By the time Cal had finished enchanting the bowls, the day was getting light outside. It looked like it was going to be another bright, clear one, and Cal was pleased that they didn’t seem likely to get much more snow this winter. Alyn came to the door with the morning coffee, plus some rolls with bacon and scrambled egg, and some sweet pastries. Cal and Alyn chatted briefly on the doorstep, but Alyn seemed distracted. Cal invited him in, feeling bad that Alyn had felt the need to leave quickly the other day, but the baker didn’t want to hang about.

Cal looked about the street after Alyn left. It was still early, but there were a few people out on their business, hurrying to their work or back home from night shifts. Cal saw that Maddie’s shop shutters were opening up across the street.

“Max,” Cal said as he came back into the workshop with the breakfast, “I’m going to go over and see Maddie before we open up for the day.”

“Good idea,” Max replied. “Take some of the spider web. It looks pretty good now.”

“I’m going to,” Cal said, drinking hot coffee from the cup in his left hand as he picked up clumps of dry spider webbing from the hanger with the other. “I’ll put this in a bag, I think, so that it can’t be seen while I’m crossing the street. It looks pretty unremarkable now, but still…”

Cal drank down half his coffee, ate half his breakfast, then stuffed spider web into a bag. The webbing did look good - or rather, it didn’t look like anything much, and that was good. All traces of the purple glow had vanished, and the stuff itself was fine and light. It looked tangled and a bit messy, like undyed raw sheep’s wool but a bit less dense. As a mass, the webbing had a smooth feel, weirdy cold and almost a bit hard.

Strange to think that this unremarkable-looking material might unlock such completely new potential for the world of fabric makers. Cal shook his head in amazement at the way this had turned out. He smiled as he stuffed the webbing into the bag, took another bite of his breakfast, and headed over to see Maddie.

The only problem was that Maddie wasn’t in her shop.

“Oh, good morning, sir,” said a young woman behind the counter. “I’m sorry, I’m not quite open yet - you’re early! Is there something you need? If it’s something small I might be able to help you.”

She turned. Cal didn’t recognize her. She was a small, lightly-built, brown-haired woman a bit younger than Cal. She looked sleepy and earnest, and Cal found himself smiling at her. She blinked at him, smiled back, then gave him an odd look. “You don’t look like our usual kind of customer, sir,” she said, her speech quick and impulsive, as if she was used to just speaking her mind without too much thought beforehand.

“I guess I’m not,” Cal replied. He took a few steps forward to the counter, reached out his hand, and she took it. “I’m Cal Markwyrth, the enchanter. I have the shop across the street.”

Her eyes went wide. “An enchanter!” she said breathlessly. “But you don’t look like…”

She shut her mouth suddenly, not finishing her sentence.

“I don’t look like an enchanter either, eh?” Cal said, raising an eyebrow at her with a mock-stern expression. “What do I look like, then?”

“I uh… that is…”

Cal held up a hand, immediately feeling a bit bad. He was clearly making her uncomfortable. “Sorry,” he said, “I’m only teasing. I know I don’t look much like the usual kind of enchanter. They’re generally older, haughtier, have long gray beards and are a bit better dressed, am I right?”

She relaxed and smiled again, then nodded.

Cal nodded back. “To tell the truth, I’m not long in the enchanting trade. I’ve been an amateur enchanter for years, but I never thought I’d have a shop of my own, not for years yet. But then I got lucky and was able to buy the shop across the road really cheap, because it was in quite a bad state. I’m working away at building it up again, but it’ll be a while before I’m a haughty, well-heeled longbeard.”

She laughed. “Well,” she said, her confidence appearing again in response to his confidential tone, “if you’re not a customer, then what can I do for you, Cal Markwyrth? Maddie will be arriving in an hour, and I have quite a lot to do to get the shop ready before she gets here.”

“Ah, okay, I won’t keep you,” Cal said. “You’re Maddie’s apprentice then? I wanted to see Maddie myself. I have some, er, some samples for her.”

“Oh, new fabrics?” she said excitedly, “may I see? You can leave them here with me if you want, I’ll see that she gets them.”

“Actually, I think I’d rather hang onto them and come back later if you don’t mind. You said Maddie will be here in about an hour?”

“That’s right,” she replied. “But between ourselves, I’d suggest not coming over straight away. Give her a bit of time to settle in. She’s been a bit short in the mornings recently, and I wouldn’t want you to catch the sharp end of her tongue.”

