Fugitive, Part III
Siesta looked at her rations the next morning, frowning unhappily. "I thought I'd be able to stretch this out while I was traveling, but in here . . ." she trailed off.
"Nothing to gather, nothing to set snares for?" Jason asked. "Yeah. I'll talk to Chef Marteau, he'll probably be willing to give me an especially hearty meal to bring up here for lunch."
"The dining hall is becoming tedious, with Count Motte's retainers here," Louise put in. "We can start taking all of our meals here."
And so he found himself braving the kitchen once more.
"Ah, Jason!" Chef Marteau exclaimed, seizing him in yet another embrace. "Your meal is nearly ready!"
Okay, we get that it's normal to hug, in some cultures, Jason thought as he reluctantly hugged back. Mexicans, for example. Does this guy have to be from one of them? "That's, uh, that's great. But, uh, about lunch?"
"Yes, what is it?" The chef finally let him go.
"Well, Louise has been feeling extra-hungry lately, I think maybe she's got a growth spurt coming in. But she's embarrassed to be seen eating too much by the other students. One more thing to mock her for, I guess. So, maybe prepare some extra-large meals for her, and I'll take them up to her room to eat in privacy?"
Chef Marteau looked skeptical for a moment, then comprehension dawned. "Ah! Ready to eat enough for two, is she?" he winked.
Jason blinked. "You know, where I'm from that phrase would imply she's with child. But, like I said, growth spurt."
"As you say!" The chef declared, and dragged Jason into another embrace. "You're being a wonderful friend for her," he whispered. "Everyone will be pleased that she's safe."
Jason nodded, got his breakfast, and fled as quickly as he could.
That morning, in class, his little mistress was finally able to say her Name without any accompanying explosion. Which was great, another cantrip completed, except . . .
"Go on, Vallière!" Kirche called down from where she sat with Tabitha, next to one of the windows. "Give us your name and title!"
Louise glared.
The redhead's voice turned condescending. "It's very simple, you know. Like this: Kirche, the Ardent. Now you try it!"
"I am Louise, the-" She stopped, fuming. "I am Louise de La Vallière, and nothing else!"
"Oh, look, the poor girl needs help!" Kirche cooed. By now, pretty much everyone in class had given up even the pretense of work to watch the proceedings. "How about Louise, the Humble? No, too proud." That got a titter from the class. "Louise, the Lowly? Almost there." The laughter rose as Louise's face suffused in rage. "But why not go with the classic? Louise, the Z-"
Kirche stopped short, and sat down jerkily. Madam Chevreuse had her wand out. "Miss Zerbst, you will remain here after class is dismissed for lunch. If Miss Vallière has not yet selected her mage title, that's her own concern and no one else's."
After spending over a month carrying water buckets up several flights of stairs, carrying lunch for three up to their room was easy. Aside from one potential detail, so Jason paused outside the door. [Louise][Room][Clear]
[Received] A moment later, Louise opened the door and let him in. Siesta stood by the table, next to the two chairs.
He raised an eyebrow as he made his way to the table and set the tray down. "You don't think we're going to make you stand around while we eat, do you? You're our guest. Sit down."
She looked up at him, confused. "But there are only two chairs."
"Yes, there are." He divided up the girls' food, set his porridge, fruits and veggies in front of him on the table, and knelt down. "Not saying I'd want to do this every day, but I'm tall enough to get away with it a few times."
She nodded, faintly, and sat down in one of the chairs. Louise, bearing a faintly cross expression, sat down opposite her. Then they both took a look at what the maid was going to be eating, and two jaws dropped.
"This is what nobles get to eat!" Siesta protested.
"Yes, it is," his little mistress observed in a flat tone. "Jason?"
"Officially, you seem to be hitting a growth spurt, because you're hungry enough to eat twice as much as you normally do."
"Oh." Louise mulled it over. "And that way you aren't bringing up extra commoner fare, so you obviously aren't hiding a runaway maid in my room. That's good thinking."
He smiled "Thank you!"
"I'm going to get to eat-" Siesta broke off and shook her head in amazement. "Jason, every time you get involved, something nice happens." She sniffed. "I'm really grateful."
He sputtered, suddenly feeling flustered and embarrassed. "I- it's- um. Y-you're welcome. I'm just glad I can help."
"Yes, my familiar can be very helpful when he tries to be," Louise agreed, although she sounded distinctly unamused for some reason.
"And he's so gallant! After yesterday, I was sure he was going to . . . try to-"
Siesta broke off as his little mistress's expression darkened.
"After what yesterday?!" she demanded. "B-bad enough t-that I w-walked in and y-you t-two were-"
Dammit. "She'd finished washing the floor, so she was washing herself in the bathroom. I was thinking about something else when I came in, didn't notice until I looked up, and then I sat down facing the other way, because that's the protocol for when someone is washing up, they're entitled to not have anyone leering at them."
