Mage and Mate

by Taki Drake

  Ruth decided to get the selection of that item out of the way. Although she considered the requirements and restrictions around the simple concept of “thank you for inviting me,” there was no reason not to express that gratitude in a language that her hostess would be able to understand.

  Even if something occurred that prevented them from attending, the act of accepting the invitation obligated a guest to participate in the multilayered social game of giving and receiving tokens. Just like on Earth, Ruth knew the item had to be chosen carefully, for it would be scrutinized and the subject of gossip.

  That is why the first thing Ruth had done was to ask Pawlik what she should get. To her annoyance, he had no idea. His face had turned slightly red, and his gaze had avoided hers as the man explained that he never worried about it.

  Her Anchor went on to say that he simply went to the event carrying whatever his steward had chosen for him. The other types of events that he usually attended were predominately male, where no gift was required or expected.

  Exasperated, Ruth had thrown her hands up in the air in frustration, before adding more notes to her list. Just like a man! Doesn’t matter what the race, doesn’t matter what the planet, they just think differently.

  Determined to get at least one task done, Ruth took off for the first of two apothecary’s stores that the bartender knew carried confections. She knew that a consumable sweet would probably be an ideal gift. Armed with two names and locations, the woman expected her errand to be over quickly. She was wrong.

  The first shop was highly polished and reminded Ruth of some very exclusive shops on Earth. The proprietor was waiting inside when Ruth entered, accompanied by two of her security detail. She saw the man’s nostrils flare, and an annoyed expression covered his face.

  Looking like he had bitten into a lemon, the man addressed one of Ruth’s bodyguards, a former Marine named Iver. Haughtily, the shopkeeper asked, “Are you sure you have the right place? We only carry quality items and are not set up for a casual buyer.”

  Iver gestured to redirect the man’s attention to Ruth, but the manager’s eyes stayed firmly on the Marine. Ruth could almost feel the gleeful contempt the shopkeeper radiated. The self-satisfied exercise of power in which he was indulging made the Mage long for a good scrub of her skin, just to remove the slimy stink of his presence.

  Unsure of what the local protocol would be for punching out someone rude, Ruth decided to ignore him and began to walk around the store looking at what items were available.

  Startled by the woman’s unexpected behavior, the store manager attempted to put things back into the exchange that he had planned. Once again, Ruth was conscious of his feelings and expectations to a degree she had never encountered before. She felt first his dismay when she had not acted according to plan, followed by anger and frustration.

  The man’s emotions burst out in speech form, when he said, “Excuse me! I really think that you should leave. You obviously cannot afford anything in this store. I will call security if you do not leave immediately.”

  Ignoring the man as if he were a recording, Ruth glanced around and let out a dramatic sigh. Turning to Iver, she said, “There is nothing here that looks suitable for such an important gift. I think we would be better off with the other shop.”

  “How dare you! What would you know about appropriate gifts? I will have you know that only the crème de la crème shop here!”

  Gerian opened and held the door for Ruth, a slight smile on his face. Iver preceded her out of the building, his eyes sweeping the area in the trained motion of a professional bodyguard. The woman followed him but paused for a second on the shop’s threshold. She turned to the sputtering shop owner with a sweet smile on her face, and said, “Better luck another day. I hope you have a lovely one.”

  Ruth had walked another 25 feet before she commented to Iver, “That was a very strange experience. I have actually never been in a store where they wanted me to go away. Usually, they want you to stay and spend your money there.”

  “I really don’t shop very much, my Lady. However, I would agree that it was peculiar.”

  “I hope we have better luck at the next place. I have too many other things to do today to waste time over rude behavior and mysterious agendas.”

  Gerian muttered under his breath, “I hope Mr. Pretty Pants has a heart attack. You certainly got him going, my Lady.”

  “Oh, well. I have never been an easy shopper. And he was starting to annoy me.”

