You do not see as quite as well as you think. -- C. S. Lewis, The Silver Chair
"Well? What do you think?"
Abi stared at the collection of dresses with a mixture of emotions. On the one hand, all of them were very pretty. On the other, she couldn't quite see herself wearing most of them. They were all far too brightly-coloured, had too elaborate patterns, and were generally not the sort of things she would buy for herself.
Hartanna's patience began to run out. "You've tried all of them on. Which one do you want to wear?"
In spite of their name dresses in Saoridhlém were not actually all one garment -- and like almost all Saoridhian fashions they were worn by both men and women, usually with no obvious differences to distinguish a man's outfit from a woman's. They were made of a pair of trousers called kelfin, a skirt called a jórnin that almost always only went half way around the waist and was open at the front to display the trousers, an inner blouse called a laroth, an outer blouse called a nithenol that was more like a cardigan without buttons and was left open to display the inner blouse, a sort of sash or thick belt around the waist called a ralos, and possibly a cape or capelet called a kathen. The different pieces were all the same colour, the same pattern, or in some other way showed they were meant to be worn together. As Abi eyed the selection an idea struck her. True, the pieces were meant to be worn together. Yet there was no law saying they had to be.
She selected a royal blue skirt with pleats and silver embroidery, a plain silver inner blouse, and an outer blouse of a bluish silver colour. Hartanna watched in shocked outrage as she finished her selected outfit with a black sash, blue trousers and a waist-length black cape embroidered with silver galaxies.
"What in the world?" Hartanna couldn't take this any more. "None of those pieces are meant to go together!"
"I know they're not," Abi agreed calmly. "But I think they suit each other. There's nothing to show they aren't parts of the same outfit. And I prefer them to any of the actual dresses."
Her mother spluttered indignantly. "You're going to make a fool of yourself!"
Abi thought of some of the fashionable eyesores she'd had the displeasure of seeing in both Saoridhlém and Seroyawa. At least her chosen outfit didn't include magenta or puce. "I'm sure I won't be the only one."
~~~~
Irímé eyed the outfit his mother had chosen for him with trepidation. Why do I feel like I'm going to make a fool of myself?
There was nothing actually wrong with the outfit. It wasn't a garish colour or blinding pattern. It was made of a white laroth, a white nithenol with birds embroidered in red and orange thread, a red ralos -- not the brilliant blood-red of funeral and mourning clothes, which would have been a terrible faux pas to wear at a festival, but a duller, less vivid shade -- with pale grey kelfin and a jórnin that was white at the top and faded to become a pale greyish-gold colour near the hem. It was a perfectly normal outfit and wouldn't cause any raised eyebrows.
It was also too long.
More accurately, he simply wasn't used to wearing an ankle-length jórnin. In his home province the fashion was for jórnin that were knee-length at the longest. Unfortunately in Eldrin that would have been seen as a daring innovation at best and a bizarre crime against fashion at worst.
"For heaven's sake what's wrong with you?" his mother demanded after the third time he stumbled and almost fell flat on his face.
Thank goodness Abihira isn't here to see this, Irímé thought miserably. It was quite bad enough that the tailor wore the poker-faced expression of someone who desperately wanted to laugh.
"Can you shorten the hem?" he asked hopefully.
The tailor shook his head. "We're run off our feet with people wanting major alterations. We can't afford to be distracted by something so minor. Besides, everyone's hem is that length."
If I ever meet the person who thought that was a good idea I'll-- I'll-- Irímé's indignation came to an abrupt and sheepish halt when he found himself unable to think of a suitable way to end the threat.
"Just get used to it," his mother said impatiently. "Now hurry up and let's get out of here. I have a most important appointment at the zoo."
~~~~
Most people spent the day before the festival in going through their wardrobe and making last-minute preparations. Ilaran, on the other hand, had selected his outfit before ever leaving Tananerl, and he had made all his preparations. Instead the evening found him at the docks, studying every ship that arrived from Seroyawa. Occasionally he stopped and compared a name to what was written on the telegram he carried.
At last he found the right ship. It was a small cargo ship, not the sort that usually carried passengers. Yet a passenger had just walked down the gangplank. A passenger who clearly intended to be in Saoridhlém for quite some time, if his large suitcase was any indication. He looked around at the chaotic docks, crowded with people from all over the world and beyond, with the lost expression of a newcomer who knew no one and nothing.
He was so busy looking around that he didn't notice Ilaran approach.
"Koyuki Hatsukaze?"
The man started. He stared up at Ilaran through eyes that were darker and more slanted than Shizuki's, but were set in a face so eerily similar to Shizuki's that Ilaran had to do a double take to make sure he wasn't talking to his cousin.
Koyuki bowed. He tightened his grip on his suitcase's handle. It didn't disguise how his hands trembled. "Your Highness."
Ilaran eyed the man he had gone to so much trouble to track down. What he had heard of Koyuki's behaviour certainly did not give him a high opinion of him. Still, he was unlikely to find anyone else with such damning evidence against Haliran.
"We have two days before I present the case to the empress," he said as he led Koyuki to the hotel room he'd booked for him. "It's best if you stay as far away from Haliran as possible. The last thing we need is for her to learn you're here."
