Although the Citadel had been opened up for trade with the Ragoru, there had been no danger from their quarter. She actually enjoyed seeing the few Ragoru triads from afar that occasionally came into the city to trade. Though the Thieves Guild had been part of the fight against the tyrannical rule of the Huntsmen Guild, it hadn’t been entirely comprised of the most honorable individuals, or those with noble intentions. While many of the ranking members of the Thieves Guild turned their minds and talents to public works and improving the Citadel, a number of individuals from the common masses, upon the dissolving of the guild, continued to subvert new laws and target anyone they viewed as vulnerable for their attack.
Vronca was one such individual. A large woman with a sharp, cunning mind, she tormented the residents of the humble neighborhood in which Betani now lived, demanding coin and goods in exchange for “protection.” The few men in the district found it useful to trade sexual favors. Their wives, or any woman who happened to be living with them, never dared to complain—at least not in front of Vronca. Betani had heard more than one argument through the thin walls of her apartment building.
With one hand, Betani patted the bulge in her coat pocket, reassuring herself that her allotment of coins, a wrapped loaf of sweet bread, and honey candies were still tucked securely within it. She didn’t normally get many sweets in her rations, but with the upcoming Mother’s Night on the solstice, she’d been given delicacies to enjoy with her family. Unfortunately, Vronca had a notorious sweet tooth and wouldn’t allow her to keep much, but Betani sequestered a handful of the candies and the loaf of sweet bread for a Mother’s Night treat for her babies. The small cakes, five silver pieces, and most of the candy would go to Vronca.
As much as she hated those small pleasures being taken from her children, she couldn’t find it within herself to be bitter about it. This would be the first year that her children would be able to enjoy the holiday merriment since they were babes. At seven, they were small compared to many other children their age, thin from years of near starvation. It broke her heart to see them that bad off. She was determined to make it a good Mother’s Night for them.
She thrilled a little in anticipation of the upcoming days, pushing all thoughts of Vronca away. The wagon would be making rounds in the evening to deliver regular food goods, as well as special provisions for the holiday. They were even promised a cooked turkey that would be delivered on the solstice itself. For once, they would have a wonderful meal and her children’s tummies would be full. Not only that, but they would receive their first gifts. In her package, she carried home a pair of toys she had carefully selected from those that had been available. A small doll for Alis, and a painted horse for Nik.
It would be the best Mother’s Night for her family.
With a smile, she slid by a street musician playing a cheerful, ancient winter melody, practically dancing as she dropped a copper coin into his hat. He smiled and nodded his thanks as he continued to work the strings of his instrument, making them sing joyfully as she turned the corner and dashed up the front steps of her building with a spring in her step.
After dropping off the bag of goods she’d collected for her elderly neighbor and the sickly young woman who lived with her, her granddaughter as Betani recalled, she opened her door and laughed as two pairs of thin arms flung around her. Leaning down, she kissed their rosy cheeks and playfully swatted them away as her children stood on their toes trying to see what she carried in her bags.
“Go on now, both of you. I hope you behaved while I was gone.”
“They were absolute dolls,” her elderly neighbor announced with a thin laugh, her faded eyes sparkling merrily as she shuffled forward.
Betani pressed her lips against the withered cheek of the woman who insisted that she call her Grandma Rose the very day she moved in. Since that day, she’d been treated as a daughter, and Betani treasured that kindness, being so far from the farming villages where she was raised in the distant northern territory. She sometimes wondered about her family. She hadn’t seen any of them since she’d married her husband and relocated so he could take a post at the Citadel. After his death, there had been no money to return to her family, if anyone even had been willing to take her in.
“Thank you so much for watching them, Grandma Rose. I left your bags with Cyntia, so you should be all set. I do hope it wasn’t too much trouble watching them while I was gone.”
“Ah, thank you, dear. It was no trouble at all. It does my old heart good to see such happy children, especially among those so well behaved. I do worry about you though, being all alone. There are a number of women who meet the visiting Ragoru when they come in on the seventh day. You should make yourself pretty and go down to see if you take a fancy to any of those males.” Grandma rose gave such a bawdy wink that Betani flushed scarlet.
It was true that she was fascinated with the males, but she doubted that any would look twice at a woman with children. Few human men in the Citadel would accept the burden of another man’s progeny; she didn’t hold on to hope that an alien male would be any more accepting. Not that she would ever say so in front of her children. They were the most precious things in her world. Instead, she gave an embarrassed shake of her head.
“You don’t find it odd?”
The elderly woman snorted and batted the air with one hand. “I find men odd in general, how much odder can it be with another species? Why, if I were a few decades younger, I’d show them boys a thing or two and take a chance myself.” She flapped her gray shawl around herself and preened, making Betani grin.
“I certainly wouldn’t be able to compete with you, Grandma Rose,” she said with a laugh. In truth, she’d seen some of the women flocking to meet the Ragoru who came into the Citadel and doubted she would be able to compete with any of them. Betani wasn’t any great beauty. What few curves she once possessed had flattened out over a handful of years of starvation as her frame painfully thinned. Even her brown hair was so lackluster in hue that it bordered on mousy.
