Emerald City Dreamer (29 page)

Ezra gestured over the clearing. "I thought I had found God here. Then I discovered I couldn't really know God until I knew myself. If saying so makes me a follower of Satan, so be it."

He looked around at the gathered
Wanderers
one last time. They waited for him to say more, until he stepped off the stump with one graceful leap, turned, and walked towards the woods. The dishes and pans quivered in the air before falling to the ground with a crash.

Everyone began talking at once. He could feel their conflict, their confusion. Where once he struggled and they all
knew
, now he
knew
, and they all struggled.

A single voice rose above the din. Elder Isaiah.

"
Stop!"

Ezra did not stop. He hadn't left his self-made seclusion on the streets only to join a group that alternately despised him and acted like they owned him.

He turned in stride for a moment. Isaiah ran towards him, until Ezra held up his hand. Isaiah stopped, either out of fear, or from the roots that rose from the ground to tangle around his legs.

"
If you leave now," Isaiah growled, "your soul is damned."

Everything that held him here was a lie. "Your sin is synthetic," he replied. He motioned to the Congregation, who continued to stir, as if their faith had been uprooted right out of the ground. "Your fellowship is fickle." He pointed a finger at Isaiah's chest, the man who turned on him the moment Ezra stopped fitting in. "And your guards? They have always been unarmed."

Escape? That was easy. It had always been easy. Ezra turned and simply walked away.

BRANDON'S STUDIO AT 619 WESTERN wasn't very big, but it held a surprising number of people. A few paintings from various artists hung on the old over-painted walls. The concrete floor was spattered here and there with dried paint that had legitimately fallen there by accident. Electronic chillout music played at an ambient volume to allow conversations, which were occurring in small pods around the room.

Jina twirled her dress, greeted new guests, filled wine glasses, and made introductions. Nearly all these people had a common interest in art and music.

She had almost canceled the party, in light of what had happened, but she decided there was little point. She still didn't know where to find Pogswoth, so she'd just be spinning her wheels at home.

Besides, she couldn't miss seeing Jett and Trey.

Jina took another sip of wine. She hadn't seen Jett in two days, when they'd laid together at Deception Pass, talking under the clouds. Out in the water, in the dark, the little islands floated like ghostly shapes in the mist, shrouding the little lights of ships in the distance.

Since then, she'd written more songs than she knew what to do with.

She still had the tiny daisy. It had not yet wilted, so she wore it clipped in her hair.

A goddess walked into the room, and every head turned. She stood like a light in the darkened doorway wearing a mini skirt and lacey tights with tall boots. Her hair hung straight and close around her face, framing the corners of her slender eyes.

"
Jett!" Jina ran over and gave her a hug, and then a lingering kiss just under her ear. She paused to inhale the scent of her hair, which still smelled like lilacs. Her breath smelled like chocolate and coffee beans. "I'm so glad you made it."

"
The pleasure is all mine," Jett whispered. She stepped back, still holding Jina's hands, and asked, "How are things at home?" Her eyes held a glint of concern.

"
Everything's fine." Jina eyed her suspiciously, until Jett smiled and brushed her hand along Jina's arm.

Jina tingled for a while before remembering where she was. She turned towards the party with a grin. "Everyone, meet Jett. Jett, this is everyone." She saw that a few people recognized Jett already. They had acquaintances in common.

Jett held up a tiny canvas, the size of a postcard. "Do you have a little bag I could put this in for safe-keeping?"

"
Yeah, I've got some print sleeves over here." Jina grabbed a clear plastic sheet from a drawer of art supplies. "That's one of those mysterious little paintings that always turn up. Where did you get it?"

Jett winked. "I don't know. It just... materialized in my pocket."

Jina got the distinct impression Jett knew the painter. "The mystery artist wants to keep us wondering, huh? Well, hold on." Jina rushed over to a small table, dug around under it, and returned with a glass of honey-colored liquid. "Mead, just for you."

"
You remembered. Mmm... what kind is this?"

"
It's imported, from Ireland."

"
Reminds me of home. Warm and sweet."

"
Like you... hey, before we end up making out in a stairwell again, let me introduce you to some of these people. At least, the ones you don't already know." Jina led her to a couple holding drinks.

"
Jett, this is Francis and Steven from Fremont," Jina said. Jett shook their hands warmly.

"
We were just discussing government funding of art," Steven said.

"
Taxpayers should not pay for art," Francis said. "It's not the government's job."

"
Funding encourages creativity," Steven replied.

"
The music scene isn't hurting," Francis said. "There is more music now than ever before, accessible to more people, and the government doesn't fund a penny."

Jett began listening very fixedly, though she winked at Jina from time to time, as if her attention was divided with equal intensity.

"
Government funds ballet and opera. And jazz, I'm pretty sure." Steven motioned with his wineglass.

"
No one wants to listen to those things anymore," Francis insisted. "Let the market produce what is popular."

Jina could keep quiet no longer. "Then all you end up with is corporate art," Jina said. "All the music sounds the same, and visual art becomes all about ad copy and logo design. Funding from a neutral party encourages experimentation."

