Indulgence and Introspection (cca. 10,123)

[Elisha Montague]

Evening was just on the cusp of turning into night as the hired groundcar pulled up outside the House Moritani ambassadorial residence. Unlike her own father who was quite content for her to live in a fairly modest apartment the Moritanis spared no expense on their own Landsraad representative's house on Kaitain, a grand manor house set in a generous gardens with well tended grass and numerous trees of both modern and Old Terran varieties. Elisha thought the replica renaissance-style architecture and manicured lawns a little over done really, but she couldn't help feeling a pang of jealousy that she lacked the space to host parties such as this.

Elisha stepped carefully out of the car, wary of damaging the heels on her new pair of imported shoes from Zanovar, and handed a twenty solari note to the driver along with a suggestion to keep the change. Normally she would not be so generous but tonight she was enjoying the rare feeling of being quite flush with money, after a sewing up a recent lucrative manufacturing deal for poison snoopers had gifted her that most unusual of things from her father: a small bonus to her allowance for a job well done. Following Elisha out of the vehicle was Liana Mutelli, also a representative of her House at the Imperial capitol. Landsraad ambassadors could generally be divided into two groups; there were the career diplomats, people like their host Balthazar Grimaldi who made a living representing the interests of nobles at the Assembly, and then there were those ambassadors who were actual members of noble families. The gift of an ambassadorship to a relative was not an uncommon thing among the Great Houses, indeed many of the other guests at tonight's party would be second sons and younger brothers offered the role as compensation for missing out in the line of succession, but if female ambassadors were rare then daughters of the Houses acting in that capacity were rarer still. Daughters were expected to get married and further the family's advancement by spreading blood ties into other Houses, not by being either smart or skilful. Elisha and Liana though broke the mold; Elisha because her rebellious nature and embarrassing history with the Bene Gesserit made her unsuitable to keep at home, Liana due to the unfortunate matter of her face.

The only daughter of House Mutelli was a statuesque woman, some ten years older than Elisha but lean and well proportioned with pale skin, silver-blonde hair and violet eyes lending her an alluring and almost ethereal quality. Doubtless she would have been considered a fine beauty but for the cruel parallel scars running from just below her right eye, down across the right cheek and ending somewhere just under her chin. It looked almost like two burning teardrops had run down her face, leaving a trail of blackened and sunken skin in their wake. Liana did not talk much about how she had been disfigured, apparently some kind of accident in her teens, but whatever it was must have been serious given the range of surgery available in the Imperium today for correcting minor injuries and imperfections. The flesh-crafters of the Bene Tleilax in particular must surely have the ability to fix something like that, although Elisha knew that turning to Tleilaxu science was itself considered almost heresy in some of the more conservative quarters of the nobility. In any case her marriage prospects had been ruined and her father, either through pure kindness or perhaps guilt over what had been allowed to mar his daughter so, had offered her the ambassadorship as a chance to make a difference for the family in a way which would neither require a perfect face nor see her accepting a marriage of pity to some grasping House Minor. Elisha had never seen Liana wear a mask, nor attempt to hide her imperfections with cosmetics. Instead she presented them during negotiations and Assembly sessions almost as a badge of honor, a reminder that her purpose on Kaitain was to be a good ambassador above all else. Elisha admired her for that.

Stepping up to the front door the two ladies presented their invitations to doorman, smartly dressed in House Moritani colors, and handed their coats to an equally well attired attendant just inside. Elisha had opted for a medium length black dress, shorter than the long flowing style favored by many Imperial ladies, but still far less daring than her now infamous coronation outfit. Figure hugging without being clingy it accentuated her curves and, she thought, complimented the expensive gem-encrusted shoes very nicely. She had accessorised it with a number of gold bracelets and a large gold choker which had been a gift from her brother, Frederick. Liana had chosen a floor length purple gown which went well with her eyes and fine leather sandals of the variety which travelled several inches up each leg, together with a number of small silver jewelery pieces which matched well with her hair. At her neck hovered an exceptionally vivid purple soostone, clearly Elisha thought intended to draw peoples' eyes downwards and away from her damaged face. For all her insistence that it did not bother her Elisha's Bene Gesserit trained observation combined with feminine intuition told her that deep down her friend was as concerned for her appearance at a social gathering as any woman.

The interior of the house matched the outside for opulence, all gold trim, luxurious rugs and crystal chandeliers. Once again Elisha thought it all a bit over the top, but secretly wished that her father would allow her a residence even a quarter as grand. Already a large crowd of ambassadors and other diplomatic and civil service types were present and both the conversation and the wine appeared to be flowing freely. Elisha thought to herself that Lucy would love to be here, but regardless of their impeccably polite behaviour when the Assembly was in session some of the ambassadors she knew could be seriously lecherous; there was no way she would let her seventeen year old niece near a place like this. Balthazar himself she could see holding court at the far end of the great hall and Elisha thought she recognised one of Kaitain's hottest new singing sensations draped across his arm, her eyes already wide with the vacant stare of someone who had been taking something; drugs were passed around freely at these parties. She made a mental note of where he was but decided not to go over and say "hello" just yet. There was someone else she wanted to locate first. While Liana wandered away in search of a waiter to get them some drinks Elisha scanned the room for Amyssa Magorian, the ambassador from Ix. It had taken quite a few attempts to convince the quite shy and retiring Amyssa to accept an invitation to one of these parties and Elisha was determined that her new friend have a good time and not feel overwhelmed. She had surprised herself with just how protective she had come to feel towards the newcomer at the Landsraad, but it did make a change to be thinking of someone other than herself and if she was honest it felt rather nice really.

[Amyssa Magorian]

Amyssa Magorian stood before the floor length mirror located in her bedroom, quietly inspecting her appearance as her fingers fiddled absently with a silver earring. For the fourth time that evening doubts were beginning to creep inside her mind, regarding the decision to accept Balthazar Grimaldi's invitation. The scientist turned diplomat was a private person who appreciated the spare time she had as an opportunity to relax and indulge in the things she otherwise didn't have the time for, like her beloved baliset which currently lay on the desk behind her among stacks of filmbooks and ridulian paper, but Elisha had managed to convince her to attend the party that evening.

Amyssa knew the stories of course, talk of shocking excesses and rampant hedonism always surrounded the Moritani Ambassador and the events he held, clashing with the sober mindset imposed by her previous life on Ix where pragmatism and efficiency were the norm and few things were ever wasted. During the months she'd occupied the ambassadorial seat on Kaitain however, Amyssa had sampled several of the Imperial planet's commodities, discovering a world very unlike the sterile, utilitarian warrens of her childhood. She'd enjoyed it, too, Amyssa reminded herself and a smile emerged on her lips as her hands reached out to fasten the earrings into place on each side of her swan neck. The Ixian wore a knee-length dress made out of discreetly shimmering material that fanned around her legs in silky folds and matched the sapphire blue of her eyes. The neckline, though nowhere near as daring as those sported by Elisha for example, offered a tantalising glimpse of Amyssa's small, round breasts and was quite a change from the severely cut garments she wore in Assembly.

The familiar sound of a groundcar grinding to a halt just outside her window suddenly disturbed the evening's silence; her transport had arrived. Before she could change her mind again, Amyssa turned away from her reflection and walked towards the door, collecting her purse and coat on the way. She'd hoped to carpool with Elisha and Liana, thus sparing herself the necessity of arriving alone at the Grimaldi residence, but the two women lived too far away for it to be practical. A solo entrance it will be, then, Amyssa mused and was pushed back into her seat by the momentum of the groundcar's departure.

Though familiar with the various descriptions associated with the Moritani Ambassador's residence, Amyssa was nonetheless rather unprepared for the grandiose sight materializing within her field of vision as the groundcar approached the sumptuous mansion nestled in the middle of an oasis of vegetation. She'd expected something ostentatious, but this was positively...garish, from the pointlessly complicated lawn ornaments and topiaries to the structure itself, bathed in the artificial light of countless glowglobes.

All the solaris that must've gone into it, those Moritanis really love showing off, the young woman thought, joining a line of guests about to enter the building. The inside proved to be no downgrade as far as opulence was concerned, but Amyssa found it difficult to call it “beautiful”. The excessive glitz and glitter was overwhelming, and for a moment the Ixian found herself contemplating what these socialites would think of the caverns of her homeworld, with the warren city nestled vertically in the rock for miles and miles... It was truly breathtaking in its organic symmetry, reflecting the prismatic hues of its artificial sunlight...a harsh, awe-inspiring beauty unlike this gaudy display of pure vanity.

Step by step, Amyssa disengaged herself from the group of incoming guests, her eyes scanning the great hall for signs of Elisha or Liana. Her height gave her a distinct advantage, towering to a full 6'3'' in the shoes she wore and while she was unable to locate her friends, she soon found her way to a less congested part of the hall, near a wide marble archway shrouded in blossoms. She stood there, taking in the heady fragrance while richly-attired guests shifted about. A waiter carrying a tray with drinks and several bowls filled with what were obviously drugs passed by; Amyssa accepted a glass of wine and as she did so caught a slight whiff of cinnamon rising from one of the bowls. Melange? She had to admit, Grimaldi really went the extra mile when it came to making a statement. The wine proved excellent as well, rich and fragrant and smooth, and Amyssa wouldn't have been surprised to discover it was genuine Caladan vintage. It reminded her of the evening before the coronation, when she had her first encounter with a glass of the much cheaper, Kaitain Red variety in that bar she went with Elisha...and speaking of the devil, there she was, walking towards her from across the hall!

Finally! Abandoning her calmly introspective mien, Amyssa flashed a bright smile and waved.

