In which an impromtpu dance lesson is quickly organized on the Promenade of the Parsifal and high above the city of Sofia, and several introductions are exchanged.
"Perhaps we could walk on the Main Promenade while the personnel clears the ball room?" suggests Lady Osada.
Fiona starts to rise from the table, and smiles at Lady Osada. "I would love a bit of a walk before the ball -- something to get the blood flowing after that sumptuous meal. Jean-Michel, would you be so kind as to escort us?" When Jean-Michel is agreeable, Fiona takes one arm, and waits for Lady Osada to take the other.
He is, in fact, quite agreeable to escorting two lovely ladies in a leisurely stroll! What man (other than a priest, of course) could possibly refuse the opportunity to have a lady on each arm? To take in the scent of their perfumes, to hear the rustle of their skirts, to feel their warmth at such close quarters, to compare them and marvel at how different they are although they both are women. One is tall, the other is short, one has dusky red hair the colour of a summer sunset, the other’s hair is black as a raven’s wing… and these are merely the physical differences! God created women in such a dizzying array of shapes and colours and sizes and hearts and minds and spirits, truly He is the Master Potter to have created such wonderful and varied creatures from so humble a material as clay. Without a doubt, this is a moment to be thankful for being alive and Jean-Michel does not fail to do so.
He realizes he is not contributing towards the conversation and so, partly out of curiousity and partly to make amends for his lack of involvement he comments to Miss Rohling, “I noticed there were two gentlemen present at your table who I had not seen earlier. Given the fact they saw to fit to bring guards to a dinner table I assume they must be important travelers; what may you tell us of them?”
Fiona considers for a moment, thinking of the dinner conversations and the interesting personalities she has recently met before replying carefully to Jean-Michel. "Very interesting gentlemen... One was His Eminence Esrar Giray Sefìk, Vizier at the Court of His Most Sublime Majesty 'Abdül-'Azîz, Commander of the Faithful, Light of the Orient."
She pauses to take a breath before continuing. "And the other was his assistant and secretary, Abdelhassìb Zàhed. I do hope I've gotten both names correctly. Our host came across them while we were waiting to board, and I do believe there is some kind of rivalry or unfinished business there ... what, I have no idea. Both the Vizier and his secretary seem incredibly sharp for all their pleasantries. And the Vizier was keenly interested in our friend, Lady Constance, and was very knowledgeable on the subject of the djinn." Fiona frowns slightly at the thought. "On the surface they are both very ... smooth, but I do not think that I would be comfortable unescorted in the presence of either gentleman. Exotic, but very dangerous at the same time."
She shakes her head a little, as if to clear the thought. "Forgive me, sometimes I get a little melodramatic after a dinner with such fine wine." To the casual observer, it might indeed have seemed that Fiona drank a bit too much, but if one were paying closer attention, they might have noticed the consumption of less than two real glasses of it.
Fiona, Jean-Michel and Lady Osada out of the Main Dining Room, down the companion way and towards the aft stairs at the far end. As they walk past the Smoking Room, the door opens, letting out billowing puffs of foul-smelling cigar smoke. The ladies turn their heads away, daintily chasing the smoke away with quickly beating fans. Through the door, Jean-Michel catches a glimpse of three men he knows: Belpaire, Antioch and First Officer von Locke, as well as a well-dressed man he doesn't recognise, shaking hands.
They ascend up the stairs to the Main Promenade, to catch a glimpse of the stars. Jean-Michel has already had the same pleasure in Geneva, and is used to the aerial view from his beloved Nuage d'Or, but this is the first opportunity for both Fiona and Lady Osada. Both gasp in awe at the starscape framed by the opening, and pause involuntarily. Jean-Michel allows them to take in the sight for a moment, then gently reminds them:
"It gets better. I invite you to walk up to the railing to take in the full view."
The ladies allow the experience aeronaut to guide them. Lady Osada displays no fear of heights as do so many of the other passengers strolling on the promenade deck, but She seems quite taken with the view of the constellations. The city of Sofia is not as illuminated as Geneva was, so only the outlines of buildings are visible. The architecture is very typical of the Ottoman Empire, with bulbous domes, minarets, spires, terraced gardens, and center courtyard enclosing fountains.
