ã€ŠSoul Paintingã€‹


 Arriving at Tourmaline Isle

    After a long journey I have arrived at the college.  After a journey of modest Compared to the trips our caravans make, it was not such a long trek, and yet it weighed heavily upon me to undertake.  The gates are not something I am unused to, but there were many in rapid succession, and fewer stays at inns and market squares.  I did not realize how much travel I almost (but only almost) miss traveling with you and Father to sell goods. I will may return soon, provided I am unable to secure patronage for myself as an artist by All Saviors¡¯ Day, as we agreed.

    Vaterin looked up from the dock where the boat had landed.  What I¡¯m going to tell my parents about seasickness I don¡¯t know.  Many of our trade routes are by land, mercifully.  Whoever made the gates between spheres seemed disinterested in the sea.

    With a penknife, Vaterin pricked her thumb and uttered a short prayer.  ¡°Father Supreme, bless this invocation of your Muse of Painting.  Holy muse, gift of the Holy Spirit, please come upon me.  Let the One God shine through the work I achieve through His angel.  In the name of the Christ Savior, amen.¡±

    Like a coat settled over her shoulders in the face of a cold wind, knowledge and insight settled upon Vaterin¡¯s mind.  Barely noticed, motes of energy flickered over the small wound, consuming the blood and closing the cut.  She looked out over the docks and the tidal mill, seeing in her mind the shades of paint that she would blend to portray them.  But it was not her sight, she knew.  It was channeling the Muse of Painting, the angelic spirit gifted by the One God and made accessible by the Savior to humans, that they might create works of beauty pleasantly depicting Creation.

    It wasn¡¯t that she needed to know how to paint the college that would be her home for the next several months.  It was a comfort thing.  She pulled out her sketchbook, and with a few practiced strokes and a touch of divine intervention, she outlined the island before her.  It distracted her from the countless anxieties besetting her.  If I don¡¯t get a patron before All Saviors¡¯ Day, I go home, I accept my fate, marry the woman whose family my parents would have us seal an alliance with, and spend my days balancing books and weighing measures of silver.  Vaterin shuddered and was distracted from her sketching.  She detested ciphering.

    She walked slowly along the wave-lapped dock, thankful that the rain had let up.  There was a cavern of some kind at the end, but it had been strenuously impressed upon her that she should follow the dock left at the cavern.  It passed behind the tidal mill, an impressive piece of architecture representing the height of post-Loss engineering, hewn from the same pale granite as the cliff itself.

    Beyond the tidal mill, and the end of the dock, was sandy soil.  In it grew sickly-looking barley, the greens and tans of crops ready for harvest blending in her mind.  If I tried to paint that, it would be a blur.  I¡¯m not cut out for scenery.  The other crops looked much like barley to Vaterin¡¯s eye, but she could make out at least two other shapes of greenery.  It¡¯s all green with tan lumps.  Give me a portrait to do any day.  Frustrated with the shape of the cliff she had drawn, which was not borne out by her advancing perspective, she scribbled over her sketch and flipped to another page.

    Is this what I traveled so long to do?  Sketches I¡¯ll mangle, paintings of statuary¡­ I hope not.  If there is one person here with dignity, my angel will let me draw them and show that dignity, and I¡¯ll attract a noble patron before the feast.  And then I will be free from¡­ Vaterin sighed.  They mean well.  They did make the donation to the Wholist Church that secured me my bargain with the Muse of Painting.

    Vaterin¡¯s thoughts drifted back towards her home.  Inland Fief, on the ¡®Loon route, close to the very Crown Range itself.  It had taken a long time to arrive where she was.

    Home was always pleasant, misty and cool.  Not so cold as it is here. I¡¯d been through the gate, of course, to the oblong sphere district beyond.  It didn¡¯t rain there, as though the moisture had been sucked from the sky.  So naturally they needed to trade ore with us for crops.  We made a mint selling precious¡ªthat¡¯s not my concern right now.

    After that we went through the gate because of the sphere¡¯s acid barrier, but the area beyond didn¡¯t have an element.  They¡¯d broken the runes that powered it, and the land itself was reasonably fertile, fed by a river flowing from the Crown Range, to home, around the miners¡¯ sphere, and¡ªit would be a great travel route, were it not for the barrier walls of the spheres.  Some of them are harmless enough but you couldn¡¯t float a boat down a river through a wall of fire, or get past a solid wall of ice.  To say nothing of the lightning and steel spheres.

    So it was by land we went.  Not the most straightforward path, because some of the spheres are uninhabitable.  There was a constant wind in the next sphere, and I remember the caravan master told us it was because they never sealed the gate to the eastern sphere which was full of hard vacuum.

    A man with dark brown skin and hair in severe cornrows, dressed in black wool and a stained white smock, called to her.  ¡°Are you Vaterin Lime?¡±

    Vaterin had re-seated her sketchbook in her satchel, and was lost in thought, meandering slowly past the acres of plants.  She knew the college rested at the plateau of the cliffs, but that trek was as yet not before her.  It took her a moment to register her would-be guide, and then nodded and approached.

    ¡°I am Father Sulfur Sauer.  I¡¯ll take you to your dormitory.  One of the students will help you learn the routine in the morning.¡±  Vaterin tried to listen, but the split consciousness of communing with her muse spirit and reflecting on her trip made it impossible.

    Then we finally made it to a sphere which had a gate to the coast.  Of course, that wasn¡¯t at all close to Tourmaline Isle, so we loaded up on provisions and set out, hoping for the best.  And that is when I found out I get seasick.  I suppose it¡¯s just as well that Fief is cut up into spheres, I¡¯d be even less enthusiastic about taking over the family business.

    You know, he¡¯s got dignity.  Him I could paint.  I wonder if he¡¯d let me.  He said ¡°one of the students¡± so I¡¯m assuming he¡¯s a teacher here?  The black wool brings out the color of his skin and matches well with his hair.  I wonder if he¡¯s in mourning or just likes to dress austerely¡­ You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    Those were half of her thoughts as they walked.  The other half amounted to recollection.  Those were long and miserable weeks.  The weevils in the hard tac didn¡¯t help after the third week.  Going up to get some sun and being drenched in freezing ocean spray.  Eugh.

    And now I¡¯m here, and one hurdle yet remains.  I have to climb¡­ Vaterin looked up at the towering cliffs.  Surely only a few-hundred feet.  She paused to consider.  Still plenty to kill you if you fell.  She had reached the foot of the switchbacks, there was no more postponing the trek she had to make up them.  Surely they could have hewn some native birchwood into railings?  Couldn¡¯t they?  They get labor out of the students, that seems like the sort of mindless, repetitive task that you give to someone you¡¯re not paying.  Like checking the books the accountant already checked, making sure nobody is mistaking sevens for ones or whatever.  Ciphering.  One more thing I can look forward to if I don¡¯t get my butt up these cliffs.  Taking a deep breath, Vaterin reached out and touched the cliff face.  Looking up, the perspective was dizzying, the knowledge of how to paint it one more thing outside her grasp.  For whatever reason, even blessed with a muse, perspectives such as this one defeated her, for all that it was an impressive view.  I bet the view from the top is even more impressive.  Eh, legs?  Eh?  Shall we move?

    Her legs seemed to be slogging through mud for all the alacrity with which they moved, but she put one foot on the first step of the switchback, and then another.  The first switchback bore east, and so it was her left shoulder which brushed claustrophobically close to the cliff face, an irony lost on her when opposite was the massively open space of the air.  You know, I bet if I fell, I¡¯d have enough momentum to drop me off the second switchback down to the first.  Even more so from higher up.  If they¡¯d made these steps wider, the fall would just¡­ ulp.  Break your arms and legs.  Nothing a good earth sorcerer couldn¡¯t fix, I guess.  Unlike dying.  One more thing to suggest they put their free labor to.  Vaterin paused.  It took the Father an uncannily short time to notice the lack of her footfalls and turn back.  He raised a single imperious eyebrow, and with one corner of her mind Vaterin watched how it moved shadows across his face even as she froze with terror at the thought of being the free labor which hewed a new switchback and installed birchwood railings.  I will not be suggesting that to the Mother Superior.

    ¡°Are you coming?¡± The Father¡¯s voice seemed coldly indifferent, but Vaterin realized she was merely misreading his reserved demeanor when he added, ¡°Are you afraid of heights?¡±

    She managed a small nod, even that motion of her head giving her dizzying vertigo.

    The Father turned on the steps, something Vaterin felt ill to contemplate, and extended a hand.  ¡°Here, I¡¯ll walk with you.  I¡¯m used to the switchbacks, I¡¯ll catch you if you lose your balance.¡±

    Vaterin nearly lost her head at the mere concept of losing her balance, and peered over the edge of the switchback.  It soothed her to realize she was still on the first flight, and it was a fall of maybe twenty feet into the sandy soil below.  Resolving not to look down again until she had made the summit of the cliff face, she took the Father¡¯s hand and the two of them walked slowly and steadily up the cliff.  Vaterin¡¯s painter¡¯s eye noted the wrinkles in the wool the Father wore, the way stretching his hand behind him bunched the fabric at his shoulder.

    ¡°The island curves on itself,¡± the Father was saying, ¡°and the switchback was carved here for a particular reason.  It shelters against wind from east or west, making it so that there aren¡¯t breezes trying to blow you off the cliff face.¡±

    I would appreciate if we didn¡¯t even attend the notion of being blown off the cliff face, but thank you.  Thinking it was all that Vaterin could manage, her tongue seemed to be tied up in her mouth.  To think, normally I babble when I¡¯m nervous.  I suppose that¡¯s the difference between nervous and terrified.

    Having attained the summit with the Father, Vaterin surveyed the plateau.  She heard a spring over the dull roar of the ocean, deadened by distance.  Visible over ferns and wildflowers was the pre-Loss Chapel of the Power of Ariel, the patron angel of art which had given the island its dedicated purpose.  But that was not where the Father was leading her.  Westwards was the adobe building of much more recent construction, the College of the Art of the Divine.  Here, she would pray and paint, paint and pray¡ªand do upkeep of the college as a practice of obedience and discipline¡ªto deepen her connection with her angelic muse and hone her talent.  It was two storeys tall aside from the bell tower, and shaped like an ¡°L¡± facing the north.  The bell tower, evidently something desirable the pre-Loss chapel had lacked, was at the bend in the L.

    Inside, the Father led Vaterin down halls painted with murals and bearing busts and more abstract art on pedestals, directly to the womens¡¯ dorm, standing at the entrance but not going in.  ¡°I will see you tomorrow morning at services.  That is not permission to neglect your evening prayers.¡±  Without waiting for a reply, he closed the door.  Stern fellow.  So serious.  So pious.  Nothing wrong with that, though.  He¡¯s clearly a nice enough man, he noticed that I was afraid of the switchbacks and offered me his hand.

    Tired from her journey, from seasickness, from the switchbacks, and from the very strangeness of a dormitory after a lifetime of having her own room, Vaterin set about unpacking her few belongings into the trunk at the foot of the bed.  It was not a large trunk; students were not expected to take a vow of poverty but neither were excesses or shows of status encouraged.  Her knapsack contained a few changes of clothes, a smock, and a small supply of paper and ink.  While the college would provide art supplies, she had packed a set of brushes purchased when she had first shown an interest in pursuing art, before it had been an interest strong enough to concern her parents.

    She looked up abruptly at a knocking on the doorway, the door open.  In the doorway stood a woman with skin the brown of earthen hummus, and dreadlocked hair cascading off to one side of her head.  Her clothes were an afterthought to Vaterin, arrested by her warm eyes almost golden in the candlelight and waning sunset, but they were simple and sturdy, bleachable white or stained by many colors of paint.  The wool, her trader¡¯s eyes noticed, is from sheep well tended and well fed.  It would fetch a dear price in the right market.  Perhaps Icefjord.  She herself was slender, graceful even in leaning on the doorframe.  ¡°Orth to blondie, anyone home?¡± the woman knocked again.

    ¡°Ah, yes.  Hello.  I¡¯m the new¡ªyou know who I am.¡±

    ¡°I know you¡¯re the new student, but that¡¯s all I know.¡±

    ¡°Vaterin Lime, of the mercantile Limes of Verdantfield.  Painter.¡±  I wonder what color her eyes are in sunlight.  I wonder whether I¡¯d rather paint them there, or in this golden twilight.  What color would I use?  I¡¯d have to mix it myself¡­ I¡¯m woolgathering.  She stood up, dusting her hands on her pants despite the absence of actual dust.  ¡°Nice to meet you.  And you are¡­?¡±

    ¡°Marble.  Marble¡­ Bitumen.¡±

    ¡°Of the noble Bitumens?  My family has bought gemstones from your mines.¡±

    ¡°Those mines are exhausted now, but yes.¡±

    ¡°A pleasure, my Lady.¡±

    ¡°No ¡®my Lady¡¯ing here.  We¡¯re all students of Ariel.¡±

    Vaterin made an intentionally comical bow.  ¡°As you will.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s getting on towards bedtime, but I¡¯ll be the one showing you around tomorrow morning and I just wanted to say hello.¡±

    ¡°Hello.  And good night.¡±  Yes, I do believe I will find someone to paint while I am here.  Perhaps a patron is not so far-fetched a notion after all.

 Processes

    This last week I met someone very interesting.  She stands on the opposite end of a divide from us¡ªshe is wealthy but lacks status above that of someone in trade¡ªbut something about her is approachable and enjoyable.  She wears fine clothes but they¡¯re stained with paint, she affects courtly mannerisms but ceases when asked¡­ I think I¡¯m making my first proper friend here at the College.

    The merchant woman¡ªVaterin¡ªwoke up almost as soon as the bell tolled.  Her family must be wealthy, for her to have been raised in sufficient quiet to make her such a light sleeper. I wonder what she¡¯s doing here.  Artists work for their living.

    ¡°Good morning, Vaterin.¡±

    ¡°Good morning, Marble.¡±

    ¡°You have about a sandglass to get dressed before we¡¯re expected to be in the dining hall.  After that, we¡¯ll attend services.  After that, you¡¯re free from chores to see around the place, and I¡¯m free from chores to do the showing.¡±

    ¡°Services.  Right.  Sau¡ªFather Sauer mentioned those.  I¡¯ll just dress then, shall I.¡±

    Once Vaterin was dressed, Marble appraised the newbie.  She wore boots and gloves¡ªI wonder if she bothers removing them or just has them cleaned at expense¡ªtrousers, vest, and shirt, all of it in reds and purples.  Expensive dyes.  And they¡¯ll show paint like little else.  She was a short-cut dark blonde with brown eyes set off by an aquiline nose.  She was taller than Marble by several inches, and heavier.  Good living and mental labor.  Or maybe she just tends towards fat.  She did not think this unkindly; she honestly thought that her clothes set off the curves of a full figure rather well.  But then, good tailoring flatters most builds.

    They walked quickly down the hall, and Marble cursed that she didn¡¯t have the eye for portraiture.  She¡¯d tried, she had the words like ¡°aquiline¡± to describe features, but it just didn¡¯t carry over into her paintings.  Thus, she was at a loss to describe more to her liking the way Vaterin¡¯s hair lay, or the color of her eyes and skin.  However, a noble upbringing gave her the eye to see that Vaterin moved confidently, walking through the new space of the College with self-assurance as of one who belonged wherever she went.

    She picked up my name immediately, and evidently bought from my family before we beggared ourselves undoing the wrath of dragons.  Or maybe since.  It¡¯s not as though the money isn¡¯t coming in, it¡¯s just all going to duns.  I wonder what¡ªI will just ask.  ¡°So what brings you to the College of the Art of the Divine, if you¡¯re a merchant?¡±

    ¡°What brings anyone to the College of the Art of the Divine?¡±  Smartalec.

    They arrived at  the dining hall, there was a quiet hubbub from the clergy and students of the College and Chapel making conversation.  Food was barley and turtleweed stew, cooked in a bone stock, simple but nourishing and hearty fare.

    ¡°Well, if your family trades in gems you have the wealth to patronize.  The wealthy like to have themselves immortalized in portraiture.¡±

    ¡°Suppose that were why I was here.  Would you suggest yourself?¡±

    Marble shook her head.  ¡°Most definitely not.  I am a landscape and architecture painter.  My portraits are¡­¡± she laughed.  ¡°My portraits are not work that will draw a patron.¡±

    ¡°Landscapes draw their own patronage.  My family¡ª¡± Vaterin sighed.  Why the sigh?  ¡°My family has landscapes testifying to their gardens over the years, keeping pace with fashion and bringing plants from as far as Dominion and the Sevens.¡±  You haven¡¯t answered my question, though it really does seem like you¡¯re here to hire away a painter.  You¡¯re several months too early for the All Saviors¡¯ Day expo, though.

    ¡°So that is why you¡¯re here?¡±

    ¡°Oh, sorry.  No.  I am here to paint, and to pray.¡±

    Marble led them across the plateau, and into the Chapel of the Power of Ariel.  She watched Vaterin¡¯s face inside, and saw her reach into her pocket abortively before resting her hand at her side.  The pitch black chandelier in the dome of the ceiling cast light though some kind of pre-Loss sorcery, illuminating all there was inside.  The pews were old, well-cared for wood tended by monks before the College had assumed control of the isle, the stone the native granite of the island.  At the apex of the chapel was a large window with the eight-pointed Star of the One God.  The Mother Superior stood off to one side, while Father Sauer was taking his customary role of leading the morning service.  As he said, ¡°Children of the Father Supreme, let us pray,¡± Marble¡¯s hand reflexively flew up to cover her heart, fingers splayed, mirroring the God-Star at the head of the chapel.  However, her mind was elsewhere.  When you attend services twice a day every day, Marble thought, perhaps it is not so great a sin to let your mind wander from time to time.

    So she¡¯s wealthy, but she comes to a monastic college to learn to paint.  She said she had come not only to learn to paint, but to pray.  Marble stole a glance at Vaterin, who was kneeling beside her and murmuring the words of the prayer Father Sauer was leading in.   I wonder what the significance of that is.  I¡¯ll have to ask, we¡¯ll have plenty of time to talk while I show her around.  The wealthy were known to occasionally develop a pious streak, forsaking their money in favor of enlightenment¡ªbut she¡¯s dressed in fine red and purple linen.  You¡¯d think she¡¯d dress more economically if that were what she was doing.  Never mind the hypocrisy of buying a new wardrobe to signal an oath of poverty.  Then, too, she had paper and ink and quill.  Not cheap things.  She sighed¡­ oh confound it all I¡¯ll just ask her when services are over.

    As they walked out after the sermon, an affair taking roughly six sand-glasses, Marble asked the question that was burning in her mind.  ¡°What is the wealthy scion of a merchant family doing on a monastery island, well-dressed but looking to ¡®paint, and to pray¡¯?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t beat around the bush, do you?¡± Vaterin was smiling as she asked.

    ¡°One of us has to not, you only answer questions on the second attempt.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not intentional.  Oh, I did it again.  Well¡­¡± she looked into the distance and sighed.  Again, the sighing.  ¡°My parents spent what they would willingly part with in terms of tuition in a donation to Mother Church, to get me a compact with the Muse of Painting.  You see, I have the love of painting, but not the talent.  So I commune with a holy spirit to give me the ability, and it is through faith that I can paint at all.¡±  I don¡¯t know terribly much about spirit magic, but I thought it was the magic of certainty, because you felt the spirit.  It¡¯s sorcery that¡¯s about pure faith in the One God.  Grandmama explained that to me when she taught me how to wield flame.  ¡°As a result, it was imperative that I go to school somewhere with two virtues.  One, piety.  Two, economy.  Because of the labor that they exact, and the piety they demand, the College of the Art of the Divine was the perfect place.¡±The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Verdantfield is close to the Crown Range.  You came a long way.  That wasn¡¯t a dear expense?¡±

    Vaterin waved a hand dismissively.  ¡°It¡¯s all a formality.  My parents can afford the trip, they just are making me go through the hoops of economy to prove my devotion.¡±  Ah.  So she is affecting poverty when she has the resources of a merchant family available¡ªno, that¡¯s not fair.

    ¡°So they¡¯ve cut you off from any further support?¡±

    ¡°Precisely.  I have until the end of the season to secure a patron, before I return home, marry into another merchant family, and lead our combined mercantile dynasties.¡±

    ¡°You make it sound like a death sentence.¡±  Many would envy such a fate.

    ¡°I detest ciphering.  Though I may have no talent for it of my own, I have the faith necessary to channel an angel and that gives me talent.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡±  I really have nothing to say to that.  ¡°So you¡¯ve seen the chapel, do you want to explore the College first, or the fields below?¡±

    Vaterin swallowed.  ¡°The College, I think.¡±  Fields make her nervous?  Is she worried about doing manual labor?  She just expressed a detestation of the intellectual exercise involved in ciphering.  Marble was extremely proficient with numbers, as a noble child brought up in penury tended to be.

    Marble showed Vaterin the college.  It was not large, but then it was not housed on a large island.  There were the broad-windowed study rooms, where sculptors worked their clay and painters plied their canvasses with as much daylight as could be let in.  ¡°This is the boys¡¯ dorm,¡± she said, indicating a door opposite the one they¡¯d risen from.  ¡°Nothing of interest there.¡±  After that, she led them to the workshops and kitchens, the places where they would spend a few hours each day repairing wobbly stools or making the thick soups that served as the communal meals.

    ¡°Now then, the fields.  Weeds aren¡¯t much of an issue, but we¡¯re expected to clear any kelp that beaches itself over the crops or clogs the tidal mill.¡±

    ¡°Right.  The, ah¡­ fields.¡±  What is her problem with crops?  Issues with manual labor?  Evidently seeing the question written on her face, Vaterin added, ¡°I am scared of heights, and the switchbacks do not encourage me.¡±

    ¡°You could always go through the catacombs down into the mines and out onto the dock.  We¡¯re not technically supposed to do that, but you could.¡±

    ¡°I was told very sternly not to enter the caverns at the end of the dock.¡±

    ¡°I mean, it¡¯s not a straight path by any means.¡±

    ¡°Do you know the way?¡± Her face lit with hope.  I regret that I cannot lead her through there.

    ¡°Oh no.  Not at all.  I have no desire to hang out with the dead.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s valid.  I can brave the switchbacks.  Lead on, my L¡ªMarble.¡±

    Marble snickered.  ¡°Were you about to honor my title, or be a smartalec?¡±

    ¡°You have a regal bearing.  Merchants are lower class; it was ingrained that if we wanted favorable contracts we had best show respect for those buying from us.¡±  I have a regal bearing?  Well that¡¯s flattering.  Good to know my title is good for something other than minefulls of debt.

    They made their way down the switchbacks in silence, Vaterin¡¯s clammy hand in Marble¡¯s for the security it offered.  Once again, I wish I could portray the difference in bearing.  On the switchbacks, she was timid, uncertain, but now that we¡¯re on the ground she¡¯s standing¡­ Marble cast about for the painfully memorized terminology she¡¯d hoped would be the key to figure painting.  A wide stance.  An open stance.  Something like that.

    ¡°So you paint landscapes.  Could you paint the cliff, from the bottom like this?¡±

    ¡°Now that¡¯s an interesting question.  I hadn¡¯t considered the foreshortening necessary, but yes, I certainly could paint this.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m envious.  I was trying to distract myself on the way up, and, well¡­ I would show you the sketch but I scribbled over it.¡±

    ¡°Despite your angel, you can¡¯t do scenery?¡±

    ¡°I think it¡¯s something to do with faith.  Or practice.  Both of which I hope to explore here.  But all I can seem to paint are animals, people¡­ sometimes the odd abomination.  I¡¯ve got a nice sketch of one of the not-cats I saw chasing down some kind of vermin.  I¡¯d like to paint you by candlelight, your eyes are the most beautiful golden color.¡±

    ¡°Aww, thank you!  They¡¯re brown, but I¡¯d believe they catch candlelight.¡±

    ¡°I thought you had no knack for figure paintings?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been painting a still life by candlelight.  So while I don¡¯t know how I¡¯d paint myself, I know what it does to have an orange glow instead of white sunlight.¡±  I¡¯m having fun.  I hadn¡¯t really made any friends here, but Vaterin is different.  A little off-putting how she doesn¡¯t see her own privilege, but I suppose I have some of my own.  She mentioned a ¡°regal bearing¡± or something like that.  ¡°What say you and I become friends?¡±

    ¡°I should like that very much.¡±

    ¡°Well then, friend, I present to you the fields of sand and mud, the crops that sustain this College, and our prized duty of bringing water from the spring on the plateau down to the fields here.¡±

    ¡°You have got to be kidding me.  We water these by hand?  Why not just carve a channel so the spring drains into the fields?  They¡¯d probably fare better further up towards the cliffs anyway and¡ª¡±

    ¡°You know about farming?  I thought you were a merchant.  Oh, but you¡¯re from Verdantfield.  From the name alone, I¡¯m guessing you trade in produce.  Profitably, if you¡¯ve also bought Bitumen tourmalines.  But no, we draw water from a pool and carry it down.  Each student gets that duty one day a week.  The spring is unnatural, you see.¡±

    ¡°More pre-Loss sorcery?¡±

    ¡°A bargain with the dragon of Tourmaline Isle.  Tribute in the form of art and money from our expos in exchange for her sorcery making an aquifer.  The natural one dried up back before recorded history.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a Bitumen, but you wear undyed wool and white cotton.  Why is that?¡±

    ¡°And you say I¡¯m blunt.¡±  May as well get this out of the way.  If she¡¯s only interested in wealth, she¡¯s a friend I could do without anyway.  ¡°A dragon felt we had bargained with her in bad faith and flooded our mines.  We traded the production of the mines to a water sorcerer to drain them, until the year of remission.  All the wealth we have left to ourselves is in our fields, and those were poorly tended.  Then, too, the mineworks are ever expanding, spoil covering or poisoning what pasture we have.¡±

    ¡°I see.  That¡¯s unfortunate.  Would you mind if I spoke to my family on your behalf?¡±  Because she has money, she just has to make a show of poverty to satisfy her parents.

    ¡°I don¡¯t.  It wouldn¡¯t arrive for some time, however.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re well off the ¡®Loon route.  To get letters into Fief proper, you put them on a boat.  The boat goes along a route I imagine you took to get here, or into Dragold if you¡¯re in a hurry, to get to a ¡®Loon outpost, and then it¡¯s four days from there to go around the Orth¡­ but I suppose the Crown Range is east of here, so it¡¯s their reply that would need the four days plus transit across the sea.¡±

    ¡°You certainly know a lot about this.  I take it you send letters home as well?¡±

    ¡°I do, but that¡¯s not the only reason.  Tourmaline Isle is in the Clearwater Duchy, which is my homeland.  But you knew that, you recognized my family name.¡±

    ¡°What I didn¡¯t put together is your knowing how lines of communication flowed through your lands.¡±

    ¡°You sound like you respect my knowledge of what amounts to trivia.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve met more than my share of nobles who would only be interested in the shining products of their mines.  They never impressed me particularly.¡±

    ¡°Well thank you, then, Vaterin.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome, Marble.  So, what else do I need to know for my stay here?¡±

 Learning Lessons

    The routine here is taking some getting used to.  You know how much I hate heights I found out that you can go through the catacombs to deliver water to the crops.  They can¡¯t make an aqueduct from the spring, and the plateau is rock, so if they want to grow anything they have to haul buckets of water.  The switchbacks are narrow, but the catacombs are labyrinthine until you reach what is evidently an exhausted mine.  It¡¯s peaceful in there.  Possibly because nobody is supposed to be down

    ¡°The Power of Ariel is the patron spirit of the College of the Art of the Divine.  You know this by now.¡±  The students laughed and elbowed each other.  ¡°Likely, you also know that the Power of Ariel is subject to the domain of the Virtue known variously as the Jester, Raquelia, or simply described as Love itself.

    ¡°You know, too, that the Virtue of Love is the greatest of the King, Jester, and Student, each being that which will persist until the end, but love being the greatest of these.  It is for this reason that the Powers attributed to the Jester are worthy of special attention.  Overwhelmingly, the Powers subject to the Jester are those of artistic expression and, even more so, self-expression.¡±

    ¡°Amen!¡± shouted someone from a pew behind Vaterin.  Father Sauer nodded his head in acceptance of the uninitiated accolade.

    ¡°Yet the Virtue is not an indulgent patron, given to gluttony or greed.  Indeed, though she counts Envy among her Powers, the angel in question is there to protect from envy, to let it sublimate into something productive.  Too, she counts Pain among her powers, and all of you have been selected because you know the special pain of an artist, driven to perfect her art.¡±

    ¡°Or his!¡± the Father inclined his head once more to the commentary.

    That makes me a little uncomfortable.  The only pain I experience for my art is the physical ache of painting for hours and the prick of my knife.  Or¡­ I suppose I wouldn¡¯t subject myself to such things if I didn¡¯t have artistic expression dogging my psyche.  I hope I have it in me to be a painter.  Funny how things seemed so much clearer when I was confronted daily with ciphering and trade routes, nobles and merchants competing in disdain.  I suppose that¡¯s the purpose of a monastic college, to get away from the distractions and get down to what lies at the heart of one¡¯s motivations and desires.

    ¡°When I was younger,¡± the Father said, ¡°I was convinced that self-mortification would bring about artistic inspiration.  I took a flail, thinking to emulate the Savior and scourge the robber-barons of my soul from the court of my creativity.¡±  There was a collective intake of breath in the audience of students.  ¡°It was a delusion.  I thought I was expressing my own pain; in truth I was expressing a shallow understanding of what the One God wants for His children.  I would scourge myself!¡± he bellowed, filling the small chapel with his voice.  ¡°And then in a frenzy put a riot of charcoal or color on my canvas!¡±  He bowed his head.  ¡°I gave myself over to one Power, not realizing I was giving myself over to the Power of Norman, that aforementioned Power of Envy.¡±  Surely this isn¡¯t directed at me.  I just arrived.  I earned my place in this college.  I ¡°mortify¡± my thumb to summon the Muse of Painting, but she heals me as soon as I complete my prayer, and I do not attempt to paint some primal internal reality.  I paint portraits, I paint glorious heights, I portray the person within the flesh of the person, their virtue free of sarx.  ¡°I envied those who could paint.  Now?  I find my expression of self in balancing the books of the College, allowing it to go on from expo to expo, educating student after student.  There are many paths to honoring the Power of Ariel, of Art, and I would have you meditate upon that as you go about your day.¡±  What is my path, if not painting?  As Marble said, should I be patronizing people who draw from inborn talent?  Why would the One God bless me with a muse if I was not meant to paint?

    Vaterin continued to dwell in her thoughts as she followed Marble¡ªaside from going down the switchbacks¡ªthrough the manual labor that started off the days of the students.  She hurried through the catacombs, bringing water to the fields of barley and¡ªshe had learned¡ªturtleweed for the humans and saltgrass for the oxen that provided the hearty stock of the communal meals. After the watering, done before the sun rose too high, was maintaining the adobe of the College itself, painting over paint over paint over paint over paint¡­ to shelter it from the elements.  Marble had laughed at Vaterin¡¯s characterization of the work.  ¡°You¡¯re so funny, Vaterin!¡±  I¡¯m glad I¡¯m making at least one friend.  I wouldn¡¯t have guessed that I would befriend a noble of all people, but a good friend is a good friend.

    Finally, after scrubbing the floors of the College and Chapel both, during which Vaterin and Marble were too spread out to chat, the bell tolled which declared it time for breakfast.  I question the merits of either ox cheese or popped turtleweed, though I¡¯ll admit it¡¯s filling.  Marble seems to appreciate it.  ¡°You¡¯re telling me we eat the greens with dinner and the seeds with breakfast?  What do they plant, then?¡±

    ¡°Oh, they reserve some seeds for planting.  It¡¯s a vigorous crop, and it doesn¡¯t need much water that¡¯s not from the sea.¡±  She knows everything about this place.  Sarx, she probably supported it with her tithes before her family wound up in penury over a dragon¡¯s wrath.  That story haunted Vaterin.  Dragons were the embodiment of sacrificial love, according to the catechism of the Wholist Church.  The first dragon, Gotorjod, had her wings seared off using them to shelter the first humans from the fiery wrath of the One God when they defied Him.  It was Gotorjod who clothed them and taught them to work the land, clearing it of brambles and making furrows for seeds.  All as I was taught, long, long ago.  And yet for a dragon to exact such harsh vengeance on a noble family¡­ what do I know?

    ¡°Marble, what is the dragon of Tourmaline Isle like?¡±

    Marble started.  ¡°Uhm¡­ she¡¯s a water dragon.  So theoretically mellow and slow to react.¡±  ¡°Theoretically,¡± because the dragon who would have drowned her family¡¯s mines would have been of the same humor.  ¡°I haven¡¯t had much interaction.  I heard she has a hand in picking which initiates of the College go on to become teachers on the Isle.  Why?¡±

    Because I¡¯m struggling to reconcile water dragons with a dragon who would drown mines for any reason.  Even if humans fall short of the glory of the One God, dragons are supposed to be elevated above that.  Immortal, noble, powerful in their element in ways humans cannot even conceive of¡­ not the kind of being which would exact such a nigh-irrevocable toll upon an entire family.  And for what?  A sin of greed, which I have a lot of trouble believing Marble would deal in bad faith, and the apple doesn¡¯t fall far from the tree.  Then again, perhaps my merchant¡¯s eye is clouded by nerves.  Maybe I¡¯ve misjudged her.  Only one way to find out.  Now if only time would hurry up and pass.  Not that I mind talking with her.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    It was again quiet in the still life rooms where they spent the midday heat, a relative term, this far north, taking advantage of the sunlight to explore both color and shadow.  The teacher was fair like Vaterin, and hectoring one of the students.  ¡°Your perspective is off, Slate!  Start over from the beginning!¡±  They had been working at their respective pieces long enough for the sun to track from a corner of the room to the middle.  The student looked to be near tears, and Vaterin felt strong compassion for them.  Marble, evidently, felt still stronger compassion, for she vacated her seat and walked over to the student, murmuring what were doubtless words of comfort and offering reassuring physical contact until the teacher¡ªBrother Pumice, not that he seems very brotherly¡ªordered her back to her seat.

