My Momma Told Me There'd Be Days Like This (Sahreni)

[Azur]

Summer 70, 512 AV Azur watched with idle interest as the masons gathered up the last of their tools, prefatory to departing the courtyard, hopefully for the last time. It seemed they had been working here for weeks on end. In reality, it had been weeks, but in a sporadic pattern of a day here and another there, interspersed with several days attending to more urgent matters elsewhere in the city. Nurra squawked about how difficult it had been to get them to come at all. And the prices they charged were tantamount to highway robbery, at least according to the madame, who tended to begrudge every last copper that had ever been wrested from her tightfisted grasp. Seri had often and often reminded Azur that their mistress’ thrift was what allowed them to live in relative comfort, far better than many of even the free citizens of Ahnatep. Azur added to this assertion, in his head anyway, that it was Nuura’s fist and the rest of their various body parts that actually allowed them to live at all. Sometimes, he went as far to say this out loud, usually when he was in a mood and feeling hard done by over something. More typically, he saw the wisdom of what his mother said, and felt some amount of gratitude that her lover and owner was clever, and kind, at least to him. Today, however, he wasn’t thinking at all about parsimonious businesswomen, or the workmen’s clutter in and around the house, that would soon be gone, or the earthquake that had rent long cracks in several of their walls and which had left the ornamental fountain split right in two. Everything was fixed, Nurra had the funds to pay to make their home pretty again, and he was going out, for the entire evening. It was work. But it was to be the type of assignment that the young slave enjoyed most. He and several others from the House of the Precious Gems would be escorted by Meret to the north-eastern edge of the city, to the Villa of the West Winds, where a lavish party was to be held. Azur and his fellow “Gems” were to provide some of the entertainment, and he was greatly looking forward to once again seeing the inside of the charming villa. Once before, perhaps a year or so earlier, he had been similarly engaged, and the night had been one to remember. Even though he was only a slave, a courtesan there for the pleasure of the invited guests, he had still fallen under the fairy-tale like spell of the beautiful fountains in the huge front courtyard, the hundred plus lanterns hung throughout the garden, and the sweet smelling blossoms that burst forth from containers of every conceivable size and shape, everywhere one turned. It had been magical, and he had been looking forward to a repeat of that night all week. The day the highly placed and well dressed servant had come from his master to make the arrangements with Nurra, Azur had been miffed about a missing pot of skin cream, and had been in one of his moods. The madame had threatened that she would pick another to go to the lavish affair in his stead if he didn’t straighten up, and Azur had almost cried. The thought of missing out on such a wonderful opportunity was upsetting more than he could say, much worse than a silly pot of lotion. So for a week, he had been on his best behavior, and today, in an hour or so, he would begin to get ready. Nuura and Seri had selected the clothes that each of the Gems would wear. The jewelry would be brought out from the locked strong box under their bed. The utmost attention would be devoted to bathing and hair and nails and skin. Each slave that would entertain at the Villa would be fussed over and checked and rechecked a dozen times by their mistress. Reputation was everything in this business, and Nurra meant to keep her very good one intact. To be patronized by one of the four houses was, well, it was a very high compliment to the quality of the service her staff provided, and thus to her. Azur smiled to himself as he crossed the small courtyard of his home, thinking of the night to come. In the back of his mind, as ever, he wondered if this night would be one where he would perhaps encounter something, or someone, new, novel, mysterious, exciting! For a young man with a romantic turn of heart such as Azur, life always seemed to hold such possibility! During an enchanted evening such as the one he was anticipating, surely, anything might happen.

[Sahreni]

