696 (35) - Can You Wield a Razor Fan?

“Sofonisba, I don’t know if I can do this!” Sulatesha said, tangling her laces, throwing her fingers over her mouth as she rocked back and forth on the bench in the team’s changeroom.

“Shush!  You want to sit in the solar and do nothing but embroider?  You don’t need to be on the team to be a guard for the Imperatrix, but you have to be able to keep up with her!”

Alaria zipped over and untangled the mess.  “Hush! Take a deep breath! You’re Mahid! You’re the best at catching and you have your trick.”

Sulatesha wiped her face and bent to help Alaria.  “I’ll do my best, I’m just so bad at skating!”

Melforasha stamped her skates, checked her elbow and knee padding. “Do your best. It’s not as if First Amitzas or Joras will be there.  Senior Ilesias doesn’t know as much as Joras did.”

“The team is going to be there! Jorasa and the Coach,” But the note of panic was gone from her voice and she wasn’t sounding so breathless.

“Jorasa needs every Mahid woman for her team... she’s not happy recruiting from private Aitza or the girls from the um...”

“Pornographic league?  You mean the okas girls who play bare hands.”

“How they get permission to run late-night games in the solas bowls I’ll never know...” Melforasha sniffed.

“Ready, Mahid? Let’s go skate!” Sofonisba spun in place, heels together, to test her lacing then led the way out the door.

**

The peep holes over the steel bowl had mostly been closed, but there were still two yet undiscovered and the Senior floor-polisher first class had pride of place, while the Head of the House-Donkey stables had the other.  “If the Razor Fans played to an open bowl they could charge as much as if they were Bare-Handers...”

“They wouldn’t do that, Milfas, they’re trying for the real leagues, the Muunas Eye Cup, the City Cup... you know.”

“Here they come...”

**

Most of the Razors were in the Prime seats, with Coach Arenas next to Jorasa.  The Dowager Imperatrix wasn’t present, though she had repeatedly shown support for the Razors.  Obviously she was still with the Imperial guests arriving for the Bodyguard Challenges.  First Amitzas was in his bed and Ilesias did his best to look as senior as possible on the other end of the row of seats. The other Mahid women sat higher up the rake of the stands, sitting quietly.

Sofonisba led her four in laps around the bowl, doing her best to make it look effortless.  She could hear both Sulatesha and Melforasa struggling behind her.

“Line... IN,” she snapped and soared down the wall of the bowl, feeling the others fan out behind her in a classic formation they’d read about, lacking a tail player. “Pattern ONE!”

They criss-crossed, Sofonisba firing through their formation even as Alaria and Melforasha crossed in front of her, the formation flipped and she called “Pattern EIGHT!”

That was more complicated and both Melforasha and Sulatesha fell. “Pause round!” Sofonisba called, Alaria stopping next to her while the other two sorted themselves out. Coach leaned over and Jorasa whispered in his ear.

Ilesias got up from where he’d laced his own skates on and soared down to the centre, disc in his hands.  “Demonstrate your passing.  The pelutas line, except for the Captain, will be playing against you.  No goal sweep.”  He blew the whistle and passed the disc to Alaria, who caught it neatly, took her eight strides, snapped a pass back to Melforasa, who caught it, but barely.  Sofonisba sighed to herself and skated up to begin the passing patterns, until the first lineup came back from the change room, padded up.

“Pass ten! Pass ten!” She yelled as she skated back, sweeping around Ilesias as referee.

695 (34) - To the Marble Commode!

- from Intharas Teren’s Notebook

Having seen the last edition of the Pages to bed and having sorted through the initial pile of shen that is the start of the next, it was close to the end of a very long day.  The wel­l functioning machine that was the Pages was humming right along, giving me the rare leisure to lean back in my chair and cogitate on a tricky bit of editing. With my eyes closed.

I could tell it was Cream by the odd click he has in his offside skate.  He should have that looked at.  He makes enough chains skating for He Whose Sun Shines Out His Bum.

“I’m not asleep.”

“Di’n’t say you were, Boss.”  Insolent pup. He’s no employee of mine, so I can’t fire him.

“You’re fired.”

“Thanks, Boss.” He leans against my desk. “I’m tah wait f’r an answer.”

“Something important?”

“Not really... Himself didn’t even seal it.”  So he’s read it.

Intharas if you could attend on us at the MP, we’ve got some news for you. At your convenience. Let Cream know.

My nose started itching. Too damned casual. Something was going on and that jack-assed, smart-mouthed young twerp was trying to pull my last chain.  “I’ll come up right away.”  Could I ride him pick-a-back? No, I’d have to settle for being on his heels in an express chair. Ten Gods.  WE’ve got some news for you.  He never used the Imperial mode, for casual notes, written in regular black ink.  I scratched my nose and got up, grabbing my pen and notebook, even as Cream bounced down the stairs, face and hair jewelry chiming.

“Hurmilas!” I bayed. “Keep the office hot, I’m up to the Marble Commode!”

“Sure boss, want any ‘prentice...”

“No!  And stay out of my booze stash!”

“You have a booze stash?”

I’d bet my gold tooth that it’s the announcement we’ve all been waiting for.  I’d be a fool if he managed to ‘out-casual’ me, and Papa Teren didn’t raise any fools.

“Hayel’s little red-hot doorknobs, I’m gone.”

694 (33) - More Onyxine Razors

Ilesias Mahid ducked as the Imperator’s bright-red, shit-monster parrot soared over his head. “Ten Gods kyash!” he cursed, then tugged his new burgundy tunic straight.  The bird soared overhead and then plummeted down to land on his upflung arm. A ten of servants snorted or hid smiles.

