Broken Rule | Chapter 21
This post is chapter twenty-one of my not-previously-published epic fantasy novel Broken Rule, which I'm serializing here on Steemit.
The story so far:
Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20
Master Wizard Jonas Terra's plan to simultaneously hide from the world and interact with the rich and powerful was proceeding well. He had adopted the persona of Master Sculptor Tymon Wallace. With his head shaved and his beard cut down to a goatee, he doubted anyone would recognize his face. He packed his long coat away, and now wore simple laborer's tunics instead of the fancy shirts he had been accustomed to. The boy was similarly disguised in more modest dress, and few would bother to question the identity of the sculptor's apprentice. Jonas had explained to the boy that practicing this deception on people would help his mind become accustomed to following the boundary between the true and the false, which was essential to wizardry. That wasn't entirely false, but Jonas was grateful that the boy accepted it without probing too much further about why his true identity must be kept secret.
By taking account of both the more practical and the more fanciful aspects of what he could do with stone, Jonas had realized that living on the road in poverty was completely unnecessary. He started small, asking at farmhouses whether there was any stone masonry that needed attending. A few mended walls later, he had some coins. He was able to parlay these into some hammers and chisels, so he might pass himself off as a sculptor. He had noted that many of the inns and taverns had names like the Wild Boar or the Dancing Lady but only had wooden signs with painted pictures that were far too weathered and faded to properly make out. Most of the proprietors were all too eager to trade more coins for a solid stone statue to place out front. It lent an air of permanence and respectability to their establishments. With these coins, Jonas bought some donkeys and a cart. He visited a quarry to obtain a large block of marble. He had a duke for a patron once before, and he had every intention of returning to a post of similar stature.
Jonas and Rurik arrived in their cart at Applewood Manse, home of Duke Benedek. Benedek's family had lived in this sprawling manor house since the founding of Tarkannan. While most of the other great houses had castles or fortresses to go with their titles, Benedek's family had never felt the need to build one. Influence with the king and the title of Lord Marshal had always seemed to be sufficient safeguards for the people of the duchy, so Benedek still made his home in a large timber-framed house that seemed no more grand or lofty than any other knight of the realm, and was no better fortified.
Unlike much of the rest of Tarkannan, Benedek's duchy was mostly orchard country. The trees didn't need the constant work and attention that the more conventional farms did, and there were fewer resident farmers. Instead, whole families of pickers toured the duchy in wagons that were nearly houses on wheels. They would follow the harvest, moving from region to region as the different trees ripened. It was an unusual existence, but the few of them that Jonas had passed on the road seemed just as content as the peasants in the rest of Tarkannan, if not more so.
At Applewood Manse, the stablemaster greeted Jonas and escorted him to the front door, where one of the maids inquired about his business. When Jonas explained that he was a sculptor seeking the duke's patronage, the maid expressed her most humble apologies, but the Duke was away fighting in the mountains, and only the duchess was available for an audience. Jonas feigned displeasure at having to deal with the duke's wife rather than the man himself, and then mentally prepared himself to sell his services to the woman. When Duchess Suzana arrived, he suspected it would be an easy sell.
Suzana had thick, honey-colored hair that fell about her face in tight ringlets. Her large green eyes sparkled like emeralds, and Jonas longed to stare into their depths. Her features were small and fine, but she had a rosy, healthy glow to her skin, not like the delicate, fragile look that some noblewomen cultivated. She carried her infant son in her arms, and she would frequently look down at the boy, radiating love and contentment in her expression. She was tall and slender and showed little sign of her recent pregnancy. She was, quite simply, the most beautiful woman that Jonas had ever seen.
“Your Grace, I am honored and humbled to meet you,” Jonas said, bowing low.
“Thank you, Master Tymon, but I am afraid that we have no need of a sculptor.”
“Your Grace, whether you believe you have need of one or not, I am afraid that I must be here. My skills with stone are a gift from the Most Holy, and it would be a sin to use something lesser as a model when a beauty such as yours exists in the world. If I could capture even a fraction of your beauty in stone, Your Grace, I believe I will be doing the Most Holy's work.”
“You seek to flatter me, but it will not work, Master Tymon. I am not a slave to vanity. If you seek ladies such as that, I suggest you go to the court in Kubara. I have heard they gather there in great number.”
“Your Grace, you misjudge me. I am not here to prey on vanity, but to seek true beauty. I was skeptical when I heard the rumors that you were the fairest woman to be born in a generation, but as a seeker of beauty I was compelled to see for myself. And now that I see, I must attest to the fact myself.”
