Later that day, Yuri was summoned to the Boss' longhouse to meet with the Rongloa. Apparently, the visiting olo'eyktan was impressed by the statue of Se'ayl, and wanted a similar work – but something that expressed the unity of the Na'vi with Eywa, rather than a straight representation of an individual.
He had always found allegorical works more difficult that doing a straight representation. Just coming up with the underlying theme was a pain in the butt, and then working up the composition was generally an exercise in trial and error. Yuri did, however, find out what the problem was with the Rongloa. His friend Fingers had been in a little dust-up with a group of their hunters. Apparently, they had been pursuing the Uluta woman over some offense she had committed in their hunting grounds, and Fingers had been drawn into a fight with one of the Rongloa hunters. Given Uluta was officially part of the Uniltìranyu, it was up to the Boss to smooth over their ruffled feathers.
After some hours sketching up ideas of dubious merit for the Rongloa commission, Yuri felt he need a break.
"Tanhì…" he started, turning towards the young girl. He paused, and frowned at the image showing on the monitor. Yuri didn't recollect the image of heroic Soviet industrial workers appearing in any of the publications he had assigned for her reading. "What are you reading?"
The young Na'vi girl ducked her head, her skin darkening in embarrassment. She slid her data tablet across the bench, in a manner that suggested she really didn't want him to see what was on screen.
For Christ's sake, it wasn't pornography.
"Oh," he said, reading the title of the work emblazoned in Cyrillic across the top of the screen. "Borodin on twentieth century Soviet socialist realism. It's quite a good book, even though I don't agree with some of his main conclusions. Though I will admit that much of my work has been influenced by the school of socialist realism. It's not much of a surprise seeing where I went to art school…" Yuri's voice trailed off. Borodin was written in Russian, and there was no Na'vi-Russian translator that he knew of. The only automated Na'vi translation was to and from English.
Yuri started again. "Tanhì, are you reading Borodin in Russian?"
The girl nodded, if a little reluctantly.
"Russian," repeated Yuri. He frowned. "Just how many languages can you read?"
She bit her lip, and then held up six fingers, using both hands.
"Six," he stated, having a little problem processing the number. Stupidly, he asked, "Which ones?"
Tanhì held out her hand, obviously wanting the data tablet back. As soon as he returned it, she brought up different art texts in a variety of languages – English, French, German, Russian, Japanese, and obviously – Na'vi. Although, it must be said, for the last she brought up a text on the Na'vi language by some guy called Phred Palmer.
Yuri nodded. "I suppose the Na'vi translator didn't give an accurate translation of many of the terms. Or any translation at all, for that matter."
She nodded.
"Then you decided to teach yourself English, so you could read it in the original."
Tanhì nodded again.
"And once you started on English, you decided to learn the others as well. Because there were texts referenced that you wanted to read."
The girl clutched the data tablet to her breast, as though she was afraid it would be ripped away from her hands.
"Don't look at me like I'm a palulukan about to bite your head off," said Yuri. "You haven't done anything wrong. It's just…I'm a little surprised. And pleased."
The look of anxiety faded from Tanhì's face.
"However," said Yuri, inducing the anxiety straight back onto her visage, "I hope you don't take everything that is written in these books as absolute truth. They are only opinions, after all, and sometimes the authors are just flat wrong. You do understand this?"
He was relieved when she nodded several times, as if she was trying to emphasize her response. "Good," said Yuri. "I want you to develop your own critical faculties, to have your own opinions about art – both what you think is good, and what is bad. If you don't develop your own ideas, you won't be able to create anything fresh and new. Instead, all you will do is repeat the old."
Slowly, Tanhì nodded again, as though she was thinking about what he had just said.
"Do you know how to use e-mail?" he asked. When she shook her head in negation, Yuri said, "I'm sure you can figure it out. I'd like to know what you've been reading in addition to the books I have assigned. I may suggest some other texts you should look at, in order to broaden your perspective. Other than that, I will leave you to your own devices regarding what you study." He smiled evilly, and added, "I would be interested to read your opinions on what you read, and about the works you find most appealing. Or for that matter, the works you dislike, and the reasons why."
A sudden thought popped into Yuri's head. "I would prefer responses in English, Russian or Na'vi," he said. "I'm afraid I don't have your aptitude regarding absorbing a large variety of languages."
By the slightly crestfallen expression on her face, Tanhì had realised what he was asking of her. To let her down gently, he said, "I think getting your response once a week will be more than enough."
"There is something else," he continued. "I would like you to produce some water colours on paper – I think the tawtute buildings of Hell's Gate would be a good starting point – not the longhouses. Read up on Turner and Constable, and study their techniques before you start. Three weeks should be enough time for you to produce your first attempts. I'll show you where the supplies are, and demonstrate how to whip up a watercolour – even though it's not my most favoured medium."
At that news, Tanhì brightened considerably.
The following day, Yuri was surprised when he rolled up at his work-bench – actually, surprised wasn't the right word. Disappointed was the right word. Tanhì wasn't there. He had become accustomed to seeing her serious face bent over her data tablet when he arrived, already totally involved in her reading.
In fact, she didn't show up until after midday, her data tablet tucked under her arm. She almost scuttled in, as though she was hoping he wouldn't notice.
Yuri looked at her, raising an eyebrow. She glared back at him, as though she was challenging him to say anything.
Which he did.
"Uniluke?"
Tanhì's face darkened – if she had been tawtute, from the expression on her face Yuri suspected that she would have flushed bright red all the way down to her waist. She nodded once, as though he was pulling out her fingernails.
"Ok," he said mildly. "Next time, let me know the day before you are going to celebrate Uniluke, so I know whether to expect your presence."
