Princil's Art : (Life In Shalirion Before The Invasion)

Life Before The Invasion : Princil’s Art

“Come mother,” said Remzain. “Princil’s going to do a performance.”
“Where?” asked Serena, Princil’s mother.
“In the City Square.”
“What magic?” asked Serena.
“He’s going to do his picture trick.”
“That is not exactly a trick! He looks upon it as a work of art,” said Serena. “He’s very serious about it, and rightly so. They are beautiful.”
“I know they are. He’s done pictures for me before and I cherish them.” Remzain did feel she and her fullbrother were on the same wavelength.
“I am not going down there,” said Serena. “I have seen this magic before.”

Remzain went down the ‘long steps’ towards the Square, which was a wide courtyard outside the City Hall, where the Councillors met to govern the city. Some days market stalls might be erected to sell particular types of produce. On other days painters, artists and artisans might create their pictures or sculptures, or their crafts, taking the opportunity to sell their artefacts and creations to those who wished to buy or to take commissions for new works. These gatherings were not all about selling. Citizens came just to look at each others’ work or to admire those who did create.

Princil was in the square, his easel erected before him. A middle aged lady stood before him, in a goodnatured pose. Remzain could see Princil was concentrating, his head craned forward, looking directly into the eyes of the lady. On the easel a painting appeared to be painting itself. Remzain came around the back of her brother, not wanting to disturb his concentration or upset his customer. She wanted to see the painting better as it formed. Her brother would have begun the lines with his own hand, in the normal way most people would create a painting. The magic would have taken over as he cast his spells. Although she had seen her brother do this before she gasped when she saw the painting he created. Instead of the normal middle aged looking woman before him he painted a portrait of her essence. She was transformed into an image more beautiful than the real woman, although she was perfectly nice to behold, in an ordinary way. This image rippled gradually across the canvas, flexing its shape to find perfection. Remzain did not know whether it portrayed the woman’s image of herself, or whether it was how she wanted to be, more beautiful than the reality. Or perhaps this was the woman as she had been when a few years younger. Her face lost certain lines which were developing, and the skin was smoother. Beauty glowed more brightly, and inside those eyes was confidence and playfulness, the sparkle of confidence that the woman in the painting could consort with any lover she chose, be admired by all. Costumes shimmered and crystallised into existence on the canvas, doubtless from the memory of the woman, alluring, sexual, fashionable. Her flesh was warmed by the sun, brown hair free and voluptuous.

Remzain watched as the painting coalesced and appeared to finish itself. It was a beautiful painting; the woman was quite gorgeous. Remzain might have loved to kiss that woman herself, so beautiful did she appear, and how much more so would a man have been attracted to her, any man!

Princil took his eyes away from the woman and straightened up, a smile developing quickly as his concentration ended. Warmly he encouraged her to come forward and see the painting which was upon the easel. Her hands raised, and she squealed with delight as she saw the result of Princil’s work. She placed her arms around him and gave him a friendly kiss, obviously loving his representation of her.

“I really love it! How do you see all of that?”
“I only portray what is in the mind of my customer,” he explained, “and partly what I see before me.”
“You make me look younger, and even more beautiful than I ever was,” declared the woman. “How can I ever thank you? Here is your money as agreed,” she said. “Worth every penny!” she added.
She counted out the coins, which had been agreed earlier – a good earning for Princil, but his art was by no means as expensive as those which some magicians, who were not necessarily as good as Princil might charge. She said flirtatiously, “If you ever want to visit me for any other rewards of a different kind you would be welcome. You have read my desires perfectly.”
Princil smiled, “Well I thank you Doral.” One result of this kind of work was that the young wizard got very close to his customers. He could see deeply inside of them, as well as the outside of them. He did find that he felt more sexual towards them than he would have done otherwise. “Perhaps I will later, if you’re sure you want me to.”

