“Thank you. But I have to say that he made it easy for me to depict him.”
“That’s one of his talents,” she replied.
“It’s a skill that’s helpful for whoever is in charge of something like the Collegium,” added Isola.
I almost responded, but instead I thought over her words. If making things easy was necessary and important, why did so many people, like Mardoyt, Subcommander Cydarth, and Harraf go out of their way to make matters difficult? For that matter, why did Master Dichartyn?
With Master Dichartyn, I thought I knew, but how he reacted to what I had in mind would settle that one way or another.
“You look rather thoughtful,” observed Isola.
“I’ve discovered a few things about which to be thoughtful,” I said with a laugh. “That’s what comes of discovering you’re an imager comparatively later in life.”
“Having been an artist first must be an advantage,” suggested Chassendri.
“It’s a mixed blessing. That training made it easier to visualize objects, but as an artist, in a way, you feel things, but you also stand outside them. You’re not supposed to act in other people’s lives, just observe them, but all too often what an imager does affects the lives of others.” I shrugged. I didn’t want to say more.
“Especially if you report to Master Dichartyn,” said Chassendri dryly.
I laughed again.
The remainder of lunch was less introspective, and we actually talked about art. I enjoyed it enough that I lingered somewhat and had to hurry to get to the Bridge of Hopes.
My hurrying didn’t matter, because Seliora didn’t arrive until a quint past one, and she emerged from the hack by herself. Her determined and quick stride suggested all was not well.
I hurried to meet her. “Is everything all right?”
“I had to explain to the wife of the younger son of High Holder Devoult why she could have the pattern she wanted or the price she wanted, but not both. She didn’t want to understand that at the price she wanted, if word got around and everyone else demanded the same, we’d lose so much that we wouldn’t be in business. So her threats to have her father-in-law drive us out of business were meaningless. Her husband is slow, but not stupid, and he finally managed to explain the problem.” Seliora shook her head. “Some of those men . . . why do they marry such idiots?”
“Because they probably have no real choice. They can’t marry out of their class, and their parents and older brothers don’t really want them to marry anyone with brains, not unless the younger son has none.” I leaned forward and kissed her cheek. That was as much as I thought wise, given her mood.
“And then, Shomyr ran off to see Haelya, and left all his worksheets scattered all over the design spaces.”
“You’ve definitely had a long morning.”
“Today was calm, compared to yesterday . . .”
I took her arm and guided her toward the more direct walkway that led to my studio, the stone path that angled across the north end of the buildings on the quadrangle. I listened as she continued.
“. . . the Ealityr mill in Kephria sent five bolts of fabric with the wrong shade of blue . . . they’ll have to replace it . . . but that means another three weeks, and the penalty clauses won’t repay all of our costs . . .”
We had almost reached the studio before she turned and looked at me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to rail on and on at you. You didn’t do any of this.”
“I can certainly listen. You’ve listened to my frustrations enough.” I sincerely hoped that the problems with the mill weren’t a result of more interference by Ryel, but I had no way of knowing whether NordEste Design was suffering from mere incompetence at the mill or worse.
She smiled wryly. “There are reasons for your problems. Mine come from people’s stupidity.”
“That is a reason as well,” I pointed out.
Seliora did laugh.
“After the sitting, and before we go to my parents . . . do you suppose we could take a wagon out to Ryel’s estate?”
“No.” Her voice lilted, though, and I caught sight of a glint in her eye.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s a pleasant afternoon, and it would be better to ride out there. It would also be faster, and we wouldn’t have to wash the wagon and clean up nearly so much. That will also give you practice. You need it.”
“I’m certain I do. I’d best bring a spare outfit, then.”
“That might be a good idea.”
No one intruded while I was working on the portrait, not that I expected it, and I finished most of the right side of her face, and her neck. Painting a woman’s neck is difficult. It was for me, anyway, because of the changing curves and the muscles and because unless the neck is correct, the face always seems wrong. In that sense, the neck is part of the face.
That left me at a good stopping point, and I had Seliora sit down while I cleaned up.
Then we went back to my quarters-or I did. She waited in the entry below while I quickly folded another outfit into the carrying bag.
We actually reached NordEste Design before half past two.
There, I learned more about saddling the mare, a patient creature, as Seliora instructed and watched as I struggled with blankets, and girths, and the saddle. Eventually, I did manage all those details, and we rode out of the courtyard, me on the mare, and Seliora on a much friskier chestnut.
We took the direct route, and in roughly half a glass, the Plaza D’Nord was behind us, as well as most of the carriages and wagons that had thronged the Boulevard D’Este. I wouldn’t have claimed that I rode well, but I was finally developing some sense of what I was doing.
“Is the ride helping put the past days behind you?” I asked as we turned northward on the paved road leading to the estate.
Seliora’s first response was a faint smile. “I’d already done that.”
“You’re worried, still.”
“Knowing you, how can I not be worried?”
“Farsight?”
“Not really. Not mostly. You’ve made an enemy of one of the more powerful High Holders. You’re a powerful imager. He’s too arrogant to back off, and that leaves you with no choices.”
I’d known that for a long time. So had Seliora, I suspected.
“Rhenn?”
“Yes?”
“High Holders don’t believe in mercy or fairness. Their honor is based on power. Nothing else. I understand that. Please remember that I understand.”
“You’re one of the few outside the High Holders and the Collegium who does. Or who’s willing to say it.”
“My whole family knows.” Her tone declared that they knew personally, and that she’d tell me when the time came. And that such a time might never come.
I nodded.
We reached the low rise to the south of the one on which stood Ryel’s chateau, and I studied the lands once more. Even at a glance, I could see that there was but one gate in the long wall around the estate-that part I could see-and that was the massive entry gate. Again, I was struck by the tower that rose off the terrace at the end of the chateau’s south wing, overlooking the formal gardens that stretched a good half mille down to the stream flowing in a swale whose far southern side was less than a hundred yards from the southern wall.
To the east of the gardens was what looked to be an orchard, and then a small woodland farther east. From what I could determine, the grounds were modest-for a High Holder-roughly three-quarters of a mille north to south and possibly twice that from west to east.
Once we followed the road down and into its lowest point between the two rises, I eased the mare to the right side of the road, letting her walk slowly as I studied the wall that surrounded the estate. The wall stood close to two and a half yards high, but the top was set with a mortared surface from which protruded all sorts of sharp objects-broken glass and crockery, nails, the edges of shattered blades. The gray stone had a slightly irregular finish, but not rough enough to afford handholds. The only break in the wall occurred where the stream-a small river-flowed between two stone pillars. There the walls turned at a right angle and ran back another five yards or so along the stream, but they had been set so that they constricted and deepened the stream and so that it rushed through the gap and down a short rapids before entering a culvert that continued under the road.