Morality, on the other hand, watched him seriously, and then, in the snatches of moments between parental observations, seemed to want to memorize his life story. She was interested in everything.
"Why is your brother a [Carpenter]?"
"Why isn't your father a seneschal?"
“What happened to your fingers?”
This took some time to explain.
"Is it true what they say about your cousin and Servility?"
That was a new one. He hoped not.
"Will you ever try to meet your real father?"
"No."
"How come?"
"I met him, and I don’t like him."
"That’s really sad," she said. "I have the best dad." She snickered.
It seemed like the terrible jokes and puns about people's names was an inherited trait, or perhaps just the result of being taught by the same person for who knew how many years.
"When you go to the Academy," she told him, "you should take posts that allow you to work together with other students.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like relays for delivering messages, or provisioners to bring people food and water. That way, when I go to the Academy next year, we can be posted together."
She said it so naturally, with complete confidence, that he didn’t doubt her for a second. It was obvious: if Morality Best wasn’t going to the Academy, then what was the purpose of having an Academy at all?
"Dalliance!" Earnest's face was jubulant as he came in through the door. Dalliance knew to expect the worst.
"I thought you skipped! I’m so happy to see you!"
"Die in a fire, Earnest," Dalliance suggested.
"So, I asked Morality, and she said that you’re the janitor now."
"Damn you, Earnest."
"And so I was thinking," Earnest said, "that while you’re here, you could do something about the seats."
Dalliance opened his textbook and ignored his friend.
Class was interminable and completely outside of tolerance's interest. No one had ever, or would ever have use for, the information that pre-imperial pigs, were called ‘swine’, and that ‘pork’ and ‘ham’ had different pre-imperial language origins from different cultures. There was absolutely no purpose for that trivia.
But on his way out, seeing off Earnest, Charity caught his elbow. The suddenness of it shocked him, and the jolt sent a stab of pain to his fingers. Effluvia’s knowing smile made it worse. Even Morality gave him a dark stare on her way past.
"Charity?" Was this about Morality’s request? Charity had said the two would talk.
"My father expects you," she said.
"When?"
"Tonight?" she said it with a question at the end, like he was supposed to have known and she couldn’t believe he had forgotten.
"Really?" Mister Best laughed behind him, a rich sound from someone who, generally taciturn for reasons other than nature, had finally found an excuse to let loose without his conscience bothering him. It lasted longer than seemed entirely charitable.
"Dalliance, my boy," he said. "I see you forgot your iron." It was true. Dalliance admitted he hadn't thought to bring either iron or an ironing board. "I will loan you both. And starch. And pomade," he said. "Perhaps a scarf. Have you shoe shine?"
Dalliance did not.
"My boy," said Mister Best, the latter word now long and drawn out in consternation, "we will make a gentleman of you yet. But it will be a bumpy road."
"So," said Mister Best. "You are bound for the Troubles estate for dinner with Potency. I know the man; I like him well enough. You shouldn't be nervous. However, it would be a good idea to briefly go over some of the expectations of this scenario, on the off chance there are misunderstandings."
"To wit," he gestured to Dalliance, "you are, quite regularly, seen in proximity with his daughter. Being invited to the house for dinner with her father . . . " He held up a finger at Dalliance's mute protest. "But there need be nothing there, now. A father is concerned with the future, not merely with the present. And with respect to the future, your family matters almost as much as you do. Now, in your case, the Rathers have quite a strong reputation."
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"I've been disowned," Dalliance protested. "I'm not a Rather anymore."
"Nonsense. You're still a Rather. You're more . . . like a cadet branch."
Dalliance had no idea what that was.
"The sibling lines who do not inherit the title," Mister Best explained. "A concern of the gentry. What matters, Dalliance, is that you have the right to your family's courtesies, such as attending funerals and such, and a share of the errata at property division—but you cannot inherit the main."
“Probity was getting that anyway.”
“Then, for your purposes, your disinheritance has changed little, but makes you legally capable of finding another guardian. All for the better?”
Dalliance considered telling him about the curse.
Perhaps later.
"Potency is not a cruel man, or I would not be sending you. However, you should consider that should you, for whatever reason, be reinstated, the Rather name would come to matter again. And Potency will be considering that possibility right now. I understand that the situation at home is not amenable, but twelve years old is quite young to be disinherited, and bridges get mended all the time."
Dalliance shook his head. "Not in this case."
"Ah, well." Mister Best did not dwell on it. "The other important item about Potency: you will be visiting the Troubles family winter house, which he has taken as his permanent residence. You see, Potency has withdrawn from public life as a result of his heterodoxy."
Dalliance squinted.
"Suffice it to say, his views were unpopular, and he chose to withdraw rather than recant. I recommend that you do not engage with the topic of religion, should you be given the opportunity, unless he specifically brings it up."
"This is in addition to all the standard courtesies," Mister Best continued. "A short bow from the waist. He is a member of the gentry; he is seated first and eats first. Of course, men remain standing until the women are seated—and any gentry present. What else might you be missing?"
"I should probably take a bath," Dalliance suggested.
