Tag: heliotrope

Part Four

She shook her head and went on, “But as you said before, it almost doesn’t matter to most people if the king loves his partner. Neither king nor queen, nor consort is an actual human, they’re toys to move around as we all see fit.”

She opened the cold box and pulled out the dessert and a chilled bottle of wine. “Please, try this shaved ice. It is a triumph shown to us by one of our new adepts. It’s got fruit and sweet things, it’s delicious.”

The wine uncorked easily, and she poured Niklos a healthy serving, then poured her own. “The idea that they’re toys is what makes this Corrian so potentially dangerous and yet so appealing to people. No one knows where she’s from or how she grew up, so there’s no guilt in her being the toy. I am personally uninterested in her past. I need to know her future, her plans, her dreams, her desires, so I can pick them apart and decide if I’ll become soft and give her what she wants or if I will have to stand strong before her and give her what she needs.” She chuckled. “But I’m Heliotope’s Dowayne, of course I use our canon and teachings as easily as I draw breath.”

He nodded as he took a bowl of the dessert. He had heard of such things but had never had the chance to try it, so he took a small bite, the chill running through him pleasantly. He smiled at the fruit flavors, and he eyed the wine. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—refuse it, but he rarely had wine with a sweet. He was curious as to how they would taste together. “I can only imagine how your interactions with the various Houses would be. And Dahlia’s canon seems so…opposite…your own. It feels to me a dichotomy on the level of Valerian and Mandrake? Without the pain, certainly. We all have our feelings about people, and I have no right asking your explanation, as your reasons are yours. As for Corrian, I believe her intent is to throw herself into Gustav’s path often enough that he will begin to look upon her and possibly court her. The concern in the back of my head is why? And for that answer, I need to know more about where she came from. Because if she is a toy, who is pulling the strings?” He frowned, taking a slow sip of wine. He paused, looking at the glass, a smile crossing his face at the interplay of flavors, before rubbing his forehead briefly. “There are too many variables right now. And I can only see a part of the board.” He sighed ruefully. “I’m sorry to have brought all this to your doorstep. Though I hazard to think that we both would have been more in the dark if we hadn’t spoken.”

Mena smiled at him, noticing his pleased expression when he had the wine. She had gone out of her way to find a wine that would surprise him with that choice, and it seems she was right. Getting her own bite, she savored it as she listened to him and thought about his words carefully. “You aren’t darkening my door with worries, Niklos, quite the contrary. I know you are trusted among the other Houses, so I trust that my faith in your discretion will not be misplaced.”

She got up and crossed to her desk and picked up a thick leather folio and set the folder on the table, leaning it on the wine bottle. “That file belongs to one of our patrons who passed away many years ago, so you are welcome to look through it. We use it as part of the education of all the children raised here. Lord Myiere was a patron of the late Dowayne for forty years, from his first visit here just after he reached majority to the day he died in a freak accident seven years past.”

She looked up at the ceiling, carefully considering how to proceed. After a long silence, she spoke. “Not all who are called to Heliotrope have a natural gift that allows them to read patrons correctly in the moment. Plus, patrons will often need to be seen by more than one adept. So, many, many years ago, a system was set up where we train all who are raised here in the art and skill of observing, predicting, and handling people. And we keep extensive records.” She gestured at the folio on the table. “Lord Myiere has four such collections, that one is the weightiest, as it was made in the first two years of his patronage of Ricard. Helping train the children in the nursery and the novices was added to my duties when I was nearing twenty. And as Second, keeping abreast of the comings, goings, and shiftings of the City, as well as helping predict a patron’s whims was one set of duties I was best at. Despite my terrible penmanship and hatred of paperwork. I feared this was a potential problem.”

