Getting By

There is an adage that says that youth is wasted on the young, although to watch my son, you would never believe it. Besides his capacity to wind people around his finger, an inherited trait he didn't get from me, he seems intent on fitting all of life's possibilities into a few short years. Not quite two, but he's wise beyond this, and he races about soaking up every detail he can/ What is more, he is consistently creating new past times for of us, and I sometimes have trouble keeping up. I am glad of it, however, and I wouldn't change it for the world.

Still, he finally asked me the question I have been dreading all along. It caught me off guard nonetheless, coming as it did on the heels of our trip to Cos, and enjoying the tea house behind Stylus as we were. He'd come to me with grime on hands, and when I sat wiping it off, the query came. "C'sta and Sage have a mommy. Sean and Billy have a mommy. The twins [Nathan and Marlo's] have a mommy. Why don't I have a mommy?" Despite my going over this in brain for quite some time, I was yet at a loss for words for several ihn together. Eventually, I told him that he did have a mother, but that she had to leave us, and I didn't know what happened to her. He was silent, and I admit I held my breath, but he accepted the explanation. How long that will last, I have no way of knowing.

When I emerged from the tunnels this time, life had gone on without me. I am used to it by now, and whereas usually it is a measure of some pleasure in the thought, it just bothered me this round. I'd had a few plans laid when those of the club pulled me away to tend to monetary matters, and now things have taken a turn that renders those plans pointless. Flesh of interest is now owned by another establishment, and because of this I went about thinking on what to do about hands being in the shop. It was then that the redhead showed back up, and after she begged me in the library for something that wasn't entirely comprehensible, I paid the city for her. Known as Ann, I call her Shop Slave more often than not. This is not one of those purchases due to some consuming wish or need to possess, but entirely a business arrangement. I use her, I mark her, and she will remain as long as she is pleasing. There is nothing more really to say about it.

I suppose you could say, I am getting by.

The Club

I've been down in the tunnels again, though this time not merely to get away from humanity. It's Winter Break from classes, so I've had the opportunity to begin work on the club meant for Ar's more elite male patrons. There is direct route from the back of Bound Knowledge, but this will be one of those invitation only establishments, unlike the book shop. The work has reached a point, however, where only the Builders and their crew can really do anything below. That being the case, I went home determined to replot and plan for another trip to the ruins. Julian had other plans.

My son was most emphatic that he had to see his Aunts Th'rise and Lilah, not to mention the hoards of children that live in the Ubar's home. I still haven't figured out exactly how many children Lucien and Therise have between them. Then there are also Nathan and Marlo's progeny to think about, not to mention the possibility that perhaps Lilah might be expecting an arrival now that she has been companioned for an extended period.

We arrived in Temos last night, but it was very late, so we holed up at the White Larl instead of going on to the manor. I ran across Arlene, Therise's younger sister, who I only know slightly. She asked me about Julian, and I told her a few details, including how I chose his name. I asked her if she had ideas for the names of her own children, since she is after all companioned to Niros, the Deputy Administrator of Ar. She seemed, if not caught off guard by the question, hesitant in a way about her reply. It was most strange.

I'll have to ask Therise about it, and apparently some bit of news that Arlene said Hithy would likely have for me. She wouldn't divulge whatever it was, and since the ahn was in fact early by the time we parted ways, I took to my room in order to sleep.

Undiagnosed Conditions

Since taking the shot that enabled me to finally heal like everyone else, and get around without the limp that plagued me almost my entire life, I've been getting around. Not in that sense that some might take that to me, but there is that as well.

I planned another trip to the ruins, and had taken Portia with me. The very next day I received news that one of the school professors had unexpectedly met his end, after a tavern fight involving a Physician, a bowl of kalda, and a tarsk. I didn't want to know more than that, and managed to stay ignorant on most of the details, save that the fellow had to be buried with the tarsk's head still attached to his anatomy. I won't even bother to write where it was attached. I still plan to go back to the ruins though, and still intent on dragging Portia along with me. She has skills in plant knowledge and how to trap things, fascinating hair, and an even greater ass.

I'd gone to Cos for awhile once the school issue blew over, because the slave was needed in the city pens again, and I had promised a few friends I would not go alone. Not to mention I wanted to see my son. He will be having his first birthday at the end of the next turning, and has come along way. I worry about him, however, because as much as I care for him...I'm only one person. Yes, he has "aunts" and uncles, but they're not a mother. Even Madaline, mother that she was, was better than none. What will happen to my son without a consistent, feminine figure of free status in his life? I don't want to take another companion, Kings know it, but I am concerned with this issue.

I took the Builder's slave with me to Cos, Mare. She is very good with my son, and except for one instance of friction with someone else, we had a good time. She made friends with Therise's daughter, Casta, and the child drew Mare a picture that was very careful with when we returned to the suite where I was staying. I washed her hair one evening, and kissed her, but respected the Builder's wishes regarding no one else using her. Since our return, his ownership of her has ended, and I have yet to see him again. I suppose the ahns he keeps are erratic and/or the work schedule of a Builder is grueling.

