The Prince

Tyset II: Chapter 4

Chapter 4





Returning to Artists’ Lane, the sleigh in which Maria and Tyset rode passed by Mistress Amandine’s, Master Charles’, and most of the other Parlors they had visited.  Then, near the end of the road, they finally turned off onto a side street.  Small and empty, the snow around them was all but undisturbed.  No footprints, hoof-prints, or tracks made by passing sleighs.  Daylight seemed muted here, less than what it was elsewhere in the Meridian; dark and foreboding this street was.





Pulling to a halt before a squat little building on the south side of the street, Tyset clung to Maria as they made their way up to its door.  It looked like some sort of shop, though not at all like any other Artist’s Parlor in the Meridian.  Where was its colorful, welcoming sign?  The warm light in its window?  Neither of these things existed.  Tyset giving her a questioning look Maria just smiled, opened the door, and pushed the girl in ahead of her.





A bell above their heads rang as they entered the Parlor.  And a Parlor it was, though dark, musty, and looking little used.  Two small oil lamps burned on a table against a wall, a mirror hung above them.  Boxes arranged on the table between the lamps, they looked too small to hold the tools of an Artist.  The lamps providing the room’s only illumination Tyset strained to make out the outlines of a cupboard in one corner and, there, in the center of the room, the Artist’s chair.





“I don’t know about this,” the girl said.





“Nonsense, Master Toussaints is a University trained, accredited Artist.  They say he even graduated at the top of his class.  He’s just fallen on some bad times is all.”  Glancing around the dark, gloomy Parlor, Maria wondered where the Artist could be.  “Master Toussaints?  Oh Master Toussaints,” she called.





There came a noise from the back room.  A loud thud, it sounded painful.  Groaning and rubbing his head, a man wearing a long black robe appeared in the doorway.  “What is it?  What do you people want now?” he growled.





Feeling more than seeing Tyset stiffen beside her, Maria knew what the girl must be thinking.  Unwashed and ill kept, Master Toussaint’s appearance mirrored that of his Parlor.  Even in the dim light it could be seen that his robes were of a higher quality than many of the smaller Tattoo Artists’, though they had long since lost their original luster and looked to be fraying at the hems.  A short, untrimmed beard covering his neck and lower face, his hair was clearly unwashed as it stood out from his head at odd angles.  Added to this was the smell of an unwashed body that had for too long been kept indoors.  None of it was what Maria had expected from this man, of whom she had heard nothing but the highest of praise.





“Master Toussaints,” Maria said, struggling to smile.  “My name is Mavigna Maria and I would very much like to introduce you to someone.  A potential customer this,” she put a hand on Tyset’s shoulder, “is the lady Meridian Tyset.  She is in the market for a personal Artist.”





Toussaints eyed them for a moment before scowling.  “Are you making fun of me, lady?  I have no time, nor the desire to be made fun of.”





Taken aback, Maria eyes widened at the man’s behavior.  “Master Toussaints,” she scolded.  “I am not here to make fun of you.  Lady Tyset truly is in the market for a personal Artist.”





“I’m sure she is.  But as you and she can both see, I am but a poor man, the lowest of the low.  Humility is something I have already learned.  I have no need to receive an education in it from you.  What's more, I’m sure the young lady would prefer one of the larger Parlors, perhaps Mistress Amandine’s?  Yes, I’m quite certain she would.  So, if you would be kindly on your way, I have work to do.”





Upset by the man’s words and his highly dismissive attitude as he made to return to where ever he’d come from, Maria’s grip tightened on Tyset’s shoulder.  “Come,” she said to the girl, her voice clipped and hard.  “Had I known the quality of service of this establishment, I never would have brought you here.  Good day, Master Toussaints.”





Grunting, the man turned to go.  Maria doing likewise, she fully expected Tyset to be out the door before she was.  It was a surprise, therefore, when Tyset shrugged free of her and stepped forward towards the Artist.





“Wait,” the girl called.  “Is it true you graduated at the top of your class?”





His hand on the doorframe the only part of him that lingered in the room, Master Toussaints halted.  “What was that?” he asked harshly, sticking his back into the room.





“I asked if it was true that you graduated at the top of your class?” Tyset repeated.





“Second, I graduated second.”  Turning, he approached them once more.  “And then only because that witch’s father had to go and die just before commencement.  Otherwise I would have been first and, believe you me, I would have been first by a long shot.”





“But you’re accredited?  And you’ve received your license to practice from the Chancellor?” She took a further step towards the Artist.





