“If that’s really all that’s worrying you, then you can stop right now,” Zhorzhet told her. “Trust me, that’s exactly what Vicar Tahdayus is looking for, and his wife will love it. It’ll go perfectly with her hair and that new snow lizard coat he bought for her last month.”
“Oh, good.” Alahnah managed a slightly more genuine-looking smile. “I was really worried when she gave me the design commission. I mean, I knew she’d double-check everything and she wouldn’t approve anything she didn’t think would work, but it’s still a big step from shopgirl to assistant designer.”
“Oh, sweetheart!” Zhorzhet put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her quickly. “You’ve worked hard, and you’ve got a really good eye for colors and forms. I’m not a bit surprised Mistress Marzho’s offered you the promotion. And you deserve every bit of it, too!”
“Thank you.” Alahnah hugged her back. “That means a lot coming from you, especially, Zhorzhet.”
“Just remember I’m never untruthful … except for occasionally with a client who has more money than is good for her and no designer sense at all!”
Alahnah surprised herself with a giggle, and Zhorzhet released her. From the look in the older woman’s blue eyes, she wasn’t remotely convinced their employer’s approval or disapproval of Alahnah’s design was the only thing on her mind. But she’d never been the sort to pry; that was one of the things Alahnah most liked about her. If Alahnah asked her for help, she knew Zhorzhet would give it in a heartbeat, but there were some things no one could help with.
And there are also things you don’t involve friends in if you can help it, she reminded herself sternly.
She nodded to Zhorzhet and headed for the display window Mistress Marzho had asked her to rearrange before lunchtime. It was snowing again—heavily—and they didn’t expect much walk-in business on a day like this, so she should have plenty of time to do it right. She would have preferred brighter sunshine outside the shop windows, though. The dull, grey daylight leaking in through the cloud cover and snow was going to mute and deaden the finer gradations of color.
Well, you can always rearrange it again when we finally get a day with actual sunlight for a change, she thought. And in the meantime, it’ll give you something to do besides worry.
She bit her lip at that thought as she stepped into the window bay and began carefully taking down the current display of hats and mannequins. She told herself again—very firmly—that worrying never did any good. As Langhorne said, “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof, yet I tell you that that day will pass, as all evil passes. The worry within you will neither hasten or slow its passing, but rather put all fear from you and place your faith in God, Who will lift the burden of that uncertainty from you as He lifts all burdens.”
Unfortunately, she’d always found that particular injunction a little difficult to obey at the best of times. After almost two full days of silence from Uncle Gahstahn—on top of whatever had happened to Krystahl—worry and, yes, fear, had become her constant companions. She considered sharing that fear with Zhorzhet, but only briefly. She’d never actually discussed Krystahl’s concerns—or her own, for that matter—with Zhorzhet. She suspected the older woman would have offered a sympathetic ear, but that wasn’t the sort of conversation you involved people in. You could never be sure how they’d react, or how—and to whom—they might repeat it. And even leaving that aside, it could be dangerous for whoever you talked to. If there was any real basis for her worry over her cousin and her uncle, it was probably because Krystahl had had exactly that sort of conversation with the wrong person, and she liked Zhorzhet far too much to involve her in anything that might get her into trouble.
* * *
Zhorzhet Styvynsyn frowned as she updated the master ledger.
She had no idea what was preying on Alahnah’s spirit, but one thing she did know was that it wasn’t simple worry over whether or not Marzho Alysyn would approve the sketch design for Vicar Tahdayus’ wife’s hat. Oh, it was an important step for the younger woman, a commission that could go a long way towards establishing her as a premier designer in her own right. But Alahnah had known for years that it was a step she’d be taking eventually. The girl simply had too much talent for it to be any other way, and Marzho had always believed in grooming and supporting true talent.
Could it be a man problem? To the best of Zhorzhet’s knowledge, Alahnah wasn’t keeping company with anyone. She wasn’t a flighty girl, and Zhilbert Ahtkyn, the young man to whom she’d been betrothed, had volunteered for service in the Army of God. He’d been assigned to the Army of the Sylmahn, and her last letter from him was over three months old. Given what had happened to that army, a girl like Alahnah wasn’t going to be thinking much about other men—not yet, at least.
But something was obviously troubling her. On the other hand, God only knew there were troubles enough for anyone these days. She snorted softly at the thought. Some of those troubles were going to be worse for other people very shortly, and she’d take profound satisfaction in helping that happen. With any luck, and a little time—
The inner door to the shop’s vestibule slammed open so violently it actually knocked the bell above it off its mounting arm. The bell landed with a discordant jangle and Zhorzhet’s head snapped up.
Her eyes widened as two Temple Guardsmen crowded through the door, and then they darkened as an under-priest and a monk in the purple of the Order of Schueler followed them into the shop.
One hand rose to her throat and she swallowed hard. Then she wrapped her fingers around the locket on the fine chain around her neck. She pulled and popped it loose, concealing it in her palm as she stepped around the counter to greet the newcomers.
“Gentlemen,” she said, inclining her head to the guardsmen, then bowed more deeply to the cleric. “Father. How can Mistress Marzho’s serve you this afternoon?”
“I need a word with one of your employees,” the under-priest said, and his eyes were very cold. “A Mistress Alahnah Bahrns. She is employed here, yes?”
“Of course she is, Father,” Zhorzhet replied in a voice which was far calmer than she actually felt. “She’s here right now, in fact.”
“And how long has she been employed here?”
“For about two and a half or three years, I believe. I’d have to check Mistress Marzho’s ledgers to be more definite than that.”
“And have you ever had reason to question her fidelity to God and Mother Church?”
The question came out quickly, in a suddenly harder voice, and Zhorzhet stiffened.
“Never, Father!” She shook her head. “I’ve always believed Alahnah was a very pious young woman, truly devoted to Mother Church. I assure you, if I’d ever seen any evidence to the contrary I would have said something about it!”
“Would you?” He tilted his head, like a wyvern considering a rabbit who was about to become supper. “It’s good to discover such a dutiful daughter of Mother Church. Especially these days.”
“I’ve never been anything else, Father,” Zhorzhet assured him, feeling sweat bead her hairline and wondering if he’d notice. Not that seeing a little sweat, even out of the most innocent, should be anything unusual for an agent inquisitor when he started asking pointed questions.
“I’m sure.” He smiled thinly. “And where might I find Mistress Bahrns?”
“If you’ll follow me, Father,” she said, beckoning graciously with the hand which held the locket.
He stepped back half a pace to let him pass her, then fell in at her heels, and her pulse raced. The locket was getting sticky from her palm’s perspiration, and that was probably good. It would help keep it stuck in place until she needed it. If she needed it. If God was good, she wouldn’t, but she made herself draw a deep, cleansing breath and faced the possibility that she might.