Fiona asks, "Have you ever had business with the Ottomans, Captain? I would love to hear what you know about them."
Jean-Michel shrugs as best he can (given his arms are delightfully weighted down with the two ladies) and replies, “I have had no dealings with Ottomans and, in fact, can safely say I do not recall ever having seen one until tonight.” He frowns slightly, pausing to ensure he has Fiona’s full attention. “It has been my experience that etiquette in different countries can differ tremendously from what we have been taught; in the same vein, Lady Osada can vouch that the customs of our land are different from hers. Perhaps it is that variance which is the cause of your distress? Truly, I do not like to think ill of a fellow passenger over a misunderstanding….”
He carefully considers his next words and his eyes take on the intent
look that Fiona saw when first they met. “I doubt there should be any trouble
on board the Parsifal as Capt. Vietinghoff, Lt. von Locke and Fraü
Ehrenburg are capable officers with a sturdy crew to support them.
If there should be some… difficulty… with your two acquaintances, however,
then you may inform them you have an appointment that you must tend to.
At that point leave their company and seek me out, then we shall tend to
matters at that time. Until then, we have another urgent matter to
discuss.” His mood lightens and his look changes to a grin.
“You simply must tell me what the most fashionable
steps are, otherwise I shall look quite the country bumpkin and embarrass
both you lovely ladies in the middle of the ballroom in front of untold
numbers of witnesses and I could never forgive myself for that!”
Lady Osada titters gleefully behind her demurely raised fan. "Sing the music?" she repeats. "This incompetent one will do her best, Fiona-sama. Please forgive my lack of skill."
She closes her eyes for a few seconds to forget the surrounding noise of happy voices and exclamations, and recall a suitable tune. A mazurka from Chopin1 comes to mind, and she starts humming a few bars -- very softly at first, then louder. She pauses and looks at Fiona interrogatively. "This is not a very new melody, but I am afraid I am not very up-to-date." When Fiona gives a nod of encouragement, Lady Osada hums the entire tune for the dancers' benefit.
Fiona and Jean-Michel join hands, and begin to work through the complex figures of a mazurka. Fortunately, Lady Osada picked a dance that, although full of complex, has been popular for long enough to be well-known. The dancers stake out a small portion of the the Promenade deck for their dance floor, off to one side to avoid blocking the view of Sofia below. The deck is illuminated with small lanterns all along the edges of the hull, doors and railing, giving the scene sparkle. Jean-Michel and Fiona work through the intricate figures of the dance, only their finger tips touching, with growing assurance. Both are light-footed and attentive, so no major steps are missed. They end gracefully, and Jean-Michel bows to his partner as she curtsies playfully.
Osada hides her smile behind her fan again, but her eyes are twinkling as she catches her breath too. Then she picks up another tune, and the dancers recognize "The Great Blue Danube". If either blushes when then join more closely for the waltz, candlelight hides it mercifully. They start whirling on the makeshift dance floor. Strangely, although the figures are less complex than the mazarka's, it appears that the waltz is not conducive to good concentration. Whirling around in the light of candles with a beautiful woman, Jean-Michel is reminded of another red-head...
"What a delightful idea!" exclaims a voice close by as more passengers walk through the door onto the promenade. Lord Árdghal, with Olivia on his arm, grins at the scene. He turns towards his companion. "Shall we let them claim all the magic of a dance in the moonlight?" he asks. "I say nay! Will you do me the honour of this dance, milady?" He bows slightly and offers his hand. Before she has time to think of a reply, Olivia finds herself whisked into the waltz.
A Steward has observed the impromptu dance lesson and has the presence of mind to capitalize on the moment. Since the musicians are still waiting for the ball room to be ready, it is not too difficult to obtain a violonist for the short half-hour before the ball starts. The musician walks onto the promenade with his instrument and, without a word, starts playing, relieving the Dragonlady from her role as entire orchestra. Other strollers on the promenade cheerfully join in.