[Elisha Montague]

The first pangs of disappointment were beginning to gnaw at Elisha's previously upbeat attitude as she completed her second circuit of the lower floor without spotting her friend anywhere. Perhaps the reserved Ixian had experienced a last minute change of heart and opted for an evening in completing Landsraad paperwork or practising the balliset. Perhaps coming on too strong with her exhortations, to the point of appearing pushy, had scared Amyssa off. She was reminded of the time when she attempted to drag Sara out for a night's clubbing in Williamsport near their family home. What an unmitigated disaster that had been, with her older sister leaving after only half an hour. Amyssa was not nearly so anti-social as Sara though, surely. Elisha recalled their first meeting the night before Emperor Elrood's coronation, when she had nearly been knocked flying by Amyssa's runaway trunk at the spaceport. They had followed that up with a very pleasurable evening out on the town, although Amyssa had imbibed a little too much Kaitain Red and very nearly embarrassed herself. That was long in the past now though and there had been plenty of drinks gatherings at the Assembly to help her find her footing when it came to alcohol.

I wonder if she still worries about that incident more than I realise.

Elisha scanned the hallway one more time, noting that Radnor the Landsraad Ambassador to House Harkonnen was at the gathering and already seemed to be quite drunk. Radnor was quite a character, very much a Harkonnen retainer of the old school and completely unlike his liege Rose Harkonnen who Elisha had met at the coronation. Rude, crude and disgusting he might be but Elisha found herself slightly preferring him to the Baroness; she was always a little suspicious of people who seemed just too nice. Her eye was also drawn momentarily to a furtive little fellow in the far corner sipping what appeared to be portygul juice. She recognised him from somewhere, her well-trained but slightly rusty Bene Gesserit recall skills finally telling her that he had been at at Elrood's coronation, similarly lurking in the background ; probably just some low-ranking Palace flunky with too much time on his hands then.

Perhaps she just doesn't want to be here after all...

Just as the blonde Montague daughter was about to resign herself to this possibility she finally caught sight of the statuesque Amyssa over by the entrance, having apparently just arrived. Inwardly she breathed a sigh of relief while chastening herself for doubting her friend.

"Amyssa!" she called out, hurrying over to where the other stood.

Elisha beamed approvingly at the dress Amyssa had chosen for the evening, which while perhaps not as daring as she herself might have risked was nonetheless a huge improvement over what the other girl normally wore to Council meetings. In fact she felt very slightly put in the shade by the way Amyssa's dress shimmered and sparkled; perhaps her own choice of a somewhat understated little black dress had not been as inspired as it had seemed at the time.

"Amyssa!" she repeated, now finally within earshot, "I'm so glad you could make it! What do you think? How decadent is this? Balthazar has really pushed the boat out this time. I'd wager you won't see more finery anywhere on Kaitain outside of the Palace".

At this point Liana returned, carrying a small tray which she had apparently commandeered from one of the waiters. However Amyssa already had a drink, so after handing one to Elisha and taking one for herself she set the tray down in a nearby alcove.

"Well it looks like we're all here. Amyssa, it's so good you could come" she said, casting a smile in the direction of the ambassador from Ix, "Seems like it's getting pretty lively in here; I see Balthazar hauling his latest female acquisition around and showing her off like a prize cow, and I think I already caught Radnor the Harkonnen belching in my direction. Honestly, if that slig thinks I'll ever be desperate enough to let him within a hundred paces of my bed..."

Elisha nodded in agreement; unfortunately Liana often had to endure boorish men thinking that her appearance rendered her an easy conquest. Her mind however was not really on what a slig Radnor was, nor on the singer Balthazar had chosen as his arm-ornament for the evening, she really wanted to hear what Amyssa had to say and was hoping fervently that the tall Ixian did not feel overpowered by the party atmosphere.

[Amyssa Magorian]

To someone born and raised within the endless warrens of Ix, the Imperial Capital had seemed as alien and unfamiliar as Caladan might look in the eyes of a Fremen from the deep deserts of Dune. Amyssa still vividly recalled the disorienting openness of Kaitain, with its vast surface structures teeming with people and vehicles, soaring towards the flawless blue heavens above. She wasn't used to not having a roof above her head, or breathing in anything other than the filtered air of Ix, always vaguely redolent of disinfectant, and it had taken her a while before being able to stroll through the city's many gardens or plazas without experiencing something akin to agoraphobia. Large, tall-roofed rooms such as the one she currently stood in however reminded Amyssa of one of the few places on Ix where size wasn't compromised in favour of utility: the cavernous Heighliner assembly bays, so vast that the heighliners themselves were dwarfed. Though Amyssa had never held a permit to go beyond the plaz windows of the survey towers looking into the bays, she'd often looked down in awe at the gargantuan ships in various stages of completion, pondering the mysteries of space travel, and the terrible wonder of the Navigators, two of the things the rest of the Known Universe tended to take for granted.

Amyssa often missed her favourite haunts, her home, to which this tawdy hall could never hope to compare, but she was not one given to brooding; especially since the reason she'd come there was to have a good time. Just go with the flow, Amyssa reminded herself as she watched Elisha approach, her smile growing wider: Elisha had a definite influence on her, being able to draw the rather withdrawn Ixian out of her shell with her uninhibited, devil-may-care attitude.

"Amyssa!" Elisha exclaimed when the two friends were at last face to face, "I'm so glad you could make it! What do you think? How decadent is this? Balthazar has really pushed the boat out this time. I'd wager you won't see more finery anywhere on Kaitain outside of the Palace".

“Nor more intoxicated people,” Amyssa replied with a crooked smile, and took a hefty gulp of her wine, its aromatic scent filling her head as it warmed her from inside out. She had come a long way since her first encounter with Kaitain Red all those months ago, but she was not yet what one would call an experienced drinker; she would have to take it slowly. Before Amyssa could add anything else however, a third woman joined their small group: Liana Mutelli, looking resplendent in purple parasilk and carrying a tray of drinks; they exchanged smiles.

"Well it looks like we're all here. Amyssa, it's so good you could come" Liana said, "Seems like it's getting pretty lively in here; I see Balthazar hauling his latest female acquisition around and showing her off like a prize cow, and I think I already caught Radnor Harkonnen belching in my direction. Honestly, if that slig thinks I'll ever be desperate enough to let him within a hundred paces of my bed... "

Amyssa let her gaze travel momentarily in Radnor's direction, catching a brief glimpse of the stocky man apparently having a riotous time judging by the way his jaws stretched with unrestrained laughter; he gave her the creeps, and so joined Elisha in a sympathetic nod towards Liana. In all honesty, she found the Mutelli ambassador to be one of the most striking women she'd ever seen, scars or no scars, and had been a tad surprised to see how much they affected others' attitude. On Ix, intellect was prized above physical appearance, matches often being made between esteemed developers or because of shared scientific goals, and the belief that such talents could be passed down to offspring was quite prevalent. Love still existed, but to the highly disciplined, practical Ixians, it wasn't an obligatory part of marriage.

“Rumour goes Radnor would bed anything that stands still long enough,” Amyssa commented wryly, “that he doesn't discriminate on gender or even...species”, she added and gave a small chuckle, part of her tension seeping out of her in the process; being around Elisha and Liana had that effect on her, so when she spoke again, her tone was far more relaxed:

“I'm glad to see you both as well,” she confessed, “I admit I find the entire display awfully gaudy but it has a certain flair too. In any case, last week's string of Landsraad meetings has left me yearning for something a little less...conventional.”

Having declared that, Amyssa drained her glass and was about to reach for another when a pair of youths came to a stop before her and Elisha: they were both strikingly handsome, tall and muscular of body with noble, chiselled features and they looked exactly alike from the tips of their raven hair to their polished shoes. When they also smiled an identical smile, Amyssa did a double-take, wondering if the wine had been stronger than she'd thought.

“Good evening,”said one of them, as they both bowed in hers and Elisha's direction. “Permit us to introduce ourselves: our names are Aldric and Alaric, and we were wondering if we could have the company of such beautiful ladies for a stroll. The gardens are positively mesmerising this time of the night.”

Taken by surprise by this verbose interruption, Amyssa produced a thin smile and gave Elisha a sideways glance: great, simply great. The Attack of the Clones.

[Elisha Montague]

Elisha allowed herself a little grin as the two youths introduced themselves. Although she did not know who these two young men were she knew exactly what they were. Far too alike even for natural twins it was obvious to her, thanks both to Mother Anaheim's dimly remembered biology classes and her to own prior experience of Balthazar Grimaldi's parties, that they were clones. Products of the dark arts of the Bene Tleilax these two had been bred for a singular purpose, that purpose being entertainment and pleasure. It was a favourite party piece of Grimaldi's to have a number of such Tleilaxu tank-bred dolls wandering about the place, and though most would be female there were always one or two handsome young men to cater for the small number of lady ambassadors and also for those gentlemen whose predilections went in that direction. Sometimes Balthazar had even been known to hire Face Dancers, the ultimate wonders of Tleilaxu science who could actually shift their very bodies to become anything a potential partner might desire, though Elisha found them a little creepy herself. Aldric and Alaric though, while obviously artificial in nature, had a certain fresh-faced look about them which did much to disguise their origins. She and Amyssa were in for a treat. Before she could open her mouth to reply though she suddenly remembered that they were a group of three tonight.

"Oh don't worry about me" said Liana, already aware of the dilemma before Elisha could say anything, "Go and show Amyssa what fun the gardens can be. I'll be right here when you get back and I'll be sure to scream if I need you to come and pull Radnor off me."

