For perhaps the first time in his life, Xiatoktok didn’t know what to wear. Each of his many, many, luxurious and brilliant robes was chosen to communicate something specific. Exactly none fit this situation. It was… sort of a job interview, except neither of them were actually applying for a job with the other. It was a first meeting, but horribly, also not their first meeting.
He didn’t know what to do. He would ask ’Te or ’Mia, but ’Te wasn’t here and ’Mia was even more useless than he was. Eventually he settled on his simplest robe. It was a brilliant pale cream, with tiny gold stitches along the edges of the robe and around the cuffs. He then ordered the servants to coordinate a room with his robe.
The house was not large at three thousand square feet, (ninety six square smoots, for the old fashioned,) but that was considered enormous by the limited standards of Cold Garden. It reeked of wealth. There wasn’t an oil lamp or rushlight in the whole house. Only light cores. Tuned light cores, colors chosen to best suit the rooms they were placed in.
Low, comfortable chairs were brought in, and put around a small table. Pictures of cranes and dragons and other auspicious animals were hung and carefully lit for best effect. ’Tok dithered over placing a few potted plants in strategic locations, trying to balance them with exquisitely carved little statues and figurines… then froze. He was decorating the room as though he was going to have an intimate meeting with a fellow Xia. Even another of the Great Clans would be able to read the room… somewhat.
Gentian couldn’t read the room. That was the whole point. She wasn’t Xia. For all of ’Ja’s “training,” there is simply no way she learned the unterspracht, the metacommentary on the conversation told through subtle glances, gestures, and the decoration of the conversation space. It was a layer of conversation that was only possible through shared context. A spider is a hero or a monster, depending on who you ask.
Drinks were another problem. Between Clansfolk, and certainly when entertaining visitors from a different Great Clan, strange and terrible liquors spiked with stranger, more terrible, narcotics were preferred. It was a game, trying to make the best tasting drinks that were capable of bypassing the toxin resistance of the guest or host. Picking the chemical locks on their kidneys and livers. However, such drinks were inevitably fatal for the clanless. And it would be poor form to get Gentian drunk while he remained sober. Tea? Tea. White tea. No incense or perfume in the room, let the tea do the heavy aromatic lifting.
He really, really did not want to do this. He was deflecting, hard. But it had to be done. Apparently. No, it did have to be done. ’Ja was right. Now of all times, they needed public support. They had done a great job slandering ’Lu. Time to change his own narrative. He wasn’t a sexually depraved miser. He was just waiting for the right moment to display his masterful ability to train a concubine. Yes, there we go. A nice, scheming reason to take another person into your family and pour your time and attention into her and suffer your wife to do the same. Definitely why he wasn’t storming out to find ’Ja and demand that this whole thing be called off.
There was a gentle knock at the door. He could hear the servant welcoming a guest and directing them to the room. ’Tok realized that he didn’t know how to position himself in the room. Signals, what signals should he send! And would this blind, deaf, mute creature understand him even if he chose well?
Gentian walked calmly into the room. ’Ja said she had trained her- did she really understand the flensing gaze of a senior Xia? That every aspect of her appearance, from the hem of her dress to the shape of her bones, was observed, cataloged and judged.
Symmetrical features. No gross abnormalities of the physiognomy. Skull shape… outstanding. Just… perfect. ’Ja either modified an already excellent base or she really did spend six months finding the perfect concubine. The curve of the skin stretched over the zygomatic arch as it swept up to the sphenoid bone pulled his eyes along with it. The fiery red of her hair was carefully cut and shaped to highlight all her finest features, and it absolutely worked.
Her dress was the green of pale moss, transforming her into an enchanted glen for him to while away a century. He didn’t want to notice. It felt wrong to notice. The way it traced her graceful lines. She fit his strictest definition of beauty. Oh ’Ja. Oh, what the hell are you doing?
It took him almost three seconds to realize that she really did look like a prettier, not-Xia version of Xiawo. It was almost uncanny. Her eyes were serene. Her breathing was steady- too steady. She had to be half hypnotized or in a light meditation. It wasn’t a bad way to keep your cool. A little shorter than him, though not much. He wasn’t an overly tall man, which made them both average height, he supposed.
Gentian smiled softly. The shape of her mouth suggested no missing teeth. Which was promising.
“Should I call you President?” He remembered the voice, at least. Yes, this was one of his duty secretaries. Was he really so blind to his staff that he missed… all this? Apparently so.
“Under the circumstances, Xiatoktok would be fine. And I suppose it would be better if I called “Gentian,” rather than “Duty.””
Gentian made a clearly subconscious shift when she heard him say “Duty,” then her smile got a little wider.
“Do you know how keyed your secretarial pool is to that word now? I only worked in the pool for a week or so, and I think I would start moving in my sleep if you yelled “Duty!””
Tok made a crooked smile himself. “Glad to know my efforts haven’t been in vain.”
“May I ask you a question?”
“Oh, we are going to be doing a lot of that this evening. Go right ahead.”