Olivia is swept up in the magic of the waltz and the charm of her partner. She has only to be guided by him as she dances better than she ever has in her life, responding to his skill. Indeed, this is one of the most delightful moments she has lived. The little inner voice asking her why a Sidhe Lord is paying her such attention cannot spoil it for her; nor does the sight of Jean-Michel du Pont de-la-Vierge -- still charmingly accompanied but by someone other than his dinner companion. She had blithely offered to introduce him to Markus, counting on being able to send a note to the young captain, asking for discretion. Ah, well, from what they have shared she knows he is quick-witted. Then she recognizes that the need to consider the coming meeting is just sufficient distraction to keep her from being absorbed by the Faerie's charm. She has to bite her lower lip to keep from chuckling aloud.
Now that Lady Osada is free from her orchestral duties Jean-Michel decides it is time to offer her the opportunity to join in the fun. Promising Fiona that he will return, he excuses himelf and approaches Lady Osada. Enroute he smiles at Sra. Díaz and does his best not to stare at her handsome companion who is yet another sort of entity he has never seen before. He wonders if he shall ever become accustomed to seeing Dragons and Faeries and Dwarfs and Sorcerers then reminds himself to focus on what he has set out to do.
With a courtly bow and a flourish of his hand he says, “I would be honoured to share this dance, my Lady”. The twinkle in his eye belies his overly formal manner.
Lady Osada daintily places her gloved fingertips in Jean-Michel's offered hand. "I would be delighted, good sir," she answers with a delicate blush. She follows his lead as the violinist decides to change techniques and starts the "Pizzicato Polka." The dance alternates between mincing little opening steps and more energetic series of whirls.
Lady Osada is a good dancer, although Jean-Michel can feel her concentration on the complex steps where Fiona was lighter, more carefree. Her grace is more formal, more constrained. It is very much like comparing varieties of roses, or fine wines; one needs yet one more breath of this perfume, one more sip of that burgundy, to be certain to appreciate the nuances.
Jean-Michel takes note of her difficulty and decides that, when dancing with her, he limit the choices to the sort where the steps are less complicated. After all, the point is to have fun and if she must make an effort to stay in step then she would certainly find it less enjoyable.
As they whirl about he notices that Lady Constance has not only arrived on the scene but is taking part in the dance as well with none other than… one of the very gentlemen who had caused Miss Rohling such anxiety! How odd, that Miss Rohling was upset with the fellow yet Lady Constance does not seem to have any quarrel with him. Perhaps it was a misunderstanding after all? Hmm, best to worry about that later for plainly there is no immediate danger, meanwhile he had best to tend to his dancing or else risk treading on Lady Osada’s toes which she would not appreciate (he knows he would not!).
The polka ends and Jean-Michel remembers he promised to return to Miss Rohling.
While Jean-Michel starts another dance with a different partner, this one his dinner companion, the Sidhe Lord holds on very lightly to Olivia's gloved hand and claims this dance as well. He smiles gently, almost affectionately as she smothers a chuckle. As they whirl around, he murmurs a few words to her that no one is close enough to overhear.
Lord Árdghal's touch is very light, very correct, and yet very unnerving. Perhaps Olivia would be less impressed if he had that distant, dreamy look she associates with Rossetti or Burne-Jones paintings, but instead he usually has the impish grin a twelve-year old might wear after a successful prank. His self-mocking attitude is infectious. However, it seems to soften for a moment, and his face shows light concern.
He lowers his head a bit to speak to hear. "Señorita," he murmurs, "I thought I had noticed a sort of... wistfulness about you earlier, and of course I saw your ring. I finally realise that I may have been too playful, and if so I humbly apologise."
Olivia is glad that Jean-Michel's presence has recalled memories. She answers without missing a step.
"Why, I did not expect you to be so knowledgeable of human mourning customs. Yes, the ring with brown hair is in memory of my mother, that with black hair for my father. When my mother died after a long illness, my father soon followed her. Truth to tell, I wear them more to honor their love for each other than to remind me of their departure. As to your playfulness...no doubt the time passed since my loss would seem short to you. To me it seems long ago and far away."