The tall blonde flashed one of her characteristic lopsided smiles - her scars were more than just skin deep and the nerves on that side of her face were slightly damaged - in Amyssa's direction, well aware of what the two young men actually meant by a stroll. With that settled, Elisha and Amyssa allowed themselves to be escorted by the two clones out through a side door which lead into a long well-lit hallway lined with reproductions of various Old Terran art. Elisha hoped that Liana had been joking about Radnor, though if he got violent with her friend she would not hesitate to respond in kind and the Harkonnen probably knew that. Most young noblewomen with Bene Gesserit schooling liked to emphasise the cultural side of it, or sometimes the sexual training if they were very bold, but Elisha delighted in defying stereotypes and when she spoke occasionally of her time on Wallach it was usually in the context of her ability to pin a man's arm behind his back.

"So, milady..." began Aldric, his voice trailing off as waited for Elisha to indicate how she wished to be addressed.

"Lady Montague" she replied, "but you can call me Elisha. A stroll in the gardens should be all about pleasure not pomposity, yes?"

She cast what she hoped was a knowing look in Amyssa's direction along with the last comment, suddenly worrying that since her friend had never attended at party like this before she might have no idea that, to put it bluntly, the two Tleilaxu clones were in fact offering sexual favours. What if the reserved Ixian found it all too vulgar and took offence?

"As you wish" replied Aldric as they exited the hallway into the manor house's sumptuous gardens, the last traces of evening light just fading over the horizon as the stars began appear above.

The gardens were extensive with numerous little areas of trees and bushes set to the side of a long granite path which snaked its way around the grounds, and of which Elisha was glad because she did not wish to get dirt on her expensive Zonvarian shoes. Past experience told her that many of the secluded groves would already be occupied, but Grimaldi's entertainers obviously co-ordinated their activities well for Aldric and Alaric lead them on further down the path and past areas that Elisha's Bene Gesserit trained hearing confirmed already contained amorous couples. They made a little polite conversation as they went, but Elisha's mind wasn't really on being told how the starlight set off her hair or that the dress she had chosen hugged her figure most deliciously. She was still fretting a little about Amyssa and how she would take to this kind of liason, but it was too late to back out now. Eventually the path forked, Elisha and Aldric taking the left path and Amyssa and Alaric the right. Well she could be no more help to her friend now, so she turned her mind to her own enjoyment. She settled down onto a small stone bench, situated she guessed quite deliberately in a patch of shadow behind a tall bush, and felt Aldric slide into a sitting position next to her.

"Milady..." began the clone, leaning in closer.

"Please, call me Elisha" she replied in a haughty tone almost reminiscent of Reverend Mother Alechem, parting her legs and lifting her dress ever so slightly, "And if you don't mind I prefer to save the small talk for my comrades inside".

"Of course" replied Aldric, dropping instantly to his knees at Elisha's feet; Balthazar's pleaseure toys were always quick on the uptake.

She favoured getting straight down to business, but she knew that the clones would also be well trained in the more gentle arts of slow seduction which would likely suit shy Amyssa better. Tilting back her head she looked up at the starts and felt her undergarments being deftly pulled aside, as a skilled tongue begin to work its magic. Abandoning herself to sensation she was in that blissful moment sure that Amyssa would be fine, just fine. When finally fully satisfied Elisha allowed the muscular youth to lead her back up the winding path to the house, where she looked around for Amyssa but saw no sign. It was now well and truly night time and the garden was shrouded in darkness, for nobody who availed themselves of its privacy wished to compromise themselves by taking a glowglobe along with them.

"Thank you for a lovely stroll, Aldric. Now if you'll excuse me" she said, dismissing the clone as her mind concentrated on her friend's whereabouts.

"Of course, milady. Whatever you desire" he replied, disappearing back inside in search of another companion.

Elisha sighed; for all his skill with his tongue and his magic fingers he had not managed to wrap his head around the idea of calling her other than milady. However that did not really matter now; she was more concerned about Amyssa's location and how she had fared with Alaric. She pondered going back inside, perhaps finding Liana and suggesting they both go searching, but something convinced her to wait a little longer. Maybe she was not giving her Ixian friend enough credit.

[Amyssa Magorian]

Just a stroll through the gardens...what could possibly go wrong?

With that encouraging thought in mind, Amyssa stepped forward to accept Alaric's outstretched arm, while at her side Elisha and Aldric were doing the same thing, and with a final parting wave to Liana, the two couples were on their way. As they passed through a gold-framed door into a long hallway lined with canvases, her thoughts drifted back to something Liana had said just before their departure:

"Oh don't worry about me. Go and show Amyssa what fun the gardens can be.”

It struck her as a peculiar comment, for some reason she couldn't quite place; perhaps it was that sly grin she'd flashed her way, and the brief knowing glances exchanged with Elisha, that left Amyssa with the impression of having missed the punchline to some private joke. Well, she told herself, it was too late then; she might as well make the most of this stroll, so she turned her focus to her companion to be once again startled by how flawlessly handsome he was, and how identical his brother looked.

"So, milady..." Amyssa heard Aldric tell Elisha, who responded with a casual "Lady Montague, but you can call me Elisha. A stroll in the gardens should be all about pleasure not pomposity, yes?"

Since they were currently next to each other, Amyssa caught the pointed look in her friend's eyes, and wondered about it: there it was again, that annoying feeling of missing a key fact, that both Liana and now Elisha were trying to tell her something. But what? She applied analytical thinking to the situation: Alaric and his brother had certainly approached them without reserve, and neither Elisha nor Liana had seemed surprised...was this some sort of ploy to find her a male friend, since Amyssa had made no secret of her current, single status? It seemed plausible enough, knowing Elisha a bit, though if that was the case, these twins weren't exactly the best choice; there was something unnerving about them.

“And you, milady?” Alaric then turned to Amyssa, who shook her head.

“I am not Noble Born,” she told him. “Amyssa...will do.”

She'd heard Elisha offer her first name, and didn't want to come across as overly formal by contrast, though in general she preferred to wait longer than a few minutes before discarding all polite titles between new acquaintances. When on Kaitain, do as the Kaitainians do, she though, and permitted herself a slight grin.

The gardens were certainly pleasant as Elisha had put it, and the moonlight streaming from the cloudless sky compensated for the lack of illumination. Amyssa gazed around her, offering polite replies to the boundless compliments Alaric showered her with, which were as flowery as his speech and, she thought, a bit overdone. Her attempts at steering the conversation towards more substantial topics were met with failure, as for Alaric himself, he seemed to have nothing worthwhile to tell about himself, on the occasions she asked. In fact, he seemed mildly confused by the question; gorgeous, he was, but sadly Amyssa couldn't credit him with as much in the intellect department. It was in her Ixian nature to assess people's mental capacities, and the men she was most attracted to were the engaging, intellectual types; after all, that was what had drawn her to...but no, she wasn't going to think about him.

Amyssa was almost immediately distracted from that train of thought by their arrival to a fork in the path, and before she could consult with Elisha, she and her companion had already turned left, leaving her alone with Alaric. She hesitated a moment, then allowed herself to be lead down the opposite path, their footsteps being the only sounds to disturb the balmy silence. Or, so Amyssa had thought at first, until she caught an undefined noise coming from a secluded alcove a few meters ahead, which as they got closer, she identified as a soft, female moan. She didn't need telling what it meant, though she did her best to keep her gaze on the road and avoid a potentially awkward moment.

At the end of their chosen path stood a white gazebo, nestled in the middle of an elegant flower arrangement, with tall hedges circling it. Amyssa heard the calm hissing of a fountain nearby, and saw a shallow stream of water undulating on each side of the gazebo. It was truly beautiful, and she allowed herself to take it all in, feeling the tension seep out of her. Alaric lead her up the wooden steps into the gazebo itself, where they parted, Amyssa positioning herself against a wooden ledge where she stood framed between two pillars covered in climbing ivy. She gazed at Alaric, who returned her gaze, looking expectant, but since her attempts at holding a conversation had been less than successful, Amyssa decided to let him take the lead this time.

Suddenly, comprehension emerged on his features and without hesitation he slid up to Amyssa, bringing his tall, muscular frame within mere inches of her own, and placing both hands on the ledge behind them.

“What are you doing?” Amyssa asked dryly, her muscles tightening automatically against this sudden invasion of personal space, the smile vanishing off her face. She kept her gaze fixed on a point over his shoulder.

“Whatever you desire”, Alaric purred in a husky tone that alone made enticing promises, and before she could stop herself Amyssa's gaze darted briefly to his face, suddenly aware of the proximity of his plush, velvety lips parted so invitingly, on precisely the same level with hers. His scent filled her head, and she was startled to realize it wasn't a perfume: it was his own scent, sweet yet masculine, adding to the confident allure he wore like a mantle.

Amyssa felt the heat rising in her cheeks as her pulse quickened, and the effect was sobering; slipping her hands between them she pushed Alaric off her, then quickly stepped away from him, keeping the exit at her back. She wasn't sure what this meant, but she wasn't taking any chances.

“I...I think this is moving a little too fast”, she began in a somewhat guarded tone. She wasn't opposed to male company, but she wasn't used to being practically jumped either. Though momentarily concerned about her safety, Amyssa decided the probability of Grimaldi jeopardizing his precious reputation by allowing his guests to be molested was slim.

“I can move very, very slow if you wish,” Alaric continued and took another step towards her, and in his tone Amyssa heard the offer. All of a sudden, it all snapped into place: the approach, everything leading up to this moment, the youth's open invitation. This wasn't a man wishing to get to know her or make conversation, his intentions were entirely physical. Prostitute? Considering the nature of this gathering, it didn't seem all that far-fetched, and Amyssa felt annoyed with herself at being so slow in recognizing it. She recalled Elisha and Liana's subtle hints, which in light of current developments took on a different meaning.