She sat down in her chair as close to heavily as a lifelong adept could. “I told the Dowayne that a Dauphin with an adept as a public lover was the riskiest of situations. I don’t pretend to know everything or have my hand in political intrigue, but I know people, I know how to read people, and I know how to anticipate. This Court is supportive of His Majesty to the point of being indulgent. But there’s no way that they would allow him to choose an adept, let alone a Dahlia, as his bride, and the brides that would suffer a Night Court trained official mistress are as rare as snow in the heat of summer.” Laughing a little, she went on. “He told me that, even in the summer we can see the snow on distant mountains and that I was worried about something that would likely not come to pass, as men’s hearts are fickle. We had a bet on it, and the large red roan horse in the stables shows you who won. This is a time of potential upheaval for all of us, Night and Day Court alike. Perhaps we need to step in and quietly remove women from his path until we leave him with that snow-capped peak.”

After a pause for a sip of her wine and to collect her thoughts, she went on. “I mean that in our way, of course. A delayed carriage, a public mistress at a social gathering, an ill-mannered conversation, or food that doesn’t sit well with the lady’s disposition. You were right earlier, when you said that Heliotrope and Dahlia are opposite each other. They are upright and unbending in all things, something I do not understand, clearly.” She gestured down at her gown with a smile. “I might not know what she’s doing or why, but I feel that it is my duty to aid Odilia in finding her happiness. And, more importantly, helping to ensure that the Night Flowers can bloom without the influence a jealous queen would have.”

Part Three

He chuckled softly as he took the bread from her, her earlier words having cut rather closely. Time felt like it was hurtling forward, as opposed to the slow and steady march it had felt like in his youth.

He nodded. “The Dahlia, yes, I have heard about her. And I don’t think I’m as well-connected as I once thought I was. Too much turmoil in the typically placid waters.” He took a bite of the bread and jam, his eyes widening fractionally, surprised at the taste. He chewed slowly, interested in where Mena was leading.

Mena smiled and chewed her bite carefully. “You are right, there’s a lot of turmoil swirling around here. Between the poor bachelorettes, Odilia, and the nobles and guilds all on a knife’s edge, we’ve all been struggling. One of the things our patrons come to us for is to be soothed and made to feel as though their worries will fade away. It’s been hard to do that lately, particularly since my adepts are not feeling stable themselves.”

“And now there’s that new noblewoman…what’s her name…” He paused, waiting for a reaction from her. “Corrian. That’s her. I ran into her at the Hall of Games, and when she found out my family her reaction was…rather negative. I thought we’d gotten past all of that. And then I bumped into her at de Morbhan’s fête. She and I are supposed to visit Bryony, now that I think of it. The poor king. All these possibilities circling him. I can’t imagine what it’s doing for your business…or that of half the other Houses.” He reached out and took his tea cup, taking a sip and relishing the flavor.

Mena made a face. “Mmm, I have heard of her. One good thing about my adepts is that they often accompany their patrons not as adepts, but as partners.” She laughed again, brighter this time. “Which is why I can’t often keep them once they’ve made their marques. I digress, two of my adepts have had direct interactions with her, and most of them hear of her from their noble patrons. She is like a bite that has crunch in what’s meant to be a smooth dish.”

Picking up her own cup, she had a sip and closed her eyes momentarily. “This tea is worth the price I pay to have it brought to me. It never fails to clear my head and improve my mood.” She smiled at him as she had another sip. “I can only speak for us, but Heliotrope’s loyalty is to the king’s heart. We support and desire for him to take a partner who flows into the spaces in his heart like honey. Beyond that, we have no opinion. As for how business is going,” she shrugged. “I am not the accountant, that’s Matin, his office is on your way out, if you’d like to know specifics.”

He grinned. “It is good tea. If Jacob didn’t have his own blend that he insisted on, I might be asking you where I could obtain this one. And I don’t think I need to meet with Matin. Your House’s accounts are none of my business. I just find it odd that this Corrian of no real influence is suddenly a piece on the gameboard. And we both know marriages at some of the higher echelons of Terre d’Ange are purely political. Love doesn’t always enter into the equation. Marriages for the Crown are even more complex. I don’t believe His Majesty is in a situation like Ysandre once was. But I don’t move in his circles often enough. He’s a good man, and I’ve seen him on occasion, but I’m not one of his close acquaintances. That’s probably for the best, as I would probably cause more harm than good if I associated with him too often.” He chuckled then, a broad grin on his face. “We all know how well scions of Kushiel are perceived when they move too closely to the Courcels.” He picked up a little cake, having finished the bread and jam, and took a bite, a strange glint in his eyes.

