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Book: The Fuller's Apprentice (The Chronicles of Tevenar Book 1) by Angela Holder
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Authors: Angela Holder
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hawk swooping down on the mouse and enjoying a messy meal right in the middle of the service. But the two animals ignored each other, and Josiah’s attention drifted again.
The floor of the Hall was laid out in intricate marble tiles. Josiah noticed a network of lines in subtle blacks and grays, like a spider’s web, radiating from the mosaic of the Mother’s hands at the center of the room to the farthest corners of the hall. Here and there in the pattern were round medallions with what Josiah at first took to be abstract designs. He studied the one nearest his feet. Was that a fish, and the suggestion of a net? Intrigued, he searched the floor until he found another. He wasn’t quite sure, but that one might be a spiraling thread and a spindle. And there, around the curve of the circle, but still visible, was a symbol that could only be a millstone and an ear of grain.
A woman had risen and was speaking. “…as I was kneading the dough, I thought about the yeast in the bread, how it just takes a little bit, but it spreads through the bread, and changes what would be heavy and dull into something light and fluffy and good. And I thought about how that is like the Mother’s gifts to us, how only a little can spread through the world, doing her good…”
Josiah tuned out the speaker, hunting for references to more crafts among the stones of the floor. He succeeded in spotting a carpenter’s square and hammer, a cooper’s barrel, and a knitter’s needles. He was puzzled by one that depicted an oddly shaped tool he’d never seen before, and another that had to be more than a random pattern of lines, although he couldn’t make out what it was supposed to represent.
He wondered if the emblems continued throughout the hall. He twisted around to look behind him. Yes, there was a vintner’s grapes, and a player’s harp and flute, and a herder’s crook…
A man’s voice droned on. “…as it says in the Law, chapter three, line ninety seven…”
Was that a design hidden in the shadows under the bench next to him? Josiah leaned back. He could barely make out a curving line that just might be the edge of a bolt of cloth. He craned as far as he could, but the design was too far under the bench for him to make out the rest.
Up on his knees he could see better. Yes, it was definitely cloth, and was that the beam of a fulling stock? If he stretched just a little more, he could glimpse the head and know for sure…
He hung half over the back of his chair. It creaked under his weight. A little further…
The chair tipped over and crashed to the floor.
It was indeed a fulling stock, Josiah saw. His position sprawled on the ground gave him a clear view under the bench. He wished he could crawl beneath it and hide. Face burning, he climbed to his feet. Every eye in the hall stared at him. He rubbed his bruised shoulder and unfolded his chair as quickly as he could. The old woman glared at him. He sat, meekly bowed his head, and folded his hands in his lap.
He dared a glance at Elkan. The wizard regarded him with exasperation and a thread of doubt.
Josiah ducked his head again, stomach churning with shame. After another long moment of silence, the man began to speak again. “As I was saying, if you compare that with what it says in the second volume of the Histories, in the account of Nachmanke the Foolish…”
For the rest of the service Josiah suffered in frozen silence. Speaker after speaker rose and shared their insights, whether trite or profound, into the nature of the Mother. He was sure at least a week had passed. His shoulder ached, but he dared not move it.
At very long last, silence again settled over the hall, stretching unbroken for many minutes. Eventually Tivon rose, pausing a moment to give any stragglers a chance to speak. When no one did, he said, “In your name, Mother, and for your sake, we offer these, the cares of our hearts and the thoughts of our minds. Be with us in the week to come, as
The floor of the Hall was laid out in intricate marble tiles. Josiah noticed a network of lines in subtle blacks and grays, like a spider’s web, radiating from the mosaic of the Mother’s hands at the center of the room to the farthest corners of the hall. Here and there in the pattern were round medallions with what Josiah at first took to be abstract designs. He studied the one nearest his feet. Was that a fish, and the suggestion of a net? Intrigued, he searched the floor until he found another. He wasn’t quite sure, but that one might be a spiraling thread and a spindle. And there, around the curve of the circle, but still visible, was a symbol that could only be a millstone and an ear of grain.
A woman had risen and was speaking. “…as I was kneading the dough, I thought about the yeast in the bread, how it just takes a little bit, but it spreads through the bread, and changes what would be heavy and dull into something light and fluffy and good. And I thought about how that is like the Mother’s gifts to us, how only a little can spread through the world, doing her good…”
Josiah tuned out the speaker, hunting for references to more crafts among the stones of the floor. He succeeded in spotting a carpenter’s square and hammer, a cooper’s barrel, and a knitter’s needles. He was puzzled by one that depicted an oddly shaped tool he’d never seen before, and another that had to be more than a random pattern of lines, although he couldn’t make out what it was supposed to represent.
He wondered if the emblems continued throughout the hall. He twisted around to look behind him. Yes, there was a vintner’s grapes, and a player’s harp and flute, and a herder’s crook…
A man’s voice droned on. “…as it says in the Law, chapter three, line ninety seven…”
Was that a design hidden in the shadows under the bench next to him? Josiah leaned back. He could barely make out a curving line that just might be the edge of a bolt of cloth. He craned as far as he could, but the design was too far under the bench for him to make out the rest.
Up on his knees he could see better. Yes, it was definitely cloth, and was that the beam of a fulling stock? If he stretched just a little more, he could glimpse the head and know for sure…
He hung half over the back of his chair. It creaked under his weight. A little further…
The chair tipped over and crashed to the floor.
It was indeed a fulling stock, Josiah saw. His position sprawled on the ground gave him a clear view under the bench. He wished he could crawl beneath it and hide. Face burning, he climbed to his feet. Every eye in the hall stared at him. He rubbed his bruised shoulder and unfolded his chair as quickly as he could. The old woman glared at him. He sat, meekly bowed his head, and folded his hands in his lap.
He dared a glance at Elkan. The wizard regarded him with exasperation and a thread of doubt.
Josiah ducked his head again, stomach churning with shame. After another long moment of silence, the man began to speak again. “As I was saying, if you compare that with what it says in the second volume of the Histories, in the account of Nachmanke the Foolish…”
For the rest of the service Josiah suffered in frozen silence. Speaker after speaker rose and shared their insights, whether trite or profound, into the nature of the Mother. He was sure at least a week had passed. His shoulder ached, but he dared not move it.
At very long last, silence again settled over the hall, stretching unbroken for many minutes. Eventually Tivon rose, pausing a moment to give any stragglers a chance to speak. When no one did, he said, “In your name, Mother, and for your sake, we offer these, the cares of our hearts and the thoughts of our minds. Be with us in the week to come, as
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