Graven Images Read Online Free PDF Page A

Quince from his bench. “Look who’s come through the door
at last.
”
    Nicholas lowered his guilty eyes and speedily emptied his basket.
    “Tell me, Zeph,” said Mr. Quince, aiming a wink at his brawny journeyman. “Does the boy seem to have grown since he left?”
    Zeph scratched at his grubby whiskers and clamped an eye on Nicholas. “I believe you’re right, sir. Shot up like a beanstalk.” He raised his mallet and returned to pounding the leather on his lapstone. “One more chore on his list of errands and I’m afraid he’d be stoopin’ to get through the door.”
    Nicholas cast a glance at the doorway and Zeph let out a gravelly laugh.
    “Your job’s
making
shoes,” barked Mr. Quince, “not wearing ’em out. To work with you, lad!”
    The apprentice sat down and commenced beating leather, staring raptly across at his master, who was finishing up a shoe brought in for repair by Juliana herself. Dreamily, Nicholas eyed the shoe’s buckle, as if beholding in the glint of the brass the sparkle in Juliana’s own eyes.
    “And remember, lad! Alert as a hare — a hare with hounds at its heels!”
    A butcher’s wagon stopped in the street. Mr. Quince stepped out to inspect the meat while Nicholas endeavored, as best he could, to put a harelike look in his eyes.
    “Spring be late this year, apprentice,” boomed Zeph above the noise of their mallets.
    “Yes, sir, it is,” replied Nicholas.
    In unison they pounded their lapstones, softening pieces of sturdy sole leather.
    “Aye, the courtin’ season be short.” The journeyman grinned at Nicholas. “Not a moment to lose, lad!” he shouted out. “Take a lesson from Zeph and be bold with the girls!”
    He launched into whistling a merry tune. Then he stopped his pounding. Nicholas stopped too.
    “Now, take the case of our Mr. Quince.” He leaned toward Nicholas and lowered his voice. “His suffering heart’s in thrall to Miss Catchfly, and has been now for six full years!”
    The apprentice gaped at Zeph in shock. Such an unlikely possibility, like that of the sun falling out of the sky or the oceans draining into the earth, had never before occurred to him.
    “Why, that sulfur-tongued spinster would snatch up a suitor quick as a frog would a fly. And yet our master is
still
accumulating the courage to speak his heart to her. And has been ever since he first took her size — and beheld her delicate pair of feet!”
    The journeyman burst out into a laugh and returned to beating his leather.
    “‘Ethereal,’ I’ve heard him call ’em. ‘Fit for a goddess.’ ‘The pinnacle of beauty.’ Whispered to his workbench, mind you, instead of to the woman herself.” He shook his head and returned to beating his leather. “Nay, boy, take your learning from Zeph. Don’t dally about with the girls. Be bold!”
    He flashed a grin at Nicholas as Mr. Quince walked in, empty-handed.
    “Poor-looking pickings?” Zeph inquired.
    Mr. Quince heated a burnishing iron. “On the contrary, the meat was of the highest quality — if you were looking to make it into boots.”
    He rubbed the hot iron along the heel and sole of Juliana’s shoe, vigorously bringing a gloss to the leather. Then Nicholas watched as Mr. Quince quickly applied a coat of tallow, dismayed that his master should handle the shoe with such familiarity, instead of the reverence it deserved.
    “No, my lads, no meat, I’m afraid. But Nicholas has guaranteed we shan’t starve.” Mr. Quince eyed the shoe, set it on a shelf, and lit his pipe with an ember. “That is, if our dreamy-eyed provider remembered to purchase bread at the bakery.”
    Nicholas pricked up his ears. “Yes, sir.”
    “And the sole knife the cutler repaired?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “And honey?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “And a half-dozen candles?”
    Nicholas froze, panic-stricken.
    “For the illumination tomorrow night?”
Mr. Quince refreshed his memory.
    Suddenly Nicholas recalled the words, licked his lips, and put