Wizard of Jatte, Rowan Erlking [latest novels to read .TXT] 📗

were the epitome of order, though a mite less just than their home village. They did not rely on village elders to make judgements in regards to law. The landowner was the judge, and he took favors and had favorites.

Going down the lane he saw perfectly thatched roofs, well-plastered walls and brick chimneys all equal in shape and in repair. The trees were properly pruned, and matching one another all along the lane so that the gravel road had fine shade. There were no ruts in the lane, and there were even stone walkways that lined the road so that the villagers did not have to step in mud when the rains came. If the Danslor villagers thought his village was rich, they would have found this one scandalously so. Even the villagers were dressed in bright clothes with crisp working aprons. Sure, here and there were a few people with dust and dirt on them from good hard work, but many of the ladies actually wore bonnets instead of kerchiefs, and some even had their hair done up like townsfolk.

“Pardon me, boy, but are you lost?” a man in a slightly blood stained apron asked. If Theissen had not just seen him step from a butcher’s stall he would have run back down the lane to the highway.

Theissen shook his head and gestured to the manor house. It loomed over the cottages like a mountain to hills. “No, sir. I’m a journeyman sent to see the landlord, uh, I mean the steward.”

The butcher looked up and down at Theissen giving a small disapproving grunt. “What is your trade, boy?”

Already displeased at being called ‘boy’ twice, Theissen bristled. “I am a carpenter.”

“A carpenter?” A woman trotted across the street with a little bit of hustle. Her dress bounced in a funny way like it had something underneath holding it up and out. It was also way too large to be practical; that was for sure. Theissen made a mental note to tell Milrina about it in his next letter.

Theissen gave a formal bow, now feeling more confident in himself. “I am. My name is—”

“Oh, I don’t care about all that,” she said with a wave of her hand. “You are obviously the one from Lumen we were said to look out for. Come on with me. You’ll be going to the house. I’m returning there myself.”

Blinking, too startled at her abruptness, Theissen let himself be led to the manor house. It took only a few minutes, an introduction to the house steward and then another introduction to the head housemaid to realize that this woman was the lady of the property and she considered anybody and everybody below her notice. That is, except that she heard a marvelous rumor that a journeyman from Lumen was coming north, and she was dying for a cherry wood china cabinet with frosted glass windows on the sides and stained glass edging around the top.

She pointed to where she wanted it set when he completed the job. “Here. In this corner.”

Theissen had barely gotten over his shock that she was the lady of the home as he peered at the corner to regain some businesslike manner despite constantly just being called you by this woman. He removed his extendible measuring tape from his belt and began to measure the empty space.

“What are you doing?” Her voice continued with its superior nasality.

Withdrawing from the corner, Theissen said with a polite nod, “I am assuming you do not wish to rearrange the furniture when we put in the cabinet. I am trying to decide how large it ought to be.”

She gave him a dirty look. “Assume nothing! I want it large. We will be moving furniture.”

He glanced at the heavy piano to one side and then at the rather sturdy looking writing desk on the other. The steward had a longsuffering look on his face, remaining respectable but exposing how tired he already was. The maids had appeared the same.

But Theissen bowed to her. “As you wish.”

The lady lifted up her chin and swung her large skirts out of the room with a trot. “Yes. And you ought to remember that.”

Theissen went to follow her, but the steward stuck out his hand to block him.

“You will take orders from my steward here on,” the woman said as if for her man.

Exhaling partly from exasperation, partly from feeling suddenly very exhausted, Theissen looked to the steward hoping to see a rational face of sympathy. He was disappointed in that though. The man’s expression remained the same, drawn and tired but too dignified to complain that he was rundown.  The steward turned his extended arm towards another door, nodding to Theissen to go in that direction. Complying, Theissen bowed to him and walked ahead.

Once through the door, Theissen was directed again through another set of halls where, through door by door, he eventually found himself in a rustic section with stables and a covered shop where chairs and other odds and ends were stacked to be repaired. There, at last, the steward spoke.

“You will work here.” The steward’s voice was a deep gravelly sound, but there was a distinct flavor of snobbery to it that disappointed Theissen further.

Glancing around the shop, Theissen saw it was a shabby form of his father’s own shop. There were wood racks. There were also sawhorses and tools, though rusted and many in need of sharpening. Off to the side was another door where he could see an extension to a blacksmith’s shop. A bent man puttered around there, handling a hot iron with tongs. He looked up at Theissen with a shrewd eye but averted his gaze quickly when the steward joined his side.

“I will show you to your quarters,” the steward said.

Shrugging, Theissen followed him back inside the manor house. He caught another look from the smith but did not have time to register what it meant. They went up a set of wooden stairs three floors, passing narrow doors and halls where maids and menservants were looking out a the new resident. The steward opened one door and stepped aside.

