The -a appended to titles such as Reirn, Heirn, or even the more commonplace Eirn can be understood to mean, roughly, 'nearly so' or 'but not quite'. The reirn is the leader; the reirna is married to the reirn, and eligible to become the reirn, but is not. The heirn is an out familiy spouse of the reirn, and eligible to act in advisory and parental roles to an heir if the reirn dies; the heirna is out family and not elegible to carry on any potentially political roles after the reirn's death.

While in designating slight variations to the gradient of authority among those in high power the addition of such an -a is simply a statement of fact, its use in commoplace titles merely transform the show of respect into a mockery. Reirna is nearly always used honestly and respectfully. Eirna is never anything but an insult.

-But Why Not? A guide to avoiding common social missteps

The second Varon party wasn't held in the capital. It took place at a coastal city I'd never been to before, which necessitated an hour-long flight across the hills that separated the two. Fortunately, it turned out that transit between cities was available in the form of crystal platforms which could be flown with a moderate expenditure of power by two people and carried up to twenty in surprisingly comfortable seating. An elongated sphere of power surrounded the platform, cutting through the wind and leaving us passengers in a comfortably warm bubble undisturbed by the chill ocean breeze rushing by.

Desten 1 dropped me off at the departure station, then flew on ahead himself, surrounded in a perfect sphere of yellow light. He vanished into the distance before the platform had even lifted from the ground, and by the time we arrived he was already sitting at a corner table with his Sarosa lady and half-eaten dinner.

This ballroom was appointed much differently from the one in the capital, half as high, less glass and light, walls draped in rich tapestries, rooms and halls created by three-story curtains of heavy fabric in deep reds woven with mesmerizing patterns of yellow and green, doors and windows somehow folded from the cloth without rippling the surrounding drapery.

Lines of light glowed across the floor and ceiling, providing a cozy atmosphere without being exactly dim. The curtain-formed rooms were each large enough for a half-dozen tables scattered about, or if there were no tables, for people walking, standing, or dancing. And there were dozens of these rooms, laid out in a grid, with the light in each a slightly different hue. It was all Varon colours still, reds and yellows and greens, but the combination of the lines across the floor and ceiling was different in each room.

I began to see that what I'd heard about houses constantly showing off to each other must be entirely true.

This city had no Destens to speak of - it was overseen by a branch family who didn't use the same naming conventions. Or at least was more interested in naming their children after recent ancestors rather than a long-dead reirn. (Technically, there was one, but he was in his 80s and I definitely would have noticed if the killer had been that old.)

So there was no urgent priorities that I needed to be pursuing outside of finding Desten 3 and informing him of my decision to go touring with him.

Which was feeling like a better and worse idea all the time. A chance to visit other cities and meet other people from other houses! Advance the investigation! But I'd have to go to strange cities and meet strange people, any of whom could be less tolerant of my commoner accent and stilted manner. The more widely known I became, the more at risk my exceptionally flimsy cover story became.

I had to take risks. I couldn't let my fears talk me out of it.

So when I found Desten 3 once again sitting in heated discussion, I only hesitated a few minutes before approaching. It quickly became obvious that if I waited for his conversation to finish I'd be waiting all night.

"Which doesn't answer the main problem at all, but--" he broke off and stood as he noticed me. "Astesh! Wonderful to see you again."

"Greetings, Desten. And, um..."

"Yes, Astesh, may I introduce Lirsh Utrenad, a good friend and fellow reasonable person. Lirsh, Astesh Varon."

Lirsh and I exchanged pleasantries, then Desten smiled. "Lovely! Now, Astesh, I can't help but notice you've abandoned your home city to come talk with me. Does this mean you've reconsidered my offer?"

"Yes. I will gladly accompany you. I do have several people I'd like to visit along the way, so I can't promise I'll always be able to shore up your crumbling arguments, but I will do what I can. Also I have no money."

"I understand that problem all too well." Desten leaned back, a slight frown twisting his lips. "I mostly planned to stay with friends and fellow scholars, I'm sure it won't be much of a problem to arrange for your lodging as well. Will you be flying, or taking transit?"

"I'm definitely not confident in my abilities to fly for that long."

"Then transit it is. Why does my family have to be such misers? If my allotment were just a little larger, this wouldn't be a problem." He turned to his Utrenad friend. "Can you front me for Astesh's transit fees? I swear, I can repay it after tour season."

Lirsh shrugged in assent. "As long as you find me a bottle of 421."

"I will, if I have to tear the city apart. Thank you."

