After the noon meal that day, skekEkt retrieved the apron from his bedchamber and went looking for skekAyuk. As he trudged down the stairs to the kitchen, the yelling from within told him that he had found the Gourmand. SkekEkt slowly pushed open the large swinging door that led into the kitchen and peered inside. SkekAyuk was shouting at a group of three slaves stirring a large pot over a fire. When he got no response, he reached into a net full of live Crawlies-- probably destined for that evening's dinner-- pulled a handful out, and pitched them at the slaves. The slaves did not react, but skekEkt screeched as one dashed past him on its run for freedom.

SkekAyuk jumped at the sound of skekEkt's cry. Rather embarrassed, skekEkt slunk into the room, grumbling. "You shouldn't throw those things around. They might. . . bite or something."

"Told you before, Crawlies don't bite," skekAyuk sighed. He took a hesitant step towards skekEkt. "You. . . all right? You didn't come out of your room at all yesterday."

"I was working on something," skekEkt replied loftily.

"But you didn't eat all day!" The idea was apparently inconceivable to the Gourmand.

"I ate what you sent me," skekEkt said more softly.

"Oh. . . yes. The slaves found a whole grove of the trees-- five or six of them-- so there should be plenty of fruit for a while."

So that explained why skekAyuk had sent it to him willingly. "I suppose you'll serve it at dinner then," skekEkt muttered.

"No, I rather think I'll save it all for you and me," chuckled skekAyuk.

"But. . . how much is there? Won't it spoil before we can eat it all?"

"Probably. But better that than have to share it, eh?"

That was true; the thought of savoring a food that none of the other Skeksis could have was delicious. Still, something didn't quite make sense. "But you'd be sharing it with me."

"That's different." SkekAyuk didn't explain; instead he eyed the bundle skekEkt was carrying. "What's that?"

"Oh. " SkekEkt had forgotten all about the apron in the drama of the Crawly incident. "Your apron-- I made it yesterday."

"Yesterday? All in one day?" skekAyuk exclaimed as skekEkt handed the folded garment to him. "No wonder you didn't come out of your room. I didn't expect you to--" He broke off as he unfolded the apron and stared. "SkekEkt-- you sewed all this in one day, for me?"

"Yes," skekEkt said, slightly puzzled.

SkekAyuk lowered the apron to look at the Ornamentalist over it. "I. . . I can't wear this," he stuttered.

SkekEkt gawked at him. "What?" he squeaked furiously. "After I spent hours making it, you--"

"No, no, I mean. . . it's too. . . nice. If I use it, it'll get food on it."

"You got food on the last one I made you!" skekEkt pointed out in exasperation, gesticulating at the ragged apron the Gourmand was wearing.

"Yes, but. . . that was different," skekAyuk said helplessly. "I ordered that one. This, you. . . just made for me."

"But I told you, it was because you gave me the fruit!" SkekEkt threw his hands in the air out of frustration. "You make less sense than the Scientist!"

"I didn't give you the fruit to get anything in exchange," the Gourmand answered. "And that's not why you made this for me either, is it?" He folded it over his arm and held it against his chest as if he were afraid skekEkt would take it back.

"O-of course it is!" SkekEkt turned his beak up in the air indignantly. "I don't know what your reasons for giving me something were, but--"

SkekAyuk interrupted him again. "The first time, it was because I didn't want to fight with you anymore. Even if it was your fault."

"My fault?" skekEkt screeched. "You spilled gravy on me."

"And you overreacted, just like you always do." SkekAyuk grinned at him suddenly, which had the strange effect of completely deflating skekEkt's temper. "Knew you'd never admit it though, so I had to make up with you. Just like I always do."

"Hmph." SkekEkt folded his arms. "If it's such trouble to you, then why do you bother?"

"I ask myself that a lot," said skekAyuk wryly.

SkekEkt frowned slightly and thought about the whole matter. He didn't really understand it. To his way of thinking, everything one did was done in expectation of something in exchange. SkekAyuk had given him food in exchange for ending their quarrel-- that made sense. Then he, skekEkt, had wanted more fruit, so he had offered to make skekAyuk a new apron in exchange. That made sense too. What didn't make sense was that apparently skekAyuk hadn't taken the offer seriously and had given him the fruit for nothing. And he assumed that skekEkt had made the apron for nothing as well, and somehow, the Gourmand had found that bizarre behavior satisfactory.

"My head hurts," skekEkt muttered, rubbing his temples.