"Oh." And if Louise didn't sound happy, at least she didn't sound enraged anymore.
"And he was alone, and it was – I thought he was looking for his reward for saving-" This time the maid cut off when she saw Jason's expression.
He sighed and did his best to drop the scowl. "Okay," he then said. "Let's clear up a few things. Siesta, you are both exotic and beautiful, and I'm given to understand that some of the students make wild and lewd brags about what they claim you'll do."
She flushed. "I don't, though. I need to be able to send money home, if I got with child it would be . . . they don't need another mouth to feed."
"Right. And right now, you're taking refuge with us as our guest, because you need to hide from someone who can force those rumors to come to pass." He held up a hand as she opened her mouth. "We're still running a risk, if someone decides to search all the rooms in this tower we lose-"
"They won't," Louise interrupted. "My parents would be enraged if my privacy was needlessly violated."
"Good. Anyway, this is a sanctuary for you, because you don't want to be stolen away and forced into concubinage. Given all that, it would be utterly despicable of me to expect you to lie with me. That's not sanctuary, that's stealing you away and forcing you into concubinage. While you're taking sanctuary here, you need not fear anyone's lust. Alright?"
Siesta nodded faintly, and his little mistress smiled her approval.
"Good. Anyway, that's enough time talking. We need to eat, then Louise and I have to get to Mr. Colbert's class."
As with the previous day, the students were so distracted in the afternoon class that their professor dismissed them all in disgust barely an hour in. Jason was crossing the yard with his little mistress, heading back to her room, when one of Count Motte's retainers confronted them.
The man looked Jason up and down with an appraising eye. "Commoner, someone your size is wasting your time in a school. Now, if you're interested in serving a real noble," at this Louise stiffened, "and making a fortune in the process, sign up with the Count and we'll have you fit and ready to stand in the shield-line in time for summer campaigning. The hazard pay's good, you even get a death bonus sent to your family if the worst happens, and you'll get a share of the loot from whatever the orcs have hidden away." He jerked his head towards the other end of the yard, where several more of Count Motte's retainers were grouped together. "Come on. We'll have you sworn in and in proper livery before supper."
Jason just stood there, feeling a little stunned, as the man took a few steps towards the group before turning back around. "Well? What are you waiting for?"
"I think I'm content where I am," he replied slowly. "But thank you for the offer."
The recruiter scoffed. "What, you expect me to believe that you're content serving a little brat who's barely more than an in-"
An explosion hurled him back several feet and smashed him into the ground.
Louise had her wand out and wore an expression of utter rage. "You fool," she hissed, and turned her wand on the group of retainers, now advancing on her and Jason with grim intent. A second explosion, much bigger than the first, had them on the ground and moaning as well.
"Don't believe that Germanian slut just because she she hiked her skirt and spread her legs for you yesterday!" his little mistress snarled. "I am Louise de La Vallière, and you will not touch what is mine!" Then she turned back around and resumed walking towards the tower. "Come on!" she barked, and Jason hastened to comply.
Although he waited until they'd entered the tower to ask: "So, those were the guys Kirche left the dining hall with, yesterday?"
"Some of them. The one who approached you, anyway."
He nodded in comprehension. His little mistress thought that her redheaded rival had aimed Motte's men at them, and it seemed likely enough that he wasn't going to argue with her.
When they got to her room, she went in first, to make certain Siesta's privacy wouldn't be violated again. [Clear] she sent, and Jason followed her into the bedroom, to see Siesta sitting at the table, peering at a book with an intent expression.
"Here, get your shirt from yesterday and help me change," Louise demanded.
The maid looked up from her book, watching with veiled look of amusement as Jason helped his little mistress out of her mantle, shirt, and skirt, and into what was technically his dirty laundry. "Your shirts are nice to wear," she commented, smiling at him. "They're even nicer for sleeping in, too."
"Er, thanks."
"Now, I recognize some of these words," Siesta went on to say, holding up the book and revealing it to be his language guidebook, "But most of them I don't. What is it?"
"It's a guide to different languages in the region I was traveling in," Jason replied. "Japanese, Korean, Mandarin, that sort of thing. Could have used my phone, in fact I did use my phone, but Japan has a reputation for having places that are ultra-modern right next to places that are so old-fashioned my phone might not work. Figured I'd try to be prepared, Scout motto and all that."
"And all what?" Louise asked curiously. "What scout?"
"The Boy . . . oh, I haven't ever mentioned that, have I?" Both girls shook their heads. "Okay, the Boy Scouts of America were created about a hundred years ago. More and more people were living in the cities, and it was a way to hopefully teach young men about the world around them, by going out and being in it, learning how to get along in it. Generally seen as a good thing, although some people do have attacks of the vapors over the whole concept. I never advanced to the highest rank, but my troupe had some fun times, and the grownups who were our mentors made sure we got to do some things we'd probably never get a chance to, otherwise." He paused. "To be honest, one of my regrets since coming here was that I didn't pack my Scout handbook. I'm sure it would have come in handy."
