the second floor of the Palace for his use-at the front next to the roof garden
so that windows on three sides gave him light-working conditions, at least, were
ideal.
But the painting was an abomination. Lalo forced himself to look at it again. He
had sketched in columns and a carven ceiling just in case someone should catch a
glimpse of the canvas from far away. But the faces with which he was filling the
foreground made the rich surroundings seem a travesty.
Everyone at the Palace appeared to believe the tale that the painting was a
bribe to the Emperor, and some, believing that this must give Lalo some
influence, were already toadying to him. Even to Gilla, Lalo had had to pretend
that the midnight arrest was a mistake and the commission real. But if she did
not believe him, for once she had the sense to let the subject alone.
Would others do the same? What if the project became so famous that people
insisted on seeing the picture? What if one of his sitters proved nimble enough
to get a good look before Lalo could call the guard?
Lalo sighed again, drained his mug, and told the Hell-Hound currently on duty to
bring the third subject in.
* * *
Lalo sat oh a low stool next to the table where he had laid out his painting
things, waiting, like them, for the fourth of the Commissioners to arrive for
his sitting. He supposed that he had been lucky to get in Arbalest and the royal
relative yesterday-he glanced at the third picture with distaste. “Something
oxis,” the man’s name was, but already he had trouble remembering. Not