“But it’s so much easier than trying to be pleasant,” quipped Nelson in his turn. “And now that our morning badinage has been exchanged, I should tell you that there are messages awaiting your response.”
“Oh?” Silas turned away from the sink where he was washing his face. “From who?”
“Whom, sir.Whom.”
“Nelson...”
“From the top, sir. Arcvale’s Council of Wardens.”
“Good heavens. What the coggleblast do they want?”
“As to that, sir, I have no idea whatsoever. Perhaps, should you finish your ablutions shortly, you might come into the dining room and discover for yourself when you open the message.”
“Is Thea up and about yet?”
“I believe she is presently dressing, sir.”
“So we shall be able to breakfast together, at least...”
“One would assume so, yes, sir. I have already taken the liberty of laying places for four, in case Mrs Sinclair and Miss Gen would like to break their fast with you both.”
“Always ahead of me, Nelson. You are truly a miracle.”
“Thank you, sir. Would you like me to lay out your clothes for the day?”
“I don’t think so. Not today.” Silas sighed. “This is going to be an eventful day for us, Nelson.”
“It is?”
“Yes, it is. But fear not, we shall endeavour to maintain our current situation.”
“That is reassuring, sir. However, the fact that you needed to mention it negates most of the aforementioned reassurance.”
“You, my lad, are too sharp for your rivets.” He tapped his tickerkin sharply on the head with his knuckles.
“Since you created me, sir, you must hold yourself to blame for that. Not me.” And with that, Nelson huffed himself out of the room.
Silas chuckled and walked to his cupboard, opening it and surveying his wardrobe choices.
Today was indeed going to be eventful. He’d not been higher than the fourth level in years. By choice. And he wasn’t looking forward to ascending to the Turning of the Green, in any way, shape, or form. But he knew that this time he couldn’t avoid it.
And Thea would be there with him. Probably. Unless the Renslows swooped down en masse and whisked her off to somewhere they could keep her under their control. He snorted. As if that could happen.
So, with all that in mind, Silas selected garments from the darkest recesses of his cupboard before he went to wash up for the day, and prayed they still fit.
The beautifully cut breeches did indeed fit, although a little more snugly around the thighs than he remembered. Still, five years working at the Forge would certainly develop muscles, so it was not surprising his fine linen shirt betrayed his biceps more fully as well.
His waistcoat brought back memories. Delicately embroidered silk in blue and green, it still slid over his shoulderslike a whispered sigh, and as he secured his matching cravat, he caught a glimpse of himself in his mirror. Pulling his hair back and securing it, he stared at his reflection, wondering how different he looked now than he had more than five years or so ago, when he’d arrived at the Forge.
He’d never left. Until today.
Noises from outside distracted his attention, and he picked up his jacket, ready to venture out and meet the day. What he really wanted to do was to go down to the Forge and put in a solid day’s work. But he knew that was impossible, especially today of all days.
“Great coggles,” Hiram breathed as Silas came out into the hall. “I’ll be damned, my friend. You clean up very nicely.”
Feeling a bit self-conscious, he merely shrugged. “To what do we owe the honour of such an early visit?”
“Well, since we’ll all be going up top soon, I thought it would be nice if I could escort the ladies.”
