"Ey, a pence fer t' lad, e's dancing wif t' Viscountess!"

I turned to look. We all turned to look. After all, it's not every day you see
a Serf dancing with a fine Lady of the Houses, after all.

If you told me a year ago, or even yesterday, that Tradian would be dancing the
Widow's Walk with Aridia n'Lochli, the rising soprano within the ranks of the
Cacophony, I would have laughed at you and placed a ridiculously high bet on the
matter, sure of collecting every coin in your purse.

And yet, there they were: Sathered Tradian, minor nobility in Stewartsville
(and nothing, here in the Engine), and Aridia n'Lochli -flame-red hair and fair
human's skin, and the corseted, red-skinned beauty, her hair falling down her
silk-clad back as Tradian of Stewartsville whirled her in knife-fine steps in
the Wailing Woman.

They're a striking pair, I'll admit, but the Lord damn me if I know why a
viscanti noblewoman is dancing with a human of no rank, and in a dance that have
ended with lesser women pinned to the wall or collapsed upon the floor. The
Widow's walk requires quite a bit of flexibility and close contact - it mimics,
I think the mating of most ground-bound species.

At any rate, it was a premiere party to end all premiere parties, and none of
us expected the star to attend the commoner's revels, still dressed out in her
silken gown, hair streaming down her back like a banner on the walls of the
City. The artiste and her comrades swept in amidst much hubbub, laughing and
mingling with us commoners. It was quite a sight: the Cousins i'Xiia, sharp and
cunning like all of the i'Xiia, the retainers, surcoated in the colours of their
Houses, and bardlets spilling in as well, Cacophony already on the edge from
cactus weed and absinthe from the backstage parties.

We all froze, I think, the fiddlers and accordion players going still on the
rickety stage, and then, with a roar of laughter, the nobles were pouring
forwards, mingling, shoving aside the musicians and setting up far finer
instruments in their stead, the nobles were demanding a round of liquor on their
purses. They took up four large tables near the back, laughing and sporting
amongst themselves.

Lonnin, boorish lad that he is, leaned across the table and shoved at Tradian
none too gently. "Ey, boy! Noble boy! Ask t' Lady fer a dance!"

Tradian laughed it off, tossing back a draught of ale. "I like my neck out of a
noose, my friend."

The orclach shoved at him none too gently, then. "500 sovereigns, and do a
pretty bow for her too!"

The human set his mug down hard, shoulders shaking with the silent laughter
that creased the corners of his eyes. "Lonnin, make that 2000 sovereigns, and
I'll -consider- it."

Perhaps he expected the orc to subside, quelled by the thought of two month's
wages gone to sport, but Lonnin had been at the demon's
moonshine, and slapped his purse down on the table, causing the wood to quake.
I retrieved my mead, eying him warily. "Done!" the orclach roared. "Done, and
you'll dance the Widow's Walk!"

Tossing back the remains of his ale, Tradian pushed his chair back, smirking as
he pocketed the bribe. "I'm a man of my word, I suppose, but it'll be you
explaining this to the Commander in the morning." He doffed his open-fronted
robes, then, leaving the dust-coloured robes of a Pupil aside for street garb.

"Sathered." I leaned forwards, feathers brushing, a tad unpleasantly, against
the sticky floor. "Have a care, then. The female is n'Lochli, but keeps company
with the i'Xiia... they are known for..."

"My friend, have no worries." He dismissed me as easily as a fly in mid-Dioni.
"Coldfeather, you're too cautious! She's been quaffing
absinthe and weed all evening between scenes! I'll take the bribe, dance the
Walk, and leave the Lady gasping in my arms."

With that, he rose, and strode confidently to the table. The gaggle of viscanti
roared in renewed laughter as he bowed prettily before the Lady, shouting out
mockery and insults to the insolent human. She, however, merely leaned back,
taking him in: flame-red hair, curls escaping from a queue at his neck, lean
form, roguish smile - I suppose for a human, he could be considered quite
attractive.

She reached out one bejeweled hand to him: bending, he placed a kiss upon the
back, and they were up and twirling out to the dance floor, leaving the viscanti
laughing and calling for another round of drink for the room. The crowd roared
acclaim of the daring young human and his viscanti partner, and with a word from
Tradian that had the Lady's eyes flashing daringly at him, fast, discordant
threnodies spilled from the stage: 'The Rubies of the East'. The crowd roared
along: "Rubies of the East/ Rubies in her hair/ The Rubies of the East/ Are fine
and they are fair..."

