Chapter 21

The next day I come to pick Val up for his first lesson to find that Lina isn't talking to me. Val is sitting on the couch and staring into space without so much as acknowledging my arrival. I am starting to boil inside: Lina might be angry with me but there was no need at all to make Val angry with me as well!

"Hey, buddy," I crouch down before him and scan his emotions quickly. He doesn't seem actually angry, more like confused, upset and guilty. "Is something wrong?"

"Hi," he says quietly. And falls silent.

"Come on, we are going to Izler's, aren't we?" I encourage.

He shrugs.

"Maybe... maybe we shouldn't," he says finally.

I glance over my shoulder to glare at Lina and also to check whether she heard this or not. She is not in the room. All right, maybe I can persuade him to go before she points out that he's taken her side.

"But don't you want to learn sculpting?" I ask making sure to sound astonished.

"I do," Val says with feeling. "But I don't want you and Mum to quarrel about it!"

I roll my eyes at him.

"Honestly, Val, do you have to assume it's always your fault? Lina and I had a disagreement because I acted somewhat disrespectfully towards her. It had nothing to do with you!"

"But she doesn't want to me to go there," he supplies. "I don't want to do something she doesn't like."

I get up and start pacing the room while ticking off points on my fingers.

"First, she actually agreed yesterday that you should go there. She doesn't mind anymore. Second, she is fine with you learning to sculpt, she just doesn't like Izler's work. And third, the only thing you want to make sure of, is that you don't make anything creepy like Izler's stuff. I am sure it won't be a problem. Now, if you are done sulking, we should be on our way; the day won't last infinitely!"

Val nods twice and gets off the couch. He doesn't feel very convinced, but he is obedient, my little boy. Oh, I hope he'll relax once the lesson has begun, otherwise this will be a lot of wasted time.

He sticks to tailing me instead of taking my hand.

"Are you angry at me?" I ask.

He jumps.

"No- Why?"

"Because I upset Lina?"

"No," he frowns. "I just wish people didn't have to quarrel."

"So do I," I say, surprisingly finding that it is true. I don't want people to quarrel. I, Xellos Beatmaster, the Demon of Demons, don't want people toquarrel. Something big must have died. At least the size of Darkstar.

Eventually Val allows me to take his small hot hand, and in a matter of a few steps we are out in the street where we met the vendor woman yesterday. She isn't there today, obviously, it's too early, but we see her soon enough: she opens the door.

"Ah, I was wondering if you'd come at all!" she says, a bit surprised. "Made some cookies for the little one though."

"Thank you, Madam," Val says timidly. "You shouldn't have."

"That's very nice of you," I step in. "But we are in a bit of hurry, and Val has just had breakfast, so, perhaps, the cookies could wait till lunch?"

"Sure thing," shrugs the woman, leading us down the dim corridor. "They're too hot right now anyway, he might burn himself."

That's just as well, because I have a strong suspicion from the general state of the house that she is not very thorough when it comes to cleaning, and I don't want Val to eat something with dust and germs in it.

Izler is waiting for us in his study. The room has changed considerably since yesterday: most of the sculptures have been moved out, leaving only the most tame ones and a lot of free space. Many charts and wooden dummies have appeared by the walls as well as a large basin with conditioned clay.

"Here we are!" Izler greets us cheerfully. "Been looking forward to knowledge, young Valteria? This is a good chance to prove yourself to this world!"

Val smiles shyly, and I can tell that his spirits are rising at a good pace. Izler might have little experience teaching small children, but he definitely has a lot of potential for it.

"Now, I need a se-e-erious word with your dad," Izler continues apologetically. While his wife doesn't seem to be able to talk to Val directly, Izler himself obviously feels uneasy talking to anyone but Val. "Do you mind?" he adds.

Val shrugs, then shakes his head.

"Right," Izler beams and finally switches to me. "First, I hope, you realise you'll probably have to discard the clothes he is wearing?"

I nod.

"It's play-clothes, he's been through every bit of the garden in it, some clay won't make any difference."

