“You like it?” asked Talon.
“I didn’t say I liked it; I said it was acceptable. You made correct choices, young Talon. You understood the need for representation rather than exact delineation in the painted knotwork. Your palette was correct in rendering the white.’’
Talon was gratified to earn even this guarded praise. “What next?’’
“Next, you start painting portraits.”
“Portraits?”
“You’ll paint pictures of people.’’
“Oh.”
Maceus said, “Go and do something else. Go outside and use your eyes to look at the horizon. You’ve been taxing them with close work for too long.’’
Talon nodded and left the room. Everyone else was doing their assigned work, and he didn’t want to ride alone or walk down to the lake and swim on his own. So he wandered across the meadow north of the estate and at last came across a group of students working in the small apple grove that bordered the deeper woods.
A familiar figure called out to him, and he felt his pulse race. “Talon!” Alysandra cried. “Come and help!’’
She stood at the top of a ladder leaning against a tree. The ladder was being held by a boy named Jom. Talon saw that there were twelve students in all—six pairs.
Talon came to stand at the foot of the ladder, and called up, “What do I do?’’
She leaned over and handed down a large bag of apples. “Put that with the others and fetch me another bag. That way I don’t have to climb up and down.’’
Talon did as she asked and carried the apples to a large pile of full bags. In the distance he saw another student driving a wagon slowly in their direction, so he assumed it was close to finishing time. He took an empty bag back to the ladder, climbed up a little way, and handed the bag to Alysandra.
Her hair was tied back and tucked up under a white cap, accentuating the slenderness of her neck and how graceful her shoulders were. Talon saw that her ears stuck out a little and found that endearing.
“Why don’t you go and help the others?” she said after a moment. “We’re almost done.’’
Talon jumped down and grabbed up an armful of bags. He exchanged empty bags for full ones, and by the time the wagon pulled up, the harvest was complete.
The students quickly loaded the wagon and started the trek back to the estate. When they were almost there, Alysandra fell in beside Talon, and said, “Where have you been keeping yourself? I hardly see you anymore.’’
“Painting,” said Talon. “Master Maceus has been teaching me to paint.’’
“Wonderful!” she exclaimed, and her eyes seemed enormous as she looked up at Talon. She slipped her arm through his and he felt the softness of her breast against his elbow. He could smell the faint scent of her mixed in with the overwhelming scent of the apples. “What do you paint?’’
“Mainly what the master calls ‘still life’—things he arranges on a table, or pictures of the land. Tomorrow I start painting portraits.”
“Wonderful!” she repeated. “Will you paint a portrait of me?’’
Talon almost stuttered. “Ah . . . certainly, if Master Maceus allows it.’’
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.
LOVE
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.