The Dead Clock
Over its long history, Castle Draco has expanded to include a number support buildings on its grounds, like this clock tower. Considered a failure, the tower has long been abandoned, left to the occasional Reaper to use as their base temporary home. Ancient gears of rotted ironwood stand motionless inside the silent tower, bedecked by cobwebs, with only a few pieces of long forgotten furniture to keep them company. A skywalk extends from the tower to Castle Draco itself, once used by the clock keeper, now fallen into a state of dangerous disrepair, while a exhausting set of spiral stairs connects the clock tower to the ground entrance.

Another day, another … hm, well, day of getting avoid any real work! The reaper business in the Draco capitol has returned to its usual slower pace since his return from the vineyards. He had to return alone, of course, as Alptraum went off on his impossible quest to find Mortimer a date. So … without his shadow-infected charge to watch over, Mort finds he has more than enough time to mooch a meal from the castle staff and a few extra bottles of wine. Now back in his tower, he finds that for the moment, he has a day of getting to just sit around and relax. Or … perch on the tower edge and scare tourists. Either tend to make for a grand day.

So, of course around noon Mortimer has a knock at his door. So much for a day of pondering the unponderables (aka, slacking).

"Uuuurrrghhhh," Mortimer mumbles in response to the door knockery. He grabs at the scythe next to the sheet-covered old chair he's been lounging on, catching empty air several times before he find it, as he can't be bothered to actually look and see where it is. Once his scythe's in hand, he balances it with his other hand and uses the blade edge to try and unlatch the door to the clock tower. This, of course, takes several more tries in which span he could have simply stood up and opened the door himself. "Come in," he bids as the blade finally catches the lock, leaving the door free to be opened.

The door swings open and Alptraum practically prances in; his head held high and chest puffed out. "I have managed the most difficult and dangerous quest known," the Eeee declares, "I have found a normal woman who agreed to go on a date with you. She meets all of the criteria: Not a mage, priestess, or anyone who dabbles in the occult, and has even raised a family. She's older, of course, but not too old and certainly doesn't look it. She doesn't even fear reapers, for that matter. And as a one time bonus offer, she's even completely sane." The grin that follows is very toothy.

"Hmm." Mortimer sounds doubtful, but he manges to push himself up into a sitting position from he slumped lounge. "Does that mean I'm going to have to visit my Master? Maybe I should have offered gold or a magic item instead … " He heaves a sigh, finally sitting up fully. "But, fair's fair. If you completed your end I'll complete mine. If that's all though, I'm going to complete my second na- … Meditation."

"Ah, well, there is a requirement from her as you had a requirement of me. She wants you to look and dress nice so that she can wear one of her nicer dresses too," Alptraum explains as he raises his right hand with his index finger extended. "So, my fine feathery friend, we have to get you cleaned up. I know just the person for your imposs … er, challenging situation."

"I'm perfectly clean," Mortimer insists, patting his chest with a hand several times. Dust, and what may well be a moth, flutter forth.

"Right. Sorry, it's non-negotiable. You need to be cleaned up … so get up, get dressed, and we'll head down to see my 'personal appearance attendant'," Alptraum states. "Because if you upset my friend, I know of nine very angry others who will do horrible things to me."

"That sounds exciting." The bird looks like he might be momentarily considering how worth it it might be to get Alptraum nine ways horribled, eyeing him for a moment, but then shrugs and stands up. "Let me grab my good robe." The man then kneels down and begins fishing under an old, abandoned loveseat.

"And about your robes. Can't we find you a nice suit instead? You said you didn't want to be thought of as a reaper for this … so the robe needs to go," Alptraum comments.

Alptraum also can't help but lean over and try to see what Mort hides under all those feathers. Korv anatomy is a mystery to most!

"Well I need to wear something out of the tower – it was sunny out earlier." The bird makes a sound a lot like "ugh," then pulls out a dust covered robe, which he promptly throws over his head and shifts in to. "What about the scythe? I feel naked without my scythe."

