Responsibility Ch. 13

It was official.

Rahela hated Yahsin winters.

Snow came quickly, but it wasn't a gentle thing. It started out as a blizzard. As hauntingly beautiful as the blowing flakes were from a position near a window, Rahela hated the cold that blasted through. She was grateful to the gods for her social status. She didn't have to go outside and work. She didn't have to go outside much at all, although she did bundle up and grit her teeth to visit her favored Ureche.

Her lessons/lectures were finished. Now most of her education involved reading. This meant that she had more time for her own hobbies, which was wonderful.

Yes, she still lived by the whims of her new family, the friendly yet somewhat prideful Princess Tuya, the lightly abrasive but reasonable Empress Dowager, and that infuriating Emperor she was meant to marry. However, on some mornings Rahela was able to play a game with Gabi, or study her poisons, or sew something together, or whatever else kindled her mind. And as rare as this was, there were even short moments of boredom.

Oh how Rahela adored boredom!

Gabi had already picked up some very important Yahsin words and phrases. Obviously, she still had a good amount to endure, but her progress was encouraging. Rahela regularly rewarded her with a little snack here and there. Just like Rahela, Gabi liked fish in gelatin.

The soap gift Rahela had prepared with Urmas Madal, the Imperial Soaper, was ready to be handed over. She also had a separate gift, a jug of wine made with a few fruits and vegetables. She had to order the thing in advance, and once it was brought to her she personally inspected it.

However, the wine wouldn't be given as much scrutiny. The soap was the point of interest. Soap was culturally significant in Yahsin. Rahela had once accompanied the Empress Dowager on a short, and so achingly cold, trip to a river god's temple to pray for a few moments, and after that prayer they had a hand and feet washing ritual with soap shaped like fish and rocks. Yahsin people took soap seriously.

Just before the Emperor's birthday feast, as Rahela was planning out Gabi's outfit for her, she wondered about the Empress Dowager. Her mood had seemed to lower bit by bit into something so gloomy. She often spoke of death and planning ahead, and she seemed to insult people more often. Rahela had been called a runt, a dull squirrel, a head on a pike, and even a witch with demon eyes. Rahela could see the uncertainty in the older woman's fingers and lips. She might've been dwelling on her own mortality.

Soon, it was time.

The dining hall had the most beautiful tapestries and freshest banners displayed. Candles had been lit in anticipation for the quick winter night. The walls, floors, and furniture, the best cushions and tablecloths, all had been carefully examined and cleaned to be certain that they were in fine condition. High ranking servants and guests all stood near their tables, wearing their most colorful, most extravagant clothing and jewelry. Those tables had been arranged in such a way to leave significant space in the center of the floor, so that entertainers could work more easily.

The women would often have much longer veils/head rails than normal, and from behind dangling masses of precious metal and or gemstones would be pinned to their often quite tall and elaborate headdresses. The wealthiest women would have many loops and strands of chains hanging all the way down their veils. Rahela first noticed this trend with Oksana and Yana. They had no veils, since they were maidens, but behind their heads, attached to their headdresses, there were pretty silver festoons with little hanging strings of pearls.

Rahela had dared to put one of her most lavish gowns of black, with dangling sleeves, over another gown of dark red. Her gold fillet was on the thicker side, with a few pearls and some polished amber. Long, gold plated cases were pinned and clasped around roughly the middle of her ribbon plaits, inlaid with colored glass in geometric patterns. Gabi had similar cases for her hair, and her outer gown was black too. The inner gown was only orange, though.

When they met the Empress Dowager, Princess Tuya, and their entourages in a hallway, Gabi gasped and tugged on Rahela's sleeve. The only reason the child didn't point at the women was because Rahela hushed her in time.

The women's veils trailed almost to their hidden ankles. Layers of chains and very sparkly stones filled up most of their spaces, perhaps pinned at some points to keep the jewelry from bouncing too much. Rahela imagined the whole style was heavy, maybe even painful. She wondered if neck aches were a well known problem.

Combined with the tall, sometimes even wide headdresses that had their own jewels, and the decorations that rested over their foreheads, Rahela thought the women seemed both incredibly coddled and incredibly uncomfortable.

And their veils and headdresses weren't the only glittering things.

