A Soul Cake!

A soul cake, a soul cake: 
 
Go down into the cellar
And see what you can find;
If the barrels are not empty
We'll hope that you'll be kind;
We'll hope that you'll be kind
With your apple and your pear,
And we'll come no more a-soulin'
Till Christmas time next year.
A soul cake, a soul cake:
The streets are very dirty,
Me shoes are very thin,
I have a little pocket
To put a silver in;
If you haven't got a silver
A copper chain will do;
If you haven't got a copper chain
  Ten bless you.
 
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If I might remind everyone of the lovely donate button off to the left!  

A dollar once, a dollar twice, all the better for beans and rice!
 

697 (36) You Can't Out-Casual Me, Boy!

-          Intharas Teren’s journal

“... end up with my ass in the gutter and I don’t reeking, shennen care!  I pay you to get me to the Marble Palace as fast as you can!” We’re blasting through the demonstrators in the square, with their gold kerchiefs and their chanting, but even they aren’t crazy enough to block an express lane.

The bearers are doing their best, I realize it. And there’s no hope of catching a single messenger but I have an image to uphold.  I fling another couple of links of tip into the box and I’m out of the chair almost before they’ve stopped.

The ceremonial parasol - even after sundown, how silly is that? -- has barely moved before I’ve trotted past it and inside.  “I’m bidden to He Whose Will Is The World’s.”

I’m vibrating with curiosity but I can’t rush the protocol.  To be honest it’s never gotten as bad as the Seventeenth Old Fart, what with Gold Bottom Yeoli busting everything into bits and putting back some of it.

The Young Fart isn’t in the Highest Office.  Not sure if it’s a bad sign or a good sign.  It’s also pretty late.  Late enough for the Nosy chimes to be done.

I’m a-twitch and he’s sitting at his desk with a stack of documents at his elbows.  The Imperial Whites are laced up to his chin formally and he looks up at me Mahid blank as I go down toward the prostration.

I get the knee bent, as usual and he interrupts with a ‘Gehit’, also typical.  Nothing different.  He’s so fikken casual I smell an even bigger hidden chamberpot. Now, as I said, Papa Teren raised no fools and I figure that if I’m in for a pony I may as well go for the biggest fikken horse on the block.  “So, may I offer my congratulations?”

He stares at me. Then he stares at me some more. The silence is thick enough for me to hear the clock’s streaming sand-sized beads rustling as they fall.  I’ve faced down more dangerous men than you, boy. He stares at me, cold and Aan crazy.

Just as I’m starting to consider that maybe, just maybe, I’m wrong and this is something else entirely, the piss-cutter kid breaks into a smile wide enough to shove a grain barge through and starts laughing.  “I should know better!” He howls, pounding on the desk.  “I should know better than to try and out-casual you, Intharas!” He’s laughing so hard that he’s sliding out of the chair and catches himself on the chair-arms, seals chiming.

I flip open my notebook, eyebrows raised, pull the cap off my pen, pointedly, as he keeps laughing.  I may let the edges of my mouth curl upward, just slightly, but I won’t admit to smiling. “Might this one inquire of He Whose Pranks Aren’t Very Funny,” that just sets him off again, just as he’s starting to catch his breath.

The Imperatrix comes in at that point and I get up to give her the ‘Eyes Away’ genuflection.  The other two are with her and I give them the nod.

“Minis I told you he’d never fall for it,” she said, serenely, and settles on the gilt chair to one side.  “Intharas, may I offer you kaf?”

Muunas’s flaming left testicle she’s beautiful.  I’m glad that she didn’t start the veiling women nonsense of a generation ago.  “Imperatrix, I would drink road sweepings and hot water if you offered it to me.” Let no one say that I can’t be diplomatic.

As she pours, the sprout pulls himself together.  “We were trying to hold off announcing, till the first of the month, but one of our guests realized our secret and innocently announced it in front of the staff...”

“So you noted me so that I’d be able to ride the Pages of the lip...” I’m scribbling but manage to accept the cup without fumbling.  “Thank you.  Special Edition. The Empire is going to want to know.”

It’s odd to see them, still, so equal.  Hmmm. The two alesinae are even more touchy-handy, smiley, glowy than usual. But they’re about to get the families’ first child. Note to self, follow up on their kid situation.

“Our Ky should be due in the month of the Flail, or the Loom,” Gannara said.  “My wife is expecting our first child two moons after." There goes the need to follow up.  Two kids, wham! Just blurting out women’s stuff like that. I hadn’t figured out how to ask with the women right there.

“Very auspicious,” I say. The alesinas's kid being born in a High God's moon while the new Spark of the Sun's Ray... hmmm. It was starting to look like the sort of joke my Professional God would appreciate.

“The Fenjitzae say we should continue to sleep in the Temple over the winter.”

Pisspots.  Good news... even if it isn’t a cure for the rest of us... I’ll follow up on the ‘pilgrimages for children’ that are starting up.  That’s at least a partial fix.  Ten be fikked. Arko’s having a new Spark!

“Is there anything you’d like to say to Arko in this special edition I’m going to be printing tonight?”

“Let me just say that We are hoping that this is a positive sign that the Ten have heard our prayers. May Arko prosper.” He takes his wife’s hand. Right in front of me! Shocking.

“If I may...”

“Gehit. Sorry I tried to tease you..."  I shrugged.  Young men.  "... and go on, Intharas, you have a paper to print, I realize...”

I have to get him to write about his own reaction about becoming a father, given that he’s got weird ass crazy for flesh and blood background.  Special Edition! I’m composing in my head as I trot down to the front gate.  I’ll send Roras back up in a few beads with a ‘What if’ spin on it... that’ll get the people’s word into the New Spark Edition.  You never know, it might make those syphilitic, pustulent whiners moaning ‘Mercy, Mercy’ under his windows go away for a while. 

Jema was saying the other day that Ilian Kallen hired them.  - note to self, follow up. Wouldn't that be a kick in the teeth for the honourable Assemblyperson if that were true?

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.

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