Chapter 20
At Pokota's invitation Lina and Val are staying in a mansion for royal guests, which I am quite happy about because the place is heavily warded against intruders. Not that I didn't trust Lina to protect Val, but the more security the better. And if anyone has to say anything about my professional paranoia, well, I haven't survived for over a thousand years because of carelessness.
The mansion lies at the edge of the city, one side facing a low slope of hill covered with vineyards, the other looking out on a narrow busy street where street vendors offer all kinds of brightly coloured goods. After a brief rest and a wash-up Lina can't resist going on a shopping tour dragging both Val and me along. Although shopping for cheap and mostly useless items is no favourite occupation of mine, watching Lina haggle is really rewarding, and I soon notice that Val is copying my pleased expression. Obviously, he is enjoying the show just as well. Oh and Lina was right, he really favours me a lot. I wonder if there is a way to alter that somehow and if it is indeed necessary.
Lina is once again stopped by a beautiful display ― this time it's an assortment of ornamental pottery.
"Still not repulsed by jars?" I mock her.
"Don't even mention," she shudders. "But I like the whistle toys. See, these birds and a cat..."
"You're welcome to try them out, dear!" assures the seller woman. She is elderly and brightly dressed, hands lightly dusted with dry clay. "The cat one miaows just like a real cat. Here, let the boy try!"
She picks one of the cat-whistles and offers it to a slightly dazed Val. He sends a quick glance at me, then thanks and tentatively takes the toy. As the old woman shows him how to blow, he tries it too, very carefully. He jumps a bit at the loud 'MRRAAAOOW!' that comes out. Very naturalistic, no cheating here.
"Sorry," Val gasps.
"It's all right, sweetie," I pat him on the back. "They are supposed to be loud."
"Such a timid boy," the vendor laughs. "I have a finer whistle here just for you," she rummages in a wooden box and extracts a small bird painted in dull greens and greys. "Here, try this one."
Val does, and this time the sound is much more melodic, as well as quieter.
"Like it?" Lina grins at Val. He seems lost in thought turning the small clay bird in his fingers.
"Uh? Yeah, it's great..."
"I'll take it then," Lina says to the old woman and starts digging in her pocket.
"How do you make them?" Val asks quietly.
"I don't, my husband does," chuckles the woman. "He's a sculptor, you know, and he just makes this stuff from leftover clay. It's better material than most can afford, but, since he sculpts... And I just sell it to make some extra cash."
"A sculptor?" I repeat in slight surprise. "Shouldn't he be rich then?"
"He should!" says the woman with much feeling. "If he agreed to make monuments for the city and statues for noble folk mansions and such. He's good at it, too. But no, he's got to do some crazy stuff from his imagination. No one wants that," she finishes with a huff.
Ah, well, the usual story. I can imagine their family rows over supper. Very disinteresting. And Val looks spooked with her sharp tone.
Lina bags the whistle and we move on along the street, manoeuvring so as not to collide with some of the most importunate sellers. But we don't go far before Val tugs on both of our sleeves.
"Uhm, I just thought..." he mumbles too aware of the crowd of strangers all around us, "do you think it would be very impolite if I asked that lady if I could see her husband's sculptures?"
Lina and I both blink several times.
"I think it's okay," Lina shrugs. "But why do you want to?"
"Well," Val looks away. "I just like the whistles a lot. I don't know, though. She seemed angry..."
"Not at you," I clarify. "But I thought you were scared of the loud sound, no?"
"Sound, yes," he nods. "But they're kinda warm... I dunno how to explain."
Lina and I exchange looks. Maybe it's just a whim, or maybe he really sensed something special about those toys. A poor artist's house might not be a very pleasant place, but then, it's not like I'm going to hide the truth of life from Val and let him grow up wearing pink glasses... and all that other stuff. So I nod.
"Okay," Lina says. "But you will have to ask on your own. Do you think you can manage?"
Val frowns but nods.