"Aren't there treatises on natural philosophy in the library?" Siesta asked. "Couldn't you read those, instead?"
"That'd be great, but I can't read the local script. I can be understood because I'm Louise's familiar, but apparently that doesn't cover abstract symbols like writing."
"Miss Vallière, you didn't teach . . . I'm sorry, of course you had other things to do."
"Yes, I did, and I need all the time I can get with my cantrips," his little mistress responded in a flat tone. "Besides, Jason, do you really need to be able to read?"
"It'd be nice to," he replied. "It's how I did so well in school, back in America, reading ahead while the teachers lectured. Although it annoyed a lot of them that I wasn't participating. But anyway, I have to admit, I haven't been looking forward to the effort it takes to learn a new alphabet. And that doesn't begin to consider if it would be compatible with my translation power. Being able to read might end up being useless."
Siesta thought that over for a moment. "But it wouldn't hurt to try?"
"No, I suppose it wouldn't hurt."
"Good!"
Jason raised an eyebrow at her emphatic response.
She gave an embarrassed smile. "You've been so gallant, treating my dignity with the kind of respect a noble would be due."
Louise nodded in wry agreement. "He's definitely done that."
"And I haven't been able to do anything to say thanks!"
"Oh." Jason flushed, and rubbed the back of his neck. "You don't need to. You're a friend, and you were in trouble, and I saw a way to try to help."
"Well, wouldn't it help you if I could teach you how to read?"
"Well, yeah, but . . . sure, let's give it a shot. But friends don't track favors owed, alright?" He paused. "Well, for the small stuff, at least."
"This wasn't small," Louise pointed out. "But I suppose it would be helpful if I could write things down for Jason, and I don't have time to try to teach him, not while I'm still struggling with the remaining cantrips and still failing with the most elementari." She went over to her vanity desk and pulled out some coarse-looking paper. "Here. You can practice with this."
Jason took the paper from her, retrieved a notepad from his luggage, and brought them to the table, where he and Siesta sat down while Louise began to practice her cantrips. "Um . . . I've never taught someone how to read before," Siesta admitted sheepishly. "What do you think we should do?"
"I'd say, start with the alphabet. Write down all the letters, then go through and tell me their names, and what sounds they can mean. Then I'll try and memorize them."
"Alright. There are 23 Romalian letters, and the first one is drawn like this," she started off, drawing the letter as she spoke. "It's called . . ."
". . . is drawn like this," Jason paused, writing down the last letter in the script, "and it represents the sound 'sssss'."
"That's amazing," Siesta gushed. "It took me weeks to learn my letters when I was a child, and even with the numbers thrown in it didn't even take you half the afternoon!"
"I can't remember how long it took me when I was young," Jason admitted. "My parents got some toys that were designed to teach babies the alphabet we use, so I've known the very basics of reading as far back as I can recall. But of course this was easier, I was able to write it down in my notepad and use that as a reference." He tapped the pad in question, currently face-down for the quick test he'd just taken. "I'm probably going to need to go over it again every day for a while, to make sure it stays memorized." Although at least the numbers are easy enough to remember. It's pretty much the same system as old-fashioned Roman numerals.
She nodded. "Well, now we can do the next part." She took the paper back and wrote down a short phrase. "Try to sound this out."
"Alright," Jason shrugged. But here's where it'll all come to screeching halt, since we don't actually know Tristainian. Nonetheless he took the paper she'd written on, and . . . "'Milk comes from a cow'," he read out loud. "Siesta, how the hell did you write this in English?"
The maid blinked in confusion. "I didn't," she protested. "I wrote it out in plain Tristainian."
"But I got it right?"
She nodded. "That is what I wrote. But why would it seem like 'English' to you?"
"I don't-" he cut himself off and smacked his forehead. "I wasn't expecting this to happen, but I should have been more optimistic. Now that I know what sounds they make, my translation auxilum seems to have what it needs to take written words and translate them into something I can understand."
"You mean this only needed half an afternoon in total?" Louise demanded from behind the two of them. "If I'd known that I would have taken the time to instruct you." She bore an expression both sour and rueful as they turned to face her. "I- I- I'm sorry," she muttered. "We should have tried anyway, before now."
"Don't worry about it," Jason assured her, and turned back to the table to quickly write something down. Then he handed the paper to her. "Can you read the top line?"
"'Louise is still best master'," she read, and flushed, but smiled slightly.
Huh. We wrote 'mistress', not master. Guess there are still translation hiccups. "What about the bottom line?"
She shook her head. "It's not even letters. Unless those are the letters your language uses?"
He nodded. "So I can still write both ways. And it feels like I can tell the difference, if I focus. Interesting. But anyway, now that I can read the local books? Louise, do you have anything on magical theory that I can study from? I missed everything in First Form, and a lot of the lectures from Madam Chevreuse and Mr. Colbert go straight over my head."
