Visions in Ivory and Black

Jenks was presiding over Temmin's dancing attire, dressing well being his second love. The first, of course, was horses. A love of all things equestrian and all things sartorial were general characteristics of the Tremontine cavalry, and Jenks was at heart still an officer.

He himself could wear only a valet's severe black cutaway suit and the deep red livery waistcoat that marked him as a member of the royal household, but his charge--oh, his charge was the perfect canvas for his art, tall, young, handsome and with an unlimited wardrobe allowance. Jenks was determined that Temmin would be perfectly and elegantly turned out no matter where he was, what he was doing or whether he wanted to be.

The subject of all this manly fussing was sound asleep again on the green velvet couch. He'd taken a light tea with the queen--a pot of tea, four ham sandwiches, three currant scones with plenty of butter, and only two slices of fruitcake--and came back to his study to rest up before the ball. Jenks glanced at his snoring prince and retreated into the bathroom to fill the tub.

Temmin woke up on his own, stretching his long arms and legs and smacking his lips. In the near distance he could hear the water filling the tub and he sighed. Two baths in one day. Worse and worse. He shambled into the bedchamber and found the contents of his wardrobe turned inside out. It was a tidy ransacking, but it seemed to him as if every possible combination of black and white in his wardrobe had been made.

"Jenks, it's a ball! One wears a black dress suit, a white shirt and stock and a white waistcoat. All of the men will be dressed identically!"

"You are so, so wrong, your highness," said the valet. "There are subtleties to the male wardrobe that only a connoisseur may perceive, and while you are not yet a connoisseur, you shall be when I'm through with you, by Farr. And in the meantime, you shall look the part." Temmin rolled his eyes. "It's for the pride of Whithorse, your highness, think of it that way."

"For your pride, you mean," Temmin grumbled, surveying the three possible combinations Jenks had laid out with an uncritical eye. To him there was no difference among them. He began stripping down to bathe and walked into the bathroom leaving clothing in his wake.

"And what's wrong with that?" said Jenks, following behind gathering them up. "Everyone knows I'm your valet. If you look bad, I look bad, and I will not look bad! Your highness," he added.

"Jenks," said Temmin, stepping into the water. "Your pride will be the death of me."

"My pride will be the making of you, young sir. Depend on it."

And when he was dressed and ready to descend to the ballroom, Temmin had to admit that he did look particularly fine. If he had already gained the discernment Jenks had promised him, he would have noted that his valet had chosen a particularly well-cut suit that fitted him just so. The subtle patterning of the low-cut white waistcoat gave it a richness that relieved the suit's severity without vulgarity, and his stock was edged with exactly the right amount of lace. His golden hair was glossy and well-combed and his moustache and sideburns were well-formed. In fact, it looked as if his chin was bare on purpose for once, he thought.

Temmin had wanted to wear the amber studs that had been his grandfather's, a present from Lord Whithorse in his will, but Jenks had insisted on the traditional Tremontine dark rubies of the royal family, a set of cabochons in yellow gold that didn't so much twinkle as glow, with a matching fob on his simple, heavy watch chain.

"Well done, Jenks, I must say! " said Temmin, resolutely ignoring the faint shadow that once again dogged his reflection in the mirror. "I look as elegant as a portrait--and about as stiff."

"The elegance is mine, the stiffness is yours, your highness. Take your sister's example to heart and go have fun," beamed Jenks, justly proud of his work. "Besides, there's only one more dance before the season ends with the observances on Neya's Day."

"I thank the Beloved for that, then," said Temmin, heading out the door for the stairs. "I'd say don't stay up, Jenks, but I'll be back before you know it, by royal decree and princely inclination."

As he passed Sedra's room, he thought to perhaps walk her down. But when he raised his hand to knock, he heard voices from within, low and intense, and he thought better of it.

"Well!" came the voice of his other sister. "He's spread his peacock tail at last!" Temmin turned toward Ellika's door; her blonde head peeped out at him. She beckoned to him. "Come in and let me inspect you, Temmy!"

"Isn't it time to go down?"

"Don't be ridiculous! The thing's just started. We can't go down decently for another fifteen minutes or so at the earliest. Now, come in and tell me how splendid I look, little brother."

Indeed, when he walked into Ellika's study, there was nothing else to do but exclaim over her. "You look like a riot in a lacemaker's shop!"

