Healer's Wedding: Jubilee Summer, #1

Prologue

The entirety of the village had turned out to see her. They lined the broken road leading through the center of their miserable hovels, dressed in their pathetic best, heads lowered in respect… and as her procession approached, they threw flowers on the path. This sign that the news had once again preceded her arrival pleased her. More and more of the villages she rode through had heard of her, and prepared accordingly. The flowers had started two towns back, a detail she found particularly pleasing.

According to their instructions, her guards fell back, leaving her to ride ahead, and alone. She kept her hood pulled forward, and knew her cloak was rippling against the side and back of her mare, for she’d planned the effect. She wore white, like a country bride, but rode with the drooped shoulders of a widow; with a few deep breaths, she called forth tears, and ensured that the slant of her cheek was visible so the morning sunlight could gild them on her skin.

The crowd was silent as she passed. Here and there she heard weeping, or a strangled cry: Milady! But no one moved. They watched as she rode past in a cocoon of impenetrable mourning. Her entourage’s horses followed, the thump of hoof beats and the jingle of their harnesses outrageously loud in that receptive silence. She could picture it in her head: the lady bereft, pale as a ghost, out of place amid the late spring’s brazen sky and verdant foliage, and the parade of paired horses beneath their stern guards. The quiet of it. The melancholy beauty. The petals trampled beneath hooves, and the bruised scent of their perfume. It was a sight to inspire awe and pity, and it was right that she should have it.

By any means necessary.

Weeping decorously for the benefit of her adoring fans, Bethsaida Emil Galare, former heir to the Eldritch throne, made her way down the road.

Sitting in the Stranger’s Garden at the convent of Saint Militha, Bethsaida sipped a delicate blush wine and waited. She’d been anticipating this particular meeting for some time, and considered and discarded a great number of approaches for handling her caller. She’d done her research, and more of it than people guessed. It helped that no one expected her to use the fruits of their treaty with the Alliance after what she’d suffered abroad. Truthfully, she hadn’t loved the necessity, but she’d been too well-trained to dispose of an advantage when it came her way.

She knew, then, what to expect, and knowing allowed her to tailor her responses in order to achieve her aim. She wouldn’t enjoy her performance, particularly… but she was an Eldritch. She’d been controlling her presentation for as long as she could remember, and for lesser prizes than the one she had set her heart on now.

Consequently, when she heard the gate creak, she placed her glass on the table, schooled her expression, and clasped her hands in her lap. When he arrived, she knew she looked the picture of nervous innocence, and as she planned, the sight of it inspired him to go to his knee before her, one hand on the arm of her chair. His ardent expression was all she could have hoped.

Oh Beth, Amber breathed, the words dark with shadows. That I had known… that I had been able to effect your escape myself… that I could have been there!

She looked away, blushing. I am glad you were not. To see me thus! I could not have borne it! Hard enough to be seen reduced so before a stranger!

Unlike his brother, Amber had never been good at mastering his expressions. Or maybe he didn’t care; it was what she’d found so compelling about him when they’d met, that zest, the hint of recklessness. His scowl was simplicity itself to read, and she wondered what had inspired it.

Even worse, he growled, switching to the black mode. For you to have been rescued by the scion of the Nase Galare.

Ah…! Did he dislike Lisinthir? Even better. Jealousy she could work with, infinitely. He was… She allowed her voice to break. He was very brave. But it shamed me to be seen. She shivered, delicately. I… I even asked… when he… when he saw me thus… to shelter my dishonor by wedding me—

Amber’s inhale was noisy. Through his grip on the arm of the chair she could feel him shaking.

But he said such customs were… were childish! She hid her face with a hand.

He would! Amber said. And proudly, I’m sure. A ruthless and unprincipled blackguard, and you are well quit of him. He should have married you but I am grateful he didn’t, for he would have had no idea how to cherish the treasure with which he’d found himself blessed.

But now I am worse than nothing, Bethsaida whispered, shadowing the words. Broken. Rudderless. Oh, Amber. Even the Queen has set me aside as used goods. Everyone looks at me and sees the girl raped by dragons…!

No! He leaned toward her as if to touch and caught himself. Oh, no, no, my love!

