Seeing as how it was full daylight and she had already been to both places she planned to quickly visit, THIS time she wasn't likely to get lost -- or so she assurred herself as she walked more quickly than usual through the streets. How far might Master Painter have gotten in his work ? A smile crossed her face as she thought of the artist. Apparently he had decided to keep her secret to himself, as not a single person had bothered her since her slip in his shop. For that, she was immensely grateful.
After stopping to pick up another pot of redberry jam, and some nutbark buns, she quickly managed to find the right townhouse again. Knocking politely on the door, Kay called "Hello ? Master Painter ? ". As she waited for answer, she idly wondered if perhaps Gwenn might be on patrol today. and, if so, whether she might be able to spot him and invite him to visit a cookstall with her before she had to return.
Tomas had just finished mixing up a new shade of green paint when he heard the knock on the door. He answered it without managing to knock over any of the assorted easels or paintings on display in the room for a change.
"Hello," he said, extending his hand as he'd seen Alec do, but without realizing that it was still wet with splotches of the new custom green. His visitor grinned at the Terran-isms. "Hello again Master Painter, and a good day to you", said Kay, as she briefly shook his none-too- clean hand. What difference did a small amount of messiness make ? A hand could always be washed later (but preferably BEFORE it smeared her windbreaker or kilted skirt -- today she'd taken the shortcut of simply covering up her uniform).
"That's a lovely shade of green", she remarked, "it reminds me of the dress I bought the other day at the MacDoevid's Tailor Shop. Do you know Hannah and Katerina ? They're absolute treasures, and they treated me as if I were some fine noble lady instead of just an ordinary low-level Terran clerk".
Tomas smiled. "Yes, they helped my little Bera choose a new wardrobe also. They're fine craftswomen and good businesswomen. Melora doesn't usually care for finery, but she buys almost all her clothes there because she doesn't like to sew herself though she won't admit it."
Kay chuckled softly and shook a green-splotched finger teasingly at Tomas. "There's naught wrong with buying instead of sewing; some like me do both, but most women I've met, are nae like that. And though I've never met your friend Bera or your friend Melora, they must both have excellent taste in clothing. Everything is so lovely in that shop. I couldn't thank the MacDoevids enough for their help, and can't wait until I can once again shop there".
"I hope that I'm not interrupting you..", Kay continued cheerfully, "but I was curious as to how the paintings were coming along. If you wouldn't mind, might I have a look ? I came into the city for some nutbark buns and more redberry jam and decided to stop here on my way back".
Kay pauses for breath, then remembers the bag in her other hand, and adds "Might I offer you one ? Perhaps with some jam on it ?". Then another thought crosses her mind. With a small chuckle, she suggests "AFTER I wash the paint off, of course ... as pretty as it is, I'm sure that paint would not be so pleasant tasting".
"Oh, my. I'm so sorry." Tomas looked dismayed. "Why everything I touched has traces of green... including the door. I don't know what has gotten into me today. Make yourself comfortable, my dear, and I'll find something to wash that off with. A paint remover... Oh, I remember now. I mixed a batch after Linnie's rapscallion boy was here last evening." He brought Kay the large tub of strong-smelling soap. "A snack sounds delightful. I'll get some jaco to go with it, and then you can see the painting's progress."
Setting down the bag of nutbark buns and jam on a clean spot, Kay accepted the soap gratefully. "Thank you kindly", she said, scrubbing at her skin. Fortunately, none of the paint had gotten on her clothing (and she wanted to keep it that way). Curiousity bubbled up within her as she swiftly removed every last splotch from her hand. What should (and shouldn't) she say ?
That was one of the problems with going hunting and not knowing about existing snares -- one was all too likely to walk right into them without realizing until too late. Part of her wanted to ask if he knew anyone who resembled her or any of the people he'd seen in her family pictures. But another part of her still urged caution; she didn't even know all the cultural taboos yet. As her grandmother had often told her, secrets were like unborn chicks -- once they get out into the world, ye canna put 'em back in their shells.
