Month: October 2015

Posted on by L. Rowyn

So Many Strange Notions (65/141)

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Nik gazed at her, somewhat overwhelmed by so many peculiar notions at once. “But did you not resent it, the loss of your liberty like that?”

She considered this. “In some ways. I missed Byron, my nearest brother in age, dreadfully. But I corresponded regularly with him and my friends from Newlant, and Byron and Kilroy – one of my other older brothers – were able to visit me several times, along with our Aunt Clara as chaperone. Stephen, of course, could not. But, you know, I came to love the country. It was not unlike the time I’d spent at boarding school; I’d not had any choice about how long I stayed there, either, nor much control of the curriculum. The Kyr did ultimately license Vasilver Trading (though not Stephen) to do business in the nation, about six months into my time there. The Vandese were patronizing, and I won’t deny that grated, but they were also kind to me. I could not leave the country, true, but within it I enjoyed, in many respects, more freedom than I have in Newlant.”   

The carriage slowed as the white greatcats turned up a curving slope in the road: the weight of the vehicle showed in the additional strain on their muscles, but their pace remained steady and synchronized. As the sun hovered on the horizon, the stone buildings around them were gaily lit for Ascension, translucent purple and yellow paper wrapped about gaslights to give them a holiday feel. Some of the statuary adorning the cornices wore wreaths of Ascension flowers. “More freedom, miss?”

“Southern Vandu is very safe, my lord. There’s thievery and fraud, of course, but violent crime is extraordinarily rare, and even common harassment seldom happens. A woman might walk unaccompanied through the worst parts of town in the small hours and not hear so much as an uncivil word. And notwithstanding the reason for my nominal captivity, the kyriel showed complete faith in myself and my judgement. I could, and did, go wherever I liked, whenever I liked. My father forwarded my salary, so I had plenty of spending money for little luxuries. And while it was awkward or impossible to do most of my usual work, I was instrumental in getting that blighted license finally confirmed, and that was an extremely valuable concession. Their country has so much to offer – so many ideas, their civil engineering is a marvel and they have the most remarkable machines – and the opportunity to partner with their businesses was exciting.” She stopped in her narrative as Nik smiled, shaking his head. “What is it, my lord?”

“Nothing. It’s just – the most amazing tale. Like nothing I would ever imagine has happened to anyone, never mind to a person of my acquaintance.”

“Oh. You don’t believe me.”

“No!” He caught one of her hands, pressing it between his gloved ones. “Of course I believe you. It’s – too preposterous to not be true, even if I could conceive of you wishing to deceive anyone, which I cannot.”

Miss Vasilver curled her fingers about his hand. “Thank you, my lord. I’ve never spoken to anyone outside my family about most of it. It doesn’t reflect well on us.”

Nik curled his lip. “On your brother, no. For your own part…that was remarkably brave of you, Miss Vasilver. To tell that foreign king you would be responsible for your brother’s actions, when you understood how grave the offense was.”

“It is only what I had agreed to do before we left. I know it all seemed a preposterous joke to us at the outset, but it was deadly serious to the Vandese. And we were in their country. I had little choice.”

“Still. The entire mess was his fault, and you paid the price for it.”   

“It was not so great a price, my lord. And I do not mean to malign my brother. Stephen’s reaction was…not unexpected under the circumstances. I imagine most men of Newlant would do the same. An unfortunate chain of events.”

“Granted.” Nik stroked the back of her hand comfortingly, and her grip tightened around his. “I – do the Vandese truly consider such things, a man – er – making advances upon another man, to be, well, acceptable?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“I gather it was unremarkable among unmarried men.” Miss Vasilver’s tone was as devoid of emotion as ever, holding no disdain or revulsion. “I found out later that the man who’d been tutoring us on the ways of Southern Vandu had even warned Stephen and the rest of the men of our party. The lesson was not recalled at the key juncture, I’m afraid.”

Let it go, Nik thought. Let it go. And then asked anyway, “Did it not trouble you, to be living among a people like…that?”