On a positive note, Madeline's behavior has improved. I'm not sure why, but I suppose it might have something to do with Skirt's influence. I was in the shop alone last night when the blonde came in, and I directed her to take my cloak because she was cold. The Winter is going to be a brutal one this year I think, but I was warm enough indoors. Evidently, Skirt was missing physical contact with her owner, and Madeline made a few suggestions about how to renew his interest in his prooperty.

The conversation included myself, Skirt, Portia, and Madeline. By the end of it, I had the feeling I was missing some important detail. They had discussed the auction block, and how Mads will be upon it soon. Portia talked about the doddering man she had been serving these two hands. As a group, they talked of how hard it is to keep a man's interest. Honestly, I was baffled. I got the impression they'd believed I'd lost my mind, because I asked if it really is that hard to keep a man interested in them. Each beautiful, in her own way, spirited, intelligent, and did I mention beautiful?

I'm jaded I suppose, because no matter how I have acted -kind or otherwise- my female companions ultimately seem to drift into boredom or apathy. Always, looking for the next new thing, the grass being greener or something like it. This is no doubt the chief reason I have been back to my solitary existence, borrowing and renting as necessary to fill absolute needs for myself and Julian. At some point, however, I suppose I will have to try again for something else. No man is an island, after all. Even me.

Criticism

I'm not a particularly nice or giving person. I've never claimed to be. In point of fact, I have gone out of my way in the past to tell people I wasn't, only to have them assert that I am. It always puzzles me when suddenly they realize I was telling the truth, and they're surprised by it. I do lie about business matters from time to time, but rarely about personal issues. This is likely because it takes me so long to warm up to a person in order to have any real conversation, that I feel it's beneath me to lie once I've reached that stage.

So, on those rare occasions when I try to do the helpful thing, and then it gets walked all over, it's basically where I shut down. When the words I have chosen with care, become twisted and seen the wrong way due to the other person's own biases, and it keeps happening over and over again with that same person, I'm done.

Yes, I am judgmental. And yes, I am critical. No less so toward myself, however, so I don't understand why others feel they should avoid the same fate. When this being done occurs, I may still interact with the person, but I don't invest much time in trying to see them. I've already wasted enough I think, and my days are short enough as it is.

Treasure

The Ubar's Chalice of Port Kar

On a small note tucked inside the goblet
This was written in Jamir's own handwriting:

Before the Battle of the Twenty-fifth of Se' Kara
When Port Kar had twelve Ubars instead of many captains,
I met a small Ubar named Sevius
He was of the Scribes
He had a penchant for poison and for other people's companions
This was his lucky goblet

Bound Knowledge

My shop is open. There has been a steady stream of customers since I unlocked the doors this evening, as most of my work here has to be done after I leave the school, and I haven't had time to check on the library for several days now. I chose this district because I knew the theatre patrons were of creative personality, or willing absorb that which was out of the ordinary, and would therefore be inclined to embrace such an establishment.

I've made some negotiations, and managed to get a slave work force for some of the unloading of crates and so forth. Unfortunately, the slave I know as Skirt has been possibly kidnapped by a man from the other planet, and it seems I was the last one to see her. Zeb, her owner, has been reticent, but I can tell he is worried about her. As for the others, Mads and Portia have each put in a visit(s), to the shop. A slave I had not known prior crossed my path, and decided she has feelings for me. We are on short association, and while I suppose it should flatter me, I register more concern than anything else. It doesn't seem like a healthy thing to fall for someone so quickly. Her Master wanted to know if I was interested in her for purchase, but she is not yet fully trained, and cannot read or write. There was a time I might have been willing to handle these aspects myself, but those days are past. They will not come again since I devote myself to raising my son.

The usual suspects are visiting Ar in preparation for our pending trip to Corcyrus, where I hope to locate some antique volumes surrounding important battles in the region. I've been packed for a hand now, except for the things one cannot put in a wagon until the last moment. Sekret sent Julian a cloak of blue, and he wears it on all his outings, as he will wear it on the journey. She and Therise have offered more than once to take care of him, and despite Nonny coming along on the trip, I will no doubt have to accept.

Passing Swiftly

I think there is no better way to lose track of time, than to become a parent. It seems like only yesterday that my natal date was celebrated, and my son also brought into this world. He was small, and perfect, if encumbered with the same crop of wild black curls his mother and I have worn all our lives.

Almost four turnings have come and gone since that event, and we returned from Cos so that I might catch up with my work here in Ar. A nanny was hired to help out, two slaves rented from the city kennels, but there is still much to be done. We learned early on that he possessed an uncanny ability to communicate that implied he understood what we said far sooner than he should have been able to do. Still, his grandfather was Zamalan, the brilliant madman. So, we cannot really be surprised by it. We spend ahns at night in what I call conversation, and he is my greatest joy in life.

The school fares well, and I have been putting plans into effect to open a bookshop that specializes in texts of a more scandalous variety. There will be alcoves in the back for the inspired readers. I thought it a better idea for a Scribe to have such a thing, particularly since I don't drink paga, and the dens are common enough here in Ar.