M.I.T. II

Etiquette was easy. Gordia and its province of Estfold didn't go in for elaborate degrees of bowing or finely-tuned modes of dress that required wearing one's accessories at precise angles. It also helped that knowing one's place was relatively easy. The emperor was at the top, then his ministers, followed by provincial governors and their ministers, and then the legates and their curators. The imperial military could override local authority, but only by the emperor's command. The child of a minister was no higher than a legate's child because neither had official rank, though it would be inadvisable for anyone to harm a governor's favored offspring.

Nobility lived on as nostalgia and tradition. Previously noble houses, like the Augbergs and d'Mournes, saw their descendants retain power over the old domains as legates unless the family line fell into dissipation. The governor was content to let them manage their territories, so long as they did it well, and they didn't fight each other overmuch.

Imperials didn't greet equals by bowing or shaking hands. One person would show his dominant hand, palm up, and the other would then do the same. The message was, "We're here to talk, not to fight". Only then might the two shake hands, but only if they were friendly to each other. Bowing was reserved for meeting someone at least two steps above. A legate would bow to a governor, for example, and a governor would bow to the emperor.

The mode of address was important too, and must be tuned to the formality of the occasion. Taylor spent considerable time looking at drawings of various officials and memorizing their names and positions, so he'd know how to address each one without being told.

The harder part of comportment, as Miss Florence called it, was posture and body language. Taylor hadn't been aware, but he was used to telegraphing his emotions with his body. He had to learn to be more still, more intentional with his movements in conversation. Since his face was hidden, people would scrutinize his body language even more than usual.

His favorite lessons were dancing. His teacher was Miss Tineke, an arc woman of suitable height and a hundred and fifty years old, which secretly made them about the same age. They went through the steps to Florence's rhythmic clapping to keep time. Tineke's body was an impressive composite of strength and grace, and her sullen aspect came alive when she moved. She was too much to keep up with, but he was willing to try.

As he learned the few dances he most needed to know, Miss Tineke started talking to him during practice. Little things like the weather, compliments on his fictitious outfit, gossip about imaginary neighbors, and other small talk. His form would fall apart, toes were stepped on, and admonishments were given and received. Even when he thought he'd gotten things right, Miss Florence had notes.

It turned out dancing wasn't the hardest part of dancing. Rather, it was all the stuff girls wanted to do while dancing that made the situation a social minefield. Above all, they would try to collect information about him, and Taylor had to know what he was willing to give away and what secrets he had to keep, while simultaneously making witty conversation and dancing.

If the danger seemed too great, he could claim ineptitude and not talk at all.

Of all the Mourne Image Team, Taylor felt worst for the beautician Korneli. When she had to work on him with his mask off, the strain showed. Her casual, practiced chit-chat would cease a few minutes into the session because it was impossible to keep the dislike out of her voice. Taylor worried a few times that she might stab him, but the worst she did was treat him in silence.

Provincial Governors were very nearly kings in the Gordian Empire, and when they called their legates to attend, the legates came and waited until the governor was ready to receive them. After a week in residence at the Red Jade Mansion, word arrived that Governor Syndony Edgcomb would welcome their attendance at a dance.

Taylor despaired at the thought of another week cooped up in Legate Hotel. He used the dance studio in the early mornings for weapons practice, bathed before most residents were awake, and went to and from his lessons quickly so the other guests never had a good look at him. A few times, he dodged people who tried to approach him, resorting once to magical camouflage to blend in with a potted plant. He ate his meals in his room while Jane visited with the legates. It was stifling, and he let Jane know.

"I have to get out."

"You have to stay in the palace grounds, in case the governor calls for you."

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"If she calls." He balanced a wyvern-bone ring on the tip of one finger and let it spin. It was moderately interesting material to work with and a good medium for testing his new engraving tools. But it wasn't enough to forget his worries about Mourne getting along with the two of them gone. "I miss my hills."

"You'll return there soon enough."

"There has to be something we can do around here. You can't tell me Her Excellency has zero diversions in her palace."

"She does. There is a concert tonight, to which you must not go."

He took the ring and slipped it on. It was barely large enough to fit onto his smallest finger, yet his thumb fit inside with room to spare. "My manners are acceptable. Even Miss Florence says so. And I have some clothes now, just not everything."

