She pushed the needle through the fabric time and again, pausing only to re-thread when necessary. Her candles provided little enough light for the kind of work she was doing, but for Neri it was a labour of love, a gift for someone very special. For over a year now she had been working on these beautiful pictures in silks, being sure to hide them every time he came near. He always loved her work, loved the way she could take a scene and transfer it to the cloth still vibrant and alive, or create from her own imagination and the talent of her fingers a fantasy of fantastic clarity. Sometimes when she worked he would come and read to her, softly in the beautiful voice she loved so much. But not this time – these pictures he must not see until she was finished at last.
Neri had been eight of her twenty years in the underground community, and had come to think of it as a much better world than the one she left behind. Above there was cruelty and pain, but here Below she had found a home, love, a family. And then there was him...she had been afraid of him at first, hiding behind the skirts of the kind lady who had brought her here. But the fear had not lasted long. Not, she admitted now to herself, for very many seconds after hearing his velvet voice tell her not to be afraid, that he would never hurt her, that if she came out she could look as hard as she wished and see there was nothing to fear. Later, when she came to know him, he became her dearest friend. She learned as she grew up in the tunnels how very closely the secret of their home itself was tied to the secret of him, to his concealment from those who would harm him. He was, in effect, the very centre of their community, and its mainstay. Children went to him for comfort when they had fallen, adults went to him to talk or seek advice. Nobody stared at his strange features, nobody was afraid, for he was only himself, and what, after all, was there to fear?
With a triumphant smile Neri cut the final piece of thread and held up her handiwork in front of her eyes. Yes, he would love this. How often had he said her scenes looked as though he could step right into them. This one, with luck, he would feel he already had.
A figure in the doorway caught her attention, and Neri brushed her red-gold hair back from her leonine face and went to greet the man she loved, the man whose unfurred, smooth features and odd uncleft mouth resembled so absolutely her created, imagined people in the brightly-sewn tapestries she held up for his approval. His brown eyes widened in pleasure, and as he smiled and told her in his softest voice how much he loved them, Neri could not but think that a world full of people like her beloved Darian might be a wonderful place to be...
Neri had been eight of her twenty years in the underground community, and had come to think of it as a much better world than the one she left behind. Above there was cruelty and pain, but here Below she had found a home, love, a family. And then there was him...she had been afraid of him at first, hiding behind the skirts of the kind lady who had brought her here. But the fear had not lasted long. Not, she admitted now to herself, for very many seconds after hearing his velvet voice tell her not to be afraid, that he would never hurt her, that if she came out she could look as hard as she wished and see there was nothing to fear. Later, when she came to know him, he became her dearest friend. She learned as she grew up in the tunnels how very closely the secret of their home itself was tied to the secret of him, to his concealment from those who would harm him. He was, in effect, the very centre of their community, and its mainstay. Children went to him for comfort when they had fallen, adults went to him to talk or seek advice. Nobody stared at his strange features, nobody was afraid, for he was only himself, and what, after all, was there to fear?
With a triumphant smile Neri cut the final piece of thread and held up her handiwork in front of her eyes. Yes, he would love this. How often had he said her scenes looked as though he could step right into them. This one, with luck, he would feel he already had.
A figure in the doorway caught her attention, and Neri brushed her red-gold hair back from her leonine face and went to greet the man she loved, the man whose unfurred, smooth features and odd uncleft mouth resembled so absolutely her created, imagined people in the brightly-sewn tapestries she held up for his approval. His brown eyes widened in pleasure, and as he smiled and told her in his softest voice how much he loved them, Neri could not but think that a world full of people like her beloved Darian might be a wonderful place to be...