“You will sleep here. Breakfast is in the servants’ kitchen before dawn. I suggest you not be late.” The steward gestured for Theissen to go inside and unpack. “Your task is two-fold. You are to make the cabinet for Mistress and you are to repair the furniture or replace it as best as you are able without being distracted from your job. If you fail for any reason, you will be expelled from the manor without pay. If you succeed, you may find a permanent position here as the manor carpenter, a highly honored position, I might add.”

Theissen glanced at the room, which was smaller than the one he had at home, though that one he had shared with his brothers, all of them sleeping in one large bed for warmth against the winter snow. There was a small shelf and a trunk obviously meant for his things. Bare walls of barely whitewashed wood and a candle stand for light. His cousin had given him a better room.

“It is not satisfactory?” The steward’s tone had a warning ring to it.

Shrugging, Theissen said, “If I stayed full time, would I get a better room?”

The man answered with a dry glare. “You would receive a home in the village. The quality depends on you.”

He turned to go.

“Uh, when do I start working?” Theissen had followed him out into the hall.

Turning with a look over his shoulder, the steward narrowed his eyes. “Are you that eager to begin?”

With a small shrug, Theissen nodded. Though there was no stink of sickness, he could smell animosity directed towards him. Staying was not a prospect he liked. Figuring that if he can finish the one job, keeping his reputation as an honorable carpenter thereby, he guessed that he would be free to go on his way afterward.

“I’d like to start immediately, if it is all right by you,” Theissen said.

The steward’s expression lighted somewhat towards puzzlement. He nodded. “Very well. Follow me. I will show you the sketches she made.”

Sketches? That was a first. Theissen’s father had people pass on drawings of moldings and family crests, but never any specific kinds of sketches for the project. They all seemed to think the carpenter knew his craft enough not to need one. Even the Lord Baron Kirsch had not gone that far.

The steward took him to his ladyship’s study. On the writing desk lay a pen sketch of the cabinet she wanted: the height, depth and width already marked. In fact, she had written exactly how large she wanted the windows and even colored in the pattern she wanted the stained glass.

Theissen tapped the paper on the glass illustrations. “What about these? I’m only a carpenter, not a glass maker.”

“The stained glass has already been made,” the steward said with an approving nod.

Theissen sighed with relief. He then picked up the sheets of paper, gesturing back towards the shop. “Am I allowed to take these with me?”

Giving a nod, the steward replied, “She would consider it the highest form of flattery.”

“Ok, then.” Theissen tucked the plans into his coat then turned to go back to the carpentry shop.

In the open area that looked over the horse stalls, Theissen set down his pack and then removed his travel cloak. With the weight off he felt ten times better. Of course, he wanted to finish his work right away. The cabinet was priority. The broken chairs and all that were not. In fact, Theissen contemplated finishing the cabinet and requesting pay after that, hoping to negotiate for more pay to do the repairs. With how pompous and stingy that steward looked, though, it did not look likely to work.

The cherry wood was already there in the shop, delivered weeks before. Theissen felt it over, measured and checked the quality of the wood, and then started to mark each piece for the task he had planned. Sawing them into shapes came first. Then sanding. It was late when he put down the last piece to rest, missing dinner but not caring. He still had food left over from Danslor Village, and he was savoring certain pieces of it as he had traveled. Setting another wood piece aside, he saw the smithy shut and secure his own door before casting up a look at him. The man appeared about to speak, but then he just shook his head and went on his way. By that time, Theissen decided to go to bed too.

He staggered to his room, opened the door, and dropped into his bed. It took a moment to remember to take off his carpentry belt, but the discomfort of hard lumps jabbing him in the back woke him with enough motivation to do so. He didn’t even change clothes.

 

“Do you always sleep in your work suit?”

Theissen jumped up. Staring, he saw in front of him a maid, all clean and pressed with a flirtatious grin on her painted lips.

“Wha…What are you doing in my room?”

She gave a light laugh. “Waking you for breakfast, silly. They said you came in very late last night, and you didn’t come in for dinner.”

That explained his headache. Theissen nodded and stood up, climbing off his covers though also reaching for his belt.

“You do plan to bathe later, I hope?” she asked, still grinning.

He didn’t catch that sparkle in her eye, too drowsy actually, but he did notice the teasing sound to her voice. “Of course. Of course.”

“Just be in your shop before the Mistress goes looking for you. She likes to keep an eye on her investments.”

He didn’t know what that meant, and he almost asked. However, too sleepy and too hungry to really care, he just followed her to the servants’ kitchen where quite a number of men and women were gathered eating porridge and sausages.

The cook greeted him with a hug and a cheek to jowl kiss before shoving him into a