The Adorned (26 page)

From Tallisk, those words seemed a high accolade indeed. I could have shouted for the joy of it; instead, I swallowed a lump in my throat, and my voice came out in a whisper. “Thank you.”

“It doesn’t fit in the whole, I think. But it’s not bad.” He took up a cloth and wiped the flower from my skin, leaving only a faint trace of blue behind. Now it was his turn with the brush, more skilled and subtle, trying out his various designs, then wiping them away. He kept me for hours, until the light failed. At last, he told me to put my clothes back on.

“Etan.” He stopped me before I could leave.

“Sir?”

He rummaged through his papers for a moment, then thrust a rough handful of them at me. “Here.”

I took them, uncomprehending. “What are these for?”

“For you. If you want to practice on that flower of yours. Take this, too.” He topped the stack of papers with some stubs of pencils and worn charcoal.

My heart was suddenly full to the brim. He might as well have poured diamonds into my lap—from him, there could be no greater gift than this. It was more than paper and charcoal; it was his trust, his regard, that he was giving me, from one artist to another.

My eyes clouded. I blinked the fog away. I wanted to embrace him. Even if I had dared, though, my hands were too full of paper, dry and warm. I bowed to him instead and left, before I blundered deeper into dangerous ground.

Chapter Forty

One moment, I was in dreamless sleep—the next, I was startled awake by the creaking of the door. I sat up in bed, shielding my eyes against the sudden intrusion of lamplight.

It was late, and I’d gone to bed hours before. Isadel was away at a private feast for Lady Vasan, and the shape outlined by the wavery light was neither Doiran nor Yana.

“Get up,” Tallisk said, hoisting the lamp so it cast its flickering light on the bed.

I blinked at him. “Sir?”

“I’ve somewhere I want to take you. Get up.”

He closed the door behind him and put his lamp on the table. Still blurred around the edges by sleep, I rose and reached for my house clothes to dress myself.

“No,” he said, and he closed his hand on my wrist. Blood rushed in my ears. “Not those.” He opened up my wardrobe and reached inside, tossing clothes left and right on my unmade bed. At last, he found what he was looking for: a low-backed shirt, tied at the front with silk ribbons, and short trousers with gauzy panels. Display-clothes, I realized.

“Where are we going, sir?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Somewhere important.”

Whatever his destination, he would not say more. So, without questioning further, I dressed myself with practiced ease. It was strange, how it had become second nature to me.

When I was done, Tallisk took out the fine cloak that had been his first gift to me and draped it over my shoulders. He took a step back and looked at me, considering. With a brisk gesture, he brushed away a lock of hair from my forehead. “You’ll do,” he said.

I ran a hand through my hair, flattening the lock he’d caused to stand near straight-up. It would require a trim soon, unless he wanted me to grow it.

In the entranceway he paused a moment and looked toward me. In the gloom, the dark of his eyes had swallowed the blue. Then he nodded—to me or to himself, I could not tell—and opened the door.

I shivered against the night air, despite the cloak. No surprise; underneath it, I was wearing barely anything at all. A hired horse—a black mare, in old but well-kept tack—was tied to a hitching post that usually stood empty. Tallisk would have to have left the house in silence to rent it, or else sent Yana. In either case, I hadn’t noticed.

“Come here, Etan.” He beckoned me closer, and I went. Without preamble, he lifted me up into the saddle. I made some sort of muffled protest, but he took no notice, and a moment later had found his seat behind me. “Comfortable?”

I was awkwardly put in the saddle, and all too conscious of Tallisk’s bulk pressed against my back, but I nodded. He took the reins and the horse broke into a bouncing trot.

A soft, cool drizzle was falling. Tallisk pressed closer against me, and I realized with a kind of start that he was trying to keep me warm. We made our way through the streets, silent save for the ordered drumbeats of hooves against stone.

After some time, we slowed, then came to a halt in front of a low red-brick building. The windows shone with firelight, and a sign above the door proclaimed it the Rose and Crescent. Four other horses were hitched outside the inn, and a trough of water had been supplied for them. I heard the low clamor of laughter from within.

We dismounted, and Tallisk hitched his horse with a perfunctory pat to its flank; the mare snorted. Tallisk nodded to me. “Right then. We’re here.”

I frowned at him. “Where is here, sir?”

