came to Green. Due to Green's renowned penchant for remaining unfastened, Claudine did not even consider her as a rival for the man. It was an irony she welcomed.
She knew exactly how Claudine would react when she found out the truth. Enraged. But she could deal with Claudine. Soon Jorlaa would be willingly under her protection—if all went as she planned.
"I left the gathering early." Jorlan informed the She-Count.
Claudine raised a thin eyebrow. "Really. Were you ill?"
"No."
Jorlan's curt answers were nothing short of rude. The Duchene gave him a warning look out of the corner of her eye. As far as she was concerned, there was never an excuse for bad manners.
Claudine avidly watched Jorlan with the expression of a gluttonous jickne right before it dines. "I was rather surprised to see you at the soiree in the first place, Jorlan. We all know your dislike of such social events."
Jorlan's lips thinned. His dislike of the social season was well known. He had gone to the soiree to appease his grandmother, who had insisted he attend. He was so disgusted with the position he was in that he did not even bother to comment on the She-Count's prodding remark.
An awkward silence filled the room.
The Duchene spoke, alleviating the strange tension.
"Was it a good time, She-Count?"
"Not really. Let us just say that my interest was quickly lost in the evening." She smiled coldly at Jorlan. "Although I had a better time later on. A group of us went over to the Gardens in the Neon Night part of town. Ended up at Number 99. You know the place, don't you, Tamryn? I could swear I've seen you there."
Green knew the place. It was a dank, seedy pit hole that catered to the exotic tastes of damselles for wagering... and other more sordid pursuits. Although Green had been there in the past, she had never availed herself of those dubious pleasures.
She glanced over at Jorlan, who was looking at her with something akin to revulsion. She returned his look with a steady one of her own. Green never explained herself to anyone. The veil could make his own judgments—whatever they were.
"I have been there, yes," she answered truthfully.
Claudine smiled. "Although I've never seen you in the special back rooms. I suppose you don't have the gall for that kind of zip."
Jorlan's eyes widened slightly. Claudine had set out to insult her. Little did she know that she had inadvertently elevated her in the fil-Duchene's eyes.
The Duchene fanned herself vigorously, distressed by the outre topic. The holo fan depicted Klee racing wildly across the plains. "What a dreadful place that is! Surely you will catch all kinds of illnesses there, She-Count. I've heard horrendous stories about the men they keep in house. They say they are nothing more than street urchins, some of them there against their will! One wonders what—" The Duchene stopped when she realized her words were not for mixed company. Jorlan should not be hearing this.
"It is nothing of the kind, Duchene. Besides, the
Sparks are thankful for the touch we give them—and well they should be. If it wasn't for us, they'd starve. 'A touch for some touch,' as they say!" Claudine grinned evilly. "Touch" was a slang term that the Slice coyly favored when referring either to coin or a bit of the velvet veil. They thought the play on words terribly clever.
"How fortunate for them that they have you," Green returned coldly. She detested the conditions in the Gardens.
"It's easy for you to talk such," Claudine sneered. "You with the finest pleasurer on Forus! When are you going to tire of River and give him over to the rest of us?"
"She-Count D'anbere, I will remind you that my grandson is in the room," the Duchene sputtered. "You will cease this talk immediately. It is entirely improper!"
Claudine glanced over at Jorlan; he returned her look with a stony expression. It was obvious that the veil hated her, which aroused her further. Claudine loved to deal with hate. She had a special gift with
She knew exactly how Claudine would react when she found out the truth. Enraged. But she could deal with Claudine. Soon Jorlaa would be willingly under her protection—if all went as she planned.
"I left the gathering early." Jorlan informed the She-Count.
Claudine raised a thin eyebrow. "Really. Were you ill?"
"No."
Jorlan's curt answers were nothing short of rude. The Duchene gave him a warning look out of the corner of her eye. As far as she was concerned, there was never an excuse for bad manners.
Claudine avidly watched Jorlan with the expression of a gluttonous jickne right before it dines. "I was rather surprised to see you at the soiree in the first place, Jorlan. We all know your dislike of such social events."
Jorlan's lips thinned. His dislike of the social season was well known. He had gone to the soiree to appease his grandmother, who had insisted he attend. He was so disgusted with the position he was in that he did not even bother to comment on the She-Count's prodding remark.
An awkward silence filled the room.
The Duchene spoke, alleviating the strange tension.
"Was it a good time, She-Count?"
"Not really. Let us just say that my interest was quickly lost in the evening." She smiled coldly at Jorlan. "Although I had a better time later on. A group of us went over to the Gardens in the Neon Night part of town. Ended up at Number 99. You know the place, don't you, Tamryn? I could swear I've seen you there."
Green knew the place. It was a dank, seedy pit hole that catered to the exotic tastes of damselles for wagering... and other more sordid pursuits. Although Green had been there in the past, she had never availed herself of those dubious pleasures.
She glanced over at Jorlan, who was looking at her with something akin to revulsion. She returned his look with a steady one of her own. Green never explained herself to anyone. The veil could make his own judgments—whatever they were.
"I have been there, yes," she answered truthfully.
Claudine smiled. "Although I've never seen you in the special back rooms. I suppose you don't have the gall for that kind of zip."
Jorlan's eyes widened slightly. Claudine had set out to insult her. Little did she know that she had inadvertently elevated her in the fil-Duchene's eyes.
The Duchene fanned herself vigorously, distressed by the outre topic. The holo fan depicted Klee racing wildly across the plains. "What a dreadful place that is! Surely you will catch all kinds of illnesses there, She-Count. I've heard horrendous stories about the men they keep in house. They say they are nothing more than street urchins, some of them there against their will! One wonders what—" The Duchene stopped when she realized her words were not for mixed company. Jorlan should not be hearing this.
"It is nothing of the kind, Duchene. Besides, the
Sparks are thankful for the touch we give them—and well they should be. If it wasn't for us, they'd starve. 'A touch for some touch,' as they say!" Claudine grinned evilly. "Touch" was a slang term that the Slice coyly favored when referring either to coin or a bit of the velvet veil. They thought the play on words terribly clever.
"How fortunate for them that they have you," Green returned coldly. She detested the conditions in the Gardens.
"It's easy for you to talk such," Claudine sneered. "You with the finest pleasurer on Forus! When are you going to tire of River and give him over to the rest of us?"
"She-Count D'anbere, I will remind you that my grandson is in the room," the Duchene sputtered. "You will cease this talk immediately. It is entirely improper!"
Claudine glanced over at Jorlan; he returned her look with a stony expression. It was obvious that the veil hated her, which aroused her further. Claudine loved to deal with hate. She had a special gift with
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