SkekAyuk sighed heavily. "You've been working too hard. Go get some rest."

"No, I'm going to figure this out." The Ornamentalist let his hands fall to his sides as he decided to start over again from the beginning. "Why don't you want to use the apron I made you?"

The Gourmand walked over to him and looked up at him determinedly. "Because it's a gift. From you."

"But--"

SkekAyuk reached up and clamped a hand over skekEkt's beak, silencing him. "Never mind. I'll wear it, all right?" With his beak in the Gourmand's grip, skekEkt could only nod. SkekAyuk finally let go, though he trailed one finger up the edge of skekEkt's beak before lowering his hand.

"SkekAyuk--"

"I've got a meal to cook," skekAyuk grumbled, turning away from him-- although he did begin removing his old apron to replace it with the new. "And you'd better get to work on the Emperor's robe if you want to stay on his good side."

SkekEkt turned to leave, but he stopped before he reached the door. All pleasurable things have two sides, skekTek had said. We feel the dark. . . . He had said it like it was all right to be happy.

"SkekAyuk, may I. . . come to your chamber again tonight?" he asked, his high voice shaking slightly. He kept his eyes lowered as he spoke, but when he didn't get a response, he raised his head and looked at skekAyuk fearfully. The Gourmand was frozen in place with his own head down.

"You don't have to ask," skekAyuk finally muttered. "Wear what you wore the other night."

SkekEkt somehow managed to work that afternoon; before and after the slaves' choir practice, he got most of the Emperor's robe basted together. He brought it to skekSo in the throne room to try on just before dinner.

The Chamberlain was the only other Skeksis in attendance on the Emperor when skekEkt entered the throne room. Simpering, he aided skekEkt in placing the robe about skekSo's shoulders, over his other layers of clothing.

"A flawless fit as always, Ornamentalist," skekSo hissed approvingly. "I suppose your measurements are effective, however tiresome they may be. You may continue your work on it."

"Yes, my Emperor." SkekEkt bowed profusely, sweeping the ground with the trailing chiffon of his own garments.

"Hmmmmm, I am glad to see you about," skekSil interjected to skekEkt when the Emperor did not speak again. "Since you were in your room all day yesterday, I feared you were ill."

"I have been devoting myself to our Emperor's new robe," skekEkt lied glibly. "But I am grateful that you're so concerned with my health."

"Not I alone," skekSil said in a slightly lower tone. "The Gourmand asked me several times if I had seen you."

"He. . . did?" SkekEkt tried not to squeak as he spoke the words.

"Hmmmmm, yes. He was quite. . . worried."

Acutely aware of the appraising looks he was getting from both the Chamberlain and the Emperor, skekEkt replied somewhat haughtily, "He had no reason to be. I am quite well. If you'll excuse me, I'd like to return the Emperor's new garment to my chamber before dinner."

As the Ornamentalist swished out of the room, trailing his chiffon behind him, the Emperor made a disdainful noise. "He's behaving oddly lately. If I didn't know better, I'd believe he was plotting something."

SkekSil looked at the Emperor carefully. SkekSo had always been paranoid that one of the others would attempt to overthrow him, but his suspicions had become more and more acute lately. Not that they were unfounded-- as that old hag of a seer, Aughra, was fond of saying, just because you were paranoid didn't mean they weren't out to get you. Still, for the Emperor to suspect that skekEkt had any ambition to the throne in his fluff-filled head was ridiculous.

"My liege, he would be the last to plot anything against you, hmmmmm. He's far too obsessed with himself to have any thought of seizing power. And besides, he idolizes you-- imagine him spending all day working on your clothing!"

"Hmph. You know as well as I do, that wasn't what he was doing." SkekSo settled himself deeper into his throne, clutching its arm rests in his withered hands and looking around the throne room with satisfaction. "But you're right about one thing-- he wouldn't care to be Emperor. He's too. . . perverse."

Perverse, skekSil thought. Hmmmmm. A good word for the Ornamentalist. A word that made the Chamberlain wonder just what skekEkt had been doing all alone in his room for an entire day. . . and why his pointy, painted face had lit up when skekSil told him that the Gourmand was concerned for him.

"And Chamberlain," the Emperor rasped, interrupting skekSil's musings. "You said the Ornamentalist is the last to plot against me. So he is less likely to revolt than, say. . . yourself?" He spoke with a teasing tone, but there was nothing playful about the expression in the eye he cast in skekSil's direction.