Sehebre's bastard was frequently a curious fixture at West Winds events. Although he was dressed as lavishly as any Eypharian noble, his diluted blood made him easy to find—only two arms, instead of four or six. He looked more like a posh servant. Being virtually the literal incarnation of an old scandal, his presence at any party had the potential to be delicious and exciting. When it was found that Sahreni usually relegated himself to a secluded, private spot and only spoke to exchange polite greetings and grant compliments, the guests who had looked forward to meeting the motherless halfbreed were left disappointed. He had the potential to be so much more interesting. Wealth was wasted on him. Sahreni was the product of a torrid love affair (supposedly) between Rahnsa's boy and a worthless concubine. Sehebre could have turned his son and his mother out and denied any relation to the two-armed, mixed blooded infant. There would have been rumors of course, and some would have lingered for a good long time. But at least he would not have had to live with a reminder of his mistake walking the Villa for nearly thirty years. Some speculated that Sehebre would rather suffer the embarrassment of a scandal than the thought of his own son living some obscure life in Ahnatep's gutters. Sehebre's nobility and honesty, to some, were the stuff of classic romance stories. Perhaps that was part of the appeal of keeping Sahreni around. Did the bastard know how lucky he was to live this life? Certainly he did not think himself the only noble bastard running around Ahnatep. How many foysha out in the streets had divine, noble blood coursing through their veins? At least a few, to be sure—with no one to claim them and no way to prove it. Who would have foreseen that the product of forbidden passions could manifest as such a boring, colorless creature? Surely, people expected him to fail. If he embarrassed his family, his impure blood would certainly be blamed. His step-mother, Iseret, may even use any excuse to remove him from the Villa. Caution might have been the wiser course of action for Sahreni, but it was a tragedy that it also made him so forgettable. Sahreni knew what people said about him. Many, however, made the error of mistaking his quietness for idleness. Yes, he did prefer to find quiet corners where he could peacefully sip his beverage or enjoy hors d'oeuvres while he eavesdropped on others' conversations. Few realized how much Sahreni learned by being forgettable. He became so unimportant that many forgot to censor themselves if he was nearby. As an example, Sahreni was presently watching Iseret slowly unravel as the night progressed. At first glance, she seemed perfectly poised and at ease, but Sahreni's younger cousin was getting the majority of tonight's attention from the guests and even some of the servants. The young girl, dressed in daring shades of jade and gold, was undeniably pleasant, exuding a magnetic charm that left a lasting impression on everyone tonight. She had even caught Sahreni off-guard and made him laugh earlier that evening. Iseret didn't like being outshone, and her exasperation was showing in the form of debasing, off-color remarks she was making about the night's hostess. According to the whispers, this was happening to her more often as she grew older. Tragic, really. He'd also heard the entertainment tonight was coming from a more obscure, less notable brothel in Ahnatep. The best things, it was said, were not always the most expensive. The Precious Gems were supposedly an unsung delight. The guests had their doubts. Sahreni was wiser and more informed than most people gave him credit for, but a few knew his game. Eoteb was one of them. The only question that remained, as he watched the crowds and sipped his beer through a straw, was whether he'd ever use his wisdom to get ahead in the social game and make himself something worth remembering. Perhaps one day he'd find a reason to grow a spine.

[Azur]