Mena laughed quietly but with no real humor. “It seems we have adopted that from the Yeshuites: the sins of the father being passed to the children. The Court of all people should know that one’s family name means nothing about the individual. How many of them spend their nights in our Court, bemoaning the uselessness of their first born? Besides, that was a long while back, and just because a person’s tendencies aren’t yours, that doesn’t make them a traitor.”

She rolled her eyes. “That bothers me, my apologies for my outburst. We find that occasionally in our Court: a born in-house novice or adept lording it over a transfer or purchase. It’s despicable, we’re each a clean slate to Naamah and Elua, aren’t we?”

Giving her shoulders a shake, she inhaled deeply. “Never mind that. This Corrian problem is one that we’ll see a solution to in our lifetime, let’s apply our energies to that. I am incredibly confused as well by her appearance. My adepts are listening and asking of their patrons.” She smiled again, reaching for a plate of dates and offering them to Nikos as she spoke. “Not in any spying kind of manner, just gossip we haven’t heard. We’d hoped, myself and a few other Dowaynes, that Odilia would come and pass on what she knew, or at least let us know she remembered who raised her. She, of all people, should know who this woman is, wouldn’t you think?”

He gently motioned his dismissal of the dates as he considered her words. “We should all be clean slates, but there is always the possibility that family lines run stronger than we would hope. As for the Corrian question…Do we even know where the Borlean family comes from? She’s pretty, but she could be from half the provinces.”

He shrugged, then grinned. “I think Odilia has some of her own ambition. Dahlias have always gone hand in hand with pride. I get the feeling she saw an opportunity, and she made a play for it. She could love Gustav, but I’m not certain she does. But Gustav could love her. And if he does, is that more dangerous or less dangerous?” He leaned back, trying to put all the pieces together, knowing that his network was not as useful as it might have been. It bothered him.

“There is a concern that the contemptuous and dismissive ego that a lot of adepts have contended with in their dealings with Dahlia House have been distilled into Odilia. That she is playing some chess game and we, who will likely be impacted by her actions, are purposely kept in the dark. As for her loving the King…”

Mena trailed off, thinking deeply. “When I was still Second, I had a lot of dealings with other Seconds, but rarely her. She didn’t attend our meetings often and was rarely involved in what needed to be done. Even Orchis’ Second was committed to what needs to be done to keep our lives running, but rarely Dahlia. That shades my opinion no matter how I try to keep neutral. As for the king, I believe he loves her, even if it’s just in the same way you love the view from your balcony at midwinter.”

Part Two

The morning, three days hence, arrived. Niklos had been busy these past days, gathering whatever information he could on Mena. He had passing familiarity with her, having met her a few times at the Palace when she’d been Second of Heliotrope. He remembered her as being incredibly efficient, and rumors in the City did not disabuse him of that memory. Jacob had been terrifyingly useful in getting information on the now-Dowayne of Heliotrope, and it appeared that not all the houses on the Mont were fully behind the Dahlia’s power play. That made sense with the various canons of the Court, and Niklos found himself unsurprised that Heliotrope might be one of those houses on the fence, as it were. Niklos had a small smile on his face as he climbed into the coach for the ride up to the Mont, settling in comfortably for the ride.

The coach pulled up to the gates of Heliotrope in good time, and the driver announced Niklos’ presence for a meeting with the Dowayne, upon which the gates were opened, and the coach entered the confines of the house itself. As Niklos stepped down from the coach, his eyes took in some other coaches waiting in the yard. Minor houses all, but they would also be important moving forward. He made his way to the main door of the house and smiled at the initiate that opened the door. “Count Niklos Shahrizai here to see Dowayne Philomena no Heliotrope, at her invitation.” He waited patiently for the initiate’s direction.

Vouloir had been waiting for the Count’s coach to arrive, her fingertips tingling with anticipation. Or nerves, she wasn’t sure, but she was choosing to believe that it was the former. She pulled the door open and curtseyed, “My Lord, the Dowayne is expecting you. Please follow me to her office.”