Anger flared inside her: If Elisha thought she was desperate enough to....but no. It couldn't be. Elisha may have had some unconventional views, but she wouldn't go as far as to spring this sort of surprise on her. No, this must have been part of the “program” arranged by Grimaldi.

“I think there's been a misunderstanding,” Amyssa concluded, having decided to end this before it became even more embarrassing. As she turned to leave however, a pair of arms slid around her waist from behind, and Alaric brought those luscious lips of his to her ear, whispering:

“Stay. Please.”

That voice could have melted ice on Wallach Ix and before she knew it Amyssa felt a hand climb over her front, cupping a breast while the other pulled her closer to him, introducing her backside to the hills and valleys of his sculpted frame. Amyssa's eyes snapped wide open and she drew in a sharp breath which caught in her throat, acutely aware of the bulging ridge in Alaric's pants nestled shamelessly between her buttocks and his skillful hand working its way over her breast but most of all the sharp tug starting just below her navel and the hot flashes that scalded her from inside out. In a moment of strange lucidity, she thought about the endorphins spike that caused the reaction, and was shocked to realize how quickly her body had responded to Alaric's touch, how he'd known precisely the right way to do it. While the realization flitted through her mind, Alaric took the hesitation as an incentive and with a gentle tug at the strap holding Amysa's dress into place he freed her right breast from its silky shroud and began teasing the nipple with feather-like touches that sent veritable stabs of lust tearing through Amyssa's body and conjured a barely audible moan from between her parted lips. She felt herself drift away on wings of bliss, the world around her fading into the background, but before she could abandon all restraint a sudden and sickening revelation pierced through the haze engulfing her brain, jolting her out of it as she squirmed out of his arms, yanking her dress back into place as she scrambled away from him. There she remained, hugging herself and piercing Alaric with a dark glare:

“You are Tleilaxu,” she accused.It had occurred to her all of a sudden, as though all of the clues were snapped into place by a flash of understanding that, until then, had been lurking just out of reach. Aldric and Alaric's uncanny similarity had been the first clue, then Alaric's advances, but what had really tipped her off was the extraordinary skill he possessed in the sexual department as opposed to everything else she'd noticed about him, beyond what even a prostitute could boast: Amyssa realized this when she realized he knew her body better than she did, his hands playing her as though she were his instrument. He had literally been made for this purpose and no other, which left only one explanation: a Tleilaxu sex toy. Not human, but a piece of meat grown inside a tank, a degeneration of humanity that sent a wave of primordial loathing surging through Amyssa.

“Yes,” Alaric confessed, giving her a longing stare, but Amyssa was free of his spell. “Have I offended you?”

She pursed her lips, suppressing a shudder at the memory of his hands on her, and she had no intention of explaining her feelings to this...distortion. He wouldn't understand, and it wasn't even his fault, he was just a...thing. His unholy creators were to blame, and the Imperium actually had the gall to cast judgment upon Ix when it tolerated such blatant perversions of humanity! Ha!

“No. I just...I can't do this.”

With that, Amyssa spun around and began retracing her steps towards the mansion at a quickened pace, her pulse growing steadier with each meter she put between her and the Tleilaxu thing. She now stopped to wonder where Elisha was and how she had fared, and how much of this she'd known, and how shockingly naïve it will make her look in comparison. As though to spite her, memories of the fleeting, yet exquisite pleasure she'd felt in Alaric's arms, and how close she'd been to yielding to him, welled up inside her, and a deep, burrowing yearning returned to taunt her with insinuations of what else could have been. It was made worse by the fact that it summoned a string of even older memories, of awkwardly fumbling hands and the smell of chemicals filling the air and the whole thing ending so inadequately, much too soon.

Before long, the vast construction that was Grimaldi's estate emerged into view, and silhouetted near the steps leading to the entrance was Elisha. As she neared her friend, Amyssa noted how casual and unconcerned she looked, suddenly aware of the way several strands of hair hung loosely over her shoulders, having been loosened from the bun previously holding them into place and the way her dress drooped off one shoulder. She quickly adjusted it, fighting a wave of embarrassment, and instead tried to inject a self-assurance she did not feel into her tone when she spoke, unable to restrain just a hint of sarcasm:

“You told me Grimaldi's parties were interesting affairs, Elisha, but I didn't realize just how interesting.”

[Elisha Montague]

The minutes seemed to pass like hours as Elisha cast her gaze this way and that into the now thoroughly shadowed gardens of the Grimaldi estate, anxiously searching for her friend. She had, if anything, expected Amyssa to conclude her encounter with the Tleilaxu pleasure doll first. Perhaps the Ixian had hidden erotic depths to her character, or perhaps something had gone wrong.

"Out of the way, please! Some of us are trying to enjoy the party here!"

Elisha had almost been elbowed aside by a brassy-looking blonde woman with impossibly red lips, drink in hand, wearing a tight grey catsuit. A second look at the already figure already receding into the darkness and the sight of a gold Corrino insignia on the back of her uniform brought the sudden realisation that she had very nearly collided with Bri Tahnee, personal mentat to the Emperor.

A genuine member of the Emperor's inner circle!

Elisha enjoyed celebrity-spotting and normally would have been fascinated to see such a high-profile courtier at the same party as her, especially one of Tahnee's reputation - although allegedly a certified genius, having just got a close look at her Elisha was inclined to believe the rumours that Emperor Elrood may have selected her as much for her curvaceous figure as for her computational skills. Who else was going to turn up here tonight? Miral Alechem? Elisha shuddered inwardly at the thought. However this was not the time for getting distracted with such trivialities. Right now her friend was missing. Shrinking back against the wall to avoid getting in the way again, Elisha stared desperately down the winding garden path again. Where was Amyssa? Either she was getting such a good seeing to from Alaric that she had lost all track of time, or something bad had happened. Elisha, still not entirely over her previous worries about bringing the shy Ixian there at all, tended to assume the worst. Finally, just when she was considering fetching Liana so they could split up and search the gardens, Amyssa came into view walking up the path. She looked unharmed, although her hair was a bit of a mess. The Ixian must have suddenly become aware of this too, for she hastily readjusted her bun as she approached. Of Alaric there was no sign, although Elisha tried to tell herself that did not necessarily indicate a problem.

“You told me Grimaldi's parties were interesting affairs, Elisha, but I didn't realize just how interesting.”

The tone was all forced confidence, with a heavy dose of sarcasm, and Elisha suspected that even one not trained by the Bene Gesserit to read the delicate nuances of the human voice would have been able to tell that something was not right. Alaric's absense, Amyssa's out of place hair, and a few subtle rumples in her dress which otherwise remained pristine also spoke volumes; something had gone wrong out there, and the Ixian has hastily pulled out of the encounter. Elisha suddenly felt very guilty. She must have pushed her friend too hard, dragged her somewhere where she was not ready to go. She knew that Alaric would not have harmed her, the very last thing the pleasure clones were capable of was forcing themselves on an unwilling partner, but had being suddenly subjected to a man's sexual advances shocked and horrified Amyssa? It was starting to look that way.

"What happened, Amyssa?" she asked, deciding that beating about the bush would not help now, "You look like whatever went on out there was more than just interesting".

She wasn't sure whether to usher Amyssa back inside or not yet. Another drink might settle her nerves and perhaps she wanted to be as far away from the gardens as she could be, but on the other hand if something had gone badly out there she might prefer to talk about it quietly before rejoining the festivities inside.

Suddenly there was a grunt and a burp behind them and Radnor came hurriying past, a girl on his arm at last. Doubtless this was one of Aldric and Alaric's female compatriots; Elisha certainly couldn't imagine anyone but a Tleilaxu slave going willingly with the foul-smelling Harkonnen. In spite of her concern for Amyssa she couldn't help but be curious about just how far these Tleilaxu dolls could be pushed. Could they really be inspired to eroticism even by one such as Radnor? Would they genuinely enjoy getting intimate with him regardless of his lack of decorum and atrocious personal habits, or would it be something more akin to a well-paid prostitute just thinking of the money while servicing even the most revolting client? Except that the pleasure dolls were not getting paid, well not directly anyway. They were hired for the evening but Grimaldi's money would be going into the pockets of the Tleilaxu Master who managed them, not the poor creatures themselves. She imagined the pretty if slightly vacuous looking Tleilaxu girl down on her knees enthusiastically pleasuring Radnor as his ruddy face contorted in ecstasy, and suddenly a little of the enjoyment from her own encounter with Aldric evaporated. Her guilt over pushing Amyssa into such an encounter also intensified.

"Are you sure you're alright?" she asked again, "Was Alaric not to your liking? I'm really sorry if I have dropped you into something where you felt uncomfortable".

Looking worriedly at her friend while waiting for an explanation, Elisha hoped fervently that Amyssa could forgive her for whatever had gone wrong this night. Sara had been dark with her for months after the ill-fated nightclubbing expedition in Williamsport.

Please tell me I haven't just ruined a friendship for a few moments of erotic fun!

[Amyssa Magorian]

Amyssa was seething, her anger threatening to seep through the cracks forming in the mask of forced calm she wore before Elisha, not thanks to any special training but life-long conditioning to a cool and rational state of mind. She'd been set up, that much seemed obvious: both Elisha and Liana had known full well what those Tleilaxu abominations meant by “a stroll through the gardens”, yet all they'd seen fit to hand her were a few vague hints.

Amyssa felt tempted to give them both a piece of her mind, but the very anger she felt was part of what prevented it: she resented herself for deliberately closing her eyes to the suspicions forming deep down in the well of her consciousness, for allowing Alaric's handsome physique and the magical beauty of the gardens to lull her into a false sense of security until it was too late. She should have seen it coming, damnit!

