Wine of Companionship; Wine of Intrigue

I took a free companion once. It was a fairly straightforward affair. The woman was given two choices; accept my offer of companionship or decline it. She was, for the most part, acceptable as a free companion. I taught her the basics of accrual accounting, instructing her in the intricacies of updating ledgers and provided her with a working knowledge of the arithmetic involved, calculations and the like. I charged her with such menial tasks as managing one of my business acquisitions, a brothel in the Anbar District. She was responsible for its upkeep and, too, renovations on the property when it pleased me to make them. On occasion, her discipline left something to be desired so I beat her. While she was legally a free woman, much of the time she was contractually bound to me, she was also bound as a slave. I was not a very accomodating free companion to her. In my opinion, however, while she was bound to me, I was a responsible owner and a demanding master.

I think of her from time to time.

Last evening, I escorted the Lady Tia of the Bakers to a ceremony. A Scribe and a Physician drank the wine of free companionship. I wondered, briefly, if the Lady Emilee suffered the ignominy of slave wine when she sealed her agreement with Dylan of the Physicians. I found this a pragmatic solution when I took a free companion. One should be able to take liberties with one's property, free or slave, without unforeseen consequences after all. As the Lady Emilee did not choke nor sputter when she sipped, my guess is it was heavily watered ka-la-na that sealed her contract. Despite the emphasis on romantic love, the ceremony was nicely carried out. A bit ostentatious, somewhat florid, but nicely done.

I have not failed to note the Lady Tia's ambition, for the record. I simply choose to appear ignorant of it. She is something of a social climber, wishing to be accepted in circles above her station. I do not fault her for this, but I am not unaware of her designs. She seems to work hard at growing her business. Women are, by nature, manipulative creatures. Some of them are quite successful at their machinations. Eventually, she will discover that despite the title of Magistrate and the powers associated with it, there is little to gain from me. I am not the sort of man easily manipulated by the charms of a woman, though it does not stop them from trying. I will admit the Lady has trim ankles. And I like her scent. She smells of pastry.

She confided in me, worries she disdained to speak before slave girls who might be commanded to reveal her words. Some of her speculations are sound, but others rather far-fetched in my opinion. I did not choose to entertain her theories, nor will I elaborate upon them here. Rather than try to understand the motives of the current administration and those that are in a position to take their place, I choose to control what I am able to control. Public service is not a game to me. Therefore, I do not choose to forecast the 'end game,' nor am I trying to win anything. Where I once painted my dissent upon walls for the public to see, I am now able to file Orders with the weight of my Magistracy behind them when I find myself critical of the government. I petition for the People, advocating their cause. I legislate when I am able.

A few days ago, a man calling himself Claudius, apparently of the same caste as newly-companioned Dylan, mentioned the irony of that to me over a cup of wine at a tavern in the Teiban. He is a polite man, more than once spotted escorting or otherwise engaged with the woman, Noemi. He is a bit slippery, slightly condescending, though he believes his tone and verbiage mask his true sentiment. While he is more subtle than others that seem to want to influence me, I have no doubt his happening upon me in a dark tavern near the twentieth ahn was anything but a coincidence.