The Admonishments of Kherishdar
M.C.A. Hogarth

VANITY

noshan ekain — funny story/stories (this word has no numbered form). An anecdote where the humor derives from something odd, absurd, strange or unexpected. This is the kind of story that you might start by saying, "So I was walking to work and the funniest thing happened to me..."

      The first time I showed up at Shame's door, he sent me away. He also sent me away the second time, and the third. The fourth time I kicked the shrine door and yelled, "I am so wicked only you can Correct me!"
      He opened it and said, "Go home."
      Long ago I'd snuck into my Noble's library and read the Book of Corrections... of course, for am I not wicked? And wrote down a selection of the petty crimes that would get me publically displayed but not seriously discomforted. When the gossip about me died down, I made sure to revive it with a little sinning. I made an elegant picture tied onto a public pedestal.
      But then one day I saw him passing through an alley on the way to the temple district, stern and dark and altogether delicious, and knew that there would be no gossip like the gossip pairing off the most wicked of artists and the only servant of Shame in Kherishdar. I made it my mission to end up under his delightful hands.
      Except he kept turning me away.
      Since I refused to do anything that might actually get me marked, I had to resort to frequency. But after that fourth visit, my Noble shocked me entirely by tossing me into a basement in response to my latest escapade and locking me there. And he did it every time thereafter in contradiction to every precedent set out in the Book. People stopped talking about me; soon I was not the district's scandalous artist, I was just another Ai-Naidari. And every time I tried to change that, my twice-be-damned Noble shut me in another closet, basement or attic. I saw every forgotten corner of his manse. I daresay some of them were practically created just to keep me out of sight.
      So I gave up. My alternatives were to spend my life shoved into a pantry or do something so dire they were forced to hurt me to Correct me. I went back to making my jewelry, glum.
      Not long after, my assistant surprised me by asking me to a romantic dinner. Months later I said, "Why did you never tell me you were interested in me?"
      "You were so busy being interested in yourself you didn't need me to be interested in you," she said.
      So the fifth time I knocked on Shame's door it was to invite him to my wedding. Even after a year, he recognized me and started to slam it shut, but I jammed it with my elbow. "No, no! My wedding! Two weeks from now! Will you come?"
      His ears flicked forward. "Your wedding."
      "I figured out there are nicer reasons for people to know your name," I said. "Will you come?"
      He smiled. "Yes."
      "Thanks," I said. And added, "I wanted you in my bed."
      "I know," he said. "I'm still not interested."
      "I noticed," I said, grinning and turning away. "It still would have been amazing to be Corrected by y—" And stopped a few feet from the door. "Wait... my Noble... did you... you're the one who told him... the basements!"
      He grinned and shut the door.
      Damn it!


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© 2007, M. C. A. Hogarth