“Why would it trouble me? I received no unwanted advances.” Miss Vasilver’s eyes flicked to him and away again. “Is it very wrong of me, to find it inconsequential? Stephen thought their ways were corrupting me, but I rather think I was always like this.”

He caressed her hand. “I do not think it is wrong of you in any way, Miss Vasilver.” Quite the contrary, Nik thought, but did not dare say it. He lifted her hand to his lips, wondering if she would object if he actually kissed them and not just the air over them, if her pale brown skin felt as smooth as it looked, if the shapes of her mind would be as intriguing as the ideas that sprung from it. Nik released her hand before he embarrassed himself.

Miss Vasilver was watching him, her long face grave as usual. “You are very kind, my lord.”

He shook his head. “Only honest.”

“You know I regard honesty as the greatest kindness.” She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and glanced to the side. “Oh. My. The palace looks wonderful from here.”

They had reached the crest of a hill and the greatcats were pacing alongside a small green park. Below them, the most exclusive parts of Gracehaven were laid out in all their Ascension splendor. Buildings of polished marble and granite with elaborate cartouches carved into the stonework were brilliantly illuminated in indigo and gold, paper lanterns suspended above the streets like a web of stars. Grand carriages, some already lit by lanterns, flowed along the streets at a stately pace as they bore other highborn guests to their destination. The setting sun painted the bay in deep reds and golds, highlighting the undersides of clouds, streaking the horizon, and silhouetting the grand towers and walls of Dawnfell Palace. As they watched, the palace lit, thousands of gaslight lanterns outlining each tower, column, and story. Tall arched windows glowed from within: the whole structure was a magnificent jewel for the city’s festival raiment.

Nikola leaned closer to look with her, even though every facet of their carriage was translucent. “When I see Gracehaven like this, I understand why Lord Comfrey loves her,” he murmured.

“Do you dislike it here, my lord?”

“Oh, ‘dislike’ would be too strong a word. Granted, it has my parents in it every time I visit, which might detract from its charms. Perhaps without them, it wouldn’t seem so overcrowded.”

“I should not think that two people more or less would make too much of a difference in a city as large as Gracehaven.”

“You’d be surprised. I think one father causes more inconvenience than several thousand strangers. At least.”

“Is your father the worst offender? He seemed the more reasonable of the two. Comparatively speaking. Not that I had much acquaintance.”

“It’s more as if they take turns. If one of them is being unbearably irritating the other will play good parent for a time, until the task of being tolerable becomes too much and they have to switch off again.”

“In truth?” She tilted her head, though her eyes were still on the vista spread below them. As the sun dipped lower, the gaslit streets seemed brighter still, mirroring the stars winking into view in the sky above.

He shook his head. “Not in truth. And I underrate them: they have many fine qualities, even if ‘tolerating their recalcitrant son’s wayward behavior’ is not among them. Perhaps such a thing would not be counted a virtue in any case. What of you, Miss Vasilver – which of your parents suits you better?”

“Oh, my father.”

“Your father?” Nik did not check his surprise in time, recalling with a surge of dislike the man insisting his brilliant daughter was mentally ill.

Miss Vasilver did not notice. “Oh yes. They’re both well-intended, but I am a cipher to them and they try to solve me by changing me into something more sensible to them. And incomprehensible if not impossible to me. With Father, I share a common language of business and we may converse intelligibly on that for hours. But with Mother – I might as well be speaking Vandese. We do not comprehend one another at all. I say the wrong thing and do not so much as realize it’s wrong.”

“You are perfectly comprehensible to me, my lady.” Nik covered her hand with his own, where it rested in the crook of his arm. She glanced from the window to him, and though she did not smile, the way she squeezed his arm left him certain she was pleased.

The carriage wended slowly through the thick traffic as their conversation meandered on about their families. Miss Vasilver’s favorite relation was her brother Byron: “He’s spoken of setting up a separate household on occasion, which would please me and which we’ve ample funds for, but he’s dreadfully fond of living at Vasilver Manor.”

