Maati giggled. “They’re all the rage at the moment especially among the girls of color who are entering society.” She stuck one on her own slightly smaller horn. The effect, with her dark skin and mottled hair, of the yellow and pink pompoms, was certainly festive and not quite as clown-like as Acorna had supposed.
“Why do people decorate their horns?”
“Well, it’s not just decoration. The covers also mute telepathy to some extent,” Maati said. “It’s for flirting, too. I mean, this way if a girl likes a boy, she doesn’t have to show it right away and neither does he. Before anybody can read anybody else’s mind, they can kind of see how the person they like is acting first, or if there’s anybody else interesting.”
“I see,” Acorna said. “When is the party?”
Maati shrugged. “It starts at moonrise, in about three hours.”
“I’d better get busy then,” Acorna said. All of the gowns were far too elaborately decorated for her taste, with layers and layers of different colored skirts, and frills, lace, ruffles, bows, and flowers completely covering whole bodices or skirts. Fortunately, life in a society where women were normally much shorter than she, and the occasional necessity of disguising her horn with an elaborate costume, had taught Acorna to be an excellent seamstress herself. She narrowed her eyes to blur the bewildering details of the gowns so that she could get some idea of their background color. Turning slowly, she spotted a lovely soft mauve-rose brocade fabric and reached for it. It was the undergown of a dress with a rainbow assortment of skirts that stuck out like tutus from the hipline to the ankle.
Without the tutus the rosy underdress was slightly too sheer so she looked around again until she saw that one of the flowing veil-like overskirts of another gown was a beautiful lilac color that complemented both her own complexion and the color of the undergown. That would do.
When she had bathed and dried her hair, she slipped into the rose-mauve dress and pulled the length of lilac fabric under one arm and joined it at the opposite shoulder, pinning it, after some deliberation, with a stunning brooch of pale amethysts and rhodolite garnets set in silver. The brooch had earrings that matched.
She was able to locate lilac slippers in the mass of shoes that was spread everywhere dresses and jewels were not.
“Horn?” Maati reminded her.
“Oh, yes,” Acorna said, picking up the lilac horn cover that matched the outer skirt. “This means no one else can read my thoughts, then?”
“Well, not clearly anyway. You know, so if you think something-well, about reproduction, you know, the other person Acorna giggled at the younger girl’s attempt to sound adult while discussing the mating rituals of which she was not yet a part. “I think I get the idea. I will try not to broadcast so loudly I overpower the muting effect of the horn cover.” She looked at the cover again. “But this spiral ofwisteria has to go.”
“Maybe just a few at the base of your horn?” Maati suggested, looking dismayed to see the pompoms and wads of the purple flower Acorna called wisteria falling to the floor.
“Yes, that’s nice. Thanks.”
“The decorations are so pretty,” she said, sadly, picking up the culled flowers.
Acorna was firm. “Less is more,” she said.
Maati looked baffled by the idea.
No sooner had Acorna dressed than a great herd of seamstresses, Jewelers, and cobblers descended upon the pavilion to carry the excess merchandise away.
“We’ll deliver daytime ensembles for your approval tomorrow morning, Khornya.”
“Oh, please don’t bother,” she said. “If Maati will show me where your workplaces are, I would love to see where you make these pretty things.”
She had the horn cover firmly in place then and could afford a diplomatic fib. The creators of the two dresses she had altered to make her gown tried to hide their frowns but a couple of the others were eyeing her with a speculative expression.
As the last of the clothiers departed with their wares, uncovering Neeva’s furnishings and returning the pavilion to some semblance of a dwelling, Thariinye arrived.