It was time for artful sobs. Bethsaida dropped her face into her hands and indulged herself. When she judged Amber’s inability to comfort her was edging from distress into desperation, she reined herself in, accepted his handkerchief, dabbed at her eyes. I am sorry, she gasped. I should not impose on you so. We should not even be meeting this way, for I can never wed you, or any man, now.

Nothing could make you unacceptable to me, Amber said passionately. Beth… that you were cruelly used—and then discarded by everyone for something not your fault!—it drives me wild with outrage! But I will not abandon you as everyone else has. I would gladly wed you—

No, no! she cried, with deep, dramatic breaths. No, I could never… please… don’t ask it of me!

Then let me serve you in some way, Amber begged. Please! We need never touch, but I love you, Beth, and always have. Don’t send me away!

To cause you pain….

You could only do so by believing me as craven as those who set you aside.

She met his eyes at that, wondering if he was ready to declare himself already. She allowed a quaver into her words. You… you would not be loved by those who did so. And they have great power.

Shall we put paid to these circumlocutions? His voice was hard. You speak of the Queen, now styling herself Empress, and her new heir, our cousin. And all their coterie of alien-lovers, who would throw our world into the arms of people who could not defend themselves from dragons. And they expect these failures to defend us?

He was even further along than she’d dared hoped. But he would still need careful management. She swallowed and whispered, It scares me.

I know, my love. I know how it must. That is exactly why I want no part of them. Let them censure me. It won’t change what I know to be right. And what you know as well. Don’t you? He gazed into her eyes, and the devotion there was far more satisfying than the adoration she’d seen in the eyes of the villagers. She would require both, in the end, but this wheel needed more than one spoke. And oh, such a spoke he would be! The son of one of the Queen’s most loyal partisans? And the brother of the future prince-consort?

Oh, yes. The things she could do with Amber Seni Galare.

I… I do, she said. But I’m afraid, Amber. For me. For us. For our world. I… I don’t know what to do.

Let me help, he said, all gold and silver gallantry. Lady. Please.

I fear I will disappoint you, she whispered.

You could never. Not in a century or a hundred. I will never leave you, Beth. Many the faithless who abandoned you in your hour of need, or who dismissed your pain or fear or worry. I will never be among their number.

Then you are the only one, she said, timing the words so that a single tear streaked her cheek in accompaniment. She pretended bravery, but let her chin tremble. Burnished the words in gold and holy white. My single, faithful knight.

That… that was exactly what he’d wanted to hear. It was what he’d always wanted to hear when they’d first been courting: that she loved him and him alone. To fancy himself now her only defense against an entire world that thought her disgraced?

He would be hers forever.

Yes, Amber said. Beth… don’t send me away.

She sighed, shivered. No. I should for your sake, but… I cannot! The Goddess will surely judge me for my selfishness, but I… I still love you, Amber.

Then together we will save our world.

If you think we can, she answered demurely. Then… surely I must believe you.

As he murmured words of encouragement, Bethsaida thought how ill-advised it had been for Liolesa to send her away on this tour of the world’s convents. Many mistakes her aunt had made, and some of them staggering. None of them were as tremendous as the one she was making now. Bethsaida hid her smile like she hid her plans, and attended to her newest devotee.

1

Sediryl tramped down the field between the trellises holding up the grapevines, and the piquant fragrance of new, green fruit was everything she’d hoped and worked for in the past months. Had anyone told her that such produce could be grown on her homeworld so much as five years ago, she would have laughed. But then, five years ago she might have laughed had anyone told her that, far from being exiled from the small patch of land that constituted Nuera’s offering, she would end up heir to two entire planets. She had not yet gone home to confront her mother, but she didn’t feel she had to either. What did she have left to prove?

Except everything?

To Liolesa, anyway, whose good opinion mattered far more to Sediryl than her mother’s ever had. She straightened and wiped her brow, scraping her bangs back, and looked over at the human leading her down the rows. This is extraordinary, Jerent. I can’t tell you how enormous this accomplishment is.