  << <> >>

  Luckily for Ruth, the second shop was run by a totally different type of man. The second that she stepped into his shop, she was transported by the aromas and delicate scents that perfumed the air. The Mage couldn’t help but exclaim in pleasure, “Oh, how lovely. It smells so good in here!”

  “Why, thank you, my dear. I consider the pleasant smell one of the major benefits of working in the shop.” A wrinkled and silver-haired man introduced himself as Varge Bani, the apothecary. He was cheerful and pleasant, and Ruth felt her weary tension relax.

  The old man smiled at her and asked, “I was about to make myself some tea. Would you care for some?”

  “That would be delightful.”

  Varge was entertaining and very helpful. He and Ruth tasted their way through many of the confections that were available in his store. By the time Ruth had selected her gift, she and the old man were well on the way to becoming friends.

  The Mage knew that she had spent almost all of her time in the shop, but she thought she had learned a lot from the apothecary about how the town worked as well as finding the gifts that she needed. She watched as he wrapped her gift in a sturdy protective material with pleasure.

  “I am so sorry, Ruth, that I do not have fancy gift wrap here. There usually is little demand for it and so I quit carrying it decades ago.”

  “That is not a problem, Varge. I will think of some artistic way of wrapping it, even though I know that it’s going to be highly criticized no matter what I do.”

  The apothecary looked at her curiously and asked, “Why would anyone disapprove of a gift?”

  Ruth sighed and explained, “This will be the first social event that I’ve attended on this planet. I’m walking into enemy territory here, and women can be extremely difficult to deal with when a new female is present.”

  “That is exactly what my wife has always said. I hope that everything goes well, and if you have a chance, stop by and tell me all about it. We can have another cup of tea, and you can tell me about a world that is as foreign to me as this city is to you.”

  Ruth insisted on carrying the packages over the vehement objections of her security detail. Both Iver and Gerian argued until Ruth make clear that she was not going to budge, saying, “It doesn’t matter if I am burdened. You cannot act as a bodyguard if you are carrying packages.”

  Laughing, the old man said, “I have been married for 60 years. Trust me, guys, that is the sound of a woman who is not going to change her mind.”

  Before Ruth got out of the shop, Varge insisted on gifting her with a large box of candy. He told her one of the advantages of old age was that he was free to make whatever gesture that he wished and that she was not allowed to argue. This box was just for her.

  Ruth was so amused by him that the smile on her face lasted all the way back to the Force X Bar.

  Chapter 22 – Prejudice and Pride

  Shopping, Arkken Port

  Margot had headed out to the west side of the shopping area in Arkken Port. Her strategy was to catch some of the seamstresses as they took their breaks at the surrounding bakeries and tea shops. Once she found the right area, the experienced scout would listen to the gossip. If she found the right person, Margot would idly talk with them.

  It was a technique that she had employed hundreds of times before while working with the rest of her Recon squad. While Jenna and Mary were going to walk into the dressmakers' establishments, inquiring as to availability and looking at some of the d
ress models, that was not Margot’s style. She much preferred to stay in the shadows rather than being a direct actor.

  After so long in Recon and the scouts, I guess it doesn’t fit my personality anymore to just go in and simply ask. So many people cover things up and lie that it is easier to gather information with a covert approach. Such a strategy results in more accurate information, too, as many years of experience has taught me.

  Wearing garments that were similar to those worn by most of the people taking their midmorning break in the tea shop, Margot sat down at a long table. Positioning herself on the far end of one of the benches that ran along either side of the tabletop, the former Marine NCO listened.

  Most of the area was filled with chattering women dressed in a variety of colors and garment styles. Margot’s educated eyes noted the presence of sheathed scissors and coiled tape measures and knew that this was the right group. Keeping her head down, the former Marine focused intently.

  At first, the conversation was filled with minor complaints about strictness, and cheerful boasting about new boyfriends. Margot’s ears perked up when one of the older seamstresses turned to another approximately her same age, and asked quietly, “Have you seen a sudden backlog in dress requests?”

