Baron Harkonnen summons Varota

["Claude-Emile Sebastian Varota (sender identity not verified)" <WebMail@nomailboxindicated.xxx.research.att.com>]

Salon -- Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain)Salon -- Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain)

A long, low-ceilinged room, lit by freefloating suspensor lamps. In the very center of the room bubbles a small indoor fountain.The walls are paneled in comfortable dark woods. There are a variety of tables scattered about the room, promoting conversation and relaxation. Smoke usually fills the air. A low dais, accessible by a short flight of stairs, runs along the eastern wall, with more tables up there. Along the western wall is a sideboard, where Keffi waits to make guests comfortable.

Players:
 Boris                                 Varota                                
 Nadira                               

Exits:
 Sloping Tunnel <D> leads to Arena Grandstand -- Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain) 
 Embellished Portal <S> leads to Dining Hall -- Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain) 
 Ivory Doors <N> leads to Giedi Hall -- Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain)

Boris Harkonnen is a great bear of a man, his body a great slab of muscle now turning to fat with age. His head is shaven bald, his full white beard twined in braids that spill down his barrel chest. Crystal blue eyes glint maniacally under bushy white brows. He\'s wearing a capacious silk obi, of sky-blue, with an ornate silver ram\'s head insignia on the back; the obi is belted with a black sash about his broad waist. He\'s wearing black tabi boots on his big feet.

Upon being announced, Varota takes two steps into the Salon. Spotting Boris, he drops quickly and easily to one knee, there to await acknowledgement.

Boris sits drinking brandy and smoking a cigar, and he looks up calmly as Varota enters. "Ah, good to see you, lad. Do come in, do come in." He nods as the man kneels, puffing on his cigar a moment. "Yes, well, do rise, eh?"

Nadira lingers in the back, seeming adept at making herself seem to mix in with the courtiers. She watches the two men interact curiously.

As bid, Varota regains his feet. "Bon soir, signeur Baron," he salutes. "I am beside myself with gratitude for allowing me to partake of your grand fete the other evening."

The Baron waves dismissively. "A tepid sort of event, Varota, I must tell you. Why usually we don\'t even call it a fete unless someone gets killed, eh?"

A slave appears bearing a tray of drinks and offers it to Varota.

Nadira smiles a little as she continues to observe, perhaps choosing to stay concealed for the moment.

"I have oft heard of the Harkonnen taste for bloody entertainment", Varota mentions offhandedly, as he picks two glasses of brandy out of the tray, with a smile and a wink for the slave. He continues, "Still, as it was, it was excellent. Your troupe of orgy slaves is utterly magnificent, milord."

Boris chuckles. "Aye, we train them to the peak of condition. I was told you staggered out, eh? Fairly limped..." He seems delighted.

Varota shrugs one shoulder, grinning easily, "I admit, it would take a greater man than I to last long under the ministrations of... what is her name? The little one, with the short blond hair?" 

Nadira chooses that moment to make herself known. Perhaps a witch\'s trick, or perhaps just some innate grasp of the true etiquette of power, Nadira\'s figure slips through the courtiers, appearing between the hustle and reguarding the two men with a frank expression. She carries another Imperial missive, with the mark of a courier worn on her right arm.

Boris wags a finger at Varota, laughing a low rumble, shaking his head.. "That\'s Jolene! Ah, yes, an expert in her ministrations. Stronger men than you have nearly died under her attentions, eh?" He puffs his cigar.

Nadira simply watches in silence, as the slow murmur of the courtiers, like the lull of the sea\'s tide, begins to work its way through the room.

As he takes a generous sip from his brandy, Varota\'s eyebrows wiggle slightly. "Jolene", he says. "I must remember that name. And come better prepared, next time I am fortunate enough to be invited to the Lord Baron\'s orgy chamber." His large black eyes dart sideways, seemingly spotting Nadira.

Boris spots Nadira and almost growls. "Damn! Can\'t you see I\'m in mid-debauch, woman? Can\'t this wait till I\'ve spoken with Varota here?"

Nadira\'s voice just drips with sincerity....right. "I\'m truely sorry my lord - but the Imperial Courier system waits at no man\'s behest, even for one so gusto as yourself, Lord Harkonnen."