His little mistress looked a bit dubious, but nodded, and got him a book.
"Have you heard of Pierre de Vos?" Siesta then asked her as he sat down and opened the book.
"No," Louise replied, sounding a little puzzled. "Who's he?"
"He's this Albionian pirate, who fights for . . ."
Jason summoned up all the focus he'd learned from ignoring the antics of a classroom of bored students, did his best to put the chattering out of mind, and started reading.
The sun was much closer to the horizon when he set the seventh book down, rubbing his temples and groaning.
"What's wrong?" Louise asked, looking up from the rather smaller book that she and Siesta had been absorbed in, sitting together on the edge of her bed.
"I have never been defeated by any book I could read," Jason pronounced ruefully, "but your library has bested me. These are the driest, dullest books I have ever read, they're convoluted, they cross-reference each other endlessly . . . how does anyone actually learn magic from these?"
"They are a little complicated," she admitted, "but they aren't so you can learn magic. They're so you can learn more about magic."
"I'm not sure I follow."
She rolled her eyes. "I studied them until I'd learned them very nearly by heart by the time I summoned you. They were gifts from my family, after all, and I wasn't going to disregard them. But they didn't do one thing to let me cast cantrips. Once you helped me figure out how to start turning my explosions into Levitate, then I could do something useful, like practice.
"And now that I've learned some cantrips, I've realized that a lot of what those books have to say doesn't even make sense until you can cast. Commoners just don't have that foundation to build on."
Jason frowned. "Okay, but you know what it's like from both sides, right? Can you try to describe it for me?"
Louise sighed. "I can try." She got up and walked over to him. "You, your seat of awareness, where you are, is right behind here, right?" she poked him in the forehead.
"Uh, I suppose."
"Because it's different for mages. We're there, yes, but vis is here," she patted her chest, "and a mage doesn't 'sense' or 'feel' vis, especially when we use it to cast. We are our magic, and when we cast, we're as much in our hearts and our wands as we are in our heads. How can you understand theory when you've never experienced the reality?"
"Aw, damn," Jason closed his eyes as the realization struck him. "I've been trying to go to business school."
"You what?"
"Oh, uh, something Dad says. In his experience a lot of the really bad supervisors are guys my age, never had a job in the field they're trying to hire into, but they've got a shiny degree in how to run businesses. They literally can't do a good job, because they don't know the specifics of the business, and the generalities that they learned in class are useless until they can get a clue about what applies and what doesn't.
"The thing to do, Dad says, is to take someone who's proven to be bright and honest through at least five years of experience, and send them to learn business theory. But that takes time, and doesn't necessarily look good this day, this week, this month, so you can't always trust the people in charge to do what will be best in five, ten, or twenty years."
He shrugged. "Hell with it. I can find something else to study. For now . . . Louise, I don't suppose you have any lighter fare I could read?"
Louise held up the book she and Siesta had been reading. "You mean like this? You could read it to us, if you like."
"Uh, sure." So Jason got up and walked over to the bed as the girls scooted apart to make room for him. He sat down, took the book, and opened it. "The Moonstone of the Golem. Hmm.
"'He killed his foes with his sword-'"
"That's not what it says!" Siesta protested. Louise nodded in agreement.
He looked from maid to noblewoman, then back down at the text. "Pretty sure it does."
"No, it says 'His blade sang crimson'," his little mistress corrected. "Although that does mean he was killing his foes."
"So, what, my auxilum doesn't trust me to handle idioms?" Jason rolled his eyes. "If this keeps up . . . wait, now I see 'His blade sang crimson'. I think you may have to stop me and explain what's really written every time my power doesn't trust me to comprehend the underlying meaning." He paused. "This book might take us more time to get through than I expected."
And, indeed, it was nearly time to go down to collect supper before he'd made it through what couldn't have been more than five or ten thousand words of piracy, derring-do, and failed treasure hunting.
"Are you sure you don't want us to share dessert with you?" Siesta asked as the meal wound down. "You don't know what you're missing, here."
"I promise you, I do." Jason closed his eyes for a moment so he could take a break from seeing what she was about to eat. Pity we can't close our nose just as easily. "Sweets are something my people have in abundance. But I'm still kinda fat, so I need to stick to my diet."
"You do look better than you did when I summoned you," Louise consoled him, and the maid nodded vigorously.
"Thanks, but we all know I still have a ways to go." He polished off the last bit of porridge, heavy on the boiled spinach, and felt proud of himself for not gagging. "In the meantime, do you have another of these stories about Pierre?"
"There's another one on my bed," Louise smiled at him, then adopted puppy eyes. "Read it to us while we have dessert? I like how you try to give each character their own voice, and we'll keep explaining the idioms as you go along."
Jason chuckled and ruffled her hair. "Sure thing, little mistress."
