The Crafters Book Two Read Online Free Page A

elbow and grinned at him.
    * * *
    “You have a job here?” Andrew said, looking up at the building before them. The Green Dragon Inn was down a quiet lane. It stood three stories tall, with a coach house and barn, all built of the same grey slate shingles. He knew Calliope had never been a tavern wench before—her mother forbade it. “How did you acquire it?”
    “I convinced the publican. Henry Gant. A very nice man, and this is a very respectable tavern.” Calliope tossed her head. Andrew was her elder by less than a year. As children, she’d formed the irritating habit of regularly topping him in height. Now that they were grown, she was shorter than he by only a few inches. Her tallness and her noble air were said to be inherited from her great-grandfather, the first freedman holder of the King name. He was supposed to have been a prince or a priest, a man of rank. Her narrow nose and high cheekbones were from her mother’s side, which had some mixture of Indian and white blood. Andrew often thought Calliope looked more like an Italian woman than a Negress. He’d even convinced her to learn a smattering of Italian because of it.
    “You can convince anyone of anything,” said Andrew. It was true. Calliope could stretch that long neck of hers and speak so commandingly that no one could deny her. Andrew, unfortunately, had a high raspy voice and diffident manner. He found it difficult to get attention. Like today. “What did you mean, I made you lose Mr. Madison?”
    Calliope removed her bonnet and hung it on a peg inside the front door of the tavern. Andrew saw she had braided her gleaming black hair in a new style. It made her look almost womanly. He hadn’t seen her for three years, he realized now. “Madison is the reason I’m in Philadelphia,” she said. “I followed him here when I heard he’d be the Virginia delegate to the Constitutional Congress. And I took this position because this tavern is the meeting place for many of the patriots. All the Masonic groups hold their meetings here—right in that back room. It’s a perfect opportunity. I’ve got my plan all worked out.”
    “What plan?” said Andrew. She always did the same thing to him, assumed he could read her heart without her having to say. And, truthfully, many times he could. But it had been three years. “What are you talking about?”
    “I must beg his leniency for Billy.” Calliope bit her lip and her eyes softened. “I met him in Virginia. Oh, Billy’s such a wonderful man. Honorable, proud, witty. He’ll be a freedman someday, I just know he will. He was Madison’s valet, but escaped to the British when they were offering the black men freedom. Now he’s been caught again. Madison could free him, and he would, if only he understood what a proud man Billy is.”
    Through an unexpected lump in his throat, Andrew asked, “Is this important to you? Personally?”
    “Oh, yes,” said Calliope. She tied a clean white apron around her waist. “May I get you a mug of something? My gift.”
    “Please,” said Andrew. He followed her into the great room.
    The tables were still half-full of people breakfasting. It seemed a clean, scrubbed place. Andrew would come here for his meals, he decided. “I’m in Philadelphia for a reason, too, Calliope. You misdirected me also this morning.”
    She handed him a chilled pewter mug. “What could it be? Mother says you never leave your house and your precious electrical machines. It is a real surprise to find you outside of Boston.” She bent and brushed his cheek. “Still can’t grow a beard, I see.”
    He jerked his face away. “I’m here on a scientific mission. My friend Count Volta is expecting me to get an audience with Franklin to discuss some of his electrical theories. And I leave my house all the time—I see your mother once a week at least. And she never said anything about you leaving your cousin’s house for Philadelphia.”
    Calliope sat down and sighed. “She