    ¡°The foibles of man are exemplified in that teacher, I swear,¡± Marble muttered under her breath as she passed by Vaterin.  She cracked a grin.  Evidently she wasn¡¯t the only one with opinions about her nominal betters.  And evidently there was fire in Marble, for all that their collective Virtue was an angel of water.

    Dinner was yet again barley and turtleweed, stewed in ox bone broth.  ¡°What did you think of your first full day?¡± Marble asked her as she choked down a meal which¡ªon an ocean island no less¡ªcould have used a bit of salt.  Or spices.  Maybe instead of writing home I should have brought some coriander in my knapsack.

    ¡°The sermon was thought-provoking.  There will be another one after dinner, yes?¡±  Marble nodded.  ¡°I have to wonder where all their inspiration comes from¡ª¡± Vaterin held up a forebearing hand, ¡°¡ªI know, I know, they are divinely Inspired.  Uhm¡­ I only got lost in the catacombs once¡ª¡± Marble shuddered visibly ¡°¡ªwhich was honestly less terrifying than trying to go down the switchbacks with two buckets of water.¡±  Vaterin paused, and hesitated.  ¡°It was admirable of you, to go and comfort Slate.  They looked like they were about to cry from the Brother¡¯s admonition.¡±

    Marble scoffed.  ¡°Brother Pumice has it in for Slate, I swear.  He¡¯s been on their case about their charcoals since day one.  Then too¡ª¡±

    Marble was interrupted by the setting down of a bowl of stew by another student.  ¡°If it isn¡¯t the two painters!  Let me know when you get tired of working out the One God¡¯s glory in only two dimensions!  I work in three and even then I can¡¯t capture the fourth.¡±

    Marble muttered an oath before replying.  ¡°Felspar.  Not all of us care to work in clay.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d be dishonoring my family name if I didn¡¯t, to say nothing of the inadequacy of portraying the Glory of Creation on a flat canvas.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of the Clays,¡± Vaterin said, temper flaring.  ¡°So clearly you need to preserve what honor the name has if it has so little.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of the Limes, so what are you doing at an art school?¡±

    Marble put a hand on Vaterin¡¯s arm.  ¡°Let him go.  He¡¯s just like that.¡±  Vaterin nodded, and they finished their meal in silence.  At least, Vaterin thought, he¡¯s a he and I won¡¯t have to interact with him in the dorms.  I wonder which dorm Slate sleeps in.  Or maybe they converted a storage room for them.  I should ask what Slate¡¯s name is.  I¡¯d rather know their name than Felspar Clay¡¯s.  He¡¯s obnoxious.  I don¡¯t even know what he was on about, talking about fourth dimensions.  Doubtless some ciphering nonsense I don¡¯t need to know.  My muse provides me with all the knowledge I need.  Why else would the Supreme send her down to Orth, after all?

    In the dorm, after evening service praising a good effort and exhorting them to pray in thanksgiving with their idle time, Vaterin reclined on her bunk, sore from unaccustomed labor and the indulgent¡ªbut effortful¡ªhours spent painting.  Marble was tending to her hair, dipping her fingers in a small dish and working the liquid into her dreads.  Vaterin hadn¡¯t seen such careful and methodical care given to one¡¯s hair, and watched in fascination.  Marble caught her eye after a while, and cocked her head questioningly.  ¡°You¡¯re quite the femme,¡± Vaterin explained, ¡°you¡¯ve spent several sandglasses just tending to your hair.¡±

    Marble¡¯s face hardened.  Well dang, and here I thought that was a compliment.  ¡°Your white butch behind can probably air dry from a dunk in a bucket of water and have hair as fluffy as a feather!  My hair demands care if I don¡¯t want it to be dry and disheveled.¡±

    Lacking a better idea of what to do, Vaterin fell back on merchants¡¯ precepts¡ªlaugh gaily, admit fault, and offer some flattery.  Maybe without the flattery, lest I stick my foot further into my mouth.  She laughed, and nodded.  ¡°You¡¯ve just about described my hair care routine.  My apologies, I clearly missed the mark on being ¡®complimentary.¡¯¡±  Marble seemed appeased by the admission of fault, and returned to tending her hair.  Vaterin continued watching idly, finding the ritual element reminiscent of her meditations to welcome the Muse of Painting.

    Curious, she fished her penknife out of a pocket and murmured her prayer, communing with the angel spirit she had so dearly acquired.  The sunset and a candle or two offered only a modicum of light, the dormitory was arranged to catch the rising rather than the setting sun, the angles and shadows utterly beyond her ability to conceptualize.  Holy Spirit, bless me with the inspiration of what to paint in time for All Saviors¡¯ Day.  I need to ask Father Sauer if I could paint him.  Or maybe Marble.  Except the time she lights up the most is in the still life room, and the lighting there is so boring.  Just a flat wash of daylight.  Maybe I¡¯ll go through some of the folios for drawings of great beasts.  For whatever reason, her talent lay with figure painting, but also with portraying creatures and abominations of all shapes and sizes.  Sometimes she could even manage a solitary plant, provided it was not too sharply angled, too straight vertically.  But generally not.  It must be some interaction between the divine and my own soul, for surely the One God¡¯s Muse is not limited to portraying one aspect of His Creation.  Vaterin watched Marble tending to her hair.  You know, there¡¯s something of how she looks when she¡¯s painting in how she looks when she oils her hair.  The same focus, the same economy of movement.  But if I had enough light to paint by, it would spoil the effect.  I suppose I could work from memory¡­

    Vaterin¡¯s thoughts were interrupted by Marble rising from her stool¡ªI guess she¡¯s done, finally.  Not that I was in any hurry.  Meditation of any kind is relaxing to watch¡ªand moving with a single candle confidently through the dark room.  At one end of the room, past empty cots without students, she swept a cloth off a canvas.  Is she going to paint now?  At this time of night?  There isn¡¯t even any light to see by?  And what is she painting?  Vaterin¡¯s curiosity surged, and she rose with her own stub of a candle to approach the far end of the room.  Marble set her candle next to the canvas, which Vaterin could not even make out for want of light.  It¡¯s too dark to paint, surely.  ¡­isn¡¯t it?

 Candlelight

    The hand of the One God is in all things, and so I cannot help but think that the hand of the One God was in my selection as guide to the new student.  Of course, if there is one place where the Lord is present, it would doubtless be in a pre-Loss monastery.  She took well to the work, aside from watering plants which she is very slow at.  I really shouldn¡¯t have mentioned that she could take the meandering path through the catacombs.  Still, she works hard, she paints well, and I cannot help but find myself liking her¡­

    Marble stood by her canvas, the subject all but invisible in the night light.  First things first, she removed her gloves despite the night¡¯s chill.  They were difficult to clean and painting was not a neat business.  Then, too, there was the magic she was about to undertake.  She turned her back on it and pinched the wick of a candle between two fingers, murmuring a quiet prayer.   ¡°Father Supreme, bless this light with life.¡±  As soon as she felt warmth, she let go, the candle lit.  She moved back and forth around the space, lighting candles as she went.  She thought the same thoughts she often did, the act of lighting the beeswax candles a ritual all its own.  It¡¯s a little prayer to the One God with each sorcerous invocation of flame.  I suppose I don¡¯t need to murmur a prayer, but I like the ritual and I like the affirmation that what I do, I do for the One God, to honor His creation.

    The night was when she painted for herself.  Though, I might have to put this one up at the All Saviors¡¯ Day expo.  I¡¯m very proud of it.  I wonder if a dark room could be arranged for it.  After all, I specifically painted this one to be seen by the flickering orange light of candles.

    Dancing in the shadows, a small still life arrangement.  A wide bowl, with a fluted vase placed inside it.  To the left and behind, a statuette of the Virtue of the Jester, crafted with brass.  I just wanted a challenge when I started this, Marble thought, but then it became a passion.  The brass, you would think, would be the most difficult, because it¡¯s reflective.  But glazed pottery catches the light the same way, and unlike the small details of the statuette, the vase seems almost to change shape when the candles flicker in a breeze or by their own initiative.  Marble chuckled.  That canvas has so many layers of paint on it, I¡¯m fortunate that oils adhere to one another.

    Abruptly, Marble was aware of someone behind her.  She paused, and nearly burnt her fingers from not letting go of the lit wick of a candle.  ¡°Vaterin?¡± Marble asked.

    ¡°I¡­ yes.  You¡¯re wearing a very nice fragrance.  Sorry.  I just wanted to hear what you were saying as you lit the candles.  It all looks very interesting, I was glancing at the canvas before I came up to try and overhear and¡ª¡± How sweet.  She babbles when she¡¯s nervous.  So do I.  It¡¯s not that interesting a fragrance, though Mama is quite proud of our gardens, so maybe she just has a nose for quality.  Mama does grow some beautiful flowers.

    ¡°Shhh,¡± Marble said.  ¡°It¡¯s just an attar of tulips.  A little different than the common rose.¡±

    ¡°If you knew how difficult they were to cultivate, you might not¡­ it is a nice fragrance.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Vaterin.  But you were trying to overhear?¡±

    Marble waited for Vaterin¡¯s meandering thoughts to find their way back home.  ¡°Uhm.  What was¡­ I mean, I pray to invoke my angel, but what were you praying?  Do you use a needle and invoke the axiom of Tame Flame?¡±

    Marble shook her head.  ¡°I have no spirit pacts.  It was fire sorcery.  My, ah, my grandmother taught me.¡±  She¡¯d be proud of me, with where I am.  I¡¯ll see you again some day, Gramma.

    ¡°Fire sorcery?  I don¡¯t¡­ I know a thing or two about fire brands, but not much about the mechanics of sorcery itself.  My family never could break into the market of magical services, so¡­¡± Vaterin shrugged.

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised.  It¡¯s the nobility who are supposed to be above such trades.  But the prayer was ¡®Father Supreme, bless this light with life.¡¯¡±

    ¡°But why pray, if you¡¯re not invoking a spirit?¡±  Why pray to invoke a spirit?  I thought it was all about making a small offering and asking that they bless¡­ hah.  That is a prayer.

    ¡°Because unlike using a branded object, sorcery relies on faith.  As the Savior said, ¡®Believe it will be done, and it will be done for you.¡¯  I believe, by now, that my fires will light, but it is a comforting habit to say a little prayer as I start each candle.  It reminds me of my grandmother.¡±

    ¡°Has she¡­ I don¡¯t know the diplomatic way to ask if she¡¯s still with you.¡±

    Marble laughed softly.  ¡°Of course she¡¯s still with me.  The One God has her in His arms, but I have her in my heart.¡±

    ¡°But she has¡­ yeah.  I¡¯m sorry for your loss.¡±

    Marble smiled, though she felt tears welling up.  ¡°It was some time ago.  She went peacefully.  It wasn¡¯t a surprise or anything.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s the one who taught you to use sorcery?¡±

    Marble nodded, not trusting her voice.  I loved my grandmother.  That¡¯s why it¡¯s still such a painful thought after so many years.  But there¡¯s no need for tears.  She¡¯s in Heaven now.

    ¡°Do you want to tell me about it?  Or should I stop interrupting and let you get back to your painting.¡±  It was less a question than a statement, and Marble paused before she answered.  Do I want to talk to a new friend about this, or do I want¡­ I want to immerse myself in my art, right now.

    ¡°I would like that, thank you.¡±  Marble set about preparing her paints, while Vaterin settled on one of the empty cots and watched her.  Distracted by mumbled words, Marble happened to glance over when sparks of light danced over Vaterin¡¯s thumb.  What does she need to be able to paint for?  Does she have more than one spirit?  There was a creaking noise as Vaterin stood, and soft footfalls leading away.  She must be feeling like she ought to work on her own painting.  She¡¯s not going to have much luck, the character of nightlight changes things so much¡­

    Marble had sat down and was once again trying to capture the flickering flames on brass and ceramic when she heard another creak.  She only looked out of the corner of her eye, and only for a moment, but she saw that Vaterin had a folio and charcoal.  I wonder what she¡¯s drawing.  It could be anything.  I know that when I¡¯m painting a daytime landscape I can work from memory.  ¡°Keeping me company?  You should sleep, services are early and breakfast is earlier still.¡±Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    She couldn¡¯t make out in the candlelight whether Vaterin flushed.  ¡°Ah¡­ I should have asked first.  I came to Tourmaline Isle without a good subject in mind.  At first, I thought I might paint Father Sauer.  The Mother Superior was another possibility.  But right now, though I only have charcoal and paper, I thought I would draw you.  You have a¡­ a vitality to¡ªno, that¡¯s not it.  The spirit gives me insights but not the words.¡±

    ¡°You wanted to paint me?¡±  I know I¡¯m not unappealing, and I am a noble, but I don¡¯t feel like her desire to paint me is about either of those things.

    ¡°Not just you, but you when you¡¯re painting.  It¡­ is evocative.  Alive.  Not ¡®it,¡¯ ¡®you.¡¯  You¡¯re clearly¡­ it¡¯s not that you¡¯re good¡ªthough you are good¡ªit¡¯s that you¡¯re vividly¡­ no, I tried that word.  Sarx!¡± Vaterin swore.  ¡°Haha.  As I said, I don¡¯t get the words.¡± Ah, yep.  It has nothing to do with my looks or my title.  I wonder what she sees.  I did see a bit of her painting earlier today, but now she¡¯s working in charcoal.  Which, despite what Slate gets told, is a challenging and vivid medium.

    ¡°Well, it doesn¡¯t sound like a bad thing, whatever it is you see when you look at me.  May I come look?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just a sketch, but¡ªsure.¡±

    Marble slid off her stool and padded over to Vaterin.  She was not still wearing her shoes, those being one more thing it was devilishly difficult to get paint off of.  Vaterin, head held high, handed over the bound book of papers, bent back to the page she had been working on.

    ¡°You¡¯re very skilled, Vaterin.  I look in a mirror each morning and I didn¡¯t know I look like that.¡±  The woman in the sketch was unmistakably Marble, but more dignified.  I think the word she wants is ¡°alive.¡±  It¡¯s one thing to paint a picture, it¡¯s another to capture vitality.  I¡¯m impressed.

    Vaterin scratched the back of her head.  How cute.  I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve seen someone actually do that before.  ¡°It¡¯s the angel.  Gives me the sight of things, guides my hands.¡±

    ¡°Well, then your faith must be strong.  You¡¯re communing very fully with your angel.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.  It¡­ I suppose it is.  I am.  That is, that it is and I am.¡±  Vaterin laughed.  ¡°I haven¡¯t really gotten a lot of feedback on my art.  My parents got me my angel, set a deadline, and shipped me off.¡±  How horrible.  Mine sent me with every blessing they had.  They even promised that if I found myself a patron before it was time to marry that they¡¯d adopt someone to carry on the title.  Or¡­ Marble blushed.  See to it there was another heir.

    ¡°You haven¡¯t been painting long?  You¡¯re very good, for that.¡±  I suppose I shouldn¡¯t be surprised that she¡¯s new to things, if she can¡¯t articulate why she wants to paint something.  Then again, if I could articulate why I paint the things I paint, I might be a writer and not a painter.  So who knows.  Still, I think I should find a book of vocabulary for her from the library.  I know that it helped me to have the words for the figures I am incapable of painting.

    ¡°Again, the angel more than me.  I¡¯m not a very good artist.  And even with the angel, I can¡¯t seem to paint scenery.  Just figures, and maybe some of the objects in their vicinity.  Animals, abominations, maybe the odd conjectural angel when I¡¯m having a good day.¡±  Now that¡¯s an idea, for the expo.  I could paint a divine landscape.  A forest of the second tier of the third Heaven.  I¡¯ll try that out tomorrow, and if it flows I¡¯ll have to thank Vaterin for the idea!

    ¡°I had no idea that communing with an angel was so complicated.  Or temperamental.¡±

    ¡°Oh yes.  It¡¯s all about¡­ I¡¯m not an expert, but I received a full talking to by the priest who helped me initiate my bond.  It¡¯s all about the soul, something barely understood since the Age of Loss.  Communing has all kinds of limitations.  The Mother who initiated me said that it was the One God¡¯s will in play and that I shouldn¡¯t question it.¡±  She laughed again.  ¡°I don¡¯t know that I succeed at that.¡±  Vaterin hesitated.  ¡°Since we¡¯re talking, do you want to tell me about fire sorcery?  Or your grandmother?¡±

    That¡­ is a very good question.  I want to paint, but I also love to talk about Gramma.  And talking about fire sorcery is very much talking about her.  ¡°She was a vigorous woman.  She kept a tight hand on the reigns of the title until the night she died.  I don¡¯t know why she favored fire sorcery, she wasn¡¯t an especially choleric person.  If anything, she was sanguine, happy and showing favor to those she loved.  But I was young.  My parents were uncomfortable with me learning sorcery, but nobody denied my grandmother anything.  Maybe she was just choleric where I didn¡¯t see.¡±  Marble laughed.  ¡°You know, that never occurred to me?  That she might have terrorized my parents into letting her teach me sorcery?¡±

    Another student called from across the dorm.  ¡°Painting by candlelight is one thing, carrying on a conversation is another!  Hush up and let me get some sleep!¡±

    Vaterin ducked her head abashedly, though Marble held her head high and handed back her folio.  ¡°We¡¯re done talking!  Go get your beauty rest, your soul needs it!¡±  I made Vaterin laugh.  How fun.  ¡°Sketch me all you want,¡± she whispered, before reseating herself on her stool and once again trying to capture the qualities of firelight in the dark.  It really would be nice if we could show this painting by candle light.  I don¡¯t even know if the colors I¡¯m using would look right in daylight, I¡¯ve avoided looking at my canvas during the day.

    ¡­it really is sweet of Vaterin to find me so inspiring.  All I do is paint.  But then, all she does is paint.  All anyone on this island does is make art and worship the One God.  So I suppose that I shouldn¡¯t derogate the Power of Art.  It wouldn¡¯t be divine if it wasn¡¯t significant.  There¡¯s even, and this was news to me, a Muse of Painting.  The One God thought it was so important that His children be able to portray Creation that He made an angel just to inspire and enable portraying it.

    Marble jumped as Vaterin was abruptly beside her. ¡°Hey, Marble.  If you can¡¯t draw figures, how come you have such a skilled presentation of the Virtue on your canvas.¡±

    That¡­ is a very good question.  I hadn¡¯t thought about it.  It doesn¡¯t move for one, but surely that¡¯s not the only issue, as I can paint trees in a breeze just fine.  I¡¯ll have to think about it.  ¡°I¡¯m not sure.  Let¡¯s talk about it tomorrow, instead of waking anyone up.¡±

    After another several sandglasses, Marble covered her canvas, with the same quiet carefulness blew out each candle, and slunk off to bed.  Vaterin had gone to bed already, doubtless used to trade hours.  Those start just about when the nobility goes to bed, as I recall.

    Done with her painting for the night, Marble let her thoughts roam to the subject she¡¯d been pondering all evening.  She wants to paint me.  She wants to paint me.  Not Sauer, not even the Mother Superior¡ªI doubt she¡¯d sit for a painting, she¡¯s a pious and humble woman, but still¡ªVaterin wants to paint me.  Somehow, the notion was so much more flattering than the portraitists of her childhood, clearly trying to curry favor with a noble and potential patron.  Marble had nothing Vaterin wanted or needed except honest companionship and yet she wanted to portray Marble doing the thing she had been born to do.  Paint.

 A Day In the Life

    The days pass quickly here, something both pleasant and dreadful.  I do not relish the prospect of my return, as you know The day begins simply, then piously, and then simply but difficultly.  Is that a word?  Perhaps I need a Muse of Writing (I am joking, Mother).  Spending hours in the process of painting is an unbridled joy, and I barely even notice the temporary pain in my thumb anymore.  I am working on several paintings for the expo, to fund the All Saviors¡¯ Day feast¡­

    Those cliffs are terrifying.  I don¡¯t know how anyone goes down them carrying two buckets of water.  Vaterin was pondering this as she veritably dashed through the catacombs, into the shafts of the old tourmaline mine.  It is a quiet place.  The dead keep their secrets, but they make no effort to pry into mine.  Do I have secrets, or is listening to sermons twice daily turning me into an armchair philosopher.  Oh, One God, Mother and Father would die if I came back ready to take holy orders and meditate upon the divine the rest of my life.  Let¡¯s not do that.

    Her legs and arms burned, the buckets were heavy and couldn¡¯t be jogged by her fast clip through the tunnels.  After the watering would be weeding, though how weeds thrived when even the intentionally cultivated crops struggled in the sandy, salt-drowned soil was anyone¡¯s guess.  The College would spend less on paint if we didn¡¯t paint the College itself every dry day that came.  I wonder why we never paint the Chapel of Ariel.  It never seems to need it, it doesn¡¯t even have streaking despite being some-odd hundred years old¡­ or more.

    During individual prayer time, Vaterin felt no guilt at slipping away and cutting into her time of actual prayer for the quality and depth of her prayers, in order to go and pray among the dead of the catacombs.  Mock philosophy aside, it is a quiet place.  The ocean roars through the tunnels in a constant din, so much more peaceful than the creaking and breathing of praying in the dorms, or the high-pitched surf you hear in the Chapel.  Not that the Chapel isn¡¯t an intensely holy place, but it is noisy.  With the catacombs it¡¯s almost like¡­ a distant roar.  The echoes make it so that it doesn¡¯t come and go with my breath but just suffuse me, until I¡¯m praying and speaking with the One God and I almost imagine He is talking back in the noise¡­ there I go being philosophical again.  Like as not it¡¯s the dragon of the isle roaring into the waves.  What interest does the One God have in a striving¡ªthat¡¯s heresy.  Or blasphemy.  I always get them mixed up.  I really, really should not become a theologian.  He cares about me because I am His child and if He really wanted to kick me from his shoes He would not have blessed me that I might portray Creation on canvas.

    Eugh.  Felspar Clay.  He¡¯s so convinced that his art is superior because it¡¯s in three dimensions.  I looked up ¡°dimension¡± in the book that Marble found for me from the library.  It seems like he¡¯s missing the word ¡°perspective.¡±  We can portray three dimensions on canvas, just as well as he can.  He¡¯s certainly not portraying time with his sculpture.  I don¡¯t even know what that would look like!  He says that his works are inspired by the ¡°Paxite calculus.¡±  It wasn¡¯t in the book, so I don¡¯t think it¡¯s even a real art term.  I went through the entire glossary, just in case it was somewhere weird like ¡°sculpture, calculus¡± or whatever.

    But that¡¯s okay.  He doesn¡¯t talk to us much¡ªus.  Me and Marble.  She¡¯s a good friend.  She still stands up for Writing Slate when Brother Pitch gets on their case, even though at this point she loses an hour of her evening copying over scripture.  But yeah, Felspar¡¯s work takes a lot longer to finish, so he spends most of his time working on it instead of harassing everyone else.  He¡¯s the only one working in clay, I wonder how Brother Pitch acquired the breadth of knowledge necessary to instruct everyone.  Maybe that¡¯s why he gets on Writing¡¯s case so much.  Maybe charcoal is just not something he knows much about so he gets defensive.  Who knows.

    But ¡°us.¡±  Me and Marble.  As long as we don¡¯t talk too late, nobody seems to mind us spending the evening with her painting by candlelight and me sketching her.  I think I¡¯m almost ready to make an attempt at painting her.  Tomorrow.  I remember talking last night¡­

    ¡°What made you want to try and paint entirely of and by candlelight?¡±

    Marble shrugged with the shoulder holding her palette.  ¡°I wanted to challenge myself.  I read a book¡± when does she find time to read books with all that they keep us busy with? ¡°that talked about a man who retreated from the world and lived by night.  He talked about the unique characteristics of night lights and it piqued my interest.¡±

    ¡°What does it look like in the daylight?  I mean, how do you know you¡¯re not using green for that brass of the Virtue statue?¡±  When I paint you, I think I should paint you as you look in the dark.  That almost sounds like one of those old Incarnate riddles.  ¡°What do you look like in the dark?¡±

    Marble¡¯s nose wrinkled in humor.  I can read her expressions even in the dark.  ¡°I look like a more comfortable version of myself,¡± I guess.  I doubt an Incarnate teacher would accept that.  ¡°You know, I don¡¯t actually know.  I¡¯ve avoided looking at my canvas or my subject in the daylight.  I¡¯m thinking of asking that the College set up a special viewing room for this canvas.¡±  She laughed softly.  ¡°Perhaps a Lord of the sort from that book will decide to purchase it, as it will fit with the aesthetic of her home.¡±

    A storm came that night, and Vaterin tossed and turned in her little bunk.  I¡¯m not used to coastal noise.  The weather was pacific in the sphere I grew up in, and Mother would always help me sleep when we traveled to check on the family investments¡­ they do care about me.  They just think that I should take over the family business, and I just¡­ don¡¯t want to.  They should do like Marble¡¯s parents and make another heir.  Hah.  She blushed, I think, when she told me they¡¯d said that.  Hard to tell with how dark her skin is.

    ¡°Vaterin.  Vaterin!¡± Marble hissed from her bedside.  Vaterin nearly tumbled out of her bunk¡ªshe hadn¡¯t heard Marble approach.

    ¡°Marble, it¡¯s the middle of the night!  What?¡±

    ¡°Move over.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Move over and whisper before someone else wakes up!¡±

    Vaterin found scooting over easy enough, as she was already halfway out of her bunk with startlement.  Abruptly, the slight form of Marble was curled up, facing Vaterin, hunkered against her.  Vaterin didn¡¯t realize Marble was wrapping the blankets around herself until she felt a draft at her back.  ¡°Marble, you¡¯re stealing the blankets.  What is it?  Did you have a nightmare?¡±  I¡¯ve had a few myself.  Mostly about ciphering or shipwrecks, but I¡¯ve had them.  It¡¯s something to be away from home.  But she¡¯s been here a while¡­Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    ¡°It¡¯s the storm.¡±

    ¡°The storm?¡±

    ¡°It stormed like this the night that the dragon flooded the family mines.¡±  You would have found out about that days later.  Why are you reacting like the storm is out to get you personally?  Why do I meditate amongst the dead?  Why am I so opposed to marrying the woman my parents picked for me?  Why does Brother Pitch act like such a cuss.  Now is not the time for questions.

    Vaterin made sure the blanket was tucked in around Marble, and then put her arm over her.  ¡°It¡¯s okay.  It¡¯s just a storm.  We¡¯re high up on a plateau.  It can¡¯t get us.¡± Marble moaned her discontent.  ¡°Do you want to go to the Chapel?  We¡¯ll say we were struck with the urge to pray, and then fell asleep like the Savior¡¯s companions.  They won¡¯t punish piety.  And that building has survived more storms than this one?¡±  Vaterin realized she was beginning to babble, disarmed by Marble¡¯s apparent panic.  ¡°Marble, it¡¯s going to be okay.¡±

    ¡°Ohh¡­ Vaterin, it¡¯ll flood the tidal mill, it¡¯ll flood¡­ oh, Powers preserve us, the crops, Vaterin!¡± She¡¯s worried about the crops?  Or the mines?  Or the memories?

    ¡°Surely they¡¯ve weathered storms like this before.  I¡¯ve seen the fields, I¡¯ve worked them, everything is well above the high tide marker.¡±

    ¡°But Vaterin, can¡¯t you hear the rain?  And the wind?  When there¡¯s this much wind, the waves get so tall!  They can wash away entire cliffs!¡±  And with that I¡¯m feeling much the same way I felt when I dreamed about the boat I was on sinking.  I doubt we¡¯re going to get hundred-foot waves, but holy sarx is the concept unsettling.  Breathe.  One person up the crazy tree at a time.  Breathe.

    ¡°The waves will not wash away the College.  If it washes away the crops and the mill, they¡¯ll rebuild.  We¡¯ll rebuild.¡±  Logic is not helping.  Logic never does help, when fear is talking.  ¡°Pray with me, Marble.  The prayer of a righteous person has power.  We¡¯re two people.¡±  Vaterin felt Marble nod in the dark.  ¡°Heavenly Father¡ª¡±

    ¡°Heavenly Father,¡± Marble echoed.

    Vaterin took a breath and began to recite a sailors¡¯ prayer, modified for the occasion.  ¡±Supreme over Your host of angels, by the Virtue of Barachia, by the Power of Therein, preserve Tourmaline Isle in the face of Your storm, over which You have Supreme,¡± hah.  The Supreme Father has supreme authority.  I just got that.  Wondered why it was capitalized in the travel book, ¡°authority.  Let us not be as seeds in the breeze, but as chicks beneath your wings in the face of nature¡¯s fury.  Amen.¡±

    ¡°Amen,¡± Marble echoed, finally.  ¡°Thank you, Vaterin.  I¡¯ll go back to my bunk now.  You¡¯re a good friend.¡±

    Feeling the warm spot in the bed that Marble had left behind, Vaterin thought to herself, a friend?  Am I a friend?  Or is there something else growing here?  One more sorrow to count should I have to return to the family business, the family marital ties?  Or am I holding on to the first person to come along and validate my desire to be a painter?  She¡¯s everything I aspire to be.  She paints landscapes that are beautiful and accurate, evocative in a way I can¡¯t manage even with my portraits.  She¡¯s at home on this little island, content to remain until she receives patronage, while I have only one season.  But when we talk, I feel heard.  And I think she feels that way too.  Vaterin didn¡¯t sleep much that night, and she felt like she could only partially blame the storm after all.

    The next morning, at breakfast, Marble murmured to Vaterin, ¡°Thank you.  Gramma used to say a similar prayer for me, after I came to associate storms with my family¡¯s financial straits.  I haven¡¯t slept that soundly during a storm since she passed.¡±

    Well what do I say to that?  What can I say?  ¡°I¡¯m glad I was able to help?¡±  That¡¯s such a paltry statement in the face of the comfort she¡¯s ascribing to me.  ¡°It¡¯s from a sailors¡¯ prayer.  Did your grandmother sail?¡±

    Marble¡¯s face scrunched up thoughtfully.  ¡°You know, I don¡¯t know.  I imagine she went on ships, at least.  With the coast adjacent, and her penchant for managing things, I can¡¯t imagine she didn¡¯t.¡±

    The bell tolled for services, and after services was the daily hauling of spring water down to the crops.  Vaterin stumbled off the dock, feeling like she had been punched in the gut, as she gazed upon the desolation before here. ¡°Suffering Savior!¡±

    ¡°So glad you could join us, Lime,¡± the supervising Sister said.  ¡°You can set those buckets down.  As you can see,¡± she indicated the storm-tossed acres of crops, ¡°they¡¯re not going to be needed.¡±

    Vaterin set her buckets down numbly and walked over to Marble.

    ¡°At least it didn¡¯t wash away the cliffs,¡± Marble said with a half-laugh.

    ¡°There have to have been storms before.  They¡¯ll manage somehow.¡±

    ¡°Oh, Vaterin, the water dragon!  We¡¯ve always paid tribute to Tourmaline to get her to keep the storms off our crops!  Something must have¡ªSister!  Sister Shale!¡± Marble flagged down the Sister supervising their chores.  ¡°Did something happen?!  Did something anger the dragon of Tourmaline Isle?¡±

    The Sister, herself looking stunned, turned to Marble and shrugged.  ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be privy to such things.  Ask Father Sauer, or the Mother.  Or find out with the next sermon.  I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll have¡ªI¡¯m sure they¡¯ll have a solution by then.¡±

    It was with heavy heart that they went to the live study hall.  Vaterin and Marble had long since contrived to sit next to each other, and Vaterin recalled her optimistic hope of painting Marble today.  She still had the same focus and poise as she painted, but everyone in the room seemed shaken by the failure of the crops.  No formal announcement had been made as to what would be done, but when the entire student body was responsible for tending the crops, the disaster could hardly be kept from them.

    Nothing for it but to bear it.  Wait, that¡¯s not the idiom.  Nothing to it but to do it?  That¡¯s not applicable.  And I¡¯m dithering.  I may as well try to paint Marble.  Maybe it will make her smile.  Sarx, maybe it will make me smile.  After I consoled her that the storm wouldn¡¯t get us.  She said the dragon protects the crops from the storms, is this a second instance of draconic pique ruining something in her life?  Vaterin put her splayed fingers over her heart in the God-Star and prayed, One God, please let there be some explanation for this that doesn¡¯t paint the defenders of humanity, the founders of the Wholist Church, in the fickle light of one who would idly break a compact with the One God¡¯s people.  I have to believe in the providence of dragons.  So much is founded upon it.

    With a quick invocation of her angel which frankly surprised her with its success, so much did she rush through it, Vaterin started drawing with charcoal from her sketchbook, marking her canvas with outlines to fill with paint, ignoring Brother Pitch¡¯s tiresome heckling of all things charcoal.  I need the outlines, this time.  The shadows, the light, both of them could so easily become a mess. And if I want to make Marble smile, this needs to be good.  As she worked, Vaterin gradually found that she was relaxing.  She set her palette down briefly to make the God-Star once more.  Thank you for your Peace, Lord.  May this work out for our good and your glory.

 The Beginning of Realization

    There was a storm and evidently there is another dispute with Tourmaline.  She let the storm wash out the crops of barley and turtleweed.  It was a horrific shock.  Especially in light of how badly a storm harmed our own affairs, our own status.  I thought I was getting away from that, and I certainly didn¡¯t expect a tantrum from two different water dragons.  They¡¯re supposed to protect humans, but it seems like water dragons at least just care about gemstones¡­

    They must not mind that much if someone cuts through the catacombs, Marble thought with a shudder.  They haven¡¯t put Vaterin on an additional chore detail after she came down off the docks.  But it still gives me the creeps, thinking about walking past all those dead bodies.  I¡¯m guessing it¡¯s not disturbing them, she doesn¡¯t have any reason to steal from them or defile them.  And the Isle is consecrated.  So I guess undead abominations aren¡¯t an issue.  But still¡­ eugh!  As for the mine, I hope it¡¯s safe.