"No scythe. We can find you a nice, ornate, cane," Alptraum promises as he bolts upright.

"Can it have a little hooked top? Scythe like," inquires Mortimer, head tilted.

"Depends on what the cane shop has," Alptraum waffles, "We'll have to see." He steps back and to the side, then holds the door open. "After you."

"I'mmmm coooming," Mortimer says, tired and exasperated, before hopping on out the door.

"And oh, you need to work on being cheerful," Alptraum explains as he closes the door behind them. "Don't go greeting her as 'Good day, mortal', or anything… "

"I never greet people with good day mortal," Mortimer insists as he finally steps outside. "I prefer "an excellent day to die, isn't it," or, "grim day, isn't it," or "how do-" Argh, sunlight!"

"Those are bad too. Just try 'good day'. Repeat it over and over as we walk," Alptraum says as he guides the reaper down the tower.

Shielding his eyes, the Reaper complains, "But the day isn't good! The baleful eye of the light bringer is burning my feathers and trying melt me!"

---

And it's a good half an hour of walking … and explaining to the city guards that no, no one died. Mortimer's visit is for non-business reasons. Eventually the pair make their way through the halls and into the wing dedicated to actually welcome guests. Alptraum stops before one of the doors and raps loudly upon it. "It's Alptraum and a guest," he calls out, "May we enter? We have need of your skills."

"Ah, you wish to receive the blessings of Inala?" replies a voice from beyond the door. It sounds like Mave may be in the back part of the large room she enjoys.

Alptraum opens the door and guides Mortimer into the next room.

Mave's Room
Yodhinala Mave has the largest room in the shared guest suite. Besides a bedroom, there is an office and tiled bathroom sporting a large sunken tub. Everything Mave has carried from Babel is on display, from the portable shrine in one corner (now featuring the sculpture of her that was done in Gromit) to Babelite tapestries hanging from the walls. Standing wardrobes are full of numerous Temple costumes, and the office area has been given over to a small alchemy lab – but larger than the table she and Phlagaea share in the castle's Wizardry lab.

"Actually," the Eeee calls out, "I need your expertise in another area. My, ah, friend here needs to be cleaned up for a date with a proper lady. Right now I'm not sure a zombie would go out with him… "

"And if anyone can make him attractive, it's you," Alptraum adds.

"I smell religion," the Korv remarks as he steps inside, "And no blessings for me, they make my skin itch." He peers around and this and that with a single pinkish eyes, which involves a lot of disapproving squinting.

The Yodhinala is in the back, near the bathroom, holding some sort of beaker full of pink fluid. She also looks like she's about to take a bath, since she has a towel draped around her neck to cover her chest, along with another wrapped around her hips. "My… goddess!" Mave says at the sight of Mort. "Did you come straight from a graveyard?"

"Not straight from a graveyard," the Korv replies absently. He's currently prodding some lace.

"I don't think he's bathed since the last five he has visited," Alptraum admits, "So … is he salvageable at all? Surely under your hands even he isn't beyond hope?"

Looking to Alptraum, Mave asks, "Which one of you will be serving Inala in return for my efforts?"

Mortimer flatly points a boney white talon at Alptraum.

"Well … that depends on what you mean by serve," Alptraum waffles, "What do you require?"

"That will depend on how much effort is needed," Mave notes, and gestures for the albino Korv to come closer.

Irregardless of this detail Alptraum brings up, the Korv is still pointing – and now with a jabbing motion!

"As you wish. I'll remain with you once his … cleaning is complete," Alptraum says in the tone of someone who was just told he has some terminal illness.

"Let me get a good look at the damage," Mave tells Mort, and actually kneels down to be closer to eye-level. She sets aside her beaker of goo and makes come hither gestures, as if trying to entice some sort of wild animal.

"That means strip," Alptraum whispers to Mortimer.

"I'm beginning to think this was a bad bargain. I'm rethinking my intention of being altruistic to anyone, ever," complains the Korv. He then shrugs, tossing his scythe on to the bed, then shrugging out of his robe, which he tosses to the floor. A brief time later, and naked Mortimer stands there looking very pink and even more so white.