Soon enough, it was time for bed. Siesta had apparently gotten over most of her worries regarding Jason's possible ulterior motives in kidnapping her before Count Motte had the opportunity: This time, she was clearly having a hard time not giggling when Louise removed all of her clothing (save her culottes) so that Jason could dress her in . . . well, tonight it was the same shirt she'd been wearing all afternoon, rather than her usual chemise.
He adopted a wry expression and shrugged. Yes, we know, she goes topless in front of us every night. Please don't say anything, she might stop.
Then, about a minute after tucking the girls in, laying down, and snapping to turn the light off, one of them whispered something to the other. Then came a whispered reply, and a reply to that. Then a gasp, followed by a pair of giggles. Then another exchange of whispers, followed by even louder giggling.
"Girls," Jason finally said, trying not to sound cross. "It's time to be sleeping. There's plenty that needs doing tomorrow."
Snap! The light came back on.
He blinked, raising a hand to shield his eyes while they readjusted to the sudden photonic assault. "Louise, what's going on? Is something wrong?"
"I'm having trouble sleeping," she replied mournfully.
"If you whisper and giggle in bed, falling asleep does tend to take longer," he pointed out in what he hoped was a reasonable tone.
"It's not that."
"Do you need me to get you a cup of water, then?"
"No, but . . . could you read us one more story?"
Jason sat up and gave them both a look. "Another story."
They looked back, Louise wide-eyed and hopeful, Siesta wide-eyed and amused. "Please?" his little mistress begged in tones that she must have perfected on her father as a little girl.
"Alright. One more story." He got up and sat on the side of the bed. "Where is it?"
"No, come under the covers with us!" Louise insisted, pulling on his arm as his brain locked up.
Prudence fell to the onslaught of his little mistress snuggling up against him, and before he could come up with a coherent response, he was under the quilt, her head resting on the left side of his chest, with her arm flung across his chest to hold him in place.
"This is the last book I brought with me," Siesta then said, handing the book in question over.
"Wait, these have been yours?" Jason asked, astonished.
"Of course they have," she replied. "Why?"
"How can a maid possibly afford hand-written books?" he demanded.
"These ones are old enough that they weren't going to last much longer, so the other maids didn't mind if I took them. But they aren't that expensive, you know."
"B-b-but . . . handwritten!" he sputtered. "Back when that's what we did, books cost a fortune!"
"They were probably written with an imito tabella," Louise put in. "And you can see the author used bark paper."
"A what?"
"It's an ennobled tablet, that copies whatever you write as long as you have enough ink and paper or parchment. Now can you start reading, please?"
"Alright, alright." Take this as another reminder to check your assumptions. They may not have technology, but they do have magic. "'Anise stood before Lord Hoelscher, dressed in her new uniform. It was high and firm enough that her generous bosom was already uncomfortable-' Oh, okay, this is the beautiful maiden that Pierre's going to be rescuing, right?"
Both girls giggled.
"'-and she was most especially grateful for her new luxurious hosiery, for her skirt barely came down to her knees. Lord Hoelscher looked her up and down approvingly. "Yes, I think you will be a pleasing addition to our household. Now, bend over."
"'"My lord?" she gasped. Even with the hosiery, if she bent over her skirt would ride alarmingly high.
"'"We must be certain you present the proper aesthetic when performing your duties. Bend over, maid."'"
Wow. They are dancing right next to the line, here. Pierre must be showing up in just a paragraph or two. "'Anise swallowed, and bent over as Lore Hoelscher circled her with an appraising eye. If she was careful she could avoid-
"'Her thoughts broke off, and she cried out, jumping into the air, as a pair of hands tightly grasped her-'"
Jason broke off, blushing deep red. "Louise," he demanded, looking down at his equally blushing little mistress, "what the hell are you having me read?"
She buried her face into his chest, refusing to meet his eyes, while Siesta giggled.
"Right, that's it. We're done for the night."
"No!" the girls protested in unison. Louise tightened her grip, and the maid scooted closer, putting a restraining arm over his belly just below his little mistress's arm. "Please, it's not that long," she pleaded. "And then we'll be good, I promise!"
"Please!" added Louise, looking up long enough to give him another blast of puppy eyes.
"Fine," he agreed in exasperation. But from now on we look over anything they want me to read to them. Besides, this thing can't possibly go full on X-rated.
Pierre the Pirate did not make an appearance. The maid was spared ravishment only by the sudden arrival of Lady Hoelscher, lovingly described in all her sagging wrinkles, facial hair, rotted teeth, and dull obliviousness as to why Lord Hoelscher felt the need to personally inspect the new maid. Then Anise was accosted by their indolent-yet-absurdly-virile son, and once again the last-second appearance of his overbearing and smothering (and most definitely oblivious) mother was the one thing that prevented her from being taken then and there.