Such were the thoughts swirling about in Amyssa's mind as she neared Elisha, but the worried look on her friend's face helped soothe her temper somewhat; it looked genuine, and no matter what she thought Elisha's role in the whole fiasco had been, the prepared rant refused to come out.

"What happened, Amyssa?" Elisha asked, taking the direct approach "You look like whatever went on out there was more than just interesting".

Amyssa gave her an appraising glance, her thoughts following a similar path: had Elisha done what she couldn't, and gone for a tryst with Alaric's tank-mate? Yes, it looked that way: unlike her, she'd known the true purpose of this liaison from the beginning, and she looked absolutely unfazed by it. Amyssa's gaze turned chilly for a few moments: she knew Elisha was quite... omnivorous, sexually, but with the dirty Tleilaxu? She closed her eyes against the notion: it didn't concern her, what people did in private was their business.

She was about to open her mouth and speak when a series of crude noises interrupted her and she joined Elisha in watching the plump silhouette of Radnor the Harkonnen make its way past them, arm in arm with a young woman. Like her friend, Amyssa's assumptions immediately turned to the pleasure dolls, not only because she couldn't imagine any other desperate enough to go with him, but during the brief glimpse she'd caught of the girl's face, she recognized the same blithe, if vacant expression worn by Alaric. She shuddered; it was hard to imagine a more distasteful pair.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Elisha's voice cut through her musings, "Was Alaric not to your liking? I'm really sorry if I have dropped you into something where you felt uncomfortable".

Torn between the apology and the renewed stirrings of her resentment, Amyssa pursed her lips and crossed her arms, avoiding Elisha's gaze. A tiny bit of her was curious to know how Elisha's encounter with Aldric had gone, giving rise to a brief ripple of trepidation at the memory of that instant of pure lust she'd felt when Alaric had been nothing more than a virile man wanting her...and with that thought, she shuddered once more. It made her feel...contaminated, somehow.

“Uncomfortable?” she began crisply, “You are right, the idea of being serviced like a mare in heat by something out of a Tleilaxu tank does make me uncomfortable!”

Suddenly conscious of her tone, Amyssa stopped, inhaled deeply, before continuing in a more subdued voice:

“I'm sorry....this isn't your fault. The signs were all over the place, I simply didn't look hard enough.”

Then, turning away from Elisha so that she couldn't see the flush spreading across her cheeks, tentatively added:

“I don't have a very good record, where men are concerned.”

[Elisha Montague]

“Uncomfortable?” replied Amyssa dryly, “You are right, the idea of being serviced like a mare in heat by something out of a Tleilaxu tank does make me uncomfortable!”

The words cut through Elisha like a hot knife through butter. She knew something was wrong, had sensed as much before Amyssa had even opened her mouth, but the vitriol in her friend's words came as quite a shock. Many around the Imperium disliked the Bene Tleilax and their works of course but they were mostly religious people making objections of faith, the sanctity of the human body, the perils of meddling in the work of the almighty, and all of that. So far as Elisha knew, Amyssa was not religious; few among the upper classes really were. In fact she might at first glance have expected that an Ixian, trained in the cool-headed logic of the scientific method, would be even more above such superstitious prejudices. Then again, perhaps her scientific knowledge and greater understanding of the techniques that lay behind the creation of the pleasure clones actually made things worse. Elisha had to admit that she had never been overly keen on eating Rossak mudfish after learning exactly how they lived and bred during one of Reverend Mother Anaheim's zoology lectures. Maybe this was something like that, a too much information thing, or maybe Amyssa just had a visceral personal hatred of the Tlelaxu. In any case it was not Elisha's place to judge, and she should not have put her friend into such a position without first passing the idea by her. Amyssa was obviously aware of the way her retort sounded, and paused to draw in a deep breath.

“I'm sorry...." she continued in a calmer tone, "this isn't your fault. The signs were all over the place, I simply didn't look hard enough. I don't have a very good record, where men are concerned.”

She turned away as she spoke the last part, apparently embarrassed about admitting such a thing. Elisha for her part was nonplussed. She had never experienced any problems where men were concerned. Thanks to her Sisterhood education, and what the sexual training mistresses had called her "natural vivacious eroticism", she had always found them easy to handle and easy to control. Whether noble or commoner, soldier or scholar, most were simple creatures at heart, to a large degree in thrall to the organ between their legs, and easily manipulated via the stimulation of said anatomy. It was actually difficult for her to understand how another woman might not know this. What did Amyssa see when she looked into a man's eyes? Some strange and forbidding alien creature? Not everyone was a Bene Gesserit of course, but surely the basic concepts were known to all women, weren't they?

"I... uhh..." she began, as Amyssa turned her features back towards the light emanating from the open door, "I'm sorry. I had no idea. Would you like to talk about it?"

She honestly did not know what kind of help she could offer, so naturally and instinctively did manipulation of the male sex come to her that she doubted she was really suited to offer instruction to another about it. She'd sometimes swapped sex tips with Lilith and Cassandra, was that was what was called for here? Somehow she doubted it, but she had to try, had to let Amyssa know that she was sorry and try to make up for embarrassing her so.

"There you are!" a familiar voice cut in from the door behind her before Amyssa had a chance to reply, "My you have been a long time! That must have been some stroll, yes?"

Framed in the open doorway stood Liana, grinning broadly as broadly as the damaged nerves on the right side of her face would allow and carrying what Elisha thought was a different and larger drink to the one she'd had a little while ago.

"I've been looking everywhere for you!" continued the tall woman breathlessly, "Listen, Balthazar asked me to find you. He says he's about to break out some of the good stuff and that he'd love to be properly introduced to Amyssa. Why don't we go back inside? I'm sure there'll be plenty of time for more strolling later".

Liana even finished her last comment with a conspiratorial wink, completely oblivious to the fact that Amyssa's "stroll" had not gone well at all, and having heard nothing of the Ixian's earlier confession regarding her difficulty with men. Elisha felt completely stuck. It was unlikely that Amyssa would want to open up to her now that their other friend was here too, confessing a weakness one-to-one would be bad enough and sharing it with what amounted to a small audience would be beyond many people, but she could hardly tell Liana to go away. She looked from one friend to the other with slightly nervous eyes, hoping that the Mutelli girl's intervention had not pushed Amyssa back into her earlier feelings of offence.

[Amyssa Magorian]

Amyssa regretted saying those words almost as soon as they left her lips. They touched a deeply personal part of her, something she had not openly discussed with anyone before: not since arriving on Kaitain, and certainly not back on Ix, where even after Tek fell off grid, enough uncomfortable reminders of their ill-fated relationship remained. Amyssa had preferred to avoid, rather than confront the memories.

Admitting it at last had been a relief, for a moment, before it dawned on her that Elisha was perhaps not the ideal person to share her secret with. Not because she didn't trust her, but because of that deep, gnawing feeling that she wouldn't be able to understand, that once again Amyssa would paint herself as the naïve and inexperienced one. She'd done so just moments ago, and before that during their first expedition to one of the bars in the city, when she'd very nearly embarrassed herself by drinking too much Kaitain Red. Since then, she'd joined Elisha on other outings, and therefore knew that men always tended to gravitate around her friend, seemingly without much effort on her part. Amyssa had noted it before but said nothing; it wasn't that she lacked attention, but she was never quite certain how to interpret it, whether someone was simply being polite and making conversation or if there was underlying interest. People differed in their level of openness, after all. Oh, there were enough who made it painfully obvious, when alcohol lowered all inhibitions, but they tended to repel Amyssa ; she wanted something more...substantial than a one-time drunken tryst.

"I... uhh...I'm sorry. I had no idea.” Elisha began, “Would you like to talk about it?"

Amyssa felt tempted; Elisha was at the moment her closest friend, and it would feel so good to finally get the whole sordid affair with Tek off her chest. Something else stopped her, though: how could she explain it? Even for an Ixian born and bred like her, finding out about Tek's...personal enhancements had been a bit of a shock, but it was the woman in Amyssa who hesitated most. A sizeable chunk of her pride and confidence had been shaken the moment Tek admitted he found his mechanical stimulants more pleasing than her, going as far as to suggest she used enhancements he could “interface” with, presumably the only way she could measure up to his machine. It had been unacceptable.

For the better or the worse however, Amyssa was spared from making a decision by the impromptu arrival of Liana Mutelli, who was beaming at them from the doorway:

"There you are!” she called out “My you have been a long time! That must have been some stroll, yes?"

Amyssa, whose lips drew together into a thin, flat line, was glad for the shadows which fell on her face; she was certain Liana hadn't seen it. It did however rouse her out of the contemplative mood she'd slipped into, her reserved nature instinctively covering up any visible traces of vulnerability. Just like that, Amyssa pushed all memories of Tek back into the depths of her consciousness, soon to be followed by the recent mishap with the Tleilaxu pleasure doll. A faint smile adorned her lips as she stepped out into the light, glancing only briefly at Elisha.

"I've been looking everywhere for you!" Liana was saying "Listen, Balthazar asked me to find you. He says he's about to break out some of the good stuff and that he'd love to be properly introduced to Amyssa. Why don't we go back inside? I'm sure there'll be plenty of time for more strolling later".

There was a meaningful wink at the end, while Amyssa pondered this: she'd spoken only formally with Balthazar Grimaldi in Assembly a number of times, and she supposed it would be good form to greet the host. She did however have to wonder what exactly this “good stuff” entailed – she wasn't feeling particularly adventurous, but resolved not to let it hinder her. She'd not accepted this invitation to slink away into the shadows, on her own, while her friends had a good time.

“I'm intrigued”, she answered smoothly, taking a couple of steps towards Liana then stopping to glance back at Elisha “It seems I'm about to share in yet another of Balthazar's...special party favours, how fortunate of me!”

