Spring 512 AV, Day 81 "We can give him to Jelvin if you like," Nat said as she stared at the Symenestra idling in the doorway of the Studio. His body had become a piece of origami in the late sun's light. As an artist her eye was drawn to the shape of things. Curiosity ended in revulsion as the familiar humanoid slope starved itself into brittle lines. She suddenly felt she had found an insect under her dish. "He wanted someone with a talent for anatomy. And that's you." The younger artist snorted a laugh, "Sounds sordid." Bravery false and true rang through her sloppy posture and replies. Little could awaken fear in someone so young and clever. Her fingers were gray with charcoal dust, and smoky lines on her lap showed where she had used her tunic to clean her hands. Nat began to twirl her brush between her fingers, a sign of impatience. "Be sincere, Nea. Yes or no?" Anea arched her spine to get a better look at the customer: tallish, neatly attired and phenomenally bored. That made two of them. One more portrait of a beloved child or weapon and she would eat her mahlstick. He moved from the doorway, inconsiderate of her spying. "What do you think I'll need?" "Charcoal, then ink. Doesn't need color." Wouldn't be too hard then, and the money would be good. She could charge this foreigner through the nose and no one would fault her. It might even earn praise at the table. "Yes." "Fine," Nat's eyes flit back and forth between the customer and artist, "But you're not leaving the studio. They're not to be trusted." "What about the tea shop?" she cajoled, "I'm famished." "Just keep eyes about you, Nea." "He's not going to eat me in broad daylight surrounded by Lhavitians." "You'll be smart?" The younger artist nodded a bit too enthusiastically to be entirely genuine, but it was enough to reassure Nat. "All yours then." As Anea walked out Nat couldn't help but call after her maternally, "And mind yourself!" |