It was, truly, as magical a place as he had remembered. As Meret lead the little party into the courtyard, Azur did not actually gape. But his eyes, rimmed in kohl, the lids carefully painted with deep rust with golden highlights, grew large. His mouth, darkened with rose lip paint, formed an appreciative “O”, and his head, carefully coiffed into rows of tiny plaits, the ends bound in beads of vermillion, swiveled about. His makeup, so attentively applied by his mother’s deft fingers, was orchestrated to do honor to the family that was hosting this party. His outfit, likewise, was coordinated with this thought in mind. A pleated kilt of scarlet, a metallic belt of gold fabric resting on his slender hips, sandals decorated with living blooms of red hibiscus, all to echo the theme. From his earlobes dangled hoops of gold. Around his neck lay a collar of flat golden rectangles interspersed with ruby red beads, matching the bracelets on each wrist. The jewelry was, of course, made of base metals and cut glass. Nuura could not afford to send her employees out into the danger of the city with a lifetime’s worth of savings thrown casually about their various limbs. Even with Meret along to keep them safe, true gems and gold would have attracted the vicious, vile miscreants who were too lazy to create their own wealth. The canny madame wasn’t about to let them have hers. It had been far too difficult to come by, in this dog eat dog world. To the right and left of Azur, three other Gems stood, equally in awe of the sight before them, equally aware of the honor being done them to appear and entertain these high born guests. They had been chided and chivied and chastised for a good three hours by their mistress. Each one bore the good reputation of her House on their lovely shoulders. Each one would deliver the performance of their lives, or suffer the consequences. There would be no mistakes, no reason for censure, no incidents, only beautiful music, beautiful singing, graceful dancing, and whatever else these guests, or the family members, asked of them, in the way of “entertainment.” Smiles, sweet, clever conversation, wit, solicitude, these were what the scions of the West Wind were paying for. That’s what they would get. The four Gems and their guard had already been briefed by Nuura as to what to expect, and what to do, upon arrival. But a consummately dressed servant hurried forward to greet them and repeated what had already been drilled into their heads. There was a central fountain around which the majority of the various entertainments for the evening would be performed. The servant now lead the way, Meret leaving them in his hands to go seek an appropriate place to idle away the hours before they left again, which might not be until well after dawn. Azur and the other young man and two young women were shown to a spot slightly north of the main fountain, and there they spent only a very brief moment arranging themselves and preparing their instruments. The entire first two hours had been carefully choreographed by Nuura and Seri, as this is what had been requested. First, there would be dancing to the accompaniment of music, to be played on harp and flute, tiny cymbals and a small tambor. All four Gems were accomplished musicians, and dancers, and they would rotate through a variety of melodies and dances that they had been taught over the years of their training and which they had practiced time out of mind. There would be singing during times when the surrounding going-ons quieted enough, but it was to provide only a soft backdrop to such, and that would have to be decided on a moment to moment basis by the four slaves themselves. But they were well used to such need to gauge how an audience was responding, or not. Nuura kept them always on their toes, and there was no undue concern on this account. For two hours or so, as the guests arrived and ate and drank and socialized, the four would provide a pleasant tableau of soft motion and sound to set a mood of relaxation and charm. Then would come a break, when another set of musicians would take over, and this was when the Gems would really get to work. For that was the main purpose of their engagement. Setting a mood was a preliminary to circulating directly amongst the guests, offering themselves up for more personalized attention to whatever need for diversion seemed wanted. Oh, it wouldn’t be anything as coarse as walking up to one of the wealthy, power wielders of the city and propositioning them directly. No, the Gems would circulate discretely, in all probability having already caught some non-verbal cues, some looks or nods or gestures, from any of the attendees who might find them of interest, and wish to share some part of the evening with any one of them. There would be a subtle approach, a somewhat coy opening gambit. Through words and looks, one of the courtesans would impress upon a guest their happiness to sit, or walk, to talk, to drink, to laugh pleasantly, to gamble perhaps, at cards or dice or the various board games, to make the guest feel special. If the feeling was right, the guest would let the courtesan know that their attentions would be well received, and things would go from there. It was a simple game, yet it required skill, too. It was comprised of subtle, shifting gestures and speech, and the courtesans had been taught to pick up almost instantly on either mild interest, acceptance, or disinclination for their services. The idea was to offer, without giving insult, or taking any either. One had to have a thick skin for this type of work. Some potential patrons could be downright rude, or hostile. But always, the courtesan must keep up a pleasant demeanor, and go with the flow without protest. It was a game, though, that Azur greatly enjoyed, and he was quite skilled at it. As he settled himself on an ornate carpet, legs crossed, and began to pluck at his harp, his heart was glowing with the beauty that surrounded him and the excitement he felt. The guests soon began to arrive, and he watched them without seeming to do so, as they walked by in their expensive, luxurious clothes and breath taking adornments. Azur loved luxury, and if he held a dream in his heart, it was to be one day bought by a master or mistress who could afford such a lifestyle, for even their slaves went better dressed and housed than many free men. At least, the slaves they held dear and kept close. He played as he was supposed to, and did so well, for he had some natural talent with the instrument. He rose to dance, when it was his turn, and his body moved with a sinuous grace. From time to time, he sang to the accompaniment of the music, softly but sweetly for he had a fine tenor voice. The two hours passed in the blink of an eye, and soon enough, another small group of musicians came to take their place, and the Gems rose, depositing their instruments nearby, and casually, inconspicuously, they melted into the now sizeable crowd of party goers who milled about in the large front courtyard. Azur had been watchful, during the performance of music and dance. He had seen several pairs of eyes turned on him, but no one person had given him any especially overt looks that said clearly, come see me later. He wasn’t discouraged, though, far from it. This simply meant that he was free to do a little looking of his own. At least for a while, he could mingle, in a deliberate way, and assess the possibilities. He could be free, for a brief time. He would not eat or drink of the viands being served to the guests. That would be totally inappropriate, to do so of his own accord. If he should, as really he must, finally be engaged by any one of them, and if they found it to their liking, they could ask him to eat and drink in their shared company. But otherwise, a discrete sip of water from one of the fountains would be all that would pass his lips. So his intent, as he began to circulate through the fantasyland of the courtyard, was to appraise various individuals who looked as if they might welcome some pleasant companionship, for a short while, or a long one. Azur walked as gracefully as he danced, with a very slight sway to his hips, which were accented by the golden sash at his waist. The evening was deliciously warm, just the right temperature for an outside event, with the phantasm of a breeze capriciously lifting the light fabric of his kilt from time to time. His dark rimmed sea colored eyes took in all, and his professional acumen judged and appraised the men and women he was passing. Eventually, he had made his way to a bower of sorts, part of the intricate weave of bountiful greenery and hard packed paths that laced over and across the courtyard of the villa. It was by no means a deserted place. There were many spots for sitting comfortably, here and there, with the most southerly fountain nearby, providing a soothing backdrop to the various conversations going around. Walking slowly, he passed the fountain first, and trailed the fingertips of one hand in the rippling water. As he looked about, in an indirect way, his eyes lighted upon a man sitting alone. There was no more to his decision to approach than the solitude of one who, though surrounded by others, chose to sit quite by himself. It was far from a clear cut case of potential interest. But, truthfully, Azur thought the man quite handsome, and could have easily found himself spending some time in his company. In his profession, typically the courtesan had to make him or herself available to whoever was desirous of their service. That didn’t mean, however, that they were totally devoid of desires and preferences of their own. So his fluid gait took him to the man’s tiny island of seclusion and he smiled pleasantly, making a respectful half bow, his beads clicking under his ears. “Many respects, my lord,”* he said with a soft smile. “I see that you are alone in the midst of all this loveliness.” He made a delicate gesture with his well manicured hand at the beauty of the night around them. “Would you care for some company, such as a poor dancer as myself might be able to provide?” *OOCI wasn't sure what title a slave would use towards a noble who is not his own master. If you have a better one, I'll edit.