"Good. Second, I forgot to ask you to get him some kind of headcap or scarf or something, so that his hair doesn't get dirty, and also we don't need any hair sticking to the sculpture... I should have mentioned it yesterday, but, like I said, little experience with kids..."

As he speaks I rummage in my travelling bag which is, of course, a subdimentional pocket, and extract a bright-red silk handkerchief the size of a small tablecloth.

"Will this do?"

"So long as you are prepared to get it back covered in clay," says Izler thoughtfully. His own head is covered with a gray rag which had probably served as a mop before he stole it from his wife and put it on his head. And the wife never mopped the floor again because she didn't have a mop... Oh, all right, my imagination is too vivid today.

I tie the kerchief around Val's head tucking all his hair securely under it. He has always had somewhat longish hair, but now it's growing past his shoulders. From my observations, small boys usually don't wear it that long, so probably we should cut it a bit, to make him look more typical. But I'll have to discuss this with Lina first. That is, if she decides to talk to me at all.

Val looks like a little pirate in a scarlet bandana. I chuckle.

"It suits you well," I say, patting his head. He beams up at me. I turn to Izler. "Is there anything else I should take care of?"

"Just my customers," he cackles a bit nervously. "As for your boy, I will be taking care of him until dinner. Come and pick him up then. And don't worry, he will be perfectly safe here."

I smile politely.

"I am sure he will. I'll see to the matter of sales today, perhaps, in the evening. Good day to you, Mr. Izler. And good day to you, Val, have fun!" I squeeze his shoulders, kiss him and turn to leave.

"Bye," he says uncertainly, looking after me.

As soon as I exit the front door, though, I immediately teleport back inside. There are no people in the street at this early hour to notice a vanishing me. I didn't lie to Izler when I said I was sure Val would be safe there. I will be right behind his back to make sure of that.

So, I position myself flat on my stomach right under the ceiling of the room and make myself comfortable, anticipating many hours of invisible hovering.

"Normally," says Izler, "instruction in sculpting starts with a long and excruciatingly boring course of anatomy. Luckily, we don't have time for that. Which is why, I suggest we do this: you sketch out something you want to make, I'll correct any mistakes, and then we'll set out actually sculpting it, learning some techniques as we go. What do you think?"

Val nods enthusiastically and pulls out his album. If Izler was surprised at how such a large thing can fit into Val's tiny pocket, he didn't comment on it. Val spreads the page out on his lap for lack of a table and starts sketching in rough long strokes. Izler watches him for a bit, then stands up and retrieves a dusty tablet to put under the album. He then continues to watch Val with increased anxiety. I am starting to get worried too: why is the man anxious?

"What is it going to be?" he asks pretending to be relaxed.

Val continues working in silence for half a minute, then suddenly looks up.

"Sorry sir, did you say something?"

"Er," says Izler. "Jus' wondering what you're sketching..."

"Ah, er, a friend of Mum's", Val replies.

"Oh," Izler raises an eyebrow. "You know, it might be a bit hard at first to make your sculpture look like a real person. Something from your imagination might be better."

"He is from my imagination," Val counters immediately. Then thinks for a bit and adds, "He's not a real person, I think."

"Your imaginary friend, huh?" Izler smiles, relieved.

"Not mine, Mum's," Val corrects and turns back to sketching. Izler stays frozen to the spot with a strange look on his face. Above him, I'm laughing my head off just thinking WHAT he must be thinking of Lina at the moment!

Anyway, obviously, his earlier anxiety was caused by doubts whether he had chosen a good strategy for teaching a child. I think he had, and also he is in for a surprise here.

Val is finished and proudly shows his picture in outstretched hands. Izler gets rooted to the spot for the second time in a quarter of an hour.

"Oh," he manages. "Quite good. Very well, actually." He takes the album from Val and scans the page thoroughly, and then examines Val himself. "Unbelievable!" he summarises. "There aren't any mistakes!"

Val grows redder in the face.

"Um, Dad's been teaching me to draw... He thinks I'm good, too," he mumbles.