"No it isn't. Don't you need a cleaning at least once a decade? Think of the shame of feather-mold," Alptraum says as encouragement. "I have to check my right hand once a week to make sure the chitin doesn't develop any fungus."

"There are hot springs full of sulfur that are just fine! They're also potentially lethal, which makes them even more appropriate," insists the Reaper. "Also, don't get any Eeee ideas, seeing me naked, now."

"The Yodhinala always has ideas. Most of them are scary," Alptraum notes, "And it'll be stuff I'll have to do for her in payment, I'm sure. So if it makes you feel any better I imagine this will hurt me far more than you… "

"I was talking to you, Alptraum," Mortimer corrects. "Don't think I don't notice how you skip!"

"I have no interest in guys," Alptraum insists, "I'm not that kind of Eeee."

Mave just sighs, and feels Mort's feathers in several areas, including a probe between his legs. "Tell me of this 'date' you are going on," she requests. "What sort of woman is it with? It is a woman, yes?"

"Alptraum knows more, and you're very grabby," the bird replies. he flutters his wings at the poking and prodding, frowning greatly as looking very uncomfortable.

"Miss Radovah, a Khatta around your age," Alptraum explains, "In good physical shape and very coordinated. An excellent dancer and very shrewd when dealing with others. She's survived on her own in the wilds."

"A Khatta, hmm," Mave says, and looks to a standing shelf covered with boxes and colorful vials. "And will there be intimacy or a possibility of such?"

"That depends entirely on how the date goes. I couldn't say," Alptraum notes.

To that question, Mortimer shrugs broadly. "I just wanted a home cooked meal in a normal house," he admits.

"Normal … hm. Think you could dye him black?" Alptraum suggests.

"You call that a date?" Mave asks, and then blinks at Alptraum. "That would be deceptive, Alptraum. No, but I will make him attractive. Come into the bath with me, Mortimer. Alptraum, you will fetch me things as I need them."

"As you like, Yodhinala," Alptraum agrees. So … to entertain himself, he goes to look over Mave's various bottles, jewelry, and clothing she has left out.

Mortimer follows Mave, frowning all the way. "It smells like a flowery meadow exploded in here," he mumbles.

"It could be worse, believe me," Alptraum comments.

The bath has already been drawn, but is clear of any additives still (maybe the pink goo was bubble bath). Mave sheds her towels and gets in first. She kneels in the oversized tub, and says, "You aren't afraid of water, are you Reaper? If not, then get in."

"It's certain undead that are afraid of water. I merely have disagreements with water on key issues," the Reaper replies, in a grumbly fashion. He tests the water with a talon, peering at the bubble-covered finger that he pulls out. With his other hand, he pops a bubble, frowns even more, then lifts his wings and steps inside. Without another word, he sits down in the bubbles and crosses his arms.

"Hold your breath," Mave instructs just before putting her full weight into dunking the Korv under the water… and shaking him… for a good fifteen seconds before letting him up for breath.

The bird resurfaces with a gasp, followed by a wheezy intake of several hoarse breathes. "It was like falling into a mote of flowers and spring time – yeck!" Bubbles now crown his head, and the soap has made him rather shiny. Being entirely made up of bright colors, it makes him rather bright in general and even more hard to look at naked than normal.

"Good so far," the Yodh announces, and tells Alptraum to fetch a mahogany box from the lab, which has a feather engraved on it.

"Box, box," Alptraum calls out as he searches for a bit. There's the sound of something being hit, then the flurry of feet as the Eeee probably just caught something from hitting the floor. "It's okay!" he calls out. Another half a minute and Alptraum enters, bearing the mahogany box with the feather carved into it. "Wow, Mortimer, you look better already," he tells the Korv as he hands the box to Mave.

"There's bubbles everywhere," Mortimer says, exasperated. He puts a finger on his left nostril vent, and promptly blows bubbles out of the right.

"That would make a great party trick," Alptraum comments as he flicks the nose bubble out of existence.