Their surcoats' plackards had rows of brooches ... or useless buttons ... or whatever they were. Many of their fingers had rings, sometimes two on a finger. The women also had awkward necklaces with stones that bulged out.

Rahela had her fondness for pretty and luxurious things, but she hoped these women were content with their outfits. She couldn't tell by looking at their smooth, courteous faces. They were similar to her, unwilling to show too much of their true emotions, the opposite of the Emperor.

When the Emperor appeared from behind a corner, Rahela was the only one that came close to gasping. Thankfully, she suppressed the urge.

The man was a pillar of silk. Metal shot, indigo silk. At the hem, almost reaching the knees, there was a thick border with golden wolves, sleeping in curled shapes that repeated all around. A type of cloak was pinned at one shoulder, so that the lavish pillar was partially covered on one side by black fabric lined with white fur.

The man's hair was smoothly held back in a braid, and a crown encircled his head almost like a fillet. Although it was clearly made of plenty of gold, much of that gold was nearly buried by gemstones, often very large ones. He had a thick chain of matching metal and stones draped over his shoulders, although most of that was under the cloak.

Rahela thought she wanted to bend down on one knee. In fact, once the Emperor and his entourage were close enough to the group, Rahela's upper body wavered as if she was about to do just that. As she'd done with her gasp, however, she stopped herself.

He smiled at her. It was a peculiar smile, or Rahela thought so. It was unusually warm and domestic. It made her think of a kind-hearted nurse. She didn't think it fit his face nor his personality very well. Rahela winced at the sight and turned away, nervously petting Gabi's head for no other reason except to have something to occupy her mind.

Servants announced their arrival. The women and girls entered the dining hall first. Once they were standing at their seats, the Emperor and his boys went in. Applause and cheers from everyone. When he was seated, everyone took their seats. A light course of food was served and dancers arrived with their musicians.

After that meal, and once the performance was finished, it was time for gifts to be presented to the Emperor. Borys the page rose to be the one to take the previously collected gifts from a servant, one by one. If a gift was too big to be carried, additional servants would assist him. There was certainly a variety.

A bejeweled dagger with a soap sculpture that looked like a rain cloud and, according to His Majesty's pleased words, smelled like rain too. A few bolts of rare fabric with a package of soap bars that apparently smelled like pine trees. A set of jewelry with a blue soap sculpture the size of Rahela's head and shaped like a closed book. She was able to smell that one, spice and leather. She thought it was too much for soap.

Any so many more gifts were shown off.

Gabi had to put her little hands to her mouth and yawn.

Princess Tuya's gift set was a lovely dark blue blanket that she'd apparently weaved together and a package of soap bars that had literal gemstones placed on top. The gems were meant to be an extra gift for when the soap was all washed away. The

Empress' Dowager's gift set was a case of aluminum blocks and a tiny soap carving that looked like a cygnet still partially in its broken egg shell.

Finally, it was Rahela's turn.

In her seat, she bowed her torso to the Emperor as Borys and some servants dragged the cask of wine in. That present wasn't even investigated. The Emperor only waved it away with an accepting smile. He was much more interested in the soap bars Rahela had helped make. Borys put the package in his hands so he could pick a bar up and give it a little sniff.

His eyelids drew back. His eyebrows rose. He held one bar up as if he wanted everyone to have a glimpse of it, and he announced, "It's bacon! This madwoman put a bacon scent in my soap!"

If it were permitted, the crowd would've spewed boisterous laughter. Instead, there was a broken murmur of coughs and tiny chuckles. A light sliver of mortification snaked on Rahela's back and around her throat, but she kept her spine straight and her head high.

The Emperor grinned and said, "The bars resemble bacon. It's all so tempting. I'm glad to know this princess has a sense of humor." His face scrunched with gentle humor as he looked over at Rahela. "I'll use a bar soon."

Applause. It wasn't very enthusiastic, but it was there. Rahela supposed she could take a piece of comfort from it, but she was much more satisfied by the Emperor's positive reaction.