"A figure of speech only, my Emperor," skekSil assured him. "Hmmmmm."

SkekEkt ate dinner as fast as he could without inhaling it the way the other Skeksis did, then returned to his chamber only to pace impatiently as he waited for the slaves to bring his bath water. He had wanted to have time to reapply his makeup after bathing and before returning to skekAyuk's chamber, but the slaves were late once more.

When they finally came with the water, skekEkt screeched at them to hurry, to no real effect; they seemed to take longer than ever in preparing his bath. After what felt like an eternity, the slaves withdrew, and skekEkt pulled off his clothes rapidly and climbed into the basin.

SkekEkt performed his grooming ritual as quickly as possible and dressed in the new garment he had worn to skekAyuk's room before. Peering at himself in the mirror, he tried to decide how to best make himself look beautiful without the benefit of his normal layers of clothes. He started by tying up his hair with its usual ribbon, then he spent the next hour deciding what jewelry to wear. He had just fastened on his dangling earring when he realized how much time had already passed.

If I don't go now, he'll think I'm not coming-- or else I'll lose my nerve entirely, skekEkt thought miserably, giving his reflection one last unsatisfied glance. Once again he set off for skekAyuk's chamber with no makeup.

He stood outside skekAyuk's door for a moment, wondering if he should even be there at all. SkekTek's words had ceased to reassure him-- the Scientist surely couldn't have known that by "happiness," skekEkt meant "kissing another Skeksis". . . much less, simply being with another Skeksis. Lust might have its dark side, yes. . . but affection? How could there be anything like that left in him-- shouldn't urUtt, the one called the Weaver who dwelt in the valley of the urRu, have taken it all?

SkekEkt found himself leaning his forehead against skekAyuk's door, his left palm pressed to its surface and his long fingers splayed against the wood. He had not thought of urUtt in many, many trine, and now it was only to wonder if the Weaver loved urAmaj the Cook. He knew that every time he pricked his own fingers upon his needle, urUtt felt it just as skekEkt sometimes felt the sting from an invisible spindle-- but he didn't know if they were twinned in emotion as well as sensation. That was something skekTek couldn't tell him, because none of the Skeksis wanted to find out. It was better not to know.

SkekEkt drew back and rapped his fist against the door, deciding to go through with it at whatever the cost. Let the urRu worry about whether things were right or not.

SkekAyuk opened the door almost immediately, instead of just yelling for skekEkt to come in as before. "I thought you weren't coming," he grumbled as he gazed up at the Ornamentalist.

"I. . . was getting dressed," skekEkt sniffed. SkekAyuk moved aside for him to enter the room, then the Gourmand shut the door behind him. He apparently didn't value his privacy as much as skekEkt did, for there were no locks on the door.

"You didn't have to do all that," skekAyuk said with a slight smirk. "I just wanted you to wear the robe, that's all."

"Why?" SkekEkt spread his hands over his stomach, smoothing the fabric. "I sleep in this-- it's not--"

"You look beautiful in it."

SkekEkt gaped at him. He of course found himself quite attractive when properly made up, but he had never expected another Skeksis to say so. . . and certainly not to say that he looked beautiful in his undergarments.

"But. . . I didn't even put on any makeup."

"I don't care." SkekAyuk went over to his bed-- still unmade-- and sat down near the head. The bed gave an affronted creak under his weight. "You're beautiful anyway." Before skekEkt could respond, the Gourmand went on, "How's the Emperor's robe coming?"

"Erm, fine, fine." SkekEkt perched nervously on the foot end of the bed. "He says it's a perfect fit so far. The Chamberlain seemed to approve as well."

"The Chamberlain, hunh?" SkekAyuk raised a bushy eyebrow.

"Yes, he was in the throne room as well. He seemed rather worried about my health."

"Hmph," skekAyuk growled. "What business is it of his?"

Slightly taken aback, skekEkt murmured, "Well, we are aligned with him--"

"Doesn't matter. The Emperor's aligned with us too, but he doesn't ogle you all the time. SkekSil's been far too concerned with you lately."

"And what business is that of yours?" skekEkt asked in amazement.

"You're mine," skekAyuk snarled abruptly, leaning forward and bracing himself on his hands. "Not his."

SkekEkt's heart pounded almost painfully in his thin chest. "Yours," he murmured faintly.

