Gallel's Heir

Chapter 8: Sketches and Nightmares

He will make our nightmares pure, and wake us from our bitter sleep.
He will touch our souls and we will sing forever.
--- Anath shen Sorrel Albandor of Yambisey

Canúden arrived in the gallery early in the afternoon. Today they had a live model: del Allen had been so impressed with Canúden’s practice sketches that he offered to advance him quickly, providing a lesson every other day. This was his third lesson. Canúden looked hopefully around for Dylin. He hadn’t dared go to her chambers, not after Tutang’s little game — he wasn’t sure what else to call it. The Kel apparently could be a dangerous man, and Dylin was vulnerable to his whims.

Del Allen arrived in the gallery with a willowy young woman wrapped in a white blanket. Canúden blushed after she sat on a stool and the blanket slipped off her shoulders. Del Allen must have sensed his discomfiture as he said, “This is Lorin; I’ve used her as a model for five years. Don’t worry, she doesn’t mind you looking at her — that’s what I pay her for.”

“But why not have her wear clothes like any respectable Galian citizen?”

Del Allen smiled with twitching lips.“Well, Canúden, you’ve got to know the body’s structure before you can accurately cover it up. Sit behind her if that would help you today.” Del Allen pointed at the model. “Notice where the muscles curve around her back and shoulders?  Find basic shapes and draw them.” The art teacher settled at Lorin’s side five paces from her and began his own sketch.

Canúden nodded slowly and sat behind the woman, but barely dared to look up from his paper. He had seen nudes in paintings, but this… was outside his experience. Ma had raised him with more respect than to take girls lightly. He declined joining in the other boys’ jokes about feminine anatomy. Ma had suffered from a brute, and Canúden would take no part in that sort of attitude.

But this was art.

As his face cooled, he became more comfortable with the idea. Finding Lorin’s proportions, seeing a human appear on his paper from nearly abstract circular and square lines, he found intimately satisfying.

He jumped when someone touched his shoulder. “My Lady!” His stomach did a twist. “I’m glad you’ve come. Are you feeling better? Did Ophia help?”

Dylin settled beside him on the bench and rested her hand on his arm. “Ophy is a marvel. How is your ma?”

Canúden continued drawing. “Not well. I was afraid to visit you today, to take you there…”

Concern crossed her forehead. “Why? Canúden, you’re always welcome. I… waited for you.”

His insides continued their squirming. “I had an encounter with Tutang this morning. His attitude frightened me. He hinted that if you went to see my ma — a villager — you would get more of the same.” He gestured to the bandage around her arm. “I couldn’t cause you any more pain.”

Dylin’s face darkened. “How did the smiting head know?”

“I have no idea. Why would he care, anyway? You’ve been going to the villages for years.”

“This is one of his many manipulations. He wants you.”

Canúden paused, then continued his sketch. The pencil seemed too big for his fingers. “He won’t let up about my being his financial counselor. Why me? Every day I come to work, there’s Boreck dragging me to the Kel’s office, as though I need punishing. Apparently he thinks I could protect his gold from Turbia, better than kel Sinclair.”

“That’s stupid!” said Dylin. “Just like him. Hasn’t he ever read about Kel Zith?” Kel Zith, five hundred years previously, decided he didn’t need councilors and got rid of them all, some more violently than others. Galia then went through a dark time until someone murdered the Kel, and his wiser heir took over. “He gets strange ideas about people sometimes. Like he’s drawn to potential. He’s got excellent councilors. Not always nice, but good at what they do. A couple of them started young, with little experience. But at least they applied for the job, and they were already kels of some note. He gets odd ideas about people’s potential, but the scary thing is, he’s always right.”