"Brown Paper Wrapper" is © Ann Stratton and is printed here with permission.BROWN PAPER WRAPPER
a series of scenes in search of a plot "You know, mother," Dis said thoughtfully, upraised brush in one hand and Cuendee's ruddy silk hair in the other, "someone who has the most interesting hair, is Nez."
"Hmmm," Cuendee answered noncommittally. The white cloth draped around her shoulders fairly glowed in the lamplight, casting bright highlights on her face. Above her forehead rose tightly coiled knots of hair, tied with more white rags; the contrast between elegant bones and rag tufts was striking. She wrinkled her nose at the image in the mirror. "Well, it runs in the family, you know. His father was my mother's brother, so the red carries through. As you know." She raised an eyebrow at the mirror.
"Huh," Dis snorted, paused long enough to toss her own braided hair back over her shoulder. "Everybody in this Tower has red hair. Which is why I wear black."
"It becomes you very well, my dear," Cuendee agreed politely. The two elves stared at each other in the mirror for a long moment, then both broke out in giggles.
"But color aside," Cuendee went on, holding up a handful of rag ties so Dis would not have to reach over her to get them, "Nez does have the most interesting hair. It's one of the things we all like best about him."
"I'd love to get my hands in it. But getting him in here isn't easy-- he does his own hair, or his servant does it for him. Fat lot of good it does me." Dis humphed in exaggerated disappointment, tossing her head.
"He's not exactly unapproachable, Dis," Cuendee said wisely, eyebrow raised again. "And you're not that modest, my dear child."
"Ahahaha! Yeah, but it's not like I can just walk right up to him and say, 'Nez, I want your hair!' Even I need to be subtle once in awhile. Besides, I think Father makes him nervous."
"Byern makes Tyaar nervous."
"Father makes everybody nervous." Another long look exchanged in themirror and again both elves broke out laughing. Byern's metal file tongue was well known to one and all, especially his family; he used it most often on those who tried his patience most. Not even the Lord of Tower Mountain, Tyaar, or his lovemate Tascha, was exempt.
"Well, you landed Tanyel easily enough," Cuendee pointed out.
"Yeah, but he felt sorry for me," Dis pointed back. "I'd just mucked out his entire eyrie for him, remember?"
"And I remember how you got out of that."
"Oh, don't remind me! I still have spots everywhere!"
"I had more spots than you ever did, dear child. Tanyel does not, however, spot. And neither did Nez."
Dis's expression grew thoughtful.
"Really?"
"He did tan, though. All over." Cuendee eyed her daughter sideways. "Really."***
When Mikail had said he was going to work Nez's ass off, he had not been speaking metaphorically. Nez did leg exercises, leaps, jumps, and general airs above the ground until he tripped over the pattern in thefloor and fell on his face at the dancemaster's feet. Mikail blinked down at the sprawled musician -- sometimes he forgot that not everybody ran on sheer nervous energy like he did -- then called the servant and had Nez taken down to the baths. There the attendant massaged him unmercifully, sat him in the sauna to recover,then plonked him into a tub of hot water to soak, coming back to checkon him now and then to make sure he hadn't turned into a puddle of grease. Nez only protested perfunctorily; he was very well aware that his footwork had been sloppy lately. He just didn't expect the workout he had gotten, that's all. Now he simmered blissfully, long nose barely above the steaming water, not thinking at all. In a while the attendant would take him out of the tub and wrap him in warm towels so that Nez's own servant could take him home and tuck him in. Nez didn't mind being tucked in at all, especially when he didn't have to do it himself. He propped his heels up on the side of the tub and rested his head onthe edge. It was just too much work to form coherent thought...
Then someone tweaked his toes and exclaimed, "Nez, your hair is filthy!"
Coughing and sputtering, mopping water and hair out of his face, he found young Dis, perched on the ledge at the end of the tub, watching him with bright eyes and interested expression.
She sat on her knees, hands clasped demurely on her lap, wrapped tightly in a brown towel, cheeks, mouth and chest flushed from thebath. A single ruddy strand of hair escaped the towel wrapped around her head and trailed over her shoulder to rest on her cleavage. A fine dusting of brown spots across shoulders and knees marred her otherwise perfect alabaster skin and she looked very fresh, very desirable and very, very young. Nez suddenly felt older than Tyaar while the only part of his anatomy that had not gotten any exercise that day stood up in appreciative salute.
Dis smiled and her expression gained several degrees of pleased speculation. Blushing furiously, Nez sat up and cast about for something to say. "Uh... what are you doing here?" he managed. "Well, I just passing by," Dis said, smile getting wider, "and I saw that your hair was just a mess and I thought I'd offer you my shampoo. It's something Reevirah made up for me and it does wonderful things for your hair." She pulled a troll-carved stone pot from her netbag, unscrewed the lid and set it beside her. Them she took the soapdish from its niche in the wall over the tub and began unwinding the towel from her hair. "Of course, the best shampoo starts at the feet."***
"Well, hello, Uncle Azheri," Dis said, passing the dancer in the hall to the baths. "Mikail caught you too, did he?"
