John Ringo: Emerald Sea

“Well, we all do what we can.” Megan sighed. “Speaking of doing what we can, I just had a couple of teensy questions. Nothing really.”

“Oh?” Marlene said, suddenly wary.

“I was just looking at this item for meat last week,” Megan said, her brow furrowing in clear perplexity. “You see, based upon what we’ve worked out in the individual diets, there should have been seven kilos of beef used in last Friday’s meal. And it appears that we paid for ten kilos…”

“Well, there’s wastage,” the cook said, huffily. “I mean, we order it on the bone. Bones, gristle cut out, you ladies have to have everything perfect…”

“And I know you make your own noodles, aren’t they delicious? But there’s another ten kilos of flour listed as used. And, by golly, the servings should have only worked out to five kilos. I’m just so perplexed!”

“You had better get unperplexed, missy,” the cook said, nastily. “You have no idea what can end up in your plate.”

“Oh, I rather think I do,” Megan said. “I rather think I do. And anything… untoward would be easy enough for Paul to detect if one of his concubines turned up dead. And he would wonder, wouldn’t he? Let’s just drop the bullshit, okay? I’ve been over the books for the last several months. You’re not just skimming, you’re stealing a council member blind. What do you think his response would be?”

The cook just looked at her, her jaw working in anger.

“Now, let’s be friends, shall we?” Megan said, after a moment to let the cook consider her position. “I see no reason to cut in on your little… peccadilloes.”

“What?” Marlene replied, suspiciously.

“I don’t, frankly, care if you steal that bastard’s shorts,” Megan said, making the point clear. “On the other hand, there are a few things I need. And I see no reason that you can’t get them for me.”

“Oh.”

“If you’re stealing and I catch you out, I’m a hero,” Megan said, smiling sweetly. “On the other hand, if you’re stealing and at the same time slipping me things I need, while I’m covering you up in the books, that makes us… partners.”

“What do you need?” Marlene said, after a moment. “And is this…”

“It’s not going to cut in on your take at all,” Megan assured her. “But you really need to be a bit more discreet. I can point out some areas that are easier, and more profitable, to cover up than others.”

“Okay,” Marlene replied. “What do you need? And how are you going to get it past the Gorgon?”

“I’ll handle Christel,” Megan replied, handing the cook a sheet of paper. “Here’s a list. I’ll also handle the books on those items. We’ll just list most of them as… spice.”

“Christel,” Megan said as she was carefully walking the older woman though the last week’s receipts, “you know what this harem needs that it doesn’t have?”

“Dildos?” Christel said snippily. She had been spending less and less time on the books and liked that state of affairs. But she wasn’t going to entirely trust “the new girl” either.

“No, easier to just get cucumbers from the kitchens,” Megan replied with a chuckle. “No, it needs perfume .”

“Perfume?” Christel said, then smiled. “Yes, as a matter of fact it does. I think Paul would like that.”

“Perfume and cosmetics. I know all the girls are gorgeous, but there’s nothing that a little cosmetics can’t improve upon. The problem is, I talked to Marlene and there aren’t any suppliers available.”

“Paul could probably find one,” Christel said, thoughtfully. “Or just ken it.”

“He probably could,” Megan admitted. “But wouldn’t it be better as a surprise?”

“Yes,” the older woman replied. “But you said there aren’t any suppliers.”

“There aren’t. But the raw materials are available.” Megan pointed out. “In fact, there’s some indication that most early perfumes were invented in harems. Still-rooms used to be common in them.”

“Stills?” Christel said, cautiously. “One of the reasons we only serve a little wine is that I could easily see us all getting to be drunks…”

“A still can be used for much more than making alcohol,” Megan said, shaking her head. “What you do is you get raw materials for the perfume and you distill them down, concentrate them. That’s how you get the concentrated scent. By the time of the Fall they were mostly based on nannites, but this is the old way of doing it.”

“How do you know that?”

“I said I was studying numbers,” Megan replied. “That wasn’t… entirely accurate. What I was studying was chemistry . Early perfume production was part of the history I audited. I can make some simple cologne just from stuff available in the kitchen. But with a few other items, nothing expensive or complicated, I can make some really nice perfume. I think. I know the theory, anyway.”

She looked up and saw the older woman eyeing her warily.

“Look, I’m talking about some rose hips to start, okay?” Megan said, shrugging. “I promise I won’t be making brandy in my spare time. If I do anything out of line you can always zap me, right? There are two spare rooms. All I need is a table, some glassware, a catchment for runoff and some spices. Perfume, scented candles. I can’t sew, but this I can do.”

“Okay,” Christel said, suspiciously. “But if you’re trying something…”

“For the last time,” Megan said, letting a note of anger enter her voice. “We’re in an impregnable fortress in the middle of Paul’s territory. I’m not even sure where we are except up in the mountains. And I’m well fed and well housed. Running away would be stupid, impossible and pointless. I like my brain the way it is. And, let me note, so do you. Otherwise you’re going to have to manage all this damned accounting. At this point the last thing either of us wants is me brain-drained.”

“True,” Christel chuckled. “Are you going to have enough time for this and all your other duties?”

“Yes, I will,” Megan sighed. “All of them. Including…”

“Keeping Paul happy.”

Cosmetics turned out to be easier than perfume. There were people who were making the former and if it was available anywhere in Ropasa it was available to “Paul’s Girls.” The expense of the material made her blanch when she got the bill, but in time she’d find a better, meaning less expensive, source. But within a week she had a supply of rouges, mascara, lip gloss and powders that the girls cheerfully dug into with abandon. So much abandon that she knew immediately that she had to find another source.

Perfume was another matter; no one seemed to be making it anywhere in Ropasa. Certainly not commercially. She felt a twinge of anger at being trapped in this damned harem; if she was back on the outside she could make a killing in the perfume business. But needs must and she instead ordered the materials she needed to make it, including a good workbench.

The material for the table was brought into the harem by Changed. They were not the half-wild orcs that made up the bulk of Paul’s legions but heavy-bodied, dull-witted beings wearing gray smocks that took no note of the women who shrieked and hugged the walls as they came through carrying balks of timber and tools.

They were followed by another Change. He was short with preternaturally long arms and legs. He did notice the women but only to wink at them and leer as he followed the bearers into the room set aside for the perfumery.

“I want it over there,” Megan said, pointing to a wall that got a decent amount of light.