    She avoids things that make her uncomfortable.  I didn¡¯t much care for the switchbacks either when I first arrived, but I kept making the trek.  She just brings less water and goes through the tunnels.  She¡¯s like that with other things.  She looks the other way with Brother Pitch, instead of getting in trouble.  I mean, sarx¡ªpardon me, Father¡ªbut she conjures or whatever a minor angel rather than develop her own talent.  And I think it¡¯s biting her in the butt because she can¡¯t draw landscapes because her soul ¡°doesn¡¯t sync¡± with the angel or whatever.  She doesn¡¯t even try for more than a few minutes.

    Her paintings are very nice, though.  I¡¯m flattered by what she¡¯s been painting of me.  I look noble, dignified, focused¡­ and she captures the look of painting by candlelight very well.  I see her referencing her sketches all the time, but that she holds these molten oranges and umbers in her mind is impressive.  If I tried to paint a person¡­ well, they¡¯d look like a statue.  A deformed statue, because they¡¯d move and I¡¯d miss that.  Marble laughed quietly at herself.  But I¡¯m trying.  The statue of the Virtue is making progress.  Somewhat.

    It was Sunday, and so aside from services and meals, the students¡¯ time was their own.  Marble turned back to the letter she¡¯d been writing.  I made a new friend, in the one new student this season.  Her name is Vaterin Lime, and she¡¯s evidently the scion of a powerful merchant family.  Her family is¡ª Marble paused.  She didn¡¯t want to lambast Vaterin¡¯s family, gossip had a way of carrying.  ¡ªquite certain their daughter needs to be a merchant and carry on the family name.  She¡¯s a reliable sort, and a hard worker, I¡¯m sure their prospects will succeed in her capable hands.  During the storm, which I mentioned, she was a great comfort, even if she was mistaken about the crops.  Marble paused again, realizing she hadn¡¯t described Vaterin to her parents yet.  She¡¯s tall, and I think she must have ridden horses or something because while she¡¯s soft around the edges, she¡¯s strong.  I could feel her strength while she was holding me¡ª Marble tickled her chin while she debated whether she wanted to tell her parents about that, eventually shrugging because she¡¯d already written it.  ¡ªand it was a very secure feeling.  She¡¯s a passionate artist, and you know that¡¯s high praise coming from me.  I had never given much thought to the magic of spirit conjuring but she¡ª Marble sighed.  She was forever getting ¡°conjured¡± and ¡°communing¡± and ¡°manifesting¡± mixed up, possibly for the very reason she was putting to paper.  ¡ªinteracts with a Muse of Painting, a pure spirit from the One God sent to help His people to portray Creation.  But that alone wouldn¡¯t impress me, she¡¯s been devouring the book I told you about, the one where I learned all those terms for things like aquiline noses and whatnot.  She¡¯s not very good at drawing landscapes but she¡ª

    Marble paused yet one more time.  Was I being uncharitable earlier?  She does keep trying to draw landscapes, she just gives up quickly.  She¡¯s improve faster if she tried, but it seems like it frustrates her so fast.  ¡­I really do want to sing her praises, if I¡¯m going to describe her.  She¡¯s the best friend I¡¯ve made since coming here.  From the moment we met, she was a comfortable companion.

    But is that all she is?  I mean, if her family wants her to carry on the family name, that means either a husband or spirit magic of whatever variety is necessary to conceive a child.

    Hah.  I¡¯m avoiding the issue.  I like her, but do I have a crush on her?  I don¡¯t know the answer to that.  And I guess there¡¯s no great rush to figure it out.  We have months until the All Saviors¡¯ Day feast.  Of course, after the feast she¡¯ll have to either take up a patron or go back to the family bus¡ªa lump formed in Marble¡¯s throat.  Well.  I guess I have a crush.  I wonder if it¡¯s mutual.  I haven¡¯t¡­ tried something like it, not since Gramma passed, but I could always see if fire sorcery could give me a hint.  I like to light candles with it, but it does correspond to a humor and that humor does happen to be choler.  I don¡¯t want to know if she¡¯s mad at me, but Gramma said fire was generally the element of emotion.  The ego, she said.  Would that be an invasion of her privacy?  Would she mind?  I mean, she did come right up and listen to my prayers and smell my perfume.

    Marble was still pondering and praying, both to the Virtue of the Jester, and a little to her grandmother¡ªwho while she wasn¡¯t made a saint, sarx well should have been¡ªwhen Vaterin walked into the dormitory.  Marble put aside her lap desk, left off her prayers, and decided to be bold and pat the spot next to her on the bunk.  When Vaterin didn¡¯t hesitate at all to sit down very close to her, Marble thought, well that¡¯s an encouraging sign.  I think¡­ I will just ask if she likes me.  I could see using sorcery on Brother Pitch¡ªokay, so no I would never disrespect a clergyman like that¡ªbut not on Vaterin.

    ¡°So Vaterin.  Do you have anyone¡­ waiting for you, back home?  Who would regret your taking a patron?¡±

    Vaterin laughed, but it was not an entirely joyous sound.  ¡°I have an arranged marriage to a woman my family wants ties to.  Who would carry the nephilim child, I have no idea.  I imagine my parents are hoping I will.¡±  Well sarx.  There goes the idea of her patronizing me if she can¡¯t get a patron.

    ¡°What happens to that if you secure a patron?¡±

    ¡°The engagement dissolves and my parents cut me off, probably.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s horrible!¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re quite certain I should carry on the family business, in the family name.  They have enough authority that the terms of the engagement include my ¡®bride¡¯ taking on my family¡¯s name as opposed to the other way around.  Eugh¡­ I think that does mean they want me to carry the nephilim child.¡±  And here I thought nobles were the only ones obsessed with dynasties and lineage.  ¡°What about you, Marble?¡± She swallowed before she said that.  I¡­ am probably reading too much into things.  ¡°Do you have anyone waiting for you?¡±

    Marble shook her head.  I¡¯m answering her question and then I¡¯m asking her.  ¡°I had a political marriage arranged, but it was amicably dissolved.  I still write to him now and again. Vaterin¡ª¡±The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    ¡°What broke it off?¡±

    What broke which¡ªwho cares?!  ¡°Oh, uhm¡­ I¡¯m a lesbian and he¡¯s completely asexual.  I was hurt, honestly, until he told me that it had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the thought of consummating a marriage. He was considering taking holy orders until they said an effortless vow of chastity was meaningless, so he¡¯s a pastor somewhere.  Vaterin¡ª¡±

    ¡°Huh.  Didn¡¯t know you had to take that kind of vow to be a monk.¡±

    ¡°Vaterin, I am trying to ask you a question.¡±

    ¡°Go for it.¡±

    ¡°Do you like me?¡±

    ¡°I like you quite a bit!  You¡¯re the only friend I¡¯ve made on this island, with the possible exception of Father Sauer?¡±

    ¡°No, I mean¡ªSpirit, give me strength¡ªdo you have a crush on me?!¡±

    Vaterin looked taken aback at the question.  That¡¯s either a very good sign or a very bad one.  The silence stretched for interminable moments which were likely only a second apiece.  Eventually, Vaterin scratched the back of her head and said softly, ¡°What gave me away?¡±  Oh thank the One God.

    ¡°Believe it or not, I couldn¡¯t read you at all.  I was asking because¡ªwell, for obvious reasons.¡±

    ¡°Hey now, if I have to say it in as many words¡ª¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t say it in as many words, you asked what gave you away.¡±

    ¡°Marble Bitumen, I treasure our friendship too much to throw it away, but I guess the secret is out¡ªyes, I have a crush on you.¡±

    ¡°Oh.  Good.  I¡¯m glad.¡±

    ¡°That makes it your turn, Marble.  Also, glad?!¡±

    ¡°I am!  I¡¯m happy that my feelings are reciprocated!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s still not so many words.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re enjoying this.  Fine.  Vaterin Lime, I, Marble Bitumen, heir to the Clearwater duchy¡ª¡± Vaterin let out a low whistle.  What, my title impresses you?  Have I not mentioned my mom¡¯s a duchess?  ¡°¡ªhave a crush on you.¡±

    ¡°Kiss now!¡± Writing Slate called from across the room.  Marble worked on summoning the nerve but Vaterin turned a bright shade of red Marble was glad wouldn¡¯t show on her own skin and the both of them looked away from each other.

    ¡°Go back to your dorm room!¡± Vaterin called, to a laughing Write.

    ¡°You mean my closet?  Oh, no, nobles ladies, don¡¯t banish poor Writing Slate to their closet again!  They¡¯ll be good!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m, ah¡­ I¡¯m glad we had this conversation,¡± Vaterin said, ignoring Write, who was even then mock weeping and bowing on the floor.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad too.¡±  Marble laid her hand over Vaterin¡¯s, the both of them having scooted slightly apart at Write¡¯s teasing.  ¡°I¡¯m very glad.¡±  She likes me!  She likes me!  She likes my title¡­ oh, wait, no, that¡¯s a sad thought.  And she wouldn¡¯t have developed a crush in the fraction of a sandglass since she found out that I have one.  I¡¯ve been plenty brave for one day, I¡¯ll ask another time whether my title matters all that much.  And, I mean, aspersions could be cast upon my own motivations.  The duchy is practically broke, land-poor, and her family is some prestigious merchant clan.  They say nouveau riche and nobles make a poor match but that¡¯s with straight couples where the man marries down, because it ends the title.  If I¡­ I am a femme, I¡¯m thinking out political repercussions of marriage when we just said we have a mutual crush.  I am a noble, I would carry on the family line.  It would be sweet and romantic if Vaterin learned more about spirit magic so that she could be the one to impart the nephilim upon me.

    ¡°Whatcha thinking so hard about?¡± Vaterin murmured, her breath warm on Marble¡¯s ear.

    Without thinking, Marble turned her head to face Vaterin, and their lips touched for a brief moment.  Marble¡¯s hand flew to her mouth, and she stammered out, ¡°I¡¯m sorry!  That was so very not on purpose!¡±

    ¡°I was about to say the same thing!¡±

    ¡°Are you sorry it happened?¡±

    ¡°You said you were!¡±

    ¡°I mean, I¡¯m not sorry it happened, I just would have liked to ask first¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sorry either!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad!¡±

    ¡°I told you two you should kiss!¡±

    ¡°Writing Slate, peanut gallery seats are not available as this is not a performance!  I will put you in your dormitory and block the door with a chair!¡±  Vaterin¡¯s tone was not as cutting as it could have been, but it was firm.  And loud.  She¡¯s still facing me, not Write.  ¡­could she really forcibly put them in their dorm room?  I know she¡¯s strong, but is she that strong?

    Vaterin cupped Marble¡¯s cheek with her hand.  ¡°Would you like a more intentional kiss?¡±

    Marble would have bet her second-favorite pair of gloves that her blush showed somehow as she replied, ¡°I think I would, yes.¡±

    Vaterin leaned in and kissed Marble gently¡­ on the cheek.  ¡°That¡¯s as far as my courage goes today.  But I¡¯ll summon the nerve to be¡ª¡± she was silenced as Marble pressed her lips to Vaterin¡¯s and gave her a taste of the kiss she wanted.  You¡¯re not getting off that easily.  The Virtue of the Jester encourages the Power of Pleasure.  She¡¯s traditionally paired with the Knight, and I think Vaterin needs to work on invoking the Power of Courage.  Or Daring.  Marble laughed, lips still against Vaterin¡¯s, arms having wrapped around her at some point.

    ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re kissing, and just a couple hours ago I wouldn¡¯t have known I wanted to, but we are and yet what I¡¯m thinking about is prayers you could say to be a little braver.¡±  Marble laughed again.  They broke off the kiss, but Marble¡¯s lips were warm from touching Vaterin¡¯s.

    ¡°Braver?!  Me?  I¡¯m Vaterin Lime!  I¡¯ve danced with nobles, been table weight¡ª¡± what does that mean?  ¡°¡ªstood up to parents determined to maintain their bloodline!  I am bravery embodied¡ª¡±

    ¡°But you didn¡¯t kiss me.¡±

    ¡°I did so!¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t kiss me right.¡±

    ¡°Femmes!  All kinds of unwritten rules!  I didn¡¯t kiss you, I didn¡¯t kiss you right, next you¡¯ll say I didn¡¯t kiss you back or some such nonsense!¡±

    ¡°You did kiss me back.  I liked it.¡±  I liked it a lot.  She has thin lips compared to me, but they¡¯re not unpleasant.  And she¡¯s so warm.  I wonder if her vest is wool.  My lips have been cold since I left home, but they¡¯re certainly not cold right now.  I should be noticing Vaterin.

    Vaterin was already bright red, but it had spread down her neck and up her ears.  When Marble made eye contact, she rushed out, ¡°I liked it too.  What, ah¡­ what were those prayers, that you were recommending?¡±

    ¡°Well, we¡¯re both patrons of the Virtue of the Jester.¡±

    ¡°Well yes.¡±

    ¡°One of the traditions pairs the Jester with the Knight.  You could pray to the Knight¡¯s Powers of Courage and Daring for the¡­ well, courage and daring¡ª¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going to turn into an aquifer if we both keep saying ¡®well¡¯.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re deflecting.¡±

    ¡°Alright, so I should pray to the Powers of Courage and Daring.  What are they called?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you don¡¯t know them.¡±

    ¡°Now you¡¯re deflecting.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know them.  I just know of them.¡±

    They both laughed.  ¡°I bet the library has a book of the Powers.¡±

    ¡°Oh, probably.¡±

    ¡°We should work on our paintings.¡±

    ¡°We should.¡±

    ¡°Are we going to?¡±

    ¡°Probably not.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡±

    ¡°Good?¡±

    ¡°Good.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡±

    Then they kissed again.

 Divinely Inspired Art

    Much as I appreciate the gift of the Muse of painting I would have liked the time to manifest my own talents as a painter I realize there is some urgency to the trade deal with the family of Thank you  for the Muse of Painting.  I am working on developing my native talent when I have spare time, but she still continues to be my main focus and guide in my artistic endeavors.  While I miss you dearly, I am hopeful that I will return home only long enough to collect my things.

    They filed into the still life room and Vaterin peered curiously at Marble¡¯s canvas.  Lately, she had been preoccupied with painting her, rather than what she had been painting.  It was with an unpleasant shock that she saw the skillful rendering of the objects before them, including a statue brought in as a modest alternative to one of the Brothers or Sisters.  She said she wasn¡¯t good at figure painting!  But look at it!  Well, honestly, I can¡¯t tell either way, but¡­ Vaterin flicked open her penknife, and rapidly¡ªbut sincerely!  I am faithful!  Truly I am!¡ªran through her prayer of invocation.

    ¡°Father Supreme, bless this invocation of your Muse of Painting.  Holy muse, gift of the Holy Spirit, please come upon me.  Let the One God shine through the work I achieve through His angel.  In the name of the Christ Savior, amen.¡±

    Oh my G¡ªoh sarx, it is better than what I¡¯ve been doing!  But I¡¯ve spent hours at my canvas!  I have a literal, Church-bargained angel to inspire me and she¡¯s better than I am!  Whatever her issue is with figure painting, it¡¯s not the perspective, it¡¯s not the lighting and shadow!

    Am I not faithful enough?  I attend two services a day, I go down into the catacombs to meditate upon the divine that I might find silence in the dull roar of the sea.  I believe that the One God sent His angel down to me to help me represent His creation in a creative and pleasing way, and yet all I can draw!  Vaterin looked at her canvas, which had on it only the statue itself, rendered not unpleasantly, she would admit, but Marble¡¯s painting!

    Calm down.  Think about this rationally.  You¡¯ve been painting Marble painting at night, and during your free time.  That painting, surely, is superior to what Marble has wrought here.  ¡°But is it better than what she is painting?¡± came the unbidden thought.

    Vaterin stood there slackly, staring at the painting Marble had been doing under Brother Pitch¡¯s tutelage, until Marble herself came in and saw that Vaterin was not attending to her own canvas.  Vaterin jumped at Marble¡¯s hand on her arm.  ¡°Is something the matter?¡±

    ¡°How are you¡­ how are you better than me?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t see it?  How can you not see it?  I see it, or rather the Muse of Painting sees it and renders it to my eyes.  Your grasp of form and shape, your understanding of perspective, even your use of lighting and color!  You said you can¡¯t paint figures but you¡¯re painting this sculpture and you¡¯re painting the Virtue at night and what else have you been painting during our free hours that¡¯s better than anything I can produce?!  I literally have divine inspiration and you do art which is better than mine!¡±

    Marble drew back, holding her hand as though Vaterin¡¯s arm had been a bed of hot coals.  ¡°What are you talking about?¡±  Oh no.  Now I¡¯ve gone and upset her.  Brother Pitch will put me on punishment detail and I¡¯ll be copying scripture instead of trying to improve my art¡­ but can I improve my art?  My own painting, my skill with it, even supplemented by that book Marble found, is pathetic and paltry next to that of my angel, and an angel is unchanging.  Every angel makes a single choice in the time of its infinity and so why am I¡­!  Why am I here.  I should have stayed with my family and learned to care for ciphering and the guildswoman my parents chose for me to wed.  Marble is wroth with me for some reas¡ª¡°Vaterin?  Vaterin!¡±  How long has she been trying to get my attention?

    Her voice, when she spoke, came out froggy and choked, ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about?  What are you so upset about?  You draw different things than me.  Are you upset you can¡¯t draw landscapes?  Did not the One God give every person different talents, different ways to honor Him?¡±

    ¡°But¡­ the statue.  The Virtue.¡±

    ¡°What about them?¡±

    ¡°You paint them better than I can.¡±

    ¡°Vaterin Lime, you are being ridiculous.  When I paint a statue, the work you do painting figures has already been done for me.  They¡¯ve brought out the virtues, the beauty or ugliness or whatever they¡¯re trying to portray.  I can paint the view off the edge of a cliff, but I cannot take a person sitting in a chair and portray what makes them noble, incisive, wise, or kind.  And you are such a¡ª!¡±  She cut herself off and sat down at her canvas, making short, irritated strokes on her canvas.  No.  Please no, don¡¯t spoil your still life on account of me.

    ¡°Marble¡ª¡±

    ¡°Vaterin, mind your own canvas.¡±  Brother Pitch sounded particularly choleric.  Marble didn¡¯t even look over to intervene.

    Her angel was already summoned, but in her disquiet Vaterin felt the summons slipping from her fingertips.  I can¡¯t even maintain the faith necessary to commune with my Muse.  That¡¯s something I never struggled with before, something that came naturally.  Oh, wrack and ruin what am I going to do?  I never meant to upset Marble like this, it was just such a shock.  She might not even accept¡ªshe never said she¡¯d accept patronage by a mere merchant family.  Besides.  If I go back, it¡¯s to be married to secure my parents¡¯ dynasty.  I can¡¯t even offer that.  But how am I supposed to paint when a literal angel¡ªVaterin felt bereft, the canvas before her flat and gray, and realized that her angel was no longer in harmony with her, that her doubt had unseated it from its place in her mind.  That¡¯s it then.  I may as well pack it in.  I can¡¯t paint at all without my angel.  ¡°Vaterin Lime!  Pick up your brush!¡± Brother Pitch called.  Half-heartedly, unwilling or unable to get out her penknife, Vaterin picked up her brush and palette.  The first thing she did was accidentally put her thumb in the orange paint.  The next was to upend the palette onto herself as she tried to brush the paint off on her smock.  Some of it even got on the clothes under the smock.  Well done, Vaterin.

    She finally got her palette arranged¡ªthough, of course, I¡¯ll have to unseat things if I can calm down enough to try and conjure my Muse again¡ªand her brush in hand and dabbed at her canvas.  I don¡¯t even have my angel, I may as well draw the clay fruit and the fern around the blasted statue.  She picked some green and dabbed at the canvas.  It¡¯s the wrong shade.  She laid some brown next to it, and blended the two colors.  Well.  That¡¯s not actually any worse than I could do with my angel.  I wonder if my parents accidentally paid for a Muse of Portraiture.  Or maybe Marble is right that every soul interacts differently with the Divine.

    Time passed slowly and painfully for Vaterin, several hours of practice with Brother Pitch providing commentary in his biting tone.  Even Slate was spared the worst of his vitriol, however, in favor of the travesty against art that Vaterin was contriving to paint.  ¡°Saints and Powers, Lime!  You¡¯re supposed to be the angel channeler, what happened?  Lose your knife?¡±  Vaterin hung her head and shook it from side to side.  ¡°Then summon it and stop wasting time with the fern, we all know you can¡¯t paint scenery!¡±  Such a great teacher.  Maybe I should have picked a different school.  It just seemed so perfect.  Hundreds of miles from home, months-long semesters, a focus on the divine¡­ and Marble.  Marble is here, and if I hadn¡¯t come I never would have met her.  Which may be the greater torment, to have met her.  The woman my parents want me to marry will never choose a book on art to teach me terms for the shadows cast by foliage in the wind.  Still, Brother Pitch is a sarxhead.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    Beleaguered, sworn to obedience so long as she attended, Vaterin pricked her thumb and murmured her prayer, trying not to notice the looks and whispers as she did so.  The latter, at least, were silenced with a sharp look around the room by Brother Pitch.  ¡°Please, One God.  Let this work.¡±  It was only in that moment, when she muttered a prayer of sincere supplication and not merely of shamed obedience, that she felt the Muse of Painting settle upon her eyes, her mind, her hands.  Ask of the Father Supreme and you shall receive, provided you ask as a child asks their Father.  Warmed by the prospect of not packing her bags just yet, Vaterin put the future out of her mind, even so near a future as Marble¡¯s silent distance after class, and painted the statue before her.  And, when Brother Pitch was safely on the other side of the classroom, dabbed a little paint on her little portrait of a fern.

    ¡°Marble!  I need to talk to you!¡±

    ¡°Are you going to be an idiot?¡±

    ¡°Probably.¡±  Vaterin bobbed her head.  ¡°I am very much an idiot.  ¡­what manner of idiocy am I guilty of, at this time?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t even get what you did?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ realized you¡¯re a better artist than me?  I had a crisis of faith in front of the entire student body?  I drew Brother Pitch¡¯s fire away from Slate?¡±

    ¡°Sarx!  You¡¯re still doing it!  Stop it!  Stop it right now!¡±

    Vaterin was taken aback at such strong language and tone, though it was entirely in keeping with the Virtue of the Jester and the Power of Simon, the Power of Self-Expression.  ¡°I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m stopping.¡± There was a long and pregnant pause.  ¡°Will you tell me what I¡¯m stopping?¡±

    Marble let out a frustrated breath.  ¡°I would rather not have this conversation in the halls where all and sundry can see, but seeing as you are a complete and utter nincompoop, and that you already made a scene in the study hall, I suppose it¡¯s academic.¡±  She took a deep, slow breath, centering the way Vaterin did in preparation to conjure her angel, from the look of it.  Finally, after several such breaths, she spoke.  ¡°Why is it a contest?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°No, that¡¯s my line, when you made it into one.  Your line is explaining why, when we are friends and maybe something else if you can just remove your dumb blonde head from your behind for a minute, you made painting into a contest!¡±  What?

    ¡°It¡¯s not a contest.  I mean, we¡¯re competing for patronage, but we¡¯re hoping to lowball and get patronized by the same noble.¡±

    ¡°That.  Is.  Exactly.  It.  And yet, in front of everyone, you babbled forth lines of agony over my painting being better than yours.¡±

    ¡°But it is.¡±

    ¡°Vaterin!  It¡¯s not!  It¡¯s different!  I tried to explain this to you and you don¡¯t¡ª!  Here!  Look!  Look at these, if that¡¯s what will make you happy!¡±  What would make me happy would be to not have you be angry at me.  I think I want that even more than I want to be an artist.  Marble thrust a folio of pages into Vaterin¡¯s hands.  ¡°Look at them!  Those are my attempts at figure drawing!  At drawing horses, humans both adult and child, cows, even chickens!  Look and see that you are capable of capturing a beauty I simply cannot and then let go of it!  So you can¡¯t draw backgrounds!  I can¡¯t draw people!  Write can¡¯t draw in color and Felspar can¡¯t draw at all, he has to work clay.  We are all different, beautiful people put on this Orth to portray Creation in our own different, beautiful way.¡±  Marble¡¯s eyes shone with tears, and Vaterin was certain she could feel her heart breaking.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°Do you even know what you¡¯re apologizing for?¡±  Think fast, Vaterin.  If she cries, and you can¡¯t come up with the right words, things will not ever be the same between the two of you.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ that I compared our still lives.  Wait, wait, I know that¡¯s not it exactly!¡± Vaterin put up a forebearing, desperate hand.  ¡°I¡­ should be focused on what I can create, without regard for what you can create¡­ sarx, I could use a Muse of Apologies right now.¡±

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t need an angel to apologize.¡±  Marble crossed her arms over her chest.  But at least she¡¯s not crying or storming off.  Yet.

    ¡°¡®Do not quibble over words, for it only ruins those who listen to it¡¯?¡±

    Marble raised a single bushy eyebrow.  ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°It was the only thing I could think to say.  It¡¯s scripture.¡±

    ¡°I know it¡¯s scripture, I want to know what it has to do with your apology.¡±

    ¡°Your art is your art.  And my art is my art.  And except as pertains to trying to get the same patron, they¡¯re¡­ they¡¯re apples and oranges.  There is no basis for comparison, nor is there any reason to compare.  And I did that.  And I¡¯m sorry.¡±  Vaterin screwed up one side of her face in a wince.  ¡°The words aren¡¯t great, but did I get it right?¡±  Oh blooming blasted heaths she¡¯s crying now.

    Moments stretched on, Vaterin unable to determine if she should put her arms around Marble, until she couldn¡¯t stand it and reached out.  When she did, Marble folded against her, and began to laugh even as her tears wet Vaterin¡¯s smock.  ¡°You¡¯re an idiot.¡±

    ¡°I am absolutely an idiot.  But I have the occasional good idea.¡±

    ¡°Oh?  What good idea did you have that came out of this?¡±

    ¡°What if we collaborated on a picture?  Showed the world what we can do together, and sold it at the expo?¡±  Please let that be the right gesture.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know that they¡¯d allow that, and you¡¯d be painting a figure over a finished background¡ª¡±

    ¡°Oh, so you¡¯d go first?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a noblewoman.  Of course I go first.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m an idiot!  I see a Queen and forget to bow!¡±

    Marble adopted a mocking tone, and Vaterin knew things would be alright.  ¡°Which is greater, legitimate station or the village fool?!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure neither of us are honoring the Savior calling me a fool.  Or an idiot.¡±

    ¡°Nor a numbskull, nor a buffoon, nor a blowharding troglodyte.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t include those when you were berating me.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll have to remember them for the next time you¡¯re an idiot.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll put up with a next time?¡±

    ¡°¡®How many times shall I forgive you?  Three times?  Three times three times?  Three to the power of three times?¡¯  I can quote scripture too.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a Power of Threes?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s an algebra thing.¡±  Eugh.  More ciphering.

    ¡°And how many times is that?¡±

    ¡°Twenty-seven.  But it¡¯s a metaphor, not a rule.¡±

    Vaterin¡¯s eyes crinkled at the edges and she nuzzled her nose against Marble¡¯s.  ¡°Thank you.  I¡¯ll try not to test the rule or the metaphor.¡±

    ¡°Dork.¡±

    ¡°If I¡¯m a dork who gets to kiss you, I¡¯ll be a dork every day of the week.  Except Sunday.  That¡¯s the Sabbath and being this much of a dork is hard work.¡±

    Marble laughed and pressed her lips to Vaterin¡¯s.  Writing Slate whooped in the background of Vaterin¡¯s awareness.

 Grading Scale

    It feels like childhood all over again.  Everything was going well¡ªwell, not everything.  But things were going reasonably well and then a storm came and destroyed the entire beach cropland.  Now I don¡¯t know what we¡¯ll do.  Those crops feed us, feed the oxen, feed the chickens¡­ it seems the only animals pleased are the not-cats, pouncing on the rats feeding off the unripe crops.

    ¡°As all of you were necessarily made aware, the storm flooded the crops and, while we attempt to grow salt-tolerant plants, much of the earth itself was washed away.  Tourmaline, the dragon of Tourmaline Isle, informed us that we had violated the terms of her compact with us by the bringing in of a spirit mage.¡±  Well that¡¯s a rather harsh statement against Vaterin.  I¡¯m sure she didn¡¯t know.  Heads swiveled to look at Vaterin, sitting next to Marble on the pew.  ¡°This is not an indemnification of our student, and evidently Tourmaline feels she wreaked undue devastation, as she will not be exacting further punishment nor requiring the removal of the student.¡±  Then why tell us about it?  Do you want to make Vaterin feel bad?  Create bad feelings between her and the other students?  And what do you intend to do about this thing that is not in any way Vaterin¡¯s fault?

    ¡°However, seeing as our crops were drowned and it is too late in the season to replant, we will have to find alternative means of sustaining our community.  While less than ideal, the College maintains a reserve of funds for emergencies, which we will be calling upon.  It is not, however, sufficient for the All Saviors¡¯ Day feast, and so there will be a change to the curriculum.  Your grade will not be based entirely off of the quality of a final work, but upon all the works you show at the expo, and extra credit will be given for each sale of a work to a buyer.  With luck, this change will not only replenish the emergency fund but also allow our traditional feast, to which our patrons are accustomed.¡±  Well.  I guess it¡¯s a good thing I was already going to pursue selling my candlelight still life.  I guess this means Vaterin will be asking the clergy of the Chapel of the Power of Ariel whether she might paint their portraits.  I rather liked being her only subject, but I know variety is the key to selling a variety of portraits.  If it looks like she can only paint one person, that could even hinder her getting a patron.

    Marble glanced over at Vaterin.  She had her head held high in a defiant posture, and a quick glance confirmed that the other students were still looking away from Father Sauer towards her.  There was even whispering, something I have not heard hardly ever in my time as a student here.  The students are devout, or they would have picked a more secular-leaning college, and we all find value and calm in our Father¡¯s sermons.  Marble reached over and gave Vaterin¡¯s hand a squeeze.  She glanced over and nodded, then jerked her head in the direction of Father Sauer and folded her hands in her lap.

    ¡°We all know the¡­ eccentricities to which the artistic temperament is prone.  The Virtue has in her domain the Powers of Individuality, Self-Expression, and even Pain.  It is not unheard-of for an artist to miss meals, bend their pack, or put blisters on their fingers working at their art.  However, now might be the time to encourage, rather than moderate such things.  The Power of William, the Power of Obsessiveness, should be liberally appealed in the creation of your art.  Create well, create prolifically, and ¡®whatever you do, do it for the glory of the One God.¡¯

    ¡°Further, think of the Virtue most commonly paired with the Jester.  This is our time of trial, and while we are a college devoted to the Power of Ariel, the Knight and the Jester are complementary.  And in him we find the Powers upon which we might call in a spirit of moderation from obsessiveness.  Gerhauss, Power of Determination, and Alben, Power of Struggle, particularly of struggle against steep odds.  And as you saw of the devastation wrought by the storm, we have steep odds indeed to overcome.  We must supply food for our clergy, our students, our animals, and it must be shipped by sea.¡±  I don¡¯t recall, but I think Vaterin said that access to the College was several days¡¯ trek by ocean.  That¡¯s so frustrating.  Why did the Spheres have to be arranged such that there was not a convenient trip¡­ I mean, land is just over the horizon to the south!

    ¡°I apologize for taking up so much time of our service addressing this issue, but it is a pressing one, and it is the most convenient place in which to address the entire pieces which make up our body of the Savior in miniature.  Today¡¯s sermon is drawn from the teachings of the Savior, blessed be his name, as recorded by the Apostle¡ª¡± Marble only listened with half her mind as Father Sauer went on.  She didn¡¯t feel terribly much guilt over failing to pay rapt attention to the sermon, after several years of twice-daily services¡ªit¡¯s not that there¡¯s not more to be said about the stories recorded by the Apostles.  I am not so bold.  Even the Mother Superior, when she preaches, expresses new insights and depths of experience.  But I do not think that missing one sermon will be the division between me and the illumination of the Savior.  Oh, but is it a sin to think while the Father preaches?  With difficulty, Marble paid closer attention to the sermon, but it was an effortful work and she reached the end of services with difficulty.

    Filing out of the Chapel of the Power of Ariel, the student body was buzzing with excitement and nervousness.  Marble, of course, gravitated towards Vaterin, ignoring the smirking looks of the other students as she took her hand.  I am no Sister of the Church, and even if I were, marriages come from somewhere and marriage is so holy as to be a Sacrament.  Would you smirk were the Mother Superior¡¯s husband still alive, and joined her after services?  ¡°Vaterin?  Are you okay?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.  Fine.¡±

    ¡°It was strange of Father Sauer to single you out like that.  I don¡¯t know why he did it and I think it was just terrible of him.¡±

    ¡°To be fair, it wasn¡¯t just his fault.  Someone arrived after me, but I¡¯m not subtle about invoking my angel.  Until recently, I was rather proud of my Muse¡­ well, I¡¯m still proud of her, just perhaps a bit less lofty about it.¡±  While I¡¯m glad she acknowledges that hard work can provide results, I do wish she wouldn¡¯t derogate the purity of intention and spirit necessary to channel an angel.

    ¡°Hey, couple!  Pick up the pace or get out of my way!  I have sculptures to make!¡±  Felspar called from behind them.  Students tittered their amusement.

    ¡°What makes your art so much more important than ours?¡± Vaterin retorted hotly.

