Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [45]
Lukel laughed. “That probably wouldn’t be a good idea, princess or not. Come on, Kaise is going to be ecstatic that you’re coming. Father always fixes better food when we have company.”
Lukel was right.
“She’s here!” Kaise declared with an enthusiastic squeal as she saw Sarene walk in. “Father, you have to fix lunch!”
Jalla appeared from a nearby doorway to meet her husband with a hug and a brief kiss. The Svordish woman whispered something to Lukel in Fjordell, and he smiled, rubbing her shoulder affectionately. Sarene watched with envy, then steeled herself with gritted teeth. She was a royal Teoish princess; it wasn’t her place to complain about the necessities of state marriages. If Domi had taken her husband before she even met him, then He obviously wanted to leave her mind clear for other concerns.
Uncle Kiin emerged from the kitchen, stuffed a book in his apron, then gave Sarene one of his crushing hugs. “So you couldn’t stay away after all. The lure of Kiin’s magical kitchen was too much for you, eh?”
“No, Papa, she’s just hungry,” Kaise announced.
“Oh, is that all. Well, sit down, Sarene, I’ll have lunch out in a few moments.”
The meal proceeded in much the same way as dinner had the night before, Kaise complaining about the slowness, Daorn trying to act more mature than his sister, and Lukel teasing them both mercilessly—as was the solemn duty of any elder brother. Adien made his appearance late, looking distracted as he mumbled some numbers softly to himself. Kiin brought out several steaming platters of food, apologizing for his wife’s absence because of a prior engagement.
The meal was delightful—the food good, the conversation enjoyable. Until, that was, Lukel took it upon himself to inform the family of Sarene’s painting talents.
“She was engaged in some sort of new-abstractionism,” her cousin proclaimed with a completely serious voice.
“Is that so?” Kiin asked.
“Yes,” Lukel said. “Though I can’t quite say what kind of statement she was trying to make by representing a flower patch with a brown smudge that only vaguely resembles a horse.”
Sarene blushed as the table laughed. However, it wasn’t over—Ashe chose that moment to betray her as well.
“She calls it the school of creative misdirection,” the Seon explained solemnly in his deep, stately voice. “I believe the princess feels empowered by crafting art that completely baffles one’s ability to distinguish what the subject could be.”
This was too much for Kiin, who nearly collapsed from laughter. Sarene’s torment was soon over, however, as the topic of conversation met with a slight change—the source of which was of some interest to the princess.
“There’s no such thing as a school of creative misdirection,” Kaise informed them.
“There isn’t?” her father asked.
“No. There’s the impressionist school, the neorepresentational school, the abstract derivational school, and the revivationist school. That’s it.”
“Oh, is that so?” Lukel asked with amusement.
“Yes,” Kaise pronounced. “There was the realist movement, but that’s the same as the neorepresentational school. They just changed names to sound more important.”
“Stop trying to show off for the princess,” Daorn mumbled.
“I’m not showing off,” Kaise huffed. “I’m being educated.”
“You are too showing off,” Daorn said. “Besides, the realist school is not the same as the neorepresentational school.”
“Daorn, stop grumbling at your sister,” Kiin ordered. “Kaise, stop showing off.”
Kaise scowled, then sat back with a sullen look on her face and began mumbling incoherently.
“What’s she doing?” Sarene asked with confusion.
“Oh, she’s cursing at us in Jindoeese,” Daorn said offhandedly. “She always does that when she loses an argument,”
“She thinks she can save face by speaking in other languages,” Lukel said. “As if that proves that she’s actually more intelligent than the rest of the world.”
With that, the torrent of words from