The girl looked away, and then looked back, and gave a brief nod.
By god, he was pulling her fingernails out. Tanhì was pissed off, but determined she wasn't going to show any sign of it. Luckily for Yuri, he had become accustomed to judging people's emotional state by the actions of their tails. The tail was a dead giveaway, and was the prime reason why Na'vi sucked at lying. There was even a Na'vi saying that went something like 'as faithless as one without a tail'.
A little unflattering for the former tawtute perhaps, but uncomfortably accurate nonetheless.
"In the meantime," said Yuri blandly, "I would like you to watch what I am doing. Today, I was going to show you how to put a supporting framework together. It's time to start work on the Plains People pa'li commission."
Without waiting for her reaction, Yuri flicked up his sketches for the work on the big screen, and started to talk. Talk about the basic concept of the design, and the areas that required the support of a framework. He talked about the impact of the firing process, and how that influenced the design of the framework, from the perspective of ensuring even heating and cooling of the work. And how the firing impacted the overall design.
In fact, he talked as he had never talked about a work before, justifying all his design decisions, including the reasons why he made the choices he had.
"A major part of being an artist is understanding the medium," he said. "What is technically feasible, and what is not. However, you should not be afraid to test the limits, as long as you are prepared to accept the possibility of failure. Experimentation is an essential part of being an artist. If I hadn't been prepared to risk using bone as a support structure, I could not have achieved a major work like the statue of Se'ayl. This was particularly important for a sculpture as traditional materials like bronze are not an option on Pandora."
Once Yuri had finished talking about the design decisions, he started fitting the prepared pieces of bone together, showing Tanhì the differing methods he used to connect them, without use of any other materials.
All too soon, the framework was fully assembled, looking not unlike a mockery of a skeleton. "By the look on your face, Tanhì," said Yuri, "You are beginning to see the final shape of the work." He cocked his head, observing her, before adding, "But not without some reservations, I think."
Tanhì made a sign of assent with one hand, and then used it to simulate the legs of a galloping pa'li.
"The gait seems wrong to you," commented Yuri. He had chosen to show the horse-like creature at full gallop, as he felt it the only way to demonstrate the muscular strength of the animal. "Well, I have an answer for that."
He flicked up a video file onto the big screen, and played back it back at four frames a second, clarly showing the gait of the six-legged animal. It was amusing to watch Tanhì's jaw drop as she clearly saw the flailing legs freeze in the same stance he had chosen for the sculpture.
"It goes to show a little research never harms the artist," said Yuri, his face deadly serious. "Mind you, the pose provided some additional technical challenges from a structural point of view."
Tanhì pointed to the most complex part of the framework.
"Yes," he agreed. "Quite right. That is the most critical part of the whole framework, but once we get some clay on it, the joint will stabilise rather nicely. Which leads me on to the next point. It's time to collect clay. I don't like storing it for long, as it dries out, and then gives inconsistent results. I assume you are reasonable with a bow."
By the glare she gave him, it was apparent that she had received the training all Na'vi did – and she considered that she considered her skill at archery as somewhat more than reasonable.
"Good," said Yuri, ignoring the glare. "While there shouldn't be any real problems with predators close to Hell's Gate, one can't be too careful."
Yuri was a little nonplussed when three young women accompanied them on the clay expedition. From the way they greeted Tanhì, and how one of them held the girl's hand while she led a pa'li with the other, he gathered they were her sisters of the tsumuke'awsiteng.
Two of them were five fingered Uniltìranyu, by their age presumably arrivals from the final starship, while the third was Na'vi born. All of them looked older than Tanhì.
"Hi," said one of the Uniltìranyu, in English. "You must be Yuri. I'm Thandie."
"A pleasure," growled Yuri, dispensing with the standard Na'vi greeting. "You should really say 'I see you'."
"Sorry," she apologised. "I'm still getting used to the whole Na'vi thing."
"It takes a little while," admitted Yuri. "Even after five years wearing the smurf suit, it still occasionally feels a little surreal to me. What's your gig here?"
"I'm a communications engineer," said Thandie. "But I've been seconded to Doc Palmer's team as a research assistant on Project Orpheus. It's fascinating work."
"Don't spend too much time locked inside," advised Yuri. "To make a success of your new life, you need to spend time in the forest, among our brothers and sisters."
Thandie laughed merrily. "There's not much chance of avoiding time in the green. Both Tanhì and Syulang make sure Agnetha and I get out and about."
"Good," he commented. They walked for about fifty metres before he spoke again. "I'm a little surprised that Tanhì found a circle of sisters so quickly."
"Not really," said Thandie. "Tanhì is really smart, and incredibly funny. We are lucky to have her."
"Funny?" Yuri couldn't see how his very serious apprentice could be construed as funny, given her handicap.
"She's an absolute scream at charades," smiled Thandie, "Especially when she gets high."
"I think that's one of the things you're not supposed to talk about to men," admonished Yuri gently. "Uniluke is supposed to be secret women's business."
"Oh!" exclaimed the engineer. "There's so much to learn. All the cultural stuff is so confusing, especially learning a new language as well."
Yuri advised, "Amala is very helpful. I would talk to her."
"Agnetha and I go to her orientation sessions twice a week," said Thandie. "I wonder if she does one-on-ones as well."
"I'm sure she will," said Yuri.
"You were one of the Special Forces dudes," stated Thandie. "The ones who took the starships, with Renshaw, weren't you?"
"I'd rather not talk about it," growled Yuri.
"Sorry," she squeaked. "I didn't mean to offend."
With those words, Thandie flitted off back to her girlfriends. Yuri reflected that he hadn't lost his unmatched ability to scare women away.