  The other woman answered, “Now that you mention it, there has been a flurry of new orders. This is usually a quiet time of year since many of the fancy parties are scheduled to coincide with the fall Council session.”

  “I know that one of the duchesses came in and wanted to take up all of the open schedule slots for the next few months. When the designer wouldn’t do that for less than twelve gowns, I heard her Ladyship say that it would be, “worth it to teach that upstart a lesson.”

  The second woman leaned in closer to her friend, eyes gleaming, and asked, “What you think it all’s about then? What upstart are they talking about? Is there somebody new in town?”

  Leaning closer, the first woman said, “I hear that the Duke of Borachland has returned, and he brought a woman with him!”

  “Wasn’t he the one that they thought was dead? I had heard that his cousin was already petitioning to take control as his named heir.”

  “Evidently, he got into a battle and was captured for a while. After he and his men fought free, he came back here.”

  “He is so handsome! There were so many women after him that it must’ve caused a total and complete storm of anger and hurt feelings. Of course, no one will take it out on the Duke. But, that poor woman will have no friends at all!”

  “If he brought back somebody with him, I can see why the old cats would be in an uproar. The whole situation is too funny for words.”

  Break time was apparently over, and the two women gathered up their belongings and stood to leave. As they were walking away, Margot caught one last exchange when the second one finally answered her friend, saying, “I think you might be onto something. One of the high nobles came in a few days ago and talked with the head designer. When the lady left, the designer looked like my cat does when he steals a fish. All full of himself and happy. Right after that, I saw that our entire schedule for the next three months was marked as unavailable.”

  Straining her ears, the former Recon Marine heard the first woman say, “Either way, we get plenty of work. I just wish I knew why these women were setting up such a nasty trap for some poor stranger.”

  They have no idea who their victim is, thought Margot. I have a really, really bad feeling that there’s going to be plenty of collateral damage.

  << <> >>

  Jenna had dressed that morning as if she was preparing for a battle, but ones that didn’t rely on beam weapons and ablative armor. The former Marine was the second-in-command of Ruth’s inner keep guard, responsible for the protection of the Lady of Borachland. In the short time that she had held that position, she had come to realize that life as a member of Ruth’s staff would be just as adrenaline-packed as her entire career with the Marines.

  The blond woman felt a little unsure of herself. Born to a middle-class family, her athletic skills and assertive personality had guided her to a military career. When the Arkken city Council had dissolved their military forces, she was lucky enough to encounter Ruth at the ForceX Bar. It was a fortunate meeting since she and Margot needed employment, and Ruth needed bodyguards and security people she could trust.

  Although Ruth was attached to a noble of the house of Borach, the sense of kinship between the women was strong. Ruth might not be military in her perspective, but the former Marine valued her insight and intelligence.

  Born in very different cultures, starting life on radically different planets, the middle-class daughter from a sophisticated Alliance realm deeply cared about the woman who had been a wife and mother on a primitive, barbarian world.

  Jenna both respected and liked her employer. She also considered Ruth to be her friend. The woman who had been one of the highest-ranked NCOs in the Arkken military was afraid that she might fail in her mission. The cold, gut-clenching dread that the former Marine was trying so hard to ignore was worse than any pre-mission jitters.

  Dressed in conservative business clothing, Jenna looked at the glowing sign on the intricately carved door that said simply, “Xanii.” This was the shop that Mycia Xanii owned and operated, named after the founding designer and considered one of the premier dressmakers on the planet. The couture designer had dressed Pawlik’s mother, as well as many of the other noblewomen of Arkken.

  Soldier on, girl! No one is going to be firing a gun at you, and you shouldn’t have to kill anybody. This is a much safer encounter than slipping through enemy territory, trying not to get your head shot off, Jenna thought to herself. How hard can it be to check and see if there’s a decent dressmaker available to help Ruth?

