Post by Khalidah Clavel (I) on Dec 15, 2005 20:50:32 GMT -5
The House was fairly deserted this night. Most adepts were contracted to either attend the coronation celebration in the countryside or were at smaller private parties around the City. I had the dance studio to myself and it was wonderful.
A full moon rode low in the sky, spilling light across the hardwood floors. I had lit a small lamp and several dozen candles; the room was cloaked in darkness and soft light. I was dressed simply in a circle skirt of white linen. A scarlet sash, sewn with hundreds of beaten silver coins was tied low on my hips, and my every movement caused them to jingle. Tiny belled anklets tinkled as I walked. The plain white vest was unadorned. Loosely I held pairs of finger symbols in my hands.
I swayed, letting my conscious mind fade, silencing the clamor and anxiety always running in my thoughts. An Old Persian love song floated to the fore front. My husky soprano filled the room. I rolled my hips in time with the song, the coins a harmony to the eerie wail of the lyrics. I swept my arms gracefully over my head, letting my hands move and speak across my body, letting them tell the love story. My long hair swirled around me as I shook my head and spun in a circle. I came out of the spin and arched my back until my hands rested on the floor. In one sensuous movement I collapsed to the floor and rolled to my side tucking one leg under my body, while I held the other and the opposite arm perfectly parallel to the floor. Soft clapping came from the doorway and the song died on my lips.
Calandria stood in the door, had probably watched most of my dance. Quietly I arranged myself abeyante and waited for her to speak.
“Beautiful, Celestine, absolutely beautiful. And yet here you are, alone, dancing in the dark instead of with a patron or on an entertainment contract.” I refrained from correcting her on the use of my D’Angeline name. She only called me Celestine when she was peeved, usually about how little money I brought in. “I know you had several nobles visit you these last few days. And yet here you are.”
“I’m sorry my lady. Upon each interview it was apparent that we would not suite, or that my talents were not what they desired. An odalisque strives to be perfection for her master, anything less is failure.” I bowed my head more deeply, a shame staining my cheeks.
“Oh stop, Khali. You are not a slave in the seraglio, and I am most certainly not a lady. Get up and walk with me.”
We exited the studio via the garden doors and walked the balmy paths.
“I’m worried about you Khalidah. There are adepts at Eglantine who have been here half as long as you and have already completed their marks. Yours is barely 2/3rds done and I know it’s not because you lack talent. You are one of the best dancers I have seen in many years. You fear Naamah’s arts. You are no virgin, but I swear you act as one.”
“I’m sorry my lady…Calandria. Passion is not in my nature.”
“Bollocks! I’ve watched you dance. All the passion you would give to a patron you put in your dancing. And that is fine, but most patrons want more from you than that.”
“I know. But I am happy here. I teach those who would learn eastern dance, I entertain at fetes and balls. I am content.”
“Yes, I know.” She sighed heavily, I knew the next words she would say before she spoke them, “But the contract I have with your father is another matter. You have less than a year to finish your mark, or I am in violation of our arrangement. I have tried to give you time, to let you learn and experience at your own pace, but you have dug in your heels and stalled. Pick a patron, or I will do so for you, contracting you to the next person who asks, as your father has allowed. I hate doing this to you, but your time is up, and I will not default on this contract.”
I bowed my head once more, a tear sliding down my cheek.
A full moon rode low in the sky, spilling light across the hardwood floors. I had lit a small lamp and several dozen candles; the room was cloaked in darkness and soft light. I was dressed simply in a circle skirt of white linen. A scarlet sash, sewn with hundreds of beaten silver coins was tied low on my hips, and my every movement caused them to jingle. Tiny belled anklets tinkled as I walked. The plain white vest was unadorned. Loosely I held pairs of finger symbols in my hands.
I swayed, letting my conscious mind fade, silencing the clamor and anxiety always running in my thoughts. An Old Persian love song floated to the fore front. My husky soprano filled the room. I rolled my hips in time with the song, the coins a harmony to the eerie wail of the lyrics. I swept my arms gracefully over my head, letting my hands move and speak across my body, letting them tell the love story. My long hair swirled around me as I shook my head and spun in a circle. I came out of the spin and arched my back until my hands rested on the floor. In one sensuous movement I collapsed to the floor and rolled to my side tucking one leg under my body, while I held the other and the opposite arm perfectly parallel to the floor. Soft clapping came from the doorway and the song died on my lips.
Calandria stood in the door, had probably watched most of my dance. Quietly I arranged myself abeyante and waited for her to speak.
“Beautiful, Celestine, absolutely beautiful. And yet here you are, alone, dancing in the dark instead of with a patron or on an entertainment contract.” I refrained from correcting her on the use of my D’Angeline name. She only called me Celestine when she was peeved, usually about how little money I brought in. “I know you had several nobles visit you these last few days. And yet here you are.”
“I’m sorry my lady. Upon each interview it was apparent that we would not suite, or that my talents were not what they desired. An odalisque strives to be perfection for her master, anything less is failure.” I bowed my head more deeply, a shame staining my cheeks.
“Oh stop, Khali. You are not a slave in the seraglio, and I am most certainly not a lady. Get up and walk with me.”
We exited the studio via the garden doors and walked the balmy paths.
“I’m worried about you Khalidah. There are adepts at Eglantine who have been here half as long as you and have already completed their marks. Yours is barely 2/3rds done and I know it’s not because you lack talent. You are one of the best dancers I have seen in many years. You fear Naamah’s arts. You are no virgin, but I swear you act as one.”
“I’m sorry my lady…Calandria. Passion is not in my nature.”
“Bollocks! I’ve watched you dance. All the passion you would give to a patron you put in your dancing. And that is fine, but most patrons want more from you than that.”
“I know. But I am happy here. I teach those who would learn eastern dance, I entertain at fetes and balls. I am content.”
“Yes, I know.” She sighed heavily, I knew the next words she would say before she spoke them, “But the contract I have with your father is another matter. You have less than a year to finish your mark, or I am in violation of our arrangement. I have tried to give you time, to let you learn and experience at your own pace, but you have dug in your heels and stalled. Pick a patron, or I will do so for you, contracting you to the next person who asks, as your father has allowed. I hate doing this to you, but your time is up, and I will not default on this contract.”
I bowed my head once more, a tear sliding down my cheek.