Jason shook his head as his blush refused to fade. It's not as bad as that Twilight fanfic bondage book, it's not as bad as that Twilight fanfic . . . hell, who are we kidding? Louise is making us read this, that makes it worse. "Girls, please tell me y'all are ready to go to sleep now."
Louise only shook her head. She hadn't lifted her face from where it was buried in his side since the story had began.
Siesta giggled again. "No, you have to keep going! You haven't gotten to the good part yet!"
Good? This is playing around with rape fanta- Oh. Oh, dammit to hell. Prudent commoners don't get pregnant out of wedlock, and just like in our world, at some point they came up with the reinforcing notion that good girls don't have casual sex. But it's not your fault for enjoying it if you don't have a choice. This story is darker and kinkier than that stupid book back home.
And the girls haven't once explained an idiom since we started reading the smut. Meaning they're planning to have us describe the upcoming lewdness in the most blunt manner possible. Damn. Well played, Siesta, well played.
He read on. The sex farce continued, with father, son, and maid getting more and more worked up, each time halted by the seemingly coincidental appearance of Lady Hoelscher. Finally, about three quarters in, nobody could hold back any longer, and Anise was forced to resort to an increasingly absurd series of contrivances – the sort to make Shakespeare and Chaucer each nod in approval and recognition of a peer – to satisfy both of the men without Lady Hoelscher being aware of either, and without father and son realizing each other's presence as well.
Jason read through it mechanically, accompanied by the uncontrolled laughter of both his present bedmates, and did his absolutely best not to picture anything as he read through to the ending, where Anise was congratulated by Lady Hoelscher for performing her duties in proper and demure fashion.
"And that's done with that," he concluded, closing the book decisively. "Now let me go. It's time and past time for us all to be asleep."
"Mm-mm!" Louise hummed in denial, her arm tightening once again around him. Siesta, flushed and smiling, pulled out his left arm, scooting closer to lay her head on his biceps, and snapped her fingers to douse the light.
Ah. We're not going to the special hell, we're in the special hell. But he held very still, and neither girl shifted her hand downward. Several minutes of very steady breathing managed to quell his less-than-voluntary signs of arousal, and eventually Jason drifted off to sleep.
A light weight pressed down on his chest and belly, warmer than any blanket. He opened his eyes to see a face-full of pink hair.
Some very cautious exploration with his right arm confirmed that Louise was sprawled out on top of him, belly down and her left cheek against his chest, the top of her head right under his chin, her left arm with a grip on his right shoulder.
Which means that the weight on our left shoulder, and the reason for our arm being numb, has to be-
He slowly turned his head left. Yep, that was Siesta sleeping on his shoulder, almost close enough to kiss if he turned his head just right-
Stop that, moron! You promised her freedom from lust. If she wants to try to test that to destruction, that's her choice.
Oh well, at least we can cross 'sleep with pair of hot chicks' off the bucket list.
And he wasn't quite prepared to face their possible reactions if they were startled into waking up, so he turned his head back and just lay there, lazily drifting in the ambiance.
Eventually he heard Siesta yawn. He turned his head to the left again, watching as she blinked sleepily and yawned again.
Then her eyes widened as she took in the full situation, and saw Jason watching her.
After a moment, she gave him a tentative, uncertain smile.
"Good morning," he whispered. "I need you to scoot back a bit."
She moved back about three inches.
"Further, please. I need room for Louise."
Siesta pouted – she actually pouted, what exactly was the girl thinking!? – but complied. Enough, anyway, so that he could tilt his body to create an incline, gently pry Louise's hand free, and roll her into the space between him and Siesta.
His little mistress responded by muttering something indistinct. Then she reached out with an arm, found the maid, and was soon nestled in the disconcerted girl's generous bosom once more.
Jason quickly made his escape from under the quilt, and as he rolled out of bed a distinctive odor escaped with him. Huh. One or both of the girls must have enjoyed the story so much that it gave them very good dreams. But at least we didn't have a wet dream. That would have just been . . . awkward. More awkward.
"That's the cleverest prank I've seen since my junior year in college," he said, shaking his head and chuckling ruefully as he stretched out. "Trying to see just how far you could push my resolve before it broke?"
Siesta shrugged and smiled slightly. "Miss Vallière had her wand ready, just in case you tried to take liberties."
He blinked. "You mean it was a test?"
"Well, we thought it'd be funny, too, but we weren't sure you'd-" she cut off and flushed.
"Yeah. Under different circumstances I would have been inclined to take that as an invitation. So please don't do it again, no matter how clever or funny it seems."
Siesta made a face, but nodded. "When are you going to wake Miss Vallière up?"
Jason smirked. "Oh, I think she's doing a fine job of holding you in place while I wash up and change into day clothes. Maybe after that."
"Hey!"
He chuckled, grabbed a bucket, and went over to the bathroom to begin. But even if we managed to have the last word, Count Motte had better leave soon. We do not need these two encouraging each other.
But the Count's retainers, who had been such a swaggering, strutting presence, were conspicuously absent that morning.