SkekAyuk reached out to snatch one of skekEkt's hands up in his. "I want you," he hissed, pulling on the Ornamentalist's hand to draw him forward.

SkekEkt squeaked and coiled his long arm around skekAyuk's neck as the Gourmand pulled him closer. SkekEkt had given up on resisting; if the Scientist were right and nothing was wholly good or wholly bad, then skekEkt could have what he wanted.

The Gourmand parted his blunt beak, all but wedging its tip between skekEkt's jaws to force his mouth open. As soon as skekEkt opened his beak, skekAyuk thrust his tongue in his mouth and kissed him deeply. SkekEkt almost collapsed against the Gourmand in bliss as skekAyuk probed his mouth. He drew his talons lightly down skekAyuk's broad back over the coarse material of his robe.

"Mmm," skekAyuk moaned into his mouth, dropping one hand down to rest on skekEkt's tail. This time skekEkt didn't try to pull away when the Gourmand's hand stroked his tail roughly. Instead, skekEkt curled his tail comfortably against skekAyuk's thigh.

SkekAyuk finally pulled his beak away from skekEkt's to catch his breath, then he began caressing the Ornamentalist's neck ardently as he slid his hand farther up skekEkt's tail. SkekEkt clung to him and tilted his head back with pleasure at the feeling of skekAyuk's mouth on his skin.

"S-skekAyuk," he whimpered, squirming slightly. "That feels so good. . . ."

"Mmpgh," was the only reply he got as skekAyuk wrapped an arm around his waist and pressed their bodies together. "You bloody tease," the Gourmand rasped after a moment, "you're not getting away from me this time."

SkekEkt bent his own head to nuzzle at skekAyuk's shoulder, sliding his beak beneath the fabric of the Gourmand's robe to kiss his skin. He had no intention of trying to escape.

Near midnight, skekSil the Chamberlain was skulking along the cavernous hallways of the castle, hmmmmming to himself thoughtfully. He often had trouble sleeping and that evening had been no exception; as usual, he was passing the time by searching for something interesting-- or profitable-- to observe. Tonight his mind kept returning to the Ornamentalist and his odd behavior of late. What was he up to-- and how was the Gourmand involved?

SkekSil turned his shuffling steps toward skekEkt's chamber. Perhaps a chat with the Ornamentalist would clear some things up, or else provide the Chamberlain with some ammunition if necessary. He was rather jealous of the Emperor's fondness for, or at least tolerance of, the Ornamentalist. . . but although he wanted to be the Emperor's favorite, he also rather wanted to be skekEkt's favorite as well. It would be pleasant to get beautiful clothing on the level of the robes skekEkt was making for the Emperor, or for that matter the new apron he had seen the Gourmand wearing when he led in the procession of slaves bearing dinner. Maybe skekSil could learn something from skekEkt that would either alienate the Ornamentalist from the Emperor. . . or bring him closer to the Chamberlain.

The Chamberlain got no response when he knocked lightly at skekEkt's closed door. It was quite possible that skekEkt was asleep, but skekSil had him pegged as a light sleeper so he knocked more loudly. When that produced no results, he tried the door. Somewhat to his surprise, it gave way immediately. SkekSil stepped into the room and looked around, only to find it empty.

The Chamberlain frowned with a hmmmmm. Where could the Ornamentalist be at this late hour? Almost immediately, it occurred to him to check the Gourmand's chamber. SkekSil slunk out of the room and started for skekAyuk's.

All was quiet as he neared the heavy doors, and skekSil made every effort not to break the silence with his movements. Instead of knocking, he pushed open the door stealthily, then poked his head inside. The room was dark except for a small flickering lantern, and it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light. As they did, he was able to make out the bulky shape of skekAyuk in bed. . . and an instant later, the Chamberlain saw another familiar form beside him.

So they were sleeping together, like a couple of sentimental Gelfling. Nothing much surprised skekSil anymore, but that was enough to make even his fanged jaw drop. Only for a moment, though-- he quickly shut his beak and withdrew from the room as silently as he had entered it, closing the door behind him.

The Chamberlain walked slowly back down the hall, thinking. Apparently he had no chance of being favored by skekEkt; obviously skekAyuk had won that position. Still, skekSil wasn't very disappointed. The new knowledge he had just gained more than made up for any loss. Now there was just the matter of using to his advantage the fact that the Ornamentalist and the Gourmand were lovers.

"Hmmmmm," murmured the Chamberlain as he made his way back to his room to sleep.

The End