Grandma Rose pursed her lips and patted Betani’s hand. “You just think about it. You’re a good young woman. I hate seeing you struggle all alone.”
Betani smiled and followed the elderly woman as she made her way toward the door, stopping to kiss the children as she went. After she left and the door was closed behind her, Betani leaned against it, her mind circling around the offered bit of advice. A squeal of happiness distracted her, and she shook her head with a sigh.
No good daydreaming about something that wasn’t going to happen.
Stepping over to the table where she’d deposited her bag, she shooed the kids away and unpacked it, smiling at the appreciative sounds her children made as she pulled out the special selections offered in the mid-market in the poor sector. While the wagon came twice a week with staples, the specials could only be received early on Friday mornings.
As the children hovered over the dried fruits, Betani stepped to the cupboard and put the toys into it, followed by the candies and sweetbread emptied from her coat pocket while they were distracted. She couldn’t wait to see the look on their faces when Mother’s Night came. With that accomplished, she turned to the stove, filling it with logs to heat it so she could prepare dinner.
Alis watched her silently from where she sat at the table, her feet swinging as she hummed to herself while Nik stuffed chunks of dried apple into his mouth, his full attention absorbed in his task.
“Momma, why don’t we have a solstice tree?”
Betani paused as she sliced through the block of cheese, her throat suddenly closing tight. She attempted to brush it off with an amused laugh.
“Solstice tree? Wherever did you hear about that?”
“At school. Jeb, who sits next to us in our class, said that his father trekked all the way to the mountain edge where he cut down a tree for Mother’s Night. Why don’t we have one? Is it because we don’t have a daddy? Jeb says so.”
“Don’t pay any mind to what J
eb says,” she said firmly as she sliced off another chunk of cheese, trying to ignore the way her heart ached at the things her children now knew they were missing out on since they were able to attend school with the other kids. “We may not have a solstice tree, but we have much to be thankful for. A tree is not what makes Mother’s Night special. It is us together as a family.”
Alis’s face fell but she nodded, not looking entirely convinced.
“Yes, Momma.”
2
Furis glared at the humans who seemed intent on ignoring them. The females of the Citadel had been quite gracious when they first arrived, until Yeril had mysteriously gotten sick. Until that moment, it seemed that the gods were smiling graciously upon them. They’d gotten plenty in trade for the furs and various goods they brought into the Citadel, enough to fill their sacks with human goods that could be enjoyed by their triad and those who lived in neighboring territories. Everything awaited them packed in their travel sacks in the trade station near the Citadel walls. Things had gone so well that they’d decided to venture into the Citadel in hopes of attracting a female.
They’d gone into a human establishment of gathering and merriment. A fire had been lit in a hearth, giving the room a wonderful warmth, and brilliant garlands and greenery filled the room with the scents of the woods and unfamiliar spices. Hot, sweet drinks called cider were served, which Furis had been particularly fond of. That led to sampling other drinks and human fares, some of which spun the senses. Especially one drink called mead, which they’d all found particularly tasty. Equally tasty were the females who had surrounded their triad like bees to a flower.
The females had marveled over their soft, pale fur with their sweet voices. It was not an unexpected reaction, as Furis and Bero were both silver males in their prime, near-identical save for the dark mask of fur that streaked around Furis’s eyes and brow. Naturally, Yeril had been the main attraction for the females, as was appropriate for a lead Ragoru. His fur—the palest unblemished white—helped him become a master hunter in the winter months, able to completely disappear into the snow. The females had cooed in admiration, though Yeril refused to let them touch him.
None but their mate, whomever she might be, was permitted that intimacy.
Although the females had all been attractive, smelling sweet and warm in their welcoming, Yeril had remained distant while neither encouraging nor discouraging their interest. He remained apathetic to the experience, as if waiting in dread for one of the females to make a claim and choose them as were the customs of their kind. Furis had tried to reassure his brother that there was no need for them to find a mate on that trip, that there would be others, but Yeril had been determined to find their fourth to complete their family. Their triad wasn’t getting any younger, and the discussion of a mate and rogs had come up season after season with a certain kind of longing among them. Furis wasn’t entirely sure which appealed to his brother more, the idea of having a mate or having rogs of their own.
Furis had never considered it an important enough matter to inquire over. He wanted both with equal desperation, especially with the Withering Days—the Ragoru breeding season—upon them, tormenting them with unfulfilled desires, but he grew suspicious when his brother showed no preference to the females who surrounded them. He encouraged all without making any displays to a favored female that might make her feel special. As his frustration grew, he noticed the envious looks his triad was receiving.
Not everyone had been happy at all the attention their triad had received. Several human males had stared at them with disgruntled expressions, and another triad bared their teeth in angry sneers. Furis had laughed off the displeasure until Yeril, after drinking deeply of fermented honey, coughed loudly and fell over. The humans scattered in horror as the large lead male twitched on the floor, foaming at the mouth as his dark golden eyes rolled up into his head. Furis still remembered the screams from the females as they ran away, throwing accusations at their triad of carrying an unknown disease. Their triad was forced out of the establishment, Furis and Bero bracing their lead between them. No sooner had they left than Furis saw the females who had previously been clustered around them descend upon the other triad, devoting their attention to the gray males.
