faintest of malicious smiles.
“What?”
Coricidius snorted in disgust and motioned to one of the guards to set a folding
camp-stool in the middle of the room. Joint by joint, the old man lowered
himself until he settled fully upon it with a sigh.
“I have no time to argue with you, dauber. You say you don’t do portraits, but
you will do them for me.”
Lalo shook his head. “My lord, I can’t do pictures of real people… they
hate them… I’m no good at it.”
“You’re too good at it.” Coricidius corrected him. “I know your secret, you see.
I’ve had your models followed, and talked to them. I could kill you, but if you
refuse me, I have only to tell a few of your former patrons and they will save
me the toil.”
Lalo clutched at the folds of his smock to hide the trembling of his hands.
“Then I am doomed-if I do portraits for you, my secret will be known as soon as
they are seen.”
“Ah, but these pictures are not for public display.” Coricidius hunched forward.
“I want you to make a likeness of each of the Commissioners who have come fron
Ranke. I shall tell them that it is a surprise for the Emperor-that no one must
see it until it is done … and before that happens, some accident to the
painting is certain to occur. . . .”The Vizier was shaking with subtle tremors
that ran along each limb to end in a grimace which Lalo took minutes to
recognize as laughter.
“But not before I have seen it,” the old man went on, “and learned the
weaknesses these peacocks hide from men … They have come to power in the
Court since my time, but once I know their souls I can constrain them to help me