She deliberately stepped into his personal space and looked him directly in the eyes.
“Isn’t TokTok a silly name?”
His lust and fascination flashed into a blind fury. His hand was rising without him thinking- waist high and steel hard before he consciously noticed that he was about to slap this presumptuous animal’s teeth clean out her mouth. It reached the bottom of his ribs before he realized that he had stopped breathing, that his vision was fixating, that adrenaline was exploding his muscles.
It was the disciple of a lifetime that let him command his mind to sink into the Frozen World. It only took a trickle of time, his time! to bring the world to a halt around him. He could only hold it for a second or two, but that was long enough. She came here of her free will. She dressed up, no she was dressed up by ’Ja, carefully sculpted to appeal to him. So why…
’Tok let his hand fall back to his side. “I am sure that wasn’t exactly what ’Ja told you to ask me.”
“I thought hers was too rude. Sorry. I know it’s a thing, but… she said that either I would be leaving immediately and she would cover the medical bills, or I would be entering your family and everything else was getting to know each other.” Gentian bowed her head. She sounded truly apologetic. She hid her fear pretty well.
“Let’s sit. Just so you know, I had a different given name when I was born.”
“Really? So how did you become Xiatoktok?”
“The Great Clans all follow the same naming structure- Clan, generation, given name. Quite common, really. Even some of the fallen Clans do it, or those with aspirations. A given name comes one of three ways. The Clan House decides the generation name every decade or so, and Personnel pulls the given name out of the big jar of names.” He held up one finger.
“It feels… cold. I would like to name my children, I think.”
“Oh, you can. We did.”
“Really? But how does that work with the naming convention?”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Xiatoktok smiled ironically.
“We are Xia. You pay cash to pick the name you want from the list of approved names that haven’t been taken yet.” He held up a second finger.
“Yes, silly question now that I think about it.”
“Or you can be awarded a name, under very rare circumstances. In my case, I was first in each of my classes every year, for my final four years of schooling. Xiatoktok is an honor name, recognizing me as a leader of my generation.”
Gentian smiled delightedly. “A hard worker even then!”
“I really was. It took an awful lot of work to rig those results.”
She laughed. He didn’t.
“No.”
“Oh yes. We are the Xia. Why do you think I got the generation name?”
“They rewarded you for cheating?”
“Oh, they would have caned my ass clean off if it was just cheating. Blackmail, bribery, some selective cases of food poisoning, some rather more selective assignations arranged. Making things happen for the right people. I think it was taking functional control of a third of the faculty that put me over the top. I made some very ordinary Xia a lot of money in those years.”
Gentian just shook her head.
“Well, that does match up with what I saw in the Bank.”
“So, answer me this- why do you want to join my family? There are safer homes. A wasp nest that is also on fire, for example.”
She laughed, warmly and honestly.
“Because you fascinate me. You all do. You are so…” She waved dainty fingers, trying to grasp the right words. “So constantly hungry. A Clan of predators. But did you know that predators are actually a lot less dangerous to humans than herbivores?”
“I don’t follow?”
“A predator always weighs the risk and the reward. How much danger of injury is there if they attack. A wound may be fatal in the long run. A herbivore just attacks, because if they don’t put you down, you will probably kill them. The Xia rarely attack their own. They constantly move and position themselves against each other, trying to ensure that if they did decide to attack, their victory would be instant and total. Constant scheming, constant drama. All wrapped in immense luxury, power and decadence. It. Is. Fascinating. And it turns out I have a real thing for opulence. Who knew?”
Xiatoktok just stared at her a moment then closed his eyes. “Strictly speaking, you are right.”
“I do work for the bank. And ’Ja-”
His eyes snapped open.
“I realize that you have known her for several months now, but kindly do not refer to my wife that way.” The temperature of the room dropped sharply. He drew a deep breath and composed himself.
“Sorry. No, actually I’m not sorry. Not at all.” He cut his hand through the air. “Let’s get some tea in. I want to make sure we both understand what Xiatokja… and the collective moral outrage of the entire damn Clan House… is driving us into.”
He rang the bell. They waited quietly while tea and light snacks were served. Gentian’s eyes widened when she tasted the tea. It really was good stuff. ’Tok took a long draw on his cup before he started up again.
“A house of predators. You aren’t wrong there. So what happens to people who look sick or weak?”
“Eaten alive.”
“Presentation. Maintaining status. The outward forms of power. Control of yourself, your identity, control of others and their identity. These are key indicators that you are not weak. Permitting informality, particularly such an intimate form of informality like referring to someone by their given name, can only be tolerated amongst the closest friends or family. And not always then. It is a huge expression of trust. That no respect will be lost. That you are safe with each other.”
Gentian mulled it over. “Xiatokja put it a little differently. She said that the full name was proper, and using a contraction would be offensive.”
“I take these matters a little more seriously than she does. I have to. Xiatokja deals mostly with those not of the main line, or outside the Clan. I, on the other hand, have the eyes of the senior generations on me all the time.”
“I can see that makes a difference.”