    ¡±Sculptures sell for more than paintings.  I¡¯ll be the one to carry us through this season of trial.  Trial brought upon us thanks to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare finish that sentence, Felspar!  Even Father Sauer said it wasn¡¯t the fault of Vaterin!  And the only reason statues sell for more is that they¡¯re sold by the pound!¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Felspar gaped like a fish out of water, his dark olive face flushing with umbrage.  Vaterin, much more interesting to Marble¡¯s eye, was looking at her as though she were utterly smitten.  Mind you, she¡¯s done that increasingly more over the last while.  But this would appear to be a whole new level of adoration.  I wonder if it¡¯s because I defended her or¡ª¡°Are you looking at me like that because I leapt to your defense, or because I got Felspar to shut up?¡±

    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t make me a very good Wholist to delight in the downfall of a fool.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t make you a very good Wholist to call Felspar a fool.  And I¡¯d swear there¡¯s something in Scripture about the downfall of the wicked.¡±

    ¡°Oh, so Felspar is wicked now?  He¡¯s just a pompous blowhard with a fixation on foreign ciphering.¡± Oh good, she¡¯s in high spirits again.  I¡¯m so glad.  She had her head held high but she does that when she¡¯s putting on a brave face.  Reminds me of noble families; when you¡¯re losing an argument just stare at the person like they¡¯re a bug and then dismiss them from your notice.  I think she¡¯s mentioned having dealings with nobles, that might be where she got it.

    ¡°He¡¯s new this year.  It will be interesting to see whether his abstract ¡®algebraic¡¯ expressions of the Supreme¡¯s Creation will sell for anything at all.¡±

    ¡°Ooh, that¡¯s a harsh burn!  You doubt he¡¯ll even sell for much?¡±

    That wasn¡¯t what I meant, but I see¡­ ¡°I just don¡¯t know.  Nobles in Fief don¡¯t tend to highly regard the works of foreigners.  That our seat of government also houses the First Bishop has promoted arrogance.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised to hear nobles take pride in that.  In my experience, they gripe and groan about their tithes to no end, and resent that in all technicality a common pastoral pastor¡ªpun unintended¡ªoutranks them.¡±  She¡¯s been hanging out with the wrong kind of noblewoman, then.  My family was pious even before we were reduced to penury, which played no small part in securing my scholarship and ongoing tutelage here.  We give generously, donating wool and food¡­ I should write home again and ask if we can divert any grains or other food crops to the College.  Every little bit helps.

    ¡°Well.  That¡¯s not how every noble feels.  Service to the One God is a high calling, and if some are too arrogant to understand that Orth is the Lord¡¯s and they merely rent their titled estates, then let them stew in their envy and suffer for it.¡±

    ¡°You really do embody the Jester.  You¡¯re a brilliant artist¡ª¡± please let that not turn south.  ¡°¡ªand you aren¡¯t afraid to assert yourself, you are humble before the One God and view Him with a loving reverence¡­¡± Oh thank goodness that she didn¡¯t fixate on the art.

    ¡°I am a little prideful.  I judge others.¡±

    ¡°But you live up to your own expectations.  You will be judged according to your heart, and yours steers you clearly towards the light.¡±  Marble sighed happily.  She¡¯s so dear when she¡¯s being sweet.

    ¡°I think the Savior might have something to say about your encouraging me to judge others, Vaterin.¡±

    ¡°¡®Cursed are those who tempt others to sin.¡¯  So I¡¯ll spend an eternity or two in Purgatory.  Anything to raise your spirits, Marble.¡±

    Marble laughed.  That is not an appropriate attitude, but it¡¯s adorable.  ¡°You should not place my mood over your salvation, Vaterin.¡±

    ¡°Bah.  The Savior uttered imprecations against loving one¡¯s parents or children more than Him.  He said nothing about¡ª¡±

    ¡°Vaterin Lime, you are getting ahead of yourself if you think to assign such weight to our relationship as a holy Union.¡±  Though I can¡¯t get too mad at the seeming presumption, because I was thinking about that when the other students were teasing us for our hand holding.  I wonder what we should paint together.  We forgot to ask Father Sauer whether such a thing would even be permitted.  I¡¯m guessing not, given that they¡¯re grading us on number of works produced.  Still¡­ ¡°Hey, Vaterin, I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll let us do a joint project, but what if we did a joint project on two canvases?  We wanted to get the same patron, so complementary works would satisfy both our ends and those of the College.¡±

    ¡°Sure.  Did you have something specific you wanted to paint?¡±

    ¡°Not really.  Maybe a grassland.  It might be nice to have our patron live somewhere warmer than the College.¡±

    ¡°Hmmm.  I know what a lion looks like, I could paint¡ªooh, how about an idealized landscape?  Golden grass, a luminous lion with a coppery mane.¡±  I¡¯m glad she¡¯s getting so excited for this.  A great improvement over the weird competitive spirit the other day.  I still don¡¯t know what got into her about that.  As they filed into the practice room, Marble¡¯s thoughts turned inward, though she painted with the same skill she always did, the back of her mind was pondering Vaterin¡¯s insecurity.  So her angel has limits.  Only the One God is perfect.  It seemed like she was attributing it to some failing of her faith, or something?  She took a shortcut, and those rarely lend themselves to the results one wants.  She summoned an angel rather than go through the time and effort necessary to learn to paint.  But then, she didn¡¯t have much choice.  I shouldn¡¯t judge her for the fact she hurried when her parents are so eager to bring her into the family business.  I¡¯m guessing they wouldn¡¯t have allowed her the time necessary to develop her talents.  But she¡¯s impatient by nature, so who knows.  She¡¯ll get a good grade, I have no doubt, she goes through her paintings with incredible speed¡ªMarble glanced over at Vaterin.  Holy Savior look at her go!

    Vaterin was painting with deft lightning speed, jumping all over her canvas with her brush, painting in cycles which Marble¡¯s trained eye could tell were necessary just to let the paint set.  She paused and caught Marble¡¯s eye and grinned.  ¡°I can do more than just commune with my Muse.  I can manifest a special talent, trading life from my celestial hourglass to finish a work in time.¡±  Yep.  Definitely a very impatient little merchant woman.  It figures that she would know such a trick.

    Marble sighed and returned to her own painting, moving slower but no less deftly.  Some day she will have to learn the value of doing things right rather than doing them fast, but cursed if I know when.  There¡¯s a rush now that we¡¯re being graded on quantity as well as quality, and she won¡¯t want to look incompetent in front of a new patron if she gets one¡­ she¡¯ll be forty by the time she¡¯s ready to learn painting herself and by then she¡¯ll have traded¡ªwait, life from her celestial hourglass?!  Poetry for¡ª¡°Vaterin Lime, you stop that right this instant!  I expect to keep you around for as long as possible!  You are not trading spans of your life to paint like some kind of¡ªof¡ªI don¡¯t even know what!  You channel your angel and paint at a mortal speed!¡±

    Vaterin gave her a hangdog look as she lifted her brush from her canvas, pausing, but she nodded and resumed at a slower pace.  Several sandglasses later¡ªwill I forever associate sandglasses with her impatient nature now?¡ªVaterin said softly, smiling, ¡°You want to keep me around as long as possible?¡±

 Reflections on a Sermon

    As you are no doubt aware, thanks to your network of contacts thanks to the ¡®Loons the crops of the College have failed due to a draconic tantrum an unlikely storm and we are being graded not only on the quality of the final piece we produce, but on the quantity of pieces sold and for how much.  If you could point a few of your our noble patrons in my direction, I would be, as ever, in your debt.

    Wow, Marble didn¡¯t even hesitate before she took down Clay.  That was impressive.  She¡¯s just so¡­ vibrant.  She embodies the Virtue of the Jester and the Power of Simon so well!  I¡¯m so fortunate that she thinks I¡¯m¡­ well, no, that would stink of false humility, and unlike most nobles I¡¯ve met I doubt she¡¯d have a taste for it.  I am worth her attention.  I work very hard at my art and I¡¯m a very pious person¡­ sarx it that¡¯s being a braggart.  ¡°Marble,¡± I will say, ¡°Thank you for defending me before I had to defend myself.  I appreciated it.¡±  And then she¡¯ll sigh softly and say, ¡°I would have let you but I just couldn¡¯t stand to let Felspar run his mouth one moment longer!¡±  I should say that.  I bet it will go like that.

    ¡°Marble¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Thank you for defending me before I had to defend myself.  I appreciated it.¡±

    Marble was silent for several moments.  Not the reaction I was expecting.  When she spoke again, it was slowly and intentionally.  ¡°I could tell the negative attention was getting to you, and I know you¡¯re a bit sensitive about your angel.   I couldn¡¯t conscience letting it hurt you like that.¡±  Wait, what?  There¡¯s nothing even¡­ she was¡­ I¡¯m sensitive about my angel?  My Muse of Painting?  I¡¯m not sensitive about her, I just expected that a gift from the One God would be without parallel and when it wasn¡¯t I doubted my faith!  That¡¯s a reasonable conclusion!  ¡°Vaterin?  You okay?¡±

    Oh.  I¡¯ve been quiet too long.  ¡°Yes.  I¡¯m fine.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t seem fine.¡±

    ¡°I was expecting praise and assurance I could have handled Clay myself, not a refutation of my capability and agency.¡±

    ¡°See, Vaterin, this is what I¡¯m talking about.  I didn¡¯t refute your agency, I said that I tried to shield you from the arrow of an egotistical putz because you¡¯re a little sensitive.  Like you¡¯re being now.  About your Muse of Painting.¡±  I am not sensitive about my Muse! ¡°You got singled out and that would make anyone a little insecure.  I have no doubt that you could have quipped Felspar into a retreat, you run in rarefied circles as much as I do, if not more, and such a skill is valued there!¡±  Well.  I suppose that will do.  It¡¯s not what I was hoping for and it had to be inveigled rather than volunteered, but if I take issue with its form I¡¯m only going to draw more criticism.  ¡°Vaterin.  You¡¯re staring at your canvas like it wants to bite you.  Paint.  It¡¯s what you¡¯re here for, not for the approval of anyone except maybe me.¡±

    Vaterin picked up her brush and palette, and stared at her canvas.  Not yet having invoked her Muse, she dabbed half-heartedly at the canvas.  Grades will be tied to quantity as well as quality, and to number sold.  Say.  What did the Mother say?  I was so excited to paint, but she said something about manifesting the angel to¡­ let¡¯s see if I remember.  ¡°With an offering of blood you can access the wider abilities of your angel, but if making the offering breaks your concentration it will fail.¡± And the ability the Muses offer, generally, is the ability to trade one¡¯s life for the speed and talent to complete a work in time.  Well, there¡¯s no deadline per se but that could just be poetic license.  She pulled out her penknife.  Here goes nothing!  Possibly foolish, since if this fails I¡¯ll be unable to paint, but I think it embodies the confidence.  Muttering her prayer under her breath, not yet wanting to call attention to what she was doing, Vaterin made a slice across the palm of her hand.  At the culmination of her prayer, the wound sealed with motes of light as though it had never been there.  So what¡­?

    When she looked around the room, everything was normal.  Completely.  But when she turned her attention to her brush, her easel, and her canvas, time slowed to a mere crawl.  Colors were not brighter, but they were more distinct, this orange from that, the slight differences from the drying of the paint.  She swore she was moving at her regular pace, but in her peripheral vision time crawled by, everyone else painting, sculpting, and drawing with the exaggerated and almost comical movements of a monster in a childrens¡¯ play.  She glanced over at Marble and saw that she was staring, and felt her brush falter.  She could have shown off, but she felt the need to explain.  ¡°I can do more than just commune with my Muse.  I can manifest a special talent, trading life from my celestial hourglass to finish a work in time.¡±  Marble sighed.  She sighed?!  You¡¯d think she¡¯d be proud of me!  So I can¡¯t paint without the Lord guiding my hand, at least I can get a good grade and support the College she¡¯s so proudly a member of!  Does she just kiss the newbie?  I didn¡¯t have that impression¡­

    ¡°Vaterin Lime, you stop that right this instant!  I expect to keep you around for as long as possible!  You are not trading spans of your life to paint like some kind of¡ªof¡ªI don¡¯t even know what!  You channel your angel and paint at a mortal speed!¡±  Is she seriously telling me what to do with my own life?  Vaterin looked sadly at Marble, but there was no compromise on the noblewoman¡¯s face.  Oh.  She does care.  She cares a lot.  I just¡ª

    Okay, so maybe I am a little insecure about my angel, still.  Makes me wonder how my parents exist in the same business as each other, because I assuredly take after both of them.  Then again, neither of them are artists.  Then again, neither am I¡­ and we¡¯re back to my Muse.  And I was incredibly uncharitable to even suppose that Marble would be shallow in her affections.  I¡¯m an idiot!  And I shouldn¡¯t call myself an idiot, because I shouldn¡¯t call my neighbor an idiot, and I should love my neighbor as myself, but I am an idiot!  I am have been painting her for how long, and I didn¡¯t see how faithful and steadfast she is?!  It was the talent that got me here, the ability that convinced me this whole affair wouldn¡¯t just be a waste of time, was that I could paint the best in people.  Wait, what did she say before the invective against trading my life¡­ Vaterin said softly, smiling, ¡°You want to keep me around as long as possible?¡±

    Marble sniffed, clearly upset.  I will have to figure out what to do to make that right.  After I confirm she meant what she said.  ¡°I do.  You¡¯re bull-headed and impatient and frustrating¡ª¡± Okay, not the best start¡­ ¡°¡ªbut I do.  And if you weren¡¯t all those things you would be off in an arranged marriage with some woman with a head for sums and I never would have met you but¡­¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°But?¡±

    ¡°But I¡¯m very glad I did.  Because despite or because of or I don¡¯t know which, I¡¯m glad that you¡¯re you.¡±

    ¡°Ah.  I, uhm¡­ I¡¯m very glad that you¡¯re you, too.  It¡¯s been a privilege to paint you.¡±

    ¡°Everything comes back to painting with us.¡±  That¡¯s more like the easy camaraderie that we¡¯re so good at feeling together!

    ¡°We¡¯re painters.  Artists.  Isn¡¯t everything supposed to come back to painting?¡±

    ¡°Well, we¡¯re also Wholists.  So everything should come back to the One God.¡±

    ¡°Fortunately, the two are inextricably intertwined for me!¡±  Marble cracked a smile, and Vaterin felt exultant.  I will have to find time to get her some of the wildflowers from around here, though.  ¡°But fine.  We¡¯ll bring it back to Wholism.  You¡¯re a clear and devout disciple of the Jester¡ª¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t we both?¡±

    ¡°Let me finish.  And I am your dashing Knight, in the style of the Virtue pairing that Father Sauer espoused just today.¡±

    ¡°I would have thought you weren¡¯t too keen on Father Sauer right now.¡±

    ¡°Because he named the reason Tourmaline let the storm batter the Isle?  No.  I didn¡¯t like the attention¡ª¡±

    ¡°So you admit it!¡±

    ¡°Marble, Vaterin, attend to your paintings, not each other!¡± Brother Pitch snapped from an edge of the room.  Suitably admonished, the two of them did in fact devote some time to painting under the watchful tutelage of the artistic polymath.  However, as the day went on and they were released to their own projects, they picked up the conversation where they had left off.

    ¡°You don¡¯t blame Father Sauer for singling you out?¡±

    ¡°Not at all.  I am the reason the dragon had a fit, or whatever, and it was necessary to relate that to avoid unknown dread.  It¡¯s hardly my fault and given the lack of dirty looks and the greater number of curious looks I think people know that.  He was very clear that this was a surprise and he didn¡¯t word it in such a way as to blame me.¡±  It¡¯s nice being the reasonable one again.  Wait¡­ that paints Marble as unreasonable.  Which she¡¯s not.  She¡¯s just looking out for me.  Aww, sarx, does that mean that¡­ ¡°I said I was the Knight and you were the Jester, but is it the other way around?  You¡¯re brave, daring, and determined.  You take mercy on me when I assuredly don¡¯t¡­ well, when I only deserve it a little.¡±  Marble smiled at that.

    ¡°Vaterin, you¡¯re being silly.  Neither of us are the Knight, and the Knight and the Jester are only metaphors for angels so lofty as to be multiple degrees of separation away from all but the most insane of prophets.  We both embody the Jester, and I don¡¯t see why the Knight even needs to be involved.  I mean, sure, we need to be determined and hard-working and all that for the All Saviors¡¯ Day expo, but we¡¯re not even¡­ I mean, arguably it¡¯s presumptuous to even identify too much with the Jester.  We¡¯re working on things pleasing to the Power of Ariel, of Art, and that¡¯s the extent of it.  I think we bring the Jester into it at all because Ariel is one of the Powers marshaled under that Virtue and we desperately want our prayers to be heard.  So we hope that if a ¡®mere¡¯ Power cares to hear our voice, perhaps a Virtue might too, and in turn vouchsafe our wishes to the One God.¡±

    ¡°Holy sarx, you¡¯ve thought a lot about this.¡±  She thinks about everything.  She¡¯s called me on things my own parents didn¡¯t think of when they were trying to dissuade me from attending the College of the Art of the Divine.

    ¡°I¡¯m no stranger to adversity, and I¡¯ve been at a cloistered college for a few years now.  This isn¡¯t the first time they¡¯ve invoked that pair of Virtues.¡± She¡¯s got a deeper and more insightful grounding in theology than I do.  Then again, a noble in penury has only so much to hang their pride on.  Meanwhile, my parents have the same reminder of the nobles they associate with¡ªwealth is temporary, and the wealthy will struggle through the narrow door to Heaven.

    ¡°¡­is this the first time you¡¯ve discussed whether someone is the Knight to your being the Jester?¡±  Please say yes.  Please, please say yes.

    ¡°Vaterin, you¡¯re being silly again.¡±  Oh sarx and blast that¡¯s not a yes.  ¡°Of course it is.  I¡¯ve been devoted to my painting before I met you.  I¡¯m still devoted to my painting.  Maybe you won¡¯t like to hear this but you¡¯re the third or fourth priority in my life.¡±  Wait, what?  Marble laughed.  ¡°Oh, that was written on your face.  First, obviously, but often forgotten, is the One God.  Next after that, my family, although maybe that isn¡¯t so for you.  Then somewhere roughly even are you and my art.  And that I know you understand.¡±  But my art is you.  My best painting is of you.  I should tell her that.  It would tickle her.

    ¡°My art has become you.  It¡¯s bound up in the Supreme, and you¡¯re not a means to its end, but my best painting is of you and it¡¯s the one that, I mean¡­ is my obsession.  Not that I¡¯m obsessed with you.  Unless you want me to be.  I mean that my piece, the painting I¡¯m working on, has turned into the sort of consuming project that¡ªdo you know what I mean?¡±  I¡¯m babbling.  For her to rebut my work would just be¡­ devastating.  Please understand.

    ¡°Of course I know what you mean, Vaterin.  I¡¯m a painter too.¡±  Thank you, One God, may I remember you in my prayers in the catacombs this evening¡ªsay¡­ ¡°Marble?  Would you care to go with me to the catacombs?¡±  We¡¯d be away from prying eyes and we¡¯re already the subject of gossip.  You¡¯d think two students never took an interest in each other, the way people carry on over a little hand holding and a few kisses.  At least we haven¡¯t been censured.  Then again, we haven¡¯t neglected our studies.  If anything, Marble has elevated my art to new heights.  And if I¡¯m coming up against the limits of my angel, I¡¯m also practicing without her.  A little.

    ¡±Vaterin?¡±  I got lost in thought again.  Oops.  ¡°The catacombs?  Why?¡±

    ¡±Uhm.  So we can kiss without a peanut gallery.  I, ah¡­ expressed a great deal of vulnerability and you were sweet and affirming and I just.  I want to hold your hands, and kiss you.  Nothing more, oath of an artist.¡±

    ¡°Is this where I should say ¡®no good, I¡¯ve known too many insincere artists¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Only if you think I¡¯m one such artist.¡±  A cheap line, but if I smile just so she¡¯ll know I¡¯m joking.  As opposed to insecure.  I¡¯m not insecure, I¡¯m just a little crazy, which I think is within my rights to be as one of an artistic temperament.  I should delve into what Marble¡¯s crazy is sometime.  It¡¯d only be fair.

    Marble laughed¡ªgot the smile right!¡ªbut abruptly sobered.  ¡°I don¡¯t know, Vaterin.¡±  Well sarx.  Only one thing to do now.  ¡°The catacombs give me the willies.¡±  Right.  She¡¯s told me that.  I should have remembered.  I¡¯ve found them generally to be peaceful.  It¡¯s not like the dead are right there, they¡¯re all sealed up in stone.

    ¡°Then we don¡¯t have to.  If you want to, we will.  If we don¡¯t, I¡¯ll put up with the peanut gallery.  Either way, I do think I need to kiss you.  After you make up my mind.¡±  Vaterin set about cleaning her brushes, a task selected intentionally as highly interruptible, albeit necessary to do on a regular basis.  And she waited.  I certainly hope I seem patient, she thought to herself.

 Water Dead Plants

    Vaterin, who you might recall, was very patient with me today.  It turned out unfortunately, but she was.  It only struck me later that her being so was what made up my mind.  Of course, if she had been impatient, which is more in her nature, I suppose¡­

    Vaterin was cleaning her brushes, seemingly unconcerned by what she had just proposed.  Go into the catacombs¡­ to kiss?  She¡¯s sensitive to the social gaze, we know that by now¡ªshe knows that by now¡ªbut there are dead people in there!  Then again, she has been going there to pray, so clearly it¡¯s not foul.  And this is a monastic retreat turned cloistered college, I don¡¯t think we need to worry about defiled dead rising.  I feel like, ¡°Don¡¯t go into the catacombs¡­ because there are zombies would have been more motivational than just a generic imprecation against it.¡±  And Vaterin is trustworthy.  At times foolish¡ªsorry, Savior, she¡¯s just sometimes¡­¡ªokay, at times rash, but trustworthy.  So if all she says she wants to do is hold my hands and give me a kiss, I believe her.  Probably a bit much of a trip for a kiss.  So kisses.  Still, nothing to clutch my pearls about, if I had them.

    As Marble deliberated, Vaterin set down one brush gently, barely making any sound beyond the gentle ¡°tp¡± of wood on wood, and set about cleaning the next.  Her breathing was slow, deliberate¡ªshe¡¯s nervous.  She¡¯s worried she crossed a line.  Or she just really wants to get away from prying eyes¡ªand when she noticed Marble watching her, she flashed a smile.

    Fine.  I get to make my own mind up.  Fine.  Power of Bernard, grant me your Bravery and protect me from fear, that I might steal a few cherished minutes with my sweet.  May my devotion to the teachings of Father Sauer, who is higher in Your eyes, be pleasing, even if I am not applying them in his intended manner.  In the sweet and holy name of the Supreme, Savior, and Spirit, amen.

    ¡°Vaterin.¡±

    Her head snapped up from the brush she had been so patiently contemplating.  ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    The brush found a place next to her easel with incredible speed, and Vaterin was on her feet and had taken two steps before she turned and appeared to realize Marble was not moving quite so quickly.  ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not sure.¡±  She stepped back to her stool and reached for her brush.

    ¡°For the sake of Goodness, Vaterin, I¡¯ve made up my mind and we¡¯re going!  ¡®Do not quibble over words, for it only ruins those who listen¡¯!¡±

    Vaterin laughed, and scratched the back of her head.  ¡°If you say so.¡±

    This time, Marble was on her feet faster, and she grabbed Vaterin¡¯s hand, pulling her upright and out of the workroom.  They left the adobe building of the College and walked amidst brush towards the Chapel of the Power of Ariel.  A not-cat, all spiky fur and lean tendons, darted across their path and Marble startled.  So I¡¯m nervous.  It¡¯s the catacombs, not Vaterin.  Really, we could be alone in the ruins of the fields except she¡¯s afraid of the switchbacks.  They¡¯re not that bad, but she hasn¡¯t even tried to get used to them.  Instead she hauls water at breakneck speed through¡­ I like her the way she is.  There¡¯s something admirable in being determined enough to avoid the switchbacks that you learn your way through a labyrinth of dead bodies and the remains of a gem mine rather than confront them.  They¡¯re not dead bodies.  They¡¯re just sarcophagi.  The bodies are in the sarcophagi, but those lids are heavy enough to defy anyone laying on their back.  Now there¡¯s a pleasant¡ªwhere is the entrance to the catacombs?  I¡¯ve spent as long avoiding them, longer, even, than Vaterin has spent learning them.

    ¡°Vaterin?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Could you lead?  I was making a point but I¡¯m not sure where amongst the brush the entrance to the catacombs is.¡±

    Vaterin chuckled, not unkindly, and took the lead, arriving quickly at the entrance.  I wasn¡¯t far off after all.  The carved stone doorway was at a shallow angle relative to the ground, one heavy stone door propped slightly open by a birch tree branch.  Vaterin slipped in her hands and heaved, the door only protesting a little, doubtless limbered by her frequent trips though it¡ªuntil recently.  Brr.  That storm.  The dragon.  It seems like such a petty thing for a divine guardian to destroy an entire season¡¯s crops over¡­

    Then they were in the catacombs themselves.  These, as far as Marble knew, predated the College of the Art of the Divine, their origins lost to the Age of, well, Loss.  Loss of life, loss of culture, loss of knowledge, loss of history.  A gaping void which only the light of the Wholist Church shone through.  The ceilings were perhaps seven feet high, the slightest bit claustrophobic and making Marble thankful for her relative shortness.  In their stone coffins, bodies were presumably stacked three high in little alcoves.  It was surprisingly well-lit within the catacombs, though the air was neither still nor stagnant.  It smelled of the sea¡ªI guess that makes sense, the catacombs go all the way down to the mines, which are right on the ocean itself.  It took a few moments for her to identify the source of the light, as it was hidden in itself.  Small candles, pitch black flames upon them, lit the area.  One more lost art, Marble thought.  They¡¯re like the lights in the Chapel.  The fires don¡¯t consume the candles, they just¡­ shine.  But you can¡¯t actually look at them and see them, you just see that it¡¯s not dark.

    Marble realized she was babbling to herself, in a sense, and that she was incredibly nervous among the dead despite her invocation for bravery.  ¡°Vaterin¡­ could we go down further, into the mines?¡±

    ¡°We could, yeah.  They¡¯re lit by regular rune lamps though, and they¡¯re closer to the ocean, so its damnably¡ªsorry, uhm¡­ accursedly cold down there.¡±

    ¡°Weren¡¯t you proposing we stay close for warmth?¡±

    Vaterin looked at her with furrowed brows for a moment before she took Marble¡¯s meaning, and then her pale skin suffused with a blush that extended all the way to her ears.  ¡°I, uh¡­ had not¡­ I mean¡­¡±The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    It was then that the Orth itself shook.  The floor beneath them crumbled, rocks fell from the ceiling, hemming them in and blocking their escape though the door.  Marble was aware of this only a few moments later, however, the collapse of the catacombs themselves such a sudden shock of sound and movement that she couldn¡¯t process it.

    ¡°Marble!  Are you alright?!¡± Vaterin shouted over the residual rumblings of the ground.

    ¡°I think so!  I fell, but I landed alright.  Somehow.¡±

    ¡°Is the ground beneath you stable?!  I¡¯m hanging on by one arm to a sarcophagus!¡±

    Marble tapped the ground tentatively with her foot.  ¡°I think so, yes!¡±  The next sound she heard was the thud of Vaterin dropping to her level of the tombs.  As the shock passed, Marble reconnected with her other senses.  She could hear the ticking and grinding of settling stone, smell the dust, dirt, and must of broken rocks and fractured, ancient corpse holders¡ªsarcophagi, she sternly corrected herself.  I know the word.  I had a surprise.  I fell.  She became aware of pain in one ankle.  I fell, but not badly.  ¡°Vaterin.  We need to get out of here in case it¡¯s still unstable.¡±

    ¡°To do that we¡¯re going to need to get some help, I think.¡±

    They set about shouting in turn, their voices echoing back at them in a manner Marble found not the least bit reassuring.  After Lord-only-knew how many sandglasses, they heard voices.  Someone was calling, ¡°Sand!  Get me sand from the waterfront!  I don¡¯t think the ground is stable, from the look of the chapel, but I can stabilize it if I have a focus for an invocation!¡±

    ¡°I think that¡¯s Clay,¡± Vaterin murmured.  She was holding her head high in much the same fashion as she had in the Chapel, doubtless putting on a brave face for Marble.

    It¡¯s only fair.  We wouldn¡¯t have been down here if it weren¡¯t for¡ªbut she had no reason to think the catacombs would collapse.  They¡¯re only older than recorded history.  Be fair, Marble.  She let out a shaky laugh.  ¡°It does sound like him.¡±

    The ground shuddered again, and Marble was forced to agree with Felspar¡¯s assessment of the collapse.  ¡°Father Supreme, please let us get out of this alive,¡± Marble whispered.

    ¡°Amen,¡± Vaterin said.

    ¡°Whoever¡¯s down there!  I¡¯ve got the earth I need for an investiture, I¡¯m going to try to fuse the rock so it can¡¯t fall any more, and then we¡¯ll work on getting you out!¡±  The change, when it came, was subtle.  The ticking of the rock stopped, and the smell of dust gave way to that of only the bodies whose rest had been disturbed by the collapse.  A cheerful thought, pre-Loss zombies.  Skeletons, probably.  Maybe even just dust, after so long.  Whatever can¡¯t rise as undead is fine by me.  ¡°It should be stable now!  Give us some time, we¡¯ll get a path and a rope down to you!¡±

    ¡°And then,¡± announced the stern voice of Father Sauer, ¡°you will give account for yourselves as to why you were in the catacombs to begin with!¡±

    Vaterin turned to Marble and smiled.  ¡°Well, clearly we¡¯re not going to die at this point.  I don¡¯t think the good Father would waste his time and energy hectoring the deceased.¡±

    Marble groaned.  ¡°Can we not talk about the deceased until we¡¯re away from the cracked sarcophagi?¡±

    Wow.  We¡¯re in more trouble than I thought, Marble wondered, as not only Father Sauer but also Mother Superior Honora of the Savior Crucified was waiting to lecture them.  Wondering at just how much trouble she was in took a back seat, however, to the devastation before her.  Where the spring had been, all the way to the Chapel of the Power of Ariel, the ground had collapsed, sunken.  Green runes shone on the Chapel itself, and it looked like the stone beneath it had been reshaped into an arch supporting what would have otherwise collapsed with the rest of the ground.  More pre-Loss wonders.  It looks like fire rune magic, but applied to the earth¡­ but that¡¯s impossible.  If you try to score runes into something with earth, it just abrades it.  This looks like a giant sinkhole.  We barely draw on the spring, even less now that the crops are washed out, why would it¡­

    ¡°Marble Bitumen, are you listening!¡± Father Sauer snapped.  ¡°You could have been killed!  It¡¯s just after evening services, so I would hope you didn¡¯t have sins to confess, but the loss of any life before its appointed time is a tragedy!¡±

    ¡°The catacombs are out of bounds for students.  It is, at the very least, impolite to disturb the rest of the dead,¡± Mother Honora chided them.

    ¡°It was the dead that drew me to it.  It¡¯s a very restful place, very quiet and lending itself to contemplation!¡± Vaterin said, defensively.

    ¡°While I am loathe to come between anyone and the Spirit of the One God, the catacombs were off limits for good reason.¡±

    ¡°You knew that it was unstable?  That would have been good information.¡±

    ¡°Vaterin.  Stop arguing with the Mother Superior,¡± Marble murmured.

    ¡°Ah.  Right.  Sorry.  I mean, my apologies, Mother Superior.  I had gotten into the habit of cutting through the catacombs because¡­¡± Vaterin swallowed.  ¡°Because the switchbacks terrify me and I was not equal to the challenge of overcoming my fear.  I will pray on it, that at least when I leave Tourmaline Isle I will not be guilty of the same fault.  I¡¯m sorry that I put us in danger, I had no idea that¡ª¡±

    ¡°The relevant Power is Bernard,¡± Marble murmured, cutting off Vaterin¡¯s nervous babble.  Brave of her to admit her fault.

    ¡°There are a number of Powers she could meditate on,¡± Mother Honora said, right, she would know better than I the many Powers and Virtues, ¡°and she and you will have plenty of time to meditate upon them as you devote yourselves to additional chore and prayer time.¡±

    ¡°For what I hope will be the last time, might I prevail upon the two of you to tell us what you were doing in the catacombs?¡± Father Sauer asked sharply.

    ¡°We were slipping away for a few moments together.  Nothing unseemly.  To hold hands and pray to the One God,¡± Vaterin replied.  ¡°I had found peace in the catacombs and wanted to share it with Marble.¡±  Father Sauer raised one eyebrow.  ¡°We were also going to kiss.  That¡¯s all.¡±  Glad she was the one to say it.  ¡°It genuinely is a place I found conducive to contemplation, and that is in full truth all we were up to.  The¡­ teasing of the other students was becoming burdensome.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps you should have devoted more time to your art and less time to romance,¡± Father Sauer said.  That¡¯s going to sting.  I hope she doesn¡¯t spiral because of that remark.  She¡¯s sensitive about practice when it doesn¡¯t benefit her while her angel is invoked.  His voice softened.  ¡°But while you broke the rules of the College, I cannot fault legitimate faith, and there is no sin in your intentions.  I am sincerely glad you were not hurt.  After all, I am quite impressed with the portrait you¡¯ve begun of me, Vaterin.¡±  Vaterin brightened visibly at the words of praise, but wilted again almost immediately.  ¡°You will be on punishment detail until further notice.  If you were coming out here to pray, the added time for contemplation may not be a burden, but the chores are intended to be so and perhaps depriving you two of each other for the next month¡ª¡± we¡¯re on punishment detail for a month? Well, actually, I was already on light detail for meddling in Brother Pitch¡¯s bullying of Write, so I guess it won¡¯t be that bad.  I will miss Vaterin though. ¡°¡ªwill drive the point home.  Now then, to your dormitory, and I want no less than nine repetitions of your prayer beads.  Nine, for the Virtue of the Student, which you are, and for the Student¡¯s Power of Protection, which you sorely tested.  Go.¡±  Nine repetitions?  Of the whole of our prayer beads?  That will take¡­ oof.  This is going to be a long month.  Don¡¯t get me wrong, I¡¯m happy to be prayerful, Lord, but I already spend so much time in prayer.  I suppose we are called to be in constant communion with the One God, and I do fall short of that ideal, perhaps this will be necessary correction.  Thank you, Oh Lord, for your rod, which leads me along straight paths.  Thank you too, for your mercy, that your correction was exacted at no more cost than a scraped ankle.

