THIRST 4.3

"Stay with him and don't touch anything. If he tells you to be quiet, be quiet. I'll be back soon. Show him the map, I'm sure he'll like it."

The old knight walked away. The artist looked at him intrigued.

"A map?"

Fleas smiled, took it out of his bag and handed it to him.

"It was very empty. My master told me it was like looking at the earth from the sky, but you couldn't see anything."

"You are out of practice, little one. But you have the spirit. Hands are made to create. And claws to destroy," he rolled up the map and handed it back to him. "This is a direct confrontation with the gods. That pleases me, art takes courage. Look."

From jars he poured colorful oily liquids onto a board. He created a light color, between green and light blue, and mixed three others with a kind of stick with hairs. Fleas marveled.

"Drawing with charcoal is good. It's a good start. But if you really want to capture the essence of what your eyes see, you need colors. You see, now I'm going to start painting what's farthest and widest in my vision. That will be the base."

"The sea?"

"Exactly. I patiently spread the paint horizontally from one side of the canvas to the other. Like this."

"It's like using a sword."

The artist looked at him seriously and then smiled, tempted.

"Yes, but gently. Because you don't want to kill, you want to create. Look, as the view recedes, the color of the sea becomes dark. Do you notice?"

He looked off into the distance and nodded.

"Come closer," he said, handing him the object called a brush. "I want you to paint this line where the sky and the sea meet."

He dipped the brush a little into the paint and tried, but he used too much force thus the canvas almost fell, easel and all. He tried again, gently, as if caressing the canvas. The color was the same all over the canvas. The artist had said it should be darker, so he dipped the bristles in the blue paint he had used to create the turquoise hue. Gradually he got used to the process, which was much more delicate and laborious than drawing with charcoal. He felt happy.

"You have talent. If you were human, I would make you my pupil."

The artist saw the disappointment on his face. He held up a finger, a sign that he had an idea. Among his things, he looked for a canvas similar to that one, but without the wooden edges. It was large and very white. He rolled it up.

"Here. Cut it into little pieces and you can draw on it. I wish you had brushes or paints, but they're expensive and I can't part with them."

The little one took it and ran in circles, like dogs sometimes do after getting a treat.

"Thank you, thank you. I draw everything I see!"

The artist looked serious for a moment. He scratched his forehead and added:

"I will regret this... But what the hell. If you ever travel to Mírrim, northwest of Les Iuria, look me up. Here, this is my emblem," he tore off the necklace with the symbol of a red rat. "Bring the drawings of your adventures and I'll teach you how to paint them."

Fleas made funny faces because he didn't know how to react. He had never been invited, quite the opposite. All his life he had felt kicked out of places. He didn't know how to answer either.

"My name is Bekwin Celleck."

Dannke rushed to him and took him by the arm without a word.

"Mine's Fleas," he shouted as he dragged him from the dock.

They entered the palace with such haste that Fleas had no time to put away the canvas the artist had just given him. They both bowed hastily and Dannke explained:

"My lord, a ship has just returned from Viollara. Its sailors, victims of a curse, died of thirst. When I tried to give them water, it refused to enter their mouths. Before they died, their captain spoke mysterious words about a woman in the water."

Filgad, who was sitting on the coral throne, leaned forward.

"You say a mermaid is attacking our boats?"

"The nature of the attacker is unknown to me. From the condition of the lifeless bodies, I imagine the encounter took place three or four days ago. That's how long it takes for a body to die of thirst."

"Then why is this the first ship to return while the others were lost?" Asked the thin advisor.

"Perhaps the others were attacked on the way out and this one on the way back," Dannke guessed.

"I see," Filgad scratched his chin. "I had assumed they were pirates or something like that. I shouldn't take any chances when it comes to evil spells. Hillhel, prepare a boat, provisions and the best sailors you can hire," the bearded advisor nodded and retreated. "As for you, sir, I hope you know how to swim."

Dannke opened his eyes wide.

"My lord, I..."

"A deal's a deal, Dannke," the thin advisor interrupted. "If you want Turquena's loyalty, you must bring the culprit to justice."

"I understand, it will be done," he stood up. "Come, squire."

Fleas dropped the cloth, picked it up and turned away. Filgad began to laugh in a high, anoying pitch.

"Your squire thinks he is an artist, Dannke. He ignores that art is accessible only to the most sensitive and educated minds, that his savage claws are designed to tear flesh, not to spread beauty."

Fleas paused. Still with his back to the small ruler, his hands began to tremble. Not with anger, but with sadness. The canvas fell again. He should put it down.

The knight put a hand on his shoulder, squeezed lightly, picked up the canvas and handed it back to him.

"I am your master, only I will tell you what you can and cannot do. Let's go," he ordered in a low voice.

The two walked away, Filgad's laughter accompanying their steps.

The next day, they were ready to go. Naturally, Fleas was very nervous. He had never ridden a wooden beast before, nor had he ever been surronded by so much water. The ship had not yet sailed and he was already feeling seasick. Therefore, he would not be able to debut the first of the four pieces of canvas. Just before boarding, the knight instructed him to carry his sword. He said that if he was going to be his squire, he should start carrying his equipment. It was very heavy, fortunately he would not go far with it, otherwise he would be exhausted after a few steps.

The sailors looked at him fiercely. Many of them had bows, harpoons, and other weapons to throw at the creature, ghost, mermaid, or whatever it was that made the ships disappear, but they would gladly use them on him. One of them had even told him under his breath that accidents happened and that many fell overboard on the voyages. Fleas knew that he should not leave the old knight.

"Shall we sail, my lord?" One of the sailors asked Dannke sarcastically.

"Yes, we should," he replied after a silence and a reluctant look.

The oars sank into the water as the hoes sank into the earth. The infernal beast picked up speed and moved away from the shore. Toward adventure. Into the unknown. Fleas was equal parts excited and terrified. Only time would tell which of his feelings was accurate.