Cal thought of the crack as Maddie’s stick had connected with Lord Hefton just the other day and felt that the girl was giving him good advice.

“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll do that.” He turned to leave. “Nice to meet you,” he said over his shoulder.

“And you,” she called after him.

As the door to the fabric shop clicked closed behind him, Cal realized that the girl hadn’t told him her name, or answered his question as to whether or not she was Maddie’s apprentice.

Weird, he thought. He considered going back in and asking again, but decided against it. Perhaps she was just a bit scatter-brained. It would be awkward if he went back in just to find out her name and ask what her job was, so he shrugged and headed back over to the Emporium. He’d find out when he went over again to see Maddie later on.

“Any luck?” Max said as Cal came back into the shop. “That was quick. You’ve still got your bag! Was Maddie not there?”

“That’s right. She’s not in yet. She’ll be there in another hour or so. I’ll go back over this afternoon.”

“Does she have an assistant or something, then?” Max asked. “Someone who you spoke to?”

Cal was in the workshop, getting involved in finishing his breakfast, and Max was in the front shop, laying out the new stock on the shelves.

“Yeah, there was a young woman in there,” Cal called through to Max from the workshop as he ate. “I guess she must be Maddie’s apprentice, but she seemed a bit distracted and excitable. I asked her if she was Maddie’s apprentice, but I realized afterward that she didn’t actually answer.”

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“Didn’t answer?” Max asked. “That’s weird.”

“That’s what I thought,” Cal said. “But she was quite enthusiastic when I told her that I had some new samples. I guess she must be the apprentice. It makes sense.”

“What’s her name?”

“She didn’t tell me that either, though I asked.”

Max stuck his head round the door. “Really?” he asked, incredulous.

Cal nodded. “Like I said, she seemed a bit distractible.”

Max laughed and disappeared into the front shop again. “She sounds interesting,” he called through. “I didn’t know Maddie had anyone else working for her. I’ve never seen anyone but Maddie herself in and out of the shop over there. Maybe I should go over and meet this interesting assistant myself.”

“Maybe you should,” Cal sadi as he swallowed his final mouthful of coffee and pastry. “You could compare notes about your employers.”

Max laughed, paused, then spoke again. “Is she, um…”

“What?”

“You know.”

“No, I don’t know. Is she what?”

Max’s head appeared at the door again. “Is she pretty?”

Cal laughed. “I guess so,” he said. “I never really paid much attention to that. Yeah, I guess she’s pretty. Not really my type though.”

“What is your type?” Max asked, suddenly curious.

Cal thought about it. “People with a bit more life experience, I suppose. People who’ve been around a bit and done a few things. She seemed nice, but yeah… not my type.”

“Hm,” Max said thoughtfully. “Fair enough. You finished with your breakfast, then? Where’d you want these enchanted bowls?”

Cal had been about to ask Max what his “type” might be. It wasn’t something they’d ever discussed, which was odd when he came to think of it. Usually, two young men living and working as closely together as he and Max had been would end up talking about that kind of thing pretty early on, but Cal and Max just didn’t seem to have that kind of friendship. Not yet, anyway.

Once things get on a more even keel with the shop and we get some more money flowing, maybe Max and I should go out for a drink together or something, he thought.

Then Cal thought that actually, he had never been much into drinking as a way to get to know people, and Max didn’t show much interest in that kind of thing either. As for romance, Cal had never found anyone that it had worked out with. He thought of the girl in Maddie’s shop, wondering if he should be thinking about romance. Marriage, a family; wasn’t that what most young men aspired to?

What, he thought, with this business to get off the ground and 1000 crowns of debt to pay off to Jason? That’s an ambition you should hold onto for now, Cal.

His breakfast had been thoroughly devoured so he headed out into the shop to help Max put the rest of the goods on display. Between them, Max and Cal laid out the new stock on the shelves. They gave the place a bit of a dust and a sweep as well, and Max looked critically at the windows.

“These windows could use a clean,” he said.

Cal nodded. “It’s not that long ago they were cleaned,” he said. “Jason did it when I first moved in. But the salt that comes in from the sea makes the windows streaky again really quickly. I guess I should get a bucket and give them a wipe down.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Max said after a moment’s thought. “Yeah, they look pretty bad. I hadn’t noticed before, but in this sunlight you can really see the grime. Come on, I’ll help. We’ll do it together.”

