Lalo jerked as the sorcerer's hands closed on his head, and for a moment all thecolours in the rainbow exploded in his brain. Then he found himself on his feetby the door with a leather satchel in his hand.

'And the painter's gear ...' continued Enas Yorl. 'I have to thank you not onlyfor a great service, but for giving me something to look forward to in life.Master Limner, may your gift reward you as you deserve!'

And then the great brazen door had shut behind him, and Lalo found himself inthe empty street, blinking at the dawn.

The desert shimmered glassily with heat, appearing as insubstantial as the mistsin the house of Enas Yorl, but the moist breath of a fountain cooled Lalo'scheeks. Dazed by the contrasts, the limner found himself wondering whether thismoment, or indeed any of the past three days, were real or only the continuationof some sorcerous dream. But if that were so, he thought as he turned back tothe echoing expanse ofMolin Torchholder's veranda, he did not want to wake.

Before the first day after his adventure had passed, Lalo had received requestsfor portraits from the Portmaster's wife and from Jordis the stonemason, newlyenriched by his work on the temple for the Rankan gods. In fact the firstsitting was to have been this morning. But yesterday's summons had takenprecedence; and so it was that Lalo, uncomfortable in worn velveteen breechesthat were loose in the shanks and pinched his waist, his embroidered weddingvest, and a shirt which Gilla had starched so that it scraped his neck everytime he turned his head, waited to be interviewed for the honour of decoratingMolin Torch-holder's feasting hall.

A door opened. Lalo heard light footsteps above the plash and gurgle of thefountain, and a young woman with precisely coiled fair hair beckoned to him.

'My Lady?' he hesitated.

'I am the Lady Danlis, ancilla to the mistress of this house,' she answeredbriskly. 'Come with me ...'

I should have known, thought Lalo, after hearing Cappen Varra sing herpraises/or so long. But that had been some time ago. As he followed herstraight-backed progress along the corridor Lalo wondered what vision had madeCappen fall in love with her, and why it had failed.

A startled slave looked up and hastily began gathering together his rags andjars of wax paste as Danlis ushered Lalo through a door of gilded cedarwood intothe Hall. Lalo stopped short, taken aback by the abundance of colour and texturein the room. Figured silken rugs littered the parquet floor; gilded grape vinesladen with amethyst fruit twisted about the marble columns that strained againstthe beamed ceiling; and the walls were draped with patterned damask from thelooms of Ranke. Lalo stared around him, wondering what could possibly be left todecorate.

'Danlis, darling, is this the new painter?'

Lalo turned at a rustle of silks and saw hastening across the carpets a womanwho was to Danlis as an overblown rose is to the bud of the flower. She wasfollowed by a maid, and a fluffy dog spurted ahead of her, yapping fiercely andknocking over the pots of wax which the slave had set aside.

'I'm so glad that my lord has given me permission to get rid of these drearyhangings - so bourgeois, and as you see, they are quite faded now!' The ladywent on breathlessly, her trailing skirts upsetting the pots which the slave hadjust finished righting again. The maid paused behind her and began to berate thecowering servant in low fierce tones.

'My Lady, may I present Lalo the Limner-' Danlis turned to the artist, 'Lalo,this is the Lady Rosanda. You may make your bow.'

'Will you take long to finish the work?' asked the Lady. 'I will be happy toadvise you - everyone has always complimented me on my excellent taste - I oftenthink that I might have made an excellent artist - if I had been bora intoanother walk of life, that is ...'

'

'Lord Molin's position requires a worthy setting -' stated Danlis as hermistress paused for breath. 'After the initial ... difficulties ... constructionof the new temple has proceeded smoothly. Naturally there will be celebrationsin honour of its completion. Since it would be impious to hold them in thetemple, they must take place in surroundings which will demonstrate whosegenius is responsible for the achievement which will establish Sanctuary'sposition in the Empire.'

Lady Rosanda stared at her companion, impressed, but Lalo scarcely heard her,already abstracted by consideration of the possibilities of the place. 'Has LordMolin decided on the subjects that I am to depict?'

'If you are chosen -' answered Danlis. 'The murals will portray the goddessSabellia as Queen of the Harvest, surrounded by her nymphs. First, of course, hewill want to see your sketches and designs.'

'I might model for the Goddess ...' suggested Lady Rosanda, twitching animprobably auburn curl over one plump shoulder and looking arch. '

Lalo swallowed. 'My Lady is too kind, but modelling is exacting work -1 wouldn'tconsider asking someone of your refinement to spend hours posing in suchuncomfortable positions and scanty attire ...' His panic eased into relief asthe lady simpered and smiled. His own vision of the Goddess was characterized bya compassionate majesty which he doubted Lady Rosanda could even visualize, muchless portray. Finding a model for Sabellia would be his hardest task.

'Now that you understand the work, how much time will you require?'

'What?' Lalo forced himself to the present again.

'When can you bring us the designs?' Danlis repeated tartly.

'I must consider ... and choose my models ...' he faltered. 'It will take two orthree days.'

'Oh Lalo ...'

The limner jerked, turned, and realized that he had come all the way from MolinTorchholder's well-guarded gatehouse to the Street of the Goldsmiths withoutconscious direction, as if his feet were under a charm to carry him home.

'My dear friend!' Puffing a little, Sandol the rug dealer drew up beside Lalo,who looked at him in bewilderment. It had not been 'my friend' the last timethey met, when Sandol had refused to pay the full price for his wife's portraitbecause she said it made her look fat.

'I have wanted to tell you how much enjoyment your painting brings us. As theysay, a work of art is a lasting pleasure - perhaps we ought to have a portraitof myself to balance my wife's. What do you say?' He wiped his brow with a largehandkerchief of purple silk.

'Well of course I would be happy - but I don't know just when

- my time may be occupied for a while ...' answered Lalo, confused.

'Yes indeed -' Sandol smiled unctuously. 'I understand that your work willshortly grace a much more august residence than my own. My wife was saying justthis morning what an honour it was to have been painted by the man who isdecorating Molin Torchholder's feasting hall!'

Suddenly Lalo understood. The news of his prospective commission must be allover town by now. He suppressed a grin of triumph, remembering how he hadhumbled himself to this man to get even a part of his fee. Perhaps he should dothe picture -the rug merchant was as porcine as his lady, and they would make agood pair.

'Well, I must not discuss it yet...' replied Lalo modestly. 'But it is true thatI have been approached... I fear that an opportunity to serve the representativeof the gods of Ranke must take precedence over lesser commitments.' Interestedcommentary followed them like an echo down the busy street, apprentices tellingtheir masters, silk-veiled matrons whispering to each other as they tried onrings.