Tomas took a moment to compose himself. Last night had unsettled him thoroughly, and there was no sense in taking that out on his guest. Thankfully, the painting she'd requested had come along nicely... as well as a completely unconnected painting he'd slapped together as well. Now he unthinkingly carried them all to the table; everything he'd worked on last night was in the same corner.
While she waited, Kay fluttered around the shop, wiping away green splotches wherever she saw them. Hopefully, Master Painter wouldn't mind. She saw no point in leaving a mess, and he had given her more than enough soap. Perhaps it was simply tiredness that had caused Master Painter to overlook his paint trail.
She looked up eagerly as he finally returned. "The soap worked quite well, thank you ... so I wiped up the rest of the paint splotches while I was waiting.", she called to him. Then the thought occurred to her that sometimes private people didn't like anyone touching their things without permission --for ANY reason.
Blushly, Kay added shyly "I hope you don't mind. I was just trying to be helpful and didn't think your housekeeper would have been pleased to see dried paint everywhere. My gran always said that spills are easiest cleaned when tthey're fresh".
Tomas looked surprised. "Why, thank you, mestra. I had no idea I'd left any." He looked down at his paint-splattered clothes and the multi-colored floor. "Of course, I always do," he grinned.
Kay giggled. she couldn't help herself -- the little bubbles of mirth just slipped out. "Another thing my gran used to tell me was that creativity involves some degree of messiness because art is born out of chaos".
She grinned, then giggled a bit more before adding "I think it also makes a place look more cozy if it's not all spit-and-polished like a museum display. There are too many places where people look as though they're walking around in invisible suits of armour. Such things leave me feeling tense and irritable. Perhaps that's one of the reasons why your shop appeals to me -- it's got the same sort of feeling to it as my da's hobby workshop. The sawdust used to get all over, but we'd never notice until mum saw us coming back into the house and sent us back out to clean ourselves off"
Now that her mind was quieter, it seemed to her that perhaps this time SHE was cheering HIM up as much as he was cheering her. *Now lass, dinna trouble the man*, she told herself firmly.
"Here you go," Tomas said. "Your... ancestresses." With a flourish, he revealed the wrong portrait. A small girl-child with blondish-red hair and an easy grin played on a garden swing outside of a tower-like structure while a young red-headed boy with Tomas's prominent nose watched over her. Pink light bathed them both. There were no other figures in the painting.
Kay grinned. Surely he had done this on purpose. This was obviously more likely to be his own family (maybe his children, or a niece and nephew). But it would be unpardonable rudeness to inquire. Especially since he must like her enough to have shown her this picture. She had a feeling that not just anyone would have been allowed to see it.
"They're an adorable pair, Master Painter. You must be very proud of them. The boy will be just as handsome as yourself when he grows up. And the girl is already a great beauty. You've painted them in such realistic detail that I'd almost expect them to step off the canvas and greet me."
Tomas looked confused. *Boy?* he wondered. *Oh, dear*
She paused, then regarded him with with a very thoughtfully-appraising sort of look. "But if I didn't think you were teasing me by showing your kin instead of mine. I might wonder if you got as little sleep as I did last night. If this is your way of telling me that I'm fussing like a wooly with only one lamb, then I'll agree that you're right. Perhaps I do indeed worry too much that I might forget great-gram Callista and great-gram Cassilda without their pictures to hang on my wall. I never had the chance to know them before they died, though I've often wished otherwise".
"My kin?" he repeated. "But I have no... Oh. OH! I'm so sorry. This is something I worked on after I worked on yours... confused the canvases... addlebrained, I am."
A bright-red blush spread across Kay's face as she realized she'd just put her foot in her mouth again. The resemblance had been unmistakably clear, but she'd obviously stumbled by accident on a subject that caused Master Painter some distress.