That wasn't quite fair. To be sure, every square inch of Ellika's light blue dress was either covered or trimmed in a profusion of lace, but what would have looked vulgar or overdone on most girls simply looked exuberant on Ellika. Ropes of pearls with sapphires circled her neck, setting off her rosy bare shoulders. Matching sapphires winked from her ears and in her blonde hair, which was so arranged as to look artfully tousled atop her head; a thick cuff and a ring completed the set, over long white kid gloves.

"Oh, Temmin, you have no taste at all. Thank the Beloved for Jenks, is all I can say, you vulgar boy." She squeezed his arm affectionately and brought him up before a mirror. Temmin thought neither of them had ever looked quite this splendid, and they matched each other well. His ghostly hallucination in the mirror seemed to agree. "Don't we look splendid together?" said Ellika. "I dare say we could play the Lover and the Beloved in a Spectacle."

"They're twins, Elly," he said uncomfortably.

"And we come close," she winked.

"Now who's vulgar? You've turned into quite the saucy thing to talk like that to your own brother."

"Just making an obvious observation that everyone else will be making tonight, especially with the Obby twins in attendance," she said airily, pulling out his pocket watch. "Now it's time to go down!" she said, tucking the watch back in its pocket and bouncing on her toes. "Put on your gloves, Temmy, and don't embarrass me." He followed her out the door.

"Yes, well, don't call me Temmy in the ballroom and I'll make sure I don't."

He hesistated in front of Sedra's door again. "Shall I see if she's come down yet?"

Ellika shrugged. "She's probably already gone, she always goes down early, but I suppose it's all right to check."

Temmin rapped at the door, and Camma, Sedra's maid, answered, holding a little white box. "Oh, Prince Temmin! It is so good to see you here, your highness, and looking so well!" beamed the plump little woman. "We have all missed you so!"

"Dear Camma, how are you!" said Temmin, shaking her free hand. "Has my sister gone down yet?"

"No, she's just now ready," said Camma, suddenly demure.

"Thank you, Camma," said Sedra, suddenly appearing. Her color was higher than usual, and Temmin wondered what had been going on earlier. He would tell Jenks to talk to Camma, but he doubted that cheerful and discreet creature would say anything to anyone about her mistress on pain of death, up to and including what Sedra had for tea.

"Sedra!" said Ellika. "You complete our set perfectly! How wonderful you look!" And Sedra did look magnificent, almost queenly. Her dress was of dark Tremontine red, not a spring color, but on her there could be no other color so suitable. It was nearly devoid of ornamentation, relying instead on its cut for its elegance. Her shoulders and neck rose out of the dark satin, an expanse of smooth ivory. She wore jewels very similar to Ellika's, pearls, with the same dark family rubies Temmin wore instead of sapphires. Her thick, dark hair was plaited in a classical crown on her head, ornamented with pearls and dark red roses. Never had Sedra looked so fine, thought Temmin with a brother's pride, never had either sister looked so fine, the regal young lady and the sparkling girl alike.

"For you," said Sedra, taking a little knot of white roses tied with trailing blue ribbons from the box Camma held and pinning it into Ellika's waist sash. Pure rose perfume wafted up from it, and Ellika let out a little squeak of delight and kissed her sister on the cheek. "And for you," she said, turning to Temmin. She pulled out a second rose, of the deep red type in her hair, and pinned it in Temmin's buttonhole. "Jenks-approved," she smiled.

Temmin took a sister on each arm, and the three headed down the stairs.

The doors to the grand ballroom entrance swung open, and even if they hadn't been the Heir and his sisters they would have caused a stir. As it was, they stopped the party cold. The dancing stopped, every head turned, and the orchestra struck up a patriotic fanfare as the siblings descended into the ballroom.

Temmin was still unused to being the center of such intense attention, and as the wave of it hit him he nearly quailed with fright. He looked to Ellika on his left; she was reflecting the adulation back onto the throng, glittering like a golden gem in bright sunlight. To his right, Sedra was soaking it up; she seemed to grow taller and even more regal, her head held proud and high.

"This is for us," he thought, "this is all for us." And then it dawned on him. As beautiful and brilliant as his sisters were, he was the Heir. This wasn't for them. This was for him. This is what being the Heir brought with it, this surge. He could feel instinctively that in this moment, he held the reins to the crowd in his hand. This must be a taste of what power felt like. He straightened his shoulders and let the energy fill him. It was a new sensation, and it was exhilarating.

He led his sisters out onto the cleared dance floor and they saluted the crowd. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ellika give a signal to Master Sullo, and the orchestra began a tripla. Dancers began to take the floor, arranged in threes behind the royals-a woman with two men followed by a man with two women, and so on down the rows. Any other time, Temmin would have been nervous and wondering if he would remember the steps. But not tonight. Tonight his head was clear and his feet were sure.

