Guilt Edged Ivory

by Doris Egan

  She frowned, put her hand on the Blue Hat's arm, and asked him something. He turned and looked across the pool toward me. He shrugged. I heard the word "Cormal-lon" drift over the water.

  Well, I suppose a lot of people had heard how Ran Cor-mallon had married a barbarian. It was nothing to get nervous about. Was it?

  "Kylla, who is that woman?"

  "What woman?"

  Just then the flute players stopped playing and three clear horn notes split the summer evening. The guests fell silent. In the center wing of the house, the door to the porch opened and six stout security guards appeared carrying a sedan chair, of ornate black wood. Atop the chair was an old woman in a shiny robe of royal purple. She looked pudgy but small, nearly as small as I am, dwarfed by the massive chair. Grandmother Porath, no doubt. The six sedan carriers, all in matched costume, carried her easily down the two porch steps into the garden. They let the chair to the grass with perfect coordination, where it sat like a throne in the clearing. In grandmother's wake came a girl of about eighteen, in a white robe with white satin slippers, her straight dark hair falling down her back. Two white puppies followed at her heels.

  I turned to see how Kylla was taking this. She was absorbed, too intent on the scene to notice me. Then I looked around the garden for Lysander's reaction, but he was still missing.

  The old woman gestured impatiently and Eliana—if that's who she was—came forward at once and handed her a blackwood cane carved at the top to match the sedan chair. Grandmother glanced down once, to make sure she would miss the puppies, then stamped the cane several times for our attention. It didn't make much noise on the ground, but she certainly did have our attention.

  "Dear friends," she said. "You give us joy by coming to share our Greenrose Eve. Our house has been quiet too long. We trust it may always be filled with the sounds of visitors, like you, who will ever be welcome." She spat in the direction of a flowerbush. Then she said, "As a token of our regard for you, further entertainment has been provided. Eliana!"

  The girl hesitated, looking genuinely uncomfortable. I supposed all hundred people jammed into the garden were staring at her.

  "Eliana!" said her grandmother again, in the voice of one who brooks no nonsense.

  Eliana stepped forward. Her cheeks were pink. It wasn't cosmetic; they'd been pale before. She raised her arms straight to the sky, her white robes falling around her. She was certainly graceful, no doubt about it.

  "I ask," she began.

  "Louder," snapped Grandmother.

  "I ask the blessing of good fortune on this gathering," she said, more loudly. "Wine for the thirsty, conversation for the wise, and entertainment for all."

  Grandmother thumped her cane again. And snowflakes started to fall from the sky! It took a moment to register with the guests, who probably, like me, thought it was confetti. Until the points of cold landed on our hands and faces and disappeared, melting. There was a stunned silence and then a roll of applause that filled the garden; snow had fallen on the capital maybe twice in the winters of the past century, and now it was high summer. Obviously the Por-aths had hired a sorcerer and promised him a fortune. You didn't see conspicuous display like this every day; it was the kind of thing the Six Families used to do forty or fifty years ago, before it went out of fashion.

  Grandmother looked smug. Eliana had retreated to the safety of the area behind the sedan chair. The old woman peered around and called, "Jusik! My son! Where's Jusik?"

  There was a ripple of activity among the people on the porch, and a few minutes later a man in his fifties rushed out, puffing, and presented himself to her. The First of Por-ath bowed over her hand, still out of breath.

  She said, annoyed, "Where have you been?"

  "Arranging the caterers, Mother."

  "You've been sampling the goodies while I'm out here working?"

  "I'm sorry, Mother. They had to be told where to stow the wine."

  "Hmm, I'm sure they did. Never around when I need you, Jusik. I want you to tell the musicians to play some real music. "Trampling the Moons," or "Cousins Greeting," not this silliness they play today. I want to see some dancing."

  Jusik Porath—shrewd businessman and tyrant to the rest of the family, or so I'd heard—looked around the garden uncertainly. "I don't think there's a lot of room for dancing, Mother."

  Not unless we all shrank to the size of mushrooms. Grandmother Porath said, "You told me there would be dancing!"