“There are...some people, here, who want to see you.” He seemed suddenly nervous. “Treat them with all the respect you vouchsafe me, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” The same stray lock of hair had fallen into my eyes; I brushed it away. “I won’t let you down.”

“I know,” he said, and he opened the door.

The sudden blaze of lamplight blinded me for a moment, after the moonlit dim of the city streets. A hubbub of friendly shouts arose; I shielded my eyes.

There were perhaps fifteen people there, men and women both, and twice as many glasses scattered on the table they all shared. A woman with wild black hair rose and clapped a hand on Tallisk’s shoulder; she had the bright eyes and red nose of a prodigious drinker. “Roberd Tallisk,” she said. “You made it.”

“Amere,” he said, and a grin quirked the corners of his mouth.

“Who’s this, then?” She smiled at me, and I bowed to her. I noticed at her collar the faded remnants of tattoos, more color than shape. They had to be decades old, I thought; if she had once been Adorned, whatever Blood-magic had animated her ink had long since fled.

“This is Etan writ-Tallisk,” he said. “My latest.”

A murmur of interest rose from the rest of the table.

“Well!” Amere circled me. “I look forward to seeing him without his cloak.”

I met her gaze, chin raised, and she laughed, taking her seat at the table and clearing some space for Tallisk and myself.

“Come on,” Tallisk murmured, and bade me follow.

I shook the raindrops from my cloak and looked around, my eyes now fully adjusted to the light. A fire roared in the massive hearth, and the smells of tobacco and beer were heavy in the air, with a dark top note of bitter coffee. Tallisk’s gathered friends were the only ones in the inn. The bar was near to empty, the other chairs turned upside-down on their tables. On a side-table beside the gathering were trays of bread, cheese and fruit; bowls of massive purple olives; steaming pots of thick black coffee; half-drunk bottles of liquor.

At the head of the table, a fat man with a thick black beard held a girl on his lap. Her bare feet dandled over the armrests, peeking beneath diaphanous skirts. She was about my age, with long ash-blond hair, and she was naked to the waist, showing her Adornment. I glanced toward Tallisk, nervous for a moment—by the letter of the law, she should not have been bared in company without the sanction of a Blooded patron—but he gave no sign that this was unusual.

Vivid flames were tattooed on the girl’s shoulders, curling over her breasts, dancing down her legs until they turned to wisps of black smoke at her feet. A lick of flame trailed up the side of her neck, shimmering with its own strange, golden light. She looked up, seeing me, and smiled. Some of the nerves went out of me;
she
clearly did not seem bothered by the affair, so I resolved to be the same.

“Roberd Tallisk, I’ll be damned.” The bearded man set the girl down beside him and stood. He was short, near my height, though stout as a bear.

“Wendel,” Tallisk said, by way of greeting. He jerked his head toward the girl. “Melesse is coming along well.”

“She’s near complete. Melesse! Say hello properly.”

The girl grinned and jumped up on the table, twirling her skirts a moment to show all her Adornments. Then she leaped down and bowed, deep and correct. Tallisk circled her, eyes narrowed. He was looking for flaws, I realized. Melesse stood her ground, hands on her hips, chin tilted at a proud angle.

“Very nice,” Tallisk finally said, almost grudging.

Wendel grinned. “I’m glad you think so.” He gestured to me. “Is he yours, then?”

“Etan,” Tallisk said. “Take off your cloak.”

I did, draping it carefully over a chair. I felt eyes on me, keener and somehow weightier than the stares of the Count, of Lord Loren, of any who had displayed me before.

Without waiting for Tallisk’s command, I rose to stand on the table and turned slowly. I tried to stand as proudly as Melesse had. I knew what this was, now: a hidden gathering of tattoo-masters, showing their art to the only ones who would truly know what skill went into creating it. I would put Tallisk’s skill against any of them; I was living proof of it.

A low murmur of approval coursed through the room, and I smiled. Tallisk met my eyes, and I saw pride there, ill-disguised. A warmth not the fire’s doing heated my skin.

“You can sit down, Etan,” he said.

“Have something to eat.” Wendel gestured at the spread.

I sat down, hands on my knees. The fire was stoked high enough that I did not miss my cloak. Tallisk pulled a chair up beside me.

“It’s been too long, Roberd,” Wendel said.

