She rose up on her tiptoes for a brief instant with the grace of a dancer, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. ‘It’s a promise,’ she said. ‘I’ll hold you to it.’
And with that she hurried ahead, leaving Talon standing as if thunderstruck, while several other boys laughed at his obvious state of confusion.
Talon reached up slowly and touched the cheek she had kissed and for a long time thought of nothing else.
• CHAPTER TWELVE • (#ulink_a78ae208-6076-5b8b-ab5e-99d38d44b153)
Love (#ulink_a78ae208-6076-5b8b-ab5e-99d38d44b153)
TALON FROWNED.
‘Hold still, please,’ he pleaded.
Demetrius and Rondar both attempted to hold their poses for a moment longer, but at last Demetrius burst out, ‘I can’t do this!’
Talon threw his brush down in disgust. ‘All right. Let’s take a minute to relax.’
Rondar came around to where Talon had set up his easel with a treated piece of wood resting on it. He examined the portrait Talon was painting of the two young men and grunted. ‘Pretty good.’
Demetrius picked up an apple off the small table by the door and bit into it. Around a mouthful of fruit, he said, ‘Do you have any idea why they’re doing this?’
‘Doing what?’ asked Talon.
‘Making you learn to paint.’
Talon shrugged. ‘They have had me learning all manner of things over the last few years that don’t make a lot of sense to me. But I owe Robert de Lyis my life and he’s bound me over to Master Pug’s service, so I do what they tell me.’
‘But aren’t you the least bit curious?’ asked Demetrius.
‘Of course, but they’ll tell me what I need to know when I need to know it.’
Rondar sat down on a bed and said, ‘It’s simple.’
‘What?’ asked Demetrius, his freckled face resolving into a frown.
‘Why he paints,’ replied Rondar.
‘Well be so kind as to explain it to us, then, why don’t you?’ Demetrius looked at Talon who smiled.
Rondar shook his head as if it was obvious to any but a fool. Then he stood up, crossed the room and put his hand on Talon’s shoulder. ‘Talon: Mountain boy.’
‘Right,’ said Demetrius, his expression showing he wasn’t following so far.
‘Talon: Roldemish gentleman.’ With that, Rondar sat down.
Demetrius nodded as if understanding.
‘What?’ asked Talon, puzzled.
‘How many languages do you speak now?’
‘Six, including Orosini. I speak fluent Roldemish, King’s Tongue, the Common Tongue, pretty good Keshian; and I’m getting decent with Quegan – which is pretty close to ancient Keshian. Next I’m supposed to learn Yabonese.’
‘And you’re the best on the island with a sword.’
‘Yes,’ said Talon without modesty.
‘Do you play an instrument?’
‘A flute. Nakor showed me how to make one.’
‘Well?’
‘Well enough.’
‘You play chess, cards, dice, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you’re good at them, right?’
‘Yes,’ Talon repeated.
Demetrius grinned. ‘Rondar’s right. They’re going to pass you off as a gentleman of Roldem.’
‘Cook?’ asked Rondar.
Talon grinned. ‘Better than Besalamo, if I’m honest.’
‘That’s not saying much,’ observed Demetrius. ‘Look, if they start teaching you how to play more instruments and everything you need to know about wine and other such niceties, then Rondar’s right. The masters of this island are transforming you into a gentleman of Roldem.’
‘But why?’ asked Talon.
‘You’ll know when they tell you,’ Demetrius replied.
Talon pondered the possibility for a moment, then said, ‘All right. Back to your places. I told Master Maceus I’d have something to show him before supper.’
The two young men resumed their positions and Talon turned his mind away from the question of what he was being trained to do and back to the task at hand.
Master Maceus considered the portrait. After a while he said, ‘Passable.’
‘Thank you,’ Talon replied without much conviction. He was frustrated by the shortcomings he recognized in his work; the figures were stiff, unnatural, and showed little of the nature of his two friends.
‘You need work on the structure of the body,’ said his instructor.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I think your next study should be a nude.’