“Please you? Why, do you want his suite?”

She shook her head. “Oh, no, my lord; so I could go with him. He’s not yet wed, so until he marries it would be much like having my own household.”

“Ah, that I can understand. You may not be able to credit it, after all the complaining I’ve done, but my relationship with my parents is much improved since I inherited Fireholt.”

“Do you know, I get along with Father and Mother very well by post? They hardly scolded me at all while I was in Southern Vandu, though Mother fretted endlessly.”

Nik laughed. “I should think sacrificing your freedom for the sake of your brother would garner you some moral advantage.”

“Perhaps it did, my lord. I never gave it much thought.”

“Managing my own staff is more work than I realized as a boy, however.” He smiled wryly. “Perhaps that’s why I get on better with my parents now: more sympathy for them.”

“It’s not the sort of work I mind. My second year in Southern Vandu, the Kyr permitted me to set up my own household – single women do all the time there, it’s wholly unexceptionable – and I miss it. I suppose it sounds strange, to say I miss the freedom I had in the country where I was held prisoner.”

“A little,” Nik conceded. “But understandable.” His mind drifted, thinking about the additional staff he still had to hire, wondering what it would be like to hand over that and the day-to-day tasks of management to Miss Vasilver and let her handle everything.

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Posted on by L. Rowyn

Under the Influence (64/141)

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“At midnight, the feast was still going strong. Stephen was very drunk and relating his favorite story about repelling pirates in rather bad Vandese — neither of us were fluent at this point, though we’d both been making an effort. Several Vandese had taken an interest despite the language difficulties. I was talking to Kyriel Aunles — that’s the Kyr’s wife. One of Stephen’s new friends asked Stephen to show him the constellations they use for navigation. So he and Stephen stepped outside, and I remember thinking ‘Should I go with him? Does that count as ‘unaccompanied’?’ I asked the kyriel if it it would be a problem, and she told me no, it was fine.

“Some minutes passed, then there were shouts and a commotion outside. A few of the Kyr’s honor guard rushed to see what it was. A few moments later, two of them hauled in my brother, who struggled and cursed them in Newlantian. A third was helping the Vandese man who’d accompanied Stephen outside. He wore, I noticed now, a gold torc with a tigereye amber set in it: that’s the Vandese equivalent of your chain, my lord.” She gestured to the seldom-worn chain that signified Nik’s Blessing. “It meant he was a healer of flesh. I also noticed that his nose was bleeding and looked disjointed, and he had a few other marks about the face. I thought that strange — why wouldn’t he heal his own injuries?

“I started to make my way over to see what had happened, but the guards reached their kyr first. The Kyr asked something on the lines of ‘What’s going on here?’ The local healer drew himself up and accused my brother of attacking him. The whole room went quiet at that; all the murmuring and jostling stopped. Stephen was, perhaps, too drunk to recognize the seriousness of this charge, because he said in Vandese, ”course I did!’ And then he used some rude Newlantian words I shan’t repeat, and ‘– kissed me! What was I supposed to do?'”

Nik stared, shocked. “This Vandese man kissed him?”

“He did, my lord. The healer responded with something I didn’t understand, followed by ‘he agreed!’

“The Kyr turned about to me and asked, ‘Do you take responsibility for this man?’

“Of course I replied, ‘Yes, kyr imen, I do.’

“Stephen, who was perhaps starting to pick up on the gravity of the situation but remained the greater part drunk, said, ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Wisteria. I’m resp — ‘ at which point I clapped my hand over his mouth, which startled him into silence.

“Our translator had scrambled forward to join the tableau, so I told him to translate and switched to Newlantian. And remembered to look at the Kyr as I said, ‘My brother is not a wild animal that must be put down. He is within my influence. If he has erred, the fault is mine for giving poor guidance.'”

Nik cleared his throat. “I am unclear on how any part of this could be construed as your fault, Miss Vasilver.”

