Sumpter looked down at her, so obviously pleased with her that Ma-ah grew even more confused. At the same time she felt terribly left out, not knowing something that was obvious to everyone else. “I’ll tell you everything as soon as I get the chance,” Sumpter said. “And now your training will really begin. You’re ready for it. I’ll tell you who we are and how we came here, and where you can fit into our plans.” Again his pleasure with her was so obvious that Ma-ah couldn’t help but be gratified. Yet despite herself she almost glowered at him: he treated her like an exceptional child, she thought resentfully; just happy because she learned to do something—even if she didn’t know what it was.

The crowd had broken up into groups. They were passing around fruits and drinks. Everyone was talking and laughing at once. Now and then someone caught Ma-ah’s eye and smiled. The celebrants were making such noise that Ma-ah could hardly hear what Sumpter was saying. She looked around, at Orona and Rampa, who were being toasted; at the new dwelling; at the children who were running and dancing. A great sense of detachment overcame her. She savored it, while resenting it at the same time. Sumpter waited, watching her, the smile gone from his face. Slowly they began to stroll together toward the courtyard.

Chapter Thirteen

Josef’s Pictures of Magic and Jonathan’s Revenge

Josef eyed his canvas. He was painting a tiled courtyard. When he was finished each tile would be perfect, individually patterned and glowing. The glazes he would use! He almost chortled with delight—and the towering cliff walls, impossibly high, yet somehow right! The scene in his mind was so vivid that he felt a mixture of torture and exaltation as he tried to capture it.

In fact, he was so filled with inspiration that he felt transformed. Only a few days earlier all he could think of was food. Now it was the last thing on his mind. Jonathan left a tray underneath his door twice a day; sometimes it was hardly touched when he retrieved it. Thinking of Jonathan, Josef glowered and stared at the windows. Time and time again he’d begged Jonathan to take the boards down from the top at least, so he could have decent light. The lamps weren’t enough.

For one thing, the tiled courtyard was an outdoor scene; he couldn’t duplicate that light under these conditions. And what could Jonathan do to him if he ripped the boards down himself? The glass would be ruined, of course, because he’d have to do it from the inside. Josef went back to his painting, forgetting everything else for a while. Then he stood back once more, studying his painting. It was obvious: the light just wouldn’t do.