WITH THE LAST piece safely in place Vetta left her masterpiece to dry overnight, looking forward to the moment when she could present it to Widow Mint, all fixed and good as new.
Only of course, it could never be that, and Vetta learnt something of the connoisseur's eye when she went on her errand.
'What's this?' the lady said when Vetta presented the vase with its mosaic of crack lines. Veltra the maid hovered in the background, a diminished and worrying figure.
'There was an unexpected incident,' Vetta said brightly as if this were good news. 'Thanks to the quick thinking of your maid all the pieces were rescued and I put them back together, almost by myself.' She had to admit the help of her dorm mates of course.
The lady examined the vase.
'I wondered what happened to this, just for a while, and then forgot all about it.' She chuckled, seeing how all the pieces fit snugly together. There must have been a hundred of them.
'Good as new,' Vetta said hopefully.
'Oh no, not at all. The thing is ruined. Could not even give it away.'
Vetta's face fell, thinking her actions had caused the ruin. The lady noted her reaction.
'Oh, don't blame yourself dear. Once broken, the magic is lost,' and she chuckled hoarsely again, thinking perhaps of other things long out of service and devoid of magic as a result.
'I'm sorry,' was all Vetta could think of to say.
'Don't be. I guess you'll want paying. Must have taken you ages. Maid take this and trash it and give the girl something for her trouble.'
'Yes ma'am,' the maid said, sidling forward to take the vase.
'Oh no,' Vetta cried. 'I do not want money.'
'Then what do you want?'
A brief glance at the vase told a story of sorts.
'Maid, let the child keep the cracked thing. It was an heirloom of sorts, I think, but trees shed leaves and rivers run dry. Not much to be gained by giving away worthless things like that but we can't be cluttering the place with stuff forever.'
'Yes ma'am,' and the maid returned the vase to Vetta, who held it as a thing most precious.
'Now scoot,' the maid said quietly as she ushered the girl from the august presence of her mistress, 'before you get me into more trouble.'
'Oh maid,' a commanding voice floated down the steps, 'that'll be coming out of your wages, your pension, and so on to several generations. I checked the insurance inventory a while back so know its former value to the smallest fraction of a coin.'
The maid winced, then shrugged and gave the girl a smile.
'Never mind,' she said. 'You meant well,' and she pushed the girl beyond the ornate gate.
Vetta wandered out of the Twilit Estate in a daze and onto a busy walkway. She had a fight of it not to be tripped and bumped by passersby, all seeming intent on testing the cement that held the rejected vase together.
She pondered the thing as she walked. It was complete and needed no further work. That passion had run its course.
It had been rejected by its original owner, the one who had at one point in its existence imbued it with pleasurable thoughts of ownership and the enjoyment thereof. Such feelings had dissipated upon its rejection. It was now something of an orphan. A damaged, rejected thing without a true home.
Vetta knew there was still a future for the cracked vase. It did not weigh her down, rather there was a lightness to it for the wings of possibility gave it flight and carried her to the shed of Wackie Mandrake, that impassioned hobbyist with a vague sense of purpose.
Mold Ampit met her at the sheet metal door with a puzzled expression upon his friendly face.
'Well, young lady, what might we be able to help you with today? Have you more fragments for Wackie to ponder over?' he asked pleasantly.
Vetta held out the brightly colourful vase with its wonderful flower spray design upon it.
'Yes,' she said, beaming as brightly as the vase.
'I'll be glazed!' the man said, remembering who he was in the presence of. 'Wackie, come out here and have a look at this!' he then shouted over his shoulder. There was a clatter and a curse and then his friend appeared at the doorway, a magnifying monocle in one bloodshot eye and tweezers held in a trembling hand. The piece of porcelain in the tweezers dropped to the floor when he caught sight of what the girl was holding.
His free hand hovered over the mended vase reverently as the monocled eye peered closely at the completeness of it.
'There were no handles,' Vetta assured him.
Wackie gently lifted the thing from the girl's grasp and held it to the light, rotating it.
'As complete as if it were never broken,' he breathed in awe. 'Brought back from oblivion.'
'It is yours,' Vetta said happily. 'I know how much you like these things.' She could not understand why they fascinated him so much but that was not part of the bargain. It was simply enough that he did.
'Bless you my dear,' he said in response. 'However did you manage such a miracle?'
'I think,' Vetta replied, pleased with how delighted the man seemed to be, 'you had to be on the spot at the right moment.'
'Well miss, seems you're always on the right spot. You are a friend indeed.'
'Friendship,' Vetta said, 'is one of the five wellsprings of joy.'
To her it was all that needed to be said.