Moonwater Perfume/Written during Contemplation

His conceivable future, or a major component of that possibility, has finally arrived.

Lady Aurielle Lasitreau, the youngest daughter and brightest jewel that belongs to the Prestat of Krischire, is downstairs in Reunahn’s receiving chamber, along with her potential groom. Their first meeting can lead to wedded bliss, or cast him back out into society as yet another aristocratic bachelor. I won’t see him this afternoon, or tonight, most likely not even tomorrow, as his attention is diverted toward a grand future of inheritance and succession. Dreams of a beautiful wife, vast swathes of property, untold quantities of capital in many banks across the galaxy, and the grand title are Josym’s priorities right now. Certainly no room for me in that heady mixture...

Of course I won’t meet Lady Lasitreau, not until after the wedding, or she might never cross my path. Many aristocratic wives choose to keep away from their husbands’ extramarital companions because of snobbery, occasional bouts of inferiority, and some rare but intense feelings of sanctity. All mothers are bound to meet and approve their sons’ first cortigia, as I had to undertake with the Prestatia. Feminine power is basically nonexistent, so anytime a woman can wield some control over her daily life is understandable.

What I saw from the balcony, as our honored guest stepped from her groundlimo, matched those past fleeting glimpses: petite, slender, light golden hair arranged in a stylized naturalistic pile of curls, dressed in shell pink and ivory taffenza. She is lovely. The offspring she provides will be prize candidates in the future: fair haired, artistic, fiercely intelligent.

Genetics are funny, though, and a new generation might not resemble their parents. Red hair exists in the Huranz family, and the Di’sallach genes are filled with potential for brown-haired offspring...

Why am I doing this? Considering his future with someone else...it’s not my business. His affairs aren’t within my influence. Other societies might allow courtesans to maintain some power over the nobles who share their beds. But in those faraway locales, a paramour of means works independently. Deiu is not such a haven; using the word “courtesan” to describe the life of a cortigia provides a distorted understanding of the bleakness which permeates this existence...”cortigia” belongs to ancient Ysonessean, and its true meaning cannot be described by one term in Basic...

Why, why, do I wander again, once more, through territory familiar and uncontrollable? There are better ways to waste the hours, instead of remaining behind a locked door, observing Contemplation. Running toward solitude because I wish to avoid the chaos inside my heart...if I sought true refuge from everything, I would have run for the mesas, where the Thinking Orders gather among rainbow flowers and blank plains. The Sisters know nothing about worldly travails; their minds are clean, pure voids, forever open to the voices of creation.

Would it be so terrible to join one of their retreats once I’m no longer useful? True, my nature isn’t thrilled by seclusion, but it can’t be any worse than sitting here getting aggrieved till sunset. Maybe I’ll slip down to the kitchens and swipe a bottle of Rosy Pearl...

Part XX