Free The Adorned by John Tristan

morning.”
    “Good morning,” I replied. I felt small, tucked up in my bed; I had not been woken this way since I was a boy and my father had hired a nurse to see to the things he could not fathom about my upbringing. Doiran placed the wash-basin on the bedside table and put the tray on top of my lap. “Eat up,” he said. “Then have a quick wash, and get dressed. Master Tallisk will be expecting you as soon as you’re presentable.”
    “Is he up already?”
    Doiran laughed. “As far as I can tell, he’s not yet gone to sleep.”
    I uncovered the tray, and the scent of fresh bread and fruit preserves coiled up to me. I went at it with an unexpected hunger; Doiran poured a cup of tea.
    “Is there anything else you need?”
    I shook my head and swallowed a piece of bread. “No, thank you.”
    “Then I’ll go.” He wiped his hands on his apron. “I’ve laundry to do and a goose in the oven for tonight. Leave the tray on the table when you’ve done, and I’ll come to collect it later.”
    “Wait!” I called out, as he was half out the door. “Who will take me up to Master Tallisk?”
    “Just go the atelier and knock on the door,” Doiran said. “This isn’t the most ceremonious of houses. He won’t care in the least.”
    I merely nodded. It was not a question of etiquette that twisted fearful knots in my stomach.
    I finished my breakfast swiftly and washed myself with great care. I almost wished that I could have another bath, before going up to the atelier to present myself. I contented myself by taking pains to arrange my appearance, picking the best-looking clothes from the wardrobe and using the comb Doiran had included with the wash-basin to run through my hair until it was soft and gleaming. I nodded at myself in the small mirror on the wall. I looked well enough. I would have to do, in any case.
    With slow, unsure steps, I ascended. The house was quiet all through, save for the sound of my footsteps. The door to the atelier was open; Tallisk stood by his worktable. The desktop was a mess of papers, brushes, books. He seemed deep in thought, hunched over as if at some delicate work, though his hands were simply spread on the table. I coughed softly and knocked upon the doorframe, as I had seen Yana do.
    He turned to me. “Come in. Close the door behind you.”
    I did as he told; I was alone with him now.
    He stepped away from his desk and circled me a few times, frowning. “You are settling well?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Good.” He paused and thoughtfully touched the line of my jaw; I started, but he did not seem to care. “Take off your clothes.”
    I took an audible breath. “Should I strip entire, sir?”
    He hesitated a moment. “No. You can keep on your undergarments. Put your clothes here,” he said, gesturing to a large tasseled cushion thrown into a corner.
    I made an awkward bow and began taking off my clothing, folding each garment neatly and placing it on the cushion. Tallisk in his turn went around the room and drew aside the curtains he’d drawn over the windows. With the gauze still in place, they were cunningly designed to provide privacy while allowing in the bright morning light. The light was warm and entire, with no beams of shadow across my nearly-nude body.
    My mouth was dry. Would this be the day I had my first ink put on me? I had not seen any of Tallisk’s designs yet, but then, why would he need to show them to me? He did not need my approval. “What should I do?”
    “Remain as you are.” He took a leather folio from the desktop and untied its cover; it contained fresh, blank pages. He had a thin pencil tucked behind one ear, which he now took out. He circled me, an intent grimace on his face, and every now and then he dashed a line down upon the paper. I tried not to follow his motions, to remain still, though I was not used to it and felt my arms and legs tremble with the effort. Tallisk continued his inspection a while, then licked the end of the pencil and