Setting the box aside for the moment, Mave busies herself with lathering up the bird's feathers, before telling him, "Alright, perch on the edge of the tub so I can get the rest."

And … Alptraum slips back out of the bathroom. There are just some things even he can't watch.

"Gladly!" Mortimer is all too happy to escape the suds, stepping out and wrapping his foot talons around the edge of the bath. "Just don't get frisky," he adds, eying Mave carefully, "I have standards."

"Really?" the priestess asks, as she lathers up the rest of Mort's feathers, until he looks like he's being devoured by a mass of pink cotton. She also starts draining the tub.

"Yes, really! I told them to Alptraum," the bird assures Mave. He cocks his head to eye himself, covered in bubbles, then hangs his head in shame. "My sister must never know of this."

"I'll be sure to tell her about it!" Alptraum calls from the other room.

"You do and I'm leading you straight to the underworld," the bird calls back.

"I've been there," Alptraum points out, "Creepy place."

"No bubbles at all," Mortimer agrees, fondly.

"You two are perfect for one another," Mave cements, and then has Mort step back into the tub so she can upend a jug of water over him to rinse off the soap.

"I'm not his date," Alptraum points out rather loudly.

"He's not my type, too male," Mortimer insists. "Plus he has a crazy hand thing – I don't know! – and he prances." He steps into the tub, and is promptly drenched again. "Ack, pppttbt!"

"Now fluff out your feathers and got over to that corner where the light is best," Mave instructs, after wrapping her own wings around herself for protection.

"I do not prance," Alptraum states, "And my hand isn't crazy. It's just … a flesh wound."

"As long as I'm free from more bubbles," the bird says, wobbling over to the corner, then fluffing out rather violently, sending water everywhere!

"Alptraum, dry me off please," Mave requests as she gets out of the tub and shakes her wings dry a bit less violently. She pushes the big mahogany box over towards Mort with one foot.

Alptraum returns to the bathroom and picks up several towels. He heads over to Mave and once there, goes about methodically drying the woman off from head to toe in a surprisingly gentle way. He even uses a smaller towel to dry between her toes and fingers. One might think he's had practice bathing women before since he doesn't even seem to get distracted while doing it.

Once she's suitably dry, Mave opens the box to reveal a collection of crystal vials and various combs, brushes and preening tools. "Do not squirm," she instructs Mort as she kneels down next to him and uses a tool that looks like a cross between tweezers and pliers to pluck out any loose or broken feathers she finds.

Meanwhile Alptraum leans over and gives Mortimer a sniff. "Very floral," he tells the Korv.

"Oh, very well," Mortimer relents. Instead, he perches moodily, staring ahead with a expression befitting the most brooding of gargoyles.

Once the 'junk' feathers are gone, Mave combs up Mort's crest so that it's more prominent, and brushes some sort of starchy liquid into the feathers to keep them more erect. She does something similar to his chest ruff, to make it seem poofier, and again down near his privates before switching to a special comb to flatten out the rest of his feathers.

Mortimer looks down, and sighs. "I feel like a Kujaku, or Vartan doll."

"Is that a bad thing?" Alptraum asks as he heads out of the bathroom again.

"I … don't know. This is all very disorienting," answers the Reaper.

"But you look like a man now at least," Mave notes, and starts feeling the Korv's wing claws with her thumbs and forefingers. "Hmmm, calloused. You will need a manicure and pedicure, and to soak your claws and feet in a softening solution."

Mortimer glances at his talons and blinks a few times. "I feel strange. Very strange. If I die, tell everyone it was for a woman – that a nice tragic and respectable ending to any man," the bird insists.

Mave puts the preening tools back, and then asks, "Would you care for any highlights? Pink or gold, perhaps? And what color for your talons?"

"Manicures and pedicures are actually rather nice," Alptraum calls from the other room, "Even I have had them before. Just … avoid any salons run by big, burly, guys. Don't ask. No, really. Don't ask."

"I'll have to ask later … ," Mortimer mumbles, rubbing the underside of his beak.

