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Gregorio accompanied the armourer through to the back of her workshop, where a small room was sealed by – of all things – an iron door. She gave him a handkerchief to wear over his mouth and nose, to his puzzlement, and donned a headscarf that looked almost Freeborn, leaving only her eyes visible beneath its folds.

“Your armour is finished with tempest jade dust, senhor, and do you know what happens when you breathe in tempest jade dust?” Gregorio shook his head dumbly. “Do you want to?” This time, he shook his head emphatically. She opened the door and shooed him in quickly, shutting it quickly after herself.

It was very beautiful thing indeed. The weltsilver decorations spelled out combinations of protective runes he’d never have considered putting together, and she led him through them, explaining how Hirmok controlled the excesses of Verys (an Urizen idea), and the tension between the drive of Feresh and the restraint of Cavul pushed the wearer to excel without overstepping their bounds. She’d already mentioned the tempest jade, and given it a token final polish with a wooden brush inset with a smooth lump of ambergelt.

In fact, Gregorio started to suspect that she was playing up the expense of making it. They had, after all, only agreed on a rough figure, which was risky. Then he’d found out how high the price of ambergelt was right now, and that would push the price up. Then he’d needed to hurry her up, and that would push the price up further. He suspected she knew what he was buying it for, and even that would push the price up.

Eventually, she got round to her price.

Gregorio winced inwardly, closed his eyes, and thought of the handsome guard-captain he was buying it for. And as with most of the troubles in his life since he’d moved upriver to Temeschwar, that thought soothed him somewhat.

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