“Which is actually a good segue. What do you think a concubinage is, exactly? Specifically a Call to the Blood Concubinage?”
Gentian frowned, her eyes focusing on the cup. He remembered Xiawo making that expression almost sixty years ago.
“I will join your family. In a subordinate role, but still a part of it. We will support one another. Love… one another. I will bear your children, and my successes will be measured as the family’s successes. Balanced against that, my failings will likewise be the family’s failings. You and Xiatokja will keep me very nearly as well as you keep yourselves. Which is to say in almost incomprehensible luxury. And you will… transform me. Make me Xia. Although Xiatokja was a little vague on how that worked.”
They had both felt a little twinge at the word “love.” There were people who loved their concubines. There were people who were loved by their concubines. They were not the majority.
“The Call to the Blood is the most formal of the various sorts of concubinage. Which range from functionally slavery to… well… this. It’s almost a hybrid of an adoption and a marriage. Xiatokja is really going all out on this.” ’Tok didn’t want to get into his own hang ups. He was sure ’Ja would have already discussed them.
“A Clan is a lot of things, but it comes down to two core things. The things that make us more than just an old family. The first is genetic. We have been massively greensmithed. In the case of the Xia, we age more slowly, are very resistant to poisons, and a few other, stranger things. The genetic code is unnaturally stable, and passes from generation to generation with little mutation. The reason we put so much importance on whether someone is of the main line or not is that, after three generations of new blood integrating with existing stock, you likely have all the key portions of that genetic legacy.”
“So why marry out at all? Or take concubines?”
“Because inbreeding is a thing.”
“Well. Right. But couldn’t you greensmith that out?”
“Xiatokja would know better than me, but apparently not.” No bets on whether the Bo could. “I don’t understand enough of the science. What I do know is that we need to keep fresh blood coming in. Now, marriage within a generation is a good thing, it improves Clan cohesion. So how do we get in that fresh blood?”
“Concubines. Male and female.” She had a stunning smile. He almost forgot what he was trying to say.
“Exactly.” ’Tok smiled slightly in reply.
“How do things work with male concubines?”
“Exactly the same way, if the wife is pre-menopausal. Or if she isn’t, or there is no one with a fertile womb in the family, you hire surrogates. Generally in the second or third generation from the main line. That is what my friend Xiatokmia does.”
“I had heard rumors.”
“A total disinterest in sex, to the point of finding it slightly revolting. She hires surrogates, with immense care and at great cost, to fulfill her obligation to the Clan.”
“And what exactly are those obligations?” Gentian smiled. She seemed to enjoy the gossip.
“You bring in the best the rest of the world has to offer and then you give them the other bit that makes a Great Clan.”
“Oh? Do tell!”
“The cultural legacy. We can’t change your body to be Xia, but we can train your mind.”
Gentian took another sip of the tea.
“Not to diminish a multi-epoch legacy, but it does seem like an awful lot of fuss to send someone to school.”
Gentian looked a little lost, but curious. Her eyes crinkled a little bit at the corners. It made him want to tell her things. Everything. Oh gods. ’Ja, what did you do?
“It’s not the education. It’s the time.”
“Time? I know you all have internal clocks, but…”
“No, time. Imagine time was… bricks. When we are born, we have no bricks. Every moment, we get a new brick. We make our own bricks, and people give us bricks when they invest their time and attention in us. We give away our bricks when we give people our time and attention. Bricks aren’t just nice to have, you build stuff with them. A life, for example. The better you understand the Xia legacy, the more things you can build with those bricks. A lot more than just a life. Things that most people don’t know exist at all.”
He took a deep breath. “So, for a Xia, giving your bricks to someone else is… significant. We weaken ourselves for others. Done correctly, it’s an investment with unlimited returns. Our own bricks will accumulate faster, and we add to the total brick stockpile of the clan. To say nothing of the extra bricklayers. But it’s often done wrong. You lose your bricks. The Clan will be fine, might even make a profit. But you are out your bricks, and there is no getting them back. Someone has already used them to build something.”
“Time is… something tangible to you?” Gentian leaned forward, eyes going wide. ’Tok smiled and leaned back in his chair. Then he leaned in towards her. He picked up the antique tea cup and pressed it into Gentian’s soft hands. He let his hands wrap around hers.
“You can feel it too.” He let a trickle of his time run through them both and into the cup. Let the cup resonate with that time, let its thousands of years weigh down on their hands. Gentian gasped.
“What was that?”
“That, Gentian, was your first brick.”
She was young, beautiful, and interested. She flattered his vanity, and she reminded him vividly of his first crush. He gave up. He would hate every second of this later, when she wasn’t around, but… ’Ja had him beat. Gentian had him beat. Time to declare victory and retreat.
“Are you really sure you want this? Our lives are far from safe. We might be fascinating to watch from the outside, but it will be a lot more stressful on the inside. Are you really, truly sure you want this?” ’Tok poured his words out like warm honey.
“More than anything.”
‘Tok smiled. He was going to take this out of ’Ja’s hide. But they would both be grinning the whole time.