> >  "I'm impressed by you, too, but hopefully for entirely different
> >  reasons," Mira says with a smile and a gleam of humor in her eyes.
>
>Jac chuckles and moves his hand to indicate his clothing, "I appreciate
>nice clothes, but this get up is a bit over the top even for me. I
>thought it would impress Woof's friend, and well, it fits my public
>persona here on Mark."
>
>He leans over and says confidentually, "I'm afraid my public image
>is...um, somewhat frivolous, and my past...um, associates haven't
>contradicted that image. So, I need to warn you that associating with me
>might well color the public's perception of you, Mira."

Mira chuckles, "If you think that I am concerned with the 'public's' 
perception of me, JaCarter Woodbridge, you are grievously mistaken.  I'm a 
big girl and there is only so long you can dress a wolf like a sheep before 
someone figures things out."

>He says solemnly, "I'm afraid, that gossip piece on the vid's yesterday
>is the sort of thing you can expect."

Mira shrugs, "I've seen what gossip newsies are like up close before Jac. 
Not directed at me, thank the power, but I have seen it.  They will find a 
'tough cookie' if they bother me too much."

> > > Jac stops and opens the hatch for Mira and escorts her down the
> > > gangway toward the waiting limo. The sun has just gone down and the
> > > Starport's lights are coming up. The night air is warm and sultry,
> > > and smells of chemicals and ozone wafting across the tarmac from
> > > the port's huge fuel and chemical holding tanks. An increasingly
> > > loud humming sound from the south signals the arrival of another
> > > ship descending over the bay toward the port. Looking out you can
> > > see lights coming on along the streets bordering the Starport, the
> > > bright flashing neon lights of the cafes and bars luring spacemen
> > > and locals as well as the white street lights lining the streets.
> >
> >  "Lights at night are so pretty," She comments, "Even the ugliest
> >  cities become magical at night."
>
>"Yes." Jac says looking at Mira's face and how her eyes reflect the
>lights of the port so brightly, "Magical describes things nicely."

She smiles without turning to face him.

> > > Parked below the gangway is a long black limousine with a uniformed
> > > driver standing beside it. The driver and limo shimmer in the
> > > starport lights from the heated air still rising up from the black
> > > tarmac.
> > >
> > > As the pair approach the limo the drive says as he opens the door
> > > to the back seat, "Good evening Sir Jac, Sianna. My name is
> > > Nicholas and it is my pleasure to be your driver this evening."
>
>"Nicholas." Jac nods to the driver.
>
> >  "Good evening, Nicholas," Mira says politely as she allows Jac to
> >  hand her into the limousine.
>
>After Jac is inside and the driver takes his seat up front Jac leans
>forward and hands the driver something then says, "Maison D'argent, if
>you please, Nicholas."
>
>"Yes, Sir." Nicholas says and pulls the limo away from the ship, as it
>comes to the Starport Gate, the driver shows something to the gate guard
>and he waves the limo through leaning down and giving a salute to the
>darkened interior.
>
>"Mira." Jac turns toward her smiling, "Did you know that argent is how
>you say silver in one of the old languages here on Mark?"

She shakes her head, no.

>"Maison D'argent means house of silver." he says, "The language, franzt
>it is called, isn't quite a dead language yet. It is still spoken in
>some of the small farming villages on Saint Louie island.  I think it is
>still taught, along with anglic,  in the schools there. It is quite an
>interesting language.
>
>Jac chuckles, "Not that I know more than a few words. The only reason I
>know what Maison D'argent means is I asked the owner one night when I
>was in there with some friends. I had noticed another restaurant called
>Maison D'or when I was in Furcal, and wanted to know what Maison
>D'whatever meant."

She chuckles, "Informative and modest, very nice. Its nice that you know 
even that much. Some people would never bother to ask."

"On , we have a yearly festival in which everyone 
dresses up in costumes and parties. Everyone knows its Kadtries' Day. Some 
even know that its a celebration of freedom. Fewer still know that its 
origins date back far enough for religious persecution to have been evident 
in the world. The area that Treyvon Kadtries and his family lived in you 
had precisely one option for your path to God. Their faith was 'other' and 
like so many families they hid it. Until Treyvon came of age. One of the 
symbols of the faith was the hats the men wore. They were tri-cornered, 
each corner or side, the historians differ on opinion, but to my mind it 
could be either, represented a significant religious figure with the rather 
pointed center to the hat representing their God."

"Treyvon refused to wear a symbol of a faith to which he did not ascribe. 
And when he was called a devil or demon, he began to wear a cap, red and 
close fitting with short cow horns attached. He said if he was a devil, he 
would wear a hat befitting one."

She sighs, "As with all such stories, he and his family suffered terribly. 
Rather than driving them apart it bonded them tighter to each other and 
soon they all wore the hats. The hats began showing up in any number of 
areas and by the time Treyvon was tied to a stake and executed, even a few 
of the faithful were beginning to wear the hats in protest."

"When the bans were finally lifted and everyone was free to worship via the 
faith of their choosing, the day was declared Kadtries day and everyone 
celebrated dressed wearing a red, horned hat."

"Over time, the representations of the devil and demons became more and 
more widely interpreted and more diluted by other cultures. In time, one 
simply dressed in costume, and everything from devils to saints could be seen."

"Most people just know its fun."

Mira