"Is transit that expensive?" I asked hesitantly.

"It's tour season," Lirsh replied. "Everything is expensive."

"You needn't worry about it," Desten said firmly. "I have it in hand and we will get by."

I suddenly felt very alone and very lost. I'd just committed to a tour of the world with someone I barely knew. It had the same desperate flailing feeling as when I'd agreed to go live with Desten 1 at the reirn's command.

"You alright, Astesh?"

"Ah, yes. I'll be fine. It's only, I've never been touring before. I'm not entirely sure I was prepared. How do we go about it?"

Desten laughed good-naturedly. "No different than you'd do here today. That's all. Just more conversations, more dinners, dancing and gossip if you're into that kind of thing."

"Duels," put in Lirsh. "That's something you won't see in Varon so often."

I seized on the opportunity. "But in, say, Sarosa? Is there often dueling there?"

"Well, naturally. Sarosa and Varon are the widely-acknowledged frontrunners in contests of power, and Varon are simply unstoppable on the field." Lirsh looked a little annoyed by this, but continued with hardly a pause. "So if one wanted to prove their credentials, the fastest way to establishing yourself as serious is to duel a Sarosa in public. They require a particular sort of tack to actually beat, so it isn't as hard or as impressive as people often think. But that's not to say they're easy. There's still plenty of prestige to be had."

"Who would be fighting? Particular people, or do they issue a general challenge?" There hadn't been any information on noble dueling in the downcity, and since my arrival upcity I'd been skipping between topics too fast to take any of them in fully, and still hadn't gotten around to the duel-specific information.

"Either. It depends on the person."

I could tell Desten was growing bored of my side conversation, fidgeting with his notepages, so I graciously excused myself and left them to resume their debate.

I wandered the curtained rooms for a time, nibbling on whatever snacks were available and looked good to me. Most of it was variations on the same sort of thing you'd get at fancy parties downcity, but there were some exclusive dishes that I'd never seen or heard of before. I didn't find them quite to my liking, but it seemed prudent to try to cultivate an appreciation for them if I were to blend in properly.

"Excuse me," a woman's voice asked from right behind me.

I turned. "Yes?" She wasn't anyone I recognized.

"I couldn't help but notice you're alone."

"True."

She giggled. "I am too."

"Okay?"

"Want to play regals?"

A common card game, but not one I'd expect nobility to play. Particularly not at an event like this. "Don't you need four players for that?"

"Oh, right." She giggled again. "I'm sure we can find some more players."

"No thank you." I couldn't tell if she were drunk, or up to something untoward, but either way I wanted nothing to do with it.

She pouted and leaned on my shoulder. "I'm pretty good. You can be on my team."

It took self-control to gently extricate myself instead of slapping her away, but I reminded myself that this was in public, and I was supposed to be a noble, and nobles did not go about smacking one another over such trifles. At least not publicly. In private, they would absolutely plot revenge and probably go to excessive lengths to ... what, deny her a position in any house of my alliance or something? I wasn't sure what a noble would consider commensurate punishment for overt familiarity.

"I must be going, good day, Eirn Leetan," I said, and fled with as much dignity as I could maintain.

Her giggles followed me, but thankfully I was able to evade her. Surprisingly easily. So, probably drunk then.

I found myself a quiet corner after that, a neglected table in one of the yellow-tinted rooms well away from the bulk of the dancing and goings-on, and wished I'd brought a book. Between the late event last night and the lunch with Desten 5 this afternoon, I had had enough of socializing for a long time. Yet I'd just signed up for a full two months of whirlwind parties across the world.

It exhausted me just to think about it. Another city, another party, every single night. All. Summer.

I would die. Death by excessive partying.

Who would have imagined? No one who knew me, for sure. Maybe I should come clean to the Sarosa and let them kill me. That would be an easier way to go.

A few people approached me throughout the night, either in attempts to draw me into activities or just to inquire about who I was. I politely declined the former and did my best to deflect the latter, though at a certain point deflection becomes more suspicious than revelation. I stuck with my ‘distant cousin’ story without going into detail about my whole Asnon and Teshron facade as much as possible, which seemed to satisfy most non-Varons.

Varons, on the other hand, took the pride of their family very seriously. By the third attempt to quietly harangue me into being less standoffish, I began to see that acting antisocial in a social event was attracting unwanted attention to myself.

Idly, I wondered if my burning need to be away from everyone would be enough to fuel a flight back to the capital. Not that I knew which direction it was from here. I was half tempted to go outside and try it anyway.