*Blessed Mother, what I have I done ?*, she thought worriedly to herself *why can't I remember to think BEFORE opening my big mouth ? *. "Nay", she said quickly, "'tis I who am sorry, and I who should be the one apologizing ... I spoke without thinking ... normally I've better manners than to make such personal comments when I barely know ye".
"No, no," Tomas said. "It wasn't that... I mean, the boy is kin in a way. That's me as a lad, at least from what I remember myself as looking like. And the girl was my best friend, a lass named Linnel. We played together a lot, and the last I saw her was many years ago. Kin is a common topic on Darkover, and one you needn't fear bringing up.
Kay fidgeted nervously. One hand reached up to tug repeatedly at her braid until it seemed on the verge of coming undone. "But ...", she began, "what if ... if ye dunna what to say ... when ... when they ask ... about YOURS ... and ... and ye dunna ha' answers to some of the questions ?". She wondered if she was making any sense, or just bablling nonsensically.
"Saying you don't know or don't wish to discuss it is also fine. Many a Darkovan is born on the wrong side of the bed so to speak or festival got and so people will not push for answers." Tomas tried to sound reassuring. It was obvious kin was a difficult topic for Kay.
"But then people wonder what it is that ye are tryin' tae hide, or so has been mine own experience", she protested, "'tis a case of damned if ye do, and damned if ye dunna".
"Why, even the poorest peasant can often recite their lineage for generations.", he continued. Perhaps this way a subtle way of pointing out that it was okay to leave the curiosity of strangers unsatisfied.
A wistful sigh whistles through his young guest's lips. And a look of great sadness fills her eyes for a moment. "if only I were so blessed ... ". Her voice drops to a whisper as she adds almost too softly for him to hear, "I can fully name my father and his father, but nae more ---". Then she abruptly shakes her head as if to dislodge her sorrow. "'Tis no matter", Kay declares briskly in a much louder tone, "The world will go as it will, and not as you or I would have it".
"THAT explains it then", Kay agreed, feeling rather embarassed and startng to wonder if she'd EVER be able to have a conversation with anyone WITHOUT blushing at some point. It hadn't occurred to her that the painting might be of the past rather than the present. She explained, "Forgive me to jumping to conclusions -- especially since they were incorrect. I've been thinking far too much about my own family lately".
Almost as an afterthought, another question slipped out "Do you ever wonder what became of your friend, or wonder if she ever thinks about you ?", she inquired, before adding "I've caught Gwenn looking at me with that same look in his eyes ... and it still amazes me that I could be so blessed. He's a fine young man and I'd miss him terribly if he ever went back home".
"Ah, Linnie married and the last I saw her she had four children. Three strapping boys, and a young beauty of a blonde. She was tickled that the eldest son had la--" Tomas broke out coughing. Somehow he didn't feel up to discussing laran with Kay, at least not yet. She didn't seem the type to ridicule him, but many Terrans believed laran was superstitious silliness.
Kay's eyes widened in alarm. "Goddess ha' mercy", she whispered, then suddenly got up, went very quietly to the door and looked out. Satisfied that no other ears could possibly have overheard, she returned to her seat with a look of deep concern on her face.
"If ye were going ta say what I think ye were going ta say", she cautioned him, "then 'twould be wise of you to take care to whom you mention such things. My gran called it 'the mark of the fey' and said 'twas a sign that a person carried some of the blood of those she called The Ancient Ones".
She paused, hoping that she wasn't about to make a possibly-fatal mistake. "'Tis is a good thing that your friend delights in such talents, for they are a holy gift from the Almighty", she began, leaning just a wee bit closer and further lowering her voice.
"When I was a but a wee lass", she continued, "My gran spoke of that. She warned me that it should ONLY ever be spoke of between those who are known to carry it. She also warned me that, even then, people often fear and/or hate those who are different. And sometimes they start to look as ye as if ye were now a tool rather than a person. My own ma found this out the HARD way".