"
Bah," said Francis, motioning to the paintings on the wall. "Artists create whether there is funding or not."

"
Yes, but it creates the expectation that art is worthless, that no one should pay for it," Steven said. "If I had a penny for everyone who asked me to design a free website for them... well, I might be paid what I'm worth."

"
No kidding," Jina said. "How many artists give up and get some office job doing something they hate, trading in their passions for a steady paycheck and health coverage. They let their dreams expire and live out their lives in misery, wondering what they might have been."

"
Not everyone can follow their bliss," Francis said. "Someone has to write accounting software and take out the trash. So of course those jobs will pay more."

"
If I could interject," Jett said. "There was a time when artists were held in very high esteem. The greatest works of art from history - by da Vinci, Mozart, Shakespeare - exist because of patrons."

"
There, see?" Francis said.

"
Not so fast," Steven said. "The only people who had enough money back then would have been nobility. And they made their money from taxes. So those works were government funded."

"
Yet with a personal touch," Jett said. "Government devoid of bureaucracy. The patron relationship was a personal one."

"
Didn't that give the patron an undue amount of control?" Jina asked.

"
Not at all. Religious patrons sought creative control, but secular clients had great freedom, depending on the country and time period. In some places, the patron and client had a close relationship, akin to marriage. Even if the pair were not lovers, the patron would defend and support his artist as much as a wife."

"
What about unknown artists?" Steven asked. "In such a system, it must have been very difficult for an artist to find a devoted patron."

"
Some artists have no talent," Jett replied. "They produce rubbish that should not be supported. These days, when anyone can afford ink, paint, or an instrument, we end up with the washed out slop that comprises most modern mass-culture. Back then, a higher portion of those with talent had support. Now, few are paid unless owned by corporate masters."

A new guest entered the room. Jina put her hand gently on Jett's arm.

"
Trey is here. I'll be right back." She squeezed Jett's hand again and nodded at the couple from Fremont and left the three to their debate.

"
Hi, Trey," she said, glancing at his hands. He had removed a couple of the bandaids, but the bandage still wrapped one finger. Some of the exposed skin still looked pretty raw. "How are you feeling?"

Trey glanced down. "Oh, I'm healing up just fine. I can't work metal, but I can do my job just fine, which is good."

Jina gave him a gentle hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. "Come on over and meet my girlfriend."

She touched his arm and led him to Jett, ignoring any awkwardness she felt. He was so easy to be around. Even though they hadn't hooked up, she worried Jett wouldn't like him, or that he wouldn't like Jett, or... She found herself thinking in circles and quickly put a halt to it. She forced herself to trust Jett's word that there would be no jealousy.

The cluster had been joined by two or three new people and the art-debate now churned with examples and counter examples. Jina peeled Jett off the edge with a light touch on the elbow.

"
Hey Jett, I'd like you to meet Trey. He makes fire sculptures. Trey, meet Jett. She feeds starving artists until they can feed themselves."

Jett's eyes lit up even brighter than they'd been. She went to shake his hand and saw the bandage.

"
Welding burns," he said. "Don't worry, they're light," Trey added in response to Jett's concern. "I'll be back at it in a week. Jina said you support artists. That's not common anymore."

"
I am a wayside fort to talented artists as they travel through life," Jett replied. "I do what I can to keep them from dying destitute and unappreciated.". She devoured him with her eyes.

"
What do you do for a living?" Trey asked.

Funny, Jina had never thought to ask that before.

"
Investments," Jett said.

Made sense.

Jett touched his arm. "I can tell you put a lot into your work."

"
You should see his sculptures," Jina said. "I haven't seen them up close. I hope to soon. He has the pics up on the internet."

"
You two look really cute together," Jett said. "Stand there and let me get a picture." Jett pulled out her cellphone as Jina snuggled up close to Trey. He put his hand comfortably on her hip. It felt nice, warm, natural, the three of them together like this. In fact, it almost seemed as if Jett was encouraging it all.

"
There, see? Adorable."

They leaned in to look at the snapshot, and Trey said, "You two look pretty cute together yourselves." In response, Jett gave Jina one of her now-familiar pecks on the cheek.

This was going much better than she had expected. No jealousy, no drama, just flow. If Trey hadn't been on the rebound, she would have kissed him, too.

Jett tucked her hair behind an ear, and Trey's arm suddenly stiffened against Jina's back.

"
Uh, hey Jina, is there any wine for me?"

She looked at his face, searching for clues to his sudden change in mood. Maybe he was triggered about his ex. Or he'd seen someone he was avoiding. Or he'd become territorial. She couldn't guess.

"
I did better than that," Jina said. "I brought you some Scotch."

Trey followed her. Jett winked at them both and turned back to the big conversation.

"
Jina, can we talk?"

"
Sure. I'm sorry, Trey, was that uncomfortable? I thought things were going fine."

"
It's not that, I mean, it was, it was going really... I hope you don't mind that I interrupted."

Jina shook her head.

His voice got really quiet, so she could barely hear him. He glanced back at Jett, who seemed very preoccupied. "Jina, did you know Jett is a faerie?"

The bottle slipped out of Jina's hands. Trey caught it before it shattered on the floor.