That last sentence stings coming up. There’s a trace of truth to those words.
WhyamI here and not catering to a patron? Why have I let myself think I can do anything else well enough that it’s worth spending my time otherwise?
My mother would have said I should stick to my calling. Pamper Ivy if she’d pay me. Seek out the highest ranked clients I can impress.
Bring about all the delight she can’t anymore.
I ball my hands against the niggling doubts. I’m an adult now—I’m my own man. Which means I have the responsibility of deciding the best course of my life for myself.
Not that she necessarily was wrong.
I do my best to hold my uneasiness at a distance while I kowtow to Laselle and ask my simpering questions about her exploits of the past few years. With every tale she tells to teach by example, she manages to work in a jab or two: “You’d need to stretch your creativity farther than you ever bothered.” “You have to give yourself completely over to their whims, not let any of your selfish inclinations divert you.”
I nod, give my thanks, and make the exclamations of awe I know she’ll expect, holding that smile on my face until my cheeks feel ready to crack. I wait until she’s told enough tales that I think she could accept a less fawning inquiry, and then delay several minutes longer to be safe.
Laselle gives me a decent opening, tipping back in her chair with a light laugh. “But then, for all their grandeur, a lot of the barons and baronesses have relatively simple tastes at heart. That’s why they come out here to escape the complexities of the city courts.”
I keep my tone casual, as if this is just another question in the long line. “I’ve heard a few murmurings about some rather wild parties out in the countryside. Large bonfires, masks, dancing beneath the stars. Are any of your patrons part of that crowd?”
My mother’s friend taps her ruddy lips. “I don’t think any of the noble families take part in events like that. But I have caught murmurs of my own. When I was calling on Baroness Reginne several months ago, I paid attention to the staff gossip as usual. Apparently one of the house messengers stumbled on some odd traces when he took a shortcut through one of the more distant and little-used areas of the county.”
I raise my eyebrows enough to show curiosity, not my full investment. My pulse skips eagerly. “What sort of traces?”
Laselle waves her hand vaguely. “I only heard bits and pieces secondhand. From what I gathered, there were a few scattered bits of burnt wood and something the messenger took to be bone. That was what unnerved him. It seems whoever was carrying on out there, they needed extra internal stimulation to enjoy themselves. He also brought back a strip of dried crozzemi mushroom he found in the same area, and the kitchen staff had quite a night after boiling that. I’d have tried some myself, but it always gives me a headache after.”
“Crozzemi?” I repeat. “I didn’t think those grew in Silana.”
“I can’t say I’ve looked into it. I suppose whoever’s indulging, they must have decently deep pockets even if they aren’t noble born.” Laselle’s gaze turns more pointed as it focuses on me again. “I hope you haven’t resorted to intoxicants of that sort to enhance your abilities. A true courtesan should be able to please his or her patrons without skewing their sense of reality.”
I hold up my hands. “Of course not. I wouldn’t touch the stuff or offer it to anyone myself. I was only surprised.”
Her eyes linger on me as if she isn’t entirely convinced. As if she’s thinking it would be just like me to take the lazy route—and lie about it.
I switch to a different angle. “It can’t have been much of a bonfire if all they left was a few bits of wood.”
Laselle shrugs. “At least they clean up after themselves, whatever they’re after with antics of that sort. The real upper class wouldn’t lower themselves to messing about in the dirt.”
No patrons worthy of us, she means.
It doesn’t appear she knows anything more about strange meetings in the counties around Florian. I work in a few more leading questions between more requests for advice, but none of her answers leave me any wiser about the scourge sorcerers’ activities.
Still, when I get up from the table, I can bow to her with a satisfaction I don’t entirely have to fake, even if it’s not for the reasons she’d imagine.
“Thank you for taking the time to share all this with me. I’ll continue to do my best to live up to my mother’s aspirations for me.”
“You do that,” Laselle says, and hustles me back to my carriage.
I sit in a stew of uncomfortable memories and anxious thoughts the whole journey back to Florian. When the carriage stops outside Sovereign College’s gate, I walk through the steps of the password almost without thinking, my mind already on the conversation ahead.
I don’t want to disturb Ivy with a summons if she’s still resting from her ordeal, though. I head to the bathing room I reserved for her first.
Peeking inside, I find the bed covers rumpled to show that she’s slept there but the room currently unoccupied.
Where else might she have gone if she wanted some peace amid all the pressures laid on her?
I know her well enough to be fairly sure of the answer to that question.
The stables are somewhat busy in the middle of the afternoon as students come and go with their chosen mounts. No one’s bustling about at the end of the aisle where Toast’s stall is, though.