was dancing from one foot to the other.
“Relax, Rosa. If they’re coming in to arrange for scaffolding, they’ll be there for hours. Even if they don’t come, it won’t be hard to find their camp.”
“I know, I know—Michael said that too. But I haven’t seen Rudy in months, and I just . . . You’ve never been in love, either of you. You don’t know what it’s like.”
Michael’s eyes fell to his plate, and he laid down his ham sandwich as if he’d suddenly lost his appetite. I was too hungry to succumb to sentiment, so I told Rosa she was right and went on with my breakfast. I had wondered a bit at the intensity of Michael’s infatuation for Rosamund. It seemed to me that when she had claimed he was her brother, she’d been telling Mrs. Inger the truth—at least, the true state of her own heart. She was beautiful, of course, but after a while most men see beyond a woman’s beauty, and Michael had known her all his life.
We were ready to go shortly, for Rosamund spent only half a minute settling her wide-brimmed straw hat and primping her reflection in the window before we set off. True love, indeed.
Huckerston was far more appealing in the sunlight than it had been last night, for the rain had washed the streets clean, and the mellow bricks glowed in the sun. Many of the buildings had thin, modern glass in their windows, and I deduced that there was a glassmaker in town. If ships started avoiding this port because of the wreckers, Huckerston would be in serious trouble. Crockery, glass, and most especially brick are too heavy to ship far overland. The reward must be . . . No. I didn’t want to know.
The Slippery Wheel was just outside the market square, and muddy roads hadn’t stopped the farm carts that filled it. They had three colors of onions in these parts, not just the yellow to which I was accustomed, and the vivid summer vegetables were bright as bunting. Michael offered to buy Rosamund a slice of golden melon, but she was too impatient to stop.
The farmers told us that all the streets in this part of town led to the Narrows Bridge, and that Wide Road would take us straight to Crescent Square. A slight exaggeration—we found the river easily, but we had to ask the boatmen who poled long barges up and down where the bridge might be.
After that, Wide Road took us east. If you marked the size and quality of the buildings, it was easy to guess where to turn to reach the town’s main square, though Michael regards such simple city navigation skills as a wondrous gift.
Crescent Square was crescent shaped, since its inner curve followed the river. Most of the guildhalls that surrounded it were fairly modest, except for the two buildings that perched on the crescent’s horns, presiding over the top and bottom of the “square.” The one we passed to reach the open cobbles was a mass of wings, abutments, and turrets, and the bricklayers had gone mad—every wall had bricks laid in a different pattern, so the wall where every few feet half a dozen bricks turned vertically met the wall where they marched in Vs like a herringbone knit, which met the wall where it ran into yet another pattern. The trowel and potter’s wheel on the banner outside their door explained it, though I’m not sure anything could excuse it. Even Michael shook his head sadly as we passed.
The building dominating the other end of the cobbled arena was almost as ugly in a different way. Uncompromisingly rectangular, its gray stone slabs and narrow windows made it look like a squinting gargoyle among the more sedate buildings around it, and it seemed to wear a prickly, defensive air.
“ ’Twas the first Lord Waterweis’s keep,” Michael murmured. “ ’Tis the town hall now. The tapster told us the family still holds the town in fief, but the Potters’ and Brickers’ Guild is appealing the High Liege for independent township.”
“I’ll bet the current Lord Waterweis is out for their blood,” I commented. If
“Relax, Rosa. If they’re coming in to arrange for scaffolding, they’ll be there for hours. Even if they don’t come, it won’t be hard to find their camp.”
“I know, I know—Michael said that too. But I haven’t seen Rudy in months, and I just . . . You’ve never been in love, either of you. You don’t know what it’s like.”
Michael’s eyes fell to his plate, and he laid down his ham sandwich as if he’d suddenly lost his appetite. I was too hungry to succumb to sentiment, so I told Rosa she was right and went on with my breakfast. I had wondered a bit at the intensity of Michael’s infatuation for Rosamund. It seemed to me that when she had claimed he was her brother, she’d been telling Mrs. Inger the truth—at least, the true state of her own heart. She was beautiful, of course, but after a while most men see beyond a woman’s beauty, and Michael had known her all his life.
We were ready to go shortly, for Rosamund spent only half a minute settling her wide-brimmed straw hat and primping her reflection in the window before we set off. True love, indeed.
Huckerston was far more appealing in the sunlight than it had been last night, for the rain had washed the streets clean, and the mellow bricks glowed in the sun. Many of the buildings had thin, modern glass in their windows, and I deduced that there was a glassmaker in town. If ships started avoiding this port because of the wreckers, Huckerston would be in serious trouble. Crockery, glass, and most especially brick are too heavy to ship far overland. The reward must be . . . No. I didn’t want to know.
The Slippery Wheel was just outside the market square, and muddy roads hadn’t stopped the farm carts that filled it. They had three colors of onions in these parts, not just the yellow to which I was accustomed, and the vivid summer vegetables were bright as bunting. Michael offered to buy Rosamund a slice of golden melon, but she was too impatient to stop.
The farmers told us that all the streets in this part of town led to the Narrows Bridge, and that Wide Road would take us straight to Crescent Square. A slight exaggeration—we found the river easily, but we had to ask the boatmen who poled long barges up and down where the bridge might be.
After that, Wide Road took us east. If you marked the size and quality of the buildings, it was easy to guess where to turn to reach the town’s main square, though Michael regards such simple city navigation skills as a wondrous gift.
Crescent Square was crescent shaped, since its inner curve followed the river. Most of the guildhalls that surrounded it were fairly modest, except for the two buildings that perched on the crescent’s horns, presiding over the top and bottom of the “square.” The one we passed to reach the open cobbles was a mass of wings, abutments, and turrets, and the bricklayers had gone mad—every wall had bricks laid in a different pattern, so the wall where every few feet half a dozen bricks turned vertically met the wall where they marched in Vs like a herringbone knit, which met the wall where it ran into yet another pattern. The trowel and potter’s wheel on the banner outside their door explained it, though I’m not sure anything could excuse it. Even Michael shook his head sadly as we passed.
The building dominating the other end of the cobbled arena was almost as ugly in a different way. Uncompromisingly rectangular, its gray stone slabs and narrow windows made it look like a squinting gargoyle among the more sedate buildings around it, and it seemed to wear a prickly, defensive air.
“ ’Twas the first Lord Waterweis’s keep,” Michael murmured. “ ’Tis the town hall now. The tapster told us the family still holds the town in fief, but the Potters’ and Brickers’ Guild is appealing the High Liege for independent township.”
“I’ll bet the current Lord Waterweis is out for their blood,” I commented. If
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