"Spock?"

He started, head jerking up from the scroll he was failing to read, and stared blankly with green shot eyes at his visitor.

"I did knock." Sirak explained, "but got no answer." He folded his arms into the wide sleeves of his gray robe, lean, fine cut face serene and kind beneath its cap of close trimmed dark brown hair. Deep violet eyes, a rare color on Vulcan, considered his cousin. "Not sleeping?" Spock let his scroll snap closed, fighting down a wholly irrational surge of irritation. Sirak nodded as if that was all the answer he needed. "Oh yeah, you got it bad and that ain't good."

Spock's eyebrows threatened to vanish into his hair. "I beg your pardon?"

A smile glowed in those luminous eyes but didn't reach his mouth. "A human phrase that very accurately describes your condition." Sirak's voice gentled. "Which I remind you is all to familiar to me, indeed to all adult male Vulcans. We are cousins and age mates, Spock. There is no need to feel embarrassed before me."

Spock swallowed, eyes veering uncomfortably away. "I have not - I have never -" words failed him.

"Since your bond to T'Pring was not consumated I deduce this will be your first experience of sexual congress." Sirak said matter-of-factly, taking the armchair on the other side of the reading table. "It is unfortunate your initiation has been delayed so long. No doubt it has taken on an almost ominous significance after all this time."

"Yes." Spock agreed huskily, still unable to meet his cousin's eye.

"Your concern is not unwarranted," he continued in the same calm, practical tone, "the first time is significant and can set the tone of one's entire sexual life. It should be approached with respect and careful consideration. It was perhaps wise of you to avoid congress with T'Pring as that experience would undoubtedly have been most unsatisfactory for both of you."

That got Spock to look at him for the first time, in surprise. "You approve of my treatment of T'Pring?"

"It would have been better to face and resolve the difficulty rather than avoid it all these years," Sirak answered a little dryly, "but your instinct was basically sound. A union between the two of you would have been intolerable to both and no doubt led eventually to an even worse scandal then our current one." his eyebrows rose slightly. "T'Pring is a proud, accomplished, beautiful woman of dominant character, in many ways a very desirable mate - but not for you."

"I wish Stonn joy of her." Spock said, not bothering to hide his bitterness.

"He will have joy of her." Sirak said, quite gently. "They are perfectly suited, they will be happy. T'Pring did you a grave wrong, Spock, but you wronged her as well. Do not add to the error by nursing a grudge."

"That would be illogical." Spock answered, forcing himself to speak evenly. "Forgive me, Sirak, I am - emotional."

"Of course you are," Sirak said soothingly, "due to your condition. Fortunately that can be easily cured. I will make the necessary arrangements." he paused to consider his cousin again. "And you will accompany me so as to learn how it is done. But first we must make you presentable!"

It would of course be most improper to entertain a man in the women's bower - even a t'hy'la. Fortunately in addition to her apartment T'Jess had been given a studio, tucked away in a corner of the eastern garden, where she could write and meditate. She unlocked the gold lacquered door and entered a small, bare anteroom, a pale mauve silk curtain screened the circular sun door on her left. T'Jess lifted it and critically considered the room beyond.

'The Retreat of Elusive Fragrance' took its name from the sweet scent exhaled by the pale Ahl-d'san wood of the furnishings. These were few and simple with graceful, elegant lines; a square table with four high backed chairs in the center of the room, a low couch with mauve and yellow cushions against the back wall and a writing desk under the broad, latticed window opposite. Bookshelves covered the end wall and tall, lily shaped, stone lamps stood at the four corners of the room with a pair of silver candlesticks on the table and a third on the desk. A fresco of birds and flowering plants adorned the wall above the couch, its soft tints picked up by the patterned carpet on the tiled floor.

No, not in here. She decided, slid open the lattice doors and went out onto the pergola shaded veranda. Heavy masses of mauve and fuschia vismi't'ia blossoms dripped from the trellis overhead. A broad stream ran sparkling over smooth pebbles below winding through a small field of waving grasses. A stone footpath led from the steps at the right end of the veranda, following the loops and curves of the stream to a square pavilion on the edge of a small lily lake. Yes. That was the place to receive Dr. McCoy.

Sirak took Spock to training hall on the north side of the men's court. He slipped out of his robe, dropping it carelessly on one of the long wooden benches flanking the door and walked, clad only in thin white trousers, to a weapons rack taking down a pair of wooden practice lirpa and throwing one to Spock. "Let's work off a little of that frustration shall we?" he said, eyes glinting.

Spock caught the lirpa automatically and reflexively ducked the blow Sirak aimed at his head countering with a low, sweeping strike at his feet.