 Felspar Clay

    As I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll be overjoyed to hear I was put on a punishment detail for Cutting through the catacombs Things are fine here, I¡¯m practicing painting through my angel, as well as without, as it seems limited and making headway painting both one of the clergy as well as one of my classmates.

    In the morning, Vaterin woke from her slumber and trudged to the storage room which was doubling as a detention hall.  There, she took breakfast, which at least was a blessed break from turtleweed and barley soup, then set aside her dish and utensil to clean after services.  It would have been an opportunity to see Marble, but she was taking her breakfast in the dormitory.  After breakfast was time for services, and it was firmly enforced by the Brothers and Sisters that Marble and Vaterin sat in opposite pews.

    It was about that time in the day when Vaterin began to really, really miss Marble.

    She fidgeted as the sermon went on, thinking to herself, I understand punishment detail.  I can live with the extra chores and the added structure.  But seeing as we truly had chaste intentions, I feel like it¡¯s just a little bit cruel to separate two people who care deeply for one another and keep us from one another¡¯s company.  It¡¯s not like we¡¯re nuns taking vows of chastity, and even if we were, our intentions were chaste.  Vaterin shook her head, and got her mind off the track of kissing Marble and back to the no-more-productive but less-painful line of thought which was complaining.  I guess it¡¯s the ¡°added structure¡± to keep us from socializing with one another.  And when we do contrive to pass ways, they don¡¯t add to our punishment when we steal a quick kiss¡­ you know, I would have sworn I tried to get off the topic of kisses.  Vaterin sighed and gave up on an unproductive mental diatribe.

    Father Sauer was speaking at the head of the chapel, as he had been for the last¡­ I have no idea how many sandglasses have passed.  ¡°¡ªas can be plainly seen, the dangers of a lowered water table were known to the monks who inhabited the island before¡ª¡± Nope.  Don¡¯t care.  Sigh.  I wish the morning sermon didn¡¯t have the feel of a news bulletin.  I could use some reminders of the One God¡¯s love but I either fretted my way past them or he¡¯s yet to get to them.  The One God is a benevolent¡­ you know, there¡¯s really not a better time to pray than while in a church.

    Father Supreme, pour out your Holy Spirit on me, giving me the strength to endure this time of separation from a woman I care deeply for.  Then too, Christ Savior, forgive me for endangering us when we are in service to the One God as representers of His Creation.  Father Supreme, in addition to the gifts of the Holy Spirit, would you please grant me your peace, so that I can with good humor and grace accept this time of separation and stricture?

    Not the neatest prayer, but it¡¯s beginning to wear thin being run ragged like this.  And ragged she and Marble were run.  In addition to the traditional chores they had grown accustomed to, scrubbing floors and painting the adobe building of the College, they were given replacement tasks where the other students were free to relax or work on art in place of tending crops.  They were charged with mucking the oxen stables and¡ªof all the useless, pointless tasks!¡ªuprooting some of the wildflowers and brush which were encroaching on the northeast side of the Chapel.  They each were given half of these tasks, keeping them from one another''s company.  If a sarxing cave-in didn¡¯t collapse the Chapel of the Power of Ariel, I don¡¯t think that some plants are going to be able to do it much harm.  I should suggest to Marble a fire ¡°accidentally¡± start and just burn it all.  Except then we¡¯d probably just be thrown wholesale out of the College.

    Pursuit of art was their one break, although conversations were limited.  Marble was not permitted to pursue her night painting, a loss Vaterin thought she could hear in Marble¡¯s restless tossing and turning.  Vaterin herself felt it acutely, for while she had the references she needed for her painting during the day, she had taken to using that time to practice sketches without her angel, of the same still life Marble was working from.  It was amateurish, nothing she could ever attract a patron with, but she thought she was improving.  Vaterin progressed with her paintings of both Father Sauer and of Marble, but had entirely lost her nerve to ask the Mother Superior to sit for her.

    After a month, which felt so much longer than it was, things began to relax.  They were freed from the chores normally assigned the Brothers and Sisters of the College.  They were still painting much of the day, but it felt more natural, because they were once again exchanging the odd sentence and the occasional kiss.  Vaterin thought she might cry the first time she caught the smell of Marble¡¯s tulip perfume.  One thing she did with her liberty was to approach Felspar in conversation.  ¡°Clay.¡±

    ¡°Lime, if that¡¯s how we¡¯re addressing each other.  What can I do for you?¡±

    ¡°Thank you for saving our lives.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome!  It was the only thing to do!¡±

    ¡°How was it the only thing to do?  It takes a strong sense of the Savior¡¯s values to save the life of someone you hate.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t hate you!¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t hate you!  Where on Orth would you get the idea that I did?¡±

    ¡°¡®Cause you¡¯re a total jerk!¡±

    ¡°Oh.  I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to be.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t mean to be?!  You endlessly go on about the inferiority of our mediums and how your ¡®mathematical studies¡¯ will let you truly represent the foundational glory of the One God!¡±

    ¡°I mean, I¡¯m excited about it.  Did you know that more Paxite treatises on algebra and calculus survived than those of Wholists in Fief?¡±

    ¡°Truth be told, I am not entirely certain what ¡®calculus¡¯ is.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d be happy to explain¡­¡±

    ¡°Please don¡¯t.  I came to the College to get away from ciphers.¡±

    ¡°Fair deal.  So what were you two doing down in the catacombs anyway?¡±

    ¡°Praying.¡±

    ¡°Praying?  Why would you want to pray amongst a bunch of dead bodies?  The only reason anyone goes down there is to make out.  I don¡¯t believe you two were going down there to pray.¡±

    ¡°Firstly, that is none of your business.  Secondly, I was going to the catacombs all the time to pray because I sincerely find it the most meditative and peaceful place on the island.  And thirdly, I cut through the catacombs every day when we were still watering plants.  I hate those switchbacks and I¡¯d suggest adding railings at the very least except they¡¯d say ¡®Great idea, Vaterin, how about you do it¡¯!¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°Hey, no judgment from me.  The only reason I haven¡¯t gone down there myself is I have a boyfriend.  Slate tried to get me to go with them.¡±  That sounds¡­ ¡°It was kinda awkward.¡±  Yeah, exactly that.

    Wait, someone this insufferable has a boyfriend?  Which student puts up with him disdaining their art?  He¡¯s the only sculptor.  I guess he¡¯s not that insufferable, I¡¯ve been talking to him for five minutes and he¡¯s been pleasant enough.  ¡°Would you care to tell me about your boyfriend?¡±

    ¡°I mean, I can¡¯t reciprocate because I already know a fair bit about Marble.¡±  Is he¡­ did he just imply that Marble is my girlfriend?  Is she?!  Vaterin felt a flush creep across her face.  I mean, we do kiss, and talk, and paint together a lot.  But we never put that into so many words.  I¡¯d like her to¡­ I¡¯d like to¡­ Clay was talking.  ¡°¡ªa wizard, working with the earth.  That¡¯s where we met, was at a sorcerous retreat.  Both of us were in the same element, though he¡¯s making a career out of it¡ª¡± While Clay talked, Vaterin took account of him as she hadn¡¯t before.  He had been a blur on the way to looking from an authority figure to Marble, or an auditory annoyance in the hall.  Now, open to viewing him on friendlier terms, she paid some attention to his appearance.  He wore a smock covered in clay like his name, but it clearly did only so much good, as the dark, coarse hair of his forearms was covered in clay.  You could only see the olive hue of his skin when you looked at his neck and head.  The same thick, dark hair was meticulously groomed on his head in a long braid and a beard and mustache.  He was a little taller than Vaterin, and wore a robe the color of red potter¡¯s clay.  ¡°¡ªit¡¯s a little rough being so far off the ¡®Loon route, it takes letters forever to get to each other, but this seemed like the best college to focus on my art.  Once I find a patron, Tiller is going to look for work in the region.  A good sorcerer can get work anywhere.¡±

    ¡°Lucky duck.¡±

    ¡°Hey, at least you have a shot with Marble.  And the now.  Never discount the ¡®now¡¯ too much.  The One God has a way of working things out.¡±  I suppose that¡¯s true, but I don¡¯t think I¡¯m awarding him the point.

    ¡°So did they ever figure out what caused the cave-in to begin with?¡±

    ¡°Tired of hearing me talk about my boyfriend already?¡± I mean, yes, but¡­

    ¡°You did conversationally deny me the chance to talk about Marble.¡±

    Clay shrugged.  ¡°Fair deal.  The rumor mill is going wild, but I talked to the sorcerer the College brought in.  In my robe I look a little more like a Brother than a student, the sleeves cover up the clay, so I did some snooping.  It was a sinkhole, like Father Sauer said.¡±

    That¡¯s¡­ odd.  ¡°A sinkhole?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, like when the water table gets too low because of drainage and the ground can¡¯t support¡ª¡±

    ¡°I know what a sinkhole is, I just don¡¯t get why there would be a sinkhole.¡±

    Clay learned forward and whispered, ¡°Well, the water table was lower, because the spring ran dry, because Tourmaline is angry that, with the death of the crops, the College is asking to pay less tribute because they don¡¯t need her to bring up water for the crops.¡±

    ¡°Another draconic tantrum?  I thought water humors were generally placid, relaxed.¡±  The phlegmatic humor.  Calm, unemotional, introspective.  Everyone knows that.

    Clay shrugged again.  ¡°Yeah, well, she wants things her way.  I think she was attached to the treasure she normally gets, dragons are like nobles in that capacity.  They¡¯re all about the treasure.¡±

    ¡°Marble isn¡¯t all about treasure, and she¡¯s a noblewoman.¡±  Then again, her family is impoverished by predatory terms given by a water sorcerer.  But still, I¡¯m defending her on principle.  She defended me when Clay was on my case about the storm.  ¡°Hey, if you don¡¯t hate us, why were you running your mouth about my causing the storm?¡±

    ¡°Consider it withdrawn. I don¡¯t want you thinking I hate the two of you again.¡±

    ¡°Consider both withdrawn?¡±

    ¡°Yes.  I just meant it in jest and I have nothing against either of you.  Getting back on topic, dragons, at least, are all about treasure.¡±

    ¡±Well, look at you two getting along!¡±  Marble came by and set her bowl down on the table.

    ¡°Marble, why didn¡¯t you tell me that he¡¯s just abrasive?  I thought he hated us!¡±

    ¡°I assumed you didn¡¯t like abrasive people.  What¡¯re you talking about?¡±

    Clay laughed.  ¡°Vaterin is putting me through my theological paces with questions about the virtue of dragons.¡±

    ¡°Felspar¡¯s not great for that, Vaterin.  If you want to ask about dragons, talk to Father Sauer while you paint him.¡±

    ¡°You know, that¡¯s actually a great idea.  The question being whether I want to talk about dragons.¡±

    ¡°They keep coming up in our conversations.¡±

    ¡°In fairness to me, they keep coming up because they keep massively impacting our lives.  Or at least, one in particular does.¡±  I think I will ask Father Sauer if he can tell me about dragons.  I want to know why someone just a little lower than the angels would be so ill-tempered.  I want to understand why, when the Catechism of the Church goes on about their mercy and virtue, I¡¯m realizing from talking to Clay and from being outside my orderly little life, they¡¯re incredibly covetous and don¡¯t live as good, honest Wholists.  And hey, I just thought of this!  Dragons live one to a region, so clearly they¡¯re not attending some kind of draconic congregation, but Tourmaline is decidedly not present at any of the Masses.  Are they just so holy as to not need communion or a pastor to minister to them or¡­ I have so many questions.  ¡°Dragons are the heroes of Scripture¡­ but here a dragon has thrown two tantrums over money.  For such paragons of virtue, doesn¡¯t it seem odd that she¡¯d be so covetous?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s an interesting point.  She¡¯s a young dragon, maybe she¡¯s just immature?  But again, not a dragon expert.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d think, if she was still so immature as to throw tantrums, that she¡¯d still be inhabiting an island on the Belt under the tutelage of the dragon of the Buckle.¡±

    ¡°Treasure is important to dragons.¡± Marble said.  ¡°It¡¯s the thing that lasts as long as they do.  In the very system you mentioned, dragons patronize merchant and noble families for treasure.¡±

    Vaterin¡¯s brow furrowed.  Her own family had a draconic patron, but they¡¯d never had issues with him.  Then again, they¡¯d never missed a payment.  ¡°The kind of treasure my family pays for Tzur¡¯s advice and assistance is the kind that Scripture says thieves break in and steal.  Surely pious creatures like dragons know that they¡¯re only weighing themselves down for the return of the Savior and attracting opportunists who would take what isn¡¯t their own?  Doesn¡¯t that strike you as odd?¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t what strike me as odd?  That Marble¡¯s a noble?¡±

    Marble¡¯s tone was chiding.  ¡°Felspar, you weren¡¯t paying attention!¡±

    ¡±Sorry, it stuck in my brain and I got distracted.  I didn¡¯t know that you were a noble and it¡¯s kinda blowing my mind.¡±  It¡¯s not that staggering¡­ I guess I was surprised by it too.  She dresses simply and she¡¯s not arrogant like a lot of nobles.  I guess penury can do that to you.  But so much of the White Queen¡¯s penal system is based in the cost of things, they must have to work very hard to stay on the right side of the law¡­

    ¡±You didn¡¯t know that she¡¯s a noble?¡±

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t tell.¡±

    ¡°You couldn¡¯t tell?¡± Marble asked.  ¡°How would you ¡®tell¡¯?!¡±

    Vaterin replied before Clay could.  ¡°What?  It¡¯s a compliment!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a compliment?!¡± Oh no.  I¡¯ve gone and said something fooli¡ªI should not call my neighbor foolish, and I should love my neighbor as myself, and therefore should not call myself foolish.  But I done put my foot in my mouth again.

 New Money

    I know that nobles have their flaws.  I know that merchants have their flaws.  I have seen, first-hand, the conflicts between the two.  But it is perhaps in this monastic setting, where flaws are held up to the blinding light of the One God and hung against the models of virtue that are the Brothers and Sisters of the faith, that they stand out most clearly.  Or perhaps I just happened to meet a mutton-headed scion of a merchant family.  Felspar you¡¯ve heard about, I don¡¯t know what his excuse is, but Vaterin¡­

    Of all the arrogant, self-satisfied things to say!  ¡°Couldn¡¯t even tell I was a noble?!  Why do you think that¡¯s a compliment!?¡±

    Vaterin paled, all the more visible for the tanning punishment detail had given her working in the sun.  Perhaps less invested, they had no preestablished friendship, Felspar looked simply alarmed at the vitriolic tone of voice.

    ¡°Well?  I¡¯m waiting!¡±

    Vaterin pointed at Felspar.  ¡°He said it.  I just defended it.¡±

    ¡°Why were you defending it?!  That¡¯s not any better than having said it!  You¡¯re agreeing with someone you thought hated you and is one of the most arrogant¡ª¡± I¡¯m repeating myself.  But oh, why would Vaterin think¡­ ¡°Vaterin, I don¡¯t give one whit what Felspar thinks, he¡¯s insufferable most of the time.  But I am cut to the quick that you think a noble is not a noble thing to be.  Is it your faith?  Is it the resistance of some minority of noble families to acknowledgement that their claim on the land is only a lease from the One God?  They do not represent us!  Nobles are appointed by the White Queen, she herself ordained by the Black Queen, we are noble!  I am descended of the bloodline of the Duchess Clearwater, Lady Bitumen, and I am proud of that!¡±  Vaterin was sitting stock still, while Felspar seemed perplexed.  ¡°Or is this trader arrogance?  Two can paint with a broad brush, Vaterin!  Traders take an unseemly pride in having ¡®earned¡¯ their lucre, in comparing with one another how much wealth they can amass.  Weren¡¯t you just now contending that dragons were meant to be paragons of virtue, and yet they assemble wealth as though it¡¯s not some temporary, ephemeral thing.  So nobles chafe at their lease of the land from the Church, the necessity of tithes, but it is the merchants who struggle to cheat the tax collectors, who skimp on their tithes and social responsibilities!  It is not the nobles who encourage the Arbiters of Righteousness to consign to forced labor the poor, the widowed, the misled child!  That is the White Queen¡¯s domain and your kind who gleefully hand them over instead of making poor houses livable and offering of decent wages!¡±  Marble broke off her rant, realizing that if she wanted contrition she would need to leave space to express it.  She had better have something good to say.

    ¡°I¡­ apologize,¡± Vaterin began, hesitantly.  ¡°I don¡¯t think¡­ my parents are as neglectful of the poor as you say.¡±  She put up a hand in abeyance of Marble¡¯s indignant drawing of breath.  ¡°Which is not the point.  Your point.  You were painting with the same broad brush you perceived me doing¡ªthat is also not the right thing to say.¡±  Vaterin fell silent, worrying at her lip.  ¡°I am sorry that I offended you.  I¡­ should not have offended¡ªdefended¡ªClay?¡±  Why was that a question!?  ¡°Should not have defended Clay.¡±  That¡¯s better.  ¡°I only meant¡­ I¡¯m not sure what I meant.  Probably painting with the broad brush you mentioned.¡±  She bowed her head.  ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±  You said that.  But you¡¯re trying.

    ¡°For whatever it¡¯s worth between you two, I¡¯m sorry too.  I know I had been fed a number of the stereotypes you mentioned, Marble,¡± Felspar added.

    ¡°Why were you even thinking about me being a noble?  And if you point to Felspar again I will be cross.¡±

    ¡°I mean, it¡¯s on my mind a lot, but it came up because I was defending nobles as not being as covetous as dragons.¡±  Vaterin crossed her arms in a closed posture.  She is not taking this well.  I think she just found her self-righteous arrogance again.  Wait.  It¡¯s on her mind a lot?!  ¡°And I said something stupid again, I can see it on your face.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll just leave you to it, shall I?¡± Felspar clapped his hands on his thighs and rose to walk away, although he hesitated as though waiting for permission.  You want to walk out, walk out.  I¡¯m not giving you my sanction because you feel guilty over things you said.

    ¡°First off, I do not need you to defend me to Felspar.  But more importantly, why is my title on your mind a lot?¡±

    ¡°I mean, my folks would love to tie new money to a title.  They might even be willing to let me out of the math side of things and just manage relations with you as my hostess, patronizing us both after a fashion, with¡ª¡±

    ¡°Is that all I am to you?!  A title?!  You keep trying to compete in art, you were comparing and evaluating instead of just trying to create paintings of beauty, and now when I think¡ªwhen I think¡ª¡± tears welled up in Marble¡¯s eyes.  ¡°This whole time, you¡¯ve been thinking to yourself, ¡®wow, I¡¯m kissing a duchess¡¯?!¡±  Vaterin¡¯s eyes flew wide, realization of her error and its effect on her sweetheart written on her face.  You feel bad?!  Good!  You keep doing this and you keep making amends but how many times am I going to come up against your shortcomings?!  I have a temper, sure, but you have this deep-seated need to compare virtue in¡­ in¡­ everything.  Who¡¯s a better painter, who¡¯s a better person, oh, I didn¡¯t even realize you¡¯re a noble but I think about it all the time!  And you¡¯re talking about tying new money to a title, but let me tell you one thing, missy may, you¡¯re not tying any money to my title unless you do some growing up!

    ¡±Marble!  I¡¯m sorry!  I didn¡¯t mean any of what I said!  I¡¯m an idiot!¡±  You¡¯re clearly grasping at straws.  Do you even realize what you said?  Do you understand?  Your apology isn¡¯t even coherent.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t mean any of which?  That you think about my title?  You clearly do.  When you called me your girlfriend?  Maybe you didn¡¯t.  It¡¯s the Clearwater title you think of as your girlfriend.  That it¡¯s a compliment that Felspar didn¡¯t know I was a noble?  If you didn¡¯t mean it, then why did you say it?¡± Marble ground out these last words.  ¡°I can¡¯t deal with you right now.  I will take my lunch elsewhere.¡±  She rose, and strode off to find somewhere, anywhere, away from Vaterin to finish her meal.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    Marble studiously avoided Vaterin in the following days, but her presence followed her wherever she went.  When you share a dormitory and the same several college rooms with someone, everywhere becomes a memory of a tender moment.  When we were on punishment detail, we would kiss in passing here.  I have to sit over here now, so that my canvas blocks me from seeing her.  I¡¯m taking my meal facing the far wall instead so that I don¡¯t see her.

    Lord, was I wrong to get angry?  Wrath is a sin, but I didn¡¯t mean to be wrathful.  Excuses.  But it was righteous anger!  She gave offense!  Was I wrathful?  I was righteous!  I corrected her!

    Days went on.  Marble threw down a brush, one of a dearly bought set, and realized she was stewing.  This is wrath.  This is no longer righteous.  Vaterin messed up, but why do I have to be the one to build bridges?  It is not my job to patch things up, it¡¯s not even my job to be receptive to overtures of peace.  I will stop avoiding her.  That¡¯s it.  I will be available, should she decide she¡¯s ready to apologize and know what she¡¯s sorry for.  And if she isn¡¯t¡ªMarble¡¯s heart tugged painfully¡ªthen clearly it wasn¡¯t meant to be.  She¡¯s so sweet when she isn¡¯t being an ox-headed¡­ Marble sighed.  I haven¡¯t seen her painting of me.  I stopped painting the last time she came by to sketch while I painted, and blew out all my candles to leave her in the dark.  That painting¡­ I think she¡¯s in love, whether she realizes it or not.

    Marble¡¯s introspection was interrupted by the clearing of a throat behind her.  She turned, and saw a Vaterin, head bowed, clutching a bouquet of native wildflowers wrapped in drawing paper.  She looked at Vaterin, then to the bouquet, and then back to Vaterin, one eyebrow raised.  Yes?

    ¡°I¡­ am sorry about Felspar and me.  And I.¡±  Marble said nothing.  Well, go on.  Show me you know what you did wrong.  ¡°I should not have suggested that appearing not to be a noble was a compliment, because even if some nobles are arrogant and high-handed, painting any group with a broad brush is offensive.  My words were colored by e¡ªno!  My words were colored by wounded pride, a sin and a demon lord and more to the point utterly unGodly.¡±  Nice save.  ¡°As for your title¡­ I can¡¯t take back the words I said.  I can¡¯t take back the thoughts I thought.  But my esteem for you predated my awareness of you as nobility, and I can comprehend your hurt at the idea my interest in you was founded in your title.  In all sincerity, it was founded in a friendship the likes of which I have never had.  I would understand if a relationship were out of the question thanks to my error, but,¡± she swallowed, and Marble saw tears in her eyes.  ¡°I would like my friend back, if that is at all possible.¡±

    Marble met Vaterin¡¯s gaze, and while the blonde woman looked away briefly, she ultimately made the decision to make and hold eye contact while Marble made her wait agonizing seconds for her reply.  That¡¯s worthy of respect, even if it¡¯s a taught behavior.  She¡¯s brave even when she¡¯s admitting error.  Even when she¡¯s terrified.  She made the overture.  She keeps making these overtures.  She even acknowledged that there may be no mending the rift between us and that is commendable.  But I¡¯d like more than just my friend back, though I too would settle for that.  Marble rose, and accepted the bouquet Vaterin proffered, and she saw her eyes light up with hope.  ¡°I accept your apology.¡±  A shaky smile appeared on Vaterin¡¯s face.  ¡°And I think we can be friends,¡± the smile wavered, ¡°but I hope we can be a bit more than that.  Because you, Vaterin Lime, are competitive, arrogant, and brash,¡± she flinched at each invective, mild though they were, ¡°but you are also devoted, thoughtful, and you see beauty in people.  And that can only come from a beautiful soul.¡±

    Vaterin was still holding eye contact.  ¡°So where do we stand?¡±

    ¡°It all depends on what you say to this; Vaterin Lime, I love you, for all your nonsense and for all your beauty.¡±

    Vaterin swallowed and paused¡ªa hopeful sign, that.  She¡¯s not going to just reply in kind because she misses me¡ª¡°Marble Bitumen, I love you, for your unabashed expression of your own truths and, also, for all your beauty.¡±

    ¡°I missed you, Vaterin.¡±  Marble closed the gap between them, crushing the wildflowers with a rustle of paper as she pressed her lips to Vaterin¡¯s.

    Muffled by lips on hers, Vaterin said into Marble¡¯s mouth what was probably, ¡°I missed you too.¡±  But then the moment won out over words and they simply embraced, faces wet with tears, as leaned into the mutual support of a friendship turned into something decidedly more.  I don¡¯t regret the time I spent away from her.  She seems to have given real thought to what she did wrong, and if I¡¯m going to bring this butch up to scratch she¡¯s going to have to learn a few lessons.  ¡°You¡¯re thinking again,¡± Vaterin mumbled into Marble¡¯s neck.

    ¡°I do that.¡±

    ¡°But you usually say what you¡¯re thinking.¡±

    ¡°You noticed that?¡±

    ¡°That would be the ¡®unabashed expression of your truths¡¯ I mentioned.  What aren¡¯t you telling me?¡±

    Do I confide in¡ªwhat am I saying, I just told her I love her.  Of course I confide in her.  ¡°I¡¯m glad I didn¡¯t let go of my anger until you made your own approach.  You needed to figure out for yourself what you¡¯d done wrong without me explaining it to you.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡±  Oh?  What does ¡®oh¡¯ mean here?  Is she disappointed?  Hurt?  Wishing I¡¯d made the first¡ªI will just ask.  For goodness sake, it¡¯s not as if the Power of Simon were foreign to me.

    ¡°¡®Oh¡¯ what?¡±

    ¡°Then I¡¯m glad you stayed mad at me too.¡±  Vaterin kissed Marble¡¯s neck, bending down to reach the shorter woman.

    ¡°You¡¯re glad I stayed mad at you?  I was expecting a homily about wrath.¡±

    ¡°Nah.  You¡¯ve probably delivered one to yourself already.  And this course of action ended with you saying you love me.  So I¡¯m glad.  I hope you continue to be patient yet firm with me as I bumble my way around loving you back.¡±  That is the most ridiculous, sweetest thing I have ever heard.  She¡¯s glad I was mad at her and that I did not spare the emotional rod and staff.  Truly, this woman is adrift in the world.  It seems like she clings to whatever will keep her afloat.

    But she¡¯s not fickle, and she¡¯s not flighty.  She decided I was a suitable raft, and she worked at her apology until she had figured out what she¡¯d done, and then she came armed with¡ª¡°Oh!  The flowers!  We¡¯re crushing them!¡±

    Vaterin laughed.  ¡°There are more where they came from.  But there¡¯s only one ¡®this moment¡¯ and I¡¯m rather fond of standing here in your arms.¡±  She is just¡­ so sweet.  I am glad I was assigned to introduce her to the College, I am glad she came over to hear my prayer as I worked my sorcery¡­ I am thankful, One God, Virtue of the Jester, that you assigned whichever Power oversees love to the protection of this little spark between us.  Marble did not realize she had spoken her little prayer aloud until she heard Vaterin murmur, ¡°Amen.¡±  Though her complexion was dark enough to hide a blush, evidently she was close enough to Vaterin for her to feel the heat, because she went on to say, ¡°I¡¯m thankful too, Marble.  Whatever happens at the expo, I am grateful to the One God for bringing you into my life.¡±  Right.  The expo.  Where we might attract a patron together, or we might attract different patrons, or Vaterin might attract none at all in her first season here, and return home to an arranged marriage and a business she disdains.  Marble pushed that sobering thought out of her head, and devoted herself to enjoying the moment she had left with Vaterin.

 Common Ground and Embers

    Things here have calmed down and fallen into a predictable rhythm.  I made another friend, a sculptor of all things.  We¡¯re both working busily on our pieces for the expo, because of the College¡¯s desperate need for funds if it¡¯s to continue operating.  Thanks be to the One God, Marble is talking to me again¡­

    ¡°Clay isn¡¯t so bad once you get to know him, by the way.¡±

    ¡°Oh?  I¡¯ve been here considerably longer than you and I never knew him to be anything but insufferable.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll admit he¡¯s a little lacking in social graces.  But he means well.  He¡¯s just very set in his opinions.¡±

    ¡°You were that desperate for a friend while I was mad at you that you befriended Felspar Clay?¡±

    Vaterin nodded.  Not the way I would have put it, but yes.  I needed someone to talk to, and he¡¯d confirmed he didn¡¯t blame me for the dragon¡¯s tantrum.

    Marble laughed.  ¡°Alright.  So introduce me.¡±

    ¡°He knows who you are.¡±

    ¡°Vaterin, if we care for each other we¡¯re sharing friends, but I had no idea Felspar had a personable side.¡±

    Vaterin sighed.  ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll ¡®introduce you.¡¯¡±  When they next crossed paths with Clay, and had the time to talk, Vaterin pulled him aside and said, ¡°Marble wants to be introduced to you, now that we¡¯re friends.  Play along?¡±

    ¡°You call everyone by their last names except her.  Why is that?¡±  You¡¯re curious about that right now?  You can¡¯t just agree to be introduced?  Marble was standing patiently off to one side.

    ¡°I call her Marble because I love her¡ª¡± I love her.  Well.  I think I knew that already, but saying it is a whole other animal.  ¡°¡ªwhile I call everyone else by their last name because I don¡¯t want to be overly familiar.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re friends, you can call me Felspar,¡± Clay replied¡ªClay replied.  Clearly I have a habit to break.  I can only imagine what I¡¯d do if he had some other familiar name.

    ¡°Alright, Felspar, can you play along and let me introduce you?¡±  Clay shrugged, then nodded.  Vaterin steered him across to Marble.  ¡°Marble, allow me to introduce Clllll¡ªFelspar.  Felspar, Marble, my lady fair.¡±

    Clay stuck out a hand.  ¡°Pleasure to ¡®meet you.¡¯¡±

    Marble shook his hand.  ¡°Likewise, I¡¯m sure.  Vaterin asserts that you have a personable side and I would very much like to see it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d be happy to show it, but like I told Vaterin a month ago, I didn¡¯t realize I was being an¡ª¡± He paused, visibly thought, and continued, ¡°jerk.¡±

    Marble¡¯s mouth quirked at one corner.  ¡°¡®An jerk¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Just so.  To be fair, you were ¡®an jerk¡¯ too.¡±

    ¡°I am the picture of comportment at all times.¡± Vaterin abruptly found the ceiling to be absolutely fascinating.  ¡°When did I give offense?¡±

    ¡°When you said sculpture sold by the pound.¡±

    ¡°That was months ago!  Why didn¡¯t¡ªI see what you mean.  Well then, I apologize for implying that your art was inferior, as you have explicitly said in turn any number of times.¡±

    ¡°But it¡ª¡± Vaterin coughed.  ¡°Right.  Uhm.  Vaterin told me that it¡¯s actually a great effort to present perspective or even tricks of perspective on canvas, and so while you¡¯re working in fewer dimensions, you¡¯re attempting to portray three and even four dimensions through stylistic effects.¡±  Clay looked at Vaterin, who nodded approvingly.  ¡°I just can¡¯t imagine trying to express calculus concepts in less than three dimensions.¡±

    ¡°¡®Calculus concepts¡¯?¡± Marble asked, and Vaterin could hear the polite edge.

    ¡°Yeah.  It¡¯s a Paxite thing, they managed to preserve a great number of mathematical concepts through a close relationship with axiom spirits they call djinni.¡±

    ¡°How interesting.  Has Vaterin told you¡ªof course you already know from Father Sauer¡¯s sermon¡ªthat she¡¯s a spirit mage too.¡±

    ¡°I did put two and two together, yes.¡±

    Vaterin elbowed Clay.  ¡°Easy with the ciphering, for me, please.  Tell us about some other Paxite thing.¡±

    Clay stroked his beard thoughtfully.  ¡°Well, they use a lunar calendar, for one.  One thirty-day month for each of twelve alleged elements¡ª¡±

    ¡°There are only four elements, though,¡± Marble protested.

    Clay put up his hands in mock defense¡ªI¡¯m pretty sure he got that gesture from me¡ªand replied, ¡°Preaching to the choir, though I¡¯d love to know how those earth runes on the Chapel of the Power of Ariel were put in place.  But they assert that there are twelve theoretical elements, and assign one to each lunar month.  They don¡¯t have Ophiuchus as a month, so their calendar lines up with ours every seventy-three years.  For most of the year.  But their months line up with a month every six years.¡±

    ¡°I did not know that,¡± Marble replied.

    ¡°Still too much math for me,¡± Vaterin groused.

    ¡°Any math is too much for you,¡± Clay retorted.  ¡°I just find it interesting that clearly, there are sorceries beyond our ken, and I wonder if maybe the Paxite calendar doesn¡¯t hold some of those secrets.¡±

    ¡°What are the ¡®elements¡¯ they associate with the other lunar months?¡± Marble asked.  I can¡¯t tell if she¡¯s being polite or if this is actually interesting to her.

    ¡°That¡¯s one of the difficulties they face.  The verbiage has been lost, and so they have mystery words that they can¡¯t translate by knowledge or djinni.  Ah, axiom spirit.¡±

    Marble waved a hand.  ¡°You explained the noun.  Anyway.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re generally denoted as earth-plus, fire-plus, and so on.¡±

    ¡°But that only accounts for¡ªand don¡¯t fuss, Vaterin,¡± I do not ¡°fuss¡±! ¡°For four more elements.  They have twelve, like the seasons.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m working on this whole, ¡®not being a jerk¡¯ thing, so I¡¯m checking; am I boring you?  If you¡¯d like to go about your meal in peace, I can bug Vaterin about algebra.¡±  Vaterin shuddered.