"Pearl, perhaps," Mave mutters. "Alptraum, come fetch this box, and then bring me the small rosewood one," she requests. "And you, Mort… on your back, please."

"This is so sudden," the bird replies, before cackling. Then, he flops over, sticking his legs in the air, quite as if he had suddenly died.

It takes a few moments before Alptraum enters and is already carrying the rosewood box. "I figured I would save a trip," he explains as he sets it down next to Mave. He even pats the Yodhinala's shoulder and tells her, "Thank you for the help." Up goes the mahogany box as Alptraum stands back up and out he goes.

"You will thank me properly later," Mave notes with a grin, and opens the new box. It has files and clippers and more vials. "Oh, and fetch me the bowl of blue goo on my shelf."

There's a pause and then Alptraum asks, "Er, is it bad to get the blue goo on my fingers?"

"No, it's for soaking scales in," Mave notes.

"Will he grow scales?" Mortimer looks up, sounding intrigued.

"Oh, whew," Alptraum calls back and soon enough he's back in the bathroom with the bowl. That's set down beside Mave. "Only if I want scales," the bat remarks as he heads back out of the room.

Mave moves the bowl, and starts Mort soaking one hand in it while she goes to work on his feet. There's a lot of scraping and picking involved before she ever gets to working on the talons.

"I spent a lot of time and effort getting my hand properly grave worthy. How am I supposed to hide in a shallow grave, and reach out to scare villagers now?" Mortimer just shakes his head, sadly.

"You will thank me if you have the chance to run it through fur or squeeze something," Mave notes. "It also shows that you care enough to show your gentle side."

"Are you going to give me a gentle side too? Is that what the bottles are for?" The bird cocks his head, interestedly. "I think I know something I'd also like to squeeze."

"My neck?" Alptraum inquires from the other room.

"Exactly," the bird confirms. "You're learning!"

"You're the one who wanted a date," Alptraum points out.

"Dating is harder than I anticipated," Mortimer complains back.

After polishing Mort's foot-talons and applying a bit of gloss to them, Mave checks on his hand by wiping it off and pressing it against something soft and sensitive of her own. "Hmmm. It'll have to do," she notes, and then moves the bowl so the other hand can soak while she starts on the manicure.

"Women are hard," Alptraum calls out, "You're just now learning they run the world?"

Mortimer blinks at the squeeze test, then reveals, "I sometimes use a similar test to check for rigor mortis."

"Oh really? What happens if the victim isn't dead?" Mave asks.

"I expect they slap him," Alptraum offers.

"Sometimes they do indeed," Mortimer replies.

Once she's done with the claw, Mave removes the second from its bath, repeats the squeeze test, and starts on the manicure. "Do you sharpen or polish your beak regularly?" she asks.

Mortimer tilts his head then asks, "What does eating count as?" He then examines his beak, peering down at it as if he had never thought about it much before.

Alptraum enters, carrying Mort's robe towards the bathrub. Whistling, he dumps the cloth in and begins filling the basin. "I realized you need a clean robe to leave in," he comments.

The Yodh rolls her eyes. "Were you raised by zombies?" she has to ask. "I do hope your sister is not so lackadaisical about grooming as you are."

"Only rarely by zombies. There were a few ghosts, some … other … things, and once by a skull my Master assured me could see every bad thing I did and was always watching me. It wasn't," the Reaper explains.

Muttering something about a Korv never doing laundry, Alptraum goes about cleaning the robe. Of course he's using some of the bubble bath to give it that lovely floral scent.

"Well, you are presentable as you are going to get without clothing, I think," Mave notes, and then tickles Mort in a sensitive spot before packing up her tools. "I suggest a cravat when you dress him, Alptraum. Do not let him go with a bolo."

"I'll leave clothing for after lunch. I'm sure Mortimer needs some recovery time. Nothing improves his mood like a free meal," Alptraum comments as he rinses out the robe, then wrings out water over and over and over.

"I strongly suggest a bib then," the Yodhinala notes. "Do not let him get bits in his chest ruff now that it's properly puffed out."