"And keep in mind," Lina adds, "that elderly people don't hear very well, so you might want to speak up a bit."
Val frowns deeper, but now his expression is one of resolve.
"That's all right," he states with certainty.
So we go back to the ceramics stand.
"Want something else?" the seller woman inquires with a broad smile which shows a considerable lack of teeth.
We stay silent and look expectantly at Val whose eyes are trained on the ground.
"Um, I thought to ask," he begins quietly, then takes a deep breath and adds some volume, "Could I come and see your husband's work?"
The woman is clearly taken aback.
"You want to see it?" she blinks. "Oh, but it's very different from the whistles, you know. Not even all nice."
Val hunches a bit.
"So... I can't?"
The woman looks at us for help.
"You should explain it to him, really. My husband's a free artist, he makes high-brow art, not something a little boy would like."
My mind is racing through a number of things to tell the woman about Val: that he is himself talented, that he just wants to see a real accomplished artist's den, that he has a deep understanding of things, but then, maybe I shouldn't say things like that about him, maybe it's not pedagogically correct...
"If you don't want strangers in your house, that's okay," says Lina. "But then, maybe we would want to buy something too."
"Well, if you want..." the woman shrugs. "I don't mind, the man will be delighted, he doesn't get many visitors. It's just that your boy won't like it. But if you want, it's right round that corner, you'll see a ceramic tile on the door, there's 'Izler' written there. Izler's my husband. Just knock, he's home."
We nod as Val gives the woman his most sincere thanks along with a bright smile that, I am sure, melts her heart in no time. And we go round the said corner.
The street we find ourselves in is actually even more narrow than the one we've come from. It's also rather dirty and dark even though the day is only beginning to turn into evening. But with some effort and a Lighting we manage to find the ceramic tile on the door that the woman mentioned. 'Izler the Sculptor' is written there.
Val stops at the door and sends me a pleading look.
"You wanted to come," I smile. "So you knock."
"But he'll talk to you, not me," Val says. "Like the lady. Because you're adults."
"I'll tell him to talk to you," I wink. "But you knock."
Val still hesitates, but at that moment the door is flung open from inside. A tall bony old man with a short fancy-cut grey beard appears on the doorstep.
"What's the debate about?" he asks good-naturedly. He is so tall, I don't think he even noticed Val at his knee level.
"Our son," I gesture downwards, "is interested in your art."
Izler looks down and then quickly folds up several times to get to Val's eye-level.
"Hello there!" he greets cheerfully at the startled child. "Who do I have the honour of speaking to?"
Val glances at me for approval and timidly names himself.
"I'm, uh, Valteria. May- uh, could I h-have a look a-at your sculptures?"
"Sure!" the man beams displaying a full set of large white teeth. "Come in, I've just finished another one, and I'm so in need of a qualified art critic like yourself! Come in, don't leave your parents on the doorstep, they'll get dusty."
Lina snickers at the man's antics as we step into a cramped anteroom. I am starting to think it wasn't such a bad idea to come here.
"Sorry for not shaking any hands," Izler says nonchalantly leading us deeper into the house. "Covered in clay head to toe, you see. Ah, here we are."
A dimly lit corridor ends with a shabby door behind which there is a huge brightly lit room with a high ceiling and tall windows. The centre of the room is occupied by a sophisticated structure which I can't make out right away, but I notice a number of other similar constructions lined up along the walls and in between the windows. As I look more closely, I realise that these are actually the very sculptures we have come to see.
And they are, shall I say, unusual. Most of them somewhat resemble people, but very slim and agile people to say the least. In some, human shapes are barely recognizable, they seem more like some kind of intricate ornament. In others, human bodies are blended with beasts or birds or even insects; many have wings or horns, or both. The piece in the middle, supposedly just finished, seems to depict a priestess of some archaic cult performing a ritual dance with a tambourine, only the lower part of the woman's body is segmented and has a number of spiky spider legs. Well, I am not surprised the man's works aren't selling, although I know quite a few connoisseurs who would pay a fortune for each of these creations.