Jerent Mysfeldt had aged since she’d seen him last, unavoidably, but he still managed to look like an enthusiastic boy. When she’d attended his lecture on Starbase Ana, he must have been in his late twenties… now, some decades later, his irregular thatch was receding from his brow and there were laugh lines around his mouth. But in his zest for his work, and his eagerness when confronted with the project the Empress had at last been able to give him, he looked the eternal graduate student whose promising theory he hoped to give a world-wide trial someday.

He was fingering one of the leaves now, turning it to examine the underside for spots. It’s wonderful, isn’t it? The yield’s good. I was expecting less. It helps that this would ordinarily be great land for growing. He squinted, looking into the east. Mountains on one side, and the sea on the other… I feel like I’m back home. Anyway, would you like to see the entire plot?

Goddess, yes, Sediryl said. You couldn’t keep me from it.

He beamed and returned to his tour, and she followed.

She was not alone, inevitably. She didn’t know who Liolesa expected would be interested in assassinating her—or perhaps the Empress was concerned about her having a sudden health crisis in the middle of nowhere, which was where they’d placed this pilot terraforming project—but Sediryl no longer went anywhere without guards. A contingent of White Swords, who’d named themselves the White Dirks the moment they’d been appointed the full-time duty of attending the heir-in-waiting, were her companions whenever she traveled, and four of them were now stationed along the field’s perimeters while another trailed her. She’d also been assigned a White Shield, an Eldritch who’d been found to have stronger-than-average mind talents and trained in their use. Her protests that she hardly needed an extra mage at her side, given that she could set people on fire, had not moved Valthial, the High Priest of the Church who’d instated the new psychic bodyguard corps and attached it to the White Swords that traditionally guarded the monarch from physical attacks. You might not notice someone until too late, if you’re distracted, Val had said. Besides, given the extreme prejudice with which you seem to handle things when you finally decide to, I’d like to avoid requiring your help.

Which was as gentle a comment as she could fathom, given the last time she’d used her powers offensively.

That explained her other hangers-on: two Faulfenza, Qora and one of the handful of friends who’d accompanied him to the Eldritch homeworld, Aunal. The first was an ‘Eye’ of their god Faulza, what she thought might be a priest, or a spy, or a counselor? She couldn’t quite pin down the translation. The second was one of their… she couldn’t really call it military, because there wasn’t much military about them. Explorers, maybe. Aunal had been a farmer, once upon a time, and never failed to volunteer for these trips out to the pilot project. He was one of the more loquacious of the five Faulfenza on-world—the others tended to hold their counsel more often—and when presented with the challenges of the endeavor he’d been eager to participate.

Her entourage tracked after her, past the grapes and to the delicate greens she’d once despaired of ever seeing take root in Eldritch soil. There were patches of asparagus and green beans, sugar snap peas and lettuce of several kinds, onion bulbs and potatoes and parsnips and carrots… and in a separate field, cordoned off with a fence, heirloom wheat strains, nuevomaize, and barley. There were fruits too, and if it wasn’t in the extravagant health she’d seen on Starbase Ana’s agricultural sphere, everything was growing. Surveying it, she was torn between bittersweet weeping and a victory crow.

Behind her she heard the crunch of grass beneath heavy paws. You are satisfied, Qora observed. And should be.

She folded her arms. I can’t wait to spread this through the rest of the continent. If the harvest is good…

Will you bring some of it to your ceremony? the Faulfenzair asked.

She eyed him.

His tone was too innocent. She could tell now despite the alien body language. I hear you need to bring gifts.

And where did you learn that, I wonder….

He fingered his ears. Very large, these. At her skeptical look, he added, Also, servants talk.

She sighed and started off after the human, who’d outpaced them. I’m sure they did. Or some shopkeeper. Or a bunch of random pedestrians in the capital. You Faulfenza really are into everything.

Why not? Qora had to check his stride to keep abreast of her. The Faulfenza weren’t taller than the Eldritch, but their digitigrade legs and heavyworlder athleticism made them far more suited to hiking than any of the natives. Quasi-natives. The fastest way to learn is snoot-first. He cocked his head. So. The gift.