Mister Best stared at him for a long moment. "Heavens, yes.”
He began to pace: “What was the purpose of the meeting?”
“We were going to go riding, maybe hunting, and get each other's measure.”
“Interesting. You should know that Potency has at least one social skill, and with those of his station, one expects artifacts capable of emulating others. Or, to put it simply: do not dissemble, and do not use your own abilities blatantly. An attempt at a lie will almost certainly be detected. Even should you succeed in foretelling his responses, the quickness of your response, or lack thereof, or other tells from you will make him suspicious—set him on the right track to guess the sort of abilities that you have. Which is your own personal business, but based upon the fact that you were sensible enough to swear an oath with Charity . . . "
Dalliance glanced out the door. The rest of the students had already departed, save for Morality, who was dancing around on the front lawn, waving around a stick. Hold on . . . no, those were fencer's forms, he realized. He had a lot to learn about the Bests.
"I can see where you might have found her display somewhat distracting," said Mister Best, following his gaze. "She’s getting quite skilled for her age. She’s already surpassed where I was, then. But then, I had the thought in my head that the perfect weapon would be a boar spear, so as to hold your enemy far away from you, and was lax at my lessons."
Dalliance stared at his teacher as though seeing him for the first time.
Mister best chuckled. "'We have had the same thought, then,' he said. 'And you doubtless know why I would’ve taken up the rapier anyway,"
Dalliance nodded, "Because on the Wall, you can—you’re able to brace your spear's end, but you can’t in the Hunt?”
“In the hunts, using anything that comes to hand is preferable to slavish devotion to any one implement. But no, that isn’t the reason. Consider: in the city, in day-to-day life, the biggest threats to life and limb come from other people."
"'A rapier . . . you were a duelist?”
“Why are you using the past tense?'" Mister Best asked.
Huh. "Well, that explains a lot."
“Indeed. Back to our consideration of Potency: he is a member of the gentry, and there are a few things about which I wish to—" Mister Best paused. "You know how to hold your tongue," he said, dropping whatever roundabout phrasing he might have been about to employ. "And since you know how to hold your tongue, I expect this to stay between us."
Dalliance nodded.
"Potency Troubles is voluntarily self-exiled to the winter house of House Troubles, which is his home now. He does not hold land by reason of heterodoxy. Do not engage Potency Troubles on the topic of religion. If he brings it up, do not give a definite opinion. Instead, admit your ignorance. He will know if you are lying, and he will dislike you if you are honest but foolish. Be honest and ignorant instead. As for the rest—the hunt, the ride, a father’s concerns about a young lad spending time with his daughter—I’m afraid on those counts, you will learn the better if I do not intervene. Comport yourself with dignity, honesty, and gratitude. And wash your hands, Dalliance."
Dalliance noted this bleakly. He had been really hoping for some sort of roadmap for how the day would go, but perhaps that was too much to ask.
Baths in the Best household, it turned out, took place in a gigantic wooden basin, much larger than the copper kettle used by the Rathers, and were done lying down in the water instead of via a spray. Dalliance didn’t know if this was a difference in temperament, or if, for once, Cadence had gone for economy, but he found the process slow and a significant waste of water—not to mention the trouble of bringing a portion of it to a boil just to bring the rest of the tepid water up to temp.
Then he put on his best shirt, which, like most of his shirts, was cream, but this one had little embroidered blue roses on the lapels and cuffs. He tied a cravat provided by Mister Best, received instruction on retaining said cravat from a buzzing, mirthful Topaz, and, after some cajoling, agreed that she could watch nearby in case of Troubles—her little joke—although he was completely sure that what she meant by 'trouble' was an opportunity to laugh at him later.
And he set off for the Troubles' winter home.
Tolbotton had grown around the reservoir trail, the namesake manor apparently built into the hillside just to the west of the watermill. Dalliance took the curving path off the main road, up via switchbacks into the hills to where the Troubles and Early manors were. Neither was fortified in the manner of the Worths'.
In fact, the estate house of a Lord Talbot had been converted for some arcane reason lost to history into a reagents shop by a reclusive alchemist, then summarily boarded up and locked away. The only sign of its former state was a generously sized, hand-carved plaque that still read "Talbot Estate." It was strange, the sight of such a large and well-designed building sitting dark and vacant between two lesser estates bustling with life.
“Troubles,” read the sign on the wrought-iron gate. Dalliance braced himself, then stepped through.
In the mood for something cozy, spicy, and otherworldly? Join Dr. Ryst Nova in the Andromeda Galaxy, 700 years from now. Ryst survives an attempt on her life, but now she's hearing voices she can't explain and dreaming of a man she's never met. When she goes looking for him, what does she uncover, and could she set in motion a string of events that will break reality itself? Find out in .
What to Expect:
- Female & male leads.
- LGBT leads & cast.
- Neurodifferent and nonverbal characters.
- Slow burn romance that turns NSFW spicy.
- Telepathy, Tantra, & psychic phenomenon.
- Seven book series. For the stand-alone Comedy Space Operas, start in .
- For the stand-alone Psychological Thriller, go to Discordant .