If, later on, he asked what ingredients were used, Rahela would be honest. Some common plant oils and ordinary bacon grease were the materials added to the lye. Very low cost, although some time had been required. For example, Urmas the soaper had to prepare the grease, carefully cooking it with water, pouring it in a jar, and putting it in a large underground room that functioned as a giant icebox, then cooked again. Over and over, perhaps eight times. This was to be sure that a white and almost odorless lard could be taken from the grease. Even then, Urmas still had to heat the lard and strain it to remove a few more tiny pieces of bacon.

And all that was separate from the fragrance oil that had been made to smell like freshly cooked bacon! That was a whole process by itself!

Yet the point was still there, ready to be noted. The ingredients were cheap. No far off plant oils. No wild game tallow.

Rahela was grateful for the party's next stage. Dancing. Many guests rose to dance to wild music. Rahela knew Gabi wanted to dance too. She swayed in her seat and clapped her hands. Unfortunately, they both knew she wasn't familiar enough with the required moves just yet. Gabi was still so terribly new. Rahela refused to let the child embarrass herself.

More food was served as the dancing continued, that way those that weren't on the floor could have something to chew on. Rahela liked the food, and she earnestly tried to eat as much as she could, but after a few sets of dances, the Emperor rose and walked over to her, interrupting the meal with a command.

"Show me how much you've learned, Little Bacon," he said as he removed his cloak, tossing it to a servant. All of his jewelry and lovely indigo fabric was boldly displayed then.

Brushing away the desire to frown at this new nickname he'd given her, Rahela wiped her mouth, put her now stained handkerchief down, and rose to bow to him. Then she walked with him to a spot near the open area to wait for the beginning of the next set.

Anyone that wasn't dancing stared at them. It couldn't be helped.

When it was time to take their positions with other dancers, Rahela let her brain fall into a mechanical and emotionless state. It was safer that way. Even when she felt the Emperor's fingertips slide over hers, Rahela refused to acknowledge the lingering, old feeling of lust that made her think of darkness. She only listened to the music and moved her body.

Spinning. Bowing. A light skip. Clap the hands once. Then pinch up a bit of her skirt, just enough to safely kick the air. Stand. Touch the partner's palm, raise the arm. Spin again. Depart. Bow again. Clap twice. Those were the sorts of movements needed.

When it was done, and the Emperor was walking her back to her seat, that was the moment when Rahela's nervous stomach finally remembered to turn and curdle.

Rahela couldn't eat much for the rest of the feast, no matter how delicious and beautiful the food was.

But at least she hadn't tripped or rammed her foot into the Emperor's shin.

***

She hadn't paid much attention to how much wine the Emperor drank, but when she was in the dark little reading room in the long library again, she assumed he hadn't had too much. There was no sour alcohol stench, neither was there the light coconut perfume. It seemed that he'd been experimenting with a different scent, one Rahela hadn't noticed at the feast, what with all the foods and dancing distracting her.

Smoky and woody. It reminded her of charcoal lit in a forest, obviously safely kept in a brazier, otherwise there would be burning in this fictional scenario.

Rahela supposed it didn't fit well in this reading room. It made her think of the long journey to this place, of being around tents and smelling all the cooking food. The lower class soldiers were fairly self-sufficient in that way. They often never asked anyone else to cook for them.

As upsetting as that journey had been, it was a less restricted time than what she had now.

When the Emperor's voice crooned out, slow and smooth, Rahela knew he was pleased with her. It didn't matter that he knew she occasionally fantasized about murdering him. He thought she was the most interesting thing to ever be dropped at his feet.

"Come here, cahhhhhhhhm here." He was standing, seeming to fill in a majority of the room's space. Rahela could see most of his hand in what little light there was, orange and yellow. He moved his fingers, beckoning her.

Not even daring to make a tired little sigh, Rahela stepped over to him. She was still wearing her outfit from before, hair clasps and hanging sleeves and everything else. She hadn't been given time to change clothes. She was close enough to touch him, if she wanted to. As was typical, the His Majesty reached out first.

With both hands, he took one of her plaits as if he wanted to inspect it, although that wouldn't been easy to do in this obvious lack of brightness. One of his thumb nails tapped on the case. Rahela saw a bit of the firelight twinkle in the glass.

"Even when loath to do so," he purred to her, "you seduce quite easily."

Her eyebrows rose only just enough to qualify as rising. At her ribs, her one of her hands gripped a wrist, the index finger and thumb outstretched.

