the web of bribes, kickbacks, substitutions and out-and-out shortchanging
characteristic of business in Sanctuary would make “confusion” an
understatement. Why had they sent such a clerkly little mouse to deal with the
situation here? Glancing at him again, Lalo realized that Zanderei had one of
the least remarkable faces he had ever seen.
I suppose it comes of a life-time of deference, he thought. The man displayed no
individuality at all. But for the first time in this project Lalo found himself
eager to set brush to canvas, knowing that once he did, no dissimulation could
hide the truth of the man from him.
“Am I posed correctly? I can turn my head the other way if you like, or fold my
hands …”
“Yes, clasp your hands-your head is very well as it is. You must relax, sir, and
think how near your business is to its conclusion. . .”Lalo poured thinner into
the cup and dipped his brush.
“Yes,” Zanderei echoed softly. “I am almost done. A week or less will show me if
I have accomplished all I was sent to do. The conflict draws very close to us
now.” His thin lips curved in the faintest of smiles.
Lalo’s eyes narrowed. He drew his brush through the light ochre and began.
A half hour went by, and an hour. Lalo worked steadily without really being
conscious either of the passage of time or of what he was doing. Zanderei was
light and shadow, color and texture and line-a problem in interpretation. The
artist adjusted to the changing light and even gave his model permission to move
from time to time without emerging from the trance which was his art and his