No use trying to depress his pretentions. He had none. Honestly, she liked it that way. She had enough courtiers fluttering at her now, a situation she found ridiculous given that several decades ago they’d been decrying her as ‘that hussy with human lovers.’ Liolesa thought it highly entertaining, but her aunt had a ridiculous sense of humor. The question is ‘which gift’. I’m going to need more than one.

Qora wrinkled his long muzzle in a Faulfenzair smile. I had heard only of one. A gift to the realm.

Right. She resumed walking, skirting the grain enclosure. That’s one of the two I owe. The bigger one, but honestly the easier one because you’re right, I’m planning on bringing some of this as my gift to the realm. That’s part of the investiture as an heir. It proves I’ll be an asset to my people.

Sensible, Qora said. What did the former princess bring?

Taken aback, Sediryl said, Beth? Goddess, I don’t know. She must have brought something.

Precedent, maybe? If you learn what it was.

Maybe. Privately Sediryl thought it unlikely she’d want to duplicate anything Beth had done. Which was unfair; Beth hadn’t been a horrible person prior to her misadventure in the Chatcaavan Empire. Letting how she was acting now color Sediryl’s perception of those previous actions was… unfair. Also, inevitable, given what Beth was up to.

Such a sigh. Qora’s tail swayed in amusement. You think of the many challenges ahead.

Nothing I can do about some of them, Sediryl said, as much to herself as to him. Anyway. That’s the only gift I owe as part of the investiture.

You sound uneasy?

From the telegems disguised as her earrings, Maia projected her voice. Probably because the investiture involves other people giving her gifts too, and the Empress is notorious for giving terrifying presents.

Ah, well. Qora flashed his teeth. Worser things by far than to be given gifts by great powers.

I don’t know, Sediryl said. "Get back to me after the ceremony and we’ll talk about that. She sighed. Anyway. The gift I’m stumped on is what to get my husband-to-be."

Ah? This one I hadn’t heard about. Everyone in the city is talking about your gift to them.

Naturally, Maia said. Since they’re the one receiving it.

And this one concerns you more, Qora said. Since it’s personal.

Right. But what can I possibly give him? Sediryl started ticking off points on her fingers. We arranged for his partner and family to move on-world, which was enormous. He’s getting training as a doctor already, so I can’t surprise him with an education. I already gave him a carte blanche for his relationship with Lisinthir—

That’s more in the way of a gift for you, if you ever convince them to let you watch, Maia quipped.

Ignoring her, Sediryl finished, And after that, it seems like it’s all… things. How many musical instruments, jewels, horses, and tablets can you give a man? She shook her head. I even thought of arranging a concert on world… you know. Importing a first class musician to perform. But do you know how many musicians are trying to acquire passports to come here? Or to set up tour dates? The moment one of them shows up, it’s going to be a free-for-all. We’ll be swarmed by tourists. Liolesa said ‘no’ to that until we have the situation with Fleet and the new navy more settled.

What do you give the man who has everything! Maia said.

Yourself? Qora suggested. Why so much fuss?

He’s already getting me, by marrying me, Sediryl said firmly. That’s not enough.

Beth’s head on a platter? Maia said.

Ugh. Not my call to make or believe me, I’d be garnishing it with potatoes by now. Sediryl eyed the fields. These potatoes, in fact. For maximum irony.

Your mother’s head on a platter?

Sediryl winced. More a gift for myself, if you know what I mean.

So violent, Qora said, with a noise so much like tutting that Sediryl stared at him. He flashed her one of those wrinkle-nosed grins. Maybe you can give him dance lessons. With me.

Having seen her fiancé dance, twice, Sediryl was torn between chagrin and mouth-watering avarice. She cleared her throat, hoping her blush could be taken for a reaction to the spring sunlight. He’d be a better student than me, and then where would we be?

As Qora laughed, Maia said, If I can make a recommendation….

You’ve been making them already, and they haven’t been very helpful.

"A different one," Maia said.

Sediryl rolled her eyes skyward, toward where she imagined the ship Maia was primarily inhabiting was orbiting. If you tell me I need to send away for lingerie, I will throw these earrings across the field.

"I was going to say, have you asked for Vasiht’h’s opinion yet?"

Sediryl paused.