  Jusik's voice was lowered. "That's tomorrow, Mother. On the boat."

  Ah. Not everyone was invited on the boat, apparently. But Lysander, of course, had gotten us aboard. If he could have arranged it, I think Lysander would have had us ac-

  company him to the privy, he was that nervous about dealing with "the marriage thing," as he called it.

  "Well, have them play something anyway." At once Jusik Porath raised his arm and made a motion in the air, and the flute players started up again. If I hadn't been standing relatively nearby, I wouldn't have heard the rest. "And Eliana, I want you to mix. Let people see you. You've got nothing to be ashamed of."

  "Grandmother, I—"

  "Oh, pooh, child, I know you're nervous, but you'll get over it. You can make too big a thing of modesty, you know."

  "But you've always said—"

  "I know what I've always said, but listen to me now. See if you can find this Lysander Shikron and walk by him a few times. You're a beautiful girl, Eliana. Mind you don't approach him, now! That'd be too easy. You must never look like you want the same thing your husband wants, girl, that's the key to success in a marriage."

  Eliana mumbled, "We're not married, yet, Grandmother."

  "No, and if we left it in the hands of your brother you might never be. Money's not enough to seal a wedding match, and he's a blockhead if he doesn't see it. For favorable terms, they've got to want what you've got. Where's Auntie Jace? She'll see you do it right." The old lady looked around, then jabbed her son with one elbow. "Get Auntie out here. She can go 'round with Eliana and keep her out of trouble."

  Jusik bowed and spoke to one of the servants, who ran inside. I turned to see if Kylla was anywhere near critical mass, but she seemed under control. As far as I could tell.

  A minute later a little, middle-aged, black-haired woman ran out. She wore a scarlet outerrobe and practically prostrated herself in the gathering snow at granny's feet. Going a touch far, I thought, but Grandmother didn't seem offended.

  The woman extended her arms straight out; she was holding something. "I've brought an umbrella for you, Grandmother," she said breathlessly.

  The old lady made a motion, and one of the sedan bearers took up the umbrella, opened it, and held it above Grandmother's head. It was a huge scarlet thing, and the man held it as though he were personally unaware of any snow.

  Fortunately it wasn't falling very heavily; but the garden was definitely colder, and what had fallen was sticking in patches on the grass. Like Eliana, I was wearing thin satin slippers, and I wondered if the Poraths had really thought through the consequences of their excursion into climate control.

  Grandmother said, "Auntie, take little Eli around to meet some of the guests, would you? I know I can count on you to see she makes the right impression."

  If Auntie bowed any further, her head would be in the snow. "Your confidence honors me," she said. Then she stood straight and added, in an entirely different voice, "Come along, Eli."

  "Auntie Jace, I—my feet are cold. Can I get a pair of boots first?"

  "What nonsense! Your feet would look enormous in boots. Is that the way you want people to remember you? Don't forget, 'It takes the endurance of a warrior on the inside—' "

  "

  "To make a delicate flower on the outside.' I know. But—"

  "Then come along at once." She held out her hand like a young mother on the way to the park with her five-year-old.

  As they moved off into the crowd, Kylla turned to, me with a look of disgust on her f
ace. "She's still in the charge of a nurse."

  Dangerous though it might be to defend Eliana Porath, I felt obligated to say, "Ky, you know she's expected to have a chaperone."

  "But a defensive chaperone. Not a nurse-chaperone, at her age."

  I watched Auntie Jace and Eliana disappear among the guests, and saw a tall woman detach herself from the knot of people by the porch and follow them. The woman wore a robe tied back behind a pair of trousers that would have seemed provincial if they weren't embroidered silk, and there was a suspicious bulge on one side of her hips. "I think she's got one of those, too," I said to Kylla.

  A voice said, "There they are!" and Lysander and Ran made their way to us.

  "And where have you been?" Kylla inquired, as her husband meekly kissed her cheek.

  Ran said, "We were talking to Kade first—didn't you see him catch up to us? And then we had to see the steward about the overnight arrangements. I sent back to the carriage for our cases, Theodora, and they're already stored in our room."

