to that life. She couldn’t.
And then there was her promise to the inspector that she wouldn’t run. She felt a strange obligation to honor it, after what he had done for her. Innocent people don’t run, he had said. She didn’t want him to think he had misjudged her. Her mind lingered on the memory of Lucas Imbris—his keen gray eyes, his pen scratching across the page. The fact that he had had shown up with a soft spot where the other two had a crusty black desire to see a young girl tortured and maimed… her eyes widened. It had been quite a turn of luck. She pulled the gold crown out of her pocket, worrying the kingly profile with her thumb. Was the magic of the cupcake still working? It must have been. How long before it wore off?
She sighed, putting it back in her pocket. “Better take advantage before it does,” she muttered, getting to her feet. Gods help her, she was going to stay. The Guildhall may be an unknown commodity, but it still felt safer than the unknown beyond this city. She had run once before, and it had taken her years to find a semblance of safety.
She peeked her head into the empty corridor outside the room. It was deserted. Wren was no stranger to being alone. She preferred solitude. No one to stab you in the back or rob you if there was no one there.
But now, staring down the cavernous hallway in this strange place, her isolation began to taunt her, as the reality of staying set in. She knew no one but Callidus, who was worse than no one. She knew nothing of this world, how to navigate its treacherous waters safely. She didn’t understand what had happened back in that room, why Callidus and Willings seemed bent on her destruction, why Lucas had vouched for her. What did that even mean? Was it her future to wander these corridors alone, hungry and unable to find a washroom in the labyrinthine hallways?
She looked to the left, then the right, chewing her lip in indecision. Finally, letting the luck of the cupcake take hold of her, she spun in a circle until dizzy, coming to a stop facing to the left. Left it was.
Wren turned the corner into a wide open room. It was a conservatory. Walls of diamond-shaped leaded-glass windows looked out over a garden to her left, and an arched ceiling of paned glass yawned above. She walked down the aisle between neat rows filled with plants—tidy herb beds, fragrant flowers, towering tropical palms. She recognized a date tree and a lime tree as she passed, her mouth watering at the thought of fresh fruit.
Wren was so engrossed on the verdure around her that she jumped a foot when she bumped into another, living, moving thing.
The living, moving thing squealed.
Wren whirled, sighing with relief as she saw a plump girl about her own age.
“You gave me a fright, miss!” the girl said, her hand to her chest. She had a sweet face, cherubic with dimples that revealed themselves when she smiled.
“I’m sorry,” Wren said shakily. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. This is all quite lovely.”
“Yes,” the girl said, her golden curls bouncing in agreement. “Though they are a son of a spicer to water.” She hefted a shiny red watering can before her with a rueful grin.
“I can imagine,” Wren said, a smile tugging at the corner of her own mouth. “Do you need some help?”
“Oh, no.” The girl’s blue eyes widened in alarm. “I appreciate the offer, of course. But it’s my job. I couldn’t take help from a… guest… of the Guild?” She said the word like a question.
Wren didn’t blame her. She was unsure of her status as well.
“I suppose I’m a guest,” she said. “I met Grandmaster Callidus today. I’m… to be living here. I’m an apprentice.”
“Welcome!” The girl’s grin returned. “It’s exciting to have another girl around! Most of the apprentices and journeymen live with their masters—only a few live here. You’ll be the only other girl, except for Marina, but she’s so horrible, she hardly counts.”
“Are you an apprentice?”
“No, I live here with my grandaunt and granduncle. I help around the Guildhall in exchange for my room and board. My grandaunt is the Guildmistress. She’s training me to take over for her someday.”
“Wonderful,” Wren said, trying to put some enthusiasm into the word. Kasper had mentioned Guildmistress Greer before… Wren’s mind stumbled over the thought. Before he died, she forced herself to think. She would need to be able to face the facts.
“I’m Olivia,” the girl said, extending her hand.
“Wren.”
“Oh!” Olivia said, her mouth forming a rosy ‘o.’ “Did Callidus just abandon you? Is that why you’re wandering the Guildhall? The man is notorious for such things. My grandaunt has scolded him for it a hundred times.”
