The Calligrapher

Chapter Two: Cold Feet Are Better Than Wet Feet

The next morning, after the boxes have been assembled and Basil has kicked me out for the afternoon, I'm putting up shelves in Lennan's shop. They're wrapping orders, mostly portraits of dying wives and land deeds. Itir is writing out order receipts and the thousand other mundane tasks that come across Lennan's desk.

There's a knock at the door, confident and official. They don't wait to open it, giving me a glimpse of the short line outside in the snow. The figure tracks in some of the powder with them, and Lennan waves it gone without a glance.

It is a woman, wrapped in a thick cloak. As she takes off her hood, long dark hair tumbles out in thin, tight braids. They reach her waist, framing a familiar face that glows with cheer and humor. Her coat blows open, revealing thick leather armor covering her from chest to ankle. She is healthy, well-fed, and clearly unaffected by our town's plague. In short, she has come from the castle.

"Kahina!" I hear Itir call from the back. Lennan looks up, and their composure breaks for a fraction of a second. No one but Itir and myself could tell, but Lennan suddenly looks awestruck, smitten beyond my comprehension, and utterly adoring.

Then the mask of indifference is back. They set down their disk of canvas, ink-washed paintings of children emblazoned on the surface.

"Kahina. Nice to see you again. I trust you have a letter from the Countess?" Kahina smiles, white teeth gleaming and eyes glowing.

"Yes, of course, Lennan. It's been too long; I missed you." I can practically hear Lennan's heart stutter from here, and I snort into my own mug. Lennan glares at me and flicks their fingers. I am thrown from my chair, which skids and lands itself in front of Kahina.

Lennan smiles tightly as I grumble on the floor beside the perpetually-grumpy dragon.

"Kahina, have a seat. Itir, please take care of the other customers. Send in any hard ones." Itir rises from his spot beside the small desk, and I let myself admire his form for just a moment. He's smaller than I but not by much. His shirt is worn, but it is whole and it looks soft. His hair curls down to just below his ears, and I catch myself reaching out to touch his shoulder as he passes by me. I quickly retract my hand, inwardly cursing myself.

He opens the door, and a gust of wind carries white puffs of snow in with it. Lennan twitches their wrist, and the snow stops against an invisible barrier. Kahina reaches into her pack and draws out a piece of stiff expensive paper. She hands it to Lennan, and I can see their lips curl into a sneer as they read it.

"Who made this?!" They demand, brandishing the letter. Kahina looks taken aback.

"What-what do you mean?"

"This is not her handwriting! The Countess paid someone else tae write this garbage for her!" Lennan's cheeks are flaming red, contrasting against their temporarily green eyes. I hear a commotion outside, but it barely registers past Lennan's anger. Kahina still looks startled.

"Well, of course. She just hired that new scribe-" She's cut off by a knife whizzing past her to embed in the door frame next to the first.

"Stop clamoring and get yer arse in here afore I chop it off!" After a second, a woman comes in, trembling slightly, with a determined look in her eyes. Lennan glares at her with a look hotter than my forge. Anyone stubborn enough to argue with Itir within twenty leagues of Lennan is either suicidal or desperate.

"Now, what do you have for me that's so hard Itir couldn't take care of it?" They sound annoyed at the interruption, and I can almost see the woman's metaphorical feathers ruffle.

"I need you to do a letter for me, witch." Kahina's eyes meet mine, and we both raise our eyebrows. This can not end well.

"T'aint so bloody difficult; now give me some real work or-" Lennan is interrupted, and my heart sinks. I was looking forward to a peaceful morning.

"I need the letter to be convincing, and they said that you can... make that happen, so to say. I have it written; it just needs your touch, if it isn't beneath you." The contempt in her voice puts me instantly on guard. I scoot back slightly.

Lennan smiles very, very, slowly, exposing sharp, metal-edged teeth. Their hair wriggles out of its customary blue headscarf, which unwraps to come around their shoulders like a cloak.

"Aye. I can do that. Letter." The woman, nose upturned, shoves a piece of thick parchment at Lennan's table. They take it and read it over. With a wave of their hand, a jar floats down off a shelf. They grab a pinch of glittering translucent powder. They blow it over the parchment where it coats every letter with a thin layer of shine. Lennan carefully rerolls it into a tube and ties it with a dark purple ribbon. They hand it back, their eyes shining a deep golden behind a stray lock of wine-colored hair.

"Hope it's to your taste." The woman accepts it with a sniff and turns to leave.

"Ah, no. There's still the matter of my payment." She stops and digs in her purse and tosses a dented copper coin on the table. It rattles slightly against the wood. Lennan lifts one eyebrow.

"I don't believe that's in accordance with my rates, miss." The woman works her tongue in her mouth and darts her eyes to the side.

"You didn't do so much. Why should I pay you for blowing a little dust?" Her voice is high and reedy, possibly fearful. Lennan grins and snaps their fingers. The air ripples slightly then calms again. They flick the coin back into the woman's face.

"No charge. Now leave." She leaves, mumbling insults all the way. Lennan's hair uncurls, falling back over their shoulders.

"Sorry, Kahina. What were you saying?" Kahina's eyebrows are raised and her hand is on the dagger concealed in the ornate sheath at her hip.

"What did you do to that woman? You know I can't let you go around-"

"Relax, doll.", Lennan interrupted, "Her feet will never be dry for any moment for the rest of her short, miserable life is all." They smile again, and I shudder. Their teeth really are quite sharp. Kahina looks intrigued but seems to remember her mission.

"Anyway, the business at hand. The Countess would like you to accompany her tonight at a diplomatic dinner as translator and village representative. You may, of course, bring your apprentice as well as one other tradesman from the village. The purpose of the dinner is to showcase you and yours in order to encourage trade." Lennan takes another sip from their cup of steaming blue liquid.

"How many times did she make you repeat that?" Kahina hesitates.

"Fourteen." Lennan rolls their eyes.

"Reina knows I can read, right?" They wave the invitation, then gesture at the whole of the shop.

"Yes, Lady Culnage is aware."

"I'll be there. Asas, go ask your master if he wishes to attend." They wave me out, and I leave, belly full and Sparky warming my shoulders. When I arrive back at the forge, Basil is sound asleep on a pallet. My pallet, I notice. I kick him in the leg until he grunts and swats at me.

"Wha' you wan'?"

"Do you want to attend a diplomatic ball-dinner with Lennan and the Countess as a tradesman's representative?"

"Fuck, no."

"I didn't think so. Y'need to find someone, then." Basil groans, loud and long.

"I officially charge you to go on my behalf. Please convey my compliments to her Ladyship and the witch. Now let me sleep afore I chuck you in the forge."