"Quite right your dad is!" Izler exclaims enthusiastically. "Well, I must say, I am quite a lucky man, to have a student like you. You already know half the wisdom!"

From there, it proceeds rather quickly. Val politely, but sternly insists that he wants to make a life-sized statue. Izler debates it a bit, but eventually gives up. I get an impression that he likes major pieces himself, but can't afford storing them in the stuffy house. Anyway, he doesn't mind making a metal frame for Val's project (something that Val himself has no way of doing). As they work enthusiastically on the frame, I sneak out to the kitchen and check the utensils. The hostess isn't there, I can sense her in the next room engaged in some peaceful activity like knitting, maybe. I pinch a cookie from the baking tray and analyze it. I find nothing incriminating about it. Then I go around the place sniffing at the sauce-pans and rubbing my finger on the plates. In the end I am satisfied with the overall sanitary condition of the kitchen. I think it is clean enough to allow Val to eat here if he isn't too shy to accept the offer.

Back in the study, Val and Izler are applying huge chunks of clay to the frame to form a general shape. Val gets softly reprimanded for paying too much attention to detail at this stage. Yes, I should say, he has a bit of a problem with that.

As they work, I get a bit bored. Art is great, but I am not really a fan of sculpture. To tell the truth, it creeps me out a bit. I half expect monuments to come alive any moment. Not that it never happened in my life, which gives me all the more reason to dislike sculpture. But at this point, I am simply bored with their slow progress. Of course, considering that the life-sized statue is just a little shorter than Izler, and two times taller than Val, it takes a lot of time to form all the shapes. Val constantly climbs up and down a stool, and I am starting to get nauseous from his constant energetic motion. He is bound to get tired quickly. Tomorrow, I'll make sure to remind him of the flying option. They know magic here, in Zelein. Even if they are not as powerful as in the countries within the Demon Barrier, still, a bit of flying won't cause a ruckus.

Tuning the room out a bit, I establish a mental connection with one of my subordinates. Normally, I prefer to take care of my business myself, but lately with the impending possibility of leaving my Master, I've been taking all the advantage from the availability of servants and messengers. I compose a letter for the guy to memorize and relay to a few of my acquaintances. Mr. Izler will have his buyers starting tonight, I am sure.

Finally Izler glances to the window (as there is no clock in the room) and announces lunchbreak. Val is a bit annoyed with the necessity to stop working on the statue, but he doesn't argue and dutifully goes to wash his hands and face. He is already half-covered in clay, and it's only the first half of the first day. By the end of the whole course Val risks turning into a statue himself!

The menu for lunch seems to me more luxurious than the family can afford on a daily basis, but apparently, they seldom have guests, so this is a rare excuse to eat something special. Thankfully, Val doesn't realise he is being treated as a VIP, otherwise he probably wouldn't be able to swallow a thing. As it is, though, he is rather relaxed and chats happily with the hosts.

"You aren't local, are yeh," mentions the woman.

"No, we're travelling," Val confirms. "From West."

"Westerners are magicians, I hear," says Izler. "Are you one?" he winks.

"Uhm, a bit," Val grows slightly pinkish.

"Oh, so, can you tell the weather?" asks the woman.

"Eh, no," Val shrugs guiltily. "Sorry."

"Can you pull a rabbit out of a hat?" suggests Izler.

"Not really..." Val looks apologetically.

"Now, Izler, that's such a useless thing to do!" huffs the wife. "Surely no one would learn magic just to pull rabbits out of hats!"

"Well, those guys get paid well for the performance," Izler points out. "What can you do then?"

Val shrugs again.

"Usual stuff. I mostly learn theory, and what you said is very difficult magic."

"Don't tell me someone is teaching theory to a child of five! You're probably bored out of your wits!" Izler is indignant.

"Oh, but it's fun!" Val counters. "It's fascinating, really! And I always draw everything for better memory, and so I have cards and huge posters with all kinds of creatures and spells! It's all cool stuff!"

"I see," Izler drawls.

"What's it for though?" the woman asks, pragmatic as ever.

