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Victor opened the double doors that looked out over the Retreat.
"Brother Narev told me that your statue is also to be a sundial, with the.
Creator's Light shining down on mankind's torment. He told me I am to oversee the making of the gnomon and dial plane for its shadow to fall upon.
He said something about a lightning bolt. ."
Victor turned around, his eyes following as Richard set the model of the statue on a narrow tool shelf that ran the length of the room.
"Dear spirits. ." Victor whispered. "That is grotesque."
"They want me to carve this. They want it to be a statue with the power to dominate the grand entrance."
Victor nodded. "Brother Narev said as much. He told me how big would be the metal for the dial plane. He wants bronze."
"Can you cast the bronze?"
"No." With the backs of his fingers, Victor tapped Richard's arm. "Here is the good part: few people can cast such a piece. Brother Narev ordered Priska released to do the casting."
Richard blinked in astonishment. "Priska is alive?"
Victor nodded. "High people must have not wanted him buried in the sky in case they needed his skills. They had him locked away in a dungeon. The Order knows they need people with ability; they released him to get this done. If he wants to remain alive, and out of the dungeon, he is to cast the bronze, at his own expense, as a gift to the people. They say it is his penance. I am to give him the specifications and see to its assembly and placement on the statue."
"Victor, I want to buy your stone."
The blacksmith's brow slid into an unfriendly frown.
No.
"Narev and Neal found out about my civil fine. They think I got off too lightly. They ordered that I carve their statue-much like Priska is to provide the castingas my penance. I must buy the stone myself, and I must carve it after my work at the site is finished for the day. They want it for this winter's dedication of the Retreat."
Victor's eyes turned toward the model on the shelf, as if it was some monster come to visit ruin on him. "Richard, you know what this stone means to me. I won't-, "Victor, listen to me."
"No." He held his palm up toward Richard. "Don't ask this of me. I don't want this stone to become ugly, like all the Order touches. I won't allow it."
"Neither will L"
Victor gestured angrily at the model. "That is what you are to carve.
How can you even think of that ugliness visiting my pure marble?"
"I can't."
Richard set the plaster model on the floor. He picked up a large hammer, its handle leaning against the wall, and with a mighty blow shattered the abomination into a thousand pieces. He stood as the white dust slowly billowed over the threshold, out the door, and down the hill toward the Retreat like some ghost of evil returning to the underworld.
"Victor, sell me your stone. Let me liberate the beauty inside."
Victor squinted his distrust. "The stone has a flaw. It can't be carved."
"I've thought about it. I have a way. I know I can do it."
Victor put his hand to his stone, almost as if he were comforting a loved one in distress.
"Victor, you know me. Have I ever done anything to betray you? To harm you?"
His voice came softly. "No, Richard, you have not."
"Victor, I need this stone. It is the best piece of marble-the way it can take in light and send it back. It has grain that can hold detail. I need the best for this statue. I swear, Victor, if you trust me with it, I will be true to your vision. I won't betray your love of this stone, I swear."
The blacksmith gently ran his beefy, callused hand up the side of the white marble that towered to nearly twice his height.
"What if you were to refuse to carve them their statue?"
"Neal said that then they will take me back to the prison until they get a confession out of me, or until I die from the questioning. I will be buried in the sky in return for nothing."
"And if you do as you want, instead"-Victor gestured to the fragments of the model-"and don't carve them what they want?"
"Maybe I would like to see beauty again before I die."
"Bah. What would you carve? What would you see before you die? What could be worth your life?"
"Man's nobility-the most sublime form of beauty."
The man's hand paused on the stone, his eyes searching Richard's, but he said nothing.
"Victor, I need you to help me. I'm not asking you to give me anything.
I'm willing to pay your price. Name it."
Victor returned his loving gaze to his stone.
"Ten gold marks," he said with bold confidence, knowing Richard had no money.
Richard reached into his pocket and then counted out ten gold marks. He held the fortune out to Victor. The blacksmith frowned.
"Where did you get such money?"
"I worked and I saved it. I earned it helping the Order build their palace. Remember?"
"But they took all your money. Nicci told them how much you had, and they took it all."
Richard cocked his head. "You didn't think I'd be foolish enough to put all my money in one place, did you? I have gold stashed all over. If this isn't enough, I will pay you whatever you ask."
Richard knew that the stone was valuable, although not worth ten gold marks, but it was to Victor, so Richard would not argue the price. He would pay whatever the man asked.
"I can't take your money, Richard." He waved a hand in resignation. "I don't know how to carve. It was but a dream. As long as I never carved it, I could dream of the beauty in the stone. This is from my homeland, where once there was freedom." His fingers blindly found the wall of marble. "This is noble stone. I would like to see nobility in this Cavatura marble. You may have the stone, my friend."
"No, Victor. I don't want to take your dream. I want to, in a way, fulfill it. I ca
"But, why?"
"Because I will have to give it to the Order. I don't want you giving this to the Order; I will have to do that. More than that, though, they will no doubt want it destroyed. It must be mine when they do that. I want it to be paid for."
Victor held out his hand. "Ten marks, then."
Richard counted out the ten gold marks and then closed the man's big fingers around them.
"Thank you, Victor," Richard whispered.
Victor gri
Richard held out another gold mark. "May I rent this room? I would like to carve it here. From here, when I'm done, it can be sledged down to the entrance plaza."
Victor shrugged. "Done."
Richard handed over a twelfth gold mark. "And I want you to make me the tools with which I will carve this stone-the finest tools you have ever made. The kind of tools used to carve beauty in your homeland. This marble demands the best. Make the tools out of the best steel."
"Points, toothed chisels, and chisels for fine work-I can make them for you. There are hammers aplenty about you may use."
"I also need rasps, in a variety of shapes. And files, too. Straight, curved-a wide selection-the finest smoothing files. I need you to get me pumice stones, the fine white close-grained pumice-ground to the same shapes to match the rasps and files, and a good supply of powdered pumice, too."
Victor's eyes had gone wide. The blacksmith had come from a place where they had once done such carving. He knew full well what it was Richard meant to do.
"You intend to do flesh in stone?"
"I do."
"You know how?"
Richard knew from statues he had seen in D'Hara and in Aydindril, and from what some of the other carvers told him, and from his own tests in his work for the Order's palace, that if carved properly, then smoothed and polished to a high luster, quality marble could take in the light and give it back in a way that seemed to liberate the stone from its hardness, softening it, so that it assumed the look of flesh. If done properly, the marble could seem to almost come alive.