Elvealin passed by him in the hall carrying a large crate. She was not a weak girl, and her arms were as strong as pine branches. Still, she was delighted by his courtesy. Parnard taking the crate hurried to the chamber where she directed him, and laid it upon the floor, convinced that he had injured himself.
“What, pray, is inside this box?” he panted, dabbing at his brow with a handkerchief.
“Bottles of Blackstar – a type of fortified wine brewed from mallorn honey and herbs.”
This information gratified him, and he consented to take a glassful of the stuff with much satisfaction. The wine was meant for Estarfin, she told him, and she brewed it herself, adding a little something extra to it that would help him regain his strength. Elvealin poured out a second glassful for herself, and pulling up a chair smiled sweetly. "Do you mind if I sit next to you?”
"I do not mind it," Parnard said, sniffing at his glass and regarding her with timid green eyes. This timidity touched Elvealin. She put her chin on her hand and stared up into his face.
"I would paint you if I could," she said earnestly.
"Ah, yes, I suppose you would," Parnard hesitated, embarrassed by the attentions of a pretty and pleasing maiden. He wondered how soon he might politely go back downstairs and return to his work. Although his desire for herbal wine was not so great, he drank it down in a gulp.
“But not everyone has Elloen’s skills with brushwork,” he added hastily. “Besides, I would rather see Lord Anglachelm’s likeness painted first! That is only right and proper; after all, our lordship is a worthier subject, not his, ah, mean and lowly servant. I would see Elloen use his extraordinary talents to produce a painting of him rather than of myself.”
"’Mean and lowly servant?’ I disagree with you. I shall tell you a little secret, Ambassador: Elloen only paints those folk whose company we enjoy," Elvealin said dreamily, twin candle flames flickering in her eyes, "and when the portrait of Lord Anglachelm is finished, I shall ask him to paint you. The sooner we get started, the better, I say." Then she brought her face close to his. Her breath was redolent of orchids and amber.
Parnard sprang up. Perfume filled his nostrils and his ears burned. No longer knowing what he was saying, he stammered out some excuse and fled the chamber.
When he returned to the Hall of Fire, Sogadan listened to him, and laughingly advised his friend not to look at Elvealin directly, and not to heed her compliments. “A maiden’s smile is deadly,” he said, a remark which gave rise to much harmless merriment in the Hall for some days.