And there they danced, bright and dark, whirling, closer and closer together on
the dance floor, his hand at the small of her back, her arms around his neck,
gems flashing, their eyes mating as if on the wing.

o====o

They danced, I daresay, all of two more songs, before the crowd erupted into
drunken rioting, and I made my escape, leaving Lonnin to bash heads, and Tradian
to escape with his paramour. I waited at the East Tower till near dawn, watching
the city constables marching the hot-headed commoners to gaol.

Below, in the city streets, a single red-haired human moved along Mourning Way,
swaying a bit as he went. I watched from my perch as he entered into the Tower,
then turned my face to the skyline, where a faint hint of pink was promising a
day of punishing sunshine on the sleeping City.

"She's wonderful, Bellan! I'm in love, truly!" He burst into the chamber,
laughing and red-faced from drink and running.

"You are always in love, Tradian." I observed, taking a pull at my flask.
"Every new moon - rather like crows in flight."

He smirked, seating himself on the riser below the window and stretching out
one languid hand for the flask. I surrendered it easily. He downed a first swig
with a broad grin, wiping the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Does the Administrator know you've been taking her rum?"

"I believe she blames the servants." I observed clinically. "She simply never
asks Mistress Jezebel - and Mistress Jezebel takes her share in exchange for the
kafe."

He shook with silent laughter, leaning his head back against the curve of the
window. "Oh, Bellan. Truly, I'm in love." I caught sight of a lip-print in red
against the curve of his neck and coughed delicately, looking away. Humans were
as shameless as Father Sun. "She's beautiful, and fierce, and she took me back
to her manor, where we fed each other berries and wine till her Director came
calling."

I snorted in dismissal. "You should have been a bard for all the tales you
tell."

"And you a krokani for your sharp eyes." He lifted one careless hand - sapphire
and diamond glinted from one finger - enough gems to buy a small house, or a
fine sword for the ur'Guard - a fortune. I sucked in my breath. "From her own
hand upon my finger." he bragged.

"That is..." I stopped, unable to form coherent words (not entirely due to the
rum), and thought a moment. "Ancestors praise you."

"And Raezon curse me," he quipped, dropping his hand. "I'm as surprised as you,
my friend."

"It is a dangerous game the Lady is playing." I observed. "A betrothal ring
upon the hand of a human she meets in one night of revelry."

"She's besotted with my hair."

"Your hair is not the deciding factor, I think. The Lady likes danger."

He smirked. "You think she plays with me?"

"I know she does." He passed the flask back, and I took the last dregs of the
rum-spiked kafe. "The only question, my friend..." and here, he interrupted me,
eyes sharp through the alcohol. A faint shiver passed down my spine.

"The only question is what game she plays at, and what she'll do to win." A
cold smile crossed his lips then. "I don't suppose I can return the ring now."

"Not a bit." I regarded the flask, taking in Jezebel's sigil stamped into the
steel. "She could always accuse you of theft, or raping her - I do not doubt the
i'Xiia in their willingness to see you hung for nothing at all."

A soft exhalation, then a sharp bark of laughter. "Bitch."

"Indeed."

We sat in companionable silence then, for a bit, watching the pink begin to
spread across the edges of the Teeth. Below, the City slowed, going to bed,
liches creeping to their beds, students scuttling to cots, the ur'Guard changing
shifts on guard. The Megalith flared green in the distance with the passing of
warriors from Prime, to Cosmic, to Elemental.

"The only question..." Only my ears, sharp as they are, could have caught his
murmuring then. "The only question is... are we playing
chess, or cards?"

"Chess." I muttered, one thumb caressing the black and red glass of my Order
ring. "Chess, my friend, and she sees you as a pawn."

His eyes lifted to me, then, crimson essence lambent in the depths of his eyes.
My own eyes twitched, and I felt a touch, a distant touch: searing rage. It was
echoed in his pupils, the tic of his cheek.

"The only question..." Only my ears, sharp as they are, could have caught his
murmuring then. "The only question is... are we playing chess, or cards?"

"Chess." I muttered, one thumb caressing the black and red glass of my Order
ring. "Chess, my friend, and she sees you as a pawn."

His eyes lifted to me, then, crimson essence lambent in the depths of his eyes.
My own eyes twitched, and I felt a touch, a distant touch: searing rage. It was
echoed in his pupils, the tic of his cheek.

"Then let's change the rules."

FINIS