Agent of the Crown by Melissa McShane

crowd didn’t exactly freeze in
their tracks when Telaine entered the tavern, but there was a
decided hush as she walked to the bar. The place was only about
half full, not what she’d expected, but she guessed the men and
women who worked at the quarry and the sawmill wouldn’t walk back
into town every day for their dinner. These must be local shop
owners and employees.
    Miss Handly met her at the bar and said,
before Telaine could speak, “There’s mutton and there’s bean soup.
Mutton’s better.”
    “I’ll have that, and some of whatever beer
you have on tap,” she said. Was it her imagination, or had someone
sucked in a breath? “Can I sit over here?”
    “Sit where you like,” Miss Handly said with a
shrug. Telaine pulled out a chair at an empty table in the middle
of a cluster of other diners. None of them tried to meet her eyes.
Telaine sat back and waited for her food. And an opening.
    It came almost immediately in the form of a
young woman, maybe sixteen or seventeen, who unluckily caught
Telaine’s eye. Before she could look away, Telaine said cheerfully,
“I’m Lainie Bricker. I’m new in town. You probably know my aunt,
Mistress Weaver? What’s your name?”
    Bowled over by the torrent of words, the
young woman said, “Glenda…Brewster.”
    “Good to know you, Miss Brewster. Where do
you work?”
    “I’m—”
    “She works in my store,” said the older woman
seated with her. Her face was narrow, her tone was icy. Telaine
ignored it.
    “Really? Which store?”
    “I’m the dressmaker.”
    “Oh! I’ve seen your shop. It’s beautiful! And
I love the dresses you have displayed.” Telaine wasn’t exaggerating
much. They weren’t outstanding, but she’d been surprised at how
fashionable the clothing was. Even so, she would have said the same
even if the clothing had looked like it was made for cats. Ugly
cats. Vanity. No better way to reach a woman’s heart.
    “You do?” The woman was startled. “But you’re
from the city!”
    “I don’t see what that has to do with whether
your clothes are nice or not. You have excellent taste.” Telaine
kept her tone confiding and faintly impressed, though she could
tell it wouldn’t take much to change this woman’s attitude.
    A faltering smile spread over the woman’s
face, though the furrow to her brow said she was still expecting
trickery. “Why…thank you,” she said, and added, “My name is
Mistress Adderly.”
    The other diners watched this interchange in
silent fascination. “It’s good to know you, Mistress Adderly. I
wish I didn’t spend so much time in these old rags,” Telaine said,
gesturing down at herself. “My work is too hard on dresses.”
    “What work’s that?” Now Mistress Adderly had
forgotten her coldness in favor of curiosity.
    Ah, I love a straight line . “Didn’t
Aunt tell you all? I’m a Deviser. Mostly repairs, but sometimes I
build things.”
    “A Deviser!” Mistress Adderly’s eyes gleamed.
A man at a nearby table kicked the leg of her chair. She ignored
him. “Miss Bricker, happen you can help me? My sewing Device’s been
going off, these few weeks. It skips stitches and stops in the
middle of a seam. Been using the old manual one, but it’s tiresome
and I’d love the other fixed.”
    “Why, I’d be happy to take a look at it,
Mistress Adderly,” Telaine said. She was having trouble ignoring
the reactions of the rest of the diners, who were distressed that
the seamstress might have anything to do with her. “May—can I come
by later this afternoon? If I can’t fix it happen I could at least
tell you if it’s fixable at all.” Did I use “happen” in a
sentence? Correctly?
    “That would be most good of you, Miss.”
Mistress Adderly kicked the chair of the man next to her, but
missed and hit his leg. He swallowed a yelp.
    Miss Handly swooped down at that moment with
Telaine’s food: a mutton chop, the inevitable root vegetables, and
a mug of beer. Fortunately, she’d