Free The Mystic Marriage by Heather Rose Jones

Street, you might hear something to your advantage.”
    Antuniet recoiled. “I’m not that desperate yet,” she said, retrieving the gem from him and tying it up securely.
    “Truly?" Langal asked in amusement. “Now how might I have taken the impression that you were? But Monterrez isn’t a moneylender either, if that’s what concerns you. Not in the ordinary way of things. He…let’s say that I think he might be interested in your project for his own reasons.”
    * * *
    If she had any other prospects, Antuniet would have discarded the suggestion as one more cruel joke. But without making any conscious decision, she followed a path back to her room in the university district that bent to take in the neighborhood centered around Zempol Street.
    The shop gave little indication of its trade, only a counter overseen by a serious young man and a half-finished project lying on a table behind him among tools for polishing and delicate repairs. No doubt the wares were brought out only for customers. The man at the counter was too young to be the owner of the shop and Antuniet briefly wondered if she had come to the right place. “I’m looking for Maistir Monterrez,” she said.
    He might be young but he seemed to have evaluated her in a single glance. “Perhaps the Maisetra has some jewelry to sell?”
    The jewelry had gone long before the gowns had. “I have a business matter to discuss with him.”
    The man pursed his lips and regarded her carefully. Then, without letting her leave his sight, he stepped back to a doorway and called out something rapidly that Antuniet couldn’t follow. A woman’s voice answered and he nodded at the response. “He will be with you shortly, if you’re able to wait,” he told her.
    Antuniet said nothing, only stepped to one side as another customer came and went. The goldsmith emerged a few minutes later, looking as though he had hastily traded his work apron for coat and neckcloth, for there was a smudge of jeweler’s rouge on one cuff. Evidently the summons had conveyed the information that there was no need to fetch a fresh shirt and don a hat. “How may I assist you?”
    Antuniet had considered and discarded several approaches and in the end she simply brought out her one perfect gem and offered it to him to examine. He sent a sharp glance at his assistant, as if to reproach him for disturbing his work for a simple appraisal, but then he took the stone over to the window and peered at it more closely, drawing out a small glass to assist him. A frown furrowed his broad, balding forehead. It wasn’t the admiration of a work of art but the consideration of a puzzle.
    “Where did you get this?” he asked at last.
    “I made it,” Antuniet replied.
    He looked up at her expectantly and she felt her way toward her question. She risked revealing more than she ever had previously. “I was told you might…that is, your name was suggested to me…I…I have been working with certain properties of stones and how to create and enhance them. I created that one in Prague.” That would mean something to him, perhaps. “There were others, but I lost them. I want to set up a workshop here in Rotenek. But I need…” She shrugged. “I need everything. I was told it might be useful to speak to you, but not why. I can offer no security, no bond except my word. I—”
    He held up his hand to stem the flailing. “You made this?” he asked. And then, more pointedly, “ You made this.” And again, “You made this, you were not simply working with a natural stone?”
    She nodded.
    “If I may ask, whom did you study under?”
    “Rutufin, here in Rotenek, and then Vitali in Prague. But the stone, that was my own work. I found…” No, she didn’t want to reveal too much. “I found some hints and formulas in an old book. Some of the techniques of DeBoodt.”
    That clearly did mean something to him. “I see. I think I know why you were sent in my direction, but forgive