to foot with plaster dust and insect husks, Miliana gave away her hiding place with a sneeze that almost blew her rib cage out. The girl crammed herself into a corner behind a dressing table, peering blindly out through filthy spectacles as she searched for a sign of the missing bird.
Beak. Big beak! The thing had to be a predator. Miliana flicked an eye toward the bedroom door, planning a very slow, very cautious retreat into the palace halls. Nervously wrapping herself inside a soggy towel, she began to edge her way toward her bedroom door.
"Tekorii-kii-kii! Tekorii-kii-kii!"
A great, giddy head-all feathers, dust, and daze, shot out from around the doorframe behind her and gave a hoot of glee. The girl gave a rabbit-squeak of fright, lunged into cover behind the bathtub, and crouched, peer-ing at the intruder across the enamel rim.
Flapping ridiculously stubby wings, the huge bird wad-dled out onto the open floor; the creature seemed to be constructed mostly of tail, which dragged behind it like the train of an empress's wedding gown. It ducked its head up and down, left and right in mindless eagerness to inspect Miliana from all sides.
Entrenched behind her bathtub, Miliana tried her best to keep the beast away.
"I'm a sorceress! Oh boy-a really powerful sorceress!" The girl raised a hand and tried to encourage a blaze of power to swirl about her fingers. Unfortunately, whatev-er small store of magical energy Miliana possessed seemed to have spent itself in ejecting her bathwater.
Delighted by Miliana's feeble sparks, the bird vaulted up onto the edge of the bathtub. Fixing Miliana with a giddy smile, it flapped its wings, hurtled back its head, and set the rafters ringing with a ghastly, raucous cry.
"Tekorii-kii-kii!
"Tekorii-kii-kii!"
Gaping its beak open in joy, the bird beat itself in the chest with one wingtip and proudly struck a pose.
"Tekoriikii!"
Sitting on her rump in a pile of debris, Miliana heaved a weary sigh. She reached out a hand to the bird and solemnly shook the outstretched wing.
"Miliana," said the disheveled princess. "Terribly glad to meet you."
*****
A suspicious burbling sound in the iron boilers at the far end of the apartment made Luccio Irozzi look up from his reading with a frown. The untidy mass of tubes and spheres shuddered, bulged, then leaked out a cloud of fra-grant purple steam.
"Lorenzo? Lorenzo, come and see to your toys."
Nothing could be heard except the excited scratching of a pen somewhere in the adjoining room.
"Lorenzo?"
Luccio set aside his parchments and glided bonelessly over to the door.
"Lorenzo-if that contraption explodes and slaughters me, I must warn you that my will names you as inheritor of all my debts."
Lost to the world, Luccio's companion sat at a table covered with pieces of thick yellow paper.
"Lorenzo?"
The youth kissed charcoal across the pages with bold, brilliant sweeps of his hand, outlining curves and shad-ows in an almost random array. Luccio crept closer, watching in fascination as the random lines crept togeth-er into pattern, shape, and form, and finally meshed to make the figure of a slim, exquisite maid combing out great sheets of silken hair.
Sitting quietly on the edge of the table, Luccio gave a wry smile and drew the sketch into his hands.
"Drawn from memory?"
"What?" Lorenzo half-surfaced from his artistic frenzy, drawing with his left hand while scribbling notes mirror-wise with his right. "No no-observed. It's all live-drawn."
"Well she must be most accommodating. Either that or stark raving mad." Luccio held aloft a frontal study and raised an incredulous brow. "Are you sure she's a suitable model?"
"Why?" Lorenzo looked up at his friend in utter incomprehension. "What's wrong with her?"
"Um… she does lack… aaah… That is, she seems to have a certain sparsity of…"
"Of what?"
"Nothing." Luccio let the subject die a hasty death. "I'm sure this look will come into fashion someday soon."
Thrilled by a good
Beak. Big beak! The thing had to be a predator. Miliana flicked an eye toward the bedroom door, planning a very slow, very cautious retreat into the palace halls. Nervously wrapping herself inside a soggy towel, she began to edge her way toward her bedroom door.
"Tekorii-kii-kii! Tekorii-kii-kii!"
A great, giddy head-all feathers, dust, and daze, shot out from around the doorframe behind her and gave a hoot of glee. The girl gave a rabbit-squeak of fright, lunged into cover behind the bathtub, and crouched, peer-ing at the intruder across the enamel rim.
Flapping ridiculously stubby wings, the huge bird wad-dled out onto the open floor; the creature seemed to be constructed mostly of tail, which dragged behind it like the train of an empress's wedding gown. It ducked its head up and down, left and right in mindless eagerness to inspect Miliana from all sides.
Entrenched behind her bathtub, Miliana tried her best to keep the beast away.
"I'm a sorceress! Oh boy-a really powerful sorceress!" The girl raised a hand and tried to encourage a blaze of power to swirl about her fingers. Unfortunately, whatev-er small store of magical energy Miliana possessed seemed to have spent itself in ejecting her bathwater.
Delighted by Miliana's feeble sparks, the bird vaulted up onto the edge of the bathtub. Fixing Miliana with a giddy smile, it flapped its wings, hurtled back its head, and set the rafters ringing with a ghastly, raucous cry.
"Tekorii-kii-kii!
"Tekorii-kii-kii!"
Gaping its beak open in joy, the bird beat itself in the chest with one wingtip and proudly struck a pose.
"Tekoriikii!"
Sitting on her rump in a pile of debris, Miliana heaved a weary sigh. She reached out a hand to the bird and solemnly shook the outstretched wing.
"Miliana," said the disheveled princess. "Terribly glad to meet you."
*****
A suspicious burbling sound in the iron boilers at the far end of the apartment made Luccio Irozzi look up from his reading with a frown. The untidy mass of tubes and spheres shuddered, bulged, then leaked out a cloud of fra-grant purple steam.
"Lorenzo? Lorenzo, come and see to your toys."
Nothing could be heard except the excited scratching of a pen somewhere in the adjoining room.
"Lorenzo?"
Luccio set aside his parchments and glided bonelessly over to the door.
"Lorenzo-if that contraption explodes and slaughters me, I must warn you that my will names you as inheritor of all my debts."
Lost to the world, Luccio's companion sat at a table covered with pieces of thick yellow paper.
"Lorenzo?"
The youth kissed charcoal across the pages with bold, brilliant sweeps of his hand, outlining curves and shad-ows in an almost random array. Luccio crept closer, watching in fascination as the random lines crept togeth-er into pattern, shape, and form, and finally meshed to make the figure of a slim, exquisite maid combing out great sheets of silken hair.
Sitting quietly on the edge of the table, Luccio gave a wry smile and drew the sketch into his hands.
"Drawn from memory?"
"What?" Lorenzo half-surfaced from his artistic frenzy, drawing with his left hand while scribbling notes mirror-wise with his right. "No no-observed. It's all live-drawn."
"Well she must be most accommodating. Either that or stark raving mad." Luccio held aloft a frontal study and raised an incredulous brow. "Are you sure she's a suitable model?"
"Why?" Lorenzo looked up at his friend in utter incomprehension. "What's wrong with her?"
"Um… she does lack… aaah… That is, she seems to have a certain sparsity of…"
"Of what?"
"Nothing." Luccio let the subject die a hasty death. "I'm sure this look will come into fashion someday soon."
Thrilled by a good
Similar Books
