Chapter 7: Conviviality
The first thing in the human personality that dissolves in alcohol is dignity.
~Author Unknown
"We must have fabric here of any sort you might desire," Casiphia said, opening the door to the storeroom. "The colors may be limited, of course, but if you want silk or linen or wool or cotton, we are likely to have a bolt or two of it on hand. If not, Mirana can arrange for some to be sent up from the village."
"I just want some simple dresses and maybe one or two of those long tunics over trousers," Alice said.
"Your antipathy towards corsets is well known," Casiphia smiled, "but do you want any lacing at all in your dresses?"
"Honestly, I would rather not," Alice said. "One of the advantages of being away from the world I grew up in is being able to avoid those conventions. Being able to wear trousers with no one looking askance at me—that is wonderful indeed."
The women set to pulling out prospective bolts of fabric, and soon had a good-sized stack for either Tarrant or a local dressmaker to create the garments Alice needed.
"Here's another blue you might like, and I think this pale brown might suit you well also. And this ivory stripe—you must have something made from this."
Casiphia then considered the bolts of fabric. "This is making me want a new gown or two myself. From the mauve stripe, I think, and this ivory—with black trim. I know this is not likely your favorite pastime, Alice, but see how much fun dresses can be when you have say in their creation right from the beginning."
"I've watched Tarrant sewing," Alice said, "And it's delightful fun."
"Isn't it?" Casiphia agreed. "I don't how he can move so fast and never make a mistake." She flopped down on a stack of bolts and brushed a loose strand of hair out of her face. "Speaking of Tarrant, have you noticed the changes in him since you returned?"
"Such as?"
"I don't believe he has lapsed into brogue once. And he's wearing fewer bandages on his hands, and I daresay he makes more sense than he used to."
"Surely that has nothing to do with me," Alice said.
"Alice," Casiphia said sternly, and the two burst into laughter.
"You really think that's my doing?"
"I'm absolutely certain of it. Incidentally, what are the boys doing while we entertain ourselves in here?"
"I left them in one of the small libraries. It's still hard for me to imagine that being a good idea, but they insisted they would be fine."
"That sounds like one of those occasions about which it is good not to know overmuch," Casiphia laughed. "Although I'm certain we will hear all too much about it later."
Leaving their fabric choices behind to be collected by staff in the morning, the women set off to retrieve Tarrant and Ilosovic from whatever they had been doing.
Which, as it turned out, was drinking. Profusely. Together.
Two bottles of wine and another of some sort of spirits Casiphia did not recognize were pushed to the center of the small wooden table that sat between two wing-back chairs. In between swigs from a half-filled glass, Tarrant was expounding loudly upon the subject of millinery to a drowsy-looking Ilosovic, who leaned back in his chair and dangled his own glass over the arm almost to the floor.
Suddenly Tarrant blinked twice and collapsed to the floor, for all the world like a dropped marionette.
"Well," Casiphia said. "We have an answer to our question as to what the boys have been doing. Oh goodness. You and I might be able to get Tarrant into his room, but Ilosovic—"she prodded him with her foot—"if you don't get yourself up, you're going to have to sleep in here."
Ilosovic blinked at her for a moment, then heaved a tremendous sigh and lifted himself to his feet, standing straight at first but then listing gradually to one side until he too had slumped to the floor. Within seconds he had begun to snore.
"Fine," Casiphia sighed. "This is just embarrassing. Here, Alice, see if you can get one of Tarrant's arms over your shoulder. I'll do what I can with the other."
On their way out of the room, Casiphia snatched up Tarrant's hat, which had been propped lopsidedly on the back of a chair. "You'll want this, I imagine," she said, handing it to Alice.
Alice was greatly amused by all of this, and soon Casiphia caught her giggles. After they dragged the Hatter to his room—which luckily was on the same floor—they deposited him on an ottoman and Casiphia left Alice there to tend to him. "You realize this is funnier now than it will be in the morning," she cautioned.
"Not to worry, I've seen my sister's husband in this condition enough times to know what to expect," Alice said almost cheerfully.
Returning to the sitting room, Casiphia looked down at Ilosovic, who had made himself horizontally comfortable on the floor.
"My dear, you know I cannot get you up the stairs to our quarters," she told him, but received no answer. With a sigh, she went in search of a blanket, with which she covered him before leaving him there on the carpet, after stuffing a chair cushion under his head.
She couldn't disregard the irony of sleeping alone again with Stayne present in the castle, but at least he was nearby, which took the sting out of the solitude. She was able to appreciate the extra space much more easily, somehow, and stretched out in the center of the bed, for all the world as languid as Chessur.
Until she was wakened close to dawn by Ilosovic slinking into bed, trying not to waken her but failing when he had to slide her to the side to give him enough room to get in.
Too sleepy to concern herself overmuch about his return, she made herself comfortable in her half of the bed, and woke several hours later to find him awake and staring at the ceiling.
"You're alive," she said, doing her level best not to poke fun at him. After all, when she had deliberately downed a bottle of wine in an attempt to erase thoughts of Iracebeth dying at the White Castle of the growth in her head, he hadn't made fun of his love. Although, come to think of it, he hadn't had much opportunity, as they'd been summoned to a meeting with Mirana before she had even properly woken...
"I might survive," he said, still staring upwards.
"I'll procure you some of Mirana's morning-after potion," she offered. "You will be amazed how quickly it will make you feel better."
She propped herself up on one elbow and he turned his head to look at her shamefacedly. "More to the point, what were you and Tarrant getting yourselves up to?"
"I am a bit vague on that point," he admitted. "But I suppose this makes us drinking companions, if nothing else."
"One can do worse," Casiphia said. "I should send some of the potion to him as well. No doubt Alice would appreciate it. With a pot of herbal tea and some very plain biscuits." She gave the bell pull a tug, and pulled the bed curtains fully closed before she went to make her assignments to the kitchen staff.
"One tray to Tarrant, another here," she told the young fox at the door. "Kindness all around, that's it."