Page 315 - The Grotesque Children's Book

“Stop, Santi. I don’t mean we’re peers as painters. I mean we’re peers as human
beings.”

Santi frowned. Whatever it is he actually means, I’m sure it’s not that. Peers? Allori
was several stations in life above Santi. Allori was, after all, appointed Royal Portraitist,
whereas he, Santi, was a mere fresco boy. Santi was to be hired and then discarded. He knew
that and accepted it. Perhaps in a few years, Santi would be assigned a minor portrait or two, and
might one day command his first commission. But until that day...peers? No. “You said there
was something you wanted to tell me? I have my brushes to get back to, if you don’t.”

“What I have to tell you, I can’t say here; too dangerous. Meet me at the Bow and Dart
in twenty minutes, Santi.”

“I must get home to my father.”

“You can be a little late.”

“I can’t. I fix his meals. Until I get home, he can’t eat. And you, Master Allori, haven’t
you all your children to get home to? There’s no one here. Tell me what you have to say here.”

“You might not see anyone here, naive Santi. But that doesn’t mean we are alone.”
Allori lifted up his hand off of Santi’s shoulder. “Go. Tend your brushes and then your father,
as I will tend my own brushes and my children. But afterwards, Santi, say between eight and
nine, meet me at the Bow and Dart. Here; here’s two soldi to buy yourself something to wait for
me by, if I’m late.”

“It’s all so mysterious, Master Allori. Why? You make me wonder. Can you tell me
now?”

Allori lowered his voice. “I can’t. I can only hint.”

“Hint, then.”

“You and I need money. Both of us. I’ve found a way, I think, to help you get money to
pay for your father’s medicines, and for me to put food on the table for my ravenous children.
Bow and Dart at nine. I’ll be there, as I trust you will as well.”

“It will depend upon my father. If he’s comfortable and sleeping, those are the only
times I can slip away. If he’s awake and miserable with pain, then I must be with him. You
understand.”

“I understand. Go!” Allori gave him a condescending pat on the top of Santi’s head,
followed by a faux-affectionate shove back up the hallway.

When he returned to his workplace, Santi found that his brushes were now cleaned. In
fact, probably cleaner than he had been able to scrub himself.

It had been Aurelio, of course, who had washed Santi’s brushes as well as his own.
Aurelio mimed he understood how stiff and useless would have been Santi’s brushes, so he’d
washed them himself, then shrugged a single shoulder: You’ve have done the same. In return,
however, Santi was to confide what Allori wanted. Santi shrugged back that he hoped he would

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