Gesturing to the stairwell behind her, she turned and started up them, trusting that he would follow her. Elua knew she wanted to speak, to ask him questions about the day, the news, the crops, anything to fill the silent walk, but her Dowayne had expressly forbidden her from doing so, saying that she alone was to escort him and that after, when she was dismissed, she was to sit in the kitchen, eat her meal, and listen for any comments from adepts or staff on the topic of his visit or any gossip that sounded related.

After extending her invitation, Mena had asked her Day Errand Adept if there was anything she needed to know about her visitor and had been told nothing that she didn’t already know or hadn’t heard through Night Court gossip. Very well, a straightforward visit, likely both social and fact finding, which was exactly what she needed right now. A mentally stimulating visit from someone she knew well enough but not so well that she could predict their every move.

The decision to conduct the visit in her private office, not her official one, was a given. Her official office was for things that were, well, official. This was a mutual fact-finding mission wrapped in a social call, and these things were never official. So she’d had her office tidied some, the low table between two chairs cleaned off, and the room aired. Her clothing and hairstyle were also chosen to reflect that this was not official: a day dress in Helio’s colors and her hair braided and pinned up off her neck. While she waited, she read a book she’d been meaning to catch up on to keep her mood even. Paperwork would only put her in a mindset that would be useless for this visit.

She lifted her head from her book when she heard Vouloir’s knock on the door, watching the door push open to admit the girl and her guest.

“My Lady Dowayne, Count Shahrizai, as requested.” Vouloir’s voice was polite yet unyielding. Mena smiled and thought, ‘I was right about this one, so very right’

Standing, she nodded at the girl. “Thank you, Vouloir, please go enjoy your meal and have the kitchen send up the food I requested.”
Vouloir nodded, curtseyed again to Count Shahrizai, and before she’d left the doorway, Mena gestured to the comfortable chair in front of hers before sitting back down. “My lord, do come in and have a seat. Food and drink will be up soon. I know that the rest of the Court is on quite a different schedule from us, but I think everyone appreciates a light meal and good drink after midday?”

Niklos nodded politely to Mena as he entered her office. He was curious, as he didn’t think he’d been inside the Dowayne’s private office here at Heliotrope before. He’d certainly been to some others, Cereus being the first in his mind, but any time he had visited Heliotrope before he had been accommodated in the more public, “official” office.

His eyes followed the adept who’d led him through the House, a brief upturn on the corner of his lips. She had carried herself as if his presence was the most important thing she would undertake…and he supposed that was befitting of a Heliotrope. Wasn’t their canon devotion? His eyes turned to Mena, studying her as he moved towards the chair she’d gestured to. He caught the book that looked like it had just been set down, but there was no title on the coverm and he was curious as to what she might be indulging in. “Refreshments would be most welcome, my lady.”

He leaned back, relaxing in the chair, a languid smile crossing his face. “And how have you been, Dowayne Philomena? How has your adjustment to being head of Heliotrope House been? I must be honest, I was a little surprised to hear that your predecessor was retiring, but I am happy to know yet another old acquaintance in a position of leadership within the Night Court. How are you?”

Mena smiled at him. “Please, call me Mena. I only rarely stand on ceremony and never in my home.” At the mention of her predecessor, she felt a pang of grief. Few outside of the House knew the truth. “It was a shock to be sure. He hid an incurable illness behind his retirement and died a few weeks after his retirement was announced. We didn’t tell anyone at the time, as per his wishes. He didn’t want a fuss to be made over his passing.”

A quiet knock on her door came, a man came in carrying a large tray, followed by a girl no more than twelve who was carefully carrying a box. Mena looked up at them and smiled, grateful for the distraction. “Ah, Rich, Louise, thank you both so much.”

The man smiled back at her as he set the dishes out, “You are welcome, my lady. If you and His Lordship need anything else, Louise will be just outside.”

Mena turned her smile to the girl, “Make sure you have your schoolwork or something to read, child. We might be a while, it would be a shame to waste that time.”

Louise curtseyed before she left, “Yes, Lady Dowayne.”

