Thursday, April 28, 2011
The Scentificer of Noss: Part One
“The violet moon is called Shekale, which is a botheid word that the guides will tell you means ‘Lady of scents,’ but really it translates as ‘stinking woman.’ The pink and orange moon is called Ferezzi, the primary botheid word for amber, though they have close to a thousand words to describe every variation, grade and type of the stuff. The system of satellites in geosynchronous orbit are referred to as being 'Chimessa's String of Pearls'. Apparently the only thing these people like more than perfume or amber are pearls, all three of which they have in extreme abundance.”
“So why are we here? You don’t much care for perfume, incense or jewelry.” Nita didn't trust Urslingen's newfound appreciation of the finer points of Nossian culture.
“That’s simple. Noss is a world of elegance and refinement. A veritable shining nexus of culture and art. To be banned from this world is the height of social disgrace and poor form. It’s just the place to start a fight with aristocrats, nobles and other muckety-mucks who’ll be too worried about insulting the botheid to defend their precious honor which means we get to have some fun at their expense.” He made a dramatic show of inhaling a huge lungful of the wonderful early morning air of Noss. His overly well rehearsed sigh as he exhaled nearly made Nita cross-eyed with just how ridiculous he looked. Then it smacked her right between the frontal lobes. She knew why the old man had dragged them to this overly elegant world of snobbery and petty nobility. And amber. More amber than any other Known World.
“You came here to pick a fight?” Nita set down her mug of warm morning beer. It took her a few seconds to regain her composure. Beer had almost come spraying out of her nose. Again. She harbored the suspicion that the old bastard did it on purpose. It would be just like him.
“Do you know of a better way to find a suitable employer for a broken down old warhorse like me?” Urslingen turned away from the wide balcony and smiled that mischievous leer of his. The one that always led them into serious trouble.
“Other than the twenty seven options I outlined for you in my last report, no.” Nita fumed and reconsidered switching over to coffee like her mentor. It tended to hurt less coming through one's nasal passages.
“See; you’re out of options too. Come on; it’ll be fun.”