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The Augustine Painters



Michelle West




Michelle West is the author of a number of novels, including The Sacred Huntduology and The Broken
Crown, The Uncrowned King, The Shining Court, and Sea of Sorrows, the first four novels of The Sun
Sword series, all available fromDAW Books. She reviews books for the online column First Contacts,
and less frequently for The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction. Other short fiction by her appears in
Knight Fantastic, Familiars, Assassin Fantastic, and Villains Victorious.



THE canvas, stretched andrestretched , primed andreprimed , moved into the light of the open bay
windows, and then moved again, and again, as the light's slant grew distant, lay waiting.

Beside it, on a three-legged table, the palette, and beside that, paint, oils, rags, and most of all the
brushes, cleaned and cleaned again over years of use, the sediment of old masterpieces still visible at the
edges where hair met metal and disappeared beneath it.

"Are you going to start, Camille?"

His tone was rough and impatient, the tone of an Augustine Master Painter. She was so familiar withit,
he might have chosen not to speak at all. But he had spoken, and speech demanded words in return.Or
action.

She offered words."Yes,Giavanno ."

"Good. You should start soon; you know that the light is fading."

"I can work in the dark."

"You can work," he said gruffly, "in the light. But we're not made of money. Use the sun."

Not made of it, no, but not lacking. She wisely said nothing; his lecture on the virtues of thrift was one of
his favorites, and if allowed, he would go on at length, while she, captive audience, was forced to
acknowledge his wisdom.

She had prepared water and oil, solvents for the brushes; had already blended the base colors into those
muted and suitable for portraiture. But she hesitated, her hand hovering over the slender wooden handles,
her critical eye upon the canvas.

"I'm not sure it's ready," she said at last, letting her hand drift toward her side. It rose again as he
glowered, smoothing wild strands of hair curled by the humidity in the high summer of the city
ofAugustine .
He stood, his glower deepening, the familiar cracks of skin around his eyes a warning. She ducked her