Page 95 of Stardust Child

“I guess they would,” Ophele laughed, moving forward to examinethose fearsome fangs. She had seen enough sketches, and even glimpsed a real specimen, but a devil would hardly hold still long enough for her to examine its forked tongue.

“These are the creatures you are studying, my lady?” asked Lady Verr, appearing from the other side of the wagon.

“The most terrible of the Andelin devils,” said Master Didion, bowing. “Mionet, I had no notion you were coming.”

“Far from the Golden Leaf,” she agreed, and noticed Ophele looking curiously at them both. “We are acquainted, my lady,” she explained. “We frequented many of the same salons until His Grace hired Master Didion away. They are still telling stories of your rampage through the art district, Sousten.”

“I should hope so, I was hung over for a week afterward,” he replied, without the least embarrassment. “But it was worth it. I will employ only the most skilled hands in this endeavor.”

“Those who cannot do command those who can,” Lady Verr observed tartly. “But to some beautiful effect, I daresay even Dardot Melun would be jealous to havethesedogs leashed to his door…”

They were marvelous. The wolf demons stood nearly as tall as Ophele did, but the sculptor had given them a noble sort of savagery rather than just making them horrors. Ophele turned reluctantly away as Master Didion gestured to the massive house before them, white plaster and gray stone, elegantly framed with black-lacquered timbers. Large diamond-paned windows were flung open to the cool morning air, and she could just imagine waking up on the other side of those windows to look out onto the valley. Her imagination sketched over the muddy courtyard with hydrangeas and lilac, rambling honeysuckle and ornamental pines, with ivy on the walls and enormous Noreven sentry roses blooming under the window sashes.

“Anywhere else in the Empire, we would proof the threshold against magic, with prayers to the stars and oaths sworn to the Divinity,” Master Didion was saying, beckoning her onward. “But what better blessing could there be than the sacred presence of a Daughter of the Stars? Come, come, Your Grace. Mind the step.”

“This floor is safe to walk on?” Lady Verr asked, eying the rough timbers under their feet. The olive wood from Sachar Veche was on its way.

“No. Wear shoes on the first floor, and mind your skirts, I beg,” the architect replied immediately. “I did have the carpenters finish the second floor, so it will be safe in your suite, though I doubt you will want to run around barefoot in November in any case. But all floors are temporary until the olive wood arrives. I am told the tariff men at Vatan Port are paying particular attention to all imports destined for the Andelin Valley. The Divinity is concerned about foreign…contaminants.”

“Is he?” Ophele’s stomach lurched. “Does that…often concern him?”

“The gift of the Divinity’s attention is rare and precious,” Master Didion replied diplomatically, but Ophele heard the words loud and clear:poisoned sweet.“But all things come in their own good time, my lady, and we have more pleasant prospects before us, do we not? Beginning with this entry hall…”

Snapping his fingers briskly, he produced two assistants as if by magic, holding up another of his now-familiar sketches. It was a gorgeous stairway from several perspectives, with huge planters filling the space between the curve of the stairs and the wall. It was so unexpected and lovely that Ophele involuntarily stepped forward a few paces to see it better.

“For your approval,” the architect explained, puffing with pleasure. “We will bring the forest into the manor, you see. More of the Sachar Veche olive for the handrail and treads, and then these curving sections of wrought iron shaped like branches and vines, very natural, very beautiful. The leaf details are made of polished stone: moss agate, fluorite, and such. The plants will thrive indoors, so you need go no further than your grand entry for bouquets of star lilies, gardenia, and clover rose.”

“Do you like it, my lady?” asked Lady Verr, bending to examine the picture more closely.

“I love it,” she breathed, her eyes skimming the neatly labeled plants on the diagram, with notes in fine, spidery handwriting. “I even love this picture, the flowers are so pretty, it looks like the illustrations in a botany book. Could we save it?” she asked impulsively, glancing at Master Didion. “It seems a shame to throw these away.”

“I—that is, if you would like, Your Grace,” he replied, looking surprised at the idea.

“We could even frame them. Did you see, the notes say how to take care of the plants?” she asked, pointing them out to Lady Verr. “It wouldn’t look strange in the solar, would it?”

“It’s certainly no stranger than pictures I’ve seen in other houses,” Lady Verr agreed. “The others could go in the servants’ quarters. It is important to make them comfortable and give them pride in their House.”

“And have the artists sign them, please.” Ophele had just noticed that the assistant on the right side of the large sheet of paper was trying to hide behind it, and his obvious nervousness won her sympathy. She smiled at him. “Did you draw this?”

“I did, Your Grace. I mean, both me and Matissen,” he said, bobbing his head. He was a lean young man with a great quantity of flyaway brown curls. “I’m Aubin Rachard, if it please.”

“Then you both must sign all of them,” she said. “It is part of the history of the house. And you too, Master Didion. You thought of all of it, didn’t you?”

She was surprised to see the architect turn pink, waving away her praise.

“Of course, of course, if that is your wish, sweet lady. We have saved them to this point, and with proper frames…ahem.” He cleared his throat. “We will bear it in mind, with future designs, when we add our notes. Shall we proceed with the staircase, then?”

“Yes? Yes,” Ophele said more firmly, her pulse jump-scuttling in her throat.Sheliked it, but what if Remin didn’t? And how could she say otherwise to Master Didion, in any case? He was such an important architect and knew all about the capital, surely he knew what was best…

Biting her lip, she looked again at the place where the staircase would go, in all its curving elegance. Anything would be an improvement over the current structure, which was somewhere between a stairway and a ladder.

It proved a tricky object to negotiate as the morning wore on, and Ophele could only watch Sim, Jaose, and Adelan clambering up it a few times before she turned away, convinced on some instinctive level that no one would fall off it as long as she didn’t watch. Fortunately, there were other distractions at hand.

“I don’t mind telling you that we will be glad to gettheseout of theway,” said Master Didion, gesturing toward the line of crates currently being unloaded through the back door, where Sir Justenin was in shirtsleeves, ripping off their lids.

“Gifts from Duchess Ereguil,” Sir Justenin explained, and Ophele dove in, wishing again that Remin was there.

There were so many packages. Some of them were mundane but necessary items like sweet-scented candles and soap, while another box contained an entire set of dinnerware with a scrolling pattern in black and silver, the colors of House Andelin. There were salvers and tureens, a set of crystal with matching decanters, and several large, lovely vases that Ophele put aside with delight, to fill later with flowers and bold autumn leaves.

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