It was surely vain to want to double-check her appearance again, but she could NOT resist the temptation. No more wearing totally-mismatched clothing because it was all she owned. Today it was the lovely green tunic-and-skirt set from MacBrides. Its leaf-and-vine embroidery had been done by some friend (or some relative -- she'd been too nervous to remember) of that young shop-clerk she'd embarassed by asking for long thermal underwear. Kay had even remembered to braid her hair (though she still hadn't found a butterfly clasp to wear in it). Only the plain black windbreaker jacket visibly marked her as Terran.
Now none would be able to find fault with her appearance, and there should be just enough time left before needing to hurry back. This would have been so much easier if she'd had more allotted time for lunch. But things went as they did, and she'd just have to make the best of it.
Pushing open the door, she entered and found herself surrounded by beautiful work in every direction. Tomas was just putting the finishing touches on a desert landscape painting when he heard someone enter the shop. He called out a soft greeting and then walked over to the visitor, whose windbreaker made him think of his little Terran friend, Bera. He smiled absent-mindedly at his customer. "Para servu, mestra," he murmured.
The shop was so absorbing that Kay almost didn't hear the greeting that was called to her. When the young Terran woman turned away from the art she'd been admiring, she saw a thin man with a shock of red hair. By the description she'd been given, this was surely Master Painter himself. She felt flattered. His friendliness felt genuine and warm, yet it seemed to her that he was thinking of someone else when he looked at her, someone he obviously cared about. But it would be terribly impolite for her to inquire, and he might not be as forgiving as Gwenn had been.
She bowed respectfully in greeting, "Greetings of the morning to you, mestru. I am Kay MacDonald, a clerk from the Terranan base. If you are both willing and available, I wish to commission three small sketches from you". One slender hand reached into a pocket of her jacket and pulled out two pictures that were obviously of Terran origin. Tomas's eyes lit up. He hadn't received an interesting commission in quite some time.
The first photograph was of a young family. A tall, stocky dark-haired man lovingly-embraced a well-rounded delicately-pretty blonde woman. Her pale blue eyes were striking; they seemed overflowing with both great love and great sadness as she gazed down upon the blanket-wrapped infant in her arms. Of the child, all that could be seen was a pair of hazel eyes (like those of the man) peeking out from among reddish-brown curls.
"Oh, lovely," Tomas said. "I can certainly sketch their features well with this as a guide and then paint in the colors if you like." Kay let the corners of her mouth turn up in a smile, pleased that he was showing more interest in the material than in the identity of the people in them.
In the other photo, a middle-aged couple posed happily. Both bore a strong resemblance to the man and child in the other picture. *I'm glad I was able to find this one in the computer banks, and output a copy*, Kay thought to herself.
"Such interesting paper. May I touch it? Was this portrait machine- made?" The questions tumbled out all on their own, but Tomas hardly noticed how odd they probably sounded.
"Aye", came the warm reply (and a soft sigh of relief). It made her feel more at ease to see someone showing such artistic enthusiasm. "Both are Terran machine-made. The one in the frame is an old-style terran photograph sealed in to protect and preserve it. Ye may touch it with care. The other needs no special handling -- I can always procure a fresh copy upon returning to my quarters".
Tomas wondered what kind of wonderful machine could make such portraits. He ran a careful finger over the two photographs, absently wondering why she would want a painted version of something so easily obtainable. Perhaps she preferred the warmth of the oil colors...
It was a pleasure to see someone admiring her favourite photos. Kay basked in the warmth of Master Painter's company, deciding that she rather quite liked this fellow. He appreciated (and created) beautiful things. And he had a presence that was delightfully soothing in its neutrality; it made no demands upon her, and pulled her in no directions. Even his growing curiousity simply just floated there, without making her feel half-smothered by it. What a treat. She felt some of the previous days' tension drain out of her, and her smile grew even wider.
"That framed photo is one of the most precious things I own", she offered, interrupting Tomas' chain of thought. Had he noticed the resemblance between Kay and the people in the pictures (especially the infant)? What should she say if he commented upon it ? "I'll be most careful with it," Tomas assured her.
"And I've always admired paintings done in oil, though I've never had any of my own. So I looked around my quarters one day and decided that it was time to acquire a few", Kay went on, then added shyly "Could you perhaps make them all the size of that photo ?"