The slender woman paused in her narrative. “As a practical matter, in a Newlant context, perhaps not. But as a legal matter in Southern Vandu, I not only was responsible for my brother’s actions but had to be. If I disavowed him, or if he denied my influence, then Vandese law is clear: even as a blameless foreigner he would need to be expelled. As a violent criminal — one who assaulted a healer — he would be executed.”

“Executed? You’re never serious? For striking a man who’d insulted him?”

“I am entirely serious, my lord. By their custom Stephen had not been insulted, but it would not matter if he had: the Vandese have no tolerance for violence in private life at all. They are as peaceable as greatcats. One may not duel a man for an insult, or cuff a servant for slovenliness, or smack a child for backtalking, or anything of the sort. It is all criminalized. Only a soldier in battle or an officer of law may use brute force legally, and even officers exercise this authority with great care. A violent man who asserts that his female relations have no moral authority over him has declared himself both uncontrollable and unreformable. From the Vandese perspective, the only recourse is to put him to death.”

“But — he — ” Nik tried to wrap his mind around this concept. “That is insane. But if you take responsibility, doesn’t that mean they’d — ?”

“Oh, no, not at all. The Vandese regard all women as trainable. If I claim the fault, then I merely need to be educated to ensure the men within my influence behave appropriately in the future.”

Nik stared forward, blinking. “These people are exceedingly strange.”

“They are, my lord.”

“Do they apply all this nonsense to their own people? I thought you said it was only foreign men they were terrified of?”

“Foreign men frighten them more, yes, and are under far more strictures. But the general theory that men need to be influenced by women to keep their bestial nature in check is also applied to themselves. However, they trust their own men to have internalized these lessons and therefore not need, for instance, a constant escort to remind them.” After a moment, Miss Vasilver added, “It’s all so condescending and degrading, my lord, the whole idea that men, especially our men, cannot control themselves. It infuriates me still.” Her condemnatory words made a strange contrast with the even, nonjudgemental tone of her voice. “The worst of it was to have Stephen perpetuate their myth, of all things. Maddening to have my own brother’s actions reinforce this mass delusion of theirs.

“In any event, we settled the matter that night. We could have requested formal legal proceedings, but our information on the Vandese legal system suggested that would not improve the outcome and would publicize the mess further. The Kyr removed us to a private council room. The Vandese Blessed, it turned out, had requested — um — certain intimacies of Stephen in a traditional Vandese manner. Which used language that we’d not covered in our lessons or heard during negotiations, and had flowery comparisons to stars and meteorites and the privacy of night. Stephen had not understood half of it and so went with the default of ‘smile and nod’,” Miss Vasilver said. Nik winced. “But that was not seen as exculpatory: the misunderstanding would have perhaps excused Stephen if he’d shoved him away or caused accidental injury, but Stephen had already admitted to hitting him with deliberate intent to harm. Kyriel Aunles told her husband how I’d asked if I should go with them and that she had deterred me, and that was counted in our favor, however. Ultimately, the Kyr decided that Stephen must be deported at once, and that I must remain to be educated in appropriate behavior. So that I might prevent other male relations from doing this sort of thing.”

“But they had to know that their customs would not matter outside their borders?” Nik asked, amazed by the whole wild tale. “Why didn’t they just have you leave as well?”

“It didn’t matter to them. They know that other countries are full of what they regard as barbaric practices, and they see themselves as having a duty to improve those with whom they come into contact. I was in their nation, I had demonstrated imperfect understanding and influence, I was female and therefore capable of improvement, and accordingly I needed to be corrected. That was the legal reasoning as I understood it, more or less. There was more to it than law, however. The Kyr wished to open Southern Vandu to more nations, and expelling our entire expedition would only entrench their isolation. He and his wife thought keeping me would expose more of their people to foreigners and show that we were teachable people capable of being civilized. I had no notion of this at the time, of course — Kyriel Aunles explained it to me months later.