Neither of them particularly relished the idea of cleaning the windows on such a cold day, but together it wouldn’t take very long. They went into the back again and put the kettle on to heat, then filled up a couple of buckets half-full with cold water. When the kettle boiled they mixed some of the hot water in with the cold and flung in a bit of the liquid soap they used for their own ablutions.

“Not ideal, this,” Max said, “but I guess it’ll do.”

They headed outside and set to work with the cloths and the soapy water. The morning was bright, though it was still quite early, and the sun shining low over the tops of the buildings showed up the streaks of salt and grime that blew in from the direction of the river and the sea, caking the windows.

Working quickly, they soaped one window each with suds from the buckets then wiped the windows clean, working from the top to the bottom then going back in to get clean water to rinse the last of the suds off. Once they were done, they stood back to look at their work and both laughed out loud.

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad, is it?” Max asked, laughing still.

“I don’t know, Max,” Cal said. “I think it might be. Have you ever washed a window before?”

“No,” Max confessed. “You?”

Cal shook his head and they both burst out laughing again. Though they’d managed to clear most of the salt and grime from the windows, they’d left long vertical streaks right down the glass where their cloths had passed.

“How do you avoid that happening?” Cal asked after a second attempt with his damp cloth had made the streaking effect a bit worse.

“I don’t know,” Max said. “Maybe we should get a professional window cleaner? We could watch what he does,” Max added, “then copy him!”

Cal laughed again. “Right, well, never mind the windows for now then. It’s clearly not our strong point. At least they’re a bit better than they were.”

They were about to head back inside when a deep voice spoke behind them. “Windows look like they’ve been washed by a blind man, lads,” the voice said.

Cal turned round to see a huge man looming up behind him. The man seemed to be made primarily of black beard and scar tissue. His beard was so long that it was tucked into his belt and folded over to keep it from reaching the ground, and his face looked as if he’d seen a hundred battles and lost ninety of them. He wore a heavy tunic of dark brown wool, a huge belt of black leather with a silver buckle carved to look like a screaming skull, bright green trousers of some kind of exotic leather, and boots that looked so big Cal thought he might have been able to get inside one of them and sit down if he’d had a fancy to. His hair was as black as his beard, and it was tied into a rough tail at the nape of his neck. His eyes were a very bright, piercing blue.

“Yalosh Brindlemere,” the giant said in his booming voice, sticking out a hand.

Cal tried to shake the hand, but he couldn’t get his own fingers round it.

“Uh, Cal Markwyrth,” he replied. “This is Max. What can I do for you?”

“Ah, the question isn’t what you can do for me, my friends. The question is what I can do for you.”

“Well, what can you do for me?” Cal asked, tilting his head and peering up at the enormous man’s face. He hoped very much that Yalosh Brindlemere wasn’t going to try to come into the Emporium. It was unlikely he’d fit through the door.

“Why, clean your windows, of course!” Yalosh boomed. “Brindlemere’s Window Washing, the best in Jutlyn City, bar none.”

“For real?” Cal blurted in disbelief. Yalosh Brindlemere, giant-killer? That was believable. Yalosh Brindlemere, mercenary captain? Viable. Yalosh the underworld enforcer? Yep. But… Yalosh the window cleaner?

“For real, for real!” Brindlemere said with a laugh. “For five crowns per window - and I see you have two windows, so that’ll be ten crowns - I’ll clean your windows better than… well, better than you two have, at any rate.”

“Okay,” Cal said immediately, suddenly wanting nothing more in that moment than to see this unfeasibly large man clean some windows. “Deal. When will you do them?”

“Why, right now, my young friend, right now! Yalosh may be many things, but a prevaracationist is not one of them. Stand aside, unless you want to be cleaned yourself!”

Before Cal could say another word, Yalosh strode forward and he and Max were forced to dive out of the way to avoid being trodden on by the man’s enormous boots. They stumbled out of the way, then watched to see what would happen.

A few people had stopped in the street, their attention drawn by the gigantic man, his loud voice, and his theatrical way of speaking. Cal and Max were at the front of the little crowd, everyone watching in silence to see what was about to happen.

Yalosh Brindlemere approached the windows with the air of a conductor standing in front of an orchestra in that moment of sublime tension before he raises his baton to sound the first note.

Then he began to sing.