Something fun I found in reading today that gives a good touch on the Night Court; it does have spoilers in it so I'm putting it in a spoiler tag for those who don't want to see that. Its from Kushiel's Scion, Imriel's first book and doesn't contain any<del>major spoilers really</del>. Nevermind it does. So yeah...spoiler is good.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">The day was blustery, with a chill edge to the wind hinting at the winter to come. We departed in the early morning under dull grey skies. It was strange to see the City quiet and empty; the shop doors bolted, the streets almost deserted. Only a few scattered members of the City Guard were about, and a few weary revelers weaving their way home from a late night's debauch. One of them greeted Ti-Philippe, calling out a slurred salute.<br/><br/>He grinned in reply. "To the flowers of Orchis!"<br/><br/>I felt myself redden. Orchis was one of the Thirteen Houses of the Night Court, where Naamah's finest Servants plied their trade. Phèdre was raised in one such—Cereus House, First among Thirteen.<br/><br/>"Philippe?" I cleared my throat. "What's it like there?"<br/><br/>He glanced at me. "Orchis House?"<br/><br/>"The Night Court."<br/><br/>"Well, it depends on the House." He shrugged. "I like Orchis. They're lighthearted; merry. It suits me."<br/><br/>"What about the others?" I asked.<br/><br/>"They're all different." Ti-Philippe smiled. "Heliotrope's nice. The adepts there will make you feel like the only man ever to touch their hearts. And Eglantine—it's worth visiting for the poets and players alone. Jasmine... ah, there's adepts at Jasmine will leave you limp as a dishrag, half-drowned in the sweat of desire."<br/><br/>Phèdre's mother was an adept of Jasmine House, but she left. And when she sold her<br/><br/>daughter into indentured servitude, it was to the First among Thirteen; to Cereus House. "What about Cereus?"<br/><br/>"Ah." His gaze sharpened. "Well, all beauty's transient, so they say; but I'm not one to ache at its passing—or at least not to relish the ache."<br/><br/>"No," I said slowly. "I suppose not." Ti-Philippe chuckled. "Ah, don't worry, Imriel, you've got plenty of years to choose." The men in earshot laughed, and I blushed deeper. "That's not why I asked."<br/><br/>"I know." He grinned, but nicely. "Well, if you choose to visit Cereus House one day, you'll see where her ladyship got her manners, but that's about it. Anyway, it's not the House I'd pick for you."<br/><br/>"Which one, then?" I was curious despite myself. The Night Court wouldn't accept me as a patron until I'd gained sixteen years, but the mere thought of choosing among the Thirteen Houses made my stomach feel unsettled with a sick excitement.<br/><br/>Ti-Philippe opened his mouth to reply, then paused and shook his head. "I'm not sure." His eyes had gone grave and thoughtful. "For you, I'm not sure."<br/><br/>"Well, what do think you might fancy?" Gilot asked cheerfully. "I'll tell you, I hear Bryony's more fun than you might reckon. If you like to wager, you're a lad will have the coin to spare. Or maybe Alyssum, eh? A little modesty, a little hesitation?" Leaning over in the saddle, he nudged my leg. "That might suit you, Imri."<br/><br/>Unaccountably, I shuddered. Something in his words summoned a memory of the zenana, so powerful that I could almost smell the stagnant water in the abandoned pool. I remembered the Bhodistani women fasting there, hollow-eyed and serene. Somehow they had maintained dignity and modesty alike in that terrible place. It had carried a cost. One of them had died at the point of a knife rather than consume a morsel of food in the Mahrkagir's hall.<br/><br/>"No." My voice was thick. "Not that."<br/><br/>"Ah, well." Gilot was oblivious. "There's Dahlia if you like 'em haughty instead; or Camellia, they're a proud lot. Or, of course—"<br/><br/>"Enough, Gilot." It was Hugues who intervened. His voice was mild, but there was somewhat implacable in his pleasant blue eyes; and too, the set of his broad shoulders. "As Philippe said, Prince Imriel has years to choose."<br/><br/>I smiled my thanks at him.<br/><br/>"Sorry, Imri." Gilot shrugged. "I meant no offense."<br/><br/>"None taken." I shook my head. "It's no matter."<br/><br/>It was, though. I did not want to hear him name the other Houses—not Balm or Gentian; healers and dreamers I did not mind—but the other two. Mandrake and Valerian, those given over to the sharper pleasures; the one giving, the other receiving. Their clientele was smaller, but it was select.<br/><br/>They played with dangerous toys, there.<br/><br/>I knew too much about those.</div></div>