Moonwater Perfume/Written at The Fifth Veiled Hour

It was back to the wardrobe for us. The second time around, this was a place to hatch an escape plan of sorts.

"Your uncle has put in a request for you to come visit at his manse, at least for a few weeks," I said, after I sat on the floor under a blue shimmersilk cape. I didn't move the thing, because I cared less about my discomfort than the dilemma of Josym's predicament.

Jos was standing over on the other side, tucked in the corner with the same gold and white robes he had worn for his Knighting Ceremony only ten days ago half-draped around his shoulders. To think we could fall down such a steep cliff and tumble into this horrible abyss in such a short time...

"The summer visit. The High Season is coming fast, " he murmured. "At least one tradition I can handle." We had been sitting in the glorified crawl space for about thirty minutes, and those were the first words he had spoken. "That's the Grand Escape?"

"It isn't unusual. You've gone there every summer since you were a boy.”

"I was held back last summer because of the botched marriage negotiations." Josym finally knelt down on the floor. "Father thought it best to keep me imprisoned in the manor while Lord Kaalida and his whiny daughter came around and demanded a larger dowry."

That was true. The rumors had fluttered about all through Reunahn's residence during those six weeks. The kitchen girls usually chatter about various things that are of interest to those interested in gossip, but they can work as excellent sources of intelligence. When those gossipy wisps rise up from the kitchens to the bedchambers, then it becomes legitimate information that could be utilized by the wise and quick. So I found out the Prestat of Kaalida wanted a higher dowry than originally agreed upon in the first marriage contract five years ago, plus I also discovered the primary motive for this sudden decision; he isn’t known colloquially as “Milord Debt” for nothing. The old boy is a notorious gambler, and chronically deprived of funds. So this is a last-minute plan to come down the mountainside with the precious daughter in tow.

“But it came to nothing,” I said. At least we were out of the damned silent holding pattern that has burdened us the past three days, ever since the night of the revelation. “Milord Debt has come back around with his begging hat in one hand and the same old daughter in the other. He’s borrowed your father’s city residence for this Season. So it seems the negotiations are back on again. And Lord Reunahn has decided it would be good to invite the cavalcade along with the Prestat of Krischire and his rather appealing female offspring.”

Josym obviously did not know of this counter offer for his marriage claim. As it was meant to be...my esteemed benefactor had just told me of this scheme last night before I was zipped back to the Di’sallach home. I had been called out of this cloistered insanity to the civilized surroundings that Lord Reunahn calls home. His manse is just far enough from the capital to let those inside keep their individual sanities, but close enough that one can access the few cultural merits of the city. The morning after the night that never should’ve happened, I received a summons from His Lordship, and had to leave without saying goodbye to Josym.

Forty-eight hours later, I still have no idea what my benefactor wants to achieve. What does he think can be gained by inviting his former father-in-law and the younger half-sister of his deceased first wife to the manse along with the Kaalida party? I can only assume the Prestat of Krischire is interested in making Jos the husband of his only daughter. Reunahn was cryptic about the matter when I asked him to elaborate. So I have no clue why he might want to pair his nephew with his departed wife’s sibling. It’s not illegal, and from what I have gleaned based upon that gossip circle, the daughter of Krischire is clever, well versed in the arts (she does have a fondness for paintings of the non-holographic kind, which seems like such an archaic interest). Plus she is attractive, especially compared to the portable Bantha that is the Kaalida girl. The only problem she seems to be afflicted with is an overly florid name: Aureielle Lasitreau. Somehow, it’s almost beautiful, yet too fancy and sweet, like a slice of parechal cake smothered in rianberry sauce and choesette. Aureielle Di’sallach...well, there’s a cumbersome name. I normally don’t question my benefactor’s logic, but I have to wonder about this scheme without presenting a candidate to the Council of Ancients.

“I don’t want to get married.”

“What?” Getting caught up in my own twisted labyrinth of thoughts means that I tune out every so often.

“Nobody ever thinks about the kids they’re trying to pair up. Maybe some of them don’t want to be transformed into baby making machines.” Jos swayed back off his knees and thumped onto the floor. AI can’t be the only one with some vague ambitions that aren’t dynastic.”

“There are others among the Prestatines.”

“Oh, did you happen to speak with them during those encounters?”

“How many of them?” His right hand was clenched against his thigh, and I wondered for all the worlds just what had him agitated.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I soon received my answer. “How many other men have you been with besides my uncle?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">He was jealous. To think that a courtesan was not passed around like dessert wine is bizarre. I have not been with nearly as many aristo boys as my fellow sisters in Commitment. Lord Reunahn has been protective of me. But he couldn’t prevent me from getting pulled away to initiate other heirs after their Ascendancies. In the past seven years, I have been shuttled to ten other Prestatures so I could take away the virginity of those heirs. My will is never my own, so any sadness was tossed aside in favor of approaching the situation with detachment. I performed my duty as requested with each heir, each young man more or less unpleasant than the others. At least I was fortunate to never be assigned as a permanent companion to any of those boys, though the Prestatine of Caduet developed a crush on me.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“I have to go where I’m called. There were others before you, and others shall follow once you’re married and decide to upgrade to a younger courtesan.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“I would never do…”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Of course you will. No matter what your intentions are right now, the longer you stay here, your soul will be poisoned.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“What if I don’t stay here? Then I would be a different person, according to your theory.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Most likely.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“But I’m not like the others you’ve been with. Believe me. It burns my soul to realize you have to be what you are.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“This is only a state of life. It has to be endured until it’s over.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Any state can be changed.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Not always. Let’s worry about your future. Getting away from here is the best option for you right now.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“What about you?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“It’s not in the flow, Jos. Accept the truth.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Part XV