She was awake and away well before dawn, returning to the guild hall over pavements still bearing a pristine coating of snow. It crunched lightly under each footstep, and the freezing damp had numbed Mary’s toes by the time she mounted the stoop in the alley behind the hall to let herself in by the kitchen door. The scullery was already bustling, of course, and Mary paused on the threshold to absorb the warmth, the sleepy camaraderie, so similar to that of the workroom floor. Friends? She wouldn’t be leaving many of those behind, she reflected, finally making her way up to her room to change. Acquaintances, yes. Colleagues. But she could really only name one true friend whose companionship she would miss when she left the guild. And he was the reason she must leave. It had come to her, at some point during that long and mostly sleepless night. She could stay, and take the scraps she’d been offered while Amberherst took a place at the head of the table. She could spend her ten years doing the work she had trained to do, and afterward take the pension that was due any retired master.