And she speaks truly although only a few weeks have passed. With all the dangers she has met and overcome since then, her dear parents seem part of a life lived not only in another world, but also in a different age. Those dangers were quite different from the one she faces.
"And when has mortal woman objected to the playfulness of the Faerie? The cautionary tales our mothers tell us are for what follows." She smiles sweetly at him, although her eyes would seem challenging to a human. And, perhaps unwisely, she issues a different challenge. "Perhaps you already know that it is customary for a lady to dance no more than two dances with the same gentleman unless they are formally betrothed. But I wonder whether this impromptu should be counted among those?"
Lord Árdghal smiles appreciatively in response. The twinkle in his eyes reappears, along with a more... appraising look. He must be satisfied by what he sees, for he gives a small approving nod. Then his smiles widens again. "Indeed, it would be a shame to count this dance among the ordinary ones," he teases gently. "And since no dance card was ever involved, how should we keep count? No, Señorita, with your permission, I will respectfully request those coveted spots on your dance card for tonight's ball. And perhaps chance will favour me and you will lose count!"
Olivia laughs softly. "My Lord Árdghal, I'm sure you could make me lose count. But to do so could be dangerous for us both!" While she speaks she removes from her reticule her card case and a small pencil. "Forgive me a moment. I must arrange for fresh gloves. You would not wish to enter the ball room with a companion wearing a split glove."
It is imperative that her gloves be replaced, even if she has no time to change her toilette before the ball opens. Quickly she writes a few words on the back of a card, then summons a steward and asks him to take it to her cabin where her maid awaits her. In this way she avoids mentioning the number of her cabin, which the Faerie Lord might consider an invitation to visit her there. A whirlwind of emotion shakes her for a moment. Is she more afraid that he will stop by or that he will not? Firmly she reminds herself that she does not need more complications in her life. But surely she can enjoy this one evening and then resume her duties...
As the steward moves away, Olivia turns back to Lord Árdghal
and gestures toward the people leaving the Promenade for the Ballroom.
"Shall we join them, my lord? Will you escort me now to the Ballroom
entrance where my maid will meet me?"
Constance's gaze settles on the violin, playing the beautiful music, and she has to restrain herself from enhancing their performance, recalling at the last minute the dire effects of using her Faery gifts on this strange device. One delicate hand rests on the carved wooden railing. Her fingers run lightly over the cut and lacquered wood. Then she lightly and gracefully ascends the stairs, and moves into the flow of people following the steps of dance to the bidding of the artisan they call Chopin, whose music guides their steps.
Vizier Sefik enters the promenade, waving away his bodyguards as his dark eyes survey the impromptu ball. Immediately, his attention is drawn to the Lady Constance, and he strides confidently towards her. Amidst the dark european formal wear that most on board have selected, his deep red brocade stands out.
"You shame the heavens with your beauty, O Peri.", he says, bowing deeply. There is a faint gleam of amusement in his eye as he continues. "May I be so bold as to request a dance? Although I feel it necessary to inform you that I am but a beginner in the european styles."
Constance favors the Vizier with a dazzling smile that lights up her face. She extends a delicate hand to him, accepting his offer. "Thank you, Vizier Sefik, both for the compliment and the dance. I had feared noone would ask me," she says with a silvery laugh, and sweeps out onto the impromptu dance floor with the exotic man in tow.
As Constance dances and whirls with the dashing Vizier, she glances at the Faerie lord, wondering what one of the powerful Daoine Sidhe is doing here. He has not so much as glanced at her, and has offered no gesture whatsoever. Clearly he has some purpose which is not aided by her own presence here. She winces inwardly, hoping the Lord is not angry, but also curoious and intrigued.
As he pauses to speak with his companion, Constanct watches him as she
whirls and spins...
