Part 2: The Jewels of Desire
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Chapter 8: Preparations
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"Stop fidgeting, Jasmine," says Ellen, my dormitory's assigned helper from the collection of city-born volunteers for the Argonaut. "You need to look your best this afternoon."
It's a message Ellen has constantly repeat. Along with the forty-nine other hopefuls, I will be paraded in front of the television cameras this afternoon. What's worse, ten of us must endure a five minute interview with Darrian, one of the obnoxious hosts of the televised segments of the Argonaut. None of us will know which ten of us are to be interviewed until we are on-air. I can honestly say that I am dreading it. The only benefit in being selected for an interview is the opportunity it provides to improve my chances of winning. Only a few contestants will be declared the eventual winners of the Argonaut, but that won't be until the final session on Sunday. Of course, fluffing an interview would be disastrous for my chances.
I sigh as I add the finishing touches to my dress. When I picked it from the studio's wardrobe I thought it to be a beautiful dress. Now I'm not so sure. I'm grateful for Ellen's valiant efforts to make me look my best, even if I don't see the purpose of this afternoon's charade.
"How do you feel?" asks Ellen when she is satisfied with her work.
"It's a beautiful dress. Thank you," I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster... which isn't much, given my lingering dislike for this cattle market in the first place. But I had few other options open to me when I accepted the belated offer from an anonymous benefactor to sponsor me for this event. And winning the Argonaut will at least mean that my family can benefit as well.
"Yes, I know how you look in it, Jasmine. But how do you feel?" persists Ellen.
"How should I feel?" I reply, slightly surprised by her question.
"Jasmine! You ungrateful girl!" snaps Ellen. "I am trying to help you."
"I know, and despite what you think, I appreciate your efforts," I reply. "But I feel like a marionette; all dressed up to please an audience who simply want to ogle pretty young men and women desperate enough to parade about for the entertainment of our so-called betters. Aren't we just fifty puppets, each performing to the studio's script?"
"Your image is important, Jasmine," says Ellen. "Most of those in the audience will be deciding their vote on how attractive you are. Harper will advise you what to say when you have your session with him later. Impress the audience tonight, even if you aren't interviewed, and someone watching may help you to gain a work permit. If you don't, then they will favour one of your rivals."
I've heard this speech from Ellen at least twice already this morning, and it isn't even ten o'clock yet. I know she believes in what she is saying, but somehow I can't buy into the rotten arrangement. It's true that several previous winners of the Argonaut owe their career success to the timely arrival of a sponsor's helping hand. But nothing in our world comes for free. Some contestants may be naïve enough to believe that sponsors give their generous help through the kindness of their hearts, but I'm not one of them. If a contestant is lucky, their sponsor is only interested in winning a high stakes bet. But lurking in the background are those sponsors whose help comes with unsavoury conditions that enslave their victim for life. The alternative is to fail, and live out your life as a serf in your settlement, but you don't need a sponsor's help to do that.
"You asked me how I feel, and I gave you my answer," I snap. "Don't worry, I won't disgrace you this afternoon by picking my nose in front of the cameras. I'll read Harper's script as you demand."
"Will someone try talking some sense into her," says Ellen to nobody in particular, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation.
"I'm sorry, Ellen," I say when it becomes apparent that she isn't about to launch into another lecture. "I really do like the dress. But there's nothing of the real me in this outfit."
"There's no need to be sorry. I should have realised what is missing before. You need some jewellery to complete your outfit. I have a good collection. You can borrow a few items. I'll go and pick out a few suitable things for you."
"No, Ellen," interrupts Vincent, a contestant from Tudor who shares this dormitory. "Jasmine must be allowed to choose her own jewellery. At the moment she is merely the wearer of that studio dress. You should let her transform it into an outfit of her own."
Ellen and I look at Vincent in surprise. For my part, I'm amazed by Vincent's understanding of my needs... even though I don't fully understand them myself. When I look at Ellen I begin to worry in case she might refuse. It's one thing to lend me a ring or a necklace of her choice; it is something else entirely to let me rummage through her private jewellery collection.
"Yes, yes, OK," says Ellen after a few moments hesitation. "I'm not certain many of my pieces are suitable for a young woman, but I will allow Jasmine to look through what I have. Follow me, Jasmine."
I quickly change into my ordinary clothes and hang up my dress in the wardrobe I've been allocated for my things. I follow Ellen to her private quarters in the south wing of the old boarding school. Ellen's room is one of several small but comfortable rooms provided for the volunteer support staff. Unlike the contestants' dormitories, the rooms in the south wing aren't monitored by the intrusive security cameras. I'm just thankful Ellen hasn't decided to stay in her own apartment, which is apparently on the other side of the city.
"Make yourself comfortable, Jasmine, while I fetch my collection," says Ellen as she goes to the safe located inside the wardrobe.
