“This afternoon is for your portrait, not his. I’d like to work on some more sketches. If you’d take off the scarf and drape it loosely over your left shoulder . . .”
“Like this?”
“That’s good.”
From there on, I began to sketch.
The third design had something, but it was too head-on; so I did a fourth . . . and the angle was perfect.
“Good. Just hold that.”
She didn’t say a word.
I called a halt when I realized that the bells had rung half past second glass. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize . . .”
“That’s fine.” She shook her head, then shrugged her shoulders, trying to loosen them. “Posing is hard work. How much did you get done?”
“The design, and I got that all on the canvas, just a light outline, as well as the lines of your face, the eyes, the cheeks. It’s a very good start, but it could take several months because I’ll need you to sit, and we can only do that on end-days.” I began to clean up, not that I had that much to do, because I hadn’t used any oils, just the fine-lined drawing pencil.
“How about tomorrow?”
“I can’t. I’m the duty master, and I really shouldn’t be this far from the administrative building.”
“Oh . . .”
“I’m sorry. I should have told you.”
“That’s all right.”
It wasn’t, but her tone was forgiving.
“I owe you a dinner for all your hard work.”
“First, you owe me some time on horseback,” she reminded me.
“Can we go to dinner afterward? Somewhere like Chaelya’s,” I suggested. “That would be family-approved, would it not?” I followed my words with a grin.
“Aunt Staelia would be pleased, and the food is good.”
“You have some reservations? Or were we supposed to meet Odelia and Kolasyn somewhere?”
“No . . . they’re having dinner with Shomyr and someone he’s interested in. Haelya is her name.”
“You’re more interested in torturing me on horseback, is that it? Or do you have a feeling it wouldn’t be good to have dinner there?” That was a guess, but with Seliora’s Pharsi farsight, that was always a possibility.
“Not farsight . . . but a feeling.”
“Azeyd’s, then? We went to Terraza last week.”
“That might be better. Next week we could go to Chaelya’s with either Odelia and Kolasyn or Shomyr and Haelya.”
“Besides, I’m growing very fond of Pharsi fare, all kinds of Pharsi fare.” I didn’t quite leer.
“Rhenn . . .” She laughed and shook her head.
For a number of reasons, including my inability to hold shields for long, we walked over the Bridge of Desires and hailed a hack on the west bank of the Aluse. The wind had turned chill during the course of the afternoon, and Seliora’s jacket wasn’t that heavy. She was shivering by the time we got into the coach. As the coach crossed the Nord Bridge, I looked out at the river, its dark gray water topped with whitecaps, thinking that we might be in for an early snowfall.
Back at NordEste Design, I got a lesson in saddling and putting a bridle on a very gentle mare, who snorted only once or twice at my incompetence. Then I managed to mount and ride around the courtyard until my thighs ached and my ears were numb, and my nose began to run.
Finally, my task-mistress relented and let me dismount, but I still had to stall and unsaddle and curry the mare. Then I had to wash up as well. We were both cold by that time.
It was well past sixth glass when we finally ended up at a cozy corner table at Azeyd, close enough to the hearth that Seliora stopped shivering, but not near enough to roast me.
“Do you want some hot mulled wine?” I asked.
“No, I’m already warm enough. A red Cambrisio, please,” she told the server, a black-haired Pharsi girl several years younger than Khethila, “and I’ll have the harvest greens, and the lamb pastry roll.”
“The red Cambrisio also,” I added, “and the harvest greens, but I’d like the cumin-cream lamb with the rice.”
“Yes, sir.” The server smiled and slipped away.
“She’s cheerful,” I offered.
“Her parents wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“She’s the daughter of the owners?”
“Martica and Chelaom are much stricter than Mama and Papa.”
I offered a wince.
Seliora laughed softly.
Once our wine and greens arrived, I began to explain, keeping my voice very low, what I’d learned over the week from Master Dichartyn, Maitre Dyana, and Master Rholyn, ending with, “. . . in short, I’ve been told that my problems with Ryel are mine and mine alone, and that I need to resolve them by myself and without any tracks leading back to the Collegium-or to you and your family.”
“My family? Oh, because too many people know we’re close, and that would lead back to you?”
“I don’t think we need both the Collegium and the High Holders after you and your family.” I tried to keep my tone dry. “Although I did hear from Lieutenant Mardoyt that you were more than capable of protecting yourself.”
“Grandmama said that would come up.” Her words were not quite defiant. “When did he tell you this?”
“This last week.” That was a bit of a stretch, but not that much.
“He’s an evil man and not to be trusted.” She offered a wry smile. “But it is true. Ricardio attempted to take some liberties with me. He ripped my blouse right off me. I shot him in the shoulder. Then I told him that if he said a word about it, he’d never say another. He said I was a bitch.” She sighed. “I didn’t want to shoot him. That’s why I had to.”
“What?” I didn’t understand that.
“I kept trying to discourage him gently. He wouldn’t discourage. I even warned him. He laughed and lunged for me. Some people only understand force. It’s best to avoid those altogether . . . if you can.”
“Because, in the end, you have to use force to stop them?” I asked.
She nodded.
By that token, if I’d had any sense, I should have avoided Johanyr totally-except he hadn’t given me that choice.
“Do you think I’m terrible for that?” Seliora asked quietly. “I suppose I should have told you, but . . .”
“You hoped I’d understand, and feared I wouldn’t?”
She nodded again.
“Dear one . . .” I smiled. “If anyone understands being pushed into doing something necessary and unpleasant, I’m certainly getting to that point. Sometimes, there aren’t any alternatives.”
“There are always alternatives,” she replied, “but if we accept them, we become less.”
I’d thought about that, if not in her case.
“What can I do to help you?” she asked after a moment, a question that also asked if we could leave the shooting behind.
“Could you find out what you can about Ryel’s commercial enterprises, especially in L’Excelsis? I’m fairly certain he has interests in or control of the Banque D’Rivages.” I paused. “But I’d rather have no information than have anything leading to you and your family.”
“I can see that. I can ask, and we’ll talk it over.” Seliora nodded slowly. “Can I ask what you have in mind?”
“In a general sense. I’m trying to figure out what might be called misdirection. I can’t wait too long, because the greatest pressure Ryel can put on me is through my family. If he presses your family right now, he offers an opportunity he doesn’t want to give.”
That was clear enough to me, because Seliora and I weren’t even betrothed, let alone married. If Ryel acted against them, now, they certainly could use their taudis contacts against him and his family, and it was unlikely that the High Holder-his heirs, especially-would get much support for attacking a crafting family not involved in his feud. That also meant that I had to deal with Ryel before I could even consider marrying Seliora.