Entry #4:

Oh Goddess, Your hand lies heavily on me today. I'd hoped that today 
would be both quiet and peaceful. But apparently that was not in Your 
plans for me. Now that I have more time, I would tell you more of 
what happenned this morning.

I went to the shop of Master Tomas Painter, to commission some small 
oil paintings of my family. His little shop was so cozy and beautiful 
that I felt more comfortable there than anywhere else I've been on 
this world.

When I showed him my photos and data bank print, he was so fascinated 
by the material (and how it might have been produced) that he never 
inquired as to the identity of the people in them.

The warmth of Master Painter's presence just *is*. It doesn't reach 
out to pull me in the way Gwenn's does. Yet there's something about 
it that made me feel so safe and cozy that I let down my mental walls 
and was able to relax more completely than I can ever remember doing 
since I arrived on this planet. Though now I almost wish I hadn't 
done that, at the time I couldn't help myself.

A couple of times I had the impression that I reminded him of someone 
he knew ... most likely a friend he mentioned briefly as being a 
woman named Bera. When he'd mentioned that Bera had gone to a Tower 
(Goddess, have mercy upon her), for a moment I feared that he was 
hinting (or perhaps warning me) that the same fate could
possibly befall me.

I'm almost certain he noticed my startled reaction, despite the fact 
that I surpressed it quick as I could. But he made no comment on it, 
and started talking about his housekeeper and about the paintings 
again. 

So I'm not sure what Master Painter knows, and I can't just ask (THAT 
would give it away for certain). By the way in which he sketched the 
pictures of my great-grandmothers so accurately (and from only my
second-hand descriptions), it seemed almost certain that he himself 
has been been "gifted by the Ancient Ones" as my grandmother used to 
say (though my mother once called it "cursed by genetic 
contamination"). 

I can't bring myself to believe that he's any kind of danger to me, 
even though Mother has begged me many times to stay away from what 
she calls "lowlander sorcery", and father has urged me to be 
cautious. 

"Everyone has secrets ... the more you know, the more you will worry 
...", Master Painter told me. Perhaps that's the secret of his 
charm -- being so disarmingly full of harmless friendliness, and 
giving the impression that any secret told to him will not be judged 
(and will go no further). I'm certain that he's more perceptive than 
he appears. And I wonder how much of his absent-mindedness appearance 
is a shieldto guard his own privacy.

I'll pause here again. I'm suddenly feeling cold. Perhaps I need to 
put the kettle on for some soothing camomile tea ...