Start of new story

[maderr]

I may throw the full of this up on lulu as an ebook. Not certain yet. Though, after I finish it, I really need to get back to the long stuff >_o I is slacking!

Must also make notes of the fsking characters. Note to self: never do this again.

The Matchmaker

Joss played nervously with his lace cuffs, smoothing the velvet of his jacket, peering at himself in the mirror, wishing he could say for a certainty that he looked presentable and respectable. These clothes were strange to him, not being at all what he normally wore back home. So fitting; they left very little to the imagination, and that did not make him comfortable.

There was nothing for it, however. He was here, he had a job to do, and so he would have to adjust.

First, however, he had to get through introductions.

He only hoped the natives with whom he would have to contend were as nice as the Queen who had brought him here.

Glancing back at the mirror, he tried to reassure himself he did not look like an idiot.

The clock began to chime, making him jump. Grimacing at his reflection, resigned to the fact that it didn't matter how he appeared for it was too late to change anything, Joss took up his leather portfolio and left his suite.

He could feel the eyes on him as he walked through the halls, though this early in the morning, he thankfully had only to contend with the servants.

Until he reached the sunroom the Queen had shown him last night, with instructions to join her there for an early breakfast – and to meet those persons he needed to know.

As it was just past seven, he had hoped to be one of the first arrivals, feeling it was better to be in the room as they arrived rather than arriving last to be greeted by a sea of strange faces.

No such luck.

He hovered in the doorway, resisting the urge to mess with his lace cuffs or fuss with his hair. Such things were for privacy – in the public eye, he must always appear confident and collected. One in his capacity must never be seen to falter.

Queen Mariana smiled warmly at him from where she sat at a moderately sized round table, early morning sunlight shining behind her, drawing out the slight hints of red in her blonde hair. She was young for a Queen, Joss knew, only twenty eight. He knew she was popular and well-liked, for her competence and her compassion – and his own King would never have agreed to the current arrangement if he did not approve heartily of the Queen.

"Good morning, Majesty," he said, and sketched a bow.

She smiled at him. "Good morning, Matchmaker. Did you sleep well? Are your rooms adequate?"

"Yes and yes, Majesty. I thank you for the generosity you have shown me."

"Oh, la," Mariana replied. "I have taken you quite neatly from your home; the least I can do is see you are comfortable while my prisoner." She winked at him, and he felt a little less nervous.

Then she motioned to her five companions, and all the nervousness came rushing back trebled.

"Gentlemen," she said, holding her hand out with palm up toward Joss, "I introduce you to Jocelyn Worthington, a Matchmaker of Kevie. He is here at my request. Matchmaker, let me introduce you to my friends and closest associates."

She indicated the man to her immediate right, a man who seemed tall even sitting. He had dark brown, curly hair, pale green eyes, sun darkened skin. "This is Charles Boothby, the Duke of Corona."

Joss nodded, mentally ticking off what else he already knew – for the introduction, for his part, were merely to match real faces to the sketches and information he had long since been given – about the Duke of Corona.

Thirty one years of age, born to his late father's second wife. Enjoyed horseback riding, politics, ale. Disliked balls, was not good with money, detested extremely rich foods. Several lovers over the years, none for very long, all female. Seemed polite, had a pleasant smile, and a politician's demeanor.

Queen Marianna indicated the man next to the Duke. "Eustace Summers, Earl of Drake."

Dark blonde hair, hazel eyes, freckles across the bridge of his nose. Young, only twenty six. Friendly, well-mannered. On the pretty side of handsome. Shrewd with finances, average in politics, took lovers infrequently and never for very long, both male and female. Did not spend much time outdoors, did favor cards and gambling, and was accounted quite skilled at both. Fond of wine, did not like sweet things. He smiled warmly, if cautiously, at Joss in greeting.

"Lyle Banks, Earl of Greymore," Queen Marianna continued on to the next one, who sat to her left, with one person between them.

Thirty five years of age, with black hair and dark brown eyes, set off by gold-framed spectacles. Appeared short, though height was hard to judge when seated. Sharp features, too severe to be handsome, but quite striking. Not much for politics, but was quite intelligent – fluent in three languages, competent in three more, was a professor at the Royal University. Dabbled in cooking, no known food dislikes. Not much for the outdoors or games, spend most of his time in his studies or helping her Majesty. No recent lovers, but one serious one in the past, male. Reserved and quiet, but well-liked and respected.

