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commission. And what reason would she have to put that trust in me until the work is proven? You know the poor repute of alchemy. The work is sound; I know it. But I don’t care to puff it off until there’s something to show. No, I don’t want to approach her until I can present a gift valuable enough to redeem our name.”
    “Is this all for family honor, then? What did the name of Chazillen ever bring you that you owe it so much?” Jeanne said, shaking her head sadly. “You would have left it behind at marriage—you may yet. Work for your own future, not that of a tainted name.”
    Antuniet stood abruptly and said, “I thank you for your time—and for not throwing me out on the street at sight.”
    “Tcha, there’s no need for that. I’ll ask around, if you wish. I might find someone who will take you on. Give me a week or so to try. What is your direction?”
    There was an awkward hesitation. “My plans are not yet certain at the moment.”
    Jeanne saw through the evasion, and all the humor and affectation dropped away. “Antuniet, how badly in need are you?”
    She shrugged, which was answer enough from one once nicknamed “the proud.”
    Jeanne crossed to her writing desk and drew out a box to count over a few notes. Antuniet bristled when Jeanne pressed them into her hand. “But chérie ,” Jeanne pointed out, “you came here looking for a patron. This is nothing. Are you willing to swallow a horse but turn your nose up at a flea? Come back a week Tuesday. We can have a cozy little supper just us two and I’ll tell you what I’ve been able to manage.”
    * * *
    It was never Jeanne’s habit to sit quietly in contemplation, so after Antuniet left she sent for Marien to help her change into a walking dress. There was no time like the present to begin, and she had a few ideas of whom to approach first. How very interesting the Rotenek season had suddenly become!
    There was no reason to hire a fiacre as long as she kept north of the river, and the day was fine for walking. She was approaching the Plaiz along the Merketrez when a carriage pulled up beside her and a pink-cheeked face framed by a precise row of tiny ringlets peeked around the lowered hood.
    “Wherever are you going in such a hurry?”
    Jeanne stopped and smiled. “Was I hurrying, Tio? I wasn’t paying attention. I’m off to Mesnera Chaluk’s.”
    “May I come along?” Tionez asked. “I haven’t seen her since I arrived back in town.”
    Jeanne said, with a carefully insouciant air, “It’s only tedious business, I’m afraid. You’d be bored to tears. But you may take me up and we’ll have all the way to the Plaiz Nof to chat.”
    Tionez seemed little heartbroken by the refusal, for the moment the horses started up again, she moved closer on the seat and leaned over to whisper in her ear, “I’d rather have five minutes alone with you than an hour in company anytime.” Her eyes gazed up from under brows too straight and thin for the coquettish look to be truly successful, but Jeanne took the invitation and toyed with Tio’s gloved hand, kissing each of the fingertips in turn. Tio would never go further than such flirtation, but she loved to think of herself as scandalous. And there were few things more safely scandalous than to be rumored to be one of de Cherdillac’s amours.
    “And where were you off to when I crossed your path?” Jeanne asked.
    “My dressmaker. I’m having a daring new riding habit made. You’ve heard that Efriturik is taking a hunting party down to Feniz? You simply must get me an invitation! My husband is wild to go and I want to go with him.”
    “But Tio,” Jeanne protested, “I know almost nobody in his set. Easier to get you tea with the princess! And I rather doubt it will be the sort of expedition where women are welcome.”
    Tionez pouted. “Saveze is going.”
    “Barbara is another matter entirely. But—” She considered the possibilities. One could propose the argument that