The Namura Stone (The Ammonite Galaxy, book 6)

Chapter 6

THREE DAYS LATER, Grace decided to go with Ledin to the Kwaide Orbital Space Station when Arcan took him over to work. She wanted to take Cimma the picture she had painted of their lifesharing ceremony, as promised, and she wanted to show her how well her grandson was getting on. She knew how happy it would make her mother to see him, to hear his happy babbling.

At the house by the Emerald Lake, she wrapped the painting up carefully in cloth. It had taken her a long time to paint because it was so important to her. In the end, it hadn't really been about Ledin and herself, she had realized. The finished painting showed Cimma, standing in a bubble, her face pressed against the orthogel, looking so happy and proud that the whole of her face shone.

Cimma was the centre of the painting, but behind her was Valhai, stretched out under a slate sky, with just a tinge of brilliant orange where the arc of division between the day and the night side could be seen, far away in the distance. In the foreground was Arcan, fountains inside fountains flashing with a rainbow of colours against the rest of the lake, and the dotted forms of the others. They should have been unrecognizable, because they were all dressed identically in bodywraps and mask packs, but Grace had somehow managed to instill something special in each figure, something that made them all instantly identifiable.

Six and Diva were side by side, exchanging a conspiratorial grin, it seemed, though Six's figure was in the process of taking a step back, as if to say he was tired of the ceremony already. Diva's fingers were reaching out slightly to his hand, restraining him, drawing him back into the proceedings.

The canth keeper was standing with the small piece of cloth which he had held over Ledin and Grace's joined hands. His mask pack seemed to radiate his pleasure at performing the ceremony and there was a sense of colour around his head, almost an aura, which seemed to extend to the couple too.

Lastly, hovering slightly to one side and above head height, was the visitor. Grace had painted him as just a touch of light, an area of white which was almost like a shimmering star. She had wanted it to be ambiguous; only the people who knew about the morphics should realize exactly who and what it was, the rest of the world should think it only to be an area of illumination in the painting.

As she wrapped the canvas up she was smiling. It had taken her a long time to paint and had cost her many hours of frustration. Her hands were so damaged now that it was hard to use a paintbrush; more often than not the strokes of the brush bore no resemblance to the picture in her mind. She had struggled with herself for many a long hour, often crying with impotence when she was unable to transmit her vision onto the canvas. In the end, despite many false starts, despite much repainting, it was finally done. Even Grace herself had been surprised at the result. It was different from her earlier attempts; the sheer difficulty she had experienced in painting it had given it an extra depth. She was pleased, in some private place inside her. She thought it was the best thing she had ever painted, and that was appropriate too. This painting was a way to thank her mother for everything she had done.

She hoped her mother would like it; it was hard when you produced something like this. You yourself might feel that it was all right, but that didn't mean somebody else would feel the same way. Grace was unexpectedly nervous.

Ledin came up and planted a small kiss on the back of her bent neck. "She will love it," he said, clearly guessing her thoughts.

"Do you think so?" Grace chewed her lip. "I was just wondering if I should have made Cian a slightly darker shade. Do you think there is time ...?"

Ledin grinned and firmly folded the cloth over the painting. "It is over," he said. "I think it is by far the best thing you have ever done, and I refuse to let you fiddle with it any more. In any case, Arcan will be here any second."