Hi this is my first submission to Nifty
please let me know what you think! e mail: pomegranite14@hotmail.com
For six months out of each year, I belong to the Empress. Myself and the other fifty-odd members of the Entourage de la Lune reside in special quarters in a wing of the Imperial Palace. We're treated like spoiled children during our stay, but I suspect that this is partly to keep us out of the city and out of trouble.
While at the Palace my contact with others is limited mostly to my fellow entertainers and the Imperial Service, a near army of maids, handmaids, cleaners, cooks, and more folks that I could only guess at their function. Each year, every one of us gets one of these servants assigned to us, to cater to our every need, pamper us and keep an eye on us. The "assigned" sleeps in a room adjoining to mine and it's inevitable that we become close during my stay.
"la Lune" performs in an outdoor amphitheater every Friday night for the audience of the Empress' choice, usually consisting of court nobles and politicians. However, a couple of times a term, She will decide (for political reasons, or outright kindness, i've never been sure) that we will entertain to an "open" audience. Meaning, the lowest of the low and everybody up from there. I particularily enjoy those evenings. Usually the festivities will continue much later into the night, and I don't feel quite so out of my depth. The spectators are much more appreciative, and this honesty brings out some of our best performances.
This last year we arrived (this was my twelfth year in the Entourage, thus, my twelfth visit to the Palace) late for the first time in my memory. Our tour on the Sixth Continent had been extended and we had been cutting it close ever since we wrapped up the last show a week ago. We stood in the mammoth entry hall as the rain thundered down outside, the sky the same colour as our deceptively subdude traveling gear. I could hear the water dripping off of the many cloaks, patpatpatting on the marble floor, and then the sound echoing up into the heights of the domed ceiling and multiplying by infinity. We must have stood there for twenty minutes, and I think we all felt a certain amount of apprehension. People started whispering, some wondering if the empress was displeased with us. Danule was pacing and nervously twisting his moustache, a sign that the usually stoic man was at his wits end.
Eventually a bustling figure appeared from the gloom at the far end of the hall. I strained my eyes but could see no doorway there.
''So sorry to keep you all waiting. It's wonderful that you are here at last. Her Imperial Highness was beginning to worry!" A few relieved grins burst into view at this. The empress was worried about us. Not angry.
This short, lithe creature who adressed us was Head Chancellor Kamoo Kunori, the most efficient being I have ever encountered. Efficient, but not without a sense of humour. He clasped Danule's hands gratefully and bowed his head for a moment and then adressed us all with a guilty smile.
"I do so hate to throw this at you at the last minute, but the Empress has had some unexpected guests who she would like.... entertained. She extends her sincere apologies at the lateness of the request and hopes that you are not too travel worn for a brief performance." Quiet groans from some of the company were silenced with an evil eye from Danule's direction."Now, I think the best course of action is for you all to be shown your quarters where you may leave your things, and then proceed to the dressing area immediately. Your "attendants" will be assigned immediately after the performance and then you will all be allowed your well deserved rest."
There was some minor grumbling as we were herded up the side stairs, but not much. One of the distinguishing things about Entourage de la Lune is the general lack of attitude. Anyone who does not pull his or her own weight, or who exhibits any ill will towards others is ejected before they even reach second level training. It sounds idealistic, but our troupe has been entertaining the world for over four hundred years and it has been a most effective method.
As we proceeded down what seemed like miles of familiar corridors, Isaac caught up to me and poked me in the ribs so hard that my breath whooshed out and I nearly dropped my bags.
"what're you...?" I sputtered, but he cut me off.
"Hey Saskia bebe, another year another eight thousand eh? It feels good to be back here doesn't it?"
I had to agree, it did feel good. And as he said the money is nice. Especially when you have absolutely zero expenses while you are earning that money. Isaac is a couple of years younger than I, one of the top Level tumblers, and an incredibly witty and caring person. We have alot of fun together, and get into alot of trouble. We share an affinity for heights and alcohol. Perhaps not the safest of pasttimes, especially when combined.
The performance went quickly and in a bit of haze for me. Everyone was still in good shape from our hectic tour, and our repertoire was tight and flawless but we were tired. The Empress' mysterious guests were female, and from the resemblance to Her Highness hereself, I wondered if they were relatives of hers, and if so, why hadn't I seen them before? I barely had time to wonder as we hustled out of costume, wiped off the paint and sweat and reconvened in the enormous pagoda that served as the amphitheater lobby.
The Empress glided along the ranks of performers as she customarily did, and greeted each and every one of us with her small elegant smile and highly intelligent gaze. In private, we spoke of her indulgently, as of a little sister, for she was younger than the majority of us, but in her presence we were slightly cowedh. Her power was evident. Danule practically prostrated himself when she adressed him. He worshipped her, and though she was courteous to him, I always got a sense that she was searching for the real man hiding beneath this submission. Knowing him as I did, I thought that if the two of them stripped off their respective disguises, they would be a formidable match for each other.
This year as she paused and took my hands in hers as always, she said my name for the first time. "Saskia, it is good to see you again. As I see you changing each year, I see myself changing as well, for we were born the same month twenty-two years ago."
Feeling completely astonished that she not only remembered my name, but knew my age as well, I could only nod and grin until she passed to the Level Four Juggler on my right, leaving faint traces of cherry blossom in my nostrils.
As the Attendants were brought out I noticed two figures in particular. The first was a gorgeous young man, clothed in the obligatory dark red robes, with a large but not unattractive nose, and unruly brown curls. He was of a type that I'm often attracted to, but have had little success with. Maybe my luck will change this time I thought, even as I wished (not for the first time), that performers could be assigned attendants of the opposite sex. Soon though, my eyes roved to a different person, and this one held my attention for reasons I could only guess at.
Her narrow face was of an almost metallic brownish-green colour and she had short cropped hair that framed regal cheekbones. Her eyes were so strange... they looked as if they had been lightly dusted with gold.
However, physical distinction was not what set this woman apart. There were people of uncountable origins in service to the Empress. The difference was that there was not a servile bone in her body. Servitude would have been the very antithesis of her bearing. She stood tall and alert, though seemingly slightly indifferent. Her posture reminded me of something wild, feigning tameness until the moment came to make her escape...what strange thoughts I'm having... I tore my eyes away and tried my best to focus on the chancellor.
And next thing I knew, she was heading straight for me, and as I realized that she had been assigned to me, I felt flustered and a little afraid. Was I to spend the next half-year in the presence of this serene individual? Could I ever be as composed and self-definitive as her? Would she accept me? Joelle was her name, and as we departed to our quarters I could feel the gazes of jealous men following us. She tried very little to make conversation as we walked, unusual for Palace Staff. She only covered the basics, we exchanged names, ages, places of birth, and spent the rest of the hike to our rooms in silence. I felt slightly uncomfortable with this, but I feel absolutely positive that she did not.
Once we arrived, I suddenly realized how extremely weary I was. I barely glanced around the rooms before I declared that I absolutely must sleep, and sprawled on my mat in a stupor. I vaugly heard Joelle ask me if I wanted her to brush my hair, a cusomary ritual at the palace, but all I managed was a groan before the blackness of exhaustion snuffed me like a candle flame.