Crewel

one hand on my elbow and guiding me firmly to the front door.
    If it wasn’t for his arm propelling me forward, I would have stopped on the spot.
    ‘I’m cutting a ribbon at an academy,’ I say, turning to him, ‘in Cypress.’
    Cormac keeps his gaze on the path in front of us and doesn’t respond. Suddenly I’m remembering why I hate him. So that’s why I’m here. As a reminder of what I’ve done. The threat isn’t lost on me. Looking out over the crowd, I wonder why they’re so placid. The Guild must have fed them a lot of lies to keep them from turning on us. Did they say it was an accident, like the story Amie told us about Mrs Swander?
    Even if they did, the people here are too complacent. There’s not a single person with a hint of rage or pain flashing across his or her face.
    And then it hits me. They don’t know what happened.
    ‘What did you do to them?’ I whisper.
    ‘Why would I do anything to them?’ Cormac asks with feigned innocence.
    ‘What do they think happened to the academy?’ I ask, unwilling to play his little game.
    ‘That’s not the point, doll,’ Cormac says with a smirk. ‘This isn’t about them. It’s about you.’
    By this point, we’re at the door and he hands me a pair of giant ceremonial scissors. Sadly, they’re heavy and dull. All for show. But maybe if I aim just right . . . 
    Cormac’s grin fades, and he steps back. Not in fear, but to let me know he can see what I’m thinking and that it won’t work. He’s saved from me trying by another man, from the looks of it an official, who strides over.
    As soon as Cormac turns to speak with him, an older woman approaches, eyeing me interestedly. She’s not a Cypress citizen. Her age shows in her withered skin and silver hair, but even with the marks of time all over her, I see no sign of the deep, honey skin and silky black hair the citizens of Cypress share.
    ‘You’re Cormac’s escort, then?’ she asks.
    ‘Yes,’ I say, trying to hold my chin up.
    ‘Shameless,’ she mutters, as I realise that she’s older than anyone else I’ve met. Even in Romen, basic renewal patching assures everyone a relatively youthful appearance, but this woman’s skin is as brittle and wrinkled as old paper, despite the layer of cosmetics she wears. She has to be here with the Guild, maybe she’s even a Spinster stationed at the Northern Coventry, but she’s clearly not taking advantage of the renewal patching available.
    ‘Loricel, I see you’ve met my escort,’ Cormac says, returning to my side.
    ‘Yes, and I think it’s shameless,’ she tells him solemnly.
    ‘Adelice,’ he says, ‘allow me to introduce Loricel. Keep your hands back. She bites.’
    ‘Watch yourself,’ Loricel warns, ‘or I’ll rip your ass right out of Arras.’
    ‘We have a love–hate relationship,’ he says to me. ‘Adelice is our newest Spinster. Her aptitude tests are off the chart,’ he tells her.
    ‘So you’re the one that has Cormac’s attention. He hasn’t been so interested in the Western Coventry in years,’ she says, squinting to look more closely at me. There’s a sparkle of something – respect, maybe – in her eyes now. I can’t help returning her interest. This is the woman I’ve heard of in bits and pieces from Enora. The Creweler. I’m finally meeting the most powerful woman in Arras, and I’m not sure what to say to her.
    Before I can respond, a guard dressed in full Guild regalia approaches, and Cormac leans in to talk to him. With the chatter around us, I can’t hear what he’s saying, but it doesn’t stop me from trying.
    ‘So are you enjoying yourself?’ Loricel asks me.
    ‘No,’ I say, distracted by my eavesdropping.
    Loricel raises one eyebrow, revealing a map of wrinkles etched along her forehead, and laughs. ‘Good. You’re exactly what they said.’
    ‘And that is?’ I ask, trying to keep the curiosity I feel out of my voice.
    ‘Smart and foolhardy,’ she says. ‘It’s a great combination for making conversation, but not the best for staying alive.’
    ‘That’s what they tell me.’
    ‘They’re keeping you off the loom?’
    I nod, wondering how she knows that, but then I remember what Enora said about her. As Creweler, Loricel would know everything going on in Arras.
    ‘They’re trying to win you over,’ she informs me. ‘They’ll try appealing to your desires first. Clothes. Power. Parties.’
    ‘And if that doesn’t work?’ I ask.
    ‘Then they go after