They had chosen a theme for this year’s Masque nearly as soon as the previous one ended. It was just about the only failsafe against having another House choose a similar, or downright copy, of that choice. Goodness knew that nothing offended the other courtesans so much as arriving at any event, let alone the Longest Night, in the same ensemble.
The only other establishment on Mont Nuit to have any idea of Valerian’s plans were, of course, Mandrake. As they so often complimented each other in the everyday, it had become custom to do so at the Masque as well.
“If you make those wings any larger you won’t fit through the door, dear,” Rosanna said as she passed by the row of adepts trying on their costumes for a final fitting.
The young man she spoke to looked a little sullen at having his wings clipped, but the threat of embarrassing himself in such a public way that was not part of a contract won out.
Winter fairies had been chosen by vote. Each member of her House had the chance to put forth an idea towards their yearly costume theme. Rosanna was not a dictator, she wanted those in her care to have the freedom of expression when it came to the most holy night of the year. Being of dearly held faith herself, she would never lord over this holiday in such a fashion. So, they practiced a system of voting to choose their themes, and this year it seemed whimsy was a strong contender.
Not that she was complaining. Rosanna had been one of those who jumped at the chance to play adult dress-up in such a way.
“Tryphosa, what is the status of the final orders from Eglantine?”
During the time of organized chaos, she liked to walk through her adepts during an inspection of sorts. Making sure no detail was left unaccounted for. Her counterpart would no doubt be doing the same in Mandrake House. Though not so nicely, she thought with amusement.
Some of their House used the tools already available to them, if the color scheme matched whatever theme they were implementing. Alas, Rosanna had nothing in white. All of her…leather goods were in shades of black, brown or red. Not a thing that conjured images of winter, pine trees, snow, and ice. Well, maybe the red but she was not going as a holly berry bush.
“We expect a delivery no later than week’s end. But now there seems to be some hold up with their own contracts with the silk merchants. Something about bad weather in Marsilikos has affected imports. Of all times to be storming.”
Rosanna looked at Tryphosa, brows raised for the rest of her report.
“I have a backup plan, no need to stress yourself even more than usual.”
As the Dowayne and Second walked through the empty rooms, the House was not accepting patrons right now. It was still daylight, and the doors were not yet open for business. The perfect time to pull out the bolts of fabric, pin cushions, and boxes of accessories and pile all the denizens into the meeting rooms for mass fittings. Young apprentices too young to be working on their marques raced back and forth to deliver garments and other sundries. Others were bringing food and drink to those being pinned into costumes rather than formally breaking for lunch. With so much to be done, and still open for patrons in a few hours, there was simply no time for such luxuries.
The end of the year was always like this. A perfect winter storm of utter chaos that would culminate in a pleasant evening just to be repeated the following year. Such was the cycle of the seasons on Mont Nuit. At least they had ended this tumultuous year on a pleasant note, dare she say a rather fairy tale ending.
Rosanna would be attending half the night at Cereus House, walking in the processional with her fellows, but would be moving to the palace for the second half the night. Leaving Tryphosa to represent and manage their people in the meantime. Such had been their system ever since they came into their respective roles.
“I expect my family will insist I stay with them until morning at the townhouse. They are all uncommonly present in the city this season,” she told her friend as they checked items off a list and added more final orders to be placed. “I do not think I will take a patron this time, free of choice or not. After all that has happened, I simply want to rest.”
Which meant that the Second would be in command of their House at least for twenty hours, if not more. And on the most auspicious night of the year at that. It was quite the act of trust she was being shown, exciting too.
“I shall endeavor to keep our people in hand and not cause too much of a scandal. I think we’ve had enough of those to last a lifetime by now.”
Rosanna nodded and stopped to pluck a cup of warm wine from one of the passing pages.
“We will not rest very long though. Mara’s Eve is not long after the Longest Night. Have you the list of debuting apprentices?”
Just as holy to those of Valerian House as the Longest Night was the celebration of Mara’s Eve. Daughter of Naamah and first anguisette. Those who had their coming out on that most auspicious of nights was considered to be the crème de la crème of their House. Both Rosanna and Tryphosa had their debuts on that holy day and now rose to the highest rank a Night Blooming Flower might achieve. Competition was known to be quite fierce, and she had been keeping her eyes and ears peeled for excellence or mischief.
It was the duty of the Dowayne and Second to decide who would make their debut and when. And both women were exacting, yet fair, in their criteria.
Rosanna looked over the list. She trusted her Second explicitly with the appraisal of their up and coming courtesans. Whatever Tryphosa noted as an exceptional talent, or a note on what apprentice needed more instruction, she took as true and honest fact.
“And the guest list?” She asked as they made their way through the House salons and into the non-public rooms to ascertain the status of all other preparations.
“The Shahrizai have already made their intention to attend clear. We don’t even need to send them an invitation, to be honest.”
“True, but I will not have us lose our sense of decorum. Send it anyway so that we can say we upheld our end of the social contract. And make sure the de Morhban family gets their missive first, we have to stand on ceremony there or risk adding fuel to that rivalry’s fire. Who else are we expecting?”
Of course they would have the leadership of Mandrake as guests. Along with perhaps an unexpected invitation to the Royal Mistress, but Rosanna had her reasons. After all, if Dahlia had not won Odilia, Mandrake would have. As her dearest friend, that was also a perfectly good reason to include her. But attendance was not required, she simply wanted to make sure the gesture was made. Following her name, a good number of nobles who often frequented their establishment was listed, in order of which preferred to keep their patronage more of an open secret and those who cared not who knew.
“Approved. See these go out once the recovery period of the Longest Night is done. We cannot delay for that only makes the preparations for both affairs even more complicated.”
While the other Houses on Mont Nuit relaxed in a post-masquerade haze, the two sister-houses would be rushing headlong into another sacred celebration. Rosanna loved both holy days, but this time of year always drove her half mad in worry and lack of sleep
Tryphosa reached out and laid a gentle hand on the Dowayne’s, her friend’s, shoulder. “Consider it already done.”