  Kylla said, "How many of the guests are sleeping over at this house party, anyway? The house is big, but I think they'll have trouble tucking everybody away in a manner they'd be accustomed to."

  There was a reason for her asking. Lysander glanced at Ran, who gave him no help, then hemmed and said, "Well, actually, just us four are actually staying for the whole night. But there'll be plenty of people on the boat ride tomorrow."

  "I see," said Kylla.

  "I thought there would be more houseguests," said Lysander. "But it wouldn't be polite to refuse at this point."

  "I said that I see."

  Ran put in, "We do have something of a problem, though." He turned to me and said, apologetically, "The Poraths keep cats."

  "Oh, gods." This put an entirely new complexion on the matter. "Cats, in the plural?"

  "Three," he said, with sympathy. "Scythian yellow toms. I made inquiries, and I think they're mostly confined to the kitchen and downstairs."

  Kylla looked bewildered. Ran explained, "Theodora is allergic to cats." He used the Standard word "allergic," which has no Ivoran equivalent.

  "I never met anyone who was allergic to cats," she said, with interest. "What do you do, go into fits?"

  "Everything but," I muttered. It always turns into a big deal when I find myself required to visit people with cats. The hosts invariably offer to move the cat to another room while I'm there, proud of their sacrifice, and they look at me disapprovingly when my thanks aren't effusive enough. Moving the cat accomplishes nothing—it's the little invisible bits from the cat hair that drive me to thoughts of suicide, and they're all over the house.

  "You want to go home?" asked Ran.

  Kylla and Lysander looked at me, waiting. I had the feeling that both of them would kill me, for different reasons, if I said yes.

  I said slowly, "It might possibly be manageable, if they've never been in the upstairs rooms—

  "Wonderful!" Kylla beamed. "Darling—" this to Lysander—"do you know if we'll be staying next to Ran and Theo?"

  "Uh, we'll be on the same floor," began Lysander. We all knew Kylla was wondering if somehow Eliana would be packaged and delivered to Lysander in the middle of the night, an unlikely event, but our Kylla was not her usual practical self.

  "I think we'd better check on the cats' territory," said Ran. "The steward said they belonged to some odd person with the name Auntie Jace. Some maiden relative, I guess."

  "A hired nurse," Kylla corrected flatly.

  "Oh, you know her. Can you point her out?"

  Kylla didn't move. "She's small, with curly hair, and wearing a scarlet robe."

  Lysander said helpfully, "I'll go search for her—"

  "The hell you will," said Kylla, grasping his sleeve and pulling him back. "Theo and I will locate this person. You two can go see that our things are left properly in our rooms."

  I gave Ran a look that said, Trust me, it's a good idea. He touched Lysander's shoulder and said mildly, "Why don't we do that?"

  Still slightly bewildered, Lysander was led away toward the house.

  Kylla turned and began stalking through the party like a lioness on the prowl. She spotted Auntie Jace and cut her out of the herd with the practiced gesture of one accustomed to being noticed and obeyed. Eliana, standing miserably behind her, was ignored.

  Auntie Jace took a step forward in response to Kylla's signal. "Yes?"

  I jumped in, wary of how Kylla might handle this. My only current aim, after all, was to avoid a night of allergic suffering. "Your pardon, gracious lady, but we were told you own three excellent cats in the Porath household?"

  "… Yes," she answered, confused.

  I smiled. "We're in the Shikron-Cormallon party. We'll be staying the night. Perhaps you've heard?" She nodded. "Forgive my weakness, gracious lady, but I'm afraid I suffer from an unusual ailment—an aversion to cats." I used the Ivoran word, which covers both allergies and emotional antipathies.

  "I don't understand," she said.

  "I sneeze, my nose runs, my eyes get red, I have difficulty breathing…"

  " Ah. Yes, I've heard of it. You're the first I ever met with the sickness… gracious lady." She openly observed my barbarian coloring, and threw in the gracious lady as though she wasn't quite sure whether I deserved it or was trying to con her.

