Friday, March 20, 2009

Baffu's First Story: Part Seven

Doctors stared out at the potted plant with its struggling luminous buds in silence, then drained his cup. Baffu picked opened a third bottle and poured for both of them.

“So?” he asked.

“So, indeed,” Doctors said. “The next time the Justice of Black and Gray saw the student the young man lacked the modest dignity that had formerly been his hallmark; the student turned this way and that, his scholar’s robe open so that his private parts were displayed to any who cared to look. That is because his sash was around his neck and he hung from a rafter in his room. It was the restauranteur who found him when the smell of the student was stronger than the smell of cooking."

Full text in the comments.

2 comments:

Sean Craven said...

Doctors stared out at the potted plant with its struggling luminous buds in silence, then drained his cup. Baffu picked opened a third bottle and poured for both of them.

“So?” he asked.

“So, indeed,” Doctors said. “The next time the Justice of Black and Gray saw the student the young man lacked the modest dignity that had formerly been his hallmark; the student turned this way and that, his scholar’s robe open so that his private parts were displayed to any who cared to look. That is because his sash was around his neck and he hung from a rafter in his room. It was the restauranteur who found him when the smell of the student was stronger than the smell of cooking.

“Now the Justice may have been too much of a fool to foresee the results of his judgment but if he knew nothing else he knew this; men are mortal but debts are not. He went to the money lenders and found that they had been satisfied – when the debt fell on the student’s parents they indentured one of their daughters to work the Flower Boats.”

“Oh,” Baffu said. Out of respect he refrained from the indignant commentary on the ways of the Empire of Flower and Foliage to which Doctors belonged, but his heart surged with anger at this injustice.

“Oh, indeed,” Doctors said, and swirled the dregs of his cup. “Worse, the poor girl had been infected with —” and here Doctors slipped into the poetic language for a phrase “— The Mauve and Lavender Blossoms of the Nubile Impassioned.” He took a sip. “That is an infection of the skin. It releases subtle chemicals of the sort produced in the ductless glands, chemicals that regulate the differences between men and women. For a time, the victim finds themselves with the passion not of a woman but of a man, indiscreet and undiscriminating, desiring not an individual person but desire itself. Their sweat is an intoxicant, stirring passions in one who takes it into their mouths as they play amorous games…”

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