“I understand your situation, sir, and I respect and appreciate your kind directness. You must understand that I must attempt to find a position. Do you have any suggestions, sir?”
“Would that I could suggest a master, Rhennthyl, but I cannot, and I fear that what you seek may prove most difficult. Because of your talent and aspirations, I would hope otherwise.”
“As would I, sir.” I inclined my head. “I thank you for your time, sir.”
“The best of fortune to you, and I would be the first to hope that you find the proper master for your abilities.”
I bowed again and took my leave.
As I walked back along the Boulevard D’Este, toward Jacquerl’s studio, I thought over Master Estafen’s words. They bore an ominous similarity to what my father had said. Estafen had as much as said that he wasn’t about to have someone as good as I was as a journeyman.
It was early afternoon, and my feet were getting sore, when I reached Jacquerl’s establishment on Sloedyr Way. I wished I’d had the coins for a hack, or the wealth for my own carriage, but if I’d had that, I wouldn’t have been trudging from master portraiturist to master portraiturist.
Rogaris met me outside, even before I could knock at the door. “You can talk to him if you want to . . .” He raised his eyebrows.
“But he’ll say no.”
Rogaris nodded.
“I’ll talk to him. I’d like to hear how he turns me down.”
“I thought so.” Rogaris shook his head, then opened the door-painted a dark brown-and stepped inside, waiting for me and closing it behind me. The wooden floors could have graced the foyer of many dwellings, far finer they were than most studios in which I had been.
Jacquerl stepped away from the easel, setting down a brush, and walked toward me. He was short and dapper, and even his leather apron was almost spotless. “Rhennthyl.” He smiled politely. “Rogaris said you would wish to speak to me. I was so sorry to hear about poor Caliostrus. He was a good man, and we’ll all miss him.” He paused. “I assume you are here to see if there is any possibility of becoming one of my journeymen.”
“That was my thought, sir.”
“Directly said, as might your father have put it, a direct man, as factors must often be.”
“He can be very direct, sir, more so than I.”
“That well may be, Rhennthyl, but you never did strike me as a young man amenable to the subtle. That can be both a strength and a weakness in Solidar. That’s particularly true here in L’Excelsis, where, at times, one must be subtle and perceptive enough to see what is and why no one will mention it, and yet strong enough to pursue what is necessary without seeming to do so.” Jacquerl paused. “Then, there are other times, such as these. Much as I would like to support an artist of your ability, I cannot. The commissions would not be there, and we would all suffer. You will pardon me, I trust, if after all the years I have been a master, I would prefer not to suffer.”
“I can appreciate that, sir.”
The dapper portraiturist smiled, if sadly. “I wish it were otherwise, but we artists do not make the times. We only live in them and portray others who do.” After a pause, he added, “My best to you.”
Rogaris followed me out onto the front stoop. “I told you . . .”
“Who told them not to take me on?”
“What?”
“I’m not stupid, Rogaris. I may not be subtle, and I’m certainly not very good at being indirect, but your master as much as said he was told he’d never get another commission, or not many, if he took me on as a journeyman.”
Rogaris shrugged. “I don’t know. He didn’t even say as much to me as he just said to you. I think it’s a measure of respect to you that he said as much as he did.”
That kind of respect I could do without, especially if it kept me from being a portraiturist. “I know you didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“You’re still going to try others?”
“There aren’t that many more left, but I will.”
Rogaris nodded. “I thought you might. Best of fortune.”
He watched as I walked off down toward the corner and the winding lane that would take me back out to the boulevard. I thought about stopping at the confectioner’s on the corner, until I realized I had but a single silver and three coppers in my wallet-and no way to get more, except through the charity of my parents. That grated on my sensibilities, and I could feel more than a little anger churning inside me. Could it be that I was going to be forced to choose between being an ineffective wool factor or chancing the unknown world of Imagisle?
A half glass later, I stepped up to Master Kocteault’s studio door.
Aurelean opened it. “Ah . . . dear Rhennthyl. After I heard the news about Master Caliostrus, I’d thought you might make an appearance at Master Kocteault’s studio door. Alas, he simply has no position for a journeyman and is unlikely to have one for at least two years.”
“Oh? Two years? That’s rather precise, isn’t it, Aurelean?”
“His very words were that one journeyman was more than enough difficulty and obligation, and since you-he was referring to me, of course-have two years before I’ll recommend you for master, there’s no point in talking to the poor fellow.”
“Is he in?”
“Alas, he is not. He is doing a sitting at High Factor Zatoryn’s-his wife. She is striking, quite beautiful, you know?”
“When will he be back?”
“I couldn’t say, dear Rhennthyl, and I doubt that he would be able to tell you any more than I have. He might say it more diplomatically, but the message would be the same.” His smile was oily, supercilious, and simpering. “We all wish you the very best.”
He closed the door as I stood there.
There were still some of the lesser masters I could talk to, but I was getting a very strong feeling that my father had been all too accurate in his assessment of my prospects.
Still . . . there was no point in leaving any stone unturned.
I took a deep breath and began to walk the three blocks to the Boulevard D’Este. I had several milles to go along the Nordroad and then the Sudroad toward the Avenue of Artisans in order to reach the other cluster of master portraiturists.
Collegium Imago
15
The longest journeys are the ones where one fears the
destination.
By noon on Samedi, I had visited every portraiturist master in L’Excelsis, and not a single one had an opening for a journeyman, or at least not for me. Then I did some inquiries about the possibilities in the Representationalists’ Guild, and the indications there were even less encouraging, because the guild rules required a full apprenticeship under one of their masters.
On Solayi, I kept mostly to myself, except for a short time when Khethila slipped into the guest chamber. She was concerned, but I had the feeling her concerns were not totally about me, and I wondered if she were having second thoughts about the proposal from Armynd, but she didn’t say, and, the way I felt, I didn’t ask.
After she left, I tried imaging more small things, such as the comb, and encountered more than a few difficulties. Anything metal was difficult, if small, and impossible, for me, if large. Familiar items were the easiest, but only those not too familiar, perhaps because really familiar objects I had taken too much for granted and not really studied. I did convince myself that I had some small imaging talent, but I still wasn’t certain how I could have imaged a fire and explosion when I had such trouble in imaging small household objects.