She brightened even more as he seemed interested. “I would love you to come over and keep me company, give me a proper kiss!” She had not expected him to say yes, but it had been a genuinely felt invitation. She did not attract many young guys these days, although she had at one time. She told him where she lived.
“I will come over,” he pledged. “I feel close now I have painted you.”
There would be no further fee. Sexual companionship was, for most citizens, a free gift, freely given and taken, if both parties were up for it.

Remzain, who was right behind, understood the meaning of the exchange, and felt a slight twinge of jealousy that this stranger could enjoy her brother, while she, his sister, was not supposed to touch him. She admired Princil in many ways, the sexual being one of them.

Remzain joked with Princil when he returned to his easel, “You are becoming very popular with the ladies, particularly the middle aged ones.” She winked at him.
“Many of my customers are middle aged,” explained Princil. “Particularly for portraits. They seem to want to reclaim lost youth, but also to inject their experience and knowledge with majesty and beauty.”
“I do wonder how many of them try to bed you?” she pried.
“Most of them are perfectly satisfied by their regular lovers, but I will admit I have had a number of advances.”
“And I’ll bet you have said yes to all of them.”
“Maybe,” he said vaguely, not wishing to appear too eager. “When you have seen into the minds of these ladies you can be impressed and enthralled by them.”

Remzain remembered the picture he had once created of her portrait. It had been the most unexpected of results. She had expected a straightforward picture of her face and clothed body. She had not bargained for the results of her fullbrother’s insight into her. She had not felt the intrusion of his mind into hers, just stood looking at his face, thinking how similar they were in appearance in so many respects. Both were slim and dark, but his skin was whiter, protected by the robes he generally wore and the time he spent indoors. She was often outdoors in the summer at least and she liked to tan. She had found herself looking into his dark eyes and finding beauty. She wanted to trace the lines of his nose to his mouth and found herself looking closer over her brother than she had ever allowed herself before. She found pleasure in the contours of his body, the set of his shoulders, his hips and legs. She imagined his pale body beneath his robe, and pulled back from those thoughts, thinking she should not be thinking this way about her full brother.

Princil sat for minutes more perfecting his work until he was satisfied. “Do you want to see it Rem?”
“Of course.”
“I hope I am doing right to let you see this,” he said. “You may find this a little disturbing!”
“Princil, don’t be silly,” she said. “Of course I want to see it. Why else would I wait here while you created my portrait! Why might I be disturbed by it?”
“It probably will not be what you expected.”
“At the least it sounds interesting. Do you mean its not flattering to me?”
“I drew on what I saw in your soul at this time, tempered by what I chose to see in you. The result is rather a strong view. I do hope you find it acceptable. I could have done it differently. If you do not like it I will keep this one and I will create another for you.”
Remzain was even more curious now, but steeled herself to be disappointed, or ‘disturbed’.
“Let me show you then,” said Princil sheepishly. He led her to the canvas.
“Is that me?” she gawped. The picture was her! It was her essence, but it was dark and sexual. She was not the simple girl she imagined herself. She was darker than she saw herself, but more extremely beautiful than she could have imagined. Her clothing was not what she wore now. It was sparse; much naked flesh showed through. Her skin was marked with the tattoos sorcerers might have used in their magic. There were strange dragons, flowers, luscious and exotic, fine artistry – all things of the imagination, not as in real life. The skin was smooth and dark, but made her luscious too, and undeniably attractive. Her hair glistened and her eyes were pools of lust. Her nostrils flared with breath and glistening sweat gave her a sheen.

Magic Has Its Uses

A friend of Princil’s was a very grumpy character. He used to complain about everything, and hated doing chores. One day he was swearing so much at the chores he was having to do to get ready in the morning that his shoes actually moved to within his reach and put themselves on his feet. He had inadvertently discovered that he had magical abilities. Thereafter he experimented more with his complaints and found he could make his own immediate life easier. He enrolled in a small school of wizardry and began to study. He met Princil there and renewed their friendship although they had known each other well at school previously.