Mena turned her attention back to Count Shahrizai. “I was unsure what you preferred, so I had a selection prepared. My cook is incredible. She makes this cold soup that you simply must try.” She gestured to the small bowls as she continued. “There’s also meat and cheese and our homemade bread, if that is more to your liking. Also just for you, because I know how you adore wine,” she patted the top of the box that Louise had brought in, “I have some of one of our chilled wines here, as well as a delightful mixture of cold fruit, sweet wine, and some shavings from our last ice block.”  Cutting two slices of bread, she held one out to him. “This is a recipe as old as Heliotrope House. All of our novices learn it, and there is nothing like it in the world.”

He leaned forward and took one of the slices of bread, his eyes ranging across the variety of delicacies that Heliotrope had provided. He was impressed, their cellars might be as good as the ones at the Townhouse. He would have to speak to Jakob about that.

“You are too kind, Mena. Far too kind.” He took a bite of the bread, enjoying the taste. “This bread is quite good! A house secret, I’m guessing? Delicious.”  He leaned back into the chair, relaxing as he processed the information she had provided. The old Dowayne had passed, and it seemed somewhat unexpectedly. He hadn’t heard the news, but he also didn’t move in circles with anyone who could provide him continuing information on the goings-on within Heliotrope. He was grateful to have some insight into the houses he did know about. “And I expect no formality from you as well. Not here in private, at least. This is nothing but a social call. It’s been far too long since we’ve seen each other…last year’s Masquerade, wasn’t it? I do apologize for my distraction. I should have come to visit sooner.” There had been so many things going on, including his visits to Kusheth. But things were falling into place. He leaned forward to take a wedge of cheese, taking another slow bite as his gaze rested on her.

She smiled a little sadly. “Time is a fickle thing, Niklos. When you’re juggling knives, they’re all you can think about. No matter how much you want or need more, the knives demand focus..” Laughing a little, she added, “at least I can’t. I am no Orchis, and I will never understand juggling. I saw a group of them out in the market a few nights ago, juggling and telling stories. Completely magical, if you ask me.”

A silence slipped over the two as they ate. It was comfortable, contemplative even. As she spread jam and butter on a slice of bread and held it out to Niklos, she smiled a slightly less serene smile. “I know you’re well connected within the Night Court, I assume you’ve heard about Odilia?”

Part One

TIme is a slippery thing. One minute, Heliotrope was preparing for the Masque, and the next it was the beginning of winter, another Masque looming in the distance. Mena wondered where the time went and why it went so quickly. One look at the mountain of paperwork on her desk and she knew where. ‘I really need to finalize my Second,’ she thought as she dragged another pile of paperwork over. RIght now—much to the scandal of anyone who mentioned it to her—she had delegated the work of the Second (and a bit of the Dowayne’s, if she was honest) out to three different people: One handled incoming novices and fosterlings; one managed the household staff; the other did the Day Errands, as they were called, the things that the Dowayne couldn’t be seen to be handling in the decent hours after dark.

That left Mena handling everything else, and that was still a lot. Many of her duties from before she had yet to let go of, but as it was, she was drowning in work. She needed a break so she could get her own head right.

As if summoned, there was a knock on her open office door, and Mena looked up to see Vouloir, one of the older novices, standing in the doorway holding a tray. Mena smiled, pushing her paperwork aside. “Loir, come in, my sweet.”

Vouloir smiled like the sun itself, approaching the desk and setting down a tray laden with a pot of tea, a small stack of cups, a dish of shaved ice, fruit, and sweetened milk, and, most surprisingly, a crisp ivory envelope.

Her training kicked in, and Mena smiled in return, gesturing towards the empty chair, “Please, please, sit down, child. Have a cup of tea and a bite of this with me.”

“Lady Dowayne, I don’t want to intrude,” Vouloir replied, her hand lingering on the arm of the indicated chair.

“Mena. You may call me Mena in this part of the House. Especially since you’ll be making your offering to Namaah next week. As for interrupting me, I am in desperate need of a distraction.”