I sneak a glance at Lina. She is obviously creeped out.
Val, however, stares at the outworldly creatures with his mouth hanging open ― something he is normally too polite to allow.
"Wo-o-o-ow," he whispers finally.
"Like anything in particular?" booms Izler in a joyful voice. Val doesn't seem to have noticed. He is completely engulfed by some other thoughts.
"You can... do this... from your mind," he manages in awe. Suddenly his shocked reverent gaze switches into a bright energetic one. "I mean, I never thought one can make things that don't really exist."
"Oh but this is what art is about!" exclaims Izler. "Create your own world, fantasize! That's what you have brains and hands for!"
I can't say that I share Izler's view of art completely, but for now I decide to leave it be. Val won't find his own style without trying out a few extremes. Besides, even though Izler is clearly talented, he definitely lacks Val's ability to catch the essence of things, to communicate the deepest hidden feeling. Even if Val starts drawing half-people half-insects overall resembling a twisted tree-root, he will still be creating masterpieces, I am sure.
Meanwhile Izler continues his lecture on the origin of art and Val finds a basin with leftover clay and sticks a careful finger into it.
"Is it hard to sculpt?" he asks, obviously missing the man's monologue.
"It comes with experience," Izler says, also realizing that his tirade has been in vain.
Val turns and looks at me. And looks. And LOOKS. Fine, I give in, he can twist me around his little finger as much as he wants. Sighing inwardly, I ask the sculptor,
"Mr. Izler, you aren't giving private lessons, are you?"
Izler appears to be deep in thought.
"Well," he says finally. "I've never tried teaching. And I don't have much experience with small children. Not even sure it's possible to teach one so young... I don't have much free time either..."
Lina, who has been silent the whole time we are in the house, clears her throat.
"Apologies if my aesthetic preferences are too plebeian, but there is no way I'd pay for Val doing this stuff."
Well, that was harsh. And Val looks defeated. Yet he finds it in himself to argue.
"But Mum, please, please, maybe just one lesson, just to get the idea..."
"If you want to learn to sculpt, we can find you some children's hobby club or something. Where they make snowmen, garden gnomes and teddy-bears. Without segmented legs."
"It doesn't have to be segmented legs," Izler huffs, clearly offended. "And I can tell you a thing or two about those hobby clubs. They ruin talent, that's what they do. They'll turn your unique, talented child into an average manufacturer. It's because of people like you that contemporary art is doomed!"
"'Contemporary' because it incites contempt, eh?" Lina sneers.
"Enough," I stand between the two of them. "No need to quarrel. Lina, I understand your misgivings, and I am not a fan of this artistic movement myself, but I personally think it'll do no harm if Val gets a couple of lessons in sculpting from this man. It's his work that triggered the desire to learn, well, I think we should snatch the moment."
"You want to raise him into a genius artist," Lina says quietly. "Don't you think he has more pressing matters to deal with than all this art?"
"Lina, he's five," I counter. "He can't possibly stomach all the wisdom of the Universe any time soon. Let him have some fun!"
She shrugs.
"Still not paying for it."
"Like I need your money!" Izler scoffs. "True teaching is performed out of goodness of one's heart, not for a momentary gain."
"I tend to think your wife has another view on this," Lina smirks knowingly.
"Like she understands anything!" he barks.
"Break!" I shout startling everyone. "I have a compromise solution. The lessons will be free, but I'll find you a buyer."
Izler's eyes lit up.
"You mean you know someone who can... appreciate my creations?"
I nod.
"Possibly a few such someones."
"Why, that would be extremely welcome! So, tomorrow is Thursday, isn't it? How about lessons every Thursday?"
"We weren't going to stay in this city for long," Lina says in an unpleasant voice.
"I think it would be better to have some two or three days starting tomorrow completely devoted to lessons, and after that we'd be on our way," I suggest.