"How ever did you guess?" Azheri lowered himself carefully to a bench and sat with a sigh, resting his head against the wall. He had the transparent look of one pushing his magic to the limits and his whole body drooped with exhaustion. "Mikail has got it into his head that the entire troupe is a bunch of fumblefoots and he's going to work it out of us if it kills us. *ouch* He might yet."
"Oh, poor Uncle!" Dis plopped down beside him. Azheri noticed the impish glint in her eye but bound up in his own aches and pains, he dismissed it. "Nez was telling me all about it. You must be awfully tired and a hot soak would be just the thing. Let me call the attendant for you." Gratefully, Azheri allowed the servant to help him into the main bath and give a powerful massage, sit him in the steam room to loosen up,then park him in a tub of hot water. Dis had disappeared during this process; now, as Azheri simmered in his tub, too exhausted to think, she reappeared. Dressed in a bath attendant's absorbent drape and straw sandals, her hair bound up once again in a towel and net bag of toiletries in her hand, she bounced into Azheri's tub cubby and perched on the ledge.
"How are you doing, Uncle?" she chirped. Startled out of his daze, Azheri jumped, then cracked his eyelids to glower at her.
"I was," he said, annoyed, "resting."
"Oh, you just sit back and keep on resting. Don't worry about me! I'm just here to wash your hair. It's filthy, you know!" Busily, Dis unloaded her net bag, opening up the stone pot and setting itaside. Then she unwound the towel from her hair and unhooked the bathbrush from the rack. "And to make sure your hair is properly clean, we have to start with your feet."***
"Tea?" Cuendee asked, pot poised.
"Yes, please," Dis said, holding out her cup. "Honey?" "Thank you." Cuendee stirred a bit of honey into her own cup, tasted it cautiously. She took a small biscuit from the plate and split it, smearing the halves with butter and honey. Dis did the same.
"You're looking very... nice today," Cuendee said, nodding at her daughter's lowcut blouse and tight pants. Dis glanced down and grinned.
"I was working with Cort earlier. I like to see if I can make him sweat," she said confidentially.
"If you want to make someone sweat, you should... talk to Nalkor or Hanlir," Cuendee suggested. Dis looked speculative. Cuendee sipped her tea. "By the way, I heard you and Nez shared a bath. And Azheri."
"Not all at once, Mother. Nez and I shared a bath, then I shared a bath with Azheri, actually."
Cuendee smiled into her cup. "I stand corrected."
"Sit, you mean." Dis and Cuendee looked at each other for a long moment, then broke out laughing. Dis wiped her eyes, then whipped out her hand mirror and made sure her mascara was still in place. Putting it away, she went on, "Nez has wonderful hair. And so does Uncle Azheri."
"Uncle Azheri?"
"He is Father's brother."
"So he is." Cuendee buttered another biscuit and bit into it thoughtfully. "hmmm...I hadn't thought of it, but now that I do, he does. I don't recall that he ever tanned, though."
"I didn't find any tan, or spots. But he blushes wonderfully. You should see him! And it's so easy to make him blush too! Hahaha!"
"I hadn't noticed that either, but then I don't usually bathe with him. But what about Felimath?"
"Oh, Felimath can wash her own hair," Dis replied airily, waving her hand. "It was a spur of the moment thing. It won't happen again...unless his hair needs washing again. Hello, Father!"
"Hello, Dis, Cuendee," Byern answered, kissing his daughter's cheek and his mate's lips as he sat down. Dis set a cup in front of him and poured tea as Cuendee passed the plate of biscuits. "I apologise for being late. I met Azheri and Felimath and stopped to talk with them about Felimath's production next Moonpass. You remember, I'm working with Hanlir on the props."
"Yes," said Cuendee. Dis studiously buttered a biscuit and took abite. Neither she-elf looked at the other. "Where did you say you met them?"
"Mmm...at the baths," Byern said, taking a sip of tea. "I believe they were going in for a shampoo."
"Phwahahahaha!" Dis burst out, spraying crumbs across the table. Cuendee had nothing in her mouth or hands; she clapped her hands to hermouth, shouting with her own laughter, rocking back in her chair. Byern stared at them, confused.
"What did I say? What's so funny about a shampoo?" he demanded. His question brought on a fresh spasm of laughter and Dis fell off her chair, landing on the floor with a thump, laughing helplessly. This set Cuendee off again and their laughter rang all up and down the Great Hall, while Byern sighed and drank his tea.End
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