“Yes, his assessor was here not six weeks ago.  Why do you think I look this way?  I have no money for anything but the necessities after what they charge for licensing.”





Tyset stepped closer still.  “What if I were to give you money?”





“Tyset!” Maria cried, unable to restrain herself she was so shocked by the girl’s audacity.





“I won’t accept charity,” said Toussaints.





“And I won’t give it.  But for service?”  Tyset cocking her head at him, Maria watched in utter amazement as she and the Artist stared at one another for a moment.  “You see,” said Tyset finally, “I am looking, as my governess puts it, for a personal Artist.  And I’ve already been to Mistress Amandine’s, thank you, as well as several others of your associates.  None of them, however, were what I was looking for.” 





Her eyes roaming over the Parlor, Tyset silently began an inspection of it.  Going to the Artist’s Chair, she squeezed its leather cushions.  Her fingers running along the edge of the table, they came away covered in dust.  Continuing on, she slowly made her way around the room, examining anything her gaze alighted on.  Arriving at the door to the back room, she didn’t even pause before passing through.





Toussaints swallowed.  Coming forward, he sat down in his chair.  Mouth open in surprise, he just stared, unblinkingly ahead.  His hand on the cushioned armrest, Maria noticed it trembled slightly.  “And, and what is that, if I may be so bold?”





“You have been so far,” came Tyset’s voice from the back room.  Shaking her head, Maria could hear the sigh in the girl’s voice.  Reappearing a moment later, Tyset halted just inside the main room.





“Master Toussaints,” she said, “let me be frank.  I am looking for an Artist who can provide me with a quality product, a clean, warm, welcoming atmosphere and a certain modicum of privacy.  All while maintaining a proper degree of professionalism.  Of those Artists I have visited thus far, you, Master Toussaints, seem to be the most likely candidate for what I want.  Excepting, of course, the cleanliness.”





“I-I don’t, don’t know what to say, my lady,” stuttered the Artist.  “Thank you?”





“Don’t be too proud of yourself just yet,” Tyset continued.  “If I were to enter into a contract with you—”





“A-a contract?”





Tyset’s head whipped around towards the Artist.  “Yes, a contract,” she snapped, speaking through clenched teeth she was so angry at being interrupted.  “Master Toussaints, when I said privacy I meant both privacy from passerby on the street and the other customers in your Parlor as well as privacy from any who might seek to question my activities with you.  Should we enter into a contract, this would be my number one concern.  Do you understand me?”





Completely at a loss for words now, Toussaints could only nod.  “Th-this contract,” he said, “it would be…?”





“Mutually beneficial.  I would come to you and only you for all my tattoo needs.  Your wages would be the standard for the tattoo I select as well as a small stipend that I will pay you monthly.  In return I’d expect that privacy we just discussed, as well cleanliness from both you and your workspace, and a guarantee of the product you would be giving me.  All with an air of professionalism.  Is that beyond your resources to provide Master Toussaints?  Or shall I take my business elsewhere?”





Toussaints gasped like a man coming up from air after having been trapped under the ice on a frozen lake.  “N-no.  I-I can…do that.  I can…provide you, with all you may need.”





Tyset smiled cheerfully.  “Good.  Then I will return on Artists’ Day a week from now.  For the time being, take this small token as a sign of our having, figuratively speaking, signed this contract.  Lady Mavigna, your purse, if you please.”





Startled, Maria hesitated before replying.  “My lady?”





Giving her a cold, harsh look, Tyset turned to face Maria.  “Your purse, Lady Mavigna.  I would have it.”





“Tyset…”





“Maria.”  Her tone indication just what she would do should Maria not give up her purse, Maria reluctantly removed the small leather pouch from her coat pocket.  Dropping it into Tyset’s outstretched hand she said, “There, that’s all I have.”





“Perfect,” said Tyset, gazing at its contents.  Turning to Toussaints, she handed it over.  “There you go, Master Toussaints.  The first portion of this month’s stipend.  When I return, I hope to see that it has been put to good use.”





His hand rising and falling as he weighed the contents of the purse, Toussaints said, “Oh, it will, my lady.  It will.”





“Good,” said Tyset, smiling once more.  “Then we shall see each other next week on Artist’s Day.”  Turning, she headed for the door.  Pausing before it she looked over her shoulder and said, “Have a good week, Master Toussaints.  Maria, let us go.”





Shocked beyond all her wildest dreams, Maria silently followed Tyset back to the carriage.  All the way home the girl wore the biggest smile Maria had ever seen.  Where in God’s name had that come from?