Amyssa smiled for Elisha's benefit, a tell-tale smile not without a hint of irony, meant to show she had recovered from her earlier distress and was ready to leave it behind her. At least, they'd all be together there, with fewer possibilities of...unexpected surprises.

“This good stuff...anything I'd know about?” she added in a tone only slightly more guarded, giving Elisha a bit of a look as she did. She felt certain her Bene Gesserit friend would be able to pick up on it and this time give her a proper forewarning if one was necessary.

[Elisha Montague]

If Amyssa was bothered by Liana's intervention then she hid it well, which was not really surprising considering that all three of them were experienced diplomats. Cracking a small smile she stepped out of the patch of shadow where she had been standing and flashed a brief glance at Elisha.

“I'm intrigued”, she replied, taking a couple of steps forward then glancing back at Elisha again, “It seems I'm about to share in yet another of Balthazar's...special party favours, how fortunate of me!”

Elisha suspected that she might be putting on the enthusiastic tone, surely such an unfortunate incident as had just occurred could not be forgotten quite so easily, but she clearly did not wish to discuss the matter further and Elisha was in no mood to force her. If Balthazar was indeed about to break out some of the "good stuff" - meaning Melange - then this was an ideal opportunity to take Amyssa's mind off things and ensure that the incident with the pleasure dolls did not hang over the rest of the evening like a particularly unappealing Allanor smog. Grimaldi's parties were of course renowned for the quantity of narcotics which circulated, but it was only a limited number of especially fortunate guests who got to sample his high quality Dune-fresh spice. Others would be munching on pills, injecting themselves with various intoxicating substances or even slumped in a corner with Semuta music blaring into their ears but only a few lucky enough to find themselves invited into the Moritani ambassador's inner circle would be getting to taste his pride and joy.

“This good stuff...anything I'd know about?” she continued, her with slightly less joviality injected into her voice.

"Well" replied Elisha, as the three of them began to make their way back inside, "There are always plenty of drugs at these parties, same as any high society gathering really. Pills, regular spice, whatever your pleasure, but Ambassador Grimaldi has a secret stash that he likes to share with a small group of VIPs: unrefined melange, straight from the sands of Arrakis, just how the Fremen enjoy it. And it just so happens that Balthazar owes me a favour or two and I've managed to get our names onto the VIP list".

Elisha chose not to elaborate on exactly what kind of favours Grimaldi owed her. Her knowing smile and the fact that she knew the way perfectly to his private chambers was good enough for Liana, and if it wasn't good enough for Amyssa then she felt that now was not really the best time to bring sex into the conversation again. She wouldn't exactly call herself and Balthazar lovers, they were both dilettantes when it came to romantic entanglements and liked their freedom far too much to ever commit, but nevertheless they did she supposed share a bed on at least a semi-regular basis.

"It really is quite potent stuff" added Liana, "When they talk about the spice expanding consciousness they mean the kind that Balthazar has in his secret stash, not the watered down sort you get in your coffee or cakes and such. There it's reduced to little more than fancy flavouring but this is the genuine article".

Elisha nodded, wondering what Amyssa would make of this. Melange was highly prevalent throughout the upper classes of the Imperium with almost anyone who was anyone mildly addicted to it and consuming it on a daily basis. It was very strong stuff though and the amount you would get in a typical spice coffee was quite small, really just for flavouring as Liana said. Had Amyssa ever tasted pure unrefined melange before? Perhaps they were about to find out. Elisha didn't mind admitting that she liked it, although she was careful to indulge only rarely as she was wary of getting such a taste for it that her eyes changed to the blue-within-blue of a spice addict. It was a silly vanity really she supposed, but she had worn her freedom as a badge of honour since leaving the Bene Gesserit and didn't much fancy advertising herself as being enslaved to any kind of drug. Well she hadn't tasted any pure spice for quite some time now, so here was a chance to enjoy herself and hopefully show Amyssa a good time as well. Rounding the final turn of the corridor they found themselves outside Balathazar Grimaldi's private sanctum, indicated as such by two burly House Moritani security officers standing on either side of the door. Recognising Elisha though the guardsmen waved them through. Inside the dark-haired ambassador was waiting for them along with the rest of the small VIP group. Among the seated and lounging figures Elisha recognised Bri Tahnee the Corrino mentat who had pushed past her earlier. Before she had been quite awe-struck at seeing a genuine member of the Imperial court here, but Tahnee's rude manner had done little to endear her and Elisha now found herself slightly put out that she was on the VIP list. It was to be expected of course, and unfortunately although perhaps not surprisingly Radnor Harkonnen was also present.

"Ladies! Ladies!" gushed Grimaldi as he ushered them inside and indicated for them to be seated on the various couches and soft cushions spread around the room, "I'm so pleased you could make it! Miss Montague you are as radiantly beautiful as ever, and Miss Mutelli you are still... your usual striking self. What a pleasure! A pleasure indeed! And here is the lovely Miss Magorian. Know my lady that I have admired you from afar so many times from across the council chamber, but it truly makes my heart sing to at last be properly introduced to you in person".

Elisha stifled a giggle and Liana rolled her eyes. Grimalidi was ever the dandy and the flirt, and quite over the top with it tonight. She also noted that the young singer who had been draped over his arm earlier in the evening was now nowhere to be seen. Did this mean he had other ideas for company? Only time would tell she supposed, but she had tried to impress upon him at their last meeting that Amyssa was a little shy and not used to attention in quite the way she was. It appeared that he wanted the Ixian to take a seat next to him though, winding a muscular tanned arm around her waist and guiding her towards a large pile of plush cushions, and Elisha stuck carefully to her friend's side while thoughts of concern mixed with a tiny tinge of jealously flickered in her mind.

[Amyssa Magorian]

“When they talk about the spice expanding consciousness they mean the kind that Balthazar has in his secret stash.”

In spite of herself, Amyssa was intrigued. Melange, the geriatric spice, the most common drug in the entire Known Universe, was nonetheless sold at such exorbitant prices, the most an average citizen was likely to come across was the distilled version found in drinks and food. It was also to be noted just how potent it actually was, since it retained its life-extending benefits even in such infinitesimal quantities...as it did its addictive properties. A small case of pure spice was enough to buy a small planet in some corners of the Empire, and the prospect of tasting it held a certain amount of awe for Amyssa. There wouldn't be many other opportunities to do so: could it be true that it actually expanded one's consciousness, as opposed to distorting it in the manner of most drugs? Perhaps she was about to find out.

That Grimaldi planned to share his treasure behind closed doors came as no surprise to Amyssa, but she had to admit being brought in close quarters with individuals such as Bri Tahnee the Emperor's Mentat made her vaguely uneasy. Certainly, she'd seen various members of the Imperial household before in Assembly, but there was a world of difference between the formal setting of the Landsraad and the gaudy chamber spread with cushions and redolent of musk mingling with other unidentifiable smells in which she now stood. A dim haze flitted lazily through the air, the accumulation of smoke rising from the many scented candles which twinkled on various surfaces and stony ledges, and the distant murmur of a baliset resonated like an afterthought. Clearly, the atmosphere had been engineered to soothe and disarm.

Grimaldi himself came too greet them almost as soon as they stepped through the doors, beaming and exuding debonair charm:

"Ladies! Ladies!" he gushed, "I'm so pleased you could make it! Miss Montague you are as radiantly beautiful as ever, and Miss Mutelli you are still... your usual striking self. What a pleasure! A pleasure indeed! And here is the lovely Miss Magorian. Know my lady that I have admired you from afar so many times from across the council chamber, but it truly makes my heart sing to at last be properly introduced to you in person".

He may have seemed the embodiment of a harmless rake, but Amyssa had observed him in council and knew the calculating shrewdness he was capable of. As diplomats, it was their job to say one thing while actually meaning another, and dress the most unappealing of proposals in an attractive wrapping. Negotiations were often veritable battle of wits, where subtexts lurked in every word and one had to be on their guard at all times, weighing every statement against the ever-present question: “what is it they really want?”

The question darted briefly through Amyssa's mind when Grimaldi slipped his arm around her waist to lead her towards the cushion next to his own. Of course, it could be nothing at all: this was a party, after all, and he was the host, but she caught the glimmer of intelligence in the Moritani ambassador's eyes as he gazed at her with all his disarming charm: he was far, far from simple, but the same could be said about her.

“Mr. Grimaldi,” she began with a smile, “the pleasure is mine. And might I congratulate you on a splendid evening? I have heard so much about your gatherings in the past, but I must say in this case reality overshadows myth.”

She let out a brief laugh, confident only Elisha would be able to catch the hidden meaning of her words, but her tone was light and conversational. No sooner than she spoke however, servants made their way into the room through an alcove, each bearing trays stacked with small bowls filled with a gloppy, indigo-tinted substance. A strong cinnamon smell wafted from them.

[Elisha Montague]

Cinnamon, it always tasted of cinnamon and yet it did not. For all her education at the hands of the Sisterhood Elisha had always struggled to explain the taste of melange in any coherent way. Then again she was not alone in this. Learned scientists had written lengthy treatises on the unique properties of the spice melange, philosophers and poets too had all taken their turn to expound upon the nature of it, and yet still it hung over the Imperium like a great but vitally important unknown. Nobody had ever been able to duplicate it in a lab, though rumours abounded of millions of solaris being wasted on such endeavours down the centuries, and despite the best efforts of the Spacing Guild and the Imperial Exploratory Company no other sources besides Arrakis had ever been found. It was not for her to worry that she couldn't accurately define the taste of the stuff, her place right now was merely to enjoy it, and enjoy it she was sure she would as she settled back into her comfortable seat and let the first beginnings of the sensation begin to wash over her.

