The Warmth of Art

Writers: Estelle, Miriah
Date Posted: 28th June 2019

Characters: Urlene, Lorican
Description: Urlene finds Lorican's portfolio of art...
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 11, day 4 of Turn 9

Urlene

After finishing with Lorican, Urlene had to admit that curiosity
gnawed at her over his drawings. He had seemed so insistent on
allowing her to see them. Her duty shift over, she quietly made her
way into the archive room. Scanning the dusty shelves, she sighed. How
was she going to find anything he'd left here? There were rolled
hides, bound parchments all covered in dust... Her eyes narrowed. What
he had left shouldn't be as dusty.

Really, she decided, she should wait until he was more alert and could
seek out his portfolio of art for himself. But, now that she was here,
there was no harm in looking. Walking along the shelves, her eyes
searched the contents, fingers trailing along the records with a light
hand. Though her nose wrinkled at the dust that accumulated on her
fingers, she kept her focus on her goal.

Then she found a portfolio with less dust, nearly clean and without a
title on the cover when she pulled it free. She opened it carefully,
and spotted the first piece of artwork. With a smile, she moved to a
chair. It was clearly a very stylized sketch of a dragon. For all that
she disliked and feared the beasts, she had to admit that should this
design be crafted out of some sort of metal, it would be a thing of
beauty. She turned to the next page, being careful not to smudge the
drawn lines and was even further impressed. Though she had no
knowledge of how a smith designed their pieces, Lorican was clearly an
artist. Surely he should have been a Mastersmith by now, especially if
he had created any pieces like the ones he designed.

She turned the page, and then went still, her lips parting in
surprise. Her fingers laid over the smooth lines, tracing lightly over
the ink. She took a quick breath. She knew who the naked woman was;
how could she not? As she stared at the drawing, she felt her eyes
grow moist. She had had her portraits done before, had sat for
paintings more times than she cared to recall before and during her
marriage, but they were always stiff affairs and she'd never liked the
results. She always looked beautiful of course, but appeared cold and
it never seemed like the Harper, no matter how talented they were,
really saw her.

But this...she quickly wiped an eye with a knuckle and swallowed.
Lorican _saw_ her. The focus wasn't on her face, or even on details of
her body that she knew he had seen and could have easily drawn. It was
more than that. She looked...alive and graceful. She looked warm. She
exhaled softly and swallowed, then carefully gathered up the drawings
and closed the portfolio.

Hugging it to her, she returned to the infirmary, moving quietly in
the dimmer light of the muted glows. With a quiet rustle, she pushed
aside the curtain surrounding Lorican's bed. His eyes were still
closed, she noted, and it seemed as though he was resting peacefully.
Laying the portfolio on a side table, she bent and lightly brushed her
lips over his. "Thank you." The whisper was soft as she straightened.

***

Lorican woke as morning light filled the infirmary, one ray breaking
through the curtains around his bed and warming his face. For a while he
simply lay still, drowsy from the fellis, taking in the sensation of
crisp cool sheets and a soft pillow. He felt refreshed, in his head at
least. Slowly, he recalled where he was, and how he'd come there.

He opened his eyes and tried to shift himself into a sitting position,
then gritted his teeth as a dull pain radiated from his chest and a
sharper one at the back of his shoulder. Better stay still for the
moment. One of his arms was free and uninjured, so he could write, he
thought. He needed to send a letter to his family back at Garnet Valley,
to warn them, and it wasn't the kind of message he could dictate to a
helpful apprentice.

Raising his head to see if there were any writing materials nearby, or
at least a way to call someone to help him, his gaze fell on a
familiar-looking folder on a table beside his bed.

It was his portfolio.

Lorican felt as though his insides had turned to ice, and for a brief,
horrified moment he almost wished he'd succumbed to the fire in the
smithy. How had it appeared here? Had Urlene brought it? She must have,
no-one else knew where he'd hidden it. Had she looked inside?

He leaned over, wincing at the ache in his chest, and pulled it on to
the bed. With shaking fingers, he opened it and turned over a few
sheets. Yes - here it was, his picture of her, drawn as no man ought to
draw a woman who wasn't his wife. It was in vain that he told himself
that the customs at the Weyr were different, that it was perhaps rather
modest by their standards, that she might not even have looked. He was
sure she had. He would have.

Even looking at it brought back a rush of memories and drew heat to his
cheeks. He couldn't regret drawing it. Though a poor reflection of the
real woman, it was beautiful, more so that anything he'd created before.
If only he hadn't been such a fool as to offer to show her his work
before he'd had a chance to take it out and hide it. He must have
offended her. They'd send another healer to treat him now, if they sent
anyone at all and didn't turn him out of the Weyr in disgrace.

He turned over the pages with regret, thinking how he might have
described them to her, then closed his eyes and leaned back with a soft,
despairing groan.

**You have more pressing problems than this,** he told himself. But at
the present moment, it didn't feel that way.

Last updated on the July 22nd 2019

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The Warmth of Art