After lunch, Mr. Colbert smiled slightly as he addressed the class: "Due to a degree of . . . over-zealousness in recruiting, our recent guests have been sent on their way. Fortunately the purpose of their visit was fulfilled yesterday, with satisfaction on all sides." He stopped smiling. "And since we are two days' worth of study in arrears, I trust you all will be exceedingly attentive and diligent this afternoon."
For some reason, on that day no one felt inclined to prove otherwise.
Chef Marteau winked at Jason as he handed over the supper tray. "I understand that your master's growth spurt will finish today."
"Oh?"
"And have you heard? The Count's men embarrassed him so – attacking students, of all things! – that the Headmaster felt safe in denying him any special demands. Why, I hear the maids feel safer already."
"Good to hear. Be nice if my usual handler were to return to the Academy."
"Just so!" The chef thumped him on the back in comradely fashion. "If she returns tomorrow, she'll be able to resume her duties immediately."
"You know, if you're still feeling nervous, you can stay with us one more night," Jason told Siesta as he escorted her down to the maids' dorm that evening.
She shook her head. "It's better to return now and explain things tonight, so I can be ready to work again tomorrow."
"Alright."
Normally the dormitories were lit to some degree, even at night, but that night they were dark enough that he had to take her by the hand and lead her through the shadows. "I don't remember everyone going to bed this early," he whispered as they made their way inside.
"They don't-" Siesta started to say, and then someone snapped their fingers.
Light burst from several nodes in the ceiling, dazzling him. After a few seconds, his eyes recovered to see her being pulled away by a crowd of her fellow maids.
"So ye were part of it, familiar-man," an amused voice declared behind him.
Jason turned to see the head laundress smiling at him. He smiled in return and shrugged. "Just glad we could keep her safe, Annabelle."
"Oh, aye. The most outlandish rumors were flyin' about, an' it were not safe to inquire, for fear o' leadin' the laird's men to her. But fierce was the bettin' indeed o'er her fate."
He chuckled. "Well, I did my best to bring her back in the same condition I found her. Win anything?"
"Had silver on 'er returnin' as yer leman," the laundress admitted. She peered at his suddenly blushing face. "Not? Truly?" She snapped her fingers in disappointment. "Ah, well. That ye were there will cover me losses."
There was a burst of giggles from the crowd of younger maids. Jason and Annabelle both looked over to see the girls eyeing him either gleefully or speculatively, depending. He winced. "What is that girl telling them?"
"Her adventures, aye?" The laundress looked him over again. "An' mayhap they were not quite so innocent as all that?" She smiled again, then stood up on tip-toes to kiss his cheek. "Ye done well, familiar-man. Leave Siesta to us. A bit of harmless gossip ne'er hurt nobody."
And with that he quickly found himself outside, the door firmly shut behind him.
He turned back to stare at the building, as from inside came a chorus of feminine shrieks, followed by laughter. "Yeah. Harmless gossip." He rolled his eyes. Anyone care to bet how long it'll be before Siesta's account has us reading porn to half-a-dozen noblewomen every night, followed by a decadent orgy?
Well, maybe not. That'd be absurd.
"You said you wished to speak with me at supper?" Mr. Colbert asked the next afternoon as he intercepted the pair coming in from target practice.
"Yeah. Got some stuff I'd like to show you," Jason replied. "It's upstairs in Louise's room, so I'll go get it all and join you in your suite?"
"Very well."
The stuff in question, of course, was samples of everything he felt he could spare, with Tristainian labels written down during Madam Chevreuse's class on what Louise had called 'bark' paper when she'd got it for him.
Mr. Colbert's eyebrows rose in interest as he examined the array of samples as Jason set them up. "None of these involved magic in their creation?" he asked after waving his staff at the table.
"Nope. A lot of experimentation and a few happy accidents, but it's all made by knowing exactly what to do with the right specialized tools."
"Astounding. If I could not verify the lack of magic with my own spells I would have a hard time believing that commoners could ever learn to manage such feats."
Jason forbore to comment.
"This paper," Mr. Colbert said, fingering the sample sheet that had been torn out of a notebook. "Finer than bark paper, but not as fine as silk paper. Do you know how it's made, perchance?"
"Um. Not precisely. It involves wood pulp, I know that much. We actually grow trees in farms to make all the paper we need."
"Hmm. It may prove interesting to analyze, at the least. Alcohol, we know how to distill-"
"You do?" Damn. So much for the idea of inventing distillation to make money.
"Of course. Although this material called 'plastic' . . . I confess that I've never seen the like."
"It's a fairly recent thing. If you can figure out how to recreate it, it can be formed into just about any shape. Gotta be useful for something, anyway."
"Indeed." Mr. Colbert reached down to manipulate one particular sample. "Is this rubber? It doesn't feel like it, and if anything, it stretches more than rubber could."