    ¡°It is interesting to me, sorcery holds a very dear place in my heart.  My Gramma taught me everything¡ªwell, not everything¡ªbut much of what I know about it.  But if you¡¯re a Paxite, that¡¯s a continent away.  Why come here for schooling?¡±

    Clay shook his head.  ¡°I¡¯m no Paxite.  I just picked this up studying calculus, which didn¡¯t survive in Fief.  I actually picked this College as one where I could practice my sculpture expressing functions¡ª¡± Vaterin sighed.  ¡°¡ªin a three-dimensional form, the better to envision them.  You might say I¡¯m more of a geometer than an artist.  Though I maintain my work does not to be so denigrated as to be sold by the pound.¡±The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°I apologized for that once, I won¡¯t be apologizing again.¡±

    Clay shrugged with one shoulder.  ¡°Fair deal.  But anyway, I figure there¡¯s a lot to be learned from the Paxites.  If the lunar calendar has twelve, and there are seven Virtues, maybe we don¡¯t need to assign two Virtues to most of the elements.  For that matter, perhaps the months themselves aren¡¯t properly overlapping, perhaps each one holds dominion over a single element.  It¡¯s a puzzle.  Theoretically, if you traced the syzygy of an earth month, season, and lunar month, you could use the celestial influences to cast a single incredible earth spell, perhaps even raising a small island out of the sea!¡±

    ¡°Wow!  I wonder what you could do with fire!  Imagine, taking a warring nation and blanketing it in peaceable intent and a sense of wellbeing!¡±

    ¡°Oh, so you understand the more advanced fire sorcery?  I¡¯m impressed!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a practicing sorcerer.  Most of what I do with it is light candles, but I know a thing or three.¡±

    Vaterin turned her head sharply.  ¡°You can instill emotion in people with fire magic?¡±  Why does that make me deeply uneasy?  It just does.  Suddenly I¡¯m reminded of those fire-runed headbands my parents wore when they were dealing with others.  I always thought it was a fashion thing.  But then, they haven¡¯t inducted me into all their trade secrets, because I¡¯m ¡®being rebellious¡¯¡­ I completely missed Marble¡¯s reply.  ¡°I¡¯m sorry, say again?¡±

    ¡°Hypothetically I could but it was like Felspar was saying, you¡¯d need a major confluence to affect many people even with a group ritual, and I¡¯m not a skilled enough fire sorcerer to do that.  I could maybe read somebody¡¯s mood if I tried really hard.¡±

    ¡°Ah.  So you knew I was interested before I told you.¡±

    ¡°Vaterin, no.  I thought about it, but I didn¡¯t try to read your mood.  That would be rude.  Also kinda a gross way to find out you were interested.¡±

    ¡°¡­I trust you.¡±

    ¡°Good.  Honestly, between the two of us I have more reason to be wary of sorcerers than you do.¡±

    ¡°They just robbed you blind, they didn¡¯t mess with your mind. Speaking of which, what can you do, Cl¡ªFelspar?  With your earth sorcery?  You can fuse loose stone.  And the chapel reformed earth to support itself after the sinkhole happened.¡±

    ¡°I can heal the body, or read its ailments.  Or could.  Theoretically.  Mostly I use my magic to help me mold clay, and occasionally to save the lives of trysting lesbians.¡±

    ¡°We weren¡¯t trysting, we had perfectly chaste intentions of praying and kissing and leaving it at that!  You¡¯d think, after all the trouble I went to to get into a monastic college, that people would think I had good respect for the Sacrament of marriage!  The whispering, the giggles, artists should be more serious!¡±

    ¡°Vaterin, you didn¡¯t stop smiling for a week after we kissed.  I think you might be being the slightest bit hypocritical calling for serious artists,¡± Marble scolded gently.  And hypocrisy was one of the major pet peeves of the Savior.  Sigh.  Now I have to apologize to Clay.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I took your teasing in ill humor, Felspar.¡±

    ¡°To be fair, it¡¯s been a month, I was being ¡®an jerk.¡¯¡± Felspar was grinning.  ¡°Have you ever considered taking up earth sorcery, Marble?  You might find it grounding.¡±

    Marble sniffed.  ¡°Puns are the lowest form of humor.  But no, I had not.  I am quite comfortable with my temperament.¡±

    ¡°You do get really mad sometimes, Marble.¡±

    ¡°You know, I didn¡¯t, before a certain butchy somebody managed to be at once charming and infuriating.  Felspar, what drew you to earth sorcery?¡±

    ¡°Believe it or not, I was interested in medicine.  Healing the clay from which we were made.  It¡¯s more than just a metaphor for the One God breathing life into the first humans, earth magic can turn dirt into flesh and blood.¡±  Clay quickly amended, ¡°Can¡¯t make life, of course, but I wager I could make a decent steak out of some rocks.¡±

    ¡°Oh Supreme, I haven¡¯t had a steak in ages.  Would you, Felspar?¡± Marble asked wistfully.  ¡°We could cook it up in the kitchens during our free time, now that we have that again.¡±  I don¡¯t like her looking at him like tha¡ªshe¡¯s a lesbian, she told me that, and he¡¯s in a committed relationship with a man.  I suppose he could be bi, but¡ªwait, she¡¯s also in a committed relationship.  With me.  Why am I worrying, again?

    ¡°That¡¯s not really what earth sorcery is for,¡± Felspar said hesitantly.  ¡°I don¡¯t know whether I have the faith that the One God Wills for us to have a steak.¡±

    Marble took Felspar by the hand.  Once again, I find that I mind this.  She should be grabbing my hand.  I don¡¯t care about steaks, I care about Marble.  She should feel the same.  Then again, I¡¯ve probably had a lot more steaks than she has.  ¡°I have just spent a month on punishment detail, we can go ask Mother Honoria if we shouldn¡¯t have steaks all around as a celebration of having free time again!¡±

    ¡°Would steak made from stone even taste good?¡± Vaterin asked querulously.  ¡°You said you could make a decent steak, but I¡¯m skeptical.¡±

    ¡°Honestly it was an off-the-cuff joke.  It¡¯s just, with earth magic you can apply dirt to a wound and then use it to seal it shut.¡±

    Marble deflated visibly.  ¡°No steaks?¡±

    ¡°Not unless someone convinces Father Sauer to sacrifice an ox before the All Saviors¡¯ Day feast.¡±  Why did you say that if you couldn¡¯t even do it?  You upset Marble!

    While Vaterin began to seethe, Marble put her hand on hers and inclined her head in a question.  Vaterin wondered, can she read my mood?  Or is she using good old-fashioned human empathy?  Probably that.  She said she wouldn¡¯t, not that she couldn¡¯t though.  And there¡¯s a difference between reading if someone has a crush on you versus telling if they¡¯re mad.  She didn¡¯t say a prayer, but that¡¯s not an obligatory part of sorcery.  Or is it?  Or can she say¡ª¡°Orth to Vaterin, what are you frowning so fiercely about?¡±

    Vaterin scratched the back of her head awkwardly.  I was frowning.  Which means empathy, not her reading my mind.  ¡°Just an unfortunate series of trains of thought.¡±

    ¡°Vaterin, what are you working yourself into a tizzy about now?¡±

    ¡°Me?  You¡¯re the one with a temper!¡±

    Marble took a deep breath and Vaterin saw she was counting to ten on her right hand.  ¡°Vaterin Lime, you are deflecting and you are provoking me.  I am showing concern and you¡¯re being contrary, which says to me you¡¯re uneasy, which means you¡¯re still thinking about whether I knew you were interested.  Which I did not read off you, that¡¯s not something I could attempt without preparing and summoning my focus, it¡¯s just how you are.  I knew when you told me.  Conversation where we both avoided the question because we were and are both somewhat shy people and that¡¯s just the way love is¡ª¡±

    ¡°You love me back?¡±

    Clay chose that moment to speak up.  ¡°Hey, should I leave you two to this conversation, or would it be better to bring things back to ¡®how I became an artist¡¯?¡±

    ¡±Stay,¡± Marble said, in the same instance Vaterin said, ¡°Go.¡±

    Marble went on.  ¡°Yes I love you back, but I do genuinely want to know how Felspar went from surgeon to artist on a remote rock in the middle of the ocean.¡±  But I want to know when you knew!  How you knew!  I want to hear again that you know!  But I¡¯m not going to win that argument.  I may as well let Clay talk, the better to get Marble alone later.  Vaterin gestured for Clay to continue.

    ¡°Well, I was at an earth sorcery enclave, which I think I mentioned is where I met my boyfriend, and there was this geometer¡ª¡± Vaterin sighed.  Father Supreme, give me patience with this man and his ciphering.  ¡°¡ªwith a Paxite text, and she was actually interested in the faith but the math was just fascinating.  There were these painstaking illustrations trying to portray universal constants in just two dimensions¡ª¡± Marble huffed. ¡°¡ªnot that I¡¯m going back to it being inferior, just that it wasn¡¯t really an adequate representation.  I tried to model it with earth sorcery and I couldn¡¯t manage the degree of precision I wanted, and from there I started working clay.  A few years after that I find out about Brother Pitch being versed in all kinds of art, including sculpting, and I pack my bags and make for the College.¡±  Okay.  Question answered.  You can go now.  I want to give Marble an apology by way of a kiss.  But, of course, the conversation was not so obliging.  After what she judged a suitable display of patience, Vaterin proceeded to simply tilt Marble¡¯s chin with a finger and plant a gentle kiss on her lips.  That time, when Clay asked if he should go, Marble nodded along with Vaterin.

 A Sense of Urgency

    The atmosphere here has become downright oppressive.  Every sermon an exhortation to new heights of artistic frenzy, every structured art period a litany of productivity, our free time our own in name only, if we do not spend it creating art then Mother Superior Honoria asks¡ªalways nicely, she is not Brother¡­ well, she is not mean¡ªbut she inquires as to whether inspiration has run dry, whether we need to roam the island in a search for subjects or perhaps contemplate the canvases of those who have come before for ideas.

    ¡°Don¡¯t just spend time conceptualizing and sketching out still lifes!¡± Brother Pitch declared, pale skin red with choler.  ¡°You should be painting, molding, at the very least laying the foundation for what you are creating!  We¡¯ve moved beyond the still lifes.  Each of you has turned in a number of sketches, each of which could be a promising work.  I expect you to turn each of those sketches into promising works.  Even you, Slate, have shown some promise if only you could elevate those sketches beyond mere black and white!¡±  This is ridiculous.  The college had the money to pay for food for the season, they¡¯ve already tied our grades to a curve of productivity as well as skill, you¡¯d think they could lighten up a little bit.  Marble stole a glance at Vaterin, and noted with a little bit of satisfaction that she was, at least, working at the normal pace for a human and not giving in to the temptation to sacrifice her life for some imagined quota.  And that is fortunate, because if we do not equal each other in production, the rest of us fail.  And if we fail, we are dismissed in disgrace.  Or at least those of us on scholarships.  I¡¯ve sold a piece or three each year, and I¡¯ve gotten good grades thus far, but I am not the only scholarship student and even I¡¯m worried about the number of works produced.  Oil painting takes time.

    ¡°Lime!  Are you still working without your angel?  The bloodgold has been paid for that, you had best make use of it!  I will consult with Father Sauer about whether he has sat for your portrait recently.¡±  Leave her alone!  Even Father Sauer said it wasn¡¯t her fault that the dragon threw a tantrum, nobody had noticed the clause in the College¡¯s contract with her.  He might be trying to goad her on, did he overhear what she can do through her angel?  Is he seriously encouraging her to shave years off her life just to support his position?  Should I talk to the Mother Superior that he is becoming outright abusive?

    ¡°And you, Clay!  Stop ciphering on paper and get to molding your namesake!  All the rest of you!  If you need direction raise your hand, don¡¯t wait for me to circle around!  It is urgent that you produce as many good works as possible, before the expo!¡±  Ah, the urgency.  The need for funds.  I hope they remembered to tell the noblewomen coming to bring more contracts good until the remission.  I suppose they could draw up new ones, but not all nobles know what they even hold.  I suppose that¡¯s what they rely upon retinues for.

    ¡°And if you¡¯re working in charcoal, Slate, then I guess do whatever it is you do that you pass off as art!¡±  Of course he loves to¡ªMarble¡¯s train of thought was interrupted by the scraping of a stool.  She wondered briefly if it was her own, it was often her role to interpose herself between Pitch and Writing.  But no, it was¡ªVaterin?!

    ¡°Brother Pitch!¡± Vaterin proclaimed in a clear, resonant voice.  She¡¯s used to making herself heard with the wealthy.  It¡¯s given her a quite attractive air of authority, when she remembers to exert it.  ¡°You have ridden Slate, and ridden Slate, and now you¡¯re riding all of us except Slate¡ª¡±

    ¡°The equality of this should come as a relief the¡ª¡± Brother Pitch began.

    ¡±¡ªI was not finished!¡±  Holy Savior she¡¯s livid, but she¡¯s keeping it on a tight reign!  ¡°You have instead relegated Slate to a position of insignificance, deriding their ability to even attempt a work which might please a patron at the expo.  This, after riding them, riding them, riding them,¡± she¡¯s a very compelling speaker.  ¡°And I cannot be alone in this room in wondering why.  Why, when you have turned your wrath upon all of us, you reserve base invective for Slate, reduce them to the role of a burden while all of us are treated to the exhortations to do better.  Explain, Brother Sauer, or I for one will not sit here a minute longer and produce art for your expo.¡±  Holy sarx.  That¡¯s putting a lot on the line.  Then again, she could always go to the dormitory or the individual study rooms, but to even say that!  This expo is her one chance to attract a patron and escape a future she abhors.  She¡¯s being so disrespectful, but Brother Pitch has been a bit heavy-handed lately.  I was prepared to ask him to back off Writing but to demand he account for himself¡­!

    ¡°You forget yourself, lay student Vaterin Lime.  You are not in charge here.  I will not spare the verbal rod and risk a straying flock.  Take your seat and get back to your work.¡±

    ¡°Work?  Work you say?  Work, at the College of the Art of the Divine.  Work, at a school upheld by those devoted to the One God.  Work you say?  I will not have it!¡±

    ¡°You may have status where you come from, but here you are a student, and a student of only so much promise at that¡ª¡± ouch.

    But Vaterin held her head high and did not flinch when she interrupted.  ¡°I am not alone in finding your intolerance intolerable!  Marble!  Cl¡ªFelspar!  Sand and Granite!  Are you with me?!  Will we find another to yoke ourselves to if this injustice is not righted?!¡±

    The students she named stood from their works, Marble herself included.  This must be madness.  Because while this puts everything on the line, opposing both the College hierarchy and the ordained of the Wholist Church, it feels right.  It is a kind of group insanity.  ¡°I will not stand for it!  I will return home, and paint pastures and sheep!¡± Marble declared.

    Following her pattern, Felspar spoke next.  ¡°I will not stand for it!  I can work clay with my boyfriend, both of us are skilled earth mages.  I will not learn from a tyrant!¡±The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Coral Sand spoke next.  ¡°I will not stand for it!  Watercolors may be a hobby instead of a vocation in my future.  But I will not learn from a tyrant!¡±

    Soon, every student was standing in defiance, aside from Writing Slate who still sat on their stool, seemingly stunned at this outpouring of support.  To be fair, it is stunning.  Marble stole a glance at Vaterin, but she stood stock still and seemed uncertain what to do with her mob now that she had raised it and Brother Pitch had not folded.  Fortunately, she is not acting alone.  Marble raised her voice again, ¡°What, then, is your issue with Writing, Brother Pitch?  Or do you plan to teach with no students?¡±

    ¡°Slate is lazy,¡± Brother Pitch replied after a long pause.  ¡°They shade in black and white rather than color, in a medium which rarely fetches as good of prices as color paintings.  You would think that they could work faster, freed from the strictures of tone, and yet they draw no more quickly.  We need this expo to succeed and I cannot afford to waste time tutoring underachievers if I want this College to survive.¡±  So he¡¯s worried about his job.

    ¡°Lazy?  You accuse Writing of laziness when they have labored under your unkind hand for this long?  Wouldn¡¯t it be easier to go somewhere else, to throw up their hands in disgust at your treatment of them?¡±

    Vaterin found her voice at last.  ¡°Have you even asked them, why they work in charcoal?  You introduced all the students, you introduced their mediums, but you never asked why they work in their mediums, and with Slate you never bothered to learn!  You know that Felspar works off ciphering from Paxite texts, why does Slate work in charcoal?¡±

    Felspar spoke up next.  ¡°The student you have maligned as lazy captures shadow and light masterfully, and is color blind.  They told me this, while expressing appreciation of my sculpture, that it was something where they did not feel the lack of their vision.  What do you have to say to that?!  A student who aspires to be an artist despite a distinct handicap and you deride them as lazy!¡±

    Finally, Writing themselves spoke, rising from their stool.  ¡°I work so hard.  I can¡¯t tell the difference in color between the blossom and the leaf, and yet I try to portray both in their beauty.  I am cursed with colorblindness and yet I try my best.  What would you have me do?  Is there some sorcery I don¡¯t know?  Is there some spirit I could bind?  If there is, then rather than tearing me down just tell me and I will work that variety of magic!¡±  This last they addressed directly to Brother Pitch with a desperate and desolate shrug of their entire body.

    Brother Pitch seemed taken aback.  Or so I assume, from his lack of immediate response.  Say, now there¡¯s an idea¡­ ¡°Felspar!  Teach Writing to work in clay, if price is the object of Brother Pitch¡¯s concern!  Let Brother Pitch invoke the Power of Beatrice and remember that it is not the gold that makes his vocation, but the faith sustained by the gold.  The One God does not desert His people.¡±

    ¡°I could certainly teach Writing,¡± Felspar replied.  ¡°If I had extra time.  I have my own grades to worry about.  But if Brother Pitch were to get me freed from chore details, along with Writing, we could use the extra time to pursue a less ¡®lazy¡¯ art form, even if it is one that sells by the pound,¡± he flashed a grin at Marble, who felt a mischievous smile spread across her own face.

    Brother Pitch looked around the room, at the entire student body aligned against him.  He bowed his head and with his right hand made the God-Star over his heart.  ¡°Perhaps¡­ I was fast to judge.  I had not considered the motivation of pupil Slate, and allowed¡­ I should pray to the Power of Gold and those who covet it, for my heart was not in the right place.¡±  Not often you see a member of the clergy admit their error to a member of the laity.  ¡°I will speak to the Mother Superior about releasing the two of you from chore detail to pursue a supplementary art course.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to forgive us if we don¡¯t trust your intentions,¡± Vaterin drawled.  ¡°Allow Felspar and Slate to attend your meeting with the Mother Superior.¡±

    ¡°You do not dictate terms to me, pupil Lime.  I have admitted a minor fault, with one student, but I am still the teacher here.¡±

    She has clearly done as I advised and taken to praying to the Powers of Courage and Daring.  ¡°You are a teacher only so long as you have students.  You have been ill-humored since the storm, and all we are demanding is justice for one student and not a revision of your entire curriculum of desperate urgency.  I think it is fair to say that ¡®your¡¯ students are with me that we will see to it that Slate is treated decently.¡±

    Brother Pitch still had his hand over his heart in the sign of the God-Star, and bowed his head, closing his eyes and murmuring to himself.  I wonder what he¡¯s praying.  If he¡¯s actually praying to the Power of Beatrice I will be immensely impressed with myself.  Marble stepped sideways over to Vaterin.  ¡°You should have spoken up earlier.  We make quite the team, we¡¯ve got Brother Vitriol praying in the midst of a class session,¡± Marble murmured.

    ¡°I just got it started.  You provided the refrain that the whole class echoed,¡± Vaterin demurred.  ¡°I think I used up my daily dose of courage.  We paid our tithes gladly, respect for the clergy was instilled into me from an early age.¡±

    ¡°What about respect for the nobility?¡±

    Vaterin stroked her chin, ¡°Nobility I was taught to respect as holding power, not authority.¡±  Oh, so she¡¯s drawn to my title for the power?  Marble quirked a smile.  No, she¡¯s drawn to me, because I¡¯m an excellent artist and a charismatic woman.  ¡°What?  You¡¯re smiling.¡±

    ¡°Just thinking of how remarkable this term has been.  I¡¯ve made friends with a merchant woman, with the oddball who studies foreign faith, and now brought a clergyman to heel.  There are noblewomen who would ruin a favored client for that privilege.¡±  Probably not the healthiest thing for my soul to feel pride at that, but what can you do?  Brother Pitch has been a thorn in the collective side of the student body since the storm, and maybe now is learning there are limits to his authority.

    ¡°Friends?  We¡¯re just friends now?¡±

    ¡°So I made more-than-friends with a merchant woman.  One who esteems me for my painting more than my title.¡±  Vaterin cracked a grin and scratched the back of her head sheepishly.  I¡¯m so glad she not only tendered a sincere apology but learned the lesson the apology represented.

    Finally, the Brother looked up and let his hand drop to his side.  ¡°Very well.  And don¡¯t think I didn¡¯t hear all of you whispering.  I will allow Slate and Clay to be present at my meeting with the Mother Superior, to be sure I give them a fair hearing and testimony as to why they should be freed from chore details.  Of course, that will mean a greater portion of work for the rest of you.¡±  Brother Pitch looked about, clearly listening for murmurs of discontent, but instead the students were looking to one another and shrugging.  Two people do not carry that much weight out of an entire student body, and we¡¯re already free from the duty of watering and tending the crops.

    The only ones who might even think to complain are the new students¡­ and, well, the newest student clearly has no complaints.  With a smile, Marble laced her fingers through Vaterin¡¯s.  Vaterin turned her head, glanced down at Marble¡¯s hand, and brought it up to her lips.  ¡°We should get back to our paintings, Marble.  While Brother Pitch was unpleasant about it, we do have a grindstone to keep our nose to.¡±  Marble laughed, but nodded assent and went back to her canvas, even as Brother Pitch led Felspar and Writing from the room.  There¡¯s no time like the present, obviously, to get a discussion out of the way.

 Fire Brand

    Well, if I do wind up coming home, I will come with a bit of leadership experience.  I still hope not to to attract a patron, but I am trying to look on the upside of it, or I shall cry.  I have not invoked the channeling ability of the Muse of Painting, a fact which doubtless you would approve of, but painting proceeds apace nonetheless.  They have, however, lightened the pressure on us to produce as much as we possibly can, after an encounter in the instruction hall.  I am wondering if I could return and take over the family business, but not marry

    Marble and I are¡­ doubtless serious.  I think we would be having the bell tower rung, were it not for the basic problem of patronage, engagement, and my returning to the family business.  I don¡¯t have the nerve to face down my parents on that particular issue, even with recent studies of the Powers.  Then, too, I¡¯m not sure whether I could bear seeing Marble practice and improve while I was stuck poring over ledgers.  Of course, I won¡¯t improve at all if I rely upon my angel, so maybe that¡¯s a moot point and I should woman up and broach the subject with my parents of an engagement to Marble.  They would probably love marrying the Duchess of Clearwater, even if it obliterated the family name.  I don¡¯t actually know whether they would be made courtesy Lady and Lord, but even so¡­

    Vaterin shook her head.  I¡¯m thinking too much.  And besides, I need to be collected for this.  She stood before the door to the chambers of Mother Superior Honoria, trying to summon the nerve to knock.  In the end, whoever said ¡°the One God helps those who help themselves¡± was wrong, Vaterin thought as the door opened and the short brown Mother Superior stood before her.  ¡°How can I help you, pupil Vaterin?¡±

    She took a deep breath, and bowed, making the sign of the God-Star.  ¡°Mother Superior, I wanted to know why fire runes are used to light logs in the fireplaces, but fire runes aren¡¯t simply used to be the fireplaces.¡±

    ¡°That is an interesting question.  The answer, unfortunately, fades into obscurity with the prior Age.  It is as the monks who built the Chapel of the Power of Ariel did.  We keep the practice on the assumption they knew something we didn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Ah.  Understood.  If it isn¡¯t too much trouble, would you, honored Mother, mind telling me which Sister or Brother created the runes used by the College?¡±

    ¡°You would be wanting Father Sauer for that, actually.  Though he was only Brother Sauer then.  As I understand, the two of you have struck up what approaches a friendship, between the switchbacks and your portraiture,¡± the Mother¡¯s milky eyes twinkled with mischief.  ¡°Why do you ask?¡±

    Vaterin swallowed.  ¡°Well, I¡­ I lack the focus and faith necessary to perform fire sorcery.  I know it¡¯s possible, but I don¡¯t believe enough in my purposes being better than the One God¡¯s darkness and I¡­ wanted to light candles.¡±

    ¡°Go then, and ask Father Sauer.  He will likely be in his chambers, composing the evening¡¯s sermon.  And Vaterin?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°He will be much more likely to answer the door if you knock.¡±  The Mother¡¯s gay laughter, devoid of cruelty, echoed down the hall as Vaterin wandered towards Father Sauer¡¯s chambers.

    This time, she did knock, and received a curt, ¡°Come in.¡± When he looked up from his desk, Father Sauer said, ¡°Ah, Vaterin.¡±  He put his quill in its inkwell.  ¡°I do not believe I missed a painting session, how may I be of service.¡±  The sentence was as much command as question, the time of the second in command of the College a valuable thing.

    ¡°If it pleases you, Father Sauer, I was told you made the runes on the fireplaces which ignite the logs that warm the College.¡±

    ¡°This is true, what of it?¡±  A genuine question, asked in perplexity.

    ¡°I was wondering,¡± she took a deep breath.  ¡°I was wondering if you might do some rune work for me.  Of course, when I had the idea, I had no idea I would be asking you, I thought I would be asking one of the Sisters of Brothers.  I hope I am not being presumptuous.¡±

    Father Sauer crossed his arms and leaned back. ¡°And what need do you have for fire runes?  They¡¯ll scorch clothing, and they¡¯re a poor substitute for honest flame.¡±

    ¡°I was hoping that you might rune my right index finger and thumb, that when they meet they would pass a spark.¡±

    ¡°That is an interesting request.¡±

    Vaterin colored.  ¡°It is as I was telling the Mother Superior, I do not have the faith that my ways are better than the Lord¡¯s ways, as you said, an honest flame warms more than a runed fire, but I would be able to light candles without flint and steel, or taper.¡±

    ¡°This is about pupil Marble, and her night art, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Vaterin felt the blush reach her ears.  ¡°Yes, Father.¡±

    ¡°I would express reservations about devoting time for prayer and practice to romance, but Mother Honoria¡¯s spouse was both a dedicated priest and a bountiful inspiration to her while he lived.  And since the incident with the sinkhole, the two of you have not stolen away to places which are off-limits.¡±  Vaterin stood stock-still, uncertain of what to say or do.  ¡°Very well.  I will brand you with runes necessary to light candles, if you are sure that is what you want.  One question, however.  Why the right hand?  Aren¡¯t you worried about igniting your brushes?¡±

    ¡°I am left-handed, Father.¡±

    ¡°Well, one would think I would have noticed that,¡± there was gaiety in his voice, ¡°sitting for you as I have, but in my defense there is a canvas between us and I am focused on holding still and keeping up a conversation.  Come on over and I will prepare the brands.¡±

    The process of branding was no more painful than pricking her thumb with a penknife, though it took longer, and her fingers throbbed afterwards.  Vaterin found herself throughout the day looking at the symbols inscribed on her fingers, by no more than a quiet prayer and a tracing of Father Sauer¡¯s fingertip.  She would put her fingers together to make a spark now and again, and smile to herself.  Tonight, when Marble prepares to do her painting, I will be able to help.  And imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, so I have no doubt this will be well-received.

    That night, as Marble began her rounds, murmuring, ¡°Father Supreme, bless this light with life,¡± Vaterin came up behind her, breathing in the scent of tulips.  This in itself did not interrupt Marble, such intimacy having become normal for the both of them and even the others in the dormitory.  However, when Vaterin placed her hands over Marble¡¯s, she stilled.  ¡°Yes, Vaterin?¡±Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    ¡°Please, allow me to light your candles for you.¡±

    ¡°Light my¡­?  It helps me to center myself, to pray, Vaterin.¡± Well sarx.

    I forgot that this is a meditative practice for her.  ¡°I¡¯ll just light my own candles then.¡±  She turned to the unoccupied bed she commonly sat on, several candles on the end table, and pinched one of the wicks between her fingers.  ¡°Father Supreme, bless this light with life.¡±  Marble was watching, although her eyes were on Vaterin¡¯s face rather than her hands, until she saw the fire.

    ¡°You learned fire sorcery?  Oh Vaterin, that¡¯s so sweet!¡±  Marble stepped close to Vaterin and clasped her hands in her own, before dropping them with a yelp.  ¡°Your fingers are cold!  Why are your fingers cold?!¡±  That¡­ wasn¡¯t the reaction I was hoping for.

    ¡°It¡¯s a product of the magic,¡± she began.

    ¡°Sorcery does not draw anything but will from the caster.  Did you¡­ where did you find someone to¡­¡± Marble turned Vaterin¡¯s hand over and stared at the runes on her thumb and forefinger.  ¡°You runed your hand?!¡±  Why is that a bad thing?  I was trying to do what she does, to flatter her!  What did I do?

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with runing my fingers?  I just wanted¡­ you were so sentimental about lighting candles with a little prayer.¡±

    ¡°Vaterin, I am sentimental about fire sorcery because my Gramma taught it to me.  It¡¯s an act of faith for me, and an act of love to keep alive an art she imparted to me.  What you¡¯ve done is neither faith nor sentiment¡ªno, that¡¯s not entirely fair.¡± It¡¯s not fair at all!  ¡°You did it out of sentiment, but Vaterin¡­ when will you stop taking the fast and easy way to do things?  It took me weeks to learn to make a spark from my Gramma, but you don¡¯t want to take weeks to learn fire sorcery, to learn faith in your own free will and love of the One God, though you could have if you¡¯d started while we were on punishment detail, instead you just had someone else brand you so that you can mechanically tap your fingers to make a spark.¡±

    ¡°And what¡¯s wrong with that?  It¡¯s the same gesture, I prayed when I lit the candle, same as you do!  I just¡­ I don¡¯t have the faith that my will is better than the will of the One God, I don¡¯t have the ability to just believe a fire will ignite.¡±

    ¡°But Vaterin, you could.  You have the faith to commune with and even channel an angel, it¡¯s the same kind of radical faith¡ª¡±

    ¡°How do you know?  You don¡¯t channel angels, you just cast your little spell and light candles!  You haven¡¯t summoned a spirit of any kind!  I can believe that I can offer blood and a prayer of devotion and call up a spirit I pacted with, but that¡¯s the thing!  I pacted with the angel!  My parents made a large donation to the Church and a pastor called the angel forth and made introductions!¡±

    ¡°But Vaterin, sorcery works almost the exact same way as making a pact.  When you promised offerings to the angel in exchange for supernatural gifts, that¡¯s the act of will necessary to light a spark!  You keep doing this!  You avoid stepping out in faith, and it makes your entire venture into a cloistered college ring hollow.  You¡¯re not even staking everything on finding a patron!  If you fail, you have your family¡¯s wealth to fall back on.  You said it yourself, your parents made a large donation to the Church for your angel, and you conjure your Muse of Painting rather than invest the time and effort necessary to grow your own budding talent as a painter.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have the time to do that!  I get one semester and then I have to go back!  Go back to ciphering, and an arranged marriage, and a life where I get to admire other people¡¯s work without producing any of my own.¡±

    ¡°¡®Get to¡¯ as though that weren¡¯t a life many would give much for.  Not to mention, that¡¯s still not stepping out in faith.  You could always apply for a scholarship, your Muse makes you good enough for that.  You could have her help you make one or two paintings, though obviously not this semester, and then practice with your own skills the rest of the time.  But you¡¯re clinging to having the fallback for a life of luxury.  Is that more important, Vaterin?  Is it more important to live comfortably than to pursue your art?  Is it more important to have certainty than to¡ªthan to have me?!¡±  With a wave of her demicape Marble extinguished her candles and strode from the room, but not before Vaterin saw tears on her cheeks.  Well sarx, was all she could think.  She sat down on the cot and put her face in her hands, head swimming with Marble¡¯s words.

    It looks like I need to apologize again.  And I need to write a letter home.  And I need to talk to the Mother Superior.  Because¡­ Marble is right.  And I started down that path, but Brother Pitch derided my efforts, but that¡¯s because this is a college of fine art and my own artistic abilities are modest.  I¡¯m sure I could¡­am I brave enough?  Courageous enough, to renounce my family and their status and their wealth?  If I missed a scholarship¡­ I wouldn¡¯t have to step in faith for next semester, after Ophiuchus, I could find out whether I made the cut and then decide¡­ but that wouldn¡¯t placate Marble.  Because this isn¡¯t about money, even if her circumstances are penurious.  This isn¡¯t about sorcery versus a couple of runes on my fingers.  This is about¡­ this is about¡­sarx, what is this about?  We keep dancing around an issue that I keep making the wrong choice in.  I love her, I love Marble so much but I keep upsetting her.  But clearly, she loves me, because she keeps trying to get it through my head what I¡¯ve done wrong.  She cares about¡­ faith.  And she cares about me caring about her.  So what I should do¡­ is¡­ should I have gone to her for the runes?  No, that¡¯s not it either.  Again, it¡¯s not the runes, it¡¯s about taking the hard road.  I¡¯ll talk to the Mother Superior in the morning.

    Late that night, she crept over to Marble¡¯s bed, and whispered, ¡°Marble.¡±

    ¡°Mmmg?¡±

    ¡°Marble!¡±

    ¡°Mmfl.  I don¡¯t want to talk to you right now.¡±

    ¡°Can I have one chance to apologize?¡±

    Marble sighed and rolled over.  ¡°One.  One chance.¡±

    ¡°I am sorry I took the easy road over learning fire sorcery.  While this isn¡¯t what you were mad about, I¡¯m sorry that I didn¡¯t ask you to rune my fingers, if not teach me sorcery in and of itself.  If you¡¯ll paint, I¡¯ll use the light to write a letter home renouncing my inheritance and the terms of my agreement with my parents, and in the morning I¡¯ll talk to Mother Superior Honoria about applying for a scholarship next season.  And if you get patronage, I¡¯ll follow you and see if I can¡¯t please your patron or her court.¡±  Please.  Please let me have gotten it right.