“But you mustn’t imagine that I spent two years locked in some dungeon cell and subsisting on gruel and water. I spent much of my time in the house of the Kyr and kyriel, and they treated me as an honored guest. There were mandatory lessons, but they were by no means onerous. It was fascinating, if perplexing and at times outright insulting. But I fear I am giving altogether the wrong impression of the Vandese. All of these things I’ve said, about women being accorded moral superiority and men considered innately violent and in some ways inferior — it’s not that they don’t believe this true, but it has little impact on their day-to-day lives. It’s not as if you see men constantly seeking the advice of a woman or submitting to one’s opinions generally. Most positions of political power are held by men and most business is conducted by men, just as in Newlant. They are by no means subservient. The character of interactions between sexes is different in certain ways, of course, and in some rare cases one does see shocking occurrences. I did witness a man, a Vandese man, executed because his mother and sisters declared him uncontrollable and no other female relation would step forward to take responsibility for him. But it is not as if Vandese men live in fear of repudiation — it’s almost as rare as a Newlant duel ending in death.”

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Fourth and Eighth (63/141)

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“Why did you ask me to the Ascension Ball, my lord?” she asked, unhesitant.

Nik gave a startled laugh, but answered gamely, “Because I want to know more about you, and it’s a chance to get you away from your parents, if not mine. Because you are good company, and I admire – enjoy – your taste for honesty.” You make me forget Justin, and it has been a long time since anyone but the Savior has been able to do that. “And…as I already told you I wasn’t looking for a wife, I thought it was…safe.”

“As opposed to the usual threat a woman poses to life and limb?” Miss Vasilver was grave, making Nik laugh again.

“You know what I mean. The politics around balls – this ball, especially – are thick. If I bring one of my sisters, everyone wonders what plague I have that no unrelated woman would accept my invitation. If I ask a woman I’ve met more than a few times socially, then she must be a marriage prospect. If I ask a woman I’ve only met once or twice, it’s as likely as not an unbearably awkward evening as she tries to figure out how serious I might be, or if I plan to, I don’t know, assault her in the carriage or somesuch.”

“…assault her in the carriage? Does that happen often?”

“What, actual assault? In my own first-hand experience, never. For others—” Nik paused, watching the greatcats’ white tails swaying in perfect unison as they pulled the coach. “My information on that would be skewed, of course. One young lady I escorted, whom I will not name, was in any event quite terrified of me. I am not in the habit of asking people if they wish to petition me, but there were three or four points during that evening when I was on the verge of asking her if there was anything the Savior might do for her.”

“Why didn’t you, if her distress was so plain?”

Nik shrugged. “Because for all I know, it’s my Blessing itself that had her petrified. And some people become more anxious if you ask them about their anxiety, because ‘am I conspicuous?’ becomes a new source of anxiety. My great-grandmother taught me not to ask people who aren’t petitioners. They know I am Blessed, and they know better than I do what disorders they might have. It’s rude and presumptuous to imply that I, from a few hours of acquaintance, can perceive a problem they don’t.”

Miss Vasilver tilted her head. “But don’t some forms of madness keep the sufferer from realizing they are mad?”

He flashed a brief, lopsided smile. “One must make exceptions at times, true. But I don’t want to spend all evening talking about me, Miss Vasilver. Shall I ask some forbidden question of you? Did you have that dossier prepared on yourself?”

“I began it, my lord, but I fear I did not complete it. Byron thought you must have been joking when I asked him for a character reference for it.”

Nik grinned. “Half-joking, I suppose. But I am not joking about wanting to hear more about you.”

“Then I will finish it for you. But in the meantime, you may ask me whatever you please, my lord.” She had turned to face forward again, hands clasped in her lap, the long dangling beaded sleeves of her dress trailing over her skirt.

“I did, in fact, resort to interrogating Lysandra about you.” Nik felt odd about the admission – not normally something he’d confess to, although he’d pumped his sisters for information on people before. Yet it felt wrong to be less than straightforward with Miss Vasilver. “She said the two of you used to correspond after her graduation, particularly while you travelled the world.”

