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[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] Other than that, he was the same handsome green-clad guy who had spoken so kindly to her that morning. The one she had painted as an elf. . . . She had wanted to see what lay behind the surface of reality, but not like this. He was reading her mind, or perhaps she was losing it. That made more sense than to believe that what she was seeing was real. She cleared her throat. "What are you doing up here?" "And where should I be on such a night as this but in my own Grove?" Her heart gave a little lurch as he smiled. "I could ask the same question. Why do the tears of a lovely lady water my trees? Does your sorrow have anything to do with that dolt in orange satin who sat for his portrait this afternoon?" Kate took a step back, staring. "What do you know about him? Were you spying on me?" "I could say that the oak tree that shelters your pavilion told me of your distress " He laughed. "Believe, if you prefer, that I was passing as he left you. I did not like his face, Mistress Katrine, nor did you, from the look on yours. . . ." "That's the truth. I guess it's a hazard of having a booth." She sighed. When he drew closer, she did not move away. "You know my name, but who are you?" "Tórion Oakheart, a knight of Misthold at your service and I would serve you, if you will say what troubles you, for you have a Gift that we can only admire. My people can copy things of beauty. We can heal, for that is only a matter of making an existing pattern whole, but we cannot create. You see the soul's truth. Have you watched those you paint as they carry their pictures away? You reveal them to themselves. . . ." Can I really paint souls?she wondered. Scarcely breathing, she met that green gaze, slit-pupiled like a cat's, luminous as it caught the light of the moon. And for a moment then she saw an oak tree, dancing. . . . "Now do you see?" he asked softly. "A bottle of wine will show me the same thing " she muttered. Except that one swallow from Sir Walter's wineskin was all she had had. "Perhaps I can convince you " One slanted eyebrow quirked and he lifted a hand. "Milady, you should never wear grey." Kate felt a cool breeze stir her skirt and looked down. Even by moonlight, she could see that it was now a rich green. Words she could doubt, but a sense that ran deeper than physical vision said she saw true. Unless, of course, she really had gone off her head. She staggered, and felt a strong hand beneath her elbow. "Why is it so hard for you to believe?" he asked plaintively. "You spend so much energy to persuade the people who pass the Gate that they've stepped into a century that never was, at least not here. Cannot you accept that I am as real as these trees?" Tórion led her to the largest of the oaks and helped her to sit down. Kate shook her head, unequal to trying to explain the collective hallucination that was the Pleasure Faire. It might be idealized, but at least it was consensual, which was more than she could say for the vision she was having now. "Very well " He sighed at last. "But will you not at least tell me why your heart weeps?" "If I'm crazy, I suppose it doesn't matter what I say," she muttered, surprised at how natural it felt to lay her head against his shoulder. And then the whole story was tumbling out Jason and the divorce and the battle for custody over Sean. "Just like Oberon and Titania," she sniffed, aware that for the first time in weeks she had relaxed completely. "Except that he's our own son. Only I don't think Jason sees Sean as a child only as a possession and a way to hurt me. When Sean was little his father spoiled him, but the first time he talked back I could see how Jason's face changed. I could stand it when he only hit me, but a boy he'd kill him, I know it, before Sean was grown. Or something else would happen to him. Jason knows some pretty unsavory people." She shivered, and Tórion held her closer. "'Mr. Smith's' portrait looked like my husband. If you're right about my . . . vision . . . Jason sent that man." "Will not the law of your people protect you?" the elf asked. She gave him a twisted grin. "If my people honored artists as yours do, it might. But Jason is a respectable businessman, or appears so, and he'll do his best to prove I'm crazy. He can give the boy everything home, food, schooling everything except his soul." "This must be thought on " Tórion said slowly. "I know your people only from the Faire, and I gather that this is not . . . typical." Kate stifled a hysterical giggle at the thought and he looked at her [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |