Snippet #2397736

"A pleasure, Ser Naya," Ianthe said, daubing a kerchief at his mouth and with a curt inclination of his head. "A lovely name."
The Knight appeared to be feeling more comfortable in her own skin; at least, such was Ianthe's perception. Likely she was fumbling, beneath the surface, to an erroneous degree. Some are able with a blade, Ianthe thought, and others with their tongue. This one is surely not of the latter's persuasion. She's about as savvy as a plank of wood. He chuckled lowly, without thinking, but quickly caught himself, so as not to appear rude. Despite his scruples, and his predispositions, he was beginning to warm to this Naya. She is no threat to me, he speculated, at least, so long as she keeps her sword firmly sheathed. A God-Queen's Knight was certainly no milksop, and while Ianthe was rather capable with blade in hand, he was not certain that should they come to blows he would not come out sans a limb or two. Ianthe doubted that such an occasion would ever come to pass, but he had grown accustomed to considering every possibility.

She pressed him once again on the matter of jeweling, and he began to comb his memory, searching for some manner to patch what had fallen through the cracks. Of course, Naya would be no consummate authority on jeweling and all of its essentials, so he figured that his cover would hold up to her scrutiny. When the Knight reached hesitantly for a heel of bread, he nodded his head in assent, saying, "Of course, you may help yourself, my friend. And, should you desire something more substantial, I have here half a capon and roasted onions uneaten that you may indulge in. The fowl is quite exquisite, with a light touch of mace and peppercorns and the fragrance of marjoram. The chef is a prodigy." Ianthe, perhaps with the hopes that the poor thing would unwind a bit, took the amphora of rice wine and poured her a cup, which he wordlessly passed across the table before replenishing his own. "But, I digress. My apologies; now, on to the main line of inquiry," Ianthe began, running his finger along the rim of his cup.

Then, with an air that he had observed in craftsmen given the opportunity to inform the naive of the true rigors of their noble labors, "My trade is a lonely one, I confess. Many hours huddled in the back of a hot workshop, back bent, legs aching, arms spent...and, of course, one must keep one's mind as prone and sharp as castle-forged steel. But it is an art, a true art of the highest and rarest order, and one that invokes the best of all of one's faculties and resources. For instance--and I assure you that I in no way intend to impugn these noble professions--a blacksmith, should he discover some tincture of fault in a horseshoe, or a hammerhead, or, yes, even a fine shirt of mail or steel blade, must resign themselves, cursing and fuming, to begin anew. It might be at the expense of several days of work, but it can be done. The hills won't run out of iron any time soon. Similarly, a tanner, should he bodge the tooling of a pair of calfskin boots or the gilding of a sheet of cordovan, has no course but to renew their efforts. The world will not, by the God-Queen's benediction, in any foreseeable future exhaust itself of its supply of cows."

"But a gem...a gem is another matter entirely. A setting, whether of gold, silver, what have you, can of course be easily replaced. It is a trifle, inconsequential. But, a gem is a marvel, a marvel of nature, a singular phenomenon, each separate, unique. To miscut a gem is to chop down an ancient tree. It is a relic of the processes that shaped the world. Who knows, when one magnificent gem is discovered, that its equal will ever be found again? Can a fabulous emerald truly find its peer in some lesser stone? Is some shade of an agate found on the bottom of some obscure riverbed comparable to a piece of chalcedony with the most remarkable striation? I think not, and neither do my clients' purses. I have found myself in the service of emperors, princes, aristocrats, debutantes...and I must say that they are no sticklers. For their lover's cameos they expect Ilian sardonyx, for their intaglios, Nabian amethyst, for their rings and necklaces and diadems, blood rubies and turquoise and brilliant topazes. And these things cost a great deal of gold, a great deal of gold, both out of my coffers and their own. Thus, there is much riding on my ability to take a stone, a plebeian rock by all appearances, and to transform it into what they expect: a radiant piece of jewelry that will set a parlor into frenzy. It requires focus, cunning, perception, a keen eye, and, as I like to call them, 'sparrow hands'."

Ianthe paused, wetting his lips with a sip of wine, and regarded the Knight with half lidded eyes. Bravo. He hoped that that had dispelled all doubts from her mind, and, for the nonce, satisfied her curiosity. He was, truth be told, out of ammunition. Though that oaf of a man in Sharakzah, his dear friend, did leave an impression of a jeweler's craft, it was only an impression. Ianthe, though he had often found himself in front of a jeweler's counter, rarely thought to inquire about the technicalities of the workshop. Words were, however, his strong suit, and he prayed that his glib tongue had saved him in this situation. Then, he was seized with a sudden flight of fancy. Naya had asked whether he had any gems with him. No... But what better way to validate his cover? You cannot, you fool. His hand hesitantly went to the pocket beneath his mantle; he felt the thing, through the soft velvet, cool and hard, but nonetheless burning like a hot coal. It is impossible...even on the off chance she had been there, it was so long ago...she would've been only a girl...there's no way she would remember. He gave her a darting look of poorly veiled scrutiny, before taking another drink of wine in some effort to cool him down, but to no avail. Beads of sweat began to make their slow way down his brow. She must think me mad. His fingers grasped into the obscurity of the pocket, and suddenly, he felt it, as bitter and cold as ice. Always so cold. However, as soon as it was within his grasp, as soon as he felt its chill against his skin, the numb metal began to warm. She is insignificant. She has no bearing. She does not walk with you along the path. She has no place in the design, in the mission, in your destiny. To lose all for the sake of this, for some Knight of the God-Queen, for a trifle, would be a folly of follies. A chance is still a chance, no matter how slim! It smoldered like a furnace in his palm. But... Ianthe succumbed, with his broadest of smiles. Fool. "My apologies, lady Knight. I had a momentary lapse in my thinking," he began, giving a half-hearted chuckle, "You were interested in seeing an example of my craftsmanship, I seem to recall. Luckily, I have on my person perhaps my greatest achievement. A moment, pray." From beneath the grey velvet of his mantle, Ianthe extracted the thing, but for the nonce kept it hidden. His eyes darted around the tavern; no one was paying any particular attention to them, thankfully, though some eyes lingered longer than he would have liked. "If you would, please come closer; I would rather that this piece not attract any envious eyes. Pardon my frankness, but the God-Queen's Knights, despite their valiance, cannot ensure the safety of all at all hours. The eventide attracts more...fearless characters." He then, with trepidation, removed from beneath his mantle something truly remarkable: A necklace of sterling silver, hung with what was still one of the largest and most brilliant sapphires Ianthe had ever seen. You will come to regret this. The brief light of the candle revealed an endless dimension of prismatic light playing beneath its surface, almost like an opal in its luminescence. Each medallion link of the necklace was ornamented with a another sapphire, about the size of the smallest finger's nail, but gleaming still with none diminished intensity. It was breathtaking; and in all of his years Ianthe had never beheld its equal. He admired it, long and well, and he was certain that Naya did likewise; it was impossible not to be bewitched. If I had only met with those who were on the path, I never would've learned anything, never seen anything, never changed anything. I would not be here today. I would not have achieved what I have, and would have never been able to hope to achieve what I will. There is something to be learned here, but it has not yet revealed itself. Patience. Without extricating his eyes from the jewel, he asked her, lightly, "Well...what do you think?" True. But you have forgotten this: one does not bear one's heart to an enemy. Think on that.