Up In The World [Colombina]

[Serasia]

89 Spring, 511

There was a cloud in the sky today; a wispy little thing that had persisted since it came up over the southern horizon that morning. It would not survive through the desert, but still it was something to look up at. Serasia was not usually superstitious, but she decided to take it as a good sign.

She strolled through the jewelry district as the last of dawn’s color disappeared into wide, pale blue. In her letter of calling, she had mentioned she would come that day and that time. She might have started out too early, but she could not have sat in her home any longer that she did. Besides, she would not want to keep him waiting. She was not nervous, no. She never became nervous. Her churning stomach and fluttering heart knew as well as her mind as to the importance of the day.

A small cloth bag, embroidered with old glass beads, settled at her side as she reached the storefront. Besides a money purse, it contained a few pieces of her own work, salvaged from her mother’s long dead business. They would serve as her resume—or even as a gift, if necessary. Through barely parted lips, she heaved a final breath for confidence and opened the door.

[Colombina]

Karawan's Shop Most the jeweler's shops were surprisingly simple. Pale walls with shelves of locked boxes and a long table separating the client from the door into the workshop and upper offices. A few painted benches sat in front of the table and two small chaises and a low drum like table overtook the corner left of the door. At the moment, black and lapis colored velvet were thrown across the table, though nothing sat on them. A man behind the table ceased unlocking a chest as Serasia walked in. Like most Eypharians, he was well dressed. But there was a taste of the theatric in his flowing red robes, and the turquoise studded bracers he wore. His braided hair was pulled back from him face. He was younger than expected with a narrow face and slightly hooked nose. "And what does the beauty seek today?" he asked charmingly.

[Serasia]

Her own attire consisted of a long white dress, accented by a single gold ornament that hung from her neck on a long black ribbon. The strap of her bag fell from her highest shoulder as she clutched it with her lowest pair of hands. She stepped towards the table between them, stiff face managing a smile. “Hello, Master Karawan,” she said. The man seemed pleasant enough, at first glance. She wanted him to be, at least, and so she persuaded herself. In her distraction, she neglected a reaction to his flattery.

“I wrote,” Serasia replied, her expression polite and nearly cheerful. She realized the abruptness of the words and compensated with perhaps too many. “I seek... a place to practice my gem-cutting, and to learn and improve in the art of jewelry making. An apprenticeship, I suppose.” Suddenly she remembered her purse, and with a quick movement began to produce the pieces she had brought in order to display them on the dark velvet. She forgot to ask him if he even wanted to see them.

First, she placed a pair of delicate teardrop earrings made of turquoise, tossing precariously on weak chains; then, an off-round circle of carnelian on a thick gold band which imitated a woven braid. The third piece was a short collar-chain that hung with glass spheres of green, black, and red, which would spill over a collarbone in a loose triangle. They might have been simpler than his usual taste, but neither had she much access to a very good workshop.

“These are some examples of my work,” Serasia explained. She leaned against the table with two of three right hands, attempting nonchalance.

[Colombina]

Karawan blinked at Serasia for a minute before responding to her initial reply. "You wrote?" He smiled and answered, "Perhaps you did, but I am not the sort to read any letters that lack perfume or family seals. My father said poor business sense would be my downfall." As she spread her samples on the counter, Karawan propped his upper elbows on the table with his hands supporting his chin. In this child-like pose, the other hands picked up the pieces and turned them over. "I like the earrings best. There is something infinitely beautiful about drawing attention to a woman's neck without overwhelming the eyes." He straightened, and tried the carnelian piece on his own wrist. "Now tell me why I should go through the trouble of training you? What vision can you bring that I do not already have?"

[Serasia]

The silence of moments lasted a year in Serasia’s definitely-not-nervous mind. In that time, panicked ideas swam to and from her closed mouth as her eyes attempted a look of idle contemplation. Words fell from her tongue before she knew what they were. “I’ve always sought to make something really original, even strange, something no one has seen before or thought to consider. The art of appearance is always changing, and I should like to be an agent of that change.”

But that was all ridiculous prattle, no matter how true it might have been. It was what anyone could say, and any jeweler in their right mind would agree with some version of the same. After a beat, the woman straightened from where she leaned and tried settle her voice in honesty. One hand rose to the pendant that hung from her neck, thumb tracing the symbol of Semele unconsciously.

“I am mostly inspired by the earth,” she began. The paint on her face masked the faint pink of annoyance; how contrived she must have sounded! Still she continued to the best of her ability, “The gems and metals are like another limb, a natural extension of an Eypharian’s beauty, like her make-up or the shine of her skin. Or his. Jewelry should grow from you, I think. The same way a blade grows from a Jackal’s arm. To wear a thing that only fits on the surface of a woman would be to overwhelm her, as you say.” She was not sure if it made much sense, but it had already left her head and reached his ears. There was nothing to do but smile, and so she did.

[Colombina]

The jeweler nodded unconsciously, in league with Serasia's style of thinking. He could not help but add to her thoughts. "A really fine piece of jewelry is a discovery. It brings something out of the woman she scarcely knew existed. A good jeweler can see more in a person then they can see in their self." Removing the carnelian piece from his wrist he went on. "But I am not Mishan. He worships line and form and all he does is subtle. My jewelry has a presence, but instead of making the woman, it mirrors her." Placing his palms on the table, Karawan began a proposition. "If you want to work with me, you need to be able to read the stories people tell. I will give you a chance to do this using my workshop and materials. The piece you construct at the end belongs to me and I will not pay you for your time." He paused making sure she understood. "I will bring you to the garden of concubines and show you several concubines who have admirers wishing to give them jewelry. You may pick one and design a piece for her." He shrugged, "If I like it you can stay."

[Serasia]

Her nod of assent was, perhaps, too hasty. She entertained a few questions in the back of her mind, but decided that they would all probably be answered in due time. Serasia let Karawan lead her out the door, though they knew the way the same.

While she could understand the purpose of the exercise, her limbs were stiff as she walked. Concubines were not women to be completed by jewels. They were capable of most exquisite beauty, to be sure, and they wore some of the finest pieces, to the People’s delight. But there was an emptiness in that sort of beauty which left a foul taste on her tongue. Like painted pots and marble statues, no amount of charm or grace could give one of those girls any character or decipherable spirit. Necklaces sat on their collarbones, not over their hearts.

Of course, Serasia had some vanity left in her. Despite her secret opinions, she believed that she could give a bit of fire to any of the servant-whores the jeweler would produce. As the smell of jasmine and safflowers rose into her nose, her gait softened. The pendant that hung above her navel was slippery beneath her grasp.

[Colombina]

The Garden was every bit as lovely as it promised to be, at least the portions they were allowed to see. Despite being a respected jeweler and a female disinterested in the charms of the concubines, Karawan and Serasia were closely watched and hemmed into a corner within the courtyard. After the jeweler had a quiet exchange with one of the Gardeners, a small parade of concubines began. Four women made their way into the courtyard, the first slinked, the second glided, the third minced and the fourth floated. They obediently stood in a neat line before the visitors, each bearing a different smile: cocky, quiet, expectant and secretive. Karawan greeted the ladies pleasantly and they returned the gesture with warmth or grace. They then looked at Serasia, awaiting her selection. Appraisal didn’t unnerve them. They lived with the constant knowledge that they were created to be evaluated and, hopefully, admired. “So,” the jeweler prompted, “Which would you like as a muse?”