Varota drinks from his glass, alternating between looking discreetly at Boris for any sign of violence, and at Nadira, just for the pleasure of looking at her.

Boris drops the stub of his cigar on the floor, and a slave instantly sweeps it up and away. The Baron exhales a last cloud of thick blue smoke, looking to Varota. "This woman tries my patience, lad."

Nadira just smiles sweetly at the Baron, as if he just gave her the most marvelous, indulgent compliment.

Nadira flicks her eyes sidelong at Varota, offering him a smile to. "Not without your baliset today, I hope?" she inquires conversationally.

Varota replies smartly, with a brief nod to the Baron, "What baliset? I have so many of them..."

Nadira mmms. "Any, I would hope. Though one day, I should like to hear the alto again. It suits my voice." she keeps her eyes on the Baron as she speaks with the musician.

"I hate to disappoint milady," Varota says, "But that likely won\'t happen. I play only very, very rarely. Although there are scores of kept minstrels on Kaitain who play my instruments. You could easily petition them to accompaign you."

Boris barks a laugh. "I\'ve heard about you Bene Gesserit and your voices..Varota here sees through your little trick."  

Feeling a bit uncertain, Varota attempts to change subjects. He says to the lady, "I don\'t believe we\'ve been properly introduced. I am Claude Emile Sebastian Varota, late of Chusuk. And you would be?"

Nadira smiles at Varota. "Perhaps one day, I shall simply play for myself." she then smiles at Boris. "Only a fool presumes that such artistry would wish to be matched in the Disciplines. I have studied the art of music since I was eight years old, Baron. Don\'t insult my skill, Baron - I would feel obligated to prove you wrong." she looks to Varota, and offers her hand in the formal court\'s style. "Lady Nadira Finn, Initiae of the Kaitain Bene Gesserit Chapterhouse."

"Enchante", Varota replies, raising the offered hand to kiss it. "I have never met a Bene Gesserit before, and I must say, if they all look like you, I\'ve wasted my life dreadfully."

Boris shakes his head. "Don\'t be fooled, Varota. Do /try/ not to fawn over her. I\'ve dozens more beauties in the slave pits."

Nadira smile. "Would you recieve the Reverend Mother\'s missive, Baron?"

"As you wish, milord," Varota replies, retracting his hand even as his eyes still roam over Nadira\'s figure.

A blond slave appears to take the latest communique from Nadira. The slave then passes it to the Baron.

Nadira waits patiently and as the Baron recieves the missive she offers, "I still would like the chance to try my hand at one of your balisets, though I doubt if I shall ever have the economic power to obtain one."

Varota ponders for a moment, then replies, "That may be so, but we could make... other arrangements. I lodge in the Imperial, with Joanne and Valerie. If you ever feel the musical itch, I\'d be glad to help you scratch it."

Boris says, "I didn\'t invite you here so you could arrange your next coupling, Varota! I invited you here on serious business!"

Nadira says without batting an eye. "I\'m quite adept at scratching my own itches, thank you. I doubt there\'s a spot on me I couldn\'t scratch myself." She seems to enjoy dropping bombs like these on Varota.

Varota casts his eyes down, seemingly wary of Boris\'s tone. He mutters contritely, "Yes, Lord Baron. As you command."

Boris rises. "I planned to offer you patronage. A steady income, invitations to all our parties! But if you\'re too addleheaded with the Lady Finn, I can retract my offer. Perhaps the Sisterhood needs entertainers, eh?"

Nadira says generously, "No need, Baron. We entertain ourselves." Hunh. Let him choke on that image.

Eyes still downcast, Varota turns to the Baron, hesitating for a short moment. "The Lord Baron\'s generosity is boundless, and I am quite sensitive to ze honor of serving him.... but...", he vacillates.

Boris looms over Varota, "What? You\'ve an offer from that hawk, eh? I\'ll knew I should have killed him in the Arena..."

Nadira remains quiet, not looking at either of them. She goes as still as a statue, making it easy perhaps, to forget she\'s there.

Varota clears his suddenly dry throat, and tries not to step back from the larger man. He says, "Non, mon puissant signeur... pardon, milord. No, it\'s nothing of that sort. It is just that I thought to come to Kaitain for sport and the possibility of making grand acquaintances, such as your Lordship, not to become ze kept musician of zom noble House."