  << <> >>

  Jenna was so angry that her hands were shaking. Every bit of control that she had built up in her years of military service was barely adequate to contain her rage. Tinges of red flashed over her vision, and her muscles ached with an intense need to lash out.

  I will not lose control. I will not embarrass Pawlik or Ruth, nor will I allow any of these uncultured, manipulative excuses of hormonal spleen to feel that they have won.

  From the first moment Jenna had entered the shop, she had been under attack. The costumer, clerks, and the other customers had slammed her with snide comments and hurtful actions, all cloaked under a thin blanket of social prestige.

  At first, Jenna had doubted her own hearing, convinced that no one could be that rude or vindictive. It took several exchanges before the former Marine realized that there was an active campaign to make Ruth look bad.

  It started with the clerks who ignored Jenna’s entry. Finally, the blond woman had abruptly interrupted the idle conversation between two of the clerks and asked to speak with the designer.

  Resisting their attempts to put her off for a week or two, the former Marine endured disparaging remarks about the plebeian nature of the military and the likelihood that Jenna was in the wrong shop since she obviously couldn’t afford the services of such an exclusive dressmaker.

  Jenna hoped that when Mycia eventually showed up that the atmosphere would ease up. As the slender, richly dressed woman made her way to the front of the studio, the former Marine realized that the shop owner was escorting a noblewoman to the front door. Jenna kept a respectful distance and silence, waiting to speak.

  She heard Mycia say, “Thank you so much, Lady Amith. The accounts will be delivered on time, as usual. As soon as we have the main portion of the dresses completed, I will send a message to you, and we can deal with any necessary fitting.”

  The noblewoman’s eyes drifted over to examine Jenna and forming a moue of distaste. Turning to Mycia, the haughty woman said, “I hope you will be able to accommodate my requirements when it comes to scheduling. I trust you understand my concerns.”

  “Of course, my Lady. Be assured that I will make sure to inform all of my staff so that no possible error
s are made.”

  I really don’t like the sound of that, Jenna thought to herself. The nasty, sweet comment and the look she gave me, ensures that I will definitely look into a certain “Lady Amith.”

  The gown designer moved over to where Jenna was standing. The former Marine greeted her, speaking clearly and respectfully, “Good morning, Madame Xanii. Harril Pyra, Steward of Borach, suggested that I contact you and inquire as to your ability to create a gown for the Lady Ruth since you were the chosen dressmaker for the previous Lady of Borachland.”

  Mycia look like she had sucked a bitter fruit, with her mouth tightly scrunched and her nose tilted disdainfully. Jenna had a flash of intuition that told her that what was going to come out of the woman’s mouth was not going to be something pleasant. Reminding herself to stay calm, Jenna’s control was immediately tested when the dressmaker said, “I certainly have the ability, but I will not be exercising it for the benefit of your so-called Lady Ruth.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Let me make it a bit plainer, broken into short sentences so that you can understand. Yes, I was the dressmaker for the current Lord of Borachland’s mother. She was a lovely, aristocratic woman who would have been appalled at what her son has done.”

  “Lord Pawlik is one of the most honorable men I know. I fail to understand how you can stand there and insult him.”

  “When he returns from God knows where with a woman of questionable virtue and installs her in his mother’s place, he has created a scandal. And when he attempts to foist her on the noble houses here on Arkken, he has moved beyond the bounds of appropriate behavior. I will not, nor will any of the reputable dressmakers on Arkken be creating clothing for a woman who is nothing more than a courtesan!”

  For a moment, Jenna did not know what to say. The attack on Lord Pawlik and Mage Ruth was so surprising and so vicious that she was not prepared for any response. It must have appeared to Mycia as a win for the attackers. A sly, gleeful smile turned the thin-lipped mouth of the designer into a caricature of an expression of joy, reminding Jenna of nothing more than a predator that was about to feast on the entrails of its prey.