She knew it came more slowly to her than many, thanks to the special training she had received as a virga at the Mother School all those years ago. Although this training was incomplete, not having reached the point where she could mentally adjust her body chemistry to nullify a drug entirely, she had still been taught over the course of many numbing exercise sessions how to focus her mind and stimulate the body's natural resistive properties. There had been so many classes that she'd lost count, so many times that she'd been required to ingest some mild toxin or other and then hold off its effects while the old Proctor sat there with a chronometer, that it came to her automatically now like a reflex even when she was actually seeking the oblivion that narcotics could provide. It did at least give her a chance to glimpse how the spice was affecting those around her though before finally succumbing herself and she glanced over towards Amyssa, but the Ixian's expression was unreadable. Elsewhere others were already slipping into the trance but as Elisha felt herself following them there were still a few snatches of conversation to be heard.

"The Emperor doesn't want a mentat, he wants something to admire. I swear all the man ever does at those meetings is stare at my chest".

Tahnee's voice, she recognised it from their earlier encounter in the garden, and stifled a snort of laughter. If the woman really hadn't been expecting that when she took up the position then she was naive beyond belief no matter how much advanced mathematics and tactical theory she held in that head of hers.

"Come on, don't do that. Say, Radnor, do you believe in Karma? You really don't want me you know, I have a lot of bad Karma; it's why I'm not allowed to be pretty".

That was Liana, the Mutelli Ambassador's legendary composure slipping as the spice drew out whatever secret pain lay behind her scars. It wasn't the first time, and Elisha felt a surge of sympathy for her friend, a longing to hold and comfort her. The spice had a way of amplifying emotion like that but at the same time it dulled nerves and muscles, and she knew there was no way she would be able to cross the room to act on the impulse. Liana would have to make do with the tender mercies of Radnor Harkonnen who was presumably seated next to her. With a little luck though the melange would render the stocky man incapable of much more than innuendo, and if not then at least it was unlikely poor Liana would recall much of the experience.

Turning her head left and right there was no response from either of her immediate neighbours. On her left Tam Adams the ambassador from House O'Garee was already glassy eyed and dead to the world while the man to her right, some kind of tax official whose name she did not remember, was muttering earnestly into his beard in an conversation that for all its one-sidedness apparently had him riveted. Realising she was going to be taking this trip alone she refocused her thoughts inwards, her sense of the room and those seated around her receding as she did so. It was an unusual sensation for one trained as she was by the Bene Gesserit to pay keen attention to her surroundings at all times. The discipline of situational awareness and the skills of petit perception and simuflow which underpinned it were rooted deep, but gradually a comforting mist descended. Elisha Montague, now entering deep into the spice trance, became the complete focus of her own introspection. The comfort was not to last.

Within moments images and faces, spectres of the past, loomed out of the fog at her and she felt herself drawn towards them no matter how repulsed the memories made her feel. Miral Alechem was there, the drug haze rendering her a grotesque caricature of herself with raven hair writhing like serpents and a wicked smile playing on her lips. As she drifted closer she ever so seductively traced the point of a knife over the flesh of Elisha's arm, mouthing tempting platitudes even as her hideously bloated belly pressed squidgily up against the younger woman's own body. Even in this vision she was still pregnant! Elisha felt the knife cut into her skin and draw blood, the sensation real in every way even though on some level she knew it was all in her mind. She felt the burning lance of pain cut through her, felt the blood begin to run down her forearm, and yet it was not an anguished cry that escaped her lips but a moan of ecstasy. Pain and pleasure, the agony of submission mingled with the erotic thrill of power; in that moment she understood what she had been offered and what she had refused. With a cruel laugh the ghost of Miral vanished, only to be replaced with the stern figure of her father glowering down at her with utter disdain in his eyes.

"Why couldn't you make me proud?" he boomed, the disappointment thundering in his voice like falling like slabs of lead, "Why couldn't you do your duty?"

Elisha instinctively shrank back, but found that she could not move even as she floated in the endless mists of her drug-induced vision. Other family members drifted into view around the Duke, their faces made indistinct by the cloying fog, but she sensed who they were and she felt the weight of their disappointment upon her. Why couldn't she have done what they all wanted? Couldn't she have been more like Isabelle and married well, or like Sara and put her intellect to work for the family business? Why did she have to be such a letdown, bringing only shame and embarrassment with her expulsion from the Bene Gesserit? She opened her mouth to apologise, to explain, but no sound would come out. She was struck dumb just like that awful moment when she first returned from Wallach and found herself in her father's office. The memory washed over her like a tide of bitter water; perhaps there were no words to explain what she had done.

"I just wanted to be free" she blurted out at last but too late as the spectres of her family vanished back into the mist.

She had the strangest sense that time was speeding up now, an imperceptible wind whipping up the mists around her, as a new face appeared. Elisha's own countenance twisted into a snarl at the sight, the leaden guilt of a moment ago giving way to white hot burning rage. Here was Lilith the betrayer, Lilith the traitor. Lilith was the one person who had understood, the one kindred spirit with whom she had shared all her hopes and dreams, and she had dashed them all to pieces after falling victim to Miral's temptations.

"I am prepared to make sacrifices in order to succeed in this Universe"

Anger consumed Elisha and she lashed out at the figure, wanting to take her one time best friend by the throat and tell her exactly what she thought of her sacrifices, but her fists to passed straight through the mental representation of Lilith as easily as through smoke. Damn her! If there was one thing she regretted most bitterly from her final days at the Mother School it was letting Lilith have the last word, and now there was nothing she could do about it. Smirking the daughter of House Piacevole faded back into the haze, forever beyond her reach.

Elisha tried to rally herself, fighting to wrest back control of the visions from whatever unhappy and regretful side of herself had decided to surface tonight. A melange trip was supposed to be a pleasurable experience, not a twisted tour of all the wrong turns she'd made in her life. Had she not ultimately achieved what she set out to do? The disapproving glares of her family and the lost destiny in the Sisterhood aside, was she not now free as she had longed to be? She enjoyed considerable independence as Landsraad Ambassador for her family on Kaitain and there was no shortage of drink, drugs and sex to sate her passions. The tiresome rules of the Proctors and the pointless rituals of family life were behind her now, and yet still she felt incomplete. She had her freedom but what was she doing with it? Getting drunk and drugged up and waking up each morning in a different man's bed; was that all there was to life? She felt suddenly cold. What was she doing questioning the core beliefs and desires which had sustained her for so long?

Seek freedom and become captive of your desires...

Her mind's eye flashed suddenly back to the Emperor's coronation banquet and to Rose Harkonnen, the puffed up pink princess who had instantly rubbed Elisha up the wrong way with her simpering girlish sentimentality. Yet now as she replayed the scene in her mind and watched the way the Baroness looked at the man seated next to her, a realisation began to dawn. She could see it there in their eyes, something that was missing in her life of hard won freedom. It was the sense of being wanted, the feeling of being...

At that moment the fog lifted and Elisha opened her eyes, blinking up into the impassively professional face of one of Balthazar's servants who was bending over her to proffer a glass of water. Awareness slowly returning she struggled to recall what she had just been thinking about, overcome with the sense that it had been something profound and important, but it was already fading into the darkness as clouds swallow the sun. Such was usually the way with the spice trip, at least for Elisha. Musing on the other previous occasions that she had done this though suddenly reminded her of Amyssa whose first time it had been. Scrambling into a more upright position she looked anxiously over in the direction of her friend.

[Amyssa Magorian]

At first, she was unsure whether it had any effect at all.

For the first dozen or so moments since taking the spice capsule, Amyssa felt more or less normal. She sat back against the cushions in a state of enforced calm, carefully measuring her reactions to the drug, but apart from a slight numbness in her limbs, there seemed to be nothing. Amyssa shifted her head to one side to look at Grimaldi, a slight questioning in her eyes he noted despite the haze settling over his brain. Propping himself on one elbow, he turned to her:

“It's different each time, isn't it?” he murmured distantly.

“Actually...it is my first time.”

A vaguely suggestive smirk tugged at the corners of Grimaldi's mouth as he lifted Amyssa's hand to his lips and gave her knuckles the briefest of kisses:

“I'm honoured.”

Then, it happened. One moment she was there, face to face with Balthazar Grimaldi, her hand resting lightly in his own, and the next she was a million miles away on Ix. Except it wasn't the Ix she knew, the caverns and warrens of her youth, but rather the unfamiliar surface with its rolling hills and grassy meadows. She was walking barefoot upon grass, and part of her knew she wasn't truly there; as though from a vast distance she could hear voices, barely distinguishable whispers:

“..doesn't want a mentat...”

“...Radnor, do you believe in Karma?...”

Those snatches of conversation troubled Amyssa for a reason she couldn't place. The vast, open vistas of her surroundings were also vaguely threatening; something about them felt unnatural and wrong, and it wasn't her Ixian aversion towards open spaces. It was something else; something just out of reach, something...

Amyssa experienced a sudden feeling of vertigo. She was standing at the edge of a great chasm, though she didn't remember getting there. Behind her stretched the grassy plain but in front...devastation. Scorched earth beyond the abyss as far as the eye could see, and it hit Amyssa like an invisible hammer to the head. Instinctively, she knew she was responsible for it.

As the trance deepened, images merged, contracted then expanded. Amyssa's eyes misted over and she felt herself be snatched away, a powerful force pulling her inexorably towards it. Fear welled inside her; she was powerless to stop her racing consciousness, like gauze fluttering in the wind, slave to its whims. She was nearing something however, something terrible, something inescapable...

Terror hit her then in full force. She was no longer drifting, but stood in the middle of a ring of people, rows upon rows of shadowy faces with bright eyes like smouldering flames burning holes in her. Their hostility, their hatred, was an almost palpable thing, and Amyssa recoiled from it. She could not move, however; no muscle would obey her, not even to avert her gaze from those terrible faces. Then, slowly but gaining in strength, a chant commenced:

“Thou shalt not make a machine in the likeness of the human mind!”