"Mmm, yes, that shouldn't be a problem," Tomas said. "Save me the trouble of reproportioning the space to a larger or smaller size..."
Another idea then occurred to Kay. It was a thin straw, but better than nothing. Lacking any identifying details other than a first name, she had been unable to turn up a picture of her great-grandmother Cassilda. "I regret that I lack a picture on which to base the third sketch. Would you be able to work from a description in that case ?"
"Hmm?" Tomas lifted his eyes from the 'unusual' Terran pictures. "A description? Oh, yes, if you have a good picture in your mind and are willing to take the time to describe it to me, I will do my best. "
Hope lit up Kay's face from within. She paused, amazed at the daring thought that had just occurred to her. If she was going to try for one, then ... why not ... two ? The daring of it made her heart beat faster. Her mother's were an even more-closely held family secret than that of her father. She remembered asking her mother what sort of person was this great-grandmother Cassilda who she had been named for. Mother had given her a sad smile, said that this was the only member of her birth-family whose love she'd never doubted, and painted such a vivid and loving word-picture that Kay had never forgotten it. It was as clear as a photo, as was grandmother's description of her own mother (Kay's great-grandmother Callista).
"A Terran clerk, you say?", Tomas continued, "Do you know Alec from the Spaceforce by chance? Wonderful fellow, friend of mine, helped me in a pinch a few days ago... Would you like a drink? Shallan, jaco, perhaps?"
"I regret that I do not know your friend", Kay admitted, "but this is only my second tenday on this planet". She shook her head sadly, "There aren't many I know here, and very few to call me their friend" then shrugged as if it didn't matter. "Och aye", she added more brightly, "I suppose I can always find some wee beastie for a pet".
"Would you like a drink? Shallan, jaco, perhaps?", he asked, changing the subject. "Some hot jaco would be lovely, thank you", she replied, thankful for the distraction. She had the impression that Master Painter was somehow different from anyone else she'd met on this world, but she couldn't figure out what it was.
"I'll get it," Tomas said, his mind still on the wonderful Terran pictures. He stepped backward and upset an empty easel. "Oops. I meant to move that anyway," he said, recovering himself and pulling an elaborate carved mug from a shelf.
Kay grinned. "I've done similar things myself ... many times .. and worse", she commented. A light blush rose to re-colour her cheeks. A small giggle slipped out. Then she admitted, "Not being used to the crowding of the marketplace, I kept forgetting to watch out to make sure that the pleats of my kilt had sufficient clearance. They've tipped things off tables and become caught in doors". The giggles multiplied, then she continued "I even crashed into one of your local guardsmen yesterday".
Tomas looked startled. "Guardsmen? I was in the Guards once... long ago... was younger then."
"Ye are nae an old man now by any means, Mestru Painter", Kay pointed out kindly, "and I would consider the creation of art to be a finer pursuit than the dreariness that comes with soldiering". A smile crossed her face as she thought of Gwenn.
"But anyways, I went crashing into him like a chervine into a pit-trap --- and with a rather large pile of packages in my arms too. Even Durraman's donkey could have done no worse. I feared the worst. So many of the guardsmen that I've seen around town, have such grim expressions. But the Bright Goddess herself must have blessed me with luck. This one was ever so nice".
Tomas tried to hide a grin as the thought occurred to him that many a young Guardsman would be nice to such an attractive young woman, but his own shyness coupled with a vague sense of propriety kept him from sharing that thought with Kay.
How lovely. He was laughing WITH her rather than laughing AT her. She was certain of that. There was a faint hint of lewd humour to it -- but not directed at her. That was alright then. Ah well, men would be men; 'twas the natural order of things.
"If you'd care to describe the person you'd like me to draw, I'll try to get a mental image," he invited, filling the mug with jaco and motioning Kay to a chair near the shop's fireplace. "Oops, again, this is for you," he said, as he realized he was still holding the mug.
Kay accepted the mug gladly, and settled herself down in the chair. The coffee-and-chocolate taste of the jaco was exactly what she'd needed to help focus her thoughts. This was so cozy that she wished she'd found this shop sooner. She was so comfortable that she barely noticed the fading of the mental walls that she often automatically put up (to one degree or another) between herself and other people.
