of crumbling green dust.
"Lady and Lord!" Lark exclaimed.
"Sorry, missus," the workman said. Lark stared at him, probably due to being addressed in a way she'd never contemplated.
The man teleportation-hopped from the ladder to scoop up the bit, and touch of green dust around it. Staring at them, he said, "We will be glad to re-do the whole piece, and get the sign up tomorrow morning before WorkBell ... or ... "
"Or?" Holm asked.
"We'll just charge you for the engraving, for the work, you get the material free."
Holm had never haggled for anything in his life. He jerked a nod. "You do that. I want this up now."
"Yessir." With a little suction spell he sucked up all the malachite dust on the ground into the hollow of his palm, spit on them and the edge of the stone. He teleported back up to the short scaffold and fit the piece back onto the corner. Then he glued the fractured fragment back onto the larger sign with a tube of stuff he pulled from his overall pockets. Saying a short spell, he buffed the corner. Frowning, he rubbed the cloth over it again, then glanced down at Holm and Lark. "Looks fine to me. Good enough for you?"
The fault in the malachite vanished in a dark grain of green. No one could see it unless closely scrutinizing.
The small FamCats materialized on the workman's shoulders and he jerked, then hunkered into his balance. Holm thought the guy suppressed a swear.
Meserve leaned over to press his nose against the corner of the piece, and sneezed. The workman flinched. There is a teeny, tiny crack no thicker than my whisker, he announced. From the way the guy hunched, he heard the FamCat and felt disappointed.
It is fine! Phyll sniffed loudly on the man's far shoulder. I can't see the crack with My amazing vision at all!
"All right, then," Holm said. He met the man's gaze and opened his arms, "Come on down, Fams."
They teleported to his shoulders, and the worker heaved a sigh.
"Thank you for your work," Holm said.
"Thank you," Lark said, somewhat stiffly. Holm felt her aura of disappointment that her gift hadn't been perfect.
With another spit on the softleaf and rub on the corner, the man got to the ground, packed up his gear, gave a courteous tug at his hat to them and left.
Holm's friend T'Ash could have mended the stone to the molecular level with a spellword, but he held a FirstFamily title and great Flair. This man made do, as Holm did.
Lark slipped her arm around his waist, and Holm let his breath sift out with pleasure. He had Lark, his HeartMate, his own small family, and this very business.
"Don't focus on the crack," Lark urged. "Did you read the sign?"
He hadn't. Craning his neck, he saw the golden flow of lettering, "'The Green Man.' Thank you," he ended gruffly.
Placing her hands on his shoulders, she met his gaze. "You are the Green Man, a fighter of renown who people will come to train with." She gestured to the boys and his trainers and a couple of others who'd lingered. "You have a fine reputation."
"Thank you." He glanced around the street. People still watched, students yet remained, the FamCats radiated pride, and words tumbled from him. "My new life."
"Yes!" Lark grinned.
And the sun hit the sign, made it glow, revealing deeper tones and shiny streaks that had been hidden.
He wasn't useless.
He wasn't Holm HollyHeir of Druida City, but Holm Apple of Gael City, but he could still practice his craft, his Flair. Be a good man of good character, support himself and be supportive of his family, his Lark and Phyll and Meserve . . . and even Clam.
And he—they—wouldn't just survive, but thrive.
At that moment, his Calendarsphere buzzed in a brand-new pattern. It had totaled up the gilt he'd made that day, and he'd reached his goal.
Just at the beginning of this week he'd stood in this place and wondered how long it would take him to make a career for himself in Gael City. With his own rep, his skills, and a little help from his friends it had taken ... Two. Days.
His future, here with his Family and these students and trainers who gathered around him, stretched before him like a wondrous road of adventure.
He turned his back on the past, gestured to the sign above and raised his voice. "Welcome, all, to The Green Man Salon!"
He held his HeartMate as his Fam licked his ear, a