Her voice was tinged with a Teutonic accent.
Zorikh was hardly one to gape. He had once come home from a tour that lasted several months to find that his roommate had not only moved out to live with Zorikh's ex, but had taken his toaster, VCR and power drill apart to create a competitor for Battlebots (the Toastinator, 535 lbs) Yet now he gaped. Sitting before him was the woman from the phone siege; the woman with the great voice who sort of knew something about ancient history and had no qualms about harassing him until he did what she wanted. Naturally, he found her very attractive. To be fair, she was pleasant looking despite the lack of cosmetics or glittery accessories. Her eyes were large and green-gray, her lips small but full. The only thing on her person that Zorikh could make out as jewelry was a small silver pendant, resembling an inverted capital T, hanging from a leather thong. "Uh, Zorikh Lequidre." Zorikh took her hand. He began to notice that he'd been saying 'uh' a lot in the last couple of days.
Stan ushered him into a seat. "Theodora was just saying how she much she liked your sketches."
Nestling her chin in her hands, Theodora gazed down at the drawing with the elf-woman. "Your choice of garb for them is very interesting. The faerie woman, she is a noble, yes?"
Zorikh looked at her, visibly startled. "Yeah, well I thought as I was drawing her that she'd be a daughter of a king or chieftain or something to that effect." Theodora nodded in satisfaction.
"Good. Good choice for a cloak color then. Blue dye as rich as in your drawing was not easy to come by, even by the Feya. I assume this after Rome but long before the Jerusalem Wars? Judging by the gentleman's gear."
Zorikh shrugged. "Before the Crusades? Yes. I peg them to be about seven hundred, if you have to put a number. It's a fantasy piece, so it doesn't matter, but dang you're a good judge of historical detail."
"I work within the details of history," was her answer to this. "Yet it seems, according to Mr. Lee here, that you are not happy with this sketch?"
Stan began to say something, but Zorikh cut him off. "I'm happy with it! The people I'm drawing it for want her" he gestured at the sketch, "dressed skimpier, as if a warrior would go out to fight in a half shirt! And they want to give him a horned helmet! I'm not all about drawing the wrong thing just because they think it'll look better!"
Theodora slowly picked up the drawing and frowned. She spoke after a moment, "And why not? You've already made her boots wrong for a Feya warrior, they preferred shell beads instead of stitched decorations, plus her bow is too English, the Feya use short bows with curved backs." She traced a shallow W shape in the air. "The man's beard and hair is braided ridiculously. The details on his belt would make you think that he was a Rus, yet his pendant is Frisian. Two more details would do no harm. It's just a picture after all!" She handed the vellum sheet back to him. "These people are going to pay you yes?" Zorikh nodded. "Then do what they want and take the money."
Stan, who was regarding her with wide-eyed disbelief, now turned to Zorikh, who was himself short of words. The agent recovered first. "Ah, she has a good point," he said smoothly as he in turn took up the drawing. "You should do what she says."
Theodora plucked the sheet from his hand and gathered the other sketches up with it. Neatly, she set them into their folder and handed the lot back to him. "Of course he'll do what I say. Zorikh, stop pestering your poor agent. He only makes money when you do, therefore he'll guide you to profit, if you'll only take his advice. And you, Stan, there are tasteful ways to show off a woman other than minimizing her clothing. Perhaps the overgrown adolescents at Griffin should be introduced to fashions from other periods, I certainly think Zorikh would be able to enlighten them, at your urging." Stan began a grudging assent. Theodora abruptly rose, taking Zorikh by the arm. "If you'll excuse my rudeness, it's important that I take your client for the rest of the afternoon."
"But..." Stan, now bewildered more than he had ever been since college, pointed his chopsticks at the exiting pair.
Zorikh had gathered up his coat and was being herded out the door. "I'll call you later Stan. I'll change the sketches." In less than a moment, Stan was looking at the closed glass door of the sushi place, his remaining tuna rolls forgotten
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Handbuch zur elfischen Sprache
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A Rus Warrior
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History of Frisia.
History of Frisian language
Alternative Frisian dictionary
Be Free and Frisian!
Universal Declaration of Human Rights in Frisian
The Lord's Prayer in two types of Frisian
Frisian Party Zone Ljouwert
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