Court Wizard (Spellmonger Series: Book 8) (78 page)

A hush fell across the table.  While all the women there had felt the pressure implicit in having so many young, pretty and sexually available women around all the time,
none
of them had been willing to challenge the maidens so rudely, in light of the special position of favor Lady Pleasure currently enjoyed with the Duke.  Indeed, many ladies of the court secretly favored or even envied the young whores who ran errands for their mistress on their days off.  Likewise, those involved in revenues were aware of the growing monthly tax payments the House of Flowers was now paying to the Duchy, and were cautious of how they spoke of the institution.

From the look on Lady Pleasure’s face, she had not taken Shirlin’s assessment well. Pentandra was the first who dared speak after Countess Shirlin, who was looking around at the faces of her fellow ladies in vain for support .  

“I’ve actually
enjoyed
having so many bright-faced young girls around,” Pentandra offered, slowly.  “It breaks of the monotony of handsome guardsmen, wrinkled dowagers, and ugly old ministers.”  

It was a conversational peace offering, an opportunity to change the subject to something less provocative.  Anything less provocative.  

But having once chosen her topic, Shirlin was unwilling to back away from it.

“I don’t find
anything
particularly enjoyable about
nasty little sluts
slinking around in the shadows, hiking their skirts and preying on our young men,” Countess Shirlin said, stiffly.  “But then,
you
are the one who ‘studies’ such sluts, I believe.  What an amusing hobby.”

With one sentence, the Countess managed to alienate both Pentandra and Lady Pleasure at the same time, and gave them social permission to ally, despite their severe differences.  Pentandra wondered idly if the Viscountess would try to stop the impending social carnage or even join in on Countess Shirlin’s side, but Threanas proved too wise.  

She sat back and watched two experts demolish the Countess instead.

“I study
all
forms of sex and magic,” Pentandra replied in a low, calm voice.  “Even the really
boring
and
pathetic
types,” she said, pointedly.  She looked the countess up and down.  “Somehow I don’t think
you
would be interested in
my
work, Excellency.  At your age,” she added, casually.  The dig struck home.  “But if you are, there are a half-dozen monographs I’ve written on the subject available at most magical academy libraries,” she added, softly.

“I could
hardly
be interested in something a woman who studies
magic
and
whores
for a living wrote,” Countess Shirlin said with a disgusted sneer, gaining confidence in her position as she savaged Pentandra.  In other circumstances she might have been on the right track by shaming the sexuality of a ducal court . . . but in Vorone, at the moment, insulting either magi or whores was
not
a particularly smart idea.

“
You
know how to
read?
” Pentandra shot back in a sharp murmur.  “Really, that’s
quite
remarkable.”

“I’ve heard the Castali have encouraged a few of their noblewomen to take up the art,” Sister Saltia said with uncharacteristic cattiness.  She was far from adept at tearing down other woman in social circumstances.  But she was willing to learn for Countess Shirlin’s sake.  “Apparently they’re eager to adopt Alshari standards in such matters.”

“Why would a Castali noblewoman
ever
need to read?” added Lady Bertine.  The elderly secretary might have been an old battleaxe, but she was a loyal
Alshari
battleaxe, and she did not care for Shirlin’s tone one bit.

“Perhaps to deal with long nights with Castali noblemen?” offered Lady Esmara with a wicked snicker.  “I’ve heard that they just don’t have—”

“The
issue
,” Countess Shirlin said, loudly and rudely interrupting, “is
not
whether or not Castali noblewomen can read, but whether
Alshari
noblemen can pass a slut in the corridor and not act like a
hound!
”

“If you can find a man who
doesn’t
act like a hound around a perky pair of pumpkins, let me know!” one of the younger petty nobility moaned.  She was one of the new crop of young Alshari noblewomen hosted at the palace over the summer to offer them an opportunity to lay claim to ‘once being presented at court’ to their future husbands.  Most would be gone back to their farms by midsummer.  Considering her lack of perky pumpkins, she would likely be one of them.

“
All
men act like hounds,” Lady Pleasure opined.  “It’s one of the more reassuringly consistent things about them.  It’s their
nature
.  Just as it is
our
nature to take advantage of
their
nature.”

“By hiking a skirt to any bravo in the corridor?” accused Shirlin, contemptuously.  “How does that add to the respect of the ladies of the court?  It’s insulting!”

“Would it be better if these ladies were the subject of their crude attentions?” asked Lady Pleasure, smoothly indicating the junior noblewomen at the other table.  “You would imperil their virtue, and their chance at a good marriage, rather than allow those better suited for it to contend with the lusts of the men of Vorone?”

“No woman needs to use her sexuality to prove herself powerful!” insisted the Countess.  “It demeans us all.  Surely if you had a real duchess in court, she would say the same!  How can we, as women, win the respect of the men when they see us in comparison with those sluts?”

“Would you deny us one of the
few
advantages we have?” Lady Pleasure implored the Countess.  

“A woman has far more to offer a man than what’s up her skirts!” fumed the Countess, angrily.

“Such as . . . ?” invited Lady Pleasure, sweetly.  “Tell us what sweet allure a woman has for a man, that doesn’t involve her feminine charms!”

Pentandra
never
would have stepped into such an obvious verbal trap, particularly not with the avatar of the Goddess of Love and Beauty, but Countess Shirlin was out of her element . . . and she didn’t understand just who she was arguing against.