You didn’t, did you.

From ahead of them, Mysfeldt called, My lady?

Coming! Sediryl called, and trotted forward. I would have thought of that eventually.

I’m sure, Maia said. That’s why you have me to speed things up for you. Given how busy you are for a flesh-and-blood person.

Which wasn’t incorrect, because Sediryl had never been so busy as she’d been since settling in… thankfully, because her fiancé deciding to observe the traditional period of celibacy leading up to the ceremony would otherwise have driven her insane. Also, the lingerie’s not a bad idea.

Is that a gift for you or for him? Maia asked, her wicked grin obvious in the tone.

Yes?

Qora huffed a laugh behind her, and she smiled. She was blessed in her friends. In these friends in particular, who’d seen her through the worst events in her life. Thank you for the suggestion about Vasiht’h, Maia. It’s a good one. I’ll call him when we get back from this.

You might want to have a talk with him about yourself, you know, once you’ve got him on the line.

You saying I need therapy? Sediryl paused, chuckled. Never mind. Don’t answer that.

That is good advice, Qora said. I’d heed it, Not-Flesh-And-Blood creature.

Glancing at him, Sediryl murmured, "Do you think I need therapy?"

I think you have no problems that could not be solved with a knife, Princess.

Sediryl huffed, the breath stirring her bangs. Isn’t that the truth. Catching up to the human, she said, Sorry about that. We were admiring the grain.

And you should! Mysfeldt said, satisfied. Come on, there’s a few more things I want to show you… and then I want to try to talk you into letting us spread this around. We’ve done great so far, but we need more data from more locations.

The trips to the experimental plots constituted the easiest and most enjoyable of Sediryl’s new duties, though she didn’t begrudge the work, and in fact found most of it fascinating. Still, she didn’t love Ontine’s stone walls. By any species’ standards, they couldn’t be called ‘close’ when the Eldritch preferred to allow several feet of clearance between themselves when walking down them, but Sediryl preferred to be outside. She let out a resigned sigh as she approached the suite Liolesa had bestowed on her, ignoring Qora’s amused ear-twitches.

Not a word, she said to the Faulfenzair.

Did I say anything?

No, but you were thinking it.

Ah, now she’s a mind-reader. He grinned, all teeth, as Sediryl wrinkled her nose at him before she remembered that nose-wrinkling in Faulfenza was a form of laughter. Don’t worry, Princess. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, loving to be beneath the God’s sky more than beneath His people’s roofs.

If you could convince the rest of the Eldritch that…?

Given how stubborn they are? Good luck, Maia muttered, and Qora chuckled.

At least my paperwork won’t talk back, Sediryl said as she pushed open the door… and came to an abrupt halt.

No need to rise, Valthial drawled in Universal. Though I have a ring here you can kiss if you’re feeling like a naughty girl who’s been avoiding her lessons. Because you have been.

The High Priest of the Lord and God was as unlikely an Eldritch as any Sediryl had met: short, wiry and energetic, with the sharply pointed face of a fox and hair cropped at his chin… not because he’d lost his mane to an enemy, the way Lord Hirianthial had, but because he liked it that way. He spent most of his time in attire humble to the point of insult—to courtiers, anyway—rarely demanded the respect due his office, and far preferred to be addressed as ‘Val’, particularly by people he knew well.

Sediryl was on those terms with Valthial, and she didn’t know why… because she’d spent most of their time together explaining why she couldn’t attend the interminable training foisted on anyone with even the slightest of mage talents. She’d seen her fiancé’s schedule of classes; she simply didn’t have time to become a mind-mage while also stepping into Beth’s shoes. Particularly if she wanted to prove that she was an adequate replacement for a woman who’d been in the job for decades.

Val had always seemed so understanding. Being ambushed like this was new. She forced herself to walk past him to her desk, sat at it, and folded her hands on its surface. I think I’ll skip the ring-kissing.

Good, because that would have been weird. Val crossed his legs and folded his arms behind his head. You know why I’m here.

As Qora just pointed out to me, I’m not psychic. She smiled crookedly. So why don’t you tell me, so I can reiterate all the reasons I can’t accommodate you.