"Believe me," Koyuki said with a grimace, "I have no wish to ever see her again."
The certainty that he would view things in that light was the only thing that had made Ilaran think it was worthwhile taking the risk of bringing him here. He decided not to say so. Not only was Koyuki a complete stranger, he was a complete stranger who at one point had willingly worked for Haliran.
And done rather more than just work for her, Ilaran added in the privacy of his mind. He scowled to himself when he thought of Shizuki.
Koyuki's thoughts apparently ran along the same line. "The... the child. Can I see him before the trial?"
Ilaran shrugged. "I'll tell him where you are. It's up to him if he wants to see you."
~~~~
The day of the festival dawned bright and clear. Before the sun was up people flocked onto the streets. At least two bands played on every street, each doing their best to drown the other out. Sweet-shops were so full of excited children that there was no room to move. People shouted and let off fireworks. Festive pandemonium reigned all through the city.
It only got more chaotic as the day wore on. Crowds began to flock to everywhere that offered a good view of the sky. Streets became so clogged with people and carriages that the queues stretched for miles. All the airships and trains halted for the day. Enterprising railway workers climbed up on top of the carriages and sat there. It was the only day in the year when no one lit the gas lamps around the city. Not that they were necessary. Everyone brought their own torches and lanterns. Fireworks constantly exploded overhead.
All the noise made Abi's head ache.
The royal family had their own traditions on the Day of Comets. No fighting through crowded streets for them. Their houses in the city were all within easy walking distance of the main palace. Well, relatively easy. Those who lived furthest away had almost five miles to travel. Best of all -- for them -- their neighbourhood was off-limits to commoners on such chaotic days.
When they all reached the main palace they paid their respects to the empress and emperor. After that they listened politely as the empress made a speech to the crowds gathered outside the palace.
All through the empire people whiled away the time until sunset by dancing. The upper class hosted balls for their particular circle, and everyone aspired to an invitation to the royal ball. The lower classes had to make do with dances in music halls or out in the village square. Strange though it seemed to Abi, on sunny days the commoners were so happy with their informal parties that they publicly avowed they wouldn't trade them for the fancy parties even if you offered them the galaxy.
It had to be admitted that, on warm days when the sun shone brightly, the royal ballroom did feel awfully crowded and stuffy. Not even opening all the windows and doors could change the fact that over five hundred people in a single room -- however large -- was simply too much.
Unfortunately tradition dictated that she and Irímé had to dance together at least twice. She wouldn't have minded so much if it hadn't been so crowded.
"Look on the bright side," Irímé remarked when she said this. "No one will notice if we make any mistakes."
He had looked rather grim all day long. Now he looked positively miserable.
"What's wrong with you?" Abi asked, staring at him.
He scowled. "This dratted outfit. I'm going to trip over it, I just know it!"
She quickly raised her fan to hide her grin. "What happened to 'no one will notice'?"
"I think they might notice someone fall over their own clothes," he grumbled.
Abi looked over at Kiriyuki. After her arrival the empress had frantically tried to avoid any accusations of not treating the future empress of Seroyawa with the proper courtesy. Kiriyuki had found herself made the guest of honour at every event. She was now trapped in conversation with an endless stream of fawning diplomats. Someone who didn't know her would have thought she was perfectly content with this situation. Abi knew better. The faintest thinning of her lips, the slightest of frowns, the way she stood ramrod straight; they were all clues to how much she wished she was anywhere else.
If they were back in Seroyawa Abi would have gone to her aid. No one expected much grasp of protocol from a foreigner -- something she had exploited many times before. But now they were in Saoridhlém, Kiriyuki was here of her own accord, and Abi was expected to obey protocol.
"Don't worry," she told Irímé in an attempt at being comforting. "Everyone's lining up to speak to Kiriyuki. None of them are paying any attention to the rest of us."
He did not look reassured.
The orchestra struck up a waltz. As was traditional, the empress and emperor began to dance first. Their children and their children's spouses joined in next, followed by anyone else who wanted to dance.
"Shall we get it over with now?" Abi asked.
Irímé shook his head. "Not so soon. Everyone's more likely to notice our mistakes at the very start of the ball. Do we know anyone here?"
On the other side of the room Abi spotted Ilaran. He appeared to be deep in conversation with one of her aunts. She pointed him out to Irímé.
"Thank goodness," Irímé said. "I don't think I could have got through the evening if there wasn't at least one person I recognised."
Abi raised an eyebrow. Irímé rolled his eyes.
"Obviously I'm not including you in that. Or your family. Or--" He grimaced, "--my mother."
To no one's surprise Kumolnea had struck up a conversation with another collector of rare animals. Abi was amused to note Arafaren had somehow been dragged into the discussion. He stood off to the side with the awkward air of someone who didn't know how he got into this situation, and was staring at the drinks table as if he hoped to magic it closer to him.
Abi and Irímé sat down on the chairs provided for those who weren't dancing. They amused themselves for the remainder of the first dance and the duration of the second and third by discussing some of Abi's less successful magic experiments, and some of the worst musicians Irímé had ever heard.
~~~~
Meanwhile, in an empty cemetery, something stirred in the depths of a grave.