"For everything," Val shrugs. He looks a bit thoughtful for a second, then turns to face a darkish corner of the small kitchen and casts a rather dim Lighting. Good thinking there, my dear, because a full-glow Lighting at such proximity would successfully render the hosts temporarily blind.

Izler's wife gasps and stares at the orb of light.

"You shouldn't look at it too much," Val says carefully. "It's bad for your eyes."

"I guess you save a lot on lamp oil," says the woman in awe, forcefully looking away.

Izler himself doesn't appear shocked or even surprised with Val's skill.

"Yeah, yeah," he mutters. "I've seen some Westerners do that. Handy, isn't it?"

Then he suddenly bends forward and pokes the unsuspecting Lighting with his finger. When nothing happens, except Val squeaking in surprise, he pulls back.

"Always wanted to do that," he says beaming and examining his finger. "It's not hot!"

"No," Val smiles as he ends the spell. "It just shines."

After lunch we all go back to the study where Val and Izler continue working on the statue. I hover above them, trying hard not to fall asleep. And to think this is going to take two more days...

I receive the response from Izler's potential fans. They are all interested. No wonder there, I am good at marketing.

Having absolutely nothing better to do and not being in the mood for creativity, I continue watching Val as he finds himself a steady position on the stool and is working on the statue's right arm. Izler is working on the left one, from time to time stepping aside and making sure everything matches up.

Val gets sucked in so deeply that he stops responding to Izler's murmuring, just like before with the drawing. We need to address his attention, really, it's dangerous to get so involved. He might miss an attack.

There is something else bothering me about the sight of Val meticulously shaping the clay. His eyes... His gaze is strange. Like he is looking past the clay, into something in his mind. His face is peaceful and relaxed, and he is completely elsewhere. He is also breathing hard. I hope this doesn't mean anything.

Eventually dinnertime comes, and I feel no remorse over dragging Val away from the place. I wish I could hire someone to watch over him, really. But there is no one, and it was my idea. I'll have to endure two more days. Maybe take a book with me, or something.

I stick with Val for dinner at which Prince Posel is also present. He looks even more subdued than yesterday and recounts a very sad meeting with another one of the local princesses. Lina is still not speaking to me, although she makes sure not to let it on to Posel. As everyone retires to their quarters, I hang back and knock on Lina's door.

"Enter," she calls.

"Ne, Lina," I begin floating through the door. "There's something I wanted to discuss with you, about Val."

She is sitting by the mirror, combing her hair and ignoring me to the best of her ability.

"I think he rather stands out with that long hair of his. What do you think of cutting it?"

She glances at my reflection in the mirror.

"I see you are educable," she remarks. "Are you sure it won't affect his magic abilities?"

I blink.

"What has hair to do with magic?"

This time she actually looks at me over her shoulder.

"A lot. At least, for humans. Of course, it's individual, for some people there isn't much difference what length their hair is. But for me, there is. Same with Naga. Amelia doesn't care. I don't know a sure way to find out without actually cutting the hair and testing out the strongest spells. But if Val turns out to be one of those for whom hair-length matters, he'll have to grow it back. Haven't you ever heard any legends about strength in hair and such?"

"I have," I nod slowly. "But I never thought they had any grounds in real life. But how does it work? Can't I take a lock off him and analyze it?"

"It affects concentration," Lina says. "If you can analyze a lock of hair for concentration, go ahead. I can't imagine how it can be done."

"Well, I'd say we'd better find out now than after he learns some complicated magic that demands high concentration, ne?"

"Yeah, it's a good thing to know that his hair is a vulnerable spot," she nods. "But we'll have to explain it to him and get him to agree first."

"Sure."

She turns away and proceeds with the combing.

"Ne, Lina..."

"Hmm?"

"Are you still angry at me?"

"Do you think you can just undo an insult by one proper action?" she bristles.

"No," I say calmly. "Just checking. Oh, and please, please, don't scream so loudly as yesterday. Val heard it all and assumed it was his fault, as usual."

Lina takes a deep breath.

"I'll talk to him in the morning."

"Fine," I nod. "Good night."