The Painter and The Poet - A Narnian Story

Chapter Six

Anya had never in a million years thought that she would walk side-by-side with Edmund Pevensie, King of Narnia.

Yet here he was, strolling through the palace gardens to take her to the Art Quarter. He walked casually, his strides long and confident as he passed various apprentices and masters of all studies.

He led them through the Circle, the ring of apprenticeship buildings that surrounded the main palace, towards the easternmost building. Along the way, they passed a small, domed building for astronomy, a deep purple one for magic, a large building guarded with pillars for language studies, another for history, and finally a long building with large windows for the apothecaries' studies. At the end, a beautiful two-story building decorated with balconies and mosaics stood before them.

Anya's heart sped up and her hands grew clammy as she abruptly felt every spec of dirt she'd accumulated on the road. There was no way she could go in now, not like this.

Ed noticed her pause on the path and stopped. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she gulped. She was being silly. She'd come too far to turn away now.

Ed studied her for a moment longer before beckoning her towards the doors of the Art Quarter. They were made of dark wood with registers upon registers of reliefs portraying the legends of their country. Anya bit back a smile when she spotted a miniature carving of Ed atop a great horse, waving his sword in battle.

"I can feel you smiling," Ed shot over his shoulder as he pushed the heavy doors open, "And for the record, my armor is not that flashy."

"The flashiness was certainly a point of worry in my initial observation."

Ignoring her teasing, he led the way into the lush courtyard that spread out before them. The beautiful buildings of the Art Quarter surrounded the courtyard, their balconies overlooking the greenery and statues that dotted the area. All around her, apprentices donned in paint-stained aprons and masters of all disciplines flitted across the mosaic paths that criss-crossed the courtyard.

She saw nymphs like her, humans, fauns, centaurs, dwarves, and every other manner of Narnian. Each one an artist like her.

"It's wonderful," she managed to whisper as they walked across one of the paths.

Ed grinned, "It is, isn't it?"

They crossed the courtyard to the opposite side of the square of buildings. As they walked, Anya noticed that the first floor was made up of studios that had apprentices darting in and out of them. The second floor was only for boarding rooms.

The room that Ed opened the door to was something akin to a mess hall, though it wasn't currently in use. Rows of wooden tables lay in a grid across the cozy room and a large window stood at the far wall, offering a fantastic view of the Eastern Ocean.

"Master Rowl!" Ed called into the room, raising a hand to greet the figure she'd missed in her initial scan of the room.

As Master Rowl stood, Anya noted how imposing he seemed. He had a strong, heavy build like those of the half-giants she'd seen in drawings and his face was stern but possessed kind eyes– albeit hidden behind bushy eyebrows. A dark gray beard hugged his chin and moved as he greeted them.

But the most imposing thing about him was his name. It was signed at the bottom of the most famous court paintings created in the past few decades. Master Rowl was the most famous artist alive.

"I assume I'll be seeing more of you then," Master Rowl nodded to Ed, his eyes darting to Anya, "No more hours spent on that bridge."

"No, sir," Ed grinned, "Master Rowl, this is Anya Macklin. Anya, Master Rowl."

"Pleasure to meet you, sir," Anya smiled, desperately trying to keep her cool as she extended her hand in greeting.

"The pleasure is all mine, my dear. I've heard all about you."

Anya only smiled wider, "And I, you."

Master Rowl took a seat at one of the many tables. "It is my understanding that you hope to join us at the Art Quarter. Is that right?"

Anya took the seat across from him, "Very much. It's my life's dream."

He nodded before turning to Ed, "Gather the rest of the masters, boy. They should be on their break now, so they can spare us a minute."

Ed hurried out the door, a broad grin on his face. Meanwhile, Anya was still shocked that Master Rowl, knowing Ed's true identity, spoke to him so casually.

"You'll need to control your expressions if you want to live at court," the man smiled gently, "I take it that you know, then."

Embarrassed that he could read her so easily, Anya only nodded.

"For how long?"

"Just a few minutes, really. I recognized him from the portraits."

Master Rowl seemed pleased by this. He scratched at his beard and gazed out at the ocean, "He's a good boy. Young and naive, but good."

"Have you been friends long?"

"A few years now," he nodded, "He came looking for a quiet spot to write one day and I offered my studio. Of course, I didn't know who he was until a little while later."

Their conversation was cut short as Ed reentered the room with half a dozen masters behind him. The sight of them sent a chill down Anya's spine. She'd been preparing for this day for years, but now that she was here all she wanted to do was get right back on that mountain path and return home.

Ed gave her a small, encouraging smile as he passed to sit in a chair at the edge of the room. Anya watched him, both relieved and horrified that he would be there to witness the most pivotal moment in her life.

"This is Anya. She's come a long way to bring us her work." Master Rowl addressed his fellow masters as they took their seats on the bench beside him. "You may begin, Anya."

With her heart in her throat and not a singular logical thought making its way through her brain, Anya relied on muscle memory to pull out her portfolio. It was a miracle it hadn't been damaged on the journey here. The large leather rectangle was enforced with bark that kept the papers and canvases inside safe from crinkles or dents. When she pulled out her first piece, a charcoal portrait of her brother, Anya was relieved to find it intact.

One by one, she presented her art. About two dozen paintings, drawings, gestures, carvings– anything and everything that she and Ed thought would please them. Anya didn't dare try to guess what the masters were thinking as she explained her process and inspiration for each piece.

When she was done, her heart had slowed just enough to think clearly. She thanked them for their time, stood and walked to sit beside Ed, and watched anxiously as they quietly discussed amongst themselves. Anya turned to Ed, her lips pursed, "How did I do?"

"Brilliant." He whispered back. "They were impressed."

"How could you tell?"

"I have excellent intuition."

She scoffed.

After a few minutes, the masters began to make their way over to Anya. Bracing herself, she stood and faced them.

A Nyad, a woman made entirely of flowing water and whose voice sounded like the trickle of a stream, offered Anya a broad smile. "We have come to our decision, my dear. Really, it was no decision at all. We would be delighted to have you join our ranks."