Chapter 28: William the Cobbler

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Mr. William Cordoni’s shop was crowded with all kinds of handmade shoes and boots.

The old shoemaker, who did not look his age, possessed a fine pair of hands. Yet with factories closing in one after another, his business had fallen to rock bottom—or so it seemed to everyone except Roland’s uncle.

He “predicted” that if William Cordoni refused to abandon his inherited craft, then within two years he would not even be able to guarantee himself two meals a day.

Poor Alice.

Roland had brought him two unlabeled bottles of liquor from the nearby market, several little bags of strawberry drops for Alice, a standard four-pound loaf of bread, and a red bow tie.

It was worth noting that Roland received far greater discounts when buying things than his uncle did.

Far, far greater.

Though the women and men always used the same excuse: Come now, who never falls ill and needs medicine?

Old Collins had never enjoyed such treatment.

The shoe shop was not far from the pharmacy. It was a single-story building, with a leather awl and a boot painted above the entrance, beneath which was written: William’s Shoe Shop.

The fence outside had been wrapped in brown leather, and a grimy little doormat lay by the door.

Half the corner where the side wall met the roof had caved in. Someone had stuffed the gap with straw, fresh mud, and stones.

William Cordoni lived here with his daughter, Alice.

But there was no need to think the place shabby. Mr. Cordoni and Roland’s uncle were counted among the “wealthy men” on this street.

They were men with “property,” after all—people of considerable importance who walked with their heads held high.

“Sir, I brought some liquor.”

As he invited Roland inside, the shoemaker wore an unusually bashful expression.

The room was far too untidy.

Discarded scraps of leather and tools lay everywhere beneath their feet, forcing Roland to pick his way forward carefully.

Wooden shelves covered three walls, holding finished shoes and boots alongside half-completed ones.

A huge, peculiar shoemaking machine occupied nearly half the room. Around it lay heaps of sawdust mixed with strips of wood.

The place smelled of wood and leather. Whether it was pleasant or not was difficult to say.

William Cordoni stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, enthusiastically…

rubbing his hands.

It was Alice who took the initiative and entertained Roland.

“Roland!”

“Hey. Are you feeling better?”

“I can even jump now! What did you bring me…? Candy! Daddy, Roland brought me candy!”

Alice squeezed the packets with a cheerful rustle while winking at her father. William was suddenly struck by the feeling that his daughter understood the ways of the world better than he did.

“You should call him Brother or Sir, Alice.”

Roland crouched before her and, fumbling slightly, tied the little red bow around her collar. He patted the girl on the head and smiled.

“You may call me Guard as well, Little Princess.”

“Roland! You tied it backward!”

“Oh? Has the princess already begun despising her blind guard?”

“Giggle, giggle…”

Clearly, he had come to pay a visit because of the examination awaiting him.

The Heart Anchor.

He had already decided what form his Heart Anchor would take.

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The reason he had sought out Mr. William instead of a blacksmith was also something his uncle and he had agreed upon: they wanted to find a little work for the shoemaker.

Roland handed over the small silver ingot he had prepared and asked William to measure the little finger of his left hand.

“It won’t take half an hour.”

The shoemaker skillfully padded the piece of metal in his hand, then turned and crouched beside the toolbox in the corner, rummaging through it.

Meanwhile, Roland sat in a chair and listened as Alice chattered about the latest happenings of every day.

“Yesterday, Rick Rich was bragging again, saying his father had found a fine job on Linden Avenue…”

“Roland, what is an angel?”

“When I grow up, I’m going to be a pastry chef!”

“Have you heard the story that’s been going around lately?”

She twittered on like a happy little bird.

“A pastry chef?”

Roland opened his mouth and allowed the little bird to feed him a strawberry drop. He held it on his tongue and made an exaggerated expression to show how sweet it was, sending the girl into peals of laughter.

“Hmm… A pastry chef? That wouldn’t be cheap. Alice, your father will have to work hard.”

“Not cheap?” Alice smoothed down her unruly brown hair as she spoke, tilting her head while picking wood shavings from it. “Not cheap? I heard they can make lots of money, and it’s easy work.”

Make lots of money?

That would have to be a pastry chef with some reputation in the West District.

One could indeed make quite a bit from serving wealthy ladies and young noblewomen.

As for it being easy…

What work in this world was easy?

Even the executive position Enid had introduced him to would eventually involve dangerous situations.

“Really.” Alice smiled brightly, her voice clear and high-pitched. “Thompson said his mother is a pastry chef!”

Thompson was Rick Rich’s lackey. Roland had never spoken with him much.

The boy’s family background had always been rather hazy.

“A pastry chef living in the East District?”

The man rummaging through the boxes snorted. With his back to his daughter, he muttered darkly, “Don’t believe every word those wild boys tell you. They’re all idiots except Roland.”

I bet that if you weren’t here, there wouldn’t be any “except Roland.”

—You need to understand a little about human relationships.

“I’m going to be a pastry chef!” Alice stamped her foot. “He said his mother only has to receive three or four men who come to buy cakes every night, and she earns more in a week than his father does! And it’s easy…”

Every night…

Men coming to her door?

Men buying cakes?

Roland could imagine that the shoemaker’s expression at that moment was probably no better than his own.

Sure enough, a pair of pliers was slammed hard onto the floor.

Bang!

William spun around furiously and glared at his daughter.

“Do you think your mother and I work ourselves to the bone just so you can—”

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So that you can…

So that you can become…

His lips moved, but he could not bring himself to utter the vicious words that followed. Suddenly, sorrow overtook him, and his gray eyes filled with tears.

The man looked at his daughter.

The daughter looked at her father.

Perhaps he had imagined the fate awaiting her in the future. But all she felt was fear at her father’s sudden outburst of anger…

“You frightened her.”

Roland drew the sobbing girl into his arms and stroked her coarse, prickly hair.

…

…

Roland’s Heart Anchor was a ring.

An unremarkable silver ring worn on the little finger of the left hand.

The first little secret lay inside the ring.

He intended to borrow two tools from the shoemaker and engrave the words himself once he returned home.

The second little secret was a tiny mechanism hidden in the inner band: a raised nub almost impossible to identify with the naked eye.

It could not be felt during ordinary wear. But if he twisted it with another finger, the pad of his little finger would detect the protrusion.

The third secret was…

The ring was not silver at all.

It was a wooden band drilled into shape and merely coated with a layer of silver on the outside.

As a result, its weight was entirely different from that of a ring made of solid silver. When struck, it produced a distinctly different sound as well.

That would be enough.

“Oh, I’d also like to have a pair of shoes made here.”

“I have some on the shelves—”

“No, no. I mean, made to order.”

Roland searched through his memories, doing his best to recreate the style of the leather shoes Nina had once mentioned.

At the time, she had spoken casually. Now Roland had to expend considerable effort recalling the details.

[Image]

Roland: …

—I admit, you’re somewhat useful now.

He picked up his walking stick and prepared to leave.

“I’ll find someone with good eyesight to draw the design for you, Sir.”

He hoped it would be of some help to William and to Alice.

Perhaps…

He could try wearing them in front of those ladies first?

He knew absolutely nothing about such matters. All he had ever heard from Miss Nina were strange and bewildering stories.

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