The bird squirms, flapping Mave away from the tickling! "That is a violation of my Reaper dignity," he complains. At the mention of food, he relents, looking up, "Isn't a bolo two stones connected by a string? I think I saw a monster hunter use one once."

"Sunala and Inala have an understanding," Mave claims, and removes her supplies from the bathroom.

"It's also a necktie made from a string and is considered bad taste," Alptraum points out as he heads out of the bathroom to hand the robe near the fireplace to dry quickly.

"May I talk to you in private for a minute before I go?" Alptraum asks Mave in the other room.

The Yodh leans against a counter (and being Mave, of course it's a seductive pose). "What is it you want to discuss, Alptraum?" she coos.

Mortimer flops back down on the floor, waving the others on. "Go on. Leave me here to languish in this flowery prison. I'm sure when you return I'll be a meadow or kukjaku dandy."

Alptraum extends his right hand, palm up, to show the leathery-looking skin and gray patchy stubble on the underside of his forearm. "I let the scaling recede and found my hand looking like this. I'm slightly worried my hand may be getting worse, so I wanted your opinion on it," he explains. "Or if there is anything I can do to improve it outside of rescaling it?"

Mave rubs her fingers against the leathery skin. "Like wing skin, but much much thicker. Do you want something to keep it soft? Does it itch or bother you?" she asks.

"No, it doesn't bother me," Alptraum says, "No itching. But then I don't actually feel much though it other than pressure or something very sharp that gets through. Do you notice something else?"

"It looks aged, but without any spots or wrinkles," Mave notes. "The fuzz could be like wing-fuzz, or newborn fuzz though."

"It's slightly cooler than the rest of me," Alptraum points out, "But I guess that could be due to the thickness?"

"Hmm, less blood vessels near the surface, perhaps," Mave notes, then looks to Alptraum's face. "Are you truly troubled by it?" she asks.

"Worried, yes," Alptraum admits. "But I'm also nervous about doing much about it in case it makes it worse. Did you have an idea?"

The Yodh looks thoughtful, and turns Alptraum's hand around to examine the chitin while she thinks. "I do not understand the cause of the skin's change, beyond that your whole forearm seems of a different flesh. Your 'condition' is beyond my experience."

"I could always call upon Inala to try and affect it, but I cannot say that would be for the best," she adds.

"I don't either. It responds to my wants, though," as Alptraum demonstrates by closing his fingers lightly on hers, "So, it could just be scarring from the injuries I've suffered. Do you want to take a sample to examine?" The comment about Inala makes the bat shake his head. "No, that's okay. I can affect it with some effort and perhaps I should. Are you interested in tracking changes if they occur, or would you prefer I not bother you about it anymore?"

"Your well being is important to me," Mave notes. "I would want to be kept abreast of any changes or threats to it. I don't know what I would do with a sample though – that is more Phlagaea's area."

Alptraum nods at that. "Does the appearance bother you? Or the touch? I could try to make it more … pleasant if you would prefer," he offers.

"Such things are superficial," Mave notes. "It is not unpleasant to the touch, and I have felt far cooler hands before. It is not physical warmth or softness that counts."

"Well, I imagine Naga hands are a lot colder," Alptraum has to admit. "One other minor note of interest, "The blood in it is darker and smells … well, of dragon, for lack of a better way to describe it. That I believe is just the contamination from the chitin on the upper part."

"I imagine it is more involved than that," Mave notes. "Your blood is not isolated to given parts; it circulates throughout. If it is only tainted in your arm, then that taint is not flowing out to the rest of your body."

"That would mean something is blocking it, then. Any theories on what would happen if that block was removed?" Alptraum asks.

"Well, that depends," Mave notes. "Your arm is not natural, but a thing of magic and spirit possession, of a sort. It may be that your blood is not tainted at all, and it is just that the natural and supernatural appear to blend in the arm… "

"Though I guess all this discussion is rather silly. If it hasn't spread yet, then I doubt whatever's blocking it will ever be removed; it has to be pretty strong I would think," says as he goes to check Mortimer's robe. Seeming satisfied he turns it so the other side dries. "With regard to your payment, what will you need me for and when?" the Eeee asks. "It won't be more, er, collection samples with your rather evil needles, will it?"