Master Painter was so easy and comfortable to talk to, that Kay continued. "They aren't all so nice as Gwenn MacConal. Many of them remind me of men I knew on Terra. They either treat me as if I was still an adolescent girl too young to know much about anything -- I can't help it that I look younger than I am". Tomas looked sheepish. He had a habit of treating all young women like the daughter that he had never met.
Pausing for another sip of jaco, a slight frown came creeping over Kay's face. "Or, what's worse is when they look at me with a frown on their face, yet the stirrings of mating-rut seem to gleam in their eyes". With a vigourous shake of her head, she then adds "Nae, I dinna care for that, not at all". She looked down into her mug, wondering if she'd said too much.
Tomas blushed deeply at this. Did the woman have laran that she had half-followed his thoughts? He knew now that Terrans could indeed have laran, and his thoughts returned to young Bera for a second.
Something caught Kay's attention. There it was again; that flash of sudden warmth. Whoever it was that she reminded Master Painter of, it must be someone very nice indeed. Her father and grandfather used to look at her the same way when she was younger. With great relief, Kay felt her blush begin to recede, and she smiled widely in gratitude.
But when she looked up, it suddenly dawned on her that she'd just unknowingly stuck her foot in her mouth again. *Goddess have mercy* thought Kay to herself, noticing his blush, *I just did it again. Is it taboo here for women to mention anything related to sex ?*.
Her own cheeks reddenned again. With a self-deprecating giggle, she apologized "I've misspoke myself again, haven't I ? No matter how hard I try to fit in, sooner or later I eventually say something that brands me as being a poorly-mannered foreigner. That's the problem with being a child of two worlds -- I'm a misfit in both. Sometimes I feel I'd fit in better here if I were a lad instead of a lass. The Goddess knows I've had little enough practice in acting all ladylike".
"There are plenty of lasses in Thendara who have no desire to act ladylike," Tomas laughed, remembering a pair of mischievous yellow eyes from his past. "Like the lot at Thendara House. The Renunciates are a fun bunch under their bravado, if you ever have the chance to meet them. Not all are menhiedris, either, though you'll hear that, I'm sure..."
"Thendara House", the young woman echoed, with a very thoughtful look on her face "I've heard of that, though I've never met anyone from there. It wouldn't bother me even if they were all lovers of women. As long as their partners are always both adult and willing, I'll not judge such preferences as being better or worse than my own. Perhaps I would indeed find their company interesting". "If only everyone thought so..." Tomas said wryly, "But the world will go as it will."
A thoughful look crossed Kay's face. Giving a soft, self-mocking chuckle, she grinned. "You've a kind soul, Master Painter ... to be listening to the silly babblings of a lass. I've few enough friends on this world, and could nae help myself. If ye have this effect on many young women, then I'm certain ye must never lack for company".
"Oh, I am no threat to young women," Tomas said, thinking of Alec. Then he wondered again if Kay did indeed have laran... Perhaps he'd best not think of Alec after all. Better to think of art...
A soft, half-muffled giggle of amusement answered this comment. "Aye ... 'tis quite the contrary", Kay agreed. She idly wondered which meaning he'd meant. Master Painter was good-hearted and clearly no danger to her, she was certain enough of _that_. It wasn't as if she could ask -- not without being rude. And as for which gender he preferred in his bed, it didn't really matter to her if he liked men or women (or both). So, with a shrug, she abandoned that line of thought. As long as others didn't pry into her own sex life, she wouldn't pry into theirs.
Feeling bold, Kay then added "That's another thing I like about you, Master Painter, if ye dinnae mind me saying so. Here I am pouring out my heart to ye ... and I've not heard even one prying question". Her eyes flicked quickly towards the sketch of the hawk-faced woman and then back. "My grandmother often told me that such men (who listen more than they speak) were few and far-between treasures".
"Everyone has secrets, mestra," Tomas said, turning away. "And I learned long ago that the more you know, the more you will worry about..." His voice trailed off.
"Aye", Kay whispered almost too softly for him to hear. A wave of sadness and regret washed over her. She wished that she dared to ask what he worried about. But it would be unthinkable to even consider mentioning such a thing; Master Painter had shown respect for HER privacy, so she owed him no less than the same. "Then let us speak nae more of secrets, if ye will it so, for I did not mean to pry. I worry too much already. Let us drink and be merry instead", Kay pronounced, shrugging her shoulders, "I meant only to thank you for your great kindness".