"You are a complete unknown to these people, and I want you to stay that way until your debut. Think of it as a strategic advantage. How is the space expansion project going?"

"Fine," he sighed. He took off the ring, showed it to her, and put his entire hand through to wear like a bracelet. It was disturbing to look at: The ring retained its size and pinched his wrist to the width of a pinky finger, yet he didn't feel anything amiss. Space was warped through the ring.

"Adzain's Fifth Form Exercise." He moved the ring up his arm, over his head, down his trunk, and over his legs, squeezing his entire body through the tiny aperture until he stepped out of the ring of bone, one foot at a time. It was cute, but nothing he hadn't done before in other magic languages. At this point, he was sure his Spellscript was up to the task of expanding the backpacks he'd purchased from his leatherworker. "Not that hard, really."

"You could work on the wyvern stone."

"Wyvern's Heart, you mean. It's finished." He dropped the ring onto his pile of experiments and tossed a round stone across the room to land next to Jane. It was considerably smaller than what he started with, but purged of impurities, inclusions, and voids. It was slightly oblong, larger than a goose egg, and polished until the colored depths revealed themselves in velvety red with undertones of blue. He had worked an enchantment on it, similar to what he'd done with the eel stone. A fraction of the wyvern's overpowering strength was alive inside the heart.

Jane looked at it for all of three seconds before putting it aside. Her tone was soft, maybe awed. "I doubt Her Excellency has many gems that could compare. You could buy a legature with it. Maybe more than one. Not in Estfold, of course, but in some other province. What do you think would happen if someone like the emperor found out you could make gems like this?"

"Either I'd be doing it non-stop until the end of my days, or I'd be commanded never to do it again."

"Please remember that, before you show it to anyone else."

The Mourne Image Team got paid for their work all at once, on the afternoon of the governor's winter dance. He had received his clothes and accessories but, for some reason, Jane wanted to make a ceremony of the payment. They met the team in a small lounge with plenty of couches and tables laden with finger foods, alcohol, teas, and bowls full of suspicious-looking pills.

"Are those piles of drugs?" He pointed out the 'refreshments' to Jane. "What's going on here?"

"They're having a rank-up party. The medications are necessary."

Dressed in his new formal outfit, with his river stone pin stuck in his jacket and a new aluminum mask inspired by Blake's best work, Taylor felt like a tiny lordling. His hired helpers were in a line, obviously proud of their efforts. And why should they not be? None of their jobs had been easy, but the results were very fine.

He was resplendent in his night-blue suit over a blue-and-gold paisley vest. Cream-colored shirt and socks gleamed against the dark blue. His pants ended in bands of wyvern bone (instead of the hated silk bows) inscribed to protect him from falling. Wavy light from his Riverstone attracted the eye, secured to his jacket on its platinum pin. His dress mask was a pale green, a color sometimes found in his pin, with suggestions of gold to add an illusion of contour to the smooth surface. Gold wyverns soared under his eyes. Wyvern bone buttons fastened everything together, personal trophies of his victory. Though his hair was cut and shone like starry midnight skies, it could have looked just at home on some wildling moor getting blown about by the wind. He carried his narrow sword in a bone sheath, engraved with a litany of defensive Spellscript.

Taylor didn't need any urging from Jane to speak. He had done things like this plenty of times before. "I have seen your efforts, and I am gratified. I accept delivery of all articles and services. May Knexenk and the gods be as pleased with the results as I am." He paid Florence, Benedict, Varda, and Korneli by Merchant Guild card. They, in turn, delivered payments to their assistants and apprentices, either by card or in cash. The money exchange was important. Many crafting quests didn't fully complete until goods were paid for, and then paid off again if the goods or acquired skills were used in some exceptional way or under special circumstances.

For example, if their new client were to immediately rush off for his debut, impress people with his overall dress and comportment, and generally make good use of everything his team had done for him, then more experience would follow.

As soon as all the money changed hands, the room rippled with mana from the Knexenk system, and everybody cheered. Even Florence looked happy. There was a rush toward the alcohol and drugs, but Taylor and Jane politely turned down the offer of drinks and left them to their party.

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