Vouloir nodded, a small smile on her face. “As you wish, Mena. It would be nice to sit for a moment.” She filled two cups with tea and handed one to Mena along with a spoon. As she pulled her chair closer to the desk, she asked, “Aren’t you curious about the envelope?”

Mena didn’t even spare it a glance, “Not at the moment. I am sure it just brings me more work. Indulge me, tell me about the preparations for your dedication.”

Vouloir beamed. “Well, Mother and Father are coming into town, her old House is putting them up for the week. And grandmother and two of my aunts are coming up from Jebe-Barkal to do our traditional ceremony of womanhood. We considered having them stay here, but I ended up trading favors with Jasmine so they’ll be well treated and can go home with something to brag about. They’ve never been to the Night Court before.”

Mena smiled. “I am glad to see you so happy to have your family witness your dedication and to honor your father’s homeland as well. I would, of course, love to host them any time they come, but I can see why you’d want some space between your House and them, particularly since it’s their first visit.”

Vouloir nodded, “Next time they can stay here and know that the sun warms as well in Terre D’Ange as it does in the deserts. Now, my Lady, the envelope. I feel as though I might perish with excitement! What if it’s a love letter?” She gestured with her spoon at the envelope.

Mena laughed. “Loir, my sweetest child, I doubt that. I have no regular patrons, so it could not be a love letter. It has been many summers since I received a love letter. Besides, this new tea and even newer dessert are so much more interesting than a letter that’s probably just some artisan or another wanting our aid to show their goods to the Mont.” She waved her own spoon. “I am not going to tell my own adepts how to dress, why would I agree to tell the whole Court? Besides, I am not Cereus.”

Vouloir picked up the envelope and studied it. “Yes, Mena, the roasted grain tea is so well matched with the dessert the cook just learned of. I think it suits better than most of the leaf teas we have in the House. Now this envelope.” She brought it near her face and inhaled, her eyes closed. “It smells like old books, wine, and candles. And the paper is too fine to be from an artisan, plus the ink is such a deep dark blue; it had to have cost a pretty penny. This has to be from someone important! You have to open it!”

Mena sighed and waved her hand. “Go ahead, Loir, open it for me.”

Vouloir froze. “Pardon? My Lady? You want me, not even an adept, to open mail addressed directly to the Dowayne by name?”

Mena considered the words and then nodded. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Open it. I am sure it’s nothing. And if it’s something, you’ll be able to tell everyone you knew first because your Dowayne let you into her confidence.

Vouloir snorted. “I would never. What happens here, stays here, you taught me that.” The young woman carefully opened the envelope, setting aside the wax seal, and pulling out the heavy paper within. As she read, her eyes widened. “Mena, it is from a Lord of the Shahrizai, requesting a meeting!”

Mena made a face of confusion. “What on Earth is a Shahrizai doing asking to come to Heliotrope?” She took the letter from Vouloir’s shaking hands and read it through calmly. “Ah, Count Niklos. I have met him before at other events. This makes sense now. He wants to come to discuss the current state of affairs with me.”

Vouloir gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Will you do it? Will you meet with him?”

Mena nodded, setting the letter aside and returning her attention to the dessert. “Of course. Not only is he a Peer of the Realm, but he’s asking so politely. When we finish, have one of the runners head over to his estate, and indicate that he is welcome to come in three days’ time.”

Vouloir nodded but still asked, “Me? Me dispatch a runner?”

Mena nodded and smiled at the girl. “Yes, like I said, we’re in confidence now Vouloir, my sweet.”

***

Niklos was not surprised by Jacob informing him that a runner had stopped by, wearing the colors of Heliotrope. Nor was he surprised at the invitation provided. Jacob looked at him slightly askance, but he allowed it. The man had been instrumental in the situation with the Dahlia, and he was quickly affirming both Niklos’s personal trust and the trust of the family. Niklos was certain that the man had been placed as a spy for someone in the family, but nothing he had planned went against the family stipulations.

“Three days?” He asked, looking at Jacob, who nodded. “Very well then. make certain the family coach is prepared. Once I get to the Mont, it won’t particularly matter, but I want the statement of the coach moving through the City. I want the people to know that the Shahrizai haven’t wholly vacated the City.”