Nice job on the tone, Val said, grinning. A century or two and you’ll be sounding like her all the time.

Sediryl couldn’t decide whether the prospect delighted or dismayed her. Liolesa never spoke without thinking at least three steps ahead of the person she was facing, and while Sediryl coveted the ability she wasn’t looking forward to never being able to open her mouth without playing a game of mental chess first. Since you know why I can’t say ‘yes’, why are you here?

The levity dropped from him like a discarded domino. Because you can’t keep saying ‘no.’ I know you’re busy, Sediryl. I know what you’re doing is important. I know you need to prove to people that you’re the woman for the job, even without Beth making it harder with her adorable letters from the back of beyond, and I know you have a wedding and an investiture to prepare for. But you’ve got an untrained talent, and it’s one of the most volatile talents in our roster. Without mastery, it’s going to hurt you or someone else.

You say that as if you’re sure of it, Sediryl said.

I am sure of it, because the only two Eldritch who’ve ever manifested your talent have self-immolated. He paused, his eyes far too sober. Not intentionally. They died that way, in firestorms they conjured in fits of strong emotion.

The memory of the pirate base, of the eruption in her mind, in her heart, of waking up in the hospital after weeks of lying near death… Sediryl inhaled sharply.

And since I’m a bastard, I’m going to go ahead and say it: they died the way you should have, and didn’t, because you were saved by your friends. This isn’t optional. Nothing you’re doing right now will matter if you die before you finish it.

You… you make it sound dire enough, Sediryl said.

And I’m not into dramatics, Val replied. All I want is an hour of your time here, at the Cathedral.

A week? Sediryl asked, hopeful.

A day.

A day! Sediryl exclaimed. "Val I don’t have an hour a day! I’m not even at Ontine every day!"

Then you’ll have to find a way—

And I’m telling you…

Qora said, casually, I will handle her education.

Both of them stopped short. Val cocked his head, peering at the Faulfenzair.

And I will make sure she practices daily, Qora continued. Unlike you, High Priest, I am free to hunt her in her native habitat.

Val paused, then laughed. Even when she migrates?

The Faulfenzair showed his teeth, nose wrinkled. She won’t escape me.

Val considered the alien for several long moments. Then he rose. That’s acceptable to me. If you get tired of dealing with her, though…

I will send her back. Don’t worry, I’m no martyr.

Val guffawed. I bet you aren’t. He glanced at Sediryl. Don’t think of this as a reprieve.

No, Sediryl hastened to reply.

And I expect some progress.

She’ll progress, Qora said affably. Or I’ll know the reason why.

Val laughed. Hah! You’re going to wish you’d said ‘yes’ to me, Sediryl. Good luck. He inclined his head to Qora. Thank you, alet.

My pleasure, High Priest.

Val sauntered out, pleased if his whistling was any indication. He was the only Eldritch Sediryl had met who could whistle. Or admitted to knowing how, anyway. And the moment the door closed behind him, she exhaled in relief. Thank you, Qora.

For what? the Faulfenzair asked. You think I have saved you from trouble? You think I was rescuing you? I am a harder taskmaster than any Eldritch priest. They don’t know what mastery looks like—obviously, or their last fire talents would not have killed themselves. He shook his head in excellent mimicry of the Pelted gesture, and even managed to purse his lips and look regretful. No, Princess. I’m afraid you will give me an hour every day. To Dance, and discuss fire, and the God.

An hour! Sediryl exclaimed. Qora… where am I going to find another hour in the day?

There’s always that nice quiet period before the sun rises, Maia said helpfully.

Sediryl let her head drop into her arms with a groan.

You like getting up before the sun rises!

Yes, Sediryl said into her arms. "I do. To pull weeds, and wander crop rows, and eat breakfast, and shower, and read mail, and catch up on news. Not to work at something I’m bad at."

Then, Qora said cheerfully, you’d better get good at fire, quickly! When she moaned again, he padded to her desk and twisted his head to look into the space between her fallen hair and her forearm. There, there, Princess. If you put in an hour a day, even you can’t stay bad at psychic powers for long.

Not helping…

He patted her head. We will practice outside, at least.