"Yeah, modern elastics are a little more advanced than rubber."
"I see that." The professor rubbed his chin. "Jason, wait here. I need to bring in some colleagues to consult."
The colleagues proved to be the teacher Louise had addressed as 'Madam Sousen' and a large man in his late thirties who was eventually addressed as Mr. Edelsten. They completely ignored the (obviously unimportant) familiar to focus on Mr. Colbert and the samples obtained 'from beyond Rub' al Khali', and eventually left, clutching the samples that had them the most excited.
"You know," Jason drawled, "I wasn't all that surprised that Mr. Edelsten liked the aluminum. The stuff was more valuable than gold at one point in my peoples' history. His reaction to the steel, on the other hand, surprised me."
"Why?" Mr. Colbert asked, eyes twinkling. "Rust is an endemic problem. Steel reputed to be 'stainless' without the required ennobling or alchemical preparations would be valuable indeed. Besides, if he can isolate the exotic material that comprises such a high percentage of your sample?" The teacher waved a hand. "There is quite possibly a fortune to be made there."
"Fair enough. For that matter, probably only a matter of time before ballpoint pens start popping up."
"Indeed. Such a clever mechanism, and the advantage over quills is self-evident."
Jason nodded. "Now, Madam Sousen's reaction to the betadine, that wasn't much of a surprise."
"Then infection is as much a problem in your homeland as it is in Halkegenia?"
"Used to be. And magic is the purview of elites, here, so commoners are probably in trouble if they get wounded. A good antiseptic that doesn't need magic to be prepared? Yeah, if she can isolate the iodine and figure out how to make more, that'll be nothing but good."
"And even if it takes time, she has the spells she needs to duplicate the samples you've provided." Mr. Colbert looked thoughtful. "Although I may need to remind her to not push herself too quickly. Such spells require great expenditures of vis."
"I'll take your word for it." Jason paused. "Um, about healing?"
"Yes?"
"I know there are potions for specific ailments, but the way Madam Sousen was griping about people who don't understand how expensive healing can be . . . are there potions that are supposed to be able to cure or heal anything?"
"Sovereign-class potions? Yes, they exist, but they're every bit as expensive as she alluded to. The advantage is that a sovereign recoverative will heal any injury, a sovereign curative will cure any disease, and a sovereign antidote will neutralize any poison, with no need to diagnose a precise treatment. They can save lives when there's no time for diagnosis, but people are ever prone to wishful thinking, and dislike the thought that the potion that could aid them right now is being conserved for someone who truly needs it, or who at least has the money to afford such conveniences."
Resource scarcity issues. Yeah, that's gonna suck as much here as it does back home. "I guess that means you couldn't get me some of those potions, then?"
Mr. Colbert blinked. "You've a need for them?"
"Not right away. It's just, a lot of the stuff I pulled out comes from a first aid kit. I still have the other, though, and a potion that could instantly heal someone would be very useful in an emergency."
"Indeed, it would be." The professor considered the request for a moment. "As I said, such potions are expensive. On the other hand, what you've provided merits a fair bit in the way of compensation. I'll see what I can do."
Jason nodded. Good. The way the other two were ignoring us, we were getting a little worried about being ripped off. "Thank you. Um . . . actually, there's something else along those lines."
"Yes?"
"Well, the soap, the shampoo, the toothpaste – I'll make a list – I haven't been using them, because I didn't want to run out. Is there any way I can get a supply of that set up? It'd be nice to be able to wash up properly."
Mr. Colbert smiled slightly. "That should be rather easier to arrange."
"Why are you putting so many different kinds of soap out on the sink?" Louise asked the next night.
Jason grinned. "Because I've got a supply now, so I can finally wash up properly. Feel free to try them out yourself, if you like."
She looked suspicious. "This isn't going to be like that fiery mint liquid, is it?"
He pointed to one of the jars. "That's what's in that one. But the others are okay."
She didn't look any less suspicious for some reason. "I'll wait and see how they affect you."
He shrugged. "As you like." Then he smirked. "But unless you're planning on seeing right now, I need you to turn around so I can wash up."
Louise's eyes widened as she flushed, before whirling around to sit down and pay carefully close attention to her book.
A/N: In canon, Tabitha teaches Saito how to read several months later, by much the same process. Grandfather Takeo probably had to learn the local language the hard way, poor guy.
Siesta's 'novels' are likely around five to ten thousand words each. They'd still be expensive compared to a paperback today, but it's canon that trashy novels are passed around the dorms where the maids sleep. Presumably they pool their spare wages to purchase new volumes as needed. Also, the massive novels of today are a recent evolution. Novels in the mid-20th century were often around 50K words per volume. Today 150K-200K is more normal.
I actually came up with the imito tabella as a way to give them a way to mass produce books without a printing press. R&D going into magic, rather than technology.
Magic Items: Imito tabella – a wax tablet able to copy its contents onto a sheet of paper pressed against it.