Free Valour and Vanity by Mary Robinette Kowal Page A

and ‘observe’ without us understanding what they’re after.”
    “We are glamourists. We are here to conduct an experiment that—”
    Nenci stopped and wheeled on the spot. “You think a story like that will fool me?”
    Jane stepped forward to give Vincent a moment to govern himself. “I assure you that it is true. If you would like, I can exhibit my abilities.” She reached for the ether and sketched a rose in the air.
    The glassmaker snorted. “Is that supposed to convince me? Any young lady can do as much. My own daughter covers half the house with her glamours.”
    Vincent seemed to expand as he drew an angry breath. His hand moved as he reached for the ether, but no glamour followed. He let the breath out as if the glassmaker had punched him. Jane laid a hand on Vincent’s arm to soothe him. Even if he were in best health, no exhibition could possibly sway this man.
    Face pale, Vincent took a step back, spun on his heel and walked away.
    Jane turned to follow him, calling back to the glassmaker. “Thank you, sir. It seems clear that our funds are best spent elsewhere.”
    “Good luck with that. There are only three other glassmakers in Murano who work in blown glass. They’ll all give you the same answer.”
    Jane hesitated in astonishment. “Only three others? But the guidebook—”
    “Was written before the Fall. Do you know why there are only four of us? Because of lying thieves like you.” He wheeled around and stomped back into his shop. The door shut, and this time there came the unmistakable sound of a lock being engaged.
    Jane hurried after Vincent. The tails of his coat flapped behind him as he strode down the narrow street. “Vincent, wait.”
    He checked his stride and stood in the middle of the street, head down. As soon as she gained his side, he began walking again. Spots of red burned high in his cheeks.
    “What happened? When you—”
    “When I could not catch hold of the glamour? Just that.” Vincent’s mouth twisted.
    “But you could see it?”
    “Yes. Yes, I could see it. I could touch it. I failed to have the requisite control to manage it.”
    Jane sighed with some relief. If he could still see and touch it, then the blow had done no permanent damage. “It will just be a matter of time.”
    “It is worse than it was.”
    “Only because you are more tired, I think. The boat ride across … You must give yourself time.”
    Scowling, he turned on to the main street. A flurry of nuns in black and white passed them. Vincent stepped to the side to allow them to pass, and then continued on.
    Jane took his hand. “Where are you going?”
    Watching the canal, he pulled free of her grasp to rub the back of his neck. “To try another shop.”
    “Shall we return to Ca’ Sanuto, instead? It will not hurt us to wait another day or so.”
    “And give Nenci time to talk to the other glassmakers? Even if I am useless—”
    “Stop. Was I useless when I was”—Jane forced herself past the words and the memories attached to them—“when I was with child and unable to do glamour, was I useless? No. As you so often reminded me.”
    Vincent found her hand and squeezed it. “I am sorry.”
    Shaking her head, Jane returned the pressure of his fingers. Some activity would do him good. Part of what had driven Jane mad when she was increasing was the forced inactivity. Vincent was prone to brood as it was, and so defined himself as a glamourist that an afternoon spent at home would likely make him more miserable than not. “No need for apology. Still, you are correct that we should not give Signor Nenci an opportunity to prejudice the other glassmakers against us.”
    Vincent agreed, and they continued on by the canal. Yet each glassmaker they visited gave variations on the same refusal to allow them to watch the glass being made. Their manner was not so blunt as Signor Nenci, but the denial was just as steadfast.
    Footsore, Jane and Vincent made their way through the streets to