Stone walls might have been better if she’s going to set things on fire, Maia opined.

Being surrounded by flammable things will give her incentive to progress faster!

Maia said, You know, sticking with Val might have been safer.

She’ll regret it, Qora agreed. That’s how I’ll know I’m doing it right.

2

A mber’s coming home? Jahir repeated, because he wasn’t certain he’d heard rightly.

Nice of him to finally stop by, Sehvi said. And blushed. Um, pardon me, Jahir’s-Mom. That was a little uncalled for.

Jeasa laughed softly. No apologies necessary, arii, for sooth. I admit I was also surprised. Delighted, though. I had given up hope of him doing so before the wedding, and how awkward would that have been? She clasped her hands. He said tonight, for dinner, so I wish that none of you should be busy? For I’d like all the family there.

Of course we’ll be there, Vasiht’h said.

Thank you, Jeasa said, beaming. I must go prepare!

Her departure left a silence in the morning room that Jahir found… regrettable, given how rare silence had become in the Seni Galare manse in these days. The arrival of Vasiht’h, and his sister, and their parents, and the passel of aunts, uncles, cousins, brothers, and sisters who’d insisted on accompanying them had necessitated a reassessment of the accommodations in the manor’s purlieus. Jahir’s mother Jeasa had insisted that Vasiht’h move into the building proper, and bring as much of his family as could fit; in practice, only he, his sister, and his parents had decided to accept her invitation. The remainder of their family had plunged into an enthusiastic survey of the surrounding land, returning with requests for bungalows and zoning suggestions and ideas for development; Jeasa, who’d initially received the flurry with bewilderment, had entered wholly into the management of an estate that had been too long moribund, and seeing her engaged again with life had given Jahir great joy.

All of which meant that on any given day, there were at least five or six Glaseah over for breakfast, sometimes more, and at least some number of attendant children. Today was no exception, and after eating, those who were staying had repaired to the morning room for, as Vasiht’h’s mother Marevhe had said in gleeful adoption of the local dialect, a ‘comfortable coze.’

This, however, was not comfortable.

So why now? Sehvi asked, folding her arms. He’s been ignoring you and your mom for months now. You’d think ‘my brother came home scarred and half-dead from the war’ would be a good enough reason for him to want to stop by.

He has not had the access to modern technology that we have, Jahir said slowly. Travel here would not be a minor effort.

And whose fault is that? If he wasn’t hanging around with that girl—

Sehvi, Vasiht’h said, quellingly.

No, seriously. I want to know. I’m not the expert in psychology, so I could use some schooling. She glanced at their mother, who was sipping her second cup of coffee from a dainty cup. Am I wrong to think this is going to be trouble?

Are we playing up the ‘mother’s instinct’ thing? Vasiht’h said dryly. Because if so, I’ll remind you that the mother who gave us the news looked perfectly happy about it.

She had, but Jahir had felt the gray mist beneath that happiness, the one that had hinted at sternly controlled unease.

/Oh, don’t even tell me that,/ Vasiht’h said, the mindline heavy with chagrin.

/These talents are not always restful./

/Just don’t tell Sehvi or I’ll get an ‘I told you so’ for days./

Vasiht’h’s mother had set her cup down on the table. It does seem a little irregular. But we treat family differently. You’ll remember that, ah, Sehvi-kara? Glaseah are not Eldritch.

I don’t care how different our cultures are, Sehvi said. Some things aren’t.

Which was, Jahir reflected, painfully true, and however much of it leaked out through his face was enough to make Vasiht’h’s sister sigh and rise. I’ll go round up the relatives and see who can come.

Your father and I will certainly be there, Marevhe said. And probably your aunt Sattri as well.

I’ll go check. Sehvi paused and added to Jahir, I’m sorry for being too forthright, ariihir, but… he should have come by the moment you showed up here. I can’t imagine a universe where even my least favorite brother got back from a horrible war and I didn’t want to see him with my own eyes.

I understand, Jahir assured her. And you haven’t offended me.

She nodded, headed out.

I’ll go too. Marevhe stood, shaking out her wings before refolding them along her second back. No doubt the two of you have things to talk about.