I sit in one of the two easy chairs and look around Ellen's room while I wait. Her few personal effects tell me very little about the real Ellen. Until now I have thought of her as one of the many city-born oddballs. Someone who means well, but circulates in a completely different world to me. When I see the small chest full of jewellery I realise there is an aspect to Ellen I never knew existed.
"I've not had much chance to sort them out," says Ellen when I peer into the chest. "Everything is a bit jumbled up."
The contents of the chest resemble a pirate's treasure trove in miniature. Some items are inside small boxes, while others are simply left loose. Several necklaces have become tangled around each other.
"Oh, ignore those," says Ellen. "They're just cheap trinkets. The items we are interested in are in the boxes at the bottom."
I delve deeper into the chest. Sure enough, below the tangled necklaces and bangles I find a dozen or so different sized boxes. I carefully lift them out and spread them out on the table. I lift the lid on each box and my mouth drops in amazement. Most boxes contain a matching set of ring, necklace and earrings. A few contain broaches and other types of jewellery. I return to the chest and remove the two larger boxes at the very bottom. I place them next to the other boxes on the table.
"Ah! I wouldn't bother with those," says Ellen before I can open the lids to the last two boxes. "They aren't suitable for a respectable young woman."
Her comment raises my interest, but I do as she asks and focus my attention on the boxes I have opened. I've no idea whether I'm looking at priceless jewels or glass imitations. After studying each box in turn I realise I have subconsciously made my choice.
"May I try this one on?" I ask picking out a ring with a beautiful green gemstone. Ellen nods in response.
The ring with the green gem seems to draw me to it in a way none of the other items do. I slip the ring on my finger; it's a snug fit, but not too tight. I try on the necklace and earrings as well, and walk over to the mirror. I think they are the most beautiful pieces of jewellery I've ever seen. In the corner of my eye I can see Ellen watching me with a strange expression on her face.
"I like these the most," I say to Ellen. "May I borrow them this afternoon? I promise to take good care of them."
"Hmmm. You surprise me, Jasmine. I had expected you to go for the diamond cluster or the rubies. What made you choose the emerald ring and necklace?"
"I don't know. I like several of the other sets, but this ring somehow calls to me. If you think it inappropriate, I'll happily change my choice."
"No, that won't be necessary. Choosing jewellery is a very personal act. You like what you like. But you said it called to you. What did it say?"
I could be trite and say 'pick me, pick me', but that isn't what I sense. It's more like an energy flowing into me through the ring. It's as though a former wearer of the ring has left her imprint in the ring and she is communicating with me. I try explaining what I sense to Ellen.
"I'm sorry, I know I'm being foolish," I say when I finish my lame explanation.
"Interesting," says Ellen in reply. "The ring is very old. I've never sensed what you describe, but my great-aunt always claimed that the ring spoke to her."
"So the ring and necklace have a history then?"
"The necklace is a more recent piece my great-aunt had made to go with the ring. The ring, however, is hundreds of years old. It is reputed to have been made for the daughter of a great ruler. Legend says that she was a warrior princess who rode into battle at the side of her father. When her father died, and her brother became ruler, the princess devoted the rest of her life, and her considerable wealth, to helping the poorer people of her lands. It is a perfect match for you Jasmine."
I try my best to stifle a laugh. Ellen must be joking with me. Warrior, princess and wealth are three words which have never been associated with me, nor are they ever likely to be. Ellen doesn't pay my reaction any mind, and begins placing the lids back on the other jewellery boxes. A knock at the door stops Ellen before she can finish. She leaves me alone while she answers the door.
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Chapter 9: The princess and professor
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Ellen goes to the door, but she doesn't admit the caller into her room. I can hear Ellen and another woman talking, but I can't make out what they are discussing. It soon becomes apparent that they could be a while. I resume what Ellen had started, and close the lids on the remaining jewellery boxes. Then I remove the emerald ring, necklace and earrings I've been wearing and return them to their box, placing it to one side. Ellen still hasn't agreed to allow me to wear the emeralds tonight, but I remain hopeful.
On impulse I open one of the boxes Ellen had dissuaded me from opening earlier. Inside is a large piece of jewellery. At first glance it looks like a large multi-strand necklace with several gold chains, each slightly longer than the one above, meeting at a single point at the back of the wearer's neck. The chains are decorated with small red gems that catch the light. But what makes the piece unusual are the two small shaped metal discs on the lowest chain. The two discs look like flattened cones, and each is engraved with a strange symbol. I carefully lift the piece out of its box to examine the engraving. Too late I realise I'm not alone.
"What are you doing, Jasmine?" asks Ellen.
"Oh! Oh! I'm sorry," I stammer. "I didn't mean any harm. I was just looking."
