The Adorned by John Tristan Read Free Book Online

Tallisk, not to Maxen.
    Tallisk’s face showed the ghost of a smile, but he spoke without mockery. “Until I am done with you, your skin will belong to me,” he said. “That means I have say over all that could affect it—your eating habits, your comings and goings, even your bathing regimen. Anything that could affect my art.”
    Maxen nodded in agreement. His voice was different when he spoke again, dry, a breathing quotation. “For the term of your indenture, any moneys earned in your function as Adorned will go to pay your room and board, and of course to Master Tallisk’s time and expense in the making of your art. Any action you take that could compromise your ability to ‘show’ this art will have serious repercussions for you: at Master Tallisk’s discretion, your indenture could be extended or sold to a third party, or he could seek legal remedy against you.”
    I nodded slowly. “So, if I were to be injured—”
    “Exactly. If you got hot-tempered and dueled someone who bore you insult...” Maxen paused to chuckle at that thought, and I clenched my fists against my sides. “Or if you spent the day sunning yourself and were badly burned, harming the tattoos, you would be liable. After your indenture, of course, you are free of such restraints, though you’d want to preserve your skin. Five years is the traditional term, as in any indenture.” He glanced to Tallisk. “Would you wish to extend or shorten the term?”
    “No. A traditional contract.” He turned to me. “What do you say?”
    I looked from him to Maxen. “I thought I had been indentured. What say do I have?”
    “Adornment,” Tallisk said, “is always a choice.” He sat on his haunches in front of me, his face unreadable. “What do you say?”

Chapter Eight
    For a while I said nothing. I looked away from Tallisk and Maxen, turning inward.
    There was something I did not quite trust in Tallisk—a carelessness, almost a wildness to his manner. What kind of tattoo-master chose his Adorned on a single meeting? Still, his offer was a tempting one. More than merely tempting: What other master could offer me a future inscribed on my skin? If I were to be indentured as some household servant, I would be granted five years of security. As an Adorned, I could have a lifetime’s worth...at least if I took more care with my wealth than my father had.
    Perhaps if I’d had a measure of his wealth left to me, I could have tried for an apprenticeship as a clerk, instead—but even so, what clerk could offer me the chance to become a living work of art? My father might have played beautiful music, but I? I could become the song.
    I drew in breath and made my choice.
    “Yes.”
    I said it quietly, so quietly that both men looked at me, not quite sure of what they had heard.
    “Yes,” I repeated. “I will do it.”
    “Good,” Tallisk said. He did not seem surprised. “We will draw up the contract now.”
    “Now?” Maxen almost laughed. “But—”
    “Why waste time? I have ink and paper here, and Yana can be our witness.”
    If, callow country boy that I was, I made an unlikely candidate for Adornment, Tallisk made a fine master for me. From what I knew of the Adorned, there were niceties, ceremonies even, to be observed between a tattoo-master and his new canvas. Although I supposed those would have taken place when an Adorned-to-be had sought the privilege themselves, not been sold into it.
    By Maxen’s uneasy laughter, I could see he was thinking the same thing I was. The bond-broker bit his lip and shuffled like an actor who had forgotten his lines; at last, he rallied and said, “I suppose you’re right. Why waste time, eh? We’ve got him here. I suppose you’ll want to start on your newest project right away?”
    Tallisk looked at me. “He’ll need a lot of scrubbing, before I can begin.”
    I bit my lip and looked away.
    “I shall draw up the contract then, if you give me the paper—”
    “One moment. Yana, come in