“My uncle says I need a watch and that there isn’t a finer piece in this city than the ones made in your workshop,” I answered.
Beside me, a smile twitched on Murrow’s lips.
“Well, he’s correct. You’ve come to the right place.” He moved around the cases, stopping before the one filled with silver watches. Murrow had backed off, letting me take the lead, but I could acutely feel his attention on me. The most expensive one, he’d said.
They were exquisite pieces, but gold was much more valuable than the silver. Simon was either being polite or he was being presumptuous, assuming the Roths wouldn’t have the coin for a finer watch.
I didn’t follow him, staying put to study the items inside the case of gold pieces carefully. I was looking for the one with the most intricate clasp and chain. The truth was, I didn’t know anything about watches. They were usually carried by men and Sariah had never given me one. But I knew gems, and there was only one in the case set with the rarest shade of spinel—a pale purple hue.
“I’d like to see that one, please.” I set a finger on the glass, where it sat in the very center.
Simon looked at me approvingly as he took a key from his pocket and opened the case. He pulled out the one I had pointed to and placed it before me. “A very nice watch. The face is a polished mother-of-pearl from the reefs of Yuri’s Constellation. I personally chose the specimen from the trader’s haul.”
I picked it up, opening the watch with a click. The case sprung open and inside, the delicate hands ticked away over the dial. It was so beautiful, it seemed impossible that human hands had made it.
“It’s lovely,” I said, turning it so the light moved over the pearl surface like rippling water. The patterns were unique, the colors vibrant. A watch like this belonged in the pocket of a guild master. “I’ll take it.”
Simon took the spectacles from his nose. “And the chain?”
“I’d like you to choose.” I smiled. “No one knows better than the maker.”
He nodded. “And shall I engrave it for you?”
“Yes.” I set the watch back into his hands. “Please.”
He replaced his spectacles and pushed them up a little, taking a piece of parchment from the desk behind him. “Bryn, you said?”
“That’s right.”
I watched him write my initials, B.R. There were times when I had wished I could shed the Roth name like a skin. But through the years, I’d grown to believe, or hope, it was what gave me an anchor in the shifting seas. That maybe it was the only thing keeping me from sinking into the life that the girls in Nimsmire were cursed to live. While they were marrying to give their families advantage, I would be building a destiny of my own making.
When he was finished, Simon wrapped a square of black satin around the watch and set it into a wooden box. “That’ll be three hundred and forty coppers. Fifty now. The rest delivered is fine.”
Murrow gave him a nod. “I’ll have it sent over this afternoon.” He reached into his jacket, producing a leather purse. He counted out fifty coppers with quick fingers before he closed it again and slid the purse across the glass.
Simon picked it up, not bothering to check the weight.
“Don’t want to count it?” Murrow smirked.
“I know where to find you if it’s short.” There was a flash in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. A trace of something rough-edged. It reminded me of Henrik. “Should be done in a couple of days.”
“Thank you,” I said as Murrow tipped his hat and opened the door. The sunlight rushed back in, gleaming on the cases and reflecting off the rims of Simon’s spectacles.
I came down the steps, waiting for Murrow on the street. He was already grinning as he took off up the walk, not waiting for me. “You’re good at this.” His voice trailed back to meet me.
“Good at what?”
Murrow shot a glance in my direction. “The game.”
SIX
Henrik’s instructions had been simple enough.
Pier fourteen. Ask for Arthur. Tell him you’re there to pick up.
It was as much an excuse to leave the house alone as it was a way to show Ezra that I would fight for my place among the Roths. I had no interest in taking his job, but I wasn’t going to be pushed out, either. I knew how to stand my ground and that was exactly what I was going to do.
I walked the street that ran along the harbor, eyeing the numbers on the crowded buildings. Piers lined the water beyond the merchant’s house before scaling the steep hill in the distance. In Nimsmire, there had been only two rows of piers, but here, there were so many that they weren’t even set into rows. They twisted around each other along haphazard streets, some of which seemed to dead-end or disappear completely.
The walks were filled with people coming and going from the long string of shops as they closed their doors for the day, carrying everything from baskets of apples to crates of iron remnants. The city would go to sleep until dawn, when the tradespeople would begin all over again, hauling their carts back down to the market or docks.
When I reached the largest pier on the water, I stopped before the grand double doors. They were still painted with the emblem of Holland, the gem merchant who’d been stripped of her ring, but the windows were black, the work that once went on between its walls ceased. Now, it stood at the entrance to the piers like a hollow cask.
The other buildings followed the shore. I studied their hand-painted signs with letters scratched and faded from the sea winds, making my way farther from the city’s center. The nearly illegible numbers jumped from three to seven to nine, and then up to fifteen, with seemingly no order to them. There wasn’t a single pier I could see with the number fourteen.
I grumbled a curse. If I couldn’t even find a pier on my own, there was little chance Henrik would trust me with anything else. And I wasn’t going to give Ezra more reason to argue with him about giving me the next job. The only way I was going to earn a stake in the family was by doing what I was told and doing it well.
I stood in the middle of the street, turning in a circle when a woman came around the corner with a long loaf of bread tucked beneath her arm. Her scrutinizing attention found my frock as she passed. I’d changed back into the simple purple one I’d worn that morning, but it was still too nice to be worn beyond the harbor and it was drawing attention.
“Excuse me.” I stepped forward and the woman instantly moved back, nearly hitting me with the bread. “Sorry.” I cleared my throat. “I’m looking for pier fourteen.”
Her mouth went crooked with a frown. “Up there.” She nudged a shoulder toward the top of the next hill and kept walking.
I looked down at the piece of torn parchment in my hand, sighing. That couldn’t be right. If it was a pier, it should have been on the water, but the building at the top of the hill was in the opposite direction. Its chimney was blackened at the mouth, the roof shingles crumbling, and there were no windows to speak of.
I wove in and out of the people flooding down toward the street, turning to press myself against the nearest building when a caravan of carts piled with freshly shorn wool came barreling through. One of the wheels caught a groove in the cobblestones and I jumped to the side as a spray of mud splashed my skirts. I groaned, shaking them out and kicking the water from my boots.