“Well,
companionship
, obviously!” answered the Castali woman, sputtering at the cool challenge to what she saw as obvious social boundaries.

“He can get a
dog
for that, my dear,” Amandice dismissed, amused.  “And be better served thereby.  What else?”

“Why, to have someone to share his fortunes and his burdens,” offered Shirlin, who in her uncertainty had reached for the traditional.  Those were words directly from the common marriage vows celebrating the institution.  

“Do you
really
desire to
share
a man’s burdens?” asked Lady Pleasure, pointedly, “or do you wish merely to
appear
to . . . while making alternative plans?  Be honest, my dear, there’s no one here but us girls,” she urged, mockingly.  

“Is that not the point of uniting in matrimony?” Shirlin returned, haughtily.  

“That’s the point you shove into his gut,” Lady Pleasure agreed, casually.  “But it’s not often the reason a wife seeks a husband.  Indeed, in my experience, the last thing a woman wishes to do is take on burdens that are not hers.  And a man can confess his cares and burdens to a priest, if need be - he doesn’t need a woman for that.

“As far as his fortunes, well,
few
women can resist spending their man’s money on his behalf, so there is little benefit accrued to a man in that.  Do you have another suggestion?” she asked, sweetly.

“Well, to cook and clean for him, and raise his children!” Shirlin said, crossly, looking around the room for any trace of support.  Or sympathy.  She found little of either, after her abrupt tirade and insulting attitude.

“Men can clean for
themselves
– ask any sailor or soldier,” dismissed Lady Pleasure with a sip of tea.  “Nor are they incapable of cooking, though few possess any art in it.  As far as raising children, how many men do you know who are eager to become fathers before their nuptials?”

“I’m speaking about
after
their wedding!” the Countess shot back, angrily.

“Yet you list
only
the things that allure a man
after
he is wed, not
before
,” offered Sister Saltia, thoughtfully.  “A man could care less of a woman’s companionship, position or her willingness to share his burdens.  What he desires is . . . devotion.  Physical devotion, perhaps, but he seeks devotion in a woman, first and foremost.  I shall never take a man as husband, but even
I
understand that!” she said, scornfully.

“What, then, has a woman to offer a man
before
he consents to wed her?  What of
value?
” Lady Pleasure continued, amused, addressing all the ladies in the tea.  “If she has wit, then he rarely has enough himself to recognize it.  If she has position or wealth, he will be despised amongst his fellows for coveting it through marriage.  

“One
might
offer that merely being in her presence and gazing upon her smile is sufficient recompense for his trouble . . . but only until we’re old enough to bleed,” she said, viciously.  “Then the
truth
comes out!”

Everyone laughed at that, even Countess Shirlin, although her heart wasn’t in it.  She was still searching for conversational leverage in this unconventional court.  Nor did she feel defeated, yet.  Still she strove to win the debate.

“So then
why
permit such deviance in the palace?” asked the Countess.  “It encourages disrespect, licentiousness, and unworthy behavior amongst our men.  
This
is why we need to see His Grace wed, and quickly!  Else the people will begin
gossiping
about the court, and eventually His Grace himself!  As Her Majesty says, ‘the people rely on the grace and decorum of the nobility to give their world stability’.”

“Funny how that noble sentiment doesn’t seem to include political assassination or subversive plotting,” Pentandra observed aloud, ostensibly to herself.   “One
might
think of those things as
adding
to instability, if one is as unsophisticated in such matters as I am.”

“Do you wish to see this ancient palace turned into a
brothel?
” demanded Shirlin, angrily.  “For that is the way you are headed, with these wild women roaming and rutting like
animals!”

If the Countess had crossed a line with Pentandra over Arborn’s origins, with Lady Pleasure the boundary was the nature of her girls.  She was justifiably proud of them and what they had learned, despite the nature of the education, and she was highly protective of them.  Lady Pleasure would hear no ill of her precious Maidens.

“My girls do not
‘rut like animals’
, Amandice said through clenched teeth.  “They conduct themselves with dignity and respect, as
ladies
, regardless of their social class, or what they might be doing.  Or
whom
,” she added.

“
Your
girls?” asked the Countess, astonished and confused.  “What do you mean ‘
your
girls’?”

“Those ‘little sluts’ you are complaining about running all over the palace are mostly employees of the House of Flowers, on Perfume Street,” Sister Saltia reported, dutifully.  “Which is the top revenue-producing and tax-paying businesses in that region of town,” she added.  “And it is owned
entirely
by Dowager Baroness Amandice.”

“Yes, my house
alone
has paid over three hundred ounces of silver
this month
as our rightful tax,” Lady Pleasure pointed out to the Countess with satisfaction.  “Yet
all
of my girls have volunteered their time and energy during their days off to advance the Wildflower Festival unpaid, in a show of civic responsibility.  Tell me, Countess, do the
Castali
whores take such pride in their towns?”

“Why, no—yes—
This isn’t about Castal!”
the confused old bag finally bellowed, as she battled against the confusion the goddess’ words inspired.  “This is about
Alshar,
and from what I see --
and
will report to Her Majesty -- the state of the court is
deplorable!
 We
must
find a bride for this poor boy, and
soon
, else the court risks descending into chaos under such . . .
lurid
influences!” she finished, glaring at Lady Pleasure.