Free Valour and Vanity by Mary Robinette Kowal Page B

Signor Sanuto’s, rather than chancing Vincent’s equilibrium in a gondola.
    “Muse, I am at a loss.”
    “We could … we could return to Binché.” It was a location with painful memories for both of them, but nothing else there was harmful. “We had success at the La Pierres’ glass factory. And the Chastains would be happy to see us.”
    He nodded, walking on in silence past Venetians who went about their shopping, carrying baskets of fish or produce. The occasional tourist blocked the walk, gawking at a display of glass. Vincent sighed, and then again, with resignation. “We had discussed that, but the quality of the crystal is better here.”
    “I do not think it will be good enough to get a glass that works without full sunlight.”
    “But it might.” Vincent scrubbed his hand through his hair. “That is the rub of it. Not knowing. Wanting to try the better glass.”
    “What of Bohemia? It is where the fashionable glass is coming from these days.”
    “In some ways that worries me more. It seems more likely that the technique would slip out there. I want to keep this close, until we have a better understanding of how it works, what it can be used for…” He rubbed the base of his neck again, grimacing. “Perhaps we should return to the house.”
    It was not like Vincent to give up, but after the trouble they had experienced getting here, she felt that a certain sense of dismay was entirely appropriate.
    *   *   *
    The walk through the streets of Murano, with its graceful courtyards and the grand palazzos overlooking the canals, should have delighted Jane, but her thoughts could not keep away from the flat refusal of any of the glassmakers to listen to their proposal. Then, too, there was the unlooked-for expense of the pirate attack. Though she would have spent any amount to keep Vincent safe, the fact was that removing themselves to Bohemia, in the hope that the glassmakers there would be more receptive, was more than they could afford at present. As it was, when they finished here, they would have to return to England and begin accepting commissions again at once. They had possessed the necessary funds for this trip, but the trouble with travelling so far from home was that one needed to bring along all of the money one might require. Planning for an extended stay in Murano, as they had been, had called for the proverbial “deep pockets.” Were it not for the kindness of Signor Sanuto, they would have been in sore straits indeed.
    At times, Jane missed the relative simplicity of her life as a gentleman’s daughter, when she had to worry about nothing more than what gown she was going to wear to dinner. But to give up her art would be impossible; she loved the challenge of exploring their craft. But in this moment, faced with a difficult problem, a part of Jane very much wished that she were still a little girl who could go to her papa to fix everything. The rest of her mind was turned toward finding a solution to their problem.
    Vincent, too, seemed lost in preoccupied thought as they strolled back through the streets to Ca’ Sanuto. She suspected that the crease between his brows was only partially from their failure to engage a glassmaker. It must drive him mad to have so much difficulty with glamour due to his current state.
    When they arrived back at the palazzo, they found a message asking them to join their host on the balcony for an apéritif. Signor Sanuto sat on a chaise lounge that had been carried outside for his use. A pillow lay under his injured knee, and a table with a silver bell sat within easy reach.
    At their approach, he turned his head. “My dears! I am glad you are home.”
    “Thank you. We were beginning to feel that, aside from our present company, no one was happy to see an Englishman here. Speaking of presents…” Jane slipped the cane out from under Vincent’s arm. “We have a small token for you.”
    She was rewarded by seeing their host’s face soften as