Queen Marianna smiled and rested her hand on the shoulder of the man to her immediate left. "This one is my darling cousin, Sorrel Dunkirk, Marquis of Bellow."

Twenty eight years of age, same as the Queen. He was the only son, and eldest of three children, of Queen Marianna's aunt, who had been youngest sister to Marianna's mother. Like the Queen, his hair was spun red-gold, though it was cut too short for any hint of curl he might possess to show. His eyes were a pale gray that reminded Joss of a cool, crisp winter morning. The deep blue velvet of his morning jacket was a perfect compliment…

And his thoughts were completely wandering. Sharply, Joss drew himself back.

Close friends with the Queen; they had grown up more like sister and brother than cousins. His skills were myriad – he was sound in politics, finances, academics, foreign relations…and all of those gave him a sound foundation for law, which was were he really shone. His athletic interests were purely at a social level, though he more than held his own. Frequented the Royal University, gave a lesson there from time to time, and rumors were he was considering accepting an offer of professorship. Many lovers, none lasting, male and female. Was fond of dancing, and had a passion for tea.

The Queen lifted her hand to indicate the man standing just behind her. "This is Michael Lowry, Baron of Cartwright. He is my personal assistant."

Joss eyed him critically, as closely as he had examined the Marquis. Of all those connected to his appointed task, these two would probably prove the most difficult. Like Bellow, Lowry had known the Queen since they were young – though not since childhood; they had only met in school. Like the Marquis, Lowry's strengths were wide and varied. He was also organized, focused, and sharp-witted. In other words, the perfect man for the role he had assumed.

Though only a Baron, his position as personal assistant to the Queen lent him much rank and authority.

He was pretty, Joss decided. His hair was pale gold, slightly overlong but it suited him. He was dressed in light blue to match the sharp eyes glinting behind silver-framed spectacles, and like Joss he held a leather portfolio – though it was currently open, and even as he nodded in greeting, he was obviously more interested in whatever he was penning. He liked to read, and swim when he was able. No known lovers, as all his time was spent with the Queen. Friendly, well-liked, though there was some resentment that a lowly Baron – and relatively new to the title, it having been in his family for only four generations – had been given so powerful a position.

"Gentlemen," Joss said, sweeping them a bow. "It is an honor to make your acquaintance this fine morning."

"Please, sit," Queen Marianna said warmly.

Moving slowly, feeling all the eyes upon him, Joss obediently sat. Sitting exactly opposite the Queen at the oval table, he had a perfect view of them all. He absently thanked a servant who set out a plate and poured tea for him.

Though he was hungry, he was far too nervous to think that anything would settle well on his stomach.

"So," said Charles Boothby, "what, precisely, is a matchmaker? Other than the obvious, I mean."

Joss frowned, not quite certain how to answer that – Queen Marianna had cautioned him that these men likely would not like what he was about, even if they were keeping the whole of it a secret.

"Now, Charles," Marianna said, "I know you are familiar with the Matchmakers of Kevie."

Lyle Banks adjusted his gold-framed spectacles. "Indeed, they are quite famous – infamous. Fascinating career, to be sure. Called masters at analyzing and understanding people, and use that gift to 'match' people together. They say there is no such thing as a disharmonious marriage in Kevie."

Joss almost laughed at that, for it was something everyone seemed to believe about his country. "Not everyone in Kevie chooses to use Matchmakers," he said. "However, when our services are called upon, we do our best to ensure that our advice brings lifelong happiness to all involved parties."

The men all laughed.

He wondered why, and fought not to slump in his seat. Reassurance had been his goal, not amusement.

Queen Marianna smiled reassuringly. "The Matchmakers are a fascinating lot; they study far harder than either of you ever did, Lyle, Sorrel."

Sorrel snorted. "Everyone studied harder than I did, unless it was a study of the lovely offerings of Micah House!"

"You are terrible," Queen Marianna admonished, "and it far too early for such crude humor. Behave, or you will have the Matchmaker thinking you quite hopeless."

"Why shouldn't he?" Sorrel asked lazily. "That is what everyone else thinks."

Queen Marianna rolled her eyes. "Indeed."

"So tell us more, Matchmaker," Eustace said. "Why has our Queen brought you?" He slid his hazel eyes to the Queen. "Are we all quite doomed to be marched down the aisle, Mari?"

Marianna sniffed and sipped her tea. She smiled as she set it down.

All the men groaned.

"Devil take it," Charles said. "I know that smile. You are Plotting."