“Again you flatter me, but I will not be swayed. You shall have no gold from me.”
“Your Grace, I seek no gold, just your patience and cooperation. I have brought my own stone and my own tools. If you will simply stand for me, allow me to carve your likeness into the stone, you will be giving me all that I ask for.”
Jonas could see the indecision in her eyes, see her trying to find the catch or the loophole hidden in the arrangement he proposed. She was a young woman and clearly had little experience running a household. Having been elevated in rank so suddenly, she probably lived in fear that the slightest mistake would make her seem unfit to be a duchess. But Jonas could also tell that his compliments had found their mark. What woman didn't like to hear that she was beautiful? And Jonas was sure that she wouldn't be able to find any false notes in them, since he was quite sincere about his appreciation of her beauty.
“Well, I see no harm in that. I will allow you to take over one of the sheds in the rear garden. But if I hear even a hint that you are trying to take advantage of my generosity, I shall have you run out of the duchy.”
“Your Grace is most generous. My apprentice and I shall prepare things, and then you and I shall discuss your pose.”
“Very well.”
Jonas's master's death at the hands of Black Circle assassins had a variety of profound effects on the young wizard. Not the least of these effects was an intense fear of becoming entangled in a romantic relationship. For years he had made an effort to keep his distance from women, to suppress any feelings that might lead him into a situation which could turn fatal, as it had for Master Sebastian. Since he had somehow earned the ire of the Black Circle some other way, he had begun to reconsider some of his deeply ingrained habits. If he was damned in their eyes anyway, why should he avoid further sin? He hadn't consciously amended his approach to women, but as he studied Suzana in minute detail in an effort to capture her likeness in stone he was finding it more and more difficult to pretend that he wasn't attracted to her.
It wasn't only her physical beauty that appealed to him. Most of the time she seemed to be acting, playing the part of the woman she thought her husband wanted her to be. But sometimes her mask slipped, and Jonas liked what he saw underneath. She had a sweet and generous nature. Her first instinct was to be kind to the servants, to talk to them like equals rather than as people far below her station. And while she was reluctant to make jokes herself, she seemed to be amused by Jonas's clever wordplay, a part of his normal demeanor that he couldn't suppress even though it wasn't entirely in character for the sculptor he was pretending to be. It would be easy to dismiss such a beautiful woman as empty-headed, but surely there must be some intellect there, if she could appreciate Jonas's jokes. Or was that wishful thinking? Jonas's own emotions shaping his perceptions of her?
Whether they were accurate or not, Jonas funneled his perceptions into the stone. Every line, every curve, he concentrated on all of them as he projected his will. He made it a habit to hum or sing under his breath as he worked, so she wouldn't notice when he was actually casting spells. Much of the time he spent chipping away the stone was unnecessary, due to his spell, but was essential to his performance if he was to be believed as a conventional sculptor. But during that time his thoughts and emotions seemed to be running wild and always seemed to turn to the young woman with whom he was spending so much time.
As Jonas chipped away the weakened stone surrounding the image of Suzana trapped in the rock, her form began to emerge. And Jonas could tell that she was falling under an entirely different sort of spell. Conventional sculptors faced challenges that were meaningless to him. Stress lines in the rock, lack of precision in their tools, any number of practical realities that were made irrelevant by Jonas's magic. Jonas never risked chipping too far into the stone with a chisel, never had to compromise between fidelity to his model and the realities of the stone. What he saw in his mind's eye was transferred directly into the stone through the power of his magic. The woman emerging from the block of marble that Jonas had hauled from the quarry was going to be the finest sculpture that had ever been made in Tarkannan, and Suzana could see it as plainly as anyone. Her enthusiasm for the project seemed to be increasing with each new bit of statue that she could see.
Naturally she had been suspicious of Jonas at first. He had no doubt that she felt besieged by people who sought to take advantage of the wealth and position she had achieved by marrying Benedek. Any swindler who looked at her would surely see a juicy target, a naive young creature thrust into a position of authority, with her elderly and inattentive husband far away. Jonas's own plan to ingratiate himself into a permanent appointment in her household could be characterized as a swindle, if one were to look at it uncharitably. But Jonas didn't feel like he was taking advantage of her. He felt like he was becoming her friend. He was someone who could remind her that she was more than just Benedek's wife and the mistress of the household. He was someone who could remind her that she was a person in her own right, a beautiful young woman with her own thoughts and dreams. A person whose warm, loving spirit he could capture and reflect in his art. Or maybe this was Jonas confusing his daydreams with reality again.