"Wouldn't it be exhausting for the student?" Izler frowns turning to Val who has been silent for the whole time of our disagreement. Val has that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes as he smiles at the sculptor.
"I'll be fine, thank you, sir."
"He is a tough little guy," I say for support. "So, do you think you could cram the basics into two days or shall we make it three?"
"I rather think three is better," Izler says thoughtfully. He then glances Lina's way and notices her pursed lips. "Oh and I promise the lady that she won't see a single segmented leg!"
The rest of the day passes without any debate. But after I tuck Val in and leave his room, I find myself facing a rather annoyed Lina.
"Xellos, I am very unhappy with you today," she states without preamble.
"I am sorry," I say quickly, but she raises a hand to silence me.
"I can see what you are trying to do," she continues. "I understand Val is talented, and you want to cherish and pamper his talent so that it reaches full bloom soon. But you must understand that this is your ambition, not Val's."
"But he enjoys it!" I counter.
"He enjoys lots of things," Lina shrugs. "But it's hard to miss that you praise him most for his artistic achievements. You weren't nearly as happy about him learning to teleport, as you were about some of his paintings. This is wrong, Xellos. Your priorities are off. And Val is following suit, which is no surprise. It is your responsibility to prioritize his skills and occupations in a way that is most beneficial for him. He needs to learn shielding, healing, fighting, needs to be able to tell friends from enemies, to distinguish Mazoku from human and so on! NOT hang around a wretched psycho sculpting bugs!"
I can't help but see reason in her words. However it is not so easy to act according to that reason. I already promised to Val he'll get those lessons. It would be too cruel to rip them away from him now, wouldn't it? Besides, something in me still can't agree with Lina. Val is fragile. He doesn't want to fight. He shouldn't be forced to detect enemies in people around. He has us for that. He must have his childhood untampered for once!
"He has you to teach him important things, too," I say stalling for time.
"I am not sure you've noticed," Lina replies calmly, "but he clearly things you are in charge of him, not me. He turns to you whenever he can for all the important decisions. I dunno if it's because he's a boy, or because he senses your blood relation so to speak, but the result id obvious. Whatever you set as priority will be his priority, no matter what I have to say on the matter."
She must be right. It warms me to think Val is so looking up to me, but it is really a lot of responsibility. My wishes are irrational, and I shouldn't act on them. Lina is right. I must push him to more important things. It has to be my ambition speaking, after all I am a totally unrecognised artist myself. I never had a problem with it, but maybe on a subconscious level... and it's showing now.
"Fine," I say heavily after a brief silence. "You win. After he has had these lessons, I will shift the focus of our studies to more practical skills."
Lina slowly nods.
"Are you going to be present at the lessons?" she asks. "I mean, we aren't leaving him alone in there?"
"Of course we aren't! I'll be present invisibly, so as not to interfere with the process."
"Okay. There is one more thing, Xellos," she says and pauses which makes me look up. "I don't like it that you make decisions which I clearly don't approve of without even discussing them with me. It's bad firstly because this way you are showing Val that my opinion doesn't really matter. Which takes us back to the reason why I can't influence his priorities. And secondly, it's bad because IT'S BLOODY MADDENING!"
She starts screaming so suddenly that at first I get scared that she might be hurt or saw something in the window. It's only after a few seconds that the words sink in. At the same time I notice that her aura is flaring with rage she has been holding in ever since our talk with Izler.
"Oh," I mutter, lost for words.
"I am very, VERY unhappy with you today!" she growls. "I am so angry that I don't think I'll care if you have another fit of whatever you have fits of! And don't even think of snuggling up to me tonight, you're going NOWHERE near my bedroom! Go annoy Milgasia, or Zellas, or Zelgadiss, I don't give a damn, just GET OUT NOW!"
With this she pushes me into the chest with considerable force. I back off, stumble and decide that teleporting away is really the best thing to do under the circumstances.