"Indeed," Marianna said. "He is here upon my request, for reasons to which none of you shall be privy. He is a Matchmaker, that is what he will be doing, and that is all you are to know of the matter."

Now they all frowned, whatever levity they had been displaying vanishing like a match snuffed by the wind.

"What is going on, Mari?" Sorrel asked quietly, eyes like winter clouds. "We none of us are children; we do not require some foreigner to come in and tell use who we should be wedding."

Marianna gave a careless shrug. "I am Queen," she replied. "He was loaned to me for good reason, but I do not want that reason known. I introduce you to him, in his true capacity, because you are all my dearest friends. So far as the rest of the palace is concerned, he is merely my guest. Understood?"

The man all grumbled their agreements, but shot him looks that were both subtly and openly hostile.

"Oh, do stop acting like children," Marianna said irritably, sipping her tea again and setting it down with a loud clack. "Have I ever done anything to hurt the lot of you? He is here because I requested his services, and he is only doing what I ask. If you want to glare like boys denied dessert, then glare at me, not him."

Grimacing, they all eased back slightly.

"So what is that curious broach you wear?" Sorrel drawled, looking down his nose in a way only a noble could.

Joss ignored the attempt to be insulting, and lightly touched the broach pinned to his lapel – It was actually two pieces, attached at the back to appear as one from the front. Two halves of a heart, one made of ruby set in gold, the other made of diamond set in silver.

Though these men would not know, the jewels spoke of his Matchmaker rank – something else the Queen chose to keep back, for reasons of her own, and he was happy to comply in this case.

"It is the mark of my calling," he explained simply. "In your language, I am called 'Matchmaker' but a more literal translation would be 'heart matcher'."

Lyle looked at him with mild interest. "I did not notice it before, but you are correct. That would be the older form of the language, yes? I am rusty at best in the dead forms."

Joss nodded. "Yes. One of the few cases of our employing outdated modes of speech."

"Majesty," said Michael from behind her, a deep frown creasing his face. "Whatever you are about, are you certain it's a good idea?"

"Yes," Marianna said firmly, not turning to look at him. "You can stop pouting that I would not tell even you, my darling assistant. I have my reasons, and I expect all of you to understand that."

Sorrel grimaced and looked again at Joss, and there was nothing but frigidity in his winter gray eyes. "Oh, we understand," he said, sitting back in his seat and folding his arms across his chest. "However, that does not mean we have to like it."

"I expect you to be civilized," Marianna replied, looking at him coolly.

Sorrel returned her gaze, then shrugged indolently and looked at Joss again. "Civilized...an interesting word, that. Even a war can be described as civilized, if it is fought a particular way.."

Marianna sighed. "Is that what you are going to make of this, Sorrel? A civilized war?"

"Yes," Sorrel said, and stood up. He was promptly joined by the other three. "We do not require a Matchmaker, and there is no other reason you would have brought in something so ridiculous. Good day to you, my Queen." He gave a short bow, bordering on rude – just barely, Joss supposed, being civilized. "Matchmaker."

Joss looked at his portfolio once the men had gone, not quite certain what to say.

"That went better than I could have hoped," Marianna said briskly.

"Interviews with each, at some point," Joss said. "Also with you, Master Michael, since you are also relevant to this matter."

Michael's brows went up, but he said nothing. "As you like," he said easily. "I will acquire their schedules from their secretaries, and see that appointments are scheduled. You may also want to send me a copy of your own agenda, so that I may match it with theirs and whatever – or whoever – you may require."

Joss laughed and spread his hands. "I have only arrived, there is no agenda to speak of. I will require a clean slate, for the most part, to observe and learn and interview. Majesty, did you want regular reports, or…"

She waved her hand. "No, only the final. Let me know if you will require an inordinately long length of time, or things of that nature, but otherwise I leave you to your own devices."

He bowed his head low. "Thank you, Majesty."

"No, Matchmaker, than you," Marianna replied. "As we have just seen, you will have a difficult time of it. I fear that their dislike will keep you from making real friends, and they will not cooperate overmuch no matter what I admonish. Your assistance means a great deal to me, and I hope I can repay it."

"My duty is to match hearts," Joss said formally. "It is an honor to serve in such capacity. If you will permit, I should like to begin my day."

Marianna nodded. "Of course. Michael will send round the schedules and interview times later today. You recall the location of your office?"

"Yes," Joss replied, and rose, sweeping her a bow before slowly leaving the room.