A male with a dull gray pelt pulled a curvy female with hair the color of sunlight into his arms as he grinned at Furis through the window. His grin widened as he made show of sliding extra coin to the server. Fury rolled through Furis. They’d been betrayed! He wanted more than anything to storm in and kill the male but Yeril’s shivering stopped him. His lead was more important. He turned away from the tavern with a growl and they made their way down the street.
Anyone they asked for help shied away when they spied the condition of Yeril. Furis’s anger grew until he began snapping his teeth at the humans who gawked at them or recoiled in fear rather than offer any sort of assistance. He’d come to the conclusion that the humans would not help them, and he worried they would lose their lead. In doing so, they would not only lose a dearly loved brother, but all hope for their triad to ever have a family.
Bero nudged Yeril’s jaw with his muzzle and exchanged a worried glance with Furis.
“I don’t know how much longer we can pull him through the snow. We need to find some kind of shelter and hope that whatever is happening can work out of his system.”
Furis gnashed his teeth, frustrated.
“Nothing is going to work out of his system. Yeril is dying.”
“We don’t know that,” Bero insisted, a low growl punctuating his statement.
Furis slipped on a sheet of dark ice and skidded into the iron handrail of a staircase leading up to the doorway of a building. He’d inadvertently pulled his brothers with him and let out a painful breath as their bodies collided with his own. Glaring at Bero, he bared his teeth.
“Get off.”
The other male snarled as he pushed himself up. Between the two of them, they got Yeril on his feet again, the large white head of their brother dropping heavily on Furis’s shoulder. He grunted, shifting the bulk of his girth beneath his brother’s arms as he slid his feet further apart to support the weight. With grim determination, they marched against the mounting wind and snow, his vision failing as the weather turned bad.
Furis dropped his head as he stilled, his paws buried in snow and his sides heaving with exertion. He’d lost his bearings long ago; he had no idea how to make it back to the trade station to find shelter within the travelers’ dorms. His body shook with sudden weariness, certain he would collapse into the snow. He winced when light flooded over him from a doorway, and a sole silhouette stepped out from it with a pail in hand. The human stopped and looked at them. Furis shivered and blinked through the ice coating the fur around his eyes.
“Oh, my blessed Mother, are you all right?” a feminine voice inquired, shock abundant in the dulcet tones. The woman lifted a lantern and he caught the barest glimpse of soft skin beneath the furred hood of her robe.
He spared a glance to Bero. His brother’s eyes were closed and he was nearly bowed under Yeril’s weight, his secondary arms buried in the snow to keep himself from collapsing. Breath panted out of Yeril in weak, icy fogs as he lay lax and unconscious between them. Furis looked back to the female and cleared his throat.
“We require aid,” he said, his voice raspy and thin even to his own ears. “My brother is sick.”
She hurried back up the steps and he watched after her bitterly, certain that she was yet another human abandoning them, but to his surprise she returned, her arms empty this time, and waved them forward.
“Hurry! Come in before you all end up sick out in this weather.”
With great effort, he roused Bero, who did little more than bare his teeth irritably at his harsh slap, and they hauled Yeril through the small, narrow doorway.
The den they entered was unnaturally small, but it was blessedly warm. The human female pulled her robes off, showing her slight feminine frame as she ru
shed to the fire and prodded at it with an iron poker to raise the flames. She flitted to a large cushioned bench, upon which lay a stretch of fabric. At her invitation, they maneuvered their brother over it to and dropped onto the bench with him.
The wood creaked ominously but held their weight. Furis scrambled off it, followed by Bero, before they destroyed the human’s furniture. While Bero dropped back to lie limp on the floor, Furis helped the human settle Yeril more comfortably before he dropped to his own knees. Sympathetic green eyes peered down at him from a delicate face, the thin strips of fur on her brows knitting together with concern. He was struck at being presented in his weakest moment with such a fine female. He lifted one clawed hand toward her, which she stared at with confusion.
A sudden commotion drew his attention to the side, and he saw a pair of human offspring scamper into view, their small, thin bodies jostling each other as they stared at him and his brothers with wide-eyed curiosity. Furis dropped his hand, regret washing through him.
She was a dam with young. No doubt her mate would be nearby.
He would be quite displeased to see Ragoru in his den.
Furis closed his aching eyes, too exhausted in that moment to care.
3
Betani sucked her teeth nervously as she eyed the triad sleeping in her living room. The one on the couch worried her the most. Though the other two had collapsed from obvious exhaustion, the male on the couch twitched with spasms, licks of foam appearing on him that made her wince. She wasn’t an expert, but it reminded her of seeing the convulsions of an alley cat that had been poisoned. Miraculously, he was still alive, so there might be some hope yet for him to recover.
Stars, Snow and Mistletoe: A Holiday Naughty List Collection Page 7