“Oh yes. When one is a passenger on a ship one has a great deal of time to keep up on correspondence. Although delivery is erratic.”    

“I can imagine. Lys told me you’d spent years in Southern Vandu, and she’d never been clear on why the long overseas stay there. Some course of study they provided?” His sister had several speculations to offer beyond that, but Nik withheld them to see what Miss Vasilver would volunteer.

“Oh. Southern Vandu.” Miss Vasilver was silent for a moment before continuing, “The reason for the two years I spent there is the eighth item on my list. I will tell you, my lord, but you must first promise me you will tell no other. Not even Mrs. Warwick.”

Nikola blinked at her. “Of course, you have my word. But you needn’t say if you’d prefer not to.”

“No, I should like to. You can tell me if it’s as horrifying a tale as my family thinks it. It’s rather complicated. It’s true that I undertook a course of study there – fascinating, actually – but it was not by my choice. Or my parents’. Technically, I was a prisoner.”

Nik gaped at the words, and the calm way she spoke them. “…what? Why did they imprison you?”

“Well, ‘imprison’ is perhaps the wrong way to describe it. Hostage? I did say it was complicated. Perhaps I should start earlier.”

“Perhaps that would be advised.” Nik remembered to close his hanging jaw.

“I don’t know if you’re familiar with Southern Vandu at all, my lord, but their textile industry is world-renowned: they have the most remarkable manufacturies, automated looms two stories high which produce tremendous amounts of wonderfully high-quality cloth. Three years ago, Vasilver Trading was negotiating with their Kyr for import/export rights to the nation. We wished to ship in raw ivywool, encotton, and agris, and export bolts of cloth. Southern Vandu is finicky about whom they’ll permit to conduct business in their nation, and no Newlant business at the time was licensed to operate within their borders. All the contracts for their goods were ferried through companies at third-party nations. Now, one of the peculiarities here is that Vandese law prohibits foreign men from venturing about their country unaccompanied by a female relation – wife, mother, cousin, what have you.”

Nikola blinked at her. “Truly? The man needs a chaperone?”

“Yes. It’s…perhaps not dissimilar to the anxiety of that woman you described. The reasoning – not all Vandese believe this, mind – is that non-Vandese men are uncivilized brutes who can only be checked by the presence of a woman. A relation, because an unrelated woman would not be able to exert moral authority over his bestial nature.”

Nikola snorted, trying to restrain a disbelieving laugh.

“This gets worse, I’m afraid. But let me continue. My father sent myself and my brother Stephen to negotiate. Stephen was our lead negotiator – women in Southern Vandu are not expected to engage directly in such things – and I was along in advisory capacity and to fulfill Vandese legal requirements. Along with two wives and one daughter, for the other men on the negotiation team. We made quite a parade. Our first problem was just a little bobble on the evening of the second day, when seven of us went out for dinner without Mrs. Hughes because she was unwell. One of the Kyr’s men chanced upon us on the street as we returned to our lodgings, and pitched a fit over Mr. Hughes being about without a female relation. At that point, we understood clearly that the men needed chaperones in this nation, but we’d quite forgotten that each man needed his own specific one. Miss Caphly made up some bit about her being Mrs. Hughes’ second cousin once removed and therefore a relation of a sort, and they got it smoothed over. After that, we were all careful and things went splendidly for the next three days. Then there was the evening of the fifth day.” Miss Vasilver looked straight ahead as she spoke, focused on her words and seeming unaware of Nik. “We had everything settled for the formal licensing the next day: the Kyr was having clean copies of the documents drafted for his stamp and print, and he was hosting a feast for us. There was a huge quantity of food and copious amounts of a local drink, misfil, served over ice. Stephen’s favorite dish was this spicy duck-and-spinach affair, and he was gulping down glass after glass of misfil to wash down the heat of it.”

“This isn’t going to end well, is it?” Nik asked.

“It’s going to end with me spending the next two years in an enforced stay in Southern Vandu, so no. But it could have been far worse.

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