Kherishdar's Exception, Episode 29: The Oblivious Artist

Farren’s studio is a temple to sunlight, beauty, and pigment. Order, too. That struck me when I walked into it after so recently having tarried in Lenore’s office. Language was a kind of art as well, but Lenore practiced her art far more chaotically than Farren. In his sanctuary, everything had its proper place, and returned to it after serving. Everything was cleaned after use, and often during it. Nothing was allowed to age or decay, unless age and decay unlocked their unique properties. Even when grinding pigment, the calligrapher Thirukedi had raised to the highest level of public service didn’t sully his space. Himself, sometimes, but paint-stained palms and ink-swiped fingers were a mark of his calling, and never seemed incongruous.

If I had felt more comfortable in Farren’s company, or in the company of the fathrikedi he was slowing weaning from his unrequited desire for Kor… but how could I manage equilibrium for long in either case? The man who regarded me as daughter, whom I wanted for a lover, and the male who was replicating my error and who, unlike me, was not being punished for it.

Yes, I was aware of my internal contradiction there. Being elevated to osulkedi was not punishment. At most, the fact that I had torn my own soul was more a reflection on me than it was on Kherishdar, or the fathrikedi pining over Shame. Apparently he’d been capable of pining without overreaching himself, while I…

…well, we all know I go too far.

Farren was already awake, taping down a piece of paper in preparation for his improbable and powerful magic. To this day I can’t fathom how he sits at a desk and moves a brush—really, aunera, a brush—and creates with that single and innocent-looking tool these staggering jewels. I don’t have an artist’s soul, but I feel wonder at the sight of them. That’s a true artist, I believe. Someone who can entrance a less rarified soul, and make them feel, briefly and forever, the sublime joy that only art can instill.

It almost embarrasses me, to be moved by a piece of paper that way. I guess that embarrassment is part of what excludes me from the ranks of the artists.

Taping down a paper isn’t mentally enthralling. Had I walked in on him painting, I could have spent a couple of hours on a stool behind him, watching, and he would never have noticed. As it was, the sound of my footsteps raised his head and then he abandoned his labors to engulf me in a hug… which I both loved and hated, because he hugged me like an uninterested man, careless of where our bodies pressed together. Had he been aware of me, he would have held himself just a little apart. I suppressed my sigh against his shoulder and summoned a smile, fresh and bright, for when he stepped back to study me with the expected anxiety. “Haraa! I’m so glad you’re home. You’re well? The work was not…” A hesitation. “Unpleasant?”

“Not at all. I found it fascinating. And as you can see,” I swept my hands in front of myself, sleeves fluttering, “I am no worse for the time away.”

“I worried,” Farren said, unnecessarily. “The world-weight…”

“Was irritating,” I conceded. “But it was only a few days. And I learned a great deal.”

“Did you really?” He returned to his table, and the work, and I settled on a stool to watch him. “You were listening to them talk, I imagine.”

“More than that,” I said. “I spent a great deal of time in Lenore’s office, and with her notes. I even brought some back with me.”

His head jerked up. “You brought aunerai materials back with you?”

“Thirukedi knows,” I said. “He would have confiscated anything He thought inappropriate.”

Farren’s shoulders eased. “Of course. And who would want to delve into something that lately caused the fall of a House?”

This gave me to imagine Lenore’s notebook, which I’d left upstairs in my room on the table, as some sort of poison that normal Ai-Naidar would shudder to approach. What did it say about me that it hadn’t occurred to me to lock it away from sight to prevent maien? I cleared my throat and said, “She took extensive notes. They’ve been illuminating.”

“She seemed the kind,” Farren said, a little sadly. “Meticulous, and devoted to accuracy. She would probably have been glad to see her work continued.” He set the tape aside and bent to check that the paper was flush to his work desk. “It is a pity we cannot add to their knowledge of us.”

“Is it?” I asked, instead of the question I wanted to ask, which was ‘what if I already have, just by being there.’

“Of course it is,” he said. “They aren’t animals, Haraa. To treat with them otherwise is unkind.”

I wasn’t sure I could hold that contradiction in my head. Either aunera are animals and due none of the kindnesses and courtesies of people… or they are people, and deserve everything people do. There is no middle ground. Or, at least, there had never been a middle ground.

Farren, having missed my self-involvement, had blithely continued. “…so glad you’re home, and in a way it’s good that you were able to bring the notes with you.”

“Ah?”

“Because it means you need not go back, or at least, not soon,” Farren said. He set out his paints, lining them up by hue. “You’ll be able to attend the Summer Trysts. As the sole woman of House Qevellen, you will be quite the matrimonial prize. I might even have begun mentioning you to some of my peers.” He trailed off. “My peers. I never thought I would say that and mean other osulkedi, much less other Heads of Household!” His ears twitched back, chagrined. “Thirukedi’s ways are mysterious.”

At that moment, aunera, Thirukedi’s ways were certainly mysterious to me, because I couldn’t imagine why He would elevate Farren into a position where he might indulge in this new and alarming lust for familial micromanagement. I like that one. You do have a way with words, sometimes.

“You probably shouldn’t be speaking of me as if I am ready to marry immediately,” was what I said, as delicately as possible. “I was just rakadhas, Farren, and I’m still grappling with the changes in my life.”

“Of course you are,” he said, earnest. “And if you don’t find a boy you like, Haraa, of course you shouldn’t commit yourself to anything. But there’s never harm in looking. And it’ll help you make the transition into your new role. Fathriked don’t attend the Summer Trysts, so it’s an important part of embracing your new life, you see?”

What I saw was that I had to depart for the aunerai world again at once. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“I guessed.” He smiled at me. “Don’t worry. I’ll guide you through it.”

“I’m lucky to have you to do so,” I said, rising. “I see you’re about to start work so…”

“Yes,” Farren said. “I’ve been wanting to paint this word for a while, now that it once again is applicable to my life and duties.” He looked at the paper and stroked the tape, smiling. “Emethil.”

I abandoned him to it, lest he be moved to paeans on behalf of emethil. I think he’s explained that one to you already once, but in case you’ve forgotten, that’s your place in your family as it’s expressed across generations, both backward to your ancestors… and forward, to your descendants. I had no doubt, none at all, that Farren was envisioning my babies in some stranger’s arms. Probably an entire pack of them. When Ajan ran into me in the hall leading to the kitchen, I grasped his arm. “How soon can I leave without seeming like I’m running?”

He blinked several times at me, then grinned. “I see I lost my bet with Kor.”

“You’re lucky I’m not biting you.”

He thrust his arm at me. “Please! If you do, I’ll win my money back!”