    ¡°You know you¡¯re just doing what I told you, right?  You should have thought of this yourself.¡±

    ¡°I added the part about you teaching me sorcery.  Surely that indicates I had some understanding?¡±

    ¡°You want to learn fire sorcery?  From me?  I¡¯m practically a hedge witch for all the talent I have.¡±

    ¡°Then I want to be a hedge witch with you.  Whatever I do, I want to be with you, Marble.  I am not¡ªwas not¡ªcompletely confident in my apology.  Except the part where I expressed a desire to be with you.  I know that¡¯s the crux, not just for you but for me.  I didn¡¯t¡ªI don¡¯t always think things through.  But you spelled it out.  I was choosing security over love and that is a mistake.  But it¡¯s not a mistake I¡¯m going to make again.  I love you, Marble Bitumen, and if I never see another weight of silver again I will still be happy so long as I lack silver but not your kisses.¡±

    Marble laughed and kissed Vaterin¡¯s nose.  Yes!  I got it right!  Marble threw her arms around Vaterin and kissed her lips, and then¡­ another student hollered, ¡°It is after moonrise, keep it down!  Savior preserve us from you two!¡±  Marble and Vaterin both stifled laughter behind their hands, and then rose to do some painting and letter writing by candlelight.

 The Expo

    As you are no doubt accustomed to hearing from me, the expo is a time of great excitement and nervousness for me.  There are more nerves than usual, this particular time around.  Vaterin, as I said in my last letter, is applying for a scholarship, and while the talents of her Muse are not in doubt, they have tied grades to sales of art this semester and there is no escaping that requirement¡­

    Marble intertwined her fingers through Vaterin¡¯s, as they stood before their respective pieces.  It took a lot of doing, but we both finished our capstone pieces.  Marble looked back with pride at what she was presenting.  Most of it, anyway.  They have to step into a smaller room, and there¡¯s only the one sign, but¡­ I almost hope, provided my grade can stand it, that nobody buys my candlelight painting.  It¡¯s so beautiful, and I¡¯m so proud of it.  Even if I did paint the brass statue with green paint.  Brother Pitch even said he¡¯d gladly use it for a lighting study.  But the ones on display in the main hall are also quite nice.  Vaterin squeezed her hand.  She was admiring their work too.  Vaterin had painted a lion with golden fur and a luminous copper mane, against a background of grays and what might have been blue sky peeking through.  Marble¡¯s own painting was of a grassland rich in color and vibrancy, with rocky outcroppings and the odd wind-blown tree, all on a grand scale captured by an unwieldy canvas.

    ¡°Shall we go look around at the other students¡¯ works?¡± Vaterin asked.

    Marble almost asked, Can your ego withstand it?  What if someone is better?  But she held her tongue.  Not only was it unfair, it was uncharitable.  Vaterin had worked very hard to overcome her insecurity, on multiple fronts.  And if she did it to please me, well, that¡¯s rather flattering.  She had sent a letter to her family renouncing her claims to the family fortune, breaking off her engagement with the woman from the other merchant family, and declaring her intention to pursue studies indefinitely at the College or through a patron.  She even has been painting without communing with her Muse of Painting.  It¡¯s amateurish, but shows promise.  The Muse does not just enable, she teaches.  I suspect Vaterin would do even better than she is currently were it for her stubborn insistence upon not painting portraits without her Muse yet.  Marble sighed.  I¡¯m woolgathering.  ¡°Yes, let¡¯s,¡± she replied.  Vaterin smiled.  Both of them had been introspective from the start, and time together had only heightened this, until their conversations lasted hours and contained minutes of actual dialogue.

    They set out to see what other students had wrought.  Felspar¡¯s sculpture was their first stop, elaborate arches and curving planes¡­ I don¡¯t have the words.  Felspar¡¯s calculus.  Evidently¡­ Marble read the placard.  A representation of the orbits of the moons of Jupitre.  It looks¡­ like the inside of a screw pump.  A bitter memory.  They had tried using screw pumps to drain their mines after the draconic tantrum that had flooded them.  Vaterin evidently noticed her disquiet, because she was shortly tugging Marble towards another display.  Rendered in charcoal was a mirror, reflecting a mirror, reflecting a glass orb, all of it reflecting Writing¡¯s extended hand.  There were several variations on this theme, as well as a few small clay sculptures of geometric shapes.  What do they expect to get, when they let Felspar instruct someone? Marble thought with a wry smile.  Vaterin caught her eye and tugged them, again, towards another exhibit, this one a set of watercolors.

    Inevitably, they were drawn into conversation by the various noblewomen and the odd merchant attending the expo.  Bright hues abounded, though in short supply the reds and purples of Vaterin¡¯s own attire.  She must have meant it when she said her family was devout, and had made peace with renting their estates from the Holy Church.  I hope they don¡¯t cut her off entirely.  While it would be a cruelty to force her into a career and marriage she doesn¡¯t desire, I think she loves and cares for them very much.  Even since sending off her first letter I saw her scribing away each night while I worked on my candlelight study.  ¡°I¡¯m sorry, you were saying, Lady Saltmarsh?¡±  Marble addressed a finely-dressed noblewoman wearing a number of iron adornments the way most would wear bronze, silver, or gold.  Clearly, she¡¯s proud of her marsh¡¯s bog iron production.

    ¡°Oh, just that there truly is an impressive collection of artworks on display this year.  I hope the College continues whatever tradition inspired this.¡± A tradition of famine and drowned crops thanks to the pique of a dragon reputed to be pacific and calm. ¡°Though I will have to find witnesses trading the next five years¡¯ estate in some of my holdings for them.  Still, it does make it rather more worth it to go to the trouble of a journey by boat to have such a plethora of options to choose from.¡±

    ¡°I hope you find many works meeting the approval of your eye, my Lady,¡± Vaterin said with a shallow but proper bow.

    ¡°And which artist are you, my dear?¡±

    Vaterin stood just a little straighter as she replied, ¡°Vaterin Lime, Lady Saltmarsh, I painted a number of portraits as well as some animal studies, and my capstone is a conception of a lion in the first of the seven Heavens.¡±

    ¡°Ah yes, I believe I saw that.  Oh!  You painted your fellow student.  What an¡­ interesting choice.  But your lion.  It was an intriguing work, you somehow ennobled a beast beyond even what my husband in his¡­ enthusiasm hunted and brought back to be stuffed.¡±  How unfortunate.  She must not approve of nephilim, to willingly wed a man of such brutal passions.

    ¡°What did you think of the grassland it was meant to occupy?¡± Vaterin pressed.

    ¡°Grassland?  I thought the background was left rather enigmatically blank.¡±  That she didn¡¯t notice my painting directly to the left is not a promising sign.

    ¡°It was to the immediate left.¡± There was an edge to Vaterin¡¯s voice, her thoughts clearly mirroring Marble¡¯s own.

    ¡°I am not an enthusiast of landscapes, so I suppose it must have¡­ if you¡¯ll excuse me, I think I see Baroness Rosequarry and I haven¡¯t seen her in ages.  Well, an Age, I suppose.¡±  The noblewoman strode around Vaterin and Marble and hurried on her way.

    ¡°Not well done of you, was that?¡±

    ¡°Only because she noticed, and I lack the status to give a cut teeth.  Let¡¯s go see who bid on our paintings.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    Returning, there were a number of overlapping scripts on the wall below their paintings.  She may feel that her Muse of Painting doesn¡¯t serve her well, but clearly it does¡ªshe does?¡ªMarble intentionally set aside the issue of angelic gender.  Because she got as many bids as I did.  Maybe not as high, but then portraits are more a matter of the subject.  She looked with a warm smile at Vaterin, who was doing the same thing as her; she was looking at her sweet¡¯s bids before her own.  They met at the middle, where Marble¡¯s grassland met with Vaterin¡¯s lion, and saw the bidding had been especially fierce.  But the conclusion was¡ª

    ¡°Different nobles?!¡±

    ¡°We have time, Vaterin.  The expo goes on for hours yet.¡±  But still, it is not heartening.  Perhaps Lady Saltmarsh is more representative of the nobility than we thought, and there simply isn¡¯t a matching appeal between portraiture and landscapes.

    ¡°We have to find patronage with the same noble, and the capstone piece is¡­ let¡¯s look at the signatures on the other pieces.  Maybe my portrait of you, or of Father Sauer brought joy to the same noble as¡ªyour candlelight piece!  We haven¡¯t even looked at it!  Come on, let¡¯s go see if maybe¡ªjot down the last two or three bidders and we¡¯ll go look.¡±  From her babbling, Vaterin was panicking.  Marble could hardly judge, she was feeling a similar sickness herself.

    Why wouldn¡¯t someone look at the two pieces and want them both?  Because they¡¯re on separate canvases?  Look at the potential in having both artists under the wing of your patronage!  Except they don¡¯t know we can work together, Lady Saltmarsh was unaware that the College changed the grading criteria.  So since we didn¡¯t combine our efforts, they probably assumed that we can¡¯t work together, or even that we¡¯re competitors.  Artistic competition is boorish to nobles, they call it a sign of ill breeding and uninspired artwork.  ¡°We need to get parchment if we¡¯re going to jot down names.  Can we just commit them to memory?  My candlelight piece is in a separate room and you have to close the door to see it properly. I don¡¯t know how many people¡ªbut let¡¯s look at the names here.  And the highest bidder isn¡¯t necessarily going to offer patronage, it¡¯s more complicated than that.  Oh Vaterin, we¡¯ll figure it out.  I know I¡¯ll make the cut for a scholarship, I bet you will too.  Look at the bids themselves.  That¡¯s going to be the biggest grading factor after number of pieces, and it looks like we sold all of our works.¡±

    The two of them, given to silence in calm, flustered back and forth, comparing names and bids while running their mouths back and forth and over each other for several minutes before they ran into each other, bent at the waist, and both fell to the floor with aching noggins.  Okay, we need to calm down.  ¡°Vaterin.  Let¡¯s just see what happens.  We have¡­¡± Marble swallowed.  ¡°We have at least the rest of the semester.¡±

    After the Expo, while the noblewomen and merchants feasted upon Lord-only-knew what, Father Sauer held court in the practice room.  In turn, he called up the students and reported what pieces had sold, and for how much.  ¡°Grades are not yet finalized, as we plan to grade on a curve.  However, there will be a baseline against the deficiency of our budget, so even though we had a remarkable bidding war on some pieces, a passing grade is not beyond the reach of most of you.¡±  Vaterin, that was not directed at you, you are a fine artist, it was probably directed at¡­ I don¡¯t know, I¡¯ve been paying attention to you and Writing and Felspar for the most part, but maybe the watercolorist?  Or maybe Writing.  They spent so much time on the one piece, the others might not have sold, and their sculpture might not have been great.  I think Felspar complained that they spent most of their study time mooning after him.  It sucks so sarxing much that they can¡¯t announce the grades yet.  I guess we can gather from what the bids were.  That will be my job, Vaterin can¡¯t do sums in her head.  As Father Sauer read off the names, titles of pieces, and the student, Marble kept a running tally of the highest bids.  To her surprise, she had gotten one of the highest for her candlelight still life.  Vaterin¡¯s and her own sales she recorded in full, she had done better than Vaterin but aside from the still life not by terribly much.  I don¡¯t know enough about how they¡¯re grading us to say if Vaterin will get a scholarship.  But it doesn¡¯t look promising.  I¡¯ve had a few scares where I was feeling blocked and even a decent painting isn¡¯t enough to get them to waive the fees.  Which go to the dragon.  If there were still a natural spring on Tourmaline Isle they wouldn¡¯t need to charge fees, aside from the artificial spring and holding back storms the College was self-supporting.  Dragons.  What good are they, if they shielded the first humans only to bring strife to the next?

    ¡°What we can do is review who received offers of patronage, and so will find their grade to be of little consequence.  I expect applause to all who received offers, regardless of personal rivalries.¡±  Please let us have received overlapping offers.  Even if it''s a mere Baroness, I will paint for her.  I will paint for a merchant if only I can paint alongside Vaterin.  This time, there was not a flurry of scratching out names, only a tense wait for Vaterin and herself to be announced.  I know nobles sometimes keep collections of artists, surely one of them likes both landscapes and portraits.  We could combine our talents!  I could paint their estate while Vaterin painted over it the noble herself.  It¡¯s so unfortunate.  Why did the dragon have to flood out the crops this year out of all the years to do it?  Well, because Vaterin came.  It is literally because she¡¯s a spirit mage that the crops were flooded, but it¡¯s also literally because she¡¯s a spirit mage that she was able to come.  She¡¯s¡­ I hate to admit it but her painting ability without divine inspiration just isn¡¯t up to the standards of the College of the Art of the Divine.  If only she had a few years to practice¡­!  She perked up at her own name and jotted down the names of those who had bid for her talents.  I never used to care about this.  I reliably sold good works, I made the cut for a scholarship, and all in all I led a comfortable artistic existence.  I have to bear in mind that even if we haven¡¯t gotten matching offers, there¡¯s still the hope of Vaterin getting a scholarship.  She didn¡¯t sell paintings for the most in property rights, but surely¡­ I don¡¯t know.  There¡¯s no way to know until¡ªFather Sauer read off Vaterin¡¯s name.  Hurriedly, Marble jotted down each of the titles and merchants who had bid for patronizing her.  She slumped back on her stool after reading the list through twice.  At least we have until after the All Saviors¡¯ Day feast.  And the entire five days of the month of Ophiuchus.  And then¡­ I guess we¡¯ll part ways.  Marble steeled herself.  I can practically feel Vaterin¡¯s mind going.  Mine is too.  Maybe nobles from proximal spheres offered for us.  We can consult an Atlas of Names from the library and see if any of the titles involved are nearby.  We could write letters if any two of them are on the Loon route.  It wouldn¡¯t be the same as being there in person, but.  I could scent my letters with attar of tulip.  It would be silly, but I can just imagine Vaterin holding the envelope to her nose if I did.

    ¡°There wasn¡¯t any overlap, was there,¡± Vaterin whispered.  Marble shook her head.  ¡°Well, we can at least hope that I get a scholarship.  Or maybe my parents will admire my dedication and¡­¡± she was grasping at straws, the rich and powerful rarely took well to being thwarted and they both knew this, but straws were all they had.  The students around them were accustomed to their status as a couple and paid no mind as the two of them embraced and silent tears ran freely down their two faces.

 One Last Work

    I have no way of knowing how welcome this letter will be, as I know my prior letter has not arrived.  Nonetheless I hope it finds you in good health and good spirits, as both will be necessary for you to conceive the heir you will doubtless seek in my place.  I did not obtain a scholarship, so patronage will be placing me a great distance from my love, but I do not regret I do not recant I could not marry another and so I stand by my forfeiture of my inheritance.

    ¡°I would like to praise all of you for your efforts,¡± Mother Superior Honoria did the students the rare honor of addressing them as a congregation.  She looked out of white eyes at them, and yet it was the gift of her intense spirituality that every one of them felt seen.  Or at least, I feel seen, Vaterin thought.  ¡°The College has replenished its emergency fund, bought seed crops for the next season, and as our patrons will no doubt be glad to hear, we can afford to put on our All Saviors¡¯ Day feast.  Praise be to Ariel, patron of the arts in all their forms, created that mortal woman might represent His Creation pleasingly to Him.¡±  My angel was created that mortal woman might represent His Creation.  Clearly, I pleased, even if I did fail to get a scholarship.  At least by ¡®Loon route it will only be four days to get a letter to Marble, and then only one day to get her reply.  It¡¯s unfair to her to make her wait so long, but it was the best we could do with the nobles who were interested in patronizing us.  ¡°Let us pray.  Oh Holy One and Only God, you are our Lord, to whom we make obeisance and offer praise for all our blessings and curses.  Blessings, which we in virtue do not lack, but also curses which we know are meant to leaven our souls.¡±  Easy for you to say, you had your husband in your cloister with you and know he awaits you on the other side of the veil.  Vaterin shook her head.  I¡¯m sorry, Lord, for my unkind thoughts.  I am bitter over my curses, my curse I suppose, singular.  Thank you for leavening my soul, Vaterin slid into echoing the words of the Mother Superior, ¡°that I might develop perseverance, and through perseverance character, and through character hope.¡±  I had hope, but it was crushed.  What new hope I might enjoy¡­ clearly has not ripened.  The One God answers all prayers, but the answer is not always ¡°yes.¡±  ¡­I suppose the answer is not always ¡°no¡± either, sometimes it is merely ¡°not yet.¡±  Perhaps Marble will gain in renown such that she has her pick of patrons once more.  Sarx, I might develop enough as an artist that I can have my pick of patrons.  I¡¯d be surprised, but it¡¯s possible.  But I¡¯m going out of order.  I need to develop my character before I develop my hope.  But I am developing in character, I have grown in ways which frustrate Marble less and less, and I have grown as an artist.  Vaterin shook herself to join in the recitation of Scripture, the Word of the Savior as read by the Mother Superior.  She did not hold Marble¡¯s deep-seated devotion to the Church¡ªespecially in light of the failing of my Muse of Painting¡­ but that¡¯s not fair, I could have traded my life to paint more paintings, but I chose love instead¡ªbut she felt a strong pull towards the Reverend Mother and desired to do the service the honor of giving it her undivided attention.  It is, at least, trains of thought which are inspired by the sermon.

    Art class was a mere formality, the students wrapping up personal projects before they shipped off to return home, go on to a formal patron, or in a few rare cases remain as students.  It¡¯s unfortunate that Tourmaline Isle is so far off the ¡®Loon route, or Marble could have stayed here and continued painting what her heart desired.  I am not the only one making sacrifices in the name of love.  I would do well to remember that.  Vaterin watched with pangs of overextended empathy as Slate flirted with Clay over a statue in progress, knowing it made Clay uncomfortable but still letting her lovesick heart extend understanding to Slate¡¯s unrequited infatuation.  Which is worse, I wonder; the doomed one-sided romance, or the star-crossed love of two who cannot be together.  Vaterin looked over at Marble, who was making a better effort than Vaterin to pay attention to her canvas.  She had felt at home painting a landscape and was painting one more while her time was still her own.  She caught Vaterin¡¯s eye and smiled a wan smile, ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out.¡±  Clearly, Marble has persevered through more than I.  And yet, isn¡¯t that what has been at the root of all of our conflicts?  She has persevered through more, and from that derived more character, and been frustrated by my own shortcomings which I have matured enough to admit I have.

    Vaterin reflected on the past few months as she dabbed at her canvas with a brush.  She had been lax in cleaning them, and her green was streaked with brown, giving her fern a look of decay.  If it were intentional, it would be appropriate.  She worked without recourse to her Muse, and thought, if only I had started doing that ten years ago, I would be a skilled painter now without divine intervention.  But the decaying fern.  Vaterin frowned at her canvas and let the muddy colors continue to take the form of the fern in the center of the room.  It wilts with the time we have left.  There¡¯s some tale from some rainy sphere or other about a rose doing much the same thing.  Except instead of the expiration of love, it wilts in wait for love.  She shrugged.  If poetry were my bent, I¡¯m sure I could find the correct expression, the correct parallel.  But if poetry were my bent, I¡¯d be at some college of the Power of Assiskal or something, and I never would have met Marble.  I think there¡¯s poetry about that too.

    Vaterin considered her options.  None of them were palatable.  Many, many times in the last few days she had considered pleading her case before her parents.  Please, patronize Marble; I will take up the family business, I will cipher until my left hand is stained with ink, I will give you the marriage and the heir¡ªand there here musings stopped, time and again.  There was no likely scenario where her parents would allow her out of her arranged marriage¡ªto a perfectly nice woman, I¡¯m sure¡ªand she was too devout a Wholist¡ªlet¡¯s be fair, I¡¯m too much a romantic and an idealist¡ªto marry one woman while sincerely, wholeheartedly loving another.  I could take up a trade¡­ except I know no trades.  I traded in goods, I have surface knowledge of many crafts, but at best I could take up an apprenticeship, and I have little doubt it would be arduous.  Besides, what blacksmith¡¯s apprentice takes up space in a noblewoman¡¯s court?  I would have no time, I would be out of place if I found time¡­Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Her mind wandered over to Marble¡¯s title.  She could go home.  I could¡­ I couldn¡¯t go with her.  She¡¯s here, she said, to take just a little burden off her parents.  She attends on scholarship¡ªwhich she got, again, this year¡ªbecause her titled parents are unable to summon the funds because of the tantrum of a dragon.  Vaterin sighed.  I wish I were a theologian.  I should talk to Father Sauer and ask if he can make sense of it.  Except I did, I have, in our conversations while he posed for his portrait.  Dragons demand the terms of their agreements be kept, as a throwback to the compact between the First Humans and Gotorjod, the first dragon.  She would teach them, patronize them, in exchange for the pick of their arts and flocks.  She gave her wings and they would give her sacrifices, a system extended to merchants and nobles alike in addition to the tithes of the Church.  To whom does our labor belong, then?  To dragonkind, to the One God, and then to ourselves.  Honor dragons, fear the Lord, and thereby please the Wholist Church.  The Church has done well enough for itself under that system, but to hear it told dragons have done still better, exacting tribute from both laity and clergy.

    Marble asked.  It was her idea and she asked before even running it past me, but we can¡¯t join the clergy of the College.  They have a full staff, and we as students¡­ well, Marble could instruct in painting, and they said they might keep her on in that capacity, but once again my lack of practical skills and painting ability mean that I would be a hanger-on, a dead weight.  She loves me, but I have to support myself not only because I love her and would not be a burden, but because that is the way of this world.

    We could join the wider Church, but that runs into the same problems as seeking artistic patrons.  We would be subject to the orders of our superiors, and while we could wed we could be separated.  Not to mention¡­ Vaterin shuddered.  Marble had been unflinchingly direct in asking Vaterin if she could join the Wholist Church.  Even if they joined the spiritual body of the Church, and married, Vaterin knew she was ill-suited to a life of devotion and contemplation.  I believe I said that my parents would die if I wrote them stating my intention to become a nun, but I wouldn¡¯t thrive either.  While I honor my Muse and the One God for granting me her, I am too inconstant, too uncertain.  ¡°Vaterin, do you honestly think you could spend a day cleaning bells in a bell tower?  You can¡¯t even deal with the switchbacks.¡±  That had been one of the less stinging rebuttals of that idea.  ¡°You¡¯ve made a lot of progress.  But you take the easy way out.  And I¡¯m afraid that joining the Church would be the easy way out.  You wouldn¡¯t be joining out of a desire for closeness to the One God, you would be joining for closeness to me and thereby dishonor your vows and the body of the Church itself.  It would be no different that my formerly-betrothed joining and taking his vow of chastity when it had no hold over him.  He would either dishonor the sacrifice, or he would have an unconsummated marriage bed and either is an offense to the Church.¡±  Vaterin had tried to protest, tried to argue something she couldn¡¯t remember clearly about the Church and dragons and their ties and the unfairness of it all, but Marble had unswervingly stood by moral precepts that Vaterin knew were valid.  And as she said, it would just be rolling the dice one last time.  Once you¡¯re sworn in, it¡¯s hard to swear out without condemning your soul.  We¡¯re better off taking the offers of patronage we were given and hoping that we can acquire some measure of renown as artists.  With her sour thoughts, Vaterin had begun painting the entire fern brown, and if the one in the practice room was still in the green of health, Vaterin¡¯s own fern was on her canvas, a few vestiges of green doubtless representing the hope that she would grow into when her perseverance had produced character.

    That night, Marble¡¯s candlelight study sold¡ªand at quite the price!¡ªthey spent the time they would be awake anyway embracing on Vaterin¡¯s narrow cot.  Vaterin thought back to the first time they had¡ªchastely!¡ªshared a bed, during the storm that had spelled the demise of their togetherness.  If only I had known that that beginning was also an end.  If I had started painting ten years ago, I wouldn¡¯t have needed the Muse of Painting.  If I hadn¡¯t needed the Muse of Painting, the College wouldn¡¯t have incurred the wrath of the dragon Tourmaline.  But then, if I hadn¡¯t been relying upon faith to paint, would I have stirred from the reluctant religiosity of my parents to go to a monastic College of the Art of the Divine?  For that matter, what else would be different, if I had started painting ten years ago?  Would I even have met Marble?  I wouldn¡¯t be the person I am, because I would have learned perseverance much earlier.  Marble murmured from her spot in Vaterin¡¯s arms, ¡°You¡¯re thinking.¡±

    Vaterin sighed.  ¡°I am.  I imagine you are as well.¡±  She felt, rather than saw, Marble¡¯s nod of the head.  They both sighed again.  I wish I could be stronger.  Bear this stoically somehow without minimizing the pain.  Let her know that she¡¯s loved without denying reality.  Say¡ª¡°What did you think of, Vaterin?¡±  Of course she¡¯d notice.  My breath hitched, my arms moved, something.  It was characteristic of their talks now.  More communication by touch than by words.

    ¡°What if we got married?¡±

    ¡°Marry and then separate?  That¡­ might be a sin, but I¡¯m not certain.¡±

    ¡°I know I can¡¯t marry someone other than you.  If I could, I would beg my parents¡¯ forgiveness and carry on their dynasty as long as they patronized you.¡±  She felt Marble shake her head at the very notion.  She had posed it before, and she wasn¡¯t sure whether Marble found more repugnant the adultery of the heart or the concession of her love to another.  It doesn¡¯t matter.  ¡°And I know you feel the same.  So what if we¡¯re separated by a few-hundred miles?  We¡¯d write letters.  You¡¯d scent yours with attar of tulips, I would put, oh I don¡¯t know, something peppery on mine.  If the island had any decent spices I¡¯d pick one you could start associating with me now.  But anyway.¡±

    ¡°Vaterin, you¡¯re talking foolishness.  And yes, I know, I shouldn¡¯t call anyone a fool.  But if we¡¯re going to marry, we should only do it after we can be together.  It smacks¡­ it smacks of those who wed only to be able to consummate their marriage.  Either we¡¯ll remain devoted to one another¡­ or we won¡¯t.  And if we can¡¯t, then it¡¯s best not to indulge in the folly that is sinning in the eyes of the One God.¡±

    Vaterin sighed.  She¡¯s right.  I don¡¯t have to tell her that.  She can tell, probably because I tense and then relax, or because I sighed, or because¡­ because she knows me better than I know myself.  If we played poker she would always win because she can read my every expression and gesture.  There isn¡¯t a point to making vows we could never consummate, unless circumstances change and we can.  I hate the idea of falling out of love with her, but it¡¯s only been five and a half months.  She¡¯s entirely correct that we could fall out of love.  I¡¯ve never known passion like this, felt such bone-deep satisfaction kissing the back of someone¡¯s head¡ªVaterin proceeded to do so, just for good measure¡ªbut there¡¯s no way of knowing whether we can sustain that at a distance, and to invite sin is to damn ourselves.

    When Marble had returned to her own bunk, Vaterin lay awake for a long while, her hand tracing the warm depression where her love had laid.

 All Saviorsâ€™ Day Feast

    This letter will reach you after the day of the All Saviors¡¯ Day feast, but rest assured that I am counting you in my prayers to receive the Gifts of the Spirit from Saint Nicholas.  It is a bittersweet kind of joy, celebrating this holiday, as it marks the last day before Ophiuchus, which in turn is the last time we¡¯ll have together before we take up with our respective patrons.  Although I suppose we¡¯ll be taking the same boat¡ªapologies, I will finish this letter, but I should point that out to Vaterin.

    The meal hall, serving as the expo hall, was once again a wide room of tables and benches.  Rather than serving the meager fare of the everyday, it was food ¡°fit for the patrons of our great and noble College.¡±  Personally, I¡¯m more familiar with what we¡¯ve been eating, but these are hoity-toity nobles.  They have profitable estates they won¡¯t miss the production of for a few years until the next remission.  The feast was without question sumptuous, though it lacked the ridiculous heights which might be traced to the sin of gluttony.  There were no uncommon grains native to the heights of the Crown Range, no dearly traded-for lobe of dragon liver, but there were turkeys and ox roasts in abundance, hothouse fruits which had to be grown with wood-fired greenhouses¡ªfor whatever reason, they just don¡¯t thrive with rune flames¡ªalthough these were largely sugared or otherwise preserved against the ocean voyage to Tourmaline Isle.

    We¡¯ve worked through the worst of the weepies, we¡¯re on to acceptance, I think.  They sat at a table, near the edge of the hall, working through respectably loaded plates, calf to calf under the table and drawing comfort from just that touch.  By now out of habit, Vaterin sat to the left and Marble to the right, so they didn¡¯t impede one anothers¡¯ dominant arms.  It¡¯s all so comfortable.  Familiar.  Especially for me, I¡¯ve been through how many All Saviors¡¯ Day feasts at the College?  But Vaterin already feels like an extra hand.  As if to drive the point home, Vaterin passed a spiced condiment to Marble who was just starting on her preserved peaches.  I can identify cinnamon but I bet Vaterin could tell me what the other spices a¡ªooh, hot!  A hot chutney on peaches?  It tastes good but I wouldn¡¯t have thought of it.  She definitely knows what the spices are.

    Vaterin got less generous terms from her patron, so it¡¯ll be a bit uneven for letter turnaround.  Not even the four day ¡®Loon trip, she¡¯ll have to send it by land post.  But no, we agreed we wouldn¡¯t talk about this until we were on the ship.  She said she¡¯ll already be miserable from the seasickness, so what¡¯s a little depressing subject matter.  Not how I would think of it, but I agree that I¡¯d just as soon avoid the topic entirely.  We¡¯ve worked out the practical elements.  No sense tormenting ourselves.  ¡°The chutney on peaches is good.  Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Thought you¡¯d like it.  Being used to bland fare doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s preferable.¡±  There are those who prefer bland fare, though.  I¡¯m watching Felspar pick biscuits and white meat chicken almost exclusively.  I wonder if he¡¯s autistic; he said he never meant to be a prick.  He¡¯s definitely devoted to his studies of calculus.  And to his geometer boyfriend.  He showed me a letter and I do swear I never saw so many numbers in a love letter.

    It is a beautiful celebration though.  A commemoration of the approximate date that the Savior was born, one planet at a time, to redeem the souls of all of humanity.  For the One God so loved Orth that He sent His one and only Son to die for the sins of every branch of humanity, on each planet¡­ well, we know He was crucified on Orth.  I don¡¯t know about the other planets.  Nobody does, anymore, since the Age of Loss.  But prophets brought the Word and told us that once He had saved the souls of one planet, the Lord would reform Him and send Him through the Spirit to save the next.  And, of course, Orth was blessed to be the first planet saved by Him.  And Saint Nicholas, who brings to every virtuous person the fruit of the Spirit.  Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.  Of course, one could argue that the people who most need that fruit are the ones who aren¡¯t so virtuous.  I never understood why it was that a virtuous person would receive help from the Spirit, when the prayer beads have a prayer that the Savior grant His mercy to those most in need of it.  Different roles for the trinity of the One God, I suppose.

    It was then that Vaterin spoke up again.  Marble didn¡¯t suppose it was unease over the silence, we¡¯ve grown rather fond of our companionable silences.  I wonder what we¡¯ll even write about once we can¡¯t talk.  Or because we¡¯re less secure, we¡¯ll babble.  Say, I bet that¡¯s why when we have each other we¡ª¡°Marble, you¡¯re woolgathering.  I was just saying, isn¡¯t it odd that the fruits left by Saint Nicholas are left for those who least need them?¡±

    Marble laughed.  ¡°We¡¯re a hive mind.  One of those abomination insect species granted sentience by linking all the bugs into one large mind.¡±

    ¡°We were talking about fruit.  It follows at All Saviors¡¯ Day we¡¯d think of the fruits of the Spirit from there.¡±  We were hardly talking, but that¡¯s normal these days.  Rather than reply, Marble simply laughed and tousled Vaterin¡¯s hair, which in patently unfair butch fashion simply fell back into place.  It¡¯s grown out to be a mullet.  Does she even know how to trim her own hair?  I suppose when it bothers her, her patron will have a barber.  But that¡¯s not a thought for now.  That¡¯s a thought for later.  While she¡¯s being seasick.

    After a few hours of eating, talking, and even some dancing¡ªI wonder if Vaterin knew the Mother Superior could play the horn, Vaterin shortly made a comment to the negative¡ªthe feast began winding down.  While it was the end of one more day, it was not the end of the day for Vaterin and Marble.  Vaterin slept in flannel pajamas, while Marble wore a simple cotton nightgown, but it was clothes enough for decency¡¯s sake should they do as they were doing this night and laying in bed holding one another.  Vaterin dutifully took the role of the big spoon, nose pressed against the cuddle bumper of Marble¡¯s hair.  ¡°It was a nice party.¡±

    ¡°It was.  If anything, more decadent than most years.¡±

    ¡°Ah.  Well, it¡¯s a good send off for you, then.¡±  It¡¯s going to be something new, taking a patron.  I¡¯ve been at the College for years.  I suppose I¡¯m as good an artist as I need to be, my brass candlelight study was a success and that was far more complex than your typical landscape.  Before they grew too sleepy and slept in the same bed, Marble slipped out of Vaterin¡¯s arms¡ªbefore I grow too sleepy, I guess.  I think Vaterin is out cold¡ªand padded over to her bunk.  There will always be improvement to achieve.  I could try a different style.  Paint a field in shades of red and yellow, so it looks like flame.  I think the Countess Fowlflush has grasslands around her personal estate at the very least.  But I don¡¯t know what she¡¯ll want me to paint for her.  My time will no longer be my own.  She didn¡¯t seem like an unduly harsh woman, we did consider that.  I imagine I will, at the least, have time to write to Vaterin.  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Thinking thoughts about things that she and Vaterin had agreed not to think about, Marble drifted off.  Or thought she had.  Her dreams were a disorderly mixture of tender moments, separation, and a vague, shadowy mansion where she walked by paintings that were not her own.  Then came booming male laughter, out of place in both the dream and, as she sat up, the womens¡¯ dormitory.  She looked and saw a man in a red coat walking down the rows of bunks.  As she was about to call for a clergyman, rouse her fellow students, or even just demand what he was doing in here, he continued his walk straight through the wall, vanishing like a ghost.  That can¡¯t have been Saint Nicholas.  He¡¯s departed for the heavenly realms, having informed the world of the Savior¡¯s sacrifice on this and every world.  She looked around blearily and saw something on her nightstand.  It was¡­ a fruit?  A single large strawberry?  The fruit of the Spirit is metaphorical, surely if that was Saint Nicholas, he wouldn¡¯t so malign the fruit of the Spirit by relegating it to mere fruit of a bush.