  "I was wondering whether you could tell me if the cats tend to go in the upstairs chambers."

  "I don't understand," she said again.

  A long explanation followed. Finally she said, with a hint of triumph, "I can solve this easily enough, my lady. I'll just lock the cats in the kitchen for the night."

  I took a deep breath. "Ah, yes, that's very kind of you—"

  "They won't be happy about it, you know. " She fixed me with a severe look.

  "No, yes, thank you, that's very thoughtful, but—"

  "They'll probably wail all night long, they're used to the freedom of the house. They don't do any harm, you know."

  "I'm sure they don't. But what I really need to know is whether they ever go in the upstairs bedrooms…"

  A quarter of an hour later, I gave up. I was never going to know whether they went in the upstairs bedrooms. For all I could get out of Auntie Jace, they might spend their afternoons there wenching and chasing mice through the lace bedclothes. At last I said, "Thank you, we'd better go now."

  I nudged Kylla. Actually I had to nudge her twice, as I found she was staring at Eliana Porath. "We should leave, Ky."

  Auntie Jace said, "Good evening to you both, then. And the cats will be in the kitchen, so everything will be just fine, won't it, gracious lady?"

  "Just fine," I agreed. I pulled Kylla away.

  We walked toward the porch. I kept hearing a strange sound. Finally I said, "That isn't you gnashing your teeth, is it?"

  "… stupid idea…" I heard in a stream of muttering. "… council full of old men… if he thinks I'm going to stand by…" She stopped, looked up at the stars, took a deep breath and let it out. "So!" she turned to me brightly. "The offending cats will be locked up, and everything will be fine." She patted me on the shoulder and went off toward the porch steps.

  "Oh, everything will be just perfect," I agreed. I followed her into the house.

  Chapter 3

  The party broke up rather earlier than it might have, probably due to soggy shoe syndrome. But don't think the Por-aths' display was a failure; they'd impressed the hell out of everybody, and were more than pleased with themselves. The room we were shown to on the second floor had a glassed window facing the garden, well over my eye level. When the servant had left, I climbed up on the chest of bedclothes beneath it and screwed it open to get rid of the musty smell that pervaded the entire house, and to dissipate any residual cat allergens.

  I climbed down again and said to Ran, "I am not happy."

  He said, "They're doing their best. You're annoyed because Kylla's annoyed." He hung his best outerrobe on a peg by the door.


  "And the room's chilly."

  "You just opened the window."

  "And I'm not closing it, either."

  He smiled. I sighed and pulled back the quilts. If he wasn't going to fight back, it was hardly worth my being righteously indignant.

  Ran got in next to me. "It's kind of nice being chilly under the covers. Reminds me of last summer, in the Northwest Sector."

  "You can get nostalgic about that? At the time you didn't impress me with your cheerful outlook."

  "But Theodora, we were 'courting the moon.' " This is a little bit like a honeymoon, but before the wedding party. Take my word for it, getting married on Ivory can be a complicated business. "It made being kidnapped by outlaws bearable." He kissed me. Oh, well, the hell with the cats. I helped him out of his party tunic. "What a day. I hate dealing on a social level with the Six Families."

  "I can tell." His neck was like cordwood. "Let me make you more comfortable…"

  "Why, Theodora, what a surprise."

  "Oh, shush." Ran's so controlled as a rule, so damned intense when he has something to be intent about, that I like breaking him up. About twenty minutes later he said in a mellow voice, "You know, you're really getting good at this."

  I looked up, shifting mood immediately. "What do you mean; I'm getting good? We've been married for a year. What was I like before?"

  "Not again." He sighed. "That barbarian self-consciousness is your biggest enemy."

  "I am not self-conscious." I felt myself getting red. "No more than anybody else, anyway." I turned my face into the pillow so he couldn't see my fair outlander cheeks catching fire.

  A second later I felt a cool finger touch the edge of my face. "I guess I didn't say the right thing. —Theodora? Are you coming out of there?"

  "No," I said, muffled, into the pillow. Not until the evidence was gone.