Boris scoffs, "Sport? Why, we\'ve games every night! Fights! Human hunts! Bladeball matches that leave men disembowelled on the arena floor."

Nadira murmurs, "Delightful."

"Indeed it is," Varota replies wistfuly. He then says, "Varota would never question the Lord Baron, but why him? There are certainly better musicians on Kaitain.... in droves they come, I\'ve seen them! And, to boot, Varota is a common sort of fellow, unworthy of the Baron\'s patronage."

Boris slams one fist into his open palm. "They didn\'t write \'Boris\' Valor\' and play it in such a manner." He spits, Don\'t ask why, lad, I\'m not used to my underlings asking such a question."

Nadira continues to watch the byplay between the two men in silence, but seems to lift the veil of stillness she had around her previously.

Varota\'s lips compress after he hurries the last draught of brandy. "Thousand pardons, milord", he offers, "Asking why is an old habit, and a rather unsightly one at that. I am somewhat of a cynic, as all Chusukienes."

Boris says, "Your people\'s habitual skepticism is well known. Can\'t you recognize a good offer when you see it, musician? I assure you, you\'d be well compensated."

Varota visibly weighs his options, his large hands wringing about a few times. To the Baron he replies, "The idea of remuneration of any sort, milord Baron, pales before the raw magnitude of the honor you offer me. And on those grounds alone, I accept."

Nadira says quietly, "Varota is a fine musician, if his vocal prowess is less then legendary."

Boris turns to Nadira. "And I suppose you sing well, Lady Finn."

Nadira says mildly, "Quite well, my lord. But rarely in company."

Boris claps Varota on the shoulder, roughly. "Good man. I knew you had some sense, eh?"

Varota tries to remain upright under Boris\' pummeling, succeeding, for the most part. He looks a bit discomfited by something.

Nadira studies the two, Varota in particular.

||From afar, Nadira does the BG scrutinizing thing. What\'s going on in your noggin? ;>

Boris says, "How about a little tune, then, Varota, to seal the deal?"

||You paged Nadira with \'I\'m wondering if I haven\'t slipped a noose around my neck.\'

||From afar, Nadira grins. I\'m willing to bet you can keep your head.

"Certainly, milord," Varota replies, trying to sound merry. "Do you have Talia handy?"

The Baron claps his hands. "Let Talia be brought to the Master here!" he commands. He says to Nadira, "And you are permitted to sing with him. I warn you, though, the last singer who displeased me is now mining jasmium on Kuzak Major...not many concerts given there, I can tell you!"

Nadira looks to Varota. "With your lordship\'s release, only if Varota is comfortable playing with a vocalist. It is not something he does often."

Varota wiggles his eyebrows comically, "En contraire, mademoiselle. I... play... with vocalists quite frequently."

Nadira says sweetly, "Then hope your fingers can keep up with my tongue."

"To that end, I use both hands," Varota replies, without missing a beat.

Nadira says, "Ambidexterity has little use if the fingers have no sensitivity."

Varota tilts his head a bit, conceeding the point, "The same could be said for even the most talented tongue, yes?"

Nadira says, "The tongue is not the only portion of a vocalist\'s instrument that must be properly developed. What shall you play, Varota?"

Boris seats himself. "Enough of this...Play the piece, or couple before me. Either would be equally entertaining," he grins.  

With a sound like chestnuts being opened, Varota cracks his knuckles. "I agree with the Lord Baron", he says, "Let us have at it, milady. Do you know \'The Lay of Sheuset\'?"

Nadira says, "But since one may give you a heart attack, we shall perform instead." she nods, "I do. If I may have a simple on-beat to know the key before you begin?"

Varota steps over to stand behind Talia, loosening his jabot as he goes. He spends a moment checking the tune and tenor of the instrument, before giving Nadira a key: Third C. An impossibly low tone for a woman. Varota grins.

Nadira simply arches a brow at him. It\'s like an assault - the scathing, demeaning expression conveys volumes - but mainly seems to indicate to all a mark of poor musicianship on the instrumentalist\'s part - to find more pleasure in ploys and tricks then to create a beautiful piece of music demeans Varota in Nadira\'s eyes. And yes, being able to create this impression with the simple alteration of a feature is a well known Bene Gesserit talent.