Why did he think she was trying to seduce him? He knew she detested him!

"Did you want me to remember your pretty hair as I bathed?"

Oh. That was ... actually an understandable conclusion to have.

"My Lord," she whispered, "I've no dislike towards luxurious and rare things, but I chose bacon as the theme because I wanted the soap to represent me well. Bacon has a significant meaning for me."

He was running his fingertips down the hair. It made her cheeks burn. "Is that so?" he asked as if he expected her to lean into him and desperately beg for a kiss.

"When I was still so young, and Testoa's fresh little ruler, there was a dilemma concerning perception."

He dropped the plait. His hands slowly retracted while the hair swung a little. However, Rahela could still see what had to be an ignited face up there.

Rahela continued without any change in tone. "There were rumors claiming I was a foolish child with no understanding of the common man. People even claimed that I used the rarest oils, smelling sweetly of spices and sugars, to smooth my hair while not even knowing the costs of such things. Honestly, I did use fine ingredients for my hair, but they were only deer tallow and lizard grease."

One of the Emperor's hands rose again, his arm moving around her body. He started running his fingers up and down the side of her head. He didn't interrupt her. She went on.

"I knew that there were more important matters than what my hair smelled like, but my pride was injured. First, I issued important policies concerning food supplies and labor contracts. Second, I funded many projects to reinforce Testoa's defenses. Third, once I assumed I'd proven myself to be competent, I purposely began using bacon grease for my hair, from farm swine, not from wild boars. My mother was terribly angry with me over that. She said it was unseemly and undignified. She even tried to have all my grease stolen from me. Her actions only drove my resolve. Perhaps it's a flaw of mine, a long living flame of spite. It matters not that my mother is dead."

His fingers closed and went over the top of her head. It felt like a hot, thick hat. Rahela tried not to think of herself as a puppy, even when the fingers opened a bit and started rubbing at her scalp.

"Majesty, I never intended to seduce you." One of her eyes nearly closed when he slid his hand down to her ear and he rubbed and lightly scratched behind that body part. "When I tried to imagine a soap to give you, bacon was the most suitable concept I had. I'm not a clever person. I'm only a pigheaded little woman. I don't know how to seduce anyone, let alone a person with the experience you have."

"Disappointing, Little Bacon, very disappointing." He said that before putting a kiss on her forehead. His voice didn't sound disappointed. If anything, he sounded like he was talking to a child that had just told him a fairy tale.

***

The Imperial Throne Room certainly stood out from all the other rooms.

An understatement, indeed.

The walls hadn't been left bare to feature the rough but pleasing stones. There wasn't a smooth coat of whitewashing either. All anyone could see was ebony wood paneling, rich and dark. There were thin, gleaming lines of gold making tall and thin shapes in a repeating pattern on the wood. Looping, curved diamonds.

There were alternating windows, tall and wide, framed by open red curtains. Each window had more colors than a rainbow stained in the glass. The tops of each window had a flower-like wheel. It didn't matter that winter had dampened the sunlight. Beautiful colors shone on the floor regardless. In fact, the chairs and benches had purposely been placed in spots where the colors were less likely to shine, just to give them their spaces.

Up ahead, on a very tall platform with stairs, there was a throne with a ridiculously tall back. The wooden frame was a pale color, maybe to stand out from the dark paneling, with carvings of wolves playing in leaves. The cushions were indigo with small golden stars. The platform had curtains similar to the ones on the windows, but larger and more carefully tied back. On the platform's stairs, and down the center of the long room, there was a dark red rug with single black stripes on each side. The floor was smooth white marble.

Rahela had been allowed to peek from behind a doorway too watch the servants put the furniture in place. Her eyes soon hurt from all the darting and bouncing. She had to move away from the door and rub her eyes with her sleeve covered hands. Even the ceiling had been glorious, more white marble.

Eventually, it was time for people to start filling in. The scholars went in first.

Typically, a Yahsin scholar would dress like anyone else, but at the Imperial Court they were meant to stand out for ... well ... not standing out. Court dress was every bit as fantastic and overdone as the clothing worn at the Emperor's birthday feast. The scholars only wore simple, blue and white clothing. One of them was an older widow, but even her feminine equivalent was plain. No jewelry at all. No fine silks nor velvet.