"Oh no, I will probably simply have you attend me when I next bath, since this bath was interrupted," Mave notes. "And I will also need the tub scrubbed out too… "

"In the acolyte yodhinala guise or as myself?" Alptraum inquires with an amused laugh.

"As yourself, as this is not a bathing ritual," Mave notes, and flicks Alptraum's chin with a finger. "Will you be going with the Reaper on his 'date' then?"

"I haven't decided. I may need to in order to keep him in line," Alptraum admits, then tries to play-bite that finger. "Which means I need to line up a date too."

"One who can make a 'home cooked meal', it seems," Mave notes. "I do not cook."

"Well, I can arrange a well cooked meal; I know enough people in the castle for that. I might invite Rosalind to go. I should arrange for separate dining 'chambers' so I can keep an ear on the situation but not be intrusive," Alptraum considers as he taps his own chin. "And I know you don't; and it's also not like you would want to go on an actual date with me."

"The Yodhinala do not date, it is true," Mave notes. "Do you need any love potion to slip to the Reaper and his lady, or are you willing to let the evening rely on his own… charms?"

"I think it is best to let the date go as it would without any assistance from a potion," Alptraum says rather honestly, "He wanted to feel normal … so he needs to rely on normal skills." There's a pause, then Alptraum jokes, "And I just realized I don't need to date you since you're my personal Yodhinala, anyway."

Mave arches an eyebrow at that assertion. "You are also my personal Barsunala," she notes. "And are you certain Mortimer knows how to be normal? Perhaps more lessons are needed."

"We'll find out. There is only so much I can do to prepare him. At some point he has to just try," Alptraum says and shrugs, "A certain other whitish Eeee I know once told me the best thing to do is just be yourself. She was right, curse her. Now I owe her a favor."

"Lilith the Spy?" Mave asks, with half a grin. "I do hope the woman you have set up for Mort is not too demanding. Did you have to offer something to get her to agree?"

"Of course I did. I never get anything for free from a woman," Alptraum complains.

"Wait until you are married, and it will all change," Mave promises.

"I'm sure it gets worse," Alptraum jokes. "Basically I have to introduce Miss Radovah's daughters around when they are in the capitol. She wants them to marry well."

"Oh, have you met any eligible bachelors in the court to introduce them to?" Mave asks.

"Not yet, but I will," Alptraum claims, "I should see if there are any knights of Draco County that are eligible."

"Well, I could give you a list," Mave notes coyly. "You want young Khattas I take it? How many do you need?"

"A list would be great," Alptraum says. The Eee's eyes narrow as he then asks, "How much will that cost me? As for how many … er, nine would be a good start."

"She has nine marriable daughters?" Mave asks in surprise. "And she is not a fellow Yodhinala?"

"… from nine different fathers," Alptraum adds sheepishly. "And no, she's definitely Khatta."

"I should like to meet her myself," Mave says.

"Why?" Alptraum asks suspiciously.

"I do not often get to meet with women I would consider peers, Alptraum," the priestess notes. "Have you slept with her yourself?"

"I'm not sure," Alptraum admits, "I was drunk. She does know how to suppress my abilities enough so that I'm not dangerous when I'm drunk. I think, anyway."

"Now I really want to meet her," Mave says. "That is the price for the list of young gentlemen who are good in bed and well heeled."

"Don't think I'll leave you alone with her," Alptraum says with a grin, "I don't need anymore plotting about me behind my back."

"You can take us to dinner then," Mave notes.

"That's scary, but I'll see what I can do," Alptraum reluctantly agrees. He checks on the condition of the robe and seems satisfied. "I had best rescue the flower-korv and get him some lunch before he plots my death. I'll come back this afternoon to help you with your bath. Thank you again for all your help."