Guild Wars_ Edge of Destiny - J. Robert King [12]
“Basalt!” exclaimed Snaff. “That’s volcanic rock, yes?”
“Yes,” said Eir, standing beside a large gray chunk. “And this one is particularly dense.”
“Perfect for depicting my student!”
Zojja hit him.
Eir cocked an eyebrow at Zojja. “You should show more respect for your master.”
Snaff rubbed the spot she had hit and smiled tightly. “Most asura assistants get browbeaten by their masters. With Zojja, it’s the other way around.”
“Why do you put up with it?” Eir asked.
Zojja glared. “I’m not sure if that’s your business, giantkin.”
Eir stared back. “Your master might put up with your abuse, but I will not.”
“Now, now,” said Snaff, chuckling lightly. “It’s quite flattering to have you two fight over me.”
Both women gaped at him in amazement.
“I think I understand,” said Eir to Zojja.
Snaff just beamed. “Well, good then. All things are mended. Let’s get started. Zojja, why don’t you stand over there in the light? . . . Yes. Excellent. And, of course, Eir, you know where to stand. And I’ll step out of the way so that neither of you can hit me.”
Eir stepped up before the block of basalt, drew a large chisel from her belt, set it to the stone, and lifted the mallet above her head. “Wolf, guide my hands.” She brought the mallet down, shearing off a chunk of stone.
Basalt was a tricky medium, formed of cooled lava. The question was how it cooled—quickly beneath the ocean or slowly on land. Land was better. This particular stone had come from the throat of a long-dead volcano. It had cooled slowly, and it was amorphous, without striations. As Eir worked into the block, she sensed it had no hidden faults or fissures that could split her work. It was solid.
As was her model. This annoying little creature had a solid will. She held her nose up and remained still, seeming to sense the importance of this moment.
Eir worked the stone to bring forth Zojja’s features. That lemon-shaped head, those great eyes, her button nose, her small, determined mouth, her perky chin . . . but hardest of all were those ears—shaped like a rabbit’s, but swept back from her forehead so they seemed almost like small wings.
“How’s it coming?” asked the apprentice.
Eir wished she hadn’t moved. Her previous expression had been perfect—focused and slightly proud, willful and determined. Now the lines had shifted to dubious and frustrated. “Well,” Eir replied, “could you try to get the old look back?”
“What old look?”
“The look that you are smarter than everyone else and that they will be shocked when they realize it.” Suddenly, the look was back, and Eir shifted to a smaller chisel to capture it.
Nearby, Snaff idly sized up a floor-to-ceiling drake in alabaster. “It’s good to be immortalized, my dear. Most apprentices don’t make it, you know.” He turned toward Eir. “Maybe you didn’t realize that, but they’re always handling caustic substances, building precarious mechanisms. . . . Unless they’re clever, they just don’t make it.”
“And Zojja, here, is clever?” Eir asked as she finished the little snarl beneath Zojja’s right nostril.
“She’s here,” Snaff pointed out.
Eir stepped back from her sculpture. “Yes. I suppose she is. In both ways. The likeness is complete. Come see.”
The two asura walked toward the sculpture with the numb air of people who cannot believe what they see. Though the statue was five times the actual height of Zojja, it was dead-on. Eir had captured not only the young asura’s expression but also her personality.
Zojja’s look of wonder slowly soured. “Why did you have to make me look so big?”
“It’s five times actual height,” Eir replied.
“Four times would have been enough,” Zojja snapped. “It’s fine. Fine.”
“It’s perfect,” said Snaff. “Thank you very much! It was certainly worth the coin.” He turned to his apprentice and said, “All right, now. Let’s take this back with us.”
Zojja scooted to the opposite side of the stone bust. She and her master set their fingers beneath the carving. “One,