Her expression then grew thoughtful again, as she began to rummage through her memories. "The description is actually of a pair of women", she began, changing the subject back to her reason for coming here. Which one first ? The more daring, or the less ? The choice wasn't clear. So perhaps it should be left up to the Goddess. Her eyes drifted half-closed as she sipped at the jaco again. "Shall I wait until you've fetched something with which to make notes ? Or do you prefer to work purely from your own memory of my words ?".
Tomas pulled a rough notepad out of one of his smock pockets, as well as some charcoal. "Never far from me," he explained. "You talk, and I'll draw. You may feel free to watch and make comments or corrections. The point is to get it accurate in charcoal before I try to paint."
Kay let her mind wander back through her memories. "The first was a woman of the hills", she began. "She was described to me as being like a hunting hawk born as a woman; nae large, but strong and proud in her independance, confidant of her power and willingly bowing her head to no man. There was said to be a stark and majestic dark beauty in her sharp features and angular frame; enough to catch many a young man's eye". A pause filled the air. Moments passed before the silence was broken by a wistful sigh. Words began to flow again. "There was fire in her soul, and it either warmed or burned all those around her. 'Tis a pity indeed that nae much more than her doubly-coloured eyes came down the generations to me with her name".
Another face swam up from the depths of memory. "The other was a woman of the lowlands; perhaps the plains or desert. Even when she wasn't swollen with child, she was said to be a big woman; round and pale like a fine wooly ewe, and with a delicate prettiness that seemed a blessing of Evanda herself. She's remembered as being soft in every manner; from a heart that always had room to love one more, to a voice that nae was heard to ever speak a harsh word to any, and a wide lap that never turned away a wee bairn in need of comfort. Her favourite flowers were the soft watery-blue of her eyes and the shining pale gold of her hair. Mother always loved her best of all".
Slipping into a half-trance only penetrated by Kay's voice, Tomas' hands flew across the paper. What her words didn't supply, his mind tried to fill in, and some lines were more confidently drawn and darker than others. As always when in his artistic trance, his matrix began to feel more alive in its insulated pouch around his neck, but he didn't take it out. He just allowed the energy to focus his hand and make images from Kay's words.
Absent-mindedly, Kay reached up a hand and scratched at one of her temples. Some vague itch had sprouted there. A few strands of hair pulled loose from their braid and fell across her face as she continued painting her word-pictures.
In about twenty minutes (according to Kay's timepiece), two figures emerged on paper: one smaller and drawn with a heavier hand, full of sharp but eye-pleasing lines and the other softer and curvier. Eyes wide with awe, she stared at the sketches. THAT was the odd thing she'd originaly noticed about Master Painter -- he must surely be a bit fey himself. "By the Goddess", she whispered softly, "your talent must have come from the Divine Ones themselves". Her eyes flicked back and forth between the photos and the sketches. The family resemblances were so obvious that anyone not blind couldn't possibly mistake them.
Tomas smiled happily. A satified customer always pleased him. Then he paused, and looked at his drawings critically. "I would paint the first in jewel tones and the second in pastels, but that will be your call, of course, mestra." He realized with some surprise that he'd drawn them in Darkovan clothing, and he blushed. "Of course, I'll change the parts you say are inaccurate. First sketches, of course, are never perfect," he added.
"These are truly wonderous. Ye may go ahead and begin to paint when you are ready, Master Painter. I could nae imagine the sketches being any better a match, and the colours sound entirely fitting", Kay reassurred him. They were an uncanny match to what she had seen in her mind's eye. *However did he get them so accurate?*, she thought to herself.
"The painting is my favorite part," Tomas said. "Lines and angles and shapes have their charm, but it is the colors I love best. You are welcome to stay as long as you like, but I must warn you I never know how long it's going to take".
Kay sighed softly. "This shop is so cozy that I could easily be content to stay for hours more ... if 'twere not for the fact that I'm expected back at my desk later this morning", she admitted, wishing that she had barely half a candle-mark left before she needed to return.
