Hex - Excerpt
Note - This is not final draft.
Now this, Johann thought, looks interesting.
Arms crossed, leaning in the doorframe of the tailor’s shop, he watched them—two men, a thin young lady, and a pregnant woman sneaking into the church. It could only be Varick and company. He wondered what they were doing. Frauline Heisselweis’s funeral was today, but Johann suspected that the furtive activities in the distance were unrelated to events that would take place in an hour.
He yawned and pushed into the tailor’s shop, bells chiming his arrival. Herr Kerr glanced up with disinterest. “Herr Obenmeir,” he said.
Johann strolled up to the loom against a wall and inspected the netting of threads strung over it like harp strings. Part of the fabric-in-progress had been woven already, a tight, smooth line at the bottom of the loom. He ran a finger across it. Even, no bumps. Pretty, too. A bright blue, not unlike the fabric Karla planned to use for her wedding dress. He wondered if it had come from this very loom.
“Your wife does fine work, herr,” Johann told the tailor. “A finer weave than this I have never seen.”
Herr Kerr slicked a strand of thread through his mouth and poked the dampened tip through the eye of a needle. “Flattery doesn’t flatten the price, Johann.”
He grinned. “Nein, it doesn’t. In fact, such lovely craftsmanship requires extra pay, I think.” He crossed his arms and propped his shoulder up against the wall. “Especially if that craftsmanship comes with an open mind and a closed mouth.”
“What do you want this time?”
“I’m bringing some thread to you on Saturday. I need fabric. Fast. As fast as your wife can make it. Don’t let her touch any thread but mine until it’s done.”
Herr Kerr paused. He poked his threaded needle into a pincushion and folded his arms on the table as he finally looked at Johann. “You can’t expect me to say yes.”
“You know I pay well.”
“You don’t understand.” He pulled his bulk out of his chair and bustled over to the loom. “You see this? My wife just started this piece. I can’t have her rip it from the loom just to do your work.”
“Of course not.” Johann poked his thumb at the window. “Take a look at what’s in my wagon.”
Herr Kerr approached the glass, raising his eyebrows when he saw. “It’s a loom.”
“That it is, my man. I made it just for you, and just for my thread. Where do you want me to put it?”
He stared out the window still. “Wherever. Johann, that’s a fine-looking loom. Very fine, indeed. Adler may be out of his head, but he taught you carpentry well.”
Johann sneered at his old master’s name. He wished Stina would wise up to the old man’s tricks and get the hell out of there. “Maybe, maybe not. I’m thinking of specializing in wool processing tools, though. Seem to have a knack for it. Need a spinning wheel? I made one for Stina. She’d never say it, but it’s the best one she’s ever seen. I can tell from her eyes, doncha know.”
Herr Kerr followed Johann out the door and to the wagon. “If her spinning wheel is as nice as this loom, I’m tempted to buy one just like it.”
“Sorry, herr, that I can’t do. Hers is special.”
“Oh?”
“Ya.” Johann smiled at the tailor as he hopped into the wagon. “I made hers with magic.”
Herr Kerr laughed. “Ya, sure you did.”
His smile grew wider as he admired the effect of his words. The more you tell the truth, Johann, the less they’ll suspect a thing.