Kay shivered, remembering the time that her mother's recurring nightmare had awakened her. "If ye are what I think ye are, then it should be safe for me to tell ye this so ye'll understand the danger of speaking of such things where anyone might walk in and overhear", she said.
Then very hesitantly, deciding that it was worth the risk, she admitted "My gran told me that my own poor ma was hunted 'cross the lowlands like an animal ... driven right off-planet, with me a wee babe in her arms and herself half out of her mind".
In a whisper so soft as to be almost unheard, she added "... just as Gran had dreamed, so it happenned. I fear tae think wha' might ha' taken place if she'd not had me da there waiting for us at the spaceport gates". A shiver shook Kay's thin frame before she could even think to hide it. Silently, she prayed that Master Painter would continue to be as truthworthy as she'd hoped.
Feeling herself starting to fall again into wistful self-pity, Kay gave her head a shake and briskly changed the topic. "Now how many nutbark buns could you possibly eat ? I've more here than I could eat in a tenday. Goddess only knows whatever possessed me to get so many", she said, "and do you have a spoon for the jam ?".
Anxious to change the subject and grateful Kay had done so, Tomas hurriedly found a carved wooden spoon for her.
The spoon was almost too pretty to dirty. But on the other hand, this was freshly-made redberry jam. The sweet smell of the berries was a mouth-watering delight as it wafted out of the jar. Kay was sorely tempted to taste some immediately. But instead, she simply smeared several buns with a thick layer of jam and set them down on a nearby plate that looked reasonably clean.
He held up the other portrait, carefully away from the jam, and said, "I painted... Cassilda... in blue. I hope you don't mind. I remembered the Lady Cassilda in blue from a tapestry once when I was a boy, and I thought she somewhat resembled her namesake's image." He wondered vaguely if Kay knew the story of Hastur and Cassilda and Camilla.
Kay stared wide-eyed with wonder, a nutbark bun temporarily forgotten in her hand. Master Painter had done her great-grandmother's dress in the same shade of blue as the pair of watery blue eyes that looked out lovingly from the picture.
It eventually occurred to her that she should say something, instead of just sitting there staring. "That blue is perfect -- it was said to be her favourite color. She was indeed named for the Blessed Cassilda of Darkovan legend...", she commented. A wistfully-wondering look crossed her face as she added in a softer voice (not realizing she was speaking aloud instead of just thinking to herself) "... though I know not whether my great-gran was THAT kind of lady ... what if ... ?".
It suddenly occurred to Tomas that Kay may be a descendent, perhaps through a nedestro relative, of the comyn. *Oh, dear...*
"I've read the lyrics of the legend about her, aye.", continued Kay in her normal tone of voice again. "But I've never yet heard it sung. They're in the databanks filed under folk-songs by a woman who came here long ago and travelled all over Darkover to collect them. I found them when I was seeking the origins of the name Cassilda. 'Tis my own namesake as well (though there's little enough of the resemblance visible in me). But I've always asked people to call me Kay, because it helped me to fit in better when we lived on Terra".
"Ah, I know the difference a name can make," Tomas said. "It's no coincidence that I call myself Tomas Painter and that I'm a painter." He smiled. "On Darkover, most poor folk have no second name. When a family achieves that status, it usually means they are successful in one way or another." It wasn't the whole truth, and he felt guilty about that. But it was true, Tomas deliberated.
Kay grinned back at him. "Surely you must be teasing me again, Master Painter. I've THREE names ... a double first name, a single middle name and my father's family name. And 'tis four names if you count the fact that folks call me Kay instead of any of my proper given names". She shrugged "But I'm no one of any great importance. I'm just an average Terran lass; even more ordinary than most, and certainly far from rich." Her green-brown eyes twinkled mischievously.
If that was how she wanted to be seen, that was fine with him. He'd not inquire as to why she shared his preference to NOT be publicly-known to be associated with the Comyn. Tomas indicated the painting again. "And the lake as the far background... I can paint over that if you don't like it. Again, just a fragment of tapestry that used to hang at Castle--" he broke off.