He grunted his agreement. “Too long indeed. Is Master Meret coming tonight?”

“Well, we can’t predict when he does or doesn’t come.” Wendel’s eyes were shrewd. “A little like you, that way.”

“Now that’s an honor.” Amere came up, a tray in her hand, and deftly set it down on the table. She smiled at me. “I think he’ll come. He tries not to miss a party, when he can.”

“Want to show off young Etan here?” Wendel nudged him in the ribs. “You think he’ll be your greatest work, hmm?”

“It’s far too early to judge that,” he said; they all laughed.

“Were you all apprenticed together?” I asked.

“Together, no, but all of us are Meret’s pups, whether apprenticed or Adorned,” Wendel said. “Amere here is truly Amere writ-Meret, though she’s retired.”

So she
had
been Adorned—I looked at her again, with keener eyes. The power of the Blood did not last forever, then; I wondered when my own ink would begin to fade and go still.

“
Long
retired,” Amere said, smiling at me. “But the Rose and Crescent was purchased with an Adorned’s purse. We have our little reunions when we can.”

“And show off,” a third said, a tall Southern woman with short black curls. She was met with laughter.

“Yes, and show off,” Wendel said when his mirth had passed. “Since we get little enough chance to. We can’t even bare our
own
skin, most of the time.”

“That’s Blooded law, not our own,” the Southern woman said. “Such things may change.”

Amere clicked her tongue against her teeth. “You’ll want to take care with that talk, here in the city.”

“She’s right,” Wendel said, then grinned. “Besides, we’re not here to talk politics.” He clapped a meaty hand on Melesse’s shoulder. “Melesse here has been with me three years, and made me more already than the previous two combined.”

So Tallisk’s disdain for the economies of display was not universal, I thought. He shifted in his chair, as if unsure of how to rejoin. I coughed softly. “Isadel writ-Tallisk and I have been retained exclusive for the last month, by Count Karan and Lady Vasan.”

Wendel pounded Tallisk on the back. “Not bad, Tallisk! And the boy proud of you, too. It’s writ on him as sure as your ink.”

Tallisk pulled himself from under Wendel’s hand. “If the Lord of Stars himself put them on retainer, it wouldn’t matter, if he were blind to art.”

“Such a sour sort you are,” Amere said. “Don’t pay him any mind, Etan. Some of us can’t live on our ego alone.”

“One man might have other reasons than art,” Wendel said, “to hire an Adorned, but his guests would note if the art was not worth the hire. Even the dullest eye would have ears to hear those whispers.”

A murmur of agreement went up at that. Tallisk looked at me, frowning, as if he could not quite make sense of me.

The door opened again then, and suddenly I was forgotten. Tattoo-masters crowded round the new arrival like solicitous servants; it was Deino Meret, leaning on a walking stick and swatting at their heads with a gloved hand. “Give me some room, damn you all,” he said, but his voice was full of affection.

They ushered him to a chair; Amere took his coat and gloves. His great gnarled hands were dotted with ancient ink. I watched Tallisk pour him a glass of wine and bring it to him. I had never seen him wait on anyone thus.

“Roberd.” Meret smiled. “I did not expect to see you tonight.”

Tallisk bowed his head. “I’ve been lax, I know.”

Meret snorted. “This is a celebration, Roberd, not an exam. You have been missed.”

“We’ve been curious, mostly,” Amere said with a smile.

Wendel nodded. “It’s good to see your work again.”

“And yours.” At last, Tallisk was moved to a smile. I watched his face as it happened; I was unused to it. It made him seem younger.

“So you’ve brought the boy.” Meret’s voice was raised, just a little. “Let me see him then.”

A hush fell. They were keen to hear his judgment. Tallisk nudged me forward. I felt as if I was being shown to a reigning king. Meret looked closely at me. One of his eyes showed the seed of a cataract, like a miniature pearl, but his gaze was sharp as any younger man’s.

At last he leaned back in his chair, nodding a little. “You’ve done well.”

Tallisk let out a long-held breath. “Thank you, sir.”

Strange, to hear that word come so easily from his lips.

“And what do
you
think, hmm?”

It took me a moment to realize that Meret was addressing me. I glanced up at him. “Of what, sir?”

“Of your Adornment.” He gestured to Tallisk. “Of your master.”

Tallisk tensed again. I could see him trying not to look at me.