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The alchemical commission from Princess Annek had included a request--a command, really--to move the work onto the palace grounds. Royalty could command more space and better equipment than the old workshop had afforded. More luxury, as well, and though Antuniet might scoff, Margerit saw a message in those details.
* * *
Margerit had seen the palace workshop before but it had seemed cold and hollow while the construction was in progress. This evening it felt inhabited and alive, from the gleaming tile on the benchtops to the shelves crowded with bottles and apothecary jars. And in the center of the room stood the engineers' masterpiece: the great revolving furnace with its wheels and gears standing ready to align the work to the fraction of a degree. The floor tiles radiated from it in a compass rose but that was just for show, as were the chased zodiacal designs on the gears. “Antuniet,” she breathed, “it's beautiful!”
Antuniet looked up briefly from where she was sifting powders. “That wasn't my choice, but I'm not paying the workmen’s fees so they can dress it up however they like, as long as it works. Anna, could you check the copper? I'm not sure we have enough of the triple-distilled for tomorrow.”
Margerit traded her coat for a pinafore and tied a scarf around her hair. “But it's still beautiful. Doesn't that speak to how much Her Grace values your work?” She knew Antuniet still had sleepless nights in fear the gift would be found wanting.
The answer was one of Antuniet's self-effacing shrugs. “It could all be nothing more than a show for others. Why else go to all this length before I've proven myself? But the equipment functions; that's what matters. We ran a simple process yesterday to test the alignment and it's as precise as even your visitatio could make it.”
* * *
Margerit had seen the palace workshop before but it had seemed cold and hollow while the construction was in progress. This evening it felt inhabited and alive, from the gleaming tile on the benchtops to the shelves crowded with bottles and apothecary jars. And in the center of the room stood the engineers' masterpiece: the great revolving furnace with its wheels and gears standing ready to align the work to the fraction of a degree. The floor tiles radiated from it in a compass rose but that was just for show, as were the chased zodiacal designs on the gears. “Antuniet,” she breathed, “it's beautiful!”
Antuniet looked up briefly from where she was sifting powders. “That wasn't my choice, but I'm not paying the workmen’s fees so they can dress it up however they like, as long as it works. Anna, could you check the copper? I'm not sure we have enough of the triple-distilled for tomorrow.”
Margerit traded her coat for a pinafore and tied a scarf around her hair. “But it's still beautiful. Doesn't that speak to how much Her Grace values your work?” She knew Antuniet still had sleepless nights in fear the gift would be found wanting.
The answer was one of Antuniet's self-effacing shrugs. “It could all be nothing more than a show for others. Why else go to all this length before I've proven myself? But the equipment functions; that's what matters. We ran a simple process yesterday to test the alignment and it's as precise as even your visitatio could make it.”