"Slow, Spock, slow." Sirak leapt lightly over the blow and made a thrust at his cousin's chest. Spock parried. "Are you going to make me do all the work?" Sirak demanded pressing forward with a feint and jab.

Something inside Spock snapped. "No!" he shouted and aimed a vicious slash at Sirak's throat.

Normally the cousins were about equally matched in skill but on this occasion Sirak's cooler head served him better than the irrational rage blinding Spock. Dodging, blocking, eluding he let his opponent wear himself out with his aggressive but not very controlled offensive.

Finally Spock dropped the blade of his lirpa and stood panting, running with sweat but feeling strangely refreshed.

Sirak also fell into neutral stance, almost smiled. "Feeling better?"

"Yes." his cousin admitted.

"Remember violent physical activity helps." a dry twist of the lips. "And so does a cold shower. Speaking of which..."

The cousins passed through a back door, crossed a small pebble and rock garden shaded by the large, rustling leaves of ana-anab trees to a bath house walled on three sides with fragrant, rough finished eni'p wood. The two rectangular soak pools were framed by polished logs of the same, and the fourth wall was open to the garden. Spock and Sirak showered in the black tiled stalls lining the back wall then stepped into the nearest pool for a good long soak.

The sun warmed water relaxed Spock. He floated, feeling almost at peace for the first time in many weeks. A vigorous massage loosened tension clenched muscles and added to his sense of well being. He felt almost himself again as, dressed in a borrowed robe, he settled into a chair in Sirak's large and rather bare private chamber for a cup of tea.

Sirak surveyed him, taking in the clear eyes, smooth shaven face and respectable dark red robe with its black sash and nodded approval. "Now that you are fit to be seen in public we can make the necessary arrangements. First we must engage a suite of rooms at a suitable house." he dialed up the prospectus page then slid the hand screen over to Spock. "Make your choice."

He looked helplessly at the display and Sirak sighed. "Come, Spock, surely it isn't that hard to pick a set of chambers that appeal to you."

"I do not - I have no grounds for comparison." he answered defensively.

Sirak sighed again. "We mustn't have you getting all wound up again." pulling the screen back he studied in a moment, made a few adjustments then handed it over. "I have used these chambers many times, always with excellent results. Do you approve?"

Spock looked blindly at the image, didn't bother to read the text. "I am sure they will be most satisfactory."

Sirak drained his cup and stood up. "Very well then, let us go."

"Go?" Spock echoed blankly, gestured to the link on the table. "Surely we can make any necessary arrangements -" trailed off as Sirak shook his head decisively.

"That would be a grave breech of courtesy. We are not ordering groceries but arranging for a night of pleasure. Personal inspection of the quarters and face to face negotiations are required by both tradition and propriety."

Spock grimaced. "Propriety seems an odd word to use in this connection."

"Perhaps." was the calm answer. "Nevertheless there are proprieties and conventions that must be followed to avoid offense. Now come."

The water pavilion in the garden of Elusive Fragrance was a simple, rustic structure. Four posts of twisted, knotted ess'kyr logs polished to a high gloss supported the wide eaves of the thatched roof. Screens woven of grass and reed shielded two sides leaving the pavilion open to the lily lake and to a view of the garden's little wood and mountain. T'Jess spread mats of fresh, sweet smelling grass on either side of the low stone table in the center of the pavilion and had carved wooden back and arm rests brought for her guest. She spent some time selecting just the right cups and plates finally settling on a set carved from pure green jade, paper thin and translucent, engraved with a delicate pattern of lilies and reeds.

Refreshments also had to be carefully chosen to suit a human palate. T'Jess herself liked almost all Vulcan foods, having been raised on them, but knew very well that most humans found many of the most favored traditional dishes unpleasantly bitter or sour. She also knew that the midday heat would be oppressive to a Terran despite the cool air rising from the lake and had a tall stone vase, packed with snow and sealed, brought from the cold stores and set beside the refreshment table.

She plucked three water lilies, two pink-white and one pale blue, broke off a twig of an asa-sia tree with its round copper green leaves and spray of vismi't'ia blossoms arranging them in a slender necked, ruffle lipped vase of rippling turquoise and gold glass. laid out the napkins of nubbly, cream colored linen and set a silver beaker of lou'ti liquor to chill in a trough of ice, then stepped back to study the over-all effect.

After a long, thoughtful consideration she decided she'd managed to strike just the right balance between ceremonious Vulcan etiquette and Terran informality. Dr. McCoy would not be discomfited or overawed nor could her kin criticize her for failing to show proper respect to a t'hy'la.