Boris lifts his usual goblet of wine and settles into his chair to watch the show.

This change in expression is not lost on Varota. He repeats the tone, stating simply, "Talia is a baritone. She cannot play inside a woman\'s range." Then, in a lower tone, for Nadira\'s benefit, "Besides, I would -love- to see you strain a bit."

Nadira instructs him, "Then play lower harmony, please - or play the melody, and I will descant." Unperturbed, she waits for his count.

"So be it," Varota replies, turning his attention to the massive baliset. He taps three beats with his foot, and on the fourth begins to play the harmony of the well-known victory hymn.

Nadira waits patiently through the intro measures, and then, standing perfectly still, begins to sing. She doesn\'t have the grand gestures of many singers, instead, she allows the only thing to influence the purveyor be her voice. A rich, fluid mezzo, with a dark enough timbre to even perhaps call her an alto, she sings the victory hymn, filling the room with the sound of her voice, yet at the same time not overpowering the baliset, or deafening the room.

Varota seems to ignore the sound of the woman\'s voice, his attention focused on the many-layered motif and the reverberations of the baliset. His expression betrays no effort, but his entire frame shakes as his hands twitch to form vibrattos and sustaineds.

Boris nods, approvingly, feeling the music in his bones, a sound even he can appreciate for its harmony.

||Nadira pages: Tsk. You\'re working with her, or ambivalent to her, out of curiousity? I realize how he \'appears\' vs what he\'s actually doing may be two different things.

||You paged Nadira with \'He\'s actually playing far above his skills in an effort to impress. ;)\'.

Nadira lets her voice dip and rise to the soft, murmured approval of the Harkonnen court, but she listens to the baliset, letting her voice gently intertwine and create melody to wrap around the strummed notes until finally, the song draws to a close.

Varota draws out the final chord a full six seconds, then steps back, heaving a deep breath. 

Nadira smiles to Varota, her golden eyes alight. "Well done." she compliments him without artifice.

Varota replies, his tone very sincere, "And you as well." He reaches for a glass of brandy and downs it in a gulp.

Boris claps, a grin on his face, and the servants about join in the applause, which does not seem forced, for once.

Varota approaches the Baron, as he dabs at his forehead with a kerchief produced from his sleeve. "You are pleased, milord?", he asks.

Boris nods, rising. "Excellently done! A bit cheerful, more than I like, but most rousing, eh?" He winks. "I knew I\'d not regret hiring you! And you won\'t regret accepting the offer."

Varota tries to smile, a pleasant if not completely authentic gesture. "You must allow me to peruse your archives for the martial music traditional to your world, Lord Baron. Perhaps, in time, \'Boris\' Valour\' may be part of a grander work, an opera or a lied, perhaps?"

The light in Boris\' eyes is almost blinding. "A Harkonnen opera! Yes! Indeed! Yes!! You must begin work on this at once! My heroic ancestor, Abulurd, followed by all of my illustrious forbears...and climaxed how I triumphed over my mad father, of course." He is almost bellowing in his excitement.

Overcome by Boris\' exultation, Varota grins, somewhat madly, as well, "It shall be so, milord. It shall be so."

Boris rubs his hands, "Perhaps work a small part in about those damned Atreides, eh? Preachy, moralizing...Oh, the look on the old hawk\'s face when the curtain rises!"

Varota nods enthusiastically, as he tucks his handkerchief in his sleeve. "I must be advised by your wisest scholars, so that the plot is correct and faithful in every respect."

Boris says, "I\'ll put Nestor on it at once. He\'s a fount of information, not all of it useful, I admit, but what d\'you expect from a Mentat? Eh?"

"I\'m not certain, milord, having never met one in person," Varota replies.

Boris says, "You will, lad, and it won\'t take long for you to tire of them...Oh, very well, if you want real accomodations, you\'re welcome to move in here...Otherwise stay in your little flophouse. And Varota..."

"Milord?", asks Varota."

Boris says, "I\'ll not have you working for anyone else but me, eh? See to it."

Varota swallows visibly, a slight tension apparent in his jaw. He genuflects as he says, "As the Baron wishes."

Boris turns away. "You may go, now."


__________________________________________________________

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