“Kyashin, Arkan!” It squawked.  “Te Ammo! Let’s EAT!” before sidling up his arm to his shoulder and thrust its head under his chin.  He sighed, but put up a hand to scratch.

“What is it with animals?” He asked no one in particular.  Even if he’d not been very good as a Yeola-e farmer, his father’s-in-law had always been in stitches when every loose animal followed him around the farm. The children even let the ponies and the new mountain karya, out just to see him beleaguered by them snuffling his pockets and nibbling on his hair.

He took a deep breath and tried to smile, though it never came easily. He’d come home after the Imperator's letter and insisted on writing the Examinations for Imperial Bodyguard, even though the Minister of Security and the Guard Captain were both confident of his training.

The bird made an absurd cooing noise before flapping off and he folded properly gloved hands at the small of his back. Then he turned into the corridor leading to the solar, a palace fluffy panting at his heels, unnoticed.

Irilai was coming back to Arko, so she said, because it turned out that she was as little enamoured of farming as he was, but he was certain there was a Yeola-e couple she was interested in and he was afraid that her marriage to him was holding her back. Her happiness was something that he worried about, afraid that his mere presence would discourage people, so he’d come back to Arko first.  She needed room without a damaged young Mahid clinging needily to her.  He wasn’t certain that she would follow and the idea made him dreadfully unhappy and lonely. But he wasn’t going to try and go all ‘Mahid’ on her, the way she teased him. 

I will have enough anguish written as poetry for another book by the time we figure things out, he thought.  That would make the publisher very happy.

He might have to travel back and forth between Arko the city and Shoubitair, the little village on the edge of a mountain pass south of Vae-Arahi where her family was from... or let her go, if that was what she wanted. He cleared his throat and pulled himself back to his current chore.

He straightened his shoulders and stepped into the solar.  “Good afternoon, Mahid.” He let his eye run over them, the four married-in Mahid girls still doing embroidery or stitching, along with the one Mahid girl who did not participate in any of the new Mahid activities.  “I require the attention of the four girls who are attempting to teach themselves how to skate.”

Sofonisba laid her cloth and needle down.  “Certainly, Senior.  Is there trouble from that?” Alaria tried to hide her nervous reaction and the other two had their heads down, packing their sewing baskets hiding their faces.

“No, actually.  The faib team have requested me to book official time in the steel bowl.  You’ve been sneaking hours of practice a day, according to the servants—“ a smothered laugh from one of the girls and quelling sideways looks all around. “—and the Senior Mahid has given me the job of discerning your skill."  I so wish this were Joras's job.  His 'misadventure' that made his fessas personality foremost and his skill as a faibalitziskai would have made him perfect for this.  I am a poor second best, but I am still Mahid, so it is my duty.   "The Coach shall be beginning the process of recruiting girls from the solas league shortly but would prefer having a solid Mahid first line.  Therefore we shall let the team see if you are capable of becoming one of the Onyxine Razors.”

“YES!” Alaria slapped her fan over her unseemly reaction.

____________
Sorry I'm late tonight.  Another post later today! 

693 (32) - Put Them Down, Minis Aan!

Farasha stopped in the doorway, in the act of turning, staring at Sukala, as Kyriala put an arm around her shoulders.  “You mean just me? Sukala? You said both of us.”

“Of course I mean both of you.” Sukala grinned at them.  “Let me guess, you didn’t know yet!”

The papers in Minis’s hands fluttered in the air as he flung them straight up, swooped to catch up Ky and Fara both in a hug.  They both squealed a little then Ky gasped. “Put us down, silly!”

Minis carefully set his wife and their lover on their feet, but didn’t let go.  “Oh, oh... It’s only a few more days till we can announce!”

“Hopefully that will stop those protestors in the square,” Inensa said, dryly.  “With their endless cries of ‘mercy’ ‘have mercy on us Imperator.’”

“Trust a Mahid to be bothered by cries for mercy,” Sukala said over the rim of her cup.

“Trust a Yeoli to point it out,” Inensa tipped the rim of her cup right back at her.  “You are indeed sharper in person, than in letters, Sukala.”

She began to laugh. “Like good nakiti, my friend.”

“I can see we shall get along famously.” Inensa turned back to the youngsters.  “My son, perhaps you should stop shamelessly kissing your wife and your concubine and go let Gannara know he’s going to be a father as well?”

Both Kyriala and Farasha laughed at the brightness of his blush.  “Oh, yes... he's down with Tanifas... Oh, oops, the courier page!”

Thankfully only the outer page had landed in the fountain and the letter from Tor Ench spared the soaking. “I’ll be right back with Gan!” He ran, smiling, his sleeves flapping over the Imperial whites.

Kyriala looked around and sighed.  “No secrets around here.  The servants have heard.”

“So...announce!” Sukala said brightly. “Give everyone some good news.”

And hopefully stop these fearful people from trying to force my son into Ordeal, Inensa thought.

“Are you certain?” Farasha asked Sukala.  “I would only be days pregnant.” She held up the bead belt that Ky had given her.

Sukala plucked another orange from the tree.  “These are so good!  As sure as I’m a grandmother and a great-grandmother a handful of times over!”

Farasha sat down and picked another orange for herself.  “I was a little sick this morning but didn’t think anything of it, but now I’m ravenous, and I just had a meal.”

“Felicitations,” Inensa added her voice. “That’s how it manifested in me.”