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was
too busy now.
Plans for the new project were boiling in his brain. He had to come up with
something that could transcend the rest of Molin's decor without trying to
compete with its vulgarity. Colours, details, the interplay of line and mass,
rippled before his mind's eye like a painted veil between him and the sordid
streets of the town.
So much would depend on the models he chose for the figures in the
design!
Sabellia and her nymphs must display a beauty that would uplift the
imagination
even as it pleased the eye, an air at once both regal and innocent.
Lalo slipped on a fishhead. He flailed wildly for a moment, then regained his
balance and stood panting and blinking in the bright sun.
'And where will I find such maidens in Sanctuary?' he asked himself aloud.
'Where mothers sell their daughters into whoredom as soon as their breasts
begin
to show?' Even the girls who retained some outward beauty were swiftly
corrupted
within. In the past, he had found his models among the street singers and
the
girls who eked out a weaver's paltry daylight wages on their backs, at night.
He
would have to look elsewhere now.
He sighed and turned his face to the sea. It was cooler here, and the changing
wind brought a fresh sea breeze to compete with the rotting fish odour of
the
shore. The blue water sparkled like a virgin's eye.
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r r
A woman with a child in her arms waved to him, and after a moment
Lalo
recognized Valira, come to the shore for an hour or two of sunshine with
her
baby before it was time for her to ply her trade with the sailors there. She
lifted the child for him to see, and he noted with a pang that although her eyes
were painted, and glass beads glittered in her hennaed hair, her arms were
still
childishly thin. He remembered when she had been one of his oldest
daughter's
playmates, and had often come to Lalo's house for supper when there was no
food
at her own.
He knew about the rape that had started Valira in this profession, the
poverty
that kept her there, but her cheerful greeting made him uncomfortable. She
had
not chosen her fate, but she could not escape it now. Her existence clouded
the
bright future he had been envisioning.
Lalo waved briefly at Valira and then hurried on, at once relieved and
ashamed
when she did not call out to him.
He continued along the Wideway, past the wharves where the foreign ships
were
berthed, pulling at their moorings like a nobleman's horses tethered outside
a
peasant's sty. Some of the merchants had spread out their wares on the
docks,
and Lalo threaded his way among knots of people bickering over prices,
exchanging insults and news with equal good humour. A few City Guards
lounged
against a piling, weariness and wariness mingling in their faces as they
surveyed the motley crowd. They were accompanied by one of the Prince's
Hell
Hounds, his expression differing from theirs only in that it became, if
possible, even more supercilious when he looked at his men.
Lalo passed without stopping the abandoned wharf near Fisherman's Row
which had
become his favourite place for meditation over the years. He had no need of
it
now - he had too much to do! Where could he find models? Perhaps he should
visit
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r r
the Bazaar this afternoon. Surely he could find some honest maidens there...
He hurried up the Street of Smells towards his home, but stopped short when
he
saw his wife hanging out laundry in the building's courtyard, talking over
her
shoulder to someone hidden behind her. He approached cautiously.
'Did the interview go well, dear?' asked Gilla brightly. 'I've heard that the
Lady Rosanda is most gracious. You're quite favoured by the ladies today -
see,
here's Mistress Zorra come to call on you...'
Lalo winced at the edge in her voice, then forgot her as she moved and the
caller came towards him. He received in quick succession an impression of a
trim
figure, a complexion that glowed like the roses of Eshi, copper-bright hair
and
a pair of dazzling eyes.
He swallowed. The last time he had seen Mistress Zorra was when she
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