Wren nodded, her cheeks reddening. She thought she’d like to meet this grandaunt, if she was truly in a position to scold black-hearted Callidus.
“I can take you to her to find you a room,” Olivia said, setting her watering can down and weaving her arm through Wren’s.
“Actually…” Wren’s cheeks reddened further. “I really need a washroom.”
“Ock!” Olivia tsked, towing Wren towards the far end of the room. “That man! Can’t gain respect, so he has to rule by fear. Now Guildmaster Kasper, he’s so very different. You’ve met him, have you?”
Wren nodded mutely, her rising spirits suddenly sinking like a weight. Poor Olivia didn’t yet know of the guildmaster’s death. When she found out, she would hate Wren as much as Callidus did. Everyone in the Guild would. How could Wren ever survive here, let alone make this her home?
Despite the bleak outlook, Wren brightened considerably when Olivia found her a washroom.
Olivia was waiting for her in the hallway when Wren finished, toying with a thread on her linen apron. She threaded her arm back into the crook of Wren’s elbow and continued forward.
Wren’s stomach rumbled. Her body seemed determined to assert itself, despite this uncertain new landscape.
“When’s the last time you ate?” Olivia asked, alarmed by the sound.
“Breakfast?” Wren offered. She didn’t think she should count the bite of magical cupcake or sip of binding wine that had tried to close her throat up.
“Breakfast!” Olivia squealed in outrage. “I have half a mind to thump Callidus myself. No wonder you’re such a skinny thing!”
Wren had been called a skinny thing all her life, as well as some less flattering turns of phrase, but it was the first time she had heard someone say it with a tone of wistfulness. She eyed Olivia sideways.
“I’ll take you to the kitchens before we go to see my grandaunt.”
“Olivia!” a voice called from behind them.
The girls whirled.
“Come with me.” A stately older woman stood at the end of the hallway, her hands twisting in the fabric of her sleek navy dress. Her strawberry-blonde hair was pulled into an elegant bun on top of her head, several wisps artfully framing her face. This must be Guildmistress Greer, Olivia’s grandaunt.
“Grandaunt, this is a new apprentice, Wren,” Olivia said, approaching.
Wren dragged her feet, resisting Olivia’s pull.
The Guildmistress’s blue eyes were red-rimmed, and the look she leveled at Wren was far from friendly. Greer wiped her face hastily with a shaky hand, her fingers stained blue with some sort of dye. She quickly buried her hands in the folds of her skirt. “Leave her,” the Guildmistress said. “I must speak to you. Something has happened.”
Olivia looked between them, suddenly unsure.
Wren withdrew her arm. “Go ahead. I’ll be fine.”
“Turn right at the end of this hallway. Pass the classroom kitchens—the real kitchens are at the far end. The cooks will be able to find you something,” Olivia said, following her grandaunt, who had already turned on her heel. “I’ll come find you when I’m done!” She waved.
No you won’t, Wren thought with a twinge of sorrow. Wren watched the swishing skirts of the two women until they disappeared around the corner. She had known Olivia for all of four minutes, but somehow Wren’s plight felt even darker now than before her sudden appearance. She had represented the promise of a friend, an ally in this strange place. But Olivia wouldn’t want anything to do with her once she found out about the guildmaster.
Wren sighed and headed down the hallway in the direction Olivia had pointed her. Alone once again. It was probably for the best. Wren had never enjoyed good luck when it came to her friendships. If no one was close to you, there was no one to betray you. She pushed the thoughts aside and set her mind to the manageable task of navigating towards the kitchen. But as she rounded the corner into next hallway, an open doorway called to her like a siren, seeming to glow with light. Wren poked her head inside and her brown eyes went as round as saucers.
It might have been the loveliest thing she had ever seen. The large, rectangular room was lined with long, butcher block countertops illuminated from above by a central skylight that displayed a stamp of blue sky. A tidy white tile backsplash guarded majestic iron stoves. Shiny copper pots hung from hooks on the ceiling. A squat candy stove sat tucked in the corner. And in the center of it all was an island of warm wood, its swirling surface calling to be covered in flour and chocolate. She ran her fingers along the grain, letting its simple beauty soothe her soul. It was a kitchen called forth from a confectioner’s dream.