Over and over they repeated those words until their collective voices blared painfully inside Amyssa's head. She wanted to scream, but no sound would come out of her frozen mouth. She could only stand and stare in abject horror at her merciless judges. They would tear her limb from limb any second now...

It didn't happen however. Within a split second the scene shifted and Amyssa was drifting again, this time floating gently, comfortably almost, in a void of black nothingness. After her harrowing encounter with the faceless mob she was filled with relief until she realized where she was: in outer space, except it was completely empty. There were no stars, no planets, no black holes, just an empty cold mass of subatomic particles that could never come together again, and it was her fault. The machine she'd helped design had become conscious and constructed billions more like it, destroying and devouring everything in their path, until there was nothing left, not even the Universe itself. Except Amyssa, floating in the void, forever, with nothing to do but to ponder the abomination she had unleashed upon the whole of creation. Overwhelmed by horror and misery, she let out a strangled moan, but sound itself had been snuffed out of existence.

Or had it?

"I just wanted to be free"

The words drifted into the void an Amyssa reached desperately in their direction like a drowning man catching one last breath. Then, she felt something unthinkable, a pair of arms wrapping themselves around her shivering frame, to cradle and comfort her.

“I've got you, I've got you...” someone was saying, a voice that was vaguely familiar. Amyssa reached out and clung to this unexpected glimmer of hope, which was growing more and more material with each passing second. Before long she could feel a whole other body pressed against hers, warm, inviting....The darkness was receding, the mist dissipating, and through the haze emerged a set of features: a pale, angular face of a young man Amyssa knew well. Her heart skipped a beat and a wonderful heat invaded her veins as their lips met, tentative at first but increasingly bolder, and she felt a hand climbing up her leg, disappearing over the curve of her inner thigh. Her eyelids fluttered shut and a soft moan eased its way from between her parted lips.

“Hieronymus...” Amyssa whispered and she opened her eyes but the face she was staring at was no longer the same man's. The chocolate brown eyes of Balthazar Grimaldi were mirrored in Amyssa's sapphire blues, his brow furrowing slightly with confusion in the aftermath of his own trance. Amyssa's jaw dropped.

Her senses were regaining their natural dimension and with them came the realization of where she was and what she was doing. She felt Grimaldi's hand make a tactical retreat and she followed suit, scooting back on her own cushion and quickly readjusting her dress. Amyssa gazed blearily around for a few moments, struggling to recollect herself as she fought down a sudden feeling of exposure but at first sight nobody seemed to have noticed the incident. Most still sported a glassy-eyed look, whereas Tam Adams was quietly sipping a glass of wine and tactfully ignoring Radnor Harkonnen and Liana Mutelli locked in a passionate kiss at his left. Normally this would have shocked Amyssa but for some reason it barely made an impression.

Summoning up all the dignity she could muster, she then turned to the half confused, half expectant Grimaldi:

“I apologize for that”, she told him. Part of her wanted to stay and continue what they had been doing but at that very moment she remembered Elisha was there, whom she found looking straight at her. She must have seen! As a consequence, any remnant of lust washed right out of her and she politely excused herself, picking her way across the room to where her friend was sitting. There, she hesitated a moment, and sat down next to her.

“I hope I haven't crossed any boundaries there”, she began ruefully, not quite sure what she was trying to say or why. She knew Elisha and Grimaldi had some sort of liaison but it was quite unlike her friend to commit to any man. “It was so strange though, while in the trance I thought he was... Nevermind.”

Amyssa dismissed the thought with a casual flick of her head, but as her gaze bore down on Elisha, it flickered with renewed intensity:

“What did you see?”

The memory of her own vision was tangled and confusing; as though trying to recall a dream, the harder she tried to keep it from dissipating, the quicker it slipped away. She did, however, remember something that caused a ripple of remembered distress: shadowy faces with unnaturally bright eyes...

[Elisha Montague]

Elisha blinked muzzily, a brief feeling of queasiness overwhelming her as she struggled upright and someone started turning the dimmed glowglobes back on, and looked around for her friend while accepting the glass of water from the servant. Where was Amyssa? Oh yes, she was right over there with Grimaldi's hand up her dress.

Elisha froze, eyes fixed on what she had seen. Amyssa, who only 45 minutes ago had been lamenting her lack of experience with men, was laying back with a dreamy expression on her face while Balthazar Grimaldi leaned into her and manoeuvred his hand a little further in beneath the shimmering folds. Once again she felt that curious mixture of concern and envy, but this time the concern evaporated quickly as it became apparent that Amyssa was enjoying herself and in no way being coerced. The tinge of jealousy though, that remained and gnawed at her.

Just then the Ixian’s eyes flickered open and a second or two later a shocked expression began to spread across her features and Grimaldi withdrew his hand; clearly Amyssa hadn’t seen who she expected to see. Elisha found herself wondering who Balthazar had seen. She saw some words pass between them, but she couldn’t hear what they were. Probably some kind of muttered apology or excuse she guessed, for such was not uncommon at these gatherings. Elisha herself had come out of a spice trance to find herself entwined with some quite unlikely partners before. There was no time to think back to those occasions though, for Amyssa had now risen from her seat and was coming over.

“I hope I haven't crossed any boundaries there”, she began with a slightly uncertain look on her face, “It was so strange though, while in the trance I thought he was... Nevermind.”

Yes, nevermind. It didn’t matter, did it? There weren’t any boundaries to cross, were there? Drug-induced hallucinations were par for the course at Grimaldi’s parties, as were the random couplings which could frequently accompany them. Elisha couldn’t help wondering though.

“What did you see?” asked Amyssa, looking down at her with a sudden intensity.

"Me?” replied Elisha, her train of thought broken, “I don't know because I don't remember a damn thing. Must have taken one capsule too many or something. How about that, eh? I've been looking forward to this all evening and then I end up forgetting the lot. Now you on the other hand, from where I was sitting it looks like you got your dose just right. Maybe Balthazar helped you measure it out, huh?"

She regretted her words almost as soon as they left her lips. She should not have said that. It sounded catty and left the impression that she had some kind of claim on Grimaldi when that absolutely wasn't the case; they both saw other people and were quite open about it.

With one of my best friends though.

That stung Elisha more than she expected, more than it had any business doing. Maybe she was still a little addled from the spice trip; she’d get over it once she had another drink in her hand for sure.

“Anyway” she continued, “How about you? Do you remember much? Sometimes it sticks in your head, or at least bits too, but more often than not it’s like waking up for a very intense dream and try as you might you can’t stop it from slipping away. That just makes you want to try it again though”.

Before Amyssa could respond they were both momentarily distracted by sounds of commotion on the other side of the room.

“Ugh!”

The cry sounded like Liana’s voice, and sure enough there was the statuesque blond doing her very best to overcome the limitations of her high-heeled sandals and run out of the room. Tracing Liana’s path back to where she had been sitting Elisha instantly understood the reason for her discomfort: Radnor, sporting an extremely wide and self-satisfied grin on his face. Oh dear, it looked as though the spice had aided the burly Harkonnen in finally putting the moves on Liana while rendering her unable or perhaps even unwilling to fight him off. To be honest she was surprised this had never happened before, given the number of times they had partaken of the spice together and the way Radnor always seemed to make a beeline for the poor girl. That didn’t stop her feeling bad for her friend though; Elisha had woken up next to some characters in her time but perhaps none quite so revolting as Radnor Harkonnen, at least not that she chose to remember.

She focused her eyes on Radnor, now deep in conversation with their host, and he looked up for a moment meeting her gaze before turning back slightly uncomfortably to his chat with Balthazar. The message in the look was clear: she would make things as unpleasant for him as she could if he upset Liana any more. Fortunately, or so she hoped at least, the rules would prevent Radnor from taking things further outside of the party. Landsraad politics was usually riven with intrigue and blackmail, but while it was very much encouraged to dig dirt on a rival House there was a strict code of honour in place among the Ambassadors regarding their own conduct at social events like this. It went something like "what happens at the party stays at the party", and anyone caught trying to use information gleaned here to their advantage at the Assembly would quickly become persona non grata and find themselves excluded from future gatherings. That hadn’t stopped one or two ruthlessly ambitious Ambassadors in the past calculating that the money they stood to make through blackmail was worth more than their standing among their peers, but Radnor’s love of partying was legendary and she doubted he’d want to risk his place in the social set just so he could bother Liana further.

Many of the other guests were now starting to file out of the room, some looking blissfully happy and others less so, and servants were bustling about clearing away the empty bowls and glasses. The party wasn’t over of course, and there would still be plenty of alcohol and lesser drugs to be had out there in the main part of the mansion, but the melange sampling was finished for this night. Elisha thought she caught a brief glimpse of Bri Tahnee the mentat wearing a frightful scowl and suppressed the urge to giggle; it would serve her right if she’d had a bad trip after being so rude earlier. Radnor pushed past them with a burp, perhaps intent on finding Liana again, although Elisha wouldn’t be surprised if the Mutelli Ambassador had already gone home. Grimaldi was also still hanging around at the back of the room, presumably feeling that as host he should be the last to leave. Returning her full attention to Amyssa she wondered where things would go from here. The brief distraction of Liana fleeing the room had stopped her from answering any questions regarding her own trip, and perhaps the Ixian wouldn’t be interested in telling now she’d witnessed the worst that the spice could do, but Elisha was still curious. Although she wouldn’t admit it, she was curious to see whether Amyssa would mention anything further about her tryst with Balthazar and who she’d been visualising while under the influence.