Free The Mystic Marriage by Heather Rose Jones Page A

me…ah…Maisetra? I believe I missed your name.”
    “Chazillen. Antuniet Chazillen.”
    She saw recognition in his eyes for the name at least. He returned the gem, saying, “I need to think on this matter carefully. Could you return in the morning?”
    What matter? He didn’t seem to be speaking only of business affairs. But at least Langal’s hint hadn’t led to a solid wall. She nodded and left.
    * * *
    On her second visit to the goldsmith’s shop, her host was more formally attired and she was led into a small parlor behind the store proper. Not a part of the residence, but no doubt a place where favored customers might be entertained in privacy. She was offered a seat but no refreshment. She had gone outside the limits of her ability to read such signs.
    He began with little preamble. “Maisetra—you will forgive me?” From the hesitation it was clear that he had acquainted himself with her history and with her fall in status. She nodded in acceptance. A few more repetitions and the burfro title would cease to sting.
    “Maisetra Chazillen, I have a daughter. God help me, I have four daughters. It was the husband of my eldest you met in the shop.”
    It was a mystery why she was being treated to this familial explanation, but Antuniet settled her mind to patience. She tried to look interested.
    “My youngest but one, she has long had a mind to study alchemy, like you. Ordinarily it would be out of the question, of course, but…four daughters! What is one to do? Perhaps it might be best to give her a means of making her own way in the world, if the need arises, and if she has the talent and the interest. And an alchemist in the family could be useful. But there are difficulties, as I’m sure you know. I have done what I could and she has studied what she may, but looking forward, the usual roads are barred to her.”
    “The university allows…” Antuniet’s thought trailed off. They lived in entirely different worlds. Did the university allow women of her sort…? Her own studies had been hard enough back then—piecing together scraps of philosophy and chemistry—until Rutufin could be convinced to take her on. How much more difficult…
    He had watched her closely as she worked through the problem. “Whatever the university may allow,” he said, “I cannot allow it. In my own home, in our own community, I have respect. I can protect my daughter as I should. But outside that? If she ventures so far outside what is considered proper for her? There are too many men who would consider that she had stepped outside the protections of modesty and respectability.”
    And that was even before one came to the question of alchemy. An absurd possibility was presenting itself. Antuniet stilled her impatience and asked, “And what would all this have to do with me?”
    “If you would contract to take my Anna on as an apprentice—to teach her all the skills and secrets she would need to become a mistress of the art—I will arrange to provide the place and the materials and whatever else is necessary for it.”
    Was it possible? That he had the resources was clear from looking around. His custom must be drawn from the elite of society to maintain this style. But an apprentice? She could only imagine the burdens of shepherding the pampered daughter of a goldsmith through the rigors of the art, even merely as a student. How much success would he require to fulfill the bargain? If it were the only way…“Perhaps I should meet her before deciding.”
    “Of course,” he said and went to the door to call, “Anna, come here.”
    From the rapidness with which she appeared it was clear the girl had been waiting on the other side.
    Antuniet’s first reaction was dismay. She’s too old; it’s too late. She needed to have started years ago! But then she realized it was an illusion of the girl’s height, the soberness of her clothing and the way her dark hair was braided up in a crown under a cap more suited to a