    A sleepy Vaterin padded over holding a peach.  ¡°Is this a College of the Art of the Divine tradition?  Wake the students with a cheerful Saint Nicholas leaving decidedly non-metaphorical fruit?¡±

    Marble shook her head.  ¡°I think it might have been the actual Saint Nicholas.  Or I am still dreaming.¡±  She shook her head again.  ¡°But then, usually when you realize it¡¯s a dream, you wake up.¡±

    ¡°Nothing for it but to eat the fruit, then, eh?¡±  Without answering in words, Marble took a bite of the simply massive strawberry.  It was sweet and rich, but what struck Marble was an overwhelming sense of peace.  It will be okay.  I¡¯m an excellent artist.  I¡¯ll win the freedom to be with Vaterin, even if it¡¯s not in this life.  We must be separate, but only for a little while.  The lifetime of a human is but a blink of the eye to the One Go¡ªMarble¡¯s thoughts were interrupted by Vaterin pressing her lips to hers, hand on the back of her head to make the kiss one which was long, slow, and sensual.  With a final teasing nip at Marble¡¯s lower lip, Vaterin drew back and gave her a cocky, moony grin.  ¡°I love you, Marble Bitumen.¡±  Patience.  And love.  Literal and metaphorical fruit.

    ¡°I love you too, Vaterin Lime.  It¡¯s going to be okay.¡±

    ¡°It is, isn¡¯t it.¡±  She was still smiling as though starstruck by Marble.  ¡°You know, isn¡¯t your Baroness¡ª¡±

    ¡°Countess.¡±

    Vaterin waved her hand dismissively.  ¡°Title.  Isn¡¯t she the one who bought your candlelight study?¡±

    ¡°She is.  I imagine she¡¯ll let me experiment a great deal.  You were going to offer that as consolation?  I thought we weren¡¯t talking about it until you were already miserable.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but¡­ it¡¯s going to be okay.¡±

    ¡°It is.  If it¡¯s not better, it¡¯s not over.¡±

    Vaterin thwumped down on Marble¡¯s cot and laid her hand over Marble¡¯s.  ¡°An All Saviors¡¯ Day miracle.¡±

    ¡°I suppose it is.¡±

    ¡°How do we want to do letters?¡±

    ¡°I was thinking about that before I fell asleep.  You know, I wasn¡¯t sure I had but I must have, they say Saint Nicholas only comes after you¡¯re asleep.  I¡¯ll have a generous allowance, I can write you every day.  But our letters will cross each other, so I was thinking we¡¯d send love notes, diary type entries, and then every four days when our letters reach each other actually carry on a conversation.¡±  Okay, so I¡¯m nervous, but this isn¡¯t so heart-wrenching as I expected.  Maybe because I feel comfortable being patient.  I wonder how long the fruit of the Spirit¡­ well, if you pray and keep your heart in the Savior, the Spirit will always be there.  But I wonder how long Saint Nicholas¡¯ fruit will last.  This delightful sense of peace, from a sweet and tender strawberry.  Vaterin cut off her words and her train of thought with another kiss which Marble would have sworn ate an entire sandglass.

    ¡°You want to commit that much time to writing letters that amount to sweet nothings?  We barely talk now, aren¡¯t you worried we¡¯ll run out of things to say?¡±  We haven¡¯t run out of things to say, we¡¯ve run out of the need to say them with words.  But that¡¯s nuance, and she¡¯s being ridiculous.

    ¡°Vaterin Lime, if I run out of things to say to you I will put a drop of tulip water on a piece of parchment, draw a heart around it, seal it with wax, and send it off.  It would scarcely be different than spending the night with you burying your face in my hair.¡±

    Vaterin laughed and scratched the back of her head.  ¡°Fair enough.  I¡¯ve got a less-generous allowance, but I could do the same with a¡­ you recommended a peppery scent for me?  I was thinking more a wood of some kind.¡±

    ¡°The first time I can visit you, we¡¯ll take you to a perfumer.  Perhaps she¡¯ll surprise us both and suggest something else, like nutmeg or something.¡±

    ¡°So I¡¯ll be being patronized by two nobles.  I can live with that.¡±

    Marble kissed Vaterin¡¯s cheek.  ¡°I thought you could, somehow, carry on in the face of your femme fussing over a suitable fragrance for you.¡±

    Vaterin flushed all the way to her ears.  ¡°I suppose I can.  But when do I get to fuss over you?¡±

    ¡°When it¡¯s time to be gallant and charming.  For instance, when I need a kiss because I¡¯m thinking too much.¡±

    ¡°And writing love letters.  That¡¯s my responsibility, too.  One every day.¡±

    ¡°Responsibility?  Do you mind?¡±  Marble arched a single brow at Vaterin, who laughed.

    ¡°If I had a cat I¡¯d be responsible for it, I wouldn¡¯t mind that I had a cat.  It will be¡ªwell, honestly, I¡¯m not the best poet¡ª¡±

    ¡±Vaterin, if you suggest spending your stipend on a Muse of Poetry, I will¡­ kiss you, just to shut you up.¡±  Marble laughed.  ¡°Isn¡¯t it strange that we¡¯ve been talking all this time and nobody has woken up?¡±

    ¡°Neither of us lit a candle either, and yet I didn¡¯t run into a single trunk on my way to your bunk.¡±

    ¡°What makes us so special, do you think, that we merited a personal blessing of a prophet?¡±

    Vaterin nuzzled Mable¡¯s cheek with her nose.  ¡°You.  Undoubtedly you.  You make us so special.¡±

    ¡°How do you figure?¡±  Marble¡¯s tone was humorous, but her face very serious.

    ¡°The divine intercessors, predecessors to the Savior, have wronged you more than once.  It¡¯s the One God redressing a divine wrong.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t there Scripture about that?  Face adversity with virtue and the One God will reward you?¡±

    ¡°If not in this life, then in the next.¡± I mean, it¡¯s a truism more than a fact, but yes, there is.  There¡¯s even an entire story of a man who was unjustly torn from all he knew¡­ there are a number of those.  Yet it¡¯s the stories where women are pulled from what they know that end with anything more than a return to the status quo.

    ¡°Vaterin?¡±

    ¡°Mmmm?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad we had this moment.  I treasure our communication without words, but something¡­ is right about this moment.  I love you.¡±

    ¡°I love you too.¡±  They sat there, holding hands, occasionally kissing, for angels only knew how long, but it was still dark when Vaterin stole back to her bunk and they slept.

    When morning came, the fruit was gone.

 The Spirit Be Upon You

    You have clearly received my letter, based upon the exhortations of the last one to cross ways with my own.  I am set on my course, to take patronage from the Baron Staghorn¡ªI find a barony falling into the hands of a man as strange as you do, but evidently he was the sole suitable heir¡ªbut if you would like to continue hearing from me, I am not opposed to our relationship, only the expectations of my succeeding you and I will remind you that my finding a patron was always the end goal of a semester at the College of the Art of the Divine.

    Vaterin pricked her thumb with her penknife and muttered her prayer.  While it was no longer the fanatical devotion she uttered with the surety it would solve her problems, she knew that it was the One God¡¯s way to make things work out in time.  My situation could be much, much worse.  I have been blessed.  And I was literally blessed, with the fruit of the Spirit.  So clearly I am on the right path.  One God, I know I love you, and I know you love me.  Power of Cecilia, I could use some joy in my life right now.  I¡¯m struggling.  It feels like I came here with everything held in my hand and found out it was all less than nothing.  I think there¡¯s Scripture about that, giving up everything you have for what really matters.  ¡­actually, I think there¡¯s a lot of Scripture about that, so maybe I should find hope in the fact I¡¯m taking a well-worn path.

    Vaterin dabbed a bit more paint on her canvas.  Naturally enough, as a gift to herself, she was painting Marble.  The portrait would be amongst her most prized possessions when she went off to her patron.  It wasn¡¯t large, but this was largely to be sure she could finish it in time¡ªwithout invoking the manifest power of her angel.  Marble, on the other hand, was following her less literal muse and painting a landscape of her parents¡¯ estate, which they had largely given over to the wild and the game animals, and it was beautiful, but Vaterin wasn¡¯t convinced Marble would finish it before their time was up.  I¡¯m getting better, Vaterin said to herself.  I have the right shade of background, and a single line of the shadow of the sun through the windows of the practice room.  It¡¯s more than I could accurately portray before I came here, especially without my Muse.  I¡¯m going to keep using my angel to paint people though, at least for now.  The difference is just¡­ really hard to sit through.  I¡¯ll keep practicing though.  And eventually I will paint a person¡ªhopefully Marble¡ªwithout the aid of my angel.  I think I figured out the One God¡¯s angle on that.  Angel angle.  Heh.  I went out exactly according to His plan.  I was inspired by what the Muse could help me create, and now it¡¯s driving me to work on the things it couldn¡¯t¡ªor wouldn¡¯t¡ªgrant me.  The Lord never meant to hand us art, He only meant to inspire us.

    Vaterin felt the tickle of angelic thought in her mind.  Apparently I haven¡¯t highlighted Marble¡¯s eyes well enough, from my Muse of Painting¡¯s sight.  Wait, I highlighted¡ªoh my Word, Marble¡¯s on the verge of tears!  There was what Vaterin would have only described as an angelic sigh as she set her brush on her palette and watched Marble paint.  She¡¯s breathtaking.  Such warm colors.  Such fine bone structure.  I never thought nobles looked especially noble, but she does.  A broad, flat nose, it gives her whole face a strength of character¡ªbut as a portraitist I should know better than anyone that no facial feature signifies a personality trait.  So I guess it¡¯s that I¡¯m in love with her, and I know her, that I know she has strength of character, and I¡¯m just attributing it to her nose.  And her eyes.  Dark, shining eyes.  We agreed, despite our lapse when we ate the fruit of the Spirit, that we wouldn¡¯t talk about it, but if she actually starts crying I¡¯ll go over.  She¡¯s so talented.  A dab of paint here, a brush stroke there¡­ I¡¯ll have to see how close she got to completing her landscape before we¡ªVaterin felt a lump form in her throat¡ªbefore we part ways.  At least I¡¯ll be able to see half the work we tried to do together, the Baron bought my lion.  I wish we had gotten the chance to paint something together.  But that¡¯s a mental rut already well-worn with use.  It simply wasn¡¯t meant to be.  I¡¯m proud of her.  She attracted a Countess as her patron, that¡¯s one step shy of a duchess!  Who knows, maybe this is just the next step.  Not the last step.  Or rather, the One God knows and it¡¯s always just the next step to Him.  I know that if things aren¡¯t good, they¡¯re not yet over.

    Vaterin came out of her introspection to once more observe Marble painting, thinking to finish her own work while the light was still good.  Her eyes are still shining.  Wait¡­ are they literally shining?  Vaterin set down her palette on the same tray as her brush and rubbed her eyes.  I must be getting tired.  But no, she¡¯s shining.  Her brush is trailing light, her palette is illuminated, she is illuminated.  Vaterin felt the strange sensation of her angel, for lack of a better term, drawing a breath.  What, Muse?  We don¡¯t talk, you just inform my actions, but throw me a bone here.  But the angel said nothing, just as it always hadn¡¯t.  That¡¯s got to be magic.  But what kind?  She didn¡¯t make a blood offering, she¡¯s not one of those weird grimoire users who look up incantations to summon spirits¡­ so it¡¯s not spirit magic.  Besides, that doesn¡¯t come with a lightshow. Then again, that could just be my spirit that doesn¡¯t light¡ªis it sorcery?  The light could be flame¡­ except it¡¯s in her eyes, on her brush, it would ignite something.

    Marble smiled, and set down her brush.  The light faded from her eyes, but at the same time she became lit from the front, as though she had a blank canvas catching the full glow of the sun.  But it¡¯s too late in the day for that, and her painting is closer to complete than that.  But there was assuredly the diffuse light of afternoon illuminating her, not just through the window behind her but from the canvas in front of her.  Then came the sound of a breeze, the whisper of leaves, and Marble¡¯s hair moved.  Unable to contain her curiosity, Vaterin stood up and walked over.

    Holy Supreme, Lord of All Things, what¡­?  The painting was moving.  It was as though it were a window into a forest, a forest of unimaginable¡ªlet¡¯s not get carried away.  Marble did imagine it.  Clearly.  She said it was based on her parents¡¯ estate.  I¡¯m just used to tamed estates of grass and hedges.  It¡¯s moving.  ¡°Marble, what did you do?  Is it spirit magic?  Sorcery?¡±  Marble, seemingly dazed, shrugged one shoulder.  Vaterin was drawing closer when a dot of white grew larger and she yelped as it came out of the painting, a white dove, the kind kept all across Fief.  But also a sign of the Holy Spirit.  We¡¯ve been blessed once, is this a second blessing?  What manner of blessing is it?!  The dove, with a coo and fluttering, landed on Marble¡¯s shoulder.  She looked at it, and stroked it with her opposite hand, and it treated her like any well-socialized dove and leaned into her hand.  Stolen story; please report.

    By degrees, the room grew silent as students abandoned last-minute projects or next-semester preparation to see what was rusting, what was cooing, and saw that Marble had created something magical on a canvas.  Even Brother Pitch, who had admittedly calmed down after being taken to task over his treatment of Slate, had no harsh words for those standing in amazement.

    ¡°You said this is your parents¡¯ estate?¡±  Vaterin asked.  Marble nodded, still seeming a bit far away, face creasing in a smile when the dove pecked her nose inquisitively.  The dove fluttered again, and flew across the room to the doorway and out into the hall.  I wonder if it will go back.  I wonder if it can.  Vaterin looked down at Marble seated on her stool and held up a hand.  ¡°Do you mind if I touch it?  Where''s it dry already?¡±  Marble pointed to a corner which was, to Vaterin¡¯s eye and the eye of her Muse, no different than the rest of the canvas.  If I didn¡¯t know better, I would say I was looking through an open window!  She stretched out her hand, and tried to touch the canvas, but her hand met with open air.  Vaterin yelped and drew her hand back, a noise of surprise which seemed to shake Marble out of her reverie.  She cocked her head and looked up at Vaterin, then imitated her gesture but towards the bottom of the painting.  Her arm passed through¡ªthere is no through.  It¡¯s not coming out the other side.  It¡¯s going into¡ªthe canvas, and she plucked a single wildflower.  Drawing her arm back, the flower, like the dove, appeared entirely real, solid.  But that¡¯s beyond the reach of any magic these days.  Teleportation?  Is it even that?  There are barely legends of it, though merchants speak in awe of the deals they could make between East and West Fief.  But what is it?

    Brother Pitch had made his way over, while the rest of the students seemed more hesitant.  He looked¡­ You know, I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen him look impressed with a student¡¯s painting.  Probably to avoid inspiring hubris or showing favoritism.  Vaterin chuckled.  He sure looks impressed now!  ¡°Pupil Bitumen, may I¡­ inspect your painting?¡±  I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve heard him sound hesitant.  That¡¯s either a good sign or a bad sign.  Wow, Vaterin, way to go.  Things are, in fact, generally either good or bad.  Vaterin laughed to herself, but Marble heard and cocked her head.

    Marble turned from Vaterin when no answer was forthcoming, shrugged, then remembered her voice.  ¡°Inspect away.  I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a painting anymore though.¡±

    Brother Pitch reached into the canvas, as Vaterin and Marble had, running his hand over leaves before withdrawing it.  He touched the sides of the canvas¡ªI didn¡¯t think to do that.  I wonder what will¡­ oh¡ªhe lifted the canvas by the sides and angled it¡ªare you trying to break it?  ¡°Be careful with that!¡± Vaterin protested.  She reached for the painting, but Marble grabbed her hand.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Vaterin.  Brother Pitch knows what he¡¯s doing.  Don¡¯t you, Brother?¡±

    Brother Pitch looked abashed and laid the painting against Marble¡¯s easel.  ¡°I do not, in fact, have any idea what it is that you¡¯ve done.  It seems like a window, but¡­ where is this, Pupil Bitumen?¡±  You¡¯d know that if¡­ actually, did she tell anyone but me what she was painting?  He stopped instructing us a while ago.

    ¡°My parents¡¯ estate.  I haven¡¯t seen it in years, but when you grow up with a place, it sticks with you.  I spent hours wandering these woods.  Days, even.¡± As Marble reminisced verbally, Vaterin mused.  She sounds so serene.  She did some kind of magic and now she just seems at peace.  I wonder if the two are related.  Just like fire runes make my fingers cold, maybe she invested¡­ what, her love into the painting?  Is this a leftover blessing from the fruit of the Spirit that Saint Nicholas left?  Sarx, if I ever needed evidence I made the right choice, being proximal to so many blessings of the One God would decide it handily.  Vaterin prodded the side of the canvas, confirming that it was, indeed, a perfectly solid canvas over a wood frame.  She circled around to the back, and from the back it could have been any verdant oil painting, hints of light shining through oil paint.  It¡¯s a pity the expo is over.  She could net herself patronage from either of the Queens with a magic like this.  But then, the Queens don¡¯t attend an out of the way monastic college¡¯s expo.  One God above, Marble, what did you do?  I¡¯ve never even heard of this!

    Vaterin reached over and squeezed Marble¡¯s shoulder.  I think maybe things weren¡¯t over yet after all.  Marble smiled, as though she could read Vaterin¡¯s mind.  You know, I haven¡¯t wondered in a while whether she was reading my emotions with her sorcery.  I practically wonder if we can read each others¡¯ with how close we are.  She protested and said she was simply empathetic and at this point¡­ there is no doubt in my mind.  ¡°Should someone go fetch the dove and return her to her home?  Unless you wanted to keep her, Marble?¡±

    Marble shook her head.  ¡°Doves are smart enough.  Leave the painting here¡­ or whatever it is now, and the dove will find her way home when it¡¯s time to be fed.¡±

    ¡°I will fetch the Mother Superior.  No feeding the dove!¡± Brother Pitch declared.  ¡°We want it to return to its home!  Otherwise one of the not-cats will surely eat it.¡±  He paused.  ¡°And I am honestly not sure whether that would be some kind of sacrilege.¡±  He strode out of the room, issuing orders and walking purposefully.  At least he¡¯s decisive in a crisis.  Not a crisis.  A¡­ what even¡ªif I keep thinking questions I¡¯ll have enough to give the Almighty pause for a solid year.

    Marble.  She¡¯s got to be feeling something.  Vaterin bent and murmured in her ear, ¡°You okay?¡±  Marble nodded again.  She looked¡­ she looks dreamy.  She said it had been years since she had seen her home.  I wonder what it¡¯s like to see it again.  I haven¡¯t been home in seven months and I¡¯m already a little homesick.  Hoping that my parents might come visit, rather than just disowning and disavowing me entirely.  But to be away from home for years¡­ I¡¯m going to be away that long.  She said it was to avoid burdening their finances.  One less room, one less mouth to feed, one less person to keep dressed in fashions of the Season.  She¡¯s so brave.  But the look on her face¡­ it¡¯s bittersweet.  I wonder why she chose to paint her home after so long.  I wonder if that¡¯s what made the magic.  I wonder so many things.  I¡¯ll draw the line at two years of questions, oh Lord.

    Brother Pitch strode back into the hall, the Mother Superior following behind, and that was when there was a sound like the surf, but louder and sharper, and accented by the spattering of water on the windows of the art hall.   Water can¡¯t reach up the cliffs, what on Orth?!  It was sunny a moment ago, that can¡¯t be rain!

 Soul Painting

    I had the most amazing encounter today.  It might change everything.  Details to follow.

    Everything felt distant, unreal, to Marble.  Seeing the landscape of her young adulthood, the reclaimed woodlands where she had scraped many a knee, hadn¡¯t seemed real until she had finished the painting.  Truth be told, she wasn¡¯t sure she remembered the brush strokes leading up to the completion of the painting.  One moment, she was searching her memory for fine details, and the next she had one of her mom¡¯s doves perched on her shoulder, cooing for attention.  In between¡­ was a blur.  Then there was the shower of water.  There was light coming from her painting, and that was the focus of her eyes, so Marble assumed storm clouds had rolled in and were battering the College building with rain, but it lasted only a moment.  She turned and looked behind her to see¡­

    ¡°A dragon?¡± Vaterin asked.  Marble startled.  I suppose I knew she was there, but I forgot.  Everything still felt unreal, and now that she was staring at the four-limbed, serpentine body of the dragon of Tourmaline Isle, it had taken on a nightmarish quality.  A massive geyser was erupting from the ocean below, and the dragon¡¯s body was coiled on the water.

    ¡°The dragon we know as Tourmaline, who bargains with the College,¡± she said softly.

    Brother Pitch burst into the room¡ªwhere was he before?¡ªfollowed by Mother Superior Honoria¡ªoh.  Fetching the Mother Superior.  Both of them bowed deeply, not quite kneeling, before Tourmaline.  Divinely appointed, like Queens, dragons are the only other creature kneeling before would not be a heresy.  That they¡¯re not¡­ suggests relations have soured.  Perhaps it was just as well and just about time that I accepted patronage somewhere away from the College, it won¡¯t last long without fresh water.

    The dragon, the gentle blue color of a spring sky, spoke without opening her mouth.  ¡°I demand the painter.¡±  The painter¡­ must be me.

    What did I do?  I thought I was done with dragons, and yet they continue to be relevant to my life.  Vaterin stood next to Marble and pulled her to her feet, murmuring, ¡°I¡¯ll go with you.  I¡¯ll always go with you.¡±

    Marble kissed Vaterin on the cheek.  Such a charming sentiment.  The dragon can eat two as well as one, but at least we¡¯ll be together in Heaven.  This must be another forgotten rule of the agreement the College made with Tourmaline.  ¡°I¡¯m the painter, assuming this is what you¡¯re looking for.¡±  The dragon held up a claw to the side of her head, and Marble realized she was speaking through a window.  Brother Pitch hurried forward and opened a window on a hinge, a rush of cold air accompanying it.  Marble repeated herself and picked up her painting by the sides of the canvas, holding it up for Tourmaline to see.  The dragon nodded and gestured for her to come forward.

    The Mother Superior spoke up then.  ¡°I will not allow you to harm one of my students.  If we¡¯ve violated the terms of our agreement with you, we will pay appropriate tribute, but I will not let you hurt her!  What she¡¯s done is a miracle!  She leaves with the ship today, she¡¯ll be out of your domain and someone else¡¯s problem!¡±  Vaterin looked shocked.  When Mother Superior Honoria had spoken during sermons, she had been soft-spoken, gentle, and affectionate toward her charges.  Marble, on the other hand, had seen her passion before, and simply felt touched that she was worthy to be the target of it.

    ¡°It is a miracle, as you would understand it,¡± Tourmaline once again spoke, and this time Marble felt what she suspected was the tickle of air sorcery, or something like it¡ªwater dragons can¡¯t use air sorcery, can they?  It¡¯s been a long-standing tenet of the faith that humans are special in that, through our faith, we can access all four spheres of magic, while dragons as punishment for shielding the first humans were restricted to their element.  That¡¯s why Tourmaline is sitting on a geyser instead of flying.  But then she¡¯s speaking into our minds?  Marble realized she had tuned out the very voice of the dragon.  ¡°¡ªwould speak with the artist, I will not harm her.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going with her!¡± Vaterin declared.

    Tourmaline regarded Marble¡¯s love, her defiant wide stance and arms crossed over her chest.  ¡°The spirit mage.  Haven¡¯t you caused enough trouble?¡±

    ¡°Not enough trouble by half, if you¡¯re not taking me seriously!¡±  Vaterin, I love you but you¡¯re doing a stupid.  She could devour you, maybe not whole, but easily enough.

    ¡°What did I do?¡± Marble asked Tourmaline.

    ¡°That is a secret you and I will both keep,¡± the dragon said.  ¡°If you and your¡­ companion will accompany me to my lair, I will explain.  I strongly advise that you assent, it will work out well for you.¡±

    ¡°Vaterin?¡±

    ¡°Dragons are the patrons and protectors of humans, and she says that she means you no harm.  She said you were a worker of wonders and that she wanted to talk to you.  But you were woolgathering.¡±

    Pique tinged Tourmaline¡¯s mental voice, ¡°You were tuning out me?¡±  She sighed, somehow.  ¡°Artists are temperamental creatures.  I knew this.  I will forgive it.  Don¡¯t let it happen again.¡±  What happens if I do it again?  But Marble nodded and turned towards the door.  ¡°No!¡±  Tourmaline declared.  ¡°Out of the window.  I will catch you.  Your companion may bear the canvas, I want your focus to be on safely clambering out.  It is replaceable, you are not.¡±

    ¡°Well that¡¯s an auspicious statement,¡± Vaterin muttered.

    Marble straddled the windowsill and tentatively put weight on her outside foot, and found it to be¡­ solid.  Standing on solid air, when she wobbled she felt an invisible force catch her.  She looked at Tourmaline and saw that the dragon¡¯s third eye was glowing.  I wonder what that means.  Vaterin followed her out, a little awkwardly with the canvas, but was similarly buoyed.  The two of them were lofted into the claws of the dragon, and the geyser began to descend into the sea, dragon and painters with it.  Marble stole one last glance up at Brother Pitch and Mother Superior Honoria, looking with concern out the window of the art room.

    When they reached the level of the sea, Vaterin yelped, but her shoes remained dry.  It was as though an invisible bowl were holding the water at bay.  In moments they were within a bubble of air under the water, and still descending into the sea.  ¡°Water sorcery?¡± Vaterin asked Marble.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    But it was Tourmaline who replied.  ¡°I am holding the sea at bay.  I would not flood the land led to by the young soulcerer¡¯s painting.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s sorcery?¡± Vaterin asked.  But Tourmaline said nothing, and they continued down into the watery depths, grasped firmly by her foreclaws.  Marble decided to enjoy the trip.  The gentle luminescence of Tourmaline¡¯s third eye and the wan sunlight that made it down this deep in the sea let her gaze at schools of fish and other sea creatures.  I didn¡¯t know we had otters this far north.  Or maybe they¡¯re seals?  I don¡¯t know a ton about sea creatures.  It was always a sore spot, things that live in the water.  But they¡¯re pretty¡­ I should be paying attention in case Tourmaline speaks, though I doubt she¡¯d eat us after she was so insistent upon my caution and safety.

    They moved along the ocean bed into a rocky cave in the side of the same cliffs which supported the College, and from there into a natural cavern somehow dry despite being under the water.  Marble looked around, curiously.  It was decorated with tapestries rendered in blues and golds, and what Marble could only characterize as a bed-shaped pile of gemstones lay in the middle of the cavern floor.  Lining the walls were art pieces ranging from paintings to sculptures.  She even recognized one as her own work, from the previous semester which had started in Capricorn.

    ¡°Now then,¡± Tourmaline said, ¡°now that we are assured some measure of privacy, I will explain.  What your companion holds in her hands is a soul painting, soul magic, soulcery if you will.  It is a lost art, one which dragonkind has known would someday be recovered, and that it would usher in a new Age of magic.¡±

    ¡°How will it usher in a new age if you keep it secret in your lair?¡± Marble demanded.

    Tourmaline looked down at her, and Marble swallowed before the dragon answered, ¡°It is not yet time.  Trust in the wisdom of dragons.  Now then, tell me what happened.¡±

    Marble shrugged helplessly.  She didn¡¯t remember what had happened.  ¡°I was painting, and I was patient¡ª¡±

    Tourmaline interrupted her.  ¡°Patience is a gift of the Spirit.  Were you visited by Saint Nicholas?¡±

    ¡°Oh.  I suppose I was.  That¡¯s where I should tell you what happened?¡±

    ¡°Everything between then and now.¡±

    So Marble recounted the night she and Vaterin had spent after the All Saviors¡¯ Day feast.  It felt strange, to share something so personal, but who could deny a dragon?  ¡°The next day, it was as though I didn¡¯t just have five days left, it felt like I had the time the One God had given me and I knew it would be enough for what He intended for me to accomplish.  So I set out to paint home, which I was finally letting go of returning to, and¡­ a few days later I was nearly done and that¡¯s where it gets a bit hazy.¡±

    ¡°I can fill things in a little bit,¡± Vaterin said.  ¡°I was watching her.  I paint her.  A lot.  And I love her.  Also a lot.¡±  Vaterin related the glowing, the emotional distance, the nature of the painting she was still holding in her hands.  Tourmaline nodded as she went on.  ¡°So why is this a secret, if it will usher in a new Age?¡±

    ¡°You are impertinent, human.¡±

    ¡°My question is quite pertinent.  You¡¯ve brought us into your secret, lucre-filled lair to privately discuss¡ªinterrogate us, you¡¯re not even discussing it because all you¡¯ve given us is a name.  Soul magic.¡±

    ¡°Soulcery.  A pun,¡± Marble said softly.  ¡°I am with Vaterin.¡±

    ¡°It is not so much that it needs to stay a secret indefinitely as that I want to make sure, on behalf of dragonkind, that it is revealed in the proper way.  Humans will benefit greatly from this art, merchants in particular.  Little spirit mage, you may yet buy your way back into your family with this soulcerer.  Distance is as nothing.¡±

    ¡°What did I do?¡± Marble insisted.

    ¡°It was likely the fruit that did it.  The patience.  You took the time, possessed the skill, and put forth the sincere love and effort necessary to paint perfectly a location separated by space.  You have created a portal which leads directly to your parents¡¯ estate.¡±

    ¡°Hey, that¡¯s wonderful!¡± Vaterin declared.  ¡°Can she go back through it?  Or is it one way?¡±

    ¡°The dove, Vaterin,¡± Marble said.  ¡°It flew through.  It¡¯s a window.  I could go home at any time.¡±

    ¡°She is correct,¡± Tourmaline said.  ¡°Only one painting is needed to link two locations, though destroying the painting destroys the portal.  It will render vast distances trivial as long as you have a suitably large canvas.  In Ages before Age, humans took entire caravans through canvases painted over the course of years, the investment of energy and time worth the world-spanning savings.¡±

    ¡°So why did this have to be related privately?!¡± Marble demanded.

    ¡°This power could be misused.  It has been used to march armies into heartlands, spirit thieves into sanctorums, and that must not happen again.  The knowledge will be spread by dragons, that humanity is once again in tune enough with the One God to perform this miracle, and they will patronize humans skilled enough to create them.  By the time the knowledge falls into the wrong hands, hopefully humanity will have matured enough to avoid¡­ well, another Age of Loss.¡±

    ¡°So the Age of Loss was caused by humans after all!¡± Vaterin said.

    ¡°After a fashion, yes.¡±  She¡¯s being circumspect.  But there are bigger issues at hand.

    ¡°As amazed as I am, and as grateful for the explanation of what I¡¯ve done, I have a patron I must depart to serve.  Both of us do.  I assume we are sworn to secrecy, but what happens if I produce another work of this nature?¡±

    Tourmaline shook her head.  ¡°You will not be going to your human patron, soulcerer, you will be patronized by me.¡±  She waved a claw dismissively.  ¡°I know, you will want more favorable terms for your College, wealth for yourself, all things which can be worked out.¡±  The dragon scooped up a handful of blue gemstones, each the size of a pearl, and poured them out over Marble¡¯s head.  ¡°I could restore the fortunes of your parents, cancel the debt of the water sorcerer.  After all, no mortal would stand against a dragon for long.  But I will be your patron, and you will remain where I can keep you safe.¡±

    ¡°As appealing as that offer is, I have other arrangements made.  I would keep my patron, because of her proximity to the patron of my love, of Vaterin.¡±

    ¡°Mortal, one does not turn down an offer of draconic patronage.¡±

    ¡°Dragon, a mortal does not turn away from the love of one¡¯s life.¡±

    There was a long and pregnant pause, while the dragon stared down the noblewoman.  Marble held her head high, as she had been taught in her youth, as she had seen Vaterin do, and as she was entirely capable of doing even in the face of death.  Finally, Tourmaline nodded.  ¡°Your dedication does you credit, Bitumen.  I will patronize your lover as well.¡±  She¡¯s not my lover, she is my love!  ¡°Your love, then.¡±  So she can perform air sorcery.  ¡°Your thoughts are straying, mortal.  Attend me.  I will be your patron, and your love¡¯s patron, and I will restore the fortunes of both your parents and the college.  Particular terms we will work out in time.  But you will stay here, with your love, and practice your art.  Practice?  You may well teach your art, once we find a pupil of suitable virtue!¡±

    Marble turned to Vaterin.  Vaterin set down the painting, carefully leaning it against a cavern wall, and they held hands.  Vaterin laughed and said, ¡°Tourmaline did say one does not turn down an offer of draconic patronage.  I¡¯ll accept if you will.¡±

    ¡°It all worked out.  It really did.¡±  Marble scooped up a hand of the gemstones Tourmaline had poured over her head.  ¡°This will pay handsomely for a marriage ceremony.¡±  She let them fall from her fingers and pulled Vaterin close for a kiss.

    When they kissed, it had a different character than many of the kisses they had shared.  It was not a stolen moment during a full and demanding schedule.  It was not an abeyance of an inevitable and painful separation.  It wasn¡¯t even a defiant enjoyment of a minor intimacy despite a peanut gallery.  It was a joyful kiss, a kiss where their nerves sang with the happiness of a couple guaranteed proximity, security, and the freedom to pursue their hearts¡¯ wishes.  And that, I think, is more beautiful even than the painting.