Wherein the women have another round of dress-up to endure.
At long last it was New Year’s Eve. None of them really fancied going to this party. Not Rose, who was afraid of running into Brittany again. Not Bosra, who didn’t feel like performing tricks. And not Valentina, who feared people could tell from her looks that she had partaken of mind-altering substances and snogged a boy.
Valentina however, was the one who insisted they should go. They had accepted the invitations, and so they had an obligation to show up. Besides, not going would be like accepting defeat in the eyes of refined society. On top of that, Valentina knew the hosts personally, and it should be a comparably small affair, not as formal as the Winter Wake gala, nor as big as the Birth of Light matinée.
Valentina promised her friends, as much as herself, that they would go home if they were no longer having fun.
So again the three friends were sitting in a rented cab, dressed in finery beyond compare, silently contemplating the night that was before them.
Bosra wasn't worried about liking or not liking the party. If the food was good, that was good enough for her. But there was going to be trouble. She could feel the pre-emptory itch under her skin. It was a familiar feeling from her adventuring years.
The same itch had bugged her in when Buddy and she had stalked ahead in the dungeon, to scout out the lich’s lair. Minutes later, Buddy had been impaled on the halberd of an undead minotaur, as dead as any lizard on a stick.
She should have turned back.
Snorting, she halted herself. If she had turned back, the minotaur would have gutted her instead. Sometimes a little heads up was all you got.
Rose had her own misgivings. Brittany was sure to have heard about the party fiasco two nights previously. There was no doubt in her mind that Brittany would use that fact to embarrass her as publicly as possible.
Maybe she should have stayed home.
Biting her lip, she looked out the window. The streets were dry. Puddles having pooled mud in now half-filled indents that left irregular patches on the cobbled streets. It was colder today. Her breath condensed, fogging up the thin pane of glass. There might actually be frost by morning.
She had been told that the true cold never lasted more than a month in Splendor.
Out in the Fairfields region, everything would already be covered by a blanket of snow, sleds pulled by dogs or a single horse carving tracks through the pristine hills. On a clear day, Pinnacle would be visible only as a series of smokestacks in the distance.
Suddenly, Rose missed the scent of bacon and roasted chicken, of grilled cheese and skin-boiled potatoes. She missed the taste of fresh cream and salted butter.
"We’re there," she pronounced as the carriage passed under the entryway arch, joining the line of carriages going up the drive.
As the smallest of the three manors they had been invited to, this house was still bigger than any in Pinnacle. There was Castle Black, near Risban; a walled in donjon with a moat and drawbridge. It didn’t hold a candle to this manor.
It had an arch wide enough for a carriage to pass under, with a bridge over it that connected two parts of the structure. The building itself was not a straight facade but tiered, like a cake, with walkways and balconies. Lights were set out on the lawn, flanking the driveway. The house was decked out with lights and holly wreaths. It was the pinnacle of a winter fairytale castle, minus the snow.
How do I get to go here? Rose wondered quietly.
If she went home to the farm, and never went beyond Risban again, she would still have stories to tell for the next decade. Stories that compared to her father’s adventuring tales.
That was how she decided to view this; as an adventure to be experienced. Later, she would tell stories. And if Brittany happened to be there... well, every story needed a villain.
The party had a slow start, Valentina noticed. People were hanging in the same groups, only a few participated in the party games – like shuffle board and ball balancing – set up in two of the salons. Of course, there was dancing and music, but there were maybe five or six couples on the floor.
Valentina got Rose to join her in the party games, since there was little else to do. Bosra hung back and kept an eye on her friends.
As the buffet opened, a little on the early side, the party started gaining swing. With plates in hand, people congregated in larger groups that mixed and matched as dinner progressed.
Bosra had found a quiet corner to stand and eat. Within minutes, however, she was joined by a group of slightly older gentlemen and their portly wives.
"Where's your pet? Billy? Baddy?" One of them asked. "After the success of the last party, I thought you would’ve brought him!"
"Buddy," Bosra intoned. She wouldn’t call the last party a success.
"Yes, Buddy!" a man with a pompous moustache cheered. "How does your pet dragon take to the city?"
"Drake, not dragon. He's dead."
"Oh... well... More's the loss for him, right? Is that why you're here, looking to score a new exotic pet from the black market?"
"No." Bosra moved as if to leave them, but the crowd did not move.
"No? Then to gather a new adventuring party surely!" The man annoyed her with his bluster. "You lot remember the songs about the West-Wold and the Bold Bowman? That's about this gal." He slapped her arm.
She growled low.
He withdrew his hand and had the decency to look slightly afraid. "Y-your not here to gather a new crew?"
Bosra’s hands itched to strangle the guy. Instead of wrapping her hands around his puny neck, she levelled her dark-eyed stare at the pompous prick. "No." "W-what are you here for, if one might inquire?" he asked, looking to his compatriots for back-up.
"I train pets. You got one?"
"No. I-I don’t believe I do. Good night." Taking his wife by the arm, he beat his retreat. His clique followed him.
Just as well.
Tina, who must have a built in sense for this type of thing, showed up right then with two plates of chocolate cake. She offered one to Bosra. "Why don’t we take a stroll through the gardens? I heard they are particularly lovely tonight."
"Thanks." Bosra ate the gooey cake in three bites. It was sweet and bitter and absolutely perfect.
As soon as they stepped outside, Bosra could feel there would be frost come morn.
The stroll allowed her introspection.
Her fans didn't know about Buddy. She had barely spoken of him herself in the past five months. People were unaware that she had been in town since the end of summer. She purposely kept her presence on the down low. But word might have reached Splendor about the breaking up of a famous crew, and so it was logical that people assumed she was here to gather a new group.
She snorted.
"Are you okay, Bosra?" Tina asked gently.
Bosra made a guttural sound that should have sounded positive, but didn't.
Tina patted her arm. "Let's make another round. Rose is communing with the musicians, she will keep herself for a moment."