His threat was cut short by the entrance of Eydling, the newest initiate. A young, slight Nord, he was, fresh from his very first contract and as deadly with a battleaxe as he was with a dagger, but still he seemed like a child to Nazir -- naïve, overzealous, and eager to please. Now he was wide-eyed and even paler than usual.
“Welcome, Eydling,” Babette said brightly. “Have some tea.”
“Er, I’m not sure if I can stomach tea right now, thank you.”
“Aren’t you enjoying the show, dear?”
“That’s...the Listener and the...Keeper in there, right?” he said slowly in his Nordic drawl. “The...the little man who tends the coffin...and wears the jester’s clothes?”
Babette and Nazir nodded.
“Sweet Sithis...why?”
“Oh, darling, your eyes are like dinner plates. Didn’t your mother ever explain this to you?”
“Yes,” he said testily. “I’m not a child. You know what I mean. A woman like that and someone like...him?!”
“Ooh, Cicero, I just can’t behave myself! What in the world are you going to do with me?”
“Cicero will show you who’s in charge! Hands on the bedpost, little harlot!”
Another torrent of giggles.
“There’s no accounting for taste, dear,” Babette said. “Anyway, I find Cicero quite charming -- if a little unhinged -- and perhaps he has...unique talents you’re not aware of. He’s got to be good with his hands, after all, with all that oiling he does...”
“Look.” Nazir ground his teeth. “You know I respect you, Babette. You know that I love you as my sister. But before you speak, could you just think for a second about how it would sound coming out of an eight-year-old’s mouth? You are making me very uncomfortable.”
“Nazir. You know that I love you as a little brother. Has it occurred to you that I might be doing that on purpose?”
A series of sharp, leather-on-skin slaps rang through the Sanctuary, each followed by a little cry from the Listener, and all underscored with Cicero’s mad, devious chuckling.
“Ah, young love.” Babette took another dainty sip from her tea cup. “Do you suppose the Night Mother...”
Nazir’s face filled with panic. “Oh, please don’t bring her into this, I beg you.”
“No, Nazir, this is important. Do you suppose the Night Mother -- you know -- joins in?”
Eydling gasped. “That’s disgusting! Not to mention sacrilege.”
“I don’t mean her BODY! It’s right over there, safe in the casket, see? Honestly! The places your minds go! I just mean, do you think she talks to the Listener during times like this? Maybe...gives instructions?”
Nazir groaned and hid his face in his hands. Eydling was speechless. Babette grinned and swirled the leaves in her tea cup. She continued: “I mean, if I were the Night Mother, I might be a little infatuated with dear Cicero. I might want to repay him for all of his...tender ministrations.”
Eydling was white as milk now. “I’m going to be sick.”
“I’ll join you,” said Nazir.
“Oh, just pour yourself some tea. There’s nothing poisonous in it, I swear it. It’ll help your stomach.”
“Well...all right. Might as well do something to distract myself. Thank you.” Eydling reached for the kettle.
The slapping had stopped, and, at long last, so had Cicero’s laughter. All they could hear now were the Listener’s soft sighs. She was murmuring something, but Nazir couldn’t quite make it out. “I’m just relieved that the creepy little clown has stopped cackling,” Nazir growled.
“Mouth’s probably busy with something else.”
Eydling dropped his cup of tea. Nazir made a sound like a wounded animal.
“Eydling! Look what you’ve done! Now my favorite cup is chipped.” Babette sighed. “You two are like blushing maids; did you know that?”
“Why don’t we, ah, change the subject?” Eydling said. “How was your last contract, Babette?”
“Oh...so-so. I was trying to lure the vile old deviant into the woods, but his huffing and wheezing and drooling caught the attention of a passing guard. I thought he’d never leave us alone.” Babette got up for more tea. “But the cur met his end all the same...just a little later than I would’ve liked.”
No Accounting for Taste 2/3
“Welcome, Eydling,” Babette said brightly. “Have some tea.”
“Er, I’m not sure if I can stomach tea right now, thank you.”
“Aren’t you enjoying the show, dear?”
“That’s...the Listener and the...Keeper in there, right?” he said slowly in his Nordic drawl. “The...the little man who tends the coffin...and wears the jester’s clothes?”
Babette and Nazir nodded.
“Sweet Sithis...why?”
“Oh, darling, your eyes are like dinner plates. Didn’t your mother ever explain this to you?”
“Yes,” he said testily. “I’m not a child. You know what I mean. A woman like that and someone like...him?!”
“Ooh, Cicero, I just can’t behave myself! What in the world are you going to do with me?”
“Cicero will show you who’s in charge! Hands on the bedpost, little harlot!”
Another torrent of giggles.
“There’s no accounting for taste, dear,” Babette said. “Anyway, I find Cicero quite charming -- if a little unhinged -- and perhaps he has...unique talents you’re not aware of. He’s got to be good with his hands, after all, with all that oiling he does...”
“Look.” Nazir ground his teeth. “You know I respect you, Babette. You know that I love you as my sister. But before you speak, could you just think for a second about how it would sound coming out of an eight-year-old’s mouth? You are making me very uncomfortable.”
“Nazir. You know that I love you as a little brother. Has it occurred to you that I might be doing that on purpose?”
A series of sharp, leather-on-skin slaps rang through the Sanctuary, each followed by a little cry from the Listener, and all underscored with Cicero’s mad, devious chuckling.
“Ah, young love.” Babette took another dainty sip from her tea cup. “Do you suppose the Night Mother...”
Nazir’s face filled with panic. “Oh, please don’t bring her into this, I beg you.”
“No, Nazir, this is important. Do you suppose the Night Mother -- you know -- joins in?”
Eydling gasped. “That’s disgusting! Not to mention sacrilege.”
“I don’t mean her BODY! It’s right over there, safe in the casket, see? Honestly! The places your minds go! I just mean, do you think she talks to the Listener during times like this? Maybe...gives instructions?”
Nazir groaned and hid his face in his hands. Eydling was speechless. Babette grinned and swirled the leaves in her tea cup. She continued: “I mean, if I were the Night Mother, I might be a little infatuated with dear Cicero. I might want to repay him for all of his...tender ministrations.”
Eydling was white as milk now. “I’m going to be sick.”
“I’ll join you,” said Nazir.
“Oh, just pour yourself some tea. There’s nothing poisonous in it, I swear it. It’ll help your stomach.”
“Well...all right. Might as well do something to distract myself. Thank you.” Eydling reached for the kettle.
The slapping had stopped, and, at long last, so had Cicero’s laughter. All they could hear now were the Listener’s soft sighs. She was murmuring something, but Nazir couldn’t quite make it out. “I’m just relieved that the creepy little clown has stopped cackling,” Nazir growled.
“Mouth’s probably busy with something else.”
Eydling dropped his cup of tea. Nazir made a sound like a wounded animal.
“Eydling! Look what you’ve done! Now my favorite cup is chipped.” Babette sighed. “You two are like blushing maids; did you know that?”
“Why don’t we, ah, change the subject?” Eydling said. “How was your last contract, Babette?”
“Oh...so-so. I was trying to lure the vile old deviant into the woods, but his huffing and wheezing and drooling caught the attention of a passing guard. I thought he’d never leave us alone.” Babette got up for more tea. “But the cur met his end all the same...just a little later than I would’ve liked.”