An idea suddenly bloomed. "Might I come back another time ... to watch you paint ?", she inquired, her voice full of hope. "I don't mean to sound impatient or to intrude on your privacy ... there's no hurry ... the paintings can be finished whenever is easiest for you ... I'd simply enjoy watching them take shape ", came one last afterthought.
"Oh, that would be fine", he answered, "I get precious few visitors in the shop, now that Bera is in the tower ..."
The mention of this name brought with it that same sense of warmth that Kay had felt earlier. Then a nagging doubt took form suddenly. If this woman Bera was the friend who she reminded him of, then it was either a physical resemblance to his friend ... or he suspected Kay of being someone who might interest a Tower.
She froze, not knowing what to say. Automatically, her barriers sprang back into existence, cutting off the surge of warmth and leaving her feeling suddenly very cold. After all these years, had she just made an unexplainable slip ? Or was she just over-reacting to an innocent comment ? Perhaps the wisest course of action would be to wait and see.
Tomas was sure he felt Kay's barriers going up, but he was long used to such feelings and too well tower-trained himself to ever pry. Why, that was the first thing his Keeper had taught him about ethics. Besides, he often imagined things, and that was probably what he was doing now. He decided to think no more of it. "And Melora doesn't bother much with the shop ...", he continued, as if he hadn't noticed anything, "says she can't stay in a room she can't clean, and I have trouble enough finding my things without her moving them all about." Despite his words, the tone of Tomas's voice when he spoke of Melora was one of affection. "My housekeeper, that's Melora," he added. He didn't explain Bera's identity because he had already forgotten having mentioned her.
Kay relaxed somewhat, her barriers still in existence, but now more like a translucent veil instead of solid walls. As urge of warmth began to trickle inward, soothing the cold. Apparently her secret was still safe, praise be to the mercy of the Dark Goddess. Silently, she scolded herself for jumping at shadows, and wondered if he'd noticed the reaction she should have surpressed.
"Your housekeeper sounds like a fine woman", Kay commented, using the distraction to calm herself again. She continued, "you're fortunate to have such a treasure. Personally, I find clutter to be somewhat cozy; it's just the sight of actual dirt that motivates me to clean".
Tomas looked over at Kay. "What do you think of Thendara so far?", he asked curiously, seeking a less personal topic.
Kay looked thoughtful for a moment. "A few days ago, I'd likely have said that it was more than a little bit imposing". A chuckle of merriment escaped her lips. "It's big and loud and crowded with people who all seem to know where they're going. The first time I dared to go out among the local shops, I was as scared as a mare who's caught the scent of a forest fire. But as I get more used to it, I'm finding that I rather enjoy exploring -- even though I still get lost alot".
"Thought the same thing of the Trade City when I first visited there," Tomas nodded. "Some things take getting used to. I'd estimate I could probably have these painted by day after tomorrow for I've little else to keep me busy these days."
"The day after tommorrow ? That's even faster than I'd thought possible", came an expression of delight in reply.
Tomas smiled and said "I enjoy your company, mestra, and I'd be happy to have you return".
Kay blushed brightly. With a shy grin, she said softly, "Thank you, Master Painter. You are too kind. Perhaps I shall come visit you again tomorrow ... if there's time after I leave the tailor". Her hands stroked the green embroidery thread on the folds of her skirt. *As lovely as this is*, she thought to herself, *I find myself missing the dresses I left on Terra*.
"I'll look for you then," he promised, "I can't have you late for work, though, and getting yelled at by the timeclock," he grinned, trying to sound Terran.
It was hard not to like this Master Painter fellow, even though he'd unintentionally(?) given her a moment of fright a few minutes ago. Kay grinned and giggled, feeling more of her tension dissolve.
"The clocks don't actually yell", she informed him, "but the computers will spit out reprimands". Kay blushed, then admitted "but getting one for an unauthorized absense would be something new. Usually I get them for adding a cloak to my uniform".
"Mmm, I've seen those uniforms," Tomas said carefully, "They do look... cold".
Kay wasn't quite sure if he was teasing her or not, so she settled for saying simply that the thin black form-fitting uniforms felt much more comfortable when covered by a woolen cloak. She set her now-empty mug down on a neary table, bid farewell to Master Painter and headed out the door, back towards Terran HQ and the rest of the work that awaited her there.