The smoke bleached to white. “The skin is as thin as a butterfly’s wing yet strong enough to turn aside the sharpest sword.”
The pride in ITs voice made me smile. Then I wondered if IT was ashamed of the rest of ITself, and that made me want to pet IT.
I set off again, staying within the shelter of ITs beautiful wing. As we walked, the rain waxed into a downpour. I wondered what time it was. Near dusk, I guessed.
IT craned ITs head toward me. “You will offer yourself for a longer free apprenticeship.” IT must have seen my surprise, because IT added, “First I used inductive reasoning, in that you are headed for the mansions and you have no silvers and you attempt an accent not native to you. The rest is deductive. What can you offer but lengthy labor and talent, if you really are talented? The mansioner master is called Sulow.”
“Do you know him well?”
“Without exception, I know people better than they think. Most I know better than they know themselves.”
“Is he a kind master?”
Enh enh enh. “Try your Two Castles accent on him.”
I couldn’t tell if this was good advice or the opposite.
“Your robber was a cat, was it not?”
“Yes.”
“You wonder how I know.”
I was sure IT would tell me.
“You are a sensible girl, aside from desiring to be a mansioner. You would not have let a human thief near you.”
“Thank you.” I wished Mother could hear someone call me sensible—without knowing the someone was a dragon.
The road ended in mud and patches of grass. We approached the mansions from the rear. Each one was a huge rectangular box on wheels, though the wheels had been stopped with chunks of wood. During performances and rehearsals, the front long side of the mansion would be taken away, revealing the mansioners and the scenery. I heard no voices and guessed that the boxes had been shut against the weather.
Cats huddled under every mansion, waiting for fairer weather or for a hapless field mouse.
“If he is here, Sulow will be in the yellow mansion.”
Yellow for comedy. I wondered what that might signify.
We circled the mansion. A procession of jesters had been painted on the outside: juggling, beating drums, playing flutes, turning somersaults. Rounding the corner to the front, we found the door open just a crack.
Masteress Meenore folded ITs wing. I was soaked instantly.
The drenching gave me inspiration. Every year I had seen the mansioners of Lahnt perform The Princess and the Pea. I had tried the princess role at home, and Albin said it was my best. Now here I was, sufficiently bedraggled for a dozen true princesses.
I spoke the princess’s first line soundlessly because my voice had fled. My knock on the door was a whisper tap.
But after a moment the door creaked, and I heard, “Meenore?” in the round, sonorous tones of a mansioner.
I didn’t trust IT enough to attempt an accent. “Throw wide the castle doors”—by lucky accident, I sneezed three times as the door finished opening—“to admit a young princess of exalted lineage.”
A man of middling height stood in the doorway. He was thin, but with a moon face, flat nose, tight mouth, and shrewd, heavily lidded eyes that slid past me. “Go away, Meenore. I haven’t reconsidered.”
“Wait!” I cried.
“Sulow,” IT said, catching the door with a claw, “have I asked you to reconsider?” Raindrops sparkled in the red glow of ITs nostrils. “Here is an aspiring mansioner.”
Master Sulow’s eyes took me in at last. Puzzlement or annoyance creased his brow. “Yes?”
I spoke in a rush. “I seek an apprenticeship, a fifteen-year, free apprenticeship. I will labor harder and longer than—”
“There are no free apprenticeships. How old are you?”
Be truthful, Mother said. “Fourteen.”
Enh enh enh.
How I hated IT!
“Your name?”
“Lodie. I mean, Elodie, Master Sulow.”
“Can you wield a paintbrush?”
Be truthful. “Certainly.”
“A needle?”
That I could. “Yes.”
“You would toil without a tin for fifteen years, until you are twenty-seven?” His lips twitched. “Unpaid, unheralded for such a span of time?”
“If I will be a mansioner at the end of it, gladly.”
“Then you may audition for me.”
Perhaps the kitten had been lucky after all. Apprentice mansioners didn’t usually audition, since they wouldn’t be acting for years. I reasoned that Master Sulow must have a particular role in mind.
“Come in.” He backed away to let me in. “I have another guest, Young Elodie. Master Thiel here wants to be a mansioner as well, along with his cat.”
Did Master Thiel love mansioning, too? Were we kindred souls? I mounted the two steps and stood just inside the door.
Master Sulow sounded exasperated. “His cat! Without apprenticing, either one of them. And Meenore wants to sell ITs skewers at my entertainments.”