When he turned to the buxom young woman behind him after the initial promenade and took her hand, he felt more than saw a shiver pass through her at his touch. When she lifted her eyes to meet his, he was shocked; there was that look he usually saw on the faces of men watching Ellika pass. A girl, a pretty girl, was looking at him as if he were the most desirable man she'd ever seen.

He liked this dancing thing, yes, he did, and if being the Heir meant feeling like he did right at this moment, he might come to like this royal thing as well.

The rest of the night went by in a blur. Every girl he danced with had that same look, some shyly admiring, some openly inviting, and one girl who practically threw herself at him, pressing herself close to him every chance she got. Immediately after that particular partnering, he found himself dancing with Ellika.

"You wanted to see a hussy? You just danced with one," she whispered gleefully as they came together in a close hold.

"I'm not sure I entirely like them," he murmured back.

"Then you are a wise little brother!"

They whirled apart and through the form. He switched partners only to find himself with Sedra.

"And how is your ball?" she asked in a low voice.

"Sedra, I've seen a hussy!" he replied in his mother's tone, and they both burst out laughing.

They danced apart. The music was wrapping up for this dance, after which it was time for the grand dinner. The tradition was for the gentleman to walk whichever partner he ended with in to dinner. He handed off his latest partner for his last, coming face to face with her as the music stopped.

She was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. All dressed in ivory, she was petite but curvy, and every breath she took gave him proof of it. He pulled his eyes up from her cleavage with difficulty to meet eyes green as leaves, full of good humor and spirit. Her hair was a glossy, warm black, and unlike the other girls, she wore it pulled simply off her face with a band of fragrant, creamy blossoms to cascade loose in a torrent of waves down her back. Her skin was porcelain, flushed pink from dancing. She caught her breath and smiled up at him.

He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out, and he shut it for fear of looking like a fish. Ellika appeared, her partner in tow, and said, "Prince Temmin of Tremont, may I make known to you Miss Allis Obby of the Lovers' Temple." She smiled at them both and tripped toward the dining room on her captivated partner's arm.

Allis curtsied low, and as Temmin lifted her up by the hand he couldn't help seeing down into the soft pink valley between her breasts. He felt a low twitch, swore to himself and did everything he could to make it go away. Think of High Priest Ober in his underwear, he told himself, that usually did it. His Holiness, however, could not crowd out the sight of Allis, the feel of her little hand on his arm, the scent of the blossoms in her hair. Miss Allis Obby--no, His Holiness in his underwear--Miss Allis Obby in her underwear. Oh dear. This wasn't working.

Somehow he made it in to dinner with Allis without stumbling, even managing to make small talk along the way. He deposited her at her place, helped her into her chair, and gave a little bow before walking to the head table. Miss Allis Obby. Help me, Nerr, Miss Allis Obby, he thought.

Temmin took his place at the head table and tried not to stare down the hall at her as the footmen poured the wine for the company. He sat on his father's right, with Ellika on his other side.

"Have we been snared, then?" she murmured over the sounds of the hall.

"I--what?" His attention snapped to his sister.

"Oh dear, it's worse than I thought. Well! That was quick! Barely at court twenty-four hours and already infatuated, and she doesn't even have four legs."

"Ellika," he whispered urgently, "you must tell me everything you know about her!"

"Later," she hissed. "Tomorrow. I promise."

King Harsin got to his feet, and the company rose. He raised his glass. "My lords and ladies, distinguished guests, I give you the Heir, Prince Temmin!"

"Long life to Prince Temmin!" roared the assembly, and everyone drank off their wine. The footmen hurried up to refill the glasses.

Harsin turned to Temmin expectantly. Temmin cleared his throat and raised his glass. "People of Tremont, the King!"

"Long life to King Harsin!" roared the assembly even louder, and the second glass was mutually drained.

With that, everyone sat down, the glasses were filled yet again, and the food began to flow from the kitchens.

Temmin was trying desperately not to look toward Allis and was having trouble succeeding. Finally, he hit on a distraction. Perhaps his friend the mirror spirit, or hallucination, or whatever it was, was around. Maybe he could experiment with changing its expression, or its looks. He looked into the nearest of the gilded mirrors hanging round the dining hall, and was strangely disappointed when the severe, faint countenance could not be seen staring back. He sighed and let his gaze travel back down the hall. But it didn't fall on Allis.

It fell on the living, breathing image of the ghost in the mirror, all in black, standing at the back of the hall.