Once the ladies have decided two of tonight's dances, Jean-Michel glances across the way at Sra. Díaz and wonders if he should approach her. ‘Why not?’ he muses. ‘ After all, I am no longer certain of my own itinerary and I most assuredly do not know hers. I might not see her again after tonight!’ This is a very valid point so he inquires of his lovely companions, “There is another passenger who I would very much like to speak with. Rather than abandon you, may I impose upon your good natures and request your company?”
"I would be honored to accompany you, monseiur," replies Fiona to Jean-Michel's query. "I should certainly enjoy meeting more of your lovely acquaintances before we disembark." As she demurely takes her place opposite Lady Osada at Jean-Michel's side, she adds slyly, "But I do hope you will save another waltz for me!"
Jean-Michel replies with a not-entirely-innocent smile of his own. “As these were not a part of the formal Dance, I would say we may safely consider them lagniappe2 so if you wish for another waltz, well then, far be it from me to deny either Lady Osada or yourself a harmless pleasure.” He glances ahead and adds, “Bien, bien, they have stopped so we need not run to catch up with them.”
As they approach he makes a point of bowing to the gentleman, clearly a Fairy of some sort. Jean-Michel struggles manfully not to gawk at him with a reasonable amount of success. He is more relaxed as he addresses the dark-haired woman accompanying the Daoine Sidhe.
“Good evening, Señora Olivia Libertad Díaz Rodríguez,” he begins in his slightly accented English. “Or is it simply Díaz… or would it be Rodríguez… or perhaps Díaz Rodríguez Rodríguez Díaz…? Ah, you Spaniards with your fondness for interminable names!” Despite his best efforts a playful grin breaks out at this point.
Olivia smiles in return. What a clever young man! Now she could declare she was Catherine, Empress of Russia, and those present would doubtless think Jean-Michel was using the slightest of acquaintances with her as a way of meeting the Faerie Lord.
She bows formally to him. "Why, Capitán Juan-Miguel del Puente de la Virgen, I can understand that you find my Spanish name long and confusing, your own French one being so brief. Since we are speaking English, you may simply call me 'Mrs. Díaz.'" Then she opens her fan, covers the lower part of her face and makes eyes at him. She closes the fan and continues, "I am heart-broken that you have forgotten how to say 'Doña Olivia!'. But I see," and she looks at his companions, the exotic Oriental beauty and the European redheaded beauty, "you have good reasons for forgetfullness."
'There!' she thinks. 'Let the charming scapegrace answer that!" Then she relents.
"Pray, my Lord Árdghal, allow me to make known to you Jean-Michel du Pont-de-la-Vierge, Captain and sole owner of the merchant aeroship, Nuage d'Or. I, and others, owe our lives to his skill and courage, and that of his crew."
"Capitaine du Pont-de-la-Vierge, I am honored to present you to Lord Árdghal of the Daoine Sidhe, who has been one of my charming dinner companions and is presently escorting me to the Ballroom."
Olivia suspects the Faerie Lord can be a dangerous acquaintance for the young captain and wants Jean-Michel aware that she is in no way vouching for her chance-met escort.
Although unabashed by her seeming rebuke Jean-Michel is a touch concerned, as her manner seems a bit uneasy. Not so ill at ease as during their previous parting (which was quite understandable given the circumstances) but there does appear to be something on her mind. Returning to the matter at hand he cheerfully replies, “I beg your pardon, Doña Olivia, and can only offer the excuse of being overwhelmed by this new Old World and its’ charming inhabitants”, acknowledging his lovely companions before beginning the task of performing his portion of the introductions.
“Lord Árdghal, allow me to introduce you to Lady Kuromizu Ketsuke Osada, Dragon Lady from Nippon. Lady Osada, may I present to you Lord Árdghal of the Daoine Sidhe?
“Mrs. Olivia Libertad Díaz Rodríguez, it is an honour to present to you Dragon Lady Kuromizu Ketsuke Osada. Lady Osada, this is Mrs. Díaz.
“Miss Fiona Adelia Rohling, please meet Lord Árdghal of the Daoine Sidhe; Lord Árdghal, allow me to introduce you to Miss Rohling.