In the picture, sunlight spakled off the water, making the lake look as though it had given pieces of itself for Cassilda's eyes. When Master Painter's voice broke off suddenly, she looked up. Feeling somewhat puzzled, she wondered if she'd just unknowingly done something rude again. Perhaps he'd paused because he thought her attention had wandered away from what he'd been saying.
"The lake is pretty ... it's that same same of blue again, and I love the way you captured the reflection of the sunlight off the water. The original tapestry must have have been quite magnificent", she said, to show that she HAD been listening.
*Don't you dare ask WHICH castle. As mum has always said, people who pry will get thought of as rude and will get what they deserve*, she reminded herself, firmly squashing the temptation that rose up in her mind and saying instead "I don't think I've ever been in a castle. Do all the ones here have tapestries ? If I could find a nice enough one, I'd hang it on the wall in my quarters".
Tomas could have kicked himself. Here he'd tried to pass as a peasant and done a passable job, and then he practically admitted he'd grown up in a castle. Thank goodness, his new friend was so polite. "Well, all the castles I've ever been in have had tapestries. You may try inquiring at Arilinn--the town, not the Tower, of course. They make them there, heavy ones so as not to leave the heat pass through the cold stone walls."
Kay chuckled softly. "Ye must be well-travelled indeed, to have seen more than one. If I ever travel outside Thendara in that direction, I shall be glad of your suggestion. Do you remember any particular shop as being well-worth a visit ? I would like something with mountains in it, and trees ... perhaps horses or hawks as well", she replied.
Silently, she congratulated herself on how well she'd hidden any signs of the fear and apprehension which any reference to a tower raised within her. Her partial barriers hadn't wavered even the slightes bit this time. Perhaps this would help convince Master Painter that he'd been mistaken about the way she'd reacted to that word the last time she'd been there. In anonymity, there was safety. As long as nobody discovered the secret she'd hidden ever since reaching puberty (and could PROVE it), then she could remain overlooked and unbothered.
"I have indeed traveled most of Darkover." This was a safer topic for Tomas. He was proud of his youthful wanderings. "Tis been years since I've left Thendara, so the shops I knew are likely replaced by now."
Kay felt some of the stress draining from her. Travel stories were often interesting (as well as being a safer topic of conversation).
"There was one that specialized in embroideries on Dry Town cotton. A wonderful material, despite the people who make it," he gushed. "Not so wrinkley..." He leaned forward and confidentially added, "I've always enjoyed a bit of embroidery, although I don't dare do it in public. Tis an art like any other, I think."
Kay smiled warmly. "Why should a man NOT do embroidery if he wishes ?", she inquired, looking very puzzled, "If it pleases ye, and harms none, why should any ha' difficulty acceptin' such ?".
"When the Goddess ha' gifted someone with the ability to create beauty (regardless of the material) 'tis an insult to Her to waste it", she insisted, "My grandad once told me that if a person lives all their life trying to please everyone else, then they end up pleasin' none (not even themself)".
By way of further distraction, she commented "What I miss most about Terra ... is being able to go horse-back riding on my da's farm every day". Pausing to give Master Painter a wide-eyed hopeful look, she then inquired "Would you perhaps know of anywhere in Thendara that might be willing to rent me a horse for a couple of hours ?".
"Rent a horse?" Tomas laughed. "Why, you can get one from the livery stable, I suppose. They usually rent for long trips, but they are probably willing to let you have one for a few hours' ride."
It occurred to Kay that perhaps she should start making her way back. "Thank you kindly. I shall keep your suggestions in mind. For now, I should probably be off. So good day to you, Master Painter ... and thank you --- for everything. I shall continue to keep your confidences as you have kept mine. Until we meet again, may the Goddess hold you safely within the palms of Her hands".
Carefully, she tucked half of the remaining buns into her pouch to join the second un-opened jar of jam. It made a fairly significant weight as she once again hung it around her waist. But no matter -- she wasn't going far.