Tisshe Kaori

By David Jung

With each vacuous word the Duchess uttered, another bit of Kaori’s hope evaporated into a bitter almond scent. Was this entire planet ungraced with a family worthy of a Tisshe’s services?

Months of agonizing and futile interviews had exposed the inadequacy of the royals and bureaucrats. Today, the babbling Duchess kneeling at the tea table across from Kaori represented the last of the purchased rank families. How could so many useless people occupy the consequential positions of business and politics?

The Duchess was beautiful and well-spoken from the point of grammar, but tiresome. Vain. Much more shallow than Kaori had expected, and she had arrived with the lowest of expectations.

The Planetary Governor had been Kaori’s first choice. Unfortunately, he had an unnecessarily enormous family due to numerous and remarkably fertile wives and concubines. Not an impossible undertaking for a Tisshe, but evil men of advanced years comprised the Governor’s inner circle of trusted advisors. A second Tisshe would have been necessary to unravel their malodorous machinations while perceiving and arranging the family’s path.

A pity that a sister might not become available for at least a decade—Kaori would have enjoyed turning those men to the Greater Consequence. Or, failing that, ruining them as they had ruined countless others.

“Yes, our family would be perfect for you. Don’t you agree, Kaori?” The Duchess nodded happily in agreement with herself and resumed her effluvium of useless words.

Kaori bowed her head slightly in vague acknowledgment without attempting to wedge in a polite response. This household could benefit from a Tisshe, as would any. But Kaori would rather crush herself between the Governor’s multitude of offspring and vile advisors than commit her heart and soul to this family for seven generations. She stifled a yawn. Beyond the Duchess’s shoulder knelt five long rows of motionless servant girls. Listless eyes stared at an unseen point on the marble floor, precisely one meter in front of their knees.

Movement on the third row—a girl suppressed a grin and peeked up at the Duchess. Her ill-fitted uniform seemed as out of place as her good humor. The servant lowered her head upon glimpsing Kaori’s eyes.

Kaori breathed in deeply. The emotions and thought-scents permeating the room flooded her mind, and she began searching. The stale droning of the Duchess. A musty fog of servant boredom. There—an unknown person’s fragrant blend of cinnamon curiosity, lemony apprehension, and sweet excitement.

“Duchess, are these servants yours?”

The Duchess gawked at her with a slight twitch in her right eye.

Kaori smiled at the woman’s apparent unfamiliarity with interruptions. She gestured with a slow, graceful hand towards the attendants. “These servants. Are they all in the employment of your household?”

“Oh, no, we have many more. These are only for this reception hall.”

“No.” The Duchess could not be this dense. “Are these—seated here—employed, indentured? Borrowed? Owned?”

The Duchess blinked at the correction. “Employed.”

Kaori stood. The Duchess’s lying was easily discernable, even without interpreting her thought-scents now soiling the air like decaying flesh.

“This-tisshe will begin evaluating your family for a placement by interviewing these servants.”

The Duchess frowned in confusion as she rose. “You shouldn’t waste our time with unimportant—”

“This-tisshe would not dare to waste the time of someone as important as yourself,” Kaori said. “You may attend to your waiting responsibilities during the interviews.”

Whether the Duchess stared at her in disbelief or anger, Kaori did not care. “This-tisshe is responsible for the proper functioning of a household and will dismiss anyone unworthy of your family.” She clasped her hands together. “Or perhaps the Duchess can recommend a more suitable family for this-tisshe?”

“Your name?” Kaori asked.

“Giffim.” The girl bowed her head.

Kaori imprinted the name and face with the girl’s thought-scent signature, marking the memory as permanent with full sensorial details. “Miss Giffim, please return to the end of the line. This-tisshe will speak with you last.”

The girl’s emotions infused the air with an unusual spiced, apricot-like scent—ah, confusion with a hint of disappointment and a moderate layer of curiosity. Kaori continued with the next servant.

Giffim knelt in front of Kaori and glanced about without looking directly at her.

“You may look at this-tisshe whenever you desire, Miss Giffim. This is always permitted.”

The girl nodded and looked her over in the silence.

“What do you see?” Kaori asked.

“A woman. Plain white robe. No jewelry.” Giffim pursed her lips and gestured around the top of her head. “Your braids are coiled up. Pretty eyes.” She shrugged. “You’re not afraid of the Duchess.”

Kaori nodded. Giffim no more belonged here than herself. “Are you familiar with the Tisshe?”

“No.”

“Few are.” She studied the girl’s rough hands resting on her thighs. The other servants’ polished nails and soft skin had betrayed their life of ease. Giffim’s cracked and broken nails slipped from view as she balled her hands.

“Do you have sisters?” Kaori asked. “Brothers? Their ages?”

“A brother born last month. Two sisters—two and six.”

A placement as a nanny then. Kaori calmed the joy rushing into her heart. “Why are you here and not helping care for them?”

“My family owes a debt to the Duchess, so I work here six days of the week. But only for maybe eight or nine more years. I’m not sure.”

Whatever trivial amount this family owed the Duchess would be extinguished today, assuming it did not exceed the resources of the thousand worlds at Kaori’s disposal. But of significantly more likelihood, her careful accounting this afternoon would uncover a repayment due to Giffim’s family.

Kaori bowed formally and humbled herself as she touched her forehead to the floor. “May this-tisshe be worthy of your family, and may your family be worthy of this-tisshe.”

“Oh!” Giffim leaned to touch Kaori’s shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“This-tisshe has placed herself with your family.”

“Why?”

Kaori smiled. “Because sacrifice is a most pleasing aroma.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

David Jung has a B.S. in Computer Science, an M.B.A., and has written more lines of code than he cares to remember over the last forty years. This apparently doesn’t mean squat when writing fiction. He tinkers around with high-power rocketry, the shooting sports, building models, and has played the drums since 1970. Also, not particularly useful for writing fiction. He has two beautiful daughters, a rescue German Shepherd, and has been married to Her Hotness since 1982, so he at least has all that going for him. One day he hopes to complete his trilogy set in the Tisshe Universe.

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