“Miss Fiona Adelia Rohling, this is Mrs. Olivia Libertad Díaz Rodríguez; Mrs. Rodríguez, please meet Miss Rohling.”
Olivia bows deeply to the Dragon Lady and speaks formally. "Lady Osada, the honor of meeting you overwhelms me." She speaks the truth!
Then her sense of humor intrudes, and she thinks, "Oh, my! First a Diplomatic Viennese Baron, then a Lord of the Daoine Sidhe, and now a Dragon--exotic but quite human looking. Who next? Am I to meet Auberon himself?"
Olivia next bows to the redhead, less deeply than to the Oriental Dragon Lady, but still a little more than politeness requires. She has a sister-feeling for the woman who is both untitled and the youngest of the ladies. Her words are as formal and sincere, but warmer than, those she spoke to Lady Osada. "Miss Rohling, it is a great pleasure to meet you.
Then she adds, lightly, "Indeed, I must always be charmed to meet any who have won the regard of our good Captain. And pray believe me that, although the Captain and I jest with each other here, aboard the Nuage he is very much the Master--under God, of course!" She glances at him and smiles impishly, before looking at the ladies. "And I hope you will both remember that Olivia Díaz is yours to command--even though her name may be a trifle difficult to remember." She cannot resist looking at Jean-Michel and chuckling.
Fiona watches the interplay between Mrs. Diaz and Jean-Michel a wry interest. Of course, it appears as if the good captain has many interesting -- relationships. Exactly what this one portends, who knows? Coming back to the present, she returns Mrs. Diaz's bow graciously with a smile. "Mrs. Diaz, I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Indeed, your dance on the promenade with Lord Árdghal was quite entrancing!" Turning to Lord Árdghal, she bows again and says with a brilliant smile, "How lovely to meet you, my lord. I am fortunate indeed to make your acquaintance."
The group pauses for a short moment near the entrance of the ballroom in order to finish proper introductions.
Lady Osada gracefully extends her hand to Lord Árdghal. "Your Lordship, I am delighted to make your acquaintance," she murmurs. The Sidhe Lord bows over the hand and kisses the air above it. "Your Highness, the pleasure is all mine" he responds gravely.
Your Highness? Lord Árdghal is the first to call Lady Osada by this title. Others before, even the ship's personnel, have used "Your Grace." Although both the Dragon Lady and the Faerie Lord show perfect aplomb, other passengers who pass by give sidelong glances of curiosity. Jean-Michel realises that he is not the only one whose head is sent spinning by this profusion of supernatural beings; even in fashionable salons of New Europa, this combination is rather unusual.
Lady Osada turns to Olivia next, bowing with delicate and formal grace. "Indeed, Señora Diaz, the honour is mine," she assures her. "I have been meeting delightful people thanks to Captain du Pont-de-la-Vierge."
The Faerie Lord bows to Fiona and his eyes crinkle as he bends over her hand in turn. "Fraülein Rohling, it is a pleasure to meet you. Unless I am very much mistaken, I suspect from your name and your appearance that you have some family on my own green island!"
At this point, exclamations of delight from the revellers entering the nearby ballroom attracts everyone's attention. Lord Árdghal glances at his pocket-watch. "Ah-ha!" he exclaims. "I see the Great March will begin in but a moment. I suggest we pause for an instant so the ladies may obtain their dance cards, otherwise us men will be to blame for missing the first dance."
With a beckoning gesture and a very gentle tug on Fiona's hands, which
he still holds lightly, he motions the group into the ballroom.
To
Be Continued...
1 Chopin's Mazurka in A Flat Major',
Op. 24, No. 3: http://www.optonline.com/comptons/MIDI/5000056.mid
. Return
2 “Lagniappe” has no direct
translation or equivalent in English. Examples of lagniappe would
be for a baker to give you an extra donut in the dozen & not charge
you for it, or for the car dealership include window tint at no extra cost
when you buy a car, or for the clerk to give you an extra scoop of popcorn
